#i can’t trust my own judgment | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gojonanami · 1 year ago

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ALL'S FAIR (IN LOVE AND MERGERS) ✩ SATORU GOJO

✴︎ summary: you're not sure what's worse -- being an arranged marriage or being an arranged marriage with the person who used to be your best friend. ✴︎ contents: 18+ only, nsfw, arranged marriage au, gojo and reader are both heirs to large companies, childhood best friends to enemies to lovers, lots of fluff + banter, gojo is down bad, geto makes an appearance, handjobs (f!+m! receiving), oral (f!+m! receiving), creampie, unprotected sex, dom! + sub!gojo, degradation (slut), breeding kink, gojo has a praise kink, semi public sex, office sex, tiny amount of sexting, under the desk oral (m!receiving), pet names (sweetheart, princess, baby), pregnancy mentions ✴︎ wc: 16,381 (why do i do this to myself?)

“Why do you look so down, Princess?” Your eyes flicker up from your book, forcing your expression to stay disinterested — the one emotion Satoru hated, “shouldn’t you share your feelings with your fiancé?”

“Don’t call yourself that,” you snap, and his lips curl at your reaction, “what are you so smug about? You’re stuck in the same position as me,”

“And what’s that?” You close your book, glaring daggers at his all too perfect face.

“Marrying your worst enemy.”

It wasn’t always like this.

Satoru Gojo used to be your friend — your best friend in fact. The fact your families’ companies were rivals often meant you ran in the same social circles more often than not. And it meant more than one boring adult party that the two of you were stuck with each other.

The two of you had become inseparable — attending the same prestigious schools with the most pretentious children, though the two of you were no exceptions. But you liked to think you were.

And you didn’t realize your feelings for Satoru, until someone else had.

“Do you want to hang out on Friday?” You ask, flipping through the channels as the two of you watched TV, looking for something other than the second half of movies and the reruns of shows you didn’t care for.

“I can’t, I’m going to the formal,” he replies, not looking up from his phone, and you pause.

“You’re going to that?” You raise an eyebrow, “we’ve never went,”

“Well I never had someone ask me who I wanted to go with,” his eyes flicker up from his phone, a smirk on his lips, “you jealous?”

Your reply leaves your lips like whiplash, “You wish,” you cross your arms, but you can’t help ask the question burning on your lips, “who are you going with?”

“Akari,” and you scoff, “what?”

“That girl goes out with a new guy every week,” you shake your head, “you’re better off staying at home with me,”

“So you are jealous,” he hums, leaning back on the couch, “if you wanted to go with me, all you had to do was ask, Princess,”

Your cheeks flush, which you make up for in indignancy and sharp words, “Don’t call me that,” the nickname your family affectionately had called you had become Satoru’s favorite thing to call you, “I’m just telling you to be careful — that girl isn’t someone you should trust with your feelings,”

“I think I’ll use my own judgment instead of someone who hasn’t even been on a single date before,” his tone is far too biting and his accuracy is far too sharp — and you can’t stop your face from dropping, and his lips part - regret flashing across his features, “princess—“

“Go home, Satoru,” you rise, brushing past him, “you know the way out,”

“Princess—“ he tries to reach for your hand, but you slap it away. His hand retracts like he’d been burned.

“Please, go,” you open the door for him, and he does, and little do you know that would be one of the last times you spoke.

The day of the formal arrives, the two of you hadn’t seen each other outside of class since that day. But Satoru did see you at the dance that night - on the arm of his former best friend, Suguru — the same one he had a falling out with a year ago. He doesn’t say a word to you, but you don’t miss the hurt in his eyes - but you wonder why it was there in the first place - and why he was acting like you put it there.

It all goes to hell after.

The Gojo Corporation poaches one of your family’s biggest clients in a shady backroom deal, breaking their truce and your family’s trust. Arguments and stress reach a peak over the phone and lines are drawn and metaphorical guns are drawn.

And you and Satoru are caught in the crossfire.

Not that you weren’t firing shots yourself.

It wasn’t until you pulled Satoru into a secluded classroom, and you shut the door behind the two of you. Even with the sunglasses perched on his nose as always, he flinches in the bright light of the sun setting behind you, dipping the classroom in a blazing orange — light sensitivity nearly required him to wear his sunglasses out, but he certainly made a statement in them — though what didn’t he make a statement in?

“What are we going to do about our families?” you chew your lip — you had listened this morning to your father rant about the Gojo family — unkind words to say about them all, even Satoru himself, who your father had treated as a second son — and now he was grilling you about what you had told him about the family business.

“What can we do?” His arms are crossed and his gaze is upwards, “they are going to do what they want,”

You stare at him, your heart cracks, blood rushing in your ears, “Satoru, if this gets worse, we won’t be able to be friends,” you refuse to let your voice break.

“So what? I know the way out, don’t I?” But your heart did break, “I’m sure Suguru could comfort you,”

Your eyes burn, but you can’t, you can’t let him see you cry, “Why are you so upset? You had a date—“

“And mine wasn’t the person who backstabbed me,” he bites back, “what my family did is done, and so are we,” and he doesn’t look back when he leaves.

And it was good — because he didn’t see you cry.

And now you sat with him in your living room, trying to process the fact you would be legally married soon enough.

“Worst enemy? I know you liked to embellish princess, but that seems excessive,” he snorts, “glad to know I haven’t escaped your thoughts these years,”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” and he grins his shit eating grin, and it’s almost as if no time has passed, except the person who sits before you isn’t a seventeen year old with an attitude of a shithead — it’s an adult man (albeit with the same attitude).

“Don’t need to - you already do that for me, baby,” he winks, and you don’t know whether you want to slap him or strangle him. Either way, you wanted him to shut up, “shouldn’t we at least try to make the best of this?”

“The best of what?” You scoff, ready for your veins to burst out of your head, if only to spare you the agony of this conversation, “Gojo, we were best friends a million years ago and then we weren’t and now we’re getting married - all on the whims of our families, so how do we make the best of it?”

He pauses a moment, almost thoughtfully, “I was your best friend?”

And you rise to your feet, “this is impossible,” you brush past him, but he catches you by your wrist, his thumb grazing your pulse.

“Princess, I’m sorry,” he says, and you stop, meeting his gaze reluctantly, his lips part, “that you were so annoying in high school—“

“Fuck you,” and you storm off as he cackles, but you don’t notice the small smile on his lips that stays as he watches you.

And nor do you hear him say, “God, I missed you.”

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter under your breath, as you place back the millionth dress you looked at, “we’re hardly celebrities but we have to make a public appearance?”

Your families wanted the marriage to be portrayed as a love marriage in the media - childhood friends falling in love after reconnecting - the thing of love stories. The thing that would circle the drain on social media on cute threads of meetcutes and what ifs. When in fact, you were being forced on a shopping date with an already well paid and positioned paparazzi ready to take pictures of this charade.

“You may not be, Princess, but I am quite the catch,” Satoru takes the attention in stride, not only of the paparazzi, but the passersby who gawked at the two of you. It was true, Satoru was nearly always listed as an eligible bachelor in far too many of these lists that existed, if not the eligible bachelor, and yet here you were, glued to his side like some taudry accessory.

“So does that mean if I just toss you away, someone else will catch you?” You grumble, and he looks at you over the rim of his sunglasses.

“Like it or not, you caught me,” he flashes you those pearly whites, and you supposed he blinded you as you stumble forward, tripping. But you don’t kiss the pavement — but you almost wish you do. He catches you, his arm around your waist, the other on your shoulder, and his eyes graze over you in a flash of concern, and then amusement, “and I’m not going anywhere this time,”

And you flush, the clicks of cameras in the distance snapping you back to reality, as you right yourself with a fake smile plastered on your lips. You brush his shirt off as lovingly as you can, “And if I go?”

His lips only curl into his obnoxiously charming smile, as he gestures for you to walk on, “I’ll follow, Princess,”

Finally the trip is over, and Satoru is driving the both of you back, “I’m surprised you took a day off for this,” he remarks, “usually you work all week,”

“Well I wasn’t given much of a choice, now was I?” And then you glance at him, furrowing your brow, “how do you know how often I work?”

“What’s the phrase? Keep your enemies close, and your lovers closer?” He gives a wry grin as you scowl at him, “you’re not surprised I kept tabs on you, are you?”

“Well, no,” because you did the exact same. You pinned the blame on late nights and doom scrolling on social media — curiosity killed the cat.

“And now I know you kept tabs on me,” he looks far too satisfied with himself, “I’m flattered,”

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave him off, “it’s not like you’re that interesting to begin with,”

“Sure,” he smirks, and then you glance outside, noticing you were getting further out from home rather than closer.

“Where are we going?” You sit up, glancing around — you didn’t recognize the area.

“Oh, you didn’t think our date was over yet, did you?” his lips curl, his eyes still on the road, “we are just going to a more private location,”

“If you take me to a hotel, I will slap you,” you murmur, and he laughs, a sound that makes your stomach flip.

“I didn’t know a princess’s mind could be in the gutter,” he remarks, his fingers flexing on the wheel, a small infinity tattoo on his ring finger, and your mind really then all but fled to the gutter as you thought what else he could use those fingers for.

“Oh my mind goes a lot of places,” this was growing more dangerous — for your tongue and for your heart.

And he notices your gaze flickering to his hands, and his lips curl, “I think I’d like to familiarize myself with the places your mind goes, Princess,” You flush, “but that’s for a different day.”

“Where are you taking me anyway?”

“We’re almost there, just enjoy the ride,” you eventually pull up to a park, and he leaves the car, opening the door for you, “after you, my lady,”

You slide out of the car, as he shuts the door behind you, and then pulls a basket out of the back, “Is there tape and rope in there?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Didn’t know you were into that,” he winks, as you glare at him, “it’s a picnic basket - this is a nice spot to watch the sunset,”

“You watch sunsets?”

“Only with you,” you roll your eyes.

“Such a dork - are these the lines you use on all your dates? And don’t say only with me,” you add quickly, and he snorts.

“You catch on quick,” and he takes your hand, leading you along, “come on,”

His hand envelops yours, his fingers eventually intertwining with yours, his warmth flooding your body, but you can’t urge yourself to pull away.

A bottle of sparkling cider and a charcuterie board later, the two of you watch the sun begin its descent, blazing colors bleeding into one another.

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, looking over your glass as you sip, “even when we used to hang out, I was the one to bring the snacks,”

“Well times change,” he replies, “plus you’re the one who always stopped me from buying snacks,”

“You always bought only sweets — it was always chocolate, sugar, and desserts,” you roll your eyes, “I see you got over that,”

“Nah, I just decided to buy things I know you like,” and your heart traitorously squeezes, but then he points, “look,” and your gaze falls onto the sunset and you gasp softly.

“It’s beautiful,” you sigh, and you don’t notice Satoru’s gaze on your face, a small smile on his lips.

“It is,” and you look back at him, his eyes shifting to you again.

“You never answered my question,” you say, “why are we doing this?”

“Why wouldn’t we? We’re getting married, Princess, did you forget?” He expertly dodges the question, swiftly leaping over a landmine, but you weren’t one to mince words or hesitate to do a direct assault.

“We’re getting married, it doesn’t mean we have to date,” you tilt your head, “Gojo, tell me—“

“Call me Satoru,” his words are so soft, hesitant even, as if his words could break apart any second if he had spoken them any quieter.

It’s a fragility he doesn’t often grace you with - that’s he’s maybe never given to you, and you don’t wish to break it.

But you’re also scared - scared that this will break yours.

“Satoru,” you whisper, and he smiles — the same smile he’d greet you with when you would meet up after school, the same smile when he’d beat you at whatever game you guys were playing, and the same smile you hadn’t seen in so long, “why are you doing all of this?”

“Is it not obvious?” He’s leaning closer and you only realize that you’re doing the same when your wrist hurts from leaning on your hand.

“Nothing is obvious when it comes to you, Satoru,” his lips warm yours with his breath, and the sun has set - there’s no other explanation for the warmth blooming on your skin other than him—

Ring. Ring. Ring.

His phone ringing sends both of you flinching apart, but his eyes don’t leave you for a lingering moment, before he picks up.

“Hello,” his voice is unwavering even after the moment you shared, you barely hear what he says over the blood thundering in your ears, “yes, we’ll be home shortly. Ok. Bye,”

He turns to look back at you, “My parents were wondering where we went,” and you nod, “we should get back,” and he begins to pack away the things,

“Satoru—“ you start, but he grabs your hands, tugging you forward.

“What?” he smiles, “not ready to part with me yet, princess?”

You scowl, pushing him away, brushing past him to the car, “Forget it,”

And he catches you by your wrist and pulls you back to him, your back against his front, “I don’t want to forget it,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “I—”

And his phone rings again, and he sighs, showing you that it was your father this time, putting his phone on silent, “Our parents have impeccable timing,” and the moment is broken, as the two of you walk back to the car in relative silence, the sun long sunk below the horizon, and the moment along with it.

The wedding comes and goes without much ado — it was a private ceremony done with only your families and a few close family friends. And aside from a photo shoot that was to be “leaked” of the two of you looking far too lovey dovey that wound up circulating the media drain and ended up causing you and Satoru to keep a low profile for a week or two, not much of your life changed. The only thing being that you and Satoru slowly start to move in together, each moving your things into separate bedrooms, not that you’re around enough to even notice a shift as the work piled on due to the merger, only accumulates, and as do your late nights.

You come home again, back to your shared apartment, late at night, shutting the door softly behind you. You slip your shoes off, along with your jacket by the door, before setting your things down. You stretch your sore muscles, your stomach crying for mercy of the deprivation you had put it through today, and you allow it to lead you to the kitchen.

Satoru was surprisingly neat, aside from his own room that was a disaster zone not worth entering. The living spaces were always clean, as was the kitchen (though you had a sneaking suspicion he had hired a cleaning service to specifically tidy up when you were gone (due to the lingering lemony scent every surface had at times). You rummage through the refrigerator as quietly as you could, but not quietly enough as the lights flick on, and you feel akin to a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“I feel like I’ve seen the mailman more than my own wife this week,” Satoru stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame of the door, a small grin on his lips, but a hint of something else in his eyes — concern? You don’t have the time to decipher the feeling, as your mind chooses to replay the phrase “my wife” on repeat.

“The merger has been killer to deal with — all the diligence requests has buried us,” you grumble, as you grab a box of cereal off the top of the refrigerator and the milk from the inside, and he’s holding a bowl and a spoon, “thanks,” as you reach for it, he holds it away from you.

“You know there’s something called delegating that you should try sometime, princess,” he says, tilting his head, “otherwise, you’re likely to run yourself into the ground,”

“It sounds like you care,” he puts down the bowl and spoon, grabbing the cereal and milk from you, and fixing a bowl for you, as you rub your eyes, sitting on the stool by the island.

His lips curl, “Who said I didn’t?”

You lay on the counter, staring up at him, “Didn’t know my husband could be anything but annoying,” and you enjoy the way his eyebrows shoot up, and it may have been your tired eyes, but you swore a small pink flush settled his way onto his cheeks, “cute,” you mumble, the word escaping you before you could stop it.

“What?” his eyes snap to yours, but he only finds them closed, the soft snores from your lips told him you weren’t pretending, as he stares at you, biting his lip, before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, “what are you doing to me, princess?” he murmurs.

And the next morning when you wake, you find yourself tucked into bed, as you roll over, to find your alarms had been turned off, and you were far too late to several meetings you had that morning.

You jolt up, before you find a note stuck to your shirt, you pause in your panic, to peel it off and read it:

Canceled your meetings for today and had your staff handle the ones they could deal with. You’re taking a break. You need it. - Satoru.

You wanted to protest, but even as you willed yourself to try and check your email, your body was screaming in agreement with Satoru, and you sighed, lying back down in bed, as you drifted into a dreamless sleep, with the note still in your hand.

~~~~~

“Gojo, get back in bed,” you cross your arms in front of his doorway, “you’re sick,”

“I’m fine,” he pouts, his normally pale skin flushed with a red tinge that gave away his fever, his eyes bloodshot from a restless night, and yet he still looked as perfect as ever, if not a bit rumpled from his askew hair and ruffled clothes, “I have to—”

“Rest,” you say, gently pushing him backwards towards his bed, “you need rest. You made me rest, and now it’s your turn,”

“But—”

“Satoru,” and the use of his name stops him in his tracks, as his knees buckle as his legs hit the end of his bed, “please?”

His resistance crumbles, “Princess, I’m fine—” and you press your forehead to his, making his breath catch, your face far too close far too fast.

“You’re burning up,” you ease him back into bed, as you roll your sleeves up, “will you be okay? I’m going to run out and get some supplies - have you taken any medicine?”

He shakes his head, “You can send out someone,” he says, reaching for his phone, but you grab it, “Princess-“

“I’m texting everyone that you’re sick and that you can’t make it in for the next two days while you recover,” you pocket his phone, putting it on silent, “consider this payback,” and you’re pulling on your jacket, “and I’m going to get you some things. I don’t need to send someone out. Do you want anything? I can’t get anything sweet because it will make your cough worse, but is there anything that you want?”

He shakes his head, as you snap your fingers and head out of the room, before returning with cold medicine, “I’ll give you this for now, and then I’ll grab some more while I’m out,”

You pour the medicine into the cup, and he sits up as best he could, reaching for the medicine cup, but you cup his chin, feeding it to him. He feels like his body is burning hotter from your touch than it is the fever, “I have to make sure you drink all of it, you can’t leave half of it in the cup like you did when we were kids,”

“You remember that?” he mumbles, as you help him lie down again, your hands gentle as you help lean back, and you tilt your head.

“I remember every ridiculous thing you did,” you snort, as you check to make sure you got everything — phone, wallet, keys — “just rest here, and call me if you need anything, ok?” his eyes are already starting to droop, heavy with sleep, and he gives a small nod.

And he catches you by your wrist, “Do you have to go?” he mumbles, pulling your hand close to his face, “I don’t want you to go,” his words slur, and he’s asleep in a moment, his hand still clutching yours to his face, lips brushing against your palm.

Heat flares up your cheeks, as you stand, motionless, his soft snores filling the room, as you manage to tug your hand away, and you stand over him, his mouth in an adorable pout, as sweat glistened on his forehead, white locks sticking to the damp skin. You leave for a moment to grab a cold compress for his forehead, and you come back, brushing his hair back to place the compress on. He shivers ever so slightly, but you just rub his head slowly, and he drifts back into sleep.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper, and you wonder, how often has Satoru been cared for by maids or employees rather than his family? How often had they passed the buck of caring for their son to others as if it was more of a chore than a privilege to take care of someone they loved.

You leave his phone on video call with yours so you can keep an eye on him as he sleeps, even if you were going down the street, you didn’t want to leave him alone completely. Instead of music, you listened to the cacophony of his soft snores and shifting of his sheets. You grabbed the things you needed - medicine, supply for meals, vitamin water, vitamin c supplements, and anything else you could think of.

You return, door shutting softly behind you as you hang up the call, and set everything down on the counter. You poke your head into Satoru’s room to find him still fast asleep, and you remove the cold compress, going to replace it with a new one, but his hand catches yours as it brushes your forehead, and he mumbles your name.

And you flush — were you sure you weren’t getting sick at this point?

You sigh, running your fingers through his hair, “You’re as touchy as you were when we were kids,” and he was — there wasn’t a moment that Satoru wasn’t all over you before the ages of puberty — holding hands, hugging, even laying on top of you — but it was innocent. But even as you got older, it was poking, it was a leg over yours, it was grabbing your wrist instead of your hand.

And now, your hand was dwarfed by his, consuming your wrist and hand with his own, and it was so warm — though exacerbated by his fever. And you couldn’t help but want to lace your fingers through his. But — you pulled your hand away and replace his cold compress — you couldn’t afford thoughts like that.

Not now.

You cooked soup for him, filled with vegetables and nutrients that he clearly did not get enough of, made freshly squeezed orange juice, and put the supplements you wanted him to take on the tray you had found in the kitchen.

You washed your hands, as you start to clean up, your back to his room, and you hear Satoru say your name.

You turn and see him in the doorway, “What are you doing?”

“I should be asking you that,” he murmurs, rubbing his eyes, “what’s all this?”

“Lunch,” you walk over, waving him back into bed, “you need to rest,”

“Did you make me lunch?” he asks slowly, and you help him back into bed, as he frowns, “you didn’t have—”

“You’re my husband, Satoru,” you say, tilting your head, “I’m going to take care of you and not let you work yourself to the bone while you have a cold,”

And his lips curl at the words slowly, “Your husband,” he repeats, as if the words were foreign to him, and your cheeks flush as your words that were embarrassing enough to say linger in the air, “thank you,” he mumbles, as you nod, trying to calm your utterly burning cheeks before entering with the tray.

Satoru sits in bed still, more coherent than a few minutes before, a small smile on his lips as you enter his view, and you place the tray carefully on his bed, “Will you feed me?” And your eyes flit up to his innocent baby blues full of skies that you couldn’t say no to — and he knew that, “please?”

And now you’re feeding him, your lips carefully blowing on the hot soup as you spoon fed him, and he takes each one, “is it good?”

He nods, “It is, I didn’t know you could cook. The last thing I remember you making me was a microwave brownie that you burned,” and you rolled your eyes.

“That was because you told me to microwave it for too long,” you pout, and he laughs, sending him into a coughing fit, “karma,” and he scowls at you, before his lips split into a grin, “what?”

“Must have been pretty good in my past life,” he says, as you blow on another spoonful, “to end up with a pretty little wife like you, Princess,”

And you nearly drop the spoon, a few droplets slipping from the utensil, as he makes you flustered for the eighteenth time today — “Satoru,” you chide, and you’re not even sure what you are chiding him for — his word on a loop in your mind, “i think you’re high on cold medicine, or your fever,”

You don’t think he had ever called you pretty before.

And he leans forward pressing his forehead to yours, “I have no fever right now,” he whispers, his eyes glancing at the tray, “and I haven’t taken my cold medicine yet,”

Your words catch in your throat, and you’re swallowing thickly, as your eyes drift to his lips and back again, “Toru,” and you can’t lean away from him, he’s pulling you in, like he always did.

But then he pulls back, his cheeks flushed, “I think I should lie down,” and you blink, as you nod hastily.

“Of course,” you grab the tray and flee, leaving his medicine and water on the bedside table, heart thumping against your ribs and blood rushing to your cheeks.

And you don’t hear him grumble, “If only I wasn’t sick.”

After Satoru gets better, you barely see him. It feels empty in the house without his presence. You had grown accustomed to his loud, obtrusive presence, the clothes half thrown in the laundry basket, his snacks stacked up in the pantry and sometimes on the counters, and his cologne wafting through the halls. It seems all of that has faded with time, as he does his best to spend his time at work, and away from you.

After the billionth time of this, you get a phone call from his colleague, Nanami, asking for you to come and fetch him. You furrow your brow as he texts you the address of a bar near his work, and you arrive to find him passed out at a table, drink glasses and small plates littered the tabletop, his pale skin flushed, as he snored slightly as he slept.

His colleague too was flushed, but still sat with drink in hand looking utterly irritated and bemused, “How much did he drink?”

“Maybe two drinks?” and you raise an eyebrow, “he’s a lightweight, but he likes to pretend he isn’t,” he snorts, shaking his head, “did you two have a fight?”

You tilt your head, as you check on him, fingers brushing over his skin — he was so warm from the alcohol, “No, why do you ask?”

And Satoru is mumbling your name, again and again, pouting, “Is that you, my wife?” you flush, and that was your cue to get him out of there. Nanami helps you get him to his work car, luckily that came equipped with a driver, and you slide in beside him, as he dozes, his head drifting to your shoulder. His breath is warm against your neck, as he nestles into the soft skin of your nape, and you can feel his lips move, only catching your name between soft sighs and snores.

“Satoru,” you mutter, brushing his hair from his eyes, “what did you do?”

The driver helps you get him inside, and you’re left with him, his body leaning against yours on the couch, as you rouse him, “Satoru, wake up,” your hands cup his cheeks, and his eyes flutter open blearily.

You can still smell the scent of alcohol on his breath — and you know it’s sweet from the scent that drifts from him. Sometimes you wonder if he would taste sweet with how much sugar he consumes, but you brush that thought to the back of your head, as he finally speaks.

“Are you a dream?” he murmurs, and you have to suppress your laugh at his puppy dog stare.

“Don’t think so, Satoru,” you pinch his cheek lightly, “see? I’m real,”

He smiles, so gentle that it almost takes you aback, “Too real,” his hand slides over yours, flattening it against his cheek, “your hand is so soft, just like when we were kids, and we’d always hold hands anywhere we went,”

You swallow thickly, wondering if your cheeks were hotter than his were from the alcohol, “Well my family hasn’t sold me into manual labor yet, so they’ll stay that way,” and his eyes widen almost comically.

“I wouldn’t let them do that,” he says, almost every other word slurred, “can’t do that to my wife,” and your traitorous heart squeezes, despite itself, despite everything telling you that it didn’t mean anything — that he was drunk — and the million other reasons to brush it away, your heart does what it does best — takes it to heart, “I missed you so much,”

And he’s burying his face in your shoulder, warm breath against your skin making you shiver as you hold him gently, “then why have you been avoiding me?” He’s mumbling into your shoulder now, as you can’t help but laugh, “Stop, you’re tickling me.”

And his stare lifts and settles upon you, stopping your breath in its tracks, “I didn’t want to avoid you, I just was…” he mumbles something incoherent, “I couldn’t face you,”

“Why?” and it’s objectively cute the way he pouts, his face scrunching up like a child, his brow adorably furrowed, as he mutters under his breath slurred words you can’t make out, “let’s get you to bed — if you promise not to avoid me anymore,” you hold up a finger to his face.

He nods, lips still in the same pout, “promise,” he murmurs, as you help him into bed, but as you do, he grabs you, tugging you into bed with him with a yelp, his arms trapped you against him, as his face snuggles into your back, “stay,”

Your skin burns at his touch, his face buried into your back, his arms wrapped impossibly around you, “Satoru—”

“Please?” and the resistance you have crumbles, as you sigh, relaxing as best you could into his touch, “thank you, Princess,” he mumbles something else you can’t make out, before falling asleep.

And you bite your lip, ignoring how your skin feels under his touch — how were you ever going to sleep now?

But you do.

Satoru wakes with a slightly pounding head, a small groan caught in the back of his throat, as he stirs at the bright sunlight streaming in, his eyes fluttering awake to find you. His breath catches, as he stares at you. Your mouth slightly ajar, you softly snore as you sleep, your head resting against his arm, and he swallows thickly, as memories of last night trickle in.

And he nearly groans. He had avoided you to stop himself, to hold himself back from embarrassing himself, and he had gone and pulled you into bed with him after getting drunk. How pathetic was it that it only took you referring to him as your husband for all his walls to come crumbling down? Not that those walls ever stood a chance against you — it was easy for him to pull away from everyone, as if he had a barrier around him, stopping anything from coming near. But you — you were one thing that could penetrate his infinity — and the one thing he wanted to be infinite, if only for him.

His cheeks burn at his revelations and he can only be thankful you’re still asleep as he stares at you — god, he had almost let it slip twice last night. He had mumbled it twice, but from what he remembered, you hadn’t made out the words.

His cheeks burned, god he had said the words twice, and you didn’t even hear him, but the words had left his lips. And how many years had he been waiting to say them?

His fingers caress your cheek, making sure you were still asleep before he said them for a third time, “I love you.”

“How many social events must be inflicted upon us?” you mutter, pressed next to Satoru at the bar, as Satoru sips a soda instead of the alcohol they offered — if only to avoid the disaster that was the last time. But still, the lack of alcohol only makes your touch worse without its dulling effects, “and why did we need to go to this?”

“C’mon sweetheart, it’s not so bad,” Satoru smiles, his eyes skimming over your new suit that you had donned for the occasion, “I like seeing you all dressed up,”

“Well I rather be dressed down at home,” and he raises an eyebrow and you flush, “i mean in a t-shirt and shorts, you absolute perv,”

“Whatever you say, princess,” and you’re too busy elbowing him to notice who's walking over, until you hear your name.

You spot Satoru’s eyes narrow, his lips pursed, as you spot Suguru holding a hand up in greeting, patented grin on his lips, “Yo!”

“Suguru, it’s good to see you,” you greet, as he sweeps you up in a hug, and you shoot a look at Satoru, nudging him to be polite at the very least.

“Satoru, long time no see,” Suguru says, and Satoru plasters a fake smile on his lips.

“It has been,” and the three of you make pleasant small talk about your work — Suguru’s family was in a business adjacent to the work your families did.

“I heard about the merger your companies are doing, how have preparations been?” you open your mouth to answer, but Satoru gets to it first, his arm curling around your waist.

“It’s been going well, our marriage was the first step after all, wasn’t it, baby?” and you flush as Satoru does, doing your best not to glare at him.

“It was,” you smile, as Suguru raises his eyebrows.

“I hadn’t heard you both had married — congratulations,”

And then you’re beckoned by your family, and you slip away for a moment, going to speak to them about one thing or another, leaving Satoru and Suguru alone.

“It’s too bad we lost touch all these years,” Satoru sips at his drink.

“You don’t have to say that, Satoru,” Suguru replies, his grin melting away, “I know part of the reason was the business with our families companies, but I also know that it was personal,” and Satoru follows his eyes to you, as you laugh at something your mother said, “how has married life been treating you both?”

And Satoru glares, his grip tight around his glass, “Is your interest personal?”

“It’s not, but I see that you still haven’t been honest with each other,” he smiles over the lip of his drink, “was this marriage arranged by your families?” and Satoru’s silence was enough to confirm it, “well you should be careful, a marriage is a fragile thing, especially without love,”

“Is that a threat?” and Suguru’s dark irises meet his, full of mirth.

“No, just an observation, Satoru,” and you make your re-appearance, looking between the pair, sensing the tension, as your hand curls around Satoru’s, “It was lovely seeing you both. I hope to see more of you.”

And with that he’s gone, “What was that about?” you ask slowly, and Satoru can’t meet your gaze, only sipping his soda, “Satoru?”

“It’s nothing, princess, don’t worry about it,” and you tilt your head, your brow furrowed.

“That’s it,” you sigh, as you glance between the two of them, Suguru’s gaze still lingering on the two of you, “I know what this is about,” you declare, stepping ever closer to Satoru, your fingers brushing at his shoulder, sending his heart into a gallop.

“Princess—” your hand is sliding up his neck, brushing at his undercut, and your lips curl.

“I didn’t know you had an undercut,” and he can’t form words to respond to you, as you tug him closer, your lips were so close now, “it’s kind of hot,” and his mouth is so dry, his eyes can’t help but flicker down to your lips again, as you lean forward, pulling his head closer, closer, closer—

And you kiss him, it's barely a brush at first, but then you pull him in again, and he can taste the wine on your lips now, as your lips meet, his eyes fluttering shut as his hand slides to cup your face, the other around your waist. And finally you part, small pants leaving your lips, as your fingers toy with the hair resting on the back of his neck, smiling at him, as if you had done this a million times before.

And he wanted to do it a million times more. His fingers trace the length of your jaw, delighting in the shiver you give as he touches you, and wondering what other noises he could pull from you.

“Is he still watching?” you whisper, as you smooth over his collar, and he blinks, his eyes following yours to Suguru, who glances at the two of you before looking away, “think we convinced him?”

And his heart sinks just as high as it had soared, “what?” he murmurs, confused.

“He suspected us, right?” you continue with the phony smile on your lips, the heated lust in your gaze, and your soft touches — and it was all enough to break him.

But he doesn’t. He’s Satoru Gojo — he can’t be allowed to break.

So he gives a smile instead, “Yeah, I think we convinced him.”

He can’t help be quiet on the drive home, and he senses your unease, fidgeting in the seat beside him, your attempts to fill the silence falling on deaf ears, and you eventually stop trying, settling to look out of the window instead, until the two of you pull inside your driveway.

You both head inside, and the door shuts behind you, and he watches you struggle to take off your heels, the buckle not cooperating, as you lift your leg to undo it.

But then he’s kneeling before you, undoing your heels for you, as you stammer, “No, Gojo, you don’t have to—”

But his touch is gentle as he helps you out of your heels, one by one, his fingers brushing against your ankles, and then he rises, and for a split second, you forgot how tall he really was.

“No, I want to, because you’re my wife,” and his fingers brush against your jaw. “And I want your thoughts to be of me when I touch you, and not of someone else,” and he tilts your chin up, thumb dragging against your lips before he kisses you.

It was gentle but insistent — and far, far too fleeting, as he pulls away, “and I’ve told you before — I’m your husband, call me Satoru.”

And with that he’s gone, leaving you speechless and alone in your entryway.

You can’t sleep. For several nights.

You replay the moment over and over, the kiss, his words, and all of it.

What the fuck. Were you really up all night because of Satoru Gojo? You lay on your stomach, kicking your feet in frustration as you bury your hot face in your pillow. Your husband was going to be the death of you.

And especially with tomorrow.

Satoru’s family was hosting an event to announce the merger, and you stood in your bathroom, getting ready. You had opted for a baby blue dress that Satoru had picked for you when he had insisted on taking you shopping. He had winked and said you could wear his gaze this way. And you had only rolled your eyes at the time, but now it felt you could feel his eyes upon you.

“You look beautiful,” and you whirl around to find him standing in your doorway, a small smile on your lips, and you flush. It doesn’t go unnoticed, “is that all it takes to embarrass you now, Princess? I used to have to work a lot harder,”

You glare at him, “Shut up,” and your eyes flick to his untied tie, and it’s unspoken, as you walk over to tie his tie for him, “how did you even tie this the day of the formal if you don’t know how to?”

“I didn’t wear one,” he shrugs, his attention making you mess up the knot twice, “I only went to make you jealous anyway,”

Your fingers pause, as your eyes meet, “What?”

“I don’t want to play games anymore, Princess,” the back of his fingers brush against your cheek, “or at least, if I’m going to play, I’m going to play to win,” and you continue tying his tie, if only to distract yourself from your stomach doing flips, “do you know how it feels to want someone for so long only to end up married, but it’s not either of your choice?” And you swallow, not daring to look at him, “because I do.”

“Satoru,” your hands are shaking now, “I-“

“I don’t expect an answer, I don’t expect anything to change,” he adjusts his tie as you finish, turning his collar down, his blue button up matching your dress perfectly, “but I wanted you to know where I stood, and know wherever you are,” his gaze rakes over your form, the same color as the dress than clung to your skin, “I’ll always be here for you,”

“Satoru—“ but he gets a call — as always with impeccable timing, his parents were asking when they would be arriving. He hangs up shortly after, offering his arm with a smile.

“Shall we?” And you take his arm, ignoring the flip your heart does when his arm curls around yours.

The drive over is uneventful, but not the same can be said for the event itself. The merger event was being held at Satoru’s childhood home — the home Satoru had grown up in and around — and never wanted to be at.

“Are you okay?” you ask, your arm still curled around Satoru’s arm, as you glance at him, his shoulders tense and lips tight, before your concern makes the tension melt away a moment, rolling off his shoulders like snow on a spring day.

“I’m fine,” and you’re unconvinced, “just this place is like time has stood still,” he chuckles, his eyes finding the place where the two of you had cracked the chandelier fucking around with a ball inside, “look, still there,”

You snort, “I’m surprised your mother never noticed,”

“She did, she gave me hell for it,” he sips his drink, “I just didn’t tell you,”

“Why?”

“There was a lot I didn’t tell you,” his eyes snap to yours, his pain almost too visceral as he glances around the room he had grown up in — and you could feel him in this room, the ghost of his past roaming the halls, “why do you think I spent so much time at your house?”

“Because of my incredible company?” you half-joke, lips forced into a small smile, but he laughs, rolling his eyes.

“That too,” he hums, his fingers tracing up and down against your wrist sending a wave of heat down your spine.

“Well, you always have an escape now, don’t you?” you intertwine your fingers, “our home is always graced with the presence of your wife,”

He grins, the first actual smile you had seen all evening, “How lucky for you that it’s also graced with the presence of your incredibly handsome husband,”

And you open your mouth to respond, before Satoru’s father interrupts, his hand on Satoru’s shoulder, making him stiffen, “Son,” and his icy blue eyes slide to you, “and my daughter, would you mind if I steal my son for a moment?” it always struck you how different his eyes were from Satoru — the coldness as opposed to the warmth.

You glance at Satoru, and he gives a slight nod, “No, of course not,” you step away, as he pulls Satoru into a side room, and you linger nearby for him, mingling as best you can, when Satoru emerges, eyes downcast and fists clenched, “Satoru-“

“I’m okay,” he plasters on an easy smile, “it’s fine—“

“We’re leaving,” you grab his hand, “let’s go,” and he’s staring at you, as you drag him from the party, wordless.

“But your parents, my parents—”

“Have done enough for us already,” you say, and the two of you walk to the car in silence, “I can drive—”

“It’s ok, I got it,” and you both shut the doors, as he begins to drive. The ride home is quiet, and you glance at him here and there, but you hold your tongue, “you’re not going to ask?”

“It’s your dad - do I need to ask?” You scoff, “It may has been years but I know he’s nothing but a bully — especially to you,”

You may have been young, but you remembered the phone calls Satoru would get, the lectures about his potential and responsibilities as the next heir, the scoldings he’d get for anything less than perfect. And you remembered the look he had the next day — the same one he had when he had come out of that room.

And you couldn’t protect him then, but you could do it now.

He sighs as he pulls the car into the driveway, “You don’t deserve that, Toru,”

“Then what do I deserve?” And he meets your gaze with glassy eyes, and you give a small smile, your fingers reaching for him, brushing along his jaw.

“Love,” and you lean across the gap of the console, across the line you had drawn, across the misunderstandings you had, and you chose him. Your fingers cup his cheek, drawing him close, as you hear his breathe hitch, “can I—”

“You don’t need to ask me even once, Princess,” and you kiss him, your lips grazing his again and again, until your lips finally slide against each other, deepening it as he presses himself against you, hand bearing against the armrest between the two of you. And you can taste the sweet taste of the strawberry dessert that he all but inhaled at the party, the hint of the soda he drank instead of wine, and something that tasted utterly and perfectly of him.

“Toru,” you murmur, but his lips keep finding yours, and you can’t breathe much less think, “I—”

He silences you with another kiss, his fingers finding purchase on the back of your neck as he tugs you impossibly closer, before his lips are tracing a path down your jaw.

“What was that, sweetheart?” he smiles against your skin, “you what?”

“You’re insufferable, you’re endlessly frustrating, and I swear I want to murder you at least twice a day,” and he smiles, as you gasp as his teeth graze your pulse, “but you’re also my best friend, and I—“ you make him meet your eyes, fingers cupping his chin, ocean blue eyes drowning you with their gaze, “I love you,”

And he blinks ever so slowly, before his lips curl into the most beautiful smile you had seen, before he’s kissing you again, as you gasp, “Toru—”

“I’m never going to stop now, Princess,” he grins endlessly, as he presses his forehead to yours, dragging a thumb down your kiss ruined lips, “waited too long for you, but I’d wait a million years to do that again,”

“So should I make you wait?” you tease, and he’s looking like a kicked puppy, pouting and wide eyed, before he’s pressing butterfly kisses to your face, and you’re laughing, “I’m just kidding, baby—”

And he pauses, “‘Baby?’” and his grin is a million watt, as he kisses you again, “never thought I’d see the day you’d call me a pet name,”

Your noses brush as you both laugh, “Well, you are a big baby,” and he pouts again, and you kiss them, “but you’re my baby,”

And you barely remember how you manage to stumble into your home. Frantic touches and hurried kisses and fumbling keys. As soon as the door slams shut, he has you pressed against it, fingers busy with undoing your buttons, as he grins against your mouth.

“Know how long I wanted you? How long I dreamt of this?” he bites your bottom lip, “had to call you my wife before i could call you mine — thought about you dating Suguru, about all the times I wanted to lean over during our movie nights as kids and just kiss you — and how much I regretted it,”

“So you admit you’ve been pining for me,” you gasp as his teeth drag against your neck now, biting and sucking, as your fingers thread through his white locks, “Satoru,” you moan, biting your lip.

“Judging by that moan, I’m not the only one,” he smiles cheekily, his hands sliding down your back to rest at the back of your thighs, large palms and thick fingers pressing through the all too thin tulle of your dress, “can’t wait to see how fuckin’ wet you are for me, Princess.”

You gasp at his vulgar words, a rush of heat that leaves your legs shaking under his touch, “Now whose mind is the gutter?” You tease, your fingers tugging at his tie, unfurling the knot.

“Always has been when it’s come to you, want to make this perfect princess filthy,” he coos, and he’s pulling you up against the door, your hands wrapped around his neck, “wanna make my beautiful little wife scream my name, don’t I?”

“Toru—“ you gasp as his teeth graze along your chest, tugging the neckline of your dress impossibly low, “you’re going to rip it—“ and he does, pulling the fabric apart with ease, “what the fu—“ and he’s swallowing your swears with his tongue.

“I’ll buy you another,” he grins, “in fact I’ll buy you any amount you want, as long as you keep letting me do this,”

And he’s peeling the dress off of you, dress falling to the floor in a shamble of tulle, and your skin flushes at the air hitting your bare skin, and shivers at the feeling of his sharp breath against your neck.

“How are you so fucking perfect?” he sighs, burying his face in the nape of your neck, pressing butterfly kisses down your collarbone, “I should get an award for patience — not being able to touch you, to kiss you, but living with you?”

His fingers are skimming down your underwear now, snapping the waistband against your skin, you gasp, “Fuck, Toru,” you whimper, “thought you’d talk less during this,” your fingers are undoing his shirt now.

“Oh I can think of a few things that could shut me up,” his lips curl deviously, and you’re slipping his shirt off his shoulders, your lips pressing to his collarbone.

“I don’t think you’d even shut up from that,” as he shivers when your teeth graze his soft skin, “I think you’ll only whine more,”

And his gaze is hot as his eyes meet yours again, as he grasps at your thighs and picks you up, “let’s see who’s the one whining at the end of this,” you squeal, grasping into his shoulders, as he carries you into his bedroom, as he settles you down on his bed. His eyes raking over you, panting and disheveled, he drags his thumb down your bottom lip, “can’t believe you’re all mine, Princess,”

“Satoru,” you’re reaching for him, but he pins your hand to the bed, “wha—“

“Patience, baby,” he purrs, as he presses his lips to your wrist, “let me enjoy you,”

He’s so pretty it’s unfair - the way his breath hits your skin steals yours, pretty pink lips parted as he runs his tongue over them, the same ache between your legs longing for that tongue between them. But it leaves you with so little of the patience he asks you to have — especially after over a decade of this in the making.

And your impatience is evident, you suppose, by the pout on your lips, and he laughs, “Want a kiss, baby?”

You don’t have the time to say you want much more than a kiss, as he humors you with a kiss, lips teasing you with their sweet taste, and you don’t fail to notice his smile as you lean up into his touch. And suddenly his hands brush down your bare sides, squeezing your hips, and you’re gasping, “Feel good, Princess? We’ve barely started—“

“You keep teasing me and I’ll make you regret it,” you grumble, between breathless kisses, the bite of your words dampened by the soft pants that leave your lips, “Toru, I swear—“

And his thumb presses against the wet patch on your underwear, flimsy layer of soaked fabric barely doing a thing to hide your arousal, “Not acting like a good little girl for me,” he tuts, as you keen against his touch, gasping as you throw your head back as he grinds his fingers against your puffy clit, “all it took was one touch to have you so pliant, huh? Should’ve done this a long time ago,”

“Stop,” you whine, and his grin only grows larger with such self satisfaction, you don’t know if your lust addled brain wants you to strangle his neck or his cock, “please, just—“

“Just what?” And his fingers are breaching past your underwear, just barely touching the outer lips of your cunt, “come on, Princess, use your big girl words, or are you already fucked stupid before I’ve barely touched you?”

“Motherfuck—“

“I will be one once I get my needy little wife pregnant, won’t I?” And his long fingers finally tug down your underwear — the wet schlick of the sticky fabric hitting the floor make him drag his teeth over those beautiful lips, “but we got plenty of time for that, after all,” his fingers tease the outer lips of your throbbing pussy, “practice makes perfect,”

And he sinks a long finger knuckle deep — and a whine crawls its way out of your throat, his fingers were thicker than yours were — and so much better. His thumb teases your clit in tight circles as he begins to tease your walls, reaching deep, deep, deeper, your slick starting to drip onto his palm, “God, you’re soaking me, Princess,” and your hips can’t resist the urge to grind against his touch, “oh, and where’s that mouth now?” you can barely see much less talk, words failing as he begins to stretch you out - his other large palm rested against your thigh, keeping your legs nice and spread for him.

He’s grinning, he sinks another finger into you, teasing your walls apart, beginning to finger fuck you in earnest, “my mouthy girl just needed to be fucked right? Didn’t she?” And all you can hear are the filthy sounds of your cunt, as his fingers piston in and out, “nothing to say, Princess?” And he spanks your pussy, making you yelp, a whine leaving your throat, “and you thought I’d be whiny, look at you now, baby,” his fingers cup your chin to force your glassy eyes to meet his darkened blues, “such a good fucked out wife for me,”

And a third finger joining right as he brushed against a spot that had you seeing stars as his thumb bullied your clit, eyes rolling back as he did, and he’s grinning, “my perfect princess and her perfect little pussy,”

You came with his name on your lips, panting and shaking as he held you steady, his fingers dripping with your release, as he pulled away, watching your cunt twitch around nothing, aching for his fingers.

You're coming down from your high, chest rising and falling, as you watch him gather your release on his fingers, toying with your cunt, before he sucks them clean, “Fuck,” you whimper, as he licks and cleans himself of your cum, “Toru-“

“Fuck, baby, how’ve I resisted tasting you for so long?” And he’s bending down as he noses your thighs, making your hips jolt, still sensitive from your orgasm as he deeply inhaled, tip of his tongue darting out to lick your release from your thighs, “smell as sweet as you taste,” he hums, your legs trying to close, but his palms keep them spread, “can’t keep a man from his vices, can we baby?”

And his tongue teases your cum that pooled from your orgasm, the tip hot and wet as it tastes it, “tastes when better coming from this filthy princess cunt,” he grins against your thigh, teeth grazing your skin, making you lurch.

“T-Toru, please,” fuck you hated how needy you sounded, but you needed more — but he’s leaning away, pressing his cheek against the soft plush of your thigh.

“Need you to do something me first, sweetheart,” and his fingers are drawing teasing infinities on your thighs, “tell me how much you want me,”

“Fuck you,” you groan, “I know what you’re gonna say,” you add, cutting off his snappy retort of “I’m trying to,” “I want you, Satoru, please, I’ve wanted this for too long,” and your voice grows more teasing, “how long is my husband going to keep me waiting?”

And his eyes darken, the slight flush on his cheeks growing deeper, as his mouth presses a wet kiss to your sopping pussy, “good girl, think you deserve a reward,” and he’s manhandling your thighs, spreading them wide, as he buries his face in your cunt, “such a good little wife deserves to be eaten out,”

And eating is exactly what he does - you had only seen Satoru eat sweets with the same voracity he devoured you, pressing his thick fingers into your thighs as he splayed you out as his mouth pressed wet kisses to your dripping lips. His hot tongue drags up the length of your cunt, “best fucking thing I’ll ever taste, know what my last meal will be,” he’s murmuring against you, making you twitch, as he looks up at you with half lidded eyes and saliva and slick covered lips, “awww my pretty pussy begging to be filled? Well I can do that for you, baby,” and he’s burying his tongue in your messy hole.

The moan that leaves your lips leaves his cock harder and hurting, he didn’t know you could make such a lewd noise, and he couldn’t wait to make you make it again and again. He’s making out with your pussy at this mouth, your hips doing their best to grind against him, desperate for more, more, more.

And your fingers find his shoulders first, before sliding up to his hair, pressing him further against you, “you’re so fucking cute,” he murmurs, as he spreads your folds with his thumbs before tongue fucking you. His tongue teases and abuses your walls, deeper and deeper, before he pulls back to flick his tongue over your clit, making you moan even louder, “neighbors are gonna hear you at this rate, baby,” but he only sucks at your clit, harshly, “oh well, they know we’re newlyweds,” he’s humming as his ears hear your broken whines and pants, body tensed up against his.

And you’re so wet now, your slick drips down his jaw, mixed with his spit, “you’re all mine now, baby, can’t live without tasting you now—“ and he groans when your hips buck into his mouth again, feeling your walls twitch, “I know you’re close, Princess, tell me how good it feels,”

“S’good, Toru, I can’t—“ you’re pulling at his soft white locks now, making him grunt, and you fall apart, back arching as you cum as all you can hear are the squelching sounds of his tongue and mouth as he continues to eat you out through your orgasm.

And you’re twitching under him as he sucks up every bit of your cum, “so fucking good for me,” he’s finally pulling himself from your messy pussy, “can’t wait to feel you around me, should’ve known you have a little princess cunt,”

And he’s licking his lips and chin clean, as you watch him with half lidded eyes, still panting, as your eyes skim down his body, his jacket had been thrown aside at some point, but his now wrinkled shirt is only messily untucked from his dress pants, and disheveled was too good of a look on him, but you rather see those clothes on the floor of your bedroom, “you’re still annoyingly dressed,” you manage between breaths, still aching from his ministrations, “strip,”

He’s raising an eyebrow, a wicked grin on his lips, “So demanding for someone who was moaning my name a second ago,” but you pull yourself up, supporting yourself on a shaky arm while you use the other to tug on his tie, smashing his lips to yours.

You unfurl the very tie you tied, fingers flying to unbutton his shirt, “Made me feel so good, baby,” and now you were kneeling in front of him, your release slipping down your thighs, as you slipped his shirt off his shoulders, tossing it aside, heated eyes raking over his bare chest, tongue running over your lips, “only fair if I repay the favor,”

You’re undoing his belt for him, pulling it free from the loops, as your hand grazes his noticeable bulge in his suit pants, “surprised you haven’t ripped through,” you squeeze lightly, making his hips jerk, as he pouts all too cutely — and now you knew why he always teased you, “didn’t you tell me to have patience, love?”

“Your husband is running low on that at the moment, never been one to be patient, sweetheart,” he’s gritting his teeth, as you slip his pants off leaving him only in boxers.

Your eyes are glued to his erection, visible through the damp front of his boxers, wet with his precum, “so fuckin’ big, even better than I thought,” you say almost with reverence, and his lip quivers at the praise, a quiet groan leaving his throat. You raise an eyebrow, “like to be praised, baby boy?”

And he swallows, adam's apple bobbing, sweat on his forehead from his treatment of you, but a red flush deepens on his skin, “Princess,” it’s half a warning and half a plea—and morphs into a whimper as your fingers tease the head of his cock through his boxers, rubbing his precum into the fabric, “f-fuck, s’good with those hands, sweetheart,”

“Imagine how much better it’d be with your boxers out of the way,” you say leaning down and licking at the tip through the sticky fabric, as his head falls back with a soft moan, “can’t wait to feel this between my legs,” as you kiss the clothed tip, two fingers slipping in only to snap the waistband of the boxers against his skin, and he’s biting back a moan, a pout on his kiss ruined lips, “god, you’re so pretty,”

Another noise in the back of his throat, “Fuck, Princess,” he hissed, as you finally spare him, pulling his boxers off, his erection slapping against his too fucking incredible abs — how was he so unfairly perfect? He was so gorgeous — more long than girthy, but he was so thick still, and flushed red with pearly pre-cum at the tip. Each vein and curve felt as if he was made for you.

“All this for me, baby?” You tease, as his mouth opens and then closes as your fingers tease the head of his cock, a sharp inhale that keeps echoing in your ears, “all turned on from eating me out, huh?” You move close, nearly straddling him, but you don’t let your cunt brush against his cock — not yet.

And his dick twitches in your hand, “Sweetheart,” he whimpers, eyes nearly glassy with need, “such a fucking tease,”

And your lips curl, “Match made in heaven, baby,” you rub your thumb against his flushed tip, spreading the pre-cum along his shaft, “can’t wait to taste you, wonder if you taste as sweet as what you eat,” licking your lips, and he’s biting his lip, “tell me what you want, Toru,”

“Y’know what I want, Princess,” he’s panting as you lean forward to kiss him, lips sliding against his, just as your palm starts to stroke him, his moan is nearly pornographic, words spilling from his mouth, “want your pretty pussy around my cock, sweetheart, plesse,”

“Not so fast, baby,” you hum, your other hand moving to tease his balls, achingly full, judging by the gasp that left his throat, “wanna take my time with you, like you did with me, right?” And he breaks your kiss with a whine, “you feel so good in my hands, Toru, been thinking about this cock for too long,” and he’s grunting, lips parted as he pants, burying his face in your shoulder.

“How good?” he mumbles, and you’re grinning even wider — the great Satoru Gojo fell to pieces with only your touch and some praise, his face beautifully flushed as you tug him by the back of his hair, thumb running over his undercut as you do.

“So good that I wanna make you fall apart over and over until my name is the only thing on your lips,” you squeeze the base of his dick, making his hips jump, “gonna be a good boy for me and let me do it?”

And he’s nodding, utterly fucked out even before you’ve even started. And you guide him to the end of the bed, as you get on your knees for him, his gaze darkening as he watches you lean down to press your lips to the tip of his weeping erection, making him groan your name. And you trace his slit with the tip of your tongue, tasting his salty release, “How long you gonna tease me baby? I’m being so good for you,” he’s whining, his baby blues fluttering with lust as he looks down at you, choking as he sees how his precum paints your lips, “please, fuck, just—“

And you finally guide his cock into your mouth, and he’s jerking at the sensation and groaning as he watches your pretty little mouth take his length — those same smart lips that always had a reply for everything, the ones he’d jerked off to the thought of this very situation — you on your knees for him, the ones he’d wanted around him for so long — it was too much.

He almost blew his load all too fast, your warm mouth all too accommodating to his cock, as your wet walls and tongue swirl around him, tasting and sucking, your fingers grasping his thighs. And you bob up and down his length, the weight of his cock making the ache between your legs worse, and your eyes flicker up, and moan as you watch him.

He’s so fucking gorgeous — panting and so fucked out, as his lips part for you, your name leaving his kissed red lips, teeth baring down on his bottom lip, “Fuck, my little wife is so pretty on her knees,” as his hands settle on your head, watching you sink your mouth down on his cock, pleasure running up his spine, as his thick fingers dig into your scalp, “so nasty, baby, fuuuuck, gonna fuck your throat at this rate,” he groans, “how’d you get so good at this baby? Don’t answer that,” he adds, a growl in his words, and you almost giggle around his dick.

“Learned so I could blow you, husband, after all, this mouth is yours,” you grin, and his lips curl too and then they part as he grunts, as you press teasing kisses along his length before sliding it back into your mouth, beginning to let the tip hit the back of your throat. You gag on him, making him moan, as he helps you deepthroat him, his hips thrusting against you lightly, his white pubes brushing against your face.

And he’s moaning even louder, as he watches you, drool slipping down your chin as he fucks your mouth, tongue massaging him as he did, “Made just to fuck me, huh? Want my load that bad, Princess?” And his words have your eyes rolling back as he’s moving against you, his cock twitching telling you that he’s close, “shiiit, fuck, my wife’s a slut for me, gonna swallow my cum baby?”

“Only for you,” you pull away a moment, a string of spit connecting your lips to his dick, smiling, before you slip him back into your too eager mouth, and you hollow your cheeks, the lewd noises of your tongue and mouth sending him over the edge.

“Fuck, fuck, gonna cum, baby, can I cum in—“ and you make his tip brush your throat again as you suck, looking at him with half lidded, dilated eyes. And he spills into your mouth, hot cum down your throat, as he holds your head gently in place, “shit Princess,” his hips jumping at the sight of you, cum and spit slipping from the corner of your mouth as you pull his cock from you, “s’good for me,”

He’s still panting, as you climb into his lap properly, his cock sliding against your cunt, making his face twist in pleasure, as you lick your mouth clean of him, wiping your chin, “Taste so good, Toru,” you hum, his eyes half lidded with pleasure, chest still heaving, as he leans back on shaky arms, “you may be my favorite meal, but I think I rather,” you grind on his lap teasingly dragging his tip against your messy cunt, “have you cum inside me,”

And he gives a delicious gasp, “baby, too sensitive,” but you’re tilting his chin back as you meet his lips, both of you moaning as you taste yourselves on the other’s lips, “you’re gonna be the death of me, Princess,” he’s chuckling, as he starts to grab your thighs, putting you properly into his lap, “you gonna ride me like a good little princess? Fuck yourself on my cock?”

How does he have the upper hand when you’re the one on top?

As you feel yourself clench around nothing at his words, and he’s sliding your body back and forth, his cock slapping and sliding against your wrecked cunt, so close to sinking in. His hand bears down on your ass, slapping it, before his fingers squeeze it, making you jump against him, your chest brushing against his, “you like that huh?” he’s grinning, as he kisses you again, his lips sliding against you, swallowing your moans eagerly, “what do you want, baby? Remember to say please,” he adds, and you want to roll your eyes, but his fingers rub your clit, and any protest you had fled your mind.

“Please,” and you’re using your fingers to part yourself above him, making his eyes roll back, as you grasp his cock, teasing your dripping cunt with the head of his dick, “fuck me,”

And you sink onto him, inch by inch, as your head looks back, your walls squeezing as he parted your folds, “You’re drenching me, sweetheart, fucking perfect princess cunt is gonna wring me dry,” he grunts, as his fingers splay over your hips, grasping but not pushing, letting you go at your pace, “s’good, might just have to fill you up, again and again,” and your pussy twitches at that thought drawing a laugh from him lips, “you want that? My wife wants to be full of my cum,” he’s groaning when you finally fit all of his cock in you, cunt clamping down on him, “trying to break my cock? Don’t have to go that far to keep me, I’m living in this sweet cunt from now on,”

You’re a mess — whining and moaning, your chest bouncing as you begin to move against him, “Toru, so full, s’good,” his own hips jumping against yours, a low growl in his throat, as his hands begin to guide your hips, snapping his own hips as he fucks you onto his own cock, reaching new depths, as your eyes squeeze shut, “fuckfuckfuuuck, Toru,” you’re babbling and moaning his name, again and again — and he just needs more.

And he’s spanking you, hands coming down on your ass, as he grunts, your warm walls twitching and squeezing him, brushing against sweet spots that have both of you groaning, “such a fucking good girl, taking my cock — I know you can take more, baby, my perfect wife,” and he’s capturing your nipple in his mouth, teeth grazing it before he sucks, his hips growing even faster, until his cock finds your special spot.

“Toru, g’nna cum, I—“ And your orgasm hits you, head thrown back as your lips part in a silent scream, toes curling as you wrap your legs around his waist, and he’s fucking you right through — fucking relentless, almost limitless, with his pace, groaning as he watches his the base of his cock covered in your release, a pool of white that almost has him cumming then and there.

“S’ fuckinh pretty, Princess, and all mine,” he says, as you moan, as he slows his pace, your face buried in his shoulder, as you come down from your high, and he’s tilting your head.

But he isn’t done yet.

In a moment, he’s pulling his cock out — a whine parting your mouth — as he manhandles you so that you’re flat on your back, your ankles thrown over his shoulders, and spread wide for him. You’re the picture of filth — lips in a kiss ruined pout, chest rising and falling as you gaze up at him with needy eyes, and your perfect cunt leaking and drenched for him — he could see everything — all of you, the way your cum slid down your hole, the way it clenched around nothing, the pretty pink insides he was desperate to make his.

He licks his lips, “soaking my lap and sheets with your cum, baby, such a dirty girl,” and he’s spreading your lips, letting your release trickle out.

“Satoru,” you whine as he runs a finger over your still twitching pussy, as if begging for his cock back, “please, too sensitive,”

“Please what, sweetheart? Because your cunt seems to disagree,” his chuckle is a deep noise that reverberates through his chest as he leans down to press your lips to yours in a languid kiss, “such a nerdy princess, imagine how’d your family would feel — seeing you beg for my cock, huh? Not the chaste little princess anymore? Nah, you’re my filthy baby,” and you’re whimpering, “tell me baby, I know you’re not nearly fucked dumb yet, you’re too smart for that,” he coos, a grin on his lips as he stares with that damn crystalline gaze.

And finally he’s sinking into you again, cock sliding back into your soaked cunt, “God, I love you,” he murmurs, as he’s somehow deeper inside you, pussy pressed against all of him, “so fucking perfect, baby, better than I imagined,” he’s pussydrunk now as he rails into you, and you’re grasping at him, the only sound in your ears is the squelch of him as he filled you again and again as his chest presses against yours, fucking you long and hard, “you’re all mine now, baby. My wife, my body, my love, my soul — all of it,” he growls his last words, grunting as his hips begin to stutter as he kisses your sweet spot again and again, “you want me to cum in this sweet princess pussy, baby? Wanna make me a daddy?”

Your cunt twitches at that, and he laughs, “did you just get wetter, baby? Didn’t think you could do that,”

But you’re only moaning, you’re so fuckin’ close but you want him to cum with you - wanna feel him sink into as he does. And so you’re meeting his lips in a searing kiss, his hips thrusting harder and longer, “give me your baby, Toru, breed me,” you whisper, words slurring as you pant and stutter, all sense had left your mind - and all you wanted was him.

“Fuck, Princess,” he’s grunting as he pistons in and out of you, bed groaning under his thrusts, until your walls clamp down again and again on him as you cum, throbbing and needy as you moan his name, back arching, “g’nna cum,”

And he does, his cock hitting the deepest part of you as he does, his warm seed filling you up, as his hips continue to fuck it deeper into you, making you whimper, as he just keeps on cumming ropes, “oh, f-fuck, Princess,” he rasps as he kisses you, sloppy and wet, as he pants, watching your face come down him your high, eyelashes fluttering as you look up at him, “so beautiful,” he murmurs, as he rubs his thumb down your lips.

He pulls out slowly, groaning as he watches your mixed releases leak out of you, dragging the tip of his weeping erection down your cunt, a whine leaving your throat again, “So fucking filthy, baby,” he hums, a shiteating grin on his lips, as he collects his cum on his fingers, and pushes it back inside of you, as you jump, a small pout on your lips making him laugh, “gotta make good on my promise, baby,” and he’s kissing you silly again, “gotta get you pregnant and full for me,”

His body is sticky with sweat, as he eases your aching legs down, as he kisses up your body, nosing your neck, “So perfect for me, Princess, I love you,” he says so earnestly that it makes you melt, as you pull him into a kiss, “suppose we consummated our marriage now, does this mean we get to have a honeymoon now?” he’s grinning, as you roll your eyes, “come on, don’t you want to travel?”

And you laugh, “I don’t think we would even leave the hotel room if you had your way,” and he’s pressing his thumb against your bottom lip and dragging down, before kissing you, sliding his tongue into your mouth to taste you.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” And your breath catches a moment, before you sigh, and he grins again, “so?”

You roll over to grab your phone, kissing his lips, pulling up possible destinations, “where are we going?”

“Satoru, we’re at the office, uhmph—“ Satoru’s kissing you even before the elevator doors shut, and you can’t help but not care if anyone saw either of you making out, his talented tongue stealing your logic from under you, before he’s pulling away, your lipstick nearly smeared all over his face. You bite back a laugh, before using your thumb to wipe away the evidence of your kiss, “we’ve been here less than a minute, and you’re already making a mess,”

And his lips catch your thumb between them, kissing it sweetly, “What do I do better than make a mess of you, princess?” and he’s pressing sweet kisses to your fingertips, before you’re pulling him back for another kiss, right before you hear the elevator ding, and you scramble apart.

Your cheeks flushed, as you stepped onto the floor of the newly merged company that was formerly your families’ individual companies, now united as one — just as you and Satoru were now — which was why he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of you. The two of you had come into the office to finalize the transition for your staff, each of you dealing with formalities on either side, but Satoru did little to help your focus on the process with his blatant stares and sneaky touches.

Twice already he had pulled you into his office, only to have you either pressed against his door, or bent over his desk. And god, you sat in your office, biting your lip as you thought about paying him another visit — and fuck, this is what he wanted.

You pull your phone out and text him: You suck.

And his reply is instant. If I recall from last night, you’re the one who sucks ;)

You’ve left me high and dry, Satoru, and I shouldn’t be thinking about fucking you in the office. Especially with both of our parents around in meetings all day.

He replies, Nah, that’s exactly why you should be thinking about it.

And then another text.

Imagine our parents walking in while you’re under my desk doing what you do best, you’d be quiet for me, Princess? Wouldn’t let us get caught when I fuck your pretty mouth?

You’re biting your lip — Fucker, I hate you.

Nah, you love me, a little too much, Princess. Another text — especially the way you were moaning my name last night.

And there’s a knock at your door in that moment — “Come in,” you intone, and you were ninety-nine percent sure that was Satoru — ready to make good on his promise — and then white hair visible as the door swings open, “Father,”

It was a Gojo, but not the one you expected — your father in law, instead of his son.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he says, lips curling in a smile that was all too the same as his son — but missing the same charm, the distinct softness that made you adore Satoru was not present in his father — nor was his father very present at all — except to chastise his son on how he thought his son should live his life.

And he was interrupting — interrupting you about to sext his son and your husband from the confines of your office, but you only offered a smile, “Not at all, can I help you with something, Father?”

He’s shutting the door behind him, before taking a seat across from you, “I just wanted to have a chat with you — it’s been so long since we’ve been able to see the two of you — we still haven’t had you over since you’ve returned from your honeymoon,”

“It’s been very busy,” and it had been, but not too busy to see Satoru’s family. Since the launch party, you and Satoru had agreed to steer clear of his father for some time, until Satoru could develop some more healthy boundaries with him. And so you could get through a conversation without strangling him (although Satoru wasn’t opposed to seeing that), “with the merger and Satoru and I trying to spend time to get know each other again,”

“Of course,” but his smile told you he was unconvinced, “I wanted to talk to you about something important, I’ve seen how close you and Satoru have gotten since the engagement and the wedding, and I was happy to see you pushing him in the right direction,”

“”Pushing him?’” you repeat, raising an eyebrow.

“With the merger, I haven’t seen him so focused, so determined, and I knew my suggestion to my wife to have you marry him was the right choice,” and you stare at him, mouth agape, as anger slowly melts from your stomach into every vein of his body, fingers curling into fists.

“Excuse me?”

He leans back in his chair, “When the idea of the merger was floated by me, I knew I wanted a condition to be your marriage to Satoru,” his eyes glance over the things on your desk — the stacked folders, the paperwork, and the pictures of your family and of Satoru, “you’re driven, you’re focused, you’re perfect — I knew you could change him, and I was right,” his lips curl, and you can’t hold your tongue anymore.

“Maybe what your son needed was someone to support him,” your words are even, but your body is tense, “he needed someone not to scold him, to put him down, to whisper doubts in his ear when he needed help,” you rise from your chair slowly, “I respect you as my father-in-law and as my family’s old friend and co-owner of this company, but,” you glare at him, “no one insults my husband’s capabilities, and makes me takes credit for his achievements,”

The old man’s teeth grit, and he opens to respond, when there’s a curt knock at the door, and Satoru enters, “Old man, how about you go chat with the other old farts in the room? Pretty sure you’re bleeding investors by the second the longer you talk with my wife,” he slides a small smile to you that tells you he heard everything.

Satoru’s father shoots a glare at both of you, before leaving the room in a huff, door shutting behind him, and you sigh, rubbing your temples, “I’m sorry if I made things worse—”

And he’s pulling you into a hug, arms snaking around your waist and pulling you against him, “Thank you, Princess,” he murmurs into your ear, making you tense, “oh you like that, huh?” and you roll your eyes, laughing.

“Even in a moment like this, huh?” you lean up and whisper in his ear, “I don’t just like it, I love it,” and it’s his turn to shiver, his cheeks burning, “you’re so cute,” you grin, before leaning up and kissing him. He melts into the kiss, his fingers cupping your cheek to deepen the kiss, pulling your waist against his, and you feel his arousal pressed against your thigh.

You pull away, tilting your head, you snort, “Already?”

And he bites his lip, “Take some responsibility, baby, it’s your fault,” and he leans down and grazes your ear with his teeth, “not my fault my hot wife defended my honor and then decided to whisper sweet nothings in my ear,”

You hum, guiding his lips to yours, your teeth graze over his bottom lip, “And how should I take responsibility, baby?” and he shudders, crystalline eyes glazed over with lust, “we’re in the office, not very professional,” his fingers unbutton your blouse, so he can lean down and kiss your collarbone.

“I was never very professional to begin with,” he smirks, his teeth grazing over the soft skin, sucking and biting, making you gasp, “don’t be so loud, someone will hear us, what will they think?” he murmurs, with a grin against your skin, as he continues to undo your blouse, as he turns you around so your back is against your chest, he tilts your head to look at your door, “look it’s unlocked, anyone could walk in,” and his fingers sneak down the front of your skirt, fingers teasing your panties, “fuuuck, princess, you’re soaked through — are you more turned on by the idea of getting caught?” and you whimper, only making him grin wickedly against your neck, “my filthy girl, imagine your father walking in, seeing your husband’s fingers down your skirt, legs spread wide like a slut,”

“Satoru,” you’re biting your lip so hard that you wouldn’t be surprised it would bleed, your knees buckling, as his fingers part your dripping folds, “we can’t—”

“We can,” he shushes you, guiding your lips to his, fingers cupping your throat, but he leans back to get confirmation that you were okay, and you lean in again to kiss him, “such a good girl,” You whimper, and he laughs, “gotta break in the new office don’t we?”

And his fingers slip your panties aside, two fingers parting your folds, and you gasp, as he stuffs two fingers into your mouth as well, “Not so loud, Princess, can’t give the office gossip mill something really juicy, now can we?” And his digits start to really fuck you, in and out, the wet squelch ringing in your ears, as his fingers bully and stretch your walls, until they find what they are looking for — your g-spot.

You fall apart, but it’s gushing all over his hand, soaking his hand, as your hand grasps at the fingers in his mouth trying to stifle your noises, “Fuck, Princess, did you just squirt for me?” He’s grinning, “such a sloppy little Princess, look you’re staining the carpet with your cum,” he guides your head to look, seeing the spot on the carpet, as you lean against him, “gotta do this again,”

He kisses you as you moan. Tangled limbs and eager touches, as you guide him over to the desk, as you settle him into the chair, lips still parting as your tongue slips in, “Your turn,” and before he can even react, you’re slipping down to your knees, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, slipping his aching dick out, nearly slapping your face with it, you drag it along your lips, “Like you said, I’m the one who sucks right?” you wink, before you finally lick the length of his cock, tracing the veins to the slit, “you always taste so good, Toru,” and he’s hissing now.

“Fuck, baby, you always so pretty on your knees for me,” and you have to disagree — he’s the one who looks pretty — shirt disheveled, chest rising and falling far too fast, as he looked down at you with his snowy white eyelashes half lidded with a lust ridden gaze — “your pretty mouth is s’fucking perfect, can’t wait to cum down that lovely throat,” he hisses, as his fingers dig into your scalp, urging his cock deeper, his tip brushing against your throat, making you gag.

He opens his mouth to apologize, but you only shake your head, as you do it again, making his hips buck against you, tip hitting your throat again, his composure quickly falling to shreds, as he’s fucking your throat now, biting his lip so hard to keep his groans in, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was bleeding afterwards.

“I-I’m close,” he’s gritting his teeth, but you only redouble your efforts, “so fuckin’ perfect, made to suck this dick—”

And that’s when there’s a knock on the door, making you both freeze. You panic silently — before Satoru is shepherding you under your desk, while he adjusts himself, scooting your chair in more, so his weeping cock is hidden along with you.

“Come in,” Satoru says, as even toned as someone who was just fucking their wife’s throat can manage, “Dad—what a nice surprise,”

And you cover your mouth — fuck it was your dad — Satoru called his dad, “old man” — what the fuck.

“I should be saying that to you son,” you bite your lip, listening to their conversation, “where’s my daughter? And why are you in her office?” and you covered your mouth, shit — you were hiding under your own desk, while Satoru sat in your chair.

Shit, shit, shit.

“I was just waiting for her to come back with lunch,” he manages, and you can almost see the dependable smile on his lips, “she volunteered to get us lunch and she told me to wait here so we could eat together,”

Your father was seemingly convinced after that, but to both of your dismay, sat down to speak with Satoru about business matters. You crouched, utterly bored as you listened to them talk, his erection beginning to wane, and you got an idea in your pretty little head — you grinned — well, Satoru should be careful what he wishes for, or he might just get you blowing him in front of your father.

You start slow — teasing the head with a brush of your fingers, easily could have been an accident, but it nearly makes him jump, as he gives a warning nudge with his foot gently. But then your hand begins to rub him in earnest, fingers using your spit as lube, as you heard your husband stammer over his words to your father. But it was nothing compared to when you closed your mouth over his cock, and began to deepthroat him again.

“Satoru, are you okay?’ you hear your father ask, as you discreetly suck your husband’s cock under his desk, and you can only imagine the delightful shade of red your Toru is turning.

“Sorry, I’m not feeling like myself,” he mumbles, as he grits his teeth in an attempt not to moan, and you can feel his thighs tense as he forces himself not to fuck your mouth as he wants to right now. He’s so close — as much as you like the idea of getting caught, you think Satoru likes it as much or maybe even more — his cock is twitching in your mouth as you suck and swirl your tongue around it, as your fingers dig into your thighs, “I apologize, I’m getting a call. Could you excuse me?”

And your father is oblivious, and excuses himself from the room, door shutting behind him, and Satoru groans, “Fuck, princess, you almost made me cum in front of your dad in this nasty fucking mouth,” and you suck harder, fingers fondling his balls, as his fingers find your locks again, and his hips jerk into your mouth, his white pubes tickling your nose, “thaaat’s it, fuck, so fuckin’ good, i’m close, sweetheart,” he groans, “you want me to cum—“ and you bury his cock deeper into your mouth as an answer, your hands pumping what you couldn’t fit, until he cums down your throat.

You meet his half lidded gaze, swallowing his cum, as you ease off his cock, a mix of cum and saliva connected your lips, “You taste so good,” you lick your lips, as you push the chair a little back and climb out, as you tug his boxers and pants back up, tucking his cock back in, “my favorite treat,”

He smiles, chest still rising and falling fast, “I love you, princess,” so genuinely as he pulls you into a deep kiss.

You giggle, humming against his lips, “So heartfelt after getting your soul sucked out of your dick,” you glance at the door, “do you think anyone heard us?”

He shrugs, as he pulls you into his lap, “I hope they did,” he grins against your neck, as you roll your eyes.

“You’re terrible,” and his lips curl.

“And you love me,” you kiss those same lips you would each day.

“I do.”

~~~~

“What do you wanna do today?” Satoru asks, your legs thrown over his lap, as you read a book you had picked up the other day out on a date with him, and he eats the kikufuku he had insisted on picking up the same day.

“Hmm, I have some ideas,” you hum, hiding your smile with a book, and you don’t need to see his face to know he’s grinning.

“And what’s that, Princess?” he leans forward, plucking the book from your fingers, as you tut at his sugar covered fingers, “shouldn’t you share your feelings with your husband?” And his lips brush against your neck, nose brushing against the soft skin of your nape, inhaling your scent.

“Well I have a surprise for you,” you weren’t planning on giving it to him now, but you pulled a wrapped box from behind the couch cushions, “should I make you wait?”

He’s reaching for the box already, as you laugh, and he’s snatching it from your fingers before you can tease him, “can I open it?” He was so eager, as always.

“Go ahead, baby,” you bite your lip, a small smile on your lips.

He lifts the lid of the wrapped box off, and the first thing his eyes flit across is the word “positive.”

His mouth parts, as he stares at the pregnancy test carefully nestled into the box, “is this—“ his cerulean eyes meet yours, a soft gaze with wonder, “are we—“

“We’re having a baby, Toru,” you nod, and he’s sweeping you into his arms, as you squeak, his body sweeping you up in his, as he buries his face in your neck, “Toru—“

“Is this real?” He murmurs, into your skin, all soft words and soft kisses, “I feel like I’m dreaming,”

“Well I am your dream girl, so maybe don’t be surprised when I pinch you and you wake up,” you pinch his cheek lightly, making his pale skin cutely flushed, pink dusting his cheeks, “no dream here, all real — so I guess you’re just lucky,”

“The luckiest,” he hums, a quiet noise that soothes you, “a beautiful wife, and now,” his fingers graze over your stomach, before lifting the hem of your shirt, to press his lips to it, “and now we’re going to be a family,”

Your lips curl, tilting his chin up so his watery gaze meets your own, thumb rubbing the length of his cheek, “We already were a family,

He raises his eyebrows in mock surprise, “I thought we were mortal enemies,” and you laugh, before shrugging.

“That too,” and he pulls you into his lap, smiling, “but you’re actually pretty cute,”

He gasps mockingly, “Princess, do you have a crush on me? A mere commoner?”

You roll your eyes, pressing a languid kiss to his lips, tasting the lingering sweetness of the kikufuku, “I hate you,” you say, when he knows you mean quite the opposite.

And he only smiles the same way he always did — and the same way he always would — “love you too, Princess."

✩ a/n: so this was also inspired by a character AI made by @/fairybaby that has been living in my mind rent free for far too long. thank you to @/laneymusings for being the best emotional support from writing to formatting to everything in between

✩ tag list: @ryliobrow, @getosho3cakes, @delaneyyyy, @soukokufan, @purplscnerie, @solarlunarsstuff, @growingupnrealizing, @forest-fruits-jam, @achipstea1ingseagull, @fruitscall, @starplasma-cujoh, @crashing-a-jeep, @mwah-chia, @vorschlaghannah, @xrysakts, @emonaculate

#satoru gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fanfiction #satoru gojo smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #sab [mlist]#gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #jjk au

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eccentricwritingbaby · 4 months ago

Text

please please please

lando norris x famous!reader

summary - with lando’s past track record of women, you get nervous entering this new relationship. it leads you to do the only thing you know how - write a song. based on please please please by sabrina carpenter.

masterlist

I know I have good judgment, I know I have good taste

It's funny and it's ironic that only I feel that way

I promise 'em that you're different and everyone makes mistakes

But just don't

“hey baby,” lando greets you as he enters the hotel room, striding in with a kiss to your forehead while giving you a slight hug as he moves towards the bathroom.

“hi, love,” you response from your place on the bed, “how was media day?”

“eh, boring,” lando shrugs as he begins to gather his things for the shower, “but some of the guys and i are going to go out later, you’re coming right?”

“yeah, i’ll come,” you nod with your response, “are you going to be so drunk i have to carry you home again?” laughing through your question, lando just shakes his head at you as he readies the shower.

“no no,” he keeps chuckling, “paparazzi will probably be there and my pr team will freak if they get that story again,”

“yeah, well now you have my pr team to worry about too,” you giggle towards him, “and if you’re surrounded by girls and getting hammered-”

“i know, love,” lando heads over to your place on the bed in order to give you a reassuring kiss, “i won’t embarrass you, i love you too much,”

you chase his lips again to receive another kiss before patting his cheek lightly, “please don’t, i know your history,” you warn him with a little laugh.

“yeah, yeah,” he hops off the bed with an eye roll and a playful shove to you, “you know i wouldn’t do that to you,”

“i know, lan, i know,”

All I'm asking, baby

Please, please, please

Don't prove I'm right

“i just get nervous i guess,” you speak into the phone to your friend, emma, “i mean last night we went out and he was hammered and a bunch of girls were on him after he promised-”

“y/n, y/n, slow down,” she attempts to calm you, “he’s a twenty-four year old millionaire, he’s gonna party you have to get that,” you sigh in realization that she’s right as she continues, “he didn’t and wouldn’t cheat on you, he loves you,”

“i know,” you sigh again.

“where is he now? you should probably talk about this with him,”

“he’s at the track, it’s race day,”

“well then do what you do best,”

“leave him?” you ask with a laugh, thinking about your own track record of ditching relationships when you get scared.

“no,” emma giggles through the phone, “write a song, y/n,”

“oh right,” the giggles escalate between you and your friend right as lando walks through the hotel door, “i gotta go, em, lando just got here,”

“alright, don’t leave him, y/n. he’s good for you, you’ve just got trust issues, and remember that you’re also a twenty-four year old millionaire, you can have fun too,”

“shut up,” you laugh again, hanging up the phone and heading towards your boyfriend, “what are you doing here?”

“are you not happy to see me, baby?” lando asks as he waltzes towards you, hands landing on your waist to pull you into a kiss.

“mm,” you hum in approval, “always happy to see you, lan,”

“good,” he giggles, separating from you and jogging a bit towards his suitcase, “i forgot this team gear thing i have to wear today, so i had to run back really quick,”

“ah okay,” you nod in understanding.

“are you coming soon?” he asks as he grabs the shirt he was looking for, moving to the door to leave.

“yes, baby, i’m going to head down in about an hour,”

“okay, i’ll see you there,” he reaches out for a kiss before he leaves as you blush behind him once the door shuts. you can’t help but notice the way he makes you feel, understanding that your nervousness had no real reason to be there. you both were young and successful, and reaping the benefits of that shouldn’t be so bad in the public eye.

so you take emma’s advice and get out your notepad in order to hopefully release your stress.

Heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another

I beg you, don't embarrass me, motherfucker, oh

Please, please, please

it was three weeks later when you arrived home to your apartment after another studio session. your song had taken about two weeks to write, quickly written due to the words being on a constant replay in your head. all you could think was ‘please please please’ therefore the song almost wrote itself. now with a week of recording under your belt, the song was taking off with your production team. they loved it. and so did you. it was determined to be the main single on your album release which was approaching fast.

“hey, lan, i didn’t think you’d get here until later,” you say to your boyfriend as you lock up the door behind you.

“i flew with some of the guys on a private flight, so we landed early,” he explains while getting up and walking to meet you at the door for a kiss, “how was the studio?”

“it was good,” you breathe out, beginning to take off your shoes and toss your bag onto the couch, then going to the kitchen to try and find some food, “i have a few more sessions before the single is ready, and then the album should be finished,”

“that’s nice,” lando replies, stealing a few grapes from the bowl of fruit you grabbed, “can i come with tomorrow?”

“what?” you choke out, not prepared for his question. lando had accompanied you a few times to recording sessions, he seemed to really enjoy them. however, he had never watched you record a song about him, especially one that may be taken the wrong way.

“can i come with you tomorrow?” he asks you a bit slower, attempting to read your facial expression, “to your recording session?”

“oh, um,” you stumble out, “i thought you had to be in the sim?”

“no, that’s in two days, tomorrow i’m free,” he looks you up and down with confusion before continuing, “what’s going on?”

“i’m sorry, lan,” you sigh, pushing the fruit in your bowl around a bit as a distraction, “the song i’ve been recording, well, it’s…” you slow your speech in an attempt to find the right words.

“what?” he pushes, confused on what could be so bad.

“it’s about you, okay?” you finally get out, “and it’s not really a love song,”

“then what is it?” lando asks and you finally take a look at him, but you aren’t able to read his face.

“you’ll hear it tomorrow,”

“no, y/n, what is it?” he demands, pushing forward on the counter in order to get closer to you.

“it’s just-”

“a breakup song?”

“no! no,” you exclaim, still trying to read his face, “it’s kind of a ‘please don’t make me break up with you’ song,” you let out the last part quietly, now looking back down at your fruit again.

“is this about the other night? at the club? or the weekend before?”

“i mean kind of all of it,” you shrug off honestly, “you’ll hear it tomorrow,”

“fine,” he answers, quiet and solemn, “i’m sorry, y/n,”

“why are you sorry?” you ask, finally looking up at him again.

“you clearly don’t trust me, and i know i have a history, i get it, i really do, but-”

“but what?” you cut him off, relieved that he finally may be understanding your point of view, “lando i know we’re young and rich and we can go out and have fun-”

“y/n-” lando attempts to butt in, however you keep going.

“no, lando, let me finish. i know that we are young and stupid but that is us as individuals. i don’t want to have to keep going on fucking podcasts or talk shows where i have to explain why my boyfriend is acting single! it’s one thing to have fun, it’s another to embarrass the shit out of me,” you huff out your feelings, and finally the weight on your chest seemingly disappears.

“i’m sorry, y/n," he sighs out, running a hand down his face, "i guess i’m just used to not dating other famous people and forgot that it can impact your career too, i’m used to it only affecting mine,” lando begins to move towards you, his hands finding their home on your waist.

“it’s fine, like i said, i understand,” you breathe into his chest as you hug him, “i just needed to relieve that stress, and writing does that for me,”

“i get it,” he replies, his left hand coming to rub your back, soothing you further into his arms, “i love you, y/n,”

“i love you too, lando,”

If you wanna go and be stupid

Don't do it in front of me

If you don't wanna cry to my music

Don't make me hate you prolifically

it was finally your album release party a few months later. lando, along with his family and friends were there as well as your whole team and your friends and family. your fresh single had broken records and skyrocketed with presales for your album which would be fully released at midnight. to say you were on a high was an understatement. as you sat next to lando in your finest dress, he squeezed your hand a few times, bringing you back down to earth.

“are you alright?” he nudges you quietly, distracting you from your upcoming speech.

“i sing in front of stadiums, lan,” you chuckle, “i think a speech won’t kill me,” you whisper back to him.

“i know,” he laughs, “just making sure,”

“thank you, love,” you kiss his cheek just as your manager pulls you away from him and near the stage. your producer was giving a speech before you, and he was just about to introduce you for yours.

“and now, the lady you’ve been waiting for all evening, y/n y/l/n!” he cries out, the venue erupting in cheers of encouragement as you waltz across the stage to the mic. giving your producer a light hug and a kiss on each cheek, you stop in front of the microphone and clear your throat to begin.

“i just want to say, first off, thank you to everyone who came tonight. i’m absolutely sure it wasn’t because of the free alcohol and food provided,” you chuckle with the rest of the crowd at your brief joke before continuing.

“as always, being able to even make an album and live out my dream is a blessing, so thank you to everyone who always makes that possible. that would easily be my manager, my production team, and my fans, you guys are the best and i wouldn’t be here without you,”

you pause again briefly for the crowd to cheer in acknowledgment and proceed, “my family and friends, you all never stopped believing in me and there is no way i would be on this stage right now if it weren’t for your support,” one more pause and a deep breath before you begin again.

“and finally, lando,” your teary eyes meet his as you spot max fewtrell giving him a few playful jabs to the shoulder.

“you are and will forever be my muse, my light, my inspiration, and my heart. thank you, for your patience, for your love, and for trusting me with your heart,” you begin to choke up, leading you to swallow your tears as the crowd begins to ‘awe’, “i love you, lan. this album wouldn’t be possible without you, and i wouldn’t be the woman i am today without you by my side. thank you,” you finish off, blowing a kiss in his direction as he quickly wipes a tear from his eye. he wouldn’t embarrass you, he wouldn’t even think about risking the joy you bring him everyday.

Please, please, please (Please)

Please (Please), please (Please), please

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mywritersmind · 3 months ago

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RULE NO.1 - LN

summary : fewtrell!sister. The one rule Max keeps strict with Lando is to stay away from his sister! Lando has always teased the girl but as she returns from college to crash at Max’s, it’s not so much of a joke anymore.

warning : kissing kissing kissing!

word count : 1740

⋆ ˚‧｡⋆

My brother has always had one rule with Lando, that is, ‘No, Under so circumstances, can you ever do ANYTHING with my sister.’ After I had my first kiss with said F1 driver, Max vetoed anything between us.

Of course there was nothing there, we were twelve and I had a tiny crush on him. But Lando is nothing if not mischievous.

He flirts. That’s the way he gets around the silly rule. His touches linger, his words tease me, and his eyes say anything he forgot.

Max absolutely hates it, especially with Landos track record with girls, it’s become a way to protect me and his own friendship.

I don’t exactly hate it. It’s a hot guy flirting with me, why would I hate it? Still, maybe my teeny tiny crush never fully left my mind. And with his meaningless words comes my own meaningful feelings.

“You look good.” I can see Lando in the reflection of the TV. He sips his tea, and leans against the counter.

He's in running shorts and a Quadrant shirt.

“Thank you.” I haven’t seen Lando in more than a year. I’ve been in my last year at Uni and his career has been crazier than ever. I would be fine around him… except that the last time I saw him it was new years. And he kissed me.

He kissed me and it’s lived rent free in my head for over a year. Max doesn’t know, of course he doesn’t because Lando is still in one piece.

Our whole childhood I was just the little sister who sometimes would beat them at mario kart. I’m two years younger, nothing crazy, yet Max seems to think it’s illegal for Lando to see me in shorts.

“Where’s my brother?” I ask, turning the page of my book without reading any words.

“Running.” He shrugs, “He’s slow.” I hear Landos footsteps come closer, then his bent over body leans against the back of the couch, making our heads next to each other.

He's turned toward me, I refuse to take my eyes off this book. “Why? You don’t trust us alone?”

Fuck Max and his slow ass.

I turn to face him, not letting myself feed his ego, “I don’t trust Max’s judgment of us alone.”

Landos slow smirk that tormented me throughout my childhood drifts back onto his face, “He’s right though.”

I sigh and close my book, getting up and walking to the kitchen, “He’s not here, Norris. You don’t have to play like that.”

“Play like what?” He turns to face me, wanting me to say it. “Oh i’m sorry, Your boyfriend wouldn’t approve?”

I hate the way he knows me because he clocks the way my lips pull into a thin line immediately, “You broke up?”

“It was mutual.” I say quickly.

“You dumped him.” He laughs out loud, walking closer to me, “God, Y/N please tell me he cried.” he did cry, actually.

I pivot and grab an apple for myself. I bite into it and Lando takes the time to assess me. I suddenly feel naked in sweats and a tank top.

“You’re one to talk. You cried after Kelly Allen kissed another boy on the playground.”

“That was in primary school!”

I laugh as he gets defensive, “I’m going to bed.”

“Wait! Come on, humor me a bit more.” He steps closer and I step backwards.

“Goodnight, Lando.” I turn around.

“Goodnight, Gorgeous.” His words make me spin on my heels.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” He fakes innocence.

“Stop being a flirt! You’re never serious around me and it’s getting annoying.” Something in his face changes then.

“Why would you think I’m not being serious?”

The door opens right as he says it, my brother stomping in as I back away from Lando, “I- Hate- You!” he pants as Landos whole demeanor changes to casually laughing at his friend. “Oh- Y/N!” Max catches his breath, “Lando is staying here tonight so… the couch is officially closed.”

I roll my eyes and lock myself into Max’s guest bedroom. This is going to be a long night.

____

I can’t sleep.

I can’t stop thinking about Lando sleeping right outside my door.

I need water, I decide.

I slip on my Brandy Melville shorts and adjust my thin tank top, walking out into the dark kitchen.

When I open the fridge I basically get blinded. Why the fuck is this light so bright!? I’m not the only one it bothers because the body on the couch stirs, “Hmm?” Lando groans and sits up, looking at me with sleepy confusion.

I grab the water pitcher and shut the door quickly, though by this time my eyes have adjusted to the dark and can properly see Lando.

Lando who’s in gray sweats.

Lando who’s in gray sweats, only.

“Sorry.” I whisper, turning to face the cabinet and trying to grab a glass.

I didn’t even notice he got off of the couch until I felt him behind me, reaching up to grab the cup that I couldn't reach.

“Thanks.” I duck under his arm. He's not even that much taller than me!

“Thirsty?” He says in a raspy voice. I pour my water with a slightly shaky hand.

“That would explain the water.” I say in a sassy tone. He chuckles a bit and leans against the counter top, his hands holding onto the marble.

I turn to face him, sipping my water. He checks me out then. With no shame at all! His hot gaze sweeps across my body for the second time today.

“Amused?” I ask innocently as his eyes meet mine.

“With you? Always.” He says without missing a beat, “I wasn’t joking, you know.”

I don’t know what he’s talking about.

“You said I'm never serious around you. But I've never lied to you.” my heart rate raises. I'm grateful we’re in the dark so he can’t see my pink cheeks.

“Lando. You shouldn’t say that.” I try to keep my eyes above his bare torso, I'm not doing too well.

“Why? Cause of Max? Fuck Max.” He’s closer to me now, he places his hands on both sides of my waist, bracing himself against the counter, “I think about that kiss every day.”

“We were twelve, I think it’s time to get over it.” I shrug, teasing him. He puts his head down, shaking it.

“I hate you.” Our eyes lock again.

I can hear his breathing, “No you don’t.”

His eyes glance to my lips, “No I don’t.” I watch him hesitate, once. Only once. His lips are on mine in an instant after that.

He feels so familiar yet so changed. This isn’t like how he kissed me on new years, this is new, this is right.

I grip onto anything I can, wanting him closer. His hands move to my hips, slipping his finger under the waist of my shorts.

“Lan-” I try to say but he cuts me off by kissing me. “Lando.” I say again, his mouth moving to my neck so I can talk. “We’re gonna wake up-”

He stops kissing me and suddenly I'm lifted onto the countertop, the ice cold marble freezing my ass. “Love, you’re gonna have to not think about that. Alright?” The way he says it makes me want to squeeze my legs together.

I nod, unable to speak before kissing him again. He slips his tongue into my mouth and holds my waist tight. Landos touch makes me think I'm going to melt right onto the floor.

My head hits the cabinets behind me but I don’t care, I wrap my arms around his neck, having him in between my legs still.

His hand moves to my cheek, kissing me desperately. He pushes his hand back into my hair, shamelessly tugging at it. I whimper as my head nods backwards. I hear his quickened breathing against me, his lips dragging down my chin and neck.

“Fuck, do that again.” He presses wet kisses down my chest, gripping my boob under my shirt. Right on cue, I whimper again as he runs his finger over my nipple. “Good girl.”

Landos hand finds itself in my hair once again, wrapping it around his knuckles. I want him so bad and I hate him for doing this here.

When he pulls on my hair once more, I knew he fucked up. The moan I let out is raw and too loud for us trying to stay quiet.

He slaps his hand over my mouth, his eyes darting up to my face. We go silent, waiting for some sign that Max is awake or heard us.

We wait.

Nothing comes.

I look at him and lick his hand, “Ugh!” He whisper yells.

I laugh quietly, “Your own doing.”

He shakes his head and lets it drop onto my shoulder as we fall into silent laughter. I poke his side, “You like me.”

He just rolls his eyes and pushes his hair back, still panting a bit, “You like me.”

“With the way you kiss, I better.” I smirk as he drags his hand down his face.

I watch him adjust his pants, earning me a raised brow and a smirk. I push his face away from me and hop off the counter, I attempt to fix my hair but I’m still being stared at by Lando.

“You really are gorgeous, ya know?” His words surprise me, making my already hot body even worse.

“I appreciate it.”

“Let me take you out.”

“We haven’t seen eachother in a year- what makes you think this year will be any different?” He bites his lip, holding onto my hips one last time.

“We can make it work.”

“But Ma-” I try to say.

Lando rolls his eyes. “He never wanted us to fuck around-”

“Like we just did…” I interrupt.

He keeps going, “But I like you.” I can’t help but smile, “And I don’t care if he doesn’t like that.”

“Look at you… sticking up to my brother.”

He smiles, running his tongue over his teeth before kissing me, “Goodnight for real, Gorgeous.”

He lets go of me as I turn around, “Goodnight, Lando.”

#fanfic #fiction #lando norris fanfic #lando x reader #lando norris #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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otterspaceastrology · 10 days ago

Text

Pick a Card Reading + MoodBoard

What does your Future Spouse look like?

Disclaimers

Readings are for entertainment purposes, so please take with a grain of salt and enjoy!

When I talk about masculine and feminine, I am talking about energy so that can apply to any gender or identity.

When picking a pile, use your intuition, close your eyes, relax and think of the question and then open your eyes and let it be drawn naturally to a pile, repeat as many times as you need to know it’s your pile. Of course you can do it any way you want that’s just my preferred method!

Now on to the Readings!

Pile One

Romantic Activist

The Lovers, Page of Wands, Justice

Virgo, 8th house, Uranus

Popular, Stoic, Funny

Thick Eyebrows, Pale Skin, Short Eyelashes, Pierced Ears

Pile One your Future Spouse is definitely one to always stand up for there beliefs! This has gained them so much genuine popularity not based on anything shallow but because they treat everyone with kindness and respect! I feel like this reflects in their sweet smile and bright eyes, especially when in your presence their face lights up! They can’t get enough of you, you could say they’re addicted to you!

Pile Two

Coming Out of a Transformation

The Hanged Man, Judgment, 7 of Swords

Taurus, Mars, 12th House

Caring, Planner, Curious

Long Eyelashes, Soft Jaw, Gray Eyes, Fine hair

Pile Two Your Future Spouse has gone through a huge change in appearance before you meet or get together! For example a glow up, fitness journey or even an actual transition. This journey was probably quite difficult for them but it made them realize anything is possible and give them an undeniable ambition! I can see them using that ambition in their pursuit of your love! They are quite romantic and bold!

Pile Three

A Little Shy at First

9 of Cups, 3 of Pentacles, Ace of Pentacles

Moon, 3rd House, Aries

Quiet, Spontaneous, Energetic

Wavy Hair, Kinky Hair, Thin Lips, Small Ears

Pile Three your Future Spouse is a bit of an enigma, on the outside they seem shy and reserved but in reality they crave adventure! They are quiet with people until they gain a sense of trust and comfort, then they will talk your ear off about all the fun things they want to do or start planing spontaneous getaways with you! They also are quite abundant and satisfied with their lives, All they need now is you!

Thank you so much for reading my pick a card I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did making it!🥰✨

Collages are made by me on Pinterest, but I own none of the photos.

#astro community #divination #future spouse #love reading #pac tarot #pick a card #pick a pile #tarot #tarot reading #astrology

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shiningmystic · 3 months ago

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Messages from your Spirit Guides PAC 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

─── ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ───

Welcome friends, to your sprit guide reading whoever your guides may be they always respond to you.

I only call upon the spirits that look fondly upon you and see the being beneath all the judgement and ego, there is just essence. Unconditional love is what I always dip down to even if there are days that I cannot do it for myself, I know it is always present and that gives me much comfort on my worst days. Mental health awareness is real and always check in with yourself especially being chronically honed in on the bad shit that happens around you or is happening. Cultivating slowness is an everyday job for all of us but when we do it we do become thankful. I'm a bit rusty so forgive me if some of my words may be repetitive. Drop a follow to know when I post another general reading!

Pick your Photo:

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧

Pile I: colors of light 🧚🏾‍♀️

The lovers (rx), 6 of pentacles, 9 of pentacles, the heirophant (rx), 9 of wands (rx)

Back of the deck: ace of cups (rx), knight of swords, 7 of cups

Pile one to begin, your guides sent me images of the sun peering through glass and reflecting rainbow colors which really makes me feel as though you are a deep person but from day to day you may feel dull. Your guides are reminding you, sending you messages of your inner light and how it shines out even if you hide it and reflects back in people places or things. There is a lot about beauty here and how to stay genuine to yourself; your beauty is unique and comparing your beauty to someone else’s is a crime against them and you. If you genuinely don’t think you’re beautiful on outside, then there are always ways to work with what we have when we are ready to tackle it (honestly sometime i need to cry it out). Now on with the card pull:

Wow, I feel a lot going on with so many messages, I’ll try and keep it concise.

First message: you will always be enough is a huge message. It doesn’t matter even if they left you, even if someone who you loved told you that you were too much or even feeling that way towards yourself and your guides do not agree. The more we believe that the more we hurt ourselves and continue to prove it right. Even if you are ‘too much’ there are people out there that would disagree. - huge lesson I’m learning is that two truths can exist at the same space even if they oppose the other. For example, when I talk about my trauma, I feel vulnerable and fearful yet after the fact I feel both emotions, strong and weak. Both fear and strength. You are not to much and even if they couldn’t handle you, your a whole lot of love and light especially from the energy from the image.

Message two: some of you are away from family or your country, things are changing and it’s overwhelming in many ways. There is a lot of choices and a lot of overwhelming feelings towards making them. Your guides are advising you to trust in yourself and ignore the voices around that do not harbor understanding. Trust in your own judgment and believe in what you’re doing because it is your life and your actions that shape it; you will be the one living with it so always believe in yourself, you know what’s best for you and even when we make that mistake, we need a gentle reminder that mistakes are apart of success. if you don't give yourself the space to learn then you will continue to never know what is for you.

Message three: it’s always you pile one that always gets the message to be kinder to yourself; life isn’t a strict fast paced all or nothing (obviously life is very hard now for many.) but your guides are reminding you life will have its downs and if you can’t take time for those downs then they will be crashes. I’m feeling loved ones coming through this pile, so just know your guides understand your struggle and want to remind you as well that they are always with you.

Lots of burn out energy, you are so strong, please believe me when I say you are enough.

To the lovely humans who broke up with someone or let go of a person who you love but was toxic, you did the right thing for yourself, i send you love my love.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆

Pile II: Stepping stones ☄️

8 of cups, the hierophant, 7 of cups (rx), ace of pentacles, temperance, the moon

Back of the deck: queen of wands and 2 of cups (rx)

Right now you’re stepping up to the unknown, it’s natural to be fearful of risk. Pile 2 I sense that good things will come to you when you make the choice, even with hesitation don’t doubt the choices you have already made. all we can do is what we know now. the effort you put into your work will pour back into you. I can sense a lot of hesitation but still moving forward and that takes courage! Your guides are proud of you stepping up to the plate.

I can see some people going back to school and graduating scared that they will never find stability. Some of you are taking chances and starting businesses especially creative ones (relatable content). Your guides are supporting you on your financial endeavors and know the future feels scary for many.

It’s very unstable in many places right now so I understand the confusion and the fear but the pendulum always swings back and things always go back into balance again even by force (which we shouldn’t let it to come to an extreme but whatever.) You are strong people but this creativity needs to be grounded in reality when it comes to money; be realistic and continue with your motivated attitude towards your endeavors. honestly some of you are and are focusing to hard on the little details, relax and just do what's in front of you.

Believe in yourself pile 2. You have grown to doubt yourself and abilities at times because of push back and it’s actually super healthy for intelligent people to question themselves but to much self doubt only leaves us frozen. Now is the time to go ahead and shine!

The energy for you is ripe with opportunities your guides are saying go ahead, take the calculated risk, do the thing you want to but just know take time to do it with love and integrity you will succeed.

The moon and the 7 of cups reverse tell me about your doubt, anxiety and not knowing what may happen is the worst but life is all about the mystery and discovering your path. dear wanderer, not all souls who walk a lonely path are lost, maybe you'll run into another.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆

Pile III: Glowing mushrooms 🍄

Page of cups, Death, The Emperor, King of pentacles, strength (rx), Ace of pentacles, 4 of pentacles, Page of Swords

Your path to transformation takes determination and strength, but understand the power is within you and how you have gotten far.

Mushrooms are pretty crazy! They grow in so many places and are resilient; I’m not saying you’re a mushroom (even though honestly, it’s a vibe) but your guides are bringing it up. Every photo is connected to the pile it is above and yours is about your strength and resilience (pile 2 as well but it's much more emphasized here).

I mean so many people are keeping it together right now and you’re no different but I feel an extra sprinkle of shit being thrown your way recently or this could be a theme. Keep doing what you’re doing is a message for many but to keep taking the steps to this new life and I mean new life. I don’t mean moving away and starting over (unless that resonates) but you are changing it up, starting new habits and new routines, taking steps constantly at a different pace but never stopping, (it’s a lot that you have been juggling I’m surprised I don’t see the 2 of pentacles) Your guides are like Dang they got this.

Lots are taking big steps in life atm and your frozen on a choice (pile 2 also has some of that energy) there is a message of that you’re only human and sometimes it’s alright to be vulnerable and look back at the good times but the here and now is calling, stay focused and channel your emperor energy guys.

Please don’t neglect your mental health, many of you may be overworking even when you feel like you haven’t pushed yourself hard enough *whacks head* stop! You are working enough it’s just that things in reality are kinda messed up and that’s why there so many of us like this. the world is dysfunctional so of course we will be too. But of course that doesn’t solve the issue of having to keep on when your anxious and depressed, but a minute of your day is all you need to cry, to get a hug from someone, I always recommend self care. You can be strong and vulnerable at the same time and I’m willingly absorbing the information from my therapist on how two truths can exist at the same time even if they oppose the other. Be upset and when you can get up and finish that assignment, project, shipment, sale, you seriously got this but I know this is more about the stress and anxiety all this work carries with it.

Stable energy is present in the spread which makes me feel like your guides are just cheering you on knowing how hard it has been and that you are reaching positive new things especially with Death and this transformation that been going on. Be wary of spending for right now (as i assume you are tbh) but know that finances energetically will grow , just stay on task and carry yourself with pride because you are amazing!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆

So those were the messages I picked up on, I hope they comfort and support you in some way, or even give you advice. Stay humble and lovely my friends.

Tarot decks used: Rider-Waite tarot deck

- ShiningMysticTarot ☀️

#witchblr #general tarot reading #shmtarot #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a picture #spirit guides #spirit guide reading #spirituality #tarot #tarot reader

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theprongspotter · 3 months ago

Text

Percent - Jegulus - @stag-microfic - Day 21 - 643 words

James and Sirius are lounging on the couch in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, their sides pressed together in a way that speaks of years of comfortable friendship. The firelight bathes the room in a soft, golden glow, crackling gently as it burns, the only sound in the otherwise quiet night. Everyone else has long since retreated to their dorms, leaving the two of them alone in the tranquil warmth.

James stretches out, his head resting on the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling as if lost in thought. Sirius glances at him, his fingers idly toying with the loose threads of a cushion. The silence between them isn’t awkward—it’s peaceful, easy. It’s the kind of quiet only best friends can share, where words aren’t needed to fill the space.

Without warning, James blurts, “I’m in love with Regulus,” and immediately slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes wide in shock at his own admission. His heart races, and he looks at Sirius, as if expecting an explosion.

But Sirius doesn’t explode. He just smiles, a soft, knowing expression that James rarely sees on him. “I know,” Sirius says quietly, his voice warm and devoid of any judgment.

James hesitantly lowers his hand from his mouth, staring at Sirius in disbelief. “What? And you’re not mad?”

Sirius chuckles, the sound low and reassuring, like the crackle of the fire beside them. “James, when you love someone, you wear it on your sleeve. You always have. It’s one of the most beautiful things about you.” He glances away for a moment before meeting James’ gaze again, the warmth in his eyes unwavering. “And of course I’m not mad. You look happy, mate. Happier than I’ve seen you in a long time.”

“Yeah?” James asks, his voice barely above a whisper, suddenly feeling exposed but hopeful.

“Yeah,” Sirius nods. There’s a brief pause before he adds, more gently, “Maybe I’m a little hurt that you felt like you couldn’t tell me. But that doesn’t mean I hate your love.”

James can’t help it—he practically launches himself at Sirius, wrapping his arms tightly around him, a wide grin splitting his face. Sirius grins just as widely, his arms circling James in return, and he tucks his head into the crook of James’ neck, laughing softly. It’s a moment of pure joy, of relief, of two best friends rediscovering their connection.

When Sirius pulls back, there’s a playful glint in his eye. “Are you two together, then?”

James’ face heats up, and he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “No. I’m not even sure he likes me back. Actually, I’m pretty positive he hates my guts.”

Sirius snorts, shaking his head. “He doesn’t. Trust me. Regulus has been smiling more these days, and the dark circles under his eyes aren’t as bad as they used to be. From what I’ve noticed, anyway. I think you’ve had a bigger impact on him than you realize.”

James sits up straighter, his heart leaping in his chest. “Really? You think so?”

“One hundred percent.” Sirius nudges him with his shoulder, a crooked grin on his face. “You’ve probably been dying keeping this a secret. So, go on. Tell me about him. What do you love about my little brother?”

James doesn’t need to be asked twice. He grins, eyes lighting up, and begins to talk, his words tumbling over each other in his excitement. He tells Sirius everything—how Regulus’s eyes glint like starlight when he’s amused, how his sharp wit makes James’ heart race, and how, underneath all that cold, polished exterior, Regulus has moments of softness that make James fall for him even more. Sirius listens with a small, fond smile on his face, as James finally allows himself to speak openly about the boy who has quietly stolen his heart.

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punksdoll · 10 months ago

Note

Rhea & Fem!Reader have a match for the title & Rhea has a plan to throw off the Reader's game. Rhea chooses Priest to woo the reader & gain their trust, it works but Priest has develop feelings during this ruse. Rhea's plan is a success & retains the title. The reader is visibly upset & Priest while celebrating with Judgement Day is heartbroken.

~~~𝑷𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔𝒕~~~

gif not mine like, comments, & reblogs appreciated

𝑫𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒂𝒏 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ^owner of gif

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒐 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅…𝒔𝒐 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅.

𝒂/𝒏: 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒚. 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒊 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒊𝒙𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒓𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒚…𝒊 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒅𝒂𝒎 𝒊𝒇 𝒊 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒕🥲. 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝒊 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚𝒆𝒅𝒅𝒅<𝟑𝟑𝟑

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒔, 𝒕𝒔𝒌 𝒕𝒔𝒌 𝒖𝒉𝒏𝒕 𝒖𝒉𝒏𝒕 𝑫𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒂𝒏, 𝒀/𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑹𝒉𝒆𝒂 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒇 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌, 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕

not proofread

“HOLY SHIT?!” Michael Cole exclaims as everyone watches with shock written all across their faces as they witnessed Damian Priest drag Rhea Ripley out of the ring when she pinned Y/n, ruining her chances at winning.

Rhea looks at him with wide eyes as she shoves him, “What the hell do you think your doing, huh?!” She exclaims to him.

To the audience around them, it was a total shock. They would have never expected Damian Priest, off all the members, to be the one to backstab his own team in the back. Y/n was even shocked herself seeing as Damian was the one to cost her, her match back at Wrestlemania where she lost her title.

To the group? This is exactly what they wanted. This was the plan.

“We need to do something…something that can throw her and everyone else off. Make her believe that she has the upper hand in our rivalry…” Rhea says as she and her team members all huddle up in their locker room.

“What’s cooking in that mind of yours mami?” Dominik asks as he lays his head on her lap, tracing her championship belt.

Rhea trails her eyes to each one of her boys. She starts with Dominik. It’d be such a big shock to everyone in the arena and to y/n as well but what’s hers is her and she does not want to take a step in that route. She trails her eyes off to Finn. It could work but him and y/n never interacted, it’d be too suspicious. Her eyes skipped over JD and landed right on Damian who’s already looking at her.

“You…” Rhea points at Damian with a smirk, “tonight I have a regular match with her, I want you to ruin my chances at winning, enough where she thinks you’re on her side in this rivalry of ours. Gain her trust and make her fall in love with you or something.”

“Any reason why Damian should do it?” JD finds himself asking and immediately shrinks back when Damian gives him a hard stare. “Never mind…”

Damian stares Rhea down and the crowd waits. Waits for something to happen as they have a stare off. Y/n is stuck in her place as she watches, debating what to do. Her head turns towards the referee who starts counting down on Rhea.

“Don’t ever do that again, you hear me Damian?” Rhea jabs her finger against his chest before getting inside the ring, distracted. She kept shouting at Damian, trying to get the lost in this match.

Y/n takes it as her chance and runs up on Rhea, ending her with her finisher. She positions herself away from The Judgment Day and stares Damian down as she pins Rhea, catching the win.

•••

“I still can’t believe it…” y/n shook her head in disbelief, “he really backstabbed his own team in the back…out of everyone. I did not expect him of all.”

Liv Morgan shakes her head, “I just know she’s pissed, so so pissed.”

Y/n scoffs and nods, “did you see her face? of course she was.”

“What do you think will happen now after that?” Liv asks her and y/n frowns but before she could open her mouth, a deep voice stops her.

“Hey…”

Both woman’s head snap over to see their topic, standing in front of them.

Liv gives him a once over before walking away to let her friend handle it. Y/n gaze follows her before she removes it and lands it on Damian who is already staring at her.

“What’s the hunch?” Y/n asks, “why’d you do that for?”

Damian gives a deep sigh and shrugs, “I was sick of it. Sick of Rhea thinking that she can just run JD when she wasn’t even the first one to be a part of it.”

Y/n narrows her eyes and stares at him. She was trying to see any hint or indication that he might be lying but to no avail.

“So what now?” She finds herself asking.

“Let me help you…I know how Rhea plays. I know how she works. I know the games she likes to play. I can get you to get your title back.” Damian nods as he straightens himself up and stares at her.

Y/n raises an eyebrow and shakes her head, “why would i accept that?”

Damian tilts his head and ponders for a moment, “as an apology for making you lose your title.”

Y/n eyebrows raise in shock before shaking her head, “i don’t trust you…how do i know you won’t fuck up?”

Damian smirks and angles himself to her level, “guess you have to trust me.”

With that said, Damian turned around and walked away. Feeling eyes staring back at him.

•••

“You need to catch her by surprise, don’t start like that.”

Y/n rolls her eyes as she stands up. “How is this supposed to help me win back my title?”

It was just as surprising to Damian just as it was to Y/n when she had taken his offer. He expected more of a fight from her. More of trying to get her to trust him but it was easier said than done. Almost. It was a step to getting her trust, he knew that much. So did Rhea. All that was running through y/n’s mind when she took the offer was the thought of getting her title back. If that meant having to have help from the one who costed her, then so dam be it.

“I’m showing you how Rhea plays,” Damian gets out the ring and opens up his water bottle, “you need to try your own ways on blocking them and doing something better to get rid of them, you know?”

Y/n watches as he drinks his water, watching the way his adams apple bobbles.

Is that even what it’s called?

Y/n shrugs before paying back attention, “what if she changes her tactics, what then?”

Damian swallows his water and sets his bottle down before climbing back into the ring and walks over to her. “That’s why we’re going to practice every single thing I know about her.”

Y/n raises an eyebrow and tilts her head at him, “how can I trust that?”

Damian mocks her and tilts his head to the opposite side that hers is on and raises an eyebrow, “your trusting me right now, what’s the difference?”

Y/n narrows her eyes and straightens herself back and stares at him, “I’m not trusting you. I’m seeing you…”

Damian chuckles and straightens his head back, “you’ve been seeing me for three days now, at this point it’d be expected to have a little bit of trust in me.”

Y/n stares at him before looking away and making her way out the ring, “and it’s going to stay that way til’ I get my dam title back.” She walks away.

She always does. Damian noticed that every time he mentions something about trust, she always avoids it and walks away.

Damian watches her walk away, watching the way her hips unintentionally sway with each step she takes. He couldn’t help himself. “Is that how they move during those nights?” He called.

Y/n stops walking and looks back at him with a frown, confusion littered across her face. “What are you talking about…”

Damian smirks and looks her over, “nada.”

Y/n narrows her eyes before turning back around and walking out of the practice center.

“If that’s your way of wooing, then you suck.” Damian hears the familiar australian accent of his best friend and looks over to see Rhea leaning against the ropes of the ring, looking up at him.

Damian raises an eyebrow and walks over, crouching over to her level. “Try flirting with her then, i’d like to see how that goes.”

Rhea snorts and shakes her head, “what’s the progress?”

 Damian shakes his head, “I’m teaching get your usual work when you fight but other than that, same old same old. I start talking about something other than this “mission” if you will, and she leaves. Most specifically, trust.”

Rhea gives an exasperated sigh, “Don’t mention anything about trust. Just let what happens, happens.” She says as she slides into the ring, making Damian stand to his full height and looks at her, “in the meantime, show me what you showed her.”

Damian chuckles and with that, they both get into practice with each other.

•••

He had taken her advice. Every time Damian would be around y/n showing her each and every move that he knows Rhea does, he steers clear from mentioning anything other than what they are doing.

At first, y/n had felt it was awkward for her. She never stayed too long with him at all. She’d always wait for him to start talking about something and she takes that as her cue to leave but now that he never does, it’s weird. Soon though, she got used to it. She got used to his presence and his talks of what to do and what not to do and soon enough, she’s the one who starts the conversations.

It’s been going on for a while. Their meetups in the practice center turned into meetups outside of the practice center.

To Y/n, she would update Liv about it all everyday. Even going as far to tell her that she could potentially trust him but that’s only for Liv’s ears.

As for Damian, he would update Rhea behind y/n’s back. Those updates though went from regularly to barely. In the midst of them hanging out, outside of work, Damian found himself enjoying her company. Enjoying the talks they had that didn’t involve Rhea. Enjoyed the hang outs that was just them two and no one else. Enjoying it enough to start to feel bad about this thing going on. He even talked to Finn about it.

“I don’t know man, i just…it doesn’t feel right to continue to play in her face like this.” Damian sighs as he leans back on the hotel couch with Finn next to him.

“Don’t tell me you’re startin’ to feel bad mate?” Finn raises an eyebrow at him.

“That’s exactly what i am telling you,” Damian takes a swig of his beer in hand.

Finn looks at him and Damian gives him a clear uncomfortable expression. “You like her don’t you?”

Damian didn’t dare to answer that day. He didn’t know it then but now…as he quite literally stares down the girl that ,he could potentially have something with only to ruin it, get ready? He thinks he probably does…

“How do I look?” Y/n turns around towards Damian with such a breathtaking smile that he has to hold back the compliment and give her a tight lipped smile.

“Good as per usual.” Damian nods.

Y/n gives him a disgusted look, “Good? Cariño, I need beautiful or something, i’m changing.”

Damian watches y/n grab another set of ring attire to go ahead and change for the fourth time today. All because he said good.

Damian stands up and immediately stops her, “no no no,” he shakes his head, “you look like everyone’s new championship. How ‘bout that?” He raises an eyebrow.

Y/n tilts her head, “could be better but I guess i’ll take it.” She gives him a sheepish smile before setting the gear in her hand, back down.

“You ready for tonight?” Damian finds himself asking as he slowly sits back down, watching y/n add some finishing touches to her makeup.

“Absolutely. With the amount of training we’ve been doing, I feel more than ready.” Y/n hums, “are you?”

Damian raises an eyebrow and stares at her from the mirror she’s staring at herself in. Was he? No. But he wouldn’t tell her that.

“For you to win that title back? Absolutely…” He trails off with a slow nod and a small smile that makes y/n beam at him.

There’s a moment of silence. During that silence, y/n and Damian are staring at each other through the mirror. Simply staring.

“Damian?” Y/n says quietly as she straightens herself back up to her height. Damian hums and watches as she suddenly grows nervous, “Thank you…for everything you’ve been doing for me for these past couple of weeks. It means a lot to me, truly.”

Damian takes in a shaky breath as he suddenly feels his chest tighten and the guilt crawl its way up to his heart. If he thought the guilt was strong before, then he was in for a rude awakening.

“And maybe after I win…” she continues on as someone walks in her locker room and gives her the time that she has before leaving, “we can go get something to eat? just me and you. celebrate together. all on me as a thank you…”

Damian closes his eyes and feels himself wanting to actually shed tears. This guilt was slowly growing bigger and bigger by the minute at each word she says. So clueless…

“Yeah…I’d love that.” Damian finds himself answering as he opens his eyes and sees her turned towards him with a smile. “Why don’t you go prepare for your entrance, i’ll be watching from the back.”

Y/n gives him a smile and leans down to give his cheek a kiss, lingering on longer then usual before quickly pulling away and strolling out and away.

Barely 2 minutes before she left does Rhea come barging in with the rest of the JD. “It’s all set yeah? Remember the plan?”

Damian stares at Rhea and slowly nods, his eyes trailing over to Finn who is already looking at him with sympathy before he looks back at Rhea.

“Yeah…I remember.”

•••

“OH WHAT THE HELL?!” Michael Cole exclaims as everyone watches with shock at witnessing Damian Priest dragging Y/n out of the ring by her legs.

Y/n whiplashes herself when she turns around and sees Damian standing in front of her with a hard face on. “What the hell are you doing? I had the pin, I was going to win.” She frowns.

Damian looks at her and slowly shakes his head, “that’s mami’s title.”

Y/n’s face drops as she stares at Damian. She doesn’t have any time to think because as soon as she hears the referee almost get to ten, she’s rushing back in the ring and is positioned into a riptide.

Rhea retains…

Y/n simply lays there as she stares up at the ceiling of the arena. It all suddenly makes sense to her now. All of the meetups in the practice center and even the hangouts outside of it, they were all a ploy. A ploy for Damian to get her to trust him enough to be blinded by the fact that he was just going to backstab her in the back.

Damian catches Rhea as she throws herself at him with a victorious laugh, holding up her championship belt. If you would have told Damian weeks ago that he’d be falling for someone that he was using, he would have laughed in your face. But now? Oh how he wishes he wasn’t the one that was chosen to do all of this.

“We did it playboy!” Rhea laughs as she gets down from him, “let’s go celebrate.”

Y/n slowly sits herself up and makes eye contact with Damian who is slowly walking away from her.

Guilt in his eyes.

Hurt in hers.

#wwe imagine #wwe raw #wwe smackdown #wwe x reader #wwe superstars #wwe one shot #wwe judgement day #damian priest #damian priest imagine #damian priest x reader #damianpriest #wwe damian priest #rhea ripley

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paleprincessturtle · 11 months ago

Note

i heard you’re taking requests for harvey specter and angst with him would be so good !!!! i just finished reading the sorrow of tomorrow and you write him so well like i can’t wait for the next part, your writing is awesome. so i was wondering if you could write some sort of angst with a happy ending with him, like maybe they get into an argument and harvey being harvey says something to take it too far but they make up later somehow. just a suggestion, u don’t need to write it if you don’t want to!!

Thank you so much for the kind words and the request! Hope you enjoy this one 😊 And bear with me, this is a looooong one. I seriously got carried away writing this.

GETAWAY HOUSE

She marched towards Harvey's office, her face red with anger. "Mike, get out," she ordered a visibly surprised Mike. "But we are in the middle of..." she lifted her hand, "in the middle of a meeting, I know. But please, get out. I need to speak with Harvey." She looked at Harvey, and the two stared at each other. Mike left the room after realizing the obvious tension in the room and not wanting to stand in the way of a woman who looked like she might breathe fire.

She looked over her shoulder until she was sure that Mike had closed the door. "I will give you a good 5 minutes to explain why the hell is Pharma Pro insisting on settling," she folded both arms in front of her. Harvey didn't even look at her. He looked busy writing something on a paper in front of him. "You tell me, they're your client," Harvey gave her a quick glance before he looked back down at the paper. "Don't give me that shit, Harvey. They received a memo. It was signed "Specter" on the memo. I never signed my name like that on a memo. The only Specter who knows this case is you." Harvey put down his pen and said, "You are another Specter who not only knows but is handling this case." She gaped. "Harvey, I have to spend my morning explaining why there is a memo under my surname that they have to settle after just yesterday I told them to go to court." Harvey watched her for a few seconds. She looked pissed, and most of all, there was betrayal in the eyes he loved the most. "Yes, it was me." She took a sharp breath and sat in front of him. "Why?" she asked quietly, her eyes glued to the black desk in front of her. "You won't win in court," Harvey said simply. She heard no trace of guilt or remorse in the voice she knew very well. "You don't trust me?" Her voice was just above a whisper. She was on the verge of crying. The thought of her own husband not trusting her judgment in her own case... And he had to interfere. Basically, embarrassing her in front of her biggest client. "We just got this firm back on its feet, and I am the new managing partner. If you lose Pharma Pro, it won't look good on us. I don't trust your call, so I had to step up," Harvey said as his voice softened at the sight of his wife, who looked like she was about to burst into tears. Harvey knew she had been through a lot to be where she was right now, but not once did Harvey ever see her cry, at least not over some work. "But you could've come to me and discussed it with me. You are my husband, yes. But I will never overrule you here in the office." Harvey scoffed. "If we discuss this, you will still proceed to court." She pulled her hand out of Harvey's grasp. "Yes! Because they are my client, and I know them better than you." She stood so fast that she almost knocked over the chair she was sitting on. Harvey looked up at her wife, seething with anger. Harvey's jaw tightened. "You think you would still sign with Pharma Pro if it weren't for my last name being yours?" She gasped as both her hands flew to cover her mouth. She grabbed the edge of the chair; she felt like Harvey had just slapped her. The second the words got out of his mouth, he knew it was a total mistake. "Sunny, I..." she interrupted him by lifting her hand. She took a deep breath and tried so hard to compose herself. "You know what, Harvey? I thought I would bring this secret to the grave, but three months before we got married, I got a senior partner offer from Skadden. Skadden, Harvey. Not just any firm. Skadden. No, I wasn't using your name then. I turned them down because I love this firm. And the thought of working side by side with my husband was so heavenly back then. The thought of how we could always support each other..." She trailed off, her voice shaking. "I turned that offer down even though I knew Jessica wouldn't mind. And you know what they said after I turned them down? They said the offer will firmly stand if I want to take it in the future. But again, Harvey, I think you know me better than whoever it was at Skadden. And no, it wasn't your name that got me to sign Pharma Pro. I slept with Russell Whitmore. Is that the truth you want to hear?" Her words cut through Harvey, even though he knew she was lying. She stormed out of his office as he tried to catch up with her. He grabbed his arm, and she sharply looked back at him and said, "Don't you fucking dare follow me, Harvey." Harvey stood there, frozen in place, as he saw his wife fade away from view.

It was 15 minutes before midnight. Harvey stood at the doorway to Mike's office. Harvey didn't go after his wife earlier today. But when he (most definitely on purpose) walked past his wife's office, he found it empty. And it wasn't even 5. "Are you just going to stand there, Harvey? You creep me out," Mike said as he flipped over a file. Harvey snapped out of it. "I want to ask if you know where my wife is," Harvey asked carefully. "I don't know, Harvey. She's your wife," Mike shrugged. "Didn't Rachel tell you if she was with her?" Mike finally looked at Harvey. Mike has to admit that Harvey looked very stressed. "Again. I don't know, Harvey. Maybe if you stopped being a certified douchebag, you would know the whereabouts of your wife." Mike looked sharply at Harvey, whose shoulders slumped at Mike's answer. As much as Mike wanted to help Harvey out, it wasn't his place. "I took it you heard about the fight?" Mike let out a sarcastic laugh. "Donna saw your wife crying in the toilet. Donna told Rachel, and Rachel told me. In the process of Rachel telling me, Louis heard. Yeah, everyone knew. And before you asked, yes, everyone sided with your wife." Harvey let out a defeated sigh as he rubbed his forehead. "Give her time, Harvey." Harvey nodded at Mike's advice before going back to his office.

Harvey was deep in thought, listening to his father's record while nursing a glass of whisky. "I very much don't want to see your face, but Gretchen already went home, and I need you to sign this fast." Harvey closed his eyes at the voice of Louis. The last thing he needs now is Louis chewing on his ass. "What is it, Louis?" Harvey turned away from the window as he walked to his desk. Louis didn't say a thing; he just pointed at the document he brought. Harvey nodded as he sat down and started skimming the document. "If I didn't promise your wife I wouldn't beat the shit out of you, I would've beaten the shit out of you," Louis said quickly, his face red. Harvey looked up slowly at Louis for the sudden outburst. "When she got married to you, she asked me to walk her down the aisle. We aren't even related, but she chose to come to me. She is like a ..." Louis choked on his own words. "She is like a daughter to me. And what you said to her, Harvey... And if you don't make this right, I swear to God, Harvey, I will make your life a living hell. I would gladly be her attorney if she chose to divorce." Harvey nodded as he handed Louis the document.

Harvey got home just a little after 3. After he made sure that his wife wasn't home, he chose not to be home at any cost. But at the same time, he longed to be home. Harvey poured himself another glass of whisky. He watched the fire as he laughed to himself. His wife would've scolded him if she knew he poured himself yet another glass of whisky at this hour. But his wife wasn't here, and his heart heaved. He checked his phone. Nothing. He left him 7 voicemails and more than 10 texts; all of them sat cold. Then he realized that he hadn't seen Donna all day in the office today. He quickly grabbed his phone and called Donna. She didn't pick up, considering the time, but he tried again. "Harvey, if the firm isn't on fire, I would hang up right now," came Donna's hoarse voice at the other line. "Donna, I'm sorry; please don't hang up. Is my wife there?" Harvey asked, a glimmer of hope apparent in his voice. Silent. "Donna?" Another silent. Harvey checked his phone just in case the phone abruptly ended. "She is here." Harvey sighed in relief. "Okay, I'm going there now," Harvey said as he stood up. "Harvey, no," Donna said firmly. "No?" Harvey stopped in his tracks. "Give her time, Harvey. You really hurt her." Harvey's turned to stay silent. "Harvey, remember how many times she got to cut you some slacks? How many times has she stood by your side, no matter what? How many times did she get back to you after you hurt her and you only gave her a simple apology? How many times, Harvey?" Harvey bit his lip, forcing him to hold a sob. "Will she come back, Donna? I'll give her all the time in the world; just tell me, Donna. Will she come back?" Donna closed her eyes as she heard the hoarseness of Harvey's voice. "I don't know, Harvey. I don't know," Donna said truthfully.

Harvey didn't sleep that night. He got back to the office early in the morning. He saw Donna, who smiled curtly at him. He didn't expect to see his wife in her office when he walked past her office. She wasn't there. But to Harvey's surprise, there she was. Sat gracefully in the conference room, holding a meeting with Pharma Pro's execs. He caught her eye. Before he got the chance to smile at her, she turned her focus back to Russel Whitmore, the CEO of Pharma Pro. Harvey sighed and headed to the elevator. He himself had a meeting to attend.

Harvey got back to the office around 5. When he passed her wife's office, he saw her there. Her back faced him. A few folders opened in front of her. As much as Harvey wanted to go in and hold her, he knew he had to give her some time. He got to his office and fired up his laptop.

A few hours later, Harvey almost lost his mind. His wife was just a few offices away, yet he couldn't do anything. He brought some papers and stood up to leave his office. He prayed so hard so that her wife would still be in her office. An office before his wife's, Harvey stopped himself. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. He couldn't remember the last time he was this nervous. He was nervous when his wife told him that he should talk to Louis for her hand in marriage. They were close. Really close. She was so close that she considered Louis her own family. Since she had no immediate family. But this is different. He felt like his marriage was on the edge. And it was all because of him. He took another deep breath and finally knocked on his wife's door before opening the door. Harvey sighed a breath of relief. His wife was still there, buried in a lot of files. "Hey," Harvey said softly as he entered her office. "Hey," she answered shortly, not knowing what to do. She wanted to yell at Harvey and slap him. But dear God, the look on his face. She knew he hadn't slept. "Can I?" Harvey referred to the chair across from her. She only nodded. "I've been making this whole speech since last night about what I would say when we met. But seeing your face..." Harvey stopped himself. His hand itched to touch his wife. "I took you for granted. And I'm sorry, I really am." His wife looked at him stoically. "Here," Harvey showed her the papers he brought with him.

"A house in.. Hamptons? This is your way of saying sorry? Oh yeah, right. I couldn't afford a house in the Hamptons since I'm a low-degree lawyer." She scoffed, and Harvey shook his head. "Remember the second day of our honeymoon?" Harvey asked. How could she forget? They stayed in a beautiful villa in Como.

"We should buy a villa here," she said as she climbed on top of Harvey. Both of them were in bed, with the vast view of Lake Como at their disposal. Nothing was between them but a thin layer of white sheet. She propped herself up; they were face-to-face. "And why is that?" Harvey asked, smirking at his wife. "So whenever we are tired, we can always come here and get away from the world." Harvey marveled at the look of wonder in his wife's eyes. "In here, it's just us. You," she kissed his lips, "and me." Harvey caressed his wife's bare back. "You do realize we are in Italy, right?" She giggled at the fact that they were indeed a 10-hour flight away from home. "Then at the Hamptons! It wasn't far," she said excitedly. "I don't need a getaway house. I have my wife and my job all in one place; I wouldn't need anything else." She wanted to argue, but Harvey turned them over as she squealed.

"I told you I don't need a getaway house. I don't need to be away from all this," Harvey said as he gestured to whatever was around them. "But all this without you? The stress of this place has led me astray from you. I hurt you. If I could do anything to even just lessen the pain I caused you, I would do it. I won't waste another word saying how much I'm sorry, but I will make it up to you." Harvey took his wife's hands in his, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "If you let me, I will take you to our new house." Harvey's voice was laced with questions. "I know it is not Como. And we can always cancel this house if you don't want it. We could go there, and you can pick it yourself," Harvey rambled. Harvey stood up and moved his chair next to hers. "Please come with me. Let me fix this for us." Harvey put his hand on her cheek as she leaned into his warm hand. "Harvey, it's only Tuesday. I have my week full," she said, shaking her head. "If you agree, we can just leave first thing in the morning. I've cleared everything with Louis and Donna. Rachel and Mike will take on your clients. Just say yes," he said, closing the gap between them. His lips hovered over hers. She closed her eyes. "I'm still mad at you," she whispered. "I know, but let me prove to you that I want to be better; I'll make it up to you. Please, Sunny. This is my last chance, I swear to you. I love you more than life," he said, running his thumb across her lips. "I will drop everything here if that's what you nee..." Harvey didn't get the chance to finish his sentence. Harvey closed his eyes as he felt his wife's lips on his. He wanted to cry, for he thought he would never be this close again with his wife. He held his wife close. She broke the kiss, their foreheads touched. "Take me home, Harvey."

MASTERLIST

#harvey specter #harvey specter fanfic #harvey specter imagines #harvey specter fan fiction #suits harvey specter #harvey specter imagine #harvey specter x reader #suits tv #harvey specter suits #suits fics #harveyspecter

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kybercrystals94 · 8 months ago

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Just a few things in Season 3 Episode 5 that I can’t stop thinking about…

[spoilers below cut]

The way Crosshair treats Omega like a peer.

This is so different from the way Wrecker, Echo, Tech, but specifically Hunter, ever treated Omega. To them, she’s still the little girl they rescued off Kamino. They know they’ve trained her to be capable; however, it is hard to separate their guileless little sister from the little warrior she’s become both with their squad and during her captivity on Tantiss.

Crosshair never knew or cared about little Omega, the child who’d never seen dirt before.

He’s only ever known and cared about this Omega. The Omega that insisted on building a relationship with him in spite of his trying to push her away for her own good. The Omega who refused to leave him behind at risk to herself. The Omega who can hold her own alongside him during a firefight. The Omega who can fly ships, bribe, and swindle. Crosshair has only known this Omega. Why would he treat her as anything but capable? He will absolutely protect her and have her back, but he will not doubt her abilities.

That’s not to say that the others doubt her abilities. I think they absolutely know what Omega is capable of, but that innate desire to protect the little thing she was has not dissolved just because Omega has grown…which is so true of real life. It’s authentic, and it's difficult and messy. And I love that the show is tackling this.

I also love that Crosshair knows this too. “Don’t hold it against him. He’s only worried about you,” he gently advises.

Which leads me into how I viewed Hunter’s behavior in Episode 5…

He doesn’t trust Crosshair. Why would he? The last time they interacted, Crosshair tried to force them to join the Empire of his own volition. He tried to have Omega forcibly removed from their protection. He chose the Empire over them. And then, they find out that Crosshair became a prisoner of the Empire, and their attempt to rescue Crosshair from his own choices resulted in Tech’s death and Omega’s capture. On top of that, what exactly did Crosshair do to get on the Empire’s bad side? Hunter doesn’t know. And Crosshair isn’t volunteering the information.

I also saw a bit of jealousy on Hunter’s part (although he probably doesn’t recognize it). While we as viewers know that Omega is trying to support Crosshair with his emotional and physical trauma, as well as getting him to communicate with Hunter and Wrecker. On the outside, Omega and Crosshair are almost inseparable, Omega seeking out Crosshair’s companionship (the brother that initiated a lot of the Batch’s heartbreak) rather than the brothers who have taken care of her all along. Gotta admit, I’d be pretty hurt by that too. Again, not at all Omega’s intent or fault that he feels this way, but it would be confusing and hurtful nonetheless.

Crosshair also senses this jealousy. (“Oh, don’t pretend like this is all about me…You’re angry because she escaped with my help, not yours.”) What Hunter doesn’t know is that Crosshair has supported Omega and Hunter’s relationship, not undermined it.

I really appreciated how Crosshair - while hurt by Hunter’s mistrust - does his best to prove himself trustworthy again (although hidden behind typical Crosshair snark). He’s broken his brothers’ trust, and he knows it has to be earned back.

Wrecker runs to hug Hunter and Crosshair after they make it back safely.

Wrecker is the only one of the Batch (besides Crosshair, obviously) who has been on both sides of the chip. He understands Hunter’s perspective and trepidation towards Crosshair; however, he also understands the guilt and fear that comes after being under the chip’s influence and nearly killing your family. While he was also confused and hurt by Crosshiar’s actions after the chip, Wrecker trusts Omega’s judgment. If Omega feels that Crosshair has changed, then Wrecker is not going to question it.

But he’s not going to pressure Hunter to the same conclusion, and he’s been Hunter’s support system for so long–and obviously, Crosshair already has a support system in Omega. Wrecker is going to let Hunter take the time he needs to trust Crosshair on his own terms…and I love that!

I felt that when Wrecker saw them coming back, he could tell they had worked out some of their hard feelings toward one another…and he was thrilled! That hug was more than just happy they made it back safe from facing a monster, but that they are on the path to making amends. Their family is healing. Not healed. There’s still hurts and wounds to work through, but healing.

And the way he embraces his two sullen brothers, smooshing them together so that they are also hugging each other by association…made me smile so big!

The way Echo acts as mediator between Hunter and Crosshair. (Also…ECHO FINALLY SHOWS UP!!)

Omega and Wrecker have been struggling trying to support both brothers while they work through their issues, and then there’s Echo saying, “You can kill each other later…focus!” Echo gets it. He knows they need to work things out on their own terms, in their own time. But first…mission!

Also, I loved how civilly he treats Crosshair when they meet again. Crosshair is 100% ready to receive a negative reaction, and when Echo simply snarks back at him like the good ol’ days, Crosshair is visibly surprised. Even Omega looks happy to see the positive interaction.

When Omega expresses how she wishes she could have done more for the other clones on Tantiss, Echo tells her she did the right thing escaping and getting the information she could to him and Rex…he is such a good and encouraging older brother! I love him!

Special mention goes to Crosshair and Batcher being buddies! The way Crosshair pats and pets her when Batcher comes up to him after they rescue Hunter out of the snow. And then Batcher plops down beside him and Crosshair keeps petting her. My little heart!

#the bad batch #star wars #tbb hunter #tbb omega #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb spoilers #the bad batch season 3 spoilers #episode 5 #the return #my thoughts on the character development

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jupitersdescendant · 8 months ago

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hii lovely people! hope everyone is doing as well as possible. can’t believe it’s been over a year since my last reading… a lot of sh*t has happened in my life but i’m so glad to be back, finally! thanks to those of you who are still here :)

todays topic: blessings coming to you this spring

here’s how it works: close your eyes and meditate on the question for a little. if you feel ready, open your eyes and choose the pile you feel the most drawn to. it’s possible, that you’ll be attracted to more than one pile. please remember that this is a general reading so only take what resonates. this is for entertainment purposes only. lastly, tarot is only a guide, nothing is set in stone and at the end of the day you have the power over your own life.

Pile 1

cards: six of cups (rx), page of cups, strength. back of the deck: the magician.

hii pile 1!!

i’m seeing that there’s recently been a big change or rather an upheaval regarding your home life/living situation. some of you may have moved out and it didn’t go as well as planned. no matter the situation, it all happened rather suddenly. it seems like many of you feel like the ground was swept from under your feet and you were left feeling vulnerable. you could’ve been struggling with reoccurring headaches. there’s a big focus on independence and standing on your on feet this spring. i’m seeing that you’ll be blessed with affection. for some of you this means that someone from your past may reenter your life and this time around you will get the chance to appreciate them the right way, probably more in a platonic/friend way but it could differ for everyone. you two could come together after parting because of a fight. for others this affection is coming in through someone new entering your life and awakening your romantic side. it actually looks like some of you may even fall in love and for a couple of you this could mean for the very first time in your life since there’s a feeling of innocence here. this is random but fish could carry a special meaning for you during this time, wether you see a symbol or real ones or even here about them, they’re definitely a sign for you. this spring you will find that your inner strength will carry you through whatever is going on in your life. you may have to juggle a couple of things but that strength will help you build a comfortable foundation within yourself. there’s a lot of water energy in this pile and i’m seeing that you’ll be blessed with good intuition and that you’ll also trust your own judgment more. you will awaken more to your spiritual side since spirituality will play a big role to you this season. it’s also one of the reasons why you may feel stronger and more sure of yourself. even though you probably won’t enter this spring under the best of circumstances, you’ll find that you’re blessed with what it takes to persist any incoming obstacles. with an active and confident energy you can move towards the life that you want and find that it’s already waiting for you.

extra advice:

- embrace the changes even if you don’t feel ready or prepared yet

- see the good that is already in your life, there are blessings all around

- put your strength into something positive

- trust the divine timing of the universe

let me know if it resonates! have a great day/night 🖤

Pile 2

cards: page of swords, judgement, nine of swords (rx). back of the deck: the devil (rx)

hii pile 2!

so it looks like there’s a person of romantic interest in your life but it doesn’t seem you’re official and probably more like somehow waiting on them? it doesn’t feel like there’s really something going on between you two and even if there is, it seems that the situation is standing still and you’re waiting for them or for something to happen. i’m sorry to break it to you, dear, but i don’t think that this is really going anywhere and that you shouldn’t wait anymore and accept that it’s rather unlikely for the situation to improve if you relate to the scenario i’m describing. since it looks like this person isn’t even an active part of your life anymore (at least for most of you), i think you should release what’s in the past and not be still hung up on them. sorry if this sounds harsh, i only want whats best for you! i think this spring will help you realise that the situationship you may be in is only holding you back and that you should detach yourself from this. i now this really doesn’t sound like a blessing yet but through letting go you’ll be blessed with an awakening and will find your inner calling. you’ll also overcome a lot of anxiety and will learn to cope in a healthier way when dealing with your mental struggles. i think that you’ll really flourish this spring. i’m seeing you stepping into your “king”- energy and yes, everybody can embody the energy i’m talking about. in this case it means that you’ll be full of strength and warmth and that you’ll embrace more of the leader energy in yourself. you don’t necessarily need to lead people since that’s definitely not for everyone but it’s more like the vibe and mentality a leader carries. you may also inspire others with that change you made within yourself. the number three could be a sign from the universe to you showing you that you’re on the right path. you’re probably not the best when it comes to confrontation or standing up for yourself but this spring will help you leave this behaviour behind for your own good. i’m not gonna lie, this whole process will be kind of exhausting though it will bring you much more happiness once you’re through with it. in doing so you’ll be reclaiming your power and be blessed with a lot of internal freedom and independence. this season will also bless you with optimism.

extra advice:

- work to regain your confidence

- learn ways to strengthen your opinion of yourself

- show your inner light to the world and let your personality shine through

- if you have been dwelling on your past, try finding the light or blessings of each memory and release them with love

let me know if it resonates! have a great day/night 🖤

Pile 3

cards: eight of cups, three of wands, nine of pentacles. back of the deck: five of cups

hi pile 3!!

i’m seeing that you’ve recently had to leave something behind. what exactly that is will differ for everyone but all of you had to walk away from something. this was a very difficult decision for you but you had to do for your own wellbeing. your focus now will be on solitude and what you’ll find through it. this is a time of soul searching and looking for your own path. i think it was very hard for you to leave this “something” behind and that you resisted making this decision for a long time because you were really afraid what this change would bring you. i’m here to tell you that this will have a purely positive outcome for you since you can finally move forward. you can be proud of yourself. this change will bless you with happy outcomes. you may find joy in exploring new things and travelling this spring. a couple of you could even be blessed with luck regarding money. in order to reap your rewards you should try to let go of selfishness and jealousy, of course everyone experiences these emotions but i think that you could get hung up on these feelings and really harm yourself and maybe even others in doing so. if you manage to do this, there’s only prosperity waiting on the other side of you. blessings in form of more freedom, security and independence will flow toward you (reoccurring theme for every pile it seems lol). i’m hearing that you’ll rise like a phoenix from the ashes. the past few weeks or even months could’ve been a real emotional struggle for you and you felt very lonely. some of you experienced a great loss in your life that left you in sadness and despair. i think you will be happy to hear that love will find your life again, wether this is romantically or platonically will differ for everyone but just know that you’re not alone. this spring will bless you with feeling more in harmony within yourself and also with others.

extra advice:

- create the shift within yourself required to attract what you want

- be tender and patient with yourself and those around you

- trust you will attain all you are yearning for

- be ready for the many opportunities coming to you

- this is the time to go within for answers, to find inner strength and to tap into deep emotions

let me know if it resonates! have a great day/night 🖤

🔮 thanks a lot for reading 🔮

#pick a card reading #pick a card #pac reading #pick a pile #tarot reading #pac tarot #free tarot readings #tarotblr #tarot community #pick a picture #divination #witchcraft #spirituality #pick a pile reading #timeless reading

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fluentmoviequoter · 7 months ago

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Crushes Aren't Just for Kids

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!JL!reader (Justice League Unlimited!Bruce)

Summary: When all adults are banished from earth, you join Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Green Lantern in a unique fight to save the world. Along the way, some hidden feelings are revealed.

Warnings: spoilers/rewrite for Justice League Unlimited 1x3 "Kid's Stuff", fluff, mention of beheading, canon-level violence and action

Word Count: 3.1k+ words

A/N: I can't tell you how many times I've watched this show because Kevin Conroy's Batman in the DCAU tv shows is unmatched (and the kids who did the voice acting in this episode did phenomenally). I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!🤍

Part 2: Butterflies Aren't Just for Kids >

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist | DC Masterlist | Request Info

You are in a unique position for several reasons. Being one of the only human members of the Justice League, you find yourself pushing yourself to be the best you can and ensuring that you can keep up with your superpowered teammates. Plus, you are one of the only people who knew Bruce Wayne before you knew Batman, and no matter how much he denies it, you knew after one look that the man under the cowl was none other than your favorite billionaire. When you first arrived on the Watchtower with your fellow vigilante, you wondered if any of the superheroes (especially those who had unique mind powers) could tell that you wanted to be more than fellow crime fighters with Batman. If they did, no one said anything, so your secret crush has remained secret as it grows stronger.

“Bats,” you warn as you duck away from Cheetah’s claws.

Bruce flips away from Deadshot’s line of fire before rushing up beside him. He punches under his jaw, and you watch as Deadshot lifts Bruce off the ground. Bruce throws a batarang, and you slide away from them as Deadshot falls to the floor.

“Guess that’s a wrap,” Green Lantern says. At Bruce’s look, he adds, “Sorry. Been hanging out with Flash too much.”

“I don’t see how that’s a bad thing,” you tease.

You look away from John and see three police officers entering the vault. A pink wave follows them inside, and your eyes widen when the officers disappear. Bruce pulls you to his side as John creates a forcefield with his ring, but it fails nearly as quickly as it appears.

When you open your eyes on a floating rock, you’re still tucked against Bruce’s side. You step back quickly and look around. Dozens of rocks surround you and each holds numerous people; adults only, you notice.

“It was judgment day,” Copper exclaims, “and- and we got sent to the bad place. The bad place!”

“Where else were you expecting to go?” you ask sarcastically.

“Snap out of it, Copper!” Cheetah demands as she slaps him.

“Yeah, calm down,” John calls. “We’re probably just in another dimension.”

“I don’t see any children,” Bruce says.

“You would be the one to notice,” you murmur. “It’s not a bad thing,” you add when he directs his bat glare at you.

“That’s because a child is responsible,” a woman wearing a mask interjects as she hovers above you.

“Morgaine Le Fay,” Bruce greets, though he’s prepared to fight rather than exchange niceties and introductions.

“Great, magic,” you mutter as you fall in line between Bruce and Diana.

“I mean you no harm,” Morgaine assures. “My son Mordred has wrought this treachery. Banishing all adults to this shadow realm.”

“Do you think Flash is here?” you whisper to John.

“50/50,” he answers.

“After I spent millennia feeding him, bathing him, preparing him to be a king,” Morgaine continues. “Where did I go wrong?”

“You’re a sorceress. Can’t you just undo his spell?” Diana asks.

“No. He’s got the amulet of first magic. He’s too powerful. But if we all work together…”

“You want us to defeat your own son?” Bruce clarifies.

“So don’t trust me. Let him rule the world and all your children. Here we will stay. Forever.”

“But what can we do? We’re stuck here, aren’t we?” Diana says.

“Please don’t say-“ you begin.

“Not exactly,” Morgaine answers.

“That,” you finish as your shoulders slump.

“The spell only banishes adults.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” you and John say together.

“It’s the only way,” Morgaine says.

“We have to do it,” Clark announces.

John exhales deeply, and you step back to be at Bruce’s side again. Magic has never been your preferred battle, and as Morgaine directs her spell at you and everything turns green, you clutch Bruce’s cape in your hand.

When you arrive in Mordred’s amusement park-turned-kingdom, you’re ready to leave. Being turned into a kid again wasn’t exactly on your superhero bingo card, and as a human, you don’t bring much to the fight anyway.

“I hope this is temporary,” Bruce complains.

You look over at him and feel butterflies in your stomach. Despite de-aging, you still have a crush on Bruce, but it hits harder and faster. You tear your eyes away from him and try to calm your racing heart. Each moment you live as a kid, you’ll start acting more like one.

“You sound weird,” Clark says. “Whoa. So do I.”

Diana looks between Clark and John before straightening her shoulders. She towers over them and smiles. “I kind of like this.”

“Why are you squinting?” you ask John.

Bruce, Clark, and Diana look over after you ask, and you drop your eyes to avoid looking at Bruce again.

“I wore glasses as a kid. Guess I need ‘em again,” John answers.

A pair of oversized green glasses appear on his face, and he jumps in surprise. They’re nothing like what adult John would create, and you stifle a laugh at the sight of them.

“I didn’t even try to make these!” he exclaims.

Clark laughs as Bruce says, “I hope not.”

You pat John’s back as he focuses on making nicer glasses. Once he’s ready and Clark compliments his new look, Diana reminds you that you’re supposed to be looking for Mordred.

“Bet the little punk’s in there,” Bruce says.

He points to the castle looming in the distance and begins running. You run behind him and watch as Diana, Clark, and John fly past you.

“It’s not a race,” Bruce grumbles.

He speeds up, but you keep your pace and make it to the castle all the same. Despite the earlier teasing about John’s glasses, none of you have mentioned any differences between the kid and adult versions of one another. You’re thankful, though, because reliving your childhood is not your favorite pastime. When you enter the castle, you stay behind Bruce as he stands beside Diana.

“The Justice Babies!” Mordred calls before laughing.

“What are you laughing at, precious?” Bruce asks.

“Precious?” you repeat.

“You,” Mordred answers. “Mother sent you, didn’t she?”

“Maybe she wanted a chance to have a normal kid,” you taunt.

“She shouldn’t send a boy to do a man’s job,” Mordred tells Bruce.

He grabs the amulet, and you watch as a young boy’s toys come to life. They grow until they’re giant, and you stumble backward before running for cover. When Clark flies into one of them and is knocked to the floor, you begin questioning if it was truly a good idea to become kids to fight a boy with powerful magic.

“Bruce, batarang,” you request.

He hands you one before running toward Mordred. You wait for one of the toys to run toward you before sliding between its legs.

“I’ll make a laser cannon. No, a missile launcher,” John says above you. “Oh! Oh, I know.”

“Just pick something!” you and Bruce yell together.

You dig the batarang into the back of the toy’s leg and roll to the side as it collapses to the ground before disappearing. Bruce and John take one out, while Clark disables the other with his laser vision.

When you hear Bruce grunting and see him dangling from his cape in the grip of the last toy, you gasp and run toward him. Diana beats you there and catches him.

“You okay, tough guy?” she asks.

“Let go. I’m fine,” Bruce demands as he struggles to get out of her hold.

His shoulders drop and his cape surrounds him as he sulks. You don’t ask the same question Diana had but thank him for the batarang as he passes.

“That’s not fair,” Mordred complains.

“Get him!” Bruce calls.

You run behind Diana and aren’t surprised when you’re all encased in ice. Mordred is powerful, and you and your fellow “Justice Babies” seem to be forgetting that. When you fall into a dungeon and are freed from the ice, you scoot toward Bruce. One of the cells opens, and red eyes glow within. You clutch Bruce’s cape and watch as a small demon walks out.

“Etrigan?” Bruce asks.

He steps away from you, and his cape slips through your fingers. You stay behind John’s forcefield as Diana lifts Bruce out of the way of Etrigan’s flame. Diana has been closer to Bruce during this mission than usual, and the butterflies in your stomach start causing more pain than happiness as you wonder if they’ve been hiding feelings for one another in the Watchtower, too.

“Don’t hurt him!” Bruce yells as Clark pulls Etrigan away from you and John.

Etrigan bites Clark’s arm, and he calls, “Tell him that!”

“C’mere,” you tell Etrigan. You crouch to the floor and pull him into your arms. “Stop!”

He calms down, and Diana helps Bruce up as Etrigan cries. You look at Bruce and shrug.

“He’s just a baby,” Diana says.

“And he needs more than a hug,” John adds, waving his hand in front of his nose.

“Now, that is a job for Superman,” Bruce says.

Bruce takes Etrigan from your arms and passes him to Clark. When Bruce takes your hand to lead you out of the dungeon, you nearly trip over your own feet. You’ve never been more ready to grow up before, you think.

Mordred’s new kingdom is comprised mostly of children doing what they were never allowed to do before. When you walk through the paths surrounding what used to be the center of the park, you are surrounded by children doing dangerous stunts and breaking rules.

“You two, knock that off!” Clark demands when he sees two boys playing with wooden swords.

“What are you gonna do? You’re just a kid,” they taunt.

Clark shoots a laser between them and answers, “I’m the kid with laser beams coming out of his eyes.”

“That’s just gonna scare them,” you interject before they run away screaming. “You can’t threaten kids the same way you threaten criminals.”

“Then what do we do?” John asks.

“Tattle,” Diana answers. She flies to an elevated area and yells, “That’s enough!”

Everyone freezes, and you find yourself reaching for Bruce.

“You can’t tell us what to do! You’re not our mom!” someone replies.

“No, but I promise you we will find all of your moms and I’m gonna tell!” Diana answers.

“Well, what should we do?”

“Go outside and wait for your parents. Now!” Diana demands with a hand on her hip.

“Man, your girlfriend sure is bossy,” John tells Bruce.

“Shut up,” he replies before leaving John’s side.

Those butterflies in your stomach become dead weight. You stall behind John, but he turns to look at you.

“You like Bruce,” he accuses.

“What? No!” you answer too quickly. “We’re friends.”

“Mmhmm.”

John gestures for you to come with him, and you follow Bruce together. You know that John knows more than he ever lets on, and if anyone found out about your crush, you suppose you should be glad that it’s the one who can keep a secret. Better him than Wally.

“He’s almost asleep,” Diana whispers as you look into Mordred’s hideout. “We can take him.”

“I’ll make a lawnmower and chew him up,” John suggests.

“A lawnmower?” you repeat incredulously. “Why?”

“I say we get that amulet away from him first,” Bruce says. “We’ll split up and sneak behind him. Then Lantern can do his thing. But no mowers.”

“Why?” John questions.

“Because it’s stupid,” Clark answers.

“He’ll hear it, too,” you whisper with much more kindness than Clark.

“I guess I’ll go with Clark,” Diana says. “Unless I should go with you,” she tells Bruce.

“Whatever,” Bruce answers.

John sees your eyes drop and says, “Clark can go alone. I’ll go with Diana.”

You appreciate it but shake your head because you don’t want to be left alone with Bruce.

“Whatever,” Bruce repeats.

“Go,” John whispers.

You lead Bruce around the side of the cave, and John shakes his head as he watches you go.

“What’s with them?” Clark asks.

“Really?” Diana questions.

“Man, for somebody with fifty different kinds of vision you are so blind,” John responds.

“What?”

“Is that a claw?” you ask Bruce as John tries to get the amulet.

“Unfortunately,” he answers.

He may be young, but his sarcasm hasn’t changed a bit. You lean against him when John’s claw wavers before disappearing. The amulet falls to Mordred’s chest, and Bruce moves you carefully as he calls, “Get the amulet!”

You join Bruce, Diana, Clark, and John in a failing attempt to hold Mordred down and take the amulet. He uses his magic to grow and throws Bruce and Diana off of him before standing. A young girl is standing nearby, and you take her hand to lead her to safety as the others fight Mordred.

“Bats!” you yell, just as you had as an adult this morning.

Bruce looks back and sees the living gargoyle chasing him and John and directs John toward a small bridge.

“Close the door!” you yell as Bruce enters the castle.

Diana closes and locks the door behind him, and you listen to John come up with complicated plans to stop Mordred as Bruce thinks.

“Forget it!” Bruce calls after John mentions giant handcuffs. “We’ve got to focus on…” Bruce’s eyes lock with yours and he says, “Never mind what I just said. We’ll take care of everything else. Lantern, you go crazy.”

“What are you going to do?” you ask.

“It’s time for all of us to grow up,” Bruce answers.

He takes your hand before running toward another area of the kingdom. Your butterflies begin reviving, and you wonder if anything will be the same after this.

“Go!” he yells to Clark.

Clark pulls the amulet from Mordred’s neck while he’s distracted by John before tossing it to Bruce.

“This is the most dangerous game of keep away I’ve ever played,” you yell as you take the amulet from Bruce and run it to Diana. Diana throws it to Etrigan, and you flinch when he bites into it. The wave of purple magic that escapes it is unsettling, but you don’t take your eyes off Mordred.

“I already absorbed too much of the amulet’s power,” Mordred says as he stands.

He uses his magic to suspend all of you, and Etrigan, upside down in the air. He pulls a sword from a nearby stone, and it turns purple before reappearing as a curved blade.

“I’ll take care of my kingly duty myself,” he declares.

“Is he really going to behead us in an amusement park?” you ask with your arms crossed over your chest.

“I’m scared,” the girl you helped earlier says. “I want my mommy.”

Mordred lowers his blade to say, “You don’t need a mommy. You’re better off without one. Trust me.”

“Ooh, mommy issues,” John muses. “Those ain’t easy.”

The girl begins crying and Clark taunts, “Some king.”

“I’m not impressed,” Diana agrees.

“What’d you expect? He’s a boy doing a man’s job,” Bruce finishes.

“You don’t know what it’s like being stuck as a kid,” Mordred says.

“Since you’ve had all that power, you could have been a man anytime you wanted. I think you’re too chicken to grow up.”

“Yep, big chicken. That’s what you are,” John agrees, flapping his arms like wings. “Bock, bock.”

“Face it, precious,” Bruce continues. “You like being a little mama’s boy.”

“I’ll show you!” Mordred yells. “I’ll show you all.”

“Sure, you will,” you agree with an eye roll.

“And when I am a true king, I’ll start with the human!” Mordred adds, pointing to you.

Bruce looks at you, but you keep your eyes on Mordred as he spreads his arms and is surrounded by purple ribbons of magic. Etrigan claps as Mordred’s spell spreads, and he reappears as a man.

“I’m older than you now,” Mordred says as he turns to face you.

The magic released his spell, and you catch yourself as you fall from the air.

“You sure are,” Bruce says.

Mordred disappears, banished by his own spell. As an adult, he couldn’t stay, and now you can only wait until Morgaine does her part. Bruce steps to your side and you turn your face toward him.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” you answer just before Morgaine appears.

“A bargain is a bargain,” she says as she waves her hand before you.

The spell is lifted, and you are an adult again in only a second. You hadn’t prepared for the change in size however and are pressed against Bruce’s chest with the sudden growth. He makes no move to get space from you, though.

“Mommy,” Etrigan coos at Diana.

She drops him and steps back. You chuckle at the scene and Diana looks at you with furrowed brows before smiling and rolling her eyes.

Morgaine opens a portal, and Bruce places a hand on your hip as he steps around you.

“Wait,” he calls. “What happened to Mordred?”

“My spell gave him eternal youth but now that he’s broken it all he has is eternal life,” she answers.

“Circumstances aside, it was kind of enjoyable to be a kid again,” Diana says.

You walk to Bruce’s side and watch the happy reunions of children with their parents.

“I’m sorry,” you offer softly.

“For what?” he asks.

“You just- you didn’t get to be a kid like the rest of us.”

“Perhaps Diana was right. It wasn’t completely unenjoyable.”

He turns toward you, and his arm is pressed to your shoulder.

“You’re telling me the big, bad bat had a little bit of fun?” you tease.

“You never talk about your childhood,” he deflects. “So, I’m sorry if this brought up bad memories.”

“Just dead butterflies,” you answer.

Bruce glares at you, but it’s the one unique to when he’s reading you.

“Is that why Lantern sent us off alone together?”

You look down as you nod.

“My butterflies are alive and well, and happy to wait for you,” Bruce murmurs.

“Butterflies or bats?” you ask.

“Should we be having this conversation in an amusement park?”

“You’re right. Let’s go to Metropolis and make the cover of the Daily Planet so Clark has to write all about it.”

Bruce sighs, but he takes your hand as he leads you outside the amusement park. He presses a button on his utility belt and the Batmobile pulls up a moment later.

“Bruce,” you say once you’re inside. “You were a really cute kid.”

“You were really bad at eye contact,” Bruce counters. “Or was that just with me?”

“I guess crushes aren’t just for kids,” you muse.

“Maybe Diana will stop pestering me to ask you out now.”

You nod as you watch the road before you. It takes a moment, but you finally understand what Bruce just said.

“What?”

#hanna writes✯#bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne x reader #jlu!bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne imagine #dc comics x reader #fem!reader

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laenordeservedbetter · 2 years ago

Note

For Sam x reader.

Ghostface is back and had followed the Carpenters, the twins, and Amber's older sister, Reader, to New York. No one trusting her because of the fact that her little sister was Ghostface, Reader is in disbelief, and Sam breaks up with her on the spot. Fast forward to the end, where Ghostface is dead, everyone's being treated by paramedics, Reader is seen walking away from the scene alone. Kirby asks where she is, Sam then sees her walking away, holding her broken arm to her body, and runs after her and apologies for not trusting and believing her. (Reader saying it's too late for sam to apologize. She then walks away from her friends, from Sam.)

You're Somebody Else

Words: 1.4k

Pairing: Samantha Carpenter x Fem!Freeman!Reader

Synopsis: You were told that the biggest betrayal comes from the people you care about the most, but never did you expect it to hurt so much.

Warnings: scream vi spoilers, violence, spitting, cussing, angst, no happy ending. lmk if I missed any.

A/N: I wrote this at a coffee shop. I'm still here rn, so we'll see how many fics I can post before I go home. (This will probably be the only one)

not my gif. || masterlist || previous work

You stood before Amber’s Ghostface outfit, reaching out to touch the fabric before you remembered where you were -- who you’re with. The glares given to you by the rest of the group burned at the back of your skull. You can practically sense their judgments. Since the first Ghostface attack in New York, they pointed their fingers at you. You understood, given what you've all been through. Can't be too careful. You didn’t care that you saw the contempt on your own girlfriend’s face. You stayed by her side, understanding where she was coming from.

Being related to a previous Ghostface was something you and Sam had in common. When you are linked to a person with that track record, it sticks with you even if you are different from them. Trust becomes hard to give. And out of everyone, you figured your girlfriend is the one who understood the most about what it’s like. However, it looks like the sentiment isn’t shared.

She approaches you, getting the courage to ask, “Can we talk?”

You can tell what’s about to happen before Sam can utter what she wants to say to you.

Nothing good ever comes out of conversations like these.

“I’m sorry.” Sam stares, her gaze cold, nothing like the Sam you fell in love with. With each deafening step she takes away from you, your heart shatters just a little bit more. You are wounded by the way she’s looking at you. Any wound or injury you might sustain in the next few minutes will not compare to the poison laced in the invisible knife held against your throat by the woman you love. “I can’t take any more chances. I can’t trust you. We’re done.”

You scoff, glancing towards the group in hopes that they would back up your claim. “Sam, you know me. I would never hurt you or Tara or. . . Anika.”

Mindy flinches at the mention of her girlfriend’s name. Her stare hardens. “You have no right to say her name. We know you did it. You killed her.”

“Mindy…” Your voice breaks as your throat feels like it’s closing up. You can’t do anything to convince them, letting the stream of tears flow from your eyes. No one came to your rescue to prove your innocence. None of them trusted you. You felt pathetic, humiliated, embarrassed. Your eyes settle on Sam again. “Really? After everything we’ve been through together, you-”

Sam glowers. “It’s over, Y/n. Please, stay away from us.”

“Fuck you.” You turn your back, the hurt in your tone clear as day. “I don’t know you at all.”

“Maybe we didn’t know each other as well as we thought.”

It was one thing for you to walk away and another knowing that Sam would not be going after you.

“It was easy luring you away from the group. Guess we really can’t choose our family, huh?” Ghostface makes a tsk sound, the voice changer turned off.

He takes a step forward, but you stay positioned adjacent to the wall. That voice…

“Ethan?”

Ethan removes his mask, holding the voice changer to his lips, “Didn’t expect that?”

Of course it was him. Little by little, the pieces fall into place. The apartment attack -- that was probably Ethan. He wasn’t with the group. Not even the skeptic Mindy questioned his whereabouts. Your tears haven’t dried yet and you were as sure as hell they weren’t going to stop now. You bring your hands together in a slow clap. “Oh, wow, that’s… Fucking brilliant, actually.” Clutching your stomach, you let out what sounded like a painful cackle. “This is the part where I die.” You say. It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

“Oh no, no, no. See, that’s where you’re wrong.” Ethan smirks, gripping your left arm, applying pressure to where you had been previously injured a couple nights prior. “You are our scapegoat. I must give credit to Mindy for the idea. You have the perfect motive to be Ghostface! It was just gonna be Sam, but… The press would go crazier if it was a Bonnie & Clyde situation. Not that I care about that sorta stuff. It just works.”

You collect the saliva from your mouth, spitting in his eye. “Jokes on you ‘cause we’re not together anymore.”

“But they wouldn’t know that because by the time you get ‘caught’, all of your friends will be dead and you would look like the asshole trying to save yourself if you attempt to say the truth.”

Ethan places his free hand on your shoulder, pulling your arm with more force than necessary to guarantee that it would break. You stand there, biting your lip in order to hide the pain. If I screamed, it wouldn’t make a difference anyway, you said to yourself bitterly. There’s not a single person who’d give me the benefit of the doubt. In fact, they’d make me suffer worse, believing that Ethan did the right thing. Who knows what creative scenarios he came up with already.

The paramedics found you slumped down beside a row of chairs after Sam and the rest of the group defeated the three Ghostfaces. They wondered why you weren’t with the others, but with a quick word from Kirby, they left you alone, guiding you outside to treat your broken arm. One of the paramedics - Theo (that’s what you heard Kirby call him) asked if you wanted a ride to the hospital. You declined, insisting that you could get there yourself without anyone’s help.

You spare Sam a glance, observing her interact with Mindy, Chad, and Tara. Core Four. Good for them. Although you were glad that they are are still extant, you can’t stop the rancor that you feel as you stare at the four. You want nothing more than for this day to be over, move to someplace else, maybe change your name. Anywhere is better than here. It’s become clear to you how unwanted you are in New York. A change of scenery might do you good.

Kirby (the only person who hasn’t treated you like scum) situates herself in front of Sam, “Hey, where’s Y/n?”

Sam only notices your absence when Kirby pointed it out. “Shit. I…” She scans the area in search of your familiar eyes, guilt eating at her knowing that she accused you of being a killer. Because of that, you got hurt. She’d never forgive herself for it. “I'll be right back.”

The blonde detective nods in understanding. “I’ll stay with Tara.”

“Thank you.”

You were on your way to the hospital when a hand grasps your injured arm. Recoiling from the touch, you look back to curse the one responsible for hurting your limb only to meet Sam’s pleading gaze. “What do you want, Samantha?”

“Y/n, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for being careless, for not trusting or believing you. If I had, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” Sam touches your good shoulder this time, expressing her genuine apology.

But no matter how many ‘I’m sorry’s’ she will direct at you, it won’t take away what’s been done. “It’s too late, Sam.”

“What? No. We can try again.” She pleads desperately.

You couldn’t bite back the words the words that are on the tip of your tongue, feeling the last ounce of self control fray away. “Try again? Do you hear how ridiculous that sounds? You broke up with me because you didn’t trust me. You didn’t even try to understand my side!” The news reporters turned their heads at your outburst. They point their cameras to you, but you don’t make an effort to cut off your ebullition short. “All of you pointed your hands at me because what? I’m the sister of a killer?! If we’re basing our suspicions of all the Ghostface’s relatives, you should’ve been on the top of the list. The only thing I asked was for you to stand by me and you failed. So, no, we can’t try again. We’ll only end up worse than where we left off.” You finish, walking away from everything (not for the first time). “I’ll get my things out of your apartment tonight. After that, you won’t have to see me again.”

Sam stays still while you leave, clutching your arm in the process. That limb will heal, but the words that Sam has spoken won’t. There will remain a constant reminder of how you were betrayed by those you would give everything for.

So much for trust.

#samantha carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #scream 6 #scream #mindy meeks martin #anika kayoko #ethan landry

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rachalixie · 2 years ago

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Can I request comforting Lee know during the stressful comeback when he’s all exhausted and stressed and y/n does her best to be there for him even though he’s stubborn

a/n: this. this request warmed my heart. i needed time to sort out my thoughts bc the urge to care for this boy is so??? strong?????

you usually don’t bother minho when he’s working; he tends to gets so fixated on what he’s doing that his attention rarely strays from it. even if you try, you’re met with absent-minded answers that he apologies for after, but his passion is one of the things that you fell in love with so you can’t complain much.

but with their new comeback he’s always worrying, working nonstop to make sure his members have the choreography just right. it’s different than before - he doesn’t rest until it’s perfect, not a single foot or finger out of place.

he’s sitting and watching the practice videos when you get home, his gaze bleary like he’s been staring at the screen for hours upon hours. he doesn’t look up when you move towards him, pressing your body to his side and a kiss to his cheek.

“hi, mine,” he mumbles, his hand reaching up to distractedly pet your cheek as he continues to click through the video, looking for imperfections even where there weren’t any.

“how long have you been sitting here?” you ask, rubbing what’s sure to be a sore shoulder with your hand. the muscle feels tight under your fingers, a sign that he’s been here longer than he’s willing to admit.

“not long,” sure enough, he’s understating. he sags when you click your tongue.

“you need to take a break baby,” you press, voice even and without judgment. you know that when he gets like this, the harder you push the more he pushes back.

“can’t,” he mutters, fingers flying again. “have to make sure this is perfect.”

“you trust your members right?” you ask, moving two fingers under his jaw, turning his head towards you and making sure he looks you in the eyes. they’re red-rimmed and drowsy, dark bags already beginning to form under them. he finally releases the mouse and keyboard from his grip.

“of course,” he says, voice strong with conviction. you knew this was the way to get through to him, it’s a practiced art that you’ve been trying to perfect for a while.

“then trust that they will get it right. they have the best teacher, you’re more than anyone could ever ask for. they will meet you halfway.” you’re almost pleading now, desperate for him to see that he deserves to rest.

“they will,” he nods, eyes clearing up bit by bit. “but…”

“sweetheart,” the name slips out of your mouth naturally as you wrap your arms around his neck. “you work so hard already. you’re allowed to take a break.”

he leans into your embrace and lets out a deep sigh. his breath warms your shoulder as he finally nods, making you release your own breath of relief.

“okay,” he says, sagging further into you and letting you run a hand through his mussed hair.

“c'mon. let’s take a bath. then i’ll feed you and we lay down together,” you help him up, steadying him with a giggle when his knees buckle under him from disuse.

he sits on the closed lid of the toilet as you ready the bath, head resting on his hand and eyes incredibly fond. his gaze is just as unwavering as it was before, but this time his attention is on you. you can’t help but feel a bit warm at the affection he’s showing you; no matter how much you know he loves you more than he loves his work (or, at the very least just as much), it’s a nice reminder to have. even when his eyes are tired, they’re bright as they watch you.

you sit between his legs in the bath, the warm water sending clouds of steam into the air, shrouding you both in a vanilla sweet blanket. he dozes off behind you, head resting on your shoulder and soft puffs of breath hitting your ear. the steady rise and fall of his chest lulls you into a light sleep too.

you don’t even regret it when you both wake up later, fingers and toes pruned so badly that you order in instead of cooking for him. you eat in bed, a rare thing for him. he prefers not allowing food into his sheets, not wanting to stain the crisp white bedding accidentally, but one doe-eyed look from you makes him cave fast.

you fall asleep curled up into each other, takeout containers forgotten at the foot of the bed, you following him into his dreams.

—

soft hours

#stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know fluff #stray kids drabbles #skz soft hours #stray kids soft hours #stray kids soft thoughts

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brunchable · 26 days ago

Text

Winter King, Chapter 6 : Tolerate it. [18+]

Pairings: King AU Bucky Barnes x Out of place Queen Reader Words: 13.5K Themes: Royaltycore AU, love and power, arranged Marriage, georgian/regency era misogyny, profanity. Warning: LOVE SCENE [18+]. Big size difference, Outdoor Sex, Sex. . .in a thunder storm ;D Summary: Y/N wrestles with her decision to make Wanda Bucky's consort, while political tensions escalate in the Kingdom. The council questions Bucky's absences, and Isaac continues to test him especially regarding Y/N. Bucky struggles with guilt and growing distance between him and Y/N. A/N: I have seen your votes and I am listening. Whoever wanted to dive deeper between Steve and Y/N, here you go lol. I am about to go to work asdfghjkl, will fix this later.

You sat at the head of the table, Bucky’s absence growing more noticeable. Prime Minister Fury, along with Lords Stark, Maximoff, Laufeyson, Odinson, and others, filled the seats, their gazes occasionally flicking toward the empty one usually occupied by the king.

Lord Stark leaned forward. “Your Majesty, we’ve received word that His Majesty has traveled to Annecy once more. This marks the third visit this month.”

You nodded, composed. “Yes, the king is attending to personal matters.”

Lord Maximoff exchanged a glance with Stark. “Of course, Your Majesty. Though His Majesty’s absences have not gone unnoticed.”

There was a murmur of agreement before Lord Laufeyson added smoothly, “The court speaks, Your Majesty. Questions have arisen—might there be more to His Majesty’s visits than we are aware of?”

Your eyes flickered slightly, but you kept your tone steady. “His visits are personal, Lord Laufeyson. The kingdom remains secure.”

Lord Carter leaned forward, his tone careful. “Naturally, Your Majesty. However, the council seeks clarity. His Majesty’s frequent absences—”

“The king’s affairs are his own,” you interrupted, your voice cool. “He has my trust, and the kingdom’s needs are being met.”

Lord Pierce, joining Carter’s line of inquiry, spoke mildly. “No one doubts that, Your Majesty. But the council must be informed, should any issues arise.”

The tension thickened, your patience thinning as you responded sharply, “The king’s reasons are not for debate. Focus on matters within your purview.”

Before the lords could press further, Isaac leaned forward, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. “Her Majesty has made herself clear. The king’s business is not for idle curiosity.”

Carter shifted uncomfortably, silenced by Isaac’s cold gaze. Laufeyson’s usual smirk faltered. “No disrespect, Your Majesty, but when the court whispers, it is our duty to listen.”

Isaac’s gaze turned to Laufeyson, his smile cold. “The council’s duty is to ensure the kingdom runs smoothly, not pry into matters the queen has deemed private.”

Stark nodded in agreement. “The prince is right. Let’s not overstep.”

Lord Maximoff bowed his head respectfully. “Our loyalty to the crown remains unwavering, Your Majesty. We trust your judgment.”

You glanced at Isaac, catching his sharp, protective gaze. His intensity spoke volumes in that brief, silent exchange, a warning the lords could not miss.

Prime Minister Fury seized the moment. “Very well. Let’s move on to the next matter.”

With that, the conversation shifted, but the underlying curiosity about Bucky’s frequent trips lingered in the room, a silent thread that would continue to pull at the minds of the council.

× × × ×

The subtle fragrance of lavender drifting in from the garden outside made the day peaceful, but beneath the calm exterior, your mind raced with the gravity of what you were about to ask a close friend.

Sitting at the head of the table, you clasped your hands tightly around the delicate porcelain teacup before you. Though everything around you seemed serene, the weight of your decision pressed heavily on your shoulders. You can’t afford to question yourself now, but you were. The thought of—the thought of James bedding another woman—

A soft knock echoed through the room, and Scott stepped aside to reveal Lady Wanda Maximoff, with her older twin brother, Lord Pietro, following behind her. Wanda carried herself with her usual poise, her warm presence immediately comforting, while Pietro’s charming smile and easy nature always seemed to brighten the room.

“Your Majesty,” Wanda greeted with a graceful bow, and Pietro mirrored her gesture. "Thank you for inviting me."

You smiled, rising from your seat to greet them. “Wanda, Lord Pietro, it’s good to see you both. Please, come in.”

Pietro inclined his head, a touch of humor in his voice as he glanced at his sister. “I hope I’m not intruding, Your Majesty. I haven’t had much time with Wanda lately with all the work piling up.” He gestured to the scrolls under his arm, evidence of his duties to the kingdom.

“Not at all,” you replied with a soft laugh. “In fact, I’m glad you both came. There’s no need for formalities today.”

You gestured toward the plush chairs arranged around the table, and the twins took their seats. Wanda settled in gracefully, though you noticed curiosity in your friend’s eyes. Pietro, ever the lighthearted one, leaned back comfortably in his chair, a faint smirk playing on his lips as Scott began to pour the tea.

As the tea was served, you took a deep breath, your hands resting in your lap as you prepared yourself for what was to come. The conversation that had been playing in your mind was about to become reality.

“Wanda,” you began, “I’ve asked you here today because there is something I need to discuss with you.” Your gaze flickered briefly to Pietro before returning to Wanda. “It concerns the future of the kingdom… and James.”

Wanda’s expression shifted to one of concern, her brows knitting together slightly. “Of course, Your Majesty. You know I will do anything I can to help.”

You offered a small smile of gratitude before lowering your gaze to your teacup. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and after much consideration… I’ve decided to choose you as James’s consort.”

The room seemed to freeze, silence falling over you all. Wanda’s eyes widened in shock, her mouth parting slightly as she stared at you in disbelief. Pietro, who had been sipping his tea with a relaxed air, almost choked, lowering his cup abruptly as he blinked at the sudden shift in the conversation.

“Your Majesty—Y/N,” Wanda began, shaking her head slowly, her voice soft as a whisper, “I can’t… I can’t do that.”

You looked at your friend with pleading eyes. “Wanda, I’m asking you as a friend, not just as your queen. You would be doing me a great favor.”

Wanda cast a glance at her brother, who remained silent but watchful, his eyes reflecting concern. Pietro had told her about the council’s last meeting, but none of them was expecting Wanda to be chosen. It should feel like a privilege since it shows how much you trusted her, but to Wanda, it felt more like a betrayal if she accepted.

“But why me?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “Why would you ask this of me? I’m not… I can’t be his consort. You are my friend—James is your husband—asking me to bear his heir feels wrong—utterly wrong.”

You leaned forward, your hands trembling as you clasped them together. “Wanda, you’re strong, compassionate, and loyal. You’ve always been kind to me from the start. And more than anything, I trust you. This kingdom needs someone like you—someone who is loyal to James and for the future of the throne.”

Wanda shook her head again, her eyes filled with both disbelief and a deep reluctance. “But, Your Majesty—”

“Please, Wanda,” You interrupted, your voice soft but carrying the weight of desperation. “The council is pressing from all sides. I… I’ve failed to give what this kingdom needs—security. If I don’t choose someone, they’ll force another woman on him—someone we can’t trust.”

The words hung in the air like a dark cloud, and Wanda’s face softened, though her inner turmoil was evident. “Y/N, I can only imagine the pressure you’re under. I do. But this… this is so much more than just a favor. It’s a lifetime commitment.”

Pietro, who had been quiet until now, cleared his throat and leaned forward slightly. “Your Majesty, you know my sister has always stood by you,” he said gently. “But what you’re asking of her… it’s monumental. It’s not just a title; it’s her life.”

You met his gaze with steady eyes, your voice unwavering. “I wouldn’t ask if I had any other choice. But I trust Wanda. I’d trust her with my life. And with the future of this kingdom.”

Wanda’s gaze shifted to her brother, who nodded in silent support, though the weight of the decision was evident in his eyes. She let out a slow breath, her heart torn between loyalty to her friend and the enormity of what was being asked of her.

After a long silence, Wanda finally spoke, her voice trembling but resolute. “Your Majesty… Y/N, I understand the gravity of this, and I promise you I’ll help in any way I can.”

Her voice broke slightly as she continued, “I won’t let anyone else take this role, not if it means protecting you, the kingdom, and James. I will be his consort.”

A wave of relief washed over you, though it was bittersweet. “Thank you, Wanda,” you whispered, tears brimming in your eyes.

Wanda’s hand reached out to gently squeeze your hand, her warmth and understanding flowing through the touch. “I will do it—for you.”

The tension in the room eased slightly, though the weight of your request still hung in the air like a dense fog. As the conversation moved to lighter topics, the gravity of the decision lingered, each word spoken wrapped in the knowledge that the future of the kingdom—and your friendship—was on the line.

× × × ×

It had been Steve’s idea to take you into the town square for a change of pace. When he offered, his tone casual but warm, you didn’t hesitate to say yes. The thought of escaping the palace, even for a few hours, was too tempting to resist. And now, as you stepped into the bustling square, you felt an unexpected sense of freedom.

The town center buzzed with life, a vibrant contrast to the quiet, heavy halls of the palace. It was filled with market stalls, vendors shouting their wares, and the scent of freshly baked bread filling the air.

Beside you, Steve adjusted the simple cloak he wore, his usual stoic presence somehow softened by the commoner's garb. It felt strange to see him like this, blending in with the people. The usual lines of authority and formality blurred here.

“This is more peaceful than I expected,” you mused, your gaze following a group of children chasing one another around a fountain, their laughter light and carefree.

Steve offered a small smile as he glanced around the square—noticing the other palace guards in their disguise following from a distance. “It’s nice to step away from everything for a bit. You don’t get many chances to see the kingdom like this.”

You nodded, your eyes sweeping over the bustling scene. There was a warmth here that you hadn’t realized you missed—a connection to the people you rarely felt while locked inside the palace walls. The air was filled with the hum of everyday life, and for a moment, you felt like part of it.

As you strolled along, a vendor’s booth caught your eye, its table lined with small, delicate flowers arranged in neat bouquets. Steve noticed your lingering gaze and, without a word, he picked up a small violet bloom and handed it to you with a smile.

The gesture was so simple, but the warmth of his hand as your fingers brushed could make any woman’s heart skip.

“For you, my Queen,” he whispered discreetly.

You blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected flutter in your chest. “Thank you, Captain.” you whispered back, your fingers closing around the stem.

Steve smiled again, a little wider this time, and you continued walking through the square, the easy silence between you punctuated by the liveliness around. Every so often, you felt his gaze on you, lingering a second longer than it should.

You paused by a stall selling woven scarves, your hand brushing over the soft fabric as Steve stepped up beside you.

“Do you miss it?” Steve asked suddenly, his voice gentle. “Being able to walk among the people without being noticed?”

You let out a soft laugh, though there was a bittersweet edge to it. “I think I miss the simplicity of it all—the freedom to just be without expectations.”

Steve’s gaze softened. “Hm. Well, if her majesty will allow, perhaps I can take you here every once in a while. I’m sure Bucky would like that.”

Before you could reply, a sudden shout caught your attention. One of the vendors was struggling to move a cart, its heavy wheels stuck in the dirt. Without hesitation, Steve stepped forward, pushing up his sleeves until his elbows as he approached the man.

“Need a hand?” he asked, his voice kind but firm.

The vendor looked up, surprised but grateful. “I’d appreciate it, Sir.”

You watched as Steve bent down, gripping the cart’s handle with both hands. The muscles in his arms flexed as he heaved the cart forward, the wheels finally shifting free from the dirt. A small crowd of onlookers cheered as the cart rolled smoothly once more, and Steve, being humble, gave a small nod before stepping back to your side.

“Very impressive, Captain,” you said, your voice teasing, though you couldn’t deny the admiration in your tone.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. “Just helping out.”

You nodded, allowing a soft chuckle tone escape you before you continued strolling down the busy street.

The sound of lively music drifted toward you as you approached the center of the square, where a small group of villagers had begun dancing in a wide circle. You smiled at the scene—children twirling with their parents, couples laughing as they spun each other around. The joy was infectious.

Your gaze was drawn to a group of children playing nearby, their laughter echoing through the air. One of them tripped and fell, and second thought, you stepped forward, helping the little girl to her feet who began to whimper.

“Oh darling, are you alright?” you asked gently, kneeling down to brush the dirt off her knees.

The girl nodded, sniffling a bit but clearly comforted by your presence. The other children quickly surrounded the two of you, their curiosity piqued by the tall, kind stranger and the mysterious woman in the hooded cloak. One of the children, a boy with a messy head of hair, approached you shyly, holding up a delicate flower crown made of wildflowers and small ribbons.

“Here, miss,” he said, offering it to you with wide eyes, his small hands shaking slightly.

You knelt down to his level, offering a warm smile as you gently took the flower crown from him.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your heart warming at the innocent gesture. The other children gathered closer, watching in awe as you carefully placed the crown on your head.

Steve, standing nearby, watched the scene unfold with a soft expression, his usual seriousness melting away. “It suits you,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

“Do you think so?” you asked, adjusting the crown slightly, a playful glint in your eyes.

Steve nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I do. You look...” He paused, his gaze lingering on you. “Beautiful.”

——

The sun was beginning its descent by the time Steve escorted you back to the palace. The energy of the town square still lingered within you, filling you with a warmth and joy you had not felt in some time.

As soon as you crossed the threshold of the palace, the atmosphere changed. Waiting in the grand entrance hall, pacing with obvious anxiety, was Scott. The moment he caught sight of you, he rushed forward, nearly stumbling in his haste.

“Your Highness! Where have you been?” Scott’s voice was pitched high with panic, his eyes scanning over you as though searching for signs of harm. “I’ve looked everywhere—no one could tell me where you were! I feared the worst.”

You blinked, slightly taken aback by his fervent concern. “Scott, I’m perfectly fine.”

“Fine?” Scott gasped, his hands finding his hips as he stared at you in disbelief. “Fine? You vanished without a word! Where in the world have you been?”

“I went to the town square,” you explained calmly, offering an apologetic smile. “Steve accompanied me. I simply needed some air.”

Scott’s eyes widened in shock, darting between you and Steve. “The town square? Among the commoners?” His voice carried a note of disbelief before he rounded on Steve, panic still evident in his expression. “What were you thinking Captain, taking her there? She is the queen! If something had happened—”

Steve, composed and resolute, crossed his arms as he met Scott’s gaze. “It was for her well-being, Scott,” he said, his voice steady. “She cannot be confined to the palace at all times. She needed space—an opportunity to see the kingdom beyond these walls.”

Scott spluttered, momentarily caught off guard by Steve’s calm defense. “But—there are risks! The security—what if someone had recognized her?”

“We were not careless,” Steve replied, his tone unflinching. “Guards were stationed in disguise, monitoring the surroundings. She was never in any danger.”

Scott huffed, searching for a retort but finding none. “Still, what if—”

“She is not a prisoner, Scott,” Steve interjected, his voice quiet but firm. “She needed a reprieve. It was crucial for her to reconnect with the people. You cannot shield her from the world indefinitely.”

Scott’s mouth opened as though to argue further, but he quickly closed it, recognizing the futility of his protest. His shoulders slumped slightly as he let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I understand, truly. But in the future, could we at least be informed? For peace of mind, if nothing else.”

You stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on Scott’s arm, your smile gentle. “I apologize for causing you undue concern. You are right, of course. Next time, I shall ensure you are aware of my whereabouts. But I must say, it was a refreshing change. I needed that.”

Scott’s expression softened, his worry easing into relief. “Very well. Just… no more disappearing without notice, alright? I nearly summoned the entire palace guard.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “I promise.”

Steve offered you a slight nod, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “She was safe, Scott. And happier.”

Scott shook his head with a wry smile, exhaling deeply. “Alright, alright. But please, no more impromptu trips without informing someone.”

You nodded, feeling lighter now that the tension had passed. “Agreed.”

As Scott walked away, still muttering about protocols and safety measures, you and Steve exchanged a brief glance. There was something in his eyes—perhaps pride, or maybe simple relief—that remained unspoken as he gave you a final nod before turning and heading down the corridor.

Standing there, back within the grand and imposing walls of the palace, the wildflower crown still resting lightly upon your head, you found yourself smiling softly.

× × × ×

The grand ballroom had been meticulously prepared, every detail perfected, every corner gleaming under the soft glow of candlelight. It should have felt triumphant, a moment of quiet pride in the flawless execution of the evening’s preparations, but instead, the room’s silence only seemed to amplify the tension winding through Steve’s chest.

Natasha was nearby, adjusting the final touches on an arrangement of roses. Steve had always admired her composure, the way she managed to balance so much with such grace. But today, as he watched her, something felt different—his thoughts were scattered, a feeling pulling at him that he hadn’t quite acknowledged yet.

Taking a steadying breath, Steve stepped forward, clearing his throat softly. “Lady Romanoff,” he greeted, his voice formal, though he immediately felt how stiff it sounded.

Natasha turned, a flicker of surprise in her eyes before her familiar teasing smile appeared.

“Captain Rogers,” she replied, her voice like smooth velvet. “Shouldn’t you be taking it easy after all that heavy lifting? I wouldn’t want you injuring yourself before the ball.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Steve said with a faint smile, though his heart felt heavy in his chest. His fingers fidgeted at his sides as he gathered the courage for the conversation he’d been meaning to have. “I was hoping we could talk for a moment. If you have time.”

Natasha arched a playful brow. “You sound so formal, Captain. Of course, I have time.” She turned to face him fully, folding her arms lightly in front of her. “What’s on your mind?”

Steve hesitated, the words he’d rehearsed so many times refusing to form. He had planned to speak to Natasha about the rumors circulating regarding him and the queen, to assure her there was no truth to them. Yet now, standing in front of her, the urgency of that confession seemed to dissipate.

He opened his mouth, ready to tell her the rumors were false, but something inside him made him stop. He swallowed, unsure why the words felt so wrong now.

“I… I wanted to ask you,” he began, his voice faltering slightly before he forced it to remain steady, “about the dance at the Queen Dowager’s ball.”

Natasha blinked, clearly taken aback by the shift in topic. “The dance?”

“Yes.” Steve nodded, though the tension in his chest hadn’t eased. “I realized I never asked you to dance at the royal wedding, and… I regretted it.”

Natasha’s eyes softened, though a trace of amusement lingered in her gaze. “You regretted not asking me to dance?”

Steve’s jaw tightened briefly before he replied. “Yes. I kept telling myself it wasn’t the right time, and then… the moment passed. I’ve thought about it more than I should.”

For a fleeting moment, Natasha seemed genuinely surprised, her usual calm exterior slipping ever so slightly.

“Well,” she said softly, her voice gentle, “you have another opportunity now, don’t you?”

Steve frowned, feeling the unspoken weight of her words, but unsure how to respond. “What do you mean?”

“The ball, Steve.” Natasha’s lips quirked into a small smile, “If you still wish to, you can ask me to dance.”

Her words settled over him like a revelation, but instead of the satisfaction he’d expected, there was only a strange disquiet stirring within him. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for Natasha—he did, deeply—but something had shifted.

He exhaled slowly, trying to push aside the conflicting emotions swirling inside him. “Yes,” he replied, though the words felt heavier than they should. “I’d like that.”

Natasha’s smile softened, though there was a flicker of something in her eyes—understanding, perhaps, or something more knowing. She stepped a little closer, her voice quieter.

“Steve, I appreciate the gesture, but… I sense there’s something else weighing on you.”

Steve’s heart gave a slight stutter. He opened his mouth to deny it, but the words wouldn’t come. Natasha always seemed to see more than most, and he couldn’t hide the shift in his own feelings from her—not entirely.

“I…” He trailed off, unsure of how to explain the strange conflict inside him. He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s just been… a lot as of late.”

Natasha studied him for a moment longer before offering a quiet nod. “We all carry our own burdens, Steve,” she said softly, her tone understanding. “But I’ll accept your offer for the dance. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Her kindness cut deeper than he expected, and for a moment, Steve felt a pang of guilt that twisted uncomfortably in his chest. But for now, he would do what felt familiar—maintain the normalcy that had been part of his life for so long.

“I’ll see you at the ball,” he promised, his voice softer than before.

Natasha gave him a gentle smile, but there was a knowing glimmer in her eyes that told him she sensed more than she let on. “I look forward to it, Captain.”

With one last glance, Natasha turned and made her way toward the door, her footsteps light against the marble floor. Steve watched her go, his chest tight with a confusion he hadn’t been prepared for. As the door closed softly behind her, he stood alone in the grand ballroom, his thoughts drifting back to you despite his best efforts.

× × × ×

Bucky sat in a wooden chair by the fireplace, his brow furrowed as he stared down at the letter in his hands.

The seal had been unmistakable—yours. His heart had leapt at the sight of it, though it had been weighed down immediately by the crushing guilt that had plagued him since he’d left the palace.

With a heavy sigh, he broke the seal, unfolded the parchment, and began to read.

——

My Dearest James,

I hope this letter finds you well, though I fear you are not. I know how you are—how you retreat within yourself when guilt wraps its cold fingers around your heart. And I know you will carry that burden far longer than you should.

But you must stop.

The last time we spoke… I know it ended on a bitter note. But I need you to hear me now, if you couldn’t hear me then.

I am not afraid. Not of you. Not of what happened. I know you blame yourself—your heart is too full of love not to. But you must understand, I do not hold you accountable for what you couldn’t control.

You think I am scared, but I am not. I’ve always known the man you are—the man who has stood beside me, who has fought for this kingdom, and for me, with more strength than you give yourself credit for.

I do not fear the Winter Soldier.

I fear for you, James. I fear the way you punish yourself for something you could never have prevented.

I forgive you. I forgave you the moment it happened. You must forgive yourself now, James.

Yours, Y/N.

——

Bucky’s fingers tightened around the edges of the letter, his eyes scanning the words again and again. His heart twisted painfully as he read the part where you had written, I am not afraid of you. It was the one thing he couldn’t accept—how could you not fear him after what he had done? After the way the Winter Soldier had surfaced, unchecked, almost hurting you beyond repair?

He had left to keep you safe. To keep everyone safe from the monster lurking inside him.

But your words clawed at the guilt he had buried so deep, tearing it open again. You didn’t blame him. You were asking him to return—to stand beside your as he always had.

Bucky swallowed hard, the lump in his throat refusing to ease. He glanced at the fire, the flames casting a warm glow, but all he felt was the chill of self-loathing that had gripped him since that fateful night.

But beneath the weight of guilt, something stirred—a glimmer of hope. You still wanted him. You weren't scared. You were asking him to come back.

Bucky crumpled the letter slightly in his hands, his eyes closing as he leaned back in the chair, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. How could you forgive him so easily?

But you had.

And you were waiting.

Slowly, Bucky rose from his chair, his eyes still fixed on the letter in his hand. The firelight flickered over his face as he stood, staring at the words coming back as though they were a lifeline.

With a final glance at the flickering flames, Bucky folded the letter carefully and slipped it into his coat. His decision was made.

× × × ×

Flashback

The night was cold, the moon barely visible through the thick, looming clouds. Isaac pulled his hood low as he made his way through the filthy streets of the capital. Beside him, Bucky moved in silence, his face obscured by a mask and hooded cloak. This part of the city—dark alleys, hidden corners, and rotting taverns—was a far cry from the opulence of the palace, but it was where the true nature of power showed its teeth. Here, loyalty was cheap, and secrets were traded like coin.

Bucky’s presence at Isaac’s side was a necessity, though he moved with the quiet menace of someone accustomed to shadowy work. His metal arm, though hidden beneath the cloak, gave him an edge in this world of underhanded dealings.

Isaac and Bucky approached the door of a small, decrepit tavern. No banners hung here, no signs to mark its presence—just a door swollen with age and damp, creaking on rusty hinges. This wasn’t the place for princes or kings, but neither Isaac nor Bucky minded getting their hands dirty.

They slipped inside, the rank stench of sweat and ale assaulting them as they moved toward the back of the tavern. A few patrons glanced up, indifferent, except for one man sitting in the far corner—a man Isaac had been chasing for weeks. He was a smuggler, an informant, and more importantly, the one holding the key to the web of intrigue brewing outside the palace walls.

Isaac’s eyes narrowed as they approached the table. The smuggler’s sly grin faltered when he caught sight of Bucky, whose presence was more foreboding than Isaac’s ever was. The man took a long gulp of his ale, trying to mask his uneasiness.

“Prince Isaac,” the man drawled, leaning back in his chair. “And… a guest. How delightful.” His eyes flicked warily to Bucky, whose silence was more menacing than any threat. “Thought you’d prefer more… respectable company.”

“I’m not here for your jests,” Isaac replied coldly, sliding into the seat opposite him. Bucky remained standing, the hood of his cloak casting his face in shadow, the gleam of the mask only just visible. Isaac kept his voice low, his tone sharp. “You know why I’m here.”

The man chuckled, swirling his ale lazily, though his gaze kept flickering toward Bucky. “Of course, Your Highness. You’re lookin’ for answers. But answers, they come at a price.”

Isaac slammed a small bag of coin onto the table, the gold clinking loudly enough to draw a few stares. The smuggler eyed it greedily, but his hand remained still.

“I didn’t mean coin,” he said, leaning forward, his grin turning into something darker. “You want the kind of information that gets a man killed for knowing it. I want somethin’ in return.”

Bucky’s fist clenched beneath his cloak, the metal making a faint sound, causing the smuggler’s grin to falter further. Isaac noticed the shift, his own expression hardening. “What do you want?”

The smuggler glanced at the tavern’s patrons, then back to Isaac, lowering his voice. “There’s men—guards at the docks. They’ve been a thorn in my side for months, keeping my shipments from flowing as freely as they should. You take care of them… and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

Bucky shifted, his presence radiating danger, but Isaac raised a hand to stop him. They didn’t have the luxury of refusing. Lives, including yours, were at stake, and time was running short.

Isaac nodded once, signaling his agreement. Without another word, he and Bucky left the tavern.

———

The docks were eerily quiet, the only sounds coming from the gentle lapping of the water and the occasional distant shout from further down the wharf. Isaac crouched in the shadows, his eyes scanning the area. Beside him, Bucky stood tall and silent, his hood pulled low, mask concealing his features.

But they weren’t alone this time. Five guards patrolled the area, unaware that death was already circling them.

Isaac’s hand hovered over the hilt of his dagger as he eyed the guards, his pulse quickening with dark anticipation. These weren’t simple dockhands—no, they moved with too much precision. Whoever had sent them knew exactly what they were doing. But so did Isaac. He wasn’t here to simply observe anymore. He wanted blood.

Bucky shifted beside him, his eyes locked on the nearest guard, the metal of his arm barely visible under his cloak. The two brothers shared a brief glance, a silent understanding passing between them. There was no need for words. This would be quick and brutal.

Isaac moved first.

With deadly grace, he stepped out from the shadows, his dagger flashing in the moonlight as he approached the first guard. Before the man could even react, Isaac’s arm was around his neck, pulling him into the darkness. A quick, precise slice across the throat, and the guard crumpled to the ground without a sound. Isaac wiped the blood from his blade, his eyes cold and calculating as he surveyed the other guards.

But Bucky was already in motion.

Like a predator, he descended on the second guard, his metal arm gleaming in the faint light. The guard barely had time to shout before Bucky grabbed him by the throat, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. The man’s hands clawed at Bucky’s grip, his face turning red as he struggled for air, but it was useless. With a swift motion, Bucky hurled him into the nearest crate, the wood splintering with the force of the impact. The guard’s body slumped, lifeless.

Another guard, hearing the commotion, turned to draw his sword, but Bucky was faster. He darted forward, his cloak billowing behind him as he closed the distance in seconds. His fist collided with the guard’s chest with a sickening crack, the force sending the man crashing into the water below. Bucky didn’t even glance as the guard sank beneath the surface.

Isaac, meanwhile, had already set his sights on the remaining two guards. His heart pounded with dark satisfaction as he drew his second dagger, moving like a shadow toward them. The guards turned just in time to see him, but it was too late.

Isaac dodged a clumsy sword swing, slipping under the blade with ease, and in one fluid motion, plunged his dagger into the guard’s ribs. The man gasped, his eyes wide with shock as Isaac twisted the blade for good measure. The guard dropped to the ground, his blood pooling beneath him.

The last guard turned to flee, his terror evident, but Bucky was already there. With lightning speed, Bucky grabbed the fleeing man by the shoulder, yanking him back with such force that he stumbled and fell to his knees.

Isaac strode over, his dagger dripping with blood as he crouched beside the terrified guard.

“Who sent you?” His voice was calm, but the threat in it was unmistakable.

The guard shook his head, his eyes wide with fear. “I—I don’t know! I swear!”

Bucky, crouched on the other side, his masked face making the guard visibly shiver, growled low and menacingly. “That’s not the answer we’re looking for.”

The guard swallowed hard, glancing between the two brothers. “It’s… it's a few noblemen! That’s all I know! They sent us to monitor the docks, to make sure no shipments went out without their approval!”

Isaac’s eyes narrowed. “Noblemen?”

The guard nodded frantically, his fear palpable. “I swear it’s true! They’re moving in the shadows, controlling shipments, manipulating trade routes—anything to build their influence, to gain control over the kingdom’s economy. They’re preparing for something. But I don’t know who exactly is behind it. Please, let me go!”

Bucky exchanged a look with Isaac, his jaw tight. Whoever these noblemen were, they were building power, controlling the very lifeblood of the kingdom’s trade in order to position themselves for something far more dangerous.

Isaac glanced at Bucky, then back at the guard. He stood slowly, wiping his blade on the guard’s tunic. “You should’ve picked a better employer.”

Isaac stood slowly, his expression hardening. Without a word, he raised his blade, his intent clear. The guard’s eyes widened in terror, hyperventilating, bracing for his demise as Isaac stepped forward.

Just as Isaac moved to strike, Bucky’s hand shot out, grabbing Isaac’s wrist, stopping the blade mid-air. “Not yet,” Bucky growled, his voice firm. “We might need him later.”

Isaac’s cold eyes flicked to Bucky, causing tension between them. For a moment, Isaac seemed ready to argue, his lips curling into a dangerous smile. “And what good is he now? He’s just said he told us all he knows.”

Bucky’s grip on Isaac’s wrist tightened. “We don’t know how deep this goes, he might be able to recognise faces,” Bucky said, his voice low but steady. “If it’s any of our men in the council, we’ll need leverage. Alive, he’s useful. Dead, he’s nothing.”

Isaac’s eyes lingered on Bucky for a long moment before he slowly lowered his blade, his smile fading into a smirk. “Fine,” he muttered, stepping back. “But if he’s lying, I won’t hesitate next time.”

Bucky released Isaac’s wrist and turned back to the guard, who was shaking in fear, eyes darting between the brothers. Without a word, Bucky pulled back his fist and delivered a swift, calculated blow to the guard’s temple. The man slumped instantly, unconscious but still alive.

Isaac sighed, straightening himself before bringing two fingers to his lips and whistling sharply. From the shadows, a few of his trusted men appeared, their steps silent and measured, as if they’d been waiting for the signal.

Isaac turned to them, his tone commanding but quiet. “Take him back to the palace dungeon. Make sure you’re not seen.”

The men nodded, quickly moving to lift the unconscious guard. As they hauled him away into the shadows, Isaac glanced at Bucky, an eyebrow raised.

Bucky scoffed softly, crossing his arms. “I thought this was our mission.”

Isaac smirked, folding his arms in return. “It is,” he replied smoothly. “I’m just ensuring our hard work doesn’t go to waste. You know, for someone who likes control, you seem oddly protective of this man.”

Bucky shook his head, turning toward the alley that led back to their horses. “I just don’t like loose ends.”

Isaac chuckled darkly, falling into step beside him. “Neither do I, brother. Neither do I.”

Without another word, the two brothers disappeared into the shadows once more, leaving the carnage behind them. This was only the start, and Isaac intended to get to the bottom of it, no matter how much blood he had to spill.

———

Back in the tavern, the smuggler was waiting, though his grin had vanished when he saw the cold, expressionless mask Bucky still wore. Isaac slid into his seat once again, his eyes locking onto the smuggler’s.

“It’s done,” Isaac said, his voice a quiet warning.

The smuggler nodded quickly, pulling out a worn piece of parchment and sliding it across the table. “Here’s what you’re lookin’ for.”

Isaac snatched it up, his eyes scanning the faded ink. His breath hitched as he read the details—plans for a campaign. Meetings were being held in secret locations outside the city, and there were rumors of certain council members working to increase their influence. But nothing too specific, just enough to suggest the wheels of a larger plot were in motion.

“They’re on the move,” the smuggler whispered, his voice low. “But there’s a lot of money and promises changin’ hands. They’re layin’ groundwork, buildin’ influence. If enough doubt is stirred, starting with the queen’s inability to produce an heir—the crown weakens…”

Isaac’s grip on the parchment tightened, but the smuggler wasn’t finished.

“They want to keep the queen under pressure. Some are pushin’ for an heir—others for more drastic changes. It’s a game of patience, see? Slow moves, whispers in the right ears. The goal’s not to strike all at once, but to erode confidence in her.”

Isaac’s jaw tightened as he thought about the council meetings. But the smuggler gave no names, just the vague idea that influence was being traded, setting the stage for something bigger.

Isaac leaned in, his voice cold and precise. “What’s the end result?”

The smuggler smirked, but his eyes were cautious. “They want control—no different from any power game. But they’re not lookin’ to overthrow the queen outright. They want her weakened, agreeable to the council, so they can rule through her. If she slips too far, they’ll push for changes that make them indispensable.”

Isaac stood, the parchment slipping into his cloak as his gaze bore into the smuggler. “If you’re lying—”

“I’m not,” the smuggler said quickly, his fear palpable. “But you’d better act fast. Things are already in motion.”

Isaac nodded once, his mind already calculating their next move. Without a word, he and Bucky left the tavern, the night swallowing them as they headed back toward the palace. Their hands were bloodied, but the path ahead was clear.

End of Flashback

× × × ×

Next evening.

You stand in the queen’s private garden, sheltered within the gazebo, your heart heavy with the decisions you made—the favor you asked of Wanda. She agreed to be Bucky’s consort. It wasn’t unexpected, but that doesn’t soften the sting. You grip the wooden railing of the gazebo, trying to steady your thoughts, your mind racing as you imagine how you’ll face him when the time comes. The weight of the decision hangs in the air like a storm about to break.

He’s been gone so much lately, you think bitterly. His absences have started to feel like an extension of the growing distance between you. Annecy. The word alone churns something uneasy within you. What was he doing there? What could he not tell you? And now, Wanda…

Wanda, your closest friend, someone you trust. The idea of her stepping into that role—bearing an heir for Bucky—feels like a deep betrayal, even though you know it’s the council pressing the issue. It’s not Wanda’s fault, you remind yourself, but the weight doesn’t lift. Can you really face her now? Can you look Bucky in the eyes knowing what you’ve asked of her?

You exhale shakily, forcing your thoughts to still. This is for the kingdom. This is what needs to be done. It doesn’t matter what I feel.

But the truth is, it does matter. It gnaws at you, refusing to be ignored. The doubts, the questions, the longing for things to go back to the way they were before the weight of the crown came between you.

Before you can gather your composure, a pair of familiar hands slide gently over your eyes, warm and solid. You tense for a heartbeat, then instantly relax, recognizing the touch you know better than your own. His scent—the hint of leather, metal, and something uniquely James—washes over you, pulling you from the storm raging in your thoughts.

“Guess who,” comes the deep murmur, his voice laced with playful warmth. Your heart begins racing for an entirely different reason now.

“Bucky…” you whisper, feeling your body react to the surprise of his return. His hands slide away, and you spin around, eyes wide with disbelief. He stands before you, looking slightly worn but still very much the man you love. His expression is soft, eyes gleaming with affection as he drinks you in.

Your hands reach for him, clutching the fabric of his coat as though needing to confirm he’s truly there. The questions about Annecy, about Wanda—they all evaporate in that moment. You can’t bring yourself to ask, not yet. Instead, you act on instinct.

You surge forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into a tight embrace. The relief of having him here, safe and in your arms, makes your chest ache.

You tip up onto your toes, your breath warm against his lips as you whisper, “I missed you.”

Bucky’s arms circle your waist, pulling you flush against him, his touch both firm and tender. He lowers his head, and you rise on your toes, meeting him halfway. The moment your lips touch, it feels as though they lock together perfectly, fitting like two pieces meant to be whole. The kiss begins soft, almost tentative, but the warmth quickly spreads, drawing you deeper into the moment.

The kiss deepens naturally, as though you’re trying to reclaim the time you’ve lost, and every moment pulls you closer, his lips parting slightly to capture yours again and again, coaxing you into the heat of it.

Your heart pounds as the intensity builds, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck, anchoring you to him, while his other arm tightens around your waist, pulling you even closer. The world outside fades, leaving only the sensation of his lips moving against yours, perfectly aligned, as if this is where you’ve always belonged.

But even as you kiss him, the questions gnaw at the back of your mind. What is happening in Annecy?

Bucky smiles against your lips, his rough voice betraying just how much he’s missed you too.

“I missed you too, my queen,” he murmurs between soft, lingering kisses, his hands tightening around your waist as if he never wants to let you go.

For a moment, the world outside vanishes. Annecy, the council, Wanda—it all dissolves, and there is only Bucky and you, wrapped in each other’s arms. Your fingers weave into his hair, and you kiss him again, this time slower, savoring every second of his return. You hadn’t realized how much you needed this—how much you needed him.

But how long will he stay? The thought slips in, uninvited, and for a moment, your body tenses in his arms.

When you finally pull away, breathless, you keep your hands on his chest, looking up at him with a soft smile.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming back,” you say, your tone teasing, though your eyes betray the flood of emotion you’re holding back.

Bucky chuckles, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Thought I’d surprise you.”

“You did,” you whisper, still gazing up at him, the weight of your earlier thoughts pressing at the back of your mind. You can’t stop thinking about him being in Annecy and now Wanda. Would he be mad that Wanda agreed to the council’s demands? Would he—

No, you stop yourself. Not now.

Bucky’s arms tighten around you again as if sensing your unease.

“Come here,” he murmurs, pulling you back into his embrace. His voice is low, comforting. You rest your head against his chest, closing your eyes as you listen to the steady rhythm of his heart. For now, that’s enough.

For now, the rest of the world can wait. But deep down, you know the questions won’t stay buried for long.

× × × ×

Bucky backed you up against one of the wooden beams, shoved your dress up around your hips, and parted your thighs with his knee. He reached between your legs and hummed in approval when he found you slick and bare for him.

“Already wet, my queen?” Bucky purred. “I has been a while since…” he nipped your bottom lip and thrust a finger into your tight, wet heat, smiling when he heard you gasp. “I missed this.”

Your hips bucked up when he pushed another finger inside you. Bucky worked them in and out, slowly at first, then speeding up until he was knuckles deep inside you and the filthy sounds of his fingers fucking in and out of you mingled with your moans.

Your eyes were half-closed, your mouth half-open. Your head fell back against the beam, exposing the slender length of your throat, and your entire body trembled as you neared orgasm. Bucky slowed his pace at the last minute, earning himself a frustrated groan.

“Please.” You clutched at his arms, your nails digging tiny crescents into his skin.

“Please what?” Bucky thrust his fingers into you again, hard, until your body bowed and you let out a tiny yelp.

“Please what?” Bucky repeated. Sweat beaded his skin, and his cock strained at his pants, so hard it could pound nails. He was fucking dying, desperate to get inside you, but he could also watch you like this all night. No pressures, no inhibitions, just pleasure and wild abandonment as your cunt convulsed around his fingers and coated them with your juices. So fucking beautiful. So fucking his.

“Fuck me,” you gasped. Your nails dug harder into his bicep until a tiny bead of blood welled on his skin. “Please fuck me.”

“Such a dirty mouth for a Queen.” Bucky worked his cock out of his pants before he yanked his fingers out, lifted you up, and hooked your legs around his waist. “You know I’m yours right?”

“I know.” Your eyes were wide and trusting and glazed with lust. His chest clenched. Bucky positioned the tip of his cock at your entrance and waited for a heartbeat before he slammed into you with one forceful thrust. You were so wet he slid in almost frictionlessly, but he could still feel your pussy stretching and struggling to accommodate his size. You cried out, your walls clamping around him like a vise, and Bucky let out a string of curses. Hot. Wet. Tight. So tight.

“You’re killing me,” Bucky groaned. He dropped his forehead to yours and closed his eyes, picturing the unsexiest things he could think of—Lord Carter, horseshit—until he mustered enough control to continue. Bucky slid his cock out until just the tip remained, then slammed forward again. And again. And again.

He set up a fast, deep, brutal rhythm, making you take every inch of him until his balls slapped against your skin and your moans became screams.

“Shh. They’ll hear us.” Bucky pushed the neckline of your dress down. Your breasts bounced with each thrust, your nipples pebbled with arousal, and the sight almost set me off.

Bucky gritted his teeth. Not yet.

Bucky lowered his head and licked and sucked on your nipples while he savagely fucked in and out of your tight, clenching pussy. By that point, he was more animal than man, driven by nothing more than a primal need to bury himself into you as deep as he could and claim you so completely you would never get each other out from under your skin.

Thunder boomed in the distance, muffling the sounds of his groans and your squeals. Dimly, Bucky realized it was about to rain and there was no umbrella or anything to cover you both once you left the gazebo, but he’d worry about that later. Right now, the only thing that mattered to him was you and him.

“James. Oh, God,” you sobbed. “I can’t…I need—”

“What do you need?” Bucky grazed his teeth over your nipple. “You need to come? Hmm?”

“Y-yes.”

It came out as a half plea, half moan. You were wrecked. Your hair a mess, your face streaked with tears, your skin slick with sweat and hot with arousal. Bucky lifted his head and dragged his mouth up your neck until he reached your ear, where he whispered,

“Come for me, my queen.” Bucky pinched your nipple and fucked into you with the hardest thrust yet, and you exploded, your mouth falling open in a soundless scream while your cunt strangled his cock.

Thunder boomed again, closer this time.

Bucky held your limp, shaking body up against the beam until you caught your breath. Once you did, Bucky set you on the floor, turned you around, and bent you over. He hadn’t come yet—the old trick of reciting royal decrees still worked—and his body vibrated with barely controlled tension.

“Again?” you panted as Bucky slid his cock along your slick folds.

“Darling, I wouldn’t be a good husband if you didn’t come on my cock at least three times tonight.”

The storm broke right as he pushed into yoy, and rain lashed sideways at you both as he fucked you against the wooden beam. Lightning ripped through the sky, illuminating the curve of your shoulder as you clung to the railing for dear life. You’d turned your head sideways so your cheek pressed against the wood, and buck could see your mouth fall open as you struggled to catch your breath between his thrusts.

Bucky wrapped your hair around his fist and used it as leverage to make you take him deeper. You moaned, feeling your wetness drip down your legs as he pistoned into you without losing his rhythm

“This is for all the times you didn’t listen.” Bucky squeezed your ass before delivering a sharp slap that made you yelp.

Slap. “That is for giving me away.”

Slap. “And this is for being too good for me.”

His pent-up frustration bloomed across your skin in red, and a dark chuckle rose in his throat when you bucked harder against him with each slap.

“You like that?” Bucky pulled your head back by your hair until you were looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “You like getting your ass slapped while I pound that tight royal cunt with my hard cock?”

“Yes.” The word broke into a moan, and your knees buckled.

Bucky hissed out a breath. God, you were perfect. In every way. Bucky wrapped one arm below your waist, holding you up, and bent over you until his chest pressed against your back. Bucky covered most of your smaller build with his, shielding you from the splashes of rain as he buried penetrated so deep inside you he didn’t think he would ever get out. He didn’t want to. This right here, this was all he wanted. You. Just you.

“Oh, holy—James!” The sound of his name on your lips as you shattered around him again finally did him in.

Bucky came right after you with a loud groan, your orgasm tearing through him like a hurricane. He swore he lost his hearing for a moment, but when his senses returned, everything felt amplified—the smell of rain and earth mixed with the lingering scent of sex and sweat, the rhythmic patter of rain against wood, and the cool droplets on his overheated skin.

You trembled beneath him, and he gently moved you further into the gazebo, away from the rain.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his breathing finally easing as he slid the straps of your dress back onto your shoulders, smoothing your hair from your face before placing a soft kiss on your lips.

You nodded, though your body still shook slightly. He kept his arm around you, holding you close as you pressed your face into his chest, seeking comfort. A fierce protectiveness welled up in him, his mind racing.

God, this woman... she has no idea the things I would do for her.

The two of you sat quietly in the gazebo, listening to the rain. You sighed heavily, breaking the silence. Bucky seemed lost in thought too, his brow furrowed.

You were thinking of only one thing—Bucky would have to do this with someone else.

"Care to share what's on your mind?" he asked softly, his gaze searching your face.

You shook your head, the weight of your thoughts too much to say aloud.

Another heavy sigh escaped you, and Bucky pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours, eyes looking deeply into yours

“We don’t have to go through this—”he whispered, though you both knew the truth. You spoke of duty, of sacrifice, and of the inevitability of what was coming. You reminded him of the council’s pressures, the way they were closing in on you both with relentless demands.

Bucky had resisted fiercely, a storm brewing behind his eyes every time the subject of a consort was mentioned. But you knew, deep down, he had agreed—not because he wanted to, but because duty demanded it.

“I’ll do it,” he had said reluctantly, his voice tight with emotion, his eyes heavy with sadness as he stared into the dark courtyard. “But not because I want to.”

You nodded, your heart sinking, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. It felt like an unwinnable war—a chess game where you were being cornered at every turn.

Then, suddenly, Bucky’s hands cupped your face, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that took your breath away. “But know this,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion, his words trembling but certain. “I love you.”

Your breath hitched. It was the first time he had said those words. Your heart stilled in your chest, and you felt the air shift between you. His gaze never wavered, his grip on you firm as if grounding you in that moment.

“I love you,” he repeated, his voice quieter but no less determined. “No council, no consort, no crown can ever change that.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and for a moment, the world outside—the rain, the duty, the pressure—all faded away. All that remained was the man before you, his love for you laid bare.

“I love you too.”

A cloud drifted over the moon, casting a shadow across the gazebo, as if the world itself was holding its breath in response to the words exchanged. You reached up to cup his face, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw as his breath mingled with yours, the rain now a distant hum.

× × × ×

The grand ballroom of the palace is a vision of opulence. Glittering chandeliers hang from the high, vaulted ceilings, casting a warm, golden glow over the crowd of nobles dressed in their finest. The sound of soft music fills the room, mingling with the gentle hum of conversation and laughter as lords and ladies dance beneath the grandeur of the palace.

Tonight is a celebration like no other—the Queen Dowager’s 60th birthday. The entire kingdom has gathered to honor her, and the air is thick with anticipation, though not just for the festivities. For weeks, rumors have swirled, and everyone knows tonight is not only a celebration of the Dowager Queen’s life but also the announcement of the king’s consort.

At the head of the room, seated on a raised dais, is the Queen Dowager herself. Her regal figure is draped in rich velvet and adorned with jewels that sparkle in the candlelight. Despite her age, her posture is straight, her eyes sharp as she observes the party unfolding before her.

You stand beside her, dressed in a resplendent gown of deep sapphire, your face composed, but the weight of the night presses heavily on your shoulders. Bucky has not yet arrived, and though you wear a serene mask, your heart races with the knowledge of what is to come. Wanda has agreed to be the consort—a decision made only days ago. And tonight, it will be made public.

The room is alive with elegance and grace, but there is an undercurrent of tension. Lords Stark, Laufeyson, Odinson, and Maximoff mingle among the crowd, their keen eyes taking in the atmosphere, speaking in hushed tones, yet there is an air of respect and duty in their mannerisms. Across the room, Lord Carter, Pierce, and Haynesworth huddle near the columns, their conversations much quieter, their eyes darting toward the dais now and again, as if waiting for something to happen.

Your gaze moves over the crowd, catching glimpses of familiar faces—friends, allies, and those who seek to challenge you at every turn. Your fingers tighten slightly around the stem of your glass as the Dowager Queen leans over, her voice soft but firm.

“You’ve done well tonight, my dear,” the Dowager Queen says, her eyes sweeping over the ballroom. “But I know there’s more on your mind than just the celebration.”

You force a smile, your gaze dropping briefly. “There is… much to consider, Your Grace.”

Before the Dowager can respond, the music quiets, and a soft murmur ripples through the crowd. A herald, dressed in the royal colors, steps forward to the center of the room, his voice booming over the murmurs.

“My lords and ladies, may I present His Majesty, King James Barnes!”

The grand doors at the far end of the ballroom swing open, and Bucky enters, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. He is dressed in his royal attire, his dark coat adorned with gold embroidery, his posture regal, though his eyes scan the room with a certain intensity. His gaze locks onto yours for the briefest moment, and your heart skips a beat, a familiar ache stirring deep inside you.

The memory of your last conversation flickers in your mind like a candle flame.

It had been the first time he’d said the words, and they had pierced your heart like an arrow. Even now, with the ballroom filled with nobles and the future of the kingdom hanging in the balance, those words echo in your mind. I love you. Only you.

Bucky strides through the ballroom, his movements carrying confidence, as the crowd parts for him. There is a ripple of whispers, everyone knowing that tonight will mark more than just the Dowager’s birthday.

He makes his way to the dais, offering a deep bow to his mother, the Queen Dowager, before turning to the crowd. His eyes, sharp and unreadable, move over the assembled nobles, the weight of the announcement pressing down on him as much as it does on you.

“Tonight, we gather to celebrate the life and legacy of my mother, the Dowager Queen,” Bucky begins, his voice carrying across the ballroom. “But we also mark a new chapter for the kingdom.”

The crowd shifts, all eyes on him as he continues.

“For the good of the realm, and to secure the future of the kingdom, I have made my choice,” Bucky announces, his tone steady and authoritative. “It is my duty, as your king, to take a consort—a partner to stand beside me, to ensure the strength and continuity of our royal house.”

Your heart clenches, your breath catching in your throat. You knew this moment was coming, had prepared yourself for it, but nothing could dull the sharp pain that cuts through you. As the words leave his mouth, they feel like a blow—one that was expected but no less devastating.

Your lips twitch into a smile—forced, brittle—just as Wanda Maximoff begins to move toward Bucky. The ballroom feels stifling, the air too thick, and the weight of your crown feels heavier than ever.

Across the room, Steve’s sharp eyes catch the subtle shift in your expression. He knows you too well to miss it. The forced smile, the brief flicker of something raw behind your eyes before you mask it once more. His jaw tightens as he watches you, his heart aching with a protectiveness he cannot act on.

Bucky turns his gaze toward the other side of the ballroom, where Wanda stands, regal in a deep crimson gown. Her face is composed, but her eyes flicker with a mixture of emotions—duty, reluctance, and loyalty. She approaches with graceful steps, but you can see the strain in her posture, the weight of what is about to happen pulling on you both.

“I have chosen Lady Wanda Maximoff to be my consort,” Bucky declares, his voice unwavering. “Her loyalty to the crown and her strength in service make her the perfect choice to stand beside me as we move forward.”

A murmur ripples through the crowd, the nobles exchanging glances, their whispers carrying the weight of speculation. But you hear nothing but the dull roar of your own thoughts. You feel a part of yourself fracturing, the reality of the moment hitting you like a tidal wave. Bucky had agreed to this out of obligation, and the announcement had always been inevitable—but it still hurts.

Wanda approaches Bucky, her head held high, though you can see the tension in her eyes. As the two stand together before the court, you force yourself to breathe, to hold your composure, but your mind drifts back to Bucky’s whispered confession.

I love you. Only you.

It is a truth you cling to now, even as the world around you shifts. The court sees duty, tradition, and the securing of a future, but all you can feel is the silent pull between yourself and the man who has just pledged his future to another—yet belongs entirely to you.

Steve watches from the side, his eyes narrowing as he notices the tight grip you have on the stem of your glass. He knows you too well. His fingers flex at his side, resisting the urge to cross the room to you, to pull you away from the spectacle and tell you that you don’t need to bear with it. But he remains still, knowing it isn’t his place.

At the center of the room, Bucky turns to Wanda, offering his hand. There’s a flicker of hesitation in her eyes—so brief it might have been missed by others—but not by you. You see it, the reluctance in your friend, but she masks it with the same grace and resolve you’ve come to admire.

“My lady,” Bucky says quietly, his voice low but carrying through the room. It is a formal address, one that makes the moment feel even more distant, as though he is a stranger to the woman standing before him. "Would you honor me with this dance?"

Wanda, ever poised, places her hand in his, her face calm though her eyes flicker with the same unspoken tension that fills the air.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” she replies, her voice soft but steady. Together, they step toward the center of the ballroom, the eyes of the court following their every move.

The music swells, a soft, elegant waltz that seems to glide through the room, and Bucky and Wanda begin to dance. Their movements are flawless, graceful—two figures moving in perfect time to the music, their steps measured and practiced.

You stand watching, your heart a storm of emotions. You know this dance is expected, part of the performance the court demands. But it doesn’t make it any easier to witness. Bucky’s hand rests lightly on Wanda’s waist, their hands joined as they spin elegantly around the room. The candlelight flickers across their faces, casting a warm glow over the scene, making them appear every bit the royal couple.

But you know better. You know the truth behind Bucky’s unreadable expression. You know the reluctance in his steps, the way his eyes had flicked to you just moments before.

As the music plays on, Bucky’s gaze briefly lifts, scanning the room as he twirls Wanda gracefully. His eyes find yours once more, just for a heartbeat, and in that fleeting second, the distance between you feels like an abyss. Yet within that glance, you see it—the promise he had made to you. I love you. Only you.

As the dance continues, you feel Steve’s presence now beside you. His voice is low when he finally speaks, so quiet that only you can hear. “Are you all right?”

You force your smile to remain in place, though the edges of it feel fragile. “Of course, Steve,” you reply softly, your gaze never leaving the dance floor. “It’s what we planned.”

Steve’s brow furrows, but he doesn’t press you. He can see the cracks beneath the surface, but you aren’t ready to break.

———

You now stood at the edge of the room, watching, your heart heavy beneath the layers of decorum. The forced smile on your lips hadn’t wavered, but inside, you felt the slow ache of each moment as Bucky and Wanda danced together, the image of unity on display for all.

Beside you, Steve shifted, clearly contemplating his next move. He had been watching you carefully, the subtle cracks in your facade not lost on him. His hand twitched at his side, ready to offer a comforting word, or perhaps—though he hadn’t quite decided yet—an invitation to take your mind off what was unfolding before you.

But before Steve could act, a sudden, movement appeared in your periphery. Isaac, with his signature confident swagger, swept in like a shadow, already reaching for your hand.

“Your Majesty,” Isaac said, his voice a smooth purr as he bent low, bringing your hand to his lips. His gaze, piercing and unapologetic, met yours as his lips barely brushed your knuckles. “Would you grant me the honor of this dance?”

As Isaac straightened, his hand gently guiding you, he cast a quick glance over his shoulder, locking eyes with Steve. With a subtle smirk, Isaac winked—quick, teasing. The gesture was playful, almost like saying, Too slow, old friend.

Steve, who had been moments away from offering his own hand, caught the wink and let out a quiet scoff. “Touché,” he muttered under his breath, crossing his arms with a resigned shake of his head.

Isaac’s grip was firm but careful as he guided you toward the dance floor, his presence impossible to ignore. He moved with a confidence that was entirely his own, and in that moment, you felt the eyes of the court shifting from Bucky and Wanda to you and Isaac. The atmosphere changed, and suddenly, you were no longer just an observer.

As Isaac led you into the dance, Bucky’s gaze, still locked on you from across the room. He had been searching for you, for that silent connection he had relied on, but now, he found you in the arms of his brother, your movements graceful as you both glided across the floor.

Bucky’s steps faltered, but it was so short that only those close enough to him might have noticed. He quickly regained his composure, though the tightening of his jaw betrayed his inner turmoil.

Isaac, the perceptive one, seemed to sense it all, but instead of commenting, he kept his attention focused solely on you, his dark gaze holding yours with an intensity that could set anyone on edge.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Isaac murmured as you moved, his voice low and private, meant only for your ears. His fingers tightened ever so slightly around yours, his hand resting firmly at your waist.

You forced a small smile, your voice steady despite the chaos in your heart. “Thank you, Prince Isaac.”

His lips quirked into a knowing smile, his eyes flashing with something unreadable. “But there’s something heavy in those eyes of yours. Careful, or you’ll let the court see behind the mask.”

Your heart raced, but you held your composure. Isaac’s words, though teasing, carried a truth to them—a reminder that nothing in this room went unnoticed, especially by him. He had always been sharp, his mind working faster than most, and he knew exactly how to play the game of court politics.

Meanwhile, Bucky’s gaze hadn’t left you and Isaac. Though he continued the steps of the dance with Wanda, his focus had shifted entirely. His hands were still gentle at Wanda’s waist, but the tension in his body betrayed his facade. Seeing his brother with you—his queen—ignited something fierce in him, he felt territorial. But there was nothing he could do.

Isaac, of course, was fully aware of Bucky’s burning gaze. He thrived under it, moving with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, his smirk deepening as he twirled you effortlessly around the dance floor. His hand lingered a little too long at your waist, his grip a little too firm, but you knew Isaac’s game. He wasn’t flirting—at least not in any traditional sense. He was sending a message, one only Bucky would understand.

As the dance continued, Isaac leaned in just slightly, his breath warm against your ear. “You really shouldn’t let them push you so hard,” he murmured, his tone both a warning and a tease. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and for a moment, an understanding passed between you. Isaac had a force of nature that couldn’t be easily contained. But in this moment, he was on your side, playing the court games you both knew all too well.

“And what would you suggest?” you asked, your voice just as low, though there was a trace of amusement in your tone.

Isaac’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Perhaps we should discuss that in private.”

Before you could respond, the music began to fade, signaling the end of the dance. Isaac spun you one last time, his grip firm as he brought you back to him, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He bowed low, his smile never faltering, as the nobles began to applaud the dancers.

Isaac straightened, casting a glance over your shoulder where Steve stood, watching intently. A smirk played at Isaac’s lips, an eyebrow quirking in playful challenge.

“I believe you, Captain, is next in line?” Isaac teased and released your hand, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary, before turning toward Steve.

Steve met Isaac’s gaze with a knowing look and not entirely amused by Isaac’s antics, but he stepped forward, offering his hand to you. Isaac winked at Steve, ever the provocateur, before stepping back into the crowd, his presence still looming even as he disappeared.

“Until next time, Your Majesty,” Isaac said smoothly over his shoulder, his voice carrying across the space.

Steve’s hand was firm yet gentle as he guided you onto the dance floor. His posture, ever respectful, gave you the space to breathe after the charged interaction with Isaac. As the soft strains of a new song filled the air, you settled into the rhythm of the dance, your thoughts still swirling. Steve remained silent for a moment, his gaze focused on you with that quiet, watchful intensity he always carried.

After a few graceful steps, you looked up at him, your curiosity piqued by the complexity of the night’s events. You kept your tone light, but there was a hint of genuine curiosity beneath your words.

"Steve," you began softly.

“Hm?” Steve tilted his head, looking like you had just pulled him out of a daze.

"What exactly is the relationship between Bucky and Isaac?" you continued, curiosity evident in your tone.

Steve’s brow furrowed slightly, though not in surprise. He had known this question would come eventually. His grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly as he considered his response.

“It’s… complicated,” Steve said, his voice low, almost careful. “They’re twins, but they couldn’t be more different. Isaac, he’s…” He paused, searching for the right word. “Unpredictable, free in ways Bucky cannot be. Bucky carries the weight of the crown, the burden of duty. Isaac? He has always had more… flexibility, more freedom.”

You nodded slowly, following his lead through the steps of the dance, but your mind lingered on the tension you had seen earlier. “They appear to work well enough together. Yet, at times, it seems Isaac is testing him… challenging him.”

Steve’s lips pressed into a thin line, his blue eyes momentarily flashing with something close to concern. “Isaac does push boundaries, especially with Bucky. He’s always been that way—testing limits, even when they were younger. It’s his way of… reminding Bucky that not everything needs to be done by the book. But it’s not malice—it’s just who he is.”

You tilted your head, studying Steve’s face as you moved in time with the music. “Do you think Isaac means to undermine him?”

Steve hesitated, his gaze flickering to the side before returning to yours. “Isaac isn’t the type to want the throne. But he does like reminding everyone—including Bucky—that he could disrupt things if he wanted to. He thrives on keeping people on edge, especially when it comes to Bucky.”

You considered that for a moment, your thoughts swirling as the image of Isaac’s smirk flashed in your mind. There was a familiarity between Bucky and Isaac, but also a tension that ran deeper than just sibling rivalry. It was a complicated dynamic, one where power and loyalty seemed to shift with every passing moment.

“Do you think Bucky trusts him?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Steve’s jaw tightened slightly. “Bucky trusts Isaac, but he’s careful. Isaac’s not predictable—he doesn’t follow the rules the way Bucky does. But there’s no ill will between them. Bucky understands Isaac better than anyone, and they know where they stand with each other.”

As the music slowed, Steve’s eyes softened as he looked down at you. “Isaac might be the way he is, but he cares for his family. And Bucky? He will always have your back, no matter the cost.”

Steve’s gaze lingered on your face, and this time, he didn’t look away. His eyes swept over your features with an intensity that caught you off guard, as though he was truly seeing you for the first time. The scent of your perfume—something light and floral—wafted between you, more noticeable now than ever, soothing but also stirring something unfamiliar in him.

He hadn’t realized before how the corners of your eyes crinkled when you smiled, or the way your nose scrunched up just a little when you teased him. It made his chest tighten, that simple gesture now suddenly feeling like something he wanted to see more of. He noticed the way you would lightly tap your fingers against your arm when you were deep in thought, the subtle shift of your lips when you were holding back a laugh.

And your laughter…he had always liked it, but now, it seemed to break through the weight of everything, softening even the hardest moments. The way you tilted your head ever so slightly when you listened to him, how your eyes sparked with curiosity or quiet amusement—these were things he had never paid close enough attention to, until now.

“Did you finally get to dance with Natasha?” you asked, your tone playful, accompanied by that teasing smile that made his heart flip unexpectedly. His hand tightened at your waist, steadying you both.

“Yeah,” he replied quickly, though his voice sounded distant, his mind still caught up in the whirlwind of noticing all these little things about you that now felt so significant.

“And?” You gave him that look—the one where your eyes gleamed and your nose crinkled just a little—completely unaware of the effect you were having on him.

Steve hesitated, his gaze not shifting from you. "It was fine,” he said softly, though it didn’t carry the usual ease, his voice heavy with something else entirely.

“Steve?” you asked again, your voice pulling him back.

“Sorry,” he murmured, his focus still wholly on you. “I guess I just didn’t realize…”

“Didn’t realize what?” you asked, your brows lifting as you gave him that smile that always made something stir inside him, something that had always been there but now felt stronger, unavoidable.

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words stuck in his throat. He just shook his head, letting out a breath, his expression softening but not easing the tension. “Doesn’t matter,” he finally said, his voice warm but distant, as though he wasn’t quite ready to admit to himself—or to you—what he was feeling.

But it was there, clear in the way he looked at you, in the way he held you. His feelings had shifted, and whether he acknowledged it or not, everything is changing for him.

× × × ×

Winnifred sat regally at her place, observing the dance floor with practiced calm. Her keen eyes had seen much over the years, and though tonight was meant to be one of celebration, something caught her attention.

Her lips pressed together, brow furrowing ever so slightly as her gaze locked onto Captain Rogers, who was dancing with you with a big smile on his face.

"W-What..." she began softly, her voice carrying a trace of unease. "Do you see what I’m seeing, Scott?"

Scott, your loyal attendant, turned his head, following her line of sight. "Your Majesty?" he asked, a touch of confusion in his voice.

Winnifred's eyes didn't waver as she nodded toward Steve, her voice barely above a whisper. "Captain Rogers... look at him."

Scott blinked, glancing from the queen to Steve. His brow furrowed for a moment, before he finally saw it—the way Steve’s gaze lingered on you, the softness in his eyes that could be mistaken for nothing else.

"Ah... yes," Scott began, trying to choose his words carefully. "Captain is... looking at Her Majesty like she hung up the stars."

He said it almost absentmindedly, his voice casual—until the weight of what he’d just said hit him. His mouth snapped shut as realization dawned, and he quickly turned back to Winnifred, eyes wide with alarm.

The Queen Dowager’s eyes narrowed, her lips thinning as she took in the scene before her. She remained silent for a long moment, watching the way Steve’s expression betrayed him, how he seemed oblivious to the others around him, lost in the sight of you.

Winnifred finally sighed, her voice laced with quiet concern. "That... is precisely what worries me."

Scott stiffened slightly, knowing the gravity of her words. Steve's obvious affection for you, Bucky's wife, was not just a matter of unspoken feelings. It carried the potential for deep complications—for both the crown and her son.

Winnifred turned her gaze away, her regal composure never faltering, though the tension in her eyes lingered.

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