#idc i will always love this suit

[dailydccomics]

Wally West by Evan "Doc" Shaner

[seagull-scribbles]

But tonight, I’ll need you to stay

[vengeancewise]

Not me looking at recent HSR leaks.

None Moze or Gallagher-related, but they maaaaaaaaaaay be kiiiiiiiinda awke now.

Kiiiiiiinda.

Maaaaaaaaaybe.

[monarchberrysblog]

NOTHING BUT TROUBLE

credit to: @mar_mar0u on Instagram/ @/marmar0u on X and Tumblr!

✭ 🔞 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✭

✭ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: cat and mouse chase? more like a cat and spider chase…

✭ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: reader and miguel have an established relationship, suggestive comments? miguel being a complete flirt, the reader being fed-up, make-out session? flirty interactions, soft smut, miguel is uncircumcised, soft dom miguel, reader is a little assertive in bed, dick-grabbing (?), and this is hella cheesy (idc I had fun)

✭ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: >1k words

✭ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: my doing 😛 (my indecisive ass CANNOT) this took forever to work on as my ass got too indecisive on how to write it and how to execute it

to my cat owners, tell your cat I said: psst, psst. 🐈‍⬛🩵 (specifically to the cat that lives on my campus)

𝒀𝑶𝑼’𝑹𝑬 𝑳𝑰𝑲𝑬 𝑨 𝑫𝑬𝑽𝑰𝑳 𝑰𝑵 𝑫𝑰𝑺𝑮𝑼𝑰𝑺𝑬

º・🤍 º.▫︎º・

MATURE CONTENT MDNI | MINORS WHO INTERACT WILL BE BLOCKED

𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 who loves to mess with you whenever he has the chance. He would do ridiculous burglaries to get your attention. He is like a cat running to chase a laser point to catch it but fails every time. But when you see him, he always gets away… He would break into a pet store to free the cats, to get your attention.

𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 would find ways to flirt with you, no matter how innocent it sounds or how sexual it is. And do you like it? A little too much. The pickup lines got cleverer every time you ran into him.

“You're the only woman who turns my world upset down.” He sneers, hanging upside down on a lamppost with your webbing around his ankle.

“Uh-huh…” You huffed out, not paying attention to him.

“You got my blood rushing, and I'm not talking about my head. It's going to my dick—”

“Okay, enough.”

𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 is like a stray cat whenever he comes into your apartment. This man would crawl into your apartment and start with his late night “𝑹𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑬𝒁𝑽𝑶𝑼𝑺” with you.

𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 who makes biscuits on your blankets and pillows half-asleep, somehow ripping your blankets. Because of this, he would buy you new blankets every other week, going into different stores to not see the same workers every other week.

He becomes domesticated—

When you're not home, he washes your new blankets with your favorite laundry detergent and always leaves a rose on your bed, no matter what. The thorns are always snipped off. He doesn't want you to cut your pretty fingers :(

(As a bonus, he trims the thorns with his claws.)

𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 make sure that you get home safely. Every night, between 9:30 and 10:15, he stands on the roof of a building across from your apartment, waiting to see your window light up with that familiar warm light.

A sigh of relief escapes his lungs when he sees you enter your apartment after returning from your high-demanding job as a photographer (and New York’s superhero).

Seeing you drop your bags and remove your sweater was a good indicator for him that you were ready to settle for the night. Especially when it's a weekday.

𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 who loves long nights with nothing but intimacy, especially after you had a long night. The sensation of being free from his suit while being bare in bed with you brings serotonin to him, enjoying the soft touches and caresses. The touches slowly evolve into gropes, to the point where he is on top of you, planting soft kisses on your cheeks and temple.

He loves holding you close while slowly stroking his length against your puffy clit, enjoying the hood of skin stroking the vein on his length. The slow rub is enough to pent you up, enough for you to grab his length gently and pull him closer to your entrance. Seeing you tug at it, he chuckles, guiding him closer to your gummy walls.

"Seems like you know what you're doing, sweetheart. Go on, it's yours."

Between the gentle pinch of your thumb and pointer, you gently pinch at his foreskin, pulling it down to see the familiar mauve tip you love to see when he's pent up. You again pull at his length with such vigor, finally inviting the bulbous tip into your soft, warm, gummy walls. "No foreplay?" He quips before he feeds your needy pussy more of his length, slowly and gently. Your fingernails rake down his back like a rake gathering leaves in a yard. When he bottoms out, a breathy moan escapes from deep in his chest cavity, a groan that pleads to be let out from such pent-up stress and frustration.

"Home sweet home," He sighs, grinding his aching tip against your g-spot. You rolled your eyes at the unnecessary commentary, wanting this man to shut up. But the unexpected thrust sent you into heaven and back to earth, grasping onto your bedsheets as if it would anchor you down from the heavenly sensation while a guttural moan escapes.

"Good, good. You're doing so good." He croons while slowly pulling out and thrusting his length back in, grasping onto the fat of your hips, allowing his claws to sink into your soft skin while keeping up the same smooth pace. The sight of your soft breasts rippling against his thrusts awakened something in him, allowing him to eagerly take your nipple in between his teeth, allowing his canines to graze against the sensitive bud every other second.

But he always lets you finish first, no matter how long it takes for you to finish. It could be an hour, and he's not going to stop until he wants you to squirt on his cock, soaking both of y'all and the fitted bedsheets. But it can sometimes get the man pussy whipped, literally.

Groans slowly turn into mewls and resort to sloppy, makeout sessions with you, wanting to block the sounds he was producing. In between kisses, he whispers in between the kisses and breaths soft praises while he gently strokes his cock, yearning to be indulged in your warmth. The usual stoic expression wipes away like a spill off a kitchen counter, changing into a lolled expression, seeing your chest rise and fall rapidly. But the moments while you finish, he accompanies you, holding you close to his chest, muffled groans against his skin.

"Good job, sweetheart. We did it."

𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐂𝐚𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 who loves to cuddle with you after. This man loves sleeping on your bed while you play with his hair. He groans from the back of his throat, mimicking the sound of a cat purring. The vibrations return to you, creating a funny feel against your skin.

He denies and denies that he purrs, but the vibrations from his groans don't help his case.

He yaps in his sleep, too. He mumbles, barely coherent nonsense.

But you don't mind it as he sleeps like a dog (cat) on the floor.

[hysteria-things]

can you do a sub matt smut?

ICE COLD POOL

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: sub!matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: matt is your best friend. you and his brothers decide to take a dip in the pool, but you in a bathing suit makes him a little too excited.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, making out, semi-public, oral (male receiving)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 773

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this song kinda has something to do with this fic but also doesn’t?? idc i love wallows more than life🫶

the pool water felt cold on your skin, but for a hot summer day like right now, it was perfect.

you’ve known the sturniolo’s for a while now, and over the years you guys have become much closer. the four of you are currently at the steep end of the pool chatting and drinking some sodas.

nothing too fancy, but it’s always nice to have a get-together from time to time. you’re standing next to matt while chris and nick are across from you.

matt couldn’t help but check you out a few times as the hang-out went on. you’re wearing a red bikini. nothing too revealing, but matt finds it attractive nonetheless. maybe a little too attractive; because he can’t stop shifting in his spot.

“i’m going to head inside for a few but i’ll be back.” nick announces to the group, getting out of the pool by hoisting himself up on the ledge. “need to check something on the vlog camera.”

“okay.” you smile as your friend walks away.

chris clears his throat. “i need to piss.” that’s all he says while following nick’s actions.

“you’ve been quiet.” you start, turning your head to matt who’s staring into space. “everything okay?”

“yup.” he smiles nervously, shifting his body like what he’s been doing. you tilt your head, unamused with matt’s lie. you scan down his body until you get to his swim trunks. it’s hard to see because of the water’s ripples, but there’s a visible tent on the blue fabric. “matt—”

“i’m sorry.” he panics. he starts walking to the stairs, but you grab his wrist to stop him. “matt,” you repeat.

his eyes look at your lips for a beat. you cup his neck and pull him into a kiss. he doesn’t kiss back right away since this was so sudden, but he soon gets into it.

he grabs your hips to pull you closer. you smirk when you feel his boner brush against your legs. you guys don’t know when nick and chris will be back, but it has to be soon.

matt’s breathing starts to quicken as his dick twitches. he moans into your mouth, pulling away abruptly. his face is pale from embarrassment.

he just came in his shorts.

“i-i’m sorry.” he stammers. “i need to use the bathroom.”

he starts going up the steps but you stop him once more. your body is still in the pool while he is now sitting on the ledge.

despite the water making his swimsuit wet, you can still see the stain and his still-hard boner. “looks like it hurts.” you tease.

he stares into your eyes as he frowns. you keep eye contact when you start to untie his shorts, pulling them down just to his thighs. he hisses when his swollen cock finally springs free. he’s been hard for way too long.

you flatten your tongue at his tip. he flinches at the contact, but eases when you start to move your tongue in kitty-licking motions. he moans and grips so hard to the concrete next to him that his knuckles turn white.

you start to lick faster, but you stay at his tip. he doesn’t look away from your eyes until something clicks in his head. he looks around in panic, nervous that his brothers will be back any second.

“stop looking at me like that,” he whines.

you know he can cum from just you staring and toying with his tip because of how sensitive he is. you then start to kiss and suck on him.

matt bites his lip and throws his head back, whimpering as his hips buck up a little.

even though he’s not staring at you, you never take your eyes off of his gorgeous face. “please.” he gasps. “i need to cum.”

you continue what you’re doing, more moans and whines leaving matt’s mouth when one last buck of the hips has him cumming on your lips. “shit.” he pants.

you kiss up his chest until you get to his lips so he can taste himself. he moans at the feeling. “chris got distracted. sorry guys.” nick’s voice echoes from the back door. matt quickly pulls up his swimsuit and you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

his brothers get back into the pool and luckily they don’t suspect a thing. nick starts ranting about god knows what, but matt keeps staring at you.

he wants to say something, knowing he can’t. all you do is smile seductively and wink, and matt’s cheeks can’t help but turn a maroon.

he wishes his brothers never came back outside.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss

[hvnlygrl]

JJ + spanking does sum to me… idk how that is for ideas but that concept always gets me started 🤭

love taps.

pairing — jj maybank x fem!reader

word count — 2.1k

warnings — spanking, sexual themes, drinking and driving but not drunk driving (don’t drink and drive at all guys please!!!!!!)

synopsis — you keep giving jj love taps, he can’t help but retaliate when you look that good on homecoming night.

notes — ugh i love jj soooo much he’s literally my man bye idc 😭 he’s too fine

he’s been thinking about you in that short little teal dress all night. he genuinely can’t get the image of you coming down the hallway, the dress hardly going to the middle of your thighs, it’s tightness hugging you in every single one of the right places.

the dance is a bust, all of you can admit, but it’s a rite of passage to go to homecoming at kildare high and you won’t be the one to miss out.

you were genuinely shocked when jj asked you to the outing, in fact, your exact words were, “when the hell did you start following the khs trends?”

to which jj promptly replied with a raised brow and the beginning of a smirk, “when the hell did you stop?”

he was referring to the fact that you didn’t want to go to this year’s dance due to the fact that you didn’t have a date and everyone else had someone to go with already. even pope had cleo and john b had sarah and you didn’t even think about including jj because never in a million years would he ever even think about going.

but here you both were, face to face in the middle of the chateau, your eyes wide and full of ambition as he asked you nervously, “y/n, will you do me the honor of going to hoco with me?”

after the moment of shock passed, you got excited. “hell yea i will.”

“right on,” he huffed out, scratching at the back of his neck nervously.

jj had never been to a school dance before, he didn’t have anything close to being nice enough to wear and he didn’t even know where to start with sizes and colors and what not.

when he told john b that he was going to the dance with you, the dark haired boy advised him to wait until you picked a dress because, “it’s a lot easier to match a tie to a dress then it is to match a dress to a tie.”

jj hated the fact that he was going to have to wear a tie and a suit and dress shoes and a belt. he knew he would stand out like a sore thumb and he hated being the oddball, especially while some of the kooks would be there in $100+ suits and he would be lucky to scavenge the articles he needed from the nearest goodwill and thrifts.

but it was for you, he kept reminding himself. he saw the way it broke your heart to be left out while everyone else had a date, he knew how much you hated third wheeling and always feeling like the backup option for everyone, even for your best friends.

he knew the feelings all too well.

he knew what it was like to have everyone be your best friend and your first choice and to never be anyone’s number one.

but you were his number one, from the moment you joined the group, he just clicked with you. like something in him locked in with something in you and he was whole for the first time in his life.

for the first time jj had something to fight for. and he would be damned if he didn’t fight for you.

the first time he laid eyes on you that night it was as if he was seeing you again for the first time. he’d never admit it to anyone, but he’d been in love with you since you started hanging around the group. the way you looked and talked and laughed, and your give-no-fucks attitude about everything made him fall deeper and deeper every time he saw you after that.

then, before he knew it, you were his best friend and he was yours and suddenly he would burn the world down around him if it would keep that pretty little smile on your face.

“wow,” he breathed out when you shuffled awkwardly into the living room in that gorgeous teal dress, your legs toned and smooth, feet adorned in an adorable pair of silver sparkly heels.

your cheeks flushed at his genuine reaction, heart beating out of your chest. you were just as in love with him as he was with you. and neither of you had any idea.

“shut up,” you rolled your eyes, suddenly feeling self conscious. “nice tie,” you huffed as you headed out the front door toward the van. you’re following behind him, and for some reason get the sudden urge to give him a nice smack on the backside.

“what the fuck?” he huffs out jokingly over his shoulder, practically jumping a foot in the air from the shock, “did you just smack my ass?”

“it was a love tap calm down,” you giggle before rushing past him.

he catches up to you, returning the favor as his hand flies across your ass. he can’t help but notice the way it jiggles in the tight dress, trying to push out the dirty thoughts from his mind.

his tie was teal, as close as he could get to the shade of your dress, with extremely thin silvery horizontal stripes down the length of it.

by the time the crowning rolled around, you both were so bored you could fall asleep in the bleachers. but jj was attempting to keep you (and himself) entertained as much as possible until the doors opened back up and you were allowed to leave.

“i can’t wait to get out of here,” you semi-shouted over the music so he could hear you better.

“where do you wanna go?” he shouts back, brows raised as if he’s already got a plan in mind.

“i dunno,” you shrug, “any good parties we can crash? i’m tryna get fucked up.”

“oh yea?” he leans back, eyes wide with a bit of shock. “thought you were done getting black-out after last time?”

jj’s referring to prom last year, when you got so drunk at a kook party on figure 8 that he had to carry you down the stairs and out to the van, with john b preventing him from going back in with his gun and killing one of those kooks for being on the verge of taking advantage of you in such a vulnerable state.

“i’ll have you,” you wink at him, “pleaseeee?”

he sighs, rolling his eyes as he gives in, “fine. but i can’t promise i won’t shoot anybody this time,” he jokes (mostly).

“yay! thank you babe,” you grin at him with a mischievous look before laying another hand across his rear.

he narrows his gaze at you, “can you stop,” he feigns anger.

“never in a million years, not when your ass is that juicy,” you cackle.

your laughter is quickly cut off by a reciprocal hand to your own ass, “yea, says you.” you can’t help the way the spank sends a shock to your pussy, feeling the wetness pool in your panties. two can play at that game.

“oh yea?” you spin around, looking over your shoulder at him, “like what you see?” it’s said jokingly, of course, but for some reason jj can’t help but blush at the comment.

“let’s just go,” he rolls his eyes in response, attempting to play it cool.

jj brought you back to the chateau to change into something more party-like and comfortable for what he can already imagine is gonna be a long night.

you chose a skin-tight pair of black pleather shorts that hug your ass and leave little room for the imagination, and an adorable lacy red crop tank that’s nearly as tight as the shorts. you opted to quickly re-curl your hair and swapped the silvery heels for a pair of black pumps.

jj’s in a classic maybank fit; a t-shirt and pair of board shorts, his hair unkempt from running his hands through it in stress.

his plan at the beginning of the night was to admit his feelings for you by the end of the night, but going to this party might change everything. especially if you end up going home with someone else. but he didn’t want to tell you anything before the party in case he fucked it all up. he wanted one last good night with you.

when you enter the party, several eyes flit to you, roving up and down your body as you practically elude the meaning of confidence.

girls want to be you and guys want to be with you and jj’s left feeling inadequate as ever as he trails behind you, a shadow in your perfection.

you convinced him to let you pregame in the back of the van on the way to figure 8, smoking a blunt with him and downing 3 shots of fruit punch flavored taaka.

you feel the buzz, and you’re craving more. jj’s got his eyes locked onto you for more than one reason, and he’s not gonna let you out of his sight tonight. no matter what happens.

“c’mon!” you grab his hand, leading him into the kitchen as you start scoping out the drink scenery. “what should we start with?” you hold up a bottle of malibu in one hand and a bottle of fireball in the other.

he grins at your excitement, cheeks flushed at how good you look. all he wants to do is kiss you and hug you and maybe bend you over his knee if it comes down to it.

now, you’re unsure if it’s the alcohol coursing through your veins or if it’s the atmosphere in the house. but you want jj more than you’ve ever wanted him in this moment.

his gorgeous blue eyes and his slightly overgrown hair, his pearly white smile and his muscles peaking out the sleeves of his t-shirt.

you hand him the fireball, opting for the malibu for yourself and link your arm around his, turning the bottle back toward yourself. “cheers, babe!” you start chugging the coconut flavored alcohol, feeling it burn its way down your chest.

he coughs at the cinnamon burst, shaking his head as he breathes out deeply. “ugh that shit is so nasty dude.”

“i know,” you giggle, “that’s why i gave it to you and took the good shit,” you wiggle the white bottle in the air before setting it back down on the counter. he turns around to grab two cups of super-spiked punch, and you use that as your opportunity to revive the game from earlier. you let your hand fly up toward jj’s butt, giggling as he raised his head toward the ceiling.

“you fucker,” he growls out playfully as he chases you a few steps away, his arms wrapping around you as he smacks you back, one hand on each cheek.

“you know you love me,” you chortle, batting your lashes at him.

“you’re lucky as fuck that i do,” he matches your tone, raising a joking fist at you as an or else.

before you know it you’ve got your arm around jj, using him as your shoulder to lean on. the room isn’t spinning but you’re definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol and you’re having a grand old time next to the blonde.

for a moment, it’s as if you’re already together. you’re gazing at him, eyes glossy and full of love as you admire each and every one of his features. “you’re cute,” you grin at him.

his eyes go wide for a moment, before he takes into consideration the amount of alcohol in your system. “thanks, y/n.” for a second it hurts his heart, knowing that you most likely don’t mean it.

“i wish you could be my date all the time,” you sigh, “you’re the perfect guy.”

“what are you saying?”

“i love you jj,” you have your face buried in the crook of his neck, your stomach beginning to hurt from the alcohol.

“i love you too, y/n.” that wasn’t new, you told each other those words each time someone left the house or went to sleep at night. he needed to know what you meant.

“i love you,” you look up at him for a beat, gauging his reaction, “like i think about you all the time.”

he shushes you. not like this. it can’t be like this. “we can talk about it in the morning.”

you blink at him, unsure if it’s a rejection or if he’s keeping you from making a mistake in your drunkenness.

“i wanna go back to the house,” you half-whisper, your confidence depleted.

“you sure?” he furrows his brows, “you feelin okay?”

“yea, i’m okay,” you just don’t wanna make yourself look anymore foolish than you already do. “jus tired. wan go lay down.”

“alright, m’girl,” he supports your weight through the house until he reaches the van. jj helps boost you into the front seat before heading around to the driver’s side. he puts the bus in drive and begins heading back to the chateau. “let’s get you home then.”

-> back to masterlist

[all444miles]

— VAMP LOVE

— paring: e42!miles x fem!reader

— genre: fluff

— summary: halloween was just across the block, so why not start early and practice makeup on your boyfriend?

— a/n: YO WE SO CLOSE TO 1K AHH?? ilyasm ty !! also can we just imagine miles 42 w vamp makeup n blond braids/barrel braids for a sec.. 🤭🤭 this is kinda short bc im so sleepy but mostly this drabble is a bday gift to my pookie bestie aizie, so as long as she enjoys it idc + i hope you enjoy this when ya read it ! mwah, enjoyyy (*≧▽≦)

“MILES, QUIT MOVIN’, YOU’LL MESS UP THE FACE PAINT.”

it was the first day of october, and halloween wasn’t too far away, by your standards. And of course, a carti lover like yourself, decided to have a vamp theme. It just so happened that Miles suited that theme perfectly.

And that’s why you were on your boyfriend’s lap, makeup supplies on your counter, carefully applying black eyeliner around his eyes, Long Time Intro by Playboi Carti playing through the speakers placed in the corner of your room.

“I gotta blink, amor. Plus I cant really keep a straight face if you got your eyes on me like that.” he protested, trying his best to keep a straight face. “How do I look so far?”

“Trust the process, Miles! You look good, just lemme finish this oneee part then I’m done.” there wasn’t one part left. For you, you wanted to make sure everything looked right. Your lover, Miles, on the other hand, was eager to see the outcome. He just didn’t realise how tedious it was.

“Maa, ¿lo hiciste? He estado sentado en esta silla durante años, lo juro.” (Maa, you done? I’ve been sitting on this chair for ages, I swear.) Miles asked, practically almost falling asleep because of how slow you were doing his makeup.

You chuckled. “Miles, you’re so impatient, beauty takes timeee. I’m almost done, for real.”

After 5 minutes, you were actually done. You got off his lap, giddily grabbing a mirror to show him the result of your hard work. “It’s done! Do you like it?”

Miles looked into the mirror, turning to his side to see how it looked from different angles. A small smile grew on his face, “Wow, princesa, this looks fire. I love it, that long ass wait was worth it.”

You grinned at his compliment, pulling out your phone to take a picture of him so you could look at it later. Miles was not a fan of pictures, but for this occasion, he didn’t mind all too much. He walked closer to and gave you a kiss a the forehead, the stain leaving a mark.

“Do i gotta take this off? Because I kind of wanna keep this on.”

“Keep it on! I need to remember this moment for as long as possible.”

“You just think I look fine, don’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

tagslist: @seraaphicss @laaailuh @mayearies @onginlove @laylasbunbunny @arielliio @milesmolasses @missusmorales @thatgirlmiah @paraccosm @tinkerbelle05 @fictarian @zalayni @whitejasmine @444morales @writings-ofthe-heart

© all444miles 2023. do not plagerize, copy, or repost my work in any way shape or form, without my permission.

likes, reblogs, comments and asks are always appreciated !

[goresuki]

my thoughts on Charlastor and Alastor calling Charlie "the daughter he never had"

this will be a very long rant/vent/whatever. also, a kind of... agressive one. if u wanna read, read it, if u don't, don't, idc and idm. I don't know if some antis take things for convenience (that way) or if they really are naive, because the fact that a manipulative guy like Alastor, whose intentions are unknown, tells Charlie that he sees her as "the daughter he never had" DOES NOT SOUND as CUTE to me as many DO seem to think it does.

I don't know if they don't realize the relationship Charlie has with her parents and how Alastor seems to take advantage of her.

From the pilot we realize that Charlie has no contact with her mother. In the series it is established that they have not seen each other for 7 years.

The first episode JUST talks about Charlie having so called "daddy issues" as her father, Lucifer, is an absentee father.

Charlie appears to NOT have had a close relationship with ANY of the two for some time (or quite some time).

The only person Charlie has is Vaggie, to protect and care for her (here's why Vaggie is so "boring", as some people call her, as she is acting as a guide/parental figure for Charlie, even though their relationship is romantic).

Where am I going with these points? That I think it's complete nonsense for people to take super-literally what Alastor has said: "you're like the daughter I always wanted to have".

Isn't it convenient for the most feared overlord (not the strongest) to approach Charlie and find that she's not as vulnerable as he thought (because Vaggie is there)? Isn't it convenient for Alastor to make a very absolute polarity between Vaggie and him in the pilot, where Vaggie comes off as the "bitter one" and he as the "fun guy"? Isn't it convenient for Alastor to PROVE to Charlie over and over again that HE knows what SHE NEEDS by pulling his tricks? And, oh, surprise… Isn't it even more convenient that when Lucifer arrives, who has a lousy relationship with his daughter, Charlie, Alastor rubs it in his face that he is doing everything that he (Lucifer) is responsible for, and furthermore, hits him right where it hurts, manipulating Charlie so that she seriously BELIEVES that Alastor REALLY sees her that way, and thus making her STILL not have a GUIDE other than HIMSELF?

I'll make it simple for you. You know how narcissists work? They will make you believe that YOU are special, and at the same time, they will ALIENATE you from your loved ones to keep gaining whatever they need from you. Charlie is, literally, his supply.

Alastor is a psychopath and narcissist. Do you really think that someone who can't genuinely empathize and love is literally going to feel affection for a grown woman who is very naive and doesn't even have power over her kingdom because she is so immature? Don't you think it is VERY OBVIOUS that he has literally said to her face: "I'm going to manipulate you in my favor because thanks to me you have all these upgrades in your stupid hotel"?

Alastor hasn't as such made a deal with Charlie, but he's winning her over in HIS way.

And I don't know who's crazier: charlastor shippers like me, who don't give a damn about canon and want to enjoy shipping WITHOUT bothering ANYONE (and don't come out with the stupidity that it's a "proship". Proshipper doesn't even mean "problematic ship", it means that you are FOR shipping whatever you want, living and letting live, without HARASSING others. Let's remember that Hazbin Hotel characters DON'T. FUCKING. EXIST. Alastor is not going to come out of the screen to say: "omg, user, thanks for defending me from those evil shippers uwu", or Charlie to say: "thanks for defending me, you're so good, user…. You're such a good person". Pro: "in favor of", shipper: "shipper, ship", however you want to call it. Don't modify terms to suit yourselves because you can tell that many don't even know how suffixes and prefixes work in words. Neither Charlie nor Alastor are going to die because someone shipped them. They are FICTITIOUS characters. The FANON is not going to change the CANON. Learn to sepparate stuff, ffs. Go out and touch grass once in a while) or antis who put on a pedestal what Alastor said, believing it as a justification to ATTACK people in the fandom who shipped something different, according to them, "problematic".

There they do forget that Alastor is a manipulator, that he is a person with a LOT of arsenal to get his way. There they forget that he IS a guy Charlie should NOT trust. There it DOES count because IT CONVENIENTS THEM. That's when the canon MATTERS to them. There it COUNTS. It doesn't matter if Charlie gets hurt because of trusting Alastor, they only see what they want to see. If you guys are going to humanize this fucking characters, at least be a little bit logical. Got me? Remember what Viv said?: "ship whatever you want, JUST DON'T HARASS ANYONE". These people say: "fuck what Viv says", but on this occasion, since she DID say something convenient for them, it DOES matter what Viv says now, doesn't it? Hypocrites.

Charlie has no one beyond Alastor, and I don't remember where I read that theory, whether it was here or elsewhere, where they talked about Alastor looking for a way to alienate the hotel itself in one way or another. That's why he doesn't use very flashy technology (Vox can travel through the latest electronics, and the hotel has an old box TV), nor does he go out of his way to provide anything of good quality (like the video camera). The hotel has its own power supply (we see this when the blackout occurs during the song between Alastor and Vox).

Alastor DOES NOT WANT Charlie as his daughter, he's just taking advantage of her to get whatever he needs to get out of her.

Charlie doesn't even seem to know exactly how her powers work, and the only person who can teach her is Lucifer, her father. And if Lucifer is out of the equation, Alastor can do whatever he wants.

He's hit Lucifer right in the jugular, and Lucifer knows that all the power in the world can't make up for the wrong he did to Charlie.

Anyway, if a real anti thinks Charlastor is problematic because "AlASTor AlreADy SaiD hE sEES hEr As a DauGhtER," I remind them that they are not dealing with a character who cares about others beyond maintaining his own status, and ffs... they're not even real. KEEP SHIPPING. KEEP DRAWING. KEEP MAKING FANFICS. FUCK THESE PEOPLE THAT TRY TO HARASS YOU, FUCK THESE PEOPLE THAT TRY TO MAKE EVERYTHING "PURE" ON A SHOW ABOUT DEMONS AND HELL. FUCK THESE PEOPLE TRYING TO MAKE A FANDOM THEIR OWN FUCKING WAY BECAUSE THEY CAN'T HANDLE THERE'S A LOT OF DIFFERENT VIEWS. FUCK THEIR SAVIOR COMPLEX, JUST COMING AROUND WHEN IT'S ALL ABOUT CHARACTERS THAT DON'T EXIST, FEEL, OR THINK FOR THEMSELVES, BUT DISAPPEARS ANYTIME SOMEONE REAL COMES, HARASSING AND SENDING DEATH THREATS TO THEM. FUCK THESE PEOPLE, GIVING PSYCHOLOGICAL DIAGNOSES OVER A FUCKING TIKTOK VIDEO OTHER ANTI MADE JUST BASING THEIR THEORIES ON THEIR FIST RESULT ON GOOGLE. FUCK YALL, CAUSE YOU'RE THE REASON YOU WHINE ABOUT THIS FANDOM. JUST AS WE SAY IN SPANISH: O LA BEBES, O LA DERRAMAS.

[zegrasdrysdale]

im having a feeling that you don’t write much for this player (because he’s so underrated)

but im desperate for luca fantilli smut

like chain swinging, bruise inducing, dirty, “rough” sex.

maybe it’s ovulation- maybe it’s just me ?

idc i just need him to call me his, claim the fuck out of me 🤝

[ pent up ] l. fantilli

pairing : Luca Fantilli x fem!reader

summary : after a rough loss, Luca needs to let out some steam

warning(s) : smut ! kinda rough sex, p in v protected sex, oral (m receiving), possessiveness, pet names during sex

author’s note : i also need him to claim the fuck out of me tbh. anon you were so real for that

༺═──────────────═༻

She sat in her dorm room on campus with her laptop open and homework in front of her as she watched the Michigan boys lose their third game in a row. The horn sounded and she watched all of them basically sulk off the ice. Captain Jacob Truscott sat on the bench for an extra minute as his teammates make their way into the locker room.

It's not like they didn't play a good game tonight. They played well defensively without taking too many penalties, but puck luck was not in their favor as they lost 3 to 1 to Penn State. Several shots rung off the post and she wishes every single time that posts weren't a thing.

(Y/N) pretty sure she almost broke her desk chair every time a puck hit the post. She's surprised that she actually didn't end up breaking her chair. She did break multiple pencils in frustration.

A text comes through about forty minutes after the game ends.

luca ♡ - 10:38 pm can i come to your dorm when i drop my stuff off ? wanna see you

She doesn't say no. She can never say no to Luca Fantilli. He has this thing about him that makes it impossible for her to say no to her boyfriend.

It’s nights like tonight where she’s glad she lives in an on-campus suite with her best friend from home. Luca can come and go as he pleases without disturbing her friend since it’s just the two of them in an apartment-like suite. If he’s not at the hockey house then he’s here with his girlfriend.

She sends her friend a text to let her know that Luca is coming over. Her friend sends her back a ‘🚫👶🏼’ in reply.

Less than a half hour later, there’s a knock on the door of the suite. (Y/N) goes and answers it since she knows it’s Luca. Plus, her room is closest to the door. She’s always answering it.

When she swings the door open, a worn out Luca stands on the other side. He’s in his game day suit and Michigan beanie. He looks exhausted, yet he looks like he needs to let out some frustration at the same time.

“Hi, my love,” she softly says. “I watched the game. You guys should’ve had that.”

Luca just nods and walks past her into her bedroom.

He is definitely not happy with how that game went. He should’ve had a hat trick at least with his half a dozen shots on goal. Either the Penn State goalie had him beat or the post did.

It wasn’t an easy night for any of them. Luca takes loses like this personally.

She shuts the door and follows him into her room. She kicks the door shut behind her and Luca throws his beanie at the wall in frustration.

“It’s games like this where I wish I didn’t play this sport,” he confesses. “Half the time it’s fucking puck luck and the other half of the time it’s skill. It truly pisses me off sometimes. It’s so frustrating.”

Immediately, she’s walking up to him and sitting him on her bed. He looks up at her as she says, “Hockey is just a stupid sport. You get frustrated because you love it. You hate to love it. I understand.”

Luca plays with the hem of her Michigan hockey hoodie. “It just sucks sometimes,” he sighs. “I feel like the worst teammate when I can’t score a goal or set someone up.”

“I know,” she replies as she runs her fingers through his hair. Luca in turn slides his arms up her hoodie and pulls her in close to him so his face his buried in her stomach “Is there anything I can do to help you get out some of that frustration you’re feeling?”

He mumbles an “I don’t know” into her hoodie. It’s a lie though. She knows what he wants. She always knows what he wants after a rough game.

She leans down and presses soft kisses to the top of his head. “Let me take care of you then you can do whatever you want,” she tells him.

Before she knows it, she’s sinking down to her knees in front of him. She lands so hard on the joint that she is afraid she might’ve bruised her knees even though the floors are carpeted.

Oh well. Pain always comes before pleasure anyway.

Luca watches as she unbuckles the belt he’s wearing. She tosses it to the floor with a smile on her face. When he finally realizes what she’s doing, he kicks off his shoes and lifts his butt off the mattress so (Y/N) can get his pants off. The suit pants and boxers come off at the same time because she’s become a pro at undressing her boyfriend.

With a smile and a kiss to his thigh right above his knee, (Y/N) takes Luca’s semi in her hand. He watches her with big eyes as she slowly begins to move her hand to pump him. Soft noises pass Luca’s pretty lips as she slowly pulls him closer to an orgasm.

This usually helps Luca relax. It also sometimes ends with her being unable to walk the next day but it’s a Friday night. There are no classes tomorrow. She doesn’t even have to get out of bed if she doesn’t want to.

She glances up at Luca, whose eyes are watching her every move. She bites her bottom lip for a second before she takes him in her mouth.

Her tongue swirls around the reddening tip of his dick for a second before she put as much of him as she can into her mouth. She sucks for a second before she blows him.

“Fuck,” Luca gasps as she begins to move her head up and down. “So pretty with my dick in your mouth.” She smirks around him and takes him even further. Her hand makes up for what she can’t fit.

Luca’s fingers curl in her hair while she moves her head. One of her hands is on the base of his dick while the other snakes into her shorts so she can get pressure on her core.

Soft whines pass her lips as she uses her own fingers to work herself close to an orgasm. It’s only temporary. Her boyfriend’s fingers will replace hers shortly. She knows Luca can only last so long before he’s pinning her to the mattress.

He pulls her hair back into a makeshift ponytail in his fist. She hums at the feeling as Luca moves her at a pace he likes. He takes his time with her.

One of her fingers slides into her pussy and she whines. A part of her wishes that Luca would just get his hands on her already.

It’s like he can read her mind though because it’s not long after that when he finally speaks up.

“You look so beautiful on your knees for me, baby,” Luca pants. “Need to be inside you though.”

(Y/N) pulls back and licks away a drop of saliva that has started to roll down her chin. “Whatever you want, Luca,” she tells him. “If you need to then use me to let out some of that pent up frustration.”

His bright eyes darken and he pulls her to her feet almost immediately after the last word leaves her lips. He pushes the hoodie off of her body to reveal that she has nothing on under the hoodie except for a pair of shorts and pulls her down onto the mattress. He hovers over her and she can’t help but smile up at him.

Luca leans down and captures her lips in a bruising kiss. She hums and bucks her hips up so she can get some pressure, whatever pressure she can find on her core. He pins her hips down to the mattress for a second before a hand finds its way into her Lululemon shorts and panties.

A groan passes her lips when his fingers run through her folds. “Luca,” she mumbles. “Not tonight. Just fuck me.”

He detaches his lips from hers after a second and finds her neck. He sucks and nips at the skin on her neck right under her ear. She sighs and kisses the swell of his ear. A bright mark will be visible right where he’s nipping at and she truly does not care.

Luca could cover her entire body with marks and she’d happily show them off. She’s never been shy to admit that she is Luca’s girlfriend. Especially when other girls try to talk to him after games or on campus when going to classes.

“Already so wet for me, baby,” Luca mumbles. “This just from sucking me off?”

She nods and hums. “All for you,” she sighs. “I am yours.”

He backs away from her neck and gets on his knees between her legs. She watches as he pulls off his suit jacket and unbutton his shirt. Her eyes land on the gold chain around his neck with the number 63 resting between his collarbones. The chain that she got him last year for his birthday.

She knew he wore it, but she has never seen it on after a game. It’s rare for Luca to wear this specific chain during a game since it was a gift from her for his 21st birthday.

Since it’s on now, she knows it was the chain he wore for the game. It turns her on even more if it’s even possible.

Luca notices that she’s looking and smiles. “Wanted to sport my girl during the game tonight,” he tells her. “Just to have you close.”

His words shoot straight to her core and she pulls him down into a hot kiss. Lips are bitten, tongues are shoved into each other’s mouths. The cool 63 rests against her neck right under her chin. Despite her skin being hot, she shivers.

He peels off her shorts and panties, throwing them to the floor with the rest of their clothes. Luca breaks the kiss to reach into her bedside table to grab a condom. She bites a mark into his chest while he rips open the tiny package with his teeth and slides its content onto himself.

“Ready for me?” he questions as he comes back to hover over her. He lines himself up with her but waits until she gives him an answer. She sucks in her bottom lip and nods. “Need to hear you say it, pretty girl.”

“Fuck me before I do it myself,” is her response. Luca can’t help but laugh. She grows slightly annoyed at the fact that he isn’t blowing her back out and bucks her hips so he slides k to her.

The laughing stops and (Y/N) lets out a soft groan at the familiar stretch of Luca’s dick inside of her. She stares up at Luca and watches the 63 swings lightly in her face.

Luca pushes himself completely into her and lets her adjust to his size. He’s slightly above average, but he’s also kind of thick. It’s a lot to take sometimes and it’s why she can’t walk the next day if it’s too rough.

Right now, she’s hoping he channels all his frustration into fucking her because it’s been a little bit since they have been able to have a moment like this.

“Move, Luca,” she breathes out after a minute. “I’ve been ready for you to move for like ev- oh!”

He pulls nearly out of her before he slams into her. She lets out a loud groan and Luca covers her mouth. “Let’s not wake up your friend, yeah?” he says. “Last thing we need is for her to walk in here and see you begging me to fuck you.”

She nods and Luca uncovers her mouth. He very slowly but very deeply moves into her. Her mouth falls open and she lets her legs fall apart for him. The swinging chain moves the quicker he moves.

In a spur of the moment decision, (Y/N) leans up and softly bites the chain. Luca smiles and shakes his head before he picks up the pace.

The bed begins to creak beneath them but that doesn’t stop them. Luca’s mouth is on one of her breasts while his hand rests on the other one. She gasps when she feels him bite a mark into the skin.

“Mine,” he mumbles. “All mine.”

“All yours,” she confirms. “All yours to do whatever you want- fuck!”

Luca slams into her at the same time he reaches down between them to get his fingers on her clit. She cries out in pleasure before Luca pulls out of her. She whines at the loss of contact.

Then he turns her onto her belly and pulls her hips up to meet his. She sighs happily when he fills her up again. “Whatever I want,” he repeats into her ear. “On your knees, pretty girl. Wanna see how you look while I fuck you on your knees.”

With his help, (Y/N) rises to her knees with him still in her. He wraps an arm around her waist and lightly wraps a hand around her throat. He doesn’t put any pressure but fucks up into her. Her head falls onto his shoulder. Luca kisses her cheek.

“Such a good girl,” he praises. “Letting me do what I want with you.”

She whines in agreement as his fingers find her clit. She sighs, “Luca. Please.”

“Please what, baby,” he asks against her ear.

A sudden knot forms in the pit of her stomach. Her legs begin to shake. “Wanna come,” she pants.

Luca kisses the swell of her ear and cups one of her breasts with his free hand. “Go ahead and come,” he tells her. “I’m not that far behind you.”

It’s not long after that when she’s clenching around his dick. She cries out his name as she comes. All she wants to do is fall onto her stomach but Luca is holding her up.

She sees stars as her vision goes white. She’s pretty sure she has never come this hard in her life, but that’s the affect Luca has on her. She also realizes that she doesn’t mind being fucked on her knees. That’s a conclusion she comes to while out of it.

When she comes down from her high, she’s sprawled out on her belly. Luca is wiping her leg down with a warm rag and is leaving soft kisses on her back. “Sorry if that was too much,” he mumbles. “I just needed to let out some frustration.”

“It’s okay,” she replies. “I liked it. It wasn’t bad. Got some new marks to show off.”

Luca laughs and throws the cloth somewhere on the floor before he covers them up with the blankets on her bed. She cuddles up against her boyfriend and lays her cheek on his chest.

“You’re okay though?” she questions as she looks up at him. “I know you were upset about the loss so I just want to double check to make sure you’re okay.”

He nods and brushes her hair out of her face. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he tells her. “Frustration and anger come with the sport. The last thing I want to do is take either out on you.”

“The only time you’re ever allowed to take frustration out on me is when you’re fucking me,” she warns him. “Lay a hand on me and your ass is on the curb.”

Luca smiles. “Yes, ma’am.”

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

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[starrbright]

Mindless Thoughts

Mild dubcon. Filth. Nonsense. That's it. Inconsistent patterns. A teaser to a full works that hopefully i'll do soon. Abrupt ending.

Matsukawa Issei: He gets off on watching a specific category of porn, forced gangbang, that is. He's the ceo of it, idcidc. One woman being used by multiple men, urgh, he's an addict to it. Is he guilty? Somehow he finds himself at least barely so. He does not give a fuck!!!! When has he ever did. The man has his countless favorites of videos to choose from whenever he wants to let himself loose. He's picky as well. This man has gone deep in a lot of sites and he's seen a lot of things he didn't like. Does he like watching more than four men ruin a woman, duh, he still has a few bits he doesn't like though. Which is when they're really pushing it too much, such as a man putting his foot on her head—he fucking hates that, idc. Sexual filth he loves it, duh, but miss him with any—it's what he thinks to it—bullshit of scat, even watersports especially when it's directed at her, or just straight up disgusting of running a woman's face on a bathroom floor, smother her face with a dirty mop—because what the fuck, he still regrets coming across to a certain few videos then. Anywaysssss, urgh, he likes to see the struggle. The blatantly literal power imbalance. The taunt of men. The degradation. The submission. The screams and whimpers of one woman against men as they use her.

He thinks about pulling off such a thing with the three more than often. And when he meets you with them—well.....he gets to fill his fantasy. This man is a straight up predator, I'll always stand by that. With his horsecock, no less!

Kuroo Tetsurou: Fuck this mannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn. Disgusting. Hate him. I need him to do this to me. Urgh. This suit and tie bastard reeks of chikan. Consuming porn and hentai when he was in his late teens, he didn't really like it whenever he comes across it, sticking to some other generic but good stuffs he finds. But of course, what do you fucking know. Ever since he started his career, always taking the train like he hasn't before, prim and proper with his crisp suits and the small suitcase he has—he's never seen, more so felt the appeal of it more than ever after being into his surroundings while he's deep in his mind as well. The rush hours of getting home from works always has the train filled. It makes him remember, think of it. Right, there's the thrill of doing something so wrong in public yet still hidden, the chances of being caught high, and just the scenario of being seen and watched quietly to their perverse indulgence of the fleeting moment. That's what's it about then, he realizes.

Fuck himmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. He went home that day and immediately made himself comfortable in his bedroom, browsing for porns and hentai of it, fucked his mind and cock raw.

What a bitch the timing was, just when he purchased a car by installment a few days ago, he suddenly has no eagerness now that much in using one. And really? What confusing luck he has. How come he's never seen you before around in the company? Given that you most probably work in different sections, but now after that revelation of his to himself, really? There he stands in front of you after being cramped in haste just when the doors were starting to close as he hurried for the last train in that time. Wearing the same lanyard of your company, he's a bit surprised as he immediately knew. He stands tall in front of you as he looks down at you while your eyes just stay barely on his chest. Given that you're probably uncomfortable from the tight space you have on each other, but he didn't want to bear an unbearable commute and make it even more awkward between you two if you somehow see each other again and especially in the company, nor keep you feeling uncomfortable. Sure. He greeted you. Said you're both in the same work despite that was obvious, made you laugh a little from how easy it was to be at ease with him. You talked the whole ride. Behind Tetsu's friendly demeanor, or rather the suitcase he holds hides and prevents his hardened cock that's suffocating in his slacks for you to see and feel. Damn him, he knows.

Sickening man. Sickeninggggggggggg. You became the muse of his desires, one would say. Oh, you did see each other again in the company then, at least because he made it so. Did all the unsuspecting ways for him to get himself be at your section. Coincidences, he says to you. You became close. He always tagged along with you in lunch, or drop by with what free time he had, and of course, with you when it's time to out from work. It's the same thing for a month now, taking the train together, talking or not, his mind was on one thing only; him on you. Thinking of how many times he's already thought of you, imagined you as he watched his loved choice porn and hentai, groping you through your clothes or just straight up fucking you there.

A guy could only have so much patience. And why not be fully a bastard then? You think it's just natural accidents when he's suddenly too close to you, bodies firm on one another, or when he grasps on your round waist to keep you steady, his breathing on your neck, feeling more entrapped not by how cramped it is inside the vehicle but because of him, or the hardness below him sometimes you get a feel from all it.

It's not intentional, you always tell yourself when doubts and possible guesses arise in you—until one day your eyes are held on each other as he has you on your back against the doors and he has his smirk.

"Took you long enough."

Bokuto Koutarou: Darling sweet man. Baby boy. This sweet angel. How could anyone immediately guess he's still a man at the end of the day? You didn't. And that's on you. Thinking rather too much of how a light he is, you forgot anyone still always has their needs. Especially the boisterous man that he is.

But then again, blame shouldn't be too much on you when he was just always simply nice to you. Koutarou always used that to his advantage. It's fun. People thinking he's such an angel when he's just like any other guy that would fuck anyone with a hole. He's a destroyer!!!!! As unserious as that is.

He's a connoisseur of forced gangbang as well. Thanks to him being an athlete with always all of the players, his teammates having their builds, the time in the lockers, showers, just overall as an athlete—when he found such a thing the first time he knew any explicit medias, that was what he became into. Fantasies of just taking a cheerleader or a fan with his teammates always plagued his mind before or after the games, or even just in training.

Now he's a pro. That didn't change at all. If anything it made him want to do something more about it now he's a lot grown. And you're one of who works with msby. The amount of times he's indulged himself to the thought of using you with the rest of the men is.....concerning.

And when he just brought it up randomly to them, as shocked as everybody was....they weren't against it.

On a random day of their training. You hadn't got a clue why Meian asked you to stay after just as you were about to leave and almost everyone has already left.

Image used. I indulged this with @shaisuki before like on may jsjwjdjjw and bc issei has been bugging me a lot lately again and just seijoh4, really, i had to do it. I'm on an agenda with this gangbang nonsense!!!! @seijhoeist, mwuah.

[zhaosbin]

who in zb1 do you think would like someone younger and who would like someone older?

HEAR ME OUT. PLS.

older - gunwook, hanbin, ricky, taerae

gunwook is just such an obvious answer to me... aside from 100% having a noona kink, he gives serious "having a crush on his best friends older sister" vibes i fear...

hanbin is also quite obvious considering we all know he's in love w hao... but aside from that, this man cravesss to be taken care of and babied by someone older than him idc

ricky... listen i write a lot of soft dom stuff for ricky but this man is just so submissive to me and would love an older partner bossing him around and putting him in his place...

taerae my love u will never beat the virgin loser allegations (said endearingly) i always just imagine him w someone older and more experienced i cant help it

younger -matthew (DUH), hao, gyuvin, jiwoong

matthew i meannn do i even need to expand?? this man literally does not shut up about his oppa kink

hao is such a brat to me and lives for teasing people which is why a younger partner would be perfectly suited for him to torment (lovingly)

gyuvin's size kink goes crazyyy we all know he would love to be w someone smaller than him but i also can't help but think someone both younger and smaller would turn him on so bad

jiwoong is a FREAK i just know he loves to be in control and who easier to control than someone younger and less experienced than him? (he gives me serious ddlg i need to expand on this me thinks)

[aesthetically-dying101]

The Catalyst for Anguish

A/N: Idk how to format things on tumblr help, anyways,

WC: 15,000 (give or take) anyways this was fun, and miserable very slay im on a roll rn, locked and loaded idc. I love writting for pathetic men, yearning is iconic, also angst in this one? Sort of? (a tiny weany bit of 'im not like other girls' behavior IF YOU SQUINT) Reader is lowkey mean (shes scared ur honor), Gojo gets his feelings hurt, readers gets hurt, EVERYONE gets hurt (not the horses tho). if theres any mistakes, im sorry, ts not proofread

Shoko and Geto’s arrival for the wedding and After

Do not copy nor translate my work. :)

Over the top.

Lavish.

Fucking dramatic.

Those were the correct terms to refer to the Gojo family, and they were the only words that could possibly do justice to the event before you. 

The chandeliers-yes, multiple, above glittered like diamonds, casting a soft glow over the sea of silk and satin that filled the room. The scent of roses and incense swirled in the air, mingling with the laughter and gossip of nobles, merchants, and foreign dignitaries alike. It was a symphony of excess—an orchestra of opulence—curated by the very hands of the Gojo family.

These types of events were grand affairs, and this time around, your dear mother, had dragged you to one. It was rare- you hadn't gone to one in a while.

The grand hall of the Gojo estate was a spectacle, and you were there.  Just a shadow in it all- an expensive looking shadow. 

You didn’t belong here, not really. 

Not in this world of gleaming tiaras, sharp suits, and the incessant murmur of politics and status. You were the youngest daughter of a noble family, and to your mother’s dismay, the least remarkable.You were the youngest daughter of the esteemed, but not quite exceptional, noble family of Cordova, and you weren’t exactly the one anyone was eyeing tonight.

Five older sisters—each more beautiful, more charming, more eager than you—had long secured their place at the centre of every gathering. They glittered in conversation, graced the floors with smiles and flirts, and were cherished by the men and women who populated these extravagant walls.

But you?

You were relegated to the edges, left to fade into the background, a quiet observer.

In fact, you preferred it. 

Solitude was a friend you could rely on, while attention was a curse you could do without. You weren’t shy—not exactly. You simply knew the game, and you knew where you stood in it. Cold indifference was your armor. When they looked at you, they didn’t see much. No one cared to look closely, and that was fine by you.

The evening, as always, was about him. 

Prince Gojo. The returning hero, the darling of every highborn woman in the room, the man whose presence could send hearts fluttering and whispers scattering.

He stood at the centre of the room like he belonged there—because, of course, he did. Prince Gojo, the living embodiment of a fairytale prince, dazzling smile, impeccably tailored suit, and all. His hair gleamed under the light of the chandeliers, catching the faintest glimmer of gold, like the gods themselves had decided to put a little extra effort into his creation. Tall, handsome, charming in that effortless way that could make even the most cynical heart skip a beat.

Not yours, though. You were immune.

'Look at him,'you thought, sipping your champagne, 'the man who probably wakes up every morning to applause from the heavens.'

You snorted at your own thought.

'Does he even know how to walk into a room without acting like he owns it?' you mused, leaning against the cool marble pillar at the edge of the hall. 'Probably not.'

Your mother’s voice echoed in your head: 'Smile. Mingle. Be noticed.' The poor woman thought this was your golden opportunity. 

As if Prince Gojo would even spare a glance for the quiet girl hiding in the corner, dressed in a gown that, while very lovely, was more understated compared to the shimmering jewels and frothy tulle around you.

'Yes, Mother, because that’s exactly what I want—to throw myself at the feet of a man who already has a fan club bigger than the royal army.'

A passing servant offered you a tray of hors d'oeuvres. You plucked one absentmindedly, nibbling at it as you continued to observe the spectacle. 't’s all a performance,' you thought, 'and he’s the star.'

Yet, something about it all felt hollow, didn’t it? Beneath the glitter and the grandeur, beneath the adoring smiles and lavish praises—what was left? Did Prince Gojo ever get tired of it? Did he ever feel suffocated by the weight of everyone’s expectations? Or did he truly enjoy being the centre of attention, basking in their admiration like it was his birthright?

You sighed, finishing your champagne and setting the glass on a passing tray. 'Who am I kidding? He probably thrives on it.'

The thought was cut short as, almost as if he had heard you, Prince Gojo’s gaze swept across the room—and stopped. 

Right. On. You.

For a brief moment, your breath caught in your throat.

'Oh no.'

His eyes sparkled with something that could only be described as mischief, and that infuriatingly perfect smile widened, as if he’d just spotted his next amusement.

'Don’t you dare,' you thought. 'Don’t you even think about it—'

And then, to your horror, he began to make his way toward you, his stride confident, his smile never faltering.

The crowd parted like the Red Sea as Prince Gojo strode toward you, his smile gleaming like it was carved out of starlight. His every step seemed calculated for maximum impact, the way the silk of his jacket caught the light, the casual confidence in his movements. It was infuriating.

'Oh, wonderful,' you thought, panic bubbling just beneath the surface. 'Here comes the royal peacock himself.'

“(Y/N)!” he called out, his voice rich and warm, like you were old friends—like he hadn’t just upended the social balance of the entire room-also he knew your name??? Huh????. He smiled wider, as if this wasn’t the most mortifying moment of your life. “It’s been too long!”

'Oh gods, kill me now.'

He stopped in front of you, towering slightly, and leaned in like he was sharing a secret, though his voice carried for everyone to hear. 

“I almost didn’t recognise you. You’ve grown up since the riding lessons.” He tilted his head, the playful spark in his eyes unmistakable. “Do you remember those?”

You blinked, your lips tightening, trying to keep your expression neutral. Of course, you remembered. Barely. You’d spent those lessons keeping to yourself while Gojo entertained the world with his effortless charm, even as a child. And now he had the audacity to act like you were suddenly important?

“Vaguely,” you said flatly, arching a brow. “But you were always hard to miss.”

His grin widened, as if he thought you were flirting. Typical.

“Ah, I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said smoothly. “You were always the quiet one. But you were better on horseback than most of the adults.”

“Still am,” you replied, your tone sharp enough to cut glass. “Not that anyone noticed back then.”

His expression flickered for half a second, like he wasn’t used to people meeting his charm with cool indifference. Good.

“But I noticed,” he said, softening just a touch. “You were good. No—better than good.”

You didn’t bite, though. Instead, you took another slow sip from your glass and leaned back slightly, letting the silence stretch between you two. 

Let him squirm. It was oddly satisfying to watch the seemingly unshakeable Gojo flinch, even if just for a second.

He seemed to catch on quickly, though, his smile flickering slightly, as if he hadn’t expected you to challenge him.

“Not going to play along?” His voice was amused, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes- curiosity. 

“Enjoy the ball, Your Highness. Try not to break too many hearts.”

With that, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving him standing there in the middle of his grand, glittering court. But not before you heard his final words, soft and amused, trailing after you like a whisper:

“I think you just broke mine.”

Yeah right, you thought, the sarcasm laced in your mind like armor. Like you even have one to break.

*-*

The ride home was suffocating.

The carriage rattled over cobblestones, the silence inside far more oppressive than the extravagant noise of the ball. Your mother sat across from you, hands folded neatly in her lap, lips pressed into a thin line. It wasn’t until the estate gates came into view that she finally spoke.

“Well?” she began, her voice clipped and cold. “Do you care to explain why you squandered an opportunity like that?”

You didn’t even pretend to misunderstand- if you did, she'd be angrier than she is. You knew exactly what she was referring to. Prince Gojo. The scene at the ball. The conversation that, to any prying eyes, must have looked like some grand, promising moment.

“I don’t see what there is to explain,” you said flatly, staring out the window at the passing darkened fields, thought the situation did make you slightly nervous. “We talked. Nothing more.”

Your mother clicked her tongue, and you had to physically restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. You hated this, your sisters had been far more suited for this.

“You can’t keep doing this,” she hissed, her left eye twitching ever so slightly, the anger bubbling beneath her otherwise composed demeanour. “Avoiding opportunities, brushing off perfectly good matches. Do you want to remain unmarried forever? A burden to your family?”

“I didn’t realize avoiding shallow conversation with a man who barely remembers me from childhood was such a grievous crime,” you said, turning your gaze back to the window. The fields outside blurred in the darkness.

“He remembered you,” she snapped, as if that alone should have sent you into paroxysms of gratitude. “He spoke to you. In public. Do you understand how rare that is? How valuable?”

Valuable. 

As if you were some rare trinket on display. You kept your gaze fixed on the passing fields, your jaw tightening. Yes, Mother, how valuable to be the girl everyone forgets—until a prince remembers. Yaysies.

The distant glow of your estate’s torches grew nearer, and your mother, with her spine straight as an iron rod, she looked almost imperial. You finally spoke.

“Valuable,” you repeated under your breath, as though tasting the word would somehow make it less insulting. “He was joking, Mother. What do you think? That I should be thrilled that Prince Gojo, in all his glory, noticed me for five minutes? That somehow, after all this time, that conversation is some kind of grand gesture?”

Her eye twitched again-oof not good.

“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth. “Yes, I do think you should be thrilled. Do you know how many young women would kill for even a passing glance from him? And you—” She paused, her voice rising, trembling with fury barely held in check. “You threw it away like it was nothing. I will be telling your father about this."

“He wasn’t serious, Mother,” you said quietly, bitterness lacing every word. “He was mocking me.”

The carriage jolted over a rut in the road, but neither of you noticed. Your mother’s eyes narrowed. “Mocking?” she echoed, her voice dripping with disdain. “Mocking? Is that what you tell yourself so you can avoid responsibility for your own failures?”

You remained silent, knowing that the worst to come.

The instant your father would hear that the prince had called you out by name during the ball, that you had spoken... you were in for a long lecture. Maybe etiquette class? 

A little while later, the carriage arrived to your families estate. 

You stared at the entrance, knowing exactly what waited inside: more lectures, more disappointment, and your father’s sharp, practised disappointment. 

Lovely. Just the perfect way to end the night.

Your mother gathered her skirts, stepping out with the grace of someone born to make everything a performance. 

Straight to your father,” she said, her voice tight with anger and restrained fury, as if she were barely holding herself together. “You will explain yourself.”

 Explain what? That you had the audacity to not care that a prince—THE Prince Gojo—had noticed you, spoken to you, and made you feel like some kind of display piece for five minutes? Explain that to your father, who would somehow find a way to twist it into yet another lesson on how you were destined to be left behind if you didn’t start playing the game? 

Sure, no problem.

Easy peasy.

Your mother didn’t knock, just swept the door open and stepped in, her back straight and stiff with resolve. You followed behind her, your feet dragging like lead, your heart heavy with the impending confrontation.

“Lord Cordova,” your mother greeted your father with a cold nod. “We need to talk.”

Your father looked up from his desk, his brows furrowing slightly at the tension in her voice.

 “She wasted an opportunity,” your mother hissed, not bothering with preamble. “In front of the entire court, she spoke with Prince Gojo and—”

Your father took in a sharp breath.

"Who?!"

Ah fuck.

“Who did she speak to? Prince Gojo? The Crown Prince Gojo?” Your father looked like he went through all five stages of grief in an instant.

Oh, great. Here we go. The Prince Gojo. As if there were multiple Gojos strolling around the ball, handing out attention like confetti.

“Yes,” you muttered, keeping your tone flat, hoping the ground might open up and swallow you whole. “We spoke.”

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. It was cold, hollow, the kind of laugh that made you feel like a child being scolded for something ridiculous.

"Ha..." he chuckled, but there was nothing even remotely funny about it. "You spoke with Prince Gojo..." He repeated the words like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing, as if it was somehow a joke.

Your mother didn’t give him time to process, of course. She was too furious, too eager to see you punished. 

"She refused to even entertain the possibility," she snapped. "Turned away from the chance of securing a match with one of the most eligible men in the entire kingdom." She turned to you, her eyes narrowing. "Do you know how many women would kill for that chance, and you—” she practically spat the words, “—you wasted it.”

You stayed silent, knowing that if you spoke, you would be digging your own grave.

“Do you realize how rare an opportunity that was?” he asked, his voice now hard, stern. “Prince Gojo is—he’s everything.” His words trailed off, as though he didn’t even know how to finish the sentence without sounding ridiculous.

"It was just a conversation, just about how we used to have horse ridding lessons when we were younger-" You didn't even finish.

"So?" Your mother snapped. "You turned away from him first. You could've done something."

"Right. Of course. My apologies." 

And of course your parents went on tirades, but you simply tuned them out. Instead, you closed your eyes, wishing that this time, you could just disappear—vanish into the shadows where no one could find you, where no one could make you feel this small.

*-*

The first letter arrived on a dreary Tuesday morning. 

It was simple, almost annoyingly so, like a child’s handwriting scribbled on the back of a napkin. Your mother found it first, of course, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head when she saw the wax seal-the royal was seal. She'd nearly ripped the damn thing open with more enthusiasm than a child on their birthday.

“It’s from him,” she breathed, more to herself than to you. “Prince Gojo… he wrote to you.”

You blinked. Once. Twice. 

And then, with the full force of your sarcasm, you said, “Did he? How nice.”

“How nice?” she shrieked, as if the sheer understatement of your words might cause her to combust. “This is more than nice! This is…” She couldn’t even finish the sentence, her breath catching in her throat, choking on the excitement. She turned toward the door, already calling for your father. “Edward! Edward, come quickly!”

You lifted your brow at that, your mother using your fathers first name was a rarity. 

You sighed, leaning back in your chair, already tired of whatever circus was about to unfold. 'Of course. Let’s make it a family affair. Gods forbid we handle this with a shred of dignity', you thought.

Your father came stomping in, his heavy boots thudding against the floor, looking as though he expected to find the house on fire , or worse- one of your sisters involved in something disastrous, like an elopement with the local baker- that would probably kill your mother. 

“What is it?” he demanded, brow furrowed in concern.

Your mother shoved the letter toward him like it was a trophy, her hands trembling. 

“It’s a letter. From the prince. To her.”

He stared at the letter for a long moment, then at you, and back again, like he couldn’t quite believe it. Finally, he snatched it from her hands, his eyes scanning the outside of the envelope, his expression unreadable.

“Maybe he's inviting me to be the court jester? Because I think he’s already got that role covered- but hey, the more the merrier.” You ironised. 

Your father's gaze snapped to you, his expression hovering between disbelief and exasperation. “Do you ever take anything seriously?” he asked, voice low and edged with frustration.

Your father finally opened the letter, his fingers trembling just slightly. He read it once. Twice. His brow furrowed. 

“Well?” your mother demanded impatiently, her voice barely holding back her excitement.

It was an invitation to one of the royal riding events, something Prince Gojo had apparently personally requested your presence at. He’d written that he remembered you from childhood, and he thought it would be enjoyable to reconnect. No pressure. No formalities. Just company.

Your father read it once, then twice, before handing it off to your mother.

“This…” your father began, his voice tight. “This is… this is something.”

Your mother, clutching the letter like a prize, barely contained herself. 

“Do you see this? Do you see this? He remembers you. He wants to see you again!” Her voice was a high-pitched.

“I can’t believe this,” your father said, his voice barely a whisper. He seemed stuck somewhere between disbelief and awe. “He actually wants to see her. The Prince Gojo. The one who could have any woman he wanted, and he wants you.”

Ouch. Right in the ego.

The room was silent for a moment. You could practically feel your parents’ hopes, their expectations, suffocating you from all sides.

"You will go. You will. I will personally drag you there myself." Your mother noted. 

"Yes mother." You answered in a monotone voice. 

*-*

The riding 'lesson' was arranged for the following week. You almost didn’t want to go. In fact, you spent the night before convincing yourself that you could fake illness, or perhaps just lock yourself in your room and claim to be otherwise occupied. 

But, you found yourself in the stables, eyeing your horse with a mixture of indifference and dread. It was a beautiful animal—sleek, strong, and clearly well-trained. But the very idea of being around other people, let alone royalty, still twisted your insides.

When you’d reluctantly agreed to Gojo’s invitation, you hadn’t really expected him to show up. Or at least not without some entourage. 

'A royal event', you thought with a smirk, 'where the prince shows up with five of his closest companions—each more glamorous than the last'.

But Gojo arrived alone. His usual confident stride looked a little off today, his posture less assured. His usual charisma had dimmed to something quieter, more subdued.

"Ready to ride?" Gojo’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you blinked, momentarily startled by the directness of his gaze. He was smiling, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Guess so," you replied, trying to match his tone, though the sarcasm was laced thick enough to cut through steel. "Although I must admit, I’m disappointed. No royal entourage? No retinue of nobles to witness this grand moment?"

He chuckled, but there was a flatness to it, a humorless edge that made you look at him with a little more curiosity.

 "I thought you’d enjoy the peaceful version," he said lightly, motioning to the open fields behind him. "No drama, no politics, just... us. And a couple of horses."

"Just us? Hmm... sounds too simple for a royal prince. You sure you’re not secretly plotting something elaborate, like a dramatic rescue or a battle of some sort?" You lifted your brow.

He just laughed, as usual, like your sarcasm was nothing but a joke to him. “No, I promise. But seriously, I’m glad you came.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What, are you that desperate for company?”

He shrugged, and gestured towards the saddles, the horses. 

“Ready to show off your legendary riding skills again?” Gojo teased, grinning that carefree, almost annoyingly perfect smile of his.

You shot him a sideways glance, unimpressed. “Well, I won’t hold back just because you’re the prince. I’m still better than you.”

Gojo laughed, the sound like a sudden burst of light. 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” He mounted his horse with an ease that came from years of practice. You couldn’t help but notice how effortless he made it look, how comfortable he seemed in his own skin, even when surrounded by expectations.

The ride was uneventful at first, the two of you pushing the horses into a steady trot, the rhythmic sound of hooves against the dirt grounding you both. You fell into a comfortable silence, and though it was easy to pretend this was just another day, you couldn’t ignore the subtle awkwardness between you. He didn’t seem like someone who thrived on small talk, and you weren’t exactly an expert in pretending to care about things you didn’t.

“You know,” Gojo started, his voice cutting through the quiet as his horse matched your pace. “It’s been nice. Having someone to ride with again.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him sideways- the fuck was he on?

“You don’t seem like the lonely type.”

He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. 

“Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it? I am.” He took a deep breath, the smile slipping from his face as the tension in his shoulders became evident. “Geto and Shoko left. And I didn’t realize just how much I’d come to rely on them…until they were gone.”

"Ah. So that's what this is? You're in need of company? Don't you have a flock of people that would love to be in my place?"

Gojo didn’t flinch though. 

Instead, he just looked at you—really looked at you, as if he was searching for something in your eyes. And you almost short circuited. No one had looked at you like that in a very, very long time. 

“It’s funny, right? You think I’ve got it all, that everything is handed to me on a silver platter. But it’s not like that. I’ve had friends... well, used to have friends.” His lips pressed together in a thin line. “Geto and I had a big fight before he left. And Shoko? She went south to be a physician. Guess there was no room for a prince in her life.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, almost automatically. The words felt out of place coming from you, but there they were, falling from your lips like some strange, uninvited guest. "I didn’t know."

He shrugged, the motion light and careless, though there was a heaviness in his light blue eyes.

“You don’t need to be. It’s just... it’s just been hard, you know? I’ve got this image to keep up. But sometimes, I just need someone who isn’t... impressed.” He paused, glancing at you with a kind of odd sincerity. “Someone who doesn’t expect anything.”

“Well,” you said, your tone sharper than you intended. “I guess I’m good at not expecting things.” You smirked. “It’s a talent of mine.”

Gojo grinned at that, though it was more subdued this time.

“I’m starting to think that’s why I liked you when we were kids. You don’t care about any of this.” He gestured loosely to the royal estate in the distance, his voice light but the weight of his words not lost on you. “The politics, the attention, the obligations. You don’t care.” 

“Well,” you said, forcing a nonchalant shrug. “That’s probably because I’m too busy trying to stay out of the spotlight. Honestly, I’m just trying to keep my head down until everyone forgets I’m here.”

He laughed again, though this time it was more like a soft exhale, as if the laughter itself was a little bittersweet. 

“If only it were that easy for me.” He glanced back toward the estate, his eyes distant. “Sometimes I wish I could just disappear, you know? No one expects anything from me. No one looks at me like I’m the answer to their problems, like I’m supposed to be the one to fix everything.”

And silence settled, the two of you rode together, the silence between you almost comfortable, the distance between your worlds just a little bit smaller. But as the day wore on, you realized that even though Gojo had invited you for a ride, what he’d really been looking for was someone who could just be.

 No titles. No expectations. Just two people.

And maybe, just maybe, you were the only one who didn’t want anything from him.

Just a friend.

*-*

When you finally returned home, the estate felt quieter than usual, the kind of eerie silence that only came after an eventful day. You had barely gotten past the front gates when you saw your mother standing near the foyer, her eyes wide with that familiar glint of excitement. 

Your mother’s sharp eyes followed your every move, and the unmistakable glint of hope was in her gaze—if you could call it hope. It looked more like desperation mixed with a touch of victory. Your stomach twisted in response.

You barely made it inside before she pounced.

"How was the ride?" she asked eagerly, her voice high-pitched, almost too enthusiastic. "Did His Highness say anything interesting? How did it go? Tell me everything, everything!"

You blinked. Almost tempted to say that the prince fell off his horse and died.

Maybe she'd leave you alone.

"It went fine," you muttered, doing your best to sound as uninterested as possible. “We rode. We talked.”

She caught that last word like it was a golden nugget. "Talked? Talked?! What did he say? Was it—was it personal? Oh, I bet it was. I knew you two would get along!" She clapped her hands together, her eyes wide with hope.

"Talked about riding lessons," you deadpanned. "And horses. You know, the usual riveting topics."

Your mother blinked, momentarily deflated, but then quickly recovered. "Horses... horses?" Her voice cracked a little as she tried to keep the excitement alive. "Well, that’s a start. That’s fine. But it’s not just about horses, darling. You know what’s important, right?" She leaned forward, her eyes glinting with that familiar, almost manic gleam. “This is Prince Gojo we’re talking about! The Prince Gojo. He could choose anyone, and he’s choosing you. That’s what matters!”

You stifled the urge to groan. Of course, she’d see it that way. To her, Gojo wasn’t a person. He was a prize, a trophy, something to elevate your family’s standing.

"Yeah," you muttered, glancing down at your boots. "He’s really chosen me, alright. He’s not after anything, though. He just needs someone to talk to." You could almost hear the sarcasm dripping off your words.

"Oh, darling," she said with a dismissive wave, “you’re being modest. I know you’re not used to being pursued like this, but that’s exactly what’s happening. Can’t you see it? He’s interested in you. Not your sisters, not anyone else. Just you."

You opened your mouth to answer that no, he didn't want you, he just wanted a friend. But she didn't let you. 

"Why are you so determined to downplay this?" Her voice cracked, though you could tell she was trying to mask it with an air of control. "Do you understand what this could mean for our family? You’re not just some noble daughter, darling. You’re a potential princess. Think of it!"

“A potential princess?” you echoed in disbelief, shaking your head. “I’m a nobody. I’m not some prize for Gojo to win. I’m not some... not some step in the right direction for his royal bloodline.” You let the bitterness seep into your voice now, because really, what else was there left to do?

Your mother didn’t seem to hear any of it. She was too lost in her dreams of grandeur. 

"You’re wrong. You’ll see. He’ll come for you. He’s just being careful, like all men are-especially one of his standing." She smiled as if she had already won the game, as if all her efforts were somehow paying off, one letter at a time. “This will be the beginning of everything.”

You could only stare at her, a hollow ache in your chest. Maybe it wasn’t even about Gojo anymore. 

Maybe it never was. Maybe it was just about your mother wanting so badly for you to mean something in the grand scheme of things. To be something more than just the second youngest Cordova, the one who wasn’t quite pretty enough, wasn’t quite clever enough, wasn’t quite anything enough.

You were tired. So tired of all the expectations. 

So tired of never being enough in the eyes of your family.

“Sure, Mom,” you said quietly, fighting back the sting behind your eyes. “I’m sure it’ll all work out.”

But you couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that it wouldn’t. That, in the end, you weren’t the one who mattered at all. 

You were just a pawn, waiting to be played.

And that was the worst part. You didn't even know if you could blame Gojo for it.

*-*

That white haired, blue eyed motherfucker didn't stop sending you letters.

Much to your shaggrine.

Every event, every horse ride... it meant your parents planning and scheming further.

Now even the gossipers knew of you- and not like they had in the past, as the failure daughter of the Cordona family, but this time, as the girl who caught the Crown Prince's eye.

How fun.

*-*

The first time Gojo asked to hang out again, it was after one of the many royal events you’d been dragged to. As usual, he’d found you hiding near the back, surrounded by delicate conversations about politics, fashion, and all the things you couldn’t care less about. When his presence loomed at your side, you thought for a second you were imagining things.

“Hey,” Gojo said, a playful glint in his eyes. “Fancy a walk?”

You blinked. “Is this part of the royal entertainment package? Because I’m not really in the mood to be paraded around like a prize horse.”

“Come on,” he said, unfazed. “You could use a break from the charm of the nobility.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re starting to sound like you’re in a bad romance novel.”

He grinned, his eyes gleaming. “Well, if the crown fits…”

You snorted. “It doesn’t, though. You’re not that charming.”

“Right. And you’re definitely not that sarcastic.”

You shot him a look. “I’m not sarcastic. I’m just... realistic... and funny. ”

By the end of the walk, you were both a little damp from the rain, but Gojo seemed completely unfazed. There was something... unnervingly easy about being around him. No masks, no titles, no expectations. Just him, and you, having a quiet moment where neither of you had to be anyone but yourselves.

Too bad it’s all just a game. A distraction. Whatever.

*-* 

It happened over the course of multiple months.

It started innocently enough. He appeared another morning at the stables, after summoning you again, and far too early for any reasonable royal, but of course, it was Gojo. 

Grinning, sparkling, irritating as ever.

“Thought I’d join you for a ride,” he announced, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

"Again, didn't have a choice, you summoned me." You eyed him, unimpressed. “Since when do you get up before noon?”

“Since now.” He swung himself onto a horse with an obnoxious flourish. “Admit it, you missed me.”

“Like a hole in the head,” you muttered, but rode alongside him anyway.

*-*

The rain battered the windows of the small sitting room where you found yourself, Gojo lounging across from you with a chessboard between you. 

He was terrible at it. Absolutely atrocious.

How was he the crowned prince and couldn't play chess??

“Is it normal to lose three pawns in one move?” he asked, moving a piece in some bizarre diagonal.

“No,” you deadpanned, flicking your knight into position. “But it is impressive.”

He squinted at the board, lips quirking. “I think you’re cheating.”

You arched a brow. “You think I need to cheat?”

His laughter filled the room, and for a moment, the storm outside seemed distant. 

You smiled, even if it was a tiny bit.

'It’s nice,' you thought, surprised at the warmth that bloomed in the quiet. 'But it’s just Gojo. Nothing more.'

*-*

He insisted you come to the royal festival with him. You didn’t want to—large crowds, loud music, pointless parades. But he showed up at your door anyway, eyes shining.

“You need to see the fireworks,” he said, practically dragging you along. “They’re better than the ones at the palace.”

“I hate fireworks,” you lied, trying to ignore the way your heart jumped when his hand brushed yours.

“Then you’ve been watching the wrong ones,” he replied, grinning.

And later, as the sky exploded in color, you caught him staring—not at the fireworks, but at you.

"Fucking hell.." You mumbled- your mother would've slapped the back of your head if she had heard?

“See?” he said softly. “Better.”

You looked away, pretending you hadn’t noticed. 'It’s nothing. He’s just… Gojo.'

*-*

A letter arrived, unexpected and short. Just a few lines, hastily scribbled.

"Thought you might like this."

With it was a small pressed flower, one from the field where you used to ride as children.

You stared at it for a long time, unsure what to feel- friends right? Yeah. Friends. 

Your mother, of course, thought it was a declaration. “He’s clearly smitten!” she said, eyes gleaming.

“He’s not,” you replied, setting the flower aside. “He’s just bored.”

But the ache in your chest didn’t agree.

*-*

It happened slowly, almost imperceptibly, like rain softening stone over time. One moment, you were just a quiet figure in the background of Gojo’s grand, glittering world—a respite from the endless parade of sycophants and expectations. And the next, without warning, you were more. More than the silent companion. More than just the girl who gave him honest, unfiltered conversation. More than a friend, though Gojo didn’t have the self-awareness to name it.

Not yet.

*-*

It started small. Little things that, to anyone else, might’ve seemed insignificant.

Gojo found himself lingering longer after your rides, watching as you meticulously tended to your horse, the way your hands moved with a practiced ease, the faint crease between your brows when you concentrated. He liked that you didn’t fawn over him like everyone else. You treated him like an equal—or sometimes, like an annoyance, which was oddly refreshing.

'She’s just a good friend', he told himself, leaning casually against the stable wall, arms crossed as he watched you brush down your horse. 'That’s all it is. A good friend who’s good at ignoring my jokes and doesn’t care that I’m a prince. Simple.'

"Do you need something?" you asked without turning around.

Gojo grinned, but it faltered slightly when you didn’t look up. 

"What? Can’t a guy enjoy some quality stable time?" he quipped, even though part of him felt like an idiot for standing there, loitering like some lovesick stablehand.

You glanced over your shoulder, arching a brow. “Stable time,” you repeated flatly, as though the words themselves were somehow offensive. "Right. Because that’s what you’re here for. Not to avoid your royal duties or anything."

He laughed, but it felt a little hollow. “You know me too well.”

You shrugged, returning to your task. "Someone has to. You’re not exactly subtle, Gojo."

Not subtle. He rolled the words over in his mind later, lying awake in his ridiculously oversized bed. His head sank into the silk pillow, but sleep wouldn’t come. He told himself it was the simplicity he appreciated. No pretense. No hidden agendas. Just the two of you, existing in a space where titles didn’t matter. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, staring up at the ornate ceiling. He could still hear your voice, low and unamused, calling him out on his nonsense like no one else dared.

*-*

Meanwhile, your mother was relentless, the moment you stepped through the door.

“Another afternoon with the prince,” she cooed, practically draped in self-satisfaction. “And still, you act as though it’s nothing. Darling, do you understand what this means?”

You dropped your riding gloves onto the table, your face carefully neutral. “Yes, Mother,” you said, voice void of emotion. “It means I’m the only person who isn’t throwing themselves at him.”

Her smile faltered for a moment, but she rallied quickly, the determined sparkle returning to her eyes. “Exactly. That’s what makes you different. That’s what makes you special. He doesn’t want someone like your sisters—he wants you.”

You resisted the urge to scream, your voice cold and clipped. “He wants someone who doesn’t expect anything from him. Someone who doesn’t care.”

She smiled wider, not even hearing the ache in your voice. “Exactly.”

*-*

The first time Gojo realised something had shifted, it was months later- 7 months later exactly, it was raining.

 Not the pleasant, soft drizzle that made you want to curl up with a book, but the kind of torrential downpour that turned roads into rivers and made the air thick and heavy. He’d been sitting by the window in his private study, watching the rain streak the glass, when your face flashed in his mind.

She probably loves this kind of weather, he thought absently. Probably smirking right now, pretending not to be annoyed but secretly hating every second of being soaked.

The thought came unbidden, and it should’ve been harmless. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t because he could practically hear your voice in his head, that sharp-edged sarcasm you wielded like a weapon. He could hear you teasing him, calling him out on his ridiculousness, and it made him smile.

Then the smile faded as realisation clawed at him. Why am I thinking about her?

*-*

Then came the letters.

More of them. Invites to more royal events, more occasions where he made it clear—without actually saying it—that he wanted your company. It wasn’t about love. No, you knew better than that. But somehow, every invitation felt like it was designed just to keep you in his orbit.

"You’re coming to the ball next week, right?" he asked, casually, his fingers trailing over the rim of his wineglass. "It’d be good to see you again."

You leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms. "Why? You’re not tired of my company yet?"

He paused, his smile faltering for just a moment. "I don’t get tired of good company," he said softly, the words as sincere as they were out of place. You caught the edge of his gaze—a look that said something more, but he was too busy pretending it wasn’t there.

Yeah, right. Good company. More like he was trying to convince himself of that, trying to make himself believe he wasn’t doing all of this because, secretly, he was trying to win you over.

But you knew better than to fall for that. He was just playing the game. The same one everyone else played. He didn’t know how to stop. Not when it came to impressing people.

The worst part was, you could see it now. You could see the game. You could see the subtle moves, the small gestures, the extra attention. But that didn’t mean you had to play along. Did you?

Did you?

Your sarcasm was your armor, the only thing you could rely on, because deep down, it didn’t matter what Gojo really felt. It didn’t matter if he was falling for you or if this was just another phase for him. What mattered was that he never seemed to notice that you weren’t like the others.

The others? They would’ve eaten this up. They would’ve been flattered by the attention, thrilled by the idea of the prince wanting their company.

You?

You were tired.

And no amount of his flashy tricks or his stupid little gestures was going to change that.

"Yeah, I’ll come to the ball," you said finally, your voice flat. "But don’t expect me to act like I’m impressed."

Gojo blinked, his grin fading, and for a brief moment, you swore you saw a flicker of something in his eyes. 

A flash of doubt and guilt.

But you didn’t stick around long enough to find out. You turned away, your heart heavy, and left the room before you had to see him try any harder.

Because you both knew how this would end, didn’t you?

In the end, it was never going to be enough- you were never going to be enough.

*-*

The music swelled as he spun you into the center of the ballroom, other dancers parting to make room as though you were the only two people there. His hand rested at your waist, his grip firm but not unpleasant. It was almost… gentle.

"You didn’t have to," you said quietly as he twirled you. "I’m sure someone else would’ve been far more excited for this."

He tilted his head, feigning innocence. "Didn’t have to what?"

"Make a scene. Drag me onto the floor."

His smile faltered for a split second, and there it was again—that flicker of guilt, maybe. But it passed quickly, and the mask of charm slid back into place. "I wasn’t aware I was dragging. I thought I was dancing."

You rolled your eyes. "You know what I mean."

He sighed, spinning you again, slower this time. "Maybe I just like spending time with you."

You snorted softly, shaking your head. "You like the idea of it, maybe. The simplicity. I’m not like the others, right? No expectations, no drama." The bitterness bled through, and you didn’t care enough to stop it. "But it’s not real. You’re not real."

Gojo’s grip on your waist tightened, just for a moment, and his expression darkened. "Why do you do that?" he asked softly, voice low enough that only you could hear. "Act like I’m a joke."

You blinked, startled by the seriousness in his tone. "Because you are," you whispered back. "And so am I."

The music swirled around you, but neither of you moved. You were stuck, locked in a dance that felt more like a battle. His smile had vanished completely now, replaced by something raw, something too close to real.

Everyone was staring.

"I’m not mocking you," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "I never was."

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure. "Then what are you doing?"

He didn’t answer. He just stared at you, searching, as if he was trying to find the right words and failing. And for once, Prince Gojo—the man who always had something witty to say—was silent.

The music ended. He let go of you slowly, his hand lingering for just a moment longer than it should have. You stepped back, breath shallow, and forced yourself to smile.

"Thank you for the dance," you said, cold and polite, like it hadn’t just broken something inside both of you.

You walked away before he could say anything else, leaving him standing alone in the middle of the ballroom.

Your parents’ faces glowed with triumph as you returned, but all you felt was hollow.

Because the truth was, it didn’t matter if he was falling for you.

You weren’t sure you wanted him to.

*-*

ately, there were moments when his confidence faltered, when his eyes seemed too earnest, too searching, as if he was looking for something that wasn’t there.

It was during a sparring session, of all things.

You had agreed to join a small group for practice, mostly to pass the time. You didn’t care for swordplay, but you knew it was something that would help you keep your mind distracted from the incessant pressure of your family and the mounting tension with Gojo.

At first, it was the usual: he was flawless, dancing around opponents with that cocky grin on his face, effortlessly deflecting blows and making mockeries of anyone who dared challenge him. The onlookers laughed, cheering him on like he was some kind of legend. He was a legend, to them—he was a prince, after all.

But then, as the practice wore on, Gojo’s gaze kept flicking to you. It wasn’t the usual teasing, the usual flirtation. It was almost… nervous. Like he was waiting for something—waiting for your approval?

Was he?

Those couple times when you managed to lock eyes-for a fleeting moment, he looked like a little boy, begging for approval, wanting to be seen beyond the prince-the soldier he was.

'Nuh uh' was the only thing going through your head.

*-*

The next time you saw him was days later, at another royal gathering. Of course, your mother insisted you attend, as if every event was an opportunity for you to be seen, to make a perfect impression. You slipped into the corner of the ballroom, barely noticed by the glittering crowd around you.

And that’s when it happened again.

As soon as Gojo stepped into the hall, his eyes locked on your figure, almost as if he always knew where you were. This time, there was something different—something almost desperate. You tried to focus on the sparkling chandeliers and the murmur of conversation around you, but your gaze kept straying back to him. He wasn’t smiling like he usually did. He wasn’t the carefree, cocky prince. 

He looked… lost.

Was it just you, or was it really happening? Was Gojo—Prince Gojo—the untouchable, flawless man—falling for you?

And if so, why?

You couldn’t risk believing in him. Not when you were just another thing to conquer.

*-*

The tension in the royal court had been simmering for months, and now it was boiling over.

So you withdrew from court. 

Naturally, you feigned illness, you wanted nothing to do with the crown prince. Much to your parents dismay. At first your mother was beyond furious-but your father.. your father noticed how exhausted and distant you had become. So he laid off your back. 

But it didn't matter, the damage was done, eight months of being friends with the crown prince doesn't just disappear. The air buzzed with whispers, rumors spreading like wildfire. It was no longer a question of if Gojo would marry—it was who. And the speculation only grew louder as the days passed.

You heard it all, of course. Curtesy of your mother- and sometimes your sisters who would come have dinner. And anyways, the nobles had a way of making sure you knew, especially since your family’s name had started to surface in hushed conversations. The Cordova family was respectable, wealthy enough, but not particularly powerful. That was, until Gojo began to show interest—or whatever it was he was doing—in you.

And now? Now, suddenly, your family was worth noticing.

You stood on the balcony of your estate, the cool breeze brushing against your skin. Below, in the garden, your mother and father were deep in conversation with some visiting noble. No doubt they were basking in the newfound attention, relishing every rumor like it was gold.

*-*

Inside the palace walls, things weren’t much better. Gojo sat in the grand hall, his advisors gathered around him like vultures. The marble floors gleamed beneath them, the high ceilings amplifying every tense word.

He wanted to strangle one or two- actually no. The lot of them.

“You cannot continue like this, Your Highness,” one of the elder advisors said, his voice trembling with a mix of exasperation and desperation. “The kingdom needs stability. A marriage alliance would provide that.”

Gojo leaned back in his chair, the lazy arrogance he so often wore like a second skin noticeably absent. Instead, he looked tired, his usual spark dimmed. He didn’t even bother to hide the irritation in his voice.

“And you think marrying someone will solve all our problems?” he drawled. “I wasn’t aware a wedding could fix political unrest.”

Another advisor, younger and more ambitious, chimed in. “It’s not just about you, Your Highness. It’s about the future of the throne. You need someone who can solidify alliances.”

Gojo sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “I know what you want,” he said quietly, his voice sharp with annoyance. “You want me to pick some perfectly obedient noblewoman, smile for the portraits, and pretend everything’s fine.”

The older advisor stepped forward. “This isn’t just about you! You owe it to the kingdom.”

“Owe it?” Gojo’s voice rose, and for a moment, the tired prince was gone, replaced by a man on the edge. “I’ve given everything to this kingdom. My time. My freedom. My life. And now you want me to hand over my heart too? No.”

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. 

*-*

Back at your estate, the rumors finally reached your ears in full force.

Your mother burst into the sitting room, eyes alight with barely contained excitement. “It’s happening,” she whispered, practically vibrating with glee. “The court is pushing for a match. They’re pressuring him to choose.”

You didn’t look up from your book. “How fascinating,” you said dryly. “Do you think they’ll host a tournament? Maybe I should start sharpening my sword.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t be so flippant. This could change everything for us.”

“For us,” you repeated, glancing up at her with a raised brow. “But not for me.”

Her face flushed with frustration. “You are so ungrateful. Do you realize what an opportunity this is? You could be queen.”

You laughed, the sound cold and hollow. “Queen of what? A man who doesn’t care? A court that sees me as a pawn? No, thank you.”

She advanced on you, eyes blazing. “You think you’re above this? You think you’re better than the rest of us?”

“No,” you said quietly, your voice like ice. “I think I’ve just learned the difference between being wanted and being used.”

She stared at you, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, before she finally turned on her heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

*-*

A month after withdrawing from court, your mother had had enough of your 'tantrums', and dragged you to another ball.

It was another grand affair, another gilded evening of silks and jewels—this time, a royal ceremony commemorating some diplomatic victory. You wore a dress chosen by your mother, a confection of midnight blue that made you feel like a reluctant participant in someone else’s dream. 

You were staring at the small champagne glass in your hand, it was half full- wondering if you could potentially drown yourself in it.

The chandeliers glimmered above, casting golden light across the gathered crowd, but the weight in your chest had nothing to do with the elegance of the scene.

It was the conversation you’d overheard.

You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. You were wandering the fringes of the ballroom, hoping to find a moment of peace when you caught the hushed voices of Gojo’s advisors behind a column. You didn’t recognize all the voices, but one was unmistakably his chief advisor.

“Prince Gojo has been far too indulgent,” the man said, his voice clipped and frustrated. “It’s time he stopped playing games. The Cordova girl is a practical match. Their family isn’t as high as some, but they bring wealth, connections. And she’s pliable enough.”

Pliable. Like you were some piece of clay to be molded.

“Does he know?” another voice asked, quieter but equally firm.

“He doesn’t have to. He’ll come around. He’s already spending all this time with her, isn’t he? A few more nudges, and he’ll fall in line.”

You felt like the ground had dropped beneath you-then you felt foolish, embarrassed even.

Everything—the letters, the riding lessons, the moments that felt almost real—was nothing more than a well-calculated push. You’d been naive, hadn’t you? Letting yourself believe, even for a moment, that maybe you were different. Maybe you weren’t just another pawn in this game.

But you were.

*-*

From that moment, you decided to pull away. Emotionally, physically—you retreated into yourself.

Those fuckers had tried to play you? Well two could play that game.

You became colder, more distant. When Gojo sought you out, you found excuses: sudden headaches, an urgent need to be elsewhere. You danced with others at the ball, smiled at others, but never him.

Gojo noticed.

Of course he did. He noticed everything about you. Down to your breathing pattern.

He cornered you in the gardens a month later, in the evening, the moon casting silver light over his face. His usual playful grin was gone, replaced by something more fragile, more confused.

"You’ve been avoiding me," he said, his voice soft but edged with tension.

You didn’t meet his eyes, focusing instead on the stone path beneath your feet. "I’ve been busy."

Gojo scoffed, stepping closer. "Busy? You’ve never been good at lying, you know."

Your heart twisted painfully, but you forced yourself to stay distant. "What can I for you, Your Highness?"

Oof, formal tittle? That wasn't good. His frustration bubbled to the surface, and for once, his mask slipped.

 "I want to know what I did. One moment we’re fine, and the next, it’s like I don’t exist. Did I offend you? Say something wrong?"

You laughed, a bitter sound that echoed in the still night. 

"Offend me? No, Gojo. You didn’t offend me. You’ve been perfectly charming, as always."

"Then what is it?" His voice cracked slightly, and that vulnerability you’d seen creeping into his eyes was suddenly laid bare. "Why are you pulling away?"

You finally looked at him then, your expression carefully blank. "Because I know what this is."

He frowned, confusion flickering across his face. "What are you talking about?"

"I heard them," you said, the words tasting like ash. "Your advisors. Talking about how this—" you gestured vaguely between the two of you, "—isn’t real. How they’ve been pushing you toward me because I’m a ‘practical match.’"

His face paled. "That’s not—"

"Don’t," you interrupted, your voice sharper than you intended. "Don’t lie to me. I’m not stupid, Gojo. I know how these things work. I know what I am."

"You don’t," he insisted, stepping forward, his eyes desperate now. "You don’t know. They can push all they want, but that’s not why—"

"Then why?" you demanded, your voice trembling. "Why did you seek me out? Why the letters, the rides, the—everything? If it wasn’t because they told you to, then why?"

He opened his mouth, but no words came. He looked like he wanted to say something, like he was on the verge of some great revelation, but nothing emerged.

You laughed again, softer this time, but no less bitter. "That’s what I thought."

"No," he said, almost a whisper. "It’s not like that."

"Isn’t it?" You shook your head, stepping back. "You don’t even know what you want. You’re torn between your heart and your duty, and I’m just the convenient middle ground. You don’t have to choose if I’m already here, right?"

"That’s not fair," he said, his voice breaking. "I didn’t want this."

"Neither did I," you snapped. "I never asked for any of this, Gojo. I never wanted to be part of your world. But here we are. And now I have to watch you pretend this is something more while knowing it’s just another move in a game I never wanted to play."

He was silent, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world had finally crushed him.

"You should go," you said softly, turning away. "Go be the prince they need you to be."

For a long moment, he didn’t move. Then, finally, you heard his footsteps retreating, leaving you alone in the cold moonlight. As he left, you swore you heard him whisper:

"I just wanted a friend."

But you couldn't be sure, it was probably the wind.

And for the first time, you allowed yourself to cry.

*-*

At first, Gojo had told himself that it was just a phase—that you were upset, perhaps, or just needing space. But with every passing day, the silence between the two of you became louder, more suffocating. He had spent so many years avoiding the weight of responsibility, always choosing to float above it all with his charm, his wit, and his easy smile. 

But now, in the cold quiet of the night, as he sat alone in his study, the weight of his actions hit him with full force.

'I’m an idiot.'

He had been blind. So incredibly blind. He had spent all this time thinking he was merely enjoying your company—thinking that what was happening between the two of you was simple, carefree friendship. But now he realised, painfully, that it was so much more than that. It was love. It had always been love.

'Gods, how did I not see it?'

Gojo’s heart pounded in his chest as the truth sank in. With you.... With you, he had fallen so effortlessly, so completely, that he hadn’t even realised it. And now, it was too late. You were gone, pulling away from him, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

He had tried to show you his affection through small gestures—inviting you to ride with him, sharing private conversations, letters he knew you’d roll your eyes at—but now, with the realisation crushing him, he understood: 'those weren’t gestures of friendship. They were attempts to show her the part of you that you’ve hidden for too long.'

'How could I have been so stupid?'

*-*

He found you in the garden during the next ball-so like a week later, sitting beneath the ancient willow tree. The early sun filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the grass, but the light felt wrong—too soft for the weight of what he was about to say.

You looked up when he approached, your expression as guarded as ever. "Prince Gojo," you greeted coolly, and the formality in your voice stung more than it should have.

He winced. "Don’t call me that."

"What should I call you, then?" you asked, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "Your Grace? Your Highness? The man who doesn’t know what he wants?"

"Stop," he said quietly, his voice raw. "Please."

You stiffened, but you didn’t move to leave. You just stared at him, waiting. He realised he hated the distance between you, both the physical space and the emotional chasm he had carved with his own carelessness.

"I didn’t come here because they told me to," he began, his voice trembling. "I never sought you out because of politics. I came because I wanted to. I came because you were the only one who didn’t expect anything from me."

You scoffed, looking away. "And that makes it better?"

"No," he admitted, stepping closer. "It doesn’t. But it’s the truth."

There was silence, heavy and suffocating, before you finally spoke. "Why now, Gojo? Why tell me this now?"

"Because I’m a fool," he said, his voice cracking. "I didn’t realize it until I lost you."

You laughed, bitter and broken. "You never had me to begin with."

"But I wanted to," he whispered, the words trembling with desperation. "I wanted to have you. Not as a trophy, not as a political move—because I’m in love with you."

A beat passed.

"You’re in love with me," you repeated, the disbelief in your voice sharp. "How nice."

The sarcasm cut through him like a blade. He had expected anger, confusion, maybe even pity—but not this.

"Yeah," he murmured, eyes falling to the ground, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know. It’s pathetic, isn’t it?"

"Pathetic?" You scoffed, your voice low. "No. It’s just... convenient."

Gojo winced at the sharpness of your words. 

"You don’t love me," you continued, your voice steady but hollow. "You love the idea of me. You love what I give you—peace, escape. But that’s not love, Gojo."

He shook his head, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "No, it’s more than that. I swear it’s more than that."

"Then what?" you demanded, your voice rising with anger. "What is it? Because from where I’m standing, it looks a lot like convenience."

"It’s not," he said fiercely. "It’s you. It’s the way you look at me like I’m just a man, not a prince. It’s the way you challenge me, the way you make me feel alive." He paused, his voice softening. "I didn’t realize it until you walked away, but it’s you. It’s always been you."

Tears burned at the edges of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. "And what about your duty, Gojo? What about the throne? Are you willing to throw all of that away for me?"

His silence was deafening.

You laughed bitterly. "Exactly. You can’t. You never could. So don’t stand here and tell me you love me when you’re still tethered to a life I’ll never be part of."

"Please," he said, his voice breaking. "Don’t do this."

"You already did," you whispered.

The tension stretched between you, fragile and aching-like a bowstring about to snap. He reached out, but you stepped back, shaking your head.

"I can’t be your escape," you said softly. "I won’t."

Gojo’s face crumpled, and for the first time, you saw the man beneath the crown—heartbroken, vulnerable, lost. "I’m sorry," he said, and it sounded like the end of everything.

"So am I."

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving him alone beneath the willow tree, where the sun rose on a man who had everything but the one thing he truly wanted.

*-*

The door slammed behind you as you stumbled inside, the heavy weight of the night pressing down on you like a suffocating fog. You didn’t even notice your mother standing in the entryway until her voice broke through the haze of your own misery. You couldn’t. Your mind was consumed with the image of Gojo’s face, his words, his hollow confession that had shattered something inside of you. His love. Or was it? What was he even doing?

“What happened?” she asked, her tone far too calm for the storm brewing in your chest. Her eyes widened when she saw the state you were in—tears streaming down your face, mascara smudged, and your body shaking with the aftermath of an emotional breakdown.

You didn’t want to answer. You couldn’t. Your throat felt tight, like you couldn’t breathe without choking. Everything was suffocating.

“I... I can’t... I can’t breathe,” you gasped, stumbling towards the nearest chair. The world spun around you, and you felt your knees buckle under you. You barely managed to sit, burying your face in your hands.

She didn’t say anything at first, just watched. But then, with a look that made you feel small—insignificant—she crossed her arms. 

"What on earth happened at that ball?" Her voice was sharp, an edge of disappointment threading through every word. "The one time I allow you to go alone.."

You couldn’t answer. The sobs wouldn’t stop. You clutched your sides, gasping like you were drowning.

By the time she got you inside, your mother was frantic. She guided you to the drawing room, where the fire was still burning low, and knelt before you as you collapsed onto the settee. Her hands were surprisingly gentle, brushing the hair from your face, though her voice trembled with impatience and fear.

“Speak,” she urged. “Tell me what’s happened. Is it Gojo? Did he—did he hurt you?”

You laughed through the tears, a broken, bitter sound. “No, Mother. Not like that.”

“Then what?” she demanded, her voice tightening. “What has reduced you to this? You’re acting like—like your heart has been ripped out.”

"Maybe it has," you choked out, biting back another sob. "I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore."

Her face softened for a moment, as if she wanted to understand, but she couldn't quite manage it. “You’re being dramatic,” she said, though her voice lacked its usual sharpness. “You always knew this would be complicated. He’s a prince. His heart was never truly yours to keep.”

"Complicated?" you echoed, laughing bitterly. "He made me believe he cared, Mother. And maybe he does, but it doesn’t matter because he will never choose me. Not when the crown’s at stake. I’m nothing to him but a temporary distraction."

Her brow furrowed. “You can’t know that. He—”

“I heard them,” you interrupted, your voice cracking. “His advisors. They were talking about marriage, alliances. And do you know who they suggested?” You looked at her through your tears, your face twisted in anguish. “Me. As if I’m just a pawn to be moved across a board.”

Then the crying got worse- your mother became worried, she had never seen you like this- not in years.

“I’ve never seen you like this,” she continued, her voice trembling now. “Not since you were a child.”

And then she did something she hadn’t done in years: she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close, and for once, you didn’t push her away.

“You poor thing,” she murmured, stroking your hair like she used to when you were small. “You foolish, foolish girl." She wiped a mutlitude of tears from your face, "You were brave. You did what you had to do.”

“But I loved him,” you confessed, the truth spilling out like a wound that had festered too long. “I loved him, and now it’s over, and I don’t know how to make it stop hurting.”

Her eyes softened, filled with a pain that mirrored your own. “It will hurt,” she said gently. “It will hurt for a long time. But you will survive this. You always do.”

Hours dripped by, like the tears than ran freely across your face. Aftger a while you had basically cried yourself to exhaustion. Your mother helped you to your room, helped you into your sleepwear.

She straightened up, gathering herself, trying to regain control of the situation. “We’ll talk about this later. You’ll compose yourself and we’ll handle this properly.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t.

*-*

The rain was relentless, pounding against the windows of the Cordova estate like a desperate plea. You sat in the drawing room, watching the storm rage, feeling every bit as turbulent as the sky outside. Your mother was off somewhere fussing over another scheme, and your father had retreated to his study—content to stew over the latest disappointment you’d no doubt become.

You had cried so hard in the last couple days that your eyes, lungs.. everything hurt.

You weren't even dressed properly.

The carriage wheels had barely stopped when your mother’s shriek rang through the halls of your family’s estate.

“WHAT?!”

You had just been sitting in the drawing room, lost in a book, when the servant burst in, panic-stricken. “The prince… Prince Gojo... he’s here. At the gate.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Gojo. What the hell is he doing here?

Your mother was already moving toward the door, face flushed, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I’ll speak to him, I’ll—” She didn’t even finish the sentence before she was gone, no doubt already scheming some sort of disastrous charm offensive.

You glanced at your father. He sat there, frozen for a moment, clearly unsure of what to make of this, before he let out a low growl. 

“Prince Gojo? That’s… bold. Damn bold.”

Your parents stood near the fireplace, stunned into silence, clearly trying to figure out how to act. Your father’s arms were folded, but his fingers twitched as though he was ready to start waving them around like a conductor.

“Your Highness,” your mother stammered, still in shock, “What—what brings you to our humble home?"

Gojo glanced at you, and you felt his gaze like a physical weight. It sent a strange shiver down your spine, but you didn’t let it show. You refused to. Not again.

“I came to see her,” he said, his voice softer than it had ever been before, but loud enough to break the tension in the room.

Your mother blinked, a bright flush creeping up her neck. “Her? You mean—”

“Yes,” he said, cutting her off with an expression that was a mixture of apology and resolve. “I mean her. I need to speak with her. Alone.”

Your father finally spoke up, his voice tight with suspicion. “You’ve come all the way here to speak to my daughter, Your Highness? At this hour?”

Gojo stood straighter, nodding solemnly. “Yes. I have.”

Your father looked to your mother, who was still gaping, before he sighed, clearly not sure how to react. “Very well, but we’ll be in the next room,” he said with a nod. “We’ll leave you two alone for… a moment.”

The instant the door shut, Gojo fell to his knees- literally.

Gojo Satoru. 

Crown prince, was kneeling before you.

For a moment, your brain refused to comprehend what you were seeing. Your mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. 'What the hell is he doing?'

“Gojo, what—” You couldn’t finish the sentence. You didn’t even know what to say. 

He was the prince. The untouchable, charismatic prince. 

He didn’t kneel. 

He didn’t beg. 

He was never the one to put himself in a vulnerable position. And yet, here he was, on the floor in front of you, as if his entire world had come down to this one moment.

The great, untouchable Gojo, who had women at his feet and entire kingdoms in his pocket, was kneeling in front of you, like he was begging for something you couldn’t even grasp yet.

His head was bowed, eyes closed, but you could see the tightness in his jaw, the muscles in his neck straining. He wasn’t just on his knees physically—he was on his knees emotionally. 

“Gojo—” Your voice cracked in surprise, the sarcasm you’d buried deep suddenly bubbling up like a bitter reflex. “What is this? A royal performance? Because if you’re trying to impress me, you’re failing miserably.”

“I’m not trying to impress you,” he said, his voice soft, but thick with something raw and desperate.  “I’m just... asking you to believe me.”

You took a step back, your breath hitching in your throat. 'This is insane'. You had to be dreaming.

“Do you have any idea how stupid this is?” you said bitterly, voice shaking with suppressed emotion, feeling the heat of your frustration rise in your chest. “Do you have any idea how much it hurts to even think you’re doing this for me?”

“Then don’t think,” he whispered, his voice just above a breath. “Don’t think, just listen.” He lifted his gaze, his eyes wide, pleading. “I’m not doing this for anyone else. Not for the throne. Not for my advisors. I’m doing this because... because I can’t stop. I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop wanting you, even if I don’t deserve you.”

You tried to swallow, but the lump in your throat was impossible to push down. 'God, why did this have to hurt so much?'

“Why now?” you asked, your voice laced with bitterness. “Why didn’t you care before? Why didn’t you come to me before everything was so messed up?”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing-you had to remind yourself to look at his eyes- as he tried to find the right words.

 “I didn’t know what I was doing. I thought it was just another thing. Another distraction. But the moment you pulled away, I realized I was... wrong. I was stupid. I was always stupid.”

“Yeah, you were,” you muttered under your breath, too angry to care about the tears threatening to spill over. “You still are.”

Gojo didn’t flinch. His gaze never left yours, even as his shoulders trembled ever so slightly. 

His head dropped for a moment, his long hair falling into his eyes. 

“But I swear to you, I didn’t come here to play with your emotions. I didn’t come here for some political match, some obligation. I came here because I can’t keep pretending that I don’t love you.”

“Gojo, this—this isn’t some story,” you said, your voice cracking slightly, even though you didn’t want it to. “You can’t just—this doesn’t just happen. You don’t just fall in love with me. Not like this. Not after everything—”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he interrupted, his voice barely a whisper now, but full of intensity. “I didn’t plan it. I didn’t choose it. It just... happened. I convinced myself that I just wanted your friendship, that I could ignore it, but every time I walked away from you, I felt like I was losing a part of myself. I was... I was terrified. Terrified of you because you—” He inhaled sharply. “You see me. You see through the prince, through the crown, and I— I didn’t know how to deal with that.”

He raised his eyes to meet yours, his gaze intense and full of something you didn’t know how to name.

 “But now? I can’t run anymore. I can’t pretend I don’t feel this. I can’t pretend I don’t need you. I don’t care what the court says, what my advisors say, what my duty says. I want you. I need you.”

You were frozen, unable to move, unable to speak. His words were washing over you, stirring emotions you had long buried deep down. Why now? Why me? All the doubts you’d carried for so long began to surface, but underneath all of that, a quiet yearning grew. He was laying it all bare in front of you, exposing himself in a way you didn’t know was possible.

 Gojo continued, his voice breaking with frustration, a soft sob of helplessness caught in his throat: “But please—please just let me show you that this is real. I’ve never been more serious in my life. I don’t care what the kingdom expects from me anymore. All I care about is you. If you’ll have me.”

And the worst part? You found him so very pretty, his pure blue eyes shinned with tears-No. Stop it.

“I don’t know when I fell in love with you,” he said, his voice softening, trembling. “Maybe it was during the first ride, or maybe it was when I started to see the real you. The person who doesn’t bow to expectations, the person who doesn’t get caught up in all the nonsense. I fell in love with your strength. I fell in love with how you see the world. You’re not just another woman to me, you’re the woman who makes everything else fade away.”

Gojo reached out slowly, his fingers brushing your arm, and you didn’t pull away. His touch was warm, and his gaze never left you.

“You’re not a conquest,” he said softly, his voice breaking. “You’re everything. I’m not asking for perfection, I’m not asking for guarantees. I’m asking for the chance to love you. I’ll fight for you, even if it means tearing my world apart. Because you’re worth it.”

You shook your head, tears threatening to spill, but you kept your composure. 'This can’t be real. Not with him. Not with the crown prince.'

And yet, as you stood there, your breath shallow, you realised something—deep down, buried under the scepticism and the fear and the doubt—you wanted to believe him, so bad. 

He finally stood, ha-he was taller now.

How annoying.

You sniffled.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his hand tightening around yours just slightly. “But I’m willing to try. I’m willing to fight for you, for us. I want to be the man you deserve, not the prince who everyone expects me to be. But I need you to take a chance on me, just as I’m taking a chance on you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. 'Gods, he’s serious. He’s so serious.'

You couldn’t pretend anymore, not with him looking at you like that, so broken, so earnest, so full of desperate hope.

“Don’t make me a promise you can’t keep, Gojo,” you whispered, your voice catching in your throat.

He shook his head, his eyes hard with determination. “I won’t break it. I’ll keep it. I swear to you.”

And when Gojo finally kissed you, it wasn’t some dramatic declaration. It wasn’t a grand gesture. It was soft, tentative, and filled with the weight of everything that had come before it.

But in that kiss, you felt something shift. You felt something like love—raw, imperfect, and painfully real. And for the first time in your life, you didn’t want to run from it.

It was also a very, very wet kiss.

Miserable and wet. 

*-* 

The evening had been... overwhelming. That was the only way to describe it, right? Overwhelming and, in a way, utterly absurd. Gojo had confessed his feelings, dropped a bomb on you, and now... now, he was standing in front of your parents, looking entirely too calm for someone who had just ruined whatever sort of normalcy you’d once clung to.

What the fuck.

You had gone from crying over the crown prince a couple days ago, to... to this??

He had just kissed you, for the gods' sake—kissed you—and now you were supposed to just sit here and pretend that your world wasn’t about to spin completely out of orbit.

Your mother, sitting across from you, was holding herself together with an unnerving amount of composure, despite her hands shaking slightly. Your father, on the other hand, was staring at Gojo with all the suspicion of a man who had just been handed a live grenade.

Gojo, ever the composed prince, looked at your parents like this was just another day at the office—something he could handle with that all-too-charming smile of his. But tonight, that smile had a certain edge to it.

Gojo’s eyes flicked to you for a brief moment, the softness in them betraying the calm air he was trying so hard to maintain. And then, just like that, he turned his attention back to your parents.

“I have a request, actually,” Gojo said, his voice carrying a quiet weight. You froze, suddenly feeling like your heartbeat had gone missing. You had no idea what was coming, but it felt big. Too big.

Your father raised an eyebrow, his expression still guarded but curious. “A request?”

Gojo nodded, not a hint of hesitation in his posture. He was so sure of himself. “Yes,” he said, leaning forward, the words about to spill from his lips like an irreversible truth. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, and I’ve come to a decision.”

“I’ve spent a lot of time with your daughter,” Gojo continued, his gaze flicking to you once more, this time more lingering. “I’ve gotten to know her, and I’ve realized something important. Something I didn’t expect. I’ve fallen in love with her. And I…” His gaze hardened a fraction, eyes now fixed on your parents with that undiluted confidence he wore so well. “I wish to marry her.”

The room seemed to hold its breath. 

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t blink. Did he just—

You stared at him, trying to make sense of the mess your heart had suddenly become. “So... you’re really serious about this?”

He grinned widely, that familiar sparkle in his eyes. “I wouldn’t have come all the way here, and kneeled like a fool, if I wasn’t serious.”

Your mother’s jaw nearly dropped, and your father blinked a couple of times as if the words had to be translated into something that made sense.

Your mother, composed as always, finally found her voice. 

“Well,” she began, her tone strained but polite, “that is quite the announcement.” Her eyes darted toward you, narrowing slightly, as if to silently ask, What have you done?

You didn’t respond. You were too busy trying to remember how to breathe.

Gojo, infuriatingly calm, kept his gaze on your father, clearly waiting for his reaction. There was no trace of his usual arrogance, but there was an undeniable determination in his expression—a resolve that made your stomach twist in a way you desperately didn’t want to think about.

Your father cleared his throat, rubbing a hand over his face like he was trying to wake up from a particularly strange dream. 

“You’re serious,” he repeated, sounding tired, bewildered. “You want to marry my daughter?”

Gojo leaned back in his chair, his usual smirk nowhere to be found. Instead, he was oddly serious, his hands folded in front of him like some kind of noble. He nodded.

'If you squint hard enough', you thought, 'he’s almost dignified- and even worse- he looked really pretty. Ew.'

Your mother's gaze softened for a brief moment, before it quickly turned back to Gojo. “But... this is Gojo Satoru. Crown Prince of the Kingdom. You think we—”

“I know exactly who I am,” Gojo interrupted, a rare note of seriousness in his voice. “But I also know who I am when I’m with her. And that’s someone who wants to spend every moment I can with her. Not because it’s convenient. Not because it’s politically advantageous. But because I genuinely love her."

Your father sighed: 

"Well.. who are we to refuse the crown prince?" He took a deep breath, "If you’re serious, then...” He trailed off, glancing at your mother for support. “I suppose we should discuss this properly.”

“Great,” you said flatly, sarcasm coating your words. “So, you’ve professed your love, secured the approval of my parents, and what? I’m supposed to swoon now?”

“Swooning would be nice,” he teased, but there was a nervous edge to it, like he wasn’t sure how far he could push. “Or, at least, less glaring.”

“I don’t trust you,” you said finally, quietly.

Gojo’s face softened, and for the first time, he looked unsure. Vulnerable.

“I know.”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever trust you.”

“I’ll wait,” he said simply. No hesitation. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You’re an idiot,” you muttered, though your voice lacked the bite it should’ve had.

He grinned then, bright and disarming, like he hadn’t just knelt before you, kissed you, and then asked you parents for your hand in marriage. “I’ve been called worse.”

*-*

The spring air was cool, crisp, carrying the scent of blossoming lilacs across the estate’s sprawling grounds. It was the kind of evening that felt suspended in time, the sky bruised with hues of gold and lavender, the sun clinging stubbornly to the horizon as if it too didn’t want this moment to end.

You sat beneath the ancient oak tree on the edge of the gardens, your skirts spread out in a careless pool around you, watching as the last light painted everything in soft warmth. It had been a long year. A tumultuous one. And yet… here you were.

"You're hidding from me again." 

'Of course he found me. He always finds me.'

“I’m not hiding,” you said, your voice lazy, dripping with feigned innocence. “I’m merely... avoiding you.”

“And here I thought we were past the whole avoiding-each-other phase,” he said, his tone light but teasing. “Is this because I stole the last piece of cake last night?”

You finally lifted your gaze, glaring at him through narrowed eyes. “You didn’t steal it. You demanded it, like the royal tyrant you are.”

He grinned, wide and unrepentant, and it made him look like a mischievous boy rather than a crown prince. “I don’t remember you putting up much of a fight.”

“Only because I was too tired to argue,” you retorted, though the corners of your lips twitched despite yourself.

Gojo took that as his invitation, sinking down beside you with an exaggerated sigh, sprawling like he owned the entire earth. His shoulder brushed yours, warm and solid, and for a moment, you were hyper-aware of how close he was. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him in the cool spring air.

“So,” he said, tilting his head to look at you, his white hair catching the fading sunlight, “are you going to keep pretending you don’t enjoy my company?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not pretending. Your company is… tolerable, at best.”

“Ouch.” He clutched his chest dramatically, as if wounded. “You wound me, my love.”

You snorted. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” His voice softened, losing its playful edge. “You are.”

The words settled between you, gentle but firm, and for a moment, the sarcasm on your tongue faltered. Damn him. Damn him and that stupid sincerity.

You cleared your throat, trying to regain your footing. “You’re awfully confident for someone who’s been rejected more times than I can count.”

Gojo grinned, turning toward you with a playful glint in his eyes. “Rejected? You mean the time you said, ‘Leave me alone or I’ll push you into the lake’? That was just foreplay.”

You snorted, biting your lip to keep from smiling too wide. “Foreplay? You were soaking wet and whining like a child.”

“I was laughing,” he corrected, smug. “And you were staring at me the whole time.”

“Because I was making sure you didn’t drown. Didn't wanna be accused of killing the crown prince."

“How noble of you.” He leaned closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Admit it. You like me.”

“I tolerate you,” you said, turning your face away to hide the warmth creeping up your neck.

“Tolerate,” he repeated, as if tasting the word. He let it hang in the air for a moment before leaning back on his hands, looking out over the gardens. “That’s progress. I’ll take it.”

And your lips met- you were kissing your fiancée, as the sun set on the lake of the royal palace. 

Though his hands got a little too handsy, you broke the kiss, 'tsk-ing' at him.

"Nuh uh, Satoru Gojo. The marriage is in a week." 

Gojo groaned dramatically, flopping onto his back and covering his eyes with an arm like a tragic hero. 

“Cruel. So cruel,” he lamented. “You tease me with kisses and then deny me any fun. What’s a man to do?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning over him, your hair falling in soft waves as you smirked. 

“A man should learn patience,” you quipped, flicking his forehead lightly. “Something you’ve clearly never mastered.”

He peeked at you from beneath his arm, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Patience is overrated,” he murmured, voice low and sultry, “especially when you’re this close.”

You leaned back just enough to deprive him of the closeness he was enjoying. “Ah, poor prince,” you mocked, feigning pity. “Reduced to whining like a child because he can’t get his way.”

Gojo sat up, propping himself on his elbows, his face only inches from yours. His expression softened, the teasing fading into something more genuine. “I’m not whining,” he said quietly, the words so different from his usual bravado that they caught you off guard. “I’m just... happy. Here. With you.”

You felt your heart stutter, and you hated that he had this effect on you. “You’re a menace,” you said, though your voice lacked its usual bite.

“And you’re stuck with me,” he replied, grinning again. “For better or worse, remember?”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to regain the upper hand. “We’re not married yet.”

“Details,” he waved dismissively. “You already said yes. No take-backs.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I should’ve made you sign something.”

“Oh, you want a contract?” He leaned in, so close you could feel his breath against your skin. “Fine. I, Satoru Gojo, do solemnly swear to be the most annoying husband ever.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “You didn’t even need to swear. I already knew that.”

He gave you a lazy, satisfied grin. “And yet, you’re still here.”

“Unfortunately,” you teased, though your tone was soft, affectionate.

He reached for your hand then, threading his fingers through yours, and the warmth of his touch was startlingly comforting. “I love you,” he said, with none of the usual flair, no theatrics. Just simple, honest truth.

You stared at him, the weight of those words settling over you like a blanket. “I know,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “I hate it.”

He laughed, the sound rich and full of joy, and you knew you couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. “Good,” he said, pulling you closer until your foreheads touched. “Then we’re even.”

“Even?” you asked, amused.

“For all the times you’ve made me fall harder than I ever thought possible,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Yeah, we’re even.”

You sighed dramatically, letting your head fall against his shoulder. “You’re such a sap.”

“And you love it.”

“Unfortunately,” you echoed, letting the warmth of his presence wrap around you. “Yeah, I do to.”

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of deep indigo and gold, but neither of you noticed. 

You were too lost in each other.

A/N: i fr hope yall like this, love yall, stay safe and all

kiss kiss

:)

[rninies]

✮ she looks just like a dream

౨ৎ sunday x reader. fluff, fem!reader, ceo!sunday is really hot idc, inspired by tears of themis marius card (iykyk), sunday might be ooc im sorry </3 — wc: 2,836

notes. guys i love sunday i want him so bad please

you hold on to the folds of your dress as you look around at the throng of people around you. two days ago, sunday extended an invitation to you to come to a charity auction he would be hosting tonight. one of his assistants had picked you up soon after you had finished with your paperwork, and here you are, taking in the wondrous architecture of a famous resort’s lobby.

everything looks so expensive here, you think, a grim expression on your face. rich people do have it easy, huh.

“please wait here a moment,” his assistant tells you. “i’ll get your registration finalized for you.”

“thank you.” you smile at him, watching her round the corner and leave you alone. again. you desperately want to give sunday a call, but you know he must be busy greeting guests and taking care of the preparations, so with a heavy sigh, you decide against it.

as you watch the stream of wealthy-looking people come in, a conversation catches your interest.

“who does sunday think he is? ordering people around like that!” you turn your head to see two people, seemingly a bit older than you, talking to each other. “i’ve been in the family's corporations longer than him, so there’s nothing to be afraid of!”

you are just about to approach them, but his assistant bustles back with papers. “your registration is done. come with me, i’ll lead you to the venue.” you turn your head back, about to protest, but causing a scene would be more than you bargained for, so you reluctantly follow him into the elevator.

an awkward silence engulfs the metal box you both are standing in before the assistant breaks it. “you don’t have to worry about what he said. he’s been like this for a long time.”

“eh?” you chirp, shocked. “y-you heard that?”

“yes,” he chuckles. “it’s quite common, i would say. i’m quite used to hearing those awful remarks they say about master sunday. he said he doesn’t mind, anyway, so it’s no use trying to defend him.”

you smile a bit at that. typical, indifferent sunday. “yeah… that’s true,” you murmur as the elevator comes to a halt. when you step out, you immediately feel overwhelmed by the flood of people greeting you.

maybe it’s because you’re used to only seeing a few people in the law firm and the fact that you don’t go out to parties often that you feel nauseous at the sight of the overcrowded room. you tried searching for sunday through the mass, but your height makes it harder for you to see above people’s heads.

you eventually spot him reclining in a chair, talking to a few people you recognize as the VIPs of the event. he looks like he isn’t going to finish any time soon, so you wave your hand and mouth that you’ll be waiting for him as sunday glances at you. your boyfriend gives you a small smile before turning his attention back to the group.

there is something different about sunday on this occasion, you decide. you’re used to seeing him in suits at important events, but the fact that his family crest is embossed on the suit makes it so much different. he looks so… different.

“y/n?” sunday's voice knocks you out of your daydream and back into reality. “why do you look so dazed? do i look so attractive that you aren’t able to take your eyes off me?”

your face flushes red, quickly turning away. “w-what are you talking about? you don’t look attractive. i was simply thinking about what drink to get,” you say, regaining your composure. though, you aren’t able to deny the fact that sunday is indeed attractive, even in his normal attire.

curse him and his family genes, you think to yourself.

“eh? love, why are you so mean to me these days?” sunday whines, his infamous puppy dog eyes coming into play. he always uses them on you, knowing they have such an effect on you. there isn’t a single moment in which the use of his puppy dog eyes doesn't make you tell the truth or agree to something he suggested. you, however, learned how to resist sunday's temptations.

“never mind that, mr. sunday,” you remark, a twinkle in your eyes as you look up at him. “if you were busy, you didn’t have to come to me. it looks like people are still wanting to talk to you,” you say, looking around at the throng almost surrounding you both. sunday gives a little chuckle.

“mm, that’s true. i’m quite famous, aren’t i?” sunday returns rather smugly, making you frown. “i’m just kidding! either way, i’m pretty sure they already understand that if I am currently talking to you, i don’t want to be disturbed because no one is trying to disturb-”

“excuse me, master sunday,” sunday's assistant appears, cutting sunday off abruptly. “there’s someone here who’d  like to speak to you.”

the heir of the family sighs. “you really had to choose the worst timing,” he grumbles, running a hand through his hair. “okay, i’ll be back, so stay put,” sunday continues, leaving to follow his assistant. you watch him until he’s out of sight, getting up to choose a drink. refreshers in every shade of color are laid out on the table that you almost don’t know which to pick.

“are you having trouble choosing a drink, my lady?” an unfamiliar voice emerges behind you, and turning around you realize that it is one of the men complaining about sunday in the lobby. “you don’t look too familiar with these drinks so how about you let me help you, hm?”

you cringe slightly at the attempt to flirt, but you offer him a smile in hopes of being polite. “oh, um, no thank you. i can get someone else to help me.”

the man shows no signs of leaving you alone, making you even more uncomfortable. “are you sure? all of the staff are busy as of the moment, so i can help.”

i might as well accept his offer. he doesn’t look like he’ll take no as an answer, you grimace before forcing a pleasant smile on your face. “okay, sure. which drink should-”

“ah, there you are!” sunday materializes, wrapping a hand around your waist and leaning over you. “i’ve been looking all over for you, sweetheart,” he drawls, you raise an eyebrow at the use of the new pet name. you soon catch up with the fact that he’s trying to help you out of this awkward situation.

“sunday! sorry for disappearing. i got thirsty and wanted to get something to drink so here i am,” you take a look at the man beside you, who lets out a ‘tch’ with a scowl on his face and leaves, allowing you to let your breath go. “thanks, sunday. he wouldn’t leave me alone ever since i got to this table.”

“yuki, huh,” sunday mutters, arm still around you. “he’s always been trying to get on my nerves. ever since i was revealed to be the heir to family corporation, that is.”

“really?” you query, surprise crossing over your face. “i overheard him- oh!” an exclamation leaves your sentence hanging as a waiter accidentally bumps into you, spilling the drinks he was carrying onto your dress.

“ah! i am so sorry, madam!” the waiter panics, whipping out a few napkins in an attempt to wipe away the mess on your dress. “i wasn’t watching my step, please forgive me!” he looks even more nervous when he glimpses sunday standing beside you with a minuscule frown on his face.

“hey, hey! it’s okay! this happens a lot during parties anyway,” your try at calming the waiter down wasn’t working, so you nudge sunday to help you reassure the former.

“ow!” sunday hisses, tenderly rubbing the area you elbowed. “i-it’s okay. just be more careful of where you’re going next time, okay?”

“yes!” the waiter squeaks out and leaves, but not before gracing you with another ‘sorry!’ for his mistake. as soon as he disappears, a small pout envelops your face.

“aw, now what am i supposed to do?” you wonder, patting your stained dress with a few more tissues sunday offers you. “I don’t have any spare clothes.”

“hehe,” sunday's little laugh catches your attention, and you furrow your eyebrows in reply. “you, my lady, are in luck because you have the sunday as your boyfriend and he’s always prepared for emergencies like this. come on, let’s go to the guest room.”

“why are we going there?” you question. you’re used to sunday and his little surprises, but you never imagined that he would have a spare change of clothes lying around for you to wear.

“to get you to change, of course!” sunday responds enthusiastically, grabbing a hold of your hand. he finds his assistant first, though, “if anyone asks where i am, tell them i have an important matter to take care of.”

you let out a giggle. “really? important matter? how is this important?”

“that’s because you’re always the most important in my eyes,” sunday tells you with his boyish grin, and he says with such ease that your cheeks are dusted pretty pink. you smile to yourself, a giddy grin, feeling as if it were only you and sunday in the world.

“okay, here we are,” sunday says as you arrive at a room, unlocking it with a gold-clasped key he procures from his pocket. “you can go ahead and change. i’ll wait out here.”

you nod in agreement, entering the room and shutting the door behind you. your gaze immediately falls upon a strikingly gorgeous violet dress laid out on the bed before you, adorned with layers and layers of deep purple that glows under the soft moonlight; complimenting the necklace spread out beside it.

at first glance, it seems like a normal necklace anyone could find in jewelry stores, but as you step forward to take a closer look, you let out a soft gasp: your name is engraved on it. you pick it up, noting how the necklace itself feels expensive.

though, you suppose, you should be used to expensive gifts from sunday. the man had been doing this even before they were dating. you let out a fond sigh; a small smile on your face as you take your dirty dress off to change into the one sunday had prepared.

sunday didn’t have to wait long for you, for you soon opens the door. sunday eyes widen, staring at you in the dress and the necklace he had bought two weeks previously. you look stunning.

you look like you had just stepped out of a fantasy royal novel.

a princess.

you look just like a dream. the prettiest girl sunday has ever seen.

“sunday? hello?” you wave a hand in front of his face, pulling him out of his daydream. “h-how do i look?”

“gorgeous,” sunday isn’t able to say anything other than that; his mind malfunctioning faster than his coffee machine had done this morning. “it-it looks really nice on you. i mean, of course it does, i was the one who chose that dress anyway.”

you press a quick, gentle kiss on sunday's lips, causing sunday to freeze on the spot for the second time that evening. “thank you, sunday. i loved the necklace too, by the way.”

sunday gives you a small smile and another peck on the cheek. “let’s go. the auction is about to start soon,” he says, extending his hand to you and feeling his heart flutter as you take it.

the room they had left is filled with even more people, and if you were being honest, it was suffocating you. you take a seat close to the brightly decorated stage, watching sunday take control of the whole room.

“everyone, welcome to the second charity auction event hosted by the family corporation!” sunday exclaims joyously, as the people in the venue applaud politely. “i won’t be taking too much time for tonight’s opening ceremony, so, without further ado, let the event start!” sunday bows, and signals to the auctioneer to take the lead as he returns to your side.

the auction, with quite a few bidders raising the prices of objects you think shouldn’t cost more than a few hundred dollars, goes smoothly until it reaches the last object.

“alright, our last item for tonight! an amethyst hairpin starting at the cost of one thousand dollars!” the auctioneer states, waiting for bids.

“two thousand!” a hand emerges from the crowd.

“tch… three thousand!”

“three thousand five hundred!”

“four thousand!”

“ten thousand,” sunday interrupts smoothly, shocking both you and the audience. you stare wide-eyed at him, in disbelief that he would bid that much in an auction you didn’t expect him to participate in.

“ten thousand dollars from mr. sunday! going once,” counting down, the auctioneer stares around, but no one seems ready to object. “going twice… sold to mr. sunday at ten thousand dollars!” applause erupts from the audience, congratulating sunday for obtaining the hairpin. you clap as well, figuring out who sunday would spend that much money on a hairpin for (though, to be honest, you already have a feeling who it’s for).

you soon find out though - his assistant soon brings the hairpin over to sunday, who inspects it closely, smiling as he hands it over to you. “here, it’s for you.”

“eh?!” you cry out, in shock, that sunday would be giving you something worth more than your whole apartment. “wh-what do you mean? i thought- wait, huh?!”

sunday only laughs gaily at your reaction, eliciting the attention of bystanders. “why are you so shocked? the necklace you’re wearing costs almost as much as this hairpin. plus, this is a thank-you gift. i know you don’t really like going to big events like this but you still came.”

“of course i did,” you beam softly. “you’re my boyfriend after all - wouldn’t miss any of your events for the world. now, did you want to place the hairpin on me?”

sunday nods, sliding the hairpin slowly into your beautiful hair. the light shade of purple the hairpin reflects matches the dress you had on, and the sight makes sunday's heart fill with joy. 

there’s something about you that feels different in sunday's eyes. you look so… dazzling and gorgeous that he fumbles for words to express himself.

“hm, it matches you very well as expected,” sunday says, a soft tone engulfing his usual cheeky voice. “now then, would you like to escape, my lady?”

“huh?” the sound barely leaves your mouth before sunday drags you away from the auction site, quickly getting into an elevator and pressing the doors shut before anyone could catch up to them. as soon as it opens again at the lobby, sunday makes a beeline for the exit, you thankfully not tripping on your heels.

sunday spots an empty park up ahead, and as expected sunday dashes across to it, letting go of your hand as you both drop to the grass.

you both lie in silence for a few moments, panting, before bursting into sweet laughter that interrupts the solace of the quiet evening.

“that… was probably one of the most epic moments i had… since forever!” sunday exclaims, turning to you with happiness painted over his face. “i was surprised you didn’t try protesting in the elevator.”

“how could i?” you return, out of breath. “i wanted to get out of there… as well. as much as i liked being with you in the family's events, i’d rather have it this way. just the two of us.”

“hm. just the two of us, huh? aw, you flatter me, baby,” sunday coos at you. he suddenly sits up, fumbling through the folds of his suit and sighing in relief when he holds his phone up. “oh, thank god. i thought i left my phone back there,” giving you a small smile, a familiar song starts playing. “would you like to dance, my lady?”

you take his smooth, outstretched hand, placing both hands on his broad shoulders while sunday places one of his hands on your waist.

you both aren’t doing anything special, barely any experience in dancing, and yet your bodies flow gracefully to the tune of the gentle song across the chilly night wind, dancing slowly under the glow of the moon. 

with your foreheads pressed against each other’s, you lock eyes, basking in the beautiful moment together. relaxing never came easy to you both, given your incredibly busy schedules, but once given the chance, you both will take it in a heartbeat.

the familiar worries of being rude don’t cross your mind at all, realizing that you’re too focused on sunday. slow dancing in the dark with only the moon to light their dance floor, away from the chatter of the crowd. absolutely perfect.

the song quickly comes to an end, ending your lover’s dance with a small brush of lips.

“i love you so much, sunday” you whisper softly.

“i love you more, love,” sunday replies, the ghost of a grin upon his lips.

[hencheri]

Oh bae, now that you bring doyoung to the table please tell me how he'd be like. I think he's generally soft (because he's always getting flustered and smiling 😭), and I don't think noncon would suit him, but what do you think??

Please consider writing something about him if you will, maybe he's bipolar? Sometimes so caring and sweet or the most toxic and manipulative bf.

18+ mdni.

warnings: mention of noncon & toxic relationship at the end.

.

i believe into (hard) dom!doyoung, and if someone disagrees, they can take the exit, they aren't invited to the party anyway. doyoung could pass as a sub, but the moment you're alone with him he's not all shy and giggly anymore... he's very dirty with his words and blunt about what he wants. i think he's generally soft, too, but in a careful way, like a dom who really cares for his sub. he likes passionate sex, so i just think he's always on top of you, super close, loving the wet sounds your pussy makes as he fucks his cock into you. doyoung just looks sinful all the time (and slutty), you have to imagine him whispering the dirtiest stuff in your ear, he never runs low on things to say.

doyoung also needs his daily dose of pussy eating. if he doesn't have his face shoved into your pussy first thing in the morning, he honestly goes on his day slightly frustrated. he just really likes the act of it, it's so sexy and sensual to him, but he's so obsessed with your hands pulling on his hair. if you don't, he will put your hands on his head just to feel those little tugs on his scalp. picture it, you're laying on the couch with doyoung between your legs, his head on your stomach. he's bored, tired of scrolling on his phone, so he turns around and removes your leggings, putting his face onto your pussy and slurping your lips loudly into his mouth.

i lied. i also believe into sub!doyoung. not as much as dom!doyoung, but still a little. just a little. doyoung needs his pretty little submissive doll, though. he likes pretty things, and nothing turns him on more than a small shy hand jerking his cock off. yes, even as a sub (he would technically be a dom but idc i like my sub x sub). he tells you in the whiniest, cutest voice to go faster before he cums all over your hand, cheeks and ears flushed red. bunny!doyoung is just so shy to ask for sex even though he's horny 24/7, but when he blurts the words out and you say yes, he doesn't waste any time to pull your panties off of you and nestle his needy cock in your wet cunt.

toxic!doyoung... i'm not so sure, i'll be honest... i can see him being possessive, choosing what you wear, telling you how to behave, but not because you're a brat, just because he wants that control over you. this side of him may not be present at first, but it slowly makes its appearance, doyoung not mentioning it, acting like it doesn't happen. like... he makes you cry a lot, and he's mostly unfazed by it, maybe... i agree with the noncon, i don't think he would, just because when he's angry, he doesn't really seek sexual intimacy, it's not his way of getting his frustration out either.

[idkwhatever580]

Country Girl

Masterlist

Pairings: Natasha romanoff x singer!reader

Prompt: One night a drunken Tony forgets y/n’s Texan roots and dares her to sing something different.

Warnings: dumbass Tony, songfic, swearing

A/N: okay guys. I usually dislike country but it’s growing on me. Yes this is low key a vent lol but in a good way? Idk I know the people that I’m linking the songs to. Like I literally know them. (Well the second one I know know and the first one I know her kids better but I know her too lol)

Disclaimer: I do not own these songs. The first song in the fic is not going to be y/n’s but the second one is. I would like to preface this by saying it’s like a face claim but for a song lol idk how to describe it 😭

Y/n’s Pov

I just finished my last song of the night and I am saying my goodbyes to the drunk people of the infamous Stark party.

Then suddenly Tony walks onto the stage (more like trips) and slurs

“You can’t sing good! Only good singers can sing every genre”

I chuckle at him and say

“Tony I can sing every genre. I just don’t.”

He smiles at me like he’s about to win something.

“Prove it. Sing a country song.”

I smirk and look over at Natasha who is on one of the couches watching me from afar and she gives me an eyebrow raise so I say

“What’s in it for me?”

He thinks and says

“You know how you always want me to make you your own iron man suit?”

He waits for me to nod and when I do he continues

“I’ll make one for you if you can sing a country song with no lyrics”

I hold my hand out immediately saying

“Deal”

He pauses and says

“But! You can’t sing one of the popular ones that everybody knows like before he cheats okay?”

I keep my hand out firm and say

“Deal”

So he takes it and we shake on it. I make it a point to look at the crowd and say

“Y’all are seeing this right?!”

They all nod and I once again give Natasha a little smirk knowing I’m getting an Iron Man suit.

So I go backstage for a second and grab my guitar and then I pull up a stool and adjust my mic.

I take a breath and say

“Here goes nothing”

Making the crowd laugh a bit. Honestly anything can make a drunk person laugh.

Either you can listen to this or just read the words. Idc. It helps if you listen. (It’s only part of the song btw)

I start strumming the guitar like my teacher taught me. I learned how to play on this song so it’s in my heart.

But it doesn’t matter. I’m still nervous as fuck. I might have learned how to play with this song but I never had to perform it.

I never stay in one place too long

A dirt road's singing me a siren song

I smile when I start to feel the music. I can see a couple people recognizing the song. But not many since it’s only like half way popular.

I gotta find a field

I need to spin my wheels

I got a hankering for four wide tires

And I can't help it it's the way I'm wired

'Fore you get too close

At the last minute I decide to change the words since I’m gay and I don’t like boys. Don’t wanna send the wrong signals.

Girl you need to know

I got a heart like a truck

It's been drug through the mud

Runs on dreams and gasoline

And that ole highway holds the key

It's got a lead foot down when it's leaving

Lord knows it's taken a hell of a beating

A little bit of love is all that it's needing

But it's good as it is tough

I got a heart like a-

“Hold on hold on hold on!”

Tony cuts me off so I stop playing. I give him nasty look and everyone in the crowd boos him since he literally cut into the song I was singing. But before I can say anything he says

“I know this song. I wanna hear something I haven’t heard before.”

I roll my eyes and say

“Stark, you actually only asked for a not super popular country song. I’m singing a half way popular country song.”

He shakes his head and says

“Okay me something you know I’ve never heard before.”

I smirk and look over at Natasha and she nods her head.

So I run backstage and tune my violin so I can play the bridge and then I set it on my stand and oick up my guitar again.

“You wanna hear something you’ve never heard before? I’ll give you just that”

He narrows his eyes and says

“What’s the song name?”

I sigh and say

“Leave Texas Dry.”

He folds his arms and sways a bit. He’s still drunk as fuck

“Who’s it by?”

I smile at him sweetly and say

“Y/n motherfucking Y/l/n”

His face goes white knowing he just lost and I say

“You seem to have forgotten my roots Anthony. I was born and raised in Texas. In other words you just lost a bet with a country girl.”

He scoffs and says

“Not yet. The song has to be good. How do I know it’s not chicken shit?!”

I smirk and say

“Let me fucking play and you’ll see”

The crowd low key goes wild and I sit my happy ass back down and start playing.

I’ve only played this song for Natasha, but I sure as hell practiced so many times that I memorized it. I was not about to get it wrong in front of my possible girlfriend at the time.

I remember asking her to be my girlfriend after singing it.

Once again I am NOT Kay O’Neil. I am simply an acquaintance that loves her music and also happens to write fanfics lol.

Here’s the song if you wanna listen before reading.

She’s like summer rain

Takes my cares away

Drives me insane

She’s all I need

Just for her to stay

Is all I plead

While singing I start thinking of her. I am only looking right at her and I think of the first time I met her. Before we dated I could not handle myself. It’s almost funny how clumsy and awkward I got around her.

‘Cause when she smiles

My heart can’t take it

And I’d go miles

Just so we could make it

‘Cause I’m startin’ to see

How hard it would be

To let her pass by

And leave Texas dry

I was just a girl from Texas that ended up with powers. I had no idea what my life was to hold.

She’s pourin’ down

And I can’t get enough

Wanna keep her ‘round

I remember the first time we danced in the rain. I was sad and sitting on the roof. She, being my best friend, had come out and sit there with me. Then it started raining and she pulled me up to go inside but I stopped her and asked her to dance with me.

I stepped on her foot a few times but she didn’t mind.

‘Cause when she smiles

My heart can’t take it

And I’d go miles

Just so we could make it

‘Cause I’m startin’ to see

How hard it would be

To let her pass by

And leave Texas dry

I pick up my violin for the bridge and start playing with all my heart.

Then I look at Natasha and smile seeing her bright smile on display. She can make me melt from one look. And I start singing the bridge.

It’s hard lettin’ go

When her love is all I know

But I want her to do

What she wants to

I wrote that because I was terrified. We had a situationship, but she was scared of love. And I was scared of life without her. But I wanted the best for her so I was ready for rejection.

Then I slow it down for the last chorus.

‘Cause when she smiles

My heart can’t take it

And I’d go miles

Just so we could make it

‘Cause I’m startin’ to see

How hard it would be

To let her pass by

And leave Texas dry

She blows me a kiss and I send her a dopey smile and I suddenly remember the black box in my pocket. I kept it on me for any time that was perfect. And honestly. What a better way to do it?

So I move my hand to signal her up here and I give Wanda a look to make sure Tony doesn’t get in the way of it.

She immediately understands and nods her head having her mission set out.

Then Natasha makes it onto the stage as I sing the last few lines.

Oh don’t leave Texas dry

Leave Texas dry

I stand up and look at her and she has a surprisingly watery smile.

I hand her my violin since the stand is behind her and while she turns around I shush the crowd and get down on one knee while getting the ring box.

She turns around and gasps.

I give her a loving look and say

“Natasha. You have been there for me from the very beginning. I remember my first day here and Clint was showing me around telling me not to get hurt if you didn’t like me. But you surprised everyone by volunteering to help me get my things and you were so kind. I knew in that moment I wanted you. I have known for so long I love you. I love you so so much and I will never stop loving you.”

She has her hand covering her mouth and her eyes are watering. The crowd, thankfully, is dead silent except for the few coos from them since the mic is still on. I have my head mic on today instead of using the normal microphone.

“I asked you to be my girlfriend three years ago with this exact song. And when you said yes I almost passed out. I completely expected you to reject me by punching me in the face. I honestly am surprised you haven’t punched me even now. And I thought, what a better time to ask this question than doing it like I did in the beginning. So please. Make me the happiest woman alive and marry me?”

I look hopeful and she pretends to think about it like she did the first time but ultimately she nods and says

“Yes y/n I would love to marry you”

After that I break and let out a sob and shakily place the ring on her finger. She actually had to help me because I was so shaky. But she pulls me up to stand and kisses me in front of everyone.

And then our moment is ruined by Tony patting me on the back.

I look at Wanda and she sends a sympathetic look that says ‘I did all I could’ and then I smile knowing we at least got a moment. But Tony says

“Look at that ladies and gentlemen and everything in between”

I smirk knowing I rubbed off on him. And he continues regardless

“All of this happened because of me.”

I roll my eyes and instead of fighting with him I just let him have his moment knowing he won’t remember this in the morning and say

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. But you still owe me a suit”

He groans and runs off to get another drink. I turn to Natasha and say

“Let’s go to our room fiancé”

A/N: I hope y’all liked it!!! I def let my country out a bit. But not a lot. You can tell I’m from Texas from the y’all

Taglist comment or message me to be added to Taglist!!!

@ilovesnat @ihartnat

[icarusredwings]

I love how you write call girl Wade and having her as gender fluid, honestly I live for a gender ambiguous take on him, it scratches the brain PERFECTLY

And Logan would be obsessed

Just constantly having Wade in his lap, not letting her get more than an arms reach away unless absolutely necessary for their little scams

Girl why you always in my inbox as anonymous.

Were friends. How am I supposed to tag you in cool posts if I dont know who you are.

I do like genderfluid wade and ive been messing around with them for a bit. Wade is literally the "I think im gender fluid but theres a gunfight going on 24/7 so idc about that rn"

So if logan were to genuinely ask, gently bring it up, Hed probably joke at first like wym haha im not a girl and logan would just blink and be like "Just be who you want to be" and suddenly- He's at a dress shop, sitting outside the dressing room awkwardly making eyecontact with the employees who walk by to see him holding 18 different dresses.

"Sir you cant smoke in here"

"You want me to put it out on your forehead?"

When wade comes out theyre in this really pretty kind of pinup dress. "What do you think!?"

Logan sighs, puts it out on his boot and smiles fondly. "Well arnt you gonna spin around?"

So he does and then giggles. "It has pockets!"

So he looks up to the clerk like "What other colours you have of that?"

Wanda has all sorts of dresses now but her signature for gamble nights is a short sparkly one almost similar to sabrina carpenters and a garter with prada heels.

Even pearls. Real pearls to match what ever colour suit logan is wearing. A small "dibs" on her at all times.

By definition Call girl means a sex worker who works by appointment only rather then standing the streets or working for a "any time" brothel.

Sometimes tables get suspicious.

"Whos the girl?"

"Ahh nutin. Just a call girl."

"You pay'er to walk around witcha or smth?"

"Something like that. I play better if I have someone pretty to look at instead of ya ugly mugs."

Pretty much, anyone who makes an appointment dies. Mainly because thats her profession. To butter up her targets, take'em home and then takem out in body bags. Since call girls are "higher class" then regular prostitutes they often have protection with cartel or mafia, especially in this particular setting.

So yeah, sometimes Logan has to grit his teeth and play pimp. "Sell" Wanda off to a sorry sap but it makes him so happy to know she just comes back home and fucks him silly to soothe his jealousy. Its a rush lifestyle. Always on the go, always having the adrenaline of winning or the endorphins of flirting, leading them on, the relief that rushes down wandas back when she finally gets to kill them.

Its a great little scheme they have going on here but sometimes theres more trouble then they bargin for or sometimes one of the players will call wanda ugly and it sets Logan off and sends wade into a hysterical session of tears and refusing to let anyone see them for awhile without any make up on. It pisses patch off a lot actually because he works hard to make sure she feels pretty at all times, even telling her how pretty she is while holding her hair back and their head in the toilet. Cancer is not any kinder to them in this au but at the end of the day if Wanda can make everyone in this room want a piece of his ass while said ass is sitting on Patches lap? Theyre happy.