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gojossocks · 2 months ago

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Heaven knows

Gojo x Reader Genre: fluff, angst Summary: A glimpse of you and Satoru's relationship before you finally get married. wc: 5.3k a/n: this is set after they defeated Sukuna! so 2018. Nobody died <3

The grand doors swung open, and there you were, framed by the soft glow of sunlight streaming in behind you. In that moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, and so did he. You were radiant, ethereal in the way only you could be, adorned in your wedding dress that seemed to shimmer with its own light.

You look exactly like an angel.

It was like heaven had come down in the form of you— a miracle that Satoru Gojo is privileged enough to see.

1999

You had marched up right up to him on the first day of school, unimpressed by the murmurs of your classmates around you.

“Satoru, right?” You asked, giving him a warm smile despite the dismissive look he gave you.

“I am Y/N!” You announced excitedly as you extended a tiny hand toward him.

He didn’t shake your hand, just stared at it with a displeased look.

It was the first time someone called him by his first name who isn’t a part of his clan.

But before he could even respond or point out your audacity to call him by his first name, you proceeded into a rambling monologue about the first time you two had met.

He blinked at you, his blue eyes narrowing in slight suspicion as he debated whether to bully you or ignore you. The memory you described was extremely vague to him—something about your clan visiting his, something that he doesn’t even think worth remembering.

“You don’t remember, do you?” you teased, tilting your head with a grin, completely ignoring his lack of response. “Your clan was so serious when my family visited. And you just sat there! All boring and serious too, like the world was ending.”

His brows furrowed and he crossed his arms, “I wasn’t boring!”

“You were! You were talking about tech a nick or something and responsibilities, you didn’t want to play.”

“I did have responsibilities,” he muttered defensively, his chest puffing out slightly. “And it’s technique, you weirdo.”

“Sure,” you replied with a shrug, your grin never fading. “Wanna prove you’re not boring by watching Digimon with me?”

That seemed to catch his interest. Hesitantly, he lets you take his hand to lead him where you want to go.

From that day on, it felt like his life truly had begun when you granted him with your sunshine. For the first time in his life, Satoru wasn’t pressured to be anything he needed to be. You made him feel normal, something he didn’t even know he wanted until then.

You were his first best friend. You were the first person who saw him for who he truly was, not what he represented or what he’s destined to be.

The world had never quite felt right anymore unless you were in it.

2007

Satoru has changed over the years. The roles between you had reversed; you were the calm and steady one now. Gone was the stiff, overly serious boy you met when you were kids. Now, he was obnoxious and loud, and painfully obsessed with you.

But despite all this, he was still your Satoru.

Satoru always knew that he felt strongly about you, he just wasn’t sure what it was exactly. All he knew was that he likes it when you look at him, the way your voice softens when you speak to him, and how your touch—even the slighted brush of your fingers, is something that he desperately craves.

He never passes up an opportunity to pull out lame excuses just to touch you, which earns several eye rolls from your circle of friends.

“Your hair’s messy,” he’d say, brushing an imaginary strand from your forehead and then putting an arm around your shoulders to ‘keep your hair in place.’ Or dramatically say (with an arm around your waist) ‘come hold my hand, what if an ugly scary curse comes over to kill me?’ just so he could imagine (and plot) so many more moments where he can hold you.

Everyone knew about it too. It was impossible not to notice. Satoru wasn’t exactly subtle about the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the room. It was an open secret that you’d eventually get married anyway. You were practically glued to his side—at lunch, in class, during missions. Even Suguru would tease him mercilessly about it.

“Insufferable. You two are insufferable.” Suguru said one afternoon, groaning at the sight of you and Satoru feeding each other mochi during lunch break.

Satoru just fluttered his eyes mockingly at him before he pulled you closer to him, practically hugging you. You didn’t pull away, like always. It never occurred to him that you might just like him back because of how much you don’t mind it when he’s hogging your personal space.

Eventually, all those constant ‘we’re just friends’ seem to wear on Satoru.

He felt ridiculous. Satoru Gojo, bearer of the six eyes, rendered weak by your touch.

Friends didn’t make his chest tighten every time they smiled, didn’t make his stomach flip with a single laugh. Friends didn’t leave him awake at night, staring at the ceiling, replaying the way your head rested on his shoulder or how your hand lingered just a second too long on his arm. Friends certainly didn’t steal the air from his lungs the way you did every time you walked into a room. No, it was only you.

And then there was the kiss.

It happened during one of your movie nights.

It started as a joke—when you asked him about his worst kiss so far.

Poor Satoru was blushing profusely when you asked him that question. At the back of his mind, he wanted his first kiss to be you.

But he couldn’t say that, of course. So instead, he shrugged, trying to play it cool. “I don’t kiss and tell,”

You raised an eyebrow, your grin widening as you saw right through him. “Oh my god,” you gasped, sitting up straighter. “You’ve never kissed anyone, have you?”

“What?” Satoru scoffed, but his voice cracked slightly, betraying him. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course, I’ve kissed someone.”

Your eyes narrowed, sparkling with amusement. “Liar.”

“I’m not lying!” he protested, his blush deepening.

“Uh-huh,” you said, unconvinced. “If you’re not lying, then why are you blushing?”

“I’m not blushing!”

“You’re totally blushing.”

He groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Of course I’ve kissed someone!”

“Prove it, then.”

The challenge hung in the air between you, crackling like electricity.

“Prove it?” he echoed, his voice faltering for the first time. “Maybe I should show you to shut you up.”

You rolled your eyes but there’s something about the way you looked at him that caught him off guard, “You’re so full of yourself, Satoru.”

There was a pause, the teasing atmosphere suddenly shifting into something heavier, quieter.

“...We could try it,” You said, your voice a bit nervous. He gulped when he noticed the seriousness in your voice.

After a moment, your eyes met his.

“For practice,” you added quickly, as if saying it out loud would make it true.

And he just nodded at your dumb excuse. “For practice,” he repeated, nodding as if he’s convincing himself.

Neither of you moved at first. The air between you seemed to thicken, the rooftop suddenly too quiet except for the distant hum of the city below.

“Okay,” you murmured, leaning in slightly.

“Okay,” he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your faces were close now, close enough that you could see the nervous flicker in his usually confident blue eyes. You felt the warmth of his breath against your skin, the faint scent of mint and whatever candy he’d been eating earlier.

Then, your lips met.

It was soft—tentative at first, like you were both afraid to mess it up. His hand hovered awkwardly near your jaw, unsure whether to touch you or not. You leaned into him just a little, testing the waters, and he followed your lead.

Your lips are soft, too soft. In fact, he wants to keep practicing with you just so he could feel your lips on his again.

It lasted only a few seconds before you both pulled away, blinking at each other like you’d just crossed some invisible line neither of you could unsee. He tried to play it cool by shoving his feelings down after, giving you a shit-eating grin you love to roll your eyes at.

It was extremely hard for him to get his shit together when all that he could think about was that moment. He looked like a fool when he kept stealing glances at you every chance he got.

but what is this feeling exactly?

He just wanted to be by your side all the time, to go where you want to go as long as he can have you near.

And it wasn’t until Shoko mentioned that you were going on a date that Satoru finally admitted to himself that it was not platonic— the feelings he had been bubbling up inside him since he was nine.

“She’s what?” he asked, nearly choking on his drink.

“Going on a date,” Shoko repeated, her tone maddeningly nonchalant as she exhaled a stream of smoke. “Some non-sorcerer asked her out.”

Satoru froze, the glass in his hand halfway to his lips. A sharp, unfamiliar knot twisted in his chest.

“No way.” he said, though the doubt and the pitch in his voice betrayed him. “No fucking way. You’re joking, right?”

“She already said yes,” Shoko added, the corner of her lips quirking into a smirk. “Maybe you should stop being an idiot and do something about it.”

The words hit him like a sucker punch, and he hated how his brain instantly imagined you with someone else—laughing, smiling, being exactly the way you were with him, but for someone else.

Satoru didn’t even think—his body moved before his mind caught up, and before he knew it, he teleported directly to your room for the first time, barely managing to stick the landing.

The soft hum of music filled the air, and you were perched in front of your mirror, carefully applying your makeup. You didn’t notice him at first because you were too focused on lining your lips (and staring directly into the abyss).

He leaned against your doorframe, his heart pounding harder than any fight he’d been in.

“Cancel your date,” he blurted out.

You jolted, spinning around so fast you almost knocked over a perfume bottle. “What the hell, Satoru?! What are you doing here? And how did you even get in?”

He ignored your questions, stepping closer to you. “I mean it—don’t go. Please?”

You blinked at him, your expression shifting from surprise to confusion. “What are you talking about? Why do you care?”

“Because it’s a waste of time,”

Your arms crossed defensively, your gaze hardening as you tilted your head, demanding answers. “And why’s that?

“Because... because…” he began, his voice trailing off as frustration bubbled to the surface. His icy blue eyes locked with yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“Because I like you, alright?” he finally confessed. His voice was raw, unguarded, and louder than he intended, but he couldn’t stop now. “There. I said it.”

The confession hung in the air between you, the weight of it pressing down on his chest. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he watched your reaction, searching for any sign of how you felt.

Your gaze softened, and to his surprise, a small, amused smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

“You’re such an idiot,” you said, shaking your head.

“Yeah, I know,” he muttered, shoulders slumping as he braced himself for rejection.

But then you stepped closer, the teasing edge in your voice replaced by something gentler. “No, Satoru. I mean, it took you long enough.”

His eyes snapped up to meet yours, wide with disbelief. “Wait... what?”

The way you smiled at him then—soft, genuine, and a little exasperated—sent a rush of warmth through him. “I thought it was obvious,” you teased, laughing softly.

For a moment, he just stared at you, as if trying to process what you’d just said. A grin broke across his face, wide and boyish. “So... you like me too?” he asked excitedly.

Your laughter deepened, the sound soft and melodic. “How could you not notice?”

Before you could say anything more, he reached for you, his fingers curling gently around your wrist as he pulled you into him. You yelped, startled by the sudden closeness, but the protest never left your lips. His arms encircled you, holding you tightly, finally after waiting years to do this. Your hands hesitated for a moment before finding their place around his waist, your touch tentative but grounding.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice low and trembling slightly with emotion. His breath was warm against your hair as he buried his face in it, letting his eyes close. “Does that mean you’re dumping the loser who asked you out and you’re gonna spend the afternoon kissing me?”

“Satoru.”

As Satoru stands near the altar, his usual confidence falters as his heart skips a beat—then stops entirely.

He swears that he had never been more in love with you, if that’s even possible.

This feeling, an ache that stretched from his chest to his fingertips, leaves him trembling with an emotion he couldn’t put into words. He had never imagined it was possible to love someone this deeply, to feel his heart swell and his stomach churn with nervous exhilaration just from the mere sight of you.

And everything that he has ever done right, everything he had lost, was all worth it because it led to this moment.

It led him back to you.

2008

It happened after a mission. The two of you had just finished taking down a particularly troublesome curse, your energy spent and your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps.

Satoru, for once, was exhausted. But you, for once, were weirdly energetic— skipping ahead of him on the rain-soaked streets, your laughter carrying through the quiet night.

Despite this, he insisted on walking you back to campus, even if his legs felt like lead. He just wanted to be around you a little longer.

The night was heavy with the smell of rain-soaked pavement, the kind of scent that lingered and wrapped around you, making everything feel muted.

You stopped suddenly in the empty area, just before you reached the school gates.

“Are you even listening to me?” he asked, tilting his head toward you.

You didn’t say anything more, just pulled out your newest ipod out of your pocket, fumbling with the earbuds tangled in the cords. Satoru leaned against a lamppost nearby, watching you with an amused tilt to his head.

“What’re you doing?” He rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched into a smile.

You brought a finger up to his lips and looked at him mischievously. “Shh.”

“Music helps me relax,” you said, plugging one earbud into your ear and offering him the other. “Here. Try it.”

Satoru hesitated, then shrugged, taking the tiny speaker and popping it into his ear. Almost immediately, the familiar opening notes of Every Breath You Take by The Police filtered through, slow and haunting.

“This?” He scrunched up his nose. “Really? The Police? That’s so lame.”

You looked at him, a tired but content smile tugging at your lips. “This song’s a classic,” you said softly, “It’s my favorite song!”

He opened his mouth to retort, but you surprised him by stepping closer, your eyes sparkling with a mix of playfulness and something else—something he couldn’t quite name. Without warning, you stepped closer, extending a hand toward him.

“Dance with me,” you said, your voice barely louder than the melody playing between you.

“What? Here?” Satoru raised a brow, glancing around at the deserted street.

“Yes, here.” You laughed, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward you. “Come on, Satoru. Don’t tell me you’ve never danced before.”

Of course he didn’t.

He spent most of his life training to be the strongest and loving you and only you.

He let you guide him, his free hand hovering awkwardly until you placed it firmly on your waist. You placed one hand on his shoulder and the other intertwined with his.

The song continued to play, the melody wrapping around you both as you swayed.

Satoru stood stiffly for a moment, his brain short-circuiting as he tried to process what was happening.

“Relax,” you teased, giving his shoulder a gentle shove.

It was awkward at first but eventually, you fell into a rhythm.

“You do realize this song’s about obsession and borderline stalking, right?” he said, a smirk adorning his lips.

“It’s a love song.” You corrected him, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you. “I think it’s kinda depressing, in a way. To be able to love someone from afar but not being able to actually love them. I don’t know if that makes any sense, but it’s devotion nonetheless.

“You’re insane,” he replied, but there was a fondness in his tone that made your grin widen.

Like in the movies, it suddenly started to rain. The rain was coming down soft at first, then it became heavier as the droplets started to soak through your uniforms and plastered your hair to your faces.

But neither of you really cared. Not when you were so close, your warmth cutting through the chill of the night.

The rain soaked through his hair and trickled down his neck, and Satoru couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when you were looking at him like that, your eyes sparkling with mischief and something softer. Something about the way you looked at him, your face soft and serene under the rain’s glow, made him feel... grounded.

“You’re terrible at this,” you teased, your voice light despite the exhaustion in your body.

“Hey, I’m great at this,” he shot back, spinning you suddenly and making you laugh. The sound echoed through the empty street, warm and full of life, and Satoru realized he’d do anything to hear it again and again.

When the chorus hit, you rested your head against his chest, your movements slowing. He felt your breathing even out, your exhaustion catching up to you, but you didn’t pull away. His arms tightened around you instinctively, holding you as if you might slip away if he didn’t.

“I want to be yours.” He murmured through your hair, hiding his face from you out of nervousness. “Can I be yours, Y/N?”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him.

“I love you, Satoru.”

He blinked, his heart stumbling in his chest. “Really?” A slow grin spread across his face. “You beat me to it.”

You giggled, the sound melting whatever nervousness was left in him.

“I love you, Y/N. Can I be yours then?” He asked, his voice dropping slightly. “Can I be your boyfriend?”

“I think my answer is pretty clear, you idiot.”

And with that, you pulled him down into a kiss, the rain pouring around you like something out of a movie. Satoru just held you tighter, thinking that he didn’t need anything else.

He just needed to be yours.

As you walk down the aisle, closer and closer to him, his breath hitched when finally— fucking finally, your eyes met his.

You smiled at him with lachrymose eyes. Satoru smiles back, wide and unrestrained, so much so that his cheeks are starting to hurt. His heart is pounding loudly in his chest that he’s afraid that everyone else in the church would hear how much his heart beats just for you.

You were ethereal.

A dream, really.

A dream he doesn’t ever want to wake up from.

Satoru had prepared himself for this moment—or at least he thought he had.

He told himself he needed to be strong for you.

It had been years, after all.

But no amount of preparation could steady the storm raging within him as the moment finally came. His jaw tightened, his smile strained, and he forced himself to breathe, even as each breath felt heavier than the last.

His chest constricted, and for that single, fragile moment, it felt as though everything he had ever wanted was still within reach.

When you finally tore your gaze from him and walked past, your white dress trailed like a whisper and a mockery of the life he would never have with you. Satoru just watched, rooted to his place.

His heart clenched painfully, screaming at him to reach out, to stop you, but he stayed still. He had no right. This was your moment, and he had promised himself he wouldn’t ruin it—not for you.

Your happiness means everything to him. It always has. Even if it means watching you walk toward another man, toward a future that doesn’t include him.

Satoru’s eyes followed you as you made your way to your soon-to-be husband, Nanami Kento.

2013

The rain was relentless, pouring in heavy sheets that blurred the world around him, but Satoru barely noticed it. His hands were shoved deep into his coat pockets, his shoulders hunched against the cold, as he walked toward you. His breath fogged in the air, but it wasn’t the cold that made his chest tighten—it was the thought of what he was about to do.

Through the rain-streaked glass, he saw you sitting at a small table by the window. You were hunched over, your uniform still clinging to your frame. You were drenched because you waited for him at the park before he texted you to meet up with him in this café instead.

Satoru nearly stopped right there, frozen by the sight of you. That look on your face—the same tired, fragile expression you’d worn for the past six months—made something inside him shatter.

Satoru almost cracked.

But he couldn’t.

He had to do this. For you.

He swallowed the lump rising in his throat, forcing himself to take another step, and then another, until he was close enough to see the rain streaking down your cheeks. Or were those tears? He couldn’t tell. He didn’t want to.

His breath was uneven, his heart pounding as if it were trying to break free from his chest.

He hated this. Hated himself. But it didn’t matter.

This was for the best.

“Satoru?” you asked, your voice soft but cautious. Disappointment is written all over your face but your determination to make your relationship work outweighs it.

He froze for a second. God, you looked so beautiful, even like this—wet, shivering, and confused. A part of him wanted to just pull you into his arms and to apologize for what he was about to do, hold you so close that the world would have no choice but to give you to him without exceptions.

But instead, he dropped his gaze and forced the words out. “We need to talk.”

You blinked, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

He slid into the seat across from you, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. He couldn’t meet your eyes, so he stared at the surface instead, tracing a crack in the wood grain with his finger. “I’ve been thinking… about us.”

“What about us?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

Satoru exhaled sharply. “I don’t think this is working anymore.”

You stiffened, your fingers tightening around your coffee cup.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Satoru, what are you saying?”

“I’m not in love with you anymore,” he said, his voice hollow, as if that would make it hurt less—for both of you. “For a while now.”

The words tasted like poison on his tongue, each one more painful than the last.

Your eyes widened, disbelief etched across your face. “You– you don’t mean that.”

When he finally looked at you, he thought about telling you the truth—that he was terrified of putting you in danger, that loving him came with risks you didn’t deserve. But he swallowed it down.

“I do.” His voice cracked. “I’ve been feeling this way for a while. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

You shook your head, tears pooling in your eyes. “Satoru, if something’s wrong, we can fix it. Just talk to me. I know you love me—”

“There’s nothing to fix!” he interrupted, louder than he intended. He winced at the hurt that flashed across your face. Softer now, he added, “It happens. People fall out of love. Don’t make this situation harder for the both of us, please. I can’t give you what you want.”

“You’re lying. Why are you doing this?” you whispered in disbelief. You quickly held his hand. “You’re trying to push me away. Just tell me what’s really going on.”

He couldn’t answer that. Not the truth, at least. That being with him would mean a lifetime of danger, of being a target simply because of who he was. That he couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt because of him. That he loved you too much to keep you by his side.

“I’m not lying,” he said quietly, the finality in his tone slicing through the air between you. “This is just how I feel.”

Your shoulders sagged, and for a moment, he thought you might collapse under the weight of his words.

You took a shaky step back, wrapping your arms around yourself as though you were trying to hold yourself together. “I see.”

“Sorry, Y/N.”

Without another word, he turned and walked away, the rain drowning out the sound of his footsteps and the sobs he was certain he would hear if he stayed a second longer.

He didn’t look back. He couldn’t afford to. Because if he did, he knew he wouldn’t have the strength to leave.

The first few years after your breakup were a strange limbo. You stayed friends—on the surface, at least. But there was always tension, unspoken words that hung heavy between you. He could see it in the way your eyes lingered on him during missions, the hope that flickered and faded every time he said something or did something that he used to do with you.

You waited for him to come back to you. Satoru knew that.

And for a time, he almost let himself believe that he can. He just needed enough time to muster up the courage to come back to you.

and when he finally received that wedding invitation on a random friday morning, he stared at it for hours before opening it. He felt like he died twice as much when he also learned that your fiancé gave up his job as a sorcerer just to have a peaceful life with you.

The life Satoru dreamed of giving you.

That night, for the first time in years, he let himself cry. Not the quiet, controlled tears he shed in the rain that day, but the kind that left him gasping for breath.

And Satoru Gojo, the strongest, could do nothing but watch.

Looking back at everything he had done to keep you safe, Satoru doesn’t know which one’s better—losing you for good or losing you to someone else.

Always an arm’s length yet never close enough.

His hands trembled as he clenched them into fists, his nails digging into his palms. He bit down on his lower lip hard, a desperate attempt to stifle the sound threatening to escape—a choked sob, a plea, a broken fragment of a heartache he couldn’t afford to show.

Out of the corner of his eye, he felt a nudge at his elbow. Gojo turned to see Shoko, quiet as ever, holding out his sunglasses.

Shoko looked at him with such softness and sympathy, one that Gojo wasn’t sure he could bear right now.

Shoko didn’t say anything, didn’t need to.

Gojo took the sunglasses, slipping it over his eyes. He gave her a half-hearted grin before painfully turning his gaze back on you.

His resolve cracks little by little, then all at once, when he finally sees the way you look at Nanami Kento.

Gojo will never have the privilege to wake up to you in the morning, to be the first person who would witness your sleepy eyes as the sunlight slowly makes its way into the room. Never again will he have the privilege of making you breakfast, of watching your expression shift from fondness to playful exasperation as you scold him for drenching his pancakes in too much honey, his sweetness nearly as overindulgent as the way he looked at you. He will never be able to be the recipient of your lovesick eyes, that softness in your smile that was only ever reserved for him.

He’ll never be able to feel your touch again, at least not in the way he yearns for used to.

Gojo’s mind wanders off at the stolen moments he buried deep within his heart. How it seems like it was only yesterday when he’s still in your shared bed, with you curled up by his side while he wraps his arms around you, and how you’d point out that he was clingy even if he knew you loved every second of it anyway. How you caress his face and laugh at his antics only to assure him that he is the only one you love and that you won’t ever go away, putting his demons to sleep just with the sound of your voice.

Oh, what a bliss.

And perhaps the most gut wrenching realization of all is that it was almost him. Those nights full of whispered secrets and promises to grow old together all vanished just because he was too scared of not being able to protect you.

Nanami will have all that he dreams of, all that he let go of, and all of you.

What a lucky man he is, to be someone that is seen and loved by you. You look at Kento like how you used to look at him, so full of love and adoration as if he was the one who put all the stars in the sky.

He wanted to hate him, to despise the man who now holds your heart, to curse the universe for giving your love to someone else. But how could he? How could he, when Nanami Kento wears his love for you so plainly, so unabashedly, as if it were his very lifeblood? All he needs to hear is evident in the unspoken devotion that screams in the way Nanami looks at you—a love so evident it makes him force to swallow down the bile in his throat.

If it wasn’t clear before, it was painfully clear now—the ache in his chest was sharper, more unbearable than any blow he had endured as the strongest. His ribs felt as though they might collapse under the weight of his regret.

The realization comes all too late and unrelenting, you were already promising forever in the arms of a man who wasn’t him.

He wanted to shout, to tell you to stop the wedding. to choose him. to beg for your forgiveness.

Would you take him back?

The voices in his head are becoming louder, much louder than ever. He was so stupid. So cowardly. How could he have let you go when being with you is the only thing he had ever truly wanted?

He stayed firm in his place, knuckles turning white as he held himself together.

Not once did you look back at him.

It has always been you, you had once told him.

Yet you have already said I do—

It has always been you.

It will always be you.

a/n: sorry, did i scam you?

my song inspo for this is bizarre love triangle by new order. I feel like it's such a depressing love song aka love triangle between the writer, his lover, and something else. In Gojo's case, it's his duty as the strongest.

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk fanfic #gojo x reader angst #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen angst

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lemonlover1110 · 6 months ago

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𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 15] His Baby Girl Pt. 1

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Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

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Toji tries to get adjusted to the fact that you’re seeing Shiu. It isn’t just a plot to get back at him but no, you’re actually seeing Shiu. You’ve started to see the man romantically, and Toji can’t do anything else but sit back and watch it happen. He’s more focused on something else, his daughter.

The daughter that he told you to abort when he found out that you weren’t getting back together. He’s not sure if this was the right decision, but what he knows is that he’s excited about her presence. Nesting isn’t something that only pregnant women do, or at least Toji is getting everything set up for his baby girl.

“Megumi, did I not tell you to start using a coaster?” Toji nearly yells. Stuff he’s never worried about, and he’s sure he won’t care in a few weeks. He needs the place to be pristine, even though his daughter isn’t going to stay in the apartment.

“You know that she’s not here?” Megumi responds, taking his glass from the table and finishing the drink in one swift gulp. Megumi won’t bring up that the baby isn’t going to be staying here yet… He doesn’t want to add salt to the wound.

“She’ll be here at any moment.” Toji says, a phrase that makes his stomach churn. Any day now he expects the call from you that you’ve gone into labor, and he knows he will start freaking out as if he hasn’t gone through this before. It’s almost been fifteen years– No, Megumi’s birthday just passed, it’s been fifteen years.

“You do know she’s not going to stay with us?” Megumi replies, and Toji chuckles. He forgot to break the news to the teenager.

“She’s staying for the first two or three months.” Toji announces, which takes Megumi by surprise. He wasn’t informed of that detail. “Just while handling motherhood and whatnot… Newborns aren’t easy.”

“Uncle Shiu wasn’t available?” Megumi asks, which earns a glare from Toji. Uncle Shiu, a name that Megumi has never used up until he found out that you were seeing the man. “I mean… I’m sure he has more space and since they’re–”

“Shiu is not your uncle, don’t call him that.” Toji scolds his son, though he knows it goes in one ear and out the other. It’s Megumi’s way of getting back at his father for… Everything. “I convinced her to stay with us since I want to spend time with my daughter. They’re staying in my bedroom.”

“What about Kali’s nursery?” Megumi questions, considering that there’s a whole room for the baby. It does make sense that you’d stay with the baby, it’s just surprising that Toji is willing to give up his room.

“I’m sleeping on the floor of the nursery.” Toji answers, and Megumi can’t help but laugh. It feels so unlike his father, but he has to give the man some credit. Toji’s changed for the better

“Can your body handle that?” Megumi is fighting back a smirk, and Toji really shouldn’t, he’s the adult in the room, but he sticks out his middle finger at his son. Megumi chuckles before putting his hands up defensively, “Hey, I’m just saying, you’re forty in a couple of days.”

“I will teach the new kid respect, since you clearly don’t know what that means.” Toji rolls his eyes, and Megumi copies the action.

“Okay, old man. Whatever you say.”

Toji’s phone begins to ring a little past midnight, and he groggily picks it up. Who in the world would call at this forsaken hour? He doesn’t check who it is, he’s about to curse out whoever it is, but then he hears you in pain. His eyes shoot wide, and he tries to kick off the blanket off him.

“It’s time?” He asks, knowing damn well that it is. You’re not calling him this late for no reason. Toji is waiting for an actual response that isn’t you moaning in pain, and while he waits, he begins to get dressed.

“Come pick me up.” Is all you say, and he won’t question you further right now. He thought that the agreement was that you'd meet up at the hospital since you were staying with Shiu for a while; Shiu would be the one to drive you, but something happened.

“Your place of Shiu’s?” Toji makes sure to get the place right before heading over there. He furrows his brows when he hears your place, but he won’t question it either. Right now it’s not the time to start an interrogation. You might curse him to death if he takes one minute longer. “I’ll be there in ten.”

“Ten?!” You sound absolutely mortified. Toji bites down his tongue before deciding.

“Five. I’ll make it five minutes.”

Toji picks you up, and all the questions that he had in mind are gone. You’re cursing him out for even breathing, he can’t even think of questioning you. With every contraction you throw in a new insult, something that he didn’t know you had in your body.

“Stupid motherfucker, stop breathing.” “You are literally so pathetic, how did I get pregnant by you?” “Just drop me off here, I’m so embarrassed to be seen near you.” And what did he do? Just breathe a little weird while you were having a contraction– Well, and knock you up but that’s besides the point.

You’re more calm once you’re in the hospital though, and you’re a total angel after you get the epidural. Toji chuckles at the sight of you scrolling through your phone, a completely different person compared to the woman that he picked up just a few hours ago.

“You can go back home and sleep, I’ll call you when it’s officially time.” You tell Toji, who’s mindlessly staring at you. You don’t care to look away from your phone, guessing Toji is indifferent to this whole situation. Toji never really cared to keep by your side when you were sick as his wife, you doubt he’d want to stay here for hours on end in this situation.

“Where’s Shiu?” Toji asks, ignoring your statement. You’re definitely more calm now, if you start an argument Toji knows that you won’t start hitting him. You stare at Toji, wondering if he’s up to something… He gave up after he found out that you and Shiu had a thing, so you doubt he has something up his sleeve. “I just thought you were staying with him–”

“Business trip. He wanted to stay because he knew I was due soon but I convinced him to go, it was only going to be the weekend.” You sigh, putting your hand over your bump. “Kali was just too excited.”

“Hell, I’d be excited too if Shiu left me the fuck alone.” Toji responds, rolling his eyes at the thought of Shiu. His best friend. “Did he come up with that name too? Kali?”

“He– Well, he brought it up and it stuck around. It’s cute.” You admit, and Toji sighs. Yeah, that man has named his daughter as well. It’s a cute name, and he doubts he really has a say anymore. “I mean, if you don’t like it you can still change it.”

“Do I really have a say in this?” Toji asks, and you nod your head, an inquisitive look coming to your face.

“Why wouldn’t you? You’re her father.” You respond, and Toji bites down his lip. It’s hard to remember when there’s the perfect man right next to you, about to become his daughter’s stepfather. Maybe he shouldn’t compare himself to Shiu so much, like that he’d be more at peace.

“With Shiu becoming your boyfriend and all.” He says, and you roll your eyes. He’s given up but he’s still jealous of Shiu. Who could blame him? “I like the name Kali. It’s cute. I already got some clothes with her name.”

“If this is about the clothes you can always buy new ones.” You remind him, though he shakes his head. He likes the name. “Alright, you can go home now.”

“I’m not leaving you alone.” Toji answers, pulling out his phone to send a message to his old friend. As much as Toji doesn’t like the man anymore, he knows you want Shiu to be here. “Did you call him?”

“I don’t want to bother him.” You shake your head, putting all your attention on your phone again. You don’t want to have this conversation with Toji of all people.

“I don’t think it’ll bother him.” He’s looking through his contacts to find Shiu. Just a quick message, and Shiu will be on his way over.

“Just leave it alone, Toji.” You sigh. You see that he’s typing something in his phone, and you can see right through him, “Toji! Leave it alone.”

“He’s going to want to be here. Or at the very least know.” Toji argues, and you furrow your brows. “I’m trying to help you–”

“What do you know about relationships, Toji? Do I need to remind you that we got divorced because you were such a shitty husband?” You slightly raise your voice, and Toji bites his tongue. “You need to stay out of this, leave Shiu alone on his business trip. I don’t want to worry him.”

“I thought the epidural was supposed to help.” He mutters, and you glare at him.

“Aren’t you going to leave?” You ask him, and he shakes his head. Toji gets comfortable on his seat before saying,

“I’m going to wait for my daughter right here.”

#toji x y/n #toji zenin #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro #daddy toji #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji x you #dilf toji #toji fushiguro x you #toji fanfic #toji fic

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dandelionsresilience · 4 months ago

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Dandelion News - November 8-14

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles!

1. Agrivoltaics for sustainable food, energy and water management in East Africa

“[… C]ertain crops […] thrived under the partial shade provided by solar panels. The shade also helped to reduce water loss through evaporation, leading to more efficient water usage. Additionally, rainwater harvested from the panels could be used to supplement irrigation needs.”

2. The world’s largest wildlife crossing is now standing in California

“The structure crosses a 10-lane freeway and has been built to help protect all sorts of wildlife[….] And it’s not just for fauna: some 5,000 plants grown from seed collected within a five-mile radius have been nurtured in two specially created nurseries. The bridge will be topped with wildflowers, shrubs and native grasses that will also benefit insect populations.”

3. Judge rules the military must cover gender-affirming surgery for members' dependents

“[Judge] Torresen found that [gender-affirming] surgery is indeed medically necessary and that the Defense Department had not shown that any important governmental interest was advanced by denying the coverage.”

4. Social Media Can Boost Caracal Conservation

“The team found that searches on the species doubled after the project [using “social media to educate about the caracal”] launched. […] ”The research demonstrates how a public interest in urban ecology and the global phenomenon of ‘cats on the internet’… can be harnessed to leverage conservation action.””

5. US Labor Board Bans Captive Audience Meetings to Ensure 'Truly Free' Worker Choice

“[T]he National Labor Relations Board on Wednesday ruled that employers cannot force workers to attend anti-union speeches. [… W]orkers will no longer have to take part in so-called "captive audience meetings," which employers often use as a union-busting tool and a form of coercion.”

6. Study links grazing with plant phenology and abundance

“In general, plants where caribou or muskoxen were present experienced earlier green-up and greater abundance later in the growing season. “We're used to thinking of the timing of plant availability as impacting the productivity of grazing animals, but not the reverse," Post said.”

7. Frog populations once decimated by disease mount a major comeback

“"These results provide a rare example of how reintroduction of resistant individuals can allow the landscape-scale recovery of disease-impacted species, and have broad implications for amphibians and many other taxa that are threatened with extinction by novel pathogens."”

8. California Announces Special Session To Protect Trans People

“Newsom’s directive is clear: safeguard reproductive healthcare, support immigrants, and shield LGBTQ+ people from what is viewed as existential threats to civil rights and democratic norms. […] California has a unique opportunity to set the blueprint for other states in resisting a Trump administration[….]”

9. When ‘OK, Boomer’ Means ‘Let’s Go Protest’

“Youth activists across the country recognize the efforts of their eco-minded predecessors and welcome them as mentors, role models, and collaborators in their battle against the climate crisis. […] “The idea that Boomers don’t care, he said, is “just misinformation.””

10. How Aussie Waste Warriors are Redirecting Excess Food to Those in Need

“A growing movement is working to reduce perfectly good food going to waste by redirecting it to homes and charities. [… C]haritable organisations [… are] transforming fresh produce that would otherwise have gone to waste into millions of cooked, nutritious meals for people in need each year.”

November 1-7 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

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steddiealltheway · 1 year ago

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(Happy happy birthday Noelle (@frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe) thank you for all your amazing fun facts which are the source for this little ficlet. I hope you enjoy <3)

For some reason, The Party had decided to rent Friday the 13th for their upcoming movie night at Steve's house. With all the shit they've been through, Steve thinks that maybe it's a strange choice, but he knows better than to question the kids.

"What a nice choice," Robin says sarcastically as she looks over Steve's shoulder at the tape. She hasn't quite grasped how defensive the teens can get, but they seem to respect her more than they respect Steve. Figures.

"Isn't it?" Dustin snarks back as he grabs the tape from the counter.

Max rolls her eyes and adds, "I said the same thing."

"Yeah, because you want to watch some shit like Cinderella," Mike whines.

"Does it ever hurt your tiny, sexist brain to think of those weak insults?" Max asks with her eyebrows raised.

Lucas tries to hide a laugh as Mike glares at him.

"Alright, alright, this is the Family Video. Take it outside if you guys are going to bicker," Steve says with a sigh as he moves to restack some tapes Dustin had nudged just to be annoying.

"You and Robin bicker all the time," Dustin says defensively.

Steve gives him a look. "Do you want to lose Harrington house privileges?"

Dustin sighs, looking like he really wants to argue before he turns around to the group and announces defeatedly, "Alright, let's get snacks before tonight."

As they're filing out the door, Dustin runs back to the counter and adds, "I almost forgot. Is it fine if Eddie comes?"

Steve shrugs, trying to look unphased by the question. "Sure," he says, voice cracking a bit.

Dustin instantly lights up. "Great! I already invited him, so that would've been awkward. See you later!"

Robin comes up to him and lightly shoves his shoulder. "Sure," she mocks him. "You're so smooth."

"Shut up," Steve says with a sigh. God, Robin will never let him live down what he thought to be his deathbed confession of his crush on Eddie. In reality, he was just put on so many painkillers in the hospital that he had gotten confused when he woke up in a hospital room.

And yeah, maybe the crush still hasn't gone away and Robin definitely knows, but he refuses to acknowledge it.

"You're going to be at the movie night, right?" Steve asks.

Robin groans. "I've already told you, I have my parent's anniversary dinner tonight."

"So, you'll be at my house tonight," Steve jokes.

"I wish."

Steve nudges her shoulder. He's already seen the obnoxious pictures of Robin and her parents from every year of their wedding anniversaries lining the walls of one particular hallway. It's endearing really, but Robin hates it.

"You better call me later if anything new develops between you and Eddie," Robin whispers although there's no one in the room.

Steve just nods, feeling the blood rise to his cheeks as he still refuses to verbally acknowledge the ridiculous crush that maybe fills his stomach with butterflies and all those obnoxious things.

He sighs and turns to Robin. "How am I going to survive tonight without you?"

"The world may never know," she says dramatically.

And really, the world may never know. At least, that's how Steve feels.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Okay, maybe Steve is a little bit of a mess.

Sure, Eddie has shown up, and Steve has been playing it cool, but it's like he can't take his eyes off him. He's made so much eye contact, he's sure that he's creeping Eddie out a bit or giving away his huge crush.

But he’s Steve Harrington. Like Steve “The Hair” Harrington. Inventor of the Harrington charm. All that stuff. And… Eddie has absolutely melted him into a puddle of goo. Christ.

By the time the movie starts, Steve’s head is practically buzzing with all his thoughts of Eddie is sitting next to me. What do I do? The kids are here, so I can’t make a move. But I don’t even know if he likes me.

Then, Max’s question breaks through the thoughts as she asks, “When is the next Friday the 13th this year?”

“Well, fun fact, any month that starts on a Sunday will have a Friday the 13th,” Eddie says with a proud grin.

Steve ignores the kids’ responses asking when that month is and the subsequent response from Eddie saying he doesn’t know, but he just knows the fact.

But for some reason, the fact is absolutely blowing Steve’s mind.

And yes, maybe it’s because it came from Eddie, but truly, when Steve associates fact with something, it is never fun. But this truly is a… fun fact.

He must have a look on his face because Eddie eyes him and asks, “What?”

Steve just shrugs and says, “I just… really thought the fact was… fun.” Jesus, did his Harrington charm just evaporate or something?

But he thinks the honesty of it works for Eddie who smiles softly at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, how did you know that?”

Eddie swings an arm casually over the back of the couch and leans in. “I’m full of fun facts, Harrington.” He gives him a winks before leaning back.

Steve leans into his space, trying to close some of the distance between them. “Tell me another one.”

Eddie laughs, “I’m going to max out my fun fact limit to one a day.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

Eddie tilts his head toward him. “It’s fair if it gives me an excuse to talk to you every day.”

Okay, yeah. That was blatant flirting. Which Steve is about to match, until the kids decide now is the best time to interrupt and yell at them to be quiet as the movie starts.

As the movie goes on, Eddie and Steve drift closer together while trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible in front of the kids. They haven’t talked about it, of course, but Steve’s pretty sure neither of them want to scar the kids. Or maybe, Steve just doesn’t want the kids to very accurately point out his feelings for Eddie and force him to deal with them.

Unfortunately, this also means that Steve doesn’t get a moment alone with Eddie to further flirt with him or try to push him for another fact. But maybe it’s not such a bad thing. Especially since Eddie gave him an excuse to talk to him tomorrow.

-:-:-:-:-:-

“What’s another fun fact?” Steve asks as soon as he hears Eddie on the other line.

“Christ, I just woke up. Give my brain a few seconds,” Eddie groans into the phone, voice rough with sleep.

Steve smiles. “Good morning by the way,” he says sweetly.

“Good morning,” Eddie replies back, sounding a bit less grumpy. There’s a bit of shuffling on his side of the phone before he says, “It’s illegal to feed pigeons on the streets of San Francisco.”

Steve’s jaw drops. “There’s no way!”

“Go ahead and feed a pigeon there then,” Eddie says with a laugh.

“Maybe I will. If you come with me and promise to bail me out.”

Eddie hums on the other line. “I don’t know. I think it would be fun to spend a night in a jail cell with you. Maybe I’ll join you in your crime.”

“Scratch that, I’m bailing you out.”

“That’s sounds about right, Bonnie.”

“Bonnie?” Steve questions, feeling like he’s missed something.

Eddie gasps on the other line. “Like Bonnie and Clyde!”

Steve doesn’t respond, waiting for Eddie to fill him in.

“Okay, this doesn’t count as a fun fact because this is just a story of one of the greatest crime couples to ever exist,” Eddie says excitedly, rambling on about the two.

Steve sits back, cheeks hurting from smiling a little too hard as he listens to Eddie and tries not to linger too much on the fact he compared the two of them to a real life couple.

-:-:-:-:-:-

The phone calls continue every day, but the fun facts really are just a starting point to a long drawn out conversation about whatever’s on their mind.

Robin has pretended to get tired whenever Steve calls her right after Eddie has to hang up or spends hours talking about Eddie during their shift at the Family Video. But he knows she’s secretly just as enthralled about the fun facts as he is.

“Did you know that the Statue of Liberty wears a size eight hundred seventy nine shoe?” Steve asks Robin, still in disbelief over the fact.

“Sounds like you’re talking about me,” Eddie says, somehow coming into the store without Steve noticing.

Steve’s heart beats a little harder as he turns to him. “All good things of course,” Steve says with a wink.

“I was scared you were passing off my facts to Buckley as if they were your own for a second there,” Eddie says, leaning across the the counter.

“And what if I was?” Steve challenges, leaning on the counter.

“Then, I would have to revoke my daily fun fact.”

Steve’s jaw drops. “You’d never.”

Eddie shrugs. “Maybe you’ll just have to see.”

Steve just laughs and shoves his shoulder lightly. “What are you doing here though? Coming to deliver my fun fact in person?”

Eddie blushes and looks down. “No, I was actually just… wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight.”

“Sounds good,” Steve says automatically, not even stopping to think if he has any other plans.

“I’ll see you after your shift then?” Eddie asks, tilting his head a bit.

“I’ll see you then,” Steve confirms with a smile.

Eddie nods and turns to leave.

“Oh, wait!” Steve calls out.

Eddie turns around.

“You haven’t told me your fun fact for today.”

Eddie smiles. “You’ll just have to wait until tonight. After all, it’s a pretty good excuse to make sure you come over.”

Steve scoffs, “As if that’s the only reason.”

Eddie just pulls his hair in front of his face as his smile gets a little wider. “See you soon.”

“Bye,” Steve says, waggling his fingers at him.

“Holy shit,” Robin says, startling Steve. “I thought you said your crush was hopeless.”

Steve just shrugs. “It’s Eddie, he flirts with everyone.”

“Not like that.”

Steve pauses and thinks back on their conversation and all the flirtatious banter leading up to this moment. Maybe she’s right, but also he remembers… “Did you know that bubble wrap was invented by accident?”

Robin runs a hand over her face and says, “You two are going to be the death of me, I can already tell.”

Steve just smiles and thinks maybe they will be.

-:-:-:-:-:-

A few hours later, he shows up at Eddie’s, trying not to overthink things too much.

They were just hanging out. Just… two people… hanging out… alone… who flirt all the time…. And one definitely has a major crush on the other.

Eddie opens the door to the trailer immediately after Steve knocks only a single time. “I heard your car pull up,” he explains as soon as the door is open.

“Been lingering at the door for long?” Steve teases.

“Hours,” Eddie replies dramatically. But there’s a hint of nervous energy that Steve can’t help but pick up on. “Come on in.”

Steve steps inside and is hit with the smell of spaghetti and breadsticks. “Did you make dinner?”

“Nah, I picked it up from Enzo’s,” Eddie says with a smile before closing the door behind him and gesturing to the couch where two plates are laid out. “I thought we could… watch a movie while we ate or… something.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Steve replies with a smile, noticing the way his response relieves some of the nervous energy that is consuming Eddie.

“Perfect, right this way madam,” he jokes as he leads Steve to the couch with his hand resting on the dip of his lower back.

Steve sits down and can’t help but ask, “So, what fun fact did you make me wait for?”

Eddie freezes and curses, “Shit, you were supposed to ask that after all of this.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrow. “Why?” He asks nervously.

Eddie fidgets with his rings and mumbles, “Okay, you can do it.” Then, he turns back to Steve and says, “Fun fact… I’ve been dying to ask you out for a while now, and… I was hoping that this could be a date? And further fun fact, I will absolutely shut up forever if I read things wrong, and I’m so sorry if I did. Oh shit. Did I? Because really, I thought-”

“Eddie,” Steve interrupts him quickly, placing a hand over his. “I think it’s finally time that I share a fun fact with you.”

Eddie nods, eyes wide and scared.

“Fun fact,” Steve says and takes a deep breath, “I’m really upset that you beat me to asking you out because I’m a damn chicken. And fun fact, I’ve liked you since I saw you interacting with Dustin for the first time. And you can confirm the fact with Robin who I told while I thought I was on my deathbed.”

Eddie’s expression slowly morphs from fear to relief to happiness. “And that’s really all a fact?”

“Yes. Fun ones I hope.”

“Very very fun,” Eddie says with a laugh. He worries his bottom lip before saying, “Fun fact, I really want to kiss you.”

“Fun fact,” Steve echoes cheesily. “I would love to kiss you.”

And he does exactly that.

(Later on, Steve calls Robin from Eddie’s house and yells, “Fun fact, I just kissed Eddie!” Into the phone so loudly that Robin complains that his “fun fact” is giving her ear damage. But she also lets him know that she’s happy for him, as long as he doesn’t keeps phrasing everything as a fun fact.

Only, Steve can’t help it, when everything involving Eddie becomes the best facts he knows.)

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet

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illumose · 3 months ago

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Lovesick • castiel

⋆⭒˚.⋆ PAIRINGS: female reader × Castiel + the winchester brothers

⋆⭒˚.⋆ CONTENT: fluff

⋆⭒˚.⋆ SUMMARY : Castiel has fallen in love with you but he does not realize it.

masterlist

Prompt : I was wondering if you could write Castiel x reader , the angel being completly unaware that he is smitten with the reader and thinks he’s potentially ill or that she’s practicing witchcraft 😂 Just pure fluff bonus points If dean helps set him up with the reader

author's note: thanks you @drowninghell for the request! Hope you’ll enjoy it.

Castiel quickly glanced at your angelic form in the backseat of Dean's car. When the Winchester brothers called for his help, they did not say that you'd be tagging along. He was now stuck with you. A mere human, with no power or self-defense skills. A human that he'd hate to see dead, somehow.

As you played with the hem of your sweatshirt and chewed on your lip, Castiel felt a weird feeling in his thoracic cage. A sort of explosion that he could no longer bear. Beads of sweat dripped down from his forehead. Was he falling sick? He did not know of any angel who fell sick with a human disease. He touched his forehead. No fever.

"Alright, demon’s dead and Sam’s got an arm to patch up. I think we did great," announced Dean, emerging from the dilapidated barn on the side of the winding road. "You don’t look…. normal." He squinted at Castiel’s trembling silhouette.

"You do look like a sick Victorian child," added Sam, holding his right arm close to his chest. Blood drops were spattered on his denim.

Castiel ignored both comments. His attention returned to you. You had fallen asleep. Your cheeks were rosy from the heat and your eyes fluttered once in a while. So fragile. Innocent. All these words came to his mind whenever he thought of you.

"Stop staring. You look like a creep, dude." Dean patted his back, with such force that the angel was propulsed forward.

"I was not staring."

"You were. Damn it, you’re supposed to be smart, given your age. How can you not realize what’s happening?" The man appeared exasperated by his friend’s total lack of awareness. Angels acted as if they were superior beings, but in the end, they had no clue what to do when they felt a tiny bit of emotion.

You represented a problem. An issue he couldn't fix. The more he tried to forget you, the more you haunted his mind. Perhaps he was not falling sick. Perhaps, he was falling in love. Something no angel had ever experienced.

"Want a tip?"

The angel shook his head, pushing Dean to roll his eyes and exhale loudly.

"You’re smitten, dude. You’ve got those lovesick eyes whenever you look at her. You always come flying when she calls you. You get her food when she’s on her period. That’s not friend behavior if you want my opinion."

"Cas?"

As soon as he heard you, he rushed to the car.

"D’you think I’d be unreasonable if I asked you to teleport to a bakery on the other side of the world? I’m so craving a French croissant." You batted your eyes, knowing that this was over the top.

The angel nodded.

"Really?"

Again, he nodded. However, before he left for France to steal a croissant from a random bakery in a crowded street, he planted a kiss on your cheek. Taken aback, you held out your hand to grab his coat, but he was gone in the blink of an eye.

#spn fanfic #castiel x reader #castiel imagine #supernatural imagine

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hotchnerwrites · 3 months ago

Note

can you maybe do hotchner period smut?? if you’re comfortable with it

(image from pinterest)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x f!reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: NSFW, smut (18+ only), period sex, female anatomy on reader, no use of (y/n), touchy Aaron hehe, swear words

A/N: Thank you for your request, anon! I really hope you like it :) Please excuse any grammatical errors, I speed-wrote this.

My requests are open. Send me stuff!

Your cramps were no match for the industrial-strength painkillers you had popped an hour ago. Feeling less like shit and more like a functional human, you grab your headphones and head to the kitchen to finish the washing. You’d spent yesterday baking, and the result had been one delicious batch of muffins and a battalion of baking dishes. The music blaring concealed the noises from the real world and you lost yourself in the thudding bass as you wipe the glasses and put them back in place. As you stretch to reach the top shelf, you feel an arm slide across your belly. You spin in fear, hands coming up in a defensive position. You would’ve started swinging but the familiar cologne stopped you.

“Jesus Christ, Aaron, you scared the shit out of me! Announce yourself next time!” You yelp, smacking his chest. Aaron laughs and holds you closer. He presses a kiss to your temple and slides your headphones off. “I missed you, honey.”

You roll your eyes in mock annoyance and evade his kiss. “What’s wrong, honey,” Aaron questions. You never shy away from his kisses. You sigh and wish the painkillers would also have worked for your foul mood. “I’m sorry, I just started my period, and I feel like shit.”

You see understanding fill Aaron’s eyes immediately. “Oh honey,” he says sympathetically, “How can I help?”

“It’s ok, I’m fine. But can we order in today? I’ve been thinking about that poke bowl place this whole week.”

Aaron nods and immediately places a call to the restaurant.

———

A few hours later, belly full and heart happy, you lean against the couch. Aaron sweeps away the takeaway containers. He’s wearing his old Harvard Law sweatshirt, and his hair is messy. He looks so much younger like this. You stare at his back fondly as he closes the kitchen for the night. Once he’s done, he strides over to where you’re sitting, presses a kiss to your forehead and flops down next to you. He leans in again, kissing you on the mouth this time.

“Hey, beautiful,” he murmurs. His voice is soft but you can hear a slight rasp. The one he gets when he wants you. Your mouth is too busy pressing open-mouth kisses against his to reply. The languid motions of his tongue against yours turn your mind to mush and a deep groan escapes you. You can feel heat pooling between your legs and before things get beyond you, you pull back. Aaron’s staring at you, eyes slightly glossy and lips kiss-bitten. He looks slightly confused but waits for you to speak. God, he looks delicious.

“Aaron, Aaron, we can’t, I’m on my period,” you sigh. He slides a large hand under your sweatshirt and pulls you closer. “I don’t care,” his tone brooks no argument. He pulls your face back to yours and swipes his tongue against your lips before licking the inside of your mouth. “I missed you so much today, honey, your period isn’t gonna get in my way, not today,” he mumbles against you. He looks drunk on your touches. Your head is already a little mushy and you don’t respond. Instead, you grind your hips against his lap.

“Besides,” he continues, “just ask Reid. I’m sure there are five different articles he can cite where orgasms are good for relieving cramps.”

You’re too far gone at this point. You utter a silent thanks for tossing a towel on the couch to catch crumbs, you had no idea it would serve a different purpose then.

Aaron continues his ministrations and peels your shirt off you. You hadn’t opted for a bra today, which made things easier for him. He attacks your nipples with the ferocity of a man starved. You throw your head back as pleasure shoots from your breasts to your brain. His mouth felt so good sucking on you. You could never get enough of this.

He holds onto your hips to support you and drags you slowly across his hard cock. A strangled sound escapes your lips, and you bury your face against his neck. You need more and soon.

“Aaron, please, I need more,” you whimper.

“Shhh, honey, I’ve got you. Just enjoy this,” he reassures you. Aaron makes quick work of the rest of your clothes. He doesn’t waste any time today. You both know you’re already wet enough for this. Aaron lines his cock up with your entrance and slides in. You both groan at the feeling. Your body feels like it’s on fire, and your period makes you more sensitive to everything.

“Go ahead,” Aaron instructs. He’s using his Unit Chief, which goes straight to your brain. You heed his command and start moving up and down his cock slowly. Aaron watches you bounce on him, his pupils blown out completely.

“Fuck, baby, you’re taking me so well,” he grunts out. His hand snakes out to find your clit, laying gentle strokes against you. He applies just the right amount of pressure, and your head lolls back. Your walls flutter against his, and you hear Aaron’s breathy groans. His cock twitches inside you, and you can tell he’s close. You speed up, and just like that, the coil in your belly snaps. Your whole body spasms in release, and you hold onto his shoulders for dear life. As you ride your high out, you feel Aaron spill warm liquid inside you. He’s still mumbling sweet nothings in your ears as you both try to catch your breath.

“You feel better, honey? Was that good?” He asks.

You smile and nod. You’re tired now, but the warm fuzz spreading through your body wipes away traces of the cramps. “Mhm, I’m good. Thank you, Aaron,” you kiss his cheek gently.

“I’m glad, sweetheart. Let me go start a shower, okay?”

You plant one last kiss on his cheek and slide off him. You wonder what you did to deserve him as you slowly drift off to sleep.

Thank you for reading. Likes, reblogs, comments and follows are appreciated! Constructive criticism is welcome :) Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x reader #hotchner smut #period sex #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x f!reader #aaron hotchner x afab!reader #hotch x f!reader #hotch x afab!reader #hotchnerwritescm #criminal minds smut #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x you smut #criminal minds x you

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urdepressedslut · 1 year ago

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The Collection

♡ Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: Bucky arrives home and panics when he notices you calling for him from your room, but upon entering— he realizes what you have been getting yourself into.

♡ Warnings: superrrrr fluffyyyy 🥹, slight panic, hints to paranoia, hints to PTSD, hints to bucky’s trauma, overall a comfort drabble

main masterlist

A/N: i have been adding to my own squish mallow collection and thought of this 🥰 i’m unhealthily obsessed with squish mallows

Arriving back at your shared apartment, Bucky couldn’t help but notice the amount of time xtra large bags on the kitchen counter. He furrowed his brows in confusion and wandered to the fridge. Opening it in inspection, he didn’t see anything new or added.

You hadn’t gone grocery shopping…

He could hear faint shuffling from your shared room, and he couldn’t help but panic. His mind was brilliant at creating a problem from nothing. He was a professional over thinker— and sometimes it threatened to make his heart give out.

“Baby? I’m home!” He announced, shimmying off his jacket and making his way to the bedroom.

“James! Come quick— you gotta see something!” You said urgently.

He automatically thought the worst and all his suspicions were suddenly coming through. Visions of you hurt came to mind and he practically sprinted and busted through the door. The knob slamming into the wall with a loud thud.

“(Y/n)? You okay?!” He asked panicked.

His body relaxed at your calm state, only the look of confusion on your face. With a quick scan— he noticed there was nothing wrong with the room or you. In fact, if anything was different— it were the many new plushies on the bed.

Releasing a breath that he didn’t know he was holding in, and ran a hand through his hair.

“James honey— you alright? Just wanted to show you my new squishmallows.” You asked him worried, walking over to stand next to him.

Truthfully, if anything he was embarrassed that he’d let himself get in his head again. But after finding you perfectly fine, and organizing your plushies— which he found adorable— he felt fine. He was only happy that you were okay.

“M’fine baby, just thought you were in trouble is all.” He told you honestly.

You softened your gaze to him, grabbing his hand and hiding him to the bed. You gently pushed him down to sit, and he did so willingly.

“I didn’t mean to sound all panicky— was just excited to show you the new ones I got today!” You told him, smiling like the cheshire cat.

He chuckled, leaning back on his hands as he looked down at the medium sized squishmallows.

“You know— this is considered an addiction.” He pointed out.

You scoffed, waving him off like it was no big deal.

“Some consider it a hobby actually.” You defended.

He raised his brows in amusement, chuckling again when he saw you being so defensive. He thought you were adorable.

“You’re so cute.” He said out loud, causing your face to grow hot.

After all this time— he was still easily able to make you blush, flustered from his compliments.

You shook off the flush in your face, choosing to pick up a new squishmallow to show him. You held up a medium sized seal squishmallow, to which Bucky smiled at.

“This is a seal one, his name is Remmy.” You told him.

Bucky grabbed it from your hands, giving it a test hug and holding it while you grabbed another one. Next was a longhorn squishmallow, with a ring dangling from its nose.

“This is a bull one, his name is Shep.” You told him, giving it a hug and then passing it to Bucky.

You held back a giggle, Bucky holding the plushies to his chest an adorable sight. Such a tough man with these cute stuffed animals.

“I like his horns.” He noted, fiddling with the plushie.

You picked up the last one, being a bird squishmallow. You smiled wide as you looked at it, this one being your favorite.

“This is my favorite of the three. I think he’s a hawk or something, and his name is Sam.” You explained.

Bucky’s eyes went wide and he started laughing, dropping the other plushies on the bed, he reached out and grabbed the hawk and inspected it.

“Sam, really?” He asked chuckling.

You nodded your head with a sly smile.

“Does our Sam know about this?” He asked again.

“Definitely not— but I’m sure he’d appreciate it.” You told him.

You two laughed at the goofiness and you ended up being pulled by Bucky into the bed. He wrapped you up in his arms and the two of you started cuddling— just melting into each others embrace. The squishmallows surrounded you two while you both drifted off to sleep.

Nothing felt more perfect, nothing felt more right than being in his arms.

“Love you baby.” He whispered, kissing the top of your head.

“Love you more James.” You mumbled into his chest.

TAGLIST: @billy-reads @potatothots @buckyb-stan @kmc1989 @silverfire13 @ghostofwinter @hanihoney88 @stilesofhannah @skittle479 @marvelogic @meetmeatyourworst @engie115 @wilsons-striped-ties @x209x @kandis-mom @l0kilaufeys0n7

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yikesmary · 2 years ago

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MARRIAGE — jeon wonwoo x reader

summary: where wonwoo’s nightmare is coming true.

notes: yours and wonwoo’s relationship isn’t the focus in this. but you guys are married and have a daughter together!

I might create a whole series where I write drabbles/one shots of seventeen as fathers. I have some ideas of what to post, however, I’ll accept requests. this one just popped into my head today and I wasn’t able to get it out UNLESS I actually wrote it. enjoy!

“Daddy, when did you know you wanted to marry Mommy?” Yours and Wonwoo’s daughter asked.

Wonwoo stopped at the sound of the question, and turned to her, who was peering up at him curiously. He stopped cutting the apples she asked to make him and kneeled down at her height. “What’s the sudden question for, Love?”

Your daughter shrugged, “I’m just curious,”

“Well, since you’re asking, I knew I wanted to marry Mommy because I love her so much and I didn’t see living my life if it meant I didn’t have her in it,” Wonwoo said.

“Even if you guys become old and wrinkly?” She followed up, her nose scrunching at the thought of her parents being wrinkly.

“Especially if she’s wrinkly, because that means we’ve been loving each other for so long,” he answered, pinching his daughter’s cheek gently.

Your daughter hummed, seeming deep in thought. Her eyes then lit up and announced, “Daddy, I have to tell you something and you can’t get mad,”

Wonwoo raised his eyebrow up at her words but said, “I’ll try not to,”

“I have decided I’m gonna marry Uncle Gyu!” She exclaimed.

Wonwoo swore that right then and there he was going to drop dead in the middle of the kitchen. Who cares about growing old with you if your daughter was going to marry her Uncle Gyu. Maybe life wasn’t worth living at this point. Who cares at this point—

“Daddy? Are you okay?” your daughter asked, pouting in concern.

Wonwoo snapped out of his thinking and cleared his throat. “Why do you think you’re going to marry your Uncle Gyu, sweetheart?”

“I don’t just think I’m going to marry him. I know I’m going to marry him,” she corrected him.

“Well, why do you think that?”

“When I asked you about how you knew you wanted to marry Mommy, it’s like how I feel when I see Uncle Gyu,” she replied.

“You can’t marry your Uncle Gyu,” Wonwoo told her bluntly.

“Why not?” she asked, her eyes squinted and Wonwoo could already feel his defenses going down when he saw that there were little tears emerging from her eyes.

“First off, you still call him Uncle Gyu,” he pointed out.

“That’s because that’s his name,”

“We’re going to teach you about how names work one of these days,” Wonwoo sighed.

The sound of the door opening captured the attention of the father and daughter. “I’m home!” You exclaimed, and Wonwoo felt relief knowing that if anyone were to convince your daughter not to marry Mingyu, it’d be you.

“I’m back from the store and I ran into Mingyu! He’s here to say hi,” you added on.

Nevermind, Wonwoo thought. It seemed like you, Mingyu, and your own daughter, his flesh and blood, were out on a mission in order to send him into cardiac arrest.

Wonwoo saw as your daughter gasped in delight and ran out of the kitchen to meet you and Mingyu. He left the kitchen too, only to see that your daughter was already in Mingyu’s arms.

“What were you guys doing while I was gone?” you questioned.

“We need to talk,” Wonwoo said.

His statement raised eyebrows for both you and Mingyu. Meanwhile, your daughter was in a whole different world whilst in Mingyu’s arms. “Uh, okay, let’s go to the kitchen and Mingyu can entertain—”

“No, Mingyu’s involved too,” Wonwoo cut you off.

Exchanging looks with each other, Mingyu put your daughter on the couch and promised that he was going to play with her when he was done talking to her dad. You went to the kitchen, utterly confused on what was going on.

“You’re a traitor,” was the first thing Wonwoo said to Mingyu.

“What? What’d he do?” You asked.

“I didn’t do anything today!” Mingyu immediately defended.

Wonwoo turned to you, who he considered to be the voice of reasoning. “Guess what our daughter told me,”

“What did she say?”

“She wants to marry—“

“Aww, that’s precious! Is she at the stage where she wants to pretend—“

“She wants to marry her Uncle Gyu.”

“Oh,” was all you could say. None of the parenting books you and Wonwoo read didn’t exactly tell you how to deal with your child if they wanted to marry their dad’s best friend, so you were at a lost for words.

“You made my daughter think she’s wants to marry you! How dare you!” Wonwoo exclaimed to Mingyu, who looked lost at the direction the conversation went.

“Let’s not castrate Mingyu. Our daughter is a child, so she’s going to think she wants to marry anyone she loves, because she doesn’t know the difference between familial and romantic love. Also, it’s not like she knows what marriage means.” You reasoned with him.

Wonwoo relaxed at your words, his slight anger dissipating.

“Now, let’s go and play with her before she thinks her dad killed her soon-to-be-husband,” you joked and quickly left the kitchen.

Wonwoo and Mingyu were left in the kitchen and Wonwoo found himself looking at his best friend. “My daughter wants to marry you,” he told him.

“If I knew how I was making her want to marry me, I’d stop,” Mingyu reassured him.

“At least it wasn’t Soonyoung, I don’t want my daughter thinking she’s a tiger and marrying one,”

taglist (if your name is gray, it means that I was unable to tag you): @belladaises @winterpaos @wonhuiful @minhui896 @baekhyunimochibbh @x-alightinthedark @whywontyousetfree @minghaossv @coffeesandrains @slaveofmydreams @bmkgemz @dandycharmer @outrologist @stagefrjghts @dahliatopia @exo-saranghajaaa @uhlatcha @watermelon-sugars-things @mingimingimingi @venzline @kokorit0 @withloveyjh @mikopikotobiko @lockburn-castle @mrs-kamisoto @userjunhuii @mypsychicpizzaworld @againwithwonu @violetvoo @maevadobreva @hyperhanie @soonyoungblr @miesieu @baekhyunstruly @ryusoul @smileyneos @xuenihao @itsrachelsplace @yoonzinoooo @jw-0717 @swinterr @jeonride @wonuumelody

#seventeen fluff #wonwoo fluff #jeon wonwoo fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #wonwoo fic #wonwoo scenario #wonwoo imagines #seventeen wonwooo #seventeen reactions

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cherrrydragon · 8 months ago

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➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER FIVE: GOOD OLD-FASHIONED LOVER BOY

← back to chapter list

SUMMARY ↳ Spider-Man and homecoming, when did that ever end well? He clears his throat. “May I… have this dance?” You stare at him dumbly for a second, making him nervous. “W-What?” Well said. “Well, I can’t dance with you during homecoming, so… let’s dance now.” His face is set in an adorable determination. Your heart soars. pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: fear gas (people get affected but it's not described), spiking drinks (not with the intention of taking advantage of anyone) wc: 5.9k

Your mind is elsewhere as you perform your warm-up stretches in the dance studio. Progress with the particle accelerator had been slow. Tony Stark had access to all the materials he needed when he built it, but you don’t. Not to mention all of the welding, cutting and assembling you’ll have to do. You're occupied in your thoughts, but you still hear footsteps approaching.

Victoria. She has her hands on her hips and is looking at you like you’re the nasty chore she’s stuck with.

You raise a brow. “Yes, Vicky?”

Despite all of her faces of disgust when you call her that, she hasn’t demanded you stop calling her that.

“I don’t know why I expected you to be paying attention, clearly you are too airheaded otherwise,” she huffs.

“You’re right, dearest, I wasn’t paying attention. Please, enlighten me.”

“Our instructor has just announced a winter performance. For a grade, of course.”

You sigh. “Of course.”

“We,” she drags the word out, disgruntled, “are the leads.”

Your lips quirk up into a smile. “Oh. This’ll be fun.”

“I will not let you embarrass me, so I will make sure you are a suitable lead,” she huffs.

“And how do you plan to do that, my dear?” you sing, circling her. Your fingers tap her arms as you walk.

She clears her throat. “I will make sure you are paying well attention and are performing adequately.”

“Sounds good to me, princess,” you say, walking away and extending a hand to her. “Shall we?”

She sighs dramatically and puts her hand in yours. It’ll be a long couple of months.

Your extended leg rocks your web hammock back and forth as you think. A song is hummed under your breath, pondering your next move.

“How far is Metropolis from Gotham?”

“Depending on your method of travel, it could range from an hour to 4 hours.”

You have no doubt LexCorp is very well protected in terms of its security measures, but Lex Luther seems a bit of an arrogant man. If he were to find out you had managed to break in and swipe some material, he might not do anything in embarrassment of being had. On the other hand, he is also pretty paranoid, so you have no idea what type of crazy defenses he has.

WayneTech is a very hesitant maybe, for pretty much the same reasons. Batman will already be on alert from your little hacking show earlier.

“Perhaps we shall simply wait for the opportunity to present itself to us, [Name].”

“We’re trying to leave as soon as we can, K,” you whine, bouncing a web ball back and forth between the wall and you.

“You can’t rush perfection.”

“Oh, you flatter me, K.” You lean over and fall out of the hammock, landing gracefully. “But I can never argue with you, lovely. I guess I’ll just have to make due with stuff from the school.” Hopefully they don’t notice the decline of materials.

Patrol goes smoothly that night. You've gone back to listening to your certified patrol playlist now that you’ve gotten back in the groove of things. You hum to a beat as you walk alongside the roof, grooving slightly. You run through equations and formulas in your head as you think about your next headway with your project. You still notice the footsteps approaching, though.

“Which one are you?” you announce, shifting slightly. You don’t get an answer, so you turn around. The figure standing behind you is shrouded in darkness, but a glint of moonlight reveals a familiar silhouette.

“Nightwing!” you hum pleasantly. “Pleasure, quite a pleasure. To what do I owe the visit?”

Nightwing shrugs. “Standard stuff, really. Making sure Gothams latest pest problem isn’t up to no good.”

You chuckle. “That was pretty good.” You sit down on the ledge. “I assure you, blue, that I have Gotham’s best interest in mind.”

“Well I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear that Gotham likes you, for the most part.” Nightwing sits next to you. “Of course, the webs you leave irk them just a bit.”

“They dissolve,” you defend.

“They do,” he agrees, and lets the conversation die. Distant sounds of sirens fill the silence. You can see the blue and red lights from here. You and Nightwing share a moment of calm amidst the chaos.

“Every time I think Gotham can’t get any weirder, I hear news of a ‘giant spider’ terrorizing the criminal underworld.”

You snort, “yeah, that was my bad. I totally had rumors spread about that.” You can see his eyebrow raise underneath his domino. “It was funny!”

“I guess Gotham attracts all kinds of people,” he hums.

“And yet… it’s home,” you whisper.

Another brief silence settled between you, tinged with unspoken tension that always sneaks up on you in Gotham.

“So, did the big Bat put you up to this?” you ask, breaking the quietude.

Nightwing shrugs casually. “Nah, this is all me. Don’t worry though, I’m sure B will corner you eventually.”

“Charming,” you huff dryly against his chuckle.

“And of course, crime never sleeps in Gotham.”

“And so, neither do we,” you smile.

He turns to you. “Surely someone as young as you should be getting more sleep?”

You hum. “So Robin told you about little ole me, huh?” He shrugs sheepishly, in a can you blame him? kind of way. “Like I told him, I’ve been doing this for years.”

“So what’s a young person like you doing spending your nights fighting crime?”

You scoff, “oh, don’t give me that. The first Robin was barely out of diapers when Batman paraded him around.” You ignore Nightwings dramatic gasp of offense. “I’m doing the same as you, trying to make a difference.”

“But no one would blame you for just trying to live a normal life in spite of your abilities.” You’re not sure what exactly Nightwing is trying to achieve here other than getting you to spill something about yourself. What’s it to him what you do in your free time?

‘Yeah well, someone once told me something. Kind of changed my life a little.” You take a deep breath and recite the famous spidey quote, “With great power comes great responsibility.” You turn to face Nightwing. “I can’t in good faith live a normal life when there are people that need me. I have the power to help people, why wouldn’t I do just that?”

You hope your speech passes whatever test he had for you, and the way he stares at you before nodding suggests that you did.

“Just…” he hesitates. “... be careful out there. Gotham’s a tough place, even for someone with your talents.”

You’re not sure why he cares so much, but Dick Grayson does have a sort of a bleeding heart. You watch Nightwing stand, nodding at you before grappling away. It was nice to not have a more violent encounter with one of the Bats (looking at you, Damian). You’re left with the quiet of your own mind.

The next few weeks are a whirlwind of dance rehearsals and lab work. Victoria, true to her word, pushes you hard. She ensures every step, every movement is perfect. You can’t help but admire her dedication.

“Remember,” she snaps one day during a particularly grueling practice, “lean into the spin. It will further your momentum, making your performance overall smoother.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you smirk. Your classmates take notice of the way the two of you dance around each other. You’re sure you both appear really intense to them.

One new development you’ve reluctantly acknowledged is homecoming . You don’t care much for it, you’d rather spend it working on the badassium or patrolling. However, it’s a good way to sneak in and take some more material, so you’ll probably show up for a bit then sneak away. You just have to get through all of the sickeningly sweet hoco proposals.

In other news, you’ve finished your painting that you were assigned for art. You stole one of Miles’ designs from his spray-paint pieces, you hope he won’t mind. It’s a figure outlined many times in all kinds of vivid and bright colors.

“What is it?” Pipes up Damian from your side. Lately you haven’t really interacted much, you’re far too busy trying to make this universe's history books.

“My project,” you reply vaguely. At his unimpressed stare you elaborate, “it’s supposed to be a bunch of different versions of one person. Different people living the same life, one person living different lives, yadda yadda.”

Damian hums, satisfied. You take a breath, spinning in your chair to face him. “So, Damian,” you start, smiling at the way Damian’s face automatically scrunches in irritation. “Anyone special in mind for hoco?”

Damian tsk’s at the thought. “I will not waste my time indulging in such a frivolous activity.”

“Yeah, spiked punch and sweaty teens grinding on each other probably isn’t your vibe,” you agree.

“Then what better things do you plan on doing?” You rest your legs on his side of the table, invading his space. He ignores it, to his credit. He’s gotten used to your antics.

“Doing something far away from you.” You bark out a laugh at his response. You retract your legs and massage your feet. For all your super strength and resilience, ballet is still killer.

Damian eyes your movements. “How are your dance classes progressing?” Damian’s gotten better at conversing, you’re just surprised he chooses to do so with you. But then again, you’re sure he still thinks you’re the number one suspect as to who Spinnerette is.

“Victoria is a delight, as always,” you roll your eyes. “She’s more of a teacher to me than the actual instructor. She’s thorough though, knows her stuff.” You pause. “Think she’ll say yes if I ask her to hoco?”

His eyes narrow. “You jest.”

You close your eyes and nod. “I jest. I stand no chance because she’s waiting for you to ask her,” you grin, eyeing his eye roll. You furrow your brow in thought. “They accept people from other schools, right? Maybe I’ll ask Jon…”

He straightens in his seat. “Jon?”

“Oh yeah, you guys are friends, forgot.” You didn’t forget. “Yeah, we’ve been hanging out lately.” It’s true, Jon frequents at least once a week for movie night. You’ve also exchanged numbers, affectionately naming him ‘please get this boy some brown contacts’ in your phone. “You think he’d say yes?”

“Do not even think about asking him,” growls Damian. Woah.

You hold up your hands in defense. “My bad dude, didn’t know it was like that.” Jeez, it’s not like you're going to corrupt Jon or anything. Then, you slump in your seat. “Maybe I’ll just skip it, then. Going alone is only cool if you’re cool.”

“If it means so little to you, why bother?”

“Opportunities, D. It’s all about opportunities. Plus, who knows? I could be missing out on the chance for something big. Like my rich future spouse.” Damian scoffs, and the bell rings. You grab your stuff and set off to practice, Damian falling into step beside you. You groan.

“Come on, man. Vicky’ll put me through hell when she see you with me.”

‘Maybe that’s my plan,” he smirks.

“One moment of peace with you. That's all I want.” Predictably, Victoria’s eyes narrow when Damian drops you off at the studio. However, she doesn’t waste time fluttering her eyelashes at him.

“Hurry, get dressed,” she demands, turning away from you two. You share a look of surprise with Damian as you step inside. Perhaps this show is more important to her than you thought. You get changed in record time, hurrying back out lest you encourage Victoria’s wrath further.

The hour passes in a blur of graceful movements. Your hands grasp Victoria’s waist as you lift and spin her. She spreads her arms and legs with all the elegance of a true dancer. You wonder if she wasn’t set to inherit whatever her parent’s set aside for her, would she have pursued a career in dance?

“You’re getting the hang of it,” she admits, a hint of begrudging approval in her voice.

“Only because of you,” you flirt, smiling with your teeth. She rolls her eyes but says nothing.

A knock sounds on the door. The instructor gets a giddy grin on her face and practically hops over to open in. You and the rest of the students stop practicing in curiosity. Behind the door is your typical jock type, with a bouquet and a poster in his hands that says ‘Will you PLIÉse go to Hoco with me?’ It’s clever, you’ll give him that.

“Victoria Hearst, will you do me the honor of going to homecoming with me?” Your classmates clap and cheer in awe of it. Victoria gasps, walking up to the jock, but pausing. To your huge surprise, she turns to you. Her eyebrows are furrowed, like she’s confused.

You’re not sure why she’s looking at you. Maybe she’s waiting for your approval? You can’t think of why she would want it. Personally you wouldn’t be caught dead with his type, but maybe he’s sweet on the inside or something. You give a smile and gesture her forward.

She purses her lips, before smiling charmingly at the boy, nodding. The class erupts in cheers once again as the pair hug. The instructor, for all her giddiness earlier, quickly snaps at everyone to go back to their places. Practice continues well into the evening. You get a small wave from Victoria when you depart home, a pleasant surprise.

You end up outfit shopping with Jon the day before homecoming. The boutique you’re in isn’t too fancy, even though you can afford more with Bruce Wayne’s ever so gracious stipend.

“Maybe I should wear blue, the same shade as your eyes. I like them,” you mutter, thinking. Nothing here particularly catches your eye. You suppose you shouldn’t care so much, it makes no difference to you. Besides, you won’t be spending much time at the dance anyway, you’ve got material to steal after all. But Tony has instilled the art of appearances into you, and you don’t want to disgrace his teachings.

Jon gulps beside you, still not used to your random flirting's despite the fact it’s been weeks. “I thought you had a thing for hot pink?” he asks as you pick up some simple heeled dress shoes.

“Yeah, but I’m not going for a bold look this time around.” You place your hands on your hips. “Maybe just plain old black is the way to go,” you say, grabbing a black suit off the rack and examining it. You hang it over your arm, deciding that it will be the way to go. It’ll be easier to hide in the crowd when you look like the rest of ‘em. “Now, for accessories…” you mutter, looking at the earrings on display. You pick up some faux emerald studs and examine them.

“I like this ring,” Jon pipes up. You turn around and see he’s holding a simple flowery ring with a blue gemstone in it. You hold out a hand and he slips the band onto your ring finger. It looks at home.

“Looks good,” you agree. You pack up the earrings, ring and the suit and take it to the register. You pay for it and Jon picks up the bag for you. What a gentleman.

The walk back to your apartment is filled with mindless chatter between the two of you. Nari greets you when you open the door, meowing real cutely. You press a bunch of kisses on his skull, because he deserves them. Jon places the bag on your couch.

“Well, since I’m not allowed to ask you the hoco, I’ll try it on just for you, yeah?”

Jon blinks. “Not allowed?”

“I mentioned it to Damian, and he made it very clear I was not allowed to take you.” You lean in and whisper in his ear, “between you and me, I think it’s because he wants to ask you.”

Jon snorts. “I doubt that,” he mumbles, watching you go to your bedroom to change. “I would have had to say no anyway, I’m… busy that day.”

“Well, I guess I was saved from an awkward moment,” you holler through the door. You make sure you look clean and put together before stepping out. You spread your arms and do a twirl.

“Well?” you ask.

Jon’s mouth is ever so slightly agape. His eyes seem to sparkle a little as he looks at you. Blue meets blue when he stares at the ring on your finger. You watch as he stands up, walking over to you.

He clears his throat. “May I… have this dance?”

You stare at him dumbly for a second, making him nervous. “W-What?” Well said.

“Well, I can’t dance with you during homecoming, so… let’s dance now.” His face is set in an adorable determination. Your heart soars.

You chuckle, abashed. He holds out his hand for you, waiting.

“Oh, wait!” you gasp. You dash over to your laptop, opening youtube. Jon watches as your fingers dash over the keyboard. ‘Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy’ fills your apartment. The song has always reminded you of him. You race back to Jon, finally putting your hand in his. He quickly pulls you close to him.

“Queen?” he chuckles, placing his hands on your waist. You throw your hands over his shoulders, scoffing. “Nothing wrong with Queen.”

“No,” he agrees, swaying with you. You spend the rest of the evening together.

Walking into the academy’s gym, you’re immediately blasted with loud music and colorful lights. Everyone is looking quite dapper, but like you suspected, a bunch of black suits. You fit right in.

You sip a bit of the punch, grimacing. Nobody spiked it yet? You’re surprised. Yeah, this is a prestigious school or whatever, but teenagers will be teenagers. You guess they’re all too pussy to do it. No worries, you’ll do it for them.

“I don’t believe this is wise,” says Karen as you pour some alcohol into the bowl. “It’s only a little amount,” you reassure. “Drunk people are less likely to notice things.”

You observe the people of your school. They’ve long gotten used to your presence, hesitantly making room for you. Still, you aren’t really a part of them. You sigh. You know you sound like a broken record, but you really have to get back home. The last time someone stayed on an Earth not their own was Miguel, and well… you know how that ended.

In other news, you’ve spotted Victoria! She looks real pretty, all dolled up. Her hands grip a cup of punch as she stands next to whats-his-face. He’s chatting with his jock friends, completely ignoring her! Hell no, you’re not gonna let that slide.

You wait for his friends to go away before sneaking up on him. “You better dance with her, asshole.” It’s satisfying to see him jump and look around to see who said that, but you already walked away. He scratches his head, before walking over to Victoria. It’s satisfying to see her face light up as they walk to the dance floor. Your job here is done.

You find your way to the gym doors, peaking into the hallways. No one’s there, surprisingly. You scurry down the hall. You visit the lab first, swiping any and all things you think you might need. The blueprints left behind by Howard Stark are kind of obscure. They weren’t meant for anybody but Tony, after all.

Next you make headway to your engineering workshop. Seeing it now, it looks pretty spooky without the lights on. You walk into the storage closet where all the materials and parts are kept. It’s actually pretty big. You think you might be in Heaven. You set your backpack down and go through everything. You stuff various metals and scrap into it, tools and switches, fans and whatnot. Then, you spot it. A glass chamber, hidden in the corner.

You grab it carefully, examining it. It’s the perfect size for your nanite chamber! You grin. You have no idea why there’s a big glass tube just in here, but hey, you’re not complaining. You carefully make room for it in your bag, hauling it over your shoulder. You poke your head out in the hallway, no one’s there. You sigh, content with your scavenge. Humming under your breath, you make your way out of the school.

behind you right behind you grabbing yOU–!

You turn around quickly, eyes wide. You just looked around, there was no one there! A hand lays outstretched in the air before you. Your eyes travel up the offender's arm and meet green. Damian. Of course.

“I thought you didn’t have time for such frivolous activities,” you blurt, for lack of something better to say. You grip your bag strap tight.

“Who else would keep an eye on you?” he grunts. You coo, “do I attract your eye, then?” Performing a spin, you miss the way he looks you up and down.

He reaches out and flicks your emerald earring. “Tell me why I shouldn’t report you for theft,” he says as he gestures to your bag.

“Because I’m… awesome?” you try. It doesn’t work, clearly. Damian’s looking at you like you’re the very epitome of ‘human disaster’. “It’s for my personal project, lay off.”

Damian steps closer to you, and you finally have the time to really take him in. He’s got a simple dress shirt covered by a black vest. Dress pants, dress shoes, all looking very expensive. An elegant satin green tie pulls it all together. You hum appreciatively as you look him up and down.

“And what exactly does this ‘project’ entail?” he murmurs, grasping your hand and examining the ring. Flirting with you to get you to spill? Smooth.

“You like it?” you ask, referring to the ring. “Jon chose it.”

Damian furrows his brow immediately, looking at you. You grin. “He said he liked it on me, specifically.”

Damian huffs, dropping your hand. “I’m not building a world-ending weapon or anything. I’m allowed my hobbies,” you say, laying a hand on his chest as a way to calm him. “Honest.”

He looks into your eyes for a moment, opening his mouth to speak–

BOOM .

The ground rumbles, Damian grabbing you and you grabbing him. You stay locked together as you stand still, listening. Screams erupt, coming from the gym. Damian pushes you towards safety in a nearby janitor’s closet.

“Stay here, lock the door,” is all he says before running off towards the gym, no doubt planning to save the day as Robin. Way to be subtle.

Karen already knows what to do, letting the suit emerge from your bracelets under your sleeves. You sprint towards the gym, opening the doors silently. People are hiding behind and under tables, whimpering. There’s a gaping hole at the end of the gym, no doubt the loud explosion you heard earlier.

The one and only Scarecrow stands in the settling dust. He sure lives up to his name, that costume is frighteningly ugly. He raises his arms, canisters in hand, and throws them into the crowd. They explode with a hiss, releasing plumes of noxious gas. Hell. No.

You spring into action, webbing the canisters to try and block the spread of the fear gas quickly. A few gasps are heard from the students. You turn to them. “The fuck are you waiting around, for? Run!” They heed your call, quickly finding their way to the doors on the other side of the gym. Scarecrow tries to throw a canister at the running crowd, so you quickly web it, sticking it to the wall.

“You cannot save them,” he taunts, gesturing to the few students that still got hit with the fear gas. “Their fears will consume them, just as yours will consume you.” Ah, right. You are standing right in the middle of where his first cans exploded. Time to find out if your suit blocks the fumes.

A batarang appears, knocking Scarecrow's canisters out of his hands. Robin, the man himself, lands next to you. You can’t help but quip, “I thought such a prestigious school wouldn’t be so easy to break into?”

“It isn’t,” is Robin’s dry reply.

“Well, looks like someone missed the memo,” you retort, eyes locked on Scarecrow. You survey your surroundings, there’s still some lingering kids, plus the one’s victimized by the fear gas. “Handle him, I’ll get them out of here,” you command. Robin nods in understanding.

You jump away, quickly webbing up the fear gassed victims so they don’t hurt anyone or themselves. They scream and trash, making you wince and mutter rushed apologies. You kick up a table, depositing them behind it. Robin is holding his own against Scarecrow efficiently.

A couple of rushed whispers escape you as you encourage the leftover students to follow you out. You guide them, ducking under tables until you reach the doors. You breathe, the only one left is–

Victoria. Where’s her date? Did he leave her to save himself? Asshole, you swear. You call for her. “Hey!”

She turns to you, looking worse for wear. Her makeup is running down her face, carefully tied hair now loose in disarray. Poor girl. She runs over to you, tripping into your arms. “It’s okay,” you whisper as you usher her to the exit.

“Spinner!” Robin yells. You turn around in time to deflect a throwaway can of fear gas. Victoria whimpers in your arms. “It’s alright, Vicky,” you say breathlessly. The last you see of her is her wide eyes as you shut the door.

Scarecrow growls in frustration. “You!” he points at you. “Why are you not affected!?”

A clawed finger clinks against your mask as you tap it. “My suit’s really cool like that.” Thank God , you weren’t sure if it would repel the gas. With a flick of your wrist, you send a web at Scarecrow to restrain him. He dodges, just barely.

“Or maybe I’m just already living my worst nightmare: a villain with a bad fashion sense,” you quip, weaving around. “Now let’s wrap this up before I start critiquing your escape plan.” You launch a web up at the ceiling, letting it carry you up. More webs grasp at Scarecrow, tugging him to you. Robin watches as you tie him up, Scarecrow flailing uselessly in the air.

You ignore his speeches about how ‘fear is eternal’ and ‘you’re delusional if you think you can stop it’ in favor of dropping him to the floor, roughly. You land next to him, leaning down and dragging him with you to the hole in the wall. “I’ll leave you here as my thanks to the GCPD.”

Robin comes to a stop next to you. “Call me corny, but you and I make a pretty good team, no?” you say, crossing your arms as you look at him.

“Do not flatter yourself, I did most of the fighting.”

You snort. “Yeah, but I got him in the end, didn’t I?” Robin shakes his head. “I’m just surprised you’re not shriveled up in fear like the rest of them.”

Robin crosses his arms. “I am capable of holding my breath.” Your mind wanders to inappropriate trains of thought, making you grin. The sound of sirens get closer, signaling the approach of the GCPD, and probably the other Bats as well.

“Well, I get terrible police anxiety, you know how it is,” you say, taking steps out of the hole. Robin follows you out. “Bye,” you say, before swinging away. You round the building, letting the suit retract back into your bracelets. You enter through a back door, avoiding cameras. You quickly straighten out your ruffled appearance, making your way to the gym. Some students are lingering around on their phones, either showing each other what they recorded or calling somebody to pick them up.

You pass Victoria on the way. She’s holding her arms, hugging herself. She raises her head and stares at you as you approach. You pause in front of her, not really sure what to say. She probably doesn’t want your comfort, so you’ll keep it brief. “Glad you’re okay,” you say as you awkwardly pat her shoulder. You quickly scurry inside the gym, feeling what you’re sure is a judging stare.

Just as you thought, some of the Bats are here, administering the antidote to the victims. You make a show of looking for Damian, just in case he’s watching. There’s an incessant buzzing in your pocket. Pulling out your phone, you swipe open Jon’s messages.

please get this boy some brown contacts

why did i just turn on the news and ga was attacked

hello?????

are you okay??????

please be okay

why arent you answering are you dead

please dont be dead

Your heart churns at his worry. You just want to gnaw on him, he’s so cute. You send a selfie of you throwing up a peace sign with the police and Batman in the back.

yeah lmao im ok

shit was crazy but damian shoved me a closet all romantically and then ran off

looking for him rn hope he aint dead

he told me he wasnt even gna come what a liar

oh my gosh youre alive no way

are you sure youre okay im pretty sure you just experienced something really traumatic

YES jon like i said i was in a closet the whole time

well im glad damian shoved you in there

also yeah he is a stinkin liar sometimes

You chuckle and let the conversation die. You make sure to answer Sam’s concerned messages with the same selfie and reassurance.

“I see you are alive and well,” comes Damian’s voice behind you. He’s got his hands in his pocket casually, looking completely put together and not like he just fought crime. He’s good.

You huff and turn around to face him. “Yeah well, it’s hard to die when you’re chilling in a closet that somebody shoved you into,” you snark accusingly.

He scoffs, ”I practically saved your life.”

“And then ran off. Where did you go, anyway?”

Damian turns his head, surveying the law enforcement as they work. “I helped in aiding the other students escape.” Yeah, whatever.

“Oh, really? We got ourselves a hero type over here.” You cross your arms and bump him gently. His head lolls with the movement. “Maybe you really are Robin.” He ‘tsk’s, but says nothing. You let the silence consume the both of you, eyes wandering the scene. Concerned parents cry in outrage at their fear gassed children. You wonder if they’ll sue. Then, you notice something.

“Why is Batman looking at me like I just cursed his entire bloodline?” you ask Damian, making him drop his arms and look to where your eyes are. You’re exaggerating, it’s hard to tell exactly how Batman’s looking at you with the cowl and the distance, but he isn’t exactly being subtle.

“That’s just how he usually looks,” says Damian, trying to remain casual. You are pretty damn sure he’s trying to signal to B that he needs to chill. Karen confirms that he actually is in your ear. Your mouth twitches as you wrangle a grin under control.

“Well, tonight was lame. I’m gonna go home before the big bad bat decides I need to be ‘vengeanced’ or something.” You turn around and begin walking away. “See you around, Dami.”

Damian grabs your arm before you can get far. “Let me walk you.”

You raise a brow. “Trying to figure out my base of operations?”

“It is late and you shouldn’t be going home alone. Especially after tonight,” he gestures to the scene.

You shrug. There’s really nothing to hide at your apartment, and he definitely already knows where you live regardless. “My hero. Okay, if you insist. But you’re paying for the ticket.”

“What ticket?” he scoffs. “My butler will be driving.” Oh. Right.

You scoff. “Of course you have a butler.”

He places a hand on your back to guide you out. You risk a subtle glance behind you and see that Batman is still looking, but more so at Damian now. You make a stop to the closet Damian shoves you into to pick up your haul, ignoring his side-eye. It seems he has let it go, for now.

Cold air greets you as you step outside with Damian. Arguably one of the coolest characters in the DC verse stands beside a sleek looking car, Alfred Pennyworth. You’re a big fan.

“Master Damian, Mx [Name].” He greets primly, stepping aside to open the door for you both. Damian nudges you in, and you make sure to thank Alfred and give him your address as you slip inside. Damian settles in beside you, his arm pressing into yours. You look out of the window as the drive commences. There’s not much to say.

“Tonight could’ve gone worse,” Damian says, breaking the silence. “I suppose we should be grateful for that.”

“Grateful, sure,” you reply, not taking your eyes off the city lights flashing by. “Though I wouldn’t have minded if it hadn’t happened at all.”

He nods, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “True. But then, I wouldn’t have had the chance to save you.”

You roll your eyes. “Is that what you’re going to hang over my head forever? ‘Remember that time I saved you in the school closet?’”

Damian chuckles, a rare sound that makes you glance at him. “Perhaps. But I think you’d do the same.”

“You know me so well,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips.

You lean back in the comfortable leather seat of the car, feeling the tension of the night slowly ebbing away. The drive through Gotham's streets is surprisingly smooth, with only the occasional sound of sirens in the distance to remind you of the chaos that unfolded earlier.

As you pass under the shadow of skyscrapers, you steal a glance at Damian. His profile is illuminated by the faint glow of city lights filtering through the car window. Despite the adrenaline of the evening, he seems composed, almost serene.

He catches your glance and turns to meet your eyes, his own reflecting a mix of lingering intensity from the night's events and a quiet contemplation that seems to soften his usually sharp features. The silence between you feels comfortable now, no longer laden with the tension of earlier encounters or the urgency of the situation you just escaped. You offer a smile, and this time he doesn’t have any reaction. Just a calm expression.

“We have arrived,” Alfred announces softly as the car comes to a stop, almost hesitant to break the silence. You step out of the car, giving Alfred a nod of gratitude before heading up to your apartment. You turn back one last time, meeting Damian’s gaze before unlocking your door and heading inside. As you settle in, you can't help but feel a strange mix of emotions—relief, curiosity, and something else you can't quite place.

You drop your bag next to your bed and collapse in it. Nari comes trotting over, hopping onto your mattress and curling up next to you. Tonight was anything but lame. And as reluctant as you are to admit it, Damian’s presence made it a bit better.

You close your eyes, letting sleep take your mind.

notes: i know in a lot of peter parker in gotham fics they have that "dick grayson is richard parker in a different reality" storyline so i think im gonna try to reference that just a tad, since reader is peter parker just not yk.

in other news, im gonna TRY to update every weekend or so. keyword try.

#damian wayne x reader #jon kent x reader #dc x reader #robin x reader #superboy x reader

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wildernessuntothemselves · 2 years ago

Text

Love you, love you, love you...

Summary: You go into your arranged marriage already distrusting your husband and all other men, and despite him repeatedly attempting to gain your favor, you are resolved to rebuke him at every turn. Will you manage to keep up the walls you’ve built to protect yourself, or will prince Beomgyu succeed in getting through your defenses?

Word Count: 11k

General warnings: oc is basically a misandrist, she will not hear gyu out, her calling him a pinhead, gyu using the word rape (no one actually gets raped), oc being a bitch about their first time and making fun of gyu’s hesitance, oc is emotionally stunted, inaccurate description of first times, beomgyu and others calling him a sissy, arranged marriages.

Smut warnings: sub!gyu, dom!reader, riding, cunnilingus, masturabtion under guidance, edging, premature ejaculation, breeding kink, playing with nipples.

“We don’t have to do this.”

You stand in front of your newly-wedded husband, livid.

“You think I’m too fragile to consummate my marriage?”

“No, I–” He attempts to explain himself but you cut him off. “Just because I was forced into this marriage doesn’t mean I can’t fulfill my duties.” You growl, offended by how weak he must think you are.

“I was just saying that you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” He stammers, trying to recover from his unintended offense, and you snort derisively. “It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?”

He gulps and shakes his head. “I know you didn’t want to get married to me but I can do right by you. I will never–”

You roll your eyes, drowning out his yapping. This is your least favorite breed of men–the ones who pretend they’re not like the others. Had you been less jaded, you might’ve fallen for it, but when your own father sold you out to the highest bidder, you’d be forgiven for your lack of faith in men.

“Shut up and take off my dress.” You cut him off.

“You really–” He tries again and you snap, all patience gone. “Fucking do it, you sissy.”

His jaw smacks shut and he levels you with a glare. There it is, that male aggression you’re so familiar with. He storms over to you and clumsily undoes the intricate lacing on your wedding dress, struggling with them for some time until he finally, finally pushes the dress off and it falls to the ground at your feet.

But no further movement comes from him and you turn around to see him sheepishly looking at the floor, avoiding glancing at your bare body.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” You grunt, reaching out to take his own clothing off. He lets you do it without a fight, the only protest being his flaming red cheeks.

You let out a laugh when you pull his pants to the floor and are greeted by the sight of his hard cock that smacks against his naked belly. “All this protest, trying to act virtuous, when you’re just as horny as the rest of the pigs.”

That gets him angry. Good, at least it’s not fake righteousness. “I am not a pi–ah!”

Whatever his rant was going to be is quickly cut off when you grab his cock and pump it in your hand. “You can pretend all you want but your body says it all.”

“What? So I’m a pig for being attracted to my wife?” He manages to grit out, calling you out for your judgment of him, but you’re not interested in having this conversation right now.

“Shut up.” You throw back lamely, getting onto the bed and spreading your legs out. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

But he remains rooted to his spot, scowl full-fledged on his handsome face now. “I don’t want to feel like I’m raping my own wife.”

“Either way I have no choice.”

“Then I’ll make the choice for us. I can sleep in a different room.” He announces, bending down to pick up his discarded clothes and you panic. Yes, you didn’t want to get married to him in the first place, but the rumors that will spread about you if people find out that your husband fled your marital bed on your wedding night,–you shudder to think of it. It’s one thing to be viewed as a pariah among your peers, but it’s another thing entirely to fuel their outlandish claims.

“I want this!” You exclaim frantically, blushing as he gives you an incredulous look. “I want you to fuck me.”

His will seems to weaken for a second, and he looks like he’s about to give in, but then the doubt sets in again. “You don’t really–”

At your wit’s end, you reach out to grab his arm and tug him towards you, causing him to basically stumble on top of you on the bed.

“I’m–I’m so sorry–” He quickly apologizes even though it was clearly your fault, and he props himself up on his elbows so he’s not pressed against you. Though he curiously doesn’t stand back up, and there is one particular part of him you can feel pressed against your belly, still hard.

“I want you to fuck me, Beomgyu.” You repeat firmly, and maybe it’s the close proximity or the feel of your skin against his hot dick, but he finally gives in. “Okay.”

He wedges a hand between your bodies. You can’t see what he’s doing but you know he had grabbed his cock because a moment later you feel it pressed against your pussy. Harshly, you will down a shiver that tries to slither its way up your spine at the touch.

But the strange sense of excitement is short-lived, lost in the clumsiness of the man above you trying and failing to find your entrance.

“I just–it’s hard to see–” He explains awkwardly, pulling back to get a better look. You can’t refrain from rolling your eyes at the pitiful scene, which only makes him more nervous.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” You groan after a while of watching him fumble around with his dick, pushing him onto his back and climbing on top of him. He stares at you, wide-eyed, as you grab his dick and line it up with your entrance before you start to sink down on him.

Your outburst may have been more powerful if you didn’t then stop one-third of the way down because of the pain. “Oh.”

Beomgyu notices your discomfort and reaches out to hold you up. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” You grit, forcing yourself to take more of him.

“Wait–take it slow–” He wheezes out, even as he clearly fights to not get lost in the feeling of your hot cunt.

“I can take it.” You tell yourself more than him, bracing yourself as you take the rest of him in. Once you’re perched on his hips, you give yourself a moment to get used to the painful stretch. Beomgyu on the other hand is in ecstasy, his breathing heavy and his fingers clenching around your plush thighs to keep himself in check.

Seeing him so affected by you like this is what begins to lift the shock of the pain and allows you to feel a bit of pleasure as you will yourself to relax. He just lies there all pliant and still beneath you, not once using his grip on you to make you move despite you clearly feeling his hips twitch with the attempt to hold back from thrusting up into your heat.

“Are you a virgin?” You ask, intrigued by his reactions, and his affirmative response is a given. “Yeah…”

If any other man had claimed virginity, especially a wealthy, privileged man like him, you would’ve called bullshit, but with him you one hundred percent believe it.

Finally feeling like you’re ready to move, you start swiveling your hips over him, trying to stretch yourself out in preparation for more. “Is it everything you imagined it to be?”

He shakes his head, and for a second you have to contend with the ugly feeling his rejection sparked in you. But then he continues, “It’s better.”

You scoff. Liar. You’re barely even moving. Why is he bullshiting you? What does he stand to gain from that? Whatever, you’ll give him something to really make his head spin.

Bracing your hands onto his tummy, you lift your hips up before letting yourself drop down.

“Oh god.” The breath whooses out of him, and you’re surprised to find that the action actually sparks a tiny bit of pleasure in you too. So you do it again and again, moving up and down until you’re all out riding his cock.

“That good?” You coax, trying not to think about why you even feel the need to have him affirm his enjoyment to you.

“Too good.” He answers tightly, biting his lip. You feel his grip move from your thighs to your ass, getting more purposeful as he tries to control your movement. “Slow down.”

Like hell you will when it just started getting good. You grab his hands and pin them down beside his head. "Keep those here, understand?" You hiss at him. You won’t let him try to control you

He whimpers, nodding, and something about his easy submissiveness makes your pussy clench. But that seems to spur him on again, and his hands shoot out to grab you once more. “Hold on!”

You snatch his hands up and shove them onto the bed again, keeping them pinned down this time. "Shut up." He might be the man but he doesn’t get to tell you what to do. This isn’t for his enjoyment. This is purely for the purpose of fully consummating your marriage. You want this to be over as fast as possible.

Except you didn’t expect it to be over this fast.

“You don’t understand, I–I–” He flounders, and suddenly you feel something warm paint your insides and you stare incredulously at the panting man under you, clearly in the throes of orgasm.

"Fuck, did you cum already?"

"I'm sorry. I asked you to slow down." He answers pathetically and you look down at him in disgust. Well, there goes any hope of you getting off tonight. Not that you expected it in the first place.

"Whatever. This is better anyway." You go to hop off him but he reaches out and one of your arms. “Wait. I can make it up to you.”

“How?” You ask skeptically.

"Let me make you cum."

Let’s see, do you want him to clumsily try to fuck you to orgasm for the next few minutes before he inevitably ejaculates prematurely once more?

"No, I'm tired." You shoot him down, disinterested, but he doesn’t give up, grabbing onto you tighter and peering up at you earnestly. "Please, just give me a chance."

It’s clear that he won’t give this up. It’s probably gonna take longer to convince him to leave you alone than it will for him to try and fail to make you orgasm. So with a heavy sigh, you lie down on your back, closing your eyes and willing yourself away from this moment. "Fine. You have one chance."

But your eyes snap back open when you feel something wet against your pussy, and look down to see him with his head between your legs, licking you.

Most men would never do this. They just feel entitled to getting their dicks sucked while acting like it's so gross to repay the favor. But here is Beomgyu eating you unreservedly after he just came inside you. Either he's really not as bad as the others or he's a fucking freak. Probably the latter. Definitely the latter, but that doesn’t mean you can't take advantage of it.

Beomgyu clearly doesn't know what he's doing, clumsily licking at your pussy like it's a tart, but that's okay. You can guide him through it. That would end this sooner and you might actually get an orgasm out of it.

"Flatten your tongue out and lick from the bottom to the top." You instruct and he eagerly obeys, licking from your entrance to your clit again and again, his eyes never leaving your face as he monitors your reaction.

“Yeah, just like that.” You encourage, starting to feel a twinge of pleasure at the pit of your stomach. “Now wiggle your tongue. Good… go back to licking.”

You guide him, making him alternate between sharp quick movements and long languid licks along your whole slit. Every once in a while, he’d pull his tongue back in his mouth to wet it and his lips would pucker and he would suck on your sensitive pussy, making your whole body tremble. It doesn’t take him long to notice, and then he starts doing it on purpose, more frequently, sucking your lower lips or you clit into his mouth before letting them go and attacking them with sharp swipes of his tongue then licking up all the arousal his actions produce.

You hate how quickly he picks it all up, reducing you to a shaking mess in no time.

Nearing your end, you grab his hair and push his face against your pussy. “I’m close. Focus on the clit now.”

He moans at that, the sound traveling straight through your pussy, and it's the push you need to cum, crying out and tugging sharply on his hair as your orgasm shakes through you. Beomgyu doesn’t mind the roughness. On the contrary, it motivates him to nuzzle further into your pussy, encouraged by your reaction and fishing for more, until you tug his hair in the opposite direction, moving him away from you.

"Beomgyu, enough." You squeak at the overstimulation, and he whines in protest, trying to fight against your grip to dive back in but you close your legs, denying him.

He whines again but settles on pressing wet kisses against your heated thighs, looking up at you like a pup who just finished playing and is now resting on his master's lap, and just as adorable.

At that final disturbing thought, you push him off you and get up to grab something to slip on. Beomgyu doesn’t make any attempt to do the same, his eyes glued to your figure as you put a nightgown on.

"Aren't you going to get dressed?" You ask, trying not to glance at his naked body that he doesn’t even try to cover.

He shrugs. "It's too hot."

"Well, I'd prefer if you put something on. I don't want to sleep in the same bed as a naked man."

He looks at you like you’re being ridiculous. "We're married. We just fucked." He says slowly and you put your hands on your hips, not appreciating the way he's speaking to you like you’re stupid.

"Yeah, and now we're done. I don't want to see your floppy dick anymore."

"It wasn't floppy." He frowns, upset at the way you're speaking about his precious dick. Typical man, the slightest suggestion that you wouldn't be grateful to see his dick hurts his pride.

But he gets up nonetheless, quickly putting some pants on before rejoining you on the bed. He doesn’t wear a shirt and you don’t bother fighting him on this. You just turn your back to him and close your eyes, determined to go to sleep quickly and end this ridiculous night.

But any thought of sleep is stolen from your tired brain when you feel arms wrapping around you. "What the hell are you doing?" You ask him incredulously and he stammers in response, clearly not expecting you to object to the action. "I–I just thought we could… cuddle."

You can see the blush on his face even in the dim light. "No. No. There will be none of that. I’ve fulfilled my duty as a wife already so keep your hands to yourself."

His face falls, hurt crashing across it, and you’re suddenly hit with the sickening realization of what's going on here.

Beomgyu likes you.

It should've been obvious. From the way he looks at you, to wanting to make sure you don't do anything you don't want to, to striving to please you too, and now to trying to hold you to sleep.

Well, too bad. You don't owe him love.

You turn your back on his dejected expression. Just because he ate you out doesn’t mean you’ll start playing at being in love.

________________

But you learn that Beomgyu isn't so easily deterred, and he seems determined to chip away at your walls brick by brick. Though, you’re just as determined and as soon as he takes one away, you put ten in its place.

“Darling.”

You wince as you hear your husband’s voice call out. Damn it, he’s found you.

He trots down to you like an excited puppy, entirely too happy to be seeing you. He can’t actually be this excited to be around you despite your constant rejection of him, can he? Why isn’t he out there with the rest of the men doing whatever the men do?

“Oh, you’re playing chess? Can I play next?”

“Sure. I’m done anyway.” You say, getting up and getting hit by the most puppy-like pout you’ve seen on a human. “But I thought we could play a game together.”

“I’m tired. I want to lie down.” You lie, wanting to get away from him, but your treacherous friend chooses now to pipe up. “Oh, come one. Play a game with him. Or are you scared he’ll beat you?”

Damn her, she knows how to get to you. You know she’s doing this purely because she’s been sucked in by your husband’s guileless act and she’s been consistently trying to get you to give him a chance, telling you that maybe he really isn’t like other men. You should pick better friends.

You huff and plop back down on your chair, your friend grinning widely as she gets up and lets Beomgyu take her spot. Whatever, you’ll beat his stupid ass and humiliate him so bad, he’ll show his true colors. Men never like to be bested by the women they look down on.

But to your horror and utter dismay–after an embarrassingly short game where you flounder and fail to mount any meaningful attack against him–Beomgyu ends up beating. And he does it with a smile too, like it was so easy, like he was beating a child.

“Checkmate.” He claps his hands happily. “I’m pretty good, huh?

You don’t reciprocate his excitement. Instead you level him with a cold look that projects all your shame and self-doubt into hatred and accusation towards him. "You think you're better than me?"

All semblance of joy is suddenly sucked out of him, his eyes widening in alarm. “No! I was just–”

“Let’s play again. I will beat you this time.” You pointedly assemble the pieces back on the board, slamming them into place, face set in a severe frown.

“I just wanted us to have fun together doing something you enjoy. Maybe impress you…” He mumbles but it’s all background noise to you, already formulating a plan of attack in your mind.

You win the next game, but you draw no satisfaction from it. How can you when your opponent clearly wouldn’t fight back? He misses obvious plays, leaves himself vulnerable to easy attacks, and his moves are devoid of the quit wit he displayed earlier.

“Take this seriously, dammit.” You yell at him after you win once again because he just wouldn’t attack your pieces.

Take me seriously. A voice pipes up from deep within your unconsciousness before you squash it back down.

“Not everything is a competition.” He huffs glumly and you stare at him incredulously. “It is a competition, pinhead. That’s the definition of a game.”

“Haven’t you heard of a friendly game?” He asks, a hint of sharpness you’re not used to from him tinging his voice.

“We’re not friends.” You answer dumbly, and he scoffs softly. “Clearly.”

He gets up and you gawk at him. “Where the hell are you going?”

“I’m done. God forbid I accidently make you actually have fun.”

“Hey, I have fun!” You shout, getting up too, and he has the audacity to roll his eyes. “Yeah? When?”

“All the fucking time.” You lie through your teeth, for some reason feeling like you need to prove yourself to him, like you need to best him at something, but he still doesn’t believe you.

“Show me then. Let’s do something fun.”

“Sure! Let’s go to–let’s check out the–let’s–let’s–” You stammer and he gives you a skeptical look. “Oh, fuck off. Like you have a blast every day.”

“I do, actually.” He straightens up, happy with himself for some reason.

“Oh yeah, then show me what you do that is so fun.”

_______________________

‘You deeply regret challenging him,’ you think as you watch the idiot that is now perched onto a tree branch, grabbing a rope that is dangling from higher up on the ancient tree.

“You’re going to hurt yourself.” You yell, craning your head up to look at him.

“Well, then at least you’ll be happy.” He comments off-handedly and you frown. You wouldn’t be happy if he hurt himself. Yes, you didn’t want to get married to him, but that doesn’t mean that you wish the idiot any actual harm.

Before you can think whether to refute his words out loud, he clings onto the rope and takes off into the air, swinging over the lake under him before letting go and plummeting down into it with a big splash.

“Oh my god!” You scream, frantically peering over the edge of the water, scanning the outpour of bubbles for signs of your dumb husband.

After what felt like eternity, he resurfaces, whooping in excitement. “Whoah, that was awesome!”

You give him a skeptical look, eyeing the water warily, when he pipes up again, “Try it. You’ll love it!”

“Yeah, no thanks.” You dismiss him quickly, having absolutely no desire to willingly follow him into the murky lake.

“What’s wrong? Scared you might actually have fun?” He goads.

Yes, you’re scared. Not of having fun, but of the ominous water. You’ve never been a big fan of swimming, not trusting your fate to the fickle gods that control those menacing depths. But you’d never tell him that. You’d rather die than admit to him you’re scared of an activity he performs so nonchalantly.

So you steel yourself and head towards the tree he had jumped off earlier, taking off your dress to get it out of the way before climbing onto the thing.

"Do you need help?" He calls out, swimming towards you.

"No, thanks, I'm not a damsel in distress." You snark, grabbing onto the tree firmly and using the branches to pull yourself up.

You can feel his eyes on you the whole way, no doubt waiting for you to fail and call for help, but he's got another thing coming if he thinks you’re a weak girl who needs a man's help to do anything physical.

"Whoa, look at you go." His laughing voice wafts up to you and you can't tell if his surprise is good-natured or condescending.

The climb is easy enough. You’re used to doing such physical activities, much to the chagrin of your parents who always urged you to act more ladylike and stop embarrassing them.

'Well, fuck them, and fuck him,’ you think triumphantly as you reach the large branch he jumped off. But your triumph is short lived, promptly snuffed out by the sight of the cold abyss underneath you.

He must've seen the dread on your face because he calls out once again. "Hey, you okay?"

You shift your gaze from the water to his face, and the uncertain look on his face annoys the fuck out of you. You will not have him doubt you. You will not show weakness.

You grab onto the hanging rope, cringing at the slimy feel under your skin, but you power through your disgust and your fear, clinging onto the slippery thing as you swing forward.

But can’t get yourself to let go, the dreary water swirling underneath you compelling you to cling tighter to the rope.

"You gonna jump or what?" Beomgyu laughs and you almost don't hear him through the beating of your own heart in your ears. Still, you don't let go despite his provocation, your fingernails digging into your palms and your muscles burning as you continue to clutch onto the rope tightly.

"Hey, don't worry. I'm right here." You hear his voice right under you, taking on a concerned tone as you clearly struggle. "Come on, let go."

You don't want to. You want to go back to shore but you're stuck, suspended in the air, the slimy substance on the rope making your fingers slip bit by bit.

Fuck, you're gonna fall. You're gonna fall. You're gonna–

You scream as your grip finally falters and you plummet to the lake below. As you breach the surface, water rushes into your open lungs through your open mouth, suffocating you. You thrash around in panic, certain you're going to drown over a stupid dare.

You feel something grab onto you and you thrash harder, your panicked brain convincing you it’s the lake itself trying to bring you down to your demise at the cold, dark lakebed.

“Hey, hey, calm down.” You hear Beomgyu's muffled voice, followed by his face coming into view, his expression scared but trying to keep calm. "It's me. I got you."

I got you?

It takes a few more seconds for you to realize that the thing that had grabbed a hold of you earlier was not the lake but Beomgyu, and that instead of trying to pull you under, he's trying to keep your head above the water.

As soon as you realize that, you wrap yourself around him, clinging onto him for dear life, shaking like a leaf in the wind.

Beomgyu keeps one of his arms wrapped around your waist and moves the other one up and down your back soothingly. “I got you. You’re okay. Take deep breaths.”

You do, following his lead, focusing on his breathing and mimicking the slowing rhythm until the both of you are sufficiently calm.

"There you go." He smiles, no hint of judgment or mockery on his face. “You alright?”

“I’m fucking cold.” Is all you can think to say, and he laughs, the sound warming you up. “Let’s get you out of here.”

What? Where the hell did that come from?

Beomgyu carries you on his back as he swims to the shore. It feels like forever but you eventually reach it, and as soon as you find your footing, you let go of him and scramble out of the water, throwing yourself to the ground. Eyes closed, you take in deep breaths, finally able to breathe properly once again.

"Do you not know how to swim?" Beomgyu asks, and you hear him sit down next to you.

"I know how to swim." You retort sharply, too sharply to a man who just saved your life. But you can’t help it, your pride is wounded after you embarrassed yourself like that in front of him. Besides, it was his fault all this happened anyway–him and his stupid wit and his stupid carelessness.

He is silent, but you know he clearly wants you to explain yourself. So begrudgingly, you add, "I just don't like it. The water freaks me out."

"Then why did you–oh." That small little syllable stings at your already bruised pride. You wait for him to make fun of you but he doesn’t say anything further, mercifully choosing to spare any possible remnants of your ego.

It’s quiet for a bit, and as you sit drying out, you feel something other than the sun burning your skin. You peek your eyes open to see him staring at you. He looks away when caught, blushing like a young boy caught staring at his crush instead of a man looking at his wife. He's ridiculous.

"What?" You prompt irritably.

"You're pretty." He murmurs bashfully and you scoff. "I know. That's why my father was able to sell me to a prince."

Beomgyu frowns, unhappy about you bringing this up again. Oh, did you ruin his little make-believe scene? "I didn't choose this either, you know?"

"You sure don't seem all that torn up about it." You retort, unkind about his obvious liking towards you.

"Because I can see that even though neither of us chose this, I was blessed to end up with such a smart, strong, beautiful wife. But you clearly don't think the same of me."

You don't think his response would elicit such a gnawing feeling of guilt inside you, but his self-pitiance coupled with his compliment of you makes you almost regret your attitude. But you refuse to give in to his guilt tripping. You don't owe him happiness. You're not going to bow down and be grateful because he deigns to like you.

At your silence, he scoffs and gets up. You fully expect him to turn around and walk away, leaving you behind, but to your surprise he offers you a hand instead.

"Don't look so surprised. You may choose to be cruel to me but I will never treat you the same way."

The nerve of this man! God, he pisses you off so much.

You push his hand away and pull yourself up on your own, getting dressed before stomping back towards the palace.

_______________________________

He keeps away from you after that. True to his words, he remains civil and courteous, but doesn't try to press for anything more… and you have to admit, you start to miss it.

Not because you hold any affection for him–of course, not!--but because you're alone here with no family and so few friends. Beomgyu on the other hand is surrounded by people who are delighted to have his company, ensuring he is never wanting for company or affection.

You on the other hand are woefully lonely, so much so that eventually you reach your breaking point, grabbing him one night while you're both getting ready for bed and kissing him.

"What? Am I finally worthy of your affection?" Beomgyu derides when you break the kiss. You have no right to be upset at his abrasiveness when you're the one who caused it but you still are. Why can’t he just shut up and give you what you need? Why must he make you feel even more embarrassed about your need for him? Not that you’d ever admit either to him.

"I'm in my fertile period. We need to make a baby." You cover your tracks, and he somehow still manages to be hurt by your response, as if he was actually expecting you to confess your undying love to him. "Wow, that is so sexy."

You roll your eyes and slip off your dress. "Is this sexy?"

He doesn’t even try to hide the way he ogles your body and you laugh, stripping him before pushing him onto the bed. "I thought so."

_______________________

As punishment for forcing you to almost reveal your alarmingly developing need for him, you concoct a cruel plan designed to repay him tenfold. You set out to satisfy your need while simultaneously maximizing his own by restricting any sexual intercourse between the two of you to your fertile period of every month, and spending the intervening time alternating between depriving him of your touch and teasing him until he’s begging you to let him have you.

He comes to memorize your schedule and, like a trained dog, starts getting restless close to the when you’d be fertile, staring at you like he's fucking you in his head, humping the bed in his sleep, sporting a semi-permenant hard on as the day draws closer.

"Did I say you could slow down?"

You take to edging and denying him during your sex-free periods on the pretense that you want him to be full and ready to breed you when the time comes. It's bullshit of course and he knows it too, but he wants to have a family with you so much and wants to please you so badly that he lets you do whatever you want to him.

"I'm close." He tries to excuse his disobedience but you have no patience for it.

"You can hold it." You assert, knowing full well he's near his breaking point, but it's just so fun to watch him fight with his own body to try to please you, caught between continuing as you want and risking cumming and angering you or stopping and angering you by disobeying.

"I can't." He shakes his head, despairing.

"You can." You say more gently this time, going for a different tactic, though no less devious. "You want to knock me up don't you? Wanna see me get big and round with your baby?"

"Fuck, stop it." He whines, his hand barely moving over his cock but not daring to stop.

"You're so pretty like this." You coo, knowing he's a sucker for your compliments. They're rare but he lives off of them.

"Oh." He gasps, speeding his pace on his cock, needing to hear more. You can see the muscles of his tummy tensing as he tries to hold back but his hips can't help but buck into his own hand. "Please. Just let me cum once. My balls are so full. I'll have so much for you still. It's been so long."

God, you love making him do this. He'll do anything you ask of him. Maybe he's rotten like all men but at least his brand of sickness is fun to watch.

"It hasn't been one week. Are you that addicted to sex? Did you fuck yourself every day before I came along?"

He shakes his head, denying your accusations. "You keep teasing me, wearing those revealing clothes to bed. Touching me under the table. Whispering dirty things in my ear when we have company…"

"You love it, you dirty pup. I know you do."

"I love it. Love you touching me, love you toying with me, love you…"

He doesn't finish that lost one. He doesn't get to–or maybe that was the end of the sentence-before he suddenly spills his seed.

"Oh god. Oh god, I'm so sorry." He cries, just as surprised about his orgasm as you were. "I didn't mean to, I swear."

"But you did." You tsk, intent on milking his "disobedience" to death and making him whimper and cry like a scolded dog. But the sheer panic in his reply throws you off. "I know. I'm sorry. I tried to–" His voice cuts up in a hiccuping cry. "I tried to–tell you–to stop–I couldn't–help–ittt."

You stare at him in shock. He has tears streaming down his face, shoulders going up and down with every gasping breath he takes, and his hands are hovering nervously in the air as if he wants to reach out to you but is scared of what your reaction would be.

So you take it upon you to reach out to him instead, holding his hands in yours as you scooch towards him. "Hey, hey, it's okay."

"No, it's not." He shakes his head vigorously, tears flying off his pretty lashes. "I try so hard to be good for you and I can't even control myself. I know you’re mad."

"I'm not mad." You deny, but he just keeps shaking his head and mumbling sadly, "Didn’t mean to disappoint you."

"I'm not disappointed." You reassure him, more firmly this time. "It's just a game."

"You are–"

He obviously won't listen to your words so you go for a different route, cutting him off with a kiss that, thankfully, he easily melts into.

The kiss is tender–every diminishing sob released against your lips unwillingly tugging on your heartstrings until you feel completely wretched for somehow making it so he reacted so strongly to something so stupid. It was never your intention to make him actually suffer. You merely wished to protect yourself. But how do you do that when your distance is what's making him so miserable?

You do not owe him your love but does that mean that he can't earn it?

"I'm not mad." You repeat when you end the kiss and he nods, eyes glued to your lips as he licks his own, his wish clear. But before he can ask for another kiss, you choose instead to let go of him to grab something to clean him up with.

He never takes his eyes off you as you wipe his hands off and clean the cum off his body. And he still stares at you as you dispose of the rag and lay back down on the bed.

"What?" You ask, sharper than you intended and he flinches. So you try again, gentler this time. "Do you need something?"

He stares down at his hands as he speaks, wringing his fingers nervously. "Will you hold me to sleep?"

Your following silence prompts him to finally look up at you, and the wet, vulnerable look in his big brown eyes physically prevents you from rebuffing his request.

You sigh, throwing an arm out pointedly and he doesn't waste a second jumping forward and snuggling into your side.

__________________

That small action--Beomgyu having you hold him to sleep instead of the other way around–makes you realize something that should've been obvious to you from the start… unlike other men, and despite your worst fears, Beomgyu isn't looking to control or lead you.

He never did, from your sex life to what you do in your free time and even to public appearance, he lets you do as you please, only ever venturing to appeal to be included in it. You've even embarrassed him in public a couple of times before and yet he never lashed out against you in any way.

Other people were decidedly less kind though. You know they're gossipping about you. How you're a shame to other ladies and he's a disgrace to his family and the prince title. It gets to a point where you can't help but inquire about it to him, perplexed by his seeming indifference to what anyone else had to say.

"Does it not bother you?"

"What does?" He peeks an eye open to look at you from where he is laid down on the grass next to you, another successful hijacking of your time.

"What they say about you?" You spare him the details he knows all too well–that he's not a man, that he isn't fit to be a prince, that he's so weak and feeble even his wife rules him

"It does, of course. Everyone seeks to be accepted by others-be it friends, family, society, a lover…" He trails off tenderly, and you ignore the longing look he gives you. "But I have a loving family, supportive friends, and a secure life. I'd be a foolish man indeed to ignore all of that and spend my days trying to gain the approval of those who think ill of me." He says with a smile that suddenly and unexpectedly falls, "Why? Does it bother you? Me not being manly?"

"Would you change if it did?" You ask curiously and he frowns in thought before answering. "No, I want you to be happy with me, but I want to be happy too. I want us both to be happy."

"Why do you want me to be happy so badly?" You ask genuinely. It might be a stupid question to ask your husband but the sad reality is most husbands don't care much for their wives happiness.

"I believe a marriage should be built on respect and affection. Your spouse is meant to be your life partner, they’re there to witness it all, your everyday life, your ups and down, the mundane and the exciting. Why not try to make the best of those years? Why not be each other's rock when the world tears you down?" He espouses thoughtfully, a wiseness you never expected from him coming through, making him look mature and worldly. But then an innocent bashfulness takes over his face and he returns back to the boyish prince you’ve come to know. "And… I've always had a crush on you."

"Me?" You ask, surprised. You’ve met the prince many times before. You were hardly strangers before your marriage, but you wouldn’t have considered yourselves friends and certainly didn’t suspect that he held any romantic sentiment towards you. But you suppose that explains his existing partiality towards you despite your less than sweet reaction to the marriage.

"I have always loved how bold you were despite everyone trying to force you to fit the status quo. It gave me courage to be myself too. I thought if you could manage to act so decidedly outside of what is deemed proper for a lady and still remain the most radiant and exhilarating woman in the room, then maybe others could find beauty in me too."

You gape at him, at a loss for words. He finds the parts of you that are so repulsive to everyone else attractive? Is he messing with you? Is this some cruel joke? Or is he actually telling the truth?

You so badly want to believe him, but you can’t bring yourself to. It’s too good to be true.

"Did you ever… think of me that way?" He asks timidly, not daring to look at you, fearing your response, and for once, you feel saddened that you’re unable to give him the answer he’s looking for.

"No." You tell him honestly. You haven’t given him much thought before you got married. Sure, you could see that he was handsome, and he had always made himself known by his unusual behavior but other than that you hadn't really paid much attention to him, too caught up with your own troubles to pay any mind to his. You come to regret that now. At the very least, you might’ve made yourself a friend who would accept you for who you are. Or so he claims anyway.

"What about now?" His follow-up question is even more timid, whispered so quietly you almost didn't hear it. And you wish you didn’t because you don't have any answer for it.

"Let's not go there." You reply uncomfortably, getting up in order to physically remove yourself from the loaded question, refusing to consider that you might actually have developed any affection for him.

But Beomgyu quickly sits up and holds onto your hand. "No, please, don't leave. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." He begs dolefully, which doesn't help your uneasiness in the slightest bit.

"It's fine." You lie to no one's benefit. "I just have things to do." You excuse yourself unconvincingly, taking your leave before he can fully articulate his next argument.

You hate seeing him so down, but what can you do when he insists on breaching this delicate topic again and again? You have no answer for him, you really don't. Why must he keep prodding?

____________________

"Is it time to go to bed yet?" Beomgyu whispers in your ear. He has been giving you needy looks the whole night, when he wasn't actively hanging onto your arm like he is right now.

It's the first day of your fertile period, and like you always do, you love to stay out as long as possible just to torment your poor husband. And lucky you, tonight there was just the perfect excuse to stay out even later–a ball hosted by the royal family and inviting noble and rich families from all over the kingdom.

"We're the hosts. It would be rude to leave this early." You tell him sharply as if you weren’t counting on him acting this very way, as if you’re not immensely enjoying it.

"But it's been hours." He whines and you feel him grind not-so-subtly against you.

"Are you seriously humping me in the open like this?" You ask incredulously, "Can't you control yourself?"

He shakes his head. "You know I can't." He tells you helplessly and you smile. Yes, you know very well. "I need it."

You chuckle. "Oh, you need it? What if I don't give it to you?"

He wails at the idea and a few heads turn towards you.

"Don't worry. He just hit his toe against the chair." You wave the curious and concerned glances off before turning towards Beomgyu with a sharp look. "Now look what you've done. Do you want everyone to know what a needy whore you are, my dear?"

"I don't care. Just need you." Throughout it all he hasn't quit pressing his bulge against your hip.

"That's too bad because we're staying for some time still. Now run off and talk to your father's guests and stop being such a rude host."

"But–"

You disentangle yourself from him despite his protests. "Go or you won't be getting fucked tonight." You threaten against his ear before pressing a quick kiss to the skin below, causing goosebumps to erupt in your wake.

You walk off with a big, self satisfied smile, your excitement building as you imagine how desperate he'll be once you actually take him back to bed. You wonder if you can get him to cum untouched. He has very sensitive nipples and you've always wondered if you can actually make him cum just by playing with them. You’re sure you can. Maybe tonight you'll try.

You’re so focused on what you have in store for your poor husband that you don't notice the two people approaching you.

"Oh darling, look how happy you look." You hear your mother's voice next to you and your mood immediately sours. You turn towards the pair with a scowl. "Hello, mother. Hello father."

"Hello, dear. How is my precious flower doing?" Your father asks, leaning forward to give you a kiss on each cheek that you don't reciprocate.

"Deflowered." You deadpan.

"Oh, come off it, baby. You know your father chose Prince Beomgyu because he was sure he would cherish you. That boy positively adores you." Your mother chastises, and you frown. Did your family seriously know of Beomgyu’s feelings towards you before you did? "And from what I'm hearing, he's doing just that. I mean even today, he can hardly leave your side for a minute."

You snort. If only she knew what was really going on... But to be fair, they weren't entirely wrong. Beomgyu does cherish you. That doesn't mean that you'll let them feel good about what they did.

"Your mother is right, love." Your father says gently but firmly, "We just wanted to ensure a good life for you with a man who adores you as much as we do. You are our only child and if you hadn’t gotten married, you would have been the object of many a wicked man's greed."

You roll your eyes at them. You could’ve handled yourself just fine. Not that they ever believed in you. "Whatever."

Are you being immature? Yes, but you’re still bitter about them not giving you a choice in the matter or even the man you were to marry, even if their choice turned out to be decent.

"Excuse me. I have to go find me dear husband." You give them a sour smile and turn you back on them. Their worried murmurs fade into the background noise as you step away from them and search for Beomgyu in the crowd, determined to go back to your room now.

When you spot him though, your mood takes an even more severe plunge. He's not alone, and the way he's entertaining the guest is way more intimate than you had instructed. The woman next to him is standing way too close to be proper, and she has one of her hands on his shoulder and the other one trailing down his chest.

Of course. Typical man behavior, as soon as you're out of sight he's wrapped up in some other woman’s arms. And here you thought he actually cared.

A dull pang starts out from the middle of your chest before it quickly spreads all across your ribcage in sharp stabs that take your breath away– a testament to the hurt you're feeling at this betrayal. He really got you fooled, huh?

You were contemplating whether to march off and slap the both of them silly or go back to your room, locking him out and crying your eyes out, when you hear his panicked voice floating into your full ears.

"I'm married!" He stammers, trying to wiggle out of the woman's hold on him but she just steps closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him.

A rage like no other fills up your body at the sight, searing off the wounds that were just covering it from the perceived betrayal, but you force yourself to stand still and watch how this will play out.

"So? All princes take mistresses. I hear she's not even letting you fuck her. What a heartless bitch."

That’s it! You make a move to step forward and smack her filthy hands off your husband, but he does it himself, throwing her hands off him angrily.

"Don't you dare speak about her that way." He shouts, furious in a way you've never seen him before. "She is my wife and I love her. She satisfies me much better than you could ever hope to do. I want no one else but her so kindly fuck off before you embarass yourself any further."

You freeze. Beomgyu loves you?

Yes, you knew he liked you and he was never shy about expressing it, but love?

It's at this moment, while you're rooted to your spot in shock, that Beomgyu finally sees you. A big smile replaces his affronted expression as he calls out to you. "Oh, darling there you are!"

But then he notices the look on your face and his own expression pales, his eyes jumping between you and the woman who is still standing next to him. "It's not what you think. I told her to back off, I swear."

Oh, he must think you're upset because of her. Well, you were but not at him. Not after he proved himself right in front of you. Still, this is a good distraction. It's better that he thinks that. You can't discuss the other thing now. You can’t even process it yet.

You quickly compose yourself and walk up to them, wrapping your arm around his waist and giving him a sweet kiss on his lips. "I saw." You smile at him before turning your withering gaze towards the woman. "You heard him. Fuck off and go find another man to lay under."

The woman scoffs and walks off, shouldering you as she goes, but you don't care. You turn back to Beomgyu, and whisper cryptically to him. "I want to speak to you, dear. In private."

His eyes widened in fear. "Darling, I'm sorry–I really tried–"

"Let's go." You snap, pulling him after you into the garden.

You choose a place deep enough into the garden you're sure no one will see you before you push him against a tree.

"You just attract them, don't you?" You raise an eyebrow at him, pressing your thigh between his legs. "Standing out there looking all needy and pretty."

"I told her to go away." He cowers pitifully, but he’s already rutting his cock against your thigh.

"But she just wouldn’t, huh?" You ask with mock sympathy, "You're just a helpless slut aren't you? Need me to be around you all the time to keep you in place?"

"No." He whines, shaking his head roughly. "I can behave. I can be good."

You spit on your hand and put it down his pants, stroking his cock and making him keen and melt into your touch. "Look how easily you give in." You tsk, "How long would you have held out if she did that?"

Beomgyu shakes his head again, tears brimming his pretty eyes. "Never would've given in. Only yours."

"Aw, how cute. This cock is only for me?" You murmur against his lips, palming the head of his cock and feeling his precum already leaking and wetting your hand.

"Everything. I'm all yours." He confesses, his eyes conveying an affection so strong, you can't weather it. You take your hand out of his pants and flip the both of you around so you're the one pressed against the tree. "Fuck me."

"Here?!" He gapes.

"Yes. Want you here."

"But anyone can see." He looks around as if searching for those phantom voyeurs.

"Didn’t you say you’re all mine? Show them." You press your lips against his, coaxing him into giving in with sweet kisses that he craves.

“Honey…” He whines, but you wrap one leg around his waist and pull him against you, his body reacting on its down and his hips bucking against you, his cock searching for your warmth that you’ve kept away from him for so long.

You ignore his half-hearted protest, pulling his cock out of his pants and lifting the skirt of your dress up so he can feel you directly. His breath leaves him when he feels his cock glide against your wet pussy. “Oh… you’re not wearing anything underneath.”

“Uh-huh.” You nod, biting your lip and looking at him seductively. “Wanted to be all ready for you to take me. Didn’t know you’d be entertaining other women.”

You’re really dragging out this other woman farce, partly because it’s fun watching him scramble to deny it and appease you, and partly because you feel entitled to him as your husband. You’re not going to be the woman forced to marry a man, only for him to cheat on her too.

But still, you can’t deny the jealousy and hurt you felt seeing him with someone else after he’s spent the last few months professing his affection to you and forcing his way into your life. He said it’s only you he wants, right? Well, you want him to act like it, damned by the reasons behind your unwelcome feelings.

Beomgyu’s eyes widen in horror and he finally presses forward, pushing his cock into you in one needy thrust. “No! Was only thinking about this pussy. I promise.” He wails in earnest, “Only want you.”

His words are like a balm to your wounded ego, and you reward him with a messy, open-mouthed kiss–the kind you know gets him all riled up. “Then fuck me like it.”

“Yes, darling.” He holds up the leg you have wrapped around him with one hand and uses the other to grab your waist and press you flush against the tree, stabilizing you so he can drill his cock into you, an urgency to his movements that tops even your previous encounters.

“Good boy.” You pant, feeling his cock hitting places deep inside you that have your toes curling. "Is this what you wanted all month?"

"Yes, baby. Been thinking of it every night, wished you would just flip over onto your tummy and let me fuck you."

You grin evilly. “I know, baby. I felt that hard cock against me every night. Loved to wake up with it pressed right between my asscheeks.”

“You’re so cruel.” He mewls, fucking into you desperately, making up for all the torture you put him through.

“I know.” You laugh, trailing your hands up his body to play with his sensitive nipples, and when your thumbs brush over them, his hips stutter and he rewards you with the most debauched moans.

“Fuck, don’t do that or I’ll cum.”

“But I want you to cum.” You retort, pulling lightly on his hardened nipples and causing his hips to give a particularly harsh thrust. "Cum inside me. Knock me up. Let them all know who you belong to."

Your words drive him crazy, and soon he’s fucking into you like a wild animal. "Fuck, you’re going so rough. Were you that needy?"

“Yes.” There is no shame in his reply, just pure want. He's not shy about letting his need for you show, his mouth wide open, panting heavily, and eyes glazed over as his hips slam against yours. "Thank you. Thank you for letting me inside your pretty pussy."

Just his face brings you close to the edge, and his wild thrusts threaten to push you over at any moment.

"Look how slutty you look." You tease, cupping his face. "Are you all pussy-drunk, my dear?"

He nods, leaning into your touch and only managing a few garbled moans in response.

"That's okay, pup. All I need from you is your pretty cock. You don't need to have any thoughts in that pretty head of yours. Just keep fucking me like a good boy."

He nods again, enraptured, and his blind obedience finally sends you over the edge.

“Fuck–fuck–good boy… good boy.” You moan out, the praise coming out long and slow as your body tenses up before spasming, your pussy milking his cock and drawing his own orgasm out of him.

Beomgyu buries his face into your neck, letting out choked moans that later turn into heavy pants as his high crashes through his body. But even when his breathing settles down, he is reluctant to pull away from you.

“Beomgyu?” You call out. He lets out a small hum and nuzzles further into your skin, mumbling something that you can’t quite hear.

“We need to go.” You start again, the leg he’s still holding up starting to cramp while the cool air bites at it, and he whines. “But this feels too nice.”

You smirk. “What does? Your cock all warm and snug inside my pussy?”

You feel his cock twitch inside you and he nods. “Yeah. Also this.” He says, running kisses up your neck that makes you shiver. “You never let me do this much.”

You know. You only allow these intimate moments after sex, not wanting a repeat of what happened before, but also needing to limit them to protect yourself. Which is exactly why you want him to pull away now.

“We have to go.” You repeat, jostling him a little bit, feeling your heart picking up at the precarious moment. You feel him sigh against your skin, and he finally pulls back. “Okay. Let's go to bed.”

“Oh, we’re not going to bed. We’re rejoining the ball.” You say nonchalantly, holding back your laugh at the way he gapes at you once again.

"But–but…." He stammers, his eyes raking over your body.

"But your cum is dripping down my legs? I know." You smirk evilly, pulling him behind you.

___________________

You and Beomgyu are stuck in a limbo of your own making, unable to let him in fully but also unwilling to shut the door in his face, stubbornly thinking that this way you’ll be saving yourself from any heartache. But can you really make that claim anymore when seeing him hurt himself over you wounds you just as much?

That is the precise situation you find yourself in right now, running towards one of the rooms you’ve just been informed that Beomgyu and your previous suitor, Yeonjun, are dueling within.

You expect this foolishness from Yeonjun. He has always been brash and hard-headed, always reaching for his sword when his words meet resistance. But Beomgyu? Has that idiot ever even been in a duel before?

Your heart hammers in your chest as you run, images of Beomgyu struck down and bleeding coming unbidden to your mind. Fuck, if that idiot got himself hurt over some inane dick-measuring contest, you’re going to kill him yourself.

When you gain entrance into the room and peek Beomgyu’s fallen form through the gaps in the crowd that formed around the two men, your heart falls to your feet and you get ready to grab Beomgyu’s sword and strike down Yeonjun yourself.

But then you hear Yeonjun speak to him. “Come on, get up. Be a man.”

After which a member of the crowd comments snarkily, “You’ve got the wrong person. If you want a fight then you need to look for his wife. She wears his balls around her neck.”

You see red as you shove your way through the crowd and into the clearing in the middle. “Who said that?” You growl, surveying the crowd. No one speaks, and you laugh hauntingly. “Come on, show me how much of a man you really are. Surely, you’re not afraid of me, a woman?”

Again, no one speaks up, and you scoff. “Of course, you are all a bunch of cowards who like to bully good people in order to feel better about your own vile, miserable selves.”

“Hey, don’t speak to my men like that.” Yeonjun interjects and you shoot him a withering look. “What men? All I see are a bunch of dogs sniffing up their master’s ass.”

At the insult, one of the men steps forward threateningly, but Yeonjun holds him back.

“What? Are you going to hit a woman?” You challenge and he spits. “What woman? All I see is a rabid bitch.”

No sooner had the man spoken than he was on the floor, felled by a punch from Yeonjun. “Don’t you dare speak to a lady like that.”

The man looks furious but he holds his tongue, not daring to defy his master, choosing instead to get up and storm out. A few other men follow suit but Yeonjun ignores them, turning towards you, “I’m sorry about that, my lady. Please accept–”

“I will accept nothing. What gave you the right to come here and attack my husband?” You growl at him, walking towards Beomgyu and helping him off the floor. But Beomgyu doesn’t even glance at you, keeping his gaze on the floor and making you feel uneasy.

“I wanted to see what you left me for.” He mutters bitterly, as if you had been together and you had left him to be with Beomgyu. He’s so fucking delusional.

Yeonjun and you used to be childhood friends, and you suppose he assumed on the basis of that and by merit of him being the son of one of the most wealthy and influential men in the whole country, that you’d fawn at his feet and accept his hand when he proposed to you.

But that couldn’t have been further from the truth. You liked Yeonjun well enough as children, but as you grew up he turned into a controlling asshole who tried to tell you what you can and cannot do, already acting as if you were his woman, something which you despised and have expressed so to him repeatedly. You don’t know how he could possibly have thought that you’d actually accept his hand in marriage but his scandalized reaction served to cement your decision even more.

“I didn’t leave you for anyone. If you were the last man on earth, I still wouldn’t have picked you.”

Yeonjun’s face grows pale at the harsh proclamation, but you don’t stay back to wait for his response, barking at one of the servants to help you take their prince back to his bed.

______________________________________

But Beomgyu’s weird behavior persists even when you’re alone, and when you attempt to tend to his injuries, he withdraws from you harshly.

"Why are you doing this? Am I so pathetic that even you feel sorry for me?" He hisses in disgust.

"What has gotten into you?" You snap back, not willing to take shit from him too.

"You want someone like him, don't you?” He accuses bitterly, and when you give him a confused look he continues. “Don’t deny it. You were childhood sweethearts. He told me you were set to be married before your parents forced you to marry a sissy like me."

"And you believed him?" You balk and he scoffs, looking away. "Then you’re even more of an idiot than I thought you were."

His head snaps back to stare at you, eyes glistening with tears. “You think I’m an idiot?”

That’s what he focuses on? “Of course. You must be if you honestly think that I ever even entertained marrying that sexist, disgusting, pompous asshole."

“Then why did he say that?” He asks in a small voice and you yell out in frustration, “Because he can’t fathom how I can be happy with you and not him when everyone around him licks the ground he walks on.”

“You-you’re happy with me?” He peers up at you through his wet lashes and your heart hurls itself against your ribcage at the hope you see in his eyes.

"Yes, I am.” You admit, and watch as the bright rays of happiness start to shine across his face, before they’re covered by another gloomy cloud. He shakes his head. “You just want someone weak to control. That’s why you like it with me.”

You grab his face, a little rougher that you probably should but he was really pissing you off. “No, I want a man who is secure in his manhood that he doesn’t need to engage in these stupid dick measuring contests to feel good about himself. I want a man who is secure enough in himself that no matter how much I challenge him, he never lashes out at me for it. I want a man who even though I’ve been nothing but a bitch to him again and again, he still stuck by me because he saw the good in me when everyone else saw fault. I want you.”

Beomgyu shoots forward, meeting your lips with his in a passionate kiss that you gladly reciprocate. He has been so brave for you. You can learn to be brave for him too.

“I love you.” He professes when the need for air forces him to pull away.

You cup his cheeks gently, staring into his kind eyes and hoping he’d be kind to you one more time, even if you don’t deserve it. “Just give me some time, okay? I promise I’ll get there if you give me a little more time.”

That feeling of dread you get when you rebuff one of his advances and sit in fear of him finally getting sick enough of you to stop trying bubbles in your stomach as you wait for his response. But Beomgyu is even more merciful than you had ever dreamed of and his gentle smile washes away all your fear.

“I will wait for as long as you need me to. I will never give up on you. I just needed to know that you wanted it too.”

“I do. I really do. I want you.” Tears flow down your face unbidden and you let yourself be pulled into his warm embrace.

This is what you could have if you could just learn to trust him–to really let yourself be cared for and loved without constantly being on the lookout for an inevitable betrayal. He can give you that. You know he can, and maybe with time, you too can give him everything he deserves.

_____________________________

A/N: well there you go. honestly it came out a lot different than i had anticipated and a lot shorter, but i hope you still like it anyway. let me know which prince gyu is your favorite, yamqn pyscho prince gyu or sweet playful love you prince gyu?

if you can guess why the title is that, you get a treat.

#txt smut #beomgyu smut #sub!idol #dom!reader #prince!au #arranged marriage au #mort talks

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