#is it any wonder it's one of the greatest games of all time

[tokoyamisstuff]

lmaoo tasteful was the last thing I would've ever imagined to hear about my work. This humble writer is absolutely flattered by your words, thank you! 🫶

gn! Reader I general NSFW warning

Considering the literal centuries of experience this guy has ahead of you, this sure is gonna be an otherworldly experience...in more than one way.

Don't be nervous, though. He's a patient lover and eager to teach you new things. Will start slow and vanilla, taking all the time to look what works out for both of you.

In general the nights you spend with him are very carefree, filled with laughter and pleasant conversation in between or even during the act(s).

This man plays your body like an instrument. His heightened senses make it an easy task to observe every little reaction your body presents him, especially if he's able to give you an immediate gratification through it. Probably knows you better than you do (at least in that sense). Think you can only come once? Think again.

Definetly hypersexual. He'll use literally any opportunity to get it on with you: Sparring, arguments, even during missions he'll find an opportunity for his favourite pastime. Never leaves you unsatisfied, no matter the circumstance or how little time you have.

Prefers long and intimate rendezvous over quickies however, since he takes great pride in indulging you. He's quite the romantic, enjoys preparing the whole package: An amazing date, the perfect atmosphere, and of course a cozy bedroom. Nothing's too much effort if it comes to see your eyes light with wonder...and lust, later on.

Loves variety. I think there's nothing too freaky you could ask of him, he'd at least be willing to try it out. There's nothing really off table, but also nothing he absolutely wants you to do. You'll find a lot of common ground.

I mean did you see his tongue?? His oral game is gonna be insane.

He's not really fond of toys. Being rather possessive in general, he wants to be the direct cause for your pleasure. The only exception are remote controlled ones. It's so fun being able to tease you like that, observing how you try to keep it together during a meeting of the roundtable or similar.

The vampire is obsessed with imperfections. Scars, beauty marks, even extending to dacryphilia. Anything that makes you human is just so fascinating and desireable to him.

He's a biter wow what a surprise. The taste of your blood gives him an intense feeling of ecstasy, but he'd never go overboard with his cravings. In return I figure his abilities have a hypnotizing reaction on your body as well, giving you an overwhelming sensitivity in return.

Sometimes he's unable to keep his form, especially when deep in pleasure. Suddenly you're enveloped by black mist or stared at by a little too many eyes. At first he was very concerned to disgust or scare you away, but once he sees you react with a surprising acceptance - or even affection - he's over the moon.

Those shapeshifting skills could be used to your advantage in more than one way. He can easily adjust his size according to your wish or even fuck you from several directions at once. Really, there's no limits to your fantasies, let them run wild.

To be honest I think he's got a praise kink and is a sub at least in a certain way. Maybe because in every other aspect of his existence he's the peak of evolution, an almost omnipotent eldritch horror, always dominating. So being able to let himself fall like this, showing himself bare and vulnerable and giving himself to you body and soul, is just the greatest thrill he's ever felt.

Alucard's whole motivation is to serve his lover over anything, devoting himself to your worship.

[licorishh]

Replayed Modern Warfare 3 2011 on Veteran tonight and goooooooood night. Blood Brothers never gets any easier to watch no matter how many times you've done it and the ending really never misses huh

I apologize for the amount of yapping in the tags I reread it all on mobile and started giggling because it went on for so long but eh. Blessed are those who won't shut the freak up and all that

[dirt-str1der]

yk every time i see a post about somebody wishing bad things on another person i think ‘dirt-strider to kiryu’ you’ve broken me brain

You see a post thats like i want to stick him in time prison so that he gets so bored he starts breaking his own bones to get even a hint of stimulation and its tagged me at kiryu and you scroll down and its a post thats like i want to feed him chips from my cupped hands like a wild stallion and its also tagged me at kiryu also hiiiiiiiii

[fushitoru]

chapter 5: the fall a bridgerton!au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, duke gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, SUGGESTIVE, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, description of injury, concussion, blood, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary ⸺ gojo comes up with a strange yet tempting arrangement, but the accident that follows it may cause epiphanies for the both of you. (11.8k)

a/n thank you to pookies @/sinn-clair and @/yasu-1234 (they are awesome and here are her works) for beta reading my work :3 ahaha pls forgive me for yapping so much in this chapter. i’ll meet you after the chapter is over for EVEN more yap

prev. the game | next. soon!

general masterlist | series masterlist

Dearest Gentle Readers, 

It is well known across town that a certain gentleman, long absent from London’s bustling thoroughfares, has not graced its streets for a year. One cannot help but ponder how Mister Sukuna Itadori’s travels have fared, as he embarked on what we all know to be that of most enlightening of ventures–a Grand Tour of Europe. Those familiar with such journeys will know that for most young men of the ton, a tour of Europe offers more than just art and culture—it is a playground of indulgence and mischief. Will Mr. Itadori reappear as the brash and impetuous young man we once knew, or has Europe’s charms softened and tempered his spirit into one more befitting of a mature gentleman? This Author has her doubts, but one can never say for sure until a man reenters Society.

Yet, Gentle Reader, while Mr. Itadori’s return may provide fodder for speculation, there is another gentleman who has quietly yet decisively captured the attentions of the ton this season: His Grace, the Duke Nanami. Not only does His Grace possess a title and considerable inheritance—both of which set many hearts aflutter—but he is also known to be a most genteel and dignified young man, whose decorum and good sense have only enhanced his reputation. Many an eager mama and her hopeful daughter now look to him as the ideal suitor. His Grace, however, has been nothing if not a model of decorum—distant, polite, and entirely too elusive.

But therein, dear reader, lies the dilemma. The Duke’s refusal to engage in more than the most cursory conversation with any lady has led many to wonder: has he already chosen his future Duchess in secret, or is he simply too discerning for any of the eager young women who have presented themselves thus far? One thing is certain, though: the house party in the countryside promises to be most entertaining, especially if the Duke chooses that moment to make his intentions clear. One can only hope the object of his affections is prepared to be swept off her feet—or at the very least, that her mama is! Only time will tell, but one thing this Author assures—his next move shall be watched with the greatest anticipation.

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

Dawn breaks out, bathing the land in a rich, golden hue. It seemed as if the very air of the Gojo estate had significantly altered your sense of slumber; before, it would take you fairly long to wake, preferring to stay well rested until Nobara barged in your room,  bellowing at you to get ready. 

The rhythmic clatter of hooves on the cobblestone path echoed as you guided your mare along the estate’s carefully tended gardens, resplendent in their display of colorful blooms. The thought flashes across your mind—whichever lady of the ton unfortunate enough to inherit the Gojo surname would certainly find herself living an enviable, lavish lifestyle. If nothing else, the manor, with its outstanding grandeur, would offer sufficient distraction from the trials of an insufferable marriage.

Horse-riding had always been of your taste, providing solace when you needed time to ponder upon your thoughts. The fresh morning air was so different from the stifling confines of your room’s walls, soothing your spirit in a way a fitful sleep could not. Inhaling deeply, the cool morning breeze carried with it the scent of flowers and morning dew, offering a reprieve and reminding you of freedom found in quiet moments.

Mornings always feel like new beginnings to you. The sounds of the chirp and the peace of the feeling that you are currently the only person in the world, suspended in time, soothes you. You walk the path laid out in front of you, getting closer and closer to the woods that were next to the Gojo gardens. 

The same ones you had the encounter with Gojo in the river.

You tensed slightly, the memory of your embarrassing fall washing over you like a cold splash of water. Gojo had yet to jest at your expense over it was nothing short of miraculous. No doubt, the teasing would come in time, as inevitable as night following day.

The distant sounds of hooves break you out of your thoughts, as you still, turning your head around to see where the sounds originated. When you finally manage to curve your head (almost) fully to the back, in the soft light of the morning, you see a flash of silver hair.

And groan internally.

"I would not have thought the great Lord Gojo so lacking in charm as to resort to covert stalking," you quip, turning in your saddle to face him.

"Stalking?" His familiar, lazy drawl carried across the air as he approached. "Surely you underestimate me, my lady. A mere smile is all it takes to win hearts."

Reluctantly, you wheeled your horse around to face him properly. "Ah, yes. How could I forget? Your captivating smile alone is surely enough to send every lady into a faint, and not at all the rather handsome fortune attached to your name." You eyed him critically—his attire was casual, much like that day in the library: a white shirt carelessly unbuttoned at the collar, black trousers tailored perfectly. There was a hint of weariness in his eyes, though his insufferable smirk remained firmly in place. His hair was fairly polished–in comparison to his clothes–as if he had gotten ready to go somewhere that didn’t require extravagant garments to be worn.

He tilted his head, his gaze moving past you as he urged his horse toward the woods ahead. "Ah, so you find my smile captivating?"

You bristle, realizing his play of making you follow him to continue the conversation and get the last word. “I find your opinion of yourself entirely too high. I never mentioned that I thought you captivating but that of the handsome sum tied to your name.”

“All I heard was handsome.”

You take a deep breath and hold it, your eyes narrowing at the man trotting carefree in front of you. “Are the ladies really so naive that they would fall for just a captivating smile rather than acknowledge your lack of wit?”

Gojo glanced back at you with a raised brow, his grin only widening as he slowed his pace slightly. "Naive, perhaps. Or maybe they’re wise enough to appreciate the finer things in life. Not everyone is so immune to charm.”

You rolled your eyes, clicking your tongue in mild irritation as you spurred your horse forward, coming level with him. “Charm without substance only lasts so long, my lord. I daresay one day you’ll meet someone immune to your tricks.”

He chuckled softly, the sound lazy and unbothered, as though you’d merely entertained him with a light jest. "And yet here you are, still engaging with my so-called ‘lack of substance.’ Could it be, perhaps, that you find me more interesting than you care to admit?”

"I find you no more interesting than a mildly amusing book—one that I can close whenever I please," you shot back, though your eyes flicked over his disheveled appearance. “But you, Lord Gojo, do seem rather underdressed for a morning ride. I hope you’re not planning on inflicting yourself on some unsuspecting lady like this.”

His eyes gleamed with that familiar glint of amusement. "Underdressed? Why, I thought you might prefer me this way—unpretentious and free of the heavy trappings of society." He gave a careless wave toward his shirt. "Besides, I’ve work to do today. I’m making rounds over the dukedom."

You raised an eyebrow. “Work? You?” you echoed, voice laden with playful disbelief.

“Hard to believe, I know. I’m more than just a pretty face, as you’ve so kindly pointed out,” he teased, eyes flicking to you briefly before turning back to the path ahead. “Would you care to join me on my rounds? You might learn something about the ‘substance’ you claim I lack.”

You hesitated, but only briefly. The truth was, the Gojo manor had begun to feel more like a cage with each passing day. The endless routine of polite conversations, tea under the watchful eyes of your mama and Duchess Gojo, and waiting for the upcoming house party with the maids and doormen watching for your every move was beginning to wear on you. The walls of the estate, grand as they were, could only offer so much distraction before they imposed on you. The gardens—beautiful and sprawling—had already been walked, the library somewhat explored. You had gone through the motions of being the perfect guest, yet none of it stirred the thrill of adventure that your heart craved.

Your mind drifted back to London, to a time before all the expectation and decorum had weighed so heavily on your shoulders. A year ago, Sukuna had been your partner in rebellion, the one who shared your disdain for society’s rigid rules. The two of you had stolen mornings together, sneaking out on horseback, galloping through the streets and parks as if the ton’s eyes couldn’t reach you. Sukuna, with his wild streak and brash charm, had always encouraged you to live for the moment, to taste freedom in a way that felt dangerously exhilarating. At night, you and him would enjoy stolen moments on a swing. 

There had been no chaperones then, no one to watch your every move or to remind you of what was ‘proper.’ You had been free, in a way you never thought possible—a freedom that felt distant now, almost like a dream.

You studied him for a moment, curiosity beginning to outweigh the slight irritation you felt toward his smug demeanor. What exactly did a duke like Gojo do when he wasn’t parading through society, charming every lady within reach? Despite yourself, you were intrigued by the possibility of seeing him in a different light, away from the polished halls and pretenses.

Here, far from the city’s strict social rules, you felt a flicker of that same wildness returning. There were no watchful eyes in the countryside, no endless stream of whispers and gossip to navigate. The Gojo estate, for all its grandeur, was isolated. Out here, you could indulge in a fleeting taste of freedom once more—especially if it meant escaping the suffocating sense of propriety that came with every room of the mansion.

With Gojo, the stakes were different. He wasn’t Sukuna, who lived on the fringes of the ton with his devil-may-care attitude. No, Gojo occupied the very heart of society’s structure—a duke, a man of immense power and wealth, a figure who could easily sweep up any lady of the ton with a glance. Yet here he was, offering you a glimpse of his world beyond the ballroom, beyond the pretense of polite society.

The thought of accompanying him into the village—unaccompanied, and without the constant pressure of reputation—was thrilling in a way you hadn’t expected. It was as if you were being offered another chance to experience the freedom you once shared with Sukuna. Out here, away from the prying eyes of the ton, you could simply… be. There would be no eyes to judge, no chaperones to pull you away. For a few hours, you could escape the suffocating decorum that bound you so tightly, and just breathe.

And perhaps, just perhaps, there was a part of you curious to see what lay beneath Gojo’s surface. Despite all his teasing and arrogance, there had to be more to the man than his carefully cultivated charm. What did the world of a duke truly entail? What responsibilities lay hidden beneath that confident smirk?

“Well?” Gojo’s voice broke through your thoughts, a hint of amusement dancing on the edge of his words. “You could always go back to the estate. But if you join me, you might learn something. Something real.”

You met his gaze, curiosity stirring. How much freedom could you taste before the world pulled you back into its orbit?

“And what, pray tell, does this so-called ‘work’ of yours truly entail, my lord? Are you certain it isn’t merely an excuse for you to idly saunter about?” you asked, feigning disinterest even as your heart began to quicken at the thought of leaving the mansion’s confines.

Gojo shrugged. “Managing a dukedom is more than just attending parties, my lady. There are land disputes, tenant needs, crops to inspect. All terribly boring, I assure you,” he drawled, though his teasing tone did little to hide his satisfaction.

“And yet, here you are, inviting me to partake in such ‘dreadful’ tasks.” You arched an eyebrow, testing the waters of this strange proposal.

He cast you a sidelong glance, that insufferable smirk playing on his lips again. “You seemed in need of something less tedious than idle conversation. Besides, I can’t let you think I’m all charm and no substance.”

You scoffed lightly, but the temptation was undeniable. A morning spent away from the watchful eyes of society, away from the restrictions that had grown more suffocating with each passing day, sounded like exactly what you needed.

And so, you nudged your horse forward. "Very well, my lord. Lead the way."

As Gojo turned his horse toward the village, you followed, anticipation swirling within you. For just a little while, you would forget the rigid expectations that clung to your every move. And who knew? You might learn something about the man who was far more than just a smile—or at least, you hoped so.

As you and Gojo rode along the countryside road, the gentle thrum of horse hooves against the dirt path filled the early morning air. The village lay just beyond the hill, but the tranquil quiet of the ride had settled between you for now. You looked at the open landscape, enjoying the rare opportunity to simply exist outside the bounds of society's expectations. While Gojo glanced at you, his gaze briefly lingering before he forced his eyes forward again.

To Gojo, you are an enigma. 

There was something about you that drew him in—something beyond the usual appeal of a pretty face and a sharp tongue. He had been thinking and rethinking your diary entries ever since he had discovered them, going over every word in his mind like an irritating riddle. Of course, he knew better than to admit that he had read them, let alone how much those words had unsettled him.

Your thoughts, penned in those private moments, had been both surprising and dangerously radical. They spoke of dissatisfaction with the very society that had molded both of you. Critiques of the ton, its shallow expectations, and even its treatment of women—thoughts that, if discovered by the wrong person, could ruin you. Lady Whistledown wouldn’t need much to twist those words into a scandal, to paint you as a rebel, a woman too difficult for any suitor to consider. You would be exiled from the marriage market in an instant, no longer the diamond the people adored.

Realistically, he could do it, in fact. That is, ruin your image for the rest of high society. Gojo knew he had power over you. He could destroy you if he wanted to, could slip a few words into the right ears and watch as your pristine image crumbled like delicate glass. A small, vindictive part of him—perhaps the part that still bristled at your quick wit and frequent jabs—almost considered it. With the way you have been snarkily snapping back, making a fool out of him, and in general being not a very agreeable person, he, in fact, should have incentive to do so, as a payback. 

Of course, Gojo could always be the bigger person. He should let you go, keep his distance, and find a more agreeable match—someone easier, someone less troublesome. It would be the rational thing to do. He was Lord Gojo, heir to the Duke of Gojo, after all. He didn’t need to deal with a woman who questioned him at every turn, who might even challenge his reputation just by association.

He knew he should stop courting you, stop this dance before it spiraled into something neither of you could control. And he didn’t know what exactly to choose.

He cleared his throat, finally breaking the silence. “You seem deep in thought, my lady. I do hope I’m not boring you already.” His tone was light, though there was an undercurrent of curiosity.

You quirked an eyebrow, as if debating whether to entertain his question. “No more than usual, my lord.”

He grinned at your response, but then his expression softened, just slightly. “And here I thought you might have enjoyed escaping the estate for a bit. Surely the quiet countryside must be a relief after the pressures of town.”

You gave a small nod, but your guardedness remained. “It is a relief, but one must still be careful, even out here. There are no watchful eyes, but gossip has a way of traveling regardless.”

Gojo smirked, leaning slightly in his saddle. “I doubt anyone could catch up to us before we make it back for breakfast.”

He watched you from the corner of his eye, gauging your reaction. The morning wasn’t extremely windy, but his eyes took in your hair, how the wind shifted it so that your nape—and the slopes of your back and body—was uncovered. Your torso rocked as both your horses moved on, and you were fidgeting with the reins of your horse with gloved hands. You were a puzzle he couldn’t yet solve, but for some reason, that only made him more determined to try.

With a measured tone, he added, “Tell me, do you ever tire of it all? The expectations, the constant scrutiny. It must be exhausting.”

He watched you closely, curious how you might respond, wondering if you would offer something more than your usual sharp wit. Even if you didn’t, Gojo was prepared to nudge you, just enough to see what truly lay beneath the surface.

You turned your head slightly, brushing a loose strand of hair from your neck as you gave him a searching look. Unconsciously, your horses had drifted closer together, and as you moved your hair, revealing your simple, unadorned hairstyle from the morning ride, Gojo caught the intoxicating scent of your shampoo.

Sandalwood.

The notes lingered in the cool morning air, drawing him in. He found himself momentarily captivated, closing his eyes to take in the fragrance. It wasn’t until he regained his composure that he realized you were watching him expectantly, waiting for him to respond.

“My apologies,” Gojo cleared his throat, flashing you a semi-apologetic smile. “You were saying?”

You arched a brow at his absent-mindedness but chose not to press the matter. “As I was saying,” you continued with a subtle edge of humor, “it is a lady’s duty to endure the endless gossip and scrutiny of society. After all, we are part of it, are we not? I am a part of that society—diamond or not.” Then, you snarkily remarked, “Though I imagine you know as much about gossip as I do, my lord.”

There it is. Gojo felt the familiar flare of irritation rise within him as you brought up, yet again, that night on the terrace. How many times would you throw that back in his face? Instead of showing how it bothered him, he slipped into a mocking stance, clutching his chest in an exaggerated display of faux hurt. "You wound me, my lady. Can a gentleman truly not express his true sentiments in private company?"

His smirk faltered slightly, but he pressed on, unwilling to let you have the upper hand. "However, I do know more than you think. I hear things all the time. Not everyone is as... mysterious as they pretend to be."

There was an edge in his voice that hadn’t been there before, and he knew you noticed. He didn’t like where this conversation was heading, but he couldn’t stop himself. Not now.

You narrowed your eyes, your tone sharp. "Is that so? Or are you simply adept at making people feel small, my lord?"

Gojo shrugged, keeping his expression casual, though his jaw tightened. Why did you always know exactly how to get under his skin? "I do not belittle, my lady, but observe. And if you're concerned with my words, rest assured I never speak ill of a lady unless she has thoroughly earned it. After all, gossip, for all its flaws, often carries a kernel of truth."

"I see," you replied, voice clipped. "So you place your trust in whatever the ton whispers, so long as it serves your purposes?"

Gojo met your gaze, his voice lowering with intent. "It is not a matter of convenience, my lady, but discernment. Knowing who is genuine and who is merely playing a part."

He saw the way his words hit you, the way your expression flickered. Good. Let it sink in. You’d been sniping at him for days now, and it was about time you felt a little of the sting you so effortlessly delivered.

"And you, Lord Gojo, are the arbiter of what's 'real'?" Your voice rose, sharp as a blade. "Tell me, then—what’s real about you, besides your title and your incessant need to make others feel beneath you?"

The smirk that usually danced on his lips vanished. He felt something sharp coil in his chest—defensiveness, maybe, or frustration. He wasn’t sure anymore. His tone turned cold, dangerous.  "Tread carefully, my lady. You are not as untouchable as you might believe. Perhaps others coddle you, treat you with delicacy because they think you fragile, but I am not of their number."

He saw the way his words cut, deeper than he’d intended, and a part of him regretted it. But another part—the part that was tired of always being one step behind in this game you played—felt a grim satisfaction. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but he wasn’t finished. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to an almost dangerous softness. “You think you are the only one who carries burdens? I have duties too—my name, my estate, my people. You may despise me for all you like, but at least I do not pretend that none of it matters."

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with the weight of the truths neither of you had spoken before. For a moment, you were speechless, and Gojo couldn’t quite read the expression on your face.

There was a vulnerability in your eyes, something real beneath all the snark and bitterness. It was unsettling. He hadn’t expected to feel any sympathy for you, but seeing that flicker of something raw, something that mirrored the exhaustion he himself felt, made his chest tighten in a way he didn’t like.

You finally broke the silence, your voice quieter now. "I never asked for any of this."

Gojo let out a long breath, some of the tension in his body loosening. His voice softened, the sharp edge gone. "Nor did I."

The moment of mutual understanding was fleeting, fragile, and Gojo wasn’t sure if he wanted to dwell on it or forget it entirely. The silence that followed wasn’t quite hostile anymore, but it wasn’t comfortable either. 

Straightening in his saddle, Gojo cleared his throat and gestured ahead. "The village lies just ahead. We should proceed before the shops open, unless, of course, you would rather remain here, basking in your righteous discontent."

He smirked, but it felt more like a mask than anything genuine. He needed the banter, the distance it created between you. It was safer than whatever had just passed between you—a moment of weakness he couldn’t afford to dwell on.

You rolled your eyes but gave a small nod, your expression still guarded. "Lead the way, my lord."

Gojo nudged his horse forward, the tension easing just enough for the both of you to fall back into their usual roles. But the memory of that brief, unguarded moment between you lingered in the back of his mind, nagging at him as they rode towards the marketplace.

Soon enough, the dirt road gradually transformed into cobblestones beneath the horses' hooves, the soft clatter of stone replacing the muffled sound of earth. Up ahead, the village began to unfurl itself, a bustling marketplace coming into view, vibrant with the daily hum of activity. Stalls lined the streets, laden with goods—fresh produce, meats, textiles, and trinkets. The air was thick with the mingling scents of fresh bread, roasting chestnuts, and the subtle hint of herbs from the nearby apothecary. Your stomach twisted sharply at the realization that you had yet to break your fast, and the sweet aroma of bread, freshly baked and still warm from the ovens, stirred your hunger even more.

It was a small comfort that you had chosen to appear on Gojo’s rounds in a simple dress. While far from a maid’s garb, it was enough to blend in with the modest attire of the villagers, allowing you to remain somewhat inconspicuous. You imagined what a spectacle it might have been if you had arrived adorned in the usual finery expected of a lady of your status—a diamond strolling through the marketplace like some exotic bird, plumed and out of place. Even if that interpretation wouldn’t be completely wrong. 

You stole a glance at Gojo. His attire, though far more refined than that of the villagers, was practical enough for the countryside—a waistcoat and riding cloak that spoke of wealth but not ostentation. He moved with ease through the marketplace, his presence commanding attention without demanding it. Residents and shopkeepers greeted him warmly, others calling out his name with familiarity. It was clear that he was well-known and, more surprisingly, well-liked among the people here.

You, on the other hand, felt like an outsider—acutely aware of every gaze that lingered a moment too long in your direction. Although the villagers were preoccupied with their own business, there was no mistaking the subtle glances thrown your way as you rode alongside Gojo. Perhaps it was the curiosity of seeing a noblewoman in such a humble place, or perhaps it was simply the oddity of your pairing with him.

“Ah, Satoru!” A baker called out from a window in his store, a wide grin on his flour-dusted face. “Come for your usual loaf, I presume?”

Gojo chuckled softly, bringing his horse to a gentle halt. With practiced ease, he dismounted, his movements graceful and assured as he swung his leg over and landed lightly on his heels. The smoothness of the motion caught you off guard—it was almost unsettling how effortlessly he moved, as if every action was calculated yet unforced. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of irritation, knowing full well that you would never manage such a feat with half as much elegance, even with assistance.

He strode toward the baker with the kind of natural ease that spoke of familiarity and comfort, offering the man a warm, familiar smile as they exchanged pleasantries. There was a certain charm in his manner, a fluidity in the way he blended himself into the simple rhythm of village life, so unlike the polished and sometimes disingenuous world of high society. You found yourself watching their conversation, noting how easily he made himself a part of this world—something that unsettled you more than you cared to admit.

You brought your horse to a stop beside his, watching as Gojo clasped the baker’s hand in greeting. “Not today, I’m afraid,” Gojo remarked with a light laugh, his tone amiable, yet restrained, “though the aroma is tempting enough to make one reconsider their resolve.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, though the tempting aroma of freshly baked bread was almost enough to make you forget your irritation. You remained silent, feeling somewhat out of place amid Gojo’s easy banter with the villagers. There was something about the way he interacted with them—so at ease, so familiar—that unsettled you. The way the baker addressed him by his given name, Satoru, only added to your bewilderment, and you couldn’t help but wonder how much of this was genuine and how much was part of the façade he wielded so effortlessly in society.

“And who might this lovely young lady be?” The baker’s voice drew you from your thoughts. Both men were now looking at you, you the center of attention as the baker looked between you and Gojo expectantly.

Gojo had his arm resting casually on the baker’s shoulder, his usual smirk slipping for a brief moment as he scratched at the back of his head—a gesture that seemed oddly boyish for someone of his station. It was so unlike him that you blinked in surprise. “Ah, this is—”

“Satoru!” Before he could finish, a sharp voice rang out. The next moment, Gojo winced as an older woman smacked him on the back of the head, leaving him clutching it in exaggerated pain. “You’ve found yourself a wife and didn’t think to inform me?”

Gojo turned with a dramatic groan. “No, Mrs. Tanaka, she is not my wife. Must you always strike me so?”

The woman—short in stature but brimming with fiery energy—had her arms crossed, looking up at him with a mixture of affection and reprimand. “And what reason would I have not to, given how you leave everyone guessing?”

Her gaze then shifted to you, her stern expression softening instantly as she hurried over. Taking your hands in hers, she smiled brightly. “Ah, so this is the young lady who’s finally tamed our Satoru.”

You looked between Mrs. Tanaka and Gojo, bewildered, searching for any explanation or protest that might spare you from the implication. But Gojo merely shrugged, an amused—though slightly embarrassed—expression on his face.

Before you could respond, Mrs. Tanaka waved off any attempt at explanation, placing a finger to her lips as though she already knew the truth. “Say no more, my dear. A fine match, indeed.” She then turned to her husband, giving him a pointed look. “Dear, didn’t you say you had some business with Lord Satoru today? Why not invite them into the bakery?”

At the mention of business, Gojo’s expression shifted, and it was almost unnerving how quickly his lighthearted, carefree demeanor gave way to a more serious and focused air. He turned to the baker, his brow slightly furrowed. “Mr. Tanaka, is there another issue with the ledgers? I had thought that those troubles had long since ceased.”

The baker scratched his head sheepishly. “Well, my lord, there have been further claims—false ones, no doubt—regarding the ledgers, particularly in reference to the debt I incurred when I purchased the bakery. I did not wish to trouble you, especially as,” he cast a quick glance at you and nudged Gojo with a knowing grin, “you have a fine lady with you today. But your assistance in resolving the matter would be most appreciated, my lord.”

Gojo’s expression darkened slightly, his jaw tightening as the gravity of the situation became apparent. “Of course, Mr. Tanaka. We shall address it at once. Let us discuss the matter inside.”

Mrs. Tanaka, turning to you with a motherly smile, cooed, “Why don’t you come inside as well, my dear? You look positively famished! Let me prepare something for you.”

As the men disappeared into the back of the bakery to attend to their business, Gojo offering you a brief glance as he followed (as well as an exchange with the baker to have your horses carried to a stable in the village), you were left to follow Mrs. Tanaka’s lead. She guided you to a chair with a gentle, yet insistent, manner, ushering you to sit as though you were a guest of the highest importance. Though her attentiveness was kind, you couldn’t help but feel slightly out of place.

Sitting down, you couldn’t shake the thought—why were you being treated with such familiarity? Yes, Mrs. Tanaka assumed you to be Gojo’s wife, but was the lord you knew, so self-assured and pretentious within society, truly capable of leaving such an impression on these villagers? The notion seemed almost laughable.

You concluded that Gojo must have performed some extraordinary deed—something grand yet deceptively simple, like saving their child from rolling down a hill. A gesture that, while not heroic by any noble standard, had been enough to secure the couple’s undying gratitude. Of course, you mused with a bitter edge, only Gojo could manipulate such a mundane act into a permanent place in their hearts. The thought soured your mood further. It was just like him to charm even the most unsuspecting, innocent villagers into adoring him, using that devilish smile and unearned charisma to weave them into his—--

You were jolted out of your spiraling thoughts, your internal conspiracy theories evaporating at the first whiff of fresh bread. The warm, buttery aroma wafted throughout the room as Mrs. Tanaka made her way towards you, carrying a tray of fresh loaves that looked as good as they smelled–moist and buttery. The sight of the golden-brown crusts made your stomach clench painfully in hunger, reminding you that you had yet to break your fast because of your rendezvous with Gojo. 

Mrs. Tanaka set the basket down before you, settling herself across the table, leaning back in her chair with a look of comfortable familiarity as her eyes studied you with quiet observation. Sensing your hesitation, she waved a hand, smiling warmly. “Go on, my dear, help yourself. You’ve yet to break your fast, and it’s no good going hungry.”

With a silent nod of gratitude, you took the invitation, though some part of you briefly wondered what your mother would say if she were to catch you eating so eagerly. But knowing she was nowhere near to scold you for indulgence, you wasted no time. The moment the warm, fresh bread touched your lips, you had to suppress the urge to devour it outright. Though you tried to remain composed, you could not help the small, contented sigh that escaped as the heavenly taste spread across your tongue.

Mrs. Tanaka watched you with delight, the sparkle in her eye showing how your evident enjoyment amused her. You chewed as gracefully as possible, closing your eyes in brief bliss, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Once you had swallowed and could speak without impropriety, you offered her a sincere, “I am deeply grateful to you for your kindness. This bread is truly unlike any I have tasted before.”

The woman waved off your praise with a hearty laugh. “Oh, my dear, you flatter me too much. Have some more! Your words are as sweet as your disposition.”

A flush crept up your neck at her compliment, and for a moment, you were flustered. Despite being praised endlessly by members of the ton for your beauty and title, there was something undeniably genuine in Mrs. Tanaka’s words—an absence of ulterior motives or expectations. She did not seek anything from you: no favor, no power, no advantageous marriage proposal. Her compliment felt simple, warm, and real.

Mrs. Tanaka continued to smile warmly, her gaze soft as she leaned in a little closer, clearly intrigued by the presence of a lady beside Lord Gojo. She took a sip of tea, her fingers tapping lightly against the table as she asked, “So, my dear, where did you meet our Satoru? He’s never brought a lady to our village before.”

The question caught you off guard. You paused for a moment, careful not to reveal too much or seem overly invested in his affairs. “We met in... social circles,” you answered simply, averting your gaze slightly, trying to keep your tone neutral. There was no need to elaborate or dwell on how precisely your paths had crossed—certainly not to Mrs. Tanaka, no matter how kind she seemed.

But Mrs. Tanaka was undeterred by your hesitance, her eyes lighting up with fondness as she spoke again. “Ah, yes, I suppose that would be the case. Though I’ve known him far longer than most in those circles.” She chuckled, a motherly gleam in her eye. “I’ve been with him since birth, you know. I was his nurse—watched him grow from a babe to the man you see now. Heaven knows it wasn’t easy.”

You glanced up, startled at the intimacy of her revelation. The thought of this woman, now sitting across from you, having been a part of his life since his earliest days struck you in a way you hadn’t expected. Gojo had always seemed like an enigma—a man of privilege and power, impossible to know beyond his title and public persona. But here, in the humble setting of this village, Mrs. Tanaka spoke of him as if he were not some distant lord, but a boy she had raised, a person with a story you had never even considered.

“He was the most energetic child,” Mrs. Tanaka continued, her voice fond and nostalgic. “Always getting into mischief, running circles around everyone. He had so much spirit, but oh, the responsibilities placed on those little shoulders were heavy from the start. Even when he was just a boy, his father had him learning the estate's business, sorting through documents before he could properly read some of them. I remember once—he couldn’t have been more than ten years old—his father handed him a stack of contracts to review. The poor lad spent hours poring over them, brow furrowed like a little man.”

You listened intently, the bread in your hand momentarily forgotten. It was strange, hearing Gojo being spoken of this way—no longer just a lord or rival, but a child burdened by duty far too early. 

The woman continued, “I remember thinking how much that experience must’ve aged him. He always carried that burden with such grace, but you could see it—it weighed on him.”

A strange turmoil began to stir in your chest. You had only ever known Gojo as the man he presented to society—arrogant, infuriatingly self-assured, with a grin that could cut like a knife. But now, you were being offered a glimpse of someone else entirely: a boy who had been shaped by forces beyond his control. 

Mrs. Tanaka’s voice softened, her gaze faraway as she reminisced. “It was not easy for him, growing up with so much expected of him. He would act out sometimes, just to remind everyone that he was still a boy—still someone who needed room to breathe. But even so, he never shied away from what was asked of him. He understood his duty, perhaps too well.”

“I see.” You swallowed, a strange sensation creeping up your spine. 

“He’s a good man, Satoru,” Mrs. Tanaka said softly. “He’s had to grow up faster than most, and he’s been shaped by that weight. But I hope you can see that there’s more to him than what’s on the surface.”

You offered her a polite smile, but inside, your thoughts were a storm of conflicting emotions. Gojo, a man burdened by duty? The notion seemed almost laughable... and yet, there was a part of you that couldn’t dismiss it so easily.

Your gaze then wandered to the man of the topic itself. The baker and him were poring and scanning endlessly over sheets of paper, an uptick in his jaw visible as his eyes remained concentrated, oblivious to your observation from across the bakery. His hand raked over his hair, the muscles in his forearm clenching and unclenching due to the action, as he discussed something with the baker. Whatever matter they were discussing, it was clear it a serious matter, for you could hear the gears whirring through his mind through the calculative look on his face.

The scene felt oddly intimate—watching him in such a serious, unguarded moment. His usual carefree demeanor was replaced by something sharp, calculating, as if the gears of his mind were turning at full speed. He pointed at something on the paper, his brow furrowing, and exchanged a few terse words with the baker. From the look on their faces, the issue seemed grave, but Gojo handled it with a calm decisiveness that surprised you.

Finally, after several moments of quiet but intense discussion, there was a visible shift. The baker nodded, sighing in relief, and Gojo’s posture relaxed, the tension in his frame unwinding. He stood a little taller, rolling his shoulders as though shedding the weight of responsibility that had pressed down on him so heavily just moments before. He glanced at the baker with a reassuring smile, offering a firm pat on the man’s back. It seemed the matter had been resolved.

As Gojo turned his head, his eyes caught yours from across the bakery. Your heart leapt unexpectedly, and you quickly averted your gaze, heat creeping up your neck as you pretended to be fascinated by the contents of the breadbasket in front of you. Despite yourself, a faint flustered feeling bloomed in your chest, and you couldn’t shake the sense of being caught staring.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Gojo making his way toward you, his steps slow but deliberate. You could feel the gentle thud of his boots against the wooden floor, the sound growing louder with each stride. Your back straightened instinctively, your gaze fixed firmly on Mrs. Tanaka, trying to distract yourself from the awareness that Gojo was now directly behind you.

Then, a hand placed on the back of your chair as Gojo effectively leaned over you, peering down to look down at you and Mrs. Tanaka. “Ah, I see you’ve been well entertained,” he drawled, a teasing lilt to it, though quieter and more casual than before.

You manage a polite smile to Mrs. Tanaka despite the teasing intent behind Satoru’s words.  "Mrs. Tanaka has been a most gracious host," you replied, avoiding meeting his eyes directly, though you could feel his presence and the heat of his hand behind you, on the back of your chair.

“Well, the business is settled for now,” Gojo turned slightly so that he was addressing Mrs. Tanaka as well. "I’m glad we could clear it up."

Mrs. Tanaka nodded, her expression pleased. "That’s good to hear. I don’t know what we’d do without you, Satoru. You always manage to set things right."

Gojo shrugged modestly, though the smirk playing on his lips told you he was aware of his importance in the village. "I do what I can," he said with an exaggerated sigh, though the humor in his tone softened the boast.

You suppressed the urge to roll your eyes at his self-satisfaction, but Mrs. Tanaka was having none of it, laughing and swatting at his arm. "Enough of that, lad. You’ll give yourself a swollen head.”

Gojo laughed heartily at that, the sound easy and infectious. For a moment, it was almost disarming how comfortable he seemed in this setting, a far cry from the lord who prowled through the ton with that arrogant air of superiority. The contrast gnawed at you, but you pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on Mrs. Tanaka, who now wore an expression of mild concern.

Curiosity piqued, you glanced over to Gojo, only to find a matching look of confusion on his face, his eyebrows slightly raised as he too turned to the woman.

Mrs. Tanaka’s frown deepened as she folded her arms, the lines of worry clear upon her face. “Satoru,” she began, her tone earnest, “is your wife pregnant yet?”

The question landed between you like a stone dropped in still water.

Gojo sputtered, his usual composure vanishing in an instant, and you—taken aback—choked on nothing but air, coughing violently as the shock of the statement hit you squarely.

"P-Pardon?" Gojo stammered, eyes wide, and for once, his usual glib charm utterly failed him.

You managed to recover just enough to speak, though your voice came out hoarse and incredulous. “I—I beg your pardon, ma’am?”

The tension in the room skyrocketed as Mrs. Tanaka blinked innocently between the two of you, utterly oblivious to the awkwardness spreading like wildfire. "Well, it’s just—he’s always been so strong and healthy. I thought, surely by now…"

You quickly attempted to intervene, “No, I assure you—”

But before you could get a full sentence out, Mrs. Tanaka turned to Satoru, her gaze suddenly serious as she leveled him with an intent stare. “You’re doing your task correctly, I presume? You have to apply a bit of force, or you're not performing the act quite right.”

She then turned her concerned frown toward you. “Is he not doing his job properly? You do feel pleasure, don’t you, my dear?”

You blinked, utterly baffled, and turned to Gojo, seeking some kind of explanation. But to no avail—he was conspicuously avoiding your gaze, a rare flush creeping up his neck. The sight of him, normally so self-assured, now visibly flustered, did nothing to quell your rising confusion. “Pleasure?” you echoed, unsure of what she was referring to.

“Satoru!” Mrs. Tanaka scolded, her tone growing more exasperated. “You must conduct the marital act properly!”

Gojo finally intervened, cutting Mrs. Tanaka off with a polite but decisive, "Thank you, Mrs. Tanaka. We shall consider your counsel. I have many errands to get to, so we must take our leave now." His voice was calm, though firm, signaling that the conversation had reached its conclusion. Offering her a swift bow, he gestured for you to follow, and you did so with a quiet, grateful nod.

Once outside, the air between you both felt lighter, though a strange silence still lingered. Both of you took to the streets again—Gojo didn’t seem to make motions towards the bakery’s stable to grab your horses, so you assumed the medium of travel was to be foot for the rest of his errands.

However, after a few steps, curiosity gnawed at you, and you could no longer hold back your question.

"What, exactly, is the marital act?"

Gojo stopped abruptly, turning to face you with a look of utter bewilderment amidst the bustle of the market traveling around you both. "You cannot be serious."

You met his gaze earnestly. "I am entirely serious. My mama hasn't…enlightened me, simply skirting around the topic. I was wondering if you could, given that it has arisen in our conversation."

He blinked, seemingly at a loss for words, before letting out a startled laugh. "It is... how children are conceived."

"Oh," you responded, thinking on it for a moment. "So... one must marry, then?"

Gojo stared at you, incredulity plain on his face. "What?"

"You sign the contract," you explained, as though clarifying something obvious, "and then you lay in bed and embrace, do you not?"

Gojo’s mouth fell open for a moment before he threw his head back with a short, disbelieving laugh. "Just embrace?"

You nodded, though your cheeks had begun to burn under his astonished gaze and you averted your gaze to look at the shiny, red apples a vendor was presenting. "Yes, merely embrace."

Shaking his head, Gojo let out another incredulous chuckle. "And you believe children are delivered by storks as well, I suppose?"

You crossed your arms, feeling your face grow hotter. "I most certainly do not. I was present when my mother gave birth to Yuji, and I heard every scream, thank you very much."

Gojo ran a hand over his face, stifling his amusement as he tried to gather his thoughts. "Clearly there is more to it than simply embracing. It is... a rather more intimate affair."

"More intimate? You mean like wrestling?"

At this, Gojo choked on his laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. "No, not wrestling. It’s... well, I hardly know how to explain it delicately. But it is how one begets children."

You frowned, now growing frustrated with his vagueness. "You speak in riddles. If I am mistaken, then kindly explain what the act entails!"

Gojo sighed deeply, clearly struggling between frustration and amusement. "The marital act is not simply laying beside one another—it involves a... a physical connection, far beyond mere affection. It is, indeed, how children come to be."

You blinked, still not fully understanding, though you refused to let it show. "You could simply say so, instead of dancing around the matter."

Gojo’s lips twitched into a grin. "Ah, but where would be the fun in that?"

"Fun?" you repeated, exasperated. "This is a matter of knowledge!"

"Indeed, a matter of knowledge I did not expect to be imparting today," Gojo said with a wry shake of his head. "Suffice it to say, it is more than an embrace, and when the time comes, you shall learn well enough."

You glared at him, cheeks still warm with embarrassment. "I shall inquire elsewhere, then."

“I would advise you not to,” Gojo remarked wryly, tilting his head to indicate that both of you move, which you surmise is a wise move given that a heavy and big cart was moving towards the general direction of the both of you, and your feet followed him through the market. Roving his eyes over the general treats and food available, you see–from beside him–that his eyes fixate on some sweet smelling pastries on a cart. Not taking his eyes off of them, he adds, “It’s quite a sensitive topic among the ton. I suspect your mama would faint if she heard you were out and about inquiring the true nature of the marital act.”

“I can…consult texts,” you say, offhandedly, but you are equally as enraptured towards the sweets stall you both are walking towards.

“Mmh,” Gojo hums, “You could, I’m sure. However, you might encounter more…scientific things, rather than the personal.”

You shrugged, eyes locked in on the pasty bursting with apples. “Makes no distinction to me.”

In your…focus on the pastry, you failed to hear the upcoming hooves against the street, steadily getting louder and louder towards you. Just as you were reaching the pastry stall, the thunderous clatter of hooves on cobblestones cut through the air, snapping you from your reverie. A carriage barreled down the narrow lane, far too close for comfort and ready to crush you.

Before you could react, Gojo’s hand shot out, firm and unyielding, pulling you back toward him with a swift motion. He held you against his side, shielding you from the oncoming threat, his grip steady and protective. The world seemed to spin for a moment, your senses heightened by the closeness, the warmth of his touch, and the rapid beat of your own heart.

"Must I be responsible for keeping you from walking into trouble?" he murmured, his voice tinged with both relief and a hint of exasperation. You could feel his grip on your arm and waist as he breathed heavily, the sheer strength he possessed making you shocked, even dizzy. The carriage rumbled past, stirring up a cloud of dust, and you were left standing so near to him that you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breath.

You opened your mouth to stammer some excuse, your cheeks hot with embarrassment, but his expression had already softened into that infuriatingly familiar smirk, and he let go of the contact he had on you. "I shall have to keep a closer watch over you, lest pastries and carriages both be your undoing," he teased lightly.

You huffed, stepping back from his person with as much dignity as you could muster. "I was merely... distracted by the sweets, as were you," you replied, sounding petulant even to your own ears.

"Ah, yes, distracted to the point of self-endangerment. Truly, the pastries of this market wield extraordinary power over you."

"I am hardly so careless. It was a mere lapse of focus." Your lips twitched, fighting the smile threatening to surface despite your annoyance.

"If you say so," he drawled, his tone full of mock skepticism. Then, with a more serious note, he added, "Perhaps it would be wise to focus on the task at hand, rather than leaving your life in the hands of apple tarts."

You flushed slightly, more from his sheer perceptiveness than the scolding itself, and cast your eyes away, suddenly unsure of what to say. It was so much simpler when he was mocking you, but this unexpected gentleness was a new kind of challenge altogether.

"Come then," he said, his voice returning to its light, teasing timbre. "Let us continue our quest for knowledge—or, at the very least, for pastries that won't lead to your untimely end."

Moving towards the stall, the smell of various fruits baked into sweets with delicious sauces sprinkled on top. The treats were clearly crafted with care, the kind of sincerity and dedication that no gilded manor kitchen could quite capture. The young couple behind the stall radiated a warmth and pride that spoke of a passion for their craft, one that valued love of the work over the cost of the ingredients.

Gojo, ever at ease among the townsfolk, exchanged pleasantries with the couple, his attention split between their conversation and the tempting selection of tarts. He spoke with the man about some local issue, but you found your focus entirely absorbed by the golden-crusted apple pie that seemed to call to you.

“Would you like to try these?” You looked up to see the presumed wife of the man, smiling at you and eyes twinkling with genuine hospitality.

Returning her smile with a polite nod, you said, "There is no need, truly. How much do you ask for one of these?" You thanked God for remembering to carry your small coin purse—a habit drilled into you by Sukuna’s lessons on self-sufficiency, even if Judgement day came in, you always carried money on your person so long as you were not within your family’s vicinity. 

The lady named her price, and you promptly began to search for the correct coins in your purse. Just as your fingers brushed against the cool metal, a gloved hand caught your wrist, halting your movement.

"You must be the only lady in all of Christendom who insists on paying for her own tarts whilst her husband stands idly by," came Gojo’s teasing voice. You didn’t need to look up to know that his familiar smirk was firmly in place, brimming with that infuriating mirth that seemed to accompany his every word.

Without relinquishing his gentle hold on your wrist, he smoothly handed over the coins to the stall owner, then deftly picked up a golden apple tart. His eyes gleamed with something unreadable as he offered the pastry to you, the corners of his mouth twitching as if daring you to protest.

But you didn’t give him what he wanted; rather, you took it without protest—not without rolling your eyes—and looked it over appreciatively.

Gojo bent over to lean his face close into yours, ever so playing the part of a husband wanting to spoil his wife. “Happy?”

You gave him a hum, sticking your tongue out and then taking a bite of the pastry in front of you. 

Gojo's smirk widened, clearly amused by your reaction, his blue eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and satisfaction. He watched you intently, as though gauging your every move, delighting in this little game of his. You knew he expected some sharp retort or flustered reaction, but you were determined not to give him the satisfaction.

Instead, you took a slow, deliberate bite of the tart, savoring its warmth and sweetness. The flaky crust gave way to the soft, spiced apple filling that practically melted on your tongue. You closed your eyes for a brief moment, relishing the taste, and let out a contented sigh. "It is quite satisfactory," you said, allowing a small smile to play on your lips as you met his gaze.

"Well, I should hope so," Gojo said with a chuckle, still playing the role of the devoted husband. "One does go to great lengths to ensure one's wife is suitably indulged."

You rolled your eyes at his theatrics, but there was no denying the way the scene had amused you, despite your best efforts to remain unflappable. “You enjoy this, don’t you?” you remarked dryly.

"More than you can imagine," he replied, his tone light and teasing. "Seeing you this flustered and yet so determined not to show it? Absolutely delightful."

You narrowed your eyes at him, though you couldn't quite suppress the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. "You are insufferable."

"And yet," he said, leaning in ever so slightly, a touch of softness behind the humor in his voice, "you tolerate me still." 

You huffed. "Only because you happen to be useful at times, particularly for giving me the opportunity to escape the confines of your godforsaken manor."

He laughed, a genuine sound that echoed above the bustle of the market. "Oh, I'll take that as the highest compliment, coming from you."

"Enjoy it while you can, Gojo. It may be the last time I am so generous."

"Noted," he said with a grin, giving you a playful wink. "I'll savor it as much as you did that tart."

"You know," you began, musing, "our mamas have truly squandered their efforts. We would never have made a compatible match."

Both of you rode side by side on horseback, the forest trail stretching out before you as you made your way back to the manor. The journey was not far now—the stone turrets of the Gojo estate were already visible in the distance. The both of you hadn’t had much time to do much other than two encounters you had, deciding to make your return before your rendezvous got behindhand.  You turned your head slightly to study Gojo's reaction, expecting to find that familiar, self-assured smirk he always wore. But instead, his expression was... different. A touch more solemn, perhaps even conflicted.

At last, he spoke, his voice softer than usual. "And what, pray tell, do you consider a suitable match?"

You let his question hang in the air for a moment, taking in the rustling leaves and the steady rhythm of your horses' hooves against the well-trodden path. It was just the two of you here in the quiet of the forest, far from the prying eyes of society. There was a certain unspoken understanding between you—a truce of sorts—yet also a acknowledgement that either of you could easily betray this moment's candor.

So, ultimately, you chose honesty. Partial honesty.

With a quiet sigh, you chose your words carefully. "I think," you hesitated, your gaze caught by Gojo's steady, penetrating eyes, "I should prefer a life of tranquility once I am wed. Someone gentle, who would respect my desire to occupy myself as I please, who would allow me a measure of privacy." You quickly added, as to not seem too radical, "I mean to say, someone who would not object if I wished to practice my piano in solitude or to pursue a quiet hobby. Surely you understand, my lord, the burden of constantly being in the public eye."

Instead of seeming understanding, Gojo’s gaze on you was…pensive. Your heart sped up as the solace you needed from Gojo after being a bit vulnerable didn’t appear, leaving your mind running as to what he was thinking.The sunlight filtered through the trees, catching in his white hair, giving him an almost ethereal appearance as the two of you rode on in silence.

Then, the clouds covered the sun up, giving his figure a glum, ruminative cast.

After a long pause, he finally spoke, and his voice seemed to carry a note of something deeper, something unspoken. As if he was aware of something you weren’t. “What I do understand that is that you are being deceitful. Both your future husband and to yourself.”

His words hung in the air between you, more like a question than a statement, challenging in a way that left you unprepared. The forest around you seemed to hold its breath, the rustling leaves and birdsong fading into the background as his gaze locked onto yours, probing, almost too perceptive. It was the windiness indicative of rainfall, with the thunder of clouds above you to provide testament to the change in weather.

You straightened in your saddle, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. "I fail to see what you mean," you replied, a touch defensive, though you kept your tone level. "What else should one seek from a marriage if not harmony and respect?"

 "You speak of privacy and quiet, of being left to your own devices. But tell me," he said, his voice barely above a murmur, "would that truly satisfy you? To be married to a man who treats you as if you were a painting—beautiful, yes, but best admired from a distance, untouched and unengaged?"

You opened your mouth to respond but found no words. There was a part of you, a stubborn part, that wanted to argue—to tell him he was wrong, that a peaceful life was exactly what you desired.

"I... simply wish to avoid the chaos that comes with too much entanglement," you said finally, more quietly. "I’ve seen what happens when people become too wrapped up in one another. It's a vulnerability I do not wish to expose myself to."

"Ah, I see," he said, nodding slowly yet mockingly as if he was piecing together a puzzle, making you bristle involuntarily. "So, you’d rather not risk the mess of it all—the unpredictability, the chance of losing control. You want safety."

You narrowed your eyes at him, both irritated and unnerved by his perceptiveness. "Is that so wrong?" you challenged. "To desire a life where I can control my own happiness, rather than leave it in the hands of another?"

He matched your tone and fervor. “Is that truly what you believe a marriage is for?”

You sneered. “And don’t you want an accountant for a wife, my lord? It is quite laughable for you to be advising me on the beauty of marriage.”

Enraptured in the heat of the moment, you hadn’t realized that you were nearly at the stables where you had to station your horses until Satoru grabbed his reins—-hands idle before, directing his horse in no particular direction—to now steer his into the stall next to the ones you directed yours. 

“My stance on marriage and my character bear no relevance to this matter,” he replied, a rueful smile tugging at his lips as he tethered his horse. His tone was controlled, though a trace of irritation bled through. “Whatever my faults, they do not make your notions any more rational.”

“But you forget that it illuminates who you are,” you hissed, walking towards the exit of the barn, tired of the smell of manure and Gojo, unsure which was more repugnant. “A hypocrite. A whited sepulchre, if you will.”

Gojo barks out a laugh from behind you, following closely behind on your heels. “Any supposed sanctimonious nature of mine does not alter the fact that you are steering yourself into a life of misery. Not just you, but any poor fool incapable of seeing through your polished smiles to your true intentions.”

On a given day, had you not been so incensed or had your opponent been anyone other than Lord Gojo, you might have heeded the thunderous roar of the rain on the stable’s roof or the slick ground outside that awaited you. And on a given day, you wouldn’t have stepped so fast, as if daring the friction of the  ground and force of gravity to make you fall flat on your face.

But, alas, it was not that said given day and your ankle made a sickening crunch! against the ground as you fell, your head and body hitting the wet grass. You felt the world tilt unnaturally as you hit the ground, the impact jarring through your body, sending a shockwave of pain radiating from your ankle to the back of your skull. A dull throb began to pulse at your temples, and the rain poured down, blurring your vision into a haze of grays and greens.

Through the blend of sensations, you heard a sharp intake of breath, and then there were hurried footsteps approaching. Somewhere above the din of the storm, a voice called your name, its usual calm fraying at the edges with alarm.

“Miss Itadori!” WIth that you jumped, eyes finally registering a Gojo clenching your wrists tight. “Can you understand what I am saying?”

Your gaze drifted over his face, focusing on the small details—his rain-slicked hair, the concern that flickered behind his eyes, the humorless smile that strained at his lips. Slowly, you managed a nod, though even that small movement made your head swim. “Yes,” you whispered.

Then, you became acutely aware of a warm, crimson fluid pooling around you, contrasting sharply with the rain-soaked earth. You began to feel faint, though not from the severity of the injury itself, but rather from the unfamiliar sight of so much blood. It was unnerving, especially for someone who had never experienced a wound of this nature. The lightheadedness must have been responsible for your sudden admission, “I am frightened.”

Lord Gojo’s eyes, which had moments ago glinted with amusement at your pitiful state, softened ever so slightly. His smirk remained in place, yet you noticed the way his fingers twitched restlessly at his side, betraying the composure he desperately clung to. “My lady, it’s merely a gash. You are not in danger of perishing,” he said, his tone light, almost too light, like a mask hiding something unspoken. “However, it seems I’ll have to carry you to a physician, lest you collapse entirely.”

He stood up from where he had been inspecting your ankle, bending slightly before you with his arms extended. But there was a slight hesitation in his movement, a momentary pause before his hands reached for you, as if he were weighing the consequences, considering the impropriety of the action.

Your eyes widened in alarm at the very idea of being carried by him. “Carry me? What--AHHH!” A sharp scream left your lips as Lord Gojo, without warning, scooped you into his arms. In the blink of an eye, you found yourself in a bridal carry, your gown catching the rain as he strode out of the greenhouse. He moved with a purposeful stride, though his grip on you was perhaps a fraction tighter than necessary, his jaw clenched just a bit too firmly.

You pounded your fists ineffectively against his chest, cheeks burning with indignation. “Gojo, let me down!”

He, of course, ignored your demands entirely, his voice annoyingly gentle as he cooed, “Now, now, it’s for your own good. You’re in no condition to walk, and I can hardly risk your injury worsening.” But despite his calm words, his eyes flickered nervously to your face and then away, almost as though he was afraid of what he might see in your expression if he looked too long.

“What if someone sees us?” you hissed, your mind racing at the impropriety of the situation. The two of you, unchaperoned, in such an undignified position—it would provide gossip for Whistledown and the ton for weeks.

Gojo’s smirk returned, though there was a tightness around his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “I am wearing gloves, my lady. Fear not, I am not making contact with your bare skin.” His attempt at humor felt forced, his voice lacking its usual ease, and when he added, “Though I daresay, it would not be such an unpleasant thought,” the playfulness seemed almost like a deflection.

You narrowed your eyes, trying to distract yourself from the warmth of his arms. “Why do you always wear those?”

“Writing ledgers and doing a lot of work with pens make my fingers blister. It’s quite unsightly, so I prefer to wear them,” he said, his voice steady, though the hand supporting your back trembled almost imperceptibly.

You hummed, settling a little more comfortably in his hold. "You know, you’re quite strong to be able to carry me like this. What manual labor are your parents making you do to get the title of duke?”

“Well,” Gojo began, but his voice sounded tighter now, the rumble of it vibrating through his chest where your head was so near. The proximity seemed to unsettle him in a way his words could not hide; he cleared his throat as if to steady himself, but his breathing was just a touch uneven. My vindication for such close contact will be the blood loss, you thought, as you nestled your head closer to his chest, until your nose was almost grazing his neck. The scent of tobacco and vanilla filled your senses, lulling you closer to the pulse that beat a bit too fast beneath his skin. “I enjoy doing archery. I’ve been doing it ever since I was a child, which happens to strengthen your shoulders.”

You thought back to the night you were strolling in the garden the day of your debut, musing on the size of his shoulders, and mumbled, “Mmmm, I was right.”

Gojo stiffened almost imperceptibly, his gaze flickering down to you in a way that was almost too quick, too searching. His lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something, but he hesitated. "Right about what?" he asked finally, his tone a bit too casual, as though trying to mask the turmoil behind his nonchalance.

“Nothing,” you murmured, closing your eyes and leaning your head against his shoulder. You felt his gaze linger on you, as though he were trying to decipher a puzzle that was just beyond his reach, before he let out a breath he seemed to have been holding. And as he carried you onward, the rhythm of his heartbeat felt almost in sync with the rain, though you both pretended not to notice how fast it was racing.

As you leaned against him, the warmth of his presence enveloped you, a soothing balm against the chaos swirling in your mind. But the world began to tilt, colors blurring at the edges, and the sounds of the forest faded into a distant hum.

“Gojo…” you whispered, your voice barely a breath, a final plea for clarity before darkness crept in.

The last thing you registered was his grip tightening around you, a hint of alarm breaking through his facade. “Stay with me,” you heard, though his voice felt miles away, echoing in the void as consciousness slipped through your fingers like grains of sand.

Then, the world faded entirely, leaving only the warmth of his arms and the distant sound of his voice.

prev. the game | next. soon!

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n AHHH HI BRIDGERTON!GOJO READERS I MISSED U!!! im very sorry for the delay that happened with this chapter but for me it's so hard to write...development and angst and fluff becasue when you write it's so hard to know when any of your writing hits :(

but re-reading ur comments reblogs and asks inspire me a lot to continue so we all good :3 i think what happened was that i kind of went thru a crisis where i thought my writing wasn't good at all because of certain things i saw in other authors', i.e. writing longfics that have 10k+ words that led me to believe i wasn't writing enough, that my plotline was progressing too fast, etc. i might have long chapters going on, i might not because i realize how stupid that belief was lol. anyways moving forward i dont think we will see that type of delay because i have the best readers hehe <3 love you all and im kind of giggling in anticipation to all your funny comments because they make my day

ANYWAYS like always reblogs and comments are appreciated <333

meme time

gojo getting to business w the baker (credits to @/sinn-clair LOL)

TAGLIST:

@ncitygreen @backstagepaige @serinatly100986 @nappingmoon @coochellati

@extremelyexh4usted @yoshisaurmuchakoopas @nixiepixee @generalstephkenobi @vernasce-blogs

@byhuenii @geniejunn @a-girl-with-thoughts @dazedin2d @chuuqxs

@megumiivs @anthastudios @arranacosmist @arishaxml @jingyuun

@undercooked-chaos-noodle @jaegersity @camzzn @bluelai @1sweetheart1

@hyori2 @babyblue0t7 @iwanttoberich420 @rosso-seta @ladytamayolover

@kalulakunundrum @r0ckst4rjk @mo0sin @angelina7890 @jaeminaur

@yamiyas @cherry-blossoms-in-red @r3inae @lagataprrr @sasfransisco

@fortunatelyfurrygiver @aurora-tiny @gojonegs @luna-v-roiya @xxemmarldxx

@soobssedwithyourex @manyno @samkysnks @stefnarda @bbqsauceonmytitties2

[dumpywrites]

Wanna See My Cat? - Min Yoongi / Suga

Prompt: “Do you wanna see my cat?” You're not actually lying but he thinks it's a sexual innuendo.

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Fluff, situationship-ish

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

a/n: I was contemplating on whether to actually add smut to this but I decided not to cause it's cuter this way and I think we could all agree there're plenty of bts smut but not enough fluff here! :D

Situationship was a funny concept. Either you commit or not, that was what you believed. Which was why you were not precisely proud to say that you was now in fact in one. 

In your defense it had only been what, three? Four weeks? A month or so? Min Yoongi was this nice guy your acquaintance introduced you to. Gentle, could be hilarious when he wanted to, and cute. Although he could be a little emotionless at times, mostly he was a really sweet guy and you liked him a lot. In your other defense, you did not believe what you had with him could be called as a situationship. It was just what your friends had been teasing you about. 

In the whole time of knowing him, you had been to total of three dates. The first being a casual “are you free for dinner after work?” kinda date, second a movie date, and third being a very chill cafe date. And in your opinion, you enjoyed all of them, you had the greatest of time chatting and spending quality time with him. But your friend kept teasing you otherwise. 

Apparently your dates were considered too boring, too innocent for today’s dating world standard. You had not even had your first kiss yet and one of your friends was already asking about his size. Evidently, wanting to take things slow was a crime nowadays and you were lowkey getting annoyed. 

Today though, your park date was cancelled due to the rain. You kept cursing to yourself at home when you saw Yoongi’s text telling you to do a literal rain check, seeing the thunderstorm. The outfit that you bought especially for the occasion failed to see the outside world. 

As you stood in front of the mirror, seeing the reflection gave you a weird idea. A small Siamese cat walking past your feet, meowing adorably. Your pet cat, Zuko. A cat whose existence wasn’t known by Yoongi yet. The lightbulb above your head lightened up. 

“Do you wanna see my cat?” You sent the text. 

**

Yoongi texted you to let you know that he had arrived at your place. You recalled last time he picked you up it took him around fifteen minutes but this time he only took ten. You wondered what made him arrive a lot quicker. 

You were giddy with excitement and took a screenshot to tell your friend. Instead of being excited and giddy for you, your friend sent a bunch of side-eye emojis. Well, they could be just teasing you but the chat bubble following afterwards had you wondering. 

“Woo! Give me a rating score later!!!” 

You crooked your head in confusion, but there was no time to ponder on your friend’s riddle when Yoongi was already waiting for you to open the front door. 

“Hey.”

That hey definitely did not have to sound that deep and hot. You had to gulped your saliva down upon seeing him in his comfortable clothes. Since when did wearing sweatpants and baggy t-shirt looked so good? And did he just had his hair cut or was it just you? So many questions pilling up in your head. 

You knew it was game over when he went in for a hug. Heavenly was the only words you could use to describe his smell. It was a mixture of his shampoo and his laundry detergent, and his intoxicating smell. It seemed like he didn’t even use any perfume. 

“What should we eat?” You said while smiling giddily. 

“I’m kinda craving some instant ramen?” He looked at you while lifting a shopping bag filled with a few packets of noodles. 

Your eyes beamed. “That sounds really nice actually with the weather and all.” 

“Alright cool.” He nodded. “Let’s cook?”

Yoongi was being extra touchy. You were boiling the water and he would swiftly grab the chopsticks in front of you from behind, making you feel his chest. You fully knew well that he could easily grab the utensils without doing that, but for some reason the demons were working hard at the moment. He even leaned his chin over your shoulder as you were chopping some sausages. At this point he could be doing it on purpose for all you knew. 

He did not stop when you both started to eat. From the smooth wiping your lips from food to feeding you. Who was this person and what had he done to Yoongi you might never know. 

Right after washing the dishes and escaping a few of Yoongi’s teases, you both chilled on the sofa. As you browsed through Netflix, you could sense him scooting closer to you. You could feel his body warmth that automatically made yours grew hotter as well. 

“What are we watching?” He asked with a husky voice. By this point he was hugging your waist and rested his body weight on you. 

“I was thinking some action? You love those right?”

“I do.” 

You paused. Why was the tone of his voice sounded slightly off and why was he looking at you funnily?

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He broke into a small smile. “Nothing.”

“Stop or I’ll make you watch Puss in Boots!” You whined. 

And then it hit you. The cat! You were too busy being swayed, head in the clouds, fantasizing, that you forgot why he was initially visiting you in your apartment.

“My cat!” You exclaimed loudly, which made Yoongi jumped and sat back up from his position. 

You missed the look of confusion in Yoongi’s face as you ran quickly to your room to pick up the furball in your bedroom. 

“I can’t believe I forgot about him!” You chuckled with your pet now in your arms. “He doesn’t like roaming around, he mostly sleeps in my room.”

Yoongi just looked at you, quizzically. As if he could not believe his eyes. 

“Meet Zuko!” You smiled, proudly showing your cat. “Zuko, meet Yoongi.” You giggled and shoved the cat to the man’s hands. 

He stared at the cat blankly for a good few seconds before gently petting the creature’s head. 

“Uh, hi.” He said, sounding lightly awkward. “He’s actually really cute.”

“I know right!” You grinned. “Do you wanna hold him?”

“Sure.” He said, sounding a little unsure. 

The man sat down with your cat on his lap, slowly stroking the soft white fur of its tiny body. You bent down, sat on the carpet on his knee level to pet the cat. Somehow seeing you smile lovingly at the cat made Yoongi’s lips curled into a soft smile as well. 

“You’re adorable.” Yoongi said. 

“He’s the cutest cat, I know.”

“No, I mean you.” 

“Oh.” You shyly looked away, hoping the nervous giggles did not give it away. “Thank you.” 

Yoongi chuckled and huffed a sigh. “I can’t believe there’s actually a cat.”

“Huh?” You crooked your head to the side, wondering what the guy meant by that. “Of course there is? What do you mean?”

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He laughed. “You don’t know?”

“Uh, no?” 

He ruffled your hair and laughed again, this time a little bit louder than before. You were still stunned, too confused to process when he quickly pulled you in and kissed your forehead. Suddenly you did not want to protest about how messy he just made your hair. 

“It’s alright, maybe next time.” 

You covered your face with both of your palms.  “What’s with you today?!” You said with your hands still covering your face. 

“I like you.” He shrugged. “Might not be the most animated guy out there so I’m just letting you know.”

“Yeah, which is why I’m so confused with you today???” You said with flushed face. “Oh my god, that’s not the point though! I like you too!”

He chuckled. “Let’s just get back to the movie?”

The vibe after that conversation calmed down. Maybe it was the whole letting-the-cat-out-of-the-bag thing on your feelings making the air less thick. You ended up just cuddling, snuggling to each other while watching The Notebook. You both hated romance movies, but somehow finished the entire movie anyway after you misclicked it in the first place. It was nice and warm being in Yoongi’s arms and you were afraid you wouldn’t want to ever let go. 

And it was finally time for him to go home. Crazy how you did not notice the time went by so fast. Heck, you didn’t even notice the screen was already playing another movie. How could you when Yoongi was caressing your hair ever so gently? Goodness gracious. 

“Hey, I have to go now. Meeting in an hour, remember?” He tapped your shoulder. 

“I’m not letting you go.” You whined, hugging him tighter. 

He laughed. “Silly, I can come again tomorrow.”

You sat back up and looked at him. “Really???”

“I mean yeah, you don’t have work on Sunday, right?” He smiled. “If you want to, that is.”

“I want to.” You giggled. 

He flashed his gummy smile one more time before getting up from your couch. You walked with him to the door and waited for him to grab his jacket. The whole time you were stalling, asking him the most random questions, and made the silliest remarks. You just didn’t want him to go home yet, especially after finding out that he liked you too. 

“As much as I’d love to talk more about how much I disliked the whole education system, I really have to go now.” He chuckled. 

“Okay.” You pouted. You watch as he got up from tying his shoelaces. 

He huffed a sigh and smiled. “Come closer.”

You did as told without thinking and in a quick seconds, somehow you were pulled into a soft kiss. It was a soft peck and you could feel his smile through it. He didn’t gave you a chance to react as he swiftly let go. 

“See you tomorrow?” 

“Come on…” You whined again and covered your face in awkwardness, and he could only laugh at you. “Go! Before I lock you up!”

“I’ll text you.” He waved and you finally closed your door. 

You found yourself giggling and smiling to yourself like an idiot. This was new. Whatever in the fresh hell was that, you couldn’t lie to yourself that you were into this somewhat bold and flirty side of him. 

You casually walked back to your couch and switched the tv to youtube. As you let random science podcast video play, you decided to check your phone, realizing you had not text your friend back yet. 

“What do you mean by giving a score?”

Your friend replied almost too immediately. You were shocked to see the usage of caps lock. 

“YOU DIDN’T KNOW??????!!!!! WTF???”

“Okay, explain?????”

“Poor Yoongi has to deal with your dumbass 😔” 

“Shut up 🖕🖕🖕”

“It’s a code. You say that instead of asking to come over and have sex. Basically the new netflix and chill.”

“… okay. OKAY???!!!!!!”

“Bestie, did something happen though??? 😍”

“SO THAT’S WHY HE TOLD ME HE WAS SURPRISED THAT THERE WAS ACTUALLY A CAT???? OMFGGGGGG!!!!!! ASFDKSPSKSG 😭😭😭”

You put down your phone to muffle your tiny scream with your knuckles. You recalled him mentioning a next time. Then you also recalled him wanting to come over again tomorrow. Needless to say, it was finally time to let out that one cute underwear you had been keeping in your drawer for months.

Thank you for reading! 🐈‍⬛💕

[luviwon]

hey girly, is me again. I was wondering if you could make any ff or even a drabble cause i feel like i'll go crazy about it. I DIED WHEN I SAW THOSE PHOTOS SO feel free to go crazy about it🫶🏻

very much in love with this jungwon idk how i am still sane (i am not);;;; thank you so much for your request, my love, i’ll make sure to reply to the others later too 🩷

jungwon couldn’t help but keep groping your boobs. he was absolutely obsessed with them, the way they sat so nicely above his head, the way they were bouncing slowly before his eyes when you were grinding on him, he just wanted to feel them in his hand, to twist your nipples harder and harder and to see your face expression, biting down your lower lip each time he went rougher. then he lets go of them and thrusts into you unexpectedly, making you whine his name.

he is buried deep inside you, you swear you can feel the tip of his cock against your stomach. he feels big inside you, stretching your pussy so much that you whine constantly into his ear, moaning his name like it’s the only word you know. and that turns him on so fucking much that he grabs your hips between his hands and pushes you down his cock harder, just to witness how you roll your eyes back and arch your back in response.

jungwon is continuously smirking, unable to control himself, and suddenly he switches position, using his strength to move you under him while he is now the one to look down at you. he takes one of your hands and presses it against his chest, his working out sessions showing off some amazing results and he can’t help but edge you more when he is pushing your legs apart again and is fucking you slowly, just like he didn’t make you cum a few minutes ago already.

sweat is dropping down your bodies, and jungwon’s hair is now all wet, just like your cunt wrapping around his dick so perfectly, the greatest fit. he doesn’t go slow for too long, nah, he doesn’t feel like giving you that much of a break, so he speeds up just to see you tits bouncing again and your mouth opening in response, his name coming out almost automatically.

he puts one of your legs over his shoulder, holding onto it tightly while thrusting into you fast, making you lose your mind instantly. you feel so overstimulated, his cock hitting your cervix over and over again, and if that wasn’t enough, he uses his right hand, index and middle fingers to be more exact, to press down against your clit and rub it in a rush, the rhythm of that matching perfectly with the movement of his body, the rhythm his dick was sliding in and out.

you looked down your body to witness that, to see his length reaching the furthest points, seeing how it slides in so smoothly, clapping sounds caused by your bodies together being the main sound in the room. “j-jungwon” you keep stuttering his name, not really knowing how to tell him to stop or you will make a mess. and you don’t want to do that, like what will the other boys think?

that you are his? that you belong to him? that he fucked you so fucking good you just came everywhere?

because that’s exactly what jungwon wanted, and he knew there wasn’t long before you will drench his sheets so he did indeed stop, pulling out slowly, but just for a second, using three of his fingers to push hard inside your wet cunt, your liquid wrapping around his fingers, and he curled the tip of his fingers inside you, using his thumb to overstimulate your swollen clit too.

your legs started shaking in response, the pleasure being unbeareable, and you wrapped your hands around his arm, trying to stop him but jungwon only smirked, blonde strands of his hair falling down his wet forehead,. that’s when he stops playing games and fingers you roughly, going as fast as he can possibly could, the wet sounds you are making turning him on so much he is using his free hand to pump himself more.

“baby i-“ but jungwon already knew what’s gonna happen and not slowing down at all on you, you can t take it anymore and release everything, squirting all over his bed, and that’s all it took for jungwon to reach climax as well, gasping loudly when the first drops of cum leave his thickness, positioning himself in front of your body to paint your chest in his seed.

thats so fucking hot

[evilminji]

Broadway :3c

And I hear ya. (Insert spooky joke here) There is a sprawling WEB of central hubs, for The Arts. For trade. For getting drunk and having a good time. The Zone is large and it is endless. You'll NEVER reach the far end. It can never reach you.

All things, in gentle sweeping waves, across eternity.

So when folks want to have "a market" or "a movie theater" or "the waterpark"? You gotta PICK a point on the endless map. Figure if you are close or far enough away for others like it, to make it worth the effort to build.

You might even be the first to do it for GALAXIES in any direction! People might fly for WEEKS to come to your place! Move their Lairs to be closer too it. Like dust gathered by gravity, slowly creating planets and stars. A mega Lair. A CITY.

They rise, they fall, the Zone shifts all the while.

But!

Does the dead starlet stop singing? Does getting gunned down, stop the show?? I think NOT! Where is her STAGE? What musicals? What dramas? What operas and tragedies and forms unknown to human kind??! Ballet dancers who CAN defy gravity! Singers who have no NEED for air! The haunting blend of instruments, that could never in life have met! From empires long turned to ASH!

The greatest show in DEATH!

Ember was a world wide hit. Yes, her voice was hypnotic. But that could be FOUGHT. It was SKILL that carried the game. And she was hardly "I was Literally The Greatest My Planet Ever Produced" skilled. She was good, great even. Not "I was Born For Greatness" Excellence.

And like?

.....eventually? Danny's gonna ask after "cultural-y" Culture stuff. Clothes and food. Music and the arts. To help his parents get used to the whole "our son is half-dead" thing. To show he's not some mindless monster now.

And? Ghostwriter? Probably an absolute legend. Does he know where you can find some CULTURE? Oh THANK ZONE! He thought you'd NEVER ask! You unsophisticated-! *fist fight in a library* Still a dick, though. Always and forever.

And just? Imagine Broadway stretched out into a floating city. That never sleeps. Never stops. Shows ever changing. Some on a cycle, some only once. Dream-like. Beautiful. Eye catching.

And yeah, Danny didn't think he LIKED musicals. It was more of a Jazz thing. But? This was important! Gotta get the whole family in the Speeder. We're going to see a play, guys! We'll pick when we get there! Family road trip! Educational! We can make notes!

His parents are trying to be supportive. Big, fixed, strained grins. Trying to pretend to be excited. But they... DO seem reluctantly intrigued? And Jazz is all but vibrating in her seat. It's basically her "before you go away to college" present. And she is THRILLED.

The longer she excitedly speculates? The more into it she gets their folks. This IS gonna be new! Exciting! Never before seen Ghost Culture! Music! As a FAMILY! Think we could find souvenirs? Ooooh, wonder if they sell CDs??!

Then? They GET there. And it's... it's like seeing the Las Vegas strip for the first time, except multiplied into a city. Made of even MORE styles and eras. At angles gravity would never allow.

The air filled with laughter and excitement, people rushing to shows or humming bits of tunes. Street stalls. Fountains. Flowers growing everywhere.

They could stay for months and not even reach a fraction of these buildings. His parents are taking countless photos. His sister squeeling with joy as she races for an information kiosk like they just arrived at Disneyland. He, at least, remembers to lock up the Speeder. Grab their day bags.

When did HE become the responsible one?

The argue over shows. Obviously. Wouldn't be Fenton's otherwise. HE wants to see the alien one. It's from mars! But it's his sister's trip, as his dad points out, so she gets to choose. She picks a musical set during the Fall of Krpton. He's... reluctantly kinda interested. I mean, EVERYBODY likes Superman, right?

It's... it's amazing. Terrible, but amazing. I mean? A coming of age story cut tragically short? Oof. Hello, massively projecting then getting FEELS about it! Yeah, sure, rip my heart out why don't you? He's fine. No, really! Just drowning in his own emotions over here. The refrain of "A Life Well Lived"? *gargling dying whale noises* he's FINE. Not grappling with anything! Go on without him!

Thankfully?

They DO sell CDs.

He... he may end up, kinda, getting a bit of a collection. Going on the weekends, hoping show to show. Wandering to whichever catches his eye in the moment. Buying the CDs for one's he likes. Which? Honestly is a lot of them. Even though there's all sorts of genres and languages. Cause it... it RESONATES you know?

The grief. The anger. The "I have died but I wasn't FINISHED. It isn't FAIR.". And? Something about ghost speak flows so BEAUTIFULLY in song? It's hard to explain. But he... he needs them.

A pair of headphones, a CD, and a clear night sky? Nothing touches it. It's like a trance made of light. Like he can just drift.

The problem? Is the CDs are kinda... Zone made? They're radioactive, for one. Nothing a Fenton CD player can't handle. But... they? Also? Kinda fuckin GLOW? Like... very, very noticeably. And not in a "ha ha, cool glow in the dark paint!" Sorta way.

.........but like FUCK is he leaving his music behind when he goes to college. Gotham will have to deal. It's already a burning shit-nado, it can handle this. Probably. He'll put um in a lead lined box. Actually, speaking OF.... he needs to get a few more of those... *goes back to packing*

Which? Is how? The Bats are treated to some of the most HAUNTING music they've ever heard, belted and crooned from Some Guy's speakers, out an open window, on the "stop for a mid-patrol drink of water and a snack" building. It's one of the intersections of their patrol routes. And THAT? That is some dude listening to a Romani ballad about death and the circus. Now it's a musical about the trenches of an obscure war.

Okay, that was DEFINITELY Kryptonian. Like... coherent Krypto- *Bruce gets a call from Clark on his "work" number DEMANDING to know where that is coming from. Who is that voice Bruce?!* huh.... Well Then.

@hdgnj @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @babbling-babull @spidori @mutable-manifestation @the-witchhunter

[tobiasdrake]

Fun Fact: Even in space, ACAB.

Let's talk about Jaco: The Galactic Patrolman, a somewhat more obscure manga compared to Dragon Ball that Akira Toriyama wrote in its setting.

For the most part, this is a short and fairly simple story. It's primarily a character drama, with the developing relationship between Jaco and the scientist Omori as its central focus.

The manga is surprisingly vague about its connections to Dragon Ball for nearly all of its length, until its final chapter. Jaco is here on Earth to thwart some vague threat sent to the planet from a world of hostile aliens. It's only at the end of the manga that we learn he's talking about Goku.

Galactic Patrol detected an Attack Ball leaving Planet Vegeta and making its way to Earth, so they sent Jaco to... assess the situation and then make a decision about whether or not to do anything.

In his defense, the Saiyans are the most powerful race in the universe. I can understand why he doesn't want to fuck with a full-grown Saiyan warrior. Nobody wants to fuck with a full-grown Saiyan warrior. The most that the finest police force in the universe can do against Saiyans is to try and nip them in the bud when they're babies.

It's interesting that Galactic Patrol doesn't have Scouter technology. I wonder if that proprietary? Frieza might have a patent.

But at the same time, I don't want to be too sympathetic to Jaco because. Well. He sucks.

Galactic Patrol sucks. That's kind of the bit. Jaco is a self-absorbed little shit, utterly devoid of empathy or compassion for the people he polices. He's stranded on Earth right now because he wasn't watching the road while driving.

Jaco's a prick, but what little we learn about Galactic Patrol as a whole doesn't make them sound much better.

This one time Jaco accidentally pressed the Extinction Bomb when he wasn't supposed to and wiped out a planet. Hoo boy, was his boss mad! Gave him a real talking to before giving him another Extinction Bomb and putting him back on patrol.

Universe isn't going to police itself, y'know. Someone's gotta be out there very occasionally trying to stop those real estate genocides.

For his part, Jaco's in it for the aesthetic. He likes the image of being a cop, and he spends his time practicing looking cool for when he presumably dispenses justice upon the criminal element.

But his interactions with the common people are filled with condescension and menace.

Like I said, this is the bit. Jaco is a self-important thug with a badge, with the initial conflict stemming as much from trying to keep him from doing something awful to the community under his jurisdiction as from trying to solve his problem.

Ostensibly here to protect Earth from the impending arrival of a Saiyan threat, he is as much a threat to this community as the invader he's here to assess. Without Omori there to guide him, he'd be killing people left and right.

He fits in pretty well with the cast of Dragon Ball, many of whom at least begin their tenure with a degree of amorality to them. Omori himself is a bitter misanthrope ironically thrust into the position of having to convince Jaco not to kill people.

And then there's the manga's biggest Dragon Ball connection: The introduction of Tights.

Any reader who's been picking up on the Dragon Ball-ness of this universe will know immediately where Tights came from. Her name pun gives the game away. Just like how the final chapter clarifies Jaco's target as the young Goku, we get to see the familiar faces of Tights's family as well.

Bulma basically solves the entire plot singlehandedly.

Even as a little kid, the universe's greatest heretic remains unparalleled in the field of game-breaking super-intelligence. Bulma OP do not nerf.

Again, this speaks to how little of the manga is actually about the plot. If this were a story-driven manga, having a character from another manga show up in the final issue and solve the plot in the span of two pages would be pretty disappointing. But since the plot is just an excuse to make these characters interact with one another, it doesn't really matter.

We aren't here for the story; We're here for the relationship between Jaco, Omori, and Tights. With that in mind, Baby Bulma waddling up and going "I fixed the spaceship; Are you stupid or something?" is hysterical.

For her part, Tights lives up to her family legacy of being super-brilliant.

She graduated from college at 16. She's a genius like the rest of the family. What she's not is interested in science and technology. Possibly as a justification for why we've never heard of her before, Tights goes against the mold for her family.

She honestly seems like something of a free spirit. She lives in East City when we meet her, famously the city that Nappa wiped off the map, while Capsule Corp and Bulma's family are out in West City. Rather than a scientist, she works as a body double for a famous pop idol.

As a publicity stunt, they're going to launch an idol into space. Tights's job is to impersonate the idol so she can die in the inevitable disaster instead. She is bizarrely chill with being paid a huge sum of money to get stupidly killed. Much like Bulma, Tights has a terrible sense of self-preservation and is willing to take on incredible risk for the sake of achieving a personal goal.

Tights is the best character in the manga. An aspiring sci-fi novelist who agreed to probably die in space for the sake of the experience. This family gives zero fucks.

And then there's Omori himself.

Despite its title, Omori is basically the main character of this manga. He's the one whose life situation is most heavily scrutinized. This is his status quo that Jaco and Tights enter. Similarly, Omori is the character who undergoes personal transformation as his experiences with Jaco and Tights help him find hope in connections with other people again.

The three characters click really well together. So well, in fact, that Dragon Ball would end up recycling the setup of Super Alien/Crotchety Old Man/Spunky Young Woman for one of the best dynamics they ever wrote.

This is not a copy/paste; Cheelai, Leemo, and Broly are all distinctly separate characters. but you can still feel the barebones aesthetic of Tights, Omori, and Jaco in their dynamic.

So. Yeah. Overall, for what it is, it's a cute little short story about a group of characters just living lives in the world of Dragon Ball. It's the kind of thing that the franchise needs more of, and still does to this day: An opportunity to flesh out the universe a little but also just to let us live in it through the eyes of someone else.

[emmyrosee]

*hoping this is the inbox lol

I’d like to request something for Bakugo, if you haven’t done something similar already!

the scenario could be something like, the reader is on her way home at nighttime to their + Bakugo’s shared apartment and she starts to feel like someone (or a villain) is following her, so she starts trying to subtly contact him (before the villain knows she’s onto them) and eventually needs to start calling/running because the follower/villain is directly starting to attack.

Bakugo could probably be waiting for the reader to get back home and wondering why they’re taking so long, or also on his way back from work as he gets the messages. Reader may/may not get hurt or taken, lol.

but yeah overall, I am in my feels for dramatic and protective Bakugo 🤧 sorry if it sounds too specific, I’m not holding ya to that at all, just sharing the overall idea and would love to see your take!

I hope you have a great day/evening!!

tw // insinuated attacks with NO intense details, angst, dangerous situations, no comfort.

———-

SENT please, for the love of all that is holy, answer me

katsuki im so scared rn Please

im sorry about earlier

But now is not the time to be petty

Katsuki please

Please

whatever happens I love you

I love you so much

you were the greatest thing that ever happened to me.

You’d gotten into a fight this morning.

It was over something minuscule, about throwing away the empty cartons of milk, but apparently it was more than enough to upset Katsuki to the point of silencing your notifications. It had been building up for weeks, little jabs here and there until of course, this morning.

But now’s not a good time for him to not take the high road.

Not when there’s someone only twenty paces behind you, walking step for step with you. Fear grips your heart as you try to muster the courage to face them, so you keep your head down and spam Katsuki with as many messages as your fingers can.

Every once in a while, they clear their throat, just to remind you that they’re there, they’re right behind you and dare you to say or do anything to make them pounce. You don't want to risk it, not when there's no one around to help you. No witnesses, no cameras you know of, nothing to keep you any semblance of safe, only you and your mental gymnastics of debating on confronting the culprit head on, or continue this predator and prey game. You could duck in this little alcove, the alleyway adjacent to you, in an attempt to get away.

You clear your throat. You spin on your heel.

“Is there a problem?”

You choose to face the situation, heart beating faster than an engine, and hands clenched into fists. You wait for your phone to do something, vibrate, chime, ring, anything. But nothing happens.

Katsuki isn’t coming.

The terror looks at you and shrugs, “no, no problem. Why?”

“Because you are directly behind me, breathing down my neck.”

“I was trying to go around you,” they say simply.

You furrow your brows and clench your fists, “then fucking walk around me. Go.” You step to the side and extend your arm out, gesturing them to keep walking. “Go. Go around.”

They click their tongue and shake their head, taking strides to get past you, with their hands jammed into their pockets. You watch with frightened eyes as they approach, ready to fight back when need be.

They pause right in front of you. Your heart leaps in your chest.

“Ain’t anyone ever taught you beware of alleys?”

The world slows down as you watch a massive hand dart up to your face, grabbing your maw and forcing you in the alley, keeping you from screaming. They jam you deeper inside, and your vision blurs with tears of fear as the streetlights grow smaller the farther they move you into the alley.

Your phone clatters to the ground as your adrenaline kicks up, and bile rises in your throat.

This is it, isn’t it?

bk 🩵 the fuck?

What’re you on about?

Why’re you scared?

Im with deku, my phone was off

What the fuck

No, you’re going to answer me

Right now.

You think I’m playing?

Where are you

Babe, please

You’re scaring me

I love you. I’m sorry I yelled

But you need to answer me

You’re okay you’re fine we’re fine

We’re on our way I got your location

Stay put. Don’t you fucking move

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

the arrangement. [part 2] l General Marcus Acacius

[PART 1]

Summary:  you have to ask General Acacius for help and you know that only one thing can convince him

Warnings: +18, smut, unprotected sex (don't do that), breeding kink, mentions of death and blood, a bit of sadness

A/N: i didn't plan a part two, but - here it is! if i disappointed anyone's expectations, i apologize. here i tag people who requested it @hidden-poet @stormseyer . have mercy on me.

Crowds of people looking for good entertainment gathered in the coliseum that hot day. You never liked this place, but your position obliged you to appear there, especially when you were invited by prominent people of Rome. It was the same this time.

You hadn't spoken to Marcus since your last meeting a few days earlier. You carried out his orders as he asked you to. Despite the pain, you appeared in the city, you also received a few guests, no one guessed that your heart was shaking. You also didn't meet General Acacius anywhere. You couldn't and didn't want to expose him to any consequences if it turned out that the Emperor would also look at you unfavorably.

"Lady Y/N, I’m delighted to see you here." the voice of one of the senators tore you from your thoughts.

"The pleasure is mine, Senator." you replied, nodding your head slightly. "Wonderful weather for the games, don't you think?"

"Wine, food and beautiful company are enough for me, games are an addition and a whim of the Emperor." the man laughed "I was hoping to see you here. The latest rumors about your... ekhm... slave. Outrageous."

"Thank you. Fortunately, the law is clear."

"Right, right!" the senator took a sip of wine. "Each of us should know our place."

"Wise words, Senator."

The lodge was filling up with more guests invited by the Emperor. More greetings and smiles, the clinking of goblets and laughter. Excitement was reaching its zenith.

"General Acacius!"

A nervous shiver ran through your body, but you decided to only cast a quick glance at the man who had joined the guests. Dressed in white and gold, his skin touched by the sun, his dark hair with a few silver strands gleamed in the rays of the sun. General Marcus Acacius looked like one of the gods' favorites.

Only the appearance of the Emperor with his closest entourage tore the group of people who were delighted with him away from him.

"Lady Y/N."

His warm, quiet voice touched you gently like a pleasant evening wind.

"General." You curtsied slightly to pay him respect.

Your gazes met, and his slight movement of the head gave you more answers than all the words he had spoken could. In one moment, you ran out of breath, and your eyes stung from the tears filling them.

"Don't show it. They're watching." Marcus said, standing so close to you to shield you from prying eyes for a moment, his hand lightly grabbed your arm, this gesture was the only tenderness he could afford in that situation.

It was the first time he had seen you so broken and his heart couldn't bear it. He wanted to take you in his arms, let you hide in his embrace and protect you from all this evil and despair.

However, all he could do was give you a few moments to put yourself back together and show an unwavering face again. But not a single tear scratched your cheek.

"I am grateful to the Gods for seeing you healthy and strong."

Although Marcus could hear a slight tremor in your voice, the people around you couldn't do that.

"Your words, my lady, are the greatest grace." He replied, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it tenderly. "I’m grateful that I can feast my eyes on your sight today."

He saw you part your lips to say something, but the sound of trumpets tore you away. The show had begun, and Marcus could only pray that you would hold on.

His dark eyes were on you almost the entire time. He could see you clearly, you were like a statue of a goddess in one of the temples. Unwavering, strong, with a mysterious smile that appeared on your lips whenever one of the guests spoke to you. Only once did he see a crack in that wonderful facade—when Margo appeared in the arena and her spirit left her body—Marcus thought you were going to faint, but you didn't take your eyes off the bloody sand of the coliseum.

As guests and spectators began to leave the coliseum, he stood by your side again.

"My lady, do you have someone who could take you home safely?" You seemed distracted to him, and your gaze was absent. "Let me take you to my place. I don't want you to be alone."

"General... Marcus..." his name on your lips sounded like the sweetest melody to him. "Thank you, but I can't..."

"Don't make me beg you here," he whispered. "Please."

After a moment of thought, you nodded and let him lead you to the exit.

General Acacius's house was a quiet and peaceful place. The evening air was cooler and a pleasant gentle breeze blew through the open shutters, filling the rooms.

Marcus made sure that the servants prepared a bath for you and didn't bother you even when you dismissed the women accompanying you to be alone. This was your time, and he wanted to give you as much of it as you needed.

"Marcus..."

He looked up and saw you standing in the doorway of his chamber.

A silk robe gently wrapped around your still damp body. Your gaze was full of pain, but you looked at him gently.

"Y/N, please." he began, approaching you. "I beg your forgiveness, I couldn't do anything. I tried to talk to the Emperor, but I couldn't do anything. He didn't care about her, and our involvement..."

"Shhh..." your delicate hand tenderly stroked his rough cheek. "I have to thank you, Marcus. For everything you..."

"I didn't do anything! I couldn't!" he interrupted you sharply.

"But you tried. I believe in it. I couldn't demand it of you. I don't know what I was thinking, asking you to risk so much for me..."

"I would give my life for you, you know that."

Your hand slid down his neck and rested on his chest. You felt his heart beating hard, his chest heaving with each breath.

"I know Margo was reconciled with her fate. I could feel it looking at her. She was strong, but calm." your voice was calm "Maybe you won't understand this, but she was my best friend. For years. She was devoted and loyal to me. I just wish she didn't suffer."

"Death came for her quickly. Now she's calm and safe."

"Thank you, Marcus."

His hands stroked your shoulders, and his lips kissed your temples lightly. His closeness seemed as natural to you as never before.

"Stay here tonight. I don't want you to be alone with all this." He said, and when you opened your mouth to say something, he added "I know you can, you're a strong woman, but today you don't have to be like that. Let me take care of you."

His eyes were so sweetly apologetic, you knew he would take on everything you felt just to make you feel better.

"You can take my chambers. You'll find comfort worthy of a queen there."

"Marcus..."

"I won't even touch you with a finger. You're safe with me."

"I know."

You trusted Marcus completely. Even when he walked you to his chambers, he didn't insist, nor did he make any move to suggest that he wanted to go there with you. It was you who, before leaving, kissed his lips gently. No words. They weren't needed.

But sleep wasn't a pleasant escape. The minutes passed, and you still felt wide awake. You weren't sure if you had slept for even a few moments. The house was quiet, only the cicadas in the garden keeping you company during the next few sleepless minutes.

No one heard your footsteps. You quietly left the bedroom and made your way through the darkened corridors to the room where Marcus slept that night. The door opened and you slipped inside.

The room was a bit smaller than the bedroom Marcus left you in, but you could smell the same pleasant scent of jasmine and burning candles that brightened the interior. You saw him sitting in an armchair with the shutters open. You thought he was dozing, but when your hand slipped into his tousled hair he stirred restlessly.

"Have mercy on me." he whispered, turning slightly and spotting you behind him. "You would be the perfect assassin, sneaking up on me so silently."

"Is that a compliment?" you asked, a faint smile appearing on your lips.

"I'm completely defenseless around you, so yes, it's a compliment." he replied. "You can't sleep. Me too."

"This house is so quiet and peaceful." you sighed quietly as he took your hand and touched it with his lips, standing up. "I feel like I don't know the words to thank you for what you did for me, then and now."

"I didn't do anything, Y/N."

"You were my rock, Marcus. That's more than anyone else has done."

"But I couldn't save you from the pain."

"Can either of us do that?"

He stared at you intently. His eyes were full of sadness and tenderness. Maybe that night gave you courage, maybe what Marcus did made your heart open to him. But you felt so safe with him that you wanted to be even closer to this man.

You didn't push away his hand that stroked your cheek. It was a relief for his heart.

"I'm ready to fulfill my promise, Marcus." You said calmly. "I'll stay with you in this house, we'll fill its quiet rooms with the laughter of children."

"Don't say that if you don't mean it." He replied, taking your face in his hands. "I couldn't do anything against your will."

"But it's my will, it's what I want. My heart has always been yours, but I was afraid."

"What were you afraid of, love?"

"War. Death. Enslavement. You were the image of all of this." He closed his eyes, probably guessing it. "So I was unavailable to you. I wanted to get rid of this feeling, but you never made it easy for me. You were my daily fear and night dream. Everything I feared and desired. I was sure that you only desired my body..."

"I don't deserve you. I don't deserve even one of your glances, love."

"So why am I here? This is what I wanted. I want you."

You took his hand and slid it down to your chest. Only a thin layer of silk that separated his hand from your soft and delicate breast. When he squeezed it lightly and saw how you parted your lips, he was sure that grace had descended on him.

His lips collided with yours in a kiss, and his warm tongue slipped between your lips, caressing you tenderly. He absorbed you with his presence, and you submitted to him humbly. You clung to his strong body, feeling his desire grow.

The silk robe that wrapped around your body slid to the floor. You stood naked before him, his eyes adoring you.

"You'll make me the happiest man in the world by letting me love you." he whispered.

"I allow you, Marcus."

In an instant his lips were on yours again, kissing you passionately and hard, and before you knew it you were already in his strong arms as he lifted you up and carried you towards the bed.

You felt the cool sheets beneath you, and then your eyes stopped at Marcus. He took off his toga. His body looked like it was created by hands and in the likeness of gods. Broad shoulders, narrow waist. You noticed a few scars on his skin, but they didn't destroy his image. And finally his hard cock, so ready for you.

He covered you with his body, his lips roamed over your stomach and chest, showering your body with kisses. Warm lips found your nipple and closed on it, you felt his tongue teasing you sweetly. Your body arched, and Marcus' strong arm slid under you and you knew you wouldn't get out of this delicious trap.

The tip of his cock teased your entrance, and you felt yourself getting wetter with each of his movements.

"Tell me you want me, please." he whispered, kissing your neck. "I'm begging you."

"I want you, Marcus. I need you more than air. Make me yours."  

He groaned painfully, kissing your lips. Strong hands gripped your hips to position you the way he wanted you.

His tip slowly slid into you, filling you completely. You caught your breath, trying to get used to the feeling of Marcus being inside you. He must have felt the same, because you could hear his slow breathing as he buried his face in your hair.

"It's wonderful to feel you." he whispered, looking at you, his eyes as dark as ever before. "I've wanted you for so long."

"And you have me."

One strong movement of his hips, a quiet moan escaped your lips. Gods, he would give his life for that. He began to move faster, more rhythmically, feeling your pussy take all of him. He tightened his grip on your thigh, afraid that he would hurt you, but you didn't even flinch. Your fingers intertwined in his hair, pulling him closer, kissing him like you needed him to be able to breathe, and with each thrust he heard those sweet sighs escaping your throat.

He felt like a barbarian destroying something as beautiful and sacred as you. But you wanted him. He felt it in your every move, saw it in your every look. You wanted him.

"Marcus, please..."

Your velvet walls squeezed his cock harder and harder, and he knew he wouldn't last long. He'd wanted you for so long. But he wanted to see it. A few more hard thrusts and he saw your body arch in the rush of pleasure flooding your body. Your nails dug into his shoulders, and you bit your lip, feeling like you were about to fall apart. But his arms held you tight and steady. You were safe.

And Marcus didn't slow down. The way you squeezed his cock made him closer, and his movements were faster and harder now. You could feel his sweaty body against you, his quickened breath.

"Fill me, Marcus... Let me carry your child." You whispered in his ear.

He came with a loud groan, digging his fingers into your thighs so hard that you were sure you'd see bruises there the next day. Warm streams filled you to the brim.

Marcus made you his. He filled you with his seed, you'd be full of his child. If not now then soon, you were sure of it.

"Tell me you're not just a beautiful dream."

His rough voice brought you back to his arms. You looked at Marcus, his eyes full of adoration for you. He looked so vulnerable that you began to understand what he meant by calling you the perfect assassin.

Even though you were the one who promised him your devotion and loyalty, you were both on the same page.

"What if I was just a dream?" you asked, stroking his cheek tenderly, his cock was still inside you, you could stay like that all night.

"I don't want to wake up then." he replied "I don't want to see another sunrise knowing I can't have you. That would be torture."

"I wish we could stay like this forever. I feel your love and it fills my heart too." You saw his gentle smile "Let's take what fate has given us, maybe we shouldn't doubt anymore."

"So you'll stay?"

"I will. I'll be proud to be your wife, General Acacius."

"You'll be so much more." His lips brushed yours in a tender kiss "My queen, my goddess. I will worship you until the end of my days."

And you knew he wasn't lying. General Marcus Acacius was a man of honor.

And he was yours.

Forever.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[applestorms]

L can be such a possessive character at times. he always strikes me as the type of person who is deeply aware of everything that he owns, both in a more literal sense and metaphorically-- like, he knows what money he has and how to use it, what resources are readily available to him and what he has to be sneakier to utilize, the habits and tendencies and emotional states of individuals and world governments both. the DN musical really puts an emphasis on the more computer-y aspects of how his brain functions, which isn't as obvious in the manga/anime but i think still works well as a way to follow his thinking. it's kinda what near does too: everything is a factor to them, every tiny detail a new opening to optimize for the best results, every person and location and object a part of a puzzle waiting to be solved. and as a part of that, L is deeply aware of every and any little thing he may or may not have control over, and exactly to what degree.

his habit of stealing titles as depicted in the LABB murders novel is such a good example of this. ryuzaki, eraldo coil, deneuve. he eats people alive and then takes their names for himself like some kind of fucked up fae or trickster god, creating new masks and personas to hide behind from the remains of the people he's devoured. i have to wonder if he would've used the title of KIRA for himself had he won-- i can hardly imagine what kind of power such a title could hold if held in his hands. of course, he could've just used the defeat of KIRA as a way to build up the L title even further, offering up the body of a dead god like perseus showing off the head of medusa. but L is so emotionally attached to the kira case, i struggle to see him allowing it to fade from existence so thoroughly as near does, even if it is only kept close on a private level...

this is part of why i think it genuinely makes a lot of sense that L's ultimate win state would include capturing light to some degree. even if the memory of KIRA somehow manages to fully disappear from the public consciousness, there is no fucking way L is letting light yagami out of his grasp. honestly, the moment that L truly loses this game is not when he starts investigating misa while still under rem's watch, not when light gets back his memories, not even when he dies, but the moment when he allows light to be freed from the handcuffs. the moment when he allows the other members of the task force to turn off the cameras and keep him from watching light and misa talk in the lobby. the moment when he gives up, lets light yagami go outside of L's personal sphere of control, is the moment when L starts the clock ticking down to the end of his own life.

this is one of the key ways in which i see light as a true equal and parallel to L, as after L's death he, intentionally or no, continues the same tradition and takes L's title for himself, twisting the two sides together into the L-KIRA amalgamation. only, the L title functions a little bit differently than every other persona or title that we see in the series-- because L's true name is L. that's all that he is. on a literal, legal, and emotional level, i don't think that L is anything more than L. he is the world's greatest detective, he's an incredible, weirdo super genius, but he does not afford himself much more than that, barely allows himself personhood or humanity outside of his work. light was the one to ultimately defeat L because he did not just put a stain on his character (as BB attempted), did not just kill him, but stole his very identity and took it for himself.

one of the biggest contradictions of L's character that i think you must accept should you attempt to portray him accurately is that he is both deeply detached from humanity while also having all of his work and effort and life be focused around saving it. it's one of the ways in which he is an exact opposite to light-- where light relies on humanity for external validation, to be Seen, while also looking down on it as dumb and immoral and spineless, L is so separated from it that he barely exists as a person, all the while dedicating almost every action he takes to helping it. remember: for all the emotional turmoil that wammy's house and the legacy of L may put on the kids living there, ultimately it's entire existence is nothing more than L's logical solution to his potential demise. if he dies, the world goes down with him, all of the cases that are yet to happen and he is yet to solve being left in the air. he has the foresight to set up a fail safe, but not to consider the emotional implications of what being that fail safe might feel like, how high the price of your own humanity is if you are not already alienated from it, the inability to have your own name on your gravestone-- though perhaps some of the blame also falls on watari's shoulders in this case, philanthropic old bastard that he is.

imo, playing his game really got it right in presenting L and light as one and the same, synonyms on either side of the mirror. in every action they take they are both so selfishly selfless, playing the game for themselves and their own pleasure but plastering the needs and will of humanity on top of it. L isn't invested in saving humanity for the sake of humanity-- he just likes the thrill of having the stakes raised so high. hard to shit on ryuk for wanting entertainment when the humans he finds are just the same as him.

[honeyxbee]

Losing Game ― L Lawliet

TW: Some NSFW, implied noncon, Yandere!L, gn!reader, kidnapping, implied stalking, captive reader, threat of intravenous feeding

words: 621

It has been exactly four months, seventeen days, eight hours, twelve minutes, and fifty-three seconds since the last time you saw the outside world.

But who's counting, right?

L is, apparently, as he casually brings it up in the middle of the game of chess he forced politely requested you play with him. Your eyes momentarily flicker up from the board sitting on the table before you; your brows scrunched slightly as you try to figure out why he decided to mention that.

Nothing with L is ever pointless ― you've come to recognize this fact over the last few months. Every word he says, every movement he makes is intentional as if he's a well-oiled machine instead of flesh and bone.

Sometimes, you wonder if he is.

"Is that so?" you settle on as a response, trying to sound casual as you move your piece, capturing one of his pawns. His dark eyes are fixated on yours, clearly searching for a specific reaction, though you're not quite sure which one. But you're almost certain that it's not nonchalance, so that's the one you offer him. It's a petty attempt at meaningless rebellion, really, but it makes him sigh, nonetheless.

You've learned to take any wins you can get.

"You've hardly touched your cake," L comments casually as he repositions his knight, glancing at the uneaten dessert he served you over an hour ago.

"I'm not hungry," you say with your eyes fixated on the chessboard, moving your queen.

"You've hardly eaten."

"That doesn't mean I'm hungry."

"That is concerning. Irregular nourishment can negatively impact your health and well-being. Perhaps we should consider having you fed intravenously, instead."

His words are spoken casually, yet you can't help but grimace at the thinly veiled threat. L is a lot of things, but he's certainly not a bluffer. You glance down at the piece of cake on the table beside you and reluctantly spoon a bit into your mouth, making him let out a short hum of approval and make his next move.

White to Qc6. You chew on your bottom lip in thought, scanning the board for a second before moving your king to avoid being checked. L's lips twitch ever so slightly.  

"You're getting better at this," he muses as he moves to capture one of your pawns, his eyes not leaving your face. You try your hardest to avoid his gaze, moving one of your pieces to help defend your king with a slight tremble to your hand.

"You're getting better at this." It's crazy how such simple words can make your mouth fill with bile, the words of encouragement that used to make you beam. But of course, that was back when you first started working with L, bright-eyed and brain-full of fantasies about becoming the next greatest detective.

Before L put secret cameras all over your apartment. Before he drugged your tea and took you to his home, where he sat you on his lap and fucked you for the first time, murmuring those five little words of praise in your ear. Before he locked you up here, turned you into his prisoner with the excuse that he was doing it all to protect you.

"Checkmate."

L's voice forces you out of your thoughts, blinking at the board with a small frown on your lips when you see that he has won the game. Again.

He smiles slightly when he notices your expression, tilting his head in thought. "Did you think you were going to beat me?" His voice is full of genuine curiosity ― as if the concept of you beating him in something is a strange thought. And you suppose it is.

After all, L never loses.

[corseque]

I wanted to make a last-minute prediction post based on what I’ve seen so far. I haven’t looked at new Dragon Age news for the past couple (3? 4?) weeks, and I know I’m (on purpose to avoid spoilers) missing some (probably a lot of) details that other people already know. I DON’T WANT TO KNOW. So if I’m already right or wrong about something,

PLEASE please DON’T TELL ME.

You can come back in a month and tell me THEN. It’s just one more month to wait.

Also, this is just for fun, and it’s not serious. It’s based on vibes and also based on what I would write myself. I have developed a surprisingly specific image of what might happen to Solas and I’m just want to write it down.

I’m thinking “there is no possible way this is right………” but then I’m like “unless…..?” so a vague chance of potential spoilers

First, I’ve been suspicious about the elven gods getting free and Solas being trapped. If you think about what Solas says in Trespasser, it’s very

Part of Solas’ aim that has so far been revealed to us is he likely wants the Veil torn down, and one of the only things that is keeping him from that is the reality of the elven gods trapped in there, who would be released.

Inquisitor: “If you destroyed the Veil, wouldn’t the false gods be freed?”

Solas: “I had plans.”

But that is no longer a concern from that moment in the gameplay trailer where they are released. 

“I intend to restore them. Doing so will most likely destroy your world.”

Two elven gods rampaging across Thedas sounds like the kind of “the world is being destroyed” situation Solas was talking about. It is his incision that breached their prison, and it isn’t impossible that Rook may have been almost manipulated into completing it. I wonder if Solas is playing his two sets of enemies against each other yet again?

In the old tales, Solas uses his enemies to fight each other while he is tied to a tree, trapped. He gives both sides equal advice until they are both defeated, at which point he frees himself and finishes what he set out to do. 

Honestly, even though he’s “trapped,” it sounds exactly like the sort of thing that needs to happen for his work to continue.

(All of this is speculation that I think I’ll have a better idea about once I hear the full first conversation with him, and exactly how he words his point of view of what happened. If he’s very squirrelly in his wording, I’ll know he may have caused it on purpose.)

“I seek regeneration,” he said in Vows & Vengeance. The devs had said that Solas has been bringing back magic for centuries before the series even started. Perhaps it explains why the dragons have returned. It seems that his reshaping the world, regenerating it, will be successful because it seems to be moving steadily without him. So maybe this is a last and, once in motion, inevitable step in “healing” the injured world.

I think that the elven gods are very scary and world-ending, but Solas is the only one of them that reshaped the world successfully. He will be the one to do it again, not Ghilan’nain or Elgar’nan or any other god. He is a trickster his, and Tricksters are the Gods of Inevitable (otherwise catastrophic) Change.

One of the greatest criticisms of Inquisition was the lack of screen time Corypheus had. And how the climax fell flat at the end because he didn’t have enough screen time. This leads me to believe that Solas may be the “Last Boss” of DA4. Because we definitely HAVE a complicated satisfying personal relationship with him that has been set up for two whole games.

So the ending for Solas needs to do a lot of things:

“These are the times in which legends are born or slain” Solas as the Dread Wolf will die

It needs to work for both people who love and hate Solas

In order to defeat the Elven Gods, Rook has to find their weakness, which is Solas’ weakness too (maybe a fatal flaw, or how they can be truly killed) so it can be used on Solas too. Perhaps this will involve Solas trying to obscure this from Rook as best as he can

Solas fully is on Rook’s side against the evanuris, but when they’re taken care of, he doesn’t need to team up anymore

I don’t believe that you will be able to stop Solas’ plans, and I hope that they will change Thgedas’ world no matter what. I hope it’s just a fact of life that the Veil comes down

The story basically needs to involve Solas betraying Rook again, because new players need to experience that feeling in order to be in the same place with him as they were in DA3

It needs to give players a torn situation about him, one that makes you feel he’s reasonable but at the same time make it satisfying to fight him. So I believe this is why he will betray the player again, even if he is getting along with them.

I believe there needs to be a boss fight against Solas because he does have a cool big monster form and people have been promised to be able to kill him

It needs to be satisfying for those who romanced him too, but it also needs to be beautifully sad because part of the draw of the romance compared to all the others in the series is that it’s beautifully sad

For that reason, I suspect (not because I particularly want this to happen, I’m just saying what I see most likely) is that fighting and killing Solas may not actually be optional, and he is killed in every worldstate. This way, everyone gets a last boss fight and everyone experiences pretty much the same story without much branching 

I think the difference between friendly and unfriendly version may be whether he is brought back to life by the efforts of those who care about him after he is killed

So basically:

Veil comes down/magic comes back

Solas helps Rook take down evanuris

Solas betrays Rook when it seems the story should be over

Boss fight with Solas as the Dread Wolf (see: my Tulpa Theory)

Solas is defeated and killed

Story ends there if Solas is hated, (story about Rook getting revenge)

If Solas is loved, Solas is brought back and rebirthed in another freer form through a spirit ritual, perhaps as Wisdom, but some part of it is bittersweet like Rose and Doctor 10 (story about regret).

But basically, no matter how Solas and Lavellan’s story ends, their love enduring will be the path to joy, or them being together. Rook can kill Solas and Lavellan can bring him back. Even if it has to just happen off-screen or in fanfic.

I think it is very likely that Solas kills Varric or another character as a way to transition from passive threat to active threat. Or maybe Rook is responsible because of the theme of regret, idk. But I think we’ll get a great cathartic end for Varric probably.

I think we may have to choose between Varric and the Inquisitor, because it’s similar to the Hawke-Alistair choice

I would be very surprised if the story ended with Solas and Lavellan went off into the sunset together in a perfectly happy ending with nothing bittersweet. But sadly, I don’t really see this happening and I think bittersweet may be the name of the game.

Other things I predict:

We can assume that the Inquisitor will have an optional death scenario when they reappear, where we choose either to let them sacrifice themselves in some way, or save them. So perhaps there is an ending where Solas and Lavellan die together and can be free as spirits, which would also be bittersweet.

I don’t really have predictions for anything but Solas, so the big lore reveals might change the situation so much that none of this applies or makes sense anymore. In which case I will probably be HAVING FUN.

I am not EXPECTING any of this to happen, I am just writing it down and posting it in case I’m right. Anyway please wait until I’m done playing to tell me if I’m right or wrong, and this is just for fun, I wouldn’t mind if the whole game was completely different.

[wosoamazing]

There is no 'I' in Team

Summary: Based on this request.

Warnings: Panic Attack, Mentions of Abuse Father (reading also asking not to be hit etc)

A/N: I hope you like it.

The media was relishing your appearance, every reporter had thrown your name out in whatever interview they were doing, you were in stories on the front cover of the news.

“The 14 year old power house” “Some of football's greatest legends have honoured this youngster” “Beckham: That kid is insane, a star”

______

“And she missed, straight over the crossbar. What a rare sight to see,”

“Yes, yes, yes, ohh, missed opportunity again, it went wide”

“Fantastic save by Mary Earps”

"Wide yet again. She has had 40 attempts this game and only 2 on target, both of which Earps has saved,"

Australia lost the world cup to England, you felt like it was your fault, the media decided it was your fault, you were still plastered all over the media, however in a different light this time.

"Has the wonder kid lost her Wonder?" "A gold medal gone, was Y/F/N Y/L/N the right choice?" "Wonder if Beckham still thinks she is a star"

After the game you were incredibly disappointed in yourself and upset, and angry with yourself, you really questioned whether you were the best player of the team, the night you recieved a silver medal at the world cup was not celebrated by you. You were upset and so was the rest of the team, however they all still celebrated, but how could you when you were the reason the heavy disc that hung round their necks was silver and not gold. You were the only one that night who still had tears of sadness falling from your eyes as you went up to collect your medal, you still had sad tears in your eyes as you arrived back to your hotel room. Most of your teammates had left the celebrations to talk to you and comfort you at some point during the night. starting with the obvious ones, Caitlin, then Steph, then Sam, and ending with the not so obvious pick, Kyra, you and Kyra were very close friends it was just that the girls didn't think she would be able to help you in the way you needed. You didn't say a single word to any of them, you just continued to cry, as you remained in your tight coil on the bed.

You didn't talk to anyone about football for months, or even just in general, you tried your best to avoid everyone, you couldn't kick the feeling of knowing you had disappointed them. After training you would just go straight up to your room and lock yourself in, only appearing for dinner. Katie and Caitlin your newly adoptive parents were growing concerned, and were trying to figure out how they could discuss what was going on with you.

______

The opening match for the season hadn't gone that well for you, your shots weren't going in, which made you frustrated and with every off target shot your frustration grew. You couldn't wait for the final whistle to be blown, you just wanted to get off the pitch.

You were near the commentators as the whistle was blown, you could hear their debrief and opinions on the game, the players, more specifically you “As a coach you would be starting to think about changing your go to line up, off days happen, but this, this is different, from being up there with the best of the best, to missing the most basic shots, the shots that should 100% go in. Shots that caused your country to come second.”

You felt your breath hitch at that moment, the reminder you were the reason you came second, the reminder of how you let down your team, your whole country. Suddenly you could feel every single beat of your heart, you could hear blood rushing past your ears, you ran down the tunnel through the locker room and into one of the bathroom stalls, quickly locking the door before sliding down the wall. Curling yourself in a tight ball, hiding yourself away from the world. 

Your Dad’s words racing through your mind “You’re a let down, a failure. A complete waste of space.” You never believed him but maybe he was right, maybe the abusive bastard was actually correct, what if you were wrong, what if you didn’t deserve a new life. What if Katie and Caitlin didn’t actually want you, what if they weren’t actually proud of you, what if they were ashamed of you, what if you were a waste of their time, what if they hated you.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw someone standing near you. How did they get through the locked door? Were you so incredibly hopeless that you couldn't even lock a door? They took a step forward, and you felt your body start shaking slightly, coiling yourself into a tighter ball.

“Please don’t hit me, I’m sorry, I know I'm a waste of space.” you felt a hand on you, however it wasn’t a painful touch, it was a soft comforting hand, but you couldn't risk it, trying to move out of the grip of the persons hand, however soon they had both hands on you, slightly gripping onto you so you couldn’t move away.

“I’m sorry, I’ll do better, I’ll leave, I know you’re ashamed of me”

“Baby girl it's okay, it's just me, I’m safe, I’m not going to hit you, I love you, it’s okay, everything is alright,” They said in a very soft, calm voice as they moved you into their lap. A familiar scent met your nose it was Katie, you slightly relaxed at her presence, but quickly tensed again, what if she thought you were a burden, you felt like you were swaying, your head felt foggy, you felt sick, your body was shaking, your face was wet from your streaming tears.

You felt the hands wrap around you tighten, “I’ve got you, you’re okay, can you take some deep breaths for me? Like we practise.” You took some deep breaths. “Good Job,” you sat there with Katie for a few minutes.

“How about you have a shower and then we can talk. Okay?” you nod, “But just know that Caitlin and I love you so much, and we are very proud of you and we are so happy you came into our lives, and I promise that is not a lie” you stand up with her and give her a big hug before going to shower, you almost hated the way she knew what you were thinking, almost always. While you were showering no one came into the shower, which you thought was weird, until you walked out of the showers and saw everyone standing there huddled around Katie.

Katie noticed you were standing there. “You ready to talk?” you nodded slinkishly, “come here” she sat down and gestured for you to sit down on her lap, you willingly went over, and sat on her lap. Caitlin sat next to the both of you.

“What’s wrong?” Katie asked you “I’m not good enough”

“Why do you think that?” Caitlin queried.

“We lost the final because of me. And now we lost because I couldn't shoot,” you took a deep breath and paused for a moment “Maybe i shouldn't have become a footballer” you sad before a small sob left your body.

“Hey, we came second because of you, we wouldn’t have been in that match if it wasn’t for you. It doesn’t matter what they say, if you weren’t on our team we wouldn’t have been in that match.” Steph told you.

“You know, you are amazing kid, it’s okay to have off days, off weeks and off months, its okay, and it’s not fair for anyone but especially yourself to blame losses on yourself, its a team sport, we win as a team and we lose as a team” Leah told you and you just nodded your head, the whole team reassured you that you were still good and an excellent player even though you were having some off days, you had calmed down but the team stayed where they were for a little longer, to show you that they were there for you.

The team went off to shower eventually, but Katie did not, you just stayed sitting in her lap, soaking up her warm embrace. “What if we invited some of the girls over for a movie night tonight, would you like that? They could even sleep over.” You nodded your head.

That evening you found yourself surrounded by your teams as you watched a movie, they all really cared about you and supported you, so you made yourself a promise that you would start to try and open up to them more.

[moonsunmermaid]

What makes you shine the most ✨? Pick a Pile

Disclaimer: Please remember, this is just a general reading from the collective, apply how it might resonate and take in consideration that tarot readings are not 100% real, you have the power to change your life and yourself anytime. Also please, regarding any kind of health issues this is no game, go to a doctor, I or spirit will never give you any advice regarding your health in this blog.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁1 Alisa . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁2 Hinami. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 3 Yuki . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

1 - Alisa

For those who picked pile 1, the picture of Alisa, you are leaders in your femenine energy. You know the rituals, the words and the movements that have to be made in the precise moment in order to conect people and stay united for the greatest good of love.

I belive you have memories from past lifes on earth and other places and you can easilyh connect through them and bring them to others. Your energy comes from source and you know how to bring love to the table no matter what happens.

You shine the most when you speak and act with your heart pile 1!

2 - Hinami

Picking pile 2 or Hinami, I sense the energy of someone who helps cleanse and purify the world. But this isn't in a creepy way like the evil guy in movies, you do cleanse and purify with love and wisdom, showing your pure proud spirit and not being afraid to take down what doesn't serve anymore in your life.

You are like the strenght, taming a lion is a matter of using your patience and care, not brute strengh. You shine the most when you move through your inner child, through the sense of knowing what's right and what's wrong with no attachements to what society says but being soft and showing people the way through example.

3 - Yuki

Those who picked Yuki or pile number 3, you shine the most when you focus on what's important and keep yourself in balance.

Thinking of Yuki, using your brain only will never help, but using your emotions only either. One must find the middle ground to understand both parts are important and you shine the most when doing that. I bet you are the kind of person people come for advice and if you don't, let me tell you!! you can be really good at giving it!

Let your inner guide work and your light will shine the most. If you are having trouble with this and wonder if this is actuallyh something you are good at, do not dim yourself because once you find the way nothing can stop you from balancing and rebalancing every time, after all that's what happens when we comit ourself to spirituality, growth comes next... and being able to do that is key for growth!

[cuubism]

a lovely person on ao3 expressed interest in more of this retired Dream chronic pain fic and I said well who knows maybe one day and then proved myself a liar by doing it Now. when it gets in your head it stays there until it's out

--

One of Hob's greatest joys, as boyfriend and caretaker to one retired King of Dreams, is finding new things for Dream to enjoy. Things that Dream didn't have time for, or never got the chance to try, when he was fully occupied by his function. It's so fun seeing Dream's joy. Dream has never allowed himself very much of it.

Of all the things Hob's introduced him to, he hadn't figured Dream would be a video game fan. Always thought he was more one for slower media like books, or maybe he just hadn't been able to imagine his ancient, ponderous stranger gaming.

Hob was wrong. So very wrong that ever since he made the dubious decision to buy Dream an iPad he's been stuck in a perennial competition with Minecraft for Dream's attention, and Minecraft might be winning.

He really should have known better, should have guessed that the once-king of the Dreaming would love the immersive dreamscapes of video games, not to mention that he can create things again in a way that doesn't have the world-shaking consequences of his former role.

When Hob gets home from work, he's unsurprised to once again find Dream twisted up in a complicated pretzel shape in his favorite armchair, headphones on, nose buried in the iPad. Sitting that way isn't going to help his joints much in the long run, but nowadays Dream only ever seems to either sprawl or to crunch up in a tiny ball when he's sitting anywhere--sometimes Hob wonders if, after so many years of carrying every aspect of his life so primly and correctly, Dream simply can't bear to do it ever again.

He's also said that that twisted way of sitting is the only position that helps his hip ache less, so Hob doesn't complain about it too much.

"Hey, love," he calls as he sets his bag down, sitting on the couch beside Dream's armchair. Dream looks up at him, pulling his headphones off so they sit around his neck. Hob can vaguely hear the audio--Christ, on top of working on his crazily elaborate Minecraft world--Hob's seen it, the thing's insane--he's also listening to an audiobook. Yeah, Hob was so wrong about expecting Dream's way of trying to relax to be slow or measured.

Dream looks tired now, though, not relaxed, dark circles along his cheeks and a pinch of weariness at the corners of his eyes. Ah. Tough day, then.

"How's the Minecrafting going?" he asks instead of remarking on it. He probably sounds like an old person when he talks to Dream about it--well, he is an old person--but Hob's never been able to stick to any one thing for too long, and he hasn't actually picked up this game since the first time it came out. Who knows how it works nowadays.

Dream shows him the screen. Predictably, he tends to just play in his own little world instead of interacting with anyone else, and said world has become an elaborate landscape of infinite cityscapes, art pieces, and complex structures Hob can't determine the purpose or design of. If Hob's not wrong, it's significantly more complicated than it was just yesterday. Dream has picked this all up with disturbing ease and gotten very fast at it besides. You can take the dream lord out of the craft but not the craft out of the dream lord, apparently.

"You're getting quick at that," he says. "Pretty soon it will be bigger than London."

"Were it to be made physical in equal dimensions, it would be," Dream says. Maybe Hob should get him involved in city planning, might be entertaining for him.

He tries to imagine Dream at a council meeting and nearly perishes at the thought.

While Dream is still looking at him, Hob cups his jaw in one hand, runs his thumb over the dark circle under his eye. "Not feeling so well today?"

Dream sighs. "No. I did not sleep well."

Hob had noticed that, but he'd hoped the fact that Dream was still in bed when he'd left for work meant he might get some sleep later on. Apparently not.

"I am..." his lips twist. "My joints. Hurt."

"I'm sorry, love." Hob would fix it if he could. God he wishes he could. "Where?"

"Back. Primarily."

Really, Hob should be grateful for Minecraft, no matter that he's been in a pitched battle against it. It's one of the only things that can properly hold Dream's attention and distract him when he's not feeling well. Without his game to occupy him Dream just starts getting sad in addition to being in pain and Hob can hardly stand it.

"I love you, you know?" he says, and the corners of Dream's lips tip up.

"I know."

"You want to do some stretches with me?" Hob offers. "You can laugh at my lack of flexibility as much as you want."

He has, in fact, gotten Dream into some yoga and light strength training. It seems to help, at least a little. Dream's new human body is already very flexible, though. It's actually part of the problem. Maybe that's what happens when you try to put an amorphous conceptual being into a fixed body. Maybe it's just the roll of the dice.

"I would not laugh," Dream says, but sets the iPad aside and starts disentangling the knot of his limbs to climb out of the chair.

"No, but I can always see you thinking about it."

"I would not exchange flexibility for you being strong enough to pick me up," Dream declares.

"It's not a one-off trade," Hob says, laughing. Then, perhaps to prove a point, he scoops Dream up from the chair and into his arms.

Dream shrieks and clutches at him with all of his limbs. He's so good at tangling himself up like that that sometimes it still feels like he's able to manifest twice as many of them.

"Could try something else to flex those muscles too," he teases, and Dream gives him a judgmental look, but Hob can see the smile secretly tugging at his lips.

"Taking perverse advantage of my ailments?" he says.

Hob feigns offense. "I was just going to give you a back rub! Totally innocent."

"Mmmm." Dream tilts his head, studying him. "Perhaps if you are truly committed to doing all of the work. I'm not finding myself inclined towards effort this evening.”

"Taking perverse advantage of my generosity?" Hob echoes.

Dream smirks down at him from his perch in Hob’s arms. “Always.”

It’s fine by Hob. Dream deserves a bit of generosity, in his opinion. And a lot more than that, too.

“You’ve indeed been most generous with me in my indolence,” Dream purrs. “Cared for me in my infirmity. How ought a man repay such a magnanimous patron?”

“Could think of a few things,” Hob says, letting his gaze deliberately track down to Dream’s lips. “I’m more inclined to spoil you, though.”

“I am amenable to that,” Dream says. Haughty little thing. Even dying couldn’t take the king out of him.

Hob doesn’t mind, though. He’s always had a bit of a thing for it. So he obligingly carries his still-smirking lover off to their bedroom to spoil him just as he’s promised.

--

Afterwards, when Dream’s sprawled across him, one leg tossed over Hob’s hips in a way that apparently relieves the strain in his lower back, though Hob can’t imagine how, he says, “Does it bother you that I have become utterly idle?”

“You’re not idle,” Hob says. “You do plenty of stuff. I see you do it.”

“Not with true purpose, though,” Dream says.

“If you mean do I think you should get some sort of career, then no, I don’t.” Hob kind of shudders at the thought. “As far as I’m concerned, you never have to work again if you don't want to. Do what you want. Work on your Minecraft cities. I’m just happy that you’re here.”

“You work,” Dream points out.

“I get bored,” Hob says. “Besides, my job doesn’t involve literally being the job, you know. You have to make up for about a trillion years of no work-life balance.”

Dream just humphs, but settles closer against him.

“Does it make you uncomfortable that I pay for everything, is that it?” Hob asks. Dream has always been so fiercely independent.

“Uncomfortable, not exactly,” Dream says. “I find I still fail to grasp the importance of money.”

Hob chuckles. “Yeah, you would.”

“Rather,” Dream continues, “the issue is equity. Something I am contemplating more as part of human society.”

“Okay, I understand what you’re getting at.” Hob wouldn’t want their relationship to feel inequitable either, but it’s not so much about paying for things, but about Dream not feeling trapped. As much as part of Hob wants to bundle Dream up and never let him leave the flat again after he literally died once already, he doesn’t want Dream to stay because he has to. He wants him to stay because he chooses to. At the same time— “But, Dream, it’s been only six months.”

“And?”

“For your lifetime— hell, even for mine, it’s a vanishingly small amount of time. And you were so tired.” It still hurts, still feels almost panic-inducing to think about, how Dream had been the last time they’d spoken before he… died. Hob’s never seen such weariness on a person, and he’s seen a lot. It would take a long time for that to lift from a human, and Dream is operating on a much vaster scale. “If I can give you time to rest, then that’s what I want to do.”

Hob could never figure out how to help Dream when he was Endless. At least there’s something he can do to help Dream now.

“Rest,” Dream echoes. “You are insistent upon it.”

Hob buries his hand in his hair, scratches at his scalp. “It feels better, though, doesn’t it?”

It takes a long moment for Dream to concede his answer, but finally he says, quietly, “Yes.”

“I love you beyond measure,” Hob says, aching with the words. “I want you to be well. It’s no more complicated than that.”

“I think I am,” Dream says slowly. “Well.”

Hob thinks so, too—at least, more so than he once was. He has his issues with his body. But some of the heaviness on him has eased. And that’s a step.

“I do not think I have been well before,” Dream continues. “At least, not in quite some time.”

This, Hob knows, too.

“Then we’ll have to keep working at it until you’re used to it,” Hob says. “And I’ll spoil you until then. Well, after, too.”

“You seem to take pleasure in it,” Dream agrees.

Hob kisses the top of his head, rubs his hand up and down his back until Dream sinks into him further, boneless and lax. Maybe later he will give Dream an actually innocent back rub, it seems to help with the pain a bit. For now he just lets Dream fall asleep on top of him.

He needs the rest, anyway.