#please help out a friend of mine if you can!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kesujo · 8 hours ago

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Baby, Mommy's Here

I HAD TO WRITE AN EMERGENCY TAEYEON FIC BECAUSE OF THESE PICTURES (those who follow me sorta have gotten some not-so-subtle hints of the release of this fic :p)

ALSO, ENJOY THIS ONE TOO

I didn't edit/revise this b/c I'm sort of in a hurry. Please let me know if you find any mistakes! :D

Word count: 12.8K

Never in your life did you think you’d be in such a relationship. The past you might’ve judged you for it—scratch that, the past you would’ve hard judged you for it, maybe even going so far as to looking down on you for letting yourself acclimate to such a relationship. However, now that it’s happening, it’s like you’ve been truly awakened. This is the best way life is to be lived; sure, there are many people who give you weird looks, sure, some of your friends make fun of you and in fact, you get the feeling that some of them have distanced themselves from you upon learning of the type of relationship you’re in, but you’re long past the point of caring about that. In fact, Taeyeon herself has helped you get over the judgmental attitudes the ones who were close to you have adopted towards you.

What have you ever done to deserve your current lifestyle? You figure you must’ve been Mother Theresa or Ghandi in your previous life to get this type of treatment and attention from the peak specimen of a woman that is Kim Taeyeon.

Beautiful, sexy, confident, but also kind, caring, gentle, empathetic … what does she not have? Money, certainly, isn’t the answer to that question: and while, as you’ve experienced, her level of wealth very much grants Taeyeon the ability to live as lavishly as any other multi-millionaire CEO, and the combination of her attractive appearance and personality makes it so that she should be able to get together with any man in the world. But, for some reason, she settled for you.

Rather, it’s not ‘for some reason’.

“This is a secret from the public, and I prefer you keep it this way.” Of course, you nod frantically. It was one of the first times you’ve seen Taeyeon in person, and being this close to her is making your heart go haywire and turning your brain to goo. “I am … shall I say, nearly infertile.” It was one of your first meetings, so hearing her being so vulnerable to you makes you feel thankful that she feels like she can be this way with you but also unworthy of bearing this knowledge. Still, you say nothing and let her continue. “That is to say, there are only certain men that I am compatible with, and even amongst those men, it would still be troublesome for me to become pregnant. And, as a woman who wants to have children of her own, you can see where my issue lies.” You nod again. Frankly, you don’t trust your voice to crack or to not stammer out even single-word replies.

“And that’s where you come in. I believe you participated in a test group regarding your own fertility?” You rack your memory – did you? You’ve signed up to participate in all sorts of studies, because you figure, why not, really? It can’t hurt that much, you’re helping the advancement of science, and you’re so unremarkable that you figure no one would the type of information these test groups ask for. “The researchers did indeed, use your specimen for its intended purpose, but in return for funding them, I had them also test for compatibility with me.” That sounds … vaguely illegal? But honestly, you can’t care less. Of all the test groups you’ve participated in, this is by far the greatest outcome, the best reward you’ve ever gotten. “And, it turns out, we’re compatible. Also, it doesn’t hurt that you’re quite cute.”

As a man, you perhaps shouldn’t have felt so happy hearing that from a woman. However, given that Taeyeon is almost a decade older than you, you’re more than happy to be her cute little partner. “Th-Thank, Thank you.”

Your face turns beet red, but Taeyeon simply smiles at your stammering. “No need to be shy. You’re mine now, and likewise, I’m yours.”

So she says, but the dynamic of the relationship quickly becomes clear: because Taeyeon has a lot of business to attend to, it’s often times you helping take care of the house along with the staff of house caretakers Taeyeon has at her disposal. She’s the one with the money, and she’s also insisted that your only job to be help her out with her job whenever she so asks for it, which you feel is much less frequently than she could be.

Essentially, realistically, Taeyeon is your sugar momma. And this relationship, while you figured might’ve felt a little demeaning at first, is perfectly fulfilling.

When Taeyeon is home, she’s the typical caring, doting wife, albeit with the caveat that she sometimes requests massages from you after a long day of work or vents to you about a project that’s being bottlenecked by something or another. When you’re outside with Taeyeon, the paparazzi that seems to be perpetually following you probably would never guess this bit about your dynamic: you pay for the meals as much as Taeyeon does, you still hold the door open for her, and you still drive the car more than she does if you two ever feel like not utilizing her personal chauffer.

In private is where the dynamic is a little more obvious: whenever Taeyeon requests something of you, you instantly drop whatever it is that you’re doing and rush to her side—but then again, that could just be seen as a doting, caring partner. And, of course—

“Ooh, honey, yes…”

It’s an absolutely hypnotic sight, seeing Taeyeon grinding against your crotch with your dick buried inside her to the hilt, her head thrown back and her hands on your waist. You’ve, of course, seen pictures of her all over the place, but the novelty of seeing those sizable tits hanging out in the open, each decorated with a squeezable bud at the tip that’s begging to be squeezed, but you don’t dare act out of line. In the first few months of your budding relationship, you feel like you’re fighting to show her your worth.

“Gosh, it feels so good…”

The sex is amazing, and you can’t get over how great Taeyeon’s pussy feels, and that in combination with the soft, velvety texture of her skin against your hands drives you insane, but somewhere in the back of your mind, you can’t help but feel that this is still somewhat transactional.

“Fuck, Taeyeon…”

That thought only slightly detracts from the sex. The moment you entered this relationship with Taeyeon, she requested you to leave your previous job and to work for her—she doesn’t give you much work, though. It’s more like menial tasks, like, ‘please sort through my email inbox every morning and delete all the obvious spam and junk mail’, ‘please help me find a good place for a dinner with some stockholders’, that kind of stuff. You don’t particularly mind: you want to make yourself as useful to Taeyeon as possible.

“Does that feel good, honey?”

You can tell Taeyeon is putting in effort into this relationship, though: from day one, she all but ditched calling you your real name in favor of these pet names, such as ‘honey’, ‘baby’, ‘sweetheart’, et cetera. You’re thankful of her for that. In fact, it only makes you want to prove your worth to her even more.

“Yes, it feels so good, Taeyeon.”

You, on the other hand, don’t feel like you’ve earned the right to call her those pet names yet. It almost feels like you’re a puppy wagging its tail at its owner, seeking approval and validation and attention, something you might’ve ordinarily felt as demeaning now feels actually somewhat fulfilling. Every day, you strive towards this singular goal: be worth of being the man Taeyeon chose as her partner.

“Are you close?”

“Almost…”

Taeyeon takes your hands and places them on her boobs. “You like these, don’t you?”

Would it be ruder to blatantly, but honestly say, ‘yes, I love them so much, I sometimes find myself unable to stop looking at them’, to not say anything at all, or to deny it?

“You don’t have to deny it, baby.”

Seeing the reassuring smile on Taeyeon’s face is what lets you respond with, “Yes, I love them.”

“You know, you’re my partner. You don’t have to sneak peaks at my boobs, you can just look at them.”

It’s a growing process, for sure. Gradually getting used to each other, getting over your initial feeling of intimidation of Taeyeon after learning about how much of a sweetheart Taeyeon is outside her sharp, crisp, always-fashionable and always-beautiful CEO look takes some work, and Taeyeon is helping along with that process tremendously.

“Thanks, Taeyeon.”

You try to resist squeezing those almond nipples for as long as possible, but in the end, you’re only human. And then, hearing Taeyeon moan when you finally give in feeds the fire, and suddenly, you’re all over her boobs, grinding and smacking into her pussy while your hands carefully knead and massage her tits and give her nipples the occasional squeeze that sends Taeyeon into another moaning frenzy.

“Yes, keep going!”

“Taeyeon, I’m close. Where…?”

“Go ahead, baby! Inside me!”

You almost don’t know why you asked. Every single time the two of you have had sex, without fail, Taeyeon has insisted that you cum inside her—and, despite the sheer number of times it’s happened, she still has yet to become pregnant. It’s gotten to the point where you’re starting to wonder if it’s an issue with you, but Taeyeon has reassured you that isn’t the case—the test group that you partook in also returned results of your own fertility, of which is in the normal range for the average male.

“Fuck, cumming—”

And, without fail, every time you burst inside her, the hot, sticky walls of Taeyeon’s pussy squeezes you dry, coaxing out every last drop as if milking you for all that you were worth.

After letting you ride out your orgasm, Taeyeon dismounts you and lays by your side. “That was great, honey.”

How kind and considerate Taeyeon is only makes you feel worse, knowing that you still have yet to make her cum a single time. At least, as far as you know. You don’t dare bring this up, though; it’s an awkward subject, despite how many times you’ve came inside her already, and you don’t want to remind Taeyeon of your inadequacy.

“Yeah, it was,” is all you can say, for now.

In any romantic relationship, mutual attraction is a must. At least, in your books, it is. Maybe it’s the nature of a CEO like Taeyeon to take a more calculative stance on romantic relationships—but then again, you don’t believe that, seeing how Taeyeon takes the time out of her busy day to spend time with you: watching movies, having meals, chatting about random things, going golfing or go-karting or renting out an entire amusement park for a few hours to have fun in. For you, attraction to Taeyeon is instant, and only solidifies over time: for Taeyeon, you can tell it’s taking some time.

You do everything in your power to expedite the process: you take on cooking, taking lessons from Taeyeon’s personal chef so that you can cook meals for your 100-day and 200-day anniversaries, and although you consider yourself more knowledgeable than the average guy in this area, you still take more time to learn about fashion and makeup so that you can be at least somewhat presentable next to Taeyeon in public, you carefully plan out surprise dates for her to get her to stop thinking about work for a bit, and as time passes, you can start noticing the difference. Taeyeon is gradually, actively, making more effort to spend time with you, even going so far as to push deadlines or forgo work once every month or so, and it’s immensely gratifying to see your hard work paying off.

There are other ways you can see your hard work paying off, too.

“Oh my gosh, baby, I’m—!” Taeyeon, relentless as ever, demanded a second round before going to sleep that night, and it’s before your second orgasm that you’re finally able to see Taeyeon succumb to hers, purely by your efforts. “—I’m cumming, oh my go—!”

Her svelte frame shudders and convulses beneath your own, her eyes now fully shut and her head pressed deep into the pillow. Her hips violently buck against your crotch, so you obey the unspoken request of her body: you don’t relent, you continue to fuck her fiercely, to let her ride out her orgasm by adding pressure your right index finger and thumb are applying to her clit, and drink in this marvelous sight. It’s a whole other type of novelty, to see Taeyeon’s climax before your very eyes. If you thought the sight of her nude body was a mind-shatteringly sexy sight, the sight of seeing that body rocking and vibrating as your cock continued to slam into the deepest parts of her womb is on a completely other level—and then, to know that it’s you who did this, who turned Taeyeon into this moaning, screaming, convulsing mess brings you to your own orgasm.

“Fuck, Taeyeon, I’m also cumming…”

“Let it all out, baby! Give me everything!”

When your orgasm subsided, you spent a few seconds recovering from the sheer intensity of that climax, taking a second before pulling out of her and letting your body fall onto the bed next to her.

“Wow … baby, that was amazing.”

“It was. You were amazing.”

“Mmm. Thank you so much, honey.” She gave you one last peck on the cheek before drifting off to sleep, a normally harmless and cute gesture of her gratitude that kept you up far too late. However, when you drifted off to sleep yourself, you found that, the next morning, you felt more refreshed than ever.

There were certain complications with their night activities, first and foremost being how often they needed to get their bedsheets cleaned. The fact that Taeyeon always went to sleep with your cum still leaking out of her pussy is definitely the reason behind it, and you’re somewhat shocked to find out that the normally pristine and proper Taeyeon didn’t think twice about soiling the bedsheets every time you bred her.

The second complication was, as the two of you grew closer, the sex started happening in places outside of the bedroom: at first, it was relatively private places like the shower or her wardrobe, but gradually evolved to such places as—

“Mmm, yes, right there, babe!” The sound of her ass slapping against your crotch echoes about the spacious kitchen. Taeyeon’s knuckles having turned white from the intensity of her grip on the kitchen’s island table as you relentlessly pound her into it. “Keep going!”

Taeyeon’s house is rather big—not mansion big, but still big enough to mandate a cleaning staff. In addition, Taeyeon’s personal chef comes every morning and leaves around noon: the schedule of the caretakers of her house is very precise, but there is still some kind of novelty in having sex somewhere other people frequent.

“Fuck, Taeyeon…”

It’s something you can never get tired of: the feeling of her soft waist in your hands, the sputtering of her juices onto your groin, the way your hips bounce off her bubbly butt, the beautiful melody of her moans, the sight of her, sweaty and hot and aroused, her back arched and her sizable tits jiggling with the force of your every thrust, watching your cock disappear between her flopping, glistening pink folds over and over again, all of it.

“Yes! Pound me into the table! Harder!”

Of course, you’re all too willing to comply. Given her rather small, frail-looking frame, you’ve learned that Taeyeon is able to take quite a bit of punishment, something you are more than willing to dish out whenever she asks for it. This isn’t the first time she’s asked you to be rough on her, so you’re more or less used to this type of dirty talk: however, what she says next is not something you’re used to.

“Grab my hair! Push my face into the table!”

You’re a little hesitant at first, but with how fervently she’s taking your cock, you realize she isn’t really giving you much space to argue. So, as always, you obey.

“Yes, mommy.”

As you reach out to grab a fistful of her hair, she turns a surprised eye to you. It’s only then that you realize what came out of your mouth.

“‘Mommy’?”

Why did you say that? You try to be careful with your words, but have lately been finding it easier and easier to let words slip out of your mouth without a second thought. And now that she was looking at you, a sudden pang of fear crept up inside you. Did you fuck up? “Um, I’m, I’m so sorr—”

“No…” There is clear conflict on Taeyeon’s face. On one hand, she’s surprised to hear you call her that, and part of her feels like she ought to be repulsed by it in some way, but part of her finds it hot. It’s not lost on Taeyeon that the nature of your relationship with you makes you her sugar baby, especially with the age gap that exists between you two. It’s … fitting. “…don’t be sorry. Keep going, baby.”

What happened? Is Taeyeon not mad? She seemed to be … somewhat accepting of it?

You don’t decide to push your luck though, and when she turns back around, you continue where you left off by grabbing her hair and, gently, pushing her face into the cold marble surface of the island table.

“Fuuck…”

You’re genetically compatible with her, and even your physical build is compatible with her: you’re at just the right height to comfortably drill into her from above like this, with her feet slightly raised and her ass in the air, smacking into your damp groin repeatedly. The wet sounds of the impact echo about the otherwise empty residence: outside, the gardener should be attending to the multitude of flowers and trees that surround the house, but there is no view inside the kitchen from anywhere the gardener might be.

“Yes, keep going, ruin me!”

“Fuck, Taeyeon—” you other hand leaves her waist and comes down, hard, onto her ass. She lets out a noise that lays somewhere between a squeal and a moan. “—you’re so much.”

“More, babe! Keep going!”

It’s second nature to you, by now, to obey her every command, but this is something you don’t need her to tell you to do. The second smack, then the third, the fourth, the fifth, and by the sixth, you can start to see a red imprint in the rough shape of your palm appearing on her otherwise pale, snowy-white romp.

“Fuck! Babe, please, it’s so good!”

Her words are slightly muffled by the fact that you’re pushing her face into the table; her face is turned to the side, but even still, her cheeks are so slim that even the slightest bit of pressure nearly causes her lips to be touching the marble.

“You’re so insatiable.” You’re using your knees to keep yourself aligned with her, one hand adjusting its grip on her silky, chocolate hair while the other alternates between caressing and smacking her juicy ass. “I love it.”

“I’m so close! Babe, please!”

The coolness of the marble surface is also pressing into her tits, and specifically, her erect nipples. On top of the ferocious pounding you’re giving her, the ass-smacking from one of your hands and the pressing on her head into the table from the other, the temperature play at yet another one of her erogenous zones is stimulating Taeyeon to the max. The longer it draws on, the more the intensity of your thrusts and the force of your hand onto her ass increases, and the higher she pushes herself onto the balls of her feet, doing everything she can to maximize the contact between you and her.

By now, you can more or less tell how close Taeyeon is to her climax; although you haven’t gotten it down to an exact science yet, you can tell that you’re going to reach your peak first. Ever since you’ve gained the ability to make Taeyeon climax, you selfishly want to make sure she’s reaching it every single time: of all the things you can never get tired of from Taeyeon, seeing her coming to an orgasm because of you is at the top of that list.

So, you use the cheat button. You stop slapping her ass, the red imprint on it just about glowing by now, and your hand dives between her legs. It takes a second to find her clit, but when you do, you don’t use it right away: you’ve learned that it’s more effective if you do what you’re doing now, which is to tease it by rubbing the perimeter of it first. Taeyeon, on the other hand, starts losing her mind; her moans become desperate yelps and whines, and when you finally reward her patience by squeezing on her pleasure button, she unfolds all at once.

“Fffuuuck!”

The goal was to at least align your climaxes at least somewhat, but you definitely weren’t expecting to make Taeyeon cum first. In fact, you’re so stunned by this that you momentarily stop moving, only reminded to keep going by Taeyeon’s urging.

“Yes, yes, yes! Fuck, I’m cumming so hard, oh my god, oh my—”

This is the first time that Taeyeon has reached her climax before you. Try as you might before, even doing foreplay such as cunnilingus or using your fingers, it was always you that buckled first. But now, seeing your misses unravel so completely, shaking and lathering your cock and your groin with her love nectar, turns you on so completely that your climax follows shortly after.

“Fuck, cumming—”

Taeyeon jolts again as the jet of warm, viscous liquid enters her womb. “Unng, fuck, yes, fill me up, babe!”

This time, Taeyeon didn’t have the benefit of the bedsheets to soak up the fluids flowing out of her hole; you help her clean up, and when she’s done, she pecks you on the lips. And that’s another thing you can never get tired of: the feeling of her soft, velvety lips on yours, and the fragrant aroma that wafts into your nose when her face presses into yours.

“I can’t believe how amazing that was, babe. You were … wow…”

You let out a laugh. “I’m glad you liked it. You were so sexy, as always.”

There wasn’t a room in the house that was spared from your and Taeyeon’s antics: the dining room, the living room, every room in the spacious abode became witness to your breeding attempts. Each had their own benefits, too: the dining room had the comfortable chairs that you could use, the living room had the open space and a TV to use to add into the fun, the game room was filled with various makeshift tools that enhanced the experience—such as using a pool stick as a yoke or restraint bar, forcing Taeyeon’s arms behind her back and leaving her completely helpless to you—and the music room, which she apparently had installed into her house because of some vocal lessons she eventually dropped due to lack of time, but something for which you can personally vouch for her insane natural talent of, whose excellent acoustics allow you to hear Taeyeon’s beautiful, musical moans in ways you’ve never heard them before. It wasn’t an everyday thing, though, nor even necessarily a once-a-week thing—in fact, there would even be stretches of two, three months with no sex. Someone as busy as Taeyeon simply didn’t always have the time, or would just come home and let you guide her to her bed and fall asleep to the full-body massage you’ve spent so much time learning to do.

It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, though—being the publicly-known boyfriend of perhaps the world’s first idol-CEO, who first garnered attention for her immaculate looks at the fashion shows she would attend, then further fame from appearing on the Forbes’ ’30 Under 30’ list. What would the fanbase of an idol-CEO look like? It turned out, pretty similar to the fanbase of a singer-idol: from the moment your relationship with Taeyeon went public, the two of you were met with waves upon waves of backlash. Taeyeon, being used being in the spotlight and frankly, not particularly caring for these kinds of matters as her job wasn’t as closely tied to public sentiment as a singer-idol’s was, was barely phased by it. You, however: someone who was a nobody before this, who was a five or six out of ten at best, and now with the amount of effort you put into fashion and your appearance now, is perhaps a seven or maybe an eight if you squinted real hard and captured the exact perfect angle, but who looks like a four next to the perfect ten out of ten that Taeyeon always was, was bound to be met with heaps of jealous, indignant, angry fans.

It was easy enough to stop using social media—‘easy’ enough, that is—but when you’re just walking about normally, shopping for furniture or new shampoo or fetching some new makeup products that Taeyeon has you pick up? When Taeyeon proposed to hire a bodyguard for you, you immediately shoot it down. You, need a bodyguard? Who are you to require such a thing?

The answer was simple: the news articles of random people on the street harassing you, throwing junk at you, something you tried to keep quiet about but met Taeyeon’s wrath regarding when she found out, not from you telling her, but from a news article.

“How could you not tell me?!”

“I’m … I’m so sorry…”

“No! It’s not—” Taeyeon sinks into her chair and buries her face in her hands. “—it’s not you who needs to be sorry.” Her voice softens considerably, and it doesn’t take long for you to realize: she’s crying.

“Taeyeon? Honey?”

“You need to tell me about these things!” When she lifts her head to speak to you, your suspicions are confirmed: eyes sparkling, cheeks glistening with tears, lips pulled into a pronounced frown. “I can protect you! Why would you—”

“Because I’m a man!” You don’t intend to yell, but it’s too late. “I don’t want to need my girlfriend to protect me! I have a pride as a man, too, even if you’re the—” you don’t dare finish that sentence. You’re already yelling at her, you don’t need to step over that line.

“I’m the what?” she snaps. “I’m the CEO? I’m the older one? I’m the one with the money?”

“It—none of that matters. It wasn’t that big of a deal, anyway. A bruise here and there, it’s fine.”

“But it’s not fine! What if something worse happens down the line? If you continue to let these people walk all over you, what if they start throwing bigger, heavier things at you? What if you get hospitalized? What would I do then?”

“Why would you care, as long as my penis works fine.”

…

Wait.

What the fuck did you just say?

The silence is deafening. You can hear your heart racing inside your chest. It’s painful. It’s a twisting, churning sensation inside you, but worse than that is the fact that Taeyeon isn’t saying anything. You want to take it back. So badly. But, you can’t. What would you say?

“I—I need to go.”

“Honey, wait—”

For the first time since you’ve started this relationship, you disobey her. You continue walking, straight out of her office, and don’t stop until you reach a bar.

Is doing this going to ruin your reputation, and more importantly, Taeyeon’s reputation even more? Almost definitely. But at that moment, you don’t care. You probably don’t need to care much about Taeyeon’s reputation for much longer. You don’t remember the rest of the night at all, and wake up the next morning with a terrible, pounding headache. It takes a while to acquire your surroundings, and when you do, you realize you’re in the VIP room of the hospital Taeyeon’s doctor works at: a place you’ve visited to make sure you are, indeed, fertile, and for a few vaccines that you didn’t think of getting until Taeyeon suggested it.

Taeyeon, Taeyeon, Taeyeon. Your whole life revolves around Taeyeon. And now, what did you do to her? Imply that she’s only using you as a breeding horse, as if you can’t feel how much she loves you in the voice messages she sends you when she can’t come home about how she misses you, or the meal she cooked for you on your 400th day anniversary, or the various other gifts she showers you with because of some passing comment you don’t remember making the next day. All of that, and then that terrible thing you said to her, and she’s still taking care of you?

When the nurse bursts through the door and calls your name, your head is buried inside your hands. “Do you still have a hangover? I’ll get—”

“No, it’s ok.”

“…ok. Ms. Taeyeon is on her way.”

“I—” who are you to make demands of others? Especially since you’re only in this room because of her. Does she still love you? Does she still believe in you?

The next person to burst through the doors and call your name is none other than Kim Taeyeon herself. “Oh my god, sweetheart, I was so worried when I couldn’t get a reach of you and couldn’t find you at home…”

You listlessly try to escape her embrace, but Taeyeon is having none of that. She squeezes your head against her chest, and from the way you can feel her shaking, you can tell that she’s crying. Again. Because of you.

“I don’t deserve you, Taeyeon.”

“What?”

“Let’s be honest. I’m a nobody. You’re … you’re probably the only CEO in the world who has such a dedicated fanbase. Or, one of. Yet, you’re tying yourself down to me?”

“Don’t say that! I chose you because I love you!”

“No, you didn’t.” Taeyeon releases her embrace of you. This time, you meet her gaze. You feel like you need to. “You chose me because I’m compatible with you, right?”

“Oh…” Why does Taeyeon look so crestfallen? Seeing her in such a state twists at your heartstrings, so you stay silent and let her gather her thoughts. “…that’s not what I meant. It’s true, that I initially chose you because of that, but … I meant, I chose to stay with you because I fell in love with you. I chose you. Not because of your compatibility with my condition, but because of you. Not because of your penis, or your genes, or anything.”

And, the thing is, you know this. Is it simply because it’s hard to believe? That an amazing, a perfect woman like Taeyeon would ever want to be with someone like you? Is it that pride you have, as a man, that makes you want to be stubborn?

“I’m sorry.” It doesn’t matter what it was. Taeyeon, just her being here with you, despite how busy she must be, despite the fires she must be trying to put out regarding news articles that have probably been released about the boyfriend of the famous idol-CEO Kim Taeyeon found passed out drunk at some random bar, is enough to forget all of that. “I didn’t mean to say those words. It was wrong of me.” Taeyeon’s lips are already being pulled into a frown, and her eyes are already starting to tear up again, but when you say, “I know this is asking a lot … but can you forgive me?” she bursts out into a sob.

“Of course! Of course, I forgive you, honey!”

The bodyguard was only necessary for the next two months; after Taeyeon released a public statement, threatening to sue for damages and the netizens for their defamatory comments, you found being in public much more bearable. That hurdle in your relationship seems to have flicked something in Taeyeon, who finally started giving you more work after you asked her so many times for it, in the hopes that you can help alleviate her immense workload. Was it your comment about still having pride as a man? Who knows, really. What was important was that, now that you could help Taeyeon with her duties, she could be home much more often. The times she couldn’t be home, for the various business trips her duties as a CEO dictated, however, she decided to start taking you along.

As any multi-millionaire CEO, Taeyeon has her own private jet and her own crew for the jet, including a pilot and co-pilot. However, what was different about this jet was one aspect—a rather large aspect, honestly. One room inside the jet, with stabilizers in three dimensions to reduce the impact of turbulence for the people inside the room. Why would that be necessary when seatbelts are the common solution to turbulence?

“Mmm, ooh, ooh yeah…”

Taeyeon’s face is inches above your own, her eyes gently closed as your cock, firmly wedged between her legs and inside her swelteringly hot pussy, pries apart her tight walls. With every thrust, more of her juices sputter out onto the comforter covering the bed you’re lying on, and with every thrust, Taeyeon’s moans split through the loud hum of the jet’s engines.

“Fuck … I’m going to miss this so much…”

“So this is why you had this bed installed in your jet, huh?” Your hands are firmly planted on either side of her hips; even though the room is being stabilized in all degrees of motion, you still need to keep her in place so you can plow into her with the force her tight pussy demands of you. “To get some last-minute cock before toiling away on this business trip?”

Taeyeon smiles at you. It’s a mischievous, playful type of smile, one that reminds you that Taeyeon is more than the strict, calculating CEO, or even than the warm-hearted, kind and caring girlfriend, that she makes herself out to be. “So what if I did?”

“I would’ve said, ‘I didn’t know my girlfriend was such a fiend for my cock’, but then, I would be lying, wouldn’t I?”

Ever since that incident, the two of you have grown closer than ever before. It’s maybe something about voicing your insecurities about the relationship, how you feel inadequate in your desire be the protector despite Taeyeon having more of the means to act in that capacity, but after smoothing all that out, the hesitance of teasing Taeyeon too much or of belittling her a little in jest has gone away once you realize, ‘Oh. Taeyeon just wants me to treat her like any other girlfriend would. Just because she’s my sugar momma, doesn’t mean she’s my superior. In a relationship, both partners are equal, and this one shouldn’t be any different.’

“I would be sad if my boyfriend didn’t already know how much I loved feeling his cock destroy my wet, tight little pussy.” There’s something about Taeyeon’s dirty talk, too. It just … gets to you. Taeyeon has such a regal appearance in public, and in private, such a cute, traditionally pretty appearance, that hearing such filth coming out of her lips almost feels wrong. It feels like it doesn’t belong somehow, and that contrast is exactly what does it for you. “And how I love it so much, I spent millions to get this built for us, just so I could squeeze in an extra few hours of feeling his thick, veiny cock splitting my walls apart and feeling his hot, creamy cum spill into me.”

You’re going to go crazy. That’s for sure. It’s how you feel every time Taeyeon dirty talks to you, which you have noticed has been increasing in frequency as of late.

“God, I can’t believe you, Taeyeon…”

“I’m right here, babe. Believe in me.”

“You’re … what did I ever do to deserve you?”

Taeyeon doesn’t answer, and instead places her hands on your cheek and leans in for a kiss. It’s an incredible feeling every time, feeling the warm, plump, soft texture pressing against your lips, and then feeling her tongue against yours, but especially when in combination with the feeling of her body pressed against yours, and feeling her wet, hot snatch trying to squeeze the life out of your cock—you feel even further above the clouds than you already are.

Your bodies move in unison, both of you moaning into the kiss that are subsequently drowned out by the ever-present roaring of the jet engines. For privacy reasons, Taeyeon had the room soundproofed and doors locked; even meals were served on a food tray through a tiny slit that could only be opened from inside the room. And here lay the millionth benefit of dating the finest specimen of a woman on planet Earth: Taeyeon was always so thorough, especially when it came to your combined private time, that you knew you could enjoy it thoroughly without fear of any interferences.

“God, I love you so much, babe.”

“I love you too, Taeyeon.”

“You always tell me that you feel lucky to have me, but haven’t you ever stopped to consider how lucky I feel to have you?” Your movements aren’t forceful and vigorous as they are usually; this time, they’re slower and more sensual. This time, it feels more like lovemaking than baby-making, and you don’t really know how to deal with that. “You adapted to such a different lifestyle so quickly, you’re always willing to help me even in ways I couldn’t imagine, you’re always so patient with me, and you’re even willing to learn all the weird and highly-specified parts of my job so that you can help me with it, all so you can spend more time with me. I’ve met with and talked to many men in my life, but I doubt a single one of them could do as amazing of a job as my partner in life than you.”

It’s pretty overwhelming. Scratch that, it’s insanely overwhelming. Taeyeon, as any doting girlfriend, gives you compliments all the time, but none feel as heartfelt and sincere as this one. It feels like a balloon growing inside your chest, that you can imagine is your ego or sense of self-worth or something, and Taeyeon is pumping air into it with all the strength her skinny little arms can manage. Which is a surprising about, mind you.

What can you do with all this … this elation? A sense of pure love and warmth and caring and everything—it feels too much to bear. So, you do the only thing you know to do in such a situation.

“And none of them could fuck you like I do.”

The loving gaze in Taeyeon’s eyes shatters, her eyes disappearing into upside-down crescents and her lips pulled apart to allow for her laughter to spill out. She smacks you on the shoulder. “I’m trying to be serious here!”

You laugh along with her. “I love this. I love you. Everything. I’m the luckiest person in the world right now, to have you with me.”

“To feel such a hot, tight pussy squeezing your cock?”

“Oh, now who’s being the unserious one here?”

Taeyeon grins at you. “I’m like this because of you. You know that, right?”

“What? Little old me, corrupted the pure, innocent idol-CEO Kim Taeyeon?” Taeyeon smacks you on the shoulder again.

“I told you I don’t like being called that.”

“What? Kim Taeyeon? But that’s your name.”

“No, the other thing.”

“Oh, you don’t like being called pure or inno—” this time, Taeyeon interrupts you by suddenly starting to ride you, hard, causing your words to be cut off my a groan. “—fuck, babe…”

“Looks like mommy has to punish you for being such a naughty boy.”

Even with the constant droning of the jet engine’s roar, it’s like your ears can selectively pick out Taeyeon’s musical moans as she reaches her climax, and as you watch her ride you even more fiercely, you can only watch in absolute awe at the spectacle of Taeyeon succumbing to her orgasm atop your body, and the following visual of the creampie filling her cunt slowly trickling out of her hole and onto your body, and then onto the comforter when she rolls off you.

“So you’re coming around to that word, huh?”

Taeyeon nods. “I can’t believe I’m saying this … but it’s really hot.”

“Hmm, but not as hot as my mommy.”

Taeyeon nudges you a little, albeit with a smile on her face. “Shut up.”

Her response brings a smile to your own face. “Seeing as we’re not going to sleep, since it’s still probably around 6pm in our time, are you sure you don’t want to clean up?”

Taeyeon shakes her head. “I like feeling it inside me. Your cum. It’s so warm, and it feels like part of you is still inside me.” She leans against you and rests her head on your shoulder, which just so happens to fit perfectly into the crook of your neck. “Which, of course, it technically is. Or, was. Now, it’s mine.”

You let out a chuckle. “I didn’t know you were so possessive of my sperm.”

“I am! Your first baby should be with me. And all your babies in the future.”

“That’s the plan.”

Because of the privacy of the room, neither of you have to put on your clothes again, which are neatly stored in the modest closets that are also attached to the room. A little while after, the two of you enjoy dinner in the seats sat on the opposite side of the bed, facing it, while watching a movie on the TV hanging above the bed’s headboards, and then resume the movie cuddled up on the bed, watching it on the other TV situated between the seats, facing the bed.

There have been many instances in this new life that Taeyeon has pulled you into that made you realize that the wealthy actually live entirely different lives than most other people, and this is one of them. Even closing in on three years together, you’re still discovering all these new kinds of luxury that you couldn’t even fathom before meeting Taeyeon.

As the second movie’s credits start rolling, Taeyeon turns to you. “Ready?”

“Hm?”

Taeyeon swings her legs to the other side of your legs, her hands reaching down to rub your now growing erection. “I want more.”

The next time Taeyeon took you on a business trip, you immediately notice something different.

“Honey, who’s that seat for?”

Situated underneath the TV facing the bed is another, slightly wider, seat, with its backrest folded down. There seem to be some other things attached to it, but you can’t quite make out what they are.

“What do you mean? That’s for us.”

Taeyeon doesn’t elaborate further, only giving you a mysterious smile as you buckle yourselves up into the seats for takeoff. Once the captain notifies you that you’re free to move about the cabin, Taeyeon unbuckles herself from the seat and beckons for you to come.

“I still don’t understand…” you watch as she pushes the TV into the wall, pulls the seat out a little, and pulls up the backrest. And, as you watch it unfurl, you can start to see what she was going for.

“What are you doing with your clothes still on?” You chuckle but obey, storing your clothes into the closet, with Taeyeon following shortly. “Go ahead, sit down.”

“You seem … awfully excited about this.”

“I am!”

Both you and Taeyeon are switches. Sometimes, Taeyeon takes the lead and you’re more than ok with it, and sometimes, she lets you take the lead; sometimes, Taeyeon comes home from a long day of high-stress situations and you make sure she doesn’t have to make any more decisions, and sometimes, Taeyeon’s extended leave of absence from home makes both of you miss each other, which would more often than not result in Taeyeon exerting her will on you and you more than happy to be with her again. So, when you saw the wrist clamps extending about neck-level on either side of the backrest of the seat, you wondered who they were for: both of you, is probably the correct answer, but today, it was evident that Taeyeon wanted to use them.

“Hmm…” As your cock slides into her hot pussy, Taeyeon lets out a low moan, leaning back a bit onto your chest as she feels her walls being pulled apart, once again, by your girth. “Mmmm~”

“Always so tight for me, babe.”

“Always so hard for me, baby.” You plant a kiss next to her ear, eliciting a giggle; when you’re fully inside her, she directs you, “Help me with this?”

You turn your eyes to her hands—or, more accurately, her wrists, both of which are already inside the open wrist clamps. “You really want this?” Taeyeon nods fervently, so you waste no time in locking her wrists in place. And, just like that, her arms are suspended in the air, giving you full, unadulterated access to her entire body, left entirely to your whims.

“I’m all yours, baby.”

Such a situation is a dream-come-true for any sane, straight man: one of the most attractive, sexiest woman on the planet—in your eyes, the most attractive and the sexiest woman on the planet—giving herself up to you, fully. The only limbs she can control are her limbs, but after you start pounding into her, even those start shaking about helplessly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, babe—”

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” You take advantage of her raised arms and wrap your arms around to grab a handful of those voluptuous boobs she was so carelessly showing off at the walkway to the airport—because, as an idol-CEO, fans still congregate to take pictures of her airport outfits, for some reason—and start palming them. Taeyeon lets out a sigh, arching her back and pushing her tits further into your hand. “You want a break from everything and just want to be coddled and pampered, right?”

Taeyeon nods, and although you can’t see it, you can feel how her head bobs up and down against your cheek.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take great care of you.”

“Ooh…”

Her voice hitches when you give her nipples a light pinch, but just as quickly as the stimulus surges through her body, so too does it dissipate. Your motions slow down to a sensual grind, and you can start to feel Taeyeon’s impatience building.

This is her doing. She chose to submit herself to you, and she should know how much you like building up the tension. As much as her display of ultimate submission makes you want to pound her into next Tuesday, you know this will yield a better result, for both you and Taeyeon.

“…baby…”

You plant kisses on her crown, then move to her cheek. She tilts that side of her head to you, giving you better access to her ears, which you take advantage of by nipping slightly. Every time your lips touch her face, Taeyeon seems to be holding in her breath a little bit more, and every time your fingers come dangerously close to her nipples, you can feel a sigh waiting to be released, desperately wanting to be released, but being held in at the last possible moment.

“Your boobs look so good in that outfit.”

“You told me this morning, honey.”

“So you can’t blame me for wanting to play with them a little bit more right now.”

“You can play with them while you’re fucking me harder, ri—” you interrupt her by planting a kiss right next to her lips, but not on them.

“You put me in charge, right?” Taeyeon nods. “Then, relax. Don’t think. Let me do everything for you, baby.”

Taeyeon follows your commands to a tee, sinking and sinking into your slow movements, practiced motions that you’ve taken years to perfect. Every square centimeter of Taeyeon’s body, you know, and you use that knowledge to tease out every last ounce of desire and wanting from her small, skinny, but somehow curvaceous frame.

“Ooh … my god…”

Your left hand leaves her boobs and travels south, and all it takes is one careful swipe of your finger along her entrance to reassure you how absolutely aroused Taeyeon has become.

“Hmm…”

“Open up.”

Taeyeon obeys, and you stick the finger slick with her juices inside her mouth. Instantly, her velvety lips close around the digit and her tongue goes to work, swirling around the finger and licking it clean. It’s not the first time you’ve done this to her, and it’s also not the first time you’ve wondered what letting loose a load between those pretty lips of hers would be like. To this day, all these years you’ve been together, all the various ways you two have fucked, and Taeyeon has still yet refused to let you cum anywhere but inside her. Not that you particularly mind, but every now and then, your mind starts to wander—what would she look like after a nice facial? How sexy would it be to see those slim cheeks puffing from an overabundance of your cum, with trickles of it escaping the corners of her mouth that she captures with her finger and feeds back into her mouth? What would these delectable tits, that have been the object of your fascination since Taeyeon put her airport outfit on this morning, look like with your cum smeared all over them? Or what about the juicy ass that she’s currently grinding against your crotch?

“You’re so unbelievably fucking beautiful, and so irresistibly sexy, Taeyeon.”

Taeyeon only responds with a sigh. You can hear the impatience in it—and, frankly, you’re nearly at your limit, too. You can start to feel her juices start to trickle down onto your legs and it’s this that becomes the last straw. The next sound Taeyeon makes is a loud yelp, in response to your fingers suddenly squeezing both nipples at the same time. “Ffuck!”

You start pounding into her, using the grip your hands have on her boobs as leverage to push her back and forth in your lap. Eventually, as you build up momentum, Taeyeon starts raising and falling, each time she lands back in your lap creating a nice, satisfying smack! sound that gets quickly drowned out by the airplane’s engines. Coincidentally, some faint rattling sound cuts through the air that you’ve come to realize is turbulence, something that the stabilizers attached to the room have prevented you from ever feeling. Unfortunately, you can’t make use of the bouncing of the airplane, but Taeyeon is light enough that you don’t need much help anyway.

“God, yes! Baby, please, more!”

You’re letting your hands follow the wild bouncing motion of her boobs as you bounce her on your lap, giving them the occasional squeeze as it does so. It always marvels you, how someone so small and so skinny can have such proportionally big boobs. She usually dresses a bit more conservatively in public, which is what made her choice of outfit this day so mouth-watering—Taeyeon rarely gives hints of her cleavage to the public, so when she reveals this much? You can only assume she was trying to seduce you, and it worked beautifully; before you even boarded the plane, you were having trouble trying to hide your boner. And now that it’s buried deep inside her, and now that her boobs are filling up your hands, especially since she’s given you full reign to do whatever you want to her, you intend to act on your horniness to its fullest extent.

“Don’t worry, honey, I’ll give you more.”

Among the many beautiful things about Taeyeon is her natural speaking voice, and that doubled for the voice with which she moaned her pleasure with. It only ever invigorates you more, to hear her moaning so animatedly, and your intensifying actions cause those moans to come out more frequently and with more frequency. It’s a self-feeding loop, a loop that only ends one way.

“Oh my gosh, babe, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum so hard—”

Your climax follows shortly after hers, and as you slump back into the backrest of the seat and Taeyeon rests her head against your chest, the salacious mixture trickles out of Taeyeon’s battered hole and onto the cushiony seat you’re seated upon. Your dick is still wedged inside aforementioned hole, and while you can feel some fatigue settling in, your dick’s efforts to soften is met with the fierce resistance of Taeyeon’s tight snatch, ever the hard worker.

“Baby…”

“Sorry, honey, just give me a minute…”

“…there’s a setting. On the right, there should be a button. On the armrest.”

When you first saw the button, you assumed it was to lean the seat back like any normal airplane economy-class seat, but now that you think about it, you realize how dumb that assumption was. There’s barely any space for this seat to lean back, and this seat is clearly not ‘like any normal airplane economy-class seat’.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Press it.”

“Hm, ok—oh, what the—” the seat starts bouncing, causing your dick to push a little bit deeper inside her. Taeyeon lets out a soft moan.

“Mmm, I’m so glad that works.”

“Taeyeon, what—”

“Do you mind?”

You can’t help but think of the meme that you aren’t sure is exactly a meme, ‘soaking’, the Mormon work around for couples to have sex without going through the physical motions of it. If it is indeed a thing, you wonder how much this kind of a chair would be worth to them.

“Does it feel good for you?”

Taeyeon nods. “Yes. God, yes, I love that feeling, of your cock fucking our creampie back inside me.”

If you weren’t being hit with your refractory period, Taeyeon saying such a filthy sentence would’ve caused you to instantaneously jump her—now, all you could do is let out a groan and put your hands back on her boobs.

“Fuck…”

“Do you like it?”

“I … I’m still, I still can’t, but fuck, I love the feeling of your boobs in my hands.”

The bouncing of the chair is rather slow—Taeyeon makes a comment about how she needs to tell them to modify it to have varying speeds, and then you briefly think about the poor engineers who have worked on this plane and have installed all sorts of various, weird things in it, with a probably pretty good idea for its use case but having to go along with it anyway—but the two of you stay like this while you recover. The chair pushes you in and out of Taeyeon while your hands continue to knead and squeeze the addictively soft and plush texture of her tits, and as your refractory period fades, you start adding to the chair’s efforts. You eventually transition to a standing position, with Taeyeon now facing the seat, her wrists again trapped by the wrist clamps, and you standing behind her.

“Fuck, yes, please, more!”

No longer having to fight gravity, the sound of her ass smacking against your drenched groin nearly overpowers the roar of the airplane’s engines. “Fuck, Taeyeon, I’m so close…”

“Give it to me, give it to me! Fill me up to the brim, baby!”

You let out a final, warning grunt before exploding, your second load bursting inside her—a notably lesser load, but one that still sends Taeyeon into a moaning, squirming frenzy. By the time your orgasm subsides and you pull out of her, it’s like a dam burst; Taeyeon’s poor cunt barely had a few minutes in the last hour or so not being stretched open by your cock, and the rough shape of it can still be seen by how widely her labia is still parted. Out that hole, the combined cum of two orgasms, from both herself and from you, are gushing out, following the curve of her ass and down her leg. Somehow, Taeyeon doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest and throws herself onto the bed.

“What do you want to watch, baby?”

How Taeyeon can switch from sexy seductress to adorable girlfriend is beyond you. All you can do is smile and join her in bed. “I don’t know. Let’s take a look.”

Slowly, you started to notice a reduction in your workload, but it somehow didn’t come with less time with Taeyeon. In fact, Taeyeon’s workload seemed to decrease along with yours, and when you asked her about this, she confirmed your suspicions: she’s slowly offloading her duties and responsibilities to others so that she can focus on the baby that you finally managed to impregnate her with.

The dream didn’t last long though; a few false positives from the past has taught you two to be cautious about your excitement, but when the two-week mark passed and everything seemed to be going well, you could feel Taeyeon’s excitement building and building, and you couldn’t help but get infected with that same excitement. So, when news came a month later that the fetus suddenly, inexplicably died in the womb, Taeyeon was beyond devastated. It took Taeyeon a full three days to get back to work, which, for such a hard worker as her, was a long break. Between taking over some of her basic day-to-day duties in that down time and comforting her, your own hands were quite full those three days, but honestly, you’re thankful to finally be able to give back to Taeyeon.

Over the next few weeks, Taeyeon slowly got back on her feet, and after the third month passed, it was almost like nothing happened. You’re sure you helped, but the timing couldn’t be any more immaculate: or, perhaps, you could say that the news came at a terrible time. Taeyeon had been preparing to step down as CEO for a while, and move to a chairwoman position in her company, but there was one last thing she couldn’t offload any work with: a merger with a smaller company, but still one that ate through a lot of her time and effort. In the final stretches of the process, after a stretch of one week without being able to come home, you decide to make a surprise visit to her office, to which she welcomes you with open arms. Open arms, or rather, parted lips.

“Yes, fuck, I needed this so bad~”

Taeyeon’s hands are gripping the edges of her desk, holding on for dear life as you plow into her from behind. Your clothes are strewn haphazardly about the room, the door firmly locked and, without the threat of interruption, you feel free to use 100% of your efforts into alleviating all the pent-up stress the merger has caused Taeyeon.

The view from the front, of seeing her face twisting with pleasure as you slam into her; the view from the side, seeing her ample tits jiggling wildly with the force of your thrusts; the view from the back, the one you’re currently enjoying, watching her juicy romp rebounding with every pistoning motion—there isn’t a single view of Taeyeon that isn’t immaculate.

“I missed you too.”

Taeyeon can barely hold it together, her entire body shaking in response to your vigorous movements, her legs only able to stay upright thanks to the support your own legs are giving them. The whirring of the air conditioning mixes in with the wet clapping of her ass against your crotch, and the cool air only serving to further stimulate the CEO, devoid of all clothing, being plowed from behind at her own desk.

“I-I, I love you so much, so much, baby.”

Taeyeon gave you only a minute after you arrived before jumping you. Honestly, this wasn’t your plan in the slightest, but who are you to complain? When such a bombshell beauty is so horny for you that she physically cannot contain it, especially if that bombshell beauty happens to be your girlfriend of just about five years.

“I love you too, mommy.”

Although you’re fucking her from behind, it was clear from the moment she crashed her lips onto yours that she is the one in charge. And, of course, you don’t mind. You also don’t mind how readily she slipped into the roleplay, her first words to you after the kiss being, “Mommy needs her baby’s cock, now.”

When she’s submissive, you find yourself wanting to thoroughly fuck her and ruin her in every way imaginable; but when she’s assertive, you find yourself instantly kneeling in obedience, worshipping the ground she walks on. Which leads you to this moment, where her pleas of, “faster!” and “more!” and “harder!” are instantly met with obedience. It isn’t long before Taeyeon isn’t able to maintain her grip of the desk any longer, so you take her arms and use them as handlebars to fuck her harder.

“God, mommy’s cumming, mommy’s cumming!”

The office fills with the beautiful, ecstatic sounds of Taeyeon’s climatic screaming moans, and not shortly after, it’s joined by the sounds of your own moans as you imbed stream after stream of your seed straight into her womb.

“Oh … my god…”

“Do you feel better now?”

Taeyeon nods, but when she turns around, it’s clear that this isn’t over yet. “You know what would make mommy feel better?” You shake your head. “First, in the second drawer from the top, there’s a false bottom that you can bypass by pushing on the side.” You nod, and sure enough, the false bottom gives way. “You see that plug?” Again, you nod, and take it out. It isn’t the first time you’ve done this, nor even the first time you’ve done this in her office really, but what follows after she inserts it inside herself is a first. “You know what else I’ve been thinking about recently?”

“Hm? What?”

At this point, Taeyeon has directed you sit down in her chair. You obeyed, confused, and now that she’s pushing you away from the desk and kneeling between your legs, you can start to see why. “Mommy.”

“Sorry. What have you been thinking about, mommy?”

Satisfied, Taeyeon smiles. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, but it’s only this past week that I could get it out of my mind.” You’re still recovering, but Taeyeon is certainly making the recovery process easier. “That warm, thick, creamy cum that you always fill me with, that’s inside me right now … I want to taste it.”

At this point in your relationship, you figure nothing about Taeyeon can really surprise you. You’ve even talked about some of the deeper aspects of your relationship, such as why Taeyeon doesn’t want to get married yet: her parents only stayed together because they had her, and eventually, their relationship healed to the point where they, now, are perfectly happy in their retirement. It’s this experience that molded Taeyeon’s opinion of relationships: if she were to have a romantic partner, she wanted to only have one, and to ensure that, she wanted to have a child with that partner before getting marriage, as a sort of insurance.

It’s why Taeyeon seemed so eager to bear your child recently, and why she became so utterly devastated when her first pregnancy ended the way it did. Many aspects of Taeyeon, you figure you already know, and every aspect of her, you cherish and love.

But this?

This is not something you expected.

“Are … you sure?”

Taeyeon nods, eyes glimmering with excitement. “Yes! Do you mind?”

“Of—Of course not, mommy!”

You have become so accustomed to releasing every load inside her womb—or at least, going into sex with the idea of that being your target—that even the thought of unloading anywhere else seems foreign. But, of course, over the years, your mind has drifted and fantasized, and you’re for the most part able to quash these fantasies pretty easily. After all, the price of being in a relationship with Taeyeon, and having somewhat frequent sex with her, is just that you’re only allowed to cum inside one of her holes? It’s a trivially easy price to pay.

“Oh, thank you, baby!”

That thought, of being able to unleash your first load deep inside her throat, combined with the kisses Taeyeon peppers all about your length, shortens your refractory period down to just about ten minutes. That feeling, of her soft, succulent lips pressing against your member, the audible smacking sound of the kiss as she presses her lips against it, the careful way in which she almost caresses your cock with her lips and her tongue sends you straight to cloud nine, and when she swallows your glans, you’re rocketed straight into outer space.

“Ffuck, mommy…”

It isn’t often that Taeyeon gives you blowjobs, but she’s done it enough that she can take your entire length in one go. She wastes no time, deepthroating you with all the enthusiasm the excited gleam in her eyes showed you, and all you can do is grip the armrests of the chair and buck your hips to the rhythm of her lips.

“Fuck, oh my god, please, mommy, it feels so fucking amazing…”

The feeling of her lips gliding up and down your shaft, her tongue caressing and massaging every square inch of your dick, all the while suffocating it with the sheer tightness of her throat quickly overwhelms your senses. This blowjob—this deepthroating is unlike any Taeyeon has ever given you: she’s more intense, she spends less time coming up for air, spitting on your cock, and rubbing it along your length with her hands, and without needing to care about your orgasm, she completely loses herself in it.

More and more intense, faster, harder, you’re losing your goddamn mind, Taeyeon slobbering all over your dick, the excess drool dripping down her chin and all over your thighs, but she somehow looks ten times sexier like that. Her normally slim face and sleek jawline are now noticeably bulging from your girth, her plump lips stretched wide across its circumference, her head bobbing up and down and her hair flying all over the place, chasing after the wild motions of the head it’s attached to.

“Fuck, mommy, please, I’m so close…”

Hearing this, Taeyeon’s eyes, which were previously glued to your lap, dart upwards, and she adjusts her position so that she can look you in the eye, full-on. You’re unable to tear your eyes away, every bobbing motion of her head and every suction that hollows her cheeks pushing you further and higher until—

“Mommy, I’m cumming!”

Taeyeon doesn’t break eye contact the entire length of your climax; it’s your second load of the session, so it’s not so much that she can’t handle it, but her cheeks still noticeably bulge as her mouth fills with your semen.

Carefully, making sure she doesn’t spill a single drop, Taeyeon’s lips come back up your length. In that moment, you, for a second marvel at the fact that your seed is now occupying two of Taeyeon’s holes, but that fact remains short lived as, shortly after, Taeyeon’s throat flexes and your fluids disappear down her gullet.

“Mmm…”

“So, how was it?”

“I think I like it.”

The two of you didn’t have much time to talk afterwards as she had a meeting to prepare for. Being someone who essentially knew everything Taeyeon did about the company, you figured you would sit in on the meeting in case she needed help with anything, but ended up being distracted with the thought that Taeyeon had yet to take the plug out yet, and was talking to her stockholders, present and future, with your cum still sloshing about inside her.

After the merger successfully resolved, Taeyeon stepped down as CEO and transitioned into a chairwoman position, as promised; and, with the increased amount of time on their hands, and with the memory of that fiasco in her office fresh in her mind, Taeyeon began proposing you to cum elsewhere quite frequently: a few more times in her mouth, but also on her ass, on her tits, smearing that tight little tummy of hers, splattering across her legs, and after a fair bit of experimentation, inside her ass.

The most memorable moment, by far, was—

“How do I look?”

Taeyeon insisted your first load be across her chest; needless to say, Taeyeon’s boobs are as sexy as she is beautiful, so to see them smeared with your cum amplifies that tenfold.

“So unbelievably fucking sexy.”

“I feel sexy too, so I was hoping…” Taeyeon reaches into the nightstand next to the bed and procures a bottle of pills. “…that you would help me feel even sexier.”

The pills turned out to be a performance enhancer mixed in something that helps increase ejaculation density. That night, the two of you went through all sorts of sex positions, every load being sprayed across a different part of her body: her stomach area followed a mixture of missionary and cowboy, then her face after a blowjob, then her back following doggy and her legs following prone-bone. Even with the drugs, you had to take considerable breaks in between sessions, especially at the tail-end; the end product was Taeyeon caked in a fine layer of your cum, smeared across just about every square inch of her body. When the two of you fell asleep, it was well past 5am, and the following morning—rather, the following afternoon, being the time the two of you awoke—you enjoyed a nice shower together.

That wasn’t to say you stopped entirely in your baby making attempts. Far from it: now that Taeyeon’s workload decreased so severely, the two of you had much more time to fuck—there even was a stretch of two weeks where you had sex every day, only paused by your need to rest and recover from all of the intense activity. None of it seemed to affect anything though: weekly pregnancy tests, all resulting in negatives or false positives; you can feel Taeyeon start to get impatient, not with her failure to get pregnant, but holding off marriage for so long.

By now, over half a decade together, you can’t imagine life with another person. If, God forbid, the two of you ever broke up, you figure you would just stay single for the rest of your life; after all, how could you settle for any other woman after Taeyeon? It was clear that Taeyeon was hoping to get married around the time she stepped down as CEO, but now that a year passed since that day, Taeyeon began to talk to you, in more earnest, about getting married first.

So, about 7 years from the day you two solidified your relationship, you got married. It was a very small and private affair, consisting only of the immediate families of both parties, seven of Taeyeon’s closest friends, and the handful of friends that had never judged your relationship with Taeyeon after learning about it.

The sex following the wedding night was easily the most rambunctious the two of you have ever been, lasting well until the sun rose the next day, and during the honeymoon was … a different kind of intense.

“Mmm, that smells so good, honey.”

Taeyeon lets out a soft gasp upon feeling your erection pressing against her bare ass. “I had Andre teach me.”

It was a quaint, quiet, isolated destination, your and Taeyeon’s choice of honeymoon. The house was packed with enough food to feed a family of four for two weeks, probably, enough wine for a battalion for one night’s celebration—the backup generators had backup generators, and there were at least five failsafe methods of communication in the worst case scenarios. The fact that you two don’t require a single other person to live luxuriously in the sizable estate, and the fact that other people are forbidden to enter even the premises of the estate, serve the singular purpose of allowing both you and Taeyeon to follow one rather simple rule: no means of covering one’s body is allowed except for an apron while cooking, gloves or other protective gear when handling hot surfaces or otherwise dangerous objects, or clothes if you’re, for whatever reason, expecting company.

Which explains this scenario, in which you are teasing at her hole as Taeyeon tries to focus on making brunch for the two of you.

“Baby, please…”

“You should focus on the food, babe.”

“I can’t … I can’t focus, your dick is driving me crazy…”

“Then all the more reason why I shouldn’t put it in, right? Because then, you’ll be even more likely to burn the food.”

“Just … babe, please, I need it so bad, just—”

“Are you gonna burn the food if I listen to you?”

“No! Please, I promise, please—”

You don’t need to hear much more, and when you shove yourself inside her, Taeyeon lets out a loud yelp. “Hmm, fuck, so hot and so tight, baby…”

“Fuck, oh my god, after all these years, it still feels like you’re stretching me out so much every time…”

Being near a hot stove, you can’t be as relentless as you have been the last few days, but seeing her trying her best to focus on the food she’s cooking while moaning and trying, but failing, to maintaining a steady hand, ending up sprinkling in a bit too much salt.

“Baby!”

“But you wanted this, didn’t you?”

“But you don’t have to—unng, fuck!”

You finish inside her, and shortly after, Taeyeon finishes her cooking—some of it did, in fact, get slightly burned, but otherwise was great.

Taeyeon instigates nearly as much as you, though—like, when you were napping on a lounge chair by the poolside, something only possible to do while naked in the winter because of the tropical climate of the destination, and awake to the feeling of Taeyeon climbing on top of you.

“Taeyeon?”

“I miss you.”

“How long have I been napping here? An hour?”

Taeyeon pouts, and your heart completely melts at the sight. “That’s an hour too long.”

“Aww, poor baby.” You lean forward and plant a kiss on her lips, which instantly turns the pout into a smile. “Is that better?”

“Mmhm. But, I could be even better…”

It turns out, having sex on a lounge chair isn’t exactly the most comfortable thing, especially if you’re being as vigorous as you and Taeyeon are. You end up breaking it, so you finish inside the pool and then go back inside to do some couple’s yoga in one of the estate’s living rooms.

In the two weeks that you two spend there, every room becomes witness to your hot, sweaty activities—in fact, you aren’t even sure if the bedroom is where you and Taeyeon end up fucking the most. For the span of those two weeks, Taeyeon insisted on having every drop of cum being deposited inside her pussy, although you end up cheating a little and cumming a few times in her other two holes, once on her face, and once on her boobs after a mind-blowing blowjob mixed with a titjob.

And, it turns out, getting married is all it takes—either that, or the two weeks of what essentially amounted to nonstop sex—for Taeyeon to get pregnant. After various double and triple checks, her personal doctor is able to confirm it: finally, again, after all these years, Taeyeon is pregnant. You can’t describe why exactly you feel this way, but there’s something about things—how much more solid your relationship with Taeyeon is, the fact that you’re married now, the significantly less stress Taeyeon deals with on a day-to-day basis—that makes you feel confident that it’ll work out this time.

“Have you thought of a name?”

“Hm…”

You laugh. “After all this time?”

“Well, I have though of a name if it’s a girl.”

“Hm? What is it, then?”

“How does ‘Minjeong’ sound?”

#kpop smut #smut #snsd #snsd smut #taeyeon #kim taeyeon #taeyeon smut #creamp1e #mommy k!nk #mommy Taeyeon #sugar mommy Taeyeon #this might be the fastest I've ever written almost 13k words holy shit #Taeyeon making me go feral for no reason

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megs-1800 · 3 days ago

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Could you write something about Mason with a teenager daughter maybe something happens like typical teenage stuff x

Teenage Drama

Notes: Please continue to send in requests. Hope you like it ❤️

Summary: Your teenager daughter is now growing up and getting her first boyfriend. How will Mason react, will he be able to cope that she is growing up?

Pairings: Mason Mount x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Angst, Fluff & Swearing

“You’re not my dad!” I hear Emmi scream as I walk through the door, the door slams and Mason storms down the stairs. “Whoa what happened?” I question. Mason glares at me which indicates Emmi has done something to piss Mason off.

“You need to sort your fucking daughter out!”

“My daughter?!?” I question in a heated tone. Mason is technically not Emmi’s dad, but Mason has been in her life since she was 3. He is the father figure to her, and Mason treats her like she is his own, however its arguments like this he likes to throw it back in my face.

“Well she clearly isn’t mine. Olivia knows better than to speak to her dad like that! So if Emmi wants to be mine then she needs to have some respect.”

“Olivia is six” I spat back “you know Emmi is going through her teenager rebellion stage at the moment. She hates everything and everyone, don’t take it personally”.

“Well she needs to know if she wants to live under this roof she needs to obey by my rules”. Mason announces which we hear the door slamming open from upstairs and Emmi stands at the top of the stairs “Well then I will just move out! Maybe I will go and live with my real dad at least I won’t have to put up with a controlling prick like youuuuu!!!” she screams.

“EMMI!” both me and Mason shout in unity but she ignores us and slams her bedroom door shut again.

“Again I will ask Mason what the hell happened? Why is she kicking off?”

“Well if she wants to move in with her real dad then just fucking let her.” Mason spats. I shake my head and wrap my arms around Mason’s neck pulling him closer.

“Stop being silly, we all know her real dad is a dead beat, she even knows that. Why do you think she asked you to adopt her so she can be a Mount too. She loves you Mase, just obviously whatever has happened has got her back up. So talk to me what happened?” I asked pulling away and walking over to the fridge and brought out a bottle of wine and starting pouring.

“Okay I got home from an event earlier and when I got upstairs I could hear her talking to someone in her bedroom. When I turned the corner she was sitting on the bed with some guy-“

“Oh yeah Josh” I cut Mason off

“Josh? So you know about this?”

“Yeah they have been dating for a couple of months. The deal is he is allowed round as long as the door stays open, was the door open?”

“Wellll y-yeah” Mason looks down and stutters

“Well then we cannot really argue with her, it is what was agreed”

“I never agreed to that”

“Yes you did, we had that big conversation with her. Its not our fault you were on your phone when she started talking about him”.

Mason looks embarrassed “I just don’t like the idea of her sitting in a bedroom with some hormonal 14 year old boy. I thought she was better than that.”

I take the wine out of Masons hand and pull him closer, and lean in and place a small kiss to his lips. “She is a good girl Mason, she is on the pill so we know she is safe. She is a straight A student, she never goes out and breaks curfew, she would rather spend a Saturday night as a family than being with her friends. She is always helping out with Olivia and Hunter. We cannot really ask for a better girl Mason, we did well”.

Mason gives me another kiss, “yeah we did. Just in my mind she is still our baby girl who is scared of the dark and now she is this 14 year old women who is getting a boyfriend I guess I just miss our little girl”.

“I miss her too Mason but she isn’t going to be a baby girl forever. She is growing up and its her turn to make her life decisions babe all we can do is guide her”.

“I know I know. I guess I kind of fucked up then. I just know what boys are like I just want to protect her. She is going to hate me now isn’t she”.

I shake my head and start to move across the kitchen closer to him “She doesn’t hate you Mase, come on my parents weren’t so impressed with me dating you at the start due to footballer reputations and come on your parents didn’t like me as they thought I was a gold digger” Which I giggle at the end.

“That’s not true my parents love you”

“Yeah after they got to know me, but first impressions Mason they were sceptical of me”.

Mason nods agreeing know I was right. “I just don’t know what to say to make it okay”. With that Hunters cries come through the baby monitor notifying us that he is awake from his nap. “Right you go get Hunter and I will deal with Emmi”. I lean in and place a kiss to Mason’s cheek. We both jog up the stairs and then part ways on the landing, Mason goes left to Hunter’s room and I go right to Emmi’s.

I knock twice on the door but I get no reply, I slowly open the door which Emmi is laying on her bed with her phone in her hand with her back to me. “I come in peace” I state, she turns her body to look at me and then turns back to her original position. I walk round the bed and perch on the side. “Hey it will be okay”. I say rubbing her shoulder as she is still laying down.

“No it won’t mum! He ruined it! Why would Josh want to be with me after he just throw him out I am sick of it”. Emmi’s eyes now start to water as I slowly wipe the tears from her face.

“Come on Emmi he is only trying to look out for you. You know that, would you prefer him to be like your dad and not give a shit”. Emmi sits up and starts to wipe her eyes “I know you really like this boy but we just want you to be careful, I got pregnant with you at 15 Emmi I just want better for you. You know whatever happens me and Mason will be here for you but you gotta help yourself sometimes.”

“Mum we weren’t doing anything. We were just chilling, we haven’t even done anything, I haven’t done anything with a boy I promise. He is the first boy that is actually interested in me and not just with me because my dad is ‘Mason Mount’. I really like him mum, and now he just ruined it its not fair. I am going to be alone forever!” Emmi starts to sob again which I embrace her in a hug.

“Well that’s very dramatic!” we both laugh and she pulls away. I wipe her away hair that is stuck to her face from the tears. “Mason is sorry he knows he messed up and he let his emotions get in the way. He is going to try and be better when it comes to boys. You are our first child Emmi so you gotta understand we are going to mess up sometimes. Mason is trying his best to be the dad you need Emmi, he is a great dad. I promise you now, if this Josh really likes you, being kicked out by Mason won’t matter he will fight for you Emmi I promise. Now come on wipe your tears it won’t be the end of the world”. She sniffled away and wipe her tears from her cheek.

“I didn’t mean what I said to him, I don’t want to live with my real dad. Mason is my real and only dad. I was just a-angry, I don’t want him to h-hate me.”. She choked.

“we both know that baby girl. Mason will never hate you I promise that. Just go tell him that, everything will be okay. Come here”. She wrap her arms around me and I held her whilst she cried it all out. Once she was done she went into her bathroom and cleaned herself up.

We both walked down the stairs and Mason shoots Emmi a small smile as soon as he sees us, still rocking Hunter away in his arms. “Come here I will take him” I quickly step in and take Hunter out of his arms and start making his milk in the kitchen.

“I am sorry” Emmi says to Mason

“I am sorry too baby girl. I just panicked. You are our little girl the thought of you getting a boyfriend just breaks me because that means you are growing up. I am sorry I will try my hardest to be the ‘cool dad’ just please don’t leave.”

Emmi runs across the room and wraps her arms around Mason “you are my dad. I don’t care what my stupid birth certificate says you are my dad. I am not going anywhere. I love you.”

“I love you too” they both stand there for a little embraced in a hug. She sniffled again “is it okay if I go out for a couple of hours to town with my friends?” she turns to me to ask “of course it is Ems. Dinner is at 7 if you still want it?”

“Of course I will be home for dinner cannot wait”

She grabs her coat and bag and skips out the house. I walk over to Mason, Hunter still in arms. He embraces us together. “You did so well with her”.

I look up into Mason’s eyes and place a small kiss to his lips “I couldn’t of done it without you”.

#angst #fluff and angst #football #footballer imagine #footballer imagines #footballer x reader #footballer x you #manchester united #mason mount fanfic #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount

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pyrographic-memory · 9 hours ago

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Holy shit, great to see the internet imploding once again lmao (srsly I'm also pouring one out for the discord mods holy fuck. I joined that server when it was at 17k people and THAT was already too many people for me...)

So uh. I know my * post * talking about us seeing Vessel prepare for war didn't blow up quite as much as my tritanopia post (still fucking stoked about that actually sosjehshjwh), BUT I am happily back again with the military jargon breakdown!

I'm going to say now, everything I mention here is declassified, you can find it with a Google search. Please don't freak out on me lmao

The Morse code from the Pan and Echo audio files was summed up into eight lines of dialogue (for lack of a better word).

At first I thought it was a 9 Line, which is a call for medevac report, due to the SOS. But it is missing a ninth line, so I asked a friend of mine what they thought. And they said it looks like a weird mix of two report formats: BLUE 2 and GREEN 6.

BLUE 2 is SITREP, or situation report - rather self explanatory. Brief summary of threat activity, then you list off how ready your men and your vehicles/equipment are, and then you give a summary of The Gameplan.

GREEN 6 is EPW (enemy prisoner of war)/Captured Material Report. You've executed The Gameplan, and you've captured people and stuff. This one is a two-parter technically, because you list off who you've captured first and then what you've captured (this can include land and buildings, so like if you captured a hilltop or castle or smth), you state the unit that did the capturing, when the capture happened, and a brief summary of how you did it.

So now, we break the message down. The first two lines don't really align with any report, so we'll focus on 3 onward.

Line 1: "I've been waiting long for you"

Line 2: "Behold"

Line 3 (friendly locations as from a BLUE 2): WA and RL, which ended up being WRAL, which is the news channel for Raleigh, NC (NORTH CAROLINA BABY, LET'S GOOO). Their meteorologist made a * post * about 3/29 on Instagram.

Line 4 (DTG [Date Time Group] of capture, as from the second half of a GREEN 6): "Two days in the morning", two days from now it'll be 3/29, AND there's a partial solar eclipse that day (though it's very close to full), and where the eclipse will be most prominent over the Atlantic, it'll be at maximum around 10:47 AM UTC. So the DTG would be written as 291047MAR2025.

Line 5 (place of capture, as from a GREEN 6): "In Arcadia"

Line 6 (circumstances of capture, as from a GREEN 6): "Carpe" (Latin for "seize")

Line 7: "Broadcast interruption, nothing"

Line 8: SOS SOS SOS KN AS

Everyone knows the mayday call. But KN and AS are CW radio signs (telegraphing, Morse code, all that shit they used in both world wars). KN means "only the station named should respond", and AS means "wait". The broadcast was interrupted, but the broadcaster didn't hear anything from the interruption. They're still calling for help because the interruption means someone is listening in when they shouldn't be, so the broadcaster may be compromised, and they're asking for an answer from whoever they were broadcasting to before saying "wait" (maybe as in "don't send rescue immediately").

Now, let's look at something else rq. The metadata of the audio files.

Uploaded by: The Observer

Another report to mention: BLUE 1, SPOTREP. These are written up when scouts observe any known or suspected threat activity in the AO (area of operation).

And I want to amend rq, the emails from a few weeks ago with the respective wording: House Veridian "observe", and Feathered Host "seize".

This is a House Veridian SPOTREP of a Feathered Host SITREP/capture broadcast, probably done by our Observer doing what the green bois call channel hopping, and the Broadcaster not securing their comms line.

I really want to know who Vessel knows. Every country does a lot of this stuff differently and has differing names for it, but I just find it really neat that it seems to be US-based (unless the UK military also operates this way 👀👀👀)

#sleep token #theories #HERE WE GO AGAIN LADS #i do hope this one hits off a bit; im quite proud of myself in how much of this i explained in even more shorthand than the army uses ksnjg #military #again rip to the server; i hope the mods start getting paid after ts

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scenemoheartzz · 1 day ago

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⚠️IMPORTANT POST. PLEASE READ AND REBLOG IF YOU SEE THIS.⚠️

I don’t get into my personal life on this app a lot, but I’m in desperate need of financial help and none of my commission posts have been doing well. this post will have mentions of abuse but nothing too in-depth and it will be mostly emotional abuse mentioned anyway. please read this post all the way through if you can, I would very much appreciate it.

I am currently in a bad situation at home. I’m a teenager who is unable to get a job and I live with my unstable mom and sister who are extremely abusive (mostly emotionally) and we’re in a financial situation which can leave us without food on occasion. I’m unable to get a job to earn money because my mom will not let me get one. why? I don’t know. but if I don’t have money, I can’t move out like I plan to.

my plan is to gain enough money to hold me over until I’m legally able to move in with either my dad or a friend of mine, and the. from there I can get a job and be financially okay. but the problem is that I have a good few years before I can do that. so I need to have money in my savings and I need to be making it consistently. I have friends who are helping me out, but there’s only so much they can do, and I feel bad enough accepting their help in general.

now, you might be thinking - how can I help? well, I have art commissions for sale, and I’m willing to do almost anything (that isn’t nsfw, gore, proship etc) for the prices listed on my ko-fi below (along with some examples of my art):

I also take donations through ko-fi, or you can even send me direct donations through my paypal (which if you choose to do this, please DM me for my paypal info. I can’t post it publicly)

if you can’t buy from me, don’t worry! reblogging this post can help me so so so much. but remember, reblogs > likes. likes don’t do anything for me.

anybody who read this post and/or considered commissioning me, thank you so much and have a good rest of your day. <3

#art comms open #commissions sheet #commissions are open #ko fi commissions #art commission info #commissions open #commissions info #commissions #artists #artist #artists of tumblr #digital artist #digital art #please buy my art #please reblog

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songsofadelaide · 2 days ago

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Asleep Among Endives

Chapter 4 — Side by Side

You never thought it would be the prelude to a never-ending nightmare.

[A Gojo Satoru x Reader fic, completed]

tags and content warnings: Gojo Satoru x (f) jujutsu sorcerer (rct user) reader, childhood friends to lovers, soulmates, original characters, manga spoilers, canonical character deaths, arranged marriages, canon-typical violence, implied sexual content, futurefic in later parts of this chapter. wc: 14.6k

⚜ This fic will not use 'yn' and instead follow my usual naming convention. Please kindly see yourself out if you're uncomfortable with fics using placeholder names for the reader. I do not use 'yn' in any of my fics. I still use 'you'/second-person pronouns and write with a generic (f) reader in mind. I use "Otome" as a placeholder as it means maiden, or Maiden-chan, which pretty much translates to 'yn'.

✾ Fic Masterlist ✾ Chapter 1 — Twilight ✾ Chapter 2 — The Sun ✾ Chapter 3 — Ordinary Days ✾ Interlude — In The Quiet ✾ Epilogue

"—I have silently watched him lying beside me in the early morning, I know his loneliness, like mine, human and sad, but different, too, his private pain and pleasure I can never enter even as he comes closer, past trees and cars, trash and flowers, steam rising from the manhole covers, gutters running with rain, he lifts his head, he sees me, we are strangers again, and a rending music of desire and loss—" — Chance Meeting, Susan Browne

— Love Me Tender.

~ February 2017.

"Is Nanami-san really married like everyone says he is? You don't look like the settling type at all."

Nanami actually expected that kind of question from this kid. Ino Takuma was a fresh graduate but definitely had the skill and talent to quickly rise up the ranks. The pair were on their way to a mission when the younger man asked the question to break some ice.

However, the blonde turned away from the boy's curious gaze and instead rested his eyes on the road as they were being driven to their destination. "Let's not ask irrelevant questions."

"See?! I have great respect for you, Nanami-san! But I really can't picture you happily hitched when you're so uptight. Maybe the others were just messing with me…"

"Perhaps," Nanami replied. The boy was eager to learn more about him if anything, but he had to learn how to ask the right questions the right way, too.

The mission mandated to them was the exorcism of a second-grade cursed spirit that loomed over the famous Shiki Theater in Minato. While it was already common practice for the seasoned sorcerer, this would be one of the first tasks that could either make or break Ino's character and career.

"There are no shows today, but only rehearsals, which means civilians are still present. We should move to evacuate them once we get there."

"Good attention to detail, Ino-kun. But we don't have to worry about that. I had some help from an insider."

"An insider? Are they a sorcerer, too?"

"You could say that," Nanami remarked. "What do we do once we're before the threat?"

"We exorcise it as soo—"

"We assess the situation and confirm if the threat matches the description," the older man cuts off his subordinate's enthusiastic reply. "We'll proceed with the exorcism only if the cursed spirit's grade matches the threat level. If this is a second-grade cursed spirit as indicated, then I'll leave you to it."

Ino swallowed to himself as he took a mental note of what his more experienced partner stated. He envied how Nanami remained cool and level-headed even though they were headed to dangerous territory. The older sorcerer's clean work has always been a source of veneration for him and his classmates, but seeing Nanami in action in person left Ino awestruck.

He needed to leave an impression on Nanami, too!

So after the pair assessed the situation as previously mentioned by the seasoned sorcerer, Ino was handed the reins of the mission: to exorcise the cursed spirit sporting a Kabuki mask. It seemed to be terrorizing the actors rehearsing onstage. Though the place was clear, a single person remained onstage, drawing the curse's attention to herself while the rest of the theatre's crew escaped.

"There's still one person left! She's—" Ino stated, a hint of panic in his voice. "Nanami-san, I'll—"

He was surprised when Nanami barred his movement, choosing to enter the fray himself even though he said he would leave the work to the rookie. From across the floor, Ino watched how his mentor took to the stage and battled against the masked curse, a protective arm around the remaining person there, too. He found it odd that Nanami would try to protect that person on his own rather than urging them to escape while they could.

"Wait a minute, is that—?"

The rookie couldn't believe his eyes. The woman was laughing as Nanami threw her over his shoulder like a piece of luggage. It took the skilled sorcerer a few slices and jabs before the curse was completely exorcised.

"Nanami-san!"

Ino made his approach, and he was met by the giggling of the woman on his mentor's shoulder. Nanami placed her back down on her feet, to which she responded by dusting herself and straightening out her yukata.

"Ino-kun, this is Koganei Chiemi-san. Not only is she the star of this theatre company, but she's the insider I told you about earlier," the older sorcerer stated as he introduced the rookie to Chiemi. "Chi, this is Ino Takuma-kun. He just graduated from Jujutsu High, but is proving to be a capable sorcerer so far."

Pretty is the very first thing that the young sorcerer thought of when he locked eyes with the older woman. She must be a hafu, or a quarter like Nanami-san.

"I-It's nice to make your acquaintance, Koganei-san! If I may be so bold, I'd like to call myself Nanami-san's apprentice…" He said with a small bow. "Th-Thank you for your assistance with the evacuation of your production crew."

"Oh, so you're Takkun! Kento has told me so much about you!" She stated with a smile as she baptized the younger man with a new nickname and held out her hand for a handshake. "You can call me Chi, but my name is actually Nanami Chiemi. I'm your mentor's wife, after all."

The rookie couldn't believe his ears this time, his hand only halfway from returning to the older woman's handshake when he recoiled. "N-N-Nanami-san's… wife?!"

Chiemi brought her hand to her lips in surprise. "Oh, did you not know? I thought it was already some kind of open secret in jujutsu society."

"H-He never— Nanami-san! So they weren't messing with me after all!"

"I simply didn't confirm nor deny it is all," Nanami stated, allowing his wife to take hold of his weapon as he fished out his mobile phone from his pants pocket. Chiemi concealed yet another laugh under the sleeve of her yukata. "But if he asked more politely, I might have said something."

"Don't tease Takkun, Kento! He's such a sweetheart like you said!" She looked up at her husband, who was still trying to call someone on his phone. "Well, now that you know where I work, you should drop by sometimes, Takkun! Come visit me when you aren't busy and tell me all about how cool my husband is!"

"I-I'd be happy to, Chi-san!"

A low grumble of complaint left Nanami's lips, though he didn't mind hearing his wife sing his praises with that saccharine voice of hers. Not that he'd ever let her know.

— A Glimmer of Hope.

~ April 2017.

Jujutsu Headquarters did not have the gall or the courage to upturn your home, even though they knew it was where Gojo Satoru kept one of his most prized discoveries. Immunity was one of the many things the Koganei Clan enjoyed under the protection of your husband's influence— under the protection of the Gojo Clan.��

After being released from his slated execution, Okkotsu Yuuta was housed and placed under your guardianship for a month while your husband ironed out the boy's enrollment at Tokyo Jujutsu High. Now that he was set to enter the magic college himself, the boy had to steel himself to another changing reality.

Yuuta was awfully timid during his stay with you. He was entirely convinced that he would bring forth a deluge of bad luck to your family if he continued his stay there, and even tried escaping your watchful eye multiple times. Kazuya was responsible for your estate's security, and he ensured the boy would never be able to leave the place, no matter how hard he tried. When he eventually realized there was no leaving this place until Satoru personally came back for him, he surrendered to his fate and eventually warmed up to the idea of a home, though only for a month. He even tried asking for menial work to not be a burden to you and your clan.

"Yuuta-kun, you're a guest here. I won't have you doing housework," you told him from across the table as you shared breakfast one morning. "If you wish to burn off some energy, you should train with my brother."

"K-Kazuya-san? But he's— I-I wouldn't want to bother him…" The boy meekly replied to you. "I-If there's some heavy lifting that needs to be done, please don't hesitate to put me to work, Otome-san…"

You sighed and set down your utensils before gently reaching for the young man's hands. "Satoru told me to take care of you while you're here, Yuuta-kun. I can't claim to know what kind of torment you've been through… but you don't have to worry about that anymore. You being here is one of the very few moments my husband chose to rely on me and I'm happy for it. I understand you don't wish to impose on us, but I'm reminding you that everyone here considers you a guest. You are not a burden for staying here."

Yuuta took notice of the small calluses on your otherwise soft hands. Your hold was warm and kind and the way you squeezed his hands gave him the slightest amount of courage.

"I'm sorry, Otome-san… You and your family have been nothing but kind to me even though all I've brought is doom and gloom… I'm not even sure if I deserve this kindness, or this life, in general."

"Don't say that, Yuuta-kun. Don't say you don't deserve this life when you haven't even lived to the fullest yet," you said with a tender smile, one that eased the cloud of worries that hung over his head. "For what it's worth, I don't think you're cursed. But you will just have to find out the reason why you feel as though you are… when you enter Jujutsu High yourself."

As you gently let go of him, you filled his bowl with another scoop of rice, much to his surprise. "If I remember correctly, your classmates are from sorcerer clans like mine. Don't let yourself be pushed around, though."

"I'll… I'll do my best then, Otome-san."

— The Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.

~ December 24, 2017.

"When it comes to class reunions, this is probably the worst," you stated, the disappointment in your voice evident as you knelt before yet another injured sorcerer to heal them. The young man in black winced in pain as you pressed down your palm on his side, where blood spilled out from a gaping hole the size of a fist.

When the curse user Geto Suguru made a declaration of war against Tokyo Jujutsu High, his threat was unveiled in the form of countless curses raining down on Shinjuku, the magnetic melting pot for curses in general, and Kyoto, the heartland of jujutsu society. Every sorcerer capable of fighting was called to the fray, and that included you, though you did not take to the field as instructed by your husband.

You were not present when Principal Yaga held the meeting with the sorcerers on duty. It was there Satoru explicitly stated that Suguru wouldn't start a war he didn't think he'd win. The 2000 curses weren't a bluff, especially when you saw the stream of wounded sorcerers coming into the makeshift infirmary Shoko established as the fighting raged on… The streets of Shinjuku were filled with the remnants of exorcised curses and remains of slain sorcerers, some of which were far too young to even be part of this battle.

Surely Satoru didn't— He wouldn't have—

"Get to work, Otome!"

You didn't take it personally when she started ordering you around, calling for you to heal every injured person who came in. You were already short-handed as it was and the last thing she needed was you dawdling around and losing yourself in misplaced nostalgia. This person who declared war wasn't the same Suguru you knew. Or maybe he was. He was a curse user now, unfortunately misguided but at the same time enlightened by his choice of principles to follow.

"Of course, Shoko."

Shoko had a furrowed brow as she surveyed your surroundings, her complete annoyance showing as injured— and even mutilated sorcerers— piled up at her feet. You really made so much trouble for us, Geto.

You heard your stomach gurgle all of a sudden, followed by a rush of acid and vomit you tried so desperately to hold back in your mouth. Your hands were soaked in the blood of your fellow sorcerers, some of which were far too young—

Jujutsu sorcerers live short lives—

You are seventeen again, your body weak as you knelt before Haibara's lifeless body—

No, you had to pull yourself together. You and Shoko had important things to do. But the blood on your hands unsettled you further. Surely this wasn't the world you envisioned, Suguru-san… Or is this the price you're willing to pay for it?

In the aftermath of the incident, documents released by Jujutsu Headquarters to the clan leaders showed Suguru as deceased, but you can't recall Satoru or Shoko saying anything about it. It was Yuuta, of all people, who told you that Suguru died by Satoru's hand.

Yuuta was set to leave for Kenya in the next few days after one of Suguru's family members, Miguel Oduol, was forced by Satoru to take the boy under his wing. The boy was a shadow of his previously shy self, and you liked his newfound confidence even more than he did.

"That's all I know, Otome-san. I apologize for not being able to tell you much," he said from across your shared table. He has taken a liking to Cafe Lilico, too, and he even remarked how he'd love to take his friends there one of these days.

"Don't be sorry, Yuuta-kun. It's Satoru who hasn't told me anything at all…" You said as you caressed the edge of your cup of hot chocolate. "I'm a poor excuse of a wife if my husband can't even confide in me about these… things."

"O-Oh, don't be so down, Otome-san! Gojo-sensei holds you in high esteem. But I think there are things he would rather do on his own…" Yuuta exclaimed as he saw the glumness sink into your features. "I'm sure sensei trusts you in many different ways…"

"Of course. Even after all these years, the bond they share is still so extraordinary," you said with a small smile and an even smaller sigh of defeat. Even after all these years, you could never hate Geto Suguru. You questioned his motives and his misplaced goals, but the thought of him disappearing from your lives forever hurt you more than you let on.

"Suguru-san would have been the Best Man at our wedding. He would have been the godfather of our first child. He was the first person I'd call if I couldn't reach Satoru—"

Suguru was dead, and none of them even thought to ask you if you would have wanted to grieve for him. He was my friend, too.

When Shoko visited you at your home the other day for a routine checkup, you bravely decided to open the topic of Suguru's death, but not after being met with her annoyance and displeasure once more.

"Did Gojo not tell you? He never turned over Geto's corpse to Jujutsu High. I was never able to examine him in the end. We weren't the ones who held his funeral."

What?

"Geto had this… 'family'. Two young girls grieved his death the most and Gojo felt inclined to hand over Geto's body to them instead. So they could mourn him," she said as she placed her stethoscope down next to your futon. "Does that answer your question, Otome?"

You nodded at her before letting out yet another sigh of relief. "I suppose it does my heart well to know that Suguru-san was surrounded by the people he cared about…"

"It's an idea, for sure…" Shoko replied as she fixed her belongings. Playing doctor to her friend was a good change of pace for her, and she appreciated you drawing her out of the school's morgue every once in a while. "Now, are you trying to get pregnant or not? If Gojo wants to put a baby in you, tell him to stop wearing rubbers the next time you do it."

"Sh-Shoko!"

— Bound by Fate.

~ September 2018.

Gojo Satoru was sixteen when he first asked for your hand in marriage. While it was a proposal at face value, the main family knew it was more of a veiled threat if he didn't get what he wanted. He had wanted you longer than that and it was clear that you reciprocated his tender feelings, despite the danger that came with your ties. It was an age of impetuousness, so you came to understand why Satoru's student grew impatient in his situation.

On paper, Itadori Yuuji, the chosen vessel of Ryomen Sukuna, was dead.

But here he was, living and breathing and walking around the aged corridors of your ancestral home after you agreed to safeguard him for your husband— only the second time Satoru has ever asked you for such an important favor.

"Ah, Otome-san! Do you need help with that?"

"Yuuji-kun!"

"Here, let me," the younger boy happily took the light cardboard box off your hands. "Where to?"

"To my office," you replied as you walked beside him. "I'm sure you miss your friends, Yuuji-kun. I know I did whenever my classmates were on missions and I had to stay behind at school."

"Yeah, I do, Otome-san! But I also understand why… I mean there's some stuff I hafta learn and all," he chuckled. "I'm pretty sure they're with Gojo-sensei at the moment… And I know we'll be meeting again soon. I'm always looking forward to our rest days!"

"Oh? What do you usually do on your days off?"

"We just hang out, sometimes eat lunch out, too. Oh! Kugisaki loves shopping a lot, so we're always around to carry her stuff. Sometimes we watch movies, too… We go to karaoke, too! Though Fushiguro's always just sitting there with a placid look on his face!" Yuuji beamed at you, making sure he matched your pace as you walked alongside each other. There was a certain vibrancy about him that seemed so familiar to you, pulling at your heart almost painfully to the point where you felt tears prickle your eyes. "Is something wrong, Otome-san?"

His question cut through your poignant reverie. "Huh?"

"Did I say something wrong? You look like you're about to cry."

"No, I… I'm sorry," you managed a smile for the boy. "Your days off… sound like a lot of fun. That sounds just like what Megumi-kun would do, too. I suppose you could say I'm a bit jealous. Make sure to enjoy those moments with your friends."

"Now that you mentioned it, weren't you and Nanamin classmates?"

"We were. The three of us—" You started, only to correct yourself midway. "The two of us… Kento and I are very close friends, but he's more like a brother now…"

"Because he's married to your sister, Chi-san?"

"Technically, he is my brother-in-law…" You said, pausing to admire the gentle rain of ginkgo leaves from across the garden. "There were three of us back then, too, but only Kento and I were able to graduate."

"Did something happen to your other classmate?" The boy inquired with genuine curiosity, only to be met by your tear-filled eyes. "Gah! I-I'm sorry if I'm being too nosy, Otome-san! P-Please don't cry!…"

"D-Don't worry, Yuuji-kun. I just remembered something is all… I'll take it from here," you told him with a rather tired smile as you slowly took back your things from his arms. "Now remember what I said. Enjoy your time with your friends once you're allowed to return to Jujutsu High."

"O-Of course, Otome-san!"

"And take it easy! Satoru placed you under my care so you could rest and relax. There's no need for you to be running errands or so while you're here," you told him with a defeated smile this time. "Though I understand where your antsiness stems from. There's nothing to do here, after all."

"Let me give this boy something to do, then," came a sweet voice from the other end of the corridor, followed by elegant padded footsteps and the sheen of a lilac yukata. Chiemi had her golden hair pulled up in a relaxed rope lazily draped over her shoulder. "You know I never tire of hearing just how cool my husband is on the field, Yuuji-kun."

"Oh, Chi-san! Welcome back!" Yuuji exclaimed with his usual cheer as he approached the other lady of the house. "Otome-san and I were just— Oh, she's gone…?"

True enough, you disappeared from the corner of his eyes and into one of your estate's many winding paths and halls, perhaps to silently cry your heart out.

"You know, Chi-san, I think Otome-san's kind of lonely. Does Nanamin ever come and talk to her?"

"Whatever do you mean, Yuuji-kun?" Chiemi asked as she linked her arm with the younger boy, his verve gone as a perplexed expression washed over his youthful features. Still, he managed to press his palm over the older woman's cool knuckles as she looped her arm over his own.

"It's like… How do I put it? She's looking at me, but it's like she's talking to another person…"

"She's like that sometimes, isn't she?" She said with a small smile as she led Yuuji to the estate gardens. "I suppose Kento is like that with you, too. All because you remind them of something."

"I do?"

"Yes, Yuuji-kun. You remind them of a time of romance," Chiemi stated as she looked up at the endless sky and rain of golden, golden ginkgo leaves. "And a time of heartache."

Yuuji turned his bright brown eyes upward, amazed at the perennial and evergreen ginkgo tree and how it seemingly shed its leaves for a spectacle of grandeur. Under the curtain that shielded your clan's home from the rest of the world's peering eyes, it seemed like you were encased in a snow globe perpetually being shaken about, golden leaves swirling around like a dream.

"Kento and I first met when we were your age. I was a brat back then and always drew a lot of attention to myself, both good and bad. When I asked for his contact details back then, he rejected me! How could anyone reject a face like mine, right? But Kento did. And for good reason, too… Because if he hadn't said what he said back then, I might still be a brat today," the older woman said with a laugh. "He and onee-chan have always been close, but there were three of them before. And they were close in a way that even made Satoru-kun a little jealous… but they simply had a lot of respect for each other."

"I see…"

"They lost him during a mission. Onee-chan wasn't even there with them when it happened, but Kento remembers how she nearly bled herself dry of tears…" Chiemi said with a small sigh. "And even now, sometimes the two of them still look like they're chasing after death, huh?"

"I initially thought Nanamin and I would never get along, but he is a thoughtful man who is always looking out for me," Yuuji said with a small smile. "And I wouldn't really call their actions 'chasing after death', Chi-san. I guess he's always on the field with a no-regrets mindset, especially after we encountered that cursed spirit Mahito… But Nanamin's so strong and cool and I think it's sweet of him that he's always so excited to see you!"

"He is just the coolest, isn't he?! And the sweetest, too! I wholeheartedly agree with you!" She gushed rather excitedly, the warm smile drawn out of her beautiful face once more. "Yuuji-kun, nothing gives Kento greater satisfaction than being able to protect young sorcerers like you, though it is also his heaviest responsibility. I always fear for his life, but I believe his strength is meant to guide kids like you… But can I please ask you to look out for him every once in a while, too?"

"Of course, Chi-san! You don't have to ask me twice! I'll always have Nanamin's back!"

One of the very first things you salvaged from your old things from your days as a student was the set of purikura photos you took with Kento and Yu. You had it scanned, digitized, and saved on your smartphone. It was a relic of a time gone by, of innocence crushed by the weight of a devastating reality— jujutsu sorcerers live short lives. You just didn't expect that one to end so soon.

You swiftly swiped a hand over your moist cheeks as the shoji of your office slid open, followed by the soft glimmer of Chiemi's silk yukata as she leaned against the wooden panel. "A little birdie told me you were feeling a bit down."

You knew there was no use in denying anything now that Yuuji and Chiemi had spoken to each other.

"It hurts to look at him sometimes," you stated with a small smile. "Yuuji-kun reminds me so much of Yu that it's kind of scary. Kento hasn't spoken a word yet, but I suppose he feels the same. He must be pretty taken by that boy to accept him as an apprentice of sorts. And to think he hosts something so… malevolent inside him."

"Yuuji-kun is a surprisingly mature thinker, despite how he looks," your younger sister stated. "I don't think he intends to break your heart a second time around. They aren't the same people."

"I… I know," you said as you swallowed the lump in your throat. "And it would be unfair of me to treat Yuuji-kun as though he's—"

Your conversation was interrupted by the sound of your mobile phone ringing on your ornate walnut chabudai, which Chiemi urged you to pick up. "Is it Satoru-kun? It might be important."

So you did, placing the call on loudspeaker. "Hello, Satoru?"

"Otome-san! Please, we're begging you!" Came the exasperated voice of a young woman from the other end of the line. "Please tell your husband to come home! We are sick and tired of training and all of these inane missions he keeps on sending us to!"

"N-Nobara-chan?"

"You tell her too, Fushiguro! She might listen to you better since you're their kid and all!"

You heard shuffling from the other end of the call, followed by a tiresome sigh you could only recognise as Megumi's. "Ghk—! What are y—"

"Oh? Why do you guys have my phone?"

There's Satoru, you thought to yourself as you let out a similarly tired sigh. There was the sound of white noise and shuffling once more, with Megumi seemingly talking over your husband's mobile phone.

"It's Otome-san."

Silence from the other end, before the sound of your husband's usual cheer and saccharine voice filled the air. "My dearest darling sweetheart!"

…Prompting a stifled chuckle from your sister, who shook her head and dismissed herself from your presence, but not before mouthing to you how corny your husband was.

"Give the kids a break and come home to me, Toru," you said. "Or are you perhaps so bored stiff here at home with me?"

"Are you kidding? I'm never bored when I'm with you!"

"Do you truly enjoy spending time with me, Satoru?"

"Of course I do! I must have made it clear by now! Not to mention all the summers I spent there at your family's estate. Do you still remember the summer I first visited you at your home? And you know how cold it gets in Kyoto… But I've never seen such a bright gold all my life. You were like the sun to me back then," Satoru stated point blank, the memories of your shared childhood bubbling in the corners of your mind. "You still are."

"And you were like the sky, so clear and so vast… I remember that one morning when everyone in the estate was panicking because you weren't in your bedroom, only for them to find us still fast asleep in my bedroom—"

"—Fingers intertwined. Because I didn't want anything else. I just wanted to be around you as much as I could. I just wanted to bask in that sunshine for as long as I could."

There was a word your mother used to describe your relationship with your husband— the mysterious force that ties you two together. While you considered everyone in your life a fated encounter, what you shared with Satoru was an otherworldly bond you had no logical explanation for.

Enishi. A destined encounter. An eternal promise made in a previous life. Who or what you were in your previous life mattered little— all that mattered was the promise at present— the destined encounter after a slight fall from grace, his soul warm on your hand…

"Oh, now I miss you terribly. Coming home to me doesn't sound like such a bad idea now, does it?"

"It sounds like a lovely idea. In fact, I'm going to release these kids from their torment and head right back home to my dear wife."

You could hear the faint sound of Nobara's cheering from the other end of the call, closely followed by a short yet reassuring farewell from your husband.

"I'll see you later."

Yes.

"I'll see you, Toru."

— Une Douce Folie à Deux.

~ Third Day of the Sister School Goodwill Event.

Your last visit to your alma mater felt like an eternity ago, even though it was only earlier in the year that you'd been here to assist the Doctor, Shoko, with Yuuji's supposed dissection. This time was different since you were there for leisure— initially, at least. You planned on visiting the event to cheer for Tokyo, but when you received yet another distress call from your friend, you were brought in as an auxiliary healer to patch up everyone's injuries from the skirmishes.

It was there that you were also reunited with your senpais Mei Mei and Utahime, the former still trying to get you to cry into a vial she planned on passing as an elixir to sell for a fortune, and the latter cringing at how even more unbearable and uncharacteristically tender Satoru was whenever you were around.

And there was Nanami, too, who had just clocked out for the second day even though it was only just beginning.

"Oh! Kento!" You called out to the figure about to depart from the school grounds. "Heading home already?"

"Yes. I promised dinner with Chi, after all."

"Ever the dutiful husband, I see," you nodded in assent, the kind he knew you were teasing him with. "Don't get lost on the way out."

"Don't talk to me like that. I know you're here only in part because of the students. You're mostly here for your husband," he replied to you with a small scoff meant to get a rise out of you.

"Wh— I'll have you know that Toru and I haven't even seen each other yet! And I am here for the students! As are you, I know that much!" You retorted with hands on your hips. "Kento… I still dream of a world so similar to what Suguru-san envisioned! A world for us sorcerers. It doesn't have to be exactly ours, but just enough for us to be able to… to smile more freely… without the threat of death looming over us so wickedly. So… Let's do all we can to help them!"

"Still an idealist, I see. But that isn't a bad thing…" Nanami chuckled mirthlessly, but he turned to face you and gave you the same nod of assent to your statement. "If that's what we're working towards, then I have no qualms."

After a day of reprieve, each of the students was fitted with baseball uniforms, gloves, and steel bats, a change of pace from the traditional individual battles you would often see on this day of the Goodwill Event.

"—en he burst out of the box with that stupid 'Oppappi!' comment of his! It wasn't funny at all! It was infuriating!"

A soft pfft left your lips as the young girl sitting next to you continued her tirade following Yuuji's reemergence in Jujutsu society. This year's Goodwill Event took a different turn— and you only heard from Nanami how the Kyoto students went rogue and attempted to assassinate Yuuji during the group spirit bash-slash-battle royale, followed by the cursed spirits infiltrating the campus.

"Anyway, we're so happy to see you, Otome-san! You being here means Gojo-sensei won't be as annoying," Nobara said as she gently laid her head on your shoulder. "I still find it so odd that you married that mess of a man. He's all over the place and you're so well put together, after all!"

"There, there. If you think he's an annoying teacher, you should've met him when he was younger," you laughed softly as you gave the younger girl a pat on her head. "Megumi-kun knows all about that Satoru."

"Otome-san has the patience of a saint," the dark-haired boy remarked from his seat. "You could say that her love for him outweighs all the headaches he's given her."

"I recall Satoru isn't the only one who gave me a lot of headaches back then," you said with a small hum. "You are that man's son, after all…"

"Talk about a problem child! Did you always give your mom a hard time, Fushiguro?!" Nobara burst out laughing at your statement, while Megumi shot you a look of slight annoyance and embarrassment, a rare sight now that he's older and mellowed out.

"Only because she has the patience of a saint," he chuckled, a hint of defeat and acceptance in his voice. "And only because she knows me so well."

Megumi rarely asked you for anything nowadays, so when he (was coerced by Nobara and Yuuji to) ask you to treat him (them) to cold drinks from the school vending machines, you happily obliged.

"Hello."

You were surprised to see one of the girls from Kyoto approach you, her sharp yet charming features a clear indication of which clan she belonged to.

"Hello. You're Mai-chan, aren't you? Maki-chan's sister," you replied to her, stepping away from the vending machines to give her your full attention. She was alone, and it was clear to you now that she intended to talk to you.

About what, you didn't know exactly.

"And you're Otome-san. Growing up, we've heard much about you," Mai stated. "And how you brought the Zenin Clan's heir to his knees—"

"—Physically and figuratively," came another voice— and a face more familiar to you as she made her approach. "Hello, Otome-san."

"I normally wouldn't want to be anywhere near you, Maki, but seeing as we both have the same question, it'd be better for Otome-san to explain it to us in one sitting," Mai said with an exasperated sigh and a shrug. "I assume you have the same question for her."

"I do. Great minds think alike, after all," Maki scoffed. "And not even Megumi or that blindfolded brute had an answer to it. Not that they really care."

"That person is the victor, so of course he doesn't care," Mai shook her head. "But enough about them. Let's not waste any more of Otome-san's time."

"I have a lot of time, so ask me whatever you want," you told the girls with a smile on your face.

"Why didn't you marry him?" They asked in unison, much to their mutual annoyance.

Do they mean…?

There was a glint of curiosity in their similar amber eyes, but they didn't look like they were burning for an answer. They simply wanted to know— to satiate the wonder they felt and to resolve the mystery their family had long tried to entomb.

"Naoya-san was nothing but kind to me in our youth. In fact, I was this close to marrying him," you stated as you brought your thumb and index finger close together, though not touching at all. "There was something odd about him, though. Like he was trying too hard to be someone he wasn't."

"You mean he was trying hard to be kind," Maki stated pointedly. "Because he isn't, Otome-san."

"Whatever image you have of him likely isn't his true disposition," Mai said in agreement with her sister's statement. "He is such a great pretender, after all."

Naoya had always been a puzzle to you even in your youth, but the simplest things always made him incredibly happy. He always said it himself— your presence, your warmth, your smile— Though you've heard time and again of his real personality… Then where exactly did the truth end and the lie begin?

The sisters gave you a long look as you stood there in silence, obviously taking in the weight of their words.

"There must be truth to your statements if you are in agreement," you told them. "Can you tell me, then, what kind of person he really is?"

"He's—"

"—A devil."

"He…"

Oh. Then the truth begins here, I guess. The twins looked like they wanted to comfort each other as their words spilled out, truth upon truth about the Zenin heir's proclivity for treating the women of their clan like utter trash. It made you wonder how you could have been exempt from it. The Naoya you knew— the one you thought you knew— You'd never learn the truth about who he was without anyone telling you. He was an unfinished puzzle you placed in a box never to be seen again, but these girls handed you the missing pieces in the form of revelations— things they thought you ought to know. Even though you chose not to marry him.

"I think you dodged a bullet, Otome-san."

"More like a bomb."

"I understand it must have taken a lot of courage to speak up about… all of that. And I have no idea how differently things could have gone if I ended up marrying Naoya-san," you started. "But he and I… We knew from the start that things would never work out between us. We never saw visions when we touched, either…"

The visions and colors were only part of what they had to anticipate as sorcerers. The girls exchanged equal looks of confusion before Maki eventually asked you, "Can you explain to us what the colors mean, Otome-san?"

"Oh, of course! It was said long ago that when you touch someone and see colors, you're touching that person's very soul. Satoru and I— Well, it first happened when we were children, s-so…" You continued until your embarrassment slowly started settling in. "A-Anyway, since you're here, would you girls like a drink, too?"

There was no doubt in your mind that these girls were twins from how their eyes twinkled in excitement at the thought of free sweet and fizzy drinks. "If you're buying, then don't mind if I do, Otome-san!"

"Oh, but, Maki-chan, you looked like you wanted to say something… about the colors," you said as you handed the twins a ¥500 coin each. "Have you perhaps… with someone?"

"W-With all due respect, th-that's really n-none of your concern, Otome-san!" The girl clamored, though it was clear from the blush that painted her face that it must have already happened. You stifled your laughter in fear of offending the Maki, who was already arguing with Mai, a smirk on her face as she laughed at the older girl with distinct derision.

The week's exhaustion settled easily in your body, the ache soon forgotten the moment your head hit your pillow. How your husband managed to run through the day without ever getting tired was no mystery to you anymore, but he must have his limits.

You and Satoru rarely shared your bed ever since he started teaching, and you accepted that as a reality of your marriage. Neither of you blamed each other, nor did you find any fault in your current circumstances. His job as a teacher was a noble calling, and on top of that also came his many missions mandated to him by Jujutsu Headquarters. He only ever dropped by the estate to see you whenever he could, at varying intervals, too. While sleep was the least of his concerns, it was something you took incredibly seriously. A lack of sleep meant a lack of concentration, and that was your currency as a healer.

So you simply learned to be an afterthought— and to sleep without your husband's presence— because so many other important things warranted his attention more. On yet another dreamless night, you stirred in your futon as you felt movement in your bedroom. It was a person sliding right next to you, lifting your kakefuton just enough for them to be able to scoot over and take their spot as the big spoon.

"Did I wake ya, sweet thing?"

Oh, it was Satoru. You didn't bother to blink away the sleep in your eyes and simply nuzzled the warm body right next to you. A strong yet tender hand made its way to the back of your head, holding you close as you drifted back to sleep once more.

"Hhhello… I love you… Good night…" You mumbled against his chest, to which he replied with a soft but low laugh. His heartbeat and voice reverberated through your body, and you wanted nothing more than to be as close to him as possible after having missed him for so long. Satoru's whispers were lost to the air, your half-asleep brain no longer registering anything aside from your husband gently brushing up the hair on your forehead, lulling you into an even deeper sleep. He placed a kiss on your forehead, running down to your eyes, your cheeks, your jaw— until the sleepiness in your body was chased away by the warmth of his caress, his large hands slowly but contentedly peeling away at your yukata.

What was supposed to be yet another dreamless night was colored a pale powder blue, like a spell cast upon you that guaranteed nothing but sweet, pleasant dreams.

You never thought it would be the prelude to a never-ending nightmare.

— The Shibuya Incident.

The Koganei Estate was nearly caught in the crosshairs of the Shibuya Incident. Though not called on to the field of battle, you decided to assist by opening your gates to shelter wounded sorcerers and non-sorcerers alike. You were at the forefront of the deluge of people seeking refuge, hearing from those who managed to escape that it may soon be the end of human society in Japan as they speak.

The golden haori you now wore signified your status and duty as the head of your house, and all of your clansmen deferred their decisions to you, choosing to trust your instincts

"Koganei-sama, please! We must close the gates this instant! Harboring any more would—"

"No! These people have no place to run! We have a sworn duty to protect everyone from this—"

"What a noble heart you have. It looks like some things never change."

It was a presence, a cursed energy so strong and distinct that you froze in your tracks, your eyes quickly scanning your vicinity to confirm if what you were feeling was true.

"No… No way… You— You're not—" You tried to stop the crack in your voice, only to fail the moment you started angrily questioning the man standing before you. "Who are you?!"

"You're right about that, Priestess of Suzaku. I am not Geto Suguru, though you could say I still am him," Suguru stated with a smile— oh, it was so painful to look at. "This body holds fond memories of you and your little youth… Your time as sorcerers in the making. Before his disillusionment."

Bittersweet remembrances of two years of your youth passed by in the blink of an eye as you stood face to face with a man you once called your senpai and friend. A person you could never hate, no matter how much your society did.

And something inside you snapped, an unrecognizable lust for carnage boiling in your veins as you got into a battle stance. I know I probably don't stand a chance against this anomaly, but— "I won't allow you to desecrate my friend's body any longer! Give him back!"

"You're also the Bride of the Six Eyes now, correct?" He had a thoughtful hand on his chin before declaring, "I suppose Gojo Satoru taught you to fight, then, if you're this eager?"

"Otome! What are you doing?!"

The gates to your estate were closed shut now by your order, followed by the electric appearance of the Koganei Clan's strongest sorcerer of your time: it was Kazuya, or so people call him— Raiden incarnate.

"Ah," Suguru exclaimed, the light of an epiphany in his eyes as he gazed at your human shield, the lightning he inherited from his father coursing through his whole body as he shielded you from the stranger's slow approach. "What a discovery. Yes, he'll do perfectly. You must know of your ancestor's insatiable greed. He and I made a pact a long time ago, and I'm here to fulfill it. But until then, your… brother can play the role you intended for him."

"Kazuya—" You didn't like the sound of Suguru's declaration, even more so now that he turned his attention to your brother. "Leave m—"

"Are you crazy?! I'm not leaving you alone with this… this madman!"

While Suguru busied himself in taking control of jujutsu society, he made a special exception for a certain sorcerer family, but only because they may prove useful in the future. He is further elated by the looming possibility of recovering the primordial and most potent Golden Tears of Suzaku itself with the discovery of an ideal host for the pathetic patriarch of the Koganei Clan— a man long dead but his ambition kept alive by every head of your clan.

Koganei Masahito.

"Oh, but before I forget. Your outrage is a little misplaced, isn't it?" The person wearing Suguru's face turned to you this time, a hand in his sleeve as though ready to pull out something unexpected. And unexpected it truly was, the heavy, unexplainable feeling in your chest a while ago now making perfect sense to you.

"You—"

The rest of your words were caught in your throat again as you laid eyes on the cursed object in the impostor's hand, a taunting smirk on his face that made your blood run freezing cold and piping hot at the same time. You were both frightened and furious at the inexplicable sight— the solid proof of your husband's detainment and the inevitable truth spoken by the sorcerers you rescued mere moments ago.

It may just be the end of human society.

More than anything, someone most precious was taken from you— again.

"GIVE HIM BACK TO ME!"

All your common sense left your body as you lunged past Kazuya, replaced by a fury that would unmistakably scorch anyone who got in your way. Unfortunately, you were painfully knocked back by a single stroke of Suguru's cursed energy.

"Otome!"

In your days as young students, Geto Suguru always took it easy on you when engaging in combat training. Everything you learned from your teachers and upperclassmen was supposedly your means of defending yourself in battle. You were no combatant, no fighter, but a talisman instead— your greater purpose always lay in mending what was hurt. You knew right from the start that you had no hope of ever defeating Suguru, but never in your wildest dreams did you even consider going against him. Until now. The real Suguru would never hurt you.

Your tears burned your cheeks as they blurred your vision of the impostor's receding figure, the essence mixing with the dirt of the ground as you lay there at a complete loss.

"Satoru…"

~ November 3, 2018

"Ah!"

There was something uncanny about this, though the scenario was completely familiar— you were sixteen again, in your jet-black school uniform while listening to the sound of the coffee table jazz that softly emanated throughout the cafe.

This was Cafe Lilico. And across the table laden with all of your favorite afterschool snacks sat your two closest friends. Nanami and his furrowed brows as he sipped from his cup of black coffee. Haibara savoring the umami goodness of his bowl of katsudon. They sat there, faces as clear as day, as though you three were reliving a precious moment suspended in time.

"What's the matter, Otome?" Haibara asked, a look of concern on his face and a grain of rice on his chin as he gestured to your slightly melting cream soda. "Not hungry?"

"I'm not surprised you don't have much of an appetite," Nanami stated with a pensive smile on his face as he placed his cup back on its saucer. "And I'm not going to ask you if you've been well…"

"I… Huh. What was I doing again?" You murmured to yourself, your voice just loud enough for the two of them to hear. "Where have we been?"

"Haibara's been here a while. I just got here," the blonde said. "And you…"

Your table glistened with every single thing you've partaken with your friends in his very place— black coffee, sweet teas, creamy frappes and cream sodas, berry tarts, classic New York-style cheesecake, salt and pepper fish and chips, and sweet potato fries—

"Can you do me a favor, Otome?"

"Of course, Kento. Though it's rare for you to ask…" You answered him, your fingers reaching for the fork on the floral table napkin.

Huh. Did that chandelier always look like that?

"Can…" He paused to carefully consider his choice of words. "Can you tell Chi that I love her?"

"What?" You chucked at him. "Kento, what do you mean by that? You can always tell Chiemi that—"

"And that I'm sorry. For leaving like this."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nanami! So you did get married to Chiemi-san! How lucky you are!" Haibara exclaimed excitedly.

"Luck had little to do with that marriage," Nanami stated with an uncharacteristically warm smile on his usually calm face. "Chiemi changed by her own will."

"Wait, Kento. I-I don't understand! What do you mean you're leaving?"

"You know I always thought that your selflessness would get you killed," he remarked as he turned in your direction once more. "I never realized it might be your stupidity instead."

"Don't say that, Nanami! She isn't dead yet!" Haibara elbowed him before reaching out to ruffle your hair. "This will always be our favorite place, but you really shouldn't be here yet, Otome."

"Haibara's right. As much as we'd enjoy having you here, it isn't time yet. Your time, that is," Nanami stated as he moved to reach for your hand, only for him to stop midway and sit back once again. "We'll always save you a seat, so don't worry."

"…?"

"Sh… She's awake! Otome's awake! Okaa-sama! Kanade-san!" Your older brother's rumbling voice shook you awake even further, and he rose to his feet to call for your mother, who stood vigil outside your shared bedroom with your husband. The kakefuton over your tired body felt insanely dense, but you fought back the weight and sat up, only to be met by Chiemi's red face.

"Onee-chan! K-Kento is—"

"Oh, is he finally back home? I had the strangest dream about him…" You said as you rubbed away the bleariness of your eyes. "He asked me to tell you that he loves you dearly. I don't understand why I have to be the one to tell you when—"

The silence that enveloped your room was palpable, the servants attending to you furrowing their brows in evident sorrow. Your confusion was only confounded by the way your sister's face contorted with tears as she wailed and sobbed into your shoulder, her tears of agony soaking your yukata.

"Kento is gone! Onii received the report in your stead and—" Chiemi hiccuped, her face red and blue with so much pain she couldn't even breathe anymore. "WAAAAAAAH!"

…What?

But that can't be. You were only talking to him just moments ago.

"A-And p-papa— Papa! He—"

No, not otou-sama, too… Is that why Kazuya only called for your mothers when you awoke? Kyouya was a father figure to both you and Chiemi, a man of integrity who did not think it was a tedious chore to raise children who weren't entirely his. His kindness was in stark contrast to Suzuna's dictatorial and mercurial methods. You placed a hand on your sister's shaking head and fought the urge to collapse. Your surroundings blurred into a mess of gray, her cries drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears. It was deafening.

You could hardly hear a word your mothers said as they clamored over you, with Suzuna trying to pull Chiemi away from you. Her eyes were just as red from all her crying, unseen it was to you. From what you gathered after finally being briefed by Kazuya, you were asleep for three days. You didn't expect the impostor's cursed energy to be so potent that it nearly brought you to death's doorstep.

Yet Kazuya took the liberty of steering your clan in the direction he thought was best despite the loss he felt. A patch of darkened skin now ran across his forehead. It was a burn mark— one meant to obscure a symbol that appeared on him unnaturally. Even with your clan's most elite healers, the burn now scarred his otherwise handsome face, though he preferred it that way since it now served as a reminder for him.

And for you. And everyone else in your estate.

With all of your family, guests, and rescues accounted for, you surveyed the estate with uneasy steps, your older brother leading the way. "Kazu-nii, I'm sorry about otou-sama."

Kazuya shook his head at you as you walked alongside each other. "Otou-sama did what he wanted. When he saw me changing form, he just did what any father would have done…"

He recounted the incident that occurred while you were unconscious. As though heeding the sound of a war gong, Kenjaku awakened hundreds of sorcerers from ages past, the mark on your brother symbolizing his selection as a vessel of that man.

"Our souls fought for dominance over my body. Rebelling against him was difficult, even though it should've been easy with my concentration. I'd never let that man— That man… he started all of this. Our clan's obsession with birthing his most perfect heir," he stated as he led you to the estate garden, the ground nearly flooded with fallen ginkgo leaves. "I was very much similar to a tsukumogami at that point, but they seemed to have forgotten my father's ties to the Tokyo Saenome, who specialized in sealing such things."

"If otou-sama sealed away Masahito, where exactly…"

"Here," Kazuya touched the aged tree trunk. It towered over the place, the golden foliage as thick and rich as it always was.

"In the tree?"

"Masahito was never meant to return to our realm. Men like him… don't deserve any second chances at life. Otou-sama made sure of that."

You approached the tree and rested your forehead against the old bark. Tears threatened to flow from your eyes but you desperately fought them back. "Kyouya otou-sama… I'll be sure to protect everyone…"

"I understand that you're worried about Satoru, but there are certain things we need to do. We're still harboring refugees as we speak. And there's that… thing with Jujutsu Headquarters. Something about how unsealing Satoru is tantamount to a criminal act."

"I don't give a shit what headquarters think, Kazu-nii," you stated with gritted teeth. "I know they'll be keeping tabs on us because I am his wife, after all. But I have faith in Satoru and his pupils. They'll find a way to free him. And he would want me to act however I wished to. He said it himself when he made that silly declaration of marriage."

"Ah, that we'd be free to do whatever we wanted?"

"Yes. Right now, I want to talk to the sorcerers who managed to escape the curtain in Shibuya. I need to gain a better understanding of the situation before I make my next steps."

Those three days you were unconscious felt like an eternity with everything that had transpired. You wasted no time conversing with the handful of young sorcerers who managed to flee from the setting curtain that enclosed Shibuya like a trap set to lay waste to the city— and another that kept them out instead. There was no doubt in your mind that all of these incidents were strung together by a single malefactor… Or worse— a group of them…

And the fact that they managed to seal Satoru in the Prison Realm meant they already had a foothold in whatever it was they were planning to do.

As you continued to compare the recent reports your house received from Jujutsu Headquarters and the recollections of the sorcerers you spoke to, Chiemi entered your messy office. Though she changed into a clean yukata, she looked even more emaciated than you remembered her to be, her eyes red and sunken and golden hair tied in a neat braid. It was clear that Nanami's death impacted her so, but her single statement sounded clear and precise to you.

"Onee-chan, I'd like to ask for your permission to leave our home. To leave Japan."

"Chiemi, what are you…?"

The younger woman said no more and soundlessly left your office, her presence replaced by the appearance of her birth father, Prospero. The older man wasn't spared from the chaos left in the wake of your coma. You heard from Kazuya how he assisted in protecting your estate and the refugees that flooded your home using his cursed technique. He's a master of barriers, apparently, Kazuya mentioned. Most importantly, he grounded Chiemi after receiving the shocking news of her husband's death while in action.

"Hello, Miss Otome. I'm so glad to see you're doing better now," the older man greeted you with a smile so akin to his daughter's.

"Prospero-san, If you hadn't been here, we all would have died," you replied and lowered your head to the tatami. "I thank you from the bottom of my heart… For protecting my family."

"Please, there is no need for you to prostrate yourself before me. I simply did what any father would have done to protect his daughter and all those precious to her," he said, clamping a hand on your shoulder to gently pull you up to your feet. "I am sorry I couldn't do anything about Mister Kyouya…"

"No, don't be," you shook your head at him. "Kazuya told me you did all you could to save him, too. Otou-sama simply did what he thought was right— what he wanted…"

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, holding it in for a moment in fear that you may burst out crying. Now wasn't the time for any of that.

"I heard from Chiemi that our family received that report…" You stated, pursing your lips before your voice could crack any further. "I've no intention of barring your departure, but where exactly does she intend to go?"

"As you know, she was inconsolable for the last few days… When she said she wanted to go to Malaysia, I… told her that we could."

Something in your head clicked. Malaysia.

"She said that it was Kento-kun's idea. Something they spoke about before… Perhaps they were planning a trip?"

No, it was something more. You recalled Nanami talking about the same thing sometime back.

"Otome, do you think Chi will be happy to go with me if we move somewhere far?"

"Kento, Chi would follow you to the ends of the earth if you'd let her."

"If you're worried about her, rest assured that I'll take care of her. I can help her find a home and get settled there. Chi has been doing her best to take care of herself because if she lets her broken heart get the better of her, it won't do the baby any good. My grandchild will gro—"

As though the weight of the circumstances couldn't be any heavier— "The… The baby?"

"Has… she not told you yet? Chi is pregnant," Prospero said, his eyes widening in shock as you scrambled to your feet and gave chase to your sister, who was simply standing in the middle of the estate gardens. "M-Miss Otome?!"

"Chi! Chiemi!" You tried to scream, but your throat wouldn't let you. Your hoarse voice still caught her attention, and she turned to you with the same practiced elegance you've always been familiar with.

"Onee-chan? What's the matter?"

You fell to your knees, clinging onto the skirt of her yukata before eventually breaking down at her feet. "Did… Did he at least know?! A-About the baby!"

Chiemi visibly trembled before she crumbled to her knees as well, coiling her arms around your tearful form as she shook her head at your question. Her sorrowful sobs filled your ears as she tried to speak. "I only f-found out on the day of his m-mission…"

Why are these things happening? Wondering will do you no favors. You returned her embrace and cried, your warm tears soaking her braid. "Please… If you're going to leave, please take care of yourself!… Eat well, drink a lot of water, and sleep well… A-And if anything happens, call me! C-Call us! W—"

You two wept like children that afternoon, crying over things of the past, the tragedies of the present, and the hope of a future, one where this blessed child can live without the shadow of your society looming over them.

"As I thought, normal comms are a bust. I can't contact Shoko or anyone else in Shibuya," you stated as you tossed your mobile phone into your favorite purse. You were no longer dressed in your clan's traditional garb but in civilian clothing this time, donning a favorite outfit of yours from your closet as you made up your mind…

With all of your affairs set in order, along with a faked story about an "illness" not even you could cure yourself from, you intended to steal away and reach out to the sorcerers attempting to unseal your husband from the Prison Realm without Jujutsu Headquarters ever noticing your disappearance. Suzuna "claimed" her clan had always been "detached" from Gojo Satoru and only enjoyed the privileges that came with being under his protection, but that did not mean the Koganei were accomplices to his "plot" surrounding the Shibuya Incident. The Koganei Clan kept up the appearance of a neutral and indifferent front, pacified by the threat of expulsion from headquarters.

Kazuya was more than capable of protecting the estate if anything went awry, not to mention the presence of Chiemi's father Prospero, who vowed to hold the fort with the eldest son of the house— at least until order is fully restored in Tokyo.

"The city's a ghost town. We're lucky the warzone didn't even reach us," Kazuya shook his head. "Though if you look at things now, we're only fortunate to have been spared from the destruction thanks to Chi-chan's old man."

"You ought to start addressing Prospero-san properly, Kazu-nii," you pointed at him. "We owe him a great deal, after all."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," your older brother shrugged in dismissal. "All of this is flying over my head, you know. Satoru is the greatest sorcerer of our time. I never thought that headquarters would actually want him gone."

"They originally wanted him to be more… tame," you replied as you eyed the eerie and starless night sky. "Maybe I should leave tomorrow instead… But I can't afford to lose any more time."

The two of you were on high alert the moment you sensed a foreign cursed energy seamlessly pass through the curtain over the estate. Kazuya stepped forward, his lightning coursing through his arms as the presence made itself known.

"Oh, it's you!" You remarked in relief at the sight of that familiar pristine white Jujutsu High uniform. "Yuuta-kun!"

"Good evening, Otome-san, Kazuya-san," the young, dark-eyed sorcerer approached and gave you a short bow, to which you replied by taking his hands in your own.

"I'm so relieved…" You murmured to him, a tired yet relieved sigh leaving your lips as you finally turned to face him. "I'm used to being an afterthought, Yuuta-kun. After all, Satoru is much more important than I am…"

"You're not an afterthought, Otome-san," Yuuta shook his head at you. "I'm here because I have my orders. Orders I intend to follow. One of which is your safekeeping—"

"Take me to Shoko. I'm not so brittle that you'd have me hide away. I can help heal people. I will help heal people. And I certainly don't intend to wring my fingers in anticipation of his unsealing, Yuuta-kun. I'd rather be helpful. To you. And to everyone else," you stated, cutting off his further explanation. You turned to your older brother and gave him a low bow. "Kazu-nii… I'll leave the estate to you."

Kazuya acknowledged your resolve with a stern nod, reflecting his own. "I will protect this place with my life, Koganei-sama."

"Gojo-sensei said you'd be like this… But I guess this is also who you are as a person, Otome-san," The young man sighed in defeat before eventually acknowledging as well that there was no stopping you. "Shall we be off to see Ieiri-san, then?"

With your husband's pupil guaranteeing your safe passage, there was nothing else stopping you from unraveling the mysteries of this eternal night in Shibuya. "Yes, let's go."

The endless nightmare has only just begun, after all.

— Dreamless.

~ November 18, 2018.

"Is your marriage to Gojo all you've ever imagined it to be, Otome?"

The question was incredibly random, and it evidently caught you off guard by the sound of the utensils you were washing clattering against the stainless steel sink.

"Are we so tired of waiting that you've decided to cross-examine me, Shoko?"

"I know you guys fucked when we were still in school, too, but you didn't hear anything from me," Shoko retorted as she stubbed out her finished cigarette. "Just answer the question."

"Sh-Shoko!"

Not long after escorting you to Jujutsu High, where Shoko had returned to resume her normal operations, Yuuta departed to complete the "mission" assigned to him by headquarters, though you'd called his bluff earlier on. When you first arrived at the morgue to assist her, it took every fiber in your being to hold yourself back from hurling at the scent and the state of the place.

It smelled of death.

The days blurred into a single mess of death, and defying the grim circumstances dealt by the malefactor parading Geto Suguru's body as his own. Your pride as a jujutsu sorcerer didn't let you admit that the losses piling up at your feet were hurting you more than you let on. It would be embarrassing to be upstaged by younger sorcerers, who bravely took to the field of battle despite all the heartache they felt.

Despite it all…

You counted each loss, each one just as woefully dense as the next. First was Nanami, then your father figure Kyouya, then Tsumiki— that girl who wanted nothing more than to live a life in harmony with you and Satoru, and Megumi. It was foul enough that Sukuna stole your boy's body, but to have used it as a weapon against his own sister was the cruelest. Yuuji had nothing but apologies for you when you last met, the boy lamenting his lack of strength for everything.

What do you mean, you asked Yuuji, tears blurring your eyes at the sight of his scarred visage. None of this is your fault. None of this is your fault, Yuuji-kun—

Despite it all…

"I've loved Satoru for the longest time. Ours has always been a case of, 'he fell first but she fell harder'…" You replied to your friend's earlier question with a small smile on your face, a thoughtful hand on your chin as you recounted your very first encounter with the little godling who became your husband. "Though it's really more like, 'I fell in front of him and he thought I was weird but also cute'."

You told her all about the ordeal that was your seventh birthday and how your younger sister pushed you off the engawa while you were stretching your legs, falling face first in front of the enigma that was Gojo Satoru.

"To say I was happy that he reciprocated my feelings is an understatement," you said as you sat on one of the vacant couches across from your friend. "I was… elated. And Satoru and I made the most of whatever time we had together because we each had our responsibilities to our families… and all of that whatnot."

"And your marriage. Is it all you've ever imagined it to be?"

"I…"

You could wish time and again for things to be entirely different. A different life, a different timeline, a different world— but now was all you had. The "now" you had was still better than any image of a perfect present you could ever conjure in your mind. Now was imperfect, but it was all you had. Now was everything.

Despite it all…

"I couldn't ask for anything better. We wouldn't dare ask for anything better," you told her with a slight quake in your voice, a slight hint of regret in your voice that betrayed your thoughts. "This is the world we were born into, after all. This world has you, our friends and allies, Satoru's promising pupils…"

And hope, despite it all, you thought as you followed Shoko to where Kurusu Hana and "Angel" were recovering after receiving treatment for the grave wounds inflicted by the Sukuna-possessed Megumi.

"Are you sure you don't want to be around when your idiot husband is unsealed?"

"It's fine. I'd rather not be around to dampen everyone's mood with all of my crying, which I'm sure to do," you said in confirmation as you raised your hand in defense. "Besides, I'm used to being an afterthought, Shoko."

"You're just as much of an idiot as he is," the dark-haired woman scoffed at you, but only out of worry, you easily noticed. "Explains why you're still in complete marital bliss after all that's happened."

~ November 20, 2018.

With Gojo Satoru's release from the Prison Realm came the hope of a victory against the rampaging King of Curses. But hope didn't mean complete optimism about things. Satoru himself wanted to know all about the contingency plans his company had if the worst ever came to pass.

Having caught up with everything that occurred in his absence, he figured he was at least entitled to his own moment of reprieve. His students haven't had enough of him, though, and Yuuji was particularly curious where he was headed to with such a relaxed disposition— and appearance.

Satoru was known as an impeccable dresser, so for him to be walking around the school premises in nothing but a hoodie and jogger pants meant questions.

"Where are you off to, Gojo-sensei?"

"What do you mean, 'where am I off to?' I'm going to see my wife! A man can do that much, can't he? I haven't seen her since I got out of that damn box!"

"Huh… Now that you mentioned it, where is Otome-san? I haven't—"

"Oh, that's just mean, Itadori-kun. Otome-san's been helping take care of everyone for quite some time now, you know," Yuuta remarked with a small laugh, his comment sending his underclassman into a slight panic.

"You can't blame Itadori for not noticing every single person here," said Kinji, who slung a strong arm around the spooked younger boy. "Your wife doesn't speak much, does she, Gojo-san? She's so typically genteel that people can't help but wonder why you married her."

"Genteel? I'm not sure if we're talking about the same person," Satoru laughed at his pupil's statement. "And for the record, I asked her to marry me. Now if you guys can excuse this old man for just one second?"

"So you know where she's been staying?"

"Of course I do! And it's not just because of my Six Eyes. I know the way a husband knows his wife," the silver-haired man stated with his usual cheer.

And the way the sky knows the sun can't hide itself, he thought to himself as he leisurely strolled past the kids and headed to one of the school's older buildings

"You think Gojo-sensei's mad that Otome-san wasn't the first to greet him when he was unsealed?" Yuuji mused out loud, to which Yuuta replied with another low laugh.

"I'm sure Otome-san would've wanted nothing more than to be the first to greet him, but she was just being considerate of everyone else."

While it was true that you wanted to be at the forefront of the people greeting your husband once he was released from the Prison Realm, you couldn't promise anyone that you wouldn't be a sobbing mess… So you busied yourself with other things— like keeping inventory of the infirmary, a duty you were most familiar with since it was your primary task as a student of Jujutsu High nearly a decade ago.

But since your graduation, there has been a lack of reverse cursed technique users, leaving the infirmary unused and eventually converted into further storage for the school to use. Boxes piled up and filled nearly the entire room, and all that remained from the days of your youth was a single dusty and rickety bed, which you converted into a little nook for yourself to rest whenever your assistance wasn't required. While you liked hanging around Shoko, you didn't like how everyone else walked on eggshells around you.

Those who weren't familiar with you considered you an anomalous figure. There was no doubt in your mind that some also considered you to be an ill-fitted match with Satoru, someone who wasn't suited to be the wife of the strongest sorcerer of your generation.

…The strongest sorcerer of your generation…

"S-Satoru… Y-You're heavy!" You heaved as he comfortably draped his entire weight over your figure, the metal bed creaking as you struggled and thumped at his broad back to move, or you will die from your ribs caving into your lungs. "I c-can't breathe! Ack!"

"What? If I didn't come out looking for you, you would've never shown yourself to me!" Satoru huffed as he lifted himself from you and sat up. "You weren't there when I was unsealed, and you weren't the one who conducted my examination, either…"

"That wasn't my intention…" You told him, lowering your gaze to your hands. "You must've seen it, right? How everyone's been waiting for you… And besides, knowing myself, I know I'd just cry and ruin everyone else's celebr—"

Oh. The tears came uninvited. You pursed your lips and cupped a hand to your mouth to silence your pathetic sobbing.

"My sweet little bird," Satoru couldn't help but coo at you, his larger hands affectionately cupping your warm face as he kissed away the tears that filled the corners of your eyes. "Am I not allowed to be upset anymore? You pull your waterworks on me, and all I want to do now is just hold you."

"I'm sorry…" You managed to whisper to him as you coiled your arms around his neck.

"Don't be, sweetheart. If anything, the one apologizing should be me."

"You don't have to apologize for anything, either, Satoru…"

"Are you kidding? This whole mess—"

"—Is not your fault, Satoru," you quickly retorted, returning his earlier gesture by cupping his face in your smaller hands this time.

"At least allow me to be sorry for a few things. Like Nanami," he said with a defeated chuckle. "And your old man."

"Oh, now that you mentioned Kento, I just remembered Chi-chan said Takkun should come see her one of these days. I think she has something for him. Maybe we can return to the estate together after all of this…" You mused, taking your husband's hands in yours. "And I know you've got a mountain of tasks waiting for you, but your birthday is coming up…"

"Don't sweat it, sweetheart. I'll always have time for my wife," he said, squeezing your hands reassuringly. "There are some things I have to do before we can celebrate. The first order of things is to defeat Sukuna and bring back Megumi. Then there's this other thing."

"Toru, you rarely ask me for favors. If there's anything I can help you with…"

You caught the glint of danger in his blue eyes, his tempered anger silenced as he raised your knuckles to his lips, his feathery lashes lowered to a close as he sat in contemplation. "No. This other thing… This is something I should've done a long, long time ago. I'll end this vicious cycle myself."

"The way you're going…" You said, swallowing the lump in your throat as you held his face in your hands once more. "Satoru, you're headed somewhere I can't follow."

But I understand.

No, you didn't. Even as Satoru's wife— the one he shared his bed with and sometimes the innermost breathings of his heart— you could never claim to fully understand him… but you loved him, and that was enough for him. Satoru didn't mind being misunderstood even by you, though he knew you were aware of the depths of his loneliness as he stood at the precipice, overseeing everything.

"I don't want you to follow me. I don't want anyone to."

"I won't."

You nodded at him, holding back tears. Before you knew it, his palm was on the crown of your head, ruffling your hair.

"Good girl."

— Side by Side.

~ December 2018.

The candlelight crackled softly between you and your husband, the heat scaring away the chill of this December night. The silver moonlight only seeped into a crack between the closed doors. The Koganei Estate was subsequently vacated, its residents ushered to Kyoto to live under the wing of the existing Gojo Clan. In a sense, it was like you and Satoru were the only people in the world at that very moment.

"Oh? Are you actually sleepy already?" You teasingly asked Satoru, who lay motionless on your futon, his yukata haphazardly closed. On your desk were two letters that looked to have been completed only recently. "Are these for…?"

His expression was quiet and a bit unreadable, but you could sense the gravity of the moment from the way his eyes clenched close. The all-seeing eyes he's had ever since he was born have never failed him, but for once in his life, he wanted to turn them off for good. You did not speak for a while, the crackling of the little spark filling the silence of the night.

"I heard Kazuya already spoke to the people at home," he started, referring to his clansmen in Kyoto. "My family will keep yours safe, Otome, regardless of—"

"No, don't speak of likelihoods. You promised," you said, cutting him off from speaking any further. "You and I... We're not saying goodbye tonight."

"Of course not," Satoru chuckled to himself. He was prompted to sit up from his languorous recline when you slowly lowered yourself to straddle him, licking his lips in anticipation as he received you in his arms. Yet all of the mischief he felt receded as you faced him with eyes shining with tears that had yet to fall.

"I would trade lives with you if I could. If I could spare you from this…"

He opened his mouth to argue, but he bit his tongue. Rather than miring this evening with arguments and rhetoric, he held back, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. The silence spoke volumes of the comfort he felt whenever he was around you, and it was louder than any words could convey.

Yet you knew deep down that there was no sparing him from this. His lot in life had been decided ever since he was born, ever since he tipped the delicate balance of Jujutsu society. You merely took comfort in the fact that you were one of the very few things he chose for himself. He was never a firm believer in fate, even from before, but you knew he must have thanked his lucky stars countless times now for blessing him with another half he actually liked.

"I'll wait for you," you said, your voice hardly a whisper as you anchored yourself to him, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that shared a flavor of your intertwined past and the hope of a future yet uncertain. "Come home to me, okay?"

Satoru nodded. He nodded as he pulled you in for another kiss. He was in no position to make any promises, so he just said what you wanted to hear. Fortunately, it was all he wanted to say.

"I love you."

You wept and you wept and spilled your tears and though his body was stitched back together, you couldn't stomach what the others wanted to do with it. Their reasoning faded in your ears. All you could hear was your pulse and heartbeat and the adrenaline snapping you upright. You thrashed the place and screamed until you tasted blood in your throat, until it spilled from the corners of your lips. Why is no one taking your side? Your husband just died. He just died, and they wanted him to return to the same playing field that killed him. What you felt in the moment weighed little compared to what had to be done.

"—!"

The blackout was instantaneous, as though the adrenaline that soaked your blood had evaporated. Yuuta rushed to catch you in his arms, his brows furrowed in sorrow and vexation at the circumstances. "Otome-san always thought of herself as an afterthought, that she was neither important nor relevant to anyone. But she is Gojo-sensei's precious wife. You'll have to forgive her for reacting like this."

"I-Ieiri-san! She isn't breathing! O-Otome-san i—" Yuuji said in panic, his expression melting into one of horrified realization as he saw the ominous trickle of blood from under your skirt. "Wh-Why is she bleeding?! Is she—"

"Oh…"

The Koganei Estate was as quiet as you left it when you departed to join the other young sorcerers to watch your husband's death match. Golden ginkgo leaves rained over the gardens as they always did, regardless of the season.

It was another queer dream, which could only mean you were at death's doorstep again, for fainting, of all reasons. You rubbed your temples hard enough to try and snap yourself out of this—

"Hello, pretty thing."

It was Satoru, his image of your final night together standing before you, his yukata still haphazardly closed with a sloppy bow done on his sash.

"Toru?…"

"I wouldn't let this grief take over you. You wouldn't want me to turn into a vengeful spirit now, would you?" He chuckled at you, mirthless but meaningful, but you could only shake your head in response to this phantasm standing before you.

He wasn't real, but you were brought to your knees in utter desperation, clinging onto him as though your life depended on it. "This must be some kind of nightmare. But even if it is—"

"It's a curse."

"What?"

Satoru knelt to meet your embrace, but it was only for a moment until he raised you to your feet. "I told you before, didn't I? There's no curse more twisted than love. Now, I need you to let me go slowly, sweetheart…"

"No! Satoru! You can't leave me!" You shook your head in refusal again and again until he placed a soothing hand on your cheek, his blue eyes crinkling as he smiled at you.

"You're so, so beautiful," he said as he pressed a tender kiss on your furrowed brow, and it drew out the tears as he expected. "I love you, sweetheart. I'll be waiting on the other side, always. But don't rush, okay? Don't follow me just yet. Knowing you, you'll find something worth living for soon enough."

~ 2019, Koganei Estate.

"Otome-saaan! We're here!"

Padded footsteps against the engawa prompted you to look up from your chabudai, the documents you were reading now set aside, as the door to your office slid open. Three familiar faces stepped in, the sheen of their jet-black uniforms an all-familiar sight to you. "Hello, you three."

"We brought you oranges! They said it's good for the baby!" Yuuji exclaimed as he raised the plastic bag he was holding, only for it to be taken away by one of the estate servants with a low and reverent bow.

"We'll bring you strawberries next time, Nobara said, and she quickly approached you when you gestured for her to help you up from your seat. "Say, is it all right for you to be sitting like that all the time?"

"Oh, you're starting to sound just like Shoko, Nobara-chan. I'm quite fine," you said with a small laugh as you got on your feet. Megumi bent down on his knee and straightened out the crooked hem of your pale blue yukata. "Thank you, Megumi-kun. Have you all been well?"

"We've been doing just fine, too! If you're craving anything, don't hesitate to tell us, okay?!" The young woman beamed at you. "Oh! We actually have some strange but exciting news to share with you!"

"Yeah! It's about Okkotsu-senpai and Maki-san! They…"

Megumi, Yuuji, and Nobara were the last of Satoru's students before his passing. In a way, they felt like they had a responsibility to look after you in his stead, but they always did it happily and willingly. Each visit they made was always filled with chatter, laughter, and reproach, as well as anticipation…

"Have you thought of a name already, Otome-san?"

"I have, actually," you said with a small smile as you placed a hand on your round stomach. "Oh, it's kicking me. Such a lively child, this one is!"

"Ah! W-We wanna feel it!"

"All right, all right! One by one, then!"

You don't have to worry at all, Satoru, you thought to yourself as these young sorcerers each pressed their cheeks against the silk of your yukata, their eyes widening in surprise at the sudden movements this little miracle made inside you. This child will be raised with so much love and affection that it'll feel like you've always been here.

"Ah! I felt it kick! Or was it a punch?! This kid's definitely got Gojo-sensei's moves!"

This child will be strong, I'm sure of it, but they'll never be lonely. They'll never walk alone… Not when they're walking side by side with these wonderful children.

✦ Asleep Among Endives Masterlist ✦

#songsofadelaidewrites💛#mari's fic collections 🍀#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader

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cobra-wives · 3 months ago

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no i don't think he would put daniel larusso in a cage to celebrate this lovely holiday. i think he would light the candle with his friends!!!!!! FUCK YOU!!!!!!!!!

#cobra kai #terry silver #dennis de guzman #sensei wolf #doodles #yeah #fuck you. *sits down to make my favorite character's hanukkah celebration wholesome and appreciative of his culture*#he even gets to [THE CROWD GASPS] BRING HIS FRIENDS!!!!!!!#SHOCKAAAA!!!!!!!!!!#(also - this art was made with the help of some jewish pals of mine. please lmk if there's anything insensitive that i can fix!)#ok im done being angry about this. im done!!!#[I RUN OUT TORY NICHOLS STYLE.]

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cultivating-wildflowers · 11 months ago

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#thank you to everyone who's been praying for my family 💜#it's going to be a very long weekend #my mom & sister drove through the night to get to my aunts' (mom's sister and sister-in-law)#mom's coworkers helped her with travel expenses which was a huge blessing #other family is on standby #I'm on Dad Watch this weekend (have a crockpot at the office today so I can bring him food later)#weekend plans got cancelled but I'm meeting up with friends tonight and Dad and I are seeing my other sister on Sunday #and I'll probably take Monday off for a mental health day #might see if Dad wants to take a hike (though we'll have to watch out for bears ironically)#and then Mom and my sister get back next week. thankfully both of their jobs are supportive and accommodating (and so is mine)#we'll get by #if you see this please add a prayer for my sister-in-law #in addition to stuff with our family her dad is going through health issues so she's stressed #and her due date is in a couple of weeks

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lumsel · 4 months ago

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AITA for not wanting my roommate to use my toothbrush?

Hi reddit. A few days ago I (NB27) was getting ready for work when I caught my roommate (NB27) in the bathroom brushing their teeth with my toothbrush. I got really mad at them for this, but they didn't think it was a big deal and said I was overreacting.

Their logic was that because they were my exact duplicate all our germs are basically the same anyway so it's basically like just one person brushing their teeth twice. But my opinion was that we became "different people" one year ago, when they woke up in my bed beside me one morning without any explanation. But this made them mad because they said from their perspective I was the one who woke up in their bed one morning without any explanation, and they accused me of claiming to be the original again. Things got really heated after this but neither of us was able to kill the other because our abilities were perfectly matched so we basically just declared stalemate like usual.

This whole ordeal had been especially disconcerting to me because up until this point there have been no real points of divergence in our personalities. Every time we have made a decision we would both make the same choice, all of our opinions and beliefs have been identical, and any time we converse it's difficult because we keep trying to say the same thing at the same time. So for us to disagree on anything is unexpected let alone something this big. I was hoping to use this as a clue to help prove I was the original but unfortunately none of my friends or family can remember my stance on toothbrush clone sharing so I was out of luck there.

Anyway they still keep using my toothbrush even though there's another one there because they "like the blue one more than the purple one" but the blue one is mine!!! I really don't think its unreasonable to ask them to use a different toothbrush here, especially since I was here first. AITA?

EDIT: mods this thread isn't a duplicate, they just posted the same topic from their perspective at the exact same time that i posted mine. stop flagging this for deletion.

EDIT 2: I can't believe I have to say this, but a perfect copy of dubious origin is a completely different category of person to a twin!! None of the social dynamics are the same, you can't draw equivalences between them. So when we have sex it is NOT incest. Can we please stay on topic here?

#txt #redditposting

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catcrumb · 14 days ago

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hey all. a friend of mine passed away earlier this year, leaving behind two pair-bonded adult cats, gabe and mjolnir. they need to find a new forever home together!

these cats are currently located in portland, oregon. the adjudicator of my friend's wishes will help relocating them anywhere in the US. they need a new home by may.

they're both big cuddlers and absolute sweetie-pies. they're around 10 years old, are indoor only, have never been around dogs or children, and are up-to-date on all their veterinary care.

see this bluesky thread for more information on each of their personalities and care requirements (and/or just want to see more cute cat photos). if you are interested and able to welcome two darling angels to your household, please fill out this form! any questions can be asked on the thread and through the form.

#crumblings #there haven't been a lot of bites yet so i figured i'd share here #least i can do for my friend. and for her friend who has been given the titanic burden of all this

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falesten-iw · 4 months ago

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When I first joined Tumblr, I had no idea what I was walking into. There’s no manual for navigating this wild, untamed corner of the internet. My first moment here? I was greeted by an image completely naked, no warning, no explanation. It was just there, bold and unapologetic. That’s when I realized: Tumblr is a place where anything can happen.

But for all its chaos, Tumblr has become something far greater than I ever expected. For us Palestinians, this platform isn’t just a space to scroll through memes or vent about life. It’s a lifeline, a place where we’ve taken the raw, messy energy of this site and turned it into a battleground for survival. Here, we tell our stories, raise funds, and fight for our lives.

I’ve seen campaigns soar past their goals, bringing hope to families barely holding on. But I’ve also seen campaigns like mine, ones that fight tooth and nail for every single dollar, every reblog, every addition, and every ounce of hope. My family’s lives depend on this.

It hasn’t been easy. Zionists flood all Palestinian words with hate, twisting truths and spreading lies. They aim to discredit us, to make people doubt us. It’s exhausting. Some nights, I sit with my phone in my hands, wondering if this fight is too big for me. But then something beautiful happens: a donation comes through, a kind message appears, or someone I’ve never met reblogs my story with words that feel like a warm embrace.

And through it all, people are starting to see the truth. The hate doesn’t drown us; it sharpens our voices. Every day, more people step forward to stand with us, to say, “I see you, I hear you, and I’m with you.” It’s those moments that keep me going.

To everyone who has already helped, whether through verification, donating, wrting post , reblogging, or simply sharing a kind word: thank you. You’ve done more for my family than I could ever put into words. But the reality is, we’re not there yet. My family is still waiting for a chance to breathe, to live without fear, to fill their empty stomachs with warm food, and to wrap themselves in clothes thick enough to keep out the bitter cold. They’re hungry, they’re freezing, and I can’t do this alone.

This fight is hard, but it’s not hopeless. Strangers have become friends, and friends have become family. Some of you have shown up in ways I never imagined, treating my family’s survival as if it were your own. That kind of solidarity? It’s powerful.

Tumblr might be chaotic, unpredictable, and sometimes downright bizarre, but it’s also the place where we’ve built something extraordinary: a community that refuses to look away from injustice. With your help, we can take this fight all the way. My family’s lives are within reach, and together, I know we’ll get there.

This campaign isn’t just about me. It supports 26 people, including two orphaned children and an injured family member suffering from hemiplegia after being hit by shrapnel during a bombing. Surgery is desperately needed to replace the infected and failing plates. The needs are urgent, and the future of 26 lives depends on your support.

The video showing the injured family member is shared before in this post: Link.

Please help us ! Donate and reblog this post to spread our story.

Vetted and shared by @90-ghost: Link.

Verified and shared by @el-shab-hussein: Link

Listed as number 282 in "The Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser Spreadsheet" compiled by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi : Link

Listed on the Butterfly Effect Project, number 957: Link

Additionally, Al Jazeera News has documented apart of my family's case: Link

If, for some reason, you couldn't donate via GoFundMe, you can donate via PayPal instead. Please keep the conversion rates in mind when donating through GoFundMe. Every 100 SEK is equivalent to 10 dollars, and 200 SEK equals 20 dollars and so on.

Note: There’s even a raffle for a handmade Palestinian thob if you want to participate : Link

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thinkinonsense · 3 months ago

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-cravings.

cw: feral!logan, breeding kink, pervy!logan, marking, TA/ co-workers relationship, belly bulge, oral (fem receiving), gross!logan, squirting, male masturbation, spitting, slight praise kink, slight hair tugging, pet names, slightly grinding on abs? pantie play?

summary: logan's in a rut and only his sweet girl can help him.

a/n: so i pictured dofp!logan but x trilogy!logan also works! hope you enjoy <3 also also not proof read so sorry for any errors

"scott, have you seen logan?" your delicate voice fills the study as you pass by, looking for your mentor.

logan has been missing all day, which isn't the most unusual thing but it is odd that he said he would train with you today and yet, he's nowhere to be found.

"charles said he wasn't feeling well." scott replied, barely gazing up at you. "he's probably still in bed."

you nod, turning around to head upstairs and check on logan like any good friend would.

the floorboards creek under your light foot steps down the hall. charles, hank, and storm took the kids to a lab overnight to work on their final projects. the rest of the adult were either training or lesson planning. the wooden door glowed with golden light illuminating the rim, so warm and welcoming.

one knock turned into three and four. all of them unanswered, leaving you slightly alarmed. this wasn't like logan to ignore you.

❀༉‧₊˚

meanwhile, beyond the wooden door, logan sat on his bed trying to get a grip on this feeling. it's happened before, the familiar warmth that spreads all over. a primal craving attempting to claw its way out of him.

normally, he can hide out until the rut is over but now it is different. now logan has his eyes on someone. not just someone though.

it's the girl he's been warned not to fall for. charles, jean, hank and scott have all told logan that he's not to make a move on you. the girl who's too pure for a big bad wolf like him. for once, he listened and steered clear of you, no matter how pretty you were.

until you signed up to be his teachers assistant.

now with the close proximity, logan is tortured by your scent. the sweet cherry he's become familiar with haunts his deepest thoughts. he could perfectly trace every outline on your body without even trying. honestly, he found it quite sickening how you've carved your spot in his mind.

next to him on the mattress are a pair of your panties from yesterday. he remembered seeing the slight flash of light blue from under your skirt when you dropped your pen in the hallway. there's a damp patch on them, calling his name in mocking tones.

"logan..?" your meek voice was barely audible behind the door. "can i please come in?"

a low growl hums in his chest at the sound of your voice. he wants nothing more than to let you inside and ravish you in the way he desires; but he doesn't want to scare you off.

"not now, sweetheart." he grunts almost as if he's in pain.

"a-are you okay?"

logan couldn't see you but he could picture your concerned face. scrunched eyebrows and wide bambi eyes, lips in a pout. god, he could just eat you up.

" 'm fine." his voice sounds rough, like a bark. he would never yell at you but he needed you to walk away because the feeling of his cock being suffocated in his jeans was killing him.

"alright." you whine. "see ya later then, lo."

soon enough he heard your footsteps down the hall, logan quickly strips himself of his black shirt, dark blue jeans and his boxers. without hesitation he reaches over to grab that panties he had taken from your hamper.

"fuck, smells so sweet." he groans, nose pressed against the soft soaked cotton as he tugs his throbbing cock. spreading the pearly beads of pre-cum.

with his senses clouded and a fire ignited in him, he kitten licks the patch, letting your slick dance on his tongue. picturing your legs wrapped around his head, how your tight hole would take his tongue or his fingers and the little noises that would escape you.

"that's my sweet pussy. all mine." logan mumbles possessively under his breath before spitting into the material and bringing it to his cock, using it to jerk off.

as his orgasm approaches, the fire intensifies; sweat dripping down his temples the faster his hand moves. abs also dripping in sweat as his chest rapidly moves up and down. mind swarmed with all the positions logan wants to put you in.

"s-shit." logan curses, clenching his teeth as his vision blurs and euphoria washes over him. ropes of cum spill all over his abs and happy trail, creating a sticky messy.

left alone and panting, covered in his release, logan's still unsatisfied. he knew there was only one thing that could fix this.

❀༉‧₊˚

it's near midnight when you finally hear logan leave his room. heavy boots heading towards the stairs, right by your room.

"where are you going, lo?" you ask, peaking out of your bedroom to catch him. he stops but doesn't acknowledge you. "gonna leave me here all alone?"

logan could've sworn that you would be asleep at this hour and he could leave to find some woman at the bar to help with his... situation.

"scott's around here somewhere." he dryly replies, trying to avoid your gaze.

"he left a few hours ago." you mumble, nervously messing with the bottom of your nightgown.

something was off about logan; you just couldn't figure out what it was. he wouldn't even look at you. had you done something wrong? was he upset with you? why was he avoiding you?

"i-is everything alright?" you ask, worried for the answer.

logan take a minute to respond, scratching the scruff on his face while he thinks. just because he looks strong doesn't mean he is internally. logan found his weakness in you. a woman he's known for a little over a year and yet you could bring him to his knees if you so pleased.

suddenly, logan turns and looks at you. he sucks in his breath sharply when he saw you dressed in a cute tiny white nightgown. logan was positive that you were the closest he will ever get to meeting an angel.

the material ends high up on your thighs and he swears that in this light he can see the outline of your nipples, watching how they pebble from the cool air in the hallway.

"it's just cravings." he finally answers, tearing his eyes off of your pretty shape.

the moment logan makes eye contact with you, you notice how the color changed from a light hazel to bordering black. he looked hungry. you've heard of this before, a feral state that mutants like him enter every six months or so and if you knew better, you would run.

"anything i can help you with?" you ask, batting your long lashes up at him.

"it's real dirty work, princess." logan warns, restraining himself from jumping at the opportunity.

"i don't mind." you tell him. in that moment, a familiar aroma hits him. "i wanna help you, logan."

normally, logan wouldn't let things get this far. sure, the two of you have made sly flirty comments in the past but it's never gone past just words.

he watches you walk back into your room, keeping the door open for him.

❀༉‧₊˚

your bedroom was damn near exactly how logan pictured it. soft earth toned colors, pretty sheets, messy desk with all the paperwork you two do together. most importantly, it smelled like you. not your perfume or whatever candle you lit earlier. this was different.

"logan..." your voice pulls him back to reality. "tell me what you want me to do."

so considerate. logan thinks to himself as he watches you sit with your knees against the mattress and look up at him like a dog looking at its owner, waiting for an order.

without a warning, logan crashes his lips against yours. it hot and messy how he almost swallows you whole. both of you have waited forever for this moment.

logan lays you flat on the mattress, not breaking the kiss. your teeth bite down on his bottom lip at the small thud. you go to whisper an apology but it's covered by logan's loud groaning.

he take this opportunity to grind against you, only covered in a pair of matching white panties. if he was in a clearer head space, he would've thought this was planned.

"u-uh, please." you whimper against his lips, lifting your hips a little to meet his.

it's quite cute how pathetic you look right now. struggling for more. logan latches his lips to your neck, leaving dark maroon bites behind as he moves further south.

at the waistband of your panties, logan nips at the skin on your hipbone, leaving behind a pretty mark to match the others. he craved to be closer to you. pressing his nose into the wet patch and inhaling sharply, grunting at your essence.

a loud squeal falls from your lips as you lazily try to push him away. too embarrassed by the lewd action. nonetheless, logan refuses to move until he's had enough. licking over the cotton and making out with your covered cunt.

"l-logan!" you gasp as he flips you over on your belly with your ass in the air.

the sound of the material ripping fills the room. this was better than logan could've imagined. the sight of your throbbing cunt as it cries for his attention, and only his.

"prettiest fuckin' pussy i've ever seen." he marvels under his breath. "gonna let me use it how i please, princess?"

"mhm." you nod, trying to look back at him. "it's yours, lo."

your words send him on a spiral, he sinks you down on his tongue so he can fuck you at his pace. exploring your walls and reveling in your taste. no dessert in the world could compare to you.

logan grinds against your mattress, desperately seeking relief. not that he's complaining. he's more than happy with his position; and so are you.

there will be bruises on your hips tomorrow, without a doubt because of how tightly logan's gripping your hips. keeping you right where he wants you to be.

"n-need more, please." you moan, fists balling up the sheets.

"what a greedy fuckin' baby." logan says, pulling off of a second to replace his tongue with two thick fingers, stretching you out for him.

pretty little 'uh, uh, uh's' spill from your lips every time you bounce back on logan's fingers. he's hypnotized by the way you manage to coat his finger with your slick. dripping down his palm and onto your sheets.

"look 'atcha, sweetheart." he mutters, doubtful that you can hear him over the obscene sounds coming from your pussy. "struggling to take my fingers. gotta stretch ya' for my cock. think you can take it?"

"mhm!" you answer, feeling a trail of kisses on the back of your thighs as logan speeds up his thrusts, locating your sweet spot with ease.

there's a warmth of pleasure that washes over you. it's different than anything else you've experienced. before you could even figure it out, you to gush all over logan's hand and the sheets.

"she's squeezing me so damn tight." he growls, watching as your pussy spasms from overstimulation, practically knocking the wind out of you. logan has to fight off cumming in his jeans as he licks up your release.

once logan allows you to catch your breath, you turn and say, "i've never um, never done that before."

"fuck." logan curses, smacking his palm down on your ass. "it won't be the last time tonight."

the sound of logan undoing his belt echos in the room. lining the head up to your entrance and slowly sinking into you. your eyes roll back into your head at the stretch. similar to a cat, you arch your back and purr at the feeling.

"f-feel so full." you moan as he picks up his pace.

"that's it, princess." he grunts, moving his hand down your back and wrapping it into your hair. "tell me how good it feels."

and you don't waste a single second to do so.

"you're s-so big, can feel you e-everywhere." you reply in between heavy breaths.

the hand wrapped in your hair tugs you forward so your back is against his chest. with his lips pressed against your ear, he mutters, "everywhere, huh?"

you nod, digging your nails into his thighs with each thrust. his other hand travels from your breast to your lower torso underneath the nightgown. your eyes shoot open as soon as he lightly pushes down.

"can you feel me right here?" he asks, slowing down his strokes for you to focus.

when you don't respond right away, the hand in your hair moves to your jaw, gripping it and angling your gaze down to the large bulge in your belly. you always knew logan was larger than the average man but you didn't even think this was possible.

"y-yes!" you whimper loudly, needing him to go faster.

logan's not religious by any means but in that moment, he wishes he could personally thank god for everyone being gone tonight. he can't imagine having to muffle your little moans right now while he starts pounding back into you.

"gimme kiss, please?" you whisper in between the lewd wet smacks of his heavy balls against your ass.

how could logan turn down his sweet girl? even while being ruined, you still managed to use your manners.

the two of you sloppily make out, exploring each other. he swallows all the whimpers you let out against his lips. except the one from when logan pulls back.

"what are you–?"

"open your mouth and stick out your tongue for me." logan demanded, staring down at you like a feral animal.

you obey, opening up for him like he asks. logan spits on top your tongue, feeling your tight cunt flutter around him. clenching at the taste of him.

"swallow." he says, watching you do so. "what a good girl."

"i'm so f-fucking close, lo." your head falls back against his shoulder as your vision turns white, stars behind your eye lids.

"me too." logan warns. " 'ya gonna let me fill you up, sweetheart? bet you wanna be full of me, to carry my seed? isn't that right?"

he knows you're too far gone, babbling incoherent sentences and soft pleas. the tiny, "mhm" and head nod give him the okay to cum inside you.

"s-shit!" he curses. "you're so tight, practically suffocating me, baby."

his orgasm triggers another for you, milking him until both of you are struggling for air. the room felt like the inside of a sauna and reeks of sex.

"got another one in you, pretty girl?" logan asks, slowly pulling out of you.

"y-yeah." you answer, letting him move you how he wanted.

logan slips your nightgown off of you and lays you down on your back again. this time fully taking in your form. every curve, dimple and scar. he makes sure to pay your breasts some attention, taking one in his mouth and massages the other, pinching and rolling your nipple until your whining. desperately you attempt to rub your pussy against his abs, gaining very little friction from it.

if he wasn't in this rut, he would've taken more time to appreciate this. next time he will.

you open up for him again and he slips in with ease. logan brings your thighs to your chest, folding you in half.

"harder, please." you beg, staring up at him with those wide eyes that he's a sucker for.

"i don't want to hurt you, baby." he grunts, trying to restrain himself.

"i can take it, lo." you tell him, stroking his cheek with your much smaller thumb. "i know you need it right now."

instead of answering with words, logan bends down and kisses you in a more tender way than before. as soon as he picks up his thrusts, you tug softly at his locks, making his hips stir and lose rhythm for a second.

"you like it rough, don't 'ya, princess?" he grunts in your neck while his thumb moves to rub circles on your clit. "fuck, my cum is just spilling out of you."

a tear rolls down your cheek, only further encouraging logan. licking up the salty tear before it falls off your skin. never in your life have you felt so dirty.

"please, need to feel you logan." you whimper and he knows exactly what you mean.

"don't worry, baby. i'm close." he says, feeling you flutter around him.

logan's gaze stays locked on where the two of you are connected, watching him slide in and out of you. almost drooling at the image of his cock in your stomach.

within minutes, you're soaking his cock like you did his fingers. slick landing all over logan's sculpted torso. your fingers gather some before bringing them to his lips, letting him lick them clean.

a loud animalistic growl signals his release, painting your walls again for the second time tonight.

both of you lay stuck together. neither ready to let go of each other just yet. on the floor, you notice something light blue peaking out of the back pocket of his discarded jeans.

"so that's where my panties went?" you giggle, capturing logan's attention.

"yeah..." his voice raspy and deeper than usual. "sorry 'bout that, sweetheart."

"it's okay." you reply. "but next time that you get these 'cravings', come to me and i'll help y–"

logan cuts you off on with the rock of his hips and the wet slosh of your ruined cunt. before you can even moan, he's grabbed your white panties next to you and shoves them in your mouth.

fuck, he should've come to you sooner.

– tags: @hazydespair @itsmemuffy @wolvndmouth @nightingale-slayer @melday0105 @collector-of-furby-furs @solistarrs @atomicmystery @milfsarefineashell @ohfourgotten @keerygal @shewolverinesworld @tezooks @spookysquids @llorentezete @actuallybridgetjones @planetxella @silversprings-mp3 @coocoocachewgotscrewed @lethallyprotected @laweona150 @sturnsvoid @emoevanafton @slowlikehoneyyy @ginnylupin @omnivirgo @shiv-r @buckyssugarchick @ayamenimthiriel @balariie @ssloveslogan @stabbedfawn @dxddyspup @leggomiegg0

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demonic0angel · 1 month ago

Note

Duke: Thanks for the copy of lecture notes. I owe you one

Jazz: you can pay me back by introducing me to the guy that picked you up last Tuesday

Duke: guy?

Jazz: with the bike

Duke:

Jazz: white patch in his hair

Duke: Jason?

(… out of everyone, you chose Duke? 😭 /nm)

Part 2

Duke approached Jason like he was walking to the guillotine.

Jason raised an eyebrow. He stepped off of his bike, inspecting him. “What’s wrong with you?”

Duke sighed deeply. Then he handed him a piece of paper. Jason stared at it blankly without taking it. When Duke pushed it into his face, Jason finally snatched it and looked at the contents, which were a string of neatly written numbers. A phone number, to be exact.

“… okay. Is this your teacher’s number or something?” Jason was especially baffled. Usually, it was a combination of Dick, Alfred, or Bruce who made the phone calls to teachers. Sometimes, it was Tim, but it was never Jason.

“No. A friend of mine wanted to give you her phone number.”

Jason sneered, crinkling the paper. He was about to toss it away when Duke suddenly said, “You’ll regret that.”

Jason paused, still clenching the paper. “Pardon?”

Duke sighed. “I know I’m going to regret this, but you’ll regret it even more than me if you throw that paper away. I swear to Nightwing’s ass, she is absolutely your type. You’re making the biggest mistake of your life if you throw that away.”

“I’m pretty sure the biggest mistake of my life was dying,” Jason deadpanned.

Duke rolled his eyes. He pulled out his phone, scrolled for a moment, and then brought up his Instagram feed, where an image of a woman was sitting at a table, smiling at the camera.

She was drop dead gorgeous, enchanting enough to make the dead revive to see her one last time, lovely enough to make the clouds move to use the sun’s light as a spotlight for her, and beautiful enough to cause a world war if she even shed a single tear.

She had red hair like fire lilies, eyes like crystalline waters, looked tall, and had a sense of otherworldliness to her like she was a goddess from heaven that came to the mortal realm to grace everyone with her presence.

Jason scrubbed his eyes and looked again, eyes nearly falling from his skull. He blinked rapidly, almost wondering if this was real.

Was it humanly possible to be this good-looking?

“I know,” Duke deadpanned, sounding like he had aged 60 years in an instant. “And yes, it’s real. I see her in real life. She likes books, is super nice and helps everyone, is a huge nerd, and likes ‘bad boys with motorcycles’. Her words, which makes me want to puke.”

Jason unclenched his suddenly sweaty palms, quickly smoothed out the paper, and then clapped Duke on the shoulder. “You’ve done me a great service today,” Jason said gravely. “I won’t ever forget your help today.”

“I think I’m going to throw myself off the Clocktower,” Duke said.

“You have helped create a union of two hearts on this day. I could shine your shoes right now if you wanted.”

“Please don’t. Seeing you on your knees would make me actually lose my lunch for real.”

#I say instagram but I recommend to everyone to delete the app (but keep your account so you can strain insta’s resources >:))#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom x dc #dp x dc crossover #ask #anon ask #jazz fenton #jason todd #duke thomas #anger management ship #hardcover ship #jason x jazz #lmaooo ty for the ask

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euthymiya · 1 month ago

Text

like a lotus in spring, you are mine to bloom — ft. alhaitham

synopsis: at twenty one, you’re just a girl he meets as he trains for the role of scribe. at twenty four, you’ve become everything he loves in this world. after three years of knowing you and nearly two and a half decades of life, alhaitham finally realizes why his father left letters for his mother instead of just saying the words outloud

❤︎ word count: 7.7k words — we find ourselves here in the same old situation again, i see LOL pls give it a chance though!! plssss

❤︎ before you read: female reader ; 18+ content — not suitable for minors ; not proof read ; strangers to friends to lovers ; mutual pining but not at the same time for a bit (he falls first <3) ; jealous alhaitham ; hinted drunk sex ; getting together + love confessions ; alhaitham character story spoilers + references to his grandmother and parents ; semi-clothed unprotected sex ; no prep ; some nipple play ; creampie ; the cringiest love letter at the end LOL

❤︎ comments: guys every time i write alhaitham it’s so corny and cheesy but . he is my fav genshin guy of all time i deserve to be allowed this okay

TWENTY ONE.

You’re still a student when you first meet Alhaitham. (Not a student for much longer, but a student all the same. With a little luck on your side and good graces from your darshan’s sage on your thesis, you’re expected to graduate in just a few short months.)

You don’t have the best first meet. In fact, your impression of Alhaitham starts off entirely on the wrong foot.

He’s newly graduated, just freshly rewarded a degree for his (impressive) efforts, and is now well on his way to training for the role of scribe—you heard he was offered far more prestigious roles, but for some reason, a genius like him settled for a role like that. You try not to judge. People have their passions, after all, and if that’s what he wants to do, well…who are you to make comments? (But amongst a school that only houses the brilliant, Alhaitham is, very undoubtedly, a standout. It’s hard to stand out in a school filled with only the best minds, but he manages to do so with ease. Sometimes, you’re almost jealous. You can’t help but wonder why he doesn’t aim a little higher than he does.)

He trains in the house of Daena. His first order of training is to fact-check ordinance drafts using books so he can better get the hang of drafting them himself in the future. You’re also in the House of Daena to find the last book for your thesis—after weeks of begging, you’re finally granted access to the restricted section to find it.

And you do. Except your palm meets warm skin instead of the cold leather cover of a book. You pause, glancing up as sharp, teal eyes meet your gaze, staring at you expectantly as if you should be the one letting go. But you need this book. It’s the final research element to finish your thesis, and you’d like to be done with it. End of story. No matter how devastatingly handsome the man (because he is handsome, you’ll admit at least that much), you will not be handing over the last, final key to your academic freedom.

“Um, excuse me,” you say politely, “I was kind of reaching for that.”

“As was I,” he says, staring at you with a bored, almost uncaring expression. Your eyes narrow. “Now, if you’d please kindly take your hand off of mine.”

“I believe it should be you taking your hand off of mine,” you correct, huffing as you add stubbornly, “I reached for it first.”

He blinks at you, bland and a little irritated, as he points out, “Your hand is on top of mine, which means I reached the book first.”

Well.

Maybe if you were feeling particularly patient, you’d be inclined to admit that, yes, he does have a point. But stubbornness, combined with pure exhaustion, has you at your wit's end, and if you have to play the role of a difficult student, then so be it. You’re pretty sure you need it more, and you’re probably a much speedier reader anyway. You’ll have it done and returned in no time.

This guy, on the other hand…he doesn’t look too bright. You’re not willing to take your chances and let him walk off with a book that you might never see again.

“I started reaching for it first,” you scowl, “you just sped up your hand once you saw me. I should get it.”

“Unlikely,” he scoffs, “I didn’t even see you. Although,” he gives you a once over with his eyes, making you feel uncomfortably seen under his judging gaze, “I suppose you were a bit easy to miss.”

You gape at him. “Just what does that mean?”

“It means,” he smirks, taking the opportunity to grab the book as you stand in shock, “that I got here first.”

“Hey!” You glare at him, seeing red for a moment. What a perfectly good waste of a perfectly handsome face—and such an awful attitude coupled with his ridiculously smug grin couldn’t make for a worse combination. But, before you can even say anything, the book is being pressed back into your hands.

“You seem like you want it more than I do, though,” he hums, “I suppose I can let you have it. It’s a bit outdated for this ordinance, anyway.” With that, he saunters off. You push down the soft flutter in your heart for a moment and force yourself to hope you’ll never see him again. (Faintly, you hope your wishes don’t come true—but you refuse to admit it to yourself.)

Unfortunately (and fortunately at the same time) for you, you do see him again. Many, many times, in fact. When he works in the House of Daena as often as he does, and you like to spend all your free time there to study if you can, you’re both bound to run into each other often. Very often.

And sometimes, it’s quite literally running into him.

“Oof,” you hiss, staggering backward and hitting your head against the bookshelf behind you as you bump into a sturdy figure. You drop the books in your hand, blinking before reaching to rub your read as you start to apologize. “Sorry, I didn’t see you—oh. It’s you.”

“It’s me,” he says, looking mildly entertained. Alhaitham is everywhere. Everywhere. You can’t escape him if you try, and now, you can’t even avoid him in your own personal space. “Although, I think I should be the one apologizing this time. I was too busy reading to pay attention. This section is usually empty at this time.”

“How often are you in here to know what section is empty at what time?” You raise a brow.

“Too often to be considered good for my well-being,” he says dryly, sighing in misery. You crack a smile at that. Oddly enough, so does he—you don’t think you’ve ever heard someone say they’ve seen Alhaitham smile. It must be a rare sight that only you, and perhaps a very few others, can say they’ve witnessed. “I was just about to take a break to buy a coffee—I’ll bring one back for you, too, to make up for the cranial damage I’ve supplied.”

“A most wonderful idea,” you perk up instantly, “I love when I get to drain the wallet of a man.”

He gives you an amused look at that. And somehow, bringing you a coffee along with his own during his breaks is a habit that seems to stick for a long, long while after that.

────────────────────────

TWENTY TWO.

Alhaitham’s feelings are hurt. Not a lot of words tend to do that—he’s been blessed with thick skin and an unbothered attitude to a fault, sometimes. But something about today, for some odd reason, hurts his feelings.

Your words to the waiter who took your order keep ringing in his head.

Oh goodness, no, we are definitely not dating!

Most people mistake you and Alhaitham for a pair of lovers rather than a pair of friends. It’s just the way things go when a man and a woman are seen together for extended periods of time over and over. It doesn’t help that Alhaitham doesn’t really have any friends. He had one before you, but…well, things are complicated now. Far too complicated to think about it more than necessary. He has you, and that’s enough. But the matter still stands that most people tend to assume that something blossoms between the two of you that isn’t just friendly.

He was starting to think it was true himself, too. He knows it’s true from his end, at least. But you say those words with such a sure, definitive tone that it almost sounds like you’re offended by the notion of being seen as his girlfriend. And sure, he would be disappointed—he’s no liar—if you didn’t feel romantically for him, but he’d understand. It’s not something you can help. But you brush off the idea like it’s an anomaly of sorts in the universe for someone like you and someone like Alhaitham to be a couple. It hurts his feelings. More than it should.

(He knows deep down, in the depths of his heart, that you don’t mean it that way. You never would. But irrationality is but one of many feelings that bloom when it comes to romance.)

Alhaitham knows from a young age he’s different than most kids his age. This fact doesn’t change as he gets older. He’s brighter than most of his peers—which is certainly saying something because Sumeru is a nation filled with enough sharp minds, it’s as though brilliance were the average trait. People don’t typically like Alhaitham (which is fine by him, he doesn’t like most of them, either. They mostly don’t meet his standards). The kids don’t play with him in the parks that Grandmother would leave him at while she shopped around at the market, and they don’t sit with him on his one and only day at the Akademiya when he is but an elementary scholar. It never bothered him. He preferred reading under the trees and self-learning at home, anyway. When he’s older and enrolled in the Akademiya full-time, they don’t prefer to partner with him for projects for any other reason than simply being guaranteed a good grade, and they don’t spare him a glance when they all converse in groups outside of class. He never cared for freeloaders, anyway—he only trusts himself for projects, and he is at the Akademiya to learn, not make friends.

It’s not until he meets Kaveh does he consider the idea that friendships are meaningful enough to spare some effort into. But the end result of that only solidifies that he is best when in solitude.

But then he meets you. Some part of Alhaitham knows very early on that you would never be just a friend to him. If it was friendship that he craved, he would have looked for it elsewhere before running into you. Something about you from the very beginning makes him yearn for things much deeper than that. Things that remind him of his parents.

Friendship is fleeting. People at the Akademiya go their separate ways and meet new people. They fall out and have arguments. They grow up and grow apart and become different. But love blooms like the Kalpalata lotuses on a vine, timeless as time itself. It starts and never ends, one root stemming into more and more vines until they never stop growing.

Alhaitham has fallen in love with you. Logic tells him it’s only a recent development, but his heart has known this outcome would be brought about for a long, long time. And, in all truthfulness, your words have hurt his feelings.

And yet, he still loves you through it. He thinks that even if you crushed his feelings with a cold, indifferent smile, he would still love you through it.

A hand waves in front of his face, pulling him from his thoughts as you take a sip from your coffee. Puspa Cafe is not as busy at this hour, most people are in the middle of a work day, but Alhaitham is allowed to pick his lunch hour, and yours happens to be earlier than most.

“Sorry, I just have to ask—are…are you upset?” you ask gently, making him pause.

Yes.

“No,” he says simply, “why would I be?”

“You seem upset.”

“I’m not.”

“You were fine up until…I don’t know, a few minutes ago. Is something on your mind?”

You know him so well, he thinks. How could you not see how perfect the two of you are together?

“I’m simply concerned about your sugar intake is all,” he eyes the cold, iced drink in your hands with more syrups than he deems necessary. You always have a penchant for choosing the sweetest drink off the menu, and Alhaitham will never understand how your teeth don’t rot.

“Well, that’s very funny,” you roll your eyes, “because I was just thinking about how low on vitamin D you must be—do you ever leave your study to see the sun?”

He spares you a soft chuckle at that, shaking his head before taking a sip of his own coffee—hot and black and with two spoons of sugar. Simple, like how he prefers. You make a face at his drink as he sets it down.

“Have you ever thought about what you look for in a partner?” he asks suddenly, making you blink in shock for a moment. He flinches at his own forwardness just a tad.

“Umm, I suppose a little here and there…why do you ask?”

“No reason,” he shrugs, “just curious what your type was, that’s all. You’re painfully single, so I figured your taste was rather distinct.”

“Rude,” you scoff, rolling your eyes enough that he thinks it’s safe to assume you’re not suspicious. “Are you here just to poke fun at my choices today?”

Alhaitham should not be asking you this. Not when the answer so clearly is going to hurt his already very bruised feelings. Of course, your type won’t be him. And, of course, he is going to mourn your answer the second you give it, which is his own fault considering he’s the one who asked. (He has to wonder, for a moment, if this constitutes as an undiscovered hidden kink of his and whether or not he really just gets off on some unnecessary pain. Why else would he willingly subject himself to this?)

But, he’s caught off guard when you shrug and simply say, “I suppose someone who’s intelligent. I’d appreciate some good discussions. And…and maybe someone who’s kind, y’know? I would be rather sad if they were mean,” you pretend to sniffle dramatically.

“That’s…that’s it?” He tilts his head in equal parts shock and equal parts confusion.

“What did you expect me to look for in a partner?” You snort, “A three-story mansion? A rock-solid, chiseled chest to lay on?”

“Well, no,” he rolls his eyes, “Maybe something a bit less generic to narrow down your pool, I suppose, but if that’s your bar, so be it. There are far too many men who are intelligent and kind, you know.”

“Yes, but none of them show me any signs of interest,” you pout, “I must be undesirable or something.”

I desire you, he wants to say. He can’t quite find the courage to get the words out, though—and as if the universe has it completely out for him, the same waiter from earlier who is responsible for asking you the question that kills Alhaitham’s mood for the day comes back with the bill. And something else, too.

Something that kills his mood for the week.

His jaw clenches a tad when you flush at the note scribbled on a napkin for you, eyeing your flustered reaction while you read over the words: I get off at eight if you’d like to find me. You stare for a moment before you murmur, “Well, look at that. A sign of interest—it must be the Dendro Archon’s divine power.”

“The Divine have no say over who you fall for,” he insists.

“You don’t know that,” you hum thoughtfully, “The God of Wisdom knows her people better than anyone else, you know. I’d like to think she knows when love is bound for two people.”

You fold the napkin carefully and keep it in your pocket, and Alhaitham fishes out his mora pouch with stiff fingers. He leaves a very shoddy tip on the table before he exits after you.

────────────────────────

TWENTY THREE.

You wake up in his bed.

It’s a foggy memory, but you know you fucked Alhaitham after more sips of wine than you can count and one flirty comment too many. It happened in a blur last night, and you can’t say you’re surprised that it finally happened at all. Alhaitham is a man just like any other, and mingling pleasure with friendship is a normal thing to do. Falling under him on his mattress is not something you never had daydreams of—but the truth of the matter is that your daydreams don’t just stop with the bed.

They end with a toothbrush beside his in the bathroom. A mug next to his in the kitchen. Your shoes kicked off along with his at the entrance of a home. Your laughter and his bouncing off of the walls. A ring, maybe. One on your hand and one on his.

In your imagination, it starts with pleasure, but it ends with love.

Falling in love with Alhaitham is a peaceful ordeal. He’s dependable and inherently kind. Strong and impressively capable. Intelligent and objectively handsome. You’d bring him home to your mother and father, and they’d thank Lord Kusanali for smiling down upon their humble little family and their darling little daughter by sending such a divine man your way.

You don’t think you can pinpoint when exactly it is you started to love this boy, but you know loving him became as simple as breathing. You never thought about it. Never learned to do it. Never questioned it, even. You inhale the scent of his spicy, woody cologne and exhale the warm breath of your affections stored in your lungs. He lives somewhere nestled so deep in your ribcage that you think you’d have to crack each of them one after the other before you could pry him out.

You love Alhaitham. You think you know everything there is to know about loving him. You think you’d do it right—better than anyone else.

He only drinks his coffee when it’s piping hot, and his wine can never be one degree less than iced. He has dry hands, but he hates the feeling of lotion. He doesn’t like raw onions but he doesn’t mind them cooked. When the sun is in his eyes, he’s in a foul mood, but he enjoys napping under the warm rays, much like a cat. He laughs surprisingly boyishly from his belly if you manage to deliver a dry yet clever enough joke, and he clears his throat and gets a bit shy once he’s realized he’s let it out. He twirls his pen in his hand when he’s bored, and he only uses the kind with gel ink because they write smoother.

You love Alhaitham. For you, it’s always been him.

When you wake up to his bare, warm body next to yours, breathing peacefully with an arm thrown over your waist, you can’t help but selfishly wish he’d stay asleep all day. Just for a day. Just for the amount of time you get in between the sun’s departure and the moon’s arrival. Just so you can watch him exist in this moment where it’s you, him, and the liminal space between friends and lovers. Just so you can admire how beautiful he is without worrying about his eyes opening and the inevitable conversation of what you’re both doing is brought up.

People (like Kaveh, or Dehya, or Tighnari, or…anyone) tend to insist that Alhaitham loves you. It’s obvious, they say, just as obvious as your love for him. You never believe it. It’s not because he’s bad at love or because you’re bad for him. You think he’d make a good lover—contrary to popular belief, you don’t think Alhaitham is uninterested in intimacy or affection. And you think you’d make a good girlfriend—unlike other people, you understand him and like what you see.

But he doesn’t love you. That much is a fact you’ve long accepted. It’s not because you’re bad for him or because he’s incapable of feeling—but rather, it’s just that bitter, soul-crushing reality that you can’t help who you love and who you don’t. Alhaitham doesn’t love you—it’s not something either of you can really change. Because if he did, he’d waste no time. He’d get to the heart of the matter and quit dancing around the issue.

It’s just the kind of guy that he is.

So, because this is your first and likely last time seeing him this way, you slowly reach over and brush a few strands of messy, unruly bedhead from his forehead before cupping his cheek in your hand. His skin is soft and warm under your palm, much more delicate to the touch than you anticipated from how chiseled his features are. Your thumb gently brushes along the slant of his cheekbone, eyes softening at how he lets out a puff of air as he sleeps.

“Morning,” he says hoarsely, eyes still closed and making you jolt in surprise. He lets out a quiet, sleepy chuckle that would make you melt if not for the way your heart still pounds from the shock.

“You’re awake?”

“Mhm,” he hums, nodding before finally cracking an eye open. “For a while now.”

“Why pretend to sleep then, you creep?” You scoff, glaring at him as he sits up slightly and glances at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. No part of him seems to be shocked about you being nude in his bed. Or the fact that you’re even in his bed at all, nude or not.

“You’re the creep if we’re being technical here. It’s undoubtedly a little on the creepy side to study someone with such careful touches while they sleep.”

“That’s your main concern…?” You stare at him—and for lack of better words, you’re dumbfounded. You and Alhaitham have been friends for two years and counting. You’ve never once crossed the line or even toed at it to step beyond the border of anything more. And, yet, here you are. In his bed. Completely nude. He was lying there and felt your delicate touch along his skin, felt you act like a lover and not a friend on a quiet, intimate morning when in fact, you both should be shamefully avoiding each other’s eyes in a moment that’s anything but intimate as you leave.

He makes no move to ask you to leave or even question why you’re still here. You make no move to really leave—it’s not like you want to.

“What should my main concern be, then?” he looks at you expectantly, like he really doesn’t know.

“Oh, I don’t know, Alhaitham—shouldn’t you be a little more panicked by the idea that I’ve trespassed into your bed and seen you…bare?”

“Well, to be fair, you didn’t trespass. I let you in—and also, to be fair, I saw the same for you, too, so we’re even.”

“You’re oddly calm about this,” you hiss. “This doesn’t bother you even a little? That things might change?”

He looks at you funny—like you’ve just told him a joke that hardly makes sense but makes him want to laugh anyway. “You’re too brilliant to be this dense,” he murmurs. “Maybe I’m quite open to the idea of change.”

You take offense to the first part enough to completely miss the second part of his statement.

“I am not dense,” you huff, “I’m incredibly bright. I’ll have to send you my thesis sometime.”

“No need,” he responds through a low hum. He pulls you closer, flush against his chest. Bare skin on skin. Intimate skin, at that. You shiver for a moment as his warm, large hand wanders lower and lower before stopping just at the small of your back, rubbing slow circles at the dimple where your spine ends. “I’ve read it plenty of times. It was very insightful.”

“Well, in that case, you should know not to insult my intelligence—”

“If you don’t notice my affection for you, I’m afraid you might not be as observant as I initially thought.”

You pause. Your heart flutters. Then it feels like it decays. Your eyes widen a fraction. Then they feel like they need to be squeezed shut for fear of tears. You feel your fingers twitch to reach for him. And yet they stiffen in distrust.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you whisper. Because you don’t.

You really fucking don’t. You thought you knew. His feelings and how to read them. His thoughts and how his mind works. Every little quirk of his and how he approaches every damn thing in this world. You thought you knew.

Now you feel like you don’t know much of anything, especially not what he means right in this moment.

“You don’t?” He whispers, hand moving to grab your wrist and bring it to his cheek so his lips can brush along the delicate lines of your palm prints. (If he was brave, he’d tell you that his destiny and yours are written in those very lines. Maybe someday he’ll build the courage.)

“No,” you say through a shaky whisper. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I love you. Just like you love me.” He says it so plainly, that you almost feel like it's a dry, cruel joke. (You know him a little better than that, though, to know he’d never.)

“How do you know I love you?” you challenge just because it’s all you have left to cling to—easy, instant denial.

He laughs. Soft. Quiet. Melodic. So fucking sweet. “I’m too smart to act dense,” Alhaitham teases. And then, for a moment, his eyes soften enough that they almost look vulnerable. “And only someone who loves me could deal with my… peculiarities. Though, I will admit, it took me quite a while to reach this conclusion. You made me work for it.”

“If you’ve known all along—”

“Not all along,” he corrects, “like I said, it took me a while to come to this conclusion. But once I did, it was rather obvious.”

You scowl with a finger prodding into his chest, eyes misty with relief and the faintest traces of agitation, “Well, regardless, why haven’t you said something all this time? Obviously, I wasn’t as aware as you seem to be, so the least you could have done is spared me the pining and heartbreak of wondering if you’d ever look at me—”

“I wanted to make sure I could offer you a peaceful life first,” he says gently. You blink. He smiles, eyeing something in the distance—you don’t quite catch it, but you think it might be the old, worn-out stack of envelopes sitting on his desk.

“What?”

“When you’re with me,” he whispers, leaning in so that his lips brush over yours, “I can lead a peaceful life. I wanted to make sure I could give you the same.”

“And what does that consist of?” you raise a brow.

“Well,” he murmurs, pecking the corner of your mouth, “A stable job with a generous income, which I now have. A fixed schedule, which I have also negotiated. A proper home to house the both of us, which you are comfortably laying in. And…” he grabs your hand, bringing it to his chest where his heart is beating erratically, “A rock-solid, chiseled chest to lay on, which I have dedicatedly worked to add to my physique for you.”

“Haitham!” you squeal, shoving him away with a horrified shriek as he laughs with a wide grin. You don’t even know why he still remembers that comment to poke fun at it, but you suppose that is the tragedy of falling for a prodigious scholar. His mind is sharp. And so is his memory. “Enough!”

“Okay, okay,” he grins smugly. “I want us to lead a peaceful life.”

“There’s not a lot of peace I am counting on with you.”

“I will elect to ignore that statement,” he says dryly, “But that’s why I waited this long,” he buries his face into your neck, nose pressing into the skin as he inhales, “I’m afraid I can’t wait any longer, though. Won’t you accept my frugal attempt at a serene life with you?”

“Perhaps I can make do,” you fight back a stupid grin.

He smiles into your neck. You can feel it. You can practically see it. You hope you’ll grow old with it, too.

“Then I suppose I’m forever indebted to your graciousness, my love.”

────────────────────────

TWENTY FOUR.

When Alhaitham was eight, Grandmother told him the story of how his parents had fallen in love. It was a typical love story, he thought at the time—nothing overly special or unique. A simple, sweet bond between two people who became friends and something more along the way.

What stood out were the letters. Not very much at first, but with time, he’d realized how special they were.

Grandmother handed him the letters with a soft, melancholy look in her eyes that made him realize he hadn’t just lost his father and mother. She had lost her son and daughter-in-law. Alhaitham felt the absence of his parents often. It was hard not to at that age—he didn’t have a father to throw a ball to or tag along with to the market. He didn’t have a mother to hum him a melody or make his favorite dish for dinner. But Grandmother filled the gaps in those places well enough that even if his heart bled, not too much blood spilled between the cracks.

But he was no son. Not a proper one for her at her age, anyway. She raised him like he was her own, but she grew older every day, and he didn’t grow fast enough to keep up. He couldn’t take care of her in her old age the way his father would have. He couldn’t do much besides bring the vegetables for her to cut or set the table while she cooked. He couldn’t offer her the mora when she went to the market or carry too many of the heavy bags while they walked home. He couldn’t let her rest in her old age too much because, regardless of how mature and bright he was for his age, Alhaitham was just a child. Her child, nonetheless—Grandmother didn’t let him forget that fact. But a child.

When she died, he arranged the funeral alone. He didn’t cry throughout the whole ordeal. Her old colleagues from way back in her Akademiya days came, as did some of his parents’ old acquaintances. No one he knew too familiarly, though—no one who really mattered when they clasped his shoulder and told him to hang in there.

She was a good woman. He knew that already.

She was very intelligent. A very obvious fact.

She was exceptionally kind. A rather unsurprising observation.

She loved very deeply. Well. That one stung—as true as it might have been.

He remembers it so vividly still. How he had walked home alone after it all. How he had taken off his tie (a very poorly tied tie, at that—Grandmother had always helped him before) and silently entered his room.

It wasn’t until he had eyed his desk that finally, it all sank in. The notes—the ones his father had so carefully written his mother while they were still just starting to fall in love, sat there as if waiting for him. He read them one by one, just like he had so many times before. He didn’t realize he’d started crying until a rivulet of his sorrow landed from his cheek to the page, staining the paper a darker shade of heartache.

Alone.

That’s all Alhaitham had ever been since the tender age of four. At least, that’s what people had always thought—but he’d never felt the sorrow people tended to feel for him. Not having a father and mother was okay. Hard at times, but okay. Grandmother had been everything he needed. More than what he needed, in fact.

Grandmother was everything. And she had left him just the same way his parents had. He’d cried that night—alone in a house that was nothing more than just a house. Not a home, not a place where he could return to and look forward to it. Not a place where love was waiting for him to shelter him as soon as he came back from the cruel, outside world.

Grandmother was gone. Mother and father had left so long ago. But they all had each other—in whatever world they’d crossed to, they’d had each other.

He remembers it all so vividly still. How he’d read his father’s words, and for the first time in all his life, he’d craved it. What his parents had.

To my love, my soul, my heart. I am yours, always.

He wondered that night, through teary and blurry eyes, if love like that would ever find him. If he’d one day be able to call someone his love, soul, and heart.

He thinks now, as you laugh with your head tilted forward and a tweezer in hand while sitting on his lap, that he can.

“Hold still, you,” comes your teasing remark, “you said this would be nothing. Now look at you.”

“You’re being too harsh,” he grumbles, pouting slightly. With a smile, you bend your neck down and press a soft kiss to his jutted lips, humming before pressing an extra one to the corner of his mouth for good measure. (And yes, the grand sage—acting, you can almost hear him correct in your own head—can pout. He is rather frequent at curling those lips of his in your presence when he wants something, in fact. Or when he is teased too much. Something about you brings about a side of him that is much less stoic and far more dramatized.)

“You can just admit it hurts, you know,” you say through an amused snort.

“It won’t hurt if you just do it right.”

“I’m an expert at tweezing eyebrows,” you huff, “I do mine all the time. And I would know that it hurts.”

“It can’t be that painful,” he clicks his teeth, “just be gentle.”

“I cannot gently pull out a hair from your follicle, Haitham—I don’t know what you want me to—hey!”

He grabs the tweezers from your hand and pulls you close, hugging you tight enough that his nose digs into your skin a bit as he buries it into your neck. It’s Saturday. His first out of two days off for the week—standard scribe work weeks are nine to five on weekdays, and he very much appreciates his weekends away from the bustling, lively Akademiya nonsense.

Saturday happens to be your day off, too.

“Where is Kaveh?” you ask quietly, playing with the hem of his shirt. He raises a brow, eyeing the suspicious movement of your fingers.

“Working with a client in Aaru Village. He won’t be back until tomorrow evening. Why am I not enough company for you?”

“Oh, be quiet,” you roll your eyes, and this time, your hands wander under his shirt, palms slowly dragging along his chiseled, planed abdomen while he shivers slightly under your touch. “I was just asking if…”

“If…?” he urges you to continue.

You know he knows. But, for the sake of indulging his smug, teasing little game, you huff and push his shirt up to expose his chest before murmuring, “If we would be interrupted or not. I don’t fancy such awkward run-ins with your roommate.”

“Our roommate,” he corrects, “this is your home, too.”

“Yes,” you smile, brushing your palms over his pectorals, watching as he stiffens when you graze along his nipples, “I suppose it is.”

“Well, he’s not here. And he won’t be, so kiss me,” he demands through a breathy whisper. You do. You kiss him instantly—because kissing Alhaitham is what you do best. When he’s happy, sad, angry, distressed, or just plain tired, kissing him is how you know him the most. When your breaths exchange and your life force and his mingle to become one, singular unit.

You sigh into his mouth, letting his hands cradle your jaw and tilt your head to better meet his mouth, all while your hands still explore his upper half. He moans under your touch, cock springing to life slowly below you through his pants. You angle your hips forward, inching higher up his lap to drag your crotch along his and help the erection grow against the friction.

“Fuck,” he hisses, hard and heavy between his legs in no time.

“Haitham,” you breathe, feeling that familiar ache build between your own thighs.

You kiss him like that for a bit. Messy, deep, sloppy, and so, so slow. With all the time in the world. Languid strokes of your tongue against his as he rolls his hips up from underneath you, dragging his clothed, bulging cock against your dripping cunt. The fabric separates you, rudely so, and it’s not long until you both grow tired of it.

“Off,” you whine, tugging at his pants, “off, off, off!”

“So demanding,” he chuckles, pecking your nose sweetly before he lifts his hips, letting you slide off his sweatpants. “Satisfied?”

“Yes,” you beam, “You always give me what I want. It’s my favorite thing about you.”

His gaze darkens at that—not for any other reason than it makes him so incredibly filled with lust when you speak to him like that. So spoiled and happy about it because it’s him. Him. You’re happy that it’s him. And he’s happy that it’s you.

You don’t even bother undressing yourselves fully—he pulls down your own pants just enough to expose your pretty, leaking folds, and his hands wander under your shirt, where he almost short-circuits for a moment. Braless. Because you just love to drive him mad, he thinks. This much easy access to your soft, delicate breasts and the pert nipples that decorate them is enough to make him curse under his breath as his thumbs tease over them.

“You’re a tease.”

“For simply existing?” you gasp, making him crack a small grin.

“Yes,” he hums, “Your existence on its own teases me at all times. I’m afraid it drives me mad.”

You hum, reaching forward to gently take his hard, leaking cock into your hand and give a light, teasing squeeze. “Maybe my goal is to turn you completely into a lost cause.”

“Then,” he groans, throwing his head back against the couch cushions while he breathes harshly, “then you’re definitely succeeding. Is that what you wished to hear?”

“Yes,” you whisper, kissing his jaw, “It is, actually.”

It doesn’t take long at all before Alhaitham has tossed you back against the couch, laughing as you shriek at the sudden change of position. You glare at him, fighting back your own chorus of giggles as he moves to hover over you, kissing and biting playfully along your cheeks.

“I love you,” he mumbles.

“Aw, so sweet,” you coo, “say that again.”

He rolls his eyes. His lips curl into the brightest grin at the same time. My love, my soul, my heart—the words are ingrained in his memory always. “I love you.”

“And I love you,” you whisper.

He leans in for a soft, slow kiss as the tip of his leaking cock slides against your folds, tapping against your clit before rubbing along your entrance. You gasp, shuddering against him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

“You know,” he murmurs, “I could get used to this.”

“Sex on the couch? We can do that any time—”

“A weekend with just the two of us,” he groans, dropping his head to your neck as you laugh loudly. Bright. Airy. A sound the wind carries to him in his subconscious. He hears you even when you’re not there—even when you aren’t around, he searches for you.

“Oh,” you say playfully, “Yeah, I guess that’s nice too, isn’t it?”

“I’ll show you just how nice it’s about to be,” he hums. The tip of his thick, blunt head is pressed against your folds—you’re leaking just as much as he is. You slick, and his pre cum mix for a messy collision of arousal as he presses into you slowly, so carefully, you feel like you could break at any second with how he handles you.

He’s patient. When Alhaitham fucks you, he’s patient enough that you feel like his other half and not his means of pleasure. Like he fucks you for you and not for himself.

“More,” you insist, impatient as you add, “I can take it.”

“Patience is a virtue,” he clicks his teeth, “I want to take my time feeling you.”

And he does. He rolls his hips slowly. So slowly, you feel delirious. It’s a painful, gradual build-up of pleasure that has you trying to roll your hips into him to meet him halfway, a pathetic attempt when he’s on top of you to press his weight down on you to keep you in place.

“Please, Haitham,” you whine, sweat shining across your sweet, pleasure-hazed face as he stares down at you, “Please more. I need it—need you. Need all of you.”

“You have all of me,” he groans, feeling the tight walls of your cunt squeeze around him, the squelching noise of his thick girth bullying into your folds in and out, in and out, in and out, driving him to the brink of insanity. “You’ve always had every piece of me.”

“I want more,” you hiss.

He lets out a breathy laugh that turns into a soft moan. “If that’s what you want.”

The next thing you know, two strong, muscled arms are grabbing your thighs and bringing them around his torso to wrap around him, and his large hands grab your hips and pull, practically manhandling you deeper onto his cock. You shudder, letting out a shrill, high-pitched gasp as he intrudes further into your cunt, nudging the head of his cock against your sweetest of spots and making your body tremble.

“Haitham,” you gasp, “Haitham, fuck—fuck, you feel so good. So deep—love when you fuck me like this.”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, kissing in between your pretty little scrunched-up eyebrows, “I love fucking you like this, too. When you take me so well, squeeze so tight, and let me feel you like the good girl you are.”

His words make your folds squeeze around him, and fuck—he’s close. So fucking close, the pad of his rough, callused thumb meets your clit as he rubs circles, trying to bring you to the edge before he goes plummeting himself.

“‘M close—almost…almost there,” you pant.

“Me too, baby,” he groans. He slams into you, skin slapping against skin and the glistening sheen of it mixing your sweat together. His mouth parts with pretty, low sounds of his pleasure, and your face twists with the devastating rush of yours.

Once. Twice. A third time, and you fall apart as he thrusts into you and presses the tip of his thick length against the spongey spot in the back of your walls.

“Haitham,” you gasp, legs tightening around him as your nails press crescent shapes into his back. “Fuck, I’m c-cumming…oh, Gods.”

“Good,” he gasps, and with one last roll of his desperate hips, he spills into you, too. A thick, sticky, familiar rush of heat fills your cunt, ropes of cum painting you white within with every twitch of his aching cock. “Fuck—you feel so good. So perfect—you were made for me. Me.”

“You,” you whisper, breathless.

You let him shudder over you, fingers running through his hair as he finishes releasing his load into you before he slumps his weight over your body. It’s a small couch—decorative more than functional. (All thanks to Kaveh, of course.) But you don’t particularly care when you’re under him. It feels right all the same.

“We have the house to ourselves this weekend,” he reminds you after some time of catching your breaths. “So…so we can do this all you want.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes as you poke his forehead. “You’re obscene.”

“I’m romantic,” he corrects, “I just want to be with you and nothing else. Can’t blame a man when he’s been gifted such a beautiful sight before him.”

“And cheesy, too,” you huff.

He smiles. My love, my soul, my heart.

——————————

You wake up Monday morning to Alhaitham already gone—it’s rare that he’s ever up before you. He leaves the house just in time to make it to work exactly on the dot and not a moment sooner or a moment later. But, as is with any Akademiya position, there are quarterly meetings that even the scribe can’t avoid. You giggle at the image in your head of a grumpy Alhaitham carefully tiptoeing around the room as he miserably gets ready for an early morning of extra work, all while making sure he doesn’t wake you.

You yawn, sitting up to start your morning for your own day of work ahead—but it catches your eye before you can fully rise from bed, making you pause.

A note? No, you realize almost instantly. Not just a note—a letter:

To my love, my soul, my heart: Kalpalata lotuses will bloom soon. I forget how beautiful the world is sometimes, and I suppose it’s because I am always distracted by your beauty alone. Will you laugh as you read this? I suppose you might because even I must admit, it is a rather cliche thing to say. I can just picture your smile now, and I am certain I will have it memorized until my last breath. It’s easy to remember it so well when it’s all I see in my dreams. Have I told you how often I see you in them? It’s difficult to think that there was once a time in Sumeru when we did not dream. It seems like sleeping beside your body is no longer enough—your presence is required even in my slumber for me to truly be at peace. Perhaps when the lotuses bloom, we can take a trip to the deeper parts of the rainforest to catch a glimpse of a few. They say the vines are blessed by The Lord herself. I was never one to seek out the divine, but perhaps with a gift as sacred as you, I should take the time to thank Lady Kusanali for granting such brilliance to take bloom in my presence. Only, the difference is that here with you, there are no cliffs to climb or seasons to await. You are mine to bloom, always—my precious, beautiful lotus. Forever yours, Haitham ♡

ITS DONE. HAPPY LATE BDAY TO MY FIRST AND LONGEST LOVE. YOU MEAN EVERYTHING AND MORE TO MEEEEE

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham smut #alhaitham x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin smut #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff #euthymiya.writing

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