#preceded by chaos
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Adam's edgy style plus Ruby's gothic style, just imagine the theme song they would choose for a dramatic entrance
I canât choose just one, so have a list of contenders: Faint (Linkin Park), Eye of the Storm (Godsmack), Rise Above It (I Prevail), Raise Hell (Dorothy), The Hunter (Adam Jensen)
#anon#unofficial adam answers#adam taurus#Ruby rose#song recs#the Hunter has by far the punchiest opening#but I like raise hell for the chaos#this would be entrance music immediately preceding (or during) a fight I think#the restraint I had to not put Bring Me To Life on this list lol
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#no context adventuring party#dimension 20 neverafter#neverafter adventuring party#lou wilson#brian murphy#the absolute chaos which preceded and followed this cannot be truly captured in images#absolute chaos i laughed so hard#siobhan thompson#emily axford#ally beardsley#zac oyama
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yeah i love cardio (sprinting after sheep that are NOT my fucking responsibility on the second warm day of the year in tall leather boots because the person who IS supposed to be responsible for them doesn't know how to make good choices)
#AND i have a hay splinter that's threatening to get infected#also i fucking hate cardio it makes my body hurt in a bad way#after doing other barn work for the preceding six hours? without having had food today? i am basically a saint for helping with sheep chaos#instead of watching and laughing#whatever i will have some weed about it. namaste#had a great horse training session before all that though đ#me
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I remember when someone told me once that that "may you live in interesting times" is actually a curse, and I get it.
#hey LBJ dropped out of the race in 1968#granted under different circumstances but it's not entirely without precedent#better to be a dog in times of tranquility than a human in times of chaos
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Absolutely fascinated by the Fairy Walrus Discourse. Naturally, I have a take:
This actually is also a fantastic illustration of a truism about Telling Stories that we all implicitly know but rarely acknowledge aloud: the improbable is far less believable than the impossible.
When you invoke the impossible, you silence the critically thinking, reality checking, lie detecting circuitry. Simpler rules reign supreme.
The Walrus, however implausible, is a thing which is real, and so whatever narrative you imagine either precedes or follows the reveal will be constrained by the envelope of the possible.
This is a webbed site all about Narrative.
The person answering the door to a Fairy is in a fairy tale, and frankly most of us would be overjoyed to find ourselves in a fairy tale. Fairy tales have sensible rules, structures we understand, tropes we love and hate.
A Walrus on your doorstep is just one more giant reminder that the world is a maelstrom of chaos, incomprehensible in its complexity, full of moving parts which obey no narrative. Itâs another dose of âwhat fresh hell is this?â
A Walrus on your doorstep is a burden. A Fairy on your doorstep is an escape.
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Very Unfair that I cannot go to Fan expo this year due to the circumstances of having to be a responsible, broke adult.
#its homophobic even#*sits in corner and pouts*#like the mature adult i am#chaos talks#im not being serious lol#i do wish i could go but alas the responsibilities take precedent
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delicate balance. rejecting repressive religious hegemony and establishing new systems and philosophies of spiritual involvement can be liberating and revolutionary or can manifest as appropriative, xenophobic or otherwise misrepresentative and crass attempts at filling a vacuum in life caused by the absence of true cultural ties
#in this case thinking about chaos magic(k)#we have some ties to it in our practice including work with egregores of our own creation/discovery#but we are a jew and as such a monotheist who works with a particular demon/sheyd#and have had very profound spiritual experiences as a result of that#it isnt more or less real to us than our work with the Choir but it has precedent from a very long history of people doing such practice#we incorporate certain elements of chaos magic in our work but i find a lot of writing on it to be vacuous#misinterpretation of cultural practices in a strange fetishizing way or otherwise lacking#we have an established framework for how we believe g-d and magic and such things work that weve refined over the years#that shares some commonality with our current readings that we're investigating but its not a hard conclusion to come to#but our system is particular to us has some core pieces i havent seen described elsewhere#and i wouldnt call it one to one with chaos magic#we dont align with any spiritual movement other than jewish mysticism#a#s#its virgil
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Okay, it's a really popular trope that Danny gets rid of Jason's pit madness by cleansing the nasty ecto in him BUT!
Neverborn babies are created by two ghosts mixing their ecto together. (or maybe this is just fanon? idk, it's a crossover anywayđ)
So I raise y'all:
Jason isn't contaminated by the pits and his ecto isn't nasty because of them. He's just really fucking traumatized and the Pit Rage part of him is literally his fucked up emotional state marinating in his ecto. There's actually no Pit Rage, he's just super fucking emotional and super fucking traumatized and mentally unstable, though he's working on that.
Danny? Poor, Danny "I want to help!" Fenton? Should've taken him to Frostbite but managed to mix his ecto into Jason's to try and cleanse the "contamination" out of it instead. Like an idiot.
Jason? He's... ghost pregnant and weirdly okay with it. He likes kids, there are no actual pregnancy symptoms to fuck up his mood. He's actually much happier now that he has something to look forward to! Frostbite said that taking care of his mental and emotional health will take care of the Pit Rage so that's also covered. Danny is sleeping on his couch. He has his own place but Jason thinks he deserves to sleep on the couch and he can and will enforce it.
Danny? Total and utter panic. He's a dad! Again if Ellie counts! What the fuck he doesn't know anything about kids or normal people things! Will the kid be full ghost because he had unknowing ghost sex with the hot revenant? Or maybe a halfa because they're both at least half alive? Is there a precedent for this?! Clockwork? CLOCKWORK HELP HIM!
Jazz? Sooooooo angry at her stupid fucking little brother. Of all the irresponsible, dumb shit he could've done this wasn't something she ever imagined! He truly outdone himself. All he needed to do was take the revenant to the Far Frozen to be treated! And what did Danny do? HE KNOCKED HIM UP! For someone so smart her little brother truly is fucking stupid!
Ellie? She's very excited! Danny and her might've mutually agreed to be cousins/siblings but that didn't mean he wasn't a better father to her than Vlad. It never was a high bar to clear but still. Baby sibling!
The Fentons? Oblivious. But when they find out? Ancients help them all.
The rest of the batfam? Also oblivious but something just isn't right with Jason. They will find out what. And when they do? Complete and utter chaos. Alfred is mildly disappointed, Bruce shut down because grandbaby and the rest are menaces. Duke is offering his services as superpowered babysitter for the superpowered baby lol
Frostbite? Shaking his head. He knew the Great One was impulsive in his youth, never really having time to truly think through his actions in those early days but he thought Danny grew out of it. Apparently, he didn't. Volunteered to be Jason's primary doctor.
(Vlad? In ghost prison lol)
#dpxdc#dcxdp#dc x dp#dp x dc#dc x dp prompt#dp x dc prompt#dead on main#jason todd#danny fenton#dc#danny phantom#batfam#this pne ran away with me#i didn't want to write this much#but here we are#it's funny though#I've been having this thought for a while#had to write it down#they get together in the end#parent trap#kid of?#accidentally
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THIS IS SO COOL
#Sege plays Sonic Frontiers#Sonic Frontiers spoilers#Frontiers spoilers#Yes the Super fights are awesome but imo what precedes them is equally cool#Just a tiny hedgehog facing giant impossible foes on his way to get a final chaos emerald
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high fashion fashion
synopsis: youâre meeting with the top fashion designer in the country to get your measurements taken for haute couture: an exclusive, annual fashion magazine you had the luck to be chosen for
warnings: reader receiving, cunnilingus, fingering, strap-ons, swearing
w/c: 4.4k
a/n: momo part 2 here!
-ËËâââââ
"miss minatozaki! the model is here to see you as requested!"
you shuffle around a little awkwardly as you stand behind the agent that had led you to the infamous fashion designer's lair. you were still a new name in the modelling industry so it came as a surprise when you booked one of the biggest fashion magazines in the country. naturally, that meant working with the best of the best, and minatozaki sana was the best of the best.
"come in!" a voice drifts out, it's high-pitched and honeyed, the kind of voice that lures people in and gets them to do whatever the speaker asks of them. you were cautious though, sana's reputation preceded her. tales of her perfectionism were not sparse, she was a difficult woman to please, and had been known to ruin careers with the shake of a head or the slight frown in her eyebrows.
the agent rushes you in, whispering about making sure you did whatever sana wanted you to do, and then taking their leave just as quick, terrified to be in the same room as the fashion designer of the century.
you wring your hands nervously, stepping forward and taking in your surroundings. it wasn't unlike any other studio you've been in. messy fabrics and half-completed outfits strewn over pages of designs and measurements, mannequins standing half-dressed and lifeless, and in the centre of it all, the mastermind of the methodical chaos you stood in, was minatozaki sana herself.
she tuts, making a note on the design she was currently working on, not having acknowledged your presence yet, so you stand there awkwardly, waiting for her to instruct you.
your eyes can't help but trace over her features while she works. it was only natural, you were a model, you learnt to have a sharp eye for the physical body, to be critical of yourself and others whether you were on the clock or not.
her face was perfect. she was wearing specs that perched neatly on a nose other models would pay for. her lips, although currently downturned in a frown as she perused her work, were set in a natural pout that accentuated her features, her eyes sharp and calculating behind the soft, round frame of her glasses. you could mistake her for the model for a big-brand eyewear company. your eyes glide down to her shoulder where her top slid down revealing pearly soft skin, and a sharp 90 degree angle, her collarbones protruding and proud. you're almost in disbelief at her beauty, how someone like her could've slipped under your radar, under everyone's radar. people knew her for the beauty she created, not the beauty she possessed.
you're so caught up in her you don't notice she's finally taken notice of you; quick, assertive eyes running over your own body, calculations and images of clothing pieces already forming in her head.
"y/n right?"
your eyes flick up to hers, blushing slightly at having been caught. you clear your throat, nodding, not trusting your voice to speak.
she puts down her pencil and steps out from the desk she was working behind, taking slow steps towards you. you were used to this, people staring at you, studying you. but under sana's gaze you felt like a baby deer again, like the first time you were scouted for your modelling agency. she circles you, humming here and there as she takes you in.
"i can see why mina chose you."
you cough awkwardly, "excuse me?"
"the editor. she handpicks the models for the annual haute couture magazine every year."
your eyes widen, she meant myoui mina. chief editor of the haute couture magazine. a limited fashion piece that only came out once a year and was revered by critics all across the country. the one you had the opportune luck to be selected for.
"r-right."
sana scoffs, "pretty face but can't speak. lucky you didn't go into acting."
you're a little taken aback at that, but you remind yourself this was characteristic of sana. this was in line with what you had heard. you would just have to grit your teeth and bear it, you could not afford to lose this opportunity.
"hmm. yes you'll do." she walks back to her work counter, heels clicking as she waves a hand dismissively.
"strip. everything. i'll take your measurements now and we can both get back to work."
you stutter, following after her, "d-don't you already have my measurements?"
she turns suddenly, raising an eyebrow as you almost crash into her. you realise she's a little shorter than you, though her presence made it seem she towered over you. "is there a problem?"
you blush, trying to create some distance between the two of you, "n-no ma'am! i just thought-"
"i like to take my own measurements. i don't trust the ones they sent me. after all..." she raises a hand, a manicured nail coming to trace your throat, from the middle of your neck to the tip of your chin. you hold your breath. "the notes didn't mention how devastatingly exquisite you are. i'll need to see if the rest of the... hardware matches that pretty face of yours." there's a dangerous glint in her eye, her lips curling up into a smirk as she watches your breath catch, then she's turning away and striding towards another work desk, leaving you tripping after yourself to follow her.
she quickly makes space on the counter, pushing aside sheets of drawings and pulling out a fresh new page devoid of any markings.
"well? are you shy or something? no one is allowed in here without my permission. we're alone darling don't worry." you can hear the teasing lilt in her voice, she doesn't need to turn away from her work for you to picture the smirk on her face.
you quickly rid yourself of your clothing, shivering a little in the air-conditioned workshop, reminding yourself that this was nothing out of the ordinary, you had been laid bare in front of beautiful women and men before, sana shouldn't be any different.
you hesitate when you reach your bra, but sana could smell your uncertainty.
"i said everything."
you gulped, undoing the clasp and sliding the straps off your shoulders, nipples hardening under the cool air of the room. you bend down to slide off your panties, stepping out of them carefully before coming back up, suddenly face to face with sana who's eyeing you with a hunger akin to the one of lioness. you turn to place your underwear with all your other clothes, but knowing sana was watching your every step lit a little fire in your lower stomach.
your toes clench on the cool tile of the workshop, you force yourself to take a breath before turning back to sana, and then letting her circle you again like her prey.
you almost jump when you feel her fingertip on your naked back, holding back sounds your mouth certainly shouldn't be making at work.
her finger slowly, slowly traces downwards, sana admires the smooth planes of your back, the sharp bones that jut out at your wingspan, the curve of your spine before pushing back out to your ass.
you don't even realise you're holding your breath until she pushes down slightly at the small of your back and you gasp.
then sana giggles. "cute."
her hand never leaves your body, she walks back around to face you, fingers tracing your arms, then your sides, squeezing teasingly at your hips.
"hmm... yes i can definitely work with this." her voice is lower, and you can't help but think she may be a little affected by you too.
she steps away again, grabbing a measuring tape, "you wouldn't mind doing a couple poses for me would you darling? i need to see which fabric would work best when you move around and sit or get into whatever other absurd positions momo might get you in when you take the photos."
you shake your head, irritated at the blush that was now definitely apparent on your cheeks. you were better than this, you took lessons on how to school your expression and bodily reactions for when you were forced into uncomfortable clothes and outfits.
sana nods towards a stool nearby, "just take a seat there, sit however's comfortable for now."
you follow her instructions almost robotically, wincing a little at the chill of the metal stool against the skin of your ass. you cross your legs, willing the arousal that was leisurely dripping out of you to stop before sana found out and fired you for being unprofessional.
she watches you wriggle around on the stool, trying to get comfortable with a smirk, treading forward when you're finally still. you try to look straight ahead, avoiding her gaze, but she cups your cheek lightly, forcing you to look up at her. she tilts your head from side to side, hums, then grabs the measuring tape and steps behind you, measuring your shoulder span.
"relax sweetheart, i can feel the tension in your muscles."
you let out a shaky breath, still refusing to speak.
"nervous?"
you shrug.
"you've done this before haven't you?"
you nod.
"are you not speaking because of the comment i made earlier? i didn't mean it y'know. it's not the first time i've rendered someone speechless before."
you gulp, unsure of the implications of her words, "r-right."
she giggles again, "almost thought i'd have to make you scream for me."
"w-what?!"
she hums, moving backwards again and ignoring your question, "lie down over there would you? on your front. if i know momo i know she loves her horizontal shots."
you shakily get up, moving to the mattress on the floor and laying down cautiously, feeling sana right on your heels.
it would be harder to hide your slick in this position, but you clenched your thighs together and did your best. the cool material of the sheets on the mattress brush across your already sensitive nipples in this state, and you fight the urge to let go and just go wild under sana's watchful gaze.
she hovers above you, noting down every twitch of your body, every arch, curve, bend. there's some rustling behind you but you keep focused on resisting your dirtier thoughts. that is until sana sits on top of your thighs.
you gasp at the feeling of her weight on top of you, right below your ass, "u-um-"
"i said to relax darling. i need to see how you'll feel when you're in this position." her excuses were getting sloppier.
"y-you do?"
"are you questioning me?"
"n-no! i'm sorry- please- um- please continue."
"good girl."
you feel your ears burning now as well, the blush having travelled across your cheeks and up. even you knew there was something other than fashion fitting going on here with that comment. but you still let her hands run over your back, even as they tease dangerously lower, down to your hips.
sana coughs, shuffling around, but her shuffling around was really her pushing her body up against your ass, essentially riding the back of your thighs. you can't help but release a choked-out moan, fingers digging into the skin of your forearms where you're resting your head, breaths coming in and out heavier.
she stops, smirking, then does it again, rocking forwards, eyes twinkling when you give her the exact same reaction, unable to control yourself.
"miss m-minatozaki-"
"just sana for you darling."
"... s-sana-"
"hmm?" she leans down, rocking forwards again, delighting in the moan you release, humming right next to your ear, her body laid almost completely on top of you.
"is this- is this still- are you still taking my measurements?"
she chuckles lowly, "what do you think?"
you whine, completely unsure what this devil of a woman wanted from you, "y-yes?"
"then why are you asking?" she giggles, finally letting you go, standing back up. "now, the couch please."
you inhale greedily, pushing yourself back up and wobbling over to the couch. your legs almost give out when you sit down, sinking into the material, and looking at anywhere but sana.
you're about to cross your legs again when she tuts, "ah ah. spread them."
your eyes widen, "b-but-!"
"but what? you already showed me a pose with your legs crossed, now i'll need to see one spread. surely you've seen it's a very classic pose? one of the outfits i'll have to design include pants and momo will definitely make you do this pose in them."
with nothing else to retort, you shyly spread your legs, the urge to cover yourself is overbearing. you wait for sana to say something, anything, prepared for your career to end here and now. you were so close to the big leagues too.
"run a hand through that pretty hair will you darling? elbow up."
you blink, doing as she says, dumbfounded as she steps closer, completely disregarding the obvious signs of lust at your core.
those hands come out again, one at your thigh, the other tracing down the tricep of the arm you have lifted above your head. with nowhere else to go, your arousal leaks outward, pussy drenched and needy as you hold your breath.
the hand that's at your thigh inches upwards, the one at your tricep downwards to cup your face again, thumb brushing over your lips that open just barely enough for her to fit her fingernail inside.
she can feel your shaky breaths on her thumb, can hear the whimper you let out when the hand at your thigh continues to trace up and down, closer and closer to your heat.
"s-sana..."
"yes darling?" her voice is husky, eyes lidded, lips open, whispering like she was sharing a secret even though no one else was around.
"i-i- i'm- i need-"
"what do you need?"
you gulp, fighting back against your better conscience, but the lust that's curling up inside your stomach wins out, "you. i need you."
she grins, "do you now?"
"yes please- sana please-"
"you're so cute when you beg darling. alright then. i'll entertain you." the hand that's at your thigh finally pushes forward, fingertips meeting drenched folds as you gasp in relief and desperation, hips pushing forward, trying to feel more of her.
"god you're so wet sweetheart. is this all for me?"
you're whimpering as she traces those practiced fingers of hers up and down your slit, just barely giving any pressure to your clit before dipping back down. "y-yes! all you all you-"
"well i have to be a good host and receive what you've given me don't i?"
she sinks down onto her knees, pulling your thighs towards her, taking off her specs and licking her lips devilishly as her eyes lock on her target.
your hands are about to move into her hair when she barks up at you, "no touching. you can touch yourself but you can't touch me."
you whine but obey, sliding your hands back up your stomach to grope at your chest needily, your nipples having been attention-starved since you took your bra off.
she grins, enjoying the view for a little before finally bringing her face closer. she blows on your puffy clit playfully, loving the way you squirm and whimper under her, before attaching her mouth to your pussy, sucking greedily.
"o-oh-!"
your hands grip your chest harder, wishing you could hold onto her head instead, but you have to settle for grinding down into her face, pushing against her grip at your hips while she eats you out, slurping loudly. the sounds are absurd, but your mind is too hazy to worry about being embarrassed anymore, not when your fingers are pinching and twisting your own nipples while you watch sana suck your clit into her mouth, her eyes locked on yours while she eats.
"g-god sana so good- so fucking good mmf- you- you- you're driving me insane god-"
sana flicks her tongue happily in response, one hand releasing your hip and coming down to play with your entrance. you clench around nothing, eager to take her in, and she obliges, pushing a finger in with your clit still in her mouth, curling it to hit the spot that only served to bring you closer to the edge.
"r-right there fuck- right there- i'm gonna- you're doing so good fuck-"
she starts pumping her finger in and out of you, the squelching sounds of your sex only become louder, an accompaniment to her suckling. you're flicking your fingers over your nipples, again and again, matching her pace, each stroke getting you closer and closer. then she adds in another finger, curling upwards, hooking into you, and you cry out, back arching, hips pushing into her face, shaking and trembling as you feel yourself fall over the edge.
sana continues to lick and nose at you while you come down, hands rubbing soothing motions into your hips and thighs. eventually, she slides back up, hand replacing yours over your chest and copping a feel for herself.
she's kissing your neck, chest, ears, all while you try and gain sense of yourself again. you turn your head with a pout, urging her to look at you. she smiles, knowing what you wanted without even asking, leaning in to kiss your pout away, your lips moving against one another as you hum at the taste of yourself on her lips,
she continues fondling your chest, rolling her fingers over nipples as you start to wriggle under her again, easily aroused.
she breaks away from your mouth with a smirk, "you're pretty when you cum."
you whine, burying your head in her neck.
"maybe i should tell mina and momo that. i think they'd get the best shots if you were mid orgasm."
"w-what?" your voice is shaky, still squiriming under her touch.
"hmm... you want another don't you? i've been working on something... special. how would you like to try it out for me?"
she doesn't wait for an answer, detaching herself from you and walking to one of her work desks. you can only watch after her, still spread open and tingly all over as she rummages through a drawer. your eyes widen when she pulls out a dildo, mind and vision suddenly clearer as she smirks, tugging out a corresponding harness and slipping the dildo into it.
then she starts to strip.
she leaves her top on, only removing her bottoms before stepping into the harness, the patchwork dildo hanging from her hips, looking strangely like it belonged on her.
she giggles when she notices you staring, doing a little spin, the fake dick swinging around ridiculously. "you like? i was going for... cutesy and demure." she plops down next to you, tapping her thighs.
you swallow nervously, pushing yourself up and straddling her.
"you can touch now."
your hands that were awkwardly swinging by your side finally come up to rest on her shoulders.
"answer the question."
"y-yeah- i- um- it's cute."
she giggles again, "that's good. need to make sure something as cute as you gets filled up with something just as cute hmm? then you can make all those cute sounds for me too."
her hands are relentless, tugging you down into her lap, brushing your hair over your shoulder, running fingers down over sides. she's always got to have her hands on you.
you huff when she teases the strap along your slit, feeling yourself dripping already. you try and catch her eye, pouting again.
she rolls her eyes, "just ask me if you want to kiss."
"can you kiss me?"
"see that was so cute! that's a good girl." then she's pulling you into her, latching onto your lips.
the makeout session that proceeds has you grinding down into her without even realising, and you take a hint of pleasure at her returning the movement, her own hips starting to rut up into yours. she sucks your bottom lip into her mouth, swiping her tongue across it before letting it go, invading your mouth still with the faint taste of yourself. when you break away to gasp for air, she moves straight to your cheek, then down to your jaw, neck, collarbones, sucking marks along her way, hands coming up to play with your chest again.
she pushes your breasts upwards so her mouth can reach skin easier, sucking and kissing, careful not to leave marks on you, knowing your body was your instrument in this line of work.
you moan when you feel her lips wrap around a nipple, the warm cavern of her mouth sucking the little nub, her tongue lapping over it with glee.
you're unabashedly rocking against her now, loving the tingle that went up your spine with every pass of the strap on your clit, her mouth still attached to your chest while you held the back of her head, keeping her against you while you moaned and whined into her.
she switches nipples, cool air hitting the wet, exposed nub. you shiver under her despite her actions only heating your body up past a temperature you didn't know was possible.
"s-sana-"
she hums around your nipple, always so focused on her work, the vibrations go straight to your core.
"need you- n-now- please-"
your nipple pops free from her mouth, "i'm not stopping you." then she's back at your chest, sucking and kissing, addicted.
you groan, looking down between you and shakily aligning your entrance with her strap. it takes a few tries and you're almost crying in frustration and sana's not helping at all, completely preoccupied with your chest, before you finally sink down, moaning low and heavy as you feel her fill you up.
"fuuck-"
sana sucks at the patch of skin on your left breast just a little harder in response.
you push yourself back up using her shoulders, then drop back down, cursing as your core tingles at the sensation.
you repeat the process, eyes locked on the way she enters and exits you, her strap coated in your essence, the squelching sounds mix with your whines and groans.
"fuck- fuck- fuck-" you start riding her, swearing each time she fills you up, setting up a rhythm that has you dizzy with need. sana finally decides to break away to watch her masterpiece bounce in front of her. fading bite marks and patches of red skin sway as she moves her hands down to your hips, pushing you down harder with each entrance, bucking her own hips up to get the strap that much deeper.
"fuck!" your hands on her shoulders tighten, feeling her everywhere inside you, around you.
"review it for me sweetheart." she husks out, "if you saw it in a magazine would you buy it?"
"y-yes- fuck- w-wait no i don't- i don't know-"
"no?"
"you don't come with it- fuck-"
she chuckles, hands moving again to grip your ass, squeezing the flesh between her fingers, "let's say i do. then what?"
"y-yes- yes yes fuck- yes i would-"
"mhmm? i want a more detailed review than that darling. i need to know how to make improvements."
"f-fuck sana- it's so- you're fucking me so- so good- it's good it's good-"
"other than good?"
"g-god you're so- it's um- fuck- it's cute and- i like the colours- a-and shit jesus christ- it fills me up just right- and i'm gonna- fuck- i can't- it's gonna make me cum-!"
"why don't i give it a helping hand then hm?"
"yes! yes- please- please- god- fuck yes-"
she pushes herself up, pulling you back down, surprising you with the amount of strength she had hidden, then she's thrusting up into you roughly.
"uh- uh- fuck- uh-" you're moans are cut up with every thrust, she's experienced, like she is in everything she does, panting with effort while her hips work, her arms pulling you down with every thrust up, you can't even keep track of where she's entering you, moving so fast it was a blur. or maybe those were the tears building up as it gets almost too much, your desperation to cum for her, to cum all over her.
"f-fuck!" you scream out, clenching down around her, hips moving of their own accord, shaking and moaning, almost blacking out from pleasure.
your breaths are heavy as you come back down, still with sana's strap lodged inside you, sweaty hands unwrapping themselves from around her neck, slumping down and resting your entire weight on the fashion designer.
sana hums, brushing through your hair and your back, letting you catch your breath.
when you finally gain enough of your bearings, you grunt as you sit up, sliding the dildo out of yourself, cringing at the mess you've made between the two of you.
sana only giggles, bringing a finger down to trace the length of the dildo and then bringing it to her own mouth, sucking it and humming around the taste.
your stomach twinges again in arousal, but you whine, too sensitive to go again, knocking your forehead against sana's shoulder as you avoid looking at her.
she lets you rest there for a while, but eventually stands up, carrying the dildo off with her to clean off. when she comes back, she has your clothes and a damp towel for you to clean yourself up with.
"i have another appointment now. feel free to stay as long as you'd like, just don't touch any of the designs. i'll send the completed outfits for you to try once they're done." she's all business again, but before you let her turn on her heel and leave, you croak out.
"w-what about you?"
"what about me?" she raises an eyebrow.
you blush, covering yourself now that you have enough shame to be embarrassed. she pays you no mind, following your eyeline and looking down at herself. then she realises what you're asking.
she laughs brightly, "no sweetheart you don't need to take care of me. but if i ever need another... trial customer... i'll be sure to ask for you." she winks, and then she's off, heels clicking in the workshop and door closing behind her.
you sink down into the couch, still processing exactly what happened. all you knew was that everyone was right to be terrified of minatozaki sana. though your fear came with a side of thrill you're sure no one else could've warned you about.
#sana#minatozaki sana#twice sana#sana x reader#twice sana x reader#minatozaki sana x reader#twice x reader#twice imagines#sana imagines#sana smut#twice smut#twice sana smut#minatozaki sana smut#dovveri
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moonstruck
pairing:Â jj maybank x fem!reader
summary: who could have known that jj maybank would steal your first kiss beneath the stars, all to evade the pursuing police?
warnings: fluff, first kiss, no use of y/n, english isn't my first language
word count: 2.6k
a/n: a little fic to celebrate the release of obx4. after s3 idk if I'll watch s4, but you can give me your opinion about 5 new eps in the comments. have a nice time reading this work! love u <3
áŻâ
now playing...
enhypen - moonstruck
THE NIGHT AIR WAS WARM, infused with the salty tang of the sea and the soothing rhythm of waves crashing against the shore. The gentle breeze rustled the palm fronds, creating a soft, whispering melody that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. This tranquil evening was the only redeeming quality of your job at the cluttered antique store. After two long years, you still wondered how your boss managed to keep the place afloat, especially when half the customers left without buying anything. Those who did purchase something often bombarded you with endless questions that drained your patience, just like today.
Exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders as your shift finally came to an end. All you wanted was to retreat to the solace of your home and hide beneath a warm blanket. It had been one of those daysâwhen customers were rude, the air conditioning was a distant memory, your legs ached from standing, and you smelled like a dust-covered relic.
After struggling to lock the front doorâan ancient key refusing to cooperate, as if it had been stuck since the Great Depressionâyou slung your bag over your shoulder and stepped out into the quiet streets of the Cut. The fresh sea air caressed your skin, invigorating your senses. You knew this town like the back of your hand, every crack in the pavement a familiar companion. The streetlights flickered overhead, bulbs long overdue for replacement, casting a dim glow that made the shadows dance around you. Though it wasnât the safest place, it was homeâa place where trouble always seemed to find you.
And one of them even had a name: JJ Maybank.
Like everyone in the Cut, you had heard countless stories about him and his adventures with the crew who proudly called themselves the Pogues. From the time you were kids, his reputation as a wild spirit with a devil-may-care attitude had preceded him. You remembered the laughter that echoed through the neighborhood as he and his friends roamed the sandy streets, always planning their next adventureâsneaking onto rooftops, racing bikes down the winding roads, and daring each other to dive into the ocean at dawn. JJ was the embodiment of carefree youth, with a reckless smile that could charm anyone and a spark in his eyes that promised trouble.
Despite sharing the same neighborhood, your worlds felt galaxies apart. While he thrived in the thrill of spontaneous adventures, you found comfort in the quiet corners of your life. You spent lazy afternoons lost in books, dreaming of places far beyond the horizon. As children, youâd played side by side in the warm sand, yet your paths seemed to diverge with the years. JJ was the star of wild tales and whispered legends, while you remained a quiet observer, forever intrigued yet hesitant to step into his whirlwind of chaos.
You never expected that your paths would cross, at least not like this â bound together by a single, reckless moment that would change everything.
As you stood there, savoring the rhythmic crash of waves against the sandy shore, the tranquil scene was suddenly pierced by the sound of heavy footsteps behind you â fast and uneven, as if someone were running. The street was mostly quiet, just a few couples strolling hand in hand, lost in the warmth of a summer evening. The sudden urgency in the air pulled your attention, stirring a sense of curiosity.
Before you could turn to see who it was, a hand grasped your wrist, spinning you around with a swift motion. Your heart leaped into your throat, eyes widening in shock. You instinctively clutched the worn fabric of a white T-shirt, struggling to steady yourself. Frowning in confusion, you looked up and met the cheeky blue eyes of the last person you expected to see.
It was him â JJ Maybank himself, breathless and frantic, the unmistakable spark of mischief dancing in his gaze. Even amid his panic, his blue eyes glinted with a familiar wildness, hinting at the reckless adventure he always seemed to be chasing. In that moment, the world around you faded, leaving only the two of you standing on the edge of the beach, the waves whispering secrets to the shore.
âHey there, my pretty little neighbor! Itâs a perfect evening for a walk, donât you think?â JJ chatted, his smile strained as he kept glancing back over his shoulder.
âJJ? What are you doingâ?â You barely had time to finish your question before he cut you off. His playful demeanor vanished, replaced by an uncharacteristic seriousness that sent a chill down your spine. His blue eyes scanned your face, searching for something.
âI need your help,â he said quickly, lowering his voice as the distant wail of sirens began to fill the air.
Your thoughts raced, but they tangled together in confusion. âWhat?â you whispered, still too stunned to process what was happening.
âThe cops are coming,â he said urgently, glancing around as if the shadows themselves might betray him. âI just⌠I need you to help me not get caught. Please.â
You blinked, trying to wrap your head around the situation. The sirens grew louder, and flashing lights danced around the corner, cutting through the evening calm. Panic swelled in your chest. What could you possibly do? You were not the type to get involved in this kind of chaos, especially not with someone like JJ, who always seemed to flirt with trouble.
You bit your lip, staring at him, your mind racing. You had no clue what JJ had done this time, but with all the rumors swirling about him, it could be serious. If the cops saw you with him, they might think you were involved, and the last thing you wanted was to be dragged into a police station to answer questions. All you wanted was to go home, wrap yourself in a cozy blanket, binge-watch your favorite show, and sip hot tea until sleep finally took you.
But time was running out. You needed a plan â and fast.
Then, a ridiculous idea flashed through your mind, inspired by that Marvel movie you had watched a few weeks ago. People tended to look away when they saw couples getting too⌠intimate. It was as if tenderness made them uncomfortable, a reminder of something personal they werenât meant to witness. Kisses, soft touches, the kind of closeness that drew attention away from everything else.
Oh, no. You swallowed hard, heart pounding. It was a risky move, but you didnât have the luxury of time to second-guess yourself.
Before you could stop yourself, you grabbed JJ by the collar and pulled him closer, pressing your lips to his.
It wasnât just any kiss; it was your first kiss, and you had no clue what you were doing. The warmth of his lips against yours sent a jolt through you, a thrilling rush that left you dizzy. His breath mingled with yours, soft and sweet, and for a heartbeat, everything else faded away. You thought about pulling back, a wave of embarrassment washing over you, but then you felt his hand cradling the back of your head, steadying you, keeping you from breaking the moment.
âWhoa,â you whispered, your heart racing. But before you could say anything else, JJ deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours with a playful insistence. You gasped, a surprised sound escaping your lips as your mind spun with confusion and exhilaration. You were lost in a whirlwind of sensations â your heart pounded wildly, and your hands found their way into his hair, fingers tugging gently at the tips.
Suddenly, your back hit something cold and hard. JJ pulled back slightly, both of you panting, gulping for air. His gaze swept over your face, a mixture of surprise and something unnameable flickering in his eyes. You opened your mouth, desperate to say something â anything â to justify your impulsive action, to apologize for crossing a line. The silence felt thick and awkward, stretching out between you like a taut string.
âUh, I didnâtââ you began, but before you could finish, JJâs hand cupped your cheek, his touch warm and grounding. He pulled you in again, kissing you once more, more fiercely this time.
Your cheeks burned, but it felt like your entire body was ablaze. Thoughts of right and wrong melted away, leaving only the intoxicating pleasure of his lips against yours. You couldnât help but think that everyone who claimed JJ Maybankâs kisses were magical had it all wrong. They werenât magical; they were raw and real, yet they lifted you high above the chaos of the world. Each kiss felt like a leap into the unknown, an escape where your soul soared and your heart raced.
Just as you lost yourself in the heat of it all, the wail of sirens pierced the air, cutting through the intimacy of the moment. Police cars rushed past, barely glancing in your direction, but the sudden noise jolted your heart back to reality.
The kiss lingered for a heartbeat longer before you pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, struggling to process what had just happened. JJ blinked, his lips slightly parted, as if he wanted to say something, but the words failed to materialize, hanging in the air between you like unspoken secrets.
As reality settled back in, you dropped your hands, suddenly aware of just how close you had been. The warmth of the moment began to fade, replaced by a rush of embarrassment that flooded your cheeks. You cleared your throat, adjusting the bag that had slipped off your shoulder, the awkwardness of the situation weighing heavily on you.
âI... uh, saw it in the movies,â you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. The words tumbled out in a rush. âPeople donât like public affection, soâŚâ
JJ stared at you, a mixture of surprise and amusement flickering in his blue eyes. Then, to your shock, a slow grin spread across his face, playful and teasing. âDamn it,â he said, still trying to catch his breath, his voice light with laughter. âRemind me to ask you to save my ass more often, Bambi.â
You felt your cheeks ignite like they were on fire, and instinctively, you took a step back, craving a little more space. What had you just gotten yourself into? Your mind raced, blinking like a deer caught in headlights, unsure whether to crack a joke, tease him back, or just stand there in stunned silence.
JJ chuckled hoarsely, shaking his head as if he couldnât quite believe the turn of events. âYouâre something else, you know that?â
A nervous laugh escaped your lips, the tension hanging between you slowly beginning to ease, but the flutter in your stomach remained, leaving you wondering what this moment meant for both of you.
âDonât look at me like that with those beautiful big eyes of yours, or I might just fall for you right here and now,â he teased, flashing a wink that sent a rush of warmth to your cheeks.
You couldnât help but roll your eyes, though a shy smile crept onto your lips. âSeriously, JJ? Is this your idea of flirting? Because itâs kind of cheesy.â
âI know, right?â he laughed, the sound light and carefree. âBut it works, doesnât it? I mean, look at you! Iâd be an idiot not to try.â
His voice dropped, a playful seriousness creeping in as he leaned closer. âI think I owe you now,â he whispered, almost conspiratorially, his breath tickling your ear. His hand slid gently over your shoulder, and before you could react, he casually lifted your bag, throwing it over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.
âHey! Thatâs my bag!â you protested, half-heartedly, your heart fluttering at his boldness.
âI know, but I donât like being beholden to beautiful girls like you,â he said, grinning like heâd just won a prize. âSo, as a thank you, Iâm walking you home. Wouldnât want anyone to steal you away.â
He winked again, laughter dancing in his blue eyes as he started to walk ahead, your bag bouncing lightly against his back. You stood frozen for a moment, still processing what just happened. His hair was tousled, the way it always was, and you wondered if your heart had raced like this before. Did you really make him flustered? Oh my God, was this really happening?
âAre you coming?â he called over his shoulder, pausing to give you that cheeky grin that made your stomach flip.
âUh, yeah, Iâm coming!â you managed to say, shaking yourself out of your daze. You hurried to catch up with him, your heart beating wildly, a mix of exhilaration and disbelief bubbling inside you. As you walked side by side, the sound of the waves crashing behind you and the warm breeze wrapping around you felt like a secret the universe was sharing.
The night air was alive with laughter and playful banter, the gentle rhythm of the waves providing a perfect soundtrack to your conversation. JJ animatedly recounted his latest adventures with the Pogues â like the time they snuck into the lighthouse for a midnight swim and ended up launching a misguided rescue mission for a beach ball. You hung on every word, entranced by his charisma, the warmth of his presence beside you igniting something within you.
âSeriously, though,â he said, glancing sideways, a cheeky grin spreading across his face, âthanks for helping me back there. Who knew a cute girl could be such a hero?â
You laughed, the sound bright in the night air. âI didnât have much of a choice. You practically swept me off my feet with that spinâŚâ
He chuckled, that familiar mischief dancing in his gaze. âWhat can I say? Iâve always been drawn to trouble. And now, I guess Iâm just moonstruck by you.â
With each step, the distance between you shrank, a connection sparking amid the chaos of the night. When you finally reached your porch, he paused, turning to face you, the glow of the moon illuminating his features in a way that made your heart race.
âI had an awesome time tonight,â he said, a hint of sincerity in his tone. âMaybe we should hang out again. You know, when Iâm not dodging cops or getting into trouble. How about a pizza or something?â
You chuckled, the sound light and bright. âDidnât know you treated all your life saviors to dinner. Whatâs next, a moonlit pizza date?â
JJ smirked, leaning in slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. âOnly the cute ones. Just imagine itâa night under the stars, with me serenading you about my crazy adventures. Sounds perfect, right?â
You couldnât help but smile, feeling your heart race at the thought. âYeah, maybe. But Iâm not sure if Iâm ready for your karaoke skills yet.â
He threw his head back and laughed, a sound that made your heart flutter. âOh, Iâll win you over. Youâll be begging for an encore.â
With a final grin, he stepped back, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment that felt electric. âCool. Iâll see you around then.â
As you watched him walk away, the night felt charged with promise, the moonlight casting a silvery glow that made everything seem magical. You stood on your porch, a soft whisper of excitement filling your heart, knowing that this was just the beginning of something wonderfully beautifulâsomething that had you feeling both moonstruck and hopeful for what lay ahead.
thankx for reading <3
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- your santi đŞ
masterlist
#â santi đŞ#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank x y/n#jj maybank fic#jj maybank x you#jj mayback imagine#jj maybank x fem!reader#jj maybank fluff
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words we canât take back | b. barnes
masterlist | pt.2
summary: after a mission gone wrong, bucky lashes out, leaving y/n hurt by his harsh words. now drowning in guilt, bucky must find a way to apologize before itâs too late, but y/n isnât ready to forgive so easily. can he fix whatâs been broken?
pairing: bucky barnes x reader
warnings: angst, emotional distress, heartbreak, toxic relationship dynamics, arguments, mention of mental health struggles, potential triggers related to emotional abuse, strong language, and feelings of inadequacy.
word count: 5.9k
The mission had been a disaster from the start. Tension crackled in the air, the kind that always seemed to precede trouble. Bucky Barnes felt it in his bones, a tightness that grew with every wrong turn. It had been a simple extraction, but when they walked into a trap, chaos erupted. The sounds of gunfire ricocheted around him, the explosions reverberating through his chest like a war drum, drowning out his thoughts. But when he glanced at youâhis partner, his anchorâsomething twisted in his gut.
In the aftermath, the wreckage of what had gone wrong stretched before him. Bodies lay scattered, their lifeless forms stark against the smoky haze, and the acrid scent of burning metal stung his nostrils. You stood there, bruises marring your skin, and your eyes, once sharp and defiant, now dulled by exhaustion. Bucky had seen too much, been through too much, and the anger inside him simmered, ready to boil over. How could this have gone so wrong?
âWhat the hell were you thinking?â he snapped, his voice a harsh whip in the stillness. His jaw was clenched, and his glare couldâve burned holes into you. âYou almost got yourself fucking killed, you know that?â
Your breath caught, heart sinking at the venom in his tone. âI was doing my job, Bucky. I thought you had my back.â
âHad your back?â He stepped closer, fists clenching at his sides, every muscle taut with pent-up fury. The adrenaline from the fight morphed into something more destructive. âYouâre a goddamn liability! You keep throwing yourself into danger like you canât be hurt. What the hell is wrong with you?â
The words hit you like a punch, each one a jagged edge cutting deeper than the last. You could feel the weight of his anger pressing down on you, suffocating. âI didnât ask for a babysitter,â you shot back, bitterness lacing your voice. âMaybe Iâm the one who should be questioning if youâre fit to be my partner!â
Buckyâs expression hardened, eyes narrowing like a predatorâs. This isnât just about the mission, he thought, grappling with the frustration of watching you walk into danger. âYouâre right. I shouldnât have to worry about saving your ass all the damn time. If I wanted to deal with this shit, Iâd find someone who actually knew how to handle themselves. Iâm sick of dragging you through every godforsaken fight!â
Every accusation felt like a dagger, twisting in the wound he had just opened. You could see the pain and anger simmering in his eyes, but it was all directed at you. âYou think I wanted this? Iâm not the one who fucked up in the field! I thought we were a team!â
His laugh was bitter, devoid of humor, echoing against the wreckage around you. âTeam? Thatâs a joke. You donât get to call it a team when Iâm the one stuck cleaning up your shit. Iâm done with it. Youâre not my equal; youâre just a goddamn burden.â
The air grew thick with tension, and you fought back tears, the tremor in your hands betraying you. âMaybe I should just leave, then,â you said, voice trembling but defiant. âIf Iâm such a problem, why donât you find someone who doesnât drag you down?â
The silence that followed was deafening. You turned away, trying to keep your composure, but you could feel his gaze burning into your backâa mix of anger and something softer, more vulnerable, that he refused to acknowledge. His heart pounded as the realization hit him: I pushed her away when she needed me the most. What the hell was I thinking?
As you walked away, the weight of his words hung heavily in the air between you, suffocating. Each step felt like a fracture in your heart, the distance growing more unbearable with every inch. Bucky stood there, feeling the echoes of his harshness fill the void where your connection once thrived. The realization settled in, and he knew this wasnât over. How the hell do I fix this?
But as the dust settled around him, all he could feel was emptiness, a tidal wave of regret crashing over him, leaving him alone in the aftermath of his own making.
Days blurred together into an indistinguishable mess. The tension between you and Bucky hung thick in the air, suffocating, wrapping around him like a vice grip. He paced the empty halls of the compound, the rhythmic echo of his boots against the cold metal floors mirrored the chaos in his mind. Each step felt heavier than the last, a relentless reminder of the moment that played on a loop in his headâthe hurt in your eyes when his careless words had cut deep.
Memories flooded back: your laughter in the training room, the way you encouraged him during his darkest moments. He had crossed a line he never intended to, letting his anger spew out like poison, each word a dagger aimed straight at your heart. Guilt clawed at him, a beast gnawing at his insides, turning his stomach into knots. Every time he caught a glimpse of you, it felt like a punch to the gut, the weight of regret settling like a stone in his chest.
The silence of the compound was palpable, broken only by the distant hum of machinery. Heâd find you in the training room, pouring every ounce of your energy into your workout, the fierce determination radiating off you like a fire. Your tear-streaked face haunted him, a ghost he couldnât shake. You werenât just a teammate; you were everything to him. The thought of losing you felt like ice water dousing his heart, leaving him gasping for air, desperate to rewind time.
âHey, Buck,â Sam said one day, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, the faint scent of sweat and metal mingling in the air. âYou good, or are you just gonna sulk like an old man all day?â
âYeah, sure,â Bucky shot back, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue, his eyes averted. He could feel Samâs scrutinizing gaze piercing through his façade.
âSeriously, man, you think I can't see through that? Thereâs a damn storm brewing in that head of yours,â Sam pressed, his tone a mix of concern and teasing familiarity. âYou gotta talk to her. You canât keep doing this to yourself. Itâs like watching a damn dog chase its own tailâainât gonna end well, and Iâm not about to sit here and watch you make a mess of it.â
Bucky nodded, but the weight of his guilt felt like chains wrapped tight around his heart, squeezing the air from his lungs. What the hell could he even say? The fear of facing you loomed larger than any mission heâd ever tackledâa monster lurking in the shadows, making him feel weak and exposed. He clenched his fists, jaw tightening, as he fought against the rising tide of anxiety.
Closing his eyes, he leaned against the wall, fighting the urge to scream. He remembered how you had stood by him, even when the nightmares clawed at him in the night. You deserved better than his careless words, better than the pain he had caused. The metallic scent of sweat mixed with the lingering aroma of stale coffee filled the air, reminding him of the countless nights spent together, talking and laughing. Those memories felt like a beacon, drawing him closer to the confrontation he dreaded yet craved.
âShit,â he muttered under his breath, pushing off the wall, each step toward you heavy with uncertainty. His heart raced as he imagined your reactionâwould you forgive him? The thought of laying his broken heart bare to you, the one person who meant everything, filled him with dread and hope.
As he approached, the distance between you felt like a chasm. He was ready to confront the mess heâd made, but the fear of your disappointment loomed over him like a dark cloud. Sam watched him go, shaking his head with a faint smile, knowing his friend was finally stepping up to make things right.
It was time to face the music, to turn back the clock on the mistakes he had made. The symbol of his guiltâthe small, worn-out dog tag you had given him before a particularly tough missionâburned in his pocket, a constant reminder of the bond he desperately wanted to restore.
In that moment, he knew he had to find the courage to bridge the gap between them, to reclaim what was lost before it slipped through his fingers forever.
After what felt like a damn eternity, Bucky finally gathered the guts to knock on your door. Each knock echoed in the silence, a stark reminder of the distance that had grown between you two. He stood there, heart pounding, fists clenched, feeling the weight of guilt that had settled in his chest like lead. Memories flooded his mindâyour laughter during training sessions, quiet moments together in the compound, and the way your smile had once lit up even the darkest days. It all felt so far away now, a reminder of how easily he could lose it.
âGo away,â you called, your voice muffled but laced with hurt.
âY/N,â he pleaded, desperation creeping into his tone. âI need to talk. Just⌠let me in, alright?â He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his mind racing with all the things he wanted to say but couldnât quite grasp.
Silence hung in the air like a noose, heavy and suffocating. Each second stretched into an eternity, amplifying the tension until, finally, the door creaked open just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your faceâred and puffy from tears, eyes shadowed with pain. It felt like a punch to the gut.
âI donât want to talk to you,â you said coldly, arms crossed defensively, trying to shield yourself from the storm he had caused.
âI know. I messed up,â he replied, his voice thick with regret. He ran a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words. âAnd I canâtââ He faltered, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. âI canât take back what I said. I was scared, and I lashed out. You mean too damn much to me for that. Just⌠let me explain.â
You stepped back, letting him in but hesitating, your anger and hurt crackling in the air like static electricity. Bucky could feel the tension radiating off you, could see how you trembled with barely contained rage. The faint hum of the compoundâs machinery buzzed in the background, underscoring the silence between you.
âBucky, you canât just waltz in here and throw around apologies like theyâre candy. Itâs not that fucking simple,â you said, your voice shaking as emotions boiled over. âDo you even get what your words did to me? They cut deeper than you can imagine.â
The memories of your last argument flashed in his mindâhow he had yelled, how his words had sliced through the fragile trust you had built. He could still hear your voice trembling, see the hurt in your eyes. It haunted him.
âI know itâs not,â he said, voice rising as frustration bubbled to the surface. âBut you have to understandâI never meant to hurt you. I was scared as hell of losing you. I didnât know how to deal with it, so I took it out on you. I thought I could keep you safe, but I fucking failed, and I canât live with that.â He avoided your gaze, staring at the floor, ashamed of the turmoil he had caused.
You turned your gaze away, fury igniting. âYou think being scared gives you the right to hurt me? Those words stick with you. They donât just disappear because you suddenly want to make things right. You shattered something in me, Bucky, and you expect me to just let it go?â The air was thick with the weight of your words, each one a dagger aimed at his heart.
âI know,â he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his regret. âIâm not gonna pretend this doesnât matter. I want to make things right. Youâre not just some partner in this crazy shit; youâre everything to me. Iâm so damn sorry, Y/N.â
A heavy silence fell between you, thick with unprocessed emotions. Tears glistened in your eyes, anger mixed with pain as you struggled to hold back the flood. Bucky could see your fingers trembling, as if you were fighting against the urge to reach out for him, to seek comfort from the very person who had hurt you.
âYouâre sorry? Thatâs it? Do you think thatâs enough? You canât just toss around âIâm sorryâ and act like everythingâs fine! Do you have any idea what it feels like to have the person you love turn on you like that?â
Bucky opened his mouth to respond, but the truth of your feelings hit him like a freight train. It shattered him, the realization crashing down harder than any blow heâd ever taken. âI didnât mean to fuckinâ hurt you like that. Iââ
âDidnât mean to?â you snapped, frustration boiling over. âBut you did! You meant every single word when you said I wasnât enough! Itâs like a poison, Bucky! Every time I look in the mirror, I see your words haunting me!â
âY/NâŚâ he pleaded, stepping closer, but you backed away, shaking your head fiercely. The space between you felt like an insurmountable chasm, filled with hurt and distrust.
âNo! You donât get to touch me. Not after what you said. I donât want your pity. I want my trust back! I want to feel safe with you again, but how the hell can I when youâve torn me apart like this?â The pain in your voice twisted like a knife in his gut.
âIâll do whatever it takes,â he begged, desperation bleeding through his words. âI can give you space. Iâll listenâjust donât shut me out. I canât lose you.â He reached out, almost instinctively, but stopped short, respecting your boundary. The small bracelet you used to wear, the one he had given you, lay forgotten on the tableâits absence felt like a symbol of the trust now shattered between you.
âMaybe⌠maybe I need time,â you finally said, voice soft but resolute, tears spilling down your cheeks. âI canât keep waiting for you to figure out how to treat me with the love and respect I deserve. I canât be your punching bag.â
âTake all the time you need,â he replied, his heart sinking deeper. âIâll be right here, waiting for you. Just⌠I hope you can find it in you to forgive me.â His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken fears of a future without you.
You nodded slowly, the weight of the moment hanging heavily between you. Bucky turned to leave, each step dragging him down like a lead weight. The distant sounds of the compound faded as he walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He wanted to scream, to punch the walls, to erase the hurt, but he knew he had to be patient. You needed time, and he would wait, even if it felt like forever.
As he walked away, the door closing behind him, Bucky felt a hollow ache settle in his chestâa deep emptiness that screamed for your forgiveness, for your presence. But he also knew he deserved the pain, the anguish he had caused. The only thing that mattered now was making things right, even if it took an eternity.
Days turned into weeks, and Bucky kept his distance, lurking on the edges of your life like a goddamn ghost. He was always there, a shadow in the background, never truly present, waiting for the moment youâd find it in yourself to forgive him. It was a tormenting cycle for him, hanging around the periphery of your world, the weight of his own mistakes bearing down like an anchor. He often caught himself recalling the laughter you once shared, memories of late-night talks and quiet moments that now felt like a distant dream. Those memories twisted in his gut as he watched you from afar, stealing glances during training, his gaze lingering near the kitchen where you used to share coffee and laughter, searching for a connection that felt like it was slipping through his fingers. But every time he made a move, the pain in your eyes sent him retreating, a constant reminder of the hurt heâd caused and the love that now felt so fragile.
One evening, the hum of the common room enveloped you, filled with the clatter of dishes and faint laughter from the team, but all you could focus on was the ache in your heart. You were scrolling through your phone, desperately trying to distract yourself when Bucky appeared in the doorway, hesitant and guarded. Your heart clenched at the sight of himâa mix of longing and sorrow flooding you, drowning out the world around you.
âHey,â he said, voice low and rough, as if he was still wrestling with the demons of his past.
âHey,â you replied, your voice flat, a careful mask of strength concealing the turmoil inside. You wanted to scream, to let him know how much his presence hurt, but part of you still craved the warmth he brought.
âCan we talk?â His words hung in the air like a fragile lifeline, one you werenât sure you could grab onto.
You nodded, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you. âMake it quick,â you shot back, your tone sharper than intended, trying to keep the emotions at bay.
He stepped closer, eyes searching yours with a desperation that twisted your gut. âI need to say it againâfor everything. I know it doesnât mean much after the shit I pulled, but I swear Iâm trying to fix this. Iâm really working on myself.â As he spoke, he clenched his fists, fingers digging into his palms, a physical manifestation of the guilt that gnawed at him. âI just⌠I canât keep running from this. I need you to know that.â
You let out a shaky breath, feeling the pressure of his words weighing down on you. âIâm trying to work through it, Bucky. But I canât pretend everythingâs fine just because you say youâre sorry.â
âI donât expect you to,â he said, frustration cracking his calm facade. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unable to meet your gaze. âBut you need to understand how damn much you mean to me. I canât lose you, Y/N. I wonât let that happen.â
Your heart ached at his confession, but anger flared within you. âYou hurt me, Bucky. You canât just wipe that away with a few nice words.â
âI know, I know! Iâm fucking sorry, alright?â He ran a hand through his hair, pacing like a caged animal, the sound of his footsteps echoing off the walls. âI didnât mean it. I was scared, and I lashed out. But youâve gotta see how much I regret it, damn it!â
âScared?â you spat, bitterness thick in your voice. âYou donât get to use your fear as an excuse for the pain you caused me!â
âThen what the hell do you want from me?â His voice rose, desperation lacing every word. âYouâre acting like Iâm a goddamn ghost! Iâm right here, trying to fix this!â
âBecause I need to protect myself!â you yelled back, tears spilling down your cheeks. âEvery time I try to forgive you, you mess it up again! I canât trust you when you keep hurting me!â
The silence that followed felt like a chasm between you, both of you breathing heavily, emotions spiraling out of control. Buckyâs shoulders sagged, the weight of your words crushing him. He thought of the little trinket you gave him once, a small metal starâa reminder of a bond that felt irreparably broken.
âI fucking hate this,â he admitted, his voice cracking, tears shimmering in his eyes. âI hate that I hurt you. I hate that no matter how hard I try, I canât fix this. You mean everything to me, and it feels like Iâm losing you more and more every damn day.â His gaze flickered to the floor, and for a moment, he was just a man haunted by his past, the soldier who had lost so much.
Your heart shattered at the sight of him, raw vulnerability spilling out. âYou donât get to say that after everything. Youâve made me feel worthless, like my feelings donât matter. I canât keep letting you walk all over me and expect everything to be okay.â
âI donât want to fucking hurt you!â he cried, frustration and anguish battling within him. âI never asked for this! I just⌠sometimes I donât know how to be better, okay?â He clenched his jaw, fighting against the tears that threatened to spill.
âThen you need to figure it out!â you screamed, your voice trembling with pain. âI canât keep waiting for you to get it right while Iâm left feeling broken!â
As your words hung in the air, the truth of your reality crashed over you both. The love you once shared felt suffocated by the shadows of anger and disappointment. You were both drowning in a sea of sorrow, hearts beating in sync but desperately out of tune.
Bucky stood there, shattered, eyes glistening with unshed tears, as you turned away, the battle within you raging. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unprocessed emotions, and for the first time, the thought of walking away felt more appealing than the pain of staying. But just as you took a step, a sliver of hope flickered in your chestâa feeling that perhaps this confrontation could lead to a path forward.
âY/NâŚâ he started, voice thick with heartbreak, but his words got lost in the chasm of hurt between you, leaving only a haunting silence in their wake. Yet somewhere deep within, the possibility of healing lingered, waiting for the courage to break through.
Weeks dragged on in the compound, each day feeling like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. The faint hum of machinery surrounded you, a constant reminder of the tension in the air. Despite Buckyâs promises to change, shadows of his past returned, casting a gloom that enveloped you both. Memories of laughter and shared moments felt like distant echoes now, buried under the weight of unspoken words and unresolved conflicts. You tiptoed around him, hyper-aware that every little thing could set off alarms in your mind.
The moment of impact came like a bullet, unexpected and cruel. During a mission briefing, Buckyâs voice cut through the air like glass shattering.
âWhy the hell canât you just focus?â he snapped, eyes ablaze with fury that had nothing to do with you, yet somehow landed squarely on your chest. The air felt heavy, thick with the scent of sweat and metal, making it hard to breathe. âYouâre not some damn rookie! You should know better than this by now!â
âBucky, Iââ
âJust shut the hell up!â he roared, the words echoing off the walls, raw and menacing. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles whitening as he struggled to contain the storm inside. âYouâre making this way harder than it needs to be!â
Each word felt like a blow, carving deeper into your heart. This wasnât a new dance; it was an exhausting routine, and the suffocating weight of your shared history felt more unbearable than ever. You remembered the moments when he had opened up, how he had let you in, but they felt like faint memories now. âMaybe you should take a good, hard look in the mirror,â you shot back, your voice shaky with a mix of hurt and anger. âIâm not the one with the issue here.â
He glared at you, frustration boiling over, muscles tense, jaw clenched tight. You could see the flicker of his inner turmoil, the fear of losing you clawing at his composure. âYou keep pulling this shit! Itâs like you canât see past your own damn feelings! Just focus on the mission for once!â
Your chest tightened, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. âIâm not your damn punching bag, Bucky,â you said, voice breaking under the weight of raw emotion. âYou canât keep exploding at me and expect me to take it like itâs nothing. Iâm sick of this!â
âMaybe if you actually gave a damn about the mission instead of whining about your feelings, we wouldnât be in this mess!â His words cut deeper than you thought possible, and you recoiled as if slapped. You remembered the way he used to care, how he used to fight for every person he loved, and it stung even more to see him like this.
âI care, Bucky!â you cried, tears spilling over as you fought to hold it together. âBut itâs hard to keep my head in the game when Iâm constantly worried about when youâll blow up at me next! You say youâre trying, but nothing changes! It feels like I donât even matter to you anymore!â
For a moment, his expression shifted, a flicker of regret flashing across his face, but the damage was done. âYou think this is easy for me?â he shouted, voice raw and desperate, filled with unfiltered anguish. âIâm trying to be better, but you keep dragging me back into this shit!â You could see the pain behind his bravado, the memories of his past haunting him, and it broke your heart.
âDonât act like Iâm the fucking problem!â you yelled, heart racing as reality crashed down around you. âIâm not the one who canât confront his demons! You push me away and then blame me for not being there when you do!â
Pain flickered in Buckyâs eyes, the cracks in his stoic facade deepening. âYouâre right,â he admitted, voice shaking, the weight of his confession crushing him. âI donât know how to deal with this⌠how to deal with you. Iâm scared shitless of losing you, and honestly, I donât know if I can fix it.â The vulnerability in his voice was a fragile thread, hanging in the air, and you felt a flicker of hope amidst the chaos.
âThen maybe you need to sort your shit out,â you replied, heart breaking as you watched his despair unfold. âI canât keep waiting for you to figure it out while Iâm left feeling shattered.â You recalled the shared moments, the promises made, and the weight of them felt unbearable now.
Silence fell, thick with the unsaid and unresolved. You were both drowning in a sea of sorrow, love suffocating under the weight of his rage and your hurt. Buckyâs shoulders sagged as he stepped back, the chasm between you widening, feeling more insurmountable than ever.
âI canât keep doing this,â you whispered, tears streaming down your face, anguish spilling over. âItâs killing me.â The vulnerability hung heavy between you, and for a fleeting moment, you saw a glimmer of understanding in his eyes.
His breath hitched, and he looked like he might reach for you, but the distance remained unbridgeable, a stark reminder of everything that felt lost. Yet, beneath it all, a small part of you held onto the hope that one day, you could navigate the darkness together.
The clash felt inevitable, like a storm building for days, ready to break over the fragile space between you and Bucky. The tension in the air was suffocating, each breath heavy with unspoken anger and hurt. You stood in the middle of the training room, fists clenched, trying to hold yourself together. Across from you, Bucky stood rigid, muscles taut, his hands balled into fists. The weights he had been using moments earlier now lay forgotten on the floor, a sharp reminder of the growing chasm between you.
The silence was unbearable. Then, without warning, Bucky's voice cut through the room like a blade. âCan you justâstop fucking around? You think this is a game?â His voice cracked, but his anger was palpable, radiating from him in waves as he hurled the weights down with a force that rattled through the room, the echo reverberating like a punch to the gut.
You flinched at the sound, the weight of his words hitting you just as hard. âMaybe if youâd stop yelling for one second, youâd see Iâm trying!â Your voice shook, barely holding steady under the pressure. You were trembling, the knot of frustration and hurt in your chest threatening to unravel completely.
Buckyâs eyes darkened. âDamn it, youâre not trying hard enough!â he snapped, his fists tightening at his sides, knuckles white. His voiceâusually so steadyâwas strained now, as though he was fighting to keep control. The anger in his tone felt like a punch, but you could see the tremble in his hands, the way his jaw clenched so tight you thought it might crack.
The sting of his words twisted in your chest. You could feel the pressure building in your throat, choking you with the weight of unspoken feelings. âIâm trying, Bucky. But itâs never enough for you, is it?â you said, the words tasting bitter in your mouth, laced with all the exhaustion youâd tried to suppress.
His face contorted in anger, but for a brief second, you saw something deeper flicker in his eyesâsomething haunted. You recognized that look. It was the same one he wore when he woke up from nightmares, drenched in sweat, guilt seeping from every pore. But it vanished just as quickly as it appeared, swallowed by his fury. âGet your shit together,â he snapped, voice low and intense. âIâm not your babysitter. You really think I can hold your hand through every goddamn thing?â His voice wavered, but he squared his shoulders, hiding the vulnerability underneath. âYou want to survive? Toughen the hell up or get out of my way.â
âThen maybe you should just go!â The words burst out before you could stop them, raw and jagged, cutting through the tension. You hated how sharp your voice sounded, like a part of you was shattering with every syllable.
For a split second, his expression falteredâjust long enough for you to see the crack in his defenses, the fear creeping in behind the anger. But the moment passed, and his face hardened once more, the distance between you widening.
âEnough is enough, Bucky.â Your voice trembled as you blinked back the tears threatening to spill over. âI canât keep doing this. Iâm tired of forgiving you just so you can hurt me again.â Each word felt like a physical wound, reopening scars you thought had healed.
Buckyâs hands dropped to his sides, but his fists remained clenched. âYouâre being dramatic,â he muttered, turning his gaze away as though refusing to face the weight of your words. âI'm pushing you because you damn well need to be better. I can't afford to lose you.â
There it was. The fear he refused to name. He was terrified of losing you, but he couldnât say it. Not out loud. So instead, he buried it under anger, under demands that pushed you further away.
âYou twist everything, Bucky,â you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. âIâve tried to be there for you, to understand youâbut I canât keep pretending that this is okay. I canât be the person you take everything out on.â
His jaw tightened, but his hands trembled at his sides. âYou donât get it,â he said, voice quieter now, almost broken. âIâm trying to protect you. I just⌠I donât know how to do this without pushing people away. Iâm not good at this shit.â
âAnd what do you think youâre doing right now?â you asked, your heart aching. âYouâre pushing me away, and Iâm too tired to hold on.â
The silence that followed was deafening, thick with the weight of unsaid things. Buckyâs breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. The echo of the weights hitting the ground earlier still rang in your ears, a haunting reminder of how quickly things had spiraled.
You took a deep breath, feeling the chill of the room settle into your bones, as if the air itself was colder now, heavier. âI feel invisible, Bucky,â you whispered, your voice cracking with the weight of your confession. âLike Iâm just a shadow, someone to absorb your anger when things get too hard. I canât live like this anymore.â
Buckyâs eyes widened for a moment, and his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you but couldnât. His lips parted, but no words came. His shoulders slumped slightly, a tiny surrender in the face of your pain.
He opened his mouth, his voice hoarse and desperate now. âY/N, donât do this,â His voice cracked, but his body was still tense, like he was holding something backâsomething he couldnât quite bring himself to admit. âYou donât need to make this harder than it already is.â
âI donât want to walk away, Bucky. But I have to, for my own sanity,â you said, stepping back as if putting physical distance between you would somehow make it easier.
He reached out, his hand hovering in the air between you, unsure. âDamn it,â he rasped. âIâm trying, okay? I need you to believe me.â
âItâs too late for that,â you whispered, your heart breaking at the sight of him so vulnerable, so raw. His hand dropped, and the space between you felt like a canyon now, too wide to cross.
Buckyâs breath hitched, his gaze dropping to the floor as though he couldnât bear to look at you anymore. He clenched his fists again, nails biting into his palms. The weight of his guilt was suffocating, and you could see it in the way his shoulders sagged, the way his eyes dimmed with the realization that he had pushed you too far.
The room felt too quiet, the air thick with the aftermath of your words. You could feel the memory of every touch, every smile, every moment of laughter between you two slipping away like sand through your fingers. There was a photoâone he had kept tucked away in his jacketâof the two of you on a day when everything had felt perfect. He had carried it with him, a reminder of what he was trying to protect. But now, it felt like just another symbol of something irreparable.
âI loved you,â you whispered, stepping back one final time, tears blurring your vision as you turned toward the door. âBut I deserve better.â
âY/N!â His voice broke, desperate, as he took a step toward you, hand outstretched. His body was trembling now, fear etched into every line of his face. âDonât fucking walk away from me! I can change. I swear, I can be better for you!â
You hesitated, your back to him, feeling the weight of his plea. For a moment, you almost turned back. Almost. But the words he had said still hung heavy in the air between you. And you knewâdeep downâthat you couldnât survive this cycle anymore.
As you walked away, the echo of his voice followed you, the pain lacing each syllable a reminder of what could have been. But you didnât stop. The silence after you left was deafening, and it swallowed Bucky whole, leaving him alone with his regrets, the weight of his own mistakes pressing down on him like a physical force.
He watched the door close behind you, his heart sinking with the realization that he had lost you. And for the first time, he didnât know how to fix it.
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"You know what hurts the most? I've lost our children too...but you...you're still alive...and I've already lost you."
synopsis: the chairman of the gojo group of companies, gojo satoru, is in need of an heir and quick. however, with a wife who is struggling to conceive and his subsequently crumbling marriage, he is forced to explore other options which now comes in the form of his wife's secretary.
pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader
warnings: 18+ angst, smut, mentions of depression and miscarriage.
You and Satoru Gojo are cursed.
Your marriage began to fracture the day you learned you could never have children, each passing moment turning your marriage into a silent battleground of unspoken regrets and fading hopes. People would tell you that itâs probably just bad luck or wrong timing and that sooner or later, you and your other half would be blessed with your heartsâ desires. All you had to do was wait for the right moment, but no one told you that youâd be waiting forever.
âYour tie is crooked again.â
You step into the now empty groomsmen suite where your husband is peering at himself in the mirror. Just a few years ago, he played the role of the groom, anxiously waiting for the hour heâd be linked to you forever. Now, heâs a groomsman in someone elseâs wedding and hopefully a happier marriage.
Satoru looks up at the mirror to see you standing there as if on ceremony, waiting for him to invite you in. Ironically, that pretty much sums up your entire marriage: your shared heartbreak has become a gaping chasm between the two of you. You and Satoru could only hope that his sisterâs wedding wouldnât end up like yours â as lonely and quiet as a solitary mountain lake.
âI got it. You should head down with the other bridesmaids.â Satoru unloops his tie, his heart stubbornly refusing yours.
A numbness coats your veins when he simply gives up, and unbuttons his white collar for a more laid-back look instead, of course heâd rather do that â do anything else â than accept help from you, than speak more than two sentences to you, than be anywhere near you. Thatâs just how things are now after running head first into a happily ever after that was never going to come. âFine. Iâll see you downstairs then.â
âSure,â Satoru says nonchalantly.
He half-expected you to linger by the door for another minute, but his heart caves in when he sees youâve simply left. But what did he expect? The void that exists between the two of you had grown too vast, and the brighter days of your marriage had been swallowed by the abyss of unmet expectations, and endless heartbreak. And now, all thatâs left of the chaos is two lovers who have now ventured into the realm of reluctant strangers driven apart by fate.
Satoru walks over to the now closed door, and somehow sensing that you were still on the other side, he presses a hand to the cold wooden material, as if to say, âIâm still here.â
He hears a soft sniffle, then the painful sound of your receding footsteps and Satoru is, for the first time in one thousand four hundred sixty one days of calling himself your husband, utterly alone.
âTime to go home,â Satoru says monotonously, his right hand buried in his pocket while his free one holds the now settled hospital bill. He looks at you blankly, almost as if he expected this. After all, when you showed him the positive pregnancy test fifteen weeks ago, unlike the preceding ones, Satoru didnât bother to make it public.
âI-Iâm soâŚâ you trail off, your eyes brimming with tears. â...Sorry.â
âI know. You always are,â your husband curtly replies. Heâs lost count of how many times youâve been in this exact position: by your hospital bed with a medical abstract in his hand with the words âspontaneous miscarrriageâ printed on it.
He was getting sick of it. Itâs almost like a nightmare that never seems to end. This would have been your fifth child, and yet again, you and Satoru would never have the chance to hold them in your arms for even just a second until theyâre brutally ripped away from you. He looks at you again and sighs when you donât move a muscle, seemingly still in shock from the ordeal.
âIf youâre not ready to go, Iâll just have our driver pick you up.â
â...Alright.â
âOkay.â
He turns to leave but then your broken voice cuts through the thick air of the hospital room. âSatoruâŚ? You donât blame me right?â
Satoru screws his eyes shut, that was the last question he wanted to answer. He couldnât bring himself to tell you that he has never blamed you for miscarrying, that, in the four years since he married you and the four years heâs had to witness child after child slip through your fingers like it was never meant to be, heâs never felt a tinge of disappointment towards you.
He told you not to go to the dental mission today, since you were on strict bedrest with your placenta previa but you made all these bullshit reassurances that you weren't going to push yourself too hard. He wants to say that you should have been more careful, that you should have listened to him. Yet, even then, he also couldnât bring himself to tell you, his poor wife, his hurting better half, all the resentment heâs been harboring, so, he does the only thing he can do.
He runs away, far away from you when you need him the most. You stifle a sob when he doesnât even crane his head back to look at you like the act of doing so would make him sick. âGet some rest," he simply tells you, unaware that this would be the last real conversation youâd have for a while because the next two months would be weeks of gut-wrenching silence. "Today...must have been hard for you."
He was wrong, you think sullenly to yourself as he leaves you alone. Every day has already become unbearable for you, every breath has become debilitating. What right did you have to breathe when all your children, each one departing with a piece of your and Satoruâs hearts, had been denied that very right?
Looking back at it now, Sayuriâs wedding was just like yours. What else would you have expected considering that you helped with the preparations from the color scheme to the venueâs decorations? Sayuri valued your input, and with you, despite being the junior party, having gotten married first, surely, you must have known what you were talking about when it comes to weddings. Too bad you couldnât say the same thing about knowing a thing or two about marriage.
As you watch the happy couple from the top table, you utter a silent prayer in your heart that Satoruâs sister will never have to face the trials you have faced.
Satoru stands up from his seat, guiding you to the top table with a hand on the small of your back to bid your farewells and final well wishes. âSayuri, itâs getting late. Y/N and I should be heading back now.â A look of disappointment crosses Sayuriâs face but it is quickly overshadowed by understanding.
You watch with a small smile as your husband embraces his older sister, whispering something in her ear that causes her to land a jab on Satoruâs abdomen. Stepping forward, you kiss Sayuriâs cheek in a show of sisterly love. âCongratulations again, nee-san.â
âThanks for helping out again, Y/N,â Sayuri says sweetly, utterly grateful to all the assistance you extended for her special day. âIâm hoping youâll help me for my next event, right?â
You return her smile with a slight tilt of your head; the two of you have been friends long before Satoru came into the picture, what with her being your ever supportive senior in university. The trust that you forged with Sayuri is often a running joke in the Gojo family. Itâs often said that you got your husbandâs sisterâs approval long before you even knew each other. And it was true. The way she has stood as an older sister figure for you even during your darkest days fighting your loneliest battles is something you will forever cherish.
Satoru casts a look at new brother-in-law who is busy mingling with his own family; he makes a face at his sisterâs remark. âYouâre already planning for a second wedding when youâve only been married for six hours?â your husband playfully jokes about his sisterâs very questionable comment.
Come to think of it, thatâs the first time youâve seen Satoru smile in a long while, and when he did, it had to be because he joked about the tricky business of remarriage. It pains you to think that he has smiled so seldomly that youâve almost forgotten how he looks when heâs not in a constant state of silent detachment, oceans deep in his chemtrail of thoughts. You were glad you werenât a mind reader, dreading hearing his thoughts aloud: his silent hatred of you, the final goodbye having already materialized and rehearsed millions of times in his mind.
But couldnât he see that you were still trying? You desperately want to hold his hand in a silent oath: âIâm still here.â but you think better of it, fearing that you might just lose him altogether.
Then again, a ghost of a mirthless smile appears on your lips for a brief second, if thereâs anything you were good at, it was losing people.
You are pulled out of your thoughts by Sayuriâs sarcastic laugh. âHa-ha. If Iâm lucky, thisâll be my only wedding.â She sticks her tongue out at Satoru who merely rolls his eyes in response. âAnyway, as I was saying,â she turns to you with a hesitant smile, mulling over if this was a good idea given your circumstances.
Just then, her husband cordially approaches the three of you. âHey,â he greets his wife with an affectionate kiss. âI got you this,â he places a champagne flute in Sayuriâs hand. âAlcohol-free, I swear.â
Satoruâs face falls momentarily. How long has it been since he kissed his wife like that? No, how long has it been since you put up those unscalable walls around the fortress that is your heart, blocking him out at every corner? He glances your way in an attempt to search your face â for anything to reassure him that your marriage was still salvageable, for anything to let him know you and him were still worth saving â he isnât even surprised when you instantly turn your gaze away from him.
Guess he got his answer.
âDid you tell them?â your new brother-in-law asks with the same trepidation in his tone as his wifeâs.
You make the cardinal mistake of asking. âTell us what?â you ask, puzzled.
The next few words hit you like a tidal wave. Your prayers of Sayuri never having to experience the anguish you felt have been answered, in place of your own unanswered prayers for yourself and Satoru.
âThatâŚweâre expecting.â
You donât even notice that youâve already muttered out a brief: âO-oh. IâmâŚhappy for you.â As you numbly offer Sayuri her congratulations, you think back to all the times you and Satoru have had to hear: âIâm so sorry for your lossâ. It wasnât fair how happiness almost always helplessly slips through your and Satoruâs fingers in the form of a silent heartbeat at twelve weeks, or a fertilized egg that never truly grows into an embryo.
If there really was such a thing as âhellâ or âdamnationâ, then yours came in the form of an empty nursery, an empty stroller, unused onesies, unsung lullabies and unflipped bedtime story books.
Satoru handles the news with an agonizing grace, his voice gruff and raw with held back emotions. He clears his throat, repeating the congratulations. âHow far along are you?â he asks his sister, his demeanor shrouded with a profound yearning for the same thing, if not for him, then for you because if anything, of all people, you deserve that kind of joy too. Maybe even more so than him. He was fine with just having his wife back, after all. The succession of the entire conglomerate would always come second to you.
Even if you didnât know it. Even if you no longer cared to believe him.
âEighteen weeks,â Sayuri answers quietly. âI-I was gonna ask if Y/N would be interested in helping out with the baby shower but, Iâd understand if this feels like a bad ideaââ
â--Itâs okay,â you defensively cut off Sayuri, refusing to hear another word of pity, another syllable along the lines of: âIâm sorry.â. Youâve had enough of that. âI-Iâd be happy toâŚreally.â
With your unconvincing words, your quartet falls into a tense silence. You and Satoru donât dare to stay long enough for either of them to try saving the conversation, so, with a polite and final few well-wishes, you leave. Just as the two of you settle into the backseat of his car for the return journey to Tokyo, tiny droplets of rain begin to collect on the windows.
â...Why canât we be like that?â you break the overwrought silence with a genuine question, a slight tremble in your voice.
âWe were like that too,â he replies almost nostalgically, recalling the many precious hushed conversations each night in your marital bed, the mornings when you and him gaze at the otherâs sleeping form, thinking to yourselves how lucky you two were to have each other, the warmth that came with being so in love.
It was an age long abandoned.
Now, you two were silent, your conversations not extending past two brief sentences, your bed is now empty and cold, and your luck had run out the same way your love died out.
âOnce.â
You spoke of your union as if it were a house of cards thatâs been torn apart by the wind, the two of you are now all but decimated, to the point where one can only wistfully pine after what had been lost that can no longer be restored. And after the many arguments that had erupted between you and him, unbearably, this was the one thing you could never argue about.
Satoru nods, echoing your words with a heavy heart. âYeahâŚonce.â
The fact is: no one knows what happened or rather, no one â not even your OBGYN â could have expected this. It was a normal day, you and Satoru, as excited parents-to-be, had booked the appointment and all the succeeding ones leading to your supposed due date ahead of time, so, you arrived at your usual schedule of 3:30 PM, and after a quick check of your vitals, the OB moves to conduct the standard ultrasound.
As you move to lie down on the bed, it seems youâve only just noticed the bag Satoru was carrying. You look at it curiously. âWhatâs that?â you ask, pointing to the moss green canvas bag on his lap.
âYour hospital bag,â Satoru says enthusiastically, already opening it. âSee? I packed three pairs of socks for you, a sweater, your lip balm, hairbrush, lotion and â why are you laughing?â he asks when you snort with laughter. The OB is also shaking her head in amusement. Clearly, your oblivious husband kinda missed the memo.
âBabe,â you explain amidst your giggles. âIâm not having the baby today.â
âWhat do you meaâoh,â He awkwardly looks at the hospital bag. Satoru Gojo, the owner of the ever powerful Gojo conglomerate, the darling of Kabutocho and the Nikkei Index, a holder of a dual degree in finance and business analytics, further supplemented with an MBA from Wharton, looks flustered. He had forgotten that heâs only supposed to bring that during the delivery.
The OB chuckles as she lifts your shirt up to squeeze some of the ultrasound gel on the taut skin of your still mostly flat but slightly swollen belly. âSeems dad was a bit too excited,â she remarks. You shift at the cold gel, but relax after a while.
âWell, itâs our first, after all,â you glance at Satoru with a warm smile. He brings your hand to his lips and he sits down on the chair, his eyes altering between you and the monitor. You squeeze his hand as the probe glides over your midriff. The image shifts slightly on the screen and the OB zooms in on the small image of your baby.
She makes a note of the growth. â6.0 centimeters at 12 weeks,â the OB says, pleasantly surprised. âNow, would the two of you like to hear the babyâs heartbeat?â
You and Satoru share a brief look of happiness and nod simultaneously.
Instantly, images of what life would look like from now on flash in your minds: Satoru would constantly be chasing after the little tornado that would be your child, while youâd be too busy cleaning up after the mischievous duo. If itâs a girl â which is Satoruâs preference but heâll never actually say that out loud â Satoru would be almost always willing to indulge them. Their little girl needs your lipstick to give her daddy a makeover? Say no more, heâs already rummaging through your makeup bag. Oh, she wants a tiara? Heâs already on the phone with his ex-fling who also happens to be Swarovskiâs top designer to commission a tiara piece for his little princess.
And honestly, the same can be said for you if the baby does turn out to be a boy. It would be a joy to have a little Satoru of your own. Youâd shower them with kisses every morning, and every night before he went to sleep, never shying away from letting him know how much you love him.
Or at least that was the plan.
Call it a motherâs intuition but something doesnât feel right. Worry pricks at your entire being when all you can hear is the drone-like hum of the examination roomâs AC unit, the frequency adjustment of the ultrasound machine and the sound of your own hearts breaking at the sound of silence.
âIâm so sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Gojoââ
ââWhatâs happening?��� you ask frantically, your head abruptly lifting from the pillow in alarm to look at the screen. âWhatâs happening, âToru? Why canât I hear anything?â you look to Satoru for answers â no, perhaps you knew the answer all along â you simply looked at him, pleading with him to tell you that this wasnât real, that youâve probably just gone momentarily deaf or something, and that by some miracle, your baby was still there.
But as Satoru simply purses his lips, gently easing you back onto the bed, his eyes brimming with tears that were now falling in the crook of your neck, silently sobbing into your shoulder with you. You could faintly hear the OB amidst your sobs already paging the hospital pharmacy for a prescription of Mifepristone and Misoprostol to assist with emptying your womb. Not that it wasnât already empty to begin with now that your baby is gone, and all theyâve left in their wake is a void in their parentâs hearts and a sense of confusion.
Why? Why did they just up and leave like that before you even got to hold them, to see their tiny face as they sleep in their hospital bassinet next to your bed? Did your baby somehow sense that you and Satoru would be horrible parents? Were you unworthy of their love, so unworthy that youâd never get to meet them?
âShh, shh,â Satoru tries to soothe you in spite of his own turmoil, the thought of losing the baby too heavy on his mind to do anything other than attempt to comfort you. âIâm hereâŚIâm right here.â
He was right. You both were still here but gazing back at the black and white image of your now sleeping angel, youâll just have to learn to accept that they arenât.
Satoru has been acting strange all day.
For one, he sent you a good morning text message wishing you luck with your patients today just as you were about to change into your scrubs when you arrived at your dental clinic in Tokyo Midtown, and just after receiving that message, your secretary, Kozue, happily enters your office with your takeaway coffee in one hand and a small gift box in the other.
âYou know, Mr. Gojo would be a horrible secret admirer,â she remarks simply, placing the box above the patient records you were reviewing.
âWhy is that?â you ask, finishing up on your 9:00 patientâs appointment sheet.
Kozue gestures to the Bvlgari logo on the small box. âHe clearly has a thing for high-end jewelry brands, itâs either he sends you Bvlgari or Swarovski.â You breathe a small laugh at her keen observation.
âLooks like your observation skills are improving, pretty soon, I might just assign a patient to you,â you joke. âAnyway, itâs our fifth anniversary today, hence the gift-giving. I left him a new pair of Giorgo Armani loafers on the closet display this morning.â
âYou two are so extra,â Kozue chortles. âMy boyfriend and I donât get to do all this.â
You nod sympathetically. âWhenâs he coming back again?â you ask as you carefully open the box to reveal a pair of Serpenti Seduttori diamond earrings with a blue sapphire on the head. Kozue watches you try them on with a soft smile on her face, itâs not often anyone gets to see you put your hair down.
âAround next year,â Kozue gushes. âBut honestly, well, uhâŚdonât freak out, butââ
ââYou plan to join him in Chicago once he gets his MBA,â you answer for her.
Youâve seen her often searching for apartments in the South Loop, indicating her future plans to leave the clinic and the country altogether for greener pastures overseas. You know that the long distance relationship has been hard for her, often using her breaks to speak with her boyfriend on the phone just as heâs about to turn in for the night.
Itâs almost funny to think about: that Kozue and her lover, despite being forced into a long distance relationship due to their differing circumstances, were just about as close as literal soulmates get, while you and Satoru live together and yet youâre worlds away from each other.
But whatever, some people just get dealt a better hand.
âItâs alright. I really donât mind if this would be our last year working together if it means you get to pursue your happiness elsewhere. The clinic is nothing compared to the world, after all.â
Kozue nods in thanks. This is just another one of the many things she admires you for. She knows that she isnât as tenured as the rest of the dentists in the clinic, and honestly, she didnât have a doctorate in dentistry either, but you still trusted her enough to be your secretary, and you never made her feel that she was in any way inferior to you or anyone else â itâs all just part of your caring nature even if you do have
âNow, youâre just making me wanna stay even more, boss,â Kozue pretends to wipe a tear from her eye, making you laugh.
Her loyalty is always something youâre grateful for and quite frankly, you couldnât imagine the clinic functioning as well as it is without her. Sure, sometimes sheâs annoyingly optimistic sometimes and just unbearably too happy in the mornings, but you had to hand it to her, in an office full of sleep-deprived dentists like yourselves, Kozueâs infectious enthusiasm is probably just as essential as good quality coffee beans. She always knows when to cheer everyone up, especially you.
âWell, thatâs great, since you always know how to get me out of a tight spot,â you half-joke.
âAlways!â she holds up her thumb in affirmation. The intercom suddenly pages her and she checks her watch. âLooks like our first patients are coming in, Iâll see you later. And happy anniversary to the two of you!â
The rest of the afternoon rolls by uneventfully and before you know it, Satoru is already picking you up from work like he always does except this time, heâs carrying a bouquet of pink camellias.
He removes his sunglasses just as he steps into the building and you stand there for a bit, a little starstruck.
Itâs no secret that your husband is good-looking, but it feels like an eternity since youâve actually properly regarded him. Itâs like seeing him for the first time all over again: your heart thumps in your chest and a blush creeps onto your cheeks. How long has it been since youâve felt this way? Since the two of you spent time with each other? Since you both made a courageous effort to mend the gap between you and him?
Satoru also stands there, relief washing over him when he notices you wearing the earrings he got you. âHey,â he greets, striding over to you. The bouquet is placed into your waiting hands and you feel youâve been swept off your feet when he leans down to press a soft yet somehow yearnful kiss on your forehead.
âHiâŚâ You shyly greet your husband like heâs some guy you met on a blind date. You then realize heâs wearing the Armani shoes you got him. âDo they fit well?â
What kind of a question is that? Satoru is a size twelve and a half, you should know your husband the same way he should know how his wife prefers pearls over sapphire.
Satoru forces a wry smile. The shoes do feel a little pinchy but you didnât need to get the impression that he doesnât appreciate your gift. âYeah, theyâre great.â He glances at the earrings with a soft smile. âYou look beautiful.â
âTell that to the patient who thought I was a mushroom when I gave them nitrous oxide earlier,â you chuckled. Satoru snorted in laughter at that. âHappy anniversary, âToru,â you whispered.
âHappy anniversary, Y/N,â he pulls you into a tight hug, and your heart swells with an uneasy but welcome joy.
Your arms instinctively wrap around your husbandâs form which Satoru responds to with an indiscernible sniffle. The walk to the car is quiet but not tense and maybe not peaceful either, years of emotional distancing are not easily forgotten after all. But â you look at your and Satoruâs interlocked hands, noting how for once, it felt like they fit a little more perfectly together right now more than ever â maybe itâs a start.
Thereâs a saying that goes: âThere is no calamity greater than lavish desires. There is no greater guilt than discontentment. And there is no greater disaster than greed.â In a game of poker, itâs said the winner is the first to rise once he gets his betting sum back, and in chess, oftentimes it is the aggressive players that slaughter pawn after pawn who do not realize their own territory has already been infiltrated by their opponent.
With that being said, you shouldnât have pushed it. You should have been content with the small yet meaningful progress you and Gojo made. After a night out at Tokyoâs Stellar Sky Garden Lounge, the two of you practically stumble back into the penthouse in an intense haze of lust, desire and a banal and reckless greed. In Satoruâs defense, with the way that you were responding to his touch, tilting your head back to expose the delicate flesh of your neck as he nips on the skin like a man possessed, he thought that, at the very least, you were ready to be intimate with him after what felt like an eternity of you choosing to sleep in the guest room rather than your marital bed.
âH-HahâS-Satoru, mnhhâŚâ
Satoru expertly wraps his lips around your nipple, suckling at it, his nose tickling your mound. His other hand catches your other tit, squeezing at the tender nub eliciting a languid moan from your lips. âShhh,â he releases your nipple momentarily, his tongue flicking against the bud. âLet me take care of you, babeâŚâ
His hand trails down to your core, collecting your slick, rubbing up and down your slit, plunging a finger inside. He bites his lip at your warmth, he could already feel your familiar and tight walls. And he wasnât even inside you yet. The thought of being inside you again sends a shiver of excitement down his spine, and he pushes you onto the soft mattress.
Itâs been two years since your last miscarriage, two whole years that youâve denied him of sexual intimacy. And Satoru doesnât blame you. Having to endure loss after loss, it was expected that youâd withdraw into yourself, closing everyone off as you healed. But canât you see he was hurting too? That he has wept too? That he also has his own fair share of damp tear-stained pillows? That he has, on many occasions, locked himself in his C-suite office after having had to endure another sleepless night of your relentless sobs in the other room?
He looks into your hooded eyes, and he sees the future you two have lost: you carrying his baby in your arms, cooing to them as you bounce them gently in your arms â now, Satoru isnât religious, but that image is his heaven. Burying his length into your cunt, he chokes, letting out a pleasured groan that mixes with your own breathless whine. Soon, the bedroom is filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin as he pounds into you at a desperate pace.
On your end, with every roll of his hips, tears prick your eyes.
This feels wrong.
No, this feels excruciating and terribly hollow. Heâs never touched you like this. Sex with Satoru was always passionate, and loving. His hands would always intertwine with yours as he catches your lips in a searing kiss. Heâs never like this. His captivating sapphire eyes held a loneliness to them.
As heâs bullying your cunt, you could feel yourself sinking into oblivion.
âAahââ Satoru groans softly, his forehead pressed against your shoulder as looking at you was so painful for him right now. He doesnât want to hate you, but he seems unable to love you all the same. What should he do? What can he do?
Suddenly, as heâs approaching his high, his hips melding into yours a little more forcefully and erratically, a dam of tears bursts wide open and you push back against him.
âMmâŚâm getting closeânghâgonna make you a mommy again, all round with my baby, you like that huh?â Satoru lifts your legs to his shoulders, thrusting into your weeping pussy, oblivious to the turmoil in your head. Two seconds ago, you wanted this. Now, you feel like you were gonna be sick at his ramblings of getting you pregnant again.
Fuck. You canât do that anymore: getting pregnant and being led to believe that by some miracle, youâll carry to term. Please just make it end.
âSatoru, d-donâtânghâp-please stopââ
âShhh, ahâŚY/NâŚgonna cumâŚgonna give you my babyâaghââ
He doesnât seem to hear you. No, he pretends not to hear you outrightly rejecting him.
On your end, you felt like you were dying, with the overwhelming self-loathing in your heart, you couldn't even see Satoruâs desperate effort to restore the normal intimacy you two shared during the early parts of your marriage. But you didnât care. Satoru didnât deserve to make love to someone whoâs already gone, to stick around for someone who canât give him the happiness he deserves.
âSatoru, PLEASE STOP!â
âFuck!â Satoru pulls out mid-thrust. Your heart clenches when he looks like heâs been slapped right across the face. He hastily finishes himself off and upon his release, he groans in frustration. He should have known youâd be this way. And fuck, he was angry at you. He was angry at himself for stupidly hoping that things were gonna get better. âYouâre impossible!â he fumed, already pulling on his clothes, ready to abandon you.
âSatoru, wait! Where are you going?!â you pull the blanket to your chest, draping yourself as you follow him to the door.
âAnywhere! Anywhere but here!â
âYouâve never been here!â You accuse him without thinking and instant regret overruns you when Satoru lets out a scoff of disbelief. âSatoru, wait, Iâm sorry!â
âNever?â Satoruâs jaw tenses. âWhat do you mean I wasnât here?â Heâs on the edge of losing it completely now. You had some nerve accusing him of that when he had to pick up the pieces â your pieces, the pieces of this shattered marriage. âSay it again, Y/N. Tell me exactly how I was never here.â
It was wrong of you to say that.
Painful memories begin flashing into your mind like a tragic montage: the uneaten and cold tray of food Satoru would leave outside the guest bedroom for you on the hardest and loneliest days of your life, the many instances heâs had to coax you to get out of bed by taking you to the places the two of you used to love, the countless nights heâs had to hold you, staying awake to hush you when you wake up sobbing from another nightmare.
âSatoru, no, IâI didnât meanâŚthatâŚâ
He turns around to look you in the eyes, rage seeping through his usually calm ocean orbs. âYou didnât mean that? You sure sounded like you did!â He takes a step towards you, and you inch backwards, drawing your gaze to your feet in shame. âItâs fucking amazing how you donât âmean toâ do anything! You didnât mean to stand me up during our anniversary date last year too, the same way you didnât mean to start sleeping in the guest bedroom every nightââ
You flinch at the accusation dripping from his voice as he unloads all his heartache on you. âStopâŚplease stopââ
âAnd let me guess you didnât mean to lose our children too!â
Your hand connects with his cheek and Satoru is stunned. Not at your slap. But at the vile words that just left his throat. He stares at you in shock, guilt written all over his face.
âDonât you dare bring our children into this. You think this has been easy on me? Feeling a little life grow everyday in your womb only for them to justâŚbe goneâŚone day when you wake up? You donât know how difficult it is to lose a child!â
âAnd you donât know how difficult it is to lose your wife!â Satoru retorts, his voice thick with exhaustion.
His eyes bear the scars of your shared heartbreak. He knows youâve been struggling. Truly he does. And he wants nothing more than to take all your pain away from you, to spare you from the hell that youâve been unfairly sentenced to. But why canât you realize that you arenât the only wounded party here?
âAnd you know what hurts the most?â His eyes gleamed with unshed tears, his voice cracking mid-sentence.
His gaze falls to the locket that held a small sonogram picture of your would have been fourth child which you wore everyday.
âI lost our children too. I grieved for them too. But youâŚyouâre still alive but Iâm already grieving for you like I've already lost you.â
Satoru doesnât return to the bedroom again that night and the next morning, you both awake to a wedding portrait that now. sheltered a heartbroken wifeâs teardrop stains, and a box full of baby items for disposal packed by a husband who has now, by all intents and purposes, given up.
Satoru slips out to the five star hotel's rooftop for some much needed air. Hopefully none of these pesky journalists saw him on his way here. But that probably just comes with the whole experience of celebrating the conglomerate's tenth anniversary. He finds you in the garden, seated on a bench next to a potted plant. Satoru approaches you quietly, sitting down next to you. "I thought I'd find you up here."
"Hmm? Yeah, it was starting to feel suffocating in there," you chuckled. "I think it was nice of you to choose the Tokyo Children's Hospital as this year's beneficiary," you nudge him lovingly. You were already excited for the upcoming courtesy visit and celebratory turnover of the 20 million yen donation from the Gojo clan's multinational conglomerate.
Satoru plants a loving kiss on your temple, pulling you close to his form, his head resting atop yours. It's been a year since you've gotten married and already, people were already getting antsy for a baby, but maybe none as anxious as your families who are more than excited to have a new little one running around their respective estates. "So, walk me through the event next week. What have you got planned?" he asks you candidly about your plans for the turnover.
"Well, I already contacted a catering company for the children's party, oh and of course, there'll be games and storytelling sessions," you share eagerly. "I even hired a magician and facepainter!"
Satoru hums at your plans. "Of course, it can't be a children's party without some facepainting action."
"You know facepainting isn't limited to children," you flash him an impish grin. Understanding the implication of your words, Satoru immediately shakes his head in adamant refusal. "Oh come on, as the Gojo Group of Companies's chairman, you have to lead by example, right?"
"They aren't my employees!" Satoru laughs. Before you could even pull your signature pout, he pecks your cheek. "But if that's what my wife wants, then, I'll have them paint my pretty white hair too."
You laugh along with him, sighing contentedly at this peaceful moment. "Hey, Satoru? Why don't we...make them a part of the permanent beneficiary list?" you suggest quietly. "I mean, we still have some room for them, right?"
Satoru contemplates the possibility of having the Tokyo Children's Hospital as a permanent beneficiary of the Gojo Group, yet, he agrees nonetheless. "You know what? I don't see why not, I'll be sure to talk to PR about it," he smiles softly. "We can even make it a tradition - having a fun get-together with the kids and their parents." Satoru's heart swells at the idea of one day bringing your own child along to these events, teaching them the importance of being altruistic and compassionate to others. You nod, seemingly sharing his thoughts. "Maybe someday, we can bring our own little one into the mix."
You nod against Satoru's warm embrace with a wistful smile dancing on your lips. "I'd like that. Logistically, it'd be faster for the two of us to distribute the goodie bags if we had an extra little pair of hands."
"It's a plan then," Satoru concurs joyfully.
ââââââ
little fireflies everywhere taglist: @lvstyangel @harlamarie @forever-war @indecisive-capricorn @sammytheotakunerd @krokietino @bloopsstuff @polarbvnny @satxoru @aishies-stuff @catowru @chilichopsticks @bleppt @wizlizliz @ssetsuka @kouyoumarryme @ryumurin @gentlebeari @3lushkiii @reine-son @sleepyyammy @alwaysfreakingout @iwanttohitmyself @an-ever-angry-bi @itachiiwrites @monserrath0730 @r0ckst4rjk @reagan707 @chrimsychrism @peachipeachy @manyno @3keros3ne @kazehayaaa @leafynightmares @allofffmypeaches @straberry-cake @ladytamayolover @kirashuu @sad-darksoul @chauchirem @ghostlytravelerface @kittykatz777 @dazailover1900
#fic: little fireflies everywhere#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader angst#gojo angst#gojo satoru x you#gojo x you#gojo satoru angst#jjk angst#jjk x reader angst#gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#jjk x you angst#jujutsu kaisen x you angst#gojou satoru x you angst#gojou satoru x reader#gojo smut#gojo x reader smut#gojo fic#jjk#jjk x you#jjk imagines#jujutsu gojo#gojo x y/n#gojo x you angst#gojo satoru x reader angst#gojo satoru x y/n angst
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âYou have an mandoâad and you havenât even sworn the resolânare or riduurok?â Fox asks, crouched in front of the child. âI thought prime raised you to be better than the rest of us.â
âBuirââ Boba starts and then breaks off with an annoyed growl. âFuck you. Heâs not even my kid.â
âMind your language in front of your tubie.â Fox mock gasps as he swings the child up onto his hip. Thereâs a wide look to his eyes, plush lips split into the manic grin that Boba remembers as always preceding whatever chaos Tenten had managed to orchestrate.
Itâs as infuriating now as it was back then but now, with the weight of years behind him, Bobaâs chest aches with nostalgia and grief.
Thereâs something to the set of Foxâs chin that indicates this chaos is for Bobaâs sake. As aggravating and impossible as Fox always was, he also always knew his brothers better than they knew themselvesâEspecially brothers who would never claim him in return. Boba isnât a child anymore and he isnât blinded by his grief. He can recognize Foxâs shitstirring for the kindness it is.
That doesnât mean he doesnât want to strangle the life out of his little brother when Tenâika holds the child above his head in a display to the Corrie guard. âBehold! Bobaâs tubie!â
The entire battalion salutes as one before chanting, âOya, bâBobâika tubie!â
âThey stole my kid.â Din finally protests but itâs far too late.
Boba shrugs one shoulder with a grimace in Dinâs direction over his shoulder. âHeâs a CC. They do that.â
Another cheer goes up around them and Boba turns back just in time to see Hound with the child balanced on one shoulder. This would be fine, if he wasnât joining in on the dha werda verda.
Behind Boba, Din breathes out a vocoder crackle of despair.
#commander fox#boba fett#din djarin#im still on the first season of the mandalorian#so donât expect canon compliance.#idk if Iâll continue this#I just want more of Fox being a menace
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MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me
Chapter One. Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.
(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Thèos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)
Tags: Sub/Dom, Toxic Behaviour, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Blackmail, Praise Kink, Begging, DubCon, CNC.
FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.
You were a good girl, and an exemplary student. One who consistently demonstrated exceptional discipline and commitment. Your dedication to academics was unwavering, as you diligently followed the rules and guidelines, never straying from the prescribed path.
Your singular focus was on nurturing your intellectual curiosity, and you showed no interest in indulging in activities that might distract you from your educational pursuits. Your life was calm, quiet, and focused.
Until, one day everything fucking changed.
âââ
In the enchanted realm of Hogwarts, there resided a studious and exceptionally bright seventh-year Ravenclaw witch, known for her unwavering dedication to academics and her steadfast commitment to the noble pursuit of knowledge. This young sorceress, a paragon of virtue, refrained from the temptations that often lured her peers, steering clear of parties, alcohol, and the haze of smoke that veiled the Ravenclaw common room during clandestine gatherings.
Her life was meticulously ordered, her goals sharply defined. But the universe had a curious sense of humor, for it threw her into an unexpected affiliation with the most notorious bad boy in Slytherin:
Mattheo fucking Riddle.
He, the embodiment of rebellion, was a stark contrast to her pristine existence. Mattheo's reputation preceded him: a Slytherin troublemaker, one who was almost always found in the midst of chaos. His devil-may-care attitude was a challenge to authority, and there was not one singular individual that could tie him down.
Yet, fate had woven their paths together, forcing the astute young witch to confront the complexity of human nature, unraveling layers of his defiance while simultaneously testing the boundaries of her own steadfast resolve.
And that witch; that poor fucking witch--well, that was you.
âââ
"Please, Riddle...if you'd take a seat," you ran your tongue along the backside of your teeth, straightening your posture in your chair as you tried to contain your irritation. "...I must express my desire to commence our endeavors prior to the conclusion of the academic term."
"Eager, are we?" Mattheo sneered, sauntering toward the desk painfully fucking slow. "You know, Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither is mastery. I'll sit when I'm fuckin' ready to sit."
His voice was low, the sadistic drawl of his tone making your bones ignite with fury. Gods, he certainly fucking loved testing you.
"And I won't tell you again...call me Mattheo."
You inhaled a sharp breath, flattening out your blue uniform skirt against your thighs as you bit your tongue hard enough to make it bleed.
"Rome may not have been built in a day, but it certainly collapsed in one--now, I won't ask again, Riddle..." you looked up, meeting his dark obsidian eyes, fighting back a sadistic smirk of your own as he narrowed his gaze in challenge. "Take. A. Seat."
The words were clipped behind your teeth with an obvious urgency that shut Mattheo up for a few seconds, the gears turning inside his head as he contemplated how he could one up your little jab--a constant occurrence that seemed to happen every single fucking time you met with him.
At this point, your tutor sessions were an easy seventy percent bickering with the remaining thirty being a half-assed session of one-sided discussion where he mostly offers you fleeting blank stares while zoning you out. You hated that you'd agreed to this, but you knew you needed to get on (and remain on) Professor Dumbledores good side if you wanted a career here at the school after you graduated--and you were so fucking hungry for it you'd do almost anything to solidify your fate.
Even if it meant surrendering your sanity to the hands of Mattheo fucking Riddle.
You chose not to let him, of all individuals, tarnish your path. Your reputation, fragile as it may have been, resembled a tinderbox, and he was the combustible element, ready to erupt at any given moment. This resolve became your steadfast anchor, shaping the direction of your choices.
"You know," Mattheo said as he finally slumped down into the chair across from you, his tousled brown hair falling effortlessly over his forehead. "I was under the impression that the brilliant Ravenclaws such as yourself valued intellect over impulsive haste..." he tilted his head, his gaze scanning every movement of your body as you stared at him. "It was my understanding that impatience was more of a Gryffindor trait."
Your fingers trembled with palpable irritation, yet you understood the imperative need to suppress it. You couldn't afford to reveal just how deeply he affected you, realizing that acknowledging it would subject you to endless taunts and jibes, a fate you were determined to avoid at any cost. This restraint became your shield in moments such as these.
"You wish to discuss house values, Riddle?" You tilted your head, straightening out your posture once again. "Because I, in complete honesty, was under the impression that Slytherins were known for their resourcefulness...your reluctance to cooperate suggests a rather curious lack of ambition."
Mattheo narrowed his eyes, his expression growing icier. "Resourcefulness doesn't mean blindly following every stupid instruction thrown at you, and ambition means choosing the battles worth fighting, not wasting time on pathetic, trivial matters."
With a subtle smirk, he leaned back, hooking his arm on the back of his chair as he eyed your discomfort--seemingly undisturbed by your challenge--and you chewed on the inside of your cheek, somehow knowing he wasn't finished.
And of course, he wasn't. "If you really believe this seemingly-stubborn insistence on when or if I sit reflects a lack of ambition, you clearly misunderstand the depths of Slytherin cunning. We pick our battles wisely, and right now, this isn't one of them."
Your blood pressure surged, the crimson currents in your veins reaching their boiling point. Months of enduring relentless bickering and one-upmanship had pushed you to the edge--this man may be an utter degenerate but he certainly knows how to use his mouth when it matters. You could no longer bear the weight of this incessant game, and in a fleeting moment of frustration, you finally succumbed to the pressure.
You knew this was your breaking point.
"I'm just trying to fucking help you." You said, before you even realized you had. You hardly ever cussed, never out loud--that is. "If you don't want to be here, then get out. I promise you, you won't be hurting my feelings if you do."
He huffed, leaning forward and crossing his hands together on top of the desk as he wet his stupidly plush lips, a devilish grin swallowing his cheeks while he revelled in the fact he'd so clearly fucking won. Yet again.
"No," he said. "I don't think I will."
You clucked your tongue, irritated even further at his response, gaze narrowing ever-so-slightly before you rolled your eyes--brushing off his suffocating arrogance and pulling your textbook out of your bag, slamming it down on top of the desk between your bodies.
"The Grimoire of Arcane Relics?" Mattheo read the title out loud, voice laced with a confused, almost offended undertone. "We don't cover this until the middle of second term..."
You cocked an eyebrow. "And?"
"Seems a bit...hasty, to shove this down my throat so early on," his voice carried a sadistic drawl that nearly made you leap across the desk and choke him unconscious. This man knew how to fucking test you. "Would it not be far more beneficial to proceed in the order the books are taught?"
You drew in another swift breath, the fabric of your navy robes clinging to your form, trembling fingers smoothing out any wrinkles on your button-up blouse as you adjusted it.
"I was unaware..." you said, not bothering to look up. "...that the individual I'd be tutoring this term was in fact a professor, and not a seventh year student..." you glimpsed him now, offering him merely but a slight tilt of your head as you watched his jaw tense. "...I must have been ill-informed, do pardon my ignorance."
"A moment of self-awareness? What a fucking breakthrough for you, Raven...pity it took you so long." He was clasping his hands together on top of the desk with enough force to involuntarily crack his knuckles. "Maybe there's hope for you yet, though I wouldn't hold my fucking breath."
"Please don't," you said, teeth gritting. "We wouldn't want to deprive your already-oxygen-starved brain of any more, now would we? It needs all the help it can get."
Mattheo's gaze sharpened, his lips curving into a teasing smirk, highlighting the scars that adorned them. The effect he had on you was undeniable, a sensation you longed to dismiss more than anything. However, with every passing moment in his presence, resisting the pull of attraction became an increasingly futile endeavour--yes, he was suffocatingly arrogant, but Gods, he was fucking attractive.
And he knew it.
"Quite the fucking mouth on you, I'll admit..." he dropped his voice to a low whisper, so deep it practically rattled your bones as it vibrated through you. "Never met a Ravenclaw with such an attitude problem...maybe I could tutor you on how to fix that issue, once we're done here, of course."
Your stomach twisted, heat spreading through your veins like wildfire. Curse him and his painstakingly arrogant charm. Curse him to bloody hell.
"It'd be a cold day in hell before I take any sort of guidance from you, Riddle..." you whispered, your voice accidentally reverberating as a seductive pitch. "And even then, I'd probably still refrain."
"You don't know when to shut the fuck up, do you?..." his eyes darkened, an evil mischief crawling its way through his irises. "What would daddy Dumbledore think about the way you're speaking to me, huh?"
Your heart stalled. "I-"
Your words faltered as Mattheo stood up, moving leisurely like a predatory creature circling its prey, until he was right beside you. His eyes, sharp as daggers, bored into your skull, and he loomed over you, a sadistic smirk twisting his lips into a cruel curve. The sight sent a shiver down your spine, knotting your stomach with an unsettling mix of fear and desire.
He placed a singular hand on your desk, leaning down closer to your level. "Perhaps I pay him a little visit...perhaps I tell him that you've been missing lessons, that you've been extremely unprofessional...perhaps I somehow fail my next exam...perhaps-"
"Okay, okay!" You panicked, cutting him off. "You've made your point, Riddle...I'm sorry, okay?" The words were fucking painful as you forced them past your teeth, and you swallowed your ego, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Let's just get this over with, please?"
Mattheo huffed, gratified by how effortlessly his threats appeared to compel your submission. The gears turned in his head as he grasped the extent of the power he truly wielded over you. He fully understood that your entire post-graduate career almost certainly depended on his decisions, and he was eagerly anticipating taking action.
"I like the way you say please..." his voice was breathless, his dark eyes consumed by something you couldn't really identify as he slumped down in the chair directly next to you, his sight never once leaving yours. "Do it again."
Your body tensed, immobilized as he inched closer, his penetrating eyes scrutinizing your features with intense focus. It was no secret that Mattheo had been oblivious to your existence until he was placed under your guidance--despite being the most popular Slytherin student in the school, you, a practically invisible Ravenclaw, were easy to overlook. It had taken him over three weeks to even remember your name, a fact he never bothered to acknowledge, let alone use.
But within that time frame, within the time you'd been tutoring him; as much as he drove you mentally fucking insane, you couldn't deny that every time he'd show up for lessons with torn knuckles, cut lips and alcohol radiating from his breath--you couldn't help but to feel something in the pit of your stomach.
Whether that sensation was disgust, arousal, or sheer terror, you couldn't quite pinpoint. It was a feeling that whispered in your veins, urging you to surrender to the dominance he held over you. It screamed for you to let him have his way without resistance, because just as he commanded your obedience, he wielded the same control over the entire damn school. The prospect of defying him felt like a dangerous game you weren't willing to play.
"Riddle-"
He tilted his head, his face dangerously close to yours now, his eyes peering into your soul as he stared. As he wet his lips, his breath turning shallow, you felt a feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach, and one between your thighs as well.
"I said, do it again." His voice was a mere breath as it left his lips, his eyes studying you as though you were a page of a textbook. Not that he'd ever read one of those. "Go on, Raven...beg for me..."
Your breath hitched, and you involuntarily clutched the edges of the wooden chair between your fingers with an indescribable force. You didn't want to admit it--not to Mattheo, not to anyone really--but you were a virgin. You'd never even kissed a boy; your entire life was devoted to your studies...so this...this was extremely fucking new to you.
When you remained silent, Mattheo's eyes darkened even further, turning a shade of obsidian so intense they put even the stormiest midnight skies to shame.
"You want me to keep your perfect little reputation intact, hm?" He breathed, leaning closer. "You want me to help you stay on Dumbledores good side?"
Your throat was more arid than the desert, and you nodded, unable to blink--unable to peel your fucking eyes off of him.
"Then do as I say..." he murmured, a large battered hand finding purchase on your thigh, your entire body involuntarily flinching at the foreign contact. "I want to hear you, Raven."
You stared down at his hand resting lazily over the fabric of your blue uniform skirt--it's massive size swallowing up almost the entirety of your thigh, calloused palm catching on the pleats as it slid upwards, agonizingly slowly--and when he paused, stretching his fingers around the diameter of your thigh the best he could, fingers digging into your flesh as he squeezed; you gasped, involuntarily, and he huffed--bringing his lips dangerously close to your ear.
"One more chance..." he purred, and you could practically hear the smirk on his lips. "You won't like what'll happen-"
"Please!" You snapped, squeezing your thighs together out of pure desperation. "Please, Mattheo...please, let's just get this over with..."
"Mm." He hummed in satisfaction, slowly pulling his hand off of you. "That's fucking right..." he murmured, warm breath tickling your ear. "Nothing is sweeter than your submission, Raven."
You swallowed, not daring to look at him, nodding your head frantically in response as he pulled away, slumping back in the chair--not once peeling his eyes off of you, spreading his legs way-too-fucking wide as he made himself comfortable--he was silent, now, watching your chest rise and fall with each shallow breath, watching the way you squirmed in your chair at his sudden dominance--a dominance that had an effect on you that you couldn't even begin to describe.
And then, before you could even realize what was happening, Mattheo leaned back in, his fingers gripping your jaw and tilting your face towards his--and as you meet his dark, intoxicating eyes, your lungs stalled, entire body shrinking in your seat as he stared at you with such intensity that you felt like he could see right through you.
"From now on, I'm in charge here," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "Understand?"
You swallowed the lump of anxiety in your throat, and watched his darkened amber eyes as they glanced over your lips, lingering there for far too long, before returning back up to meet your gaze--something swimming in his irises that made your stomach twist.
When you were silent, he tilted his head, cocking an eyebrow. "Use your words, Raven..."
"Yes." You squeaked, voice barely audible. "I understand."
He hummed, a devilish smirk crawling across his lips, fingers digging into your jaw with added pressure as he pulled you closer, lips so close you'd touch with a deep enough breath.
"Understand, what?" He breathed, eyes dipping over your lips yet again. "Say my fucking name."
"Mattheo..." you couldn't breathe, couldn't move, could only obey his words as though he was controlling you like a puppet on strings. "I understand, Mattheo."
He huffed, smirking. "Good girl, Raven..." his voice was a mere breath as it left his lips, his full lashes fluttering as he blinked, meeting your eyes. "You learn so quickly...I should have done this months ago..."
When he pulled back, slowly releasing you, air slowly returned to your lungs; not enough to rid the dizziness from your brain but just enough to keep you conscious. Mattheo turned toward the desk now, as though nothing even happened, gesturing for you to start the lesson.
And somehow, you did.
âââââ-
Chapter two->
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body swaps are a STAPLE of fun fandom shenanigans but they're usually only used for comedy... and like, i get it. that IS fun. but i think it's interesting to think about them as a way to explore characters too. specifically their understanding of each other.
like, yes, sonic is the fastest thing alive. his reputation precedes him. and it annoys shadow to no end. but does he truly understand? sonic is always holding back. if he wanted, he could kill eggman today. he could rule the world. he's faster than a speeding bullet AND has an innate, seemingly limitless, connection to chaos energy. where does the power end? if sonic had his way, no one would ever know. by swapping bodies, shadow gains access to that truth.
and likewise, shadow's twisted amalgamation of a body. part alien, part mobian, restrained not through choice but through physical limiters. what would happen if he took them off? sonic would get to find out. it's just fun to think about. idk
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