#rose unspoken

[rosebarry16]

Rose's unspoken dreams 🌹

Hiii it's been awhile I'm outside the ships posts eh?

This post is just me venting about dreams that are impossible to do and no it's not sad

I've created this blong since 2021 (4 years! Yaayy!!) For #russell adler content and that time I felt the negative side of tumblr then confirmed that I'll leave tumblr due to the community not supportive and yeah I did leave and came back 2022

We all know tumblr is an app for both fandoms and creative post with millions of people showing off their hobbies across the app and nor gonna lie tumblr is one of my favorite social media and more positive compare to what I have see in the past.

My hobbies were told many times in my blog and I'll say it again : 3d modeling, editing and writing then less drawing

I enjoy creating content in tumblr and get people entertained with my ideas. Support for me is what makes me keep going

But some things I was planning to do falls to the impossible category since I'm facing stuff. Shall we look?

Number 1 : Drawing content

Drawing is the second dream hobby as a child and used to draw alot, some draws looked good as a child but as a grew up my artstyle didn't change and that's something became irritating to me and stopped drawing cause from where I'm standing it's not my thing anymore

Number 2 : Renders

In this post I discussed how 3d model was the top dream and leaving it is not a bearable thing but I came back to it but still on SFM not on Daz3d or blender. I still struggle with 3d models and money

Number 3 : paid content

Yes, I'm the type of person that does paid content and commissions

For real?

Yeah but...can't do it..

Here's why

Paid content and commissions sounds like it's a method to earn money that way but it's not the case of how you receive the money but the case of what quality you bring to the people who paid for the content. I know not everyone can make a perfect art but sometimes it feels like people are judging you through price and content quality.

I get it..people see your content on a blog and won't pay unless they are a fan of a particular kind of content and like to own their own with that style or unlock more content

For example: you make a nsfw version or add a special content but you at the same time want to earn money so you open an account like patron, buy me a cup of coffee and other services that includes money in return more content

Now as a girl who can't legally yet get a job due to not having a diploma or leave the house due to parents being strict, I can't make a dime to support half of my living and I'm not gonna lie yes I do live mid but some days let's just say life gets difficult due to financial problems

So I planned to make a paid content and commissions to earn some support and take care of me since then but my content doesn't convince people to request it.

As a plan, my paid content was meant to 3d renders of my ocs and others If requested but unfortunately the 3d models that I want is very difficult to recreat or found.

But you know? You don't have to spend your money to show love or support on what I do you can support me by liking, rebloging, commenting and more! And reminder that commissions are free!

And I personally thank these cuties for support

@jvgotic

@makilight

@kings-out-of-pocket-hell

@alypink

@cloudofbutterflies92

@piouswolf

@violetflavia

@adlersoldspice

@adlerboi

To the people I tagged I just wanna thank you for supporting me and my content, it means alot to me, I love you all to the moon and back 💓💘💕💗💖

See ya to another page of rose's unspoken!

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

wintersberg is really funny to me

[willyhoos]

metamy is insane. like.

what if i was the hero you loved gone wrong. defeated and destroyed. rebuilt as my own greatest enemy. what if i lost everything. what if i had been reprogrammed to despise all i had once fought for. what if i couldn't even remember why i had fought at all.

and what if you were made of roses. what if you represented every beautiful thing i once died trying to protect. what if you wore flowers in your hair and cared for small creatures and had eyes the color of the forests i used to call my home. what if you were everything i once loved.

those memories are just out of my reach. infuriatingly. maddeningly. but if anyone knows who i am (who i used to be) it's you. if anyone can make me feel like who i used to be (who i really am) it's you. i can't speak, i can't breathe, i can't remember anything (but you).

you are the world i have been ordered to burn. i am the weapon you have chosen to resist. i was (am) the hero that you loved.

you are my only memory.

i will do anything to make you believe me.

[small-z24]

One-Shot: Shattered Heart

Summary: 

Y/N reaches her breaking point, overwhelmed by bottled-up emotions and unspoken love. As she cries in her room, Azriel stands outside, torn by a decision that could change everything. Cassian's advice hangs in the air, but Azriel's fear drives him away, leaving hearts broken and futures uncertain.

Word Count: 1693

Warnings: Heartbreak x 1000%

Y/N:

Y/N stood alone in her room at the House of Wind, the walls closing in around her as the weight of her emotions became too much to bear. She sank to the floor, her body trembling with the force of her sobs. For decades, she had kept her feelings hidden, locked away in the deepest recesses of her heart. She had watched Azriel from afar, loving him in silence, hoping against hope that one day he might see her.

But that day never came. Instead, she watched as Azriel’s gaze lingered on Elain, his shadows curling around her protectively. She saw the way he looked at her, with a softness and warmth that Y/N had always yearned for. The realization that he was falling for Elain had been like a dagger to her heart, twisting deeper with every stolen glance, every gentle touch.

The pain had been bearable at first, a dull ache that she could manage. But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, the ache had grown into a searing agony. She had tried to push it down, to keep it hidden beneath a veneer of strength and indifference. But now, alone in the sanctuary of her room, she could no longer keep the facade intact.

She thought back to the moments they had shared—moments that she had cherished and replayed in her mind a thousand times. The training sessions, the quiet conversations late at night, the way his eyes would soften ever so slightly when he looked at her. She had convinced herself that those moments meant something, that they were signs of a deeper connection. But now, she saw them for what they were: fragments of a shattered dream.

Her sobs grew louder, echoing off the walls. She hugged her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth as the tears continued to flow. Each sob was a release, a cathartic expulsion of the pain that had been suffocating her.

Guilt washed over her, guilt for not being strong enough to move on, for not being able to let go of a love that had never been hers to hold. Regret followed close behind, regret for all the years she had wasted pining after someone who could never return her feelings.

Fear gripped her heart, fear that she would never find happiness, that she would always be alone, watching from the shadows as the people she loved found joy and fulfillment without her.

And then came the anger. Anger at herself for being so foolish, for allowing herself to fall so deeply in love with someone who saw her as nothing more than a friend. Anger at Azriel for being so blind to her feelings, for not seeing the pain he was causing her.

She cried until she had no more tears left to shed, her body exhausted and her heart shattered. The room was silent now, save for the soft sound of her ragged breathing. She felt hollow, emptied of all the emotions that had consumed her for so long.

In the quiet aftermath, a sense of resignation settled over her. She knew she couldn’t continue like this, trapped in a cycle of unrequited love and heartache. She needed to find a way to move on, to heal the wounds that had been torn open.

But for now, all she could do was sit in the darkness, letting the remnants of her shattered heart fall around her like ashes.

She would pick up the pieces tomorrow. But tonight, she would allow herself to grieve for the love she had lost, the dreams that would never come true, and the future that had slipped through her fingers like sand.

And as she sat there, wrapped in the cocoon of her pain, she made a silent vow to herself: she would find a way to heal, to rebuild her heart piece by piece. It would be a long and difficult journey, but she would face it with the strength and resilience that had carried her through so many trials before.

She would survive this heartbreak, and she would emerge stronger on the other side. But for now, she would allow herself to feel everything, to mourn the love that had never been hers, and to find solace in the knowledge that even in the depths of her sorrow, she was still standing.

She would find her way back to the light, one step at a time.

Azriel: 

Azriel stood in the hallway outside Y/N’s room, his heart breaking at the sound of her sobs. Each cry, each ragged breath was a dagger to his soul. He knew he should turn away, give her privacy, but he couldn’t force himself to leave. The shadows around him whispered of her pain, amplifying his own guilt and sorrow.

For years, he had watched Y/N from a distance, admiring her strength, her resilience, and the quiet kindness she showed to everyone. He had trained with her, fought alongside her, and in every moment, he had felt his heart tighten with unspoken feelings. He loved her—loved her more than he had ever allowed himself to admit.

But he stayed away. He stayed away because he believed that she deserved better. She deserved someone who wasn’t haunted by a past filled with pain and darkness, someone who could give her the happiness and light she brought to everyone around her. He couldn’t be that person for her, no matter how much he wished he could.

Elain had been a distraction, a way to convince himself that he could feel something for someone else. But his feelings for Elain had always been platonic, a gentle warmth compared to the burning fire he felt for Y/N. Yet, he saw the way Y/N looked at him when he was with Elain, the pain she tried so hard to hide. It tore him apart, but he couldn’t bring himself to change his course.

The door to Y/N’s room remained closed, but the sounds of her crying seeped through, wrapping around him like chains. He leaned against the wall, his head bowed, his shadows restless.

“You’re torturing yourself, you know.”

Azriel looked up to see Cassian approaching, his expression a mix of concern and frustration. Cassian had always been perceptive, and Azriel knew he couldn’t hide anything from him.

“Cassian,” Azriel said quietly, straightening. “What are you doing here?”

Cassian crossed his arms, leaning against the opposite wall. “I could ask you the same thing. But I think we both know the answer.”

Azriel sighed, his gaze drifting back to Y/N’s door. “I can’t help it. Hearing her like this... it’s killing me.”

Cassian’s eyes softened. “Then do something about it, Az. You’re both suffering, and for what? Some misguided belief that you’re not good enough for her?”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, his shadows flickering with agitation. “She deserves better, Cassian. She deserves someone who isn’t... broken.”

Cassian stepped closer, his voice firm but gentle. “You’re not broken, Azriel. You’ve been through hell, but you’re one of the strongest people I know. And Y/N? She loves you. Anyone can see that.”

Azriel shook his head, his heart aching. “She deserves happiness. I’m not sure I can give that to her.”

Cassian placed a hand on Azriel’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “You don’t have to be perfect to love someone, Az. And Y/N doesn’t need perfect. She needs you. Just as you are.”

Azriel’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, his throat tight with emotion. “I’m afraid, Cass. Afraid of hurting her, of not being enough.”

Cassian’s grip tightened. “Love is a risk, Az. But it’s a risk worth taking. Don’t let fear keep you from the one person who can make you truly happy.”

Azriel looked back at Y/N’s door, the sound of her crying still echoing in his ears. He knew Cassian was right, but the fear and self-doubt were overwhelming.

“I don’t know if I can,” Azriel whispered, his voice breaking.

Cassian pulled him into a brief, fierce hug. “You can. And you will. Because you love her, and she loves you. Don’t let anything else matter.”

As Cassian stepped back, Azriel nodded slowly, his resolve hardening. But as he turned back to Y/N’s door, his courage faltered. The weight of his past, the fear of not being enough, pressed down on him like a physical force.

He took a step forward, then another, his hand reaching out toward the door. But as he heard another heartbreaking sob from within, his hand dropped to his side. The shadows around him seemed to tighten, mirroring his inner turmoil.

“I can’t,” he murmured, more to himself than to Cassian. “I can’t do this to her.”

Before Cassian could respond, Azriel turned and walked away, his heart shattering with each step. He forced himself to keep moving, even as every instinct screamed at him to go back, to hold Y/N and tell her everything.

Cassian watched him go, a look of profound sadness in his eyes. “Az,” he called softly, but Azriel didn’t stop.

As Azriel walked away, the sound of Y/N’s sobs grew fainter, replaced by the deafening silence of his own despair. He had made his choice, and it was one he would have to live with. But the thought of Y/N, alone and hurting, was a pain unlike any other.

And in her room, Y/N cried herself to sleep, the ache in her heart a mirror of the one Azriel carried with him. They were both left in a state of despair, separated by walls and the unspoken words that hung between them like a barrier they couldn’t cross.

Azriel’s shadows whispered around him, their murmurs filled with sorrow. He knew he had made a mistake, but for now, he couldn’t see a way to fix it. All he could do was keep moving forward, even as his heart begged him to turn back.

Because sometimes, the greatest battles weren’t fought on the battlefield, but within the heart. And this was a battle Azriel wasn’t sure he could win.

[crushermyheart]

Rose and Maloney / Series 3 / Episode 3

[lunarburdened]

new tag dump so that i know for CERTAIN what my tags are lol

[stayininmylane]

I know people dislike the implications of Shadows of Rose, but consider:

The spirits watch over Rose for her whole life. (Read Left to Right)

[eebie]

so davespri5te bird dave is a goner huh 

[void-botanist]

Wrapped Scenelets No. 39: human

I'm writing scenelets for (most of) my Spotify Wrapped top 100 songs. Here's number 39, Everybody Wants To Rule The World by Tears for Fears.

━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━

Hoven pushed open the door to his suite. No one should be in at this time of day on seventh day, but if they were, none of his suitemates should be objectionable to his father. The decor in the common area was also 95% university-provided, so he couldn’t possibly dislike it in any meaningful way.

“My suitemates are all in class today,” he said, leading his dads straight down the short internal hall that went to his room.

“How do you like them?” Dari asked.

“They’re very nice. We keep pretty different schedules, but I hang out with them when I can.”

“What did you say they were majoring in?” Gert asked.

“Pre-med, literature, and…well, I don’t know that Lusi’s decided.” He unlocked the door to his room as he spoke. In the few seconds it took to push open the door, he mentally sorted through everything in his room and verified that he had in fact hidden away anything he didn’t want to talk about—not that he could really do anything about it at this point if he hadn’t. He stepped in and sat down on his bed at the other end. As he smiled back at his dads coming in the door, he saw on the wall to their left the one thing he had forgotten about: a full-size poster of Silmés Geinach, human dancer. Dread overtook him, but he just kept smiling.

“Wow, you’ve done a lot of decorating in here,” Dari said, turning around to take stock of the room.

Sit down, Hoven begged him silently. But it was too late, regardless—Gert had turned with him and seen the beautiful man in the poster.

Gert tapped the back of one finger against the glass of its frame. “What show is this from?”

“Cattywampus,” Hoven said, making no mention of the fact that that poster was very much not gotten from that show. “I missed the live performance, but the movie is quite good.”

“What’s it about?”

Oh god. “A long journey. Sort of historical ballad kind of stuff.”

“Ah.” Gert turned away from the poster and pulled out Hoven’s desk chair to sit in. Dari had taken a seat beside Hoven on the bed. Fuck, this was about to be an intervention—

“So where should we go to lunch?” Dari asked, rolling out his souvenir map of campus for them all to look over.

“What do they have here?” Gert said to Hoven. Was…was that it?

━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━

Scenelets wrapped taglist: @kk7-rbs-rbs

[tonycries]

Bad Boys Bring Roses - G.S.

Synopsis. You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?

Pairing. Yakuza boss! Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, yakuza! au, fake marriage, annoyances to lovers, elders suck, mentioned k*lling (not reader or Satoru), Satoru is INSANE and SO down bad, one bed trope, praise, biting, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, flower language, kníves, bit dark, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.1k (whoopsies)

A/N. I just HAD to get this out of my mind like I wanna write an entire book series on this. Spent too long researching rose language as well so see if y’all catch that hehe.

You thought the wedding invitation was a joke when it had arrived - a delicate, lacey little card that you’ve probably read over a million times by now. It had been stuffed haphazardly into your mailbox, along with a ridiculously large bouquet of purple roses. Seemingly inconspicuous when you first tore into the thick envelope, wondering which one of your friends was getting married now. 

And it was - that is, until you saw your name at the very top - right where the blushing bride’s was supposed to be. 

We hereby formally invite you to the marriage of…

What? 

No return address. No date. No groom’s name either. Only yours, written in beautiful, golden writing - inviting you to your own wedding, exactly a week from now.

You remember perfectly the way you’d flipped it over and over in your hands, the gears turning in your head as you tried to crack down on the motive behind this invitation. A threat? A joke? Texting all of your friends about what a cute prank that was - only to get a shared confused reaction, and a few “April Fool’s has already passed, y’know.”

Hell, you’d even cornered the mailman, desperate to get to the bottom of this. But that wasn’t particularly helpful when he was only able to shake his head in protest, pale as a sheet, and trembling ever-so-slightly as he sped away from you. Weird. 

Without a clue as to who sent the letter, or even a follow-up in the days after, you stuffed the invitation somewhere deep in the back of your closet and handed the bouquet to your mother. Not bothering to tell your parents where it was from - because who’d worry over a stupid prank like this? It was probably one of the kids from down the street that’d gotten their grubby lil’ hands on a printer. 

You, however, had more important things to focus on - like trying to help your father revive his failing diner. It was a family business, a quaint, hearty little shop. One that was quickly, and dangerously, losing both customers and employees with the brand new fast food place that’d popped up right across the street. 

Which is why you found yourself here - working overtime on a Saturday night, looking over the empty chairs and stacks of boxes from behind the counter. Whatever, it was only a few weeks until relocation anyway.

You heave out a sigh, eyes flitting to the clock beside you - 11:21pm.

Nine minutes more, you drum your fingers in boredom, maybe you should just close up early. Because sure as hell no one else was-

“Oh? Still open?”

“Ah- Uh, yes, welcome!” Jolting out of your reverie, you stand up ramrod straight, taking in the customer standing at the door. He wasn’t one of the regulars - no, you think you’d remember if he was. Cloudy white hair, piercing blue eyes that twinkle from above his shades, even in the dim light of the diner. He was so very tall, taking up almost all of the doorframe, only getting more and more imposing as he walks up to you in quick, long strides. Magnetizing. 

And if you dared let your eyes wonder, you caught a few tattoos peeking out from his unfairly snug button-up, clashing with its flashy blue color. Dragons? Trees? Or were they flowers - roses?

“Roses.” the man in front of you answers your unspoken question, voice so very deep, and melodic - tinged with something playful in it that you wouldn’t have expected at first glance. At your raised brow he continues with a wink, “Could tell ya were checkin’ me out, sweetheart.”

“F-forgive my rudeness, sir.” you sputter, face burning. You look away from the way his muscled ripple as he crosses his arms, immediately turning to fumble with the menus, “Please take a seat and I’ll be there with you shortly.”

You’d expected him to take up a booth, or maybe head towards one of the good tables around the corner. What you did not expect was for him to plop down on the stool right in front of you, flashing you a playful grin before humming, “S’alright, m’just waitin’ for someone.”

Oh. Well, it made sense that someone like him would be taken. Swallowing, you hand over the menu, before giving him a close-lipped smile, “A lover?”

Resting his head on his palms, not bothering to even glance at the list of dishes before him. “My fiancée.”

“Congratulations, Mr…”

“Gojo Satoru.” he tilts his head, looking way too happy with himself. “Please, call me Satoru.” 

You nod softly, picking up your pen and notepad to get this conversation over with - and maybe to also avoid his heavy stare that made something hot and uncomfortable coil in your stomach. “Right, Mr-” at his disappointed whine, “Satoru. Congratulations, must be one heck of a thing to plan.”

“Oh I’m having fun with the wedding planning.” He waves off your words with a chuckle, missing - or pointedly ignoring - the way you were waiting for his order. “How’s it going for you?”

What?

You narrow your eyes at the way Satoru was batting those long lashes up at you, deceivingly innocent and waiting for your answer. “I’m sorry- Me? Did you mean with the diner relocation plans or-”

“No no no.” he laughs, loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say at someone interrupting you if you weren’t so mesmerized by that little dimple at the corner of his grin. One that moves as he plows on, “M’asking how wedding planning is going for you, wifey~”

There’s a beat of silence. One. Two. With you gaping at the pure audacity as Satoru quiets down to little titters, seemingly studying your reaction in amusement. Which slowly, but surely, drains from his face as you grit out a sharp, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. We’re very busy and don’t have time to entertain your pick-up lines.”

Those widened blue eyes sweep the painfully empty diner, letting out a low whisper. “I can see that.” you let out a strangled noise of embarrassment at that. “But you’re really gonna ask your husband to leave?”

Huffing in frustration, “I don’t have a husband.”

“...you do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t. And who the fuck are you to tell me I do?”

“What?!” Satoru jumps out of his seat in shock, fast enough that the stool clatters to the floor with a deafening clang! Hands slamming on the counter as he leans over it - so close that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face with each hurried, shrill word that tumbles out of his lips. “What do you mean you don’t have a- I’m gonna kill those fuckin’- After I bought Canva premium just to make that invitation? Did the flowers come at least?”

And while Satoru is panicking, words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute - only one of those rings in your mind - invitation. 

“You.” you hiss, barely audible over meltdown in front of you. Pointing a finger accusingly, “You’re the one behind that prank with the dumbass roses.”

That seems to snap Satoru out of his dramatic monologue - and you’re glad it did. Because he looks up to meet your glare, “Hey! You didn’t like the roses?” 

And for the first time, you see Satoru more serious than he’d been ever since stepping into this diner. Eyes somewhere behind you, ablaze and almost…frightening. “Didn’t you ask him?” 

You whirl around to see your father, who’d apparently rushed downstairs at the commotion. Baseball bat to fight off the intruder hanging in midair as he stands frozen, taking in the scene before him - but more importantly, that man in front of him. “You.”

---

And, well, it’s not everyday that you’re having late night tea with your parents and one of your father’s…business associates. Even rarer when said business associate is…you gulp, praying to whoever’s above that this is all some sick dream you’ll wake up any second from. 

“So, let me get this straight…” you sigh, pinching your nose in frustration. It’s been an hour or two of trying to understand whatever this was. Giving a stern look at the two men squirming across from you in the booth. “My father was conned by one of your-” you gesture your head at Satoru, which only makes his smirk grow, “-men to take a loan from your um-”

“Family, yakuza. Anything goes.” he supplies helpfully.

You wave him off, trying as quickly as possible to brush off the ‘yakuza’ bit that makes your stomach lurch. “And now he owes you a favor of…what exactly?”

Satoru leans across the table, t-shirt opening tantalizingly. Voice dropping to an almost-pleading murmur, “Look, I just need you to pretend to be my doting, loving, charming, gorgeous-” backtracking at your withering glare, “...Anyway. I just need a fake wife for a few months, convince my family to get off my back about arranged marriage n’ carrying the Gojo legacy. Then bam! you stomp all over my heart, we divorce and I’m too heartbroken to ever get married again. Easy.” 

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

You bet Satoru’s disappointed groan echoed across all 23 words of Tokyo, because it was definitely ringing in your ears amongst whirlwind thoughts of marriage? To a yakuza? Completely, and utterly ridiculous. And from his talks of “carrying the family name” it seemed like he was some sort of future head as well. Though, he definitely wasn’t acting like it right now. 

“Alright. Plan B, then.” 

Oh? You couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t that much of a manchild as sits up from where he’d been splayed all over the table in tragedy. Lacing his fingers together before turning to your father, continuing in a more diplomatic tone, “But I want the cash you took. In full. Now. Gonna hafta disguise my best friend as my wife, n’ dresses for a six foot man aren’t cheap.”

Your mother looked like she could faint right then and there. Choking out a noise of surprise, “B-but we’ve deposited it all for the relocation- Please, can’t we pay any other-”

At the firm shake of his head, you stammer, “Now? Aren’t you some yakuza nepo baby, can’t you just ask your parents for money?”

“No.” Satoru chuckles, in a tone which told you that he probably could but might just lose his head for it. Only further supported as he muses, “Not unless I want a finger cut off for dealin’ money on the side. Seriously, sweetheart, why did you think I sent you the invitation last week?”

“Take me instead.” you father cries, trying to negotiate above Satoru’s half-joking mutters of “Ugh, I’m not into ol’ men dumb enough to sign yakuza contracts.”

It was all too much. You couldn’t take out the relocation deposit - it was a new start, possibly the only thing to save your family. Nor do you have enough in savings to pay back the loan. And if Satoru’s warning was anything to listen to, then you knew that dealing with the yakuza could be dangerous. Why you? Why you? Why you? 

“Fine.”

The moment that word leaves your lips, it’s like the whole world freezes. Everyone in the room - including yourself - unsure of whether they heard you right. “I’ll do it.” you clarify, voice hesitant but firm. Eyeing the way Satoru’s eyes begin to sparkle, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips. Raising a finger to shush your father’s protests, “But for a month, until we leave this place. After that m’going with my family and you’re never to contact us ever again. Deal?”

And oh Satoru seemed over the moon, reaching out to grasp your hand in a handshake - so warm, and softer than you’d imagined. “Swear on m’life, wifey. You can kill me if not.”

He was so intimidating - and intimidatingly exhilarating.

Only an hour more of arguing and a quick phone call later, men - yakuza, you assume - were flooding your family’s little diner. All tattooed and burly, looking somewhat comical as they carried your few packed-up suitcases outside. Well, at least they stayed for a late dinner. 

And ended up being witnesses to a very rushed, very rushed signing of marriage agreements. Evidence to really show up your alleged marriage. It barely even lasted a few minutes before, well, that was that - you were married, to the son of a yakuza head. 

You say a quick goodbye to your teary parents, soothing them with promises of “I’ll be back before you know it. One month. That’s all.” 

“And don’t worry about a thing,” Satoru sing-songs, coming up behind you. “If there’s anyone she’s safe with, it’s me.”

“You better keep your mitts off of my baby.” your father warns, raising the baseball bat still clutched in his hand menacingly. 

“I won’t lay a hand on her, father-in-law. And anyone that even thinks about it…” he cackles, breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll kill.”

Prancing off to hold the door of that shiny black Mercedes parked outside open for you. “Ladies first.”

With another quick hug to your parents, you hastily make your way inside. Feeling extremely out of place amongst the overly luxurious interior in your slightly-stained work uniform. God, the covers on these cushions themselves probably cost more than your house. 

“Like the car? I can buy you one. Or four, as a wedding gift.” Satoru grins. 

Oh, right. You weren’t in here alone - you were here with your new…husband. The word felt so strange to even wrap your head around, instead you turn to meet his easy smile. Clenching your jaw as you grit out, “So how do we act m-married?”

You swear he brightens up impossibly, scooting closer to you on the seat. Heart lurching as he raises his eyes to meet yours, dizzy with the heat of his proximity, he promptly pulls out his Notes app. 

“Well, you see. I forgot to send this with the invitation so you better memorize this before we get home.” flashing you a long, long list of likes and dislikes, “Here’s my favorite color and my favorite Digimon and-”

That car ride could not have been longer. Because in addition to arguing with Satoru about who the best Digimon was, you had to fill out your own version of his overly extensive list. “So we can be foolproof.” he’d whined. And you’d been so engrossed in the process that you barely noticed the looming estate out the window.

“We’re here, young master and madam Gojo.”

It took a second to register that the driver was talking to you as well as Satoru, immediately pushing your face against the window to take in the scenic site before you. Heavy wooden doors - probably taller than an average house - opening to reveal sprawling gardens. Koi ponds and rose bushes lining a pathway that led to a traditional Japanese house - all power and glory. You half wondered whether you were still in Tokyo. 

“Home sweet home.” Satoru grunts. “Such a beautiful hell, huh?”

Your home, for the next month. At least. 

And if you had any doubt that Satoru was in fact the future yakuza head, that all went out the window at the welcome you got. Men lining the wooden hallway, bowing at the waist while your all-new husband wraps a hand around your shoulders, pointing out the various rooms and ornaments as he led you in. 

“-and this is going to be our room.” he brings you in front of a large tatami room, one the size of your entire diner. 

“Ours.” you repeat. Walking unhurriedly to the king-sized bed in the middle - the only bed. Heart pounding as you take it all in. 

“Ours.” Satoru echoes, happily. And if he was any bit as affected as you are, then he doesn’t show it, instead pulling out a blue yukata from the closet, a golden Gojo emblem stamped on the back. Made with such a pretty, delicate fabric that it made you shiver to think how much it cost. “Now, I had these made jus’ for you last week. You can give me a lil’ fashion show tomorrow, so make sure you get some rest, wifey.”

It’s only when he says the word “rest” that you realize exactly how tired you are. Your long shift and the entirety of this having your eyes feeling heavier than usual. 

“Um…” you start, risking a glance at the bed. 

Satoru jolts, “Ah- don’t worry, sweetheart. You take the bed.” beginning to saunter outside to meet his team. “Got some work, so I’ll be sleeping in my office. Dream of me~”

And, really, you almost felt bad splaying yourself out on the crisp navy sheets. Sinking into the heady smell of fabric softener, and something so so Satoru. Addictive. Like an expensive cologne that made your head spin, one that wafted through your mind as you dreamt of summer weddings, and blue, blue skies.

“Ichiji.”

“Yes, young master.”

“See to it that the madam is safe. Anyone try anything funny and you bring them back alive. I wanna be the one to play with them, okay~?”

“Of course, young master.”

---

Admittedly, you probably have the best sleep of your life at the Gojo estate- or, it would’ve been if your husband didn’t burst in every morning at 7am. Handing you a ridiculously big bouquet of white roses, straight from the garden, before dragging you outside. 

Milling about the estate, Satoru was never too far behind, chattering away. Letting you hold onto his strong arm crossing the bridges, occasionally having you show up to yakuza meetings as his plus one. Relishing in the rumors spreading all through the yakuza syndicates in Tokyo. Gojo Satoru, and the commoner wife he’d do anything for.

Weirdly enough, some strange little part of you thinks he puts in a lot more work than necessary for some pretend relationship…

“I think that stupid plan is really working, y’know.” you muse to him after a few days of this. Dipping your fingers into one of your favorite koi ponds with a nod at the figures watching you from a distance - Gojo clan elders, you assume. “Those old coots hate being within a five mile radius of me.”

Satoru huffs out a laugh, “That so? S’probably the method acting then, huh? Taking good care of me, wifey?” he wiggles his eyebrows, nudging you from where he was holding an umbrella beside you. 

Furrowing your brows mockingly, “S’funny for you to say, they don’t even look at me. But they follow me around everywhere.”

“Do they annoy you, must I do my duty as a husband and gouge their eyes out?”

He…didn’t sound like he was joking. 

Rolling your eyes, you pointedly ignoring the way your heart lurches at the word “husband.” Still so jumpy at the idea. “Speaking of, your parents give up the marriage proposals, yet?”

At this, Satoru clenches his jaw. “Still nagging, but they’re finally considering you as my actual bride rather than some hijink.” he spits out, seemingly recalling whatever conversation they’d had before. “And they want to have some family ‘dinner’, but it’s going to be awful and you don’t-”

“Let’s go.” you interrupt, nodding determinedly. “The realer this marriage seems, the faster we can divorce, no?”

He blinks at you slowly, “That’s…true. For the divorce, then?”

“For the divorce.”

And, well, that was settled - you were to meet your new in-laws. The ever-elusive heads of the Gojo clan. Also one of the most powerful yakuza in all of Japan, but, semantics really.

You spend the evening cooped up with Satoru in the library, poring over the bloody history of the yakuza - with the Gojo’s heading them all. The only time he actually leaves your side is a few hours before the dinner. 

“For you.” he’d murmured, lips ghosting your ear, slipping something cold onto your finger. You look down to see one of the most beautiful rings you’ve ever seen - gold, with delicate blue and white diamonds encrusting it, cut in the shape of roses. “Can’t be married without a wedding ring, huh? Think of it as a good luck charm for tonight.”

And with that he’s swept away in a flurry of bodyguards and ruffled men, and you’re left standing there all alone. Cheeks burning, wondering how the hell he knew your perfect fit. 

You worry longer about the dinner than you spend actually preparing for it. Though, that’s probably because of the group of stylists that come into your room to help you dress. Wordlessly fussing around you despite your weak attempts at conversation, eyes averted. Almost like they were…scared of you. 

But there wasn’t much time to think of that - not when you’re being marched off in the direction of what you remember Satoru had called the family dining room. “More like a fuckin’ meeting room for those hardasses.” he’d snarked.

The moment you step in, all eyes turn to you - the only ones you recognize being Satoru’s, who immediately stands with a smile. “Ah, wifey! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” pulling you into a tight hug. His voice drops into a low, raspy murmur in your ear, “Ya look fuckin’ gorgeous in my colors, y’know.”

Traitorously, jolts of electricity run down your spine. Especially at how fucking gorgeous he looked in traditional wear. Whispering back, “Playing up the doting husband bit, huh?”

“Only for you.”

Pulling away, you drink in his dangerously handsome state. Hair so effortlessly styled, tattoos winking at you from just above his yukata - blue, to match yours. So pretty.

Stammering out, “Corny.”

“Only for-”

“Now that the girl is finally here, may we begin with dinner?” A stained voice sounds from behind Satoru, old and tinged with a tone that years of customer service told you did not bode well. Craning your head, you look over his broad shoulders, meeting the eyes of several disapproving elders. 

Shit. Some of the most dangerous people in this country right now. 

Gathered here - for you. 

Automatically, you knew which ones were his parents - painfully upright, and hauntingly beautiful in a cold, calculated way. Sat right at the head of the long table. With a jolt, you realize that you two are seated right opposite them. 

“So.” his mother starts, as you take your seat with a bow. Satoru doesn’t waste any time on niceties, plopping down right next to you, scooting closer than necessary. “Congratulations on the…wedding, my son.”

My son. You ignore the way both parents pointedly avoided looking at you. Your husband, however, does not. “What~ Not gonna wish my dear wife as well?”

It’s a silent staredown - one that has the entire room on edge. You don’t realize that you’re clenching your fists in tension until Satoru untangles them, slipping his larger hands into yours. Gaze still alarmingly intense and locked on the other side of the table.

He wins.

“Congratulations. Let us begin now.” 

You breathe out a sigh of relief, the tension only slightly broken as butlers stream into the room, carrying decadent trays of food. Well, at least the food might make up for how appalling this dinner is going to be.

It’s only 15 minutes in that you realize how very, horribly wrong you are - because the elders of the Gojo estate really don’t hold back, do they? Thank God you memorized every part of that stupid likes and dislikes list.

Besides picking apart every aspect of your relationship that they could manage to squeeze out of you between the appetizer and the main course, the main scrutiny tonight seems to be you. But in that icy, subtle way that has Satoru’s jaw clenching tighter each second. 

Lips curling, Gojo senior eyes you over his wine glass. “So, dear,” voice dripping with underlying venom despite the pet name. “Is it true our Satoru missed an esteemed marriage meeting with the Zenin group to ambush you at some rundown old diner?”

You fight to keep the smile plastered onto your face, painful and cracking under the pressure. A hand squeezing under the table to stop Satoru from opening his mouth to retort, you answer instead, “Well, ambushed wouldn’t be the word. You could say we fell in love over the counter - at my family’s diner.”

“A waitress, she said?”

“Now we know why it was this rushed. Probably pregnant.”

“The scandal. How far the Gojo name has fallen.”

The few stifled gasps from the other end of the table are so dramatic that you could almost laugh. But you don’t. Breath hitching as Mrs. Gojo chuckles, “Marrying the daughter of a lowly diner owner? How... quaint.”

“Mother, be quiet or-”

“What?” she throws her hands in exasperation. “Can’t I say anything around here. Honestly, Satoru, I’m just trying to make conversation with your new wife.”

Before either you or Satoru can react, his father speaks up, apparently not done with the interrogation. “You understand that we’re just worried, right, dear? Especially with marrying into prestigious families, of course.” The emphasis on “prestigious” is not lost on you.” And it drives you insane. 

Steeling yourself, you train your eyes on the untouched food below you. “I understand.”

Plowing on as if trying to infuriate you, “And you understand that this position is dangerous? You’ll be targeted.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Don’t be swept up in our Satoru’s charm and wealth, dear, my son just wants a way out of duty.” tone dripping with disdain, Satoru’s grip becoming tighter and tighter on yours. “The Gojo syndicate owns half of this city, we could bulldoze over that little diner of yours with only one phone call”

“My wife and I are leav-”

“I said I fuckin’ understand.” Your words hang in the air like a foul stench, and you raise your head to glare. If looks could kill, all the elders in this room would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on their graves already. “Neither me, nor my husband would ever let that happen because he knows a thing or two about respect, unlike you.” Lacing your fingers tighter with Satoru’s. “So shove your mighty family up your wrinkly asses. I don’t give a flying shit.” 

Eyes wide, jaws dropped, the old couple opposite you finally seems stunned into silence. And if it was any other situation you could’ve almost laughed at how similar they looked to Satoru when he found out you thought his proposal was a prank.

His father adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps that is so.”

Ah, if only the rest of the table would be quietened just as easily. 

“Not only is she a slut she’s a-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not even sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. Because in a split-second, the knife that was at your side is suddenly embedded, deep into the wooden table - barely even an inch away from the elder that had spoken up. 

“You’re lucky I’m matching with my wife n’ didn’t want to dirty this new yukata.” a voice sounds from your side. Melodic and so so eerie that you don’t realize for a second that it’s Satoru - your Satoru. 

He loops an arm under your legs as he stands up. Easily maneuvering you into a princess carry, forcing you to cling onto his robes for dear life as your feet dangle from the floor. You look up - maybe to snap at Satoru to put you down - only for the words to die in your throat at how absolutely fucking feral your husband looked. Eyes wide, aura menacing. A grin gracing his features, not the familiar one which had your heart racing, no - something so dangerous and cold. 

“Now,” he hums. Turning his back to the room, gaze still locked with the shocked heads inside, “My lovely wife and I will be retiring. Won’t you all say goodnight to your future madam?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the way everyone in that room mumbles out a disdainful little “Goodnight, ma’am.”, or the way Satoru cackles as he carries you to your shared bedroom. Laying you gently on the mattress with a quiet, “Be right back, sweetheart.”

What the fuck happened?

He could’ve killed that man. And looked like he wanted to. 

Your brain yells at you - run away run away run away- But you weren’t…scared? In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been less fearful in your entire life. Especially not when Satoru stumbles back into the room, clearly rushing. Something warm spreading in your chest at the trays of food in his hands.

“Dinner’s better without a bunch of fossils on my kill list.” he grins. Settling right next to you on the bed, setting out the dinner he’d brought for you. And, well, you didn’t doubt that they really were on his kill list. 

“Hey, wifey.” Satoru speaks up after a few moments of silence, satisfied with the food laid in front of you. “M’sorry for putting you through that. No more family dinners from now.”

You inch closer to lay your head on his sculpted shoulder, a hand bringing up the food to his pretty lips. He smelled so good, faintly like pine, and clouds. It made you so dizzy. “Eat, Satoru.”

That’s all which is said, because maybe that’s all that was needed. And for a second there, you almost forget that this is all pretend.

---

“Hey, uh- mister. You alright?” you call out, voice barely audible over the rain. 

The sullen figure didn’t react at first, soaked through and eyes trained on the ground. Unmoving, even when you hesitantly drew closer, umbrella quivering in your hands. 

You should turn around - walk away like everyone else on the sidewalk was doing. But no, something about the way he sat alone, stoic to the storm around him made you inch closer. “Here.” you hold out your umbrella. “S’our diner’s, but you look like you could use this more than I do.”

He jolts, as if hearing you for the first time. A flash of blue, so quick you almost think you miss it. Still not raising his head fully, the man’s snowy hair tousles as he jerkily closes around the handle. Pretty. And so so sad.

“It’ll be alright.” you nod. 

And with that, you turn, running back in the rain to the haven of the diner, where your father was waiting impatiently - he’d just bought the boxes to start packing up for relocation. Fingers still burning ever-so-slightly where his hand had brushed against yours. How strange, you wondered his name.

---

Satoru stayed true to his word over the weeks that followed. His parents seemed well and fully intent on avoiding you. And, well, other than a few disdainful remarks, the elders mostly scurried away in fear at your very sight. 

The only thing that made your skin prickle was that the housekeepers had a penchant for peeping in on the two of you. Increasingly following you - they always did, but now…honestly, it was a bit disconcerting. 

But other than that, it was almost…peaceful. You wake up every morning to a large bouquet of burgundy roses at your bedside table - and a husband. Because Satoru had taken to sleeping on the little couch at the corner of your room every night - saying something about not wanting to rouse suspicion because if he actually had a wife he’d be “taking her to bed every night”. Somehow, you didn’t doubt it. 

“Funny how it’s getting close to a month of being married, but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” you deadpan. Looking down at where he was resting his head in your lap, sprawled across the soft grass in the garden.

Something else also happened - something different.

Because Satoru was a bit touchier, a bit closer. Like right now, preening into your fingers carding through his soft hair. “Oh~? Why, wanna take me to bed, wifey?”

“You wish.”

“Maybe I do.”

Your hands still, pulse racing as your eyes bore into Satoru’s, trying to figure out what sort of bad joke this was. Subconsciously, you find yourself leaning down closer - too closer. Close enough that you could count every shade of blue in his hungry gaze. But by the grace of whoever was above-

“Young master, please excuse the intrusion but you have-”

Sitting up abruptly, addressing the newcomer in a stone-cold tone. “How many fuckin’ times have I not told you to never bother me when I’m with my wife?”

The servant bows apologetically, sputtering out apologies as you move to get up. Flashing a smirk at Satoru’s dramatic pout, “I have to catch up on some reading anyway. See ya, Satoru.” 

“Noo~ my sweetheart don’t leave me~” 

You stifle a laugh at his little tantrum, so different from when he was serious. He was so….dizzying. “You’ll be okay, Satoru.” Glancing up nervously to meet the servant’s intense stare, studying the scene before him, how different his master was. “I’ll be at the library now.”

And Satoru notices - of course, he does. He sees that tiny flash of concern in your eyes. One that you might not have noticed yourself. He lowers his voice as you walk away, so you don’t hear him speaking behind you. Words dripping with a similar venom he always heard from his parents, “Now, tell me who you’re spying for. Names, first and last.” 

Satoru doesn’t join you in the library that day, the first time in weeks. And you find yourself missing him more than you should. It’s dark out by the time you’re raising your head from the books, joints aching from poring over them for hours. The house seems a lot quieter. Somewhat bigger. 

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. 

Scratching the back of your head, you wander through the wooden hallways to your bedroom - wondering what was amiss. Your feet take you there as if on autopilot, thankful for Satoru’s meticulous tours. 

“Hey,” you smile softly at a servant making your bed, “Where are-”

Your question dies in your throat at the way she yelps at your words, hurrying down the corridor with a jerky bow. Weird. Leaving you all alone, and confused, muttering to yourself, it’s only then that you notice the flash of red by your bedside table. 

Not a bouquet. Only a single, red rose - a note tied around the stem, something you’d never gotten before. 

“The marriage proposals have been revoked, your contract is fulfilled, my ex-wife.”

Oh, reading that hurt more than it should’ve. You should be happy at being free, a few days earlier than expected at that - but it was over - just like that. You didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to leave him.You didn’t want to leave him.

 Were you going insane?

Clutching the flower like a lifeline, heaving out a sigh, “Maybe Satoru knows…”

“Thinking of me?”

Startled, you whirl behind to face your husband. In the dim-lighting, making out the stoney expression on his face, eyes wide and a little duller than they had been earlier today. 

“Satoru?”

His eyes light up at the mere sound of your voice - then you’re engulfed in him. Wrapping you in his arms, bowing his body into yours, so tight that it almost hurts. But you let him, fisting the fresh yukata in your hands - and that’s when you realize, he’s changed his robes since this morning. “Are you okay?” you whisper into his shoulder. Drinking in the smell of his cologne, and something faintly metallic. 

Every cell in your body is screaming at you to take the opportunity - to run away from this yakuza and his slaughter and whatever this was. But how could you? Staying rooted to the spot, not even a speck of fear.

Satoru heaves out a heavy breath, tickling the hairs at your nape as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Those nosy elders won’t be bothering you anymore, sweetheart. You’re free to go.”

A shudder runs down your spine at his words, and you didn’t want to think too hard about what they meant. Instead, you guide him to your bed - and, surprisingly, he allows you to. Letting the two of you sink into the plush mattress. With Satoru still in your arms. He repeats, “You’re free to go.”

Run away. Run away. Run away-

There it was again - that strained little manta. You stare right into his eyes, voice thick at the sinking feeling in your stomach. “My 30 days aren’t over yet.” 

“Leave. Please.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, like your hands drawing patterns down his back had broken some dam. “M’not a good man.” 

You press your lips to his forehead, searing and a desperate attempt to soothe the man. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I’m yakuza, sweetheart. Doomed to follow my parents here.” he mutters, strained and voice more unsure than you’ve ever heard. And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into your skin, “I hate it here, and you should, too. All these fuckin-”

“So go with me instead.”

“What if-”

“Toru.‘ you cut off his words, slurring and spilling out of his mouth. Gently, you pry him away from his little haven, reeling back to take a good look at the face he’s been hiding for so long. Hair mussed, curtaining his whirling eyes - all disheveled and vulnerable where he was once so suave. 

Your eyes bore into his, unwavering. “It’ll be alright, Toru.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. Only when his lips meet yours, soft, and so so sweet, do you realize that this is everything you ever want right now - possibly these past few weeks. “Y’can kill me if you don’ want his.” he mutters into your open mouth.  

It’s so desperate - a messy clash of teeth and saliva, Satoru was drinking you in like you were the last drop of water on Earth. He tasted so sweet, like candy almost, and the gentle caress of a lover. You were addicted like you could do this forever and ever and-

And then he’s pulling away. A disappointed little whine leaves you involuntarily as he parts, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the space between you two. Satoru’s mouth drops into a soft oh! at the noise, surging forward minutely like he was about to kiss you senseless again. Only to halt with a pained grunt, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. 

“M’sorry.” Claiming your lips once again, like a man possessed. Drinking in your breathless gasps. Like he never wanted to let go. “F-fuck, sweetheart. Y’don’t know how crazy you drive me.” he pants.

“Why did you pick me?” you blurt out, a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind every time Satoru slipped his hand in yours, introducing you as his loving wife. “Was it just the debt?”

He’s kissing your pulse now, canines hovering over the erratic little cadence. Breathing you in like you were intoxicating. “No.” he’s licking a long, languid stripe up your neck. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of skin he could reach. 

“Then why?” your words come out in almost an embarrassing plea. But by the way his breath hitches, you know that Satoru loves it. 

“Because.” he breathes, “You treated me like a human.”

He’s capturing your lips with his again, nipping at your bottom lips. You squeal as he pulls, suddenly wanting him to tease you like this everywhere. To have him absolutely ruin you like you know he could - treat you like the wife he claimed you were. 

But Satoru wasn’t done yet - far from it. He chuckles, kissing down your neck, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Remember that night? You probably don’t, was rainin’ so hard I thought I’d drown out there.” Worshiping the valley between your breasts as he hastily unbuckles your bra. “That night was when the marriage proposals had come in. They said I’d either carry the legacy or be forced to leave the family. Kicked out of my own home.” 

And you’re reeling from both his words and the way Satoru was rocking his hips into yours now, something hot, and so achingly hard pressing in the damp area between your legs. “Thought I was gonna take ‘em all out that night.”

“Take them all out?” your breath hitches.

“Every. Single. One.” Fingers dancing across the hem of your panties. “Wouldn’t have felt bad about it either.” 

Satoru’s licking down your navel now, humming in confirmation into your skin. “But then…” he groans, taking in the first fucking sinful sight of your drenched panties. So flimsy and already dripping for him - and after just a few kisses, really? You were heaven on Earth. “But then along came you. So pretty and all worried f’me. The daughter of that diner owner I’d loaned money too.”

You watch, heart racing as Satoru swallows in awe. Darkened gaze locked on the way your slick beads out of your pussy, bare thighs trying to close - give yourself some semblance of dignity. But no- how could you? When Satoru’s holding them apart.

“And then I knew…” he’s sliding his index underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertip before popping it into his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut at the taste, and you’ve never seen him look so blissful. “I just had to have you.”

Rip! 

The cold air brushes against you before you even know it - only when you feel Satoru’s hot breath against your dripping cunt does it hit - this bastard just ripped your panties off. And he was dangling it like a badge of honor, breathing in your juices so animalistically. 

Your lips wobble as he just admires your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. “Hah- please.”

“Please what?” he grins, and you can feel him licking little circles around your inner thigh. So close. “The wife of a yakuza boss has gotta know how to use her words.”

“You’re awful.”

“And yet you married me.”

With such a cute lil’ whine that makes Satoru’s cock twitch so painfully, you buck your hips closer to his hot mouth. “Wan’ your mouth on me, to eat me out. Please, Toru.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, “There’s my girl.”

You gasp when he surges forward, burying his pretty face nose-deep in your pussy. Holding your breath as he lazily licks up your folds - long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub. 

Drunk off your pussy with the way he’s so messy - seemingly unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor, ravaged clit to dipping into your sloppy hole. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You haven’t been touched this good in ages, and Satoru was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

“Shhh, don’t worry, wifey.” words muffled into your cunt, “Your husband’s gonna take care of you.” He’s throwing your legs over his broad shoulders.

“Real good care of you.” Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. Messy enough that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Roaming for that one spot he knows will have you moaning deliciously. Pressing down, hard.  “Found it. Gonna have you screamin’ my name til’ the entire estate hears.”

You tug on his hair, urging Satoru’s mouth towards your cunt - partially because you wanted him there, partially because you really needed him to shut up right now. 

And shit how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?

Satoru is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his pretty pink lips around it. Pumping his fingers in and out, hitting that little spot each and every time. Looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over and-

“Sh-shit. Toru-”

“Mmm, yes- fuck, love it when you call me that.” he groans. And oh he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you - eyes half-lidded, such a pretty blush disting his cheeks - and making out with your pussy just as much. Tilting his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Feels good? Ya like when m’ruining your pretty pussy?”

“Yes!” you squirm. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Wanted it s’bad.” 

He’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. But it wasn’t enough - it never was and fuck Satoru wanted more more more-

“Move your hips, yeah- jus’ like that.” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Letting you pull and angle him just as you please. 

“Gonna be the best fuckin’ husband you’ll ever have. N’ anyone that says otherwise, m’gonna fuckin’ kill.” The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Make you cum harder than y’ever have. C’mon, say yes.”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and bullying his tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal. “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes-”

“Beg for it, beg for your husband.”

“Wanna cum- Ah! Please, wanna cum, Toru.”

One hand so messy toying with your dripping entrance - not having the patience or the sanity to even draw circles anymore. Just quick, hurried patterns to get you off. The other digging into your hips, so hard you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. Making you drag your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. Using him. 

“Hngh- Toru! Ah- fuck fuck Toru Toru T-”  You’re shaking - crying out as you cum. A guttural, strangled moan of your husband’s name. So violent, and hard that you don’t even realize at first. Just that you’re rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears.

And he doesn’t stop - not even once. If you were in any better state of mind you’d wonder whether it hurt - whether his fingers were cramping up, and his tongue was tired. If they were, he didn’t show, only letting you chase your high as roughly as you want. 

Greedily lapping up all your juices. Even when you’re blinking your vision back, chest heaving as you try to regain our breath. “S-Satoru.” you mewl, stars behind your eyes with each flick of his tongue. 

“Jus’ a bit more. Wanna taste all of you.”

You weren’t going to make it out alive.

Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation as Satoru finally rises from what you almost worried would be his favorite seat. “All done. Now, keep that pretty lil’ cunt on display f’me, my girl.”

And your cunt is clenching in- fear? Anticipation? As your husband finally unties his yukata, letting it slide off those milky, toned shoulders. And shit he was such a fucking masterpiece. The dim-lighting bouncing off every curve and dip of those carved abs. Delicate swirls of his tattoo inching from his collarbone, down, down, down, hugging Satoru in a way that made you so half-lucidly jealous. All the way till the last inky thorn meets the neat tufts of white hair peeking up from the hem of his underwear. 

“Touch me.” he groans into your ear. The words barely leave those pretty lips before your hands are everywhere. Dancing down his tattoo, groping at this pecs - too much to worship, not enough time. 

“Toru…” you trail off, hand reaching out to brush his waistband. Tugging just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, fat tip weeping down his length, already so soaked in precum. He was so intimidatingly long - longer than anyone else you’d had before. Thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. 

And he sees right through you.

“Now now, none of that.” he tuts, pushing your bare thighs as far apart as they’d go. He spreads your cunt so shamefully with his thumb. Spitting once, twice. Some of it splatter against your thigh as Satoru mixes his saliva with your slick. “Don’t worry, wifey, m’gonna make it feel good for ya.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he drags his fat head down your folds. Wetting himself, all the preparation he was going to give you because fuck Satoru needed to be inside your pretty lil’ pussy right now. 

Then you feel like you’re being split apart - as if Satoru’s cock was pushing all the way to your lungs as he presses through the first ring of muscle.

“Ah! Ngh- Toru, s’too big!” you yelp, eyes locked on the way your lips were stretched so lewdly around his tip. Clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in, inch by fucking inch. No mercy. Absolutely none at all. 

And while he sounded like he was on cloud nine, you were having your head spin, torn between wanting to run away from his massive cock and just push yourself down for more more more. His lips claim yours - absolutely animalistic because God he needed to shut up your pretty whines or else Satoru was going to cum right here right now.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breath. Ngh- You can take it.” Satoru pants into your mouth, fucking into you in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to fit inside your snug cunt. Sounding like he was losing his sanity each time your heavenly walls milked him. “So fuckin’ tight. Jus’ relax f’me. Oh yeah, jus’ like that. You can take it you can-”

You gasp for air when he finally bottoms out inside you, tears streaming down your face and clawing at his back. 

Satoru only coos, letting you mark him up all you want. Pace increasing relentlessly, “Aww, my good lil’ wife. Taking me so well, huh?” Starting to rock his hips just a bit faster into yours, “Always knew y’would.” 

“Can y’feel me, right-.” Balls smacking against your ass, his finger tracing an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “-here?” Thumb stroking where he could feel himself bulging inside you, pressing down. Hard. 

You almost sob at the pressure, jolting - you should’ve expected that the yakuza boss would fuck so mean.

And shit you can just do nothing but take it, hips jerking wildly as Satoru pounds into you with reckless abandon. Clutching at his shoulders, the sheets, his hair - just anything. 

“C’mon~ Don’t run away from me,” he grunts, strained like he’s struggling to maintain restraint. Lacing his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper onto his cock. “Jus’ fuckin’ got you, so don’t you dare run away.”

You can only nod. Eyes glazed, cockdrunk and letting him thrust so sloppily. “Won’t run away Toru…” you babble, “Wan’ you to make me yours.”

“Mine? Gonna be all mine?”

“All yours, Toru.”

And maybe you were an idiot, maybe you were a mastermind - because with a choked out little moan of what sounded like your name, Satoru’s pulling you both to sit up. The gravity makes you bury his cock deeper and faster into your tight pussy.

With the new angle, your husband’s hitting all the right spots easily, almost as if he knew your body better than you did. Veins rubbing so deliciously against your walls, shifting around your hips to fuck up into that poor, abused spot. 

“Ya like this, huh?” he groans, fingers now toying with your ravaged clit. Rolling it around harshly between two fingers. “Always knew this cute pussy could take me s’well. Just didn’t know it would feel this fucking heavenly.”

Faster, sloppier. Bouncing you on his rock-hard cock  like he was claiming you from the inside. So, so desperate and debauched.

And exactly where you wanted to be. 

You leave delicate pink bites down this pale neck, alongside those roses - marking him in your own way as you edge closer and closer. It was too much. Everything was too much. 

“Toru-” you sob. And he already knew what that meant. With how your voice breaks so adorably and the way you’re clenching around him hard enough that it’s almost difficult to ruin that cute pussy. 

“Close?” 

“Mhm…”

“Well then.” thrusts getting sloppy, with no reason or rhythm now. Grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Cum f’me like a good lil’ wife, then.”

And that makes you throw your head back in ecstasy - it makes you cum. Thighs quivering, jolts of electricity running down all the way from your overstimulated cunt to your hazy mind. It has you chanting Satoru’s name like a lifeline while his teeth dig into your flesh. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood.

Letting out low, muffled moans into your neck while he cums as well. Hot ropes of seed filling up your poor, bloated pussy, painting your walls such a sinful white. Cumming and cumming so hard you wondered whether you’d make it out alive.

And because of the obscene position, you could feel the way it dribbled down your legs. Thick globs landing in a pool on the overpriced sheets below, smearing so lewdly between you two. Hips still fucking up into you - not even thinking about it as he pushes his seed deeper and deeper. 

You managed to raise your eyes, still dazed to meet his - exhausted, and dark with lust and something else that you really weren’t in the right mind to decipher right now. 

And then Satoru’s lips find yours again, biting and tugging lazily. Tasting so unfairly of candy and sweet, sweet trouble. Body melting into you like all the worries have been lifted from his shoulders. He’s looping his arms tighter around your waist, crushing you into an almost-painful hug against him. 

Something soft. Something new. Something that makes a little part of your heart twinge to break the kiss and pull away mere millimeters. “We better not divorce after this.”

“Of course not.” He chuckles into your lips, resting his forehead against yours like he was trying to map the constellations in your eyes. “I haven’t even given you my wedding gift yet.”

Smirking, you lock your legs tighter around Satoru’s toned waist as he lets the two of you fall back into the mattress. Sinking into it - and each other - with both exhaustion and something of a quiet, unspoken little fondness. Batting your lashes up at him, “Mhm, I remember someone talking about giving me four mercedes as a wedding gift and I’m leaving if not.”

“Well then, better get to it. Four for my in-laws to get on their good side, too,” he nuzzles the bite mark on your neck. “Because I plan to stay like this for a long, long time.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[aliosne]

Me, 22 years later, realising I was NOT nearly as slick as I thought I was and one of my classmates was “I know what you are :)”-ing me

[rpwprpwprpwprw]

jeon jungkook fanfics that should be turned into a movie or a book! 🎬 (part 1, part 2).

Thank you authors for your infinite imagination and creativity! My days are better because of you <3

Get him back by @inthelow (f!producer/writer reader x idol!jungkook) ongoing

Still don’t know my name by @dollfaceksj (jungkook x reader) completed

Kinktober D14- thigh job/ humping by @redcherrykook (jungkook x reader) completed

Play pretend by @frmisnow (best friend!jk x reader) •fake dating, friends with benefits, friends to lovers completed• part 1 part 2 part 3 completed

If i told you by @gukyi (jungkook x reader) •friends to lovers!au, college!au/ fluff, comedy, angst completed

Boy with luv by @hannieehaee (barista!reader, sub-ish!jk) completed

Can i keep you? by @mikrokcsmos (ghostjk! x reader) completed

Habits (Stay High) by @girlygguk (student plug!jk x rich girl!reader) ongoing

Teach me How to love by @kookooluvr (professor!jungkook, professor!reader) • fwb!au, co-workers!au • ongoing

Bed Chem by @muniimyg (frenemie! jk x reader) • uni au, frenemies • completed

Between the ride and the roses by @focusonkayjay (biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader) • enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn • ongoing

Calling It Now by @newmittens (jungkook x reader) • Friends to Lovers; Grad School AU • completed

Bad things by @girlygguk (jock fuckboy!jk x nerdy fuckgirl!reader) • f2l, fwb au, university au • ongoing

One night stand by @buryhny (ceo!jk x graphic designer! reader) • enemies to lovers, CEO au, pregnancy trope, slowburn • ongoing

First Sightings by @kookiestiddies (jungkook x reader) • Enemies With Potential • ongoing

Total loser by @frmisnow (rockstarjk! x reader) completed

NEED TO KNOW by @hannieehaee (virgin!jungkook, f2l!jungkook, loser!jk, sub!jk x reader) • college au • completed

Unspoken by @armpirate ( Boyfriend's friend!jk, Soldier!jk x reader) completed

[small-z24]

One-Shot: Secrets in the Night

Summary:

Azriel and the bat boys visit a night market where Azriel is captivated by Y/N, a kind-hearted vendor who impresses Rhysand with her handmade jewelry. Despite his shyness, Azriel later surprises Y/N with a thoughtful gift during Winter Solstice, revealing their mutual admiration and hinting at a blossoming romance.

Word Count: 1743

Warnings: None

The night market in Velaris was alive with color and sound. Lanterns hung from every stall, casting a warm glow over the bustling crowd. The scent of spiced cider and freshly baked pastries filled the air, mingling with the laughter and chatter of the shoppers.

Azriel walked alongside Rhysand and Cassian, his eyes scanning the stalls. They were on a mission to find the perfect gifts for the women of the Night Court. Azriel’s mind was only half on the task at hand; the other half was consumed by thoughts of Y/N. He had first seen her at a café in Velaris, drawn to her kindness and the warmth of her smile. Since then, he had found himself inexplicably captivated by her.

As they walked, Azriel’s shadows whispered around him, alerting him to a familiar presence nearby. He turned his head and saw Y/N standing behind a booth, her hands deftly arranging a display of intricate jewelry. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her, but he quickly averted his gaze, hoping to avoid drawing attention.

“Az, you seem distracted,” Rhysand remarked, a knowing look in his eyes. “Something on your mind?”

Azriel shook his head, forcing a casual tone. “Just looking for the right gift.”

Cassian grinned, clapping Azriel on the back. “You always were the thoughtful one. What are you looking for, exactly?”

Azriel hesitated, not wanting to reveal too much. “Something special.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Something special, huh? For someone special, perhaps?”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, but he kept his expression neutral. “Just a friend.”

Cassian and Rhysand exchanged a glance, their curiosity piqued. “Well, let’s see if we can help you find this special something,” Cassian said, a mischievous glint in his eye.

As they moved through the market, Azriel couldn’t help but steal glances at Y/N. She was beautiful, her face illuminated by the warm light of the lanterns. He wanted to go to her, to talk to her, but he knew now wasn’t the right time.

They approached Y/N’s booth, and Rhysand’s eyes immediately caught sight of a striking black and gold necklace. “This would be perfect for Feyre,” he murmured, picking it up to examine it more closely.

Y/N looked up, her eyes meeting Rhysand’s with a friendly smile. “That piece is one of my favorites. I made it with the High Lady in mind.”

Rhysand’s smile widened, clearly impressed. “You have excellent taste. I’ll take it.”

As Y/N wrapped the necklace, Cassian and Azriel browsed the other items on display. Azriel’s heart pounded as he stood so close to her, the scent of her perfume mixing with the spices of the market.

“You make all of these yourself?” Cassian asked, genuinely impressed.

Y/N nodded, her hands working quickly. “Yes, I do. It’s my passion.”

Azriel picked up a delicate silver bracelet, admiring the craftsmanship. “This is beautiful,” he said softly, unable to keep the admiration from his voice.

Y/N looked up, her eyes meeting his for the first time. There was a moment of silence, and Azriel felt as if the world had stopped. “Thank you,” she replied, her voice gentle. “I’m glad you like it.”

Rhysand, ever the observer, noticed the exchange and couldn’t help but smirk. “Azriel, you should get it. It would make a wonderful gift.”

Azriel’s heart raced, and he quickly placed the bracelet back on the table. “Perhaps,” he said, trying to sound casual.

Cassian chuckled, clearly enjoying Azriel’s discomfort. “Don’t be shy, Az. If you like it, you should get it.”

Azriel shot Cassian a warning look but managed a small smile. “I’ll think about it.”

As Rhysand completed his purchase, Y/N handed him the wrapped necklace. “I hope she likes it,” she said with a warm smile.

Rhysand nodded, his eyes twinkling. “I’m sure she will. Thank you, Y/N.”

As they walked away from the booth, Rhysand leaned closer to Azriel, his voice low. “She’s lovely, isn’t she?”

Azriel glanced back at Y/N, who was already attending to another customer. “Yes, she is.”

Cassian clapped Azriel on the back again. “You should ask her out. It’s obvious you’re into her.”

Azriel clenched his fists, struggling to maintain his composure. “I told you, it’s not like that.”

Rhysand laughed softly, shaking his head. “Whatever you say, Az. But maybe it’s time to stop admiring from afar.”

Azriel knew they were right, but the fear of rejection and the desire to keep his feelings hidden weighed heavily on him. As they continued through the market, he resolved to find a way to speak to Y/N again—soon. For now, he would hold onto the hope that there was a chance for something more.

Winter Solstice had arrived, and the House of Wind was filled with festive cheer. The Night Court gathered to celebrate, exchanging gifts and sharing stories around a roaring fire. Azriel, however, had only one thing on his mind: finding a way to see Y/N.

The night was lively, with laughter and merriment echoing through the halls. Feyre and Rhysand were at the center of it all, their joy infectious. Cassian and Nesta were engaged in a playful argument over who had given the better gift, while Elain moved gracefully through the crowd, her presence a calming influence.

Azriel stood on the periphery, his eyes flickering to the clock. He had managed to find the rare book Y/N had wanted, wrapped it carefully, and planned to slip away to surprise her. But every time he moved to leave, someone called him back.

“Az, come join us!” Cassian shouted, waving him over to where he and Nesta were sitting. “We’re about to start the gift exchange.”

Azriel sighed inwardly but forced a smile as he approached them. He handed out his gifts, his mind only half on the festivities. His eyes kept darting to the door, hoping for an opportunity to slip away unnoticed.

“Azriel, you’ve been awfully quiet tonight,” Rhysand said, appearing at his side with a knowing look. “Something on your mind?”

Azriel shook his head, masking his impatience. “Just enjoying the evening.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. “Well, don’t be a stranger. It’s a night to celebrate.”

As the night wore on, Azriel felt the frustration building. Every time he tried to make his exit, someone else drew him back into the festivities. Feyre called him over to admire a painting, Elain asked for his help with a particularly tricky gift wrap, and even Amren engaged him in a conversation about strategy for their next mission.

Finally, as the clock struck midnight and the celebrations began to wind down, Azriel saw his chance. Most of the guests were starting to leave, and the attention had shifted away from him. He slipped the wrapped book into his coat pocket and quietly made his way to the door.

“Azriel,” Cassian called from across the room, “where are you off to in such a hurry?”

Azriel turned, trying to keep his tone light. “Just need some fresh air.”

Cassian’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Fresh air, huh? Sure you’re not sneaking off to meet someone special?”

Azriel’s heart skipped a beat, but he forced a casual smile. “Just needed a moment to myself.”

Rhysand, who had been watching the exchange, gave Azriel a long, appraising look. “Don’t stay out too long. It’s cold out there.”

Azriel nodded and quickly stepped out into the crisp night air, his breath visible in the chill. He walked briskly through the quiet streets of Velaris, his thoughts focused on Y/N. He hoped she hadn’t given up on seeing him tonight.

When he finally reached her shop, he saw a soft light glowing from inside. Relief washed over him as he knocked gently on the door. It opened almost immediately, and Y/N stood there, her eyes lighting up with joy and surprise.

“Azriel,” she breathed, stepping aside to let him in. “I didn’t think you’d make it.”

He smiled, pulling the wrapped book from his coat and handing it to her. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Y/N took the gift, her fingers brushing against his. “Thank you. Come in, it’s freezing out there.”

He stepped inside, the warmth of her shop enveloping him. She led him to a cozy corner where a small fire crackled in the hearth. They sat together, close but not touching, the intimacy of the moment palpable.

Y/N unwrapped the book, her eyes widening with delight. “Azriel, this is perfect. Thank you.”

He smiled, watching her as she carefully turned the pages. “I’m glad you like it.”

She looked up, her eyes filled with emotion. “I got you something too.”

She reached behind her and brought out a small, intricately wrapped box. Azriel took it, his heart swelling with anticipation. Inside, he found a finely crafted leather bracelet, adorned with subtle engravings that seemed to shimmer in the firelight.

“It’s beautiful,” he said softly, slipping it onto his wrist. “Thank you, Y/N.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the warmth of the fire and the soft glow of the lanterns creating a cocoon of peace around them. Azriel felt a sense of contentment he hadn’t known in a long time, simply being in her presence.

Finally, he broke the silence. “Y/N, I… I’ve been wanting to tell you something.”

She looked at him, her expression open and encouraging. “What is it, Azriel?”

He took a deep breath, gathering his courage. “I’ve admired you from afar for a long time. Your kindness, your smile… they drew me in. I’ve found myself thinking about you more than I care to admit.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she reached out to take his hand. “I’ve felt the same way, Azriel. I just didn’t know if you felt the same.”

Relief and joy surged through him as he squeezed her hand gently. “I do. And I want to get to know you better, if you’ll let me.”

She smiled, her eyes shining with happiness. “I’d like that very much.”

As the fire crackled and the night deepened, Azriel and Y/N sat together, their hearts beating in unison. The journey ahead was uncertain, but in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the comfort of each other’s presence, they felt a glimmer of hope—a promise of something beautiful yet to come.

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

"DAD!"

Bruce sighed at the familiar call, instantly recognizing the voice. It was you, the child he never intended to have, thrust into his life by forces beyond his control. He still wasn't ready for this—wasn't ready to be a father.

In the early days, you’d tried calling him "father" or "dad," hoping for a connection. But he’d ignore you every time, barely acknowledging the title. Frustrated, you’d started calling him "Mr. Wayne" out of spite. And to your surprise, he responded. Since then, you'd settled into calling him as if he were just another public figure, like some distant acquaintance. You learned quickly that Bruce Wayne didn't want to be publicly labeled as your father, that he wasn’t comfortable with the label at all.

But now, hearing that word—"Dad"—from you in public, his irritation rose. He’d told you ages ago not to call him that outside the manor. Yet, there was also a sliver of satisfaction; he finally had a reason to confront you over it, something he’d oddly wanted since you’d moved in.

Turning around to find you, Bruce stopped short. There you were, arms around Harvey Dent, laughing in a way that sent a pang through him. It was the kind of bright, easy laughter he’d never heard from you in his presence. The warmth in your eyes, the carefree lightness in your smile—it all seemed reserved for Dent, a scene that felt oddly father-child-like.

His grip tightened unconsciously, fingers curling around the grass he’d been holding. Harvey looked back at you with an almost fatherly pride, and it stung in a way Bruce couldn’t have anticipated. In that moment, the crowd faded around him, and all he could focus on was the two of you, bonded in a way he hadn’t managed to be with you.

Your laughter rang in his ears like a melody he’d never noticed before, something beautiful and elusive. And for the first time, Bruce felt something new—a desire to be the one to make you laugh like that, a yearning to hear it directed at him. He wanted all of it for himself.

Bruce’s hands clenched involuntarily, his fingers digging into his palms. He told himself that he was better than Dent in every way that mattered—stronger, more capable, more disciplined. But in this, seeing how effortlessly Dent could make you feel safe and valued, he felt an unsettling flicker of doubt. Bruce could face any enemy, any challenge, but standing here, watching someone else make you feel what he couldn’t, he felt almost... inadequate.

The feeling was absurd. Jealousy wasn’t supposed to affect him; he’d trained himself to be above such things. But he couldn’t stop the bitterness gnawing at him as he watched Dent with you, a man whose easy warmth contrasted so painfully with Bruce’s own guarded nature. It stung to realize that, for all his power and reputation, he was losing you to his own friend. Dent looked at you with pride and affection, the kind that came naturally to him—and Bruce hated that Dent could offer you what he hadn’t even known you needed.

And then, through the murmur of the crowd, your voice rang out again—“Dad!”—directed at Dent, not him. Something twisted painfully in Bruce’s chest, his vision blurring as he watched you lean into Dent’s embrace, trusting and relaxed. The sight was a punch to his pride, yes, but more than that, it was a revelation of all he’d pushed away, all the moments he’d let slip by because he hadn’t wanted to be vulnerable.

For the first time, Bruce felt an unfamiliar desperation creep in, a fear he’d never faced even in the darkest moments of his life. Losing you to Dent seemed almost absurd, yet it was becoming a reality before his eyes. He was starting to see the damage his own indifference had caused, each unspoken word and dismissed gesture now cutting him deeper than he would ever admit aloud.

If only he’d turned around that first time you called him "Dada." If only he’d been there, shown you warmth instead of distance. Now someone else was in the place he’d abandoned, and he feared—truly feared—that you were already too far out of his reach to bring back.

(A/n: feel free to use this idea to make a story! Though you needa tag me too😼)

[mrsbarnesblog]

unspoken

masterlist

summary: after a heated argument, Rafe is terrified he’s pushed you too far and that might actually lose you

word count: 1.6k

warnings: allusions to sex, hurt/comfort, insecurities, fear of loss

The room was only lightened by the bedside lamp, casting long shadows over the bed where you and Rafe lay tangled in the sheets. The air was thick with the weight of the situation. Your small argument, just a simple misunderstanding, somehow quickly took the wrong turn, and you both said things that you didn’t mean to.

You were fighting, pouring all the pent-up energy and exhaustion from work, and Rafe’s stubbornness didn’t exactly make it easier. It felt raw and vulnerable, and then suddenly it all led to you stumbling into your bedroom and ripping your clothes off each other. 

Your breathing was still heavy, and your body was still feeling hot and tingly from what had happened just a few minutes ago.

Rafe's chest rose and fell beneath the sheets, his arm thrown across his forehead as he lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He hadn't said a word since the argument in the kitchen, which was so unusual of him. His kisses and the way he touched your body weren’t in his typical longing and teasing way; they were angry, almost desperate. Now, there was a silence hanging between you, thick and almost suffocating.

And you knew that partly it was your fault. Blinded by the rage and hurt, you said something that you would’ve never said in the right mind. Something that you should’ve never used against Rafe, knowing his sensitiveness about this topic. But the words about you better get out of his life and you not even knowing why you were still there left your mouth before you could actually process it. 

You instantly regretted it. Seeing the sudden change in his face and eyes and the way his posture became more tense, another sharp reply died on his tongue. You wanted to say something else, soften the situation, but it was too late when Rafe dealt with the problem the only way he knew—he kissed you with all he had, not allowing you to say anything else. Pulling you flush against his body, he gripped the back of your neck until you answered him with the same energy. 

Your words felt like a bucket of cold water, and he panicked, knowing that it might be it. Rafe knew that sex was not a good way to solve a problem, but it was the only thing he thought he was genuinely good at. He wanted to please you, to beg you to stay, so he led you to your bedroom, even if he felt empty inside, even he couldn’t say anything out loud because of the lump in his throat. 

Now, as the argument faded away, when it all seemed too stupid to even argue about, it was weirdly uncomfortable. Rafe’s mind was spiraling. He was too scared to even look at you, too afraid that the simple move or word might push you to get up and actually leave.

You slowly turned onto your side, as if afraid to make noise in the dead silence of your bedroom, your heart pounding with guilt and worry, unsure of where to even begin. You could feel the emotional distance between you two, and it stung. Rafe wasn’t usually the type to get vulnerable or emotional, yet you knew that he took everything too close to his heart. This time, something had shifted in him, and it left you unsettled because you were the reason. You could feel his presence next to you, but it was different.

Slowly, you reached out and laid your hand on his chest. He flinched, but then, after a moment, his hand covered yours, squeezing gently and letting out a shaky breath. He didn’t say anything, but the tension between you was palpable.

"I didn't mean it." You whispered, your voice thick with regret. "I didn’t mean to make you think that was the end. I just… I was angry, and I didn’t know how to say what I really felt. But I’m not going anywhere. I don’t want to leave you." You stopped for a second, noticing the way he clenched his jaw. “I’m so sorry.”

The words seemed to hang in the air for a beat before Rafe finally moved, turning to face you. His eyes were raw and tired, and there was a certain despair in them that made your heart ache. He reached up slowly, his hand trembling as he gently traced your cheek with his fingertips, as if trying to reassure himself that you were still here and that you weren’t slipping away from him.

“I thought… I thought you were done with me.” He murmured, his voice thick with emotions. “I thought I’d messed up too much, that I’d pushed you too far. And I couldn’t take it, I couldn't imagine not having you in my life.”

You felt his breath hitch as his thumb grazed the corner of your mouth, his gaze softening with a mix of relief and still-present fear.

“Oh, Ray…” You said gently, reaching up to cup his face, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. “I’m not going anywhere. You’ve never pushed me too far. We fight, we argue, but I don’t want to lose you. I love you. I love you too much to just walk away.”

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he blinked them away quickly, but it was too late—you saw them, the rawness in them that he was trying so hard to hide.

His chest tightened, and he exhaled shakily, a sob escaping him before he could stop it. He pulled your still naked body close, burying his face in your neck, his hands gripping you like he was afraid if he let go, you’d vanish.

“I’m sorry.” He choked out, sneaking one hand around your waist to find some comfort in the feeling of your skin on his. “For being so difficult and stubborn. I don’t know how to be better. I don’t know how to make you understand how much you mean to me.”

You held him tighter, your hand running through his hair as you soothed him. “You don’t have to be perfect, Rafe. You just have to be you. And that’s enough for me. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

For a long while, you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms. The anger had faded, replaced with something deeper, another level of trust and vulnerability that were new for your relationship. With how hard it was for Rafe to open up and express himself, it was a big step, and you wanted to do everything in your power to make him comfortable.

Rafe still wasn’t entirely sure of himself, but you could feel him beginning to trust in your words as his body relaxed against yours, his breath slowing. His hand never left your face, his thumb still tracing the curve of your cheek like he was trying to memorize every detail of you.

“I was so scared.” Rafe murmured, his voice trembling as he buried his face in the curve of your neck. “I thought I’d lost you... and you’re my entire word.”

You felt his breath warm against your skin, and your heart ached at the tremble in his voice. You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, your fingers brushing the stray hair from his forehead. “You’re not going to lose me, Rafe.” You said softly, your voice carrying all the reassurance you could muster. “Not tonight, not ever. I promise.”

His jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line like he was trying to hold something back. But then he shook his head, his blue eyes locked on yours, glassy with unshed tears. “You’re the only thing that makes sense in my life. I don’t know what I’d do if you—”

You didn’t let him finish. Leaning in, you kissed him deeply, your lips catching his in a way that was tender but still confident enough to show that what you said was true. His hand slid up to cup the back of your head, his grip firm like he needed this connection to anchor himself. When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together as the weight of the moment settled around you.

“You’re stuck with me, Rafe Cameron. And don’t think that you can get rid of me this easily, even if you’re annoying me sometimes.”

A quiet laugh escaped him, shaky and uncertain, but it was a laugh nonetheless. “Good.” He said, his voice barely audible. “Because I don’t think I could handle it any other way.”

You smiled, your hand smoothing over his back in slow, comforting strokes as his body began to relax against yours. He exhaled a deep, shuddering breath, the tension that had gripped him loosening with every beat of your heart.

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy anymore; it was warm and allowed you to finally fully enjoy the presence of each other. Rafe pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering there as if savoring the moment. And as the hours stretched on, the night wrapped around you like a cocoon, and you both were too lost in each other to care about the outer world. 

For the rest of the night, words became unnecessary. Instead, there were soft kisses, quiet touches, and the unspoken promise that no matter what, everything is going to be okay. Wrapped in his arms, you felt the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there was peace.

[morganaawriterr]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Unspoken Truths;

Pairing; fem!reader x loser boxer!Park Sunghoon Synopsis; Your best friend shows up at your door late at night with a bloody face. You lead him inside and take care of his wounds as the both of you try to ignore the growing tension between you. Warning; Suggestive; mentions of blood; sensitive!Sunghoon(sexy tension because Sunghoon has never seen you in pajamas?) My Masterlist;

A/N: I love this drabble so much :(( I love Sunghoon so much :(( Likes and reblogs are always appreciated, thank you so much <3

When you unlocked your front door and found your best friend standing there, his elegant face stained with dark blood, your eyes immediately welled up with warm tears. Your hands trembled as a wave of nausea rose from your stomach to your throat.

Sunghoon stood in front of you with puppy eyes and pouty lips. Thick drops of blood dripped from a cut across his prominent nose. His eyes were swollen, with dark purple shadows beneath them, and his thick eyebrows were red with open wounds. Despite his battered appearance, as soon as his gaze locked with yours, he smiled—a genuine expression of relief.

He wasn’t sure why he had come to your house at such a late hour on a random Tuesday. He just needed to see you, to confirm with his own eyes that you were okay.

“Sunghoon…” you whispered, your voice cracking. “What happened?”

His response was subtle—his ears and neck flushed pink, and his smile faltered. Taking a step into your home, he wrapped his arms around your waist. His cold, strong embrace sent shivers racing across your skin. He leaned down, resting his head against your chest with a grip that felt desperate.

Your loose pajama shirt shifted slightly as he hugged you, the buttons slipping open to reveal a hint of your chest, though he seemed oblivious. As his nose caught the familiar scent of your warm skin and soft perfume, the tears he’d held back began to fall freely.

You had never seen Sunghoon cry before, so you knew something serious must have happened. He also knew how much you hated when he got into fights, yet here he was, battered and vulnerable at your door. Though he was strong and skilled in fighting, his emotions often betrayed him. And when he emotionally fights he becomes obsessed and weak.

After a long moment of soaking in your presence, Sunghoon lifted his head to meet your gaze. He noticed the small tears streaming down your cheeks, as if you were sharing his pain.

“It’s alright, Hoonie. It’s over now…” you murmured softly, your fingers brushing against his damp cheeks with tender care, hoping to relieve his pain.

At your soothing words, his arms tightened around you, and he buried his face in your chest again. Loud sobs filled the quiet room. You stepped back very slowly to close the door behind him, then stood patiently, allowing him the time he needed to calm down.

As his cries subsided, your hands never left his dark hair. Your fingers moved gently, massaging his scalp, while your lips pressed light kisses into his messy locks. Feeling his icy tears soak through your shirt and hearing his vulnerable sobs made it feel as though his pain was your own. Your own tears slowly rolled down your cheeks.

Minutes later, Sunghoon’s breathing had steadied, though his nose still bled, staining your gray pajama shirt.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” you said, gazing into his dark, expressive eyes. A familiar warmth stirred in your chest, the same feeling you tried to push away every time. Sunghoon always had that effect on you.

“Yeah, let’s go…” he replied softly, glancing down at the floor. He quickly removed his trainers before looking back at you, waiting for you to lead.

You giggled at his cute behaviour and took his hand, guiding him toward your small bathroom. Tonight, more than anything, he just wanted to stay close to you.

In the cramped, white-tiled bathroom, Sunghoon sat awkwardly on the toilet lid. He didn’t know what you were planning, but even if all you did was let him hold you for hours, he’d feel better.

You rummaged through the cabinet for your first-aid kit, knowing it had the essentials to clean his wounds. All the while, Sunghoon’s eyes followed your every movement.

It was the first time he’d seen you dressed so casually, and to him, the sight was mesmerizing. The way your pajama shirt lifted when you stretched, revealing a glimpse of your tummy, or how your loose pants sat low on your waist, perfectly hugging your attractive frame, made his heart race. He was already overwhelmed emotionally, and seeing you like this sent his hormones into overdrive.

He was stupidly in love with you, there was no denying that.

When you stepped out briefly to grab the kit, he exhaled deeply, trying to banish the scenarios in his head. But to his dismay, you returned just as quickly, the kit in hand.

You placed it on the sink, preparing some cotton soaked in alcohol. Standing between his parted legs, you leaned down to clean the cut on his nose, your movements careful and precise to avoid hurting him.

Sunghoon barely noticed the sting of the alcohol. His attention was fixed entirely on you—on your lips, softly bitten in concentration as you tended to his wounds. You were such an angel, so good to him…

He studied your face intently, his gaze tracing the careful lines of your expression. But soon, his wandering eyes drifted lower.

The neckline of your shirt had shifted further, and the undone buttons revealed more of your chest. Though you hadn’t meant to, the way you leaned forward gave him a view that made his breath hitch. The soft curves of your breast and the warm scent emanating from your neck left him dazed.

He felt his body grow even warmer, so he shifted his gaze elsewhere—only for his eyes to land back on your lips, now stained in a deep burgundy from how hard you were biting them. They looked irresistible, plump and glistening, tempting him beyond measure. As you carefully placed a small bandage on his nose, he murmured:

“I can’t do this anymore…”

Sunghoon gently tilted your chin downward, bringing your face closer so he could lock eyes with you. You looked down confused, your body getting warm to the feeling of his icy fingers on your face. His intense gaze seemed to reach straight into your soul, leaving you frozen and unable to look away.

Heat rose in your cheeks, and though you wanted to hide, you remained in place. His fingers held you firmly, keeping you exactly where he wanted. Sunghoon offered a faint smile before leaning in, pressing a soft, testing kiss to your lips.

They were gentle, warm, and utterly addictive. As soon as he pulled back, you instinctively leaned forward, seeking his touch again, desperate to reclaim the fluttering sensation in your chest. Your fingers slid into his dark hair, tugging lightly and drawing a soft groan from him. His thumb traced your flushed cheeks as his lips moved in sync with yours. When his tongue brushed against yours, you surrendered completely, letting the moment consume you.

The position wasn’t the most comfortable, so you shyly shifted onto his lap, settling on his firm thighs. When you finally parted to catch your breath, you straightened your back and looked down at him. His lips were reddened and glistening from your sensual abuse. Your eyes locked, and you reached out to cup his face, gently stroking his cheeks.

“Why did you get into a fight?” you asked softly, your voice tinged with concern. When he didn’t respond, pressing his lips together in hesitation, you added, “If you don’t want to tell me why, at least tell me what upset you so much.”

“He was talking badly about you,” Sunghoon finally admitted.

You held his gaze, waiting for him to say more, but he stayed quiet, his eyes lowering to your legs as you perched on his lap. The closeness seemed to make him nervous.

He didn’t want to repeat the cruel words the guy at boxing practice had said about you. Sunghoon couldn’t stand by while someone reduced you to a mere sex object, something so undeserving of your worth. When he confronted the guy, the taunts only escalated, pushing him over the edge. Sure, he walked away with a cut on his nose and a few bruises, but the other guy left with a broken nose and a swollen face. Sunghoon wasn’t about to tell you all that, though—he knew how much you hated his fights outside the ring.

“Promise me you won’t fight with those people again,” you said firmly, though your voice was soft. “Let them talk. I don’t care what they say about me, but I care about you. I hate seeing you hurt…”

Your words carried an unspoken confession, a hint of the feelings you’d been hiding all along.

“I won’t… I promise. But only because you asked so sweetly,” Sunghoon teased, his tone playful. It worked, drawing a shy smile from you.

As you rested your head against his broad shoulder, savoring the quiet intimacy, Sunghoon’s hands slid to your thighs, cautiously testing your reaction. When you smiled and leaned in, your eyes full of unspoken desire, he knew you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

For Sunghoon, you were—and always would be—the only one who mattered.

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