#so she's a bit wiser.

[mangled-by-disuse]

been watching a bunch of youtube videos about snow white (because it is the topic du jour and i need background noise) and this is neither a critique of the video essays nor of the disney remake but like

it really makes me think about how much you lose from the story when you keep making Snow White an older teenager or an adult woman?

like

I realise it is Uncomfortable to have a story where the main conflict revolves around "this twelve year old is super hot", but also: idk about you but for me that's what's so impactful about the fairytale and to a lesser degree the 1937 film

it is ultimately a story about the very specific but unfortunately near-universal experience of the world deciding for you that you have changed from "child" to "woman" and proceeding to treat you as a fully adult agent while simultaneously denying you all agency and power

like. snow white is a child. this is incredibly obvious in the framing. she is hitting puberty and that is when the mirror is like "hey she's a Woman now". and that is a process that is finished when A Prince Occurs, and that sucks as a message, but there's so much about snow white as a story that is still so fucking resonant to my experience of growing up, and I imagine to the experience of most people raised as girls.

like, imagine you're nine or ten, right, and your dad remarries and then he dies. it is traumatic and sad and you are scared and alone. you look around and you see the changes happening in your home, and you make the very sensible decision: okay, all right, I need to keep my head down and make myself useful, and then nobody will have a reason to send me away.

and it works! because your stepmother is vain and self-centred, and she only cares about her looks and what makes her seem more beautiful. you are at most an accessory she can dress up and trot out when she wants to, but the vast majority of the time, she ignores you. you are annoying to her. you are neither an asset nor a threat. why would she care?

(you continue to make yourself useful, but to try and keep out of her way, because, well. a lot of your friends aren't around the palace any more. you try to get the approval of the people who will give you attention. you hang around with the cooks and the servants and the animals in the courtyard. you don't care about class differences. you are a neglected preteen)

and then

suddenly

you are twelve or thirteen. your body is doing strange things. people begin to look at you differently. people have always said you are beautiful, but now it comes more often and it seems... different somehow. men say things you no longer understand. women whisper. you are growing up, and you know that, but you don't understand that, not yet.

and out of the blue, your stepmother comes to find you, to invite you to go on a trip. you think: she's noticed! she's noticed that i'm growing up, that i'm responsible and dutiful and kind and obedient, and now that i'm not a child any more, maybe i'm no longer an annoyance. maybe if i'm really good, she'll understand that i just want to help!

(and she has. she has noticed you are growing up. she's noticed that you made the indefinable change from "girl" to "woman", and now in her eyes there is nothing of the child to you. you are a woman. you are beautiful. you are a rival. and women... women know what they're doing. you aren't innocent, you're coy. you aren't naive, you're coquettish. you aren't humble, you're manipulative. you are an enemy. you are her enemy.)

so she demands your heart. and yet, when the huntsman takes you out to the woods and draws his knife - listen, huntsmen have children too. he looks at you and he sees that you aren't a woman at all, that you're not even a doe but a fawn, and he thinks about his own children under the knife, and he isn't a monster, so he lets you go.

you are thirteen or so. you are wandering in the forest. you have no mother and no father and no guide. you are terrified, with good reason.

you see a cottage in the clearing. you think: i shouldn't, but i have to. you don't understand entitlement, you don't fully grasp how unreasonable it is to help yourself to someone else's home. but, you know... it's cold. it's dark. there might be wolves and monsters in the shadows. you want your mother, but your mother has been dead for years. you reason, with a child's reasoning, that whoever owns the cottage has to understand how desperately you need it.

and, like... you have already learned how to make yourself useful. and here are these men who own the cottage, and they seem like they never learned the things you're good at, and they say they need a woman to keep house. you know how men are, they say. and suddenly, at thirteen, you're mother to seven adult men. you cook and clean and sing them songs and comfort them and they say: oh, snow white, you're so good. you're so kind. you're so sweet.

(none of them says: oh, snow white, you're still so young. snow white, you should have time to play. snow white, you should be a child. they might not be attracted to you, but you're still a woman in their eyes.)

and eventually, an old woman comes to your door, and she says: take this apple. take it, it's sweet. it's good for you. it's a gift.

and you might doubt her intentions, but you are a good girl. you learned to respect your elders and to listen to grown-ups. and she's so insistent, and she knows so much more than you, and even if she's old and crooked, she's also here with you, alone in the woods, and it's rude to turn old ladies away, but it's also dangerous. you've spent your life - all thirteen years of it - learning to appease and learning to be small. you don't trust the apple. you don't even like apples. you take it anyway.

and suddenly, it's all your fault. suddenly, you're stupid for being so trusting. suddenly, you should have known better. you should have stood up for yourself. you should have been a grown-up about this.

you are snow white. you wake up in a coffin with a mouth full of dust and apple. you are thirteen, maybe fourteen years old. you are sweet. you are innocent. you are trusting. you are frozen under glass, simultaneously a child and a woman, not growing up.

you already grew up. you learned so many things in the wrong order, in the wrong ways. you are jolted back to life by accident, when a grown man trips carrying your coffin.

the prince marries you. the dwarves say goodbye to you. the evil queen dances herself to death in red-hot shoes. the story's over. you won.

you never asked to compete.

you never asked to be the fairest of them all. you never tried to be. you never even knew it was happening.

god. it's so unfair.

[araneitela]

WHICH SYMBOLIC FRUIT ARE YOU?

Cherry. (Man, this is going to need some tag rambling; because while it's what I suspected and it's very fitting in many ways, I need to address one element).

In popular culture, cherries have come to represent sensuality, sex, and seduction. In the cult classic, Twin Peaks, Audrey Horne expresses her sexual expertise by tying a cherry stem with her tongue. "Cherry" is also used to refer to the concept of virginity: why? I don't know to be honest, but here we are. Much like the cherry, you're a sensual person who enjoys all the creature comforts the world offers. You enjoy delicious food, dynamic relationships, passionate lovemaking and stimulating conversation; however, you may also come across a touch vapid or shallow, due to your quickly fading attention when something has served its usefulness to you. To quote some man on tinder: "you're here for a good time, not a long time". You can come across, at times, slightly tart, carrying a bit of a bite to you that not everyone can handle. That’s okay: you’re an acquired taste!

Tagged: @basbousah (Thank you 🩷) Tagging: I don't tend to tag for quizzes easily but this one was actually fun, so let's harass. @immobiliter (how about Furina?) @kushtibokt @genus83 @genius81 @spiderwarden @delusionaid (Wriothesley, or Zhongli— porque no los dos? 🤭) @apocryphis (Topaz) @aventvrina @resolutepath (Elio) @daybreakrising (Blade) @astrxlfinale @kahakera @cygnor @chasersglow @scrtilegii (Jing Yuan)... and anyone else who'd like to do it, say I tagged you because I'd love to see the results!

[yellowjckets]

finding out my friend who i was in love w for years is gay and knew abt it and then pulled similar shit w another friend of mine is actually insane … like what the fuck

[tojicide]

JEALOU$Y. ☆ CALEB.

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦. at the end of the day, you and caleb are just childhood friends—nothing more, nothing less. so, when you mention going on a date, it’s totally logical that he wouldn’t care, right? if only that were the truth.

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠. fem!reader, current!caleb, zayne mention, jealousy, pet names, praise, oral ( fem. receiving ), cowgirl, unprotected p in v, creampie. 𝑤𝑐. 5.4k.

𝑛𝘰𝑤 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔. jealou$y — the neighbourhood.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

Doomsday has finally dawned upon Linkon City, though Caleb seems to be the only person truly affected by this catastrophe.

It was all his fault in the grand scheme of things. He hadn’t been clear enough, hadn’t shown the full extent of his feelings for you. But above all, he should have never offered Zayne those measly words of advice.

He should have known that the doctor had ulterior motives. Why else would he have called Caleb up one week ago to ask about you of all people?

It was a mean ploy, truly. Anyone and everyone knows about Caleb’s inability to shut up about you, his sole weakness was being exploited right in front of his eyes and he was none the wiser. The questions seemed harmless then. Posed as genuine curiosity, Caleb would have never been able to decipher the hidden intent behind each word that Zayne spoke into the receiver.

What are her days off? What does she do in her free time? You said that the restaurant around the corner from Akso Hospital was her favorite, yes?

In retrospect, he should have absolutely seen this coming. But then again, nothing could have ever prepared Caleb to hear those four life-altering words slipping from your lips.

“I have a date.”

A record scratches in his brain, forcing him to halt his steps for an abnormally long time before he slowly turns to face you. “You… what?”

Hearing the words repeated in that saccharine tone of yours only added salt to the wound, oddly enough. It physically pained him to ask for more information about your date, though he managed to hide his disdain with that boyish grin of his and a bit of lighthearted teasing.

But inside? That little green monster was stirring, and there was very little he could do to quell it.

Begrudgingly, he managed to get the key details before forcing himself to stow away in his bedroom and… think. Next Thursday. 6 PM. Maltosio Restaurant. With Zayne.

The next week passed by in an agonizingly slow fashion. It was as though each X that marked a passing day was a physical blow to his already aching heart, and those adorable images of the kittens on his calendar (the calendar that you picked out) did very little to help him.

Subtlety was never his strong suit, but then again, desperate times call for desperate measures. And believe Caleb when he says that he is very much desperate.

“Soo…” he’d drawl, leaning over the back of the couch to peer down at you. “I heard there’s a screening of that movie you’ve been wanting to see at the drive-in next Thursday. Wanna come with?”

You perked up like a ball of excitement, and for a moment, Caleb allowed himself to get his hopes up, but your frown quickly dissipated them. “Next Thursday? Oh, no, I can’t make it! I’m going out with Zayne, remember?”

Of course he remembered. That was exactly why he hadn’t let up—not even once—in his attempts to distract you just enough to make you forget all about your dinner plans. He could take you out for a nice dinner too. Say, that’s actually a good idea…

The next day, Caleb tried that one.

“Oh, pip-squeak,” he sang, his airy voice ringing through your apartment as he walked down the hallway. “I got us reservations at the restaurant in Skyhaven that you’ve been itchin’ to check out.”

You perked up, just like you did before. “Really?”

He nodded with a triumphant grin, internally patting himself on the back for his own good idea. “Mm-hmm. Next Thursday. Got us those window seats you wanted too—the ones that overlook the city.”

And once again, your gaze softened, and an all-too-adorable pout tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Oh, Caleb, I’m sorry. I’m busy that day.”

You really are too sweet for your own good. He can’t even blame Zayne for taking an interest in you, he’d be downright shocked if any man with two seeing eyes had the audacity to not think that you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Caleb sure does. He always has. He always will.

It wasn’t long before the day of reckoning was upon him. Thursday evening. Sunlight cut through the blinds in the living room, casting golden hues across the vast space. Much to his dismay, the trashy reality television you’d left on the screen did very little to soothe his worries.

He fidgeted with the dog chains you’d gifted him, his thumb brushing along the gift that you had so kindly given him. It was a testament to your bond. A bond that something as trivial as a single evening apart couldn’t tamper with… right?

“Caleb!” Your antsy voice cut through the air, forcing his wandering mind to snap back to reality.

He was up and down the hallway before you could even say another word, pressing a flat hand to your door to nudge it open. It was then that he saw you, all dolled up in your robe with your favorite dresses laid out on your bed.

Your hands grasp onto two of the hangers, holding them up side-by-side to help him get a better look at them. Though, his eyes were noticeably distracted, contorted in an unfamiliar lovesick expression as they pierced into yours. “Quick! Which do you think is cuter?”

Caleb blinks—once, twice, three times—until he forces himself to finally look down at the dress options in your grasp. He’d seen you wear them plenty of times before, and the thought of someone else seeing you in such beautiful fabric nearly made his stomach lurch.

He raises his forearm, leaning against the doorframe as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, c’mon, that’s an impossible choice. You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.”

It was a typical response, one that you were expecting, though his lack of advice made you hmph as you lost yourself in your thoughts. “Well… I hear polka dots symbolize happiness and stripes symbolize slipping between realms. Pretty interesting stuff, huh?”

“Very interesting,” he says, the corner of his mouth tugging up at the mere sound of your voice. “Is that why you buy so many things in those patterns?”

You quirk an eyebrow, confusion etching into your expression. “Huh? What else do I buy that’s…” It quickly dawns on you, and you can feel heat creep up your neck and reach your face. “You’re a jerk.”

Caleb can’t help but laugh, taking a few steps into the room so that he can properly look at each and every one of the dress options laid out on your bed. “What’s the matter? If I remember correctly, someone was beggin’ me to do her laundry. Somethin’ about the laundry machine being sooo far and your feet hurting sooo bad.”

Huffing and far too flustered for your own good, you shake your head. “Well… well I didn’t realize you were so observant.”

He clicks his tongue, absentmindedly pinching your side as he leans down to rest his chin in the dip of your shoulder. “Tsk. You know I’m always observant when it comes to you. Even if it’s remembering something as trivial as the patterns of your cute little undies.”

You swat him away. “You’re so annoying!”

To that, he can only chuckle, giving your sides a brief squeeze before taking a few steps back. “Alriiight, alright, I’ll leave you alone.” Before exiting the room entirely, he hangs onto the doorframe, giving you a soft smile. “I’m serious though. You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.” His lips curve into a smirk. “But if you want my input—you know I’ve always been a sucker for seeing you in florals.”

And with that, he whisks away, silently hoping and praying that this date will fall through on its own. Plopping back down on the couch, his eyes are practically glued to his watch. 5:48 PM. It wouldn’t be long before Zayne would be knocking at the front door—punctual as ever. Oh, it made him sick.

How could he have done this? To you, to himself? Caleb should be ashamed. He should be the one sitting across from you later tonight, holding your hand and listening to you ramble about whatever your heart desires. It should be him. It would have been him if he wasn’t so damn afraid.

But the sound of approaching heels clicking along the hardwood floor quickly snapped him out of his pity party, prompting him to look over his shoulder. And there you were once again, now adorned in a floral sundress that had made him lose his mind more times than he’d like to admit.

Under his breath, he can’t help but mutter, “Yeah, you’re gonna kill me…”

It was his favorite dress of yours, too. You really were trying to kill him. A white dress that was littered with blue flowers, the fabric fit you perfectly, loose and fitted in all of the right places.

Zayne didn’t deserve to see you like this. Plain and simple.

Standing from the couch, he lets out a low, appreciative whistle. “There she is,” he says, taking your hand to spin you around a single time. His smile only widens as he sees yours. “You look gorgeous, just like I knew you would.”

You roll your eyes with a bashful smile, one that he has to physically fight the urge to kiss away. “Oh, you flatter me,” you say through a laugh.

He shakes his head, bringing a hand up to gently smooth down a pesky hair on the top of your head. “Can’t be flattery if I mean every word of it.”

A breeze wafted through the open window, blowing the fabric of your dress ever so slightly. The scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers infiltrates the living room, though the scent of your perfume and something that was uniquely you had his full attention.

“Y’know, you can be pretty nice when you want to be,” you say, raising an eyebrow.

Chuckling, he simply nods, his large hands settling on your middle. “Yeah. When I want to be.”

You brush past him, padding over to the back door. Pushing it open, you step out onto the warm concrete patio, breathing in the fresh air that the backyard had to offer you. Spring in Linkon was always a delight, though the warmth that Caleb radiates behind you serves to be the most comforting thing about the entire scene.

His hand comes to rest on the curve of your shoulder, his fingers nimbly pulling at one of the straps of your dress. With his heart rate shooting through the roof, he forces himself to take a moment. He needs to get this right. This may be the last chance he’ll be able to do this.

“I… look, there’s something that I—”

But suddenly, the sound of rapping knuckles at the front door cuts through the tense silence. Both of your attention is drawn to the closed door, and having left the back door open, you both have a clear view of it.

You turn around to face Caleb, offering him a sheepish smile. “That’s probably Zayne.”

He only nods, forcing his hand to fall back to his side. “Yeah, probably.”

This was it. He was losing you. It stung to know that this was no one’s fault apart from his own. His inability to be honest about his feelings, his lack of forwardness with you… what was he expecting? That you’d never date? That he could keep you happy forever without offering you anything more?

It was a stupid fantasy, one that had earned him this spot. But when he saw you turn to leave, your eyes still locked on his, a surge of panic shot up his spine. His eyes flit around—the grass, the flowerbeds, the hose… that was currently filling up the pool…

“Be mad at me later,” he suddenly says.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Wha— ah!”

Before you could even begin to process what was happening, you were suddenly pushed back into the chamber full of chlorine infested water. Caleb watches with a wry expression as you shoot up from beneath the water, splashing aimlessly as you swim towards the edge.

“What the fuck was that?” you bark, perching one elbow up onto the concrete as you reach the other one out to him. “What the hell are you looking at? Help me out!”

Caleb can’t even protest, not with the incredibly irrational stunt he’d just pulled. “I’m sorry, pip-squeak, I just…” And so, he reaches down, his hand clasping around yours… until you pull him forward with all of your strength and send him tumbling into the pool too.

And when he comes up for air, you splash him the moment he opens his eyes. Serves him right. The chlorine will sting his eyes almost as much as your mascara is stinging yours right now.

With that, you pull yourself out of the pool, a trail of water marking your path as you wring out the fabric of your dress. After that, you disappear inside of the house, leaving Caleb to rub his eyes in utter defeat.

He gives you both a long stretch of alone time before he retreats back into the house like a kicked puppy, his head hanging low as he runs a hand through his wet strands of hair. You’ve evidently told Zayne that today wasn’t going to work anymore, judging by his lack of presence, and that thought alone makes Caleb more happy than he should be.

Sucking in a short breath, he knocks twice at your shut bedroom door. “Honey? It… it’s me.”

“Go away,” you retort without missing a single beat.

Caleb pokes his tongue into his cheek as he leans forward, resting his forehead on the cool surface of your bedroom door. “C’mon. Just… talk to me.”

It doesn’t take long before the door is swung open, revealing an incredibly angry version of you with a freshly cleaned face. He opens his mouth to speak, to apologize, to try and rectify the situation in any way he can, but you beat him to it. Quickly.

“How dare you?” you spit, jabbing your index finger into his chest. “What was that, Caleb? Are we ten years old again? Your method of communication is… is pushing me into the damn pool?”

He sighs, catching your hand to unfold your closed fingers. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I—”

“No!” you cut him off, sticking your other index finger into his chest. “It’s your turn to listen. You’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember, you’re all I’ve ever known, all I’ve ever wanted. Do you know how it feels to have everything you want dangled in front of you for so many years, and… and just torn away? Time and time again?”

Caleb is rendered speechless, his brows furrowed in both confusion and a sense of odd relief as you unleash all of the thoughts that you’ve kept hidden for so long. He doesn’t bother catching your other hand, instead, he allows you to repeatedly jab at his chest. It hurts, but he can handle it. Just like he can handle the words you’re saying.

“So, you know what? I decided that enough was enough!” you continue, your index finger pressing wildly into the hard planes of his chest. “I wasn’t going to wait around, I wasn’t going to pretend, I was going to move on! And… and I was going to!”

He tilts his head, his amethyst eyes growing fuzzy as he looks down at you. “Was going to?”

You huff, eyes narrowing as you jab your finger into his chest for a final time before turning away from him. “Well, I’m not exactly going on a date anymore, am I?”

Caleb nods, though you can’t see it. He leans against the doorframe, his gaze tracing your silhouette through the soaked fabric of your dress. Sighing, he straightens off the wall, but before he can turn away, you spin around to face him.

“And you know what else?” you huff. “You know the solution to this problem just as well as I do.”

He nods his head with a single jerk of his chin, beckoning you to continue. “Yeah? What’s that?”

You step closer, and for the final time, you stab your finger into his pec. “You need to grow a pair.”

Inhaling deeply, all he can do is smile. It infuriates you and he knows it, but he just can’t help himself. He takes both of your wrists and tugs you forward until your chest presses against his own, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek.

You’re slowly simmering down, the heat of your outburst dissipating as your skin cooled. With your eyebrows still furrowed, all you can do is look up at him, daring him to speak. To do anything.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asks, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip.

Swallowing thickly, you nod. “A little.”

He slowly nods his head, his fingers curving along your jaw before he cups your chin in between his thumb and forefinger. “Is there anything I can do to help with that?”

You can feel his breath fan along your lips, cool and minty and just about everything you could have ever fantasized about on your own. You part your lips to reply, but this time, Caleb is the one who beats you to it.

“We’re making puddles all over the floor, you know.”

Glancing down, you see the truth in his words. The pool water dripped from your respective clothing and gathered around the two of you, making a wry smile find your lips.

“Oh,” you breathe, “I didn’t even notice.”

“I like to think I’m pretty observant when it comes to you,” he murmurs, smoothing his free hand along your side until it grasps onto the fabric of your dress. “Need some help with this?”

You look up, meeting his gaze once more. “With… with what?”

“Well,” he drawls, his fingertips brushing along your outer thigh as he slowly drags the fabric upward. His movements are hesitant and cautious, his eyes flickering between each of yours. “You’re wet. I’m wet. Maybe we can… help each other dry off.”

Your eyelids falter as they flit between his, your gaze instinctively falling to the plush curve of his bottom lip. “Okay,” you murmur.

A smile tugs at his mouth. “Okay. Arms up.”

Slowly, you lift your arms above your head. His hands work together to slowly push the fabric of your dress up and over your head, letting it slip onto the floor with a wet plop.

His breath is nearly torn from his lungs the moment he sees your bare skin, so beautiful and soft and made to be his. Hesitantly, his fingertips trace the curve of your hips with a sense of reverence.

“Do you need help too?” you ask, your voice breathy from the restrained sense of need that has come over you.

Pausing his exploration of your bare skin, Caleb finds himself nodding, almost immediately lifting his arms over his head. “Please.”

And now, you take the opportunity to do the same. Slowly, you peel his shirt up and over his head, tossing it aimlessly into the laundry hamper near the door. Your gaze traces over the defining lines of his abdomen, your touch doing the same as it trails southward.

His lower stomach tenses up as your fingers brush against the hem of his jeans. He can’t help the way his eyes flutter shut, the way a touch so simple can nearly bring him to his knees. Breathing shakily, he leans down to rest his forehead on yours.

“Careful,” he breathes in warning, his voice taking on a raspy tone.

You almost startle at the unfamiliarity of his voice, though you push your hesitation aside as your thumb brushes over the button of his pants. “But… these are wet too.”

A huff of air leaves his mouth, the sound something between a low laugh and a groan. He forces his eyes open, his stare meeting your own. “Trying to get me naked before our first kiss? I have to say, you’re full of surprises.”

Faltering, your hands fall away from his pants. “You’re right, I… I’m—”

Caleb can’t help but chuckle, taking a hold of your hands to bring them right back to where they were before. This time, he guides your fingers through the motion of unbuttoning his pants. “Kidding,” he whispers against your lips. “Besides… we’re good at multitasking, yeah?”

You’re nodding before you can truly process his words. “Yeah.”

His lips crash onto yours with a groan that omits from deep within, the button of his jeans finally popping open from your ministry. The zipper went next, tugged down along with the fabric entirety until he was left in only his boxers.

His hands roam your curves greedily, eating up every inch of skin that he has deprived himself of for far too long. Your waist, your hips, your thighs—he needs to feel you in any way possible.

And you return his eagerness so well, wrapping your arms around his neck as you draw him in even closer. His hands worked quickly, hoisting you up until your legs wrapped around his waist as he walked the both of you over to your bed.

Laying you down on the mattress, he takes the initiative to deepen the kiss, his tongue swiping along your bottom lip to gain access that you readily give him. He can’t help but moan into your mouth, the sweet taste of your tongue tangling with his own forcing his brain to short circuit in a way he’s never experienced before.

You kissed him like there was no tomorrow, and he was loving every second of it. Your hands fisted into his hair while your lips moved in tandem with his, a soft whimper leaving your mouth as his hands gave your hips a firm squeeze.

His lips trail down your jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your neck and the curve of your shoulder as he uses his grip on your hips to pull you flush against him. A gasp leaves you at the feeling of his erection pressing against your clothes sex, the friction so delicious that it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach.

Caleb is so far gone, kissing his way along your arms, your neck, your sternum, all up until he reaches the valley of your breasts. He wastes very little time there, licking a trail to your nipple before sucking the peak into his mouth. His other hand palms at your other breast, kneading the soft flesh in his palm.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes against your skin, his hips rocking forward as he switches sides, latching onto your neglected breast and giving it a hard suck. “So beautiful.”

His descent continues as he mouths at the soft skin of your belly, your hips, your inner thighs. His eyes depart from yours as they settle onto the fabric covering your cunt, and a grin stretches across his face. Polka dots.

You scoff, softly shoving his shoulder. “Don’t even say it.”

Chuckling, he leans in to press a kiss on the damp patch of fabric. “Wasn’t gonna say anything, baby.”

His fingers hook beneath the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs and tossing them aimlessly. His lips press feverish kisses to your ankles, your calves, your inner thighs, and eventually, the mound of your pussy.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he whispers into your heat, hiking your legs up and over his shoulders and he pulls your sex closer to his mouth. “So damn worth it.”

A cry leaves you as his tongue delves in deep between your legs, his eyes slipping shut as he lets out an unabashed whimper into your sex. His grip on your thighs only tightens, keeping your legs spread apart as they threaten to press in on his head.

He wouldn’t have that. He couldn’t. He needed to have you in the way that he’s dreamt of for so long, in the way that he’s thought of time and time again as he fucked his own fist to the thought of you. It was filthy, it was lewd, but it was honest.

You tasted better than he could have ever imagined, his tongue eagerly lapping at your inner walls before his lips sealed around your puffy clit, sucking hard enough to make your back bow off the plush mattress.

The stimulation is leaving you feeling overwhelmed, your hands pushing into his hair as your trembling thighs test the strength of his grip. You whine, eyes slipping shut as your head tilts back against the pillows.

“It— it’s too much—”

“Be good,” he finds himself saying, pulling you right back to his mouth as he continues to feast on your pussy like a man starved. “You can take it, baby.” Caleb cracks open his eyes, sucking harshly onto your clit before releasing it with a wet pop. “Go on, pretty girl. Say it.”

You whine, though you hardly have the brain power to say anything else apart from what he’s asked of you. “I… I can take it,” you breathe.

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your sensitive pearl before nipping at it. “There you go.”

It doesn’t take much longer for your legs to begin to tremble once more, your body writhing in his grasp as he sets you any way but loose. Your hips buck up, a final resort for reprieve as he works you over the edge.

Caleb redoubled his efforts, spreading your thighs even wider. Soon, the warmth pooling in your lower stomach was far too much to bear, far more intense than anything you had ever experienced before.

“I’m… I’m coming,” you gasp out, hands gripping tightly onto his dark locks of hair.

And when you do, his flattened tongue laps at your honeyed release. He works you through your high, his movements eventually slowing down as the twitching of your hips gradually calms.

He pulls off of you with a wet pop, pressing soft kisses to your swollen clit. “You’re perfect,” he whispers, pressing another peck on your mound before he moves back up your body once more to slot his lips against yours.

You can taste yourself on his tongue, and it only spurs you on further. Your hands grasp onto his shoulders, and in one swift motion, you flip him onto his back. Caleb looks up at you with a starry-eyed expression, but when you straddle his hips and sit in his lap, he has no words of protest. None at all.

“You really are full of surprises,” he says, running his hands along the warm skin of your thighs.

Tugging him free from his boxers, he helps you remove them from his body, leaving you both entirely bare together. He sits up, his back pressing against the headboard as he tugs you closer to him.

“I need you,” he whispers, pressing a longing kiss on your stomach as you shift to straddle him once more. “Please, baby.”

You gaze down at him, your fingers brushing through his hair. “Please what?”

He leans into your touch, his hands settling onto your waist as he pulls you lower, the head of his cock pressing against your pussy. “Make yourself feel good. Please.”

Caleb’s own cheeks were flushed with a rosy hue, both from the embarrassment that his own lack of experience brought upon him and the reality of finally having the love of his life in such an intimate way. His amethyst eyes search your face, as if searching for a permission that he didn’t know how to ask for.

Dipping your head, you press a soft kiss on his lips. Simultaneously, you swivel your hips until the tip of his length catches your entrance. You slowly lower yourself, feeling the way his cock stretches you out, filling you up in a way that only he can.

He smiles at you, cupping your cheek with his hand. Brushing a thumb over your bottom lip, he kisses you gently. “You feel so good,” he whimpers into your mouth, his other hand resting on your hip as you roll your hips in a way that has his breath hitching in his throat. “So fucking perfect.”

Your movements are timid at first, consisting of a slow and meticulous rocking of your hips. His cock stuffed you full, his tip kissing the deepest points of your inner walls with ease, earning a muffled whimper from your mouth that his lips swallowed up eagerly.

Caleb’s hands grasped tightly onto your hips, helping you set a pace that had the both of you losing your mind. He leans backward, his head tilting against the headboard as it slams against the wall with each intense grind of your hips.

“Good girl, give it to me how you like it,” he breathes, eyes cracking open to watch the way you look down at him as you work yourself on his length. “Use me however you need me, baby, there you go.”

Your fingers thread into his hair, pulling him in for a longing kiss. “I… you— you feel so…” you stammer, leaning forward to rest your head on his shoulder as you lose yourself on his cock.

He nods his head in agreement, turning his head to press a kiss on your damp cheek as he gently pets your hair. “I know, I know.”

You lose yourself all together, your legs shaking as you tighten your hold on him. “Caleb!” you moan.

His hips help you the rest of the way, his grip on your hips keeping you firmly planted as he meets your movements with thrusts of his own. “I know it, baby, I’ve got you,” he pants through a smile, guiding you through a few more fleshed out grinds on his lap. “Atta girl, use those hips.”

His arms wrap around you entirely, crushing you against the hard planes of his chest as you slowly ride the both of you through your shared orgasm. In that moment, in your house, in this space that belonged to you and Caleb alone—the two of you became one.

Heavy breathing and hammering heartbeats is all that consumes the two of you for a long while, skin to skin with far too much bliss brewing in your chests for either of you to handle alone.

Huffing softly, Caleb runs a hand up your side. “You okay in there?” he asks, turning his head to pepper soft kisses along your cheek. “C’mon, I need some proof of life.”

You chuckle, shaking your head as you bury your face into the crook of his neck. “Shut up, give me a second.”

He merely smiles, wrapping his arms around your middle once more as he tucks your head beneath his chin. Thirty seconds after finishing and you’re already mean. “There’s my girl.”

Caleb’s hands smooth over the soft planes of your back, giving your hips a soft squeeze as he revels in the feeling of your heartbeat drumming against his own. He can’t help himself from pressing a few kisses on the top of your head, his arms opting to wrap even tighter around you.

“I love—” he cuts himself off, eyes widening dazedly. Would that be too much? A confession of his undying love not long after ruining your date and making love with you for the first time? After a stretch of awkward silence, he kisses your head once more. “I love… cuddling with you. You’re so soft.”

You smile, nuzzling even closer to his chest, your nose brushing against skin. “Mm, I love you too, Caleb.”

His eyes widened, though he knows that communicating his confusion is futile. You knew him so well, too well.

“You do?” he whispers, turning his head just enough to look down at you.

In response to that, you nod. “Mm-hmm. I’ll love you even more if you tell me that you didn’t cancel those dinner reservations.”

Caleb smiles, running a hand over your hair. As if he’d given up his last ditch effort to take you out. “You know I didn’t.”

𝑛𝘰𝘵𝑒. rip zayne i still love you king!!! also i actually don’t really know how to write for caleb�� so… i hope this didn’t suck! this is the only fic that managed to break my intense writer’s block that i’ve had for the past two months. reblog/comment if you enjoyed, i appreciate you reading so much <3

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

[helaintoloki]

Hiii! First of all, I really like the way you write, hope you're doing so good.

Have you ever think about Bucky meeting reader and like, is the cliché thing of "he fell first and hard"? but reader was never aware of it. She never pursued anything. Not that she didn't find Bucky handsome, charming or anything but she thought he wouldn't want a relationship after everything he went through.

a/n: i am such a sucker for bucky pining over oblivious reader you have no idea anon. i hope you like how this came out!

warnings: pining, fluff, bucky is a bit insecure, subtle angst

summery: Bucky has loved you for as long as he’s known you, but he’s not willing to risk your friendship by telling you that. thankfully, you take matters into your own hands

Bucky Barnes could recall the exact moment he realized he had feelings for you.

You’d only been an Avenger for a month and had just completed your first mission. Beaten down and sore beyond relief, the team had gathered around the common room to indulge in cheap takeout and rehash the events of the assignment. You mostly remained quiet, blending into the background while avidly gathering wisdom from the veteran members and taking note of the pointers they gave each other.

Then Sam cracked such an absurdly stupid joke you found yourself laughing so hard water shot out of your nose and straight onto a horrified Tony. All eyes were suddenly on you, and while most would have cracked from the pressure of such an embarrassing moment so early on in your career, it only served to make you laugh harder. Soon the whole room was filled with laughter and aching smiles, and you found yourself settling comfortably amongst your new teammates.

Your unabashed confidence and the ability to make yourself right at home with the team caught his attention immediately, and he spent the rest of the night trying to catch another glimpse of your smile or hear you laugh at Sam’s terrible jokes. Though he wasn’t one to buy into the whole notion of “love at first sight,” Bucky knew he was smitten, and he knew there was no going back.

Of course, Bucky never dared to speak these thoughts aloud, and despite his very strong feelings for you he remained stoic and professional around you, or at least as professional as he could be given your playful and alluring nature. Despite initially trying to keep his distance in an attempt to extinguish his feelings, you never seemed to leave him alone. You clung to Bucky the most out of all your teammates, and after a while he eventually gave up trying to stay away. However, becoming your closest friend and confidant only made his feelings worse, and every day that passed by your side only made his feelings grow stronger.

Unfortunately for him, it seemed you were none the wiser to his feelings, and Bucky felt there was no chance you’d ever reciprocate them, so he kept quiet and convinced himself he was fine with just being your friend.

Even if being your friend involved late night slumber party activities the evening before a mission.

“Wouldn’t Natasha or Wanda have been better suited for this?” Bucky grumbles while you gently comb a brush through his hair, your legs dangling over the edge of your mattress and resting on his shoulders as he sits on your plush throw rug beneath you.

“Natasha spends the night before a mission alone to clear her head, and Wanda likes to meditate with Vision,” you state plainly before setting aside your brush so you can begin to section his hair.

“And how is this supposed to help you prepare?” Bucky questions skeptically, putting on an annoyed front despite the fact that he very much likes the feel of your fingers gently raking against his scalp. No matter how often he pretended to be inconvenienced by your shenanigans, he’d never say no to anything you asked him. You had the man wrapped around your finger, and the worst part was you didn’t even know it.

“It helps me take my mind off of things so I’m not so nervous going into it,” you explain with a sheepish shrug. “It relaxes me. And… it also makes me fight harder to make sure I come home alive.”

“What do you mean?” Bucky prompts more seriously now, tone devoid of his previous combativeness. Your hands falter for a moment, causing the braid you’d worked so meticulously on to slowly fall apart until his hair falls back against his shoulders, but you don’t seem to mind.

“I mean… I don’t want this to be the last time I braid your hair or make you watch my movie recommendations with me. You’re important to me, Bucky. You know that, right?”

Your confession shoots straight to his heart, and Bucky finds himself harshly swallowing down the butterflies that begin to flutter obnoxiously in his stomach. You’ll never how much your words mean to him or how badly he wants to profess that he would go to the ends of the earth to keep you safe. You are everything to him, but he doesn’t dare tell you this.

Instead, Bucky gently gives your calf a squeeze and lets his flesh hand rest upon your ankle.

“I know.”

You smile faintly and resume braiding his hair. You know Bucky isn’t one to be mushy or overly affectionate, so you don’t push the conversation any longer. You’re happy to sit in the quiet of your room away from the others, to enjoy this moment of peace before being thrust into chaos, and you know he feels the same.

“After this, do you want to watch a movie? I think it’s time you finally experience Napoleon Dynamite.”

“If it’ll keep you from bugging me about it for the next few weeks then yes,” Bucky responds sarcastically despite the grin that desperately fights to play itself upon his lips.

He knows you both should be getting to bed early for a night of rest, but he can’t find it in himself to protest.

Whatever it takes to make you happy.

~~~

You throw yourself back against the side of an abandoned car and fumble through your pack for another round of ammunition while Bucky covers your flank. You have no idea where the rest of the team is, but you hope they’re fairing better than the two of you are right now.

You’d been sent to rescue a group of hostages from a human trafficking ring intending to supply unwilling test subjects to scientists for illegal human experimentation. Corrupt people around the world would pay a fortune for their own genetically engineered super hero, and you were here to stop that from happening. You and Bucky were assigned to assist in the evacuation efforts, transporting people to a secondary location where a rescue team would later arrive to deliver them to a hospital. Though you’d been able to clear the area, you’d been ambushed by a group of soldiers and forced to take cover.

“Would you kill me if I told you I grabbed the wrong bag?” You implore guiltily after coming up empty handed. Your pack was full of medical supplies and rations, but not a single ounce of ammo could be found.

“I think these guys would probably get to you first before I could anyway,” Bucky replies humorlessly while ducking down to reload his gun. He’s running out of clips and you both know it.

Groaning, you let your head fall back against the car and pinch your eyes shut as you try to think of a new plan.

“I might have something, but you’re not going to like it.”

“Anything is better than dying,” he grits through his teeth as a bullet pierces the tire next to him. He watches as you reach into your bag and produce a speciality made grenade. Bucky’s eyes widen in disbelief when he looks from the bomb then to you. “Where the hell did you get that?!”

“I might have swiped it from Tony’s work desk,” you offer with a sheepish shrug before cautiously handing it over to him. “I thought it looked cool, but I have no idea if it works. It could at least buy us some time to make an escape if it doesn’t manage to blow us up first.”

“We’ll just have to test our luck,” Bucky says before turning to you with a serious look on his face. His tone of voice is more stern now, signaling for you to fall in line and heed his every word without question. You sometimes forget he was once a Sargent, but you can see now why people had an easy time trusting him as a leader. You never doubted Bucky’s ability to keep you safe, and this time was no different. “I’m going to pull the pin, and I need you to get down on the ground as soon as possible. I’m going to throw it, and then I’m going to cover you. Do you understand?”

“But what if you-“

“Y/n,” Bucky says sternly, his tone leaving no room for argument. You nod in reluctance and follow his orders as he pulls the pin. Bucky uses all of his strength to launch it across the way at your attackers before immediately dropping down to the ground and draping his body over yours. Curled into a ball, you let him pull you against his chest and shield your head with his metal arm to prevent you from getting hit with any shrapnel.

You can feel the rapid beating of his heart against your cheek as the ground rumbles beneath you from the blast. Your eyes squeeze shut while your hand grips tightly onto his leather vest for support, and you can feel Bucky tighten his hold on you in response. A beat passes before your surroundings still, and you slowly pry your eyes open just as he pulls himself away to look down at you.

“You okay?” He murmurs breathlessly, still coming down from his adrenaline rush. His wide pupils starkly contrast the blue of his irises, and you find yourself getting caught up in his stare as you swallow down your nerves.

“Fine,” you manage to get out. He looks down at you with uncertainty as you slowly reach out and brush his hair back from his face. “You have a cut on your forehead.”

“That’s okay,” he assures you with a faint smile before reluctantly pulling himself off of you and sitting back on his knees. He misses the closeness, but he knows you can’t afford to waste any time right now. The gunfire has stopped and your window to escape will only be open for a short time before the gunmen recover. “Can you run?”

You offer him a single nod before quickly scrambling onto your feet and booking it into the cover of the woods towards the secondary location where the rescued civilians should be waiting for you both. To your luck, the grenade had managed to help you clear a path to escape without disintegrating you both in the process. You run until your legs ache and your lungs burn, until Bucky is sure they aren’t coming after you, and you finally let yourself collapse against a tree to catch your breath.

“I need to start stealing from Tony more often,” you joke despite being out of breath, getting a rare laugh out of Bucky.

“Yeah, thanks to your sticky fingers we’re alive.”

“Why did you do that?” You ask suddenly, eyes meeting Bucky’s with uncertainty as you rest your hands on your knees.

“Do what?”

“Make yourself a human shield for me. You could have been hurt worse than just a cut on the forehead.”

Bucky sighs, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as he tries to come up with an answer that doesn’t reveal his unwavering love for you. You look to him expectantly as he moves towards you and rests a firm hand on your shoulder.

“It’s like you said,” he explains with a faint smile, “I didn’t want that to be the last time I let you braid my hair or force me into watching a movie with you.”

You stare up at him in quiet surprise and watch as he begins to make his way towards the secondary location. You hadn’t been expecting that, not even sure he’d remember your conversation from the night before, but here you were being proven wrong. You feel your heart flutter in your chest with longing but quickly shake the feeling away. You and Bucky are friends, always have been, and there’s no way he felt anything but platonic admiration for you as a teammate and confidant. Otherwise, wouldn’t he have made a move already? Besides, for all you knew Bucky didn’t do relationships, and you knew better than to push that boundary.

The rest of the team arrives an hour later, battered and bruised from a grueling fight against the leaders of the trafficking ring. The mission was a success, and now all that was left to do was wait for the rescue team to arrive for the civilians now that the area was cleared as safe.

Bucky keeps to himself while the others rest and chat amongst themselves to pass the time. Leaned against a tree with his arms crossed firmly over his chest, he watches on warmly as you sit crouched a few fit away with a handful of children around you. Your smile is kind and your voice full of light as you keep them entertained while waiting for the medics to arrive, handing out the stickers you keep in your pack for moments like these. They don’t have parents or an adult to cling to for reassurance, so you’ve taken it upon yourself be that comfort for them. Natasha always says you tend to get too attached to civilians you’ll never see again, but you don’t seem to care in the slightest.

“You love her,” Sam’s voice sounds from beside Bucky, startling him out of his moment of peace. It takes him a moment to regain composure, but he’s still quick to put on a hard front for the Falcon.

“Of course I do,” he attempts to brush off, “she’s my teammate.”

“I’m your teammate and you never look at me like that,” Sam quips with a raised brow much to the soldier’s chagrin.

“Whatever you’re trying to say just say it,” Bucky huffs vexedly.

“You’ve been pining after that girl like a lost puppy ever since she joined the team and not once have you had the balls to do anything about it. Why do you insist on torturing yourself like this?”

“You really think someone like me deserves to be with someone like her?” Bucky scoffs in disbelief, clearly believing such a notion to be impossible and outlandish. “I’ve done terrible, awful things. I’ve destroyed relationships and families, so why should I get to have one of my own?”

“That’s not who you are anymore,” Sam attempts to assuage him in vein. “That wasn’t you in the first place. That was Hydra, and you’re not under their control anymore.”

“When I think about what I’ve done- the blood on my hands… how could I dare taint her with my touch? Y/n deserves a good man with his head screwed on right, and that’s not me.”

“You’re wrong,” Sam avows solemnly, “and the sooner you realize that the better.”

Bucky is left to stew with his inner turmoil when Sam departs to check on Natasha. He could never understand just how much Bucky loved you, how his chest ached with longing every time he was around you, how his feelings for you seemed to grow stronger every day without you noticing. He would do anything to keep you safe, even if it meant keeping you safe from himself.

“Bucky!” Your voice calls cheerfully from across the way, a stark contrast to his brooding demeanor. You wave him over with glee, and how can he deny you when you smile at him like that?

“What do you need?” He asks while crouching down beside you, the children reacting to his presence with muffled giggles and shy smiles.

“The kids and I were trying to figure out where to put their new stickers, and we thought maybe they might look nice on your metal arm,” you inform him with a hopeful gleam in your eyes. A huff of amusement falls past his nostrils in response, but he gifts you a single nod before fully seating himself down on the ground.

“I think you’re right,” he agrees to the children’s delight. They immediately gather around the soldier as he extends his arm out and allows them access to their desired canvas. The activity should be able to tide them over until the medics arrive within the next half hour, and Bucky doesn’t mind being their entertainment.

You meet his eyes and mouth a quiet thank you to the man, and it makes it all the more worth it to see you smile at him.

~~~

Bucky lays in bed with his hands folded neatly on his stomach and his eyes focused on the ceiling as he decompresses from the grueling mission. His sore muscles remain tense despite being back at the tower, and a dull ache persists from the gash on his forehead. He wants nothing more than to fall into a dreamless sleep, but rest evades him. Today’s mission had hit particularly close to home for him, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the faces of the people he’d saved.

They had almost ended up like him.

A knock on the door saves him from the suffocation of his mental turmoil. He gets out of bed with a groan and pads over to his door only to find you waiting on the other side once it’s opened.

Equipped with a blanket in one hand and a pillow in the other, you look up at the man innocently and ask, “Can I crash here tonight?”

“What’s wrong with your own room?” Bucky asks with a skeptically raised eyebrow.

“It’s too quiet in there.”

Nodding in understanding, Bucky opens the door wider and allows you to take refuge in his room. You immediately make yourself comfortable in his bed, choosing to set your things up on the side closest to the wall while still leaving enough room for the super soldier. Once you’re still, he climbs back into bed and lies stiffly beside you, ensuring all of his limbs are kept to himself.

“I can’t stop thinking about those kids,” you voice your thoughts aloud, shifting onto your side to face him.

“We did our job,” Bucky reminds you gently. “We got them out before they could be sold off for human experimentation, and now they have a chance at freedom.”

“I know, I know,” you relent with a quiet sigh. “It’s just… we never get to know what happens to them after. I know we’re supposed to detach and not get too close to civilians during missions like these, but I can’t sleep not knowing if they were returned to their families or if they even had a family to go back to. I can’t deal with the not knowing.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with caring,” he assures you with a careful smile. “You’re the most empathetic person I know, and it’s one of the things I adore about you, but you have to trust that those kids are going to be okay. If anything, you probably helped them smile for the first time since they were captured. That’s a win.”

You smile faintly and offer him a quiet nod in agreement. He has a point, and it alleviates some of the guilt you’ve been carrying since getting on the quinjet and leaving them behind in the care of the rescue team.

“Do you ever think about having any?” You prompt suddenly, clearly taking Bucky off guard.

“Any what?”

“Kids,” you state plainly. The question causes him to shift uncomfortably beside you, and it takes him a moment to gather his thoughts before he can find his answer.

“During the war, I’d see the other soldiers get letters from their wives or hear them share stories about the babies waiting for them at home, and I wanted that,” Bucky admits quietly while absently fidgeting with his fingers. “I told myself once it ended I’d finally try to settle down and start a family of my own.”

The thought brings up unpleasant memories of a distant past and a longing ache for what could have been if things had turned out differently for him. He tries not to let this show, but you know him well enough to see the turmoil brewing within his troubled blue eyes.

“What about now?” you press quietly, almost afraid to rupture the stillness of the room by raising your voice any higher.

“It’s not completely out of the question,” he professes truthfully in spite of his obvious discomfort at speaking so vulnerably. “I don’t know if I’d be a good dad, or if I could even be a good partner after everything I’ve been through, but for the right person I would try.”

He wants to tell you that the right person is you, that he’d get down on one knee and give you a hundred kids if you asked him, but he holds his tongue and instead keeps his gaze firmly planted to the ceiling. It would be too much too soon, and he didn’t want to risk scaring away the only woman he’d ever truly loved. The dream of family and stability would always be out of reach so long as you remained platonic in your feelings towards him, but he was okay with that. He’d rather have you as a friend than not have you at all, even if it meant you might someday fall in love with someone else.

“Do… you ever think about it?” Bucky asks to break the silence and shift some of the focus off of himself.

“All the time,” you whisper with a dreamy smile. “I know our line of work isn’t the most conducive for family planning or stability, but one day I’d like to follow in Clint’s footsteps and retire so I can live a life of my own. Maybe get a cottage somewhere quiet and grow old with the perfect partner if I ever find one.”

“Seems like that’s always the missing piece,” Bucky huffs humorlessly, heartstrings tugging at the wistful look clear in your eyes when you shift your gaze back towards him.

“Yeah, perfect partners are scarce for people like us,” you hum dolefully. “But I came to close to it once."

“What?” He breathes out tensely, heart immediately dropping to his stomach at your proclamation. A sense of dread overcomes him despite his best efforts to push the feeling down, and it takes all of his efforts to keep his reaction neutral in spite of the anguish he feels at hearing you confess your heart is set on another.

“I found a man I thought I could build a future with, but I don’t think he’s the relationship type. He never gave me any signs that he was interested, and after a while I realized it wasn’t going to happen.”

“Who was it?” Bucky asks, though he’s not sure he wants to know the answer.

“Someone you know,” you answer vaguely, now avoiding his scrutinizing gaze. The pit of dread in his stomach only grows, and he isn’t sure he can handle knowing who the mystery person is.

An awful thought dawns upon him then, and he blurts it out before he can stop himself. “Is it Steve?”

A pregnant pause hovers over you both as Bucky’s words sink in, your silence unnerving him to no end. However, the quiet is immediately broken when you burst into laughter that you unsuccessfully try to muffle with your hand.

“Steve?” You retort incredulously. A deep frown settles across Bucky’s features and he’s immediately defensive.

“What’s so funny?” He prompts. It isn’t so ridiculous to believe your heart could belong to Captain America of all people, and he’s not sure why you’re not taking it seriously.

“You think Steve is the guy? The same Steve that watches I Love Lucy reruns with me and puts extra vegetables on my plate at dinner?”

“Well if not Steve then who?”

“You, Bucky,” you finally blurt with a nervous laugh. His defenses immediately go down while his brain goes into overdrive to process your confession, and your features slowly lose the humor in them as they become more serious. With a sheepish smile, you turn away and reaffirm, “you’re the guy.”

“I’m- you mean me?” He repeats again like he can’t believe what he’s hearing, and he doesn’t. Surely he must have misheard you, or maybe you misspoke.

“Yes, you,” you reiterate in exasperation, clearly embarrassed at having revealed your feelings for your closest friend. “I thought it was obvious. Why else do you think I come into your room like this or spend all of my free time hanging out with you?”

“I thought it was because you saw me as a friend the way you do everyone else.”

“Oh, boy,” you breathe out before sitting yourself up from the bed. “Clearly I shouldn’t have said anything so I’m just going to go back to my own room now-“

“No, wait,” Bucky protests, quickly sitting up and resting a hand on your shoulder to keep you in place. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… it’s kind of hard to believe the woman I’ve been in love with for ages actually feels the same.”

“Wait… you love me?” You repeat softly, hand coming to cover your mouth in quiet shock as you look to him for any sign of insincerity. Instead, you find his blue eyes looking down at you with tender adoration while his lips curl into a careful smile.

“Always have,” he replies gently.

“But you never seemed like the relationship type of guy. You’re always so broody and closed off I figured you like being alone.”

“I’d be any type of guy for you,” Bucky avows while lovingly brushing his metal fingers across your cheek. “You’re everything to me, and I would gladly spend the rest of my life with you if you gave me the chance.”

“Oh, Bucky,” you coo gently, eyes beginning to well with tears as you happily throw your arms around him in a bone crushing embrace. “I can’t believe you, why didn’t you ever tell me?! I love you!”

Bucky wraps his flesh arm around your waist while his metal hand tenderly cradles your head. He laughs off your scolding and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, heart nearly leaping out of his chest from the euphoria he feels at finally being able to tell you the truth. He never once thought this could be possible for him, but having you here in his arms just felt right, like this was the way things were always supposed to be.

“I love you, y/n,” Bucky professes gently, prompting you to pull yourself from the hug to meet his loving gaze. Impulsively, you smash your lips onto his own in a searing kiss, and Bucky is quick to match your pace by pulling you fully into his lap as he melts into your touch. All inhibitions are thrown out the window, and in that moment the only thing Bucky cares to think about is the feel of your lips on his own while your fingers curl into his hair. If he knew it would be like this, he would have confessed a lot sooner.

But you have forever to make up for lost time, and Bucky is okay with that if it means spending the rest of his life being your perfect partner.

[baepsays]

I'D GIVE YOU EVERYTHING (I JUST WANT TO SEE YOU WIN) ‧₊˚𓇢𓆸 ⸻ clan head Gojo

CHAPTER ONE: Lord Gojo

𓍯𓂃 pairing⋙ post Shinjuku clan leader Gojo x non-sorcerer reader

𓍯𓂃 description⋙ navigating a married life is hard enough, it is harder when you know nothing about your husband other than his heroic scars and dizzying smile.

𓆰𓆪 cw in this chapter⋙ canon divergence, nsfw, MDNI, clan and jujutsu world politics, arranged marriage, husband Gojo, Gojo with scars, one sided conflict, one sided pining, suggestive stuff, they are both a little stupid about e/o, misogyny (not by Gojo), internalized misogyny on reader's part, insecurities, dysfunctional families, fem oriented reader, use of she/her pronouns, self deprecation on reader's behalf, angst, some fluff, condescending Gojo, they do stuff in bed idk how to explain, manhandling, love bites, hickeys and marks, teasing, so much teasing, very lowkey dirty talk, talk about virginity, mentions of breeding, there is reluctant consent, emotionally detached Gojo, Gojo is just a bit mean, sexual tension in the air or just need to runaway? reader in her early thirties, Gojo is in his mid thirties.

𓍯𓂃 a/n: hope you have fun reading <3 art in the header by @/RUEheree on twt. if you'd like to be added to the tag list, refer to the series masterlist<3

word count: 7.5k

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The world of jujutsu was reformed drastically following the events of devastation that took place during the Shinjuku showdown. Many lives were lost, and many were left alive with the misfortune of living with the memories of the events. One such person happened to be the strongest himself, Gojo Satoru.

Gojo Satoru basically came back from touching death himself. 

The sheer surprise of his life being spared after all that he went through to have his students win a losing battle, and live a better life as a sorcerer—was enough to have rumors circulate that perhaps the now scarred up Gojo Satoru is just a shell of a man from who he used to be.

The intensity of his powers were apparently dulled, especially the six eyes. The great blessing and curse on Gojo Satoru’s name, his six eyes, were left intact, but rendered basically powerless. 

But it did not matter how much Gojo Satoru has weakened, how the current state of him could not compare to who he was. Because this was a man who has escaped death time and time, any fear that may have been there in those glowing eyes, was gone to say the least.

If one does think of it, Gojo Satoru is just as much of a changed man as everyone thinks of him to be, the nights he used to sleeplessly spent were now spent with a better sleep schedule. False pretenses were dropped. He was older, wiser, a man who has been struck with grief all through his life, and was now living a more predictable life. Now he just spent his days looking after his estate, staff, and helping his students as much as he could as a more powerful figure, in terms of not only his physical but also political capabilities.

The gruesome news of what took place in the room of the higher ups before the Shinjuku showdown was the first of such help. Just whispers were heard about the state of the room, if he was ever bravely asked of what exactly happened that day, the eerie smile was enough, on top of his now mostly left uncovered eyes.

The need for silence was more needed than boasting what he had done, with no remorse, as he never felt any for the vile people present in that room that day. As the jujutsu world was more or less at peace, the clan politics was still present, silently fuming away from everyone’s eyes. And as the head of the Gojo clan, he had to step up to his role more proficiently.

And with the newfound responsibilities and increasing age, the pressure to find a wife was becoming more and more vital. 

Hope was not something you relied on usually, or at all. As a person born with no actual cursed energy to wield them in a battlefield, other than being mildly able to see horrifying entities float around, it was hard. 

It was hard as it is to be a non-sorcerer born into a family of jujutsu sorcerers, it was probably harder as an unmarried woman, now in her thirties, surrounded by people who deem women nothing more than a womb on a pair of legs.

It was no concern to them if the world was burning down or if you were dying, your apparent reproductive clock was better understood by them than you. At least as a child it was a hush hush, and tease of sorts when the topic of your future husband was brought up, which was more often than not. This went on until you graduated university like any other normal human being, as the world of jujutsu did not seem to work out. 

You liked that life. The normal life that these people looked down upon, making normal friends, falling out with them over petty reasons than losing them to some blood hungry curse, going on trips them them, stressing about exams, pulling all nighters to submit assignments, getting asked out on dates, growing plants, spending weekends by reading books and binge watching some show. 

There was nothing significant in the lifestyle these people aspired for and maintained.

And you did not want to end up in an unfamiliar house having to start from scratch, how to mind yourself and navigate the unprovoked stares of disgust. Especially by a man who was supposed to love you for better and for worse, til death does you apart—if it were up to you, you would not like to bind yourself to this man, to begin with. 

But then again, that was all wishful daydreaming. Especially when you are already sitting in a reserved private room at some fancy place, waiting to meet another prospective husband. At this point you have met at least over ten or hundred possible husbands, you have lost the count. To your parents and the clan, they were either too obnoxious, not as affluent as them, too egregious, not influential enough, or not as powerful as them. But this was no ordinary prospective meeting. After all this was the potential meeting that could tie your family to the Gojo clan.

He was everything they wanted to be, had all the qualities they were looking for in your future husband, and everything they despised. He was too egregious, too obnoxious, too condescending, righteous to a fault, and too giving. Yet, it did not waver their desire to have you tied down to this man. That was the effect of Gojo Satoru. It did not matter how much he had weakened in terms of physical strength compared to the new generation, it was how he boasted about that weakness and walked with his head higher than ever.

You did respect the man immensely. But you could not help but hold grudges against this man, whom you are yet to even meet. Grudges over how freely he lived. You have never in your life felt jealous of your peers’ powers, surely you have felt resentment. But that was fault of your own blood. But this man in particular you could not escape, probably even to the pits of hell he will follow you there to agonize your life.

The thought of possibly calling him your husband made your stomach fill with bile. 

Your silent thoughts ran wild as you waited silently, sitting opposite an empty chair, surrounded by people chattering anxiously about the absent man in question. Your parents, a few important members of your clan, and a few members of the Gojo clan started to become more and more weary about the clan head’s arrival. 

The clamour in the room stopped way before the doors to the room slid open. That was the sort of energy he exuded. Enigmatic and formidable. 

The man who walked in, adorned in the most finely made white haori, complementing his hair, with a scarf around his neck. He looked almost the part of the groom, with half the outfit already hanging off his shoulders. But it was not the careful stitching of the jacket, or his sculpted body peeking through the compressed shirt beneath his jacket, or the piercing blue orbs set on you, that made you static in your seat—breathless even. 

The three big scars that cut through his left cheek, under his right eye, and the one stretching from his chin down his jawline, accompanied by more scattered and faded out smaller scars, spread through every visible part of his body—that is what had your mind standing still in awe. 

“Ah! Greetings Gojo-sama. Such an honor to be in your presence, finally.” Your father’s voice brought you out of the blue pupils assessing every single cell on your body. The realization that you had dared to hold gaze with Gojo Satoru of all people, that too on your first meeting, ran your throat dry. Quickly training your eyes on the table in front of you, as if it was the most interesting piece of furniture, you reached for the glass of water served to you. Hoping, praying, begging that you did not just offend him. 

“Why? I made everyone wait too long.” The tone of his voice suggested anything but a polite question. Maybe steadiness and jest, but no place for ease. 

“No! Of course not, in fact you are right on time!” One of the Gojo clan members quipped beside him. Looking ever so slightly from the edge of your eyelashes, you presumed this was the usual. 

“Really? Then do you mind telling me if I'm actually on time or not? ” The question was directed to no one in the room but you. 

“Gojo-sama, how can she-” Satoru cuts off your mother before she could finish the poor excuse she was about to make, “I was clearly not speaking to you, was I? Now, are you able to answer my simple question or simply too fascinated by the table?” A calculative smile stretched across his face. 

“It is made out of cedar wood if you are wondering about that.”

The tone of his voice and that smile irritated something in you. All your life you have been a compliant decorative doll made out of unmoving porcelain, yet the sheer change in the inconspicuous inflection of this man’s words, pissed you off beyond everything. 

“You are 24 minutes late.” The words came out unusually harsher than your usual voice. “Gojo-sama.”

The last bit of that respect came from the instant realization of what you did, followed by your mother’s eyes almost popping out of its sockets and your father’s disappointed sigh. They were as sure as you were, that this meeting is not going to work out in their favor. You were, on one hand ecstatic to have ensured that you were never going to be called this man’s wife, on the other hand the anticipation of what was to follow this meeting once you get home, made your stomach drop.

The members of either clan were already engaged in a dispute of words. “How dare a woman born with no cursed energy speak in such a tone with the head of the Gojo clan!” one of the members of his clan spoke with displeasure, slightly sitting up in his seat.

“Please excuse her insolence, she does not know any better. Apologize. Right this instance.” Your father urged you with his teeth pressed together. 

You should’ve noticed the anger in his tone, but you were too busy observing the man sitting in front of you, from the curtains of your eyelashes as you held your head low. He sat with his grinning face held in his hand, the elbow of the said hand rested on the table, as he took a big sip of his tea. All the while boring his gaze in your, already itching with discomfort, skin. 

The sound of the cup of tea pressed between his shining lips, being set down on the cedar table made everyone stop their sharp words thrown your way. It was definitely not the sound that the cup made, but rather whose cup it was, that made them halt their charges.

“I see. Then I must apologize to my wife to be, for making her wait that long for me.”

Weddings are difficult.

It takes a lot of preparation. Mentally and physically, it is extremely straining and of course the preparation, just organizing a lot of things all at once, drives one insane. The venue, the guests, the font for the wedding invitation, gifts for the guests, flowers, color of the silverware etc. meticulous things. And it takes a lot of people to have two people unite, in the name of the law and society, with God as the witness. But it is particularly harder to realize the significance of the act of being wed to a person, when you have no idea who that person is beyond the whispering gossips and scars of battle adorning his pretty face.

When you had no contribution to the choices made for the wedding preparation, or the person you are to be wed, it all feels less magical and more of a fever dream. The days before the wedding, you spent them holed up in your room, not really doing anything more than what you were required to do. So you solemnly spent those swift days contemplating things over and over again. 

You thought you might not want to see your husband to be, before the wedding itself. But when the week before the wedding your father informed you that Gojo Satoru himself seeked out to have dinner at your house, you could not help but anticipate the sight of him. Wondering if he might show up in more casual clothing than his formal getups, wondering if the scar under his eye is still the same or did it somehow morph its shape, even if it has only been three weeks since you have seen him.

So you could not help but feel disappointment when he never showed up. All the food that was decorated on the dinner table was already cold, when an informant came to tell that, ‘Gojo-sama has sent the word that he cannot make it, and he is deeply apologetic to his fiance.’ 

Your shoulders sagged down as quickly as your father just asked everyone to start their meal. You did not understand the loss of appetite when everything before you was so delicious. It was all very confusing, maybe you just wanted to see him one last time before the wedding to reassure yourself. But then again, you cannot get rid of the doubt that did not stem from worry, but is fostered by fear.

“Are you ready?” your mother's voice made you look away from the reflection of yourself and instead your eyes focused on her. Because at least the harshness in her voice was more familiar than your own reflection.

“Time for you to enter. Everyone is waiting.”

The idea of being a married woman, to the strongest, at that—made the weight of the ceremonial kimono feel heavier than any piece of clothing you have ever dawned. The hood of the wataboshi  partially covering your face felt like a shield, because while walking down the aisle it hid your eyes from peeking a glimpse of your groom. As much as it felt like you were dying, with the way your throat was constricting, making it harder for any air to pass—you could not help but take a peek at your groom, from below your hood, who was already standing there waiting for you.

His back was facing the shrine’s altar, and his eyes were trained on you. He looked like no other groom. Probably because no other groom has ever welcomed his bride with such a huge grin, while showing his back to the altar. It was Gojo Satoru after all. When has he done anything the usual way?

“Goodness, felt like you took forever sweetheart.” 

His extended hand reached for yours, to pull you up to the podium, to have you stand beside him. The sight of his palms practically swallowing your entire hand, felt foreign. But the coldness emitting off his touch was worse. It was weird that he was touching you, but at the same time, it felt as if he was far away from your grasp. The distance and the coldness was far too sharp for you to keep holding his hand. And he probably understood that as well, as he loosened his grip to let you slip your hands out of his as soon as you could.

How the entire thing happened was beyond you. Your head was too occupied with how gorgeous he looked in his groom’s wear. Or maybe his blinding hair, or the scars scattered all over him, making him look more commanding than terrifying. It was all just very swift, if you had to describe it.

One moment you are contemplating whether you should make a run for it, not that it would help you. And then in another few seconds you two are already on your third cup of sake, completing the san-san-kudo ceremony, uniting yourself to him and joining your name to his.

“Still want to make a run for it sweets?”

You just looked at him, slightly horrified. “Anyone with two eyes can tell what you are thinking if they can catch a glimpse behind that hood, and I have six of them.” There was a tone of jest in his voice and the grin on his face.

“No. I, am just not feeling that well since this morning.”

“Then we must do something about that.” In one quick second, you were suspended in the air in his arms, your body was held close to his chest with the help of his arms. 

The yelp that left your lips sounded louder than it should have, because that room full of relatives and influential people fell silent to the ordeal in front of them. But your astonishment was not due to the fact that your newly officialized husband has decided to embarrass you in a shrine where god witnessed your union—it was rather how contrary to the earlier, he felt warm.

“You feel warmer.” you could not help but let your thoughts slip out in a murmur. “Surprised?” you nod hesitantly realizing how that slipped out in a murmur.

“My infinity was up earlier, I noticed how you got startled. And how dare I make Lady Gojo flinch. ” There was a sense of tease in his tone, but also laced with pride and maybe some joy? He never fails to leave you perplexed. You had nothing to answer to that. Lady Gojo. That is who you were. The weight of your title made your head spin as Gojo walked you two out of the shrine, with you still in his arms.

The reception went as smoothly as it could have. Honestly coming to the reception was harder than the reception itself. Being in an enclosed space with Gojo was really more scary than marrying him in front of thousands of people. Now you just have to do exactly that for the rest of your life, or until your services are required. 

He did not say or do anything much for the better part of the car ride to the location, other than handing you a water bottle and some packed riceballs, which were kept in the car before you two got there, with his instructions you presumed. You took it without any reluctance.

“Eat well. Who knows how much you might be able to eat there.” He was not wrong, you were expected to look and act as the perfect newly wed bride to the Gojo clan head, and that meant sitting there pretty and smiling at everyone. So you silently ate what you were given, unperceptive to those blue eyes staring at you with the intention of noting down every little detail about you, as a grin involuntarily stretched across his face, unbeknownst to either of you. Just Ichiji saw that in the rear view mirror and felt some relief for his employer. 

With congratulations coming left and right, the title of Lady Gojo, being thrown at you at the end of every sentence, you could only think that your husband was right. Even the people of your previous clan were more respectful to you than they ever have been. As nice as they all have been, the pressure still hung suffocatingly high in the air. And you understood it had everything to do with the Gojo name being attached to you now. Or maybe it was Gojo Satoru himself, attached to you at every step, who made them hold their tongue. Your groom made it his mission to follow you around wherever you went, and loomed over every conversation you had with every familiar or unfamiliar individual. 

“Will you let her breathe in peace?” “You really thought he was not going to be too much at his own wedding?” Two people chimed, with another man following them closely with solemn eyes.

“Sure, make my wife hate me . Some friends you guys are.” Never in your life you thought you would see Gojo Satoru pout. He was formidable, smug, maybe petty, and condescending, but the only thing you could think for a second was, cute.

Upon introduction you acquainted yourself with Geto Suguru, Irie Shoko, and Nanami Kento. Few of Gojo Satoru’s friends and comrades. They were probably the only people you had a sound and relaxed conversation with. Satoru seemed more at ease around them as well. They were in fact, the first bunch of people you felt were nice to you without any incentive hanging over them. The individual dynamic they have with your husband, and just all four of them together made you feel jealous of their bond. But again, that is something one only gains by growing up together or almost dying beside each other. And they have all of it.

The night ended soon after with everyone taking their leave, and the hall slowly becoming desolate. Satoru was ready to retire for the day as well. As he went to have the car fetched for you two to take your leave, your mother took advantage of that chance to catch you in the hallway, before you could leave after your goodbyes. 

“You do know what you have to do tonight. Yes?”

The grip she had on your arm became increasingly tighter as each second passed without an affirmative answer from you. “Yes.”

“Do as you are instructed. And just let him take it.” Those were the last words you heard from your mother. Any sane person would gag at such interaction, but it was no more a  surprise to you. Seeing your mother put on a faux smile as she entered the main hall, with one last glance at your way, ‘take it’ , that is all that you heard. You have been taught to just take it, all your life. If your male cousin likes your things, they can just take it. Your father is scolding you for speaking an octave too high, you just have to take that. You have to simply take all the snide comments and slimy suggestions, they are for your own good. When people made fun of your lack of powers, you were told to just take it as a lesser being. And now as you sit beside your newly wed husband, while being driven to his estate, you have to mentally prepare yourself to just let him take it.

After all that is all you were made for, that is all you are worth.

“Still not feeling well?”

The sudden question made you look at the source of the voice sitting beside you on the plush leather seats. “Yes?”

“Yes, you are not feeling well? Or yes, you were not listening to me?”

“Oh. I am sorry.” “Was that either of the options? Hmm?” The smile on his face was oddly comforting, and genuine. But that made it all more sickening.

“I did not hear you, I was just distracted.” “I guessed as much.” He did not say anything more, he looked away and went back to facing his side of the window, as did you. Or so you thought.

Satoru has been observing you since he came back from getting Ichiji to get the car up in front of the hotel, where the reception was held. He followed you closely from behind sensing the cloud of distress making its way back above your head. He somehow managed to get rid of them during the reception, and something or someone ruined all his hard work. And he did not appreciate that. 

Right now he was trying to get a glimpse of your reflection on his side of the window. It was not slick. Nor was it very effective. Trying to find your eyes in the dark tinted glass was making him annoyed. He just wanted to hold your face in both his hands and stare down in your irises to draw out all the unspoken answers from the depths of your soul.

But that would effectively scare you off more than you already were.

So the next best thing was showing concern through more subtle actions. Like running out of the car just as it stopped on the stone driveway, in front of the huge doors of the main entrance. He made his way over to your side before you could even open your door. And in a blink of eye you were back in his arms. Now without the Haori, his skin was much warmer through the fabric of his Montsuki.

“Don't want you to tire yourself out more." He mumbled, way too close to your face than you would appreciate, his eyes were focused on the stairs leading into the entrance of your new house. 

“Who am I if not your most obedient servant, Lady Gojo.” 

Now it felt like he was trying his best to embarrass you. Was he trying to patronize you? 

“You should not say something like that Gojo-sama, what if someone heard you?”

“If someone dared to eavesdrop on words meant for my wife, in the privacy of my arms— they know better than gambling with their lives.” The chuckle that left him was anything but humorous. The threat was very real behind those words, probably more present in his voice than his words.

The walk to the bedroom was long, it took many turns at long hallways to reach what seemed like the opposite end of the entryway. Where stood two sliding doors proud and all alone in that entire hallway. And every step he took to get closer to them felt like a sigh of breath leaving your throat to never return. And he probably felt that with the gripping dent of your nails in the back of neck, but he welcomed that. He felt nothing but contentment in you losing your composure in his arms. And he wished for nothing, but a lifetime of you letting yourself express your most hidden self in his arms, and have you leave your mark on him.

The bedroom was huge. And it was decorated with more than hundred candles, to perceptive eyes. All the expensive decoration, furniture, painting and scroll went invisible to your eyes—because there was only one thing in that room that caught your interest.

The bed. It stood on all its strong legs, near the huge windows overlooking the outside. It was surrounded by more candles, scented ones. And it smelled like the ocean and sweet tropical fruits. There were bouquets of roses and Lilies on each side of the bed, on the bedside tables. As Satoru placed you down on the fluffy and soft covers, the mattress almost engulfed you in itself. And it all became too real.

You might be Lady Gojo now. But the man hovering above you was Lord Gojo.

He can joke about being at your beck and call all he wants, but he was not the one married off to serve you. It was you who was instructed to just be a good wife and take it. You were here, on his bed, to serve him. To let him take you, take your virginity, and claim you as one of his many conquests. All you were good for, was to lie there and take his seed, to give him an heir and silently sit in a corner unless you are spoken to.

So why was he walking away from you? 

“You are not- going to?” the hand you used to hold onto his wrist, to prevent him from walking away from you, was shaking. 

“What do you mean?” The scrunch of his eyebrows made you think for a second he might be genuinely confused about what you might be referring to.

“You should know what I mean.” He truly is such a cruel man.

“If you don't speak to me clearly, I am afraid, I am too dumb to understand.” The smirk on his face said otherwise. “You are so mean.”

“How am i being mean to my own wife, if i don’t even understand what she is implying, hmm?” 

“How will it be any more helpful if I say it out loud?” “I don’t know? You might have to find out for yourself.” He was annoying you now.

“I am trying to perform our duties and get over this, Gojo-sama.” Hopefully your stern voice camouflaged your nervousness and fear.

“Do you want to consummate our marriage that bad, Gojo-sama?”

The incredulous look on your face upon being addressed by the same title as him, by Gojo Satoru himself, was the last thing you expected out of this conversation. 

“You- you, just- cannot address me like that!” “Why not? You are also a Gojo now. In fact, you are the lady of the clan now.” His argument was making more sound sense to you than your own head.

“I would have to argue your position is much more important than mine. From this day forward you are also Gojo-sama whether you like it or not. I hope you get used to it. And I don’t want to be called out by some title by my own wife.”

“You keep saying ‘my wife, my wife’, yet you are acting oblivious about our marital duties!” Suddenly the air was much heavier than how lightly it was circulating through the huge room. “You might get away with putting up a front, but my position in this marriage has been set in stone. So please spare me the questions and put an heir in me as soon as you can.”

You anticipated an array of reactions after such audacious proclamations. You guessed as much, the very second your tongue stopped speaking, the emotions on his face might be anything but that humorous and kind softness he has, oh so graciously, offered you up to this moment so far. And that made you look away from his face, which looked more halted than stoic, and in your experiences, surprises are almost always followed by anger or joy. And you were definitely not expecting him to clap his hand and offer you a big smile.

Your hand on his hand felt more foreign than before, so you pulled it off him. And it allowed him the satisfaction of at least not feeling your miserably shaking and soaking palm. And there it was, the anger. 

Just as you let go of him, his own hand grabbed a mean grip on your wrist. It was confusing to understand what exactly happened in the moments after that. One second he is pulling you off the bed towards himself, next he is bending down to reach you half way across and pushing you on the bed with the weight of his body. You were essentially pinned onto your new marital bed. Both hands pinned on either side of your head, with a mean grip on your wrists by his huge calloused hands, and you were sure that you were done for.

“Since you have already cooked up these false ideas about what this relationship might look like, how about I show you a little glimpse into these imaginations?” 

His face was probably close to yours by no more than half of one centimeter, you could feel his eyes searching for something in your own eyes, and you had no confidence to fake it. So you just shut your eyes real tight and waited for what was to come.

Satoru’s right hand glided itself from your wrist, to your forearm, under the sleeves of your kimono, until it reached up to your arms, where the bunched up clothing did not allow him any more access over your skin. The loud gulp you took, out of some sort of relief, was gone in a second.

Satoru was not a man to give up on the first hindrance, and people learn that usually the hard way. His eyes were more concerned with how your eyebrows were scrunched up, how tightly your eyes were closed and how your eyelashes were looking longer like that, or how you might end up making your lips bleed if you keep on biting down on them that hard. And how beautiful your neck looked, with the little knot in your throat going up and down with nervous gulps. 

His right hand started working to get rid of the belts on your kimono, and his hand was slipping past every layer of clothing to reach your body. While his mouth made itself useful on your neck, peppering the most delicate kisses from the base of your neck, collar bones, along the column of your neck, up to your chin. And with several little scattered kisses on your jaw, Satoru’s eyes found your mouth open in a small gasp. Thankfully your lips did not bleed. But your eyes remained closed, too afraid to see what was going on, in the dim light of the candles illuminating the room in an orange hue, you were too scared. 

You did not want to think about how his hand felt so cold and soothing on your burning skin or how his lips felt so warm and comforting. You did not want to see those blue eyes, or those scars spread all across his skin, particularly the one under his eye—it made you train your eyes back into those dilating pupils every time.

Satoru's hand was just below your breasts, it just stayed there. Sometimes moving an inch too close and then just going back to drawing circles around your torso, squeezing your waist at times—all while his teeth and lips worked all over your decolletage. Little bites and long intervals of his lips sucking marks around your neck, drew out hisses of pleasure out of you.

Who knew that being under your husband could make one feel this much pleasure?

His left hand never left its grip on your right hand. The platinum ring on his finger became warm over time, just like his cold hand, as it remained intertwined with your fingers. While his right hand found its way down your stomach, on the waistband of your panties. It was nothing impressive, not the sort of underwear one expects a newly wed bride to wear. It was a simple cotton panty, the bare minimum. Your family forgot that detail probably.

But Satoru absolutely did not mind. He liked the slightly loose elastic, it felt like any moment he could slip it off you, or slip his own hand inside. And it felt worn in, soft and malleable. He could tear it off you in a millisecond. 

“Get it off already.”

“Ordering me around already, Gojo-sama? Hmm?” You were losing your patience. Who could’ve predicted that? 

“Stop that.” “Stop what?” “You know what.” 

“Again, Gojo-sama, if you do not tell me how will I know? Your poor, poor husband is not that sharp.” His patronizing voice vibrated in the crook of your neck. 

“Stop. C-calling m. Me. Gojo-sama.” 

“I don't know? Should I?

“Yes! You sound ridiculous!” Your eyes finally shit open and you rose up to now lean on your elbows, to get a better look at him. The unfastened kimono slipping off you and pooling under you in the process. 

His eyes remained trained on you, hooded and shadowed by storms and turmoil in the blue sea, as he found refuge between your open legs. He was practically lying on your breast, with your bra on the verge of slipping off and giving him easy access to them, to mark them all over in pink and purple. Because clearly the plethora of lovebites on you, were not enough.

He did not say anything. Just the hand which was previously on your waistband, glided downward until it reached the back of your knees. His fingers worked with stealth while his eyes distracted you, like a predator. He grabbed onto your knee and pushed you back down on the bed, as both his hands found their place back on your wrists. While he cozied himself between your legs, and sat back on his knees.

He leaned in close enough to hover his own set of lips just above your own, just as they barely made contact—he moved his neck to glide those lips across your cheek, to your ear. 

“I am glad we agree.”

“Then I can count on you, to not call me by that title again, right sweetheart?” 

You did not have to see his eyes or his face to nod an instant yes.

“Use your words. Lady Gojo.” His voice came out harsher than ever.

“I won't call you that again.”

“Ah. What an obedient wife you are. Hmm? Your parents will be proud.”

With those last words dripping with nothing but sarcasm, he got off you. He silently fixed your kimono, tucked you in, and kissed your forehead with a whisper of goodnight. Right before he left you there to contemplate what just happened, and locked himself in the bathroom attached to your bedroom, for what felt like more than an hour. You did not really know if you were supposed to wait for him or not, what was he going to do when he came back? 

All sorts of thoughts raced through your head, as you drifted into sweet slumber, on the most soft and comfortable bed you've ever come across in your life.

While Gojo Satoru hunched over the sink, looking like a freshly ripened tomato. He stared at himself into the mirror, with nothing but disbelief at his own audacity. 

The morning came faster than it should have. It felt particularly premature to you when you spent the rest of your night, after the events that took place on your marital bed, by watching the ceiling above you with a blank stare. You did pass out for a brief while, but that was out of being overwhelmed to the point of losing consciousness. You were not sure if this was ok, to sleep in this huge room by yourself. But you could not, or maybe did not want to stop Satoru from storming out of the bathroom, and then speeding out of the room without sparing you a single glance. You wanted to enjoy one night peacefully in this bed, to compensate for many tumultuous ones to inevitably follow. 

Even when getting off your bed to pace around the room, to maybe tire yourself out, sleep did not come. But if getting married was not tiresome enough to knock you out, then maybe walking around the room won’t do you any good as well. So you decided to take a walk in that huge garden sitting outside the floor to ceiling windows nearby your bed. 

You did not make it much far into the huge garden. After the neatly arranged traditional garden, laid vast lands of grass and wild flowers, and bushes, and an arrangement of trees, including two cherry blossom trees sitting across each other, along the edge of a lake. It was lit with the reflection of the moonlight, falling on the surface of its water, scattering everywhere in a chaotic rhythm, because of the busy fishes moving around in it, probably enjoying the serene night.  You would have liked to go take a seat near the lake, on one of those benches placed around it. But when you approached the nearest bench, under one of the cherry blossom trees, you found your husband already occupying it. 

Maybe in another world, you went up to it and sat down beside him silently, maybe you spoke with him and tried to start a conversation. Maybe you two just sat together in silence, or maybe he saw you and walked away. But in this world, you could not even cross the five feet of distance that laid between you and that bench. Instead you walked back to your room, as silently as you could. You spent the rest of the night trying to get some sleep, as you laid on your side, and stared out of those huge windows by your bed, until the dark sky became blue.

Who knows what the outcome could have been if you walked up to that bench last night. Who knows what could have happened if only Satoru turned around and asked you to sit down instead of patiently waiting for you to come up to him. I mean, you should know better, five feet of distance is not that much for their presence to go unnoticed by him or his six eyes. Especially when it is you. 

The morning itself was more uneventful, compared to last night. The shower was particularly soothing. Especially where he touched you last night. Maybe it has something to do with his powers, you told yourself, but you knew better. Why it was burning everywhere he touched or why those marks of his teeth and lips stung so sweet—was not something you really wanted to think about, as it made you go weak in the knees.

It was all very uneventful, until you came out of the bathroom after your shower, to find Satoru sitting at the end of the bed. He was still in the black kimono from the wedding. He looked like he did not get any sleep either, or so it seemed, because this time around his eyes were covered with his blindfold. It was eerie, for most people to see Gojo Satoru without his black blindfold, but for you it was probably the other way around. It was weird to see him with it for once. And that person felt like an entirely different person, than the one you married yesterday. 

“Goodmorning, Goj- Satoru-san.” His given name did not roll off your tongue the smoothest. But he appreciated that you listened to him. 

“You can drop the honorifics as well.” There was an appreciative smile on his face as he spoke, but even with his blindfold on, you could tell that smile did not reach his face. “I do not know if I can.”

Satoru did not push you. One step at a time, right? Even if these steps did not come out of your own volition, but his petty threats, he still welcomed them with a humorous smile. 

“I wanted to apologize about yesterday.” He did not suit humility, that is what you thought when a grin stretched along your face. Seeing him squirm and look so uncomfortable was new, even when his eyes were covered, you imagined them to look more sorry than body language. Satoru really was just not familiar with saying sorry, but he never backed away from apologizing when he needed to.

“I really crossed a line there, just to prove a point.” you did not say anything back but just stood in front of him with your freshly out of shower wet hair dripped droplets of water on the carpet. “I would understand if you do not want to forgive me, I would like to make it up to you however.” He was trying his best. His best to not stare at you blatantly in that silken baby blue robe clinging to your body, that he personally picked out for you. Or the peeking marks he left on you, that made him go dizzy. It was all him.

“It is alright.” you went to sit beside him, but instead of sitting just by him, you sat on one of the corners of the bed, keeping the distance between you two. “Really?”

“Yes. I do not think I would have minded if you went all the way. I do not really have any say in that.” 

“What?” He genuinely looked confused for a few first seconds. Then something else creeped up on him, something close to pity or disgust. 

“I was wedded off to you to serve you and your bloodline. It is my purpose.”

Satoru felt disgusted. By everyone and anyone who has ever made you think about yourself like this. But he was mostly disgusted by himself.

“I do not know how much more plainly I can put it, and it is not just some opinion of mine, it’s just the plain truth. You are wrong to think that.” He got off the bed, to stand in front of you. At an arms length he looked further away than he actually was. His shoulders looked stiff and his jaw was tight. You have somehow managed to piss him off by saying things you were instructed to say all your life, to not piss off your husband.

“You are wrong.” 

That was all he said before he stormed out of the room without a second glance. Exuding the sort of energy that said he might erupt like an angry volcano any minute.

NEXT CHAPTER>>

TO FIND MORE OF MY WORKS CLICK HERE.

divider by @/omi-resources. header is from watashitachi wa douka shiteiru drama adaptation. art in the header by @/RUEheree on twt.

honestly i have been cooking this for almost a month and i am so indecisive about what i wanted to do with him i do not want to make an angsty story where the angst is just because of Gojo being an ass, lol i think there are plenty of those, done far better than wtv i can do. so this guy is still very canon adjacent, emotionally unavailable in a way you know the people you think you have all figured but then suddenly you are like wtf??? i do not know anything about you. so lol i am using my own emotional constipation as heavy reference. he has many many layers, i want to explore his death in the shinjuku fight, his powers which i have left intact mostly but in a more weakened state than his students and what not. i want to explore his thoughts on that. reader's insecurities i wanted to make them as real as possible so if i make anyone sad, it was the goal, also i am sorry. it will get sadder just saying. even though i will make them have so many suffocating with tension scenes. it will be happy eventually!!! and i hope you guys likeee itttt

tag list (1): @cheralith @slayzzz @madamechrissy @gojosperms @naomigojo @cuntphoric @cuntyji @cuntphoric @aishi-toru @fushitoru @rriwyu @arcanarix @lover-lyn @buckysm @wwwritererm @indiewritesxoxo @shouiow @user25384959574 @dxmnsaera @emyyy007 @ineedbetterhobbies0809 @littlemisswitch67 @dxmnsaera @kazupop @tabalugax @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @thetiredcollegestudent @tokyolhtl @emochosoluvr @moncher-ire @hyunjinspdf @younjunie @howmanytimesamigoingtotrythis @em0cleo @novaisbebita @hisarmsaremycocoon @wise-fangirl @sheep-infog @arrozyfrijoles23 @ppejmurde @miizuzu @ricecake-mochi @tushkiiiiiii @ovela @69-gojos-wife-69 @fariylixie0915 @lxxnour @mereniss @theorphicangel

[knuiui]

what if..

Neglected!reader is good and all (crunchy angst yum) but what if a reader that didn't grow up with the bats?

Timeline is Bruce just recently adopted Jason, therefore a new Robin is swinging around in town. let's just say that Bruce had a bit of a night encounter with a mysterious woman he can't seem to remember the face of then *poof* there's reader!

However what if the moment reader comes into the world her faith is sealed but the mysterious woman who we should just call, A, refuses to hand her daughter off to suffer and be neglected. reader is a creature of love and she deserves to be loved.

So she turns and instead drops off reader to the nearest orphanage. unexpectedly reader was immediately adopted by some rich billionaire dude from ny, so at a very young age reader managed to escape gotham's clutches and tragedies. All while Bruce is none the wiser.

years pass by and reader grew up loved and spoiled from attention by her adoptive father, she even got herself two protective guard dogs of a brothers with her. life is good until unexpectedly off to a mission somewhere near gotham she goes, and she encounters a a boy with tan skin and green eyes and one thing reader knows is that, this boy is her baby brother. (It's Damian lol)

what if it's also a pjo crossover, and reader is totally a child of love and beauty. :)

decisions. decisions. 🤔

masterlist for this is now posted.. here

[yamujiburo]

After Ash leaves (only planning to be gone for a few hours), Jessie does a really good job taking care of Pikachu! She puts all her nursing skills to practice and Pikachu starts feeling much better pretty quickly.

However, because Pikachu started feeling better, as soon as Jessie let him out of her sight, he made a break for it to go find Ash.

Once Jessie realizes Pikachu's gone she FREAKS out, not wanting to lose Ash's trust. She has to get Pikachu back without Ash knowing she let him get away.

Initially, Jessie's confident she'll get Pikachu back because of her prior experience of being able to find Pikachu. But she quickly realizes while she was always able to find Pikachu, she was never able to catch him.

She enlists James and Meowth's help, both of which are on their respective lunch breaks. She gets James without alerting Delia (she want's Delia to be proud of her for gaining Ash's trust too).

Just like the old days they trail Pikachu, using less aggressive and scary contraptions to try catch him. Every attempt, also much like the old days, results in a blast off. Luckily, they don't blast off too far since Pikachu's not at full health.

James and Meowth's lunch breaks come to an end, so they have to leave Jessie to her own devices. She makes one last valiant attempt to get Pikachu back but fails once more.

Pikachu finds Ash in a clearing, but before he can go to him, he notices Jessie behind him, distraught and defeated. He's never seen her give up like this before. He approaches her and notices she has tears welling up in her eyes.

She gets a bit bitey, telling him to just go on and go to Ash. She'll just have to wait for another chance to regain Ash's trust. Pikachu realizes how much this means to her. He hops into her lap to make her feel better, then toddles over in the direction of the house, beckoning Jessie to follow him.

They return home, before Ash and he's none the wiser. Also very impressed at how much healthier Pikachu looks already.

[lesbewriting]

brat

[Dom!Sevika x Sub!Fem!Reader] [ 1.2k words]

SUMMARY: Are you sevika's good girl?

WARNINGS: 18+ | Minors/Men DNI | thigh riding??, cockwarming(but it's a strap), semi-public sex???, smut, sub!reader, brat!reader, brattamer!sevika

A-N: Not me, wondering why, I've never wanted to write smut before. But then I realise I've never wanted to write it if it's of a man.

So yeah, it's 1st time, so it's probably pretty bad, and some parts may not make a ton of sense. But it's Sevika 😍, so I tried

[masterlist]

The crowd in The Last Drop bar was rowdy and quite loud that night, like it always seemed to be. It was filled with all the regular customers, either playing cards, dancing, or drinking as much alcohol as they could possibly get their hands on. 

One of these regulars was Sevika, who sat further towards the back, in her usual booth, alongside a couple of others. A cigarillo nestled neatly between her dark lips, blowing out a bit of smoke, as she scanned the table of her opponents before her. 

You felt a brief squeeze on your thigh for a moment, from where you sat prettily and patiently on Sevika's lap. You bore no underwear, as Sevika's strap nestled deep in your cunt, as you sat there.

Your thighs clenching together at the way your walls folded around the rubber. The only thing that covered your bare bottom half was the short and thinly strapped dress you wore. 

“Be a good girl, sit there, and warm daddy's cock.” She whispers in your ear momentarily, right when she leaned forward to play another card. “You need to be quiet.”

You only nod silently. Despite the warmth that continued to spread between your legs. Having to bite your lip carefully in order to suppress a whine from slipping out. You knew you had to be quiet now.

You knew you had to be, or otherwise you'd let all other attendees at the bar know what was happening. Something which you didn't want, not in the slightest. 

You continued to try and be quiet, staying as still as possible on her lap. The strap stretches your pussy greatly. But it was beginning to get difficult, from how much you itched to ride her thigh. Gain more friction against your bare lower half. 

You mentally curse yourself. Why did you have to suggest doing this while she was playing cards? Why couldn't you keep your damn mouth shut and just stick to the regular kinks and stuff in private. You were really regretting bringing up your wish to try it. 

“Sev...please” you whisper, but it comes out more like a whine. As you begin to shift your position on her lap, in an attempt to feel her more. You needed it. You needed more.

Sevika’s regular arm reaches down to your nearest thigh and clutches at the pudginess of it. Tightly wrapping her long fingers around it, almost enough to leave a mark. Then she leans back down, beside your ear, and whispers into it once more. 

“Nuh, uh, stay quiet. This was your idea. No moving.” The words came out sternly, from her lips. As if testing you, testing to see if you’d listen to her again.

Her eyes were calculating, fierce, and daring as they bore onto you before she focused on the card game that still happened before her. The others who played remained none-the-wiser to you both. 

“B-but—” You start, shifting again on her lap. The feeling of her cock inside you, was overbearing. You itched to feel it stretch you further.

You were silenced once more when another sharp squeeze, tighter now, was felt on your thigh. As if a warning, from Sevika, to behave or you'd regret it soon. You bite back another whine from escaping your lips as you sit there. 

Another minute or so passed by quickly, and your own neediness was growing increasingly stronger. Your legs clench tighter together as you shift on her lap. Slowly, you found yourself rubbing against Sevika's clothed thigh, shifting so that her cock inside you would rub further up against your walls.

With your teeth proceeding to gnaw at your bottom lip in an attempt to not be loud or let everyone know your pleasure. You slowly went a little further, feeling the strap inside you more and more, with each movement you made.

Sevika had noticed.

“What do you think you're doing?” Sevika growls out into your ear. Both her hands suddenly make their way to your hips tightly. Which halted your movements on her thigh. It was evident with how she sounded to you that she was getting irritated. “Did I say you could move?”

You shook your head slowly. When she gripped at your hips. You didn't release your hold on your lip. 

“Then, why did you?” Sevika growls out, again into your ear. Scolding you for going against her orders. Her grip on your clothed hips is getting tighter. It's almost tight enough to leave red markings. 

“‘M sorry.” You apologise quietly, almost inaudible to her ears. But Sevika heard, and next thing you knew.

She’s standing from her spot at the table, lifting you with her so that your legs wrap around her waist, and she’s carrying you with strong arms towards the nearest room in the tavern. 

The door was kicked shut with a slam, by one of her feet. As she’s shoving you onto the nearest surface, a desk inside. Her strap is still buried deep inside you.

“Is this what you want? Brat. Are you so needy for my cock, that you can't be patient and wait till I'm done.” She spits, irritated.

Her hips thrust as she begins to pound into you with the strap. Her thrusts come out aggressive and harsh. Almost taking you by surprise at how fast she’s going. 

You manage to groan out at the pace she’s going. Of the sounds of her cock pounding in and out of your tight cunt. A coil tightening up inside of your stomach, as you slowly go towards your limit.

“I should very well not let you cum, when you're being so bratty, and not listening to my orders.” She spits again, thrusting inside you again and again. Not giving you a chance to take a breath, with how rapid her cock slides in and out of you.

“Sev…”  You start, whining. The continuous sounds of squelching filling the room you two sit in, when the rubber of the strap slides through the wet folds of your pussy. 

With each intense and fast-paced pound of her strap into you. You can feel yourself so close to reaching your limit, and the more you get closer, you groan and whine. 

“Gonna come around my cock brat?” She asks, her aggressive thrusts not slowing inside you. Eyes piercing as she glares and intensely watches your face, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at each rapid thrust. 

You only nod, gasping, at the feeling of her inside your clenched, and wet pussy. Feeling each time the cock slides inside of your tight hole, you come closer and closer towards your limit. 

Eventually, after another couple minutes or so, you do reach it. Your back arching further against the desk, with your legs wrapping tighter around Sevika's waist, with each thrust she continues to pound into your cunt. 

Your whines and groans are coming out just a little bit louder as you find yourself riding your high throughout. Sevika's thrusts begin to slow down now, until you’ve finished your high.

“You learn your lesson now, or do I need to punish you more?” Sevika lets out, her cock now just sitting inside your cunt, no longer pounding harshly into you. Her eyes locking onto the fucked out and dazed expression, that she can tell now resides onto your features.

You nod your head, tiredly. Resting your head back against the wood of the desk beneath you. Maybe you had, maybe you hadn't learned your lesson. But if it gets you fucked like that by her, then you think you'd probably like to be a brat more often. 

[primofate]

Quick Kinich Brainrot.

Kinich sings the Ode of Resurrection a little louder and with a little more earnest when you're involved.

He doesn't notice it, but Mualani sure does. Kachina is none the wiser, she thinks Kinich treats everyone equally.

"Excited?" Mualani prods the said man on his side, grin as wide as ever, while waiting for the Ressurection to start.

"Huh?" Kinich asks.

Turns out he was none the wiser too. He thought he treated everyone equally.

"For Y/N to come back!" Mualani tries to hide the exasperation in her voice.

"...Isn't everyone?" Kinich simply says. Ajaw is surprisingly quiet.

Mualani has a retort at the tip of her tongue, but the ceremony starts. The eulogy is recited and the humming commences.

The ceremony is the same as it always is, and as the Pyro archon disappears into the Sacred Flame, people start to cheer and shout.

Kinich stays quiet. Eyes tacked on to the flame, shoulders tense, searching for the first sign of the Pyro Archon and you.

His mind doesn't quite register it when the Pyro Archon emerges from the flame carrying you in her arms.

The cheers continue, but when people start to notice that you're unconscious and asleep, the noise dwindles down.

Kinich masterfully swings himself over to meet the Pyro Archon, peering over at your face. "Is Y/N okay?"

"What's wrong with 'em? Psh. And here I thought they weren't one of the puny ones! Well at least it ain't a bag of bones!" Ajaw cackles, but constantly tries to circle around to catch a glimpse of your face.

"Trouble in the Night Kingdom," the archon replies. "They're fine, they just need a bit more rest to stabilize the Abyssal energy in them,"

Kinich steps back with a sigh.

The wave of panic that hit him settling down to ripples. Something similar had happened to Kachina before, in fact that time had been worse. Kinich hated to admit it, but he didn't feel half as scared back then than he did now.

What did that tell him?

He puts his hands forward "I'll take Y/N, archon. I'll take care of them," urgency and desperation mixed together in his voice.

The pyro archon had no doubt that he would, but shakes her head. "They'll have to stay here until the abyssal energy stabilizes, it could be dangerous to you as well,"

"But--" His response was automatic, and he had to stop himself from protesting.

Just take Y/N home. Don't let anyone else take them.

Repeated in his mind, over and over again. Home. You'll be safe there. He'll make sure of it. But he relents, and drops his arms to his sides. "...Okay,"

The pyro archon promises you'll be fine.

Kinich was a competent fighter. He was an ancient name bearer. He had fought so many battles and looked for many more.

But in this one simple and single moment, suddenly he wasn't so strong anymore.

His fear was bigger than his whole existence.

[gay-dorito-dust]

‘Have you seen Bob?’ Yelena asked as she poked her head into the kitchen.

You frowned. ‘No, why?’

Yelena sighed. ‘He’s not in his room and nobody has seen him anywhere and it’s obvious he hasn’t gone out of the tower, that much is clear.’ She didn’t know how it was possible for a man like Bob to easily evade detection like he has now, she had originally hoped that you had seen him, seeing as how you and him tended to be joint at the hip from the moment you met but seeing as you haven’t Yelena found her options having become even more limited then before.

You hummed in agreement with her as you added. ‘And the tower is ridiculous with all of it’s floors, so he could literally be in any one of them and we wouldn’t know where to start. It could take us hours or even days at best and I’m not even trying to exaggerate.’ You tried to rack your own brain in hopes of coming up with an answer to lead Yelena elsewhere, and also hope that you’re acting skills were enough to fool her as you did in fact know where Bob was and weren’t planning on letting anyone know where he was just yet for a very good reason.

Yelena sighs. ‘I’ve checked over all the floors with the system and it said that he’s on this very floor, but yet when I asked where it wouldn’t tell me as if said it’s been asked specifically not to tell anyone.’ She adds and you tried not to let your facade slip as you made a face of confusion, all the while trying to discreetly hide the two mugs of steaming chamomile tea just behind you that you were fully intending to take back to your room before the blonde assassin caught a glimpse of you.

‘That’s very strange,’ you trailed off before clapping your hands together, ‘but I’ll make sure to keep an eye out for you and let you know when and if I see him, he can’t have gone far Yelena I know he wouldn’t and he knows that too.’ Yelena started at you for a while, getting a good read of you from her stance in the doorway and getting this feeling that you were hiding something from her, but she couldn’t quite figure out what it was as you were acting in a way that made it seem that you were as just none the wiser as the rest of them. So she decided to give you a bit of leniency and said ‘okay’ before leaving to continue her search.

Once you heard her footsteps fade down the hall and waited even more so until they faded completely into obscurity to then grab the two mugs of tea behind you, making your way out of the kitchen and towards your bedroom with hurried steps before opening the door and smiling when you saw that Bob was where you last left him; sitting on your bed as he played with the mint coloured axolotl plush with a small smile gracing his lips.

‘What took you so long?’ He asked, setting aside the plush as he moved from your bed to take one of the mugs of tea from your hand, cupping it between his larger, sweater covered ones as he blew on it before taking a tiny sip and making a noise of content as his eyes closed briefly.

Bob had been having trouble sleeping recently and you had offered up your room to be his safe haven when he finds that he couldn’t sleep in his own room, where you’d talk about anything and everything until you both feel asleep in the others presence, this situation has happened so often that you’ve made the Tower system prevent anyone but you from knowing where he was in hopes of letting him have some privacy from the likes of Ava, John, Alexei and Yelena. You loved your team but they were a nosy and overbearing bunch that you knew would overwhelm an poor sleep deprived, nightmare riddled Bob who just wanted to shut off his mind and be allowed to sleep in peace.

‘Let’s just say your frequent nightly escapades to my room might have caused Yelena to think that you’ve been disappearing to god knows where in the tower.’ You replied as Bob looked as though he wanted to hide away in the depths of his sweater, never to be seen again as his face burned red like cherry tomatoes and his eyes showed embarrassment.

‘I knew this wasn’t going to go unnoticed sooner or later, the others are bound to catch on.’ He says as he takes another sip of the tea in hopes of its calming properties would smooth his nerves, but it did little compared to your reassuring hand on his arm and soft smile that brought him back to reality on more occasions then not.

‘It’s fine sweetheart, I’d gladly get in trouble for hoarding you away in my room so selfishly.’ You joked halfheartedly before adding in a serious tone. ‘You deserve rest and I wasn’t about to let the others hound you for wanting something so simple as sleep, you deserve it so I’m more then willing for the choice words I’ll get for lying to Yelena sooner or later,’ you squeezed his forearm, ‘but for now let’s enjoy our teas before Alexei starts singing and demanding that we all eat breakfast together okay?’

‘Okay.’ Bob says softly with a smile as you and him return to your bed, the mint coloured axolotl sitting in between you both as you had your mugs of tea in relative peace, only ever trading conversation when Bob asked about certain things within your room, with you responding by going in depth about how important they were to you. It was what you wanted in the mornings within the Watchtower, moments where you get to have Bob selfishly and he got to have a couple of hours with you before everyone else does, smiling happily as a comforting silence then followed afterwards.

Only for you and Bob to have somehow found the silence a little too comforting as you both fell asleep once more with the mint axolotl squished between you both, your mugs sat side by side on the bedside table with matching smiles upon your faces, just as the morning truly began with Alexei loudly demanding that everyone was needed in the kitchen to start your day as a family as he walked down the hallway; compelled bypassing your room without stopping to see why you and Bob were cuddled cutely and tightly together.

[eternallyhauntingthehouseoflove]

Bat-Boys in Bed

I couldn’t find a good gif, sue me

Dick Grayson’s mouth is filthy. And he gets enough praise, so I think he’d be into praising you instead.” You’re so pretty, all fucked-out and dumb…just for me” as he pounds into you, panting in between words.

He’d also be into touchy sex positions, like missionary where he can hook his nose into your neck and wrap his arms around you. Dick would be into you giving him hickies.

I think Dick has an insane stamina—round after round. His hips would meet yours at a punishing pace as he muttered out praise,” this cunt is so warm and wet for me. My beautiful girl.” And he place wet kisses to your neck and cheeks.

Dick isn’t above moaning, but he’s not pornographic about it.i see him whimpering and begging if he’s getting a blow job or if you’re on top and teasing him, but I don’t see him moaning as much or more than you.

Jason Todd isn’t much of a talker during sex, but I do believe he moans. He’d be a lot more gentle with you than popular belief thinks. Especially if we’re talking older, mature Jason who’s passed his “fresh from the pit madness.”

I do believe Jason has a choking kink and I’ll die on this hill. And it doesn’t have to be his hand around your throat or vice versa. It can be him shoving his cock to the back of your throat and feeling you pulse and throb around him.

He enjoys, mature Jason too, seeing your eyes go wide and glassy. Jason loves to pull his cock from your mouth after you’ve had enough and seeing your lips plump and pink. He loves the slight flush of your tits.

Jason is a lot more eager to switch roles and be on the bottom than Dick. If you’re feeling top-ish and want to ride. Jason wouldn’t argue as you ground down on him, rolling your hips and leaving a trail of slick on his pelvis.

He’d beg through covered lips as you shushed him and picked up your pace, driving your hips forward and giving Jason the release he’d been craving.

I don’t know enough about Tim or Duke, sorry.

Bruce is harder to read because there’s decades of lore, canon, and stuff that’s not in the main continuity. Many writers have different versions of him that some favorite—however, here goes.

Bruce is a control freak. Whether you planned it or not, you’d end up in a dom/sub dynamic. He’d be choosing your clothes, picking which jewelry he buys, telling you when to cum before you even realize it.

I also think he has a power imbalance kink, just a little bit. Nothing extreme or megalomaniacal. So I truly believe you wouldn’t be rich (sorry lol); you’d maybe be a lesser known vigilante, and that’s if Bruce is healthily interested in you. I believe you’d be a civilian, but a smart and compassionate one. We know Bruce isn’t one to dumb himself down for company; we know Bruce is attracted to smart women, but none of his past relationships worked because they didn’t have a heart ( I love Talia, but he real; she wasn’t Mother Teresa).

This one may lose people, but I believe Bruce has a breeding kink. It would be a chance for him to restart. His only blood child is an arrogant, cold assassin and the rest of his children are masked vigilantes who dance with death nightly. But with you, his love, he could have a child not born in pain and anger. He’s older and wiser; he’s not as vengeful and mission oriented as he was when he adopted Dick and Jason; Tim sought him out, and Damian came with a chip on his shoulder.

Bruce is unyielding in his refusal to switch places. He’s too paranoid and enjoys control too much to bottom. The closest you’ll get to topping is bossing him around from the bottom.” faster, pretty boy.” You reached up and caressed his face as his pace stuttered and he spilled into you, gasping and groaning as he did.

You wouldn’t be fucked in the suit or the Batmobile. And he hates being called Batman in bed. The closest you’d get to mixing sex with his vigilante life is getting fucked in the Batcomputer seat.

Damian Wayne is the kinkiest Batfam member. I see Damian, who didn’t undergo such a beautiful arc, having a blood and bondage kink.

Damian preferred to tie you down rather than tie you up. He cares for you, and tying you up puts you in an uncomfortable position (he doesn’t want that) and it screws with your circulation. And if he ties you down, he can see your face as he places the vibrator right on your clit. He can see you try to knock your knees—to no avail.

Damian loved to take a small knife and inflict a wound, if you can even call it that. It was feather soft, and you loved when he would wrap his mouth around the wound and suck the blood. Then he’d kiss you, letting the saliva and metallic taste mingle.

I believe Damian would be into hickies and spanking too, but not the for the violence like I see from the kinkier side of the fandom. He would be into hickies, spanking, bandage, and blood play for the markings. It all boiled down to markings. And that’s not to claim that those activities didn’t get you both off, but Damian’s true enjoyment stemmed from the possessiveness of it all.

That’s why he likes to untie you and massage the rope imprints, then walk you to the mirror and spin you around, letting you see all the prints and marks. He could feel himself harden again, but he knew he’d break you if he ever tried to impose his libido and stamina on you.

Don’t kill me, but Damian isn’t into cunnilingus. He also wouldn’t bottom, not like you’d want him to. If, and that’s a huge “if” ( it’s months into the relationship too), he does bottom, it’s not traditional bottoming. Damian would top from the bottom,” go slower, grind harder, beloved.” And he’d grip your hips hard enough to leave prints, because marks, duh!

Damian likes sloppy blow jobs. I know he’s proper and clean, but trust me. Spit, moans, and whimpers; that’s what gets him off. And seeing your cheeks flush and your breathing quicken, but you keep going lower and taking more of him in. He appreciates the determination, and it makes him feel in control, huge, and dominant which strokes his ego.

[jjjjisun]

Echoes of Saerom

Ex-Fromis_9 Saerom X Male OC | 9000 words

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Author's note: This is a bit different from my previous fics because it is not incestuous. I hope you still like it.

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In the quiet of my apartment, I found myself scrolling through a girlfriend-for-hire app, curiosity piqued by a familiar name. Saerom, my favorite idol from years ago, now offers dates to the highest bidder. Her profile picture hinted at the woman she'd become - older, more confident, still breathtaking. I clicked 'hire.'

The tea shop was quaint and dimly lit, the air thick with chamomile and jasmine. I sat at a corner table, hands wrapped around a cup of steaming green tea, watching the door. When Saerom walked in, time seemed to pause. She was taller than I'd imagined, her waist-length hair cascading waves, her eyes striking under thick lashes. She wore a simple dress, but on her, it was anything but ordinary.

"Hey," she said, pulling out the chair opposite me. Her voice was casual, yet hinted at the velvety tone I'd loved in her music. "You're Jae?"

I nodded, at a loss for words. Up close, she was even more compelling - her skin flawless, her lips full and inviting. She caught me staring and smiled, leaning back in her chair. "So, what made you hire me, Jae?"

I cleared my throat, finding my voice. "You were my favorite idol. I wanted to meet you."

Her laughter was warm, genuine. "Well, here I am. Just a little older, a little wiser."

We talked, the conversation flowing effortlessly from her decision to leave the idol scene to my passion for writing. With each word, I felt my tension ease, replaced by an undeniable attraction. Her hands moved expressively when she spoke, and I found my eyes drawn to them - long fingers, neat nails. I imagined those hands on me, and my body responded.

"I've never done this before," I admitted, looking up from my tea. "Hired someone, I mean."

Saerom's expression softened. "Neither have I. This is…new for both of us."

Her gaze held mine, and something shifted in the air. The tea shop faded away, leaving just the two of us, the heat between us palpable. She reached across the table, her fingers brushing mine. "Want to get out of here?"

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. We left the tea shop, her hand in mine, and I didn't care who saw. I wanted this woman more than I'd wished to anyone in a long time.

Back at my place, we didn't rush. She took her time exploring my apartment, her fingers trailing over books and art until they found mine. Turning to face her, I backed her against the wall, my hands cupping her face. I didn't ask permission; I just closed the distance between us, brushing my lips against hers. She sighed, her body melting into mine, her arms wrapping around my neck.

Our kiss deepened, tongues tangling, teeth clashing. Her hands moved to my waist, pulling me closer, her hips grinding against mine. I could feel her desire, hot and insistent, and it fueled my own. I fastened her hair, tilted her head back, and captured her neck in a string of kisses, teeth nipping at her skin. She moaned, her hands frantic as they pulled at my clothes.

"I want you," she panted, her eyes dark with desire. "Now."

I didn't need more invitation. Picking her up, I carried her to my bedroom and laid her down gently. She watched me, her chest rising and falling rapidly, as I removed my clothes, baring myself to her. Her appraisal was incendiary, her hunger evident in how she bit her lip, her eyes devouring me.

Crawling onto the bed, I hovered over her, my body pressing hers into the mattress. Her legs opened for me, and I settled between them, my arousal already wet from wanting her. She gasped as I rocked against her, the friction sending sparks shooting through us both.

"I love your body," I murmured, my hands roaming over her curves, pushing her dress up to reveal more of her skin. She whimpered as my fingers found her nipples, hard and sensitive through the thin fabric of her bra. I took one into my mouth, sucking through the satin, until she was arching off the bed.

"Too many clothes," she moaned, her hands tugging at her dress. I helped her, pulling the dress off and unhooking her bra until she was naked to me. Her body was a map I wanted to explore, every inch of her soft skin, every dip and curve. I started at her neck, my tongue tasting her, my hands shaping her. I lingered at her breasts, suckling each nipple until they were harder than before, then moved down, my lips leaving a trail of fire on her stomach.

She trembled as I hooked her thighs over my shoulders, my breath hot on her core. I looked up at her; her face flushed, her eyes closed, and I smiled. Slowly, I tasted her, my tongue parting her folds, finding her clit swollen and ready. She cried out, her hands fisting the sheets, her hips undulating against my mouth.

I devoured her, my tongue fucking her steadily, my fingers finding her entrance, pushing in. She was hot and wet, her body pulsing around my fingers as I thrust them in and out, my tongue never letting up on her clit. She was close, her breath coming in short gasps, her body tense. I looked up at her, my fingers curling inside her, and she shattered.

Her orgasm was a beautiful thing - her body convulsing, her back arching, her cries filling the room. I held onto her, my mouth still on her, riding out her pleasure with her, until she collapsed back onto the bed, her body limorphous, her eyes closed.

I kissed my way back up her body, my desire a pounding drum between my legs. She opened her eyes as I reached her face, pulling me into a searing kiss. "I want to taste you too," she whispered, her hands pulling me onto my back.

She explored my body with the same fervor I'd used on hers, her fingers and tongue bringing me to the brink, then pulling back, torturing me until I was begging. When she finally took me into her mouth, sucking me hard, her fingers inside me, I exploded. I came with a shout, my body convulsing, my hands fisting her hair.

She crawled up my body, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Round one," she whispered, her lips capturing mine. And we began again.

—--

The following day, sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on Saerom's face as she slept. I watched her, her long lashes casting shadows on her cheeks, her lips slightly parted. Last night had been…intense. Our bodies had danced in a symphony of pleasure, our conversations as intimate as our lovemaking. I traced her shoulder, light as a feather, and she stirred, her eyes fluttering open.

"Morning," she murmured, her voice gravelly from sleep. She reached for me, pulling me down for a kiss. "Last night was…" She trailed off, shaking her head with a soft smile.

"Epic?" I suggested, nipping her lip. She laughed, her body vibrating against mine.

"Epic," she agreed, her hands already exploring my body. I deepened our kiss, my tongue tangling with hers, as my hand slid down her stomach, her hips tilting towards my touch. She was wet, her body ready for me. I slipped a finger inside her, her breath hitching as I crooked it, finding that sweet spot. Her hands clawed at my back as I added another finger, my thumb circling her clit.

"I want you inside me," she gasped, her hands guiding me to position myself between her legs. I grabbed a condom from the drawer, sheathing myself before she could change her mind. Her hands guided me to her entrance, and I pushed in, slow and steady, inch by inch. She was tight, her body pulling me in until I was fully seated.

We moved together, our rhythm syncing like we'd been doing this for years. Her legs wrapped around my waist, her heels digging into my ass, urging me on. I grasped her hands, entwining our fingers, pinning them above her head as I thrust faster, harder. Her breasts bounced with each movement, her breaths coming in short gasps.

"Touch me," she panted, her free hand guiding mine to her clit. I obliged, my fingers strumming her as I drove into her. Her body tensed, her eyes fluttering closed as she came, her orgasm pushing me over the edge. I stiffened, my release coursing through me, and collapsed onto her, our bodies slick with sweat.

Later, as we lay sprawled on the bed, I asked, "Tell me about your time in fromis_9. Just curious." She propped up on an elbow, looking down at me.

"Which part? The highlight reel or the behind-the-scenes?" Her smile was bittersweet.

"The behind-the-scenes," I said, stroking her arm. She sighed, leaning into my touch.

"It was intense. We trained for years and worked tirelessly for that brief moment on stage. The fans' screams, the lights…it was exhilarating. But it took a toll. The constant pressure, the constant eyes on us…it was suffocating."

I nodded, my hand stilling. "And after?"

She looked down, tracing patterns on my chest. "After, it was…hard. I thought I'd handle fame better. I mean, I'd spent my entire life preparing for it. But the attention, the lack of company support…it was overwhelming. I struggled with anxiety, depression…I checked out for a while."

My heart ached for her, for the strength it must have taken to admit that, to walk away from something she'd dedicated her life to. "I'm sorry," I whispered, pulling her into a hug.

She sat up, her eyes meeting mine. "Don't be. I'm in a better place now. I'm working on myself, pursuing what I love - acting. It's not as flashy as being an idol, but it's…me."

"I could help," I offered, sitting up as well. "I have a few connections in the industry. I could put in a good word for you."

Her face lit up, a genuine smile spreading across her face. "You would do that?"

I shrugged, taking her hand. "Of course. Besides, it's not every day I get to help my favorite idol chase her dreams."

She laughed, pulling me into a kiss. "You're not so bad, Jae. Not bad at all."

As we pulled away, I knew one thing for sure - I was falling for Saerom and wanted nothing more than to help her soar.

—--

The pottery studio was small and intimate, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and softer memories. Saerom, eagerly pushing up the sleeves of her oversized sweater, was already deep in conversation with the instructor, her hands animated as she spoke about her newfound passion. I watched her, a smile tugging at my lips. This was a side of her I hadn't seen before—excited, carefree, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

"Ready to make a mess?" she asked, turning to me with a mischievous grin. I laughed, rolling up my sleeves.

"I'm all yours," I replied, following her to a nearby table. The instructor set down two lumps of clay between us, and Saerom's hands dove in without hesitation. I watched, momentarily distracted by how her fingers kneaded the clay, her eyes focused on the task.

"You're just going to watch, or are you gonna help?" she teased, pushing the clay towards me. I took a deep breath, grasping the damp, cool clay, feeling its malleability under my fingers. She pointed me to a stool, her body pressing against mine as she demonstrated the initial shaping. "Start by getting a feel for it," she murmured, her breath warm on my ear. Find its center."

Her hands, slick with clay, covered mine, guiding my movements. Our rhythm synced, and my body responded to her touch and closeness. I felt a pulse below my waist, a tightening in my gut. She seemed oblivious to my reaction. Her lips parted in concentration as we shaped the clay together.

"Now, we smooth it out," she said, her hands moving over the clay, pressing down, pulling up. I copied her, our bodies swaying together, the clay growing under our hands. She turned to face me, her eyes meeting mine, and paused. The air between us shifted, the heat of our bodies palpable.

"What's wrong?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. She shook her head, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. "Nothing. Just…felt something."

I reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Me too," I confessed, my hand cupping her cheek. She leaned into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed. Time seemed to slow as I leaned in, my lips brushing against hers in a soft, exploratory kiss. She kissed me back, her hand coming up to grip my neck, pulling me closer.

The kiss deepened, our bodies pressing against each other, the clay forgotten. Her scent and taste filled my senses, drowning out everything else. I guided her back against the table, my hands roaming over her body, kneading her curves like the clay we'd been shaping. She moaned into my mouth, her fingers tangling in my hair.

"Fuck," she gasped, pulling away, her cheeks flushed. "We're…we're in public."

I chuckled, burying my face in her neck. "Your point?" She shoved me gently, her heart racing. "Come on, let's finish before the clay dries out."

We returned to work, our hands still intertwined, our thighs touching. The tension between us was electric, the promise of later hanging heavy in the air. As we shaped our clay into a misshapen vase, I knew this was more than just a pottery lesson. It was a beginning, a spark igniting between us, a promise of what would come.

When the instructor announced the end of the session, Saerom looked at me, her eyes filled with desire. "Your place or mine?" she asked, her voice husky. I stood, grabbing our 'vase', a slow smile spreading.

"Yours. I want to see where you live," I replied, my hand finding hers. She nodded, her thumb tracing circles on my palm. "Let's go."

As we walked out, the instructor called, "Remember to clean up! And bring your vase next week to fire it!" We waved, our laughter echoing in the studio as we stepped out into the cool evening air, ready to continue where we'd left off.

—--

The library was old, its stone walls lined with books that seemed to stretch into infinity. Saerom breathed deeply, a small smile playing on her lips as she looked around. "I spent so much time here as a kid," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she didn't want to disturb the tranquility. "It's like coming home."

I watched her, her eyes reflecting the warm glow of the late afternoon sun filtering through the stained-glass windows. There was a peacefulness about her, a contentment that made my chest ache. I wanted to capture this moment, hold it close, and never let it go.

"Come on," she said, taking my hand, as if she could sense my thoughts. "I want to show you my favorite spot." She led me through the maze of bookshelves, her fingers tracing the spines as she passed. I followed, my free hand casualy cupping her ass, earning me a playful smack and a raised eyebrow.

"Behave," she laughed, her voice echoing slightly in the empty stacks. "We don't want to get kicked out before I can show you."

I held my hands in surrender, a grin tugging at my lips. "Scout's honor."

She rolled her eyes, but I saw the smile she was trying to hide. We turned a corner, and she stopped abruptly, pulling me into a small, hidden Alcove. A plush rug covered the floor, a few pillows were scattered about, and a small table held an old oil lamp, casting a warm glow over the space. "What is this place?" I asked, looking around in amazement.

"I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I found it years ago, and I've always considered it my secret spot. I come here sometimes when I need to get away."

I pulled her into a hug, her body fitting perfectly against mine. "It's perfect," I murmured, my lips brushing against her temple. She looked up at me, her eyes soft, and I captured her mouth in a kiss. She melted into me, her hands tangling in my hair, her body pressing against mine.

Our kiss deepened, our bodies moving in sync, the heat building with each passing moment. I backed her up against the wall, my hands roaming over her body, cupbbing her breasts, squeezing her ass. She moaned into my mouth, her hips rocking against mine, her arousal evident.

"Fuck, Jae," she gasped, pulling away, her chest heaving. "Right here?"

I nipped at her neck, my hands moving to the button of her jeans. "Why not? Isn't that what you came here for?"

She laughed, a breathy sound that sent shivers down my spine. "You're trouble," she accused, her hands helping me push her jeans down her legs. I shushed her, my fingers finding her clit, circling it slowly. Her head fell back against the wall, her eyes closing as she rode my hand.

"You like that?" I whispered, my lips moving down her neck, my tongue tasting her skin. She nodded, her breath coming in short gasps. I added a finger, thrusting it in and out, my palm pressing against her clit. She cried out, her body tensing as her orgasm washed over her.

Before she could come down, I sank to my knees, pushing her legs apart. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice hoarse. I looked up at her, smirking. "Eating you out. Now shut up and enjoy."

She did as she was told, her hands tangling in my hair as I devoured her. She was hot and wet, her taste intoxicating. I hummed against her clit, feeling her body respond, her hips moving against my mouth. I added another finger, curling it inside her, finding that sweet spot that made her see stars.

"Fuck, Jae," she gasped, her legs shaking as she came again, her release coating my fingers, my chin. I licked her clean, my cock throbbing in my jeans, before standing up, pulling her into a kiss. She could taste herself on my lips, and she groaned, her hands moving to my jeans, tugging at the zipper.

"Not yet," I said, pulling away, my breath ragged. "I want to fuck you properly. Not against a wall."

She whimpered, her eyes dark with desire. "Fine. But you're buying me dinner first."

I laughed, pulling her into another hug. "Deal. But only if we can come back here afterwards."

She looked up at me, her eyes shining with playful mischief. "I thought you were trouble."

I just smiled, my hands squeezing her ass as we left our hidden alcove, ready to continue our exploration of the library, and each other.

Over dinner, we talked and laughed, our conversation flowing as easily as the wine. As we finished our meal, I reached out, taking her hand. "You know, I've been thinking…"

She raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on her lips. "About?"

"About this. Us. I know we started this as fake. But I'm starting to enjoy it. A lot."

She looked down at our entwined hands, her thumb tracing circles on my palm. "I am too," she admitted softly. "I just…didn't want to ruin it by saying something."

My heart swelled, a warmth spreading through me. "Me neither. But I think we can handle it. If we take it slow."

She nodded, her eyes meeting mine. "Slow. I can do slow."

I raised her hand to my lips, kissing her fingers. "Good. Because I want to do this right. With you."

She smiled, her eyes soft. "I want that too."

As we left the restaurant, the moon casting soft shadows on the ground, I knew one thing for certain—this was more than just a fake relationship. It was real, and I wanted to explore it with Saerom in our hidden alcove and anywhere else our hearts desired.

—--

The motel was nothing special - a faded sign, a blinking vacancy light- but it was ours for the night. I pushed open the door, revealing a room bathed in the soft glow of a bedside lamp, the bed covered in a worn but clean comforter. Saerom stepped in behind me, her hand on my lower back, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"Cozy," she commented, her voice barely above a whisper. I turned to her, my hands gripping her hips, pulling her against me.

"It's just for tonight," I murmured, my lips brushing against hers. "Tomorrow, we can go back to our amazing apartments."

She laughed, her hands tangling in my hair. "Deal. But right now, I just wanna…explore."

My body responded to her words, to the hungry look in her eyes. "Explore what, exactly?" I asked, my voice dropping to a low rumble.

"Whatever we want," she replied, her finger tracing the V of my T-shirt. I grabbed her hand, brought it to my lips, and kissed her fingertips.

"We can't do that if you're fully clothed," I pointed out, my hands moving to the hem of her shirt. She smirked, lifting her arms, allowing me to strip her. Her bra was next, her breasts spilling out, her nipples already hard. I dipped my head, taking one into my mouth, my tongue teasing the other.

She gasped, her fingers gripping my shoulders. "Your turn," she panted, her hands tugging at my shirt. I stepped back, pulling it off, then unbuttoned my jeans, pushing them down. Her eyes widened as she took in my hard cock straining against my boxers, her lips parting in a soft 'o'.

"Commando, huh?" she teased, her finger hooking in the waistband of my boxers. I shrugged, a smirk playing on my lips. "Just making it easier for you."

She pushed me back onto the bed, straddling me, her hands on my chest. "Bold of you to assume I'll make it easy," she challenged, her fingers tracing the lines of my abs. I laughed, my hands grasping her thighs, pulling her closer.

"Bold of you to think I'd want it any other way."

Her gaze locked with mine, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. The tension in the room ramped up, our bodies humming with anticipation. She leaned down, her lips capturing mine in a fierce kiss, her tongue tangling with mine. I slipped my hands under her ass, rocking her against me, my hardness pressing against her core.

She groaned, her head falling back, her hands clutching my shoulders. I took the opportunity to follow the curve of her neck with my lips, my tongue tasting her, my teeth nipping at her skin. Her hips moved in time with mine, our bodies moving in a last rhythm that was both familiar and new.

"God, Saerom," I gasped, my hands squeezing her ass as I moved her faster. "I wanna fuck you so bad."

She shivered, her body tensing. "Do it," she growled, her fingers digging into my skin. "Fuck me, Jae."

I reached for a condom, tearing it open, rolling it on. She lifted, positioning herself over me, then slowly lowered herself down. We moaned in unison, our bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. She started to move, her hands on my chest for leverage, her body undulating in a steady rhythm.

"Talk to me," she panted, her eyes fluttering closed. "Tell me what you want."

I gripped her hips, my fingers digging into her soft flesh. "Fuck me hard, Saerom. Hard enough to make me feel you tomorrow."

Her eyes snapped open, a fierce determination in them. She shifted her angle, tilting her hips, and took me deeper. I swore, my head digging into the pillow as she began to ride me in earnest, her movements fast and hard, her body slamming down onto mine.

"Like this?" she asked, her voice ragged, her body gleaming with sweat. I could only nod, my hands moving to her breasts, squeezing her nipples, adding to her pleasure. She cried out, her body tensing, her orgasm crashing over her. I followed her, my release ripping through me, my body shuddering beneath hers.

She collapsed onto my chest, her body shaking with aftershocks, her breath coming in short gasps. "Damn," she whispered, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my skin. "We need to do this more often."

I wrapped my arms around her, my heart pounding in my chest. "I thought we were taking this slow."

She kissed my chest, her tongue darting out to taste my skin. "Slow is overrated. I want fast. I want now."

I chuckled, my hands tangling in her hair. "I can do now. But only if you promise to ride me again as soon as you're ready."

She propped up on an elbow, her eyes meeting mine. "Deal. But only if you promise to whisper dirty things in my ear the whole time."

I grinned, my hands moving to her body, eager for the next round. "I can do that. But only if you promise to scream my name when you come."

She laughed, her body melting into mine. "Deal."

And so, our night at the motel became a tangle of limbs, a dance of bodies, a symphony of sighs and moans. But amidst the heat and the passion, amidst the us and the now, I fell for her, harder and faster than I ever thought possible. And as I confessed my feelings to her, her eyes soft, her body warm in my arms, I knew that this, right here, was where I wanted to be. With Saerom, forever if she'd let me.

—--

The audition room was buzzing with energy, a flurry of actors, assistants, and directors moving about. I sat in the back, my hands folded in my lap, trying to remain calm as Saerom prepared. She had told me beforehand not to worry, that she'd bury herself in her character and everything would be fine. But watching her now, her face scrunched up in concentration, her hands trembling slightly, I couldn't help but feel a pang of nerves.

"Next up, Saerom," the casting director called out, glancing briefly at his clipboard. Saerom took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and stepped into the spotlight. I held my breath, my heart pounding in my chest.

She started with a monologue, her voice strong, her delivery flawless. The room was hers, and every person in it was entranced by her performance. I could see the passion in her eyes, the fire burning within her. She was alive on that stage, her body moving with a grace I'd never seen before. I felt a lump form in my throat, a mixture of pride, awe, and desire filling me.

"Thank you, Saerom," the casting director said, breaking the spell. She nodded, her gaze lingering on me momentarily before she stepped out of the spotlight. I stood, reaching her, pulling her into a hug.

"You were amazing," I whispered, my lips brushing against her ear. She looked up at me, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Really?" she asked, her voice barely audible. I nodded, my thumb wiping away a stray tear. "Really. You're a natural."

We stepped out of the audition room, the cool air in stark contrast to the heat of her performance. I took her hand, squeezing it gently. "Want to grab some coffee? I could use a pick-me-up."

She laughed, her hand flexing in mine. "Even after all that caffeine you drank this morning?"

I shrugged, pulling her into a hug. "Guess I'm just high on Saerom energy."

She smiled, her body pressing against mine. "I could use a pick-me-up, too. But not coffee."

I raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across my face. "Oh? And what did you have in mind?"

She pulled away, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Surprise me."

We walked to my car, hand in hand, the city bustling around us. Once inside, I turned to her, my hand reaching to touch her face. "You know, I've never seen you like that. So alive, so passionate…"

She leaned into my touch, her eyes closing briefly. "That's acting. It's my passion."

I nodded, my thumb tracing her lower lip. "And you're amazing at it."

She opened her eyes, her gaze meeting mine. "Thanks. It's nice to have you here. Watching me."

I grinned, my hand moving to her hip, pulling her closer. "Watching? Maybe. But I can think of other things I'd like to do with you."

She laughed, her hands already tugging at my shirt. "Like what?"

I kissed her, my tongue tangling with hers, my hands roaming over her body. She gasped, her hands moving to my belt, unbuckling it. I pushed her back against the seat, my body covering hers, my hardness pressing against her core.

"Like this," I murmured, my lips moving down her neck, my hands pushing her shirt up. She arched her back, giving me better access, her hands clutching my shoulders. I unhooked her bra, my mouth finding her breast, my tongue teasing her nipple. She cried out, her body squirming beneath me.

I pulled back, my eyes locking with hers. "And like this," I said, my hand moving between her legs, my fingers pushing her panties aside. She was already wet, her body ready for me. I circled her clit, my fingers dipping inside her, finding her hot and moist. She moaned, her hips moving in time with my fingers.

"I want you inside me," she panted, her hands tugging at my pants. I shifted, pushing my pants and boxers down, my cock springing free. I reached for a condom, sheathing myself before positioning myself at her entrance.

I pushed in, slow and steady, her body stretching to accommodate me. We both groaned, our bodies fitting together perfectly. I started to move, my hips thrusting in a steady rhythm, my body pressing hers into the seat. She wrapped her legs around my waist, urging me on, her nails digging into my back.

"Harder," she gasped, her head thrown back, her eyes closed. I obliged, slamming into her, my body moving faster, harder. The car filled with the sounds of our lovemaking - the slap of skin against skin, our heavy breathing, our moans and cries.

"Come for me, Saerom," I growled, my fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in tight circles. She shattered, her body convulsing, her orgasm ripping through her. I stiffened, my release filling me, my body shuddering as I came.

We collapsed against each other, our bodies slick with sweat, our hearts pounding in sync. She kissed me softly and slowly, her fingers tracing patterns on my back. "I think that deserves an encore performance," she said, her voice husky.

I laughed, my body already responding to her touch. "I thought you'd never ask."

As we drove home, our hands entwined, our bodies swaying together, I knew one thing for sure - Saerom was not only talented, passionate, and beautiful, but she was also mine. And I would do everything I could to help her achieve her dreams.

—--

The masquerade ball was a whirlwind of color and sound. The grand ballroom was filled with guests in elaborate costumes, their faces hidden behind intricate masks. I stood at the edge of the dance floor, a glass of champagne in hand, my eyes scanning the crowd for Saerom. She'd insisted on surprising me with her costume, and I had to admit, the anticipation was killing me.

"Looking for someone?" a voice purred in my ear. I turned to find a woman in a silver gown, her mask adorned with feathers, her eyes sparkling with mischief. I smiled, shaking my head. "Just admiring the view."

She laughed, her hand resting on my arm. "Well, if you tire of admiring, I'm right here." Before I could respond, a familiar voice cut through the crowd.

"Hands off, vixen." Saerom appeared at my side, her hand possessively wrapping around my arm. She was dressed as a phoenix, her gown a cascade of red and orange, her mask adorned with feathers that matched the ones in her hair. She was breathtaking.

The woman in silver pouted, her eyes raking over Saerom. "Fine, keep him to yourself. For now." She sauntered away, disappearing into the crowd.

Saerom turned to me, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Sorry about that. I should've known better than to leave you alone in a room full of predators."

I laughed, pulling her into a hug. "I can handle myself. Besides, I was only admiring the view until you showed up."

She pressed against me, her body fitting perfectly against mine. "And what do you think of the view now?"

I leaned down, my lips brushing against her ear. "Now, I want to take you somewhere private and peel that costume off you."

She shivered, her hands gripping my shoulders. "Promises, promises."

I took her hand, leading her to the dance floor. The orchestra played a slow waltz, and I pulled her into my arms, our bodies moving in sync. She rested her head on my shoulder, her breath warm on my neck. "This is nice," she murmured, her fingers tracing patterns on my back.

"Mm-hmm," I agreed, my hand moving to her ass, squeezing it gently. She gasped, her head snapping up, her eyes meeting mine. I smirked, my thumb rubbing circles on her lower back. "What's wrong?"

She bit her lip, her eyes darkening. "Nothing. Just…feeling a little…warm."

I chuckled, my hand moving lower, cupping her through her gown. She moaned softly, her hips moving against my hand. "Is that a bad thing?"

She shook her head, her eyes fluttering closed. "No. Just…not here."

I nodded, my hand moving back to her waist. "Later, then. My place. I'll make you feel even warmer."

She leaned into me, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm counting on it."

We danced, lost in our world, the music and the crowd fading. I could feel her heart beating against mine, her breath coming in short gasps. I was falling for her, hard and fast, and I didn't care who knew.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed Saerom's arm, pulling her away from me. We both turned to find a man in a black mask, his eyes cold and calculating. "May I cut in?" he asked, his voice smooth and confident.

Saerom looked at me, uncertainty in her eyes. I stepped forward, my hand covering hers. "I'm sorry, but we were in the middle of something."

The man's grip tightened on Saerom's arm. "I insist. I've been watching you all night, and I simply must dance with the most beautiful woman here."

I bristled, my jaw clenching. "I think the lady said no."

He smirked, his eyes never leaving Saerom's. "The lady can speak for herself."

Saerom looked between us, her eyes filled with discomfort. "I'm sorry, but I'm here with him. I can't dance with you."

The man's smile faded, his eyes hardening. "Very well. But mark my words, darling. I always get what I want." He released her arm, disappearing into the crowd.

I pulled Saerom back into my arms, my hands shaking with anger. "Are you okay?" I asked, my voice low.

She nodded, her hands gripping my shoulders. "Yes. Just…let's get out of here."

I nodded, leading her off the dance floor, my mind racing. Who was that man? And why was he so interested in Saerom? But for now, all that mattered was getting her home, safe and sound.

As we stepped out into the cool night air, I hugged her, my hands rubbing her back. "I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have let him talk to you like that."

She looked up at me, her eyes soft. "It's not your fault. Let's just…forget about it. For now."

I nodded, my hand taking hers. "Come on. Let's go make some heat of our own."

She smiled, her body melting into mine. "I thought you'd never ask."

As we walked home, our hands entwined, our bodies swaying together, I knew one thing for certain: I would do anything to keep Saerom safe and have her by my side. Starting tonight, I would do everything I could to ensure she knew just how much she meant to me.

—--

The door closed behind us, and we stood momentarily, breathing each other in. The night's tension hung heavy in the air, but something else was a soft vulnerability I'd never seen in Saerom before.

I reached out, pulling her into a hug, my hands rubbing her back. "Are you sure you're okay?" I asked, my voice low. She nodded, her body melting into mine.

"I am now," she murmured, her hands fisting my shirt. I pulled back, looking down at her, my heart pounding.

"Saerom," I started, my voice hesitant. She looked up at me, her eyes soft, and I couldn't help it. The words spilled out, tumbling over each other in their rush to escape. "I think…I think I'm falling for you. More than I ever thought possible. And I don't want this to be fake anymore."

She stood there momentarily, her eyes wide, her lips parted in surprise. Then, she laughed, a soft, breathless sound sending my heart soaring. "Thank god," she said, her hands cupping my face. "Because I've been falling for you, too. And I was so scared to admit it, to ruin this…whatever this is."

I captured her mouth in a kiss, my relief pouring out of me, my hands tangling in her hair. She moaned, her body pressing against mine, her hands pulling my shirt over my head. I tore at her dress, my fingers finding the zipper, pulling it down. She shimmied out of it, her body bare but for a scrap of lace that barely covered her.

"I want to take this slow," I whispered, my lips moving down her neck, my hands shaping her breasts. "I want to worship every inch of you."

She gasped, her head falling back, her body arching into mine. "I want that too," she panted, her hands tugging at my pants. "But first…first, I need you inside me."

I تتم suffice, my hands pulling down my pants and boxers. I reached for a condom, sheathing myself before guiding her to the bedroom. She crawled onto the bed, her body still clad in that scrap of lace, her eyes watching me, waiting.

I joined her on the bed, my body covering hers, my lips capturing hers in a deep, lingering kiss. Our movements were slow and measured, our bodies exploring each other with a newfound intimacy. I slipped my fingers inside her, finding her wet and ready, my thumb circling her clit. She moaned, her hips moving against my hand, her body tense with anticipation.

"Please," she gasped, her fingers digging into my shoulders. I shifted, positioning myself at her entrance, my cock pressing against her core. I pushed in, slow and steady, her body stretching to accommodate me. We both groaned, our bodies fitting together perfectly.

I started to move, my hips thrusting in a steady rhythm, my body pressing hers into the mattress. She wrapped her legs around my waist, her heels digging into my ass, urging me on. Our lovemaking was a dance, a slow, steady beat that we moved to, our bodies in sync, our hearts beating as one.

"I love you, Saerom," I whispered, my lips brushing against her ear. She shivered, her body tensing, her orgasm rippling through her. I stiffened, my release filling me, my body shuddering as I came.

We lay there momentarily, our bodies slick with sweat, our hearts pounding in sync. She looked up at me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I love you too, Jae," she murmured, cupping my cheek. "So much."

I rolled off of her, taking her into my arms, my heart full. "I know this isn't fake anymore," I said, my voice soft. "But I still want to help you, to support you. Especially with your audition coming up."

She nodded, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest. "I'd like that. And I promise, no more secrets. Just you and me."

I smiled, kissing her softly. "Just you and me. Forever, if you'll have me."

She leaned into me, her eyes closing, her body relaxing. "Forever," she whispered, her voice filled with dreams.

As we lay there, our bodies entwined, our hearts connected, I knew that this was it—this was what I'd been searching for, what I'd been missing all my life. It was a love like no other, a passion that ignited every touch, and a future that I couldn't wait to explore, hand in hand with Saerom.

—--

Saerom's screech of tires outside my apartment sent me jogging down the stairs, and I found her in my doorway, hands shaking, her eyes wide and sparkling with disbelief. "Guess who just landed the lead in the next season of 'Final Countdown'?" she half-laughed, half-hiccupped, her fingers gripping my shirt sleeve, pulling me outside.

I was taken aback but also elated, a smile forming on my face. "No way! I'm so fucking proud of you, Romsae!" Pulling her into a hug, I swung her around, my lips capturing hers in a fervent kiss.

She kissed me back, eager and hungry, her body molded to mine as she wound her legs around my waist. Pushing her up against the doorway, I leaned into her, my cock rock hard against the thin fabric separating us. Breaking the kiss, she let out a playful growl. "I just got the most amazing news and you're dry humping me?"

I nipped at her neck, biting back a smirk. "Wasn't a dry hump. Plus, you've gotten me all wound up." Hands sliding down to cup her ass, I groped her, eliciting a soft whimper. Setting her down gently, I let my hand stroke her pussy through her clothes, making her shiver with anticipation. "I say, let's take this inside," I suggested.

Once inside, I undressed her hastily, our urgency matching the wild abandon of a thunderstorm about to break. Her clothes soon littered my floor, our moans replacing the sound of ripping cloth. She had me pinned beneath her on my bed, hands trailing down my chest, unbuckling my belt with the dexterity of a predator. My hardened cock sprung free, jerking in appreciation of her lustful gaze. Leaning over, she teasingly flicked the tip of it with her tongue, sending me arching against her mouth, my breath lodged in my throat.

"We have so many reasons to celebrate," she panted, lining me up against her entrance before sliding down with agonizing deliberateness.

"Fuck, Sae" I ground out, eyes rolling back into my head.

She laughed throatily and started riding me languidly. "Like, how we found each other…" She circled her hips, hitting my prostate squarely. A moan ripped out of me as my fingers grasped her hips tighter.

"And never want to be apart again." I rolled our positions, finding a new tempo that was deeper. Our bodies tangled together, building up to something bigger than lust. We communicated through moans, groans, and gasped pleas, words becoming redundant as our bodies carried the weight of our conversation. We shattered simultaneously, her eyes locked onto mine, a slow smile spreading over her lips, a mirror image of mine.

Collapsing in a heap post-coital glow, I asked, "And where's all this leading for 'Final Countdown'? LA? London? Mars?"

Pausing only to roll us onto our sides, she cupped my jaw, looking steadily into my eyes. "A bit closer…Tokyo."

Time seemed to stretch out before us, my future with her waveringly in and out of focus as reality settled around us. Propping up on an elbow, I searched her face. "And where exactly does that leave us, babe?"

"I was kinda thinking you could use a change in scenery," she suggested lightly.

"Yeah…yeah I could." Avoiding her hopeful gaze, I sighed internally, grappling with thoughts of moving a thousand miles across the country with no job to boot.

But then she tucked a stray curl behind my ear, her warm eyes melting some of my doubt. "Of course, Tokyo has the kind of culture hub you thrive off of, darling… Plus, those research archives - the gold fucking mine they are - who wouldn't pass that up for their lady-love?" Lacing our hands together, she gave mine an encouraging squeeze. "It might not be today, tomorrow - hell, probably not even by the time production wraps - but we can keep talking, okay?"

My doubts still lingered, but staring into her wide, pleading eyes, a slow smile creased my features. "Guess I can move my desk plants."

Her delight was evident by her whooping laugh and the smashing kiss she forced on my laughing mouth. A part of my heart remained guarded yet filled with promise, too. Somehow, we knew this was anything but over; this was barely beginning.

The night, filled with tangled limbs, passion-fueled conversations, and plans made during the witching hour, proved that love triumphs and conquers even impossible distances. After all, with love like this, we both knew,

—--

The alarm blared, jarring us both awake. The harsh fluorescent light of our room cast long shadows. Saerom groaned, burying her face in the crook of my neck, her arms tightening around me. "Already?" she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. I glanced at the clock, my heart sinking as I saw the time.

"Yeah, babe. Time to face the music." I untangled myself from her embrace, kissing her forehead before she could protest. She flopped back onto the pillow, her eyes fluttering open, her gaze soft as it rested on me.

"I hate this." Her voice was barely a whisper, and her hands reached for mine. I took them, brought them to my lips, and kissed her fingers softly.

"I know. But it's not forever. We'll make this work." I climbed out of bed, grabbed her suitcase, and set it on it. She sat up, her hair a wild mane around her shoulders, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "Where do you want to start?"

She sighed, rubbing her eyes. "I've packed the basics but could help with the toiletries. And the kitchen, maybe? I know how to pack a week's worth of meals."

I nodded, starting with the bathroom, my heart heavy. Each toothbrush, each bottle of shampoo, each item we packed served as a reminder of her leaving. I tried to keep my mind off it and focus on the task, but it was impossible. Every little thing she'd touch, every space she'd fill, would be empty without her.

When we were done, we stood in the doorway of our room, looking back at the mess we'd left behind. "I can't believe this is it," she said, her voice barely audible. I pulled her into a hug, my chin resting on her head.

"Me neither. But it's just the beginning, okay? A new chapter for both of us."

She nodded, her arms wrapping around my waist. "I know. I just…I'm gonna miss you so much."

I kissed her head, my eyes burning with unshed tears. "I'm gonna miss you too, baby. More than words can express."

We stood there for a while, our bodies entwined, our hearts pounding in sync. Then, with a heavy sigh, she pulled away, grabbing her suitcase. "Okay, let's get this over with."

Downstairs, her parents were waiting, their eyes filled with tears, their smiles forced. They loaded her suitcase into the car, hugged her tightly, and whispered words of love and encouragement. I stood back, watching, my heart aching. This was it—the final goodbye.

As her dad started the car, Saerom turned to me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Promise me we'll make this work," she whispered, her voice barely audible. I stepped forward, my hands cupping her face, my thumbs wiping away her tears.

"I promise. I love you, Saerom. More than anything. We'll make this work."

She leaned into my touch, her eyes closing briefly. "I love you too. So much."

I kissed her, pouring all my love and longing into it. She kissed me back, her body pressing against mine, her fingers tangling in my hair. It was a slow, tender kiss, a goodbye filled with promise. When we pulled away, we breathed heavily, our hearts pounding in our chests.

"Be careful," I whispered, my hands squeezing hers. She nodded, her eyes shining.

"I will. I'll call you every night, okay?"

I nodded, my throat tight. "Every night. I love you."

"I love you too," she replied, her voice filled with tears. With a final kiss, she turned and climbed into the car. As they drove off, I stood there, watching, my heart breaking.

The weeks passed in a blur of work and loneliness. I threw myself into my job, writing long into the night, using the distraction of words to keep my mind off Saerom. But every night, as I lay in bed, my phone beside me, I wished she was there, her body curved against mine, her breath warm on my neck.

We talked every night; our conversations were filled with laughter, love, and the occasional bout of phone sex that left us both breathless and aching for more. But it wasn't enough. I wanted her here, her body in my arms, her laughter filling our apartment.

One night, as I lay in bed, my heart heavy, my phone buzzed. It was a picture message from Saerom, a selfie on a bustling city street. She was smiling, her eyes sparkling, her hair a wild nest around her head. Beneath it, a message: "Wish you were here."

I stared at the picture, my heart aching. I missed her so much. It was a physical pain. I replied, sending her a picture of my empty bed, of me, my head propped up on my hand, my eyes filled with longing. "I wish I was there, too."

Her reply was immediate. "Then come here."

I sat up, my heart pounding in my chest. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, come to Tokyo. Surprise me."

I stared at the message; my heart raced. Could I do this? Could I leave everything behind and follow her across the country for a chance at a future together?

The following day, I woke up with a newfound determination. I called my boss, explaining the situation and asking for time off. I called a real estate agent to put my apartment up for rent. I called my friends, saying my goodbyes—for now. And then, I packed.

It took me two days to sort everything out and ensure I had everything I needed. Then, with a heart filled with hope and a suitcase filled with dreams, I boarded a plane, ready for the next chapter of our story.

As the plane took off, I looked down at the city below, a mix of excitement and nerves filling me. What awaited me in Tokyo? A new job? A new home? A new life with Saerom?

I didn't know the answers to those questions. But I knew one thing for sure - I was ready to find out and face whatever came my way, as long as it led me to Saerom.

The door to Saerom's apartment building creaked open, revealing a quiet hallway. A mix of smells washed over me—disinfectant, takeout, and the faint tang of exhaust from the street below. I stood there momentarily, my heart racing, my palms sweating. Was I doing the right thing?

Before I could change my mind, I climbed the stairs, my suitcase thumping against each step. I found her apartment, my heart pounding in my chest, my knock echoing loudly in the silence. I held my breath, waiting, my heart in my throat.

The door swung open, revealing Saerom, her hair a mess, her eyes wide with surprise. "Jae?"

I held up my suitcase, a grin tugging at my lips. "Surprise."

Her eyes widened, a slow smile spreading across her face. "What…what are you doing here?" she stammered, her hands reaching out, pulling me into a hug.

"Making it official," I replied, my arms wrapping around her, my lips capturing hers in a deep, hungry kiss. She kissed me back, her body melting into mine, her fingers tangling in my hair.

When we pulled away, we breathed heavily, our hearts pounding in sync. She looked up at me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Does this mean…?"

I nodded, my thumb wiping away a stray tear. "It means I'm yours, Saerom. Completely, utterly, yours."

She laughed, a sound filled with joy and relief. "I can't believe you're here," she murmured, her hands framing my face. "I've missed you so much."

"I know. And I'm sorry it took me so long to get here. But I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere."

She leaned into me, her body pressing against mine. "I like the sound of that."

I kissed her, my body responding to hers. "You know, we should probably celebrate," I murmured, my hands roaming over her body.

She smirked, her hands tugging at my shirt. "Oh, I think that's an excellent idea."

I laughed, picking her up and carrying her to her bedroom. As I set her down on the bed, our bodies moving in sync, our hearts pounding in time, I knew one thing for sure—this was it. This was our future, our happily ever after, and I couldn't wait to see what adventures lay ahead.

[little-annie]

Sex worker Eddie meeting his boyfriends family for the first time. Imagine his surprise when he sits down at the Harrington's dining room table only for one of his regulars to sit down at the head of it. The man he knows as Richie, who has a slew of mommy issues and a rather prominent foot fetish sits down like he owns the place. Which Eddie supposes he does. Though that doesn't stop Richard from turning a ghostly shade of white upon meeting Eddie's eye for the first time that evening. Who knew the man that pays to call him Mommy and suck on his big toe every Wednesday night at the Hilton is the same man who has beaten Steve to a bloody pulp not once, but twice before. The fucking prick.

There's an immediate tension that's began to fester in the room. Thick and uncomfortable. It kinda feeling like a ticking time bomb that's bound to explode any minute.

"Richie," Eddie greets Steve's father with an extended hand, bright, joval, like reunited old friends, noticing the way Steve's attention tears away from the conversation he'd just been having with his mother.

Because you see, Eddie's told Steve about Richie. He's told Steve about a great handful of his clients but especially this fucker. This supposed Wallstreet hot shot who begs to lick Eddie's foot until he's shaking simply over the taste of it, who calls Eddie Mommy and cries every time he comes. Who is such a pathetic bitch that Eddie can't help but go home to Steve and laugh about it.

Steve's mother notices the tension too but seems non the wiser to the cause, smiling warily between the two when she asks, "Oh Honey, how do you two know each other?"

"Work," Eddie replies with a sadistic smirk, sitting a little straighter in his seat compared to earlier when he was anxious to meet the famed fuck up of a father Richard Harrington.

And because he can't help it, because he knows he's already dropping Richard as a client now that he knows who he is, Eddie can't help but add, "How's your mother these days, Rich?"

Steve snorts into the wine glass that he'd began to rather hastily down to Eddie's left, trying to stifle a laugh so sharp it nearly sounds like a sob.

Eddie can't help but feel the slightest bit proud when Richard looks about two seconds from throwing up.

[pellucid-constellations]

All Over Again

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're drunk. Your mate is trying to get you home. Only problem is—you're really, really drunk.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Drinking, absolutely zero attempt to establish a pov on my part

a/n: A cute little drabble because if it all fell is making me a tiny bit sad and I love this trope <3

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

The world spun around you as you let out a delighted laugh, faerie wine pulsing in your veins. This was bliss, and—admittedly—the most fun you’d had in months. The workload you’d been dealt this last year was one for the books. 

“Exactly how many drinks did you have?” Feyre asked you, red and green rays lighting up her face in time with the beat inside Rita’s. 

“So many,” you yelled back, flinging your arms around her shoulders. “So many and I’m going to have more!” 

The High Lady chuckled and swayed with you as you dragged her around the dancefloor. 

This was good for you, your friends had decided, a girl’s night where you could let go of all your responsibilities and inhibitions and then sleep for a solid two days afterward. Feyre and Mor had agreed to stay relatively sober to watch over you, but Mor was just as intoxicated as you were at this point.

“Mor!” you screamed, the shout directed fully into Feyre’s ear. She flinched, but you just continued. “Mor, come here! We can all dance together!” 

The blonde was pulled into the circle of fae, but very little “dancing” took place. You were far past the level of functional inebriation. 

“We should get Azriel,” Feyre shouted over your head, trying to catch the attention of her very distracted friend. 

But Mor just laughed and asked, “Who the hell is that?” as she left the pair to join a woman in a dazzling purple dress at the bar. 

Feyre bit back a sigh, still feeling patient with the small amount of alcohol running through her. “We should go home, yeah?” she attempted, catching your clutch as it tumbled out of your hands. 

You responded with a loud, “Woo!” and Feyre knew she needed to call in reinforcements. A quick outstretch of her mind and the request was sent. 

“This is so much fun!” Your smile was infectious, Feyre replicating it unconsciously as she watched you jump around. “I love you!” you screamed at her—again, directly into her ear. 

It was a few short minutes before Azriel’s presence was felt inside the overcrowded pleasure hall. Small streams of black shadows had begun to slink around your shoulders and arms with you none the wiser to their arrival. Feyre smirked when you jumped at a hand on your back. 

“Hello, my love,” Azriel said, voice low as he bent over to relay the words. “Having fun?” 

Your responding screech had panic flashing across the spymaster’s face, the man simply watching as you threw yourself against Feyre’s chest. He sent a tentative hand out in your direction, but you only pressed further into your friend. 

“Y/n—” Azriel began. 

“I’m married,” you seethed. “I have a mate,” you doubled down. 

Azriel blinked. 

He looked around him, checking behind his tightly coiled wings and past the broad expanse of his shoulders. 

When no other fae appeared to be lurking near his mate, Azriel returned his attention to the pair in front of him, his hazel eyes meeting your piercing (but rather hazy) glare. 

“Y/n, I am… well aware that you have a mate,” he replied, shaking his head to match his slow words. 

You scoffed, sending Feyre a glance as if to say, “Can you believe this guy?” 

“Well, then you should be well aware—” A shaky, misguided finger pointed close to where Azriel was standing “—that I am not interested in you. Got that?” 

A smile paired with furrowed brows conveyed the vast array of Azriel’s current feelings. He watched as you sent him another scathing glare and turned back to your High Lady, noticing the uneven way you stood and the handful of your belongings being managed by your friend. 

“She’s had a lot to drink,” Feyre emphasized. “I’ve been trying to get her to go home but she won’t budge. I thought you’d be able to persuade her. She’s been talking about you nonstop.” 

You were maneuvered into a quieter hallway as Feyre recounted your adventures of the night, making sure to catalog each drink she saw you consume. Azriel fought back a grimace as he pictured you in the morning. You had the worst hangovers. 

“Y/n,” Feyre began, offering you an encouraging smile as you blearily blinked at her words. “Azriel’s here. Do you want to see him? He said he’d bring you home with him.” 

This time, you gasped, face betraying you as it heated with embarrassment. “You called Azriel here?” 

“Mhm, and he said he’s terribly exhausted and needs you to come home for the night.” 

You gaped. “He wants me to come home with him?” 

Standing at your back, Azriel felt his expression pucker in confusion. Hadn’t you just chastised him for flirting with you, a married woman? A married woman who was married to him? 

Feyre seemed to agree with that sentiment as she nodded and said, “Of course he does. He always wants you with him.” 

Your eyes grew wide, hands reaching out to grip Feyre’s shoulders in a serious motion. “Did you tell him?” you panicked. “Fey, you promised you wouldn’t tell him. It could ruin everything.” 

Azriel was suddenly catapulted back about 20 years to when you were too nervous to tell him you were in love with him and Azriel was too much of an idiot to tell you that you were his mate. But that time had passed, thankfully, long ago. The two of you were now very much in love, both mated and married shortly after the inner circle had meddled in your affairs. 

Looking past his disorientation, Azriel caught your wide, pleading gaze directed at Feye. 

“Y/n?” he asked, craning his neck to catch your eyes. When you slowly turned in mortification, a soft kind of adoration pulled at his chest. “Hey,” he smiled. “I’m going to take you home, alright?” 

“O-Okay,” you blushed, taking his outstretched hand in your own. “To my apartment?” 

“No, I thought we’d go to mine. That alright?” he asked, voice gravelly and low and echoing off the long hallway inside Rita’s. 

It didn't matter that you were actually going to his house. The one the two of you shared. 

Instinctually, Azriel grabbed your hand, twinning his fingers with yours and pulling you closer. You, however, so drunk that you were unsure of your current whereabouts or today's date, let out a shaky breath at the intimacy. Azriel felt your fingers tremble between his own. 

“Is this okay?” he found himself asking. 

You nodded jerkily, and Azriel relished in the feeling of falling in love with you all over again. It was an immensely better experience than you pushing him away and accusing him of preying on married women. 

His married woman, but that was beside the point. 

A few steps in silence. You shivered with the rush of cool air outside the pleasure hall. Azriel shifted his wings out, enveloping you in their warmth. 

“Um,” you began, fiddling with his fingers as they rested beside yours. “It’s really nice of you to walk me home.” 

His heart was going to burst. Seeing you, his mate, so shy and reserved and hopelessly enamored by him in such a public way was endlessly endearing. 

“Of course. I would never let you walk home alone,” he replied evenly. And then, to spice things up, he added, “I told you I would always protect you. I meant that.” 

“You said th—” 

You whipped your head to the side as you spoke, losing your balance with the alcohol coursing through you. Your feet fumbled over each other and Azriel caught your hip to deter you from making a full-on beeline for the ground. After he was sure you were not going to plummet to your death, he tucked your hair back from your face. 

“You are my mate,” he said, so assuredly. It was a truth ingrained within him. “I will always walk you home.” 

Your eyes went wide, fingers wrapped tightly around his arms as he held you. You held eye contact with your mate, a feat in and of itself with the state of your head, and he watched as your tongue came out to wet your lips. 

And then, just because he could—because you were his and because you probably wouldn’t remember this in the morning—he whispered, “I love you.” 

The sharp intake of breath that followed his words was apparently too much for your alcohol-addled brain. You let out a small squeak, blinked at him several times, and then, you fainted. Directly into your mate's arms. 

Azriel carried you home (the one you two shared, to clarify yet again), silently laughing to himself, feeling quite smug at the outcome that night. 20 years and he still felt the same. 20 years and he was still in disbelief that he got to walk you home. 

[novahreign]

Sinners

Elijah “Smoke” Moore x Lucinda “Lu/ Lil bit” Hawkins.

A/N: I wanted to give it a try. I’m a Smoke girlie. That’s my type of man.😜💙 I hope that you enjoy.

“Elijah. Please, don’t do this.” I begged gripping his bicep. “Please.” He gathered me in his arms.

I had been cheesing and humming all morning. Mama had gone into town and daddy was working, this was the only day that both of my parents would be gone and Elijah could come over. I finished my morning chores and freshened myself up from this hot Mississippi weather. I had been having sex with Elijah or Smoke, what most people called him, although I never taken a liken to it, for two full months and my folks were non the wiser. I smiled to myself, I just didn’t understand how something that was such a sin, felt so good. Elijah always knew how to me feel good, how to make me feel like a woman. He was always gentle too. Never harsh with me like he was to everyone else. My mother didn’t know what I saw in him, she just I didn’t understand, that’s all.

When Elijah came in, I was prepared to make love. He always did know how to work that thing between his legs to bring me so much pleasure, oh, and his tongue, sweet Mary, did he know how to use it on me, have me saying swear words that my mama would have my hind for, but instead of my sweet Elijah, I got the one with fear in his eyes. One I only saw a few times. He rushed inside and told me that he and his brother were leaving town. I could feel my heart bout to beat outta my chest. He gathered me in his arms, kissing the side of my head. “I gotta go Lu, don’t make this any harder for me.”

“Why are you doing this? Where are you going?!” I could feel my heart slowly crumbling as he worked to avoid my eyes. “Elijah, what did you do?”

His twin brother Elias “Stack” laid on the horn “Hurry nigga. We gots to go.” He seemed nervous as he scanned the dirt road. A man, I didn’t recognize sat in the drivers seat, kept his gaze straight ahead. “Smoke, let’s go!”

He looked at me with wary eyes “I gotta go baby.” He kissed me harder than he’d ever had before. I tried to savor every moment as I melted in his arm. “Promise me you’ll write.” I sensed his hesitation “You don’t have to say where you are, just let me know that you’re alright and that you’re thinking of me.”

He nodded his head “I’ll do that. I promise.” He kissed me one last time but before he made it to the end of the yard, I yelled out to him. “I love you Elijah.” He smirked “I love you too Lil bit.” I smiled faintly at the nickname that I hated, but would give anything to hear him say it forever. He hopped in the back of the car.

“Don’t forget to write.”

“I won’t! I promise.”

The car sped off down the road, leaving a cloud of dirt behind. I waved until I couldn’t see them anymore.

Sometime later, I learned that the twins killed their daddy or that’s Bessie’s grandmother was telling everybody. I know how cruel and evil his daddy could be and if that’s why he left then I could accept that. That was seven years ago. He never did write like he promised. I waited for years for a letter. Eventually I picked up the pieces of my heart and moved on as I best I could.

“Alright. Class is dismissed. You all go and make it home. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

“Bye, Ms. Hawkins.” The cute little brown faces of boys and girls exited the white painted barn that was used for schooling during the weekdays. I sighed as to face one little grumpy face child. I bit my cheek to keep from smiling but I put on my serious face.

“Lester Sims, You oughta be ashamed of the way that you carried on today.” His little frown loosened up some. “I expect better from you. You’re a smart boy and have a brain.” I tapped his head “Use it, because the next time you act like this, I’m liken to take a switch to you and I don’t want to have to do that, You hear me?”

He nodded his head and let out a gruff “Yes ma’am.”

“Alright now, gon and head home. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He stomped his way out of the barn as I began tidying up. I unsnapped the button to my blouse, it was hot as Satans tail in this classroom. Hearing footsteps I turned around.

“Lester, you’re always forgetting something, I tell you ever-“ my words got caught as I looked up.

“You as hard on poor Lester as your mama was on me and Stack.How you doing, Lu?”

I gripped the chair, to keep myself from falling, it was like looking at ghost. Elijah Moore stood in front of me. Bigger and more put together than I’ve seen a colored folk before. He tipped his hat “Elijah.” I said, my voice coming out way softer than I wanted or needed it to. Hell, I was mad at him. Seven years you’ve been gone and got the nerve to come back looking like this?! I cross my legs at the ankles. Seven years wasn’t enough time for my body to forget the only man to ever touch me. Then anger boiled in my chest. I dropped the broom, brushed past him, stomping my way out of the school, like Lester did. I was almost far enough when I felt a grip on my arm. I turned so fast bumping into his rock hard chest.

“Can we talk?” Tears welled up in my eyes.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” I tried my best to keep myself together. “Just stay the hell away from me.” I jerked from his arm, headed down the road, not once looking back. I couldn’t, not yet.