#that being said I can see them as both a platonic or romantic pair

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ❞

❝ WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FAKE DATE SATORU GOJO WITH REAL FEELINGS? ❞

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x sorcerer!reader

✧ summary: you can't help but say yes when your longtime crush asks you to be his fake girlfriend for a year to get the gojo clan to stop arranging marriage proposals for him. but little did you know, he would be doing both of you a favor.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, reader is the same age as gojo, set during s1 of jjk, fake dating hijinks, drunk! gojo, jealous! reader + gojo, implied satosugu (sorta, i see it more in a soulmate way, whether its platonic or romantic), switch! gojo, oral (f + m), deepthroating, handjob (m), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, naoya makes an appearance, gojo clan elders suck, gojo's made up clan responsibilities,

✧ wc: 16,043

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 6 has been sold to @chuluoyi and an anon!

“C’mon, you don’t know until you try, sweetheart,” 

You run at your temples, you didn’t need to feel burgeoning ache of a headache forming to know it was coming — but you knew it would whenever you met with this blue eyed idiot, “Satoru, the last time you said that, you nearly got me killed,” you didn’t care to re-live him sending you on a mission meant for him to take a grade 1 one curse, only to end up fighting two other grade 2 curses along with it. 

You were lucky you made it by the skin of your teeth — and lucky that Shoko woke up when you showed up at her door, half dead. 

“And this time, there’s no risk of death,” he grins, stirring his sugary drink that counts more as sugar than a drink, “that shows great personal growth, don’t ya think?” 

“I think this conversation shows that just because you’re the strongest doesn’t mean you have an ounce of common sense,” you mutter, as you sip at your drink of choice, “Gojo, I can’t marry you — for one, there would be a risk of death — yours,” 

“Eh you wouldn’t be able to kill me — you’re far too—“ and you raise an eyebrow, daring him to finish that sentence, “kind,” 

You rolled your eyes, “One of the traits you’re looking for in your future partner?” 

“The thing is, you wouldn’t have to marry me at all — it would be a big sham!” He said with a thumbs up, as if that made it any better at all, “just for a couple weeks so I can fool the Gojo Clan into complacency and to stop the search for my future spouse — you’d be sparing the hundreds, no thousands, of possible candidates from facing the burden of my rejection,” 

“And I suppose the fact that the clan would get off your back is just a fringe benefit?” You sigh, “Gojo, why don’t you just tell them you don’t want to get married?” 

“I’ve tried — but the stubborn old geezers won’t budge — I’m caught between a rock and a hard place — and you know me,” his lips curl, “I’m a lover, not a fighter,” 

Yup, you have a headache now. 

“What would we have to do to convince them we were together?” 

Why were you considering this? 

“Dates, a few public outings, meeting the geezers because they would insist, and you would need to show your face around the clan compound,” he lists off, sipping at his drink, “there may be other things, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” You may jump off a bridge by the time this is over and done with, “what do you say?” 

“I have two questions,” and he leaned back in his chair, back and forth, impatience personified, “how long would we have to do it?” You didn’t want to be stuck in this arrangement for an undisclosed amount of time, but the second question was far more important, “ And why me?” 

“Three months, maybe longer,” you gape at him, “I can pay you?” you raise an eyebrow, “I will pay you,” you sigh, “and choosing you was easy because—“ 

“If you make some sort of joke about me being single, I don’t care if you have infinity, I’ll find a way to murder you,” you grumble. 

“Because you’re a sorcerer, you’re from a minor clan — so you’re an acceptable choice, and I trust you — you’re one of my closest friends,” he adds, for once his words are deprived of any humor. 

And that answer was…almost worse than the joke. The word “friend” stuck in your side like a thorn you could never pull out, festering and growing until it had become a part of you — that ached only when you thought of it. 

Your feelings for him, they were still there? You thought you had discarded them years ago, thought it was safe for you to move back to Tokyo from Kyoto, thought you had finally left that childhood crush behind — dead and buried — but here it was, still stubbornly clinging to life. 

And now it would thrive with new roots, stems, leaves, and buds if you agreed to this. 

He said your name, “Well?” 

He remains as inscrutable as always, But you could never say no to him, could you? “Okay, fine,” it would also help you out in the form of another problem of Naoya Zenin who had been nothing but persistent since you came back…but you didn’t want to dwell on that. Your eyes find Gojo’s again — as they always did. 

It was why you had left for Kyoto in the first place. 

“Is this really necessary?” you grumbled, as the servants that served the Gojo clan fussed over your clothes — it was a traditional kimono in the colors of your clan — a deep indigo, embroidered with white koi fish that swam along the fabric, embroidered with waves. You supposed you were only grateful that Gojo didn’t leave you to get dressed yourself. 

Gojo watched as they adjusted the obi around your waist, and your eyes remained fixed ahead, but your gaze couldn’t help but wander to him. Satoru Gojo was always unfairly gorgeous — there was a reason people fawned over him even when he had just rolled out of bed without even a once over at his appearance — but those same people probably would have passed out if they saw him as he was now. 

His formal wear was a sky blue — the same as his eyes, a coat draped over his shoulders and loose trousers of snow white that was a nod to hair of the same color. His hair remained unkempt as it always was. 

“Gonna change into that but not comb your hair?” You remark, and he smirks, running a hand through his hair. 

“Well I think if I start being too well behaved, they’ll know it’s fake,” and the word sticks in your chest like a dagger between the ribs, as the servants finally finish with your clothes, and you sigh. 

You straighten yourself, looking at yourself in the mirror, “How is it only been a couple hours and I’m already exhausted?” 

“The suffocating grip of old geezers and their backwards traditions would do that to you,” but his eyes linger on you, “but lucky for you sweetheart, it seems to suit you,” 

“Do you have to call me that?” You murmur, cheeks warming, as you pretend to busy yourself with adjusting your clothes in the mirror. 

“You have to get used to it,” his footsteps draw closer, heart battering against your ribcage as he does — surely, it would break free of its bony cage by the end of this, as he slides a shiny pendant around your neck — a sliver infinity with a singular small blue gem glinting in the middle — “after all, you are mine now, aren’t you?” 

“Gojo, this is—“ 

“Satoru,” he reminds you, as his fingers brush against your neck as he clasps the necklace, “how will it look if someone overhears you calling me by my last name in private?” And your fingers brush against the necklace, toying with the pendant as you positioned it properly, “do you like it? I had it made especially,” 

Especially — the lack of ‘for you,’ stuck out to you, as you force a smile on your lips, “it’s perfect — it will definitely sell the act,” and your eyes can’t find his as he adjusts his sunglasses, “I’m surprised you’re not wearing your blindfold,” you turn to face him, “doesn’t it drain you not to wear it?” 

“I can wear sunglasses sometimes — usually I get strange looks if I wear a blindfold in normal society — and here,” he pulls off the glasses as his cerulean irises seem to pierce your very form, “it reminds these old men who holds the cards here,” it was already hard enough for you to meet Gojo’s gaze as it was, it always felt as if he could stare right through you — and now, it felt as it your entire soul was beholden to him, “and as a bonus,” he draws close again, as he holds out his hand for your own. You resist the urge to bite your lip, inside giving your hand as he wished, and he lifts to his lips, before tilting his head to press the back of his hand to your cheek, “now I can look at my beautiful girlfriend unobstructed by these pesky eye coverings,” 

You scoff, “You always have something to say, don’t you?” As you try and fail to move your hand away, “Gojo—“ 

“A good escort should never let their lady walk in without their hand being held, don’t you think?” And you sigh, as he leads you out of the frying pan and into the fire  — you only hoped you wouldn’t be burned — your eyes sliding to Gojo again, fingers toying with the fabric over your chest — in more than one way. 

“So you’ve gotten yourself a partner, eh, boy?” the elderly man sits with his eyes closed as he sips his tea, steam rolling off the surface in droves, but he seemed unbothered by the heat — perhaps because of the steam coming out of his ears, “I’m shocked,” you kept your gaze down, only had greeting him upon entering — stating your name and clan, before kneeling beside Satoru on a cushion. 

“Shocked that someone like me could ever find my match? I know I’m truly one of a kind,” lips curled in that smirk that seemed to annoy almost everyone Satoru Gojo knew — including you — but no one showed the level of irritation that this man showed. 

Gojo may be the head of the Gojo clan — but you supposed there were still people he had to answer too, if only due to age and tradition — the two very things Gojo hated the most. 

“Why bother respecting those for aging when they haven’t done anything for me to respect?” he had said flippantly to Yaga one day during a lesson, “I rather die young than live to the age of these old coots without accomplishing a damn thing,” and then Yaga firmly smacked Gojo on the head right after, for disrespecting Gakuganji during the sister school exchange event. 

And you had a feeling this meeting was about to go as well as that class did. 

“Is this serious? Have you proposed?” and you have to keep a straight face, but your cheeks burn. 

“Now, don’t embarrass me and my girlfriend,” his fingers intertwined with yours, “but this is serious — she’s the only woman I want to marry — and I’ll do anything to accomplish that,” he leans forward with a smile, squeezing your hand, “because I love her, and I only will ever love her,” 

His gaze slides from Gojo to you, eyes boring into your skull, “and do you feel the same?” 

You never have been one for lying — lying was an uncomfortable feeling that twisted and turned in your stomach like questionable leftovers that you took a gamble on eating, ones that wanted to come out the same way it went in. But you had learned with time because sometimes it was necessary for a sorcerer to lie, and when it was between telling a lie or dying, you’re forced to become quite adept at things you hate. 

And you had learned, as you meet his hardened look, the best lies had some truth ingrained in them. 

“I do, Satoru and I went to Jujutsu Tech together, and he’s the only man I ever loved,” perhaps it was too much truth, as you forced your voice to be steady, “he’s frustrating, irritating, full of himself—“ 

“You don’t have to be that honest—“ Satoru grumbled. 

“But he’s also selfless, unendingly kind, a great teacher, and a good person, maybe even the best person I know,” you can’t bear to look at Satoru, “and he’s the only man I want to call my husband,” 

The silence lingers in the room for a moment before the old man grunts, “I’ll believe it when I see it,” 

“What kind of answer was that?” You asked as Satoru walked you back to the room, his fingers still laced with yours. 

“It means we have to make him believe it — but he’ll at least stop arranging these meetings for me with prospectives,” 

You raise an eyebrow, “and what will make him believe it?” 

He smirks, as he tugs you a little closer, fingers under your chin, “I could kiss you right now, might sell the act,” 

“No one can see us,” 

“Someone’s always watching,” he murmurs, leaning far too close as your breath catches, eyes widening before they flutter shut and you wait. But instead his lips brush your forehead, followed by a flick, “gotcha,” 

Your eyes snap open in a glare, “Gojo!” And he’s cackling. 

“Satoru,” he corrects, as his hand leaves yours as he opens the sliding door to the room, “you coming?” 

You pout, rubbing your forehead, as you brush past him — this was going to be a long few weeks. 

“Why do I even have to go to this?” You were being led through a bustling mall, his arm around your waist, as if to prevent you from escaping (good idea). Your lips twisted in a grimace, you allowed him to drag you along, knowing him, he would carry you over his shoulder without a hint of shame (you don’t think he even contained the word shame in his own vernacular), “can’t you go and wear a ring and go by yourself?” 

“A ring is not as good as having you on my arm now is it?” he bumps you with his hip, “plus, we’re not engaged yet, unless this is a proposal,” he raises an eyebrow, and your cheeks burn. 

“Shut up, I’d never propose to you,” he laughs, but it’s almost strained.

“Never propose to me like that right? Because I deserve a better proposal than that,” he sighs, leading you into a store, “come on, we have to find you a nice outfit for the wedding,” 

You glance at the store, your jaw dropping, “Gojo, this store is so expensive, I can’t afford this—“ 

He lowers his sunglasses just to show you that he’s rolling his eyes, “Who said you’re paying, Princess?” You stare at him, slack jawed, while a salesperson comes up to the two of you — though she’s clearly only interested in one of you. 

“Hi, what can I help you with finding today?” her lips curled in a smile, as she twirled a strand of her around her fingers, “I’d be more than happy to assist you,” her gaze completely fixed on Gojo, without the slightest hint of acknowledgment for you to spare. 

You bite back a scowl, plastering on a fake smile, as you lean into Gojo, “My boyfriend is looking to buy me an outfit for a wedding we’re attending — baby, could you tell her what style you want me to wear?” 

Gojo glances at you, a flicker of surprise that is quickly covered up by a smirk, his arm tightening around your waist, “Yes, I have to make sure my sweetheart is looking her best — so can you please find these styles of dresses for me?” You can’t help the smile on your lips as the salesperson shuffles away, lips a thin line rather than the grin she once had. 

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Gojo chuckles, and you roll your eyes, hoping your expression didn’t give your heart away, the feelings you had stuffed into a crevice of your chest that threatened to burst. 

So you choose to turn it on him instead, as you meet his gaze with a small smirk, “I don’t like people taking what’s mine,” 

But he only takes it in stride, only as Gojo can, “I’m yours, huh?” 

You shrug, choosing to hurt yourself rather than let him do it, “at least for the next two to three months,” and your gaze snaps away and looks to the saleswoman as she comes back with a selection, “if you get to choose my dress, I get to choose a suit for you, deal?” 

Gojo raises an eyebrow, but smiles, “Anything for you, princess.” 

“You just wanted to see me model for you, didn’t you?” Gojo emerges from the changing room in a black button down and white suit coat with a matching white tie — as he tilts his head, “I would say my best suit is my birthday suit,” and you grimace, “oh c’mon, it was a good joke, although—“ 

“Don’t say it’s true,” you lean back, phone in hand as you snap a picture as you did for the last three, “I love to see that self confidence of yours has grown into full blown arrogance,” 

“How can I not be arrogant when I see you snapping pictures of me?” He crosses his arms, the fabric taut and straining over his chest, the top button undone, showing off the adam’s apple that bobs in his throat, “it’s definitely a step up from when you ignored me,” 

You snap from your thoughts, “When did I ignore you?” 

“When we graduated Jujutsu Tech, you’d spend time with Nanami or spend a weekend with Shoko, but whenever I was around, you wouldn’t even reply to a text,” your eyes fall to the floor, chewing your lip, “it wasn’t always like that — I thought we were close,”

It was true — but it wasn’t because you hated him. It was the opposite. You had tried to be his friend, but the more you were his friend, the more it hurt — hurt to see him smile at you like everyone else, hurt to see him with his eyes on the one he wanted, and with his arm around Suguru. 

And you really didn’t hate Suguru —  it was the opposite really — you thought they were perfect, a person who grounded him, made him a better person, and with a much tighter grip on reality than Gojo did — perhaps too tight. Too tight that it shattered apart in his hands, the pieces too far gone to pick out — and too far gone to save him. 

You tried to be there for him — knock on his door when you knew he was home and force him to shower while you and Shoko cleaned up his room. You stayed even when Shoko had long left, holding his hand as he hid his tears from you with his back turned, and you didn’t admit you could hear his nearly silent tears. But eventually, it turned into movie nights, meals shared, and even grocery runs. 

And it became harder and harder to hide how you felt — each minute spent with him was another drop in a bucket that was already overflowing to begin with. At first it had been a crush — an unattainable crush that you were happy to leave at just that. But eventually, it became so much more — you had fallen in love with him, when you really shouldn’t have. Because he didn’t need a partner — he needed a friend. 

“Gojo, I didn’t ignore you—“ 

“I’ve called you sweetheart, did your number change and then magically change back when you came back to Tokyo?” 

But once he had pulled himself together, you were graduating and you requested to be put in Kyoto — your excuse being you were tired being in the city — but to Satoru, you gave no excuse, you quietly left without a word. Because you were really tired of having your heart broken — so you needed space, and you were willing to do anything to get it. 

“Gojo, I didn’t really talk much to Nanami or Shoko when I left either, I just needed space—“ 

“Space from what?” You sighed, parting your lips when his phone rings. He checks it before taking it, “another mission? Yeah, I can leave tonight,” you bit your lip, “send Ijichi to take me to the airport. Yeah, ok,” and he hangs up, “we’ll have to cut this short. I have to go overseas,” 

“How long will you be gone?” 

“Probably just a few days. I’ll be back soon,” you bite your lip, and he tilts his head, “you worried about me, Princess?” 

You flush, opening and closing your mouth, “I am,” and he blinks, seemingly surprised, “come back safe. Text me to let me know when you land,” 

His lips curl, as he ruffles your hair, “I will — and I’ll be back soon enough. Promise,” and he pauses, “you want a souvenir?” 

“You don’t have to—“ 

“I want to,” he cuts you off, and your cheeks warm. 

And just then, he gets a text, “Ijichi Is almost here. I’ll have him drop you back first,” and he turns to change out of his clothes.

“Satoru,” you catch him by the sleeve, and he pauses, “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you after all of that. It had nothing to do with you, there was just a lot going on—“ he says your name, but you shake your head, “but it won’t happen again, I promise,”

“Good,” he steps back into the changing room, a grin on his lips, “I wouldn’t let you get away this time anyway, sweetheart.” 

“Gojo?” You say again, and he tilts his head, “get the indigo suit,” 

He grins, “and you have good taste, well, of course you do,” he holds the door open, “I am your boyfriend after all.” 

And the door of the fitting room swings shut, and you hope he’s not looking at you, as your cheeks burn, your heart squeezing in spite of every thought of your mind telling not to go there — not to go down that road, but you should have known, the moment you said yes to this plan—

You were already there. 

You had never known that the buzz of your phone could make you more happy — or anxious. 

But it had been over the course of the last few days. Because you’re probably an idiot, but that wasn’t the point. 

how bad of an idea would it be for me to try this Karanga and Chapati place that Yuta recommended? 

You snorted, Satoru, the last time you had curry — that wasn’t even that spicy, you couldn’t taste anything for a week.

Another buzz, But Yuta said it’s not so bad

You roll your eyes, imagining the pout he undoubtedly has on his lips — Yuta has never seen you cry over a bowl of curry — stick with your desserts, and you chuckle as you add: you may be the strongest but you have the weakest taste buds 

It takes some time for another response to come — and when it does, you realize a grave error on your part was made: never point out any flaw to this idiot because he will take it as a challenge. 

This is Yuta — Gojo-sensei tried it and he’s now in the bathroom. He told me to tell you he’d text you later. 

This was how the last few days flew by — texts with updates about his mission, his work, and his check-ins with Yuta. And the night before he was flying back, just as you were cooking dinner, he called you— 

“Gojo? Isn’t it 2:00 AM there right now?” 

“You learned the time difference for me?” you heard his words slur over the other line, “Sweethearttttt,” I went out with Yuta and Miguel, and I may have gotten a littttttle tipsy,” 

“Isn’t it like 2:00 AM there?” 

He clicks his tongue, “Miguel challenged me to a drinking contest,” and you groan, rubbing a hand down your face, “but they got me back into my hotel room, even though I’m not tired,” he mumbles, as you hear the crinkle of his bedsheets and the rustling of his comforter. 

“Have you drank water? How much alcohol did you have?” 

“Are you worried about me?” he giggles, before sighing, “I’m glad,” 

“Why are you glad?” You hold the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you stir the pan with your dinner currently in it. 

“Because it means you care about me,” he murmurs, “everyone who cares about me always leaves,” he gives a small bitter chuckle, “maybe it’s better for you not to care about me. It’s dangerous to care about someone like me — the type to die young or live far too long,” 

“Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he mutters, voice growing thick with sleep, “call me Satoru,” and his soft snores fill your ear as he falls into the sandman’s grasp — a small reprieve from his feelings — while you were left to dwell in them. 

All this time you had been thinking how you felt, what you were dealing with, what you wanted — and all these years and you hadn’t thought about how your actions made him felt. You thought he was beyond any hurt you could possibly inflict — his infinity meant that he was leagues above anywhere you could possibly reach — but it didn’t. 

He wasn’t. He was a person — and when had you stopped treating him as one? 

You texted Yuta: make sure your sensei is lying on his side and make him drink some water. And don’t let Miguel goad him into drinking ever again. 

Yuta: got it. sorry about that sensei — gojo wouldn’t listen

You scoffed, chuckling at how Yuta called you sensei but did not afford Gojo the same courtesy. 

You stayed on the phone with Gojo, hearing Yuta come in and persuading him to drink some water, before he fell back asleep, but even in his drunken state, he wouldn’t give up his phone — Yuta snapping a picture and sending it to you. You laughed when you saw it — loml with a dozen hearts and a picture of you in your obi, clearly taken when you weren’t looking, but it wasn’t those things that made you laugh — it was the way Gojo clung to his phone, fingers wrapped around it desperately, as he slept. 

You stayed on the phone with him all night, even when you went to bed — of course just to make sure he’s fine — the call waking you when it disconnected after reaching the max call time. Your eyes flutter open, glancing at the time — 5:00 AM. And almost like clockwork, your phone rings again, Gojo’s number flashing on your screen. 

You pick up, “Mm, hello?” you yawn, “finally awake sleeping beauty?” 

“Glad you finally decided to acknowledge my beauty,” his voice is gravelly, thick with sleep, and god, you can’t help but imagine waking to this voice every day — “ugh I have a headache,” he murmurs, the crumple you hear must be him burying his face in his pillow because the next question he asks is muffled, “why were we on the phone?” 

“You called me last night after drinking, and refused to hang up after Yuta helped you get settled,” you chuckle, as you hear his groan over the phone, “I got a new contact picture for you out of it, love of my life,” 

“Glad you’re finally on board,” he mutters, growing quiet, “why didn’t you hang up?” 

You pause, “what do you mean?” You ask slowly. 

“You could’ve hung up at any time, but you stayed on the phone, even when you fell asleep,” his voice was soft, “why?” 

“I just,” you bit your lip, you couldn’t lie to him, at least not completely, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and you didn’t want to hang up — so I didn’t,” 

He’s silent for a moment, and you almost wish you could sink into the Earth — but he only says, “okay, now what’s the plan for the day, Princess?” 

Your lips curl, “Well my day has not really began yet since it’s 5:00 AM here, so I’m probably going to sleep for several hours and wake up at an hour that is not bereft of god,” 

“You really couldn’t just say ‘ungodly?’” He snorts. 

“Well, 5:00 AM makes me wax poetic, what can I say?” Another yawn parts your lips, “I’m going to sleep,” 

But he doesn’t hang up, “I’ll be here, sweetheart.”  

You glanced at the time, he’s late. 

Well, he wouldn’t be Gojo if he didn’t make an entrance. You slumped on the couch — even if he was getting home from his mission, there was no guarantee he’d stop by your place to see you. He might want to just go home — or stop by Jujutsu Tech, or be anywhere else. You couldn’t have expectations — expectations were only a  way to be disappointed, a drop from soaring that would only be met with the impact of the cold, unforgiving ground. 

Especially expectations from a fake relationship. You lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling — why were being such an idiot about this? The TV drones on in the background, illuminating the dark of the living room, as you sit barely paying attention to a random rom com you had picked. 

Maybe it was because Satoru had spent the rest of today on the phone with you, even through a security check (warning the security officers not to hang up his call) and at the gate. And then every day after that, he had called and texted you like clockwork — stupid things— good morning and good night, random memes that made him think of you, pictures of his day (including ones of him messing with his students), questions of what sweet you wanted from the shop he had decided to frequent, calls about your day and his own, and hours long conversations about nothing at all. Maybe because you could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke to you — or maybe it was because you were just down bad. 

It was probably the latter. 

You take a throw pillow and pull it over your face. What were you thinking? Falling for your old crush and fake boyfriend a night before a wedding was a trope in a bad rom com that you spent your weekend night watching — it shouldn’t be how you feel. 

“That’s a nice look,” you jump, pulling the pillow away, to be met with Gojo’s gaze hidden behind another pair of sunglasses, “honey, I’m home,” 

You bite back your smile, “one, this isn’t your home, and two, how did you get inside?” 

“It’s pretty easy when you can teleport, you should try it sometime,” he sits beside you, more like collapses as he falls into the couch, his head resting against the top, “although if someone moved in with me, it’d be much easier,” and you laugh. 

“Shouldn’t you ask a girl out before you ask her to move in?” he shrugs, his arm resting across the top of the couch. 

“I’m anything but traditional,” he sighs, glancing at the TV, “what are we watching?” 

“A bad rom com,” 

He snorts, “watching it to mercilessly pick it apart?” And you raise an eyebrow, “what? I did stay awake for some of those movies— it was some of my favorite memories during that time and some of the only times I could actually sleep,” 

“Yeah, it was a nice way for both of us to turn our brains off for a bit,” you glanced at him, “thought it’d be nice for us too,” his gaze slides to you curiously, “I know there’s been a lot on your mind — with itadori and the special grades,” 

He sighs, running fingers through his hair,  “Yeah, old geezers seem to cause problems in all parts of my life,” you snort, “can’t believe they’d try to do away with Itadori while I was gone,” 

“They don’t see anyone as innocent — they see whether you’re an asset or a threat, unfortunately, they see Itadori not as the former,” you shake your head, as your eyes stare at the movie flashing on the screen, but you don’t really watch, “they’re too far gone to see the innocence of children,” 

“You sound like Kento,” and your eyes meet his, his cerulean gaze already on you, his sunglasses discarded on your coffee table. 

“Funny, thought I sounded like you,” he blinks a moment, “Satoru, you’re all about preserving the youth of children — that’s why you saved Megumi, Yuta, and Yuji — even when you had every reason not to,” 

“How could I not? Youth belongs to the young after all,” a wistful smile on his lips, “i don’t want the same to happen to them that happened to us,” 

“To us,” you repeat, a sharp pain sticks between your ribs at the flash of Haibara’s smile and the whisper of Suguru’s laugh, “more like to them,” 

“Yeah,” a silence falling over the two of you as the white noise of the TV filled the quiet, “but sometimes I think we went down along with them,” 

You shake your head, “I think a part of us did — a part of us will stay there—“ frozen in time and seeping like poison in our bones, “but we’re still here,” you risk to toe the line you’d never cross, your fingers brushing his, “and it’s not over for us,” 

And his eyes flicker to your fingers threaded with his, as his fingers squeeze yours slowly, the corner of his lips quirk upwards, as you stretch and sit up, fingers falling away from his, a yawn on your lips, “should we get some sleep?” 

“Come on, let’s finish the movie,” he murmurs, even though sleep seems to weigh heavily on his body, eyelids fluttering shut as he turns to you, cheek pressed against the couch, “hey,” he murmurs, “it wasn’t the movies that let me relax,” and you can hear the unspoken meaning in those words — but that was the problem. 

It was unspoken. 

Your fingers twitch, wanting nothing more than to brush your fingers against his cheek — but you can’t. 

You’d allowed yourself to toe the line you’d long drawn in the sand that you’d built into a wall — you had even allowed yourself to stir a few bricks from its place, but you couldn’t cross it. Not now. 

Your eyes are growing heavy. Maybe not ever. 

Your neck hurts. 

The first thought you have as you rouse into aching consciousness. Why was it so bright? Did you forget to draw your curtains? You draw an arm over your face, already dreading the waking hours, until you realize it’s your day off, and you sigh, relaxing into your bed. 

Or what you thought was your bed. 

Except your bed couldn’t move, nor could it pull you closer. But now something or someone was, an arm around your waist with movement behind you that made breath warm your ear. And you probably would have screamed, if you hadn’t heard the familiar voice whisper your name in your ear. 

Gojo. 

Gojo??? 

Your head slowly turned to be met with the strongest sorcerer very much passed out, half behind you, half on top of you — his blue eyes hidden under his eyelids for once instead of any covering that he used to protect himself. His snowy white locks brushed against your skin, the close proximity doing nothing to alleviate your feelings — you had only hoped you could see one flaw, one ick, and maybe you’d be done. But on Satoru Gojo? The man born to be perfect — the same one who sang karaoke for the first time as a teen only to be so incredible that it moved your server to tears? 

You really should have fucking known better. 

Your breath caught, and you wondered if it was possible to die from embarrassment—if no one had, you would surely be the first case. You were always a trail blazer. 

And you tried to shift again, if only to maneuver yourself out of this situation, but he moved along with you, seeking out the contact he was losing. And this only ended with him lying on top of you, his head buried in the crook of your neck, and his legs straddling one of your legs— and then you felt it — a very distinct bulge pressed against your thigh. 

Fuck. Your. Life. 

He mumbled in his sleep, nose brushing against the hollow of your neck, drawing another shiver from your body. You had a rare opportunity to touch him — didn’t you, no infinity between the two of you — just him and you. You were in a position probably many desired to be in — admirers and enemies alike (neither category being mutually exclusive). You supposed old habits die hard — and so did old crushes. 

Could you let yourself enjoy this for a moment? Enjoy the feeling, no matter how real it never would be? Maybe it was wrong, but — your eyes fluttered shut as your arm wrapped loosely around Gojo — you certainly didn’t want to be the one to wake up first. 

And you weren’t — your eyes flutter open to movement, and your eyes meet cerulean eyes, lips parted in surprise, “Morning,” he manages, a flush of pink coloring his cheeks, “did we fall asleep?” 

“I guess we did,” you bite your lip, “are you going to—” 

And he blinks, before scrambling off of you, “Sorry,” he mumbles, as he turns away to fidget with his phone. 

“Guess that was one very boring movie,” you murmur. 

“Or I was in a very comfortable bed,” he replies with a smirk that turns to a grimace. 

“What is it?” 

“Naoya Zenin is making an appearance at the wedding we’re attending tomorrow,” and you groan, as he raises an eyebrow, “how many proposals had he made you?” 

You scoff, “Proposals? More like propositions,” you shake your head, already aching from the sleep you had barely shaken off and now it had graduated to a shooting pain that made your eye twitch at the thought of that man, “he’s offered to do me the ‘honor’ of being the next heir’s husband half a dozen times. If he ever becomes the head of the Zenin clan, I may help Maki annihilate them myself,” 

Naoya Zenin — the most pretentious and egocentric man you had the displeasure of meeting. Even his pretty face could do nothing to fix his hideous personality ridden with misogyny, hatred, and spite. And you’d been offered his hand in marriage half a dozen times due to your lineage in a lesser known clan family with a unique cursed energy. It was a strategic move to try and secure his place — as was every move he made — he had no room for anyone he deemed useless to his plan. 

Unfortunately, you did not fall into that special category.

“That won’t happen,” Gojo replies, texting on his phone, “plus, he’s too weak to force that to happen — not to mention he’s a first class prick,” 

“You say that, but you basically propositioned me,” you teased, as his eyes flit up from his phone, as you rise from the couch, “quite the proposal you came to me with,” 

He pauses a moment, a small smile on his lips, “one, i don’t recall proposing, and trust me that’s something I’d remember,” and you roll your eyes, “and two, aren’t you just as bad, since you said yes, sweetheart?” 

“Can you blame a girl wanting a little extra money?” And he locks his phone, drawing close, your breath catching as he lets himself linger for a second too long. 

“Can you blame a man for wanting a beautiful and intelligent woman?” And he’s leaning close, but he leans back, only grabbing his coat from the couch, still slung over as it had been. He spares you a smirk at your bewildered expression, “close your mouth, you’ll catch flies, princess, and what a shame that would be,” you scowl, and he laughs as he heads to the door, slipping on his shoes, with a final glance and grin thrown over his shoulder as he opened your door, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.” 

Right. Tomorrow. The wedding. 

Fuck. You were so screwed. 

KNOCK. KNOCK. 

Fuck. You scrambled from your vanity as you finished putting the finishing touches on your look for tonight. You didn’t think Satoru Gojo of all people could ever be on time, but you supposed there was a first time for everything. 

You slipped the dress over your head, careful not to smear your makeup or mess up your hair. You were starting to regret not having the Gojo family’s attendants get you ready for this event, if only so you could have turned your mind off for this time. But you knew all too well that your mind could never give you a break — with all of that free time came free real estate for your anxiety to set up camp and put down roots for all the things that could possibly go wrong. So it was better this way, as you reach for the ties on the back of your dress — of course, maybe if you had let yourself be helped, you could actually have someone to tie your corset back on this dress. 

Another knock. 

“Sweetheart?” You hear Gojo’s muffled voice through the door, “you’re not planning on standing me up are you?” 

You stumble your way to the door, clutching the back of your dress, as you take a breath and throw it open, “Can you tie the back of my dress?” 

Fuck. He looked gorgeous. His hair was parted and combed off to the side, a deep blue suit coat and a crisp white collared shirt tucked into a matching suit pant. A pair of sunglasses were tucked into the chest pocket of his jacket in front of a white pocket square. 

“No hello, ‘can you tie my dress?’” Gojo tilts his head, his eyes graze over your appearance, as he steps inside and closes the door behind him, “turn around,” And you do, fingers still clutching at the fabric at the back of your dress, cheeks burning as you do, “gonna have to let go, and let me help you, sweetheart,” 

You slowly let go, but his warm fingers brush against the skin of your bare back as he holds the dress up from slipping, carefully lacing the corset, “I was right, blue is your color,” he murmurs, as he tugs lightly at the strings, “let me know when it’s tight enough,” 

“It’s good now,” you sigh — though the corset wasn’t as tight as your chest now, you face him now, trying to adjust your hair. 

“Let me,” one hand cups your chin gently, your breath catching and you can only hope he can’t feel your pulse through your skin. His fingers run through your soft tresses, your eyes unable to meet his — but you wonder if he can see right through you anyway — “you’ve never been good at asking for help,” 

“Look who’s talking,” you glare at him, as he chuckles, “well, I asked you didn’t I?” 

“Why did you ask me?” You raise an eyebrow, “I’m sure you could have asked anyone,” 

“Well, I didn’t want just anyone,” he murmurs, fingers tracing the blush you had lined your cheeks with, “I wanted you,” 

“Why?” And he parts his lips, a soft smile that pulls at his features — was it a hint of pink across his cheeks. 

“Because—“ and your phone goes off — a reminder with the time of the wedding. And the moment’s broken, as reality settles over you again, “We’ll be late,” 

“I don’t mind being late,” and a heat burns from his touch, from the tips of your fingers to the his fingers leave your cheek, warmth fading as quickly as it came, but he offers his hand, “but if it’s for you, I can be on time,” and your fingers find his, interlacing, before he tugs you close, his arm around your waist, “as long as you stay by my side.”

You never were one for weddings. At least not one like this. 

A stuffy event held in an extravagant manner — a large banquet hall for the reception, but now the guests roamed the gardens the hall opened out into — lush greenery serving as a perfect backdrop for this wedding — a distant branch of the Zenin family was marrying, which meant all of the main clans were invited to attend. Including several elders of the Gojo clan. 

And now you were being subjected to this as well — several dozen eyes on you — all due to the man whose arm you were on. His arm wrapped almost protectively around your waist, his lips nearly brushed against your ear when he whispered in it, letting you know just exactly who was coming over. 

“I didn’t think you were one to care for remembering these things,” you wave at the couple that just left the two of you, his fingers grazing the skin behind your ear as he tucked a stray strand behind it. 

“I usually don’t care, but I know it’d make you uncomfortable otherwise, especially among all these people,” he smirks, his fingers finding yours, and squeezing, “plus, we need to make a good impression, don’t we?” 

“I think we’re making an impression just by being together,” you murmur, and he raises an eyebrow, “everyone’s staring — didn’t you notice?” and he shrugs, a sly smile on his lips. 

“Didn’t notice,” he tilts his head, his eyes fixed on you, “I was too busy looking elsewhere, I guess,” 

Your cheeks burn, but as your lips part to respond, you see him walking over to the discreet corner you had parked yourselves in,  “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, your fingers tightening around his. 

Naoya Zenin strides over in a black yukata kimono, his silver hair pushed back, his lips twisted in a slimy smile that made your skin crawl, your name leaving his lips, “it’s been far too long, you’re looking lovely,” his eyes raked over you like hot coals, “though the company you keep—” 

“Has improved markedly,” Satoru’s lips curl in a grin, “do you have business with my girlfriend?” 

Naoya raises an eyebrow, “Girlfriend?” 

Satoru’s arm tightens around your waist, “I didn’t realize you went hard of hearing — I know your hair had started to go, but your hearing too—” you hid your snort poorly, Naoya’s sharp gaze flickering between the two of you. 

“I’m younger than you are, and my hair is bleached,” he snaps, “or are those six eyes not sharp enough to see that as well? They certainly aren’t enough for you to have found Suguru Geto before he caused a war,” 

And Satoru’s hurt is imperceptible — a hint of hurt that only shows in the tightness of his jaw for a millisecond, before he’s only giving another laugh. 

“At least I am already the head of my clan, because even if I were without my six eyes,” he smirks, but a certain meanness pulls at his features, “I’m still not as weak as you are—”

Naoya’s expression sours, curdled into a foul scowl, “What did you—” 

“Alright,” you hold up your hands, “Let’s save the dick measuring contest for later, okay? This is a wedding, let’s not cause a scene, ok?” you glance between the two of them, and Satoru pouts — while Naoya seems all too pleased, a grin broken across his lips. 

“This is why you’re the perfect woman — you know how to mediate between men’s egos, and—” 

“Naoya, I said let’s not cause a scene, and you’re two steps away from me causing one right now,” you snap, “I wasn’t interested the first dozen times you asked me when I was single, so why would you think I’d be interested now, when I have a boyfriend?” 

His face flushes red, and you’re not sure whether it’s in anger or embarrassment, “I doubt you’re even really a couple,” he hisses, “I know all about the proposals that this idiot has been getting and the pressure to marry,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I’m sure you’ll come running to me once he’s done using you—“ 

Satoru surges forward, but you press a hand against his chest, “We don’t need to justify our relationship to you, so think what you want — but even if Satoru and I break up, I rather die single than ever spend a minute with you,” and you look at Satoru, your gaze softening, “and I rather spend be single for the rest of my life than spend another minute without him,” and you slide your eyes back to Naoya, his fists clenched, as you lean in, “so fuck off.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but the staff begin to wave everyone into their seats, and the wedding begins. The two of you sit, a silence falling over as others take their seats beside you. A subtle tension as music filled the air and the wedding proceedings began—but you could have cared less— god what the fuck had you said to Naoya? How had Gojo taken it? Does he know how you feel? Does he think it’s an act? 

Then his fingers find yours, “Thank you,” he whispers softly, managing only those two words before the wedding begins. 

And it dawns on you — it wasn’t what you said, it was the fact you had defended him, your heart aches, it was the fact you had defended him when Naoya insulted Suguru. 

Your eyes stay fixed forward as the ceremony begins — it was never about you — as you pulled your fingers away from him. 

Like it always never was. 

The wedding ceremony goes by — as does the reception, without much to-do. The only silver lining is that there’s far too much small talk for the two of you to have a moment to talk alone, especially when the two of you spot the Gojo clan elders side-eyeing you from the table of old folks, not to mention Naoya hovering around that same table, the same scowl on his face. The only remark that Satoru whispered as the two of you floated by the table pointedly, a smirk on his lips as he waved and held you close to his side — “one quick hollow purple could solve my problems,” 

You gave a forced chuckle at that — unfortunately not yours. 

And finally, the two of you head home — in relative silence, the drive being short to Gojo’s apartment, where your car was parked. You sigh as he pulls in, “I’ll head out I guess—” 

“Why don’t you just stay the night?” and your gaze snaps to his, the first time all night, “it’s really late, and I have a guest room—” 

“My apartment isn’t—” 

“Your apartment isn’t far, but I thought we could…talk,” and your heart gallops to a start — talking was the last thing you wanted to do. 

“What is there to talk about?” And his fingers brush against your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. 

“Maybe about why you can’t meet my eyes?” You huff, looking away. 

“Can you blame me? Your blue eyes are freaky,” you grumble, and you can hear the judgment in the silence, a first for Gojo,  “Gojo, what do you want me to say?” 

He stays quiet for a moment, “You don’t have to say anything, just come inside,” So you do — following him inside, the silence hanging over you like a guillotine waiting to slice, “Thank you for what you said—“ 

The door clicks behind him, as you stop, “Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he corrects, and you’re shaking your head. 

“You don’t have to thank me, I was just—“ 

“But what you said—“ 

“I said what I had to—“ 

“You didn’t have to say all that, Princess,” his voice grows soft, “you know you didn’t,” and he’s drawing closer across his living room. 

“He was upsetting you,” you murmur, eyes unable to find his again, falling instead to his plush carpet laid against his hardwood, “I couldn’t stand by and let him — I know it hurt when he brought up Suguru—“ 

“Suguru?” he repeats, and your eyes find his, finally, and you find his brow furrowed, “is that what you think I was thanking you for?” 

“What else would you—“ and he’s stepping even closer, your breath stuck in your throat as his fingertips graze your cheek again, “Satoru—“ 

“Did I mention how beautiful you looked tonight?” he murmurs, a soft chuckle in his voice, “you always look beautiful, but tonight in particular, I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” 

“You don’t have to—“ 

“That’s just it, I don’t have to,” his palm slides against your cheek, “I want to — I want to when it’s you,” 

“But, i can’t do this, not like this,” tears burn at the corners of your eyes, water threatening to spill out of a too full glass that had been full for far too long, “not when it will give me—“ you cut yourself off before you cut your own heart out, but he’s only forcing the scalpel back into your hand. 

“Give you what?” 

And you can’t turn back now — you’d turned from this road far too many times, sprinted in the opposite direction only to end up here again — you needed to do this, even if it lead to a dead end cliff, “Give me the wrong idea,” and you’re turning away, but his hand catches you by the wrist, “stop, I—“ 

“It’s not the wrong idea,” and you stop. 

No, it was. It was, right? 

“Satoru—“ and his fingers find your own, as he steps closer, “please, don’t—“ 

“If you want me to really stop and forget about this, I will,” he murmurs, “I’ll turn around and open the door and let you go home right now, sweetheart. I won’t bring this up again,” but you don’t move away, you don’t say anything, so he continues, “but if you don’t want that, and you want the same thing I do—“ 

“And what is it that you want?” And you hear his soft chuckle, his cheek brushing against you, as his fingers tuck your hair behind your ear. 

“I thought that was obvious, but I guess I’ll have to spell it out for you,” he squeezes your hand, as he guides your face to look back at him, his lips curled in a small smile, “I want you,” 

Your breath is shaky, no, no — he doesn’t mean that, “No you don’t,” 

He tilts his head, “You don’t think I don’t know what I want?” 

“Satoru, I don’t want to be a substitute for others—“ 

And his hands are sliding around your middle, pulling you closer, “You think I could ever think of you as a second choice?” 

“But—“ and every doubt from when you were younger wells up, every fear of not being enough — but they are erased away, crumbled into dust, by the way he looks at you — entire multitudes of skies all made to look at you. 

“You keep finding reasons not to do this,” and his fingers skim your cheek, before resting under your chin, “but have you tried finding a reason why we should?” 

“Satoru—“ you can’t help but lean into his touch — god, he was a temptation personified — everything you ever wanted, even when you tried not to want it. These feelings were never fake — so why not give in? Just this once. Your fingers slide against his cheek, and you can feel his skin burn under your touch, “do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“No, sweetheart,” he leans in even closer, your breaths becoming one, “but I’d love to find out,” 

His lips brush yours — it’s chaste, hesitant, testing the waters — he tastes like sugar, and you almost laugh — he tastes like the frosting from the wedding cake that he had swiped a slice of on the way out that he finished before you two had reached his car. His eyes flutter open for half a second, before your lips are crashing to his this time — a new record for addiction? A second maybe and you were too far gone. 

His hands cup your cheeks, one sliding to the back of your neck, as the other slides down to your waist to pull you ever closer. 

“Did you find it out?” You murmur between kisses, lips meeting and parting if only to allow you both a breath. And his snowy eyelashes flutter, as his lips quirk upwards. 

“Think I need another,” and his lips swallow any coherent thoughts you have, his hands slipping down your sides, lips parting again, “another,” he murmurs, a kiss, “another,” 

“How many do you need?” you ask breathlessly, a chuckle caught in your throat, and his lips press desperate kisses along your jaw, a smirk against your skin. 

“Is infinity an answer?” And you laugh, “have to take responsibility — I’m addicted to you,” 

“And if I’m addicted?” His hands squeeze your hips, drawing a gasp from your lips. 

“I’d be more than happy to take responsibility for you, Princess — always have,” 

Your heart beats against the bars of its cage, threatening to burst out — but you couldn’t — not without knowing, “And if you break my heart?”

“I won’t ever break your heart,” he leans down to press butterfly kisses to your cheek, “but even if I do, I’ll put it back together,” 

“Promise?” You murmur, and his lips meet yours again, and again, as he’s leading you towards his bedroom, his fingers running through your hair.

And the door to his bedroom swings shut, “Promise.”  

“How long are you going to tease me?” you’re grumbling, cheeks hot and eyes averted, the back of your hand pressed against your lips, as Satoru presses needy kisses along your neckline of your dress. 

He looks up at you through his snowy lashes, and you don’t know if you want to slap the smile off his lips or kiss it off, “You’ve been teasing me for years, you can’t give me this time, sweetheart?” His teeth graze the juncture of your neck and shoulder, “plus, do y’know how fun it is to watch you squirm?” 

Slap. It’s definitely a slap. 

“You’re insufferable,” and he smirks when your breath catches when his lips ghost over the swell of your chest. 

“Yet you’re the one who's under me—“ and you try to get up only for him to pin you back down, a pout on his lips, “alright, alright, can’t blame me for wanting to see you squirm, Princess, how many chances will I get?” 

“Only this one if you keep this up,” and he’s finding your lips in a languid kiss, an apology with no words, a smile filled with affection that only made it hard for you to feign annoyance. 

“Then I better make this count,” he’s gently helping you up, turning you around to undo your corset strings — but you wonder if he’s undoing it or tangling it, “why did we choose a dress with such a complicated back?” It’s his turn to grumble and it only draws a giggle from you. 

“Surprised you haven’t hollow purple’d it by now,” 

“Trust me if you weren’t in it, I would have,” he sighs, as the fabric begins to loosen up, slipping off your shoulders. 

“And here I thought you were good at everything,” you chuckle as he helps you shimmy out of the dress, the fabric falling away from you in a small pool around your ankles. Pools of blue rake over your exposed body, raising goosebumps in its wake, as your arms reflexively try to cover yourself, but his hands find your own, easing them away. 

“I’m good at what counts, Princess,” he kisses your wrist, pulse jumping under his touch, nose brushing against it, he hovers over you, as he undoes his tie, fingers tugging at the knot, as he undoes the top button of his shirt, “and I’ll show you.” 

~~~~

Satoru had dreamed of this — of you and him. He knew when he realized it — although it was too late when he did. Maybe it was the night before you left — the night after graduation — before you left — you had fallen asleep watching the movie you had put on. Your lips parted and mouth ajar, your eyes fluttered shut, and you were out. He had leaned over to grab his phone to snap a picture to tease you with later, only for your fingers to grab onto him, your head on his shoulder, a quiet murmur of his name. 

“Satoru,” — not Gojo, as you had always called him. And he knew he wanted to hear you say it again and again. His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair away, his head leaning against yours.

Suguru was everything to him for a time — he had come to Satoru at a time where he thought no one else would ever be able to understand him. No one else would be able to reach him — because how does a person reach for a god? But here you were — and the way your head rested on his shoulder and your lips said his name made him want nothing more than you by his side. 

And when you left — you didn’t reply to his messages, you disappeared, just like everyone else did in his life. He was always left alone in the end — maybe it was his fate. 

But then you came back — came back almost right after Suguru left for good. And that part of his heart that was meant for you began to thrive again and again — as he spent more time with you. 

And god, when his clan started to pressure him to find someone to marry — he wrote them off as he always did. He thought he could ride out the ridiculous proposals and dates they had arranged for him — but as he thought more about who he wanted to spend his time with, who he wanted to see after a tiring mission, and who he couldn’t imagine being without —- 

And he realized it was you. 

“Satoru, don’t tease me,” you pouted, teeth bearing down on your bottom lip, legs spread for him, his eyes flirting between your all too cute expression and the growing wet patch on your panties, “fuck, please—“ 

“Gonna have to tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he presses a wet kiss to your inner thigh, his arm hooked under your knee, your foot pressed against his back, “where do you want me?” 

“You fuck-er—“ the last syllable is a gasp as he kisses your sensitive clit through your soaked underwear, “Toru—“ a whine leaves your throat. 

Fuck, you’re so cute, his fingers toy with the elastic of your panties — and all of this was worth it, worth it to see if these feelings were what he thought they were, worth it to make you smile, and worth to end up with you. 

“How can I refuse you when you say my name like that?” he’s tugging your underwear away, exposing your sipping cunt to a rush of air and his warm breath, “all this f’me, baby?” You mumble something he can’t quite make out, “what was that?” 

Your glassy eyes look up at him, blown wide with lust, “Only f’you, Satoru,” fuck, his dick twitches — he could bust just looking at you. 

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, “g’nna make me cum just with your words,” but he diverts his attention to your needy cunt, his long fingers graze over your pussy, collecting the precum on his fingertips, before he pinches your clit. 

“Toru,” you squirm, as he grins down at you, all too pleased. 

“Imagine if the elders could see you like this — spread out for me like a good little wife,” he’s leaning down to kiss your fluttering folds, leaning back for you to see the shiny pre that clings to his lips that his pink tongue darts out to clean off, “sweetest thing I’ve tasted,” 

“Please, Toru, fuck—“ and finally his finger is circling your hole, before sinking in knuckle deep — fuck, you were fucking tight — he could melt from your warmth, pulling him in like a siren to a drunken sailor, “oh my god,” 

“You don’t have to call me ‘god,’ princess,” and he earns a glare from you that fades into an open mouthed moan as he begins to pump his finger in and out, “so good for me,” and he’s adding another finger, the wet squelch of your cunt growing louder, as he reaches a hand down to graze against his erection if only for a little relief. 

He wishes he could memorize the way you looked right now — perfect little lips parted for him, his name and soft pants the only sounds you could manage to make, your back arching into his touch, and the way you moaned when his lips found their way around your clit. 

His tongue circles your clit at first before his lips suck at the hard pearl, fingers parting your dripping folds, finally finding that spot that had your walls giving that telltale spasm, “Toru, I’m close—g’nna cum—“ you whimper, his fingers pistoning in and out of your cunt as he sucks hard at your clit, and you cum, hard, around his fingers, drenching his face and finger alike, as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

You’re beautiful — lips parted and chest heaving, as you moan his name again, “good girl,” he’s murmuring, as your eyes flutter open, to watch him lick his lips and fingers clean, “might get addicted to how you taste, sweetheart,” 

And you’re boneless, but still you’re still reaching for him, pulling him into a languid kiss, his cock twitching as he shifts himself over you, hands pressed into the mattress, his clothed cock rubbing against your drenched folds. 

“Wanna make you feel good,” you mumble against his lips, and he’s pulling back an inch — but unknowingly, he’s given you a mile, as you flip him onto his back. 

You’re a vision — your perked up nipples visible through your bra, halfway slipping off your shoulders as it is, hair a lovely mess, and pretty lips kiss ruined. 

“My turn,” and your lips burn a trail down his jaw, along the curve of his neck and the cut of his collarbone. You take your time, if only to pay him back in full for all the teasing he did, “didn’t know you taste so sweet, Toru,” your tongue drags up his chest, “must be all the sugar you eat,” 

And your lips smile against his abs at the sharp gasp he fails to stifle, “I’ll have you know I’m very sweet—“ and your fingers graze over his clothed erection — his hips buck up into your touch, “I’m known for it,” he hisses, as a giggle escapes your lips. 

“Uh-huh, I’m sure almost everyone would care to disagree,” the tip of his cock strains against the fabric, the dark wet patch growing larger the more your thumb beared down on it, “but I wouldn’t be one of them,” and you’re dragging the fabric down his hips, freeing his cock, your eyes nearly hypnotized by the slight of it, thick beads of precum dripping from the slit, before your gaze finds his again, softening, “because I know how much you do for others — and how much you’ve lost because of it,” you kiss his inner thigh softly, nose brushing against the skin. 

“As long I don’t lose you,” he says softly, “I think I’ll be okay,” 

And your fingers find their way around the base of his cock, drawing a ragged gasp from his lips, before you lean down and flick your tongue against his leaking tip, “I’m not going anywhere, Toru.” 

Your tongue drags a thick stripe up his cock, before beginning to trace along one of his veins, your fingers slipping up to use his pre to rub up and down his length. Your thumb teases his slit, and a hiss leaves his lips, a smirk against his dick. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, you know exactly what you’re doing to me,” his cheeks burn, dusted with pink surely — as he watches you lick the precum that dripped down your fingers onto your wrist, “knew that mouth would be s’fucking good—“ 

“Turns out you don’t shut up even in bed,” and that earns you a cheeky grin that parts into an ‘o’ as his dick sinks into your mouth. He swears he was closer to death than he was when Toji nearly killed him — not that he’d like to remember that man in this moment — but you’d surely be the death of him, and you would be — if he had to spend another second without you in his life. 

Fuck, he looks down at you, eyes half shut, his white knuckled fingers gripping the sheets — you’re gorgeous as you swallow him whole — sucking and licking, nose brushing against his pubes as your eyes water, as you bob along his length from tip to base and back again. 

“S’good for me, so pretty, fuck—” he groans, when his tip brushes against your throat, his fingers finding your scalp to try and ease you off,  I’m s’close princess, g’nna cum—” But your hands only slide to his ass to hold yourself against him, as his dick twitches in your mouth, and your fingers drift to his sack while your tongue flicks along his slit and he’s done. He’s cumming down your throat, hot release painting your mouth.

He’s watching you with half lidded eyes pull away from him— a string of cum and spit strung between your lips and his dick, before beginning to drip from the corner of your mouth. And fuck, it’s enough to make him hard all over again. You lean over him, wiping the release from your lips, as you kiss up his body. 

“Now who’s good at everything?” and he huffs out a chuckle. 

“I stand corrected — actually, don’t think I’ll be standing for a while after that but—” and he’s finding your lips in a kiss, tasting himself you, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, as your fingers find his erection again, stroking it, before he’s flipped you onto your back. He runs a hand through his snowy locks, a smile on his lips, “don’t think you’ll be doing much standing after this either,” 

“So full of yourself,” you roll your eyes. 

“That’s what you’re going to be full of in a second—” 

“Oh my god—” and your laugh dies on your lips as he starts to tease your entrance with the head of his cock, “Toru,” you whine, as he watches your needy cunt flutter around nothing as he drags his length up and down your dripping hole, watching your releases mix, “please—” 

“So polite,” he hums, as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips, “now how can I refuse that?” and he begins to sink his length into your cunt, warm walls nearly pulling his cock in deeper, as he groans your name, “s’perfect, s’good for me, princess, made for me,” and inch by inch, until he’s finally bottoming out. 

“Toru, ngh, s’big—” you gasp, lips parted in a silent moan, as you pull him even closer, face buried in the crook of his neck, but his fingers tugging your hair to show your face. 

“Let me see you,” he murmurs, as his lips meet yours in a sloppy kiss as he continues to thrust into you — his hips meeting yours, the wet squelch and skin slapping echoing in his ears. A gasp parting your lips as you pull apart, your head thrown back in a moan as your walls flutter around him as his tip breaches that one spot inside you. 

“Haa, I’m close, Toru,” you groan, and he’s nodding, his fingers reaching between your bodies to find your clit. 

“Cum for me, pretty girl,” and you do — cumming hard, as he notches himself deep inside you, before spilling inside you, his hot release deep in your pussy. He’s moaning your name, as your bodies slow and his fingers cup your cheek gently, and his lips find yours. 

He slowly rolls off of you, your warmth leaving him for a moment, before he’s pulling you close again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“Is this a dream?” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut, and a small chuckle leaves his lips, legs entangled. 

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, “If it is, I hope I never wake up, Princess.” 

Your body aches — that’s your first thought as you stir into consciousness. Fuck, why does you feel so sore? Your eyes try to flutter open, but the sunlight blinds you — a soft groan leaves your lips. You shift, as you stretch, your back aching and muscles tight, but then someone moves behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist. 

Your eyes shoot open, as your head slowly turns to find looking at Satoru. A gasp is caught in your lips. 

Fuck, it was real.  

You slowly turn to face him, his soft breaths leaving his pink lips — god he’s so gorgeous. His pretty white eyelashes resting against his skin, lips parted ever so slightly, and his snowy hair askew and mussed. Your fingers ghost over his cheek lightly — how many people have seen him asleep like this? How many had seen him with his guard down? You knew he didn’t sleep nearly enough, you were surprised he was still asleep — but, your cheeks burned, you both did spend half the night awake. 

But there were more pressing things to think about — what did this mean? You chew on your bottom lip, he had said he wanted you — but what did he want? Just last night? Or something more. 

“I can’t sleep with your thoughts grinding so much,” he mumbles, heat rushing to your cheeks, he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck, “why are you awake so early?” His nose brushes against your neck, his lips pressing softly against your pulse. 

“I just woke up,” you murmur, a small shiver running up your spine, as you relax into his touch, your fingers running through his soft locks, “did all my thinking wake you?” 

“Yes, and you’ll have to compensate me,” and you snort. 

“You’re rich, like old money rich,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your skin, heat climbing up your body. 

“Money isn’t what I want,” he nuzzles you, nose brushing against the skin of your neck, “wonder what other ways you can repay me,” 

You chuckle, humming at his touch — god even the simplest of touches has your logic up in ash, “I’m sure you can figure out some other methods of payment,” 

And his lips find yours again — it’s a lazy morning kiss, soft and slow, but not bereft of any of the passion from the night before. His fingers slide down your body, as he pulls you impossibly closer. 

“My preferred method of payment wouldn’t have us leaving this room until tomorrow morning,” his lips curl in a smirk, “but I’ll collect my charge tonight — how about I make us breakfast?” 

“You can make breakfast?” You raise an eyebrow. 

“I know how to scramble an egg,” he shrugs, and you snort only for him to pout, and you smile, your fingers brushing against his cheek, before your thumb runs down his lips. 

“How about we make breakfast together?” 

“Was that really your first time making tamagoyaki?” you raise an eyebrow, as you pick up a piece of the rolled omelet between your chopsticks.

“Promise,” and you bite it — it was perfect — the texture, the taste, the seasoning. And you stare at him, an eyebrow raised. 

“Either you’re lying or you really are good at everything,” you mutter, and he grins, as he takes a bite of his food — a sweeter tamagoyaki he had made for himself, far too smug for his own good. 

“I think I proved that last night, Princess,” and you nearly choke on your food. And you chew thoughtfully — you two hadn’t even breached what last night meant yet. You had simply been dancing around it, or at least you had. You didn’t want to be the one to bring it up — or rather, you picked up another piece of tamagoyaki up, you didn’t know how to, “what’s going on in that head of yours?” 

And your eyes snap up, “What do you mean?” 

He tilts his head, “You’re not hard to read — you keep thinking about something,” and his lips curl, “last night?” Your hesitation gives you away — and he only smiles wider, “should I refresh your memory?” And your cheeks are burning, and he chuckles, “come on, sweetheart, let’s just talk,” 

You bite your lip — you needed to do this, you couldn’t run away from how you felt, not again  — your fingers fidgeting with your chopsticks, before you place them down on your bowl, “What did last night mean?” 

And his lips curl, but this smile he has is softer, “What do you think sweetheart? Do you think I’m really the—“ And his phone rings, and he picks up his phone, eyes flickering to the caller, and you wave him off, “you can take the call,”

He sighs, “One second,” he gets up to speak, and he hangs up a few minutes later, “text me a location,” 

“Who was that?” And he’s shaking his head, a sigh on his lips, his hand on the back of his neck. 

“The ever breathing and ever irritating geezers want me to meet them to speak about something involving the clan,” he meets your gaze, a flicker of an emotion in his eyes — a drop of water that disappears into the sea as quickly as it formed, “and it’s a good opportunity for me to discuss something I have been wanting to speak with them about,” 

“Something?” and his lips quirk in a small smile. 

“I’ll be back soon enough to explain, sweetheart,” he walks over to you, “will you wait here for me? Think I’ll be able to come back faster if I know you’re here waiting for me,” 

And you can’t help the small flutter your treacherous heart gives, “The great Satoru Gojo will rush for me?” 

“Oh, he would rush day and night if it meant he could come home to you,” and his fingers find your cheek, drawn like a magnet — why was it you could never look away from him? Even in a crowd, your eyes always found his gaze. 

And you’d go to him — like a moth to a flame, “I think I’d prefer just Satoru,” you lean into his touch, your hand over his, “I do owe him after all,” 

“You do,” he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead, before he’s pulling away, a smile on his lips, “consider that a deposit.” 

You didn’t know what to do with yourself. 

Alone in Satoru’s place — you didn’t know what to do with yourself. He had left right after breakfast, and he told you where the TV was, books, and told you could order anything or use anything you needed. But, this place was so him — each place you went, there was just another reminder of him that seemed trail after you, but at the same time, without him, it was like a shell of a place — no soul present. 

And you supposed the soul wasn’t present. 

You ended up back in the bedroom, crawling back under the covers. Fuck, they even smelled of him — you squeezed your eyes shut.

You really didn’t know what you were doing — did you? 

You laid on your back. What were you supposed to make of what happened last night and this morning for that matter? Was this real now? A real relationship with Satoru — you turned over on your stomach, pulling the covers over your head — you could barely imagine it. 

And your phone goes off, as you reach for it blindly on the nightstand. But it wasn’t the white haired sorcerer you hoped it was — your eyebrows knit together — at least you didn’t think it was. A text from a number you don’t recognize — and a picture to top it off from the preview. 

You nearly deleted it — only to spot a familiar mop of white in the picture. 

Your blood runs cold at the sight. Satoru? He was at a restaurant with — a woman? You didn’t recognize her, but his hand held hers, picture taken mid laugh. Your cheeks burn — no, no — there had to be an explanation. 

A text now — Want to see what your boyfriend does in his spare time? Is he done using you now? 

There’s only one person who’d text like that. 

Naoya, how fuck did you even get this picture? You stare at the photo — have you fallen so far in your clan that you have the time to stalk Satoru now? 

He replied, it’s not my fault that they are dining in a Zenin owned business. 

Another picture — Satoru and her were hugging, his arm around her waist, far too close to be friendly. 

You don’t think — you call him. It rings and rings, but no answer — the cut to voicemail makes your heart sink. 

Another text — even if you don’t believe me, do you think this will be the last of your problems? When you’re Satoru Gojo, anyone close to you will have a target on their back — if only to use your blood to paint one on his head. 

You knew you couldn’t trust this. You knew there was an explanation. You knew Satoru wouldn’t do this to you. 

But even still, you wished you could tell your heart that. 

“What is this?” Satoru was led to a table at the restaurant the old geezers had chosen — but there were no wrinkly old cranks in sight. Instead, there was a woman. 

“Are you Satoru Gojo?” And he raises an eyebrow, hands sliding into his pockets. 

“The one and only, now I don’t suppose the old fools of the Gojo clan turned into a woman — so who are you?” She swirls the glass in her hand, before downing the liquid in one go. 

“Figures they had to lie to get you here — seems like we’ve been set up,” she gestures to the chair in front of her, “I’m Airi,” and he takes a reluctant seat, “I was told this was a meeting for us to meet for a potential engagement,” and he scoffs, he should have figured it was something like this, “but judging by the look on your face, you didn’t know that,” 

“I was expecting to meet 

I suppose we’re on the same page,” 

He tilts his head, “Really?” 

“Gojo, you may be a catch, but to me, you’re nothing more than a potential knife to my neck,” she places her glass down, leaning back in her chair, “and plus, I have someone I’m interested in,” and her eyes slide down, “and judging by the bite mark on your neck, you do too,” 

He pays it no mind, a laugh leaving his lips at the thought of you waiting for him at his apartment, “I do,” and he sighs, pushing his chair out, before getting to his feet. “and I have to get back to her,” 

She follows suit pushing out her own chair, rising, a waiter walking by, and she trips. It’s a reflex, he catches her by the wrist and by the waist, steadying her. 

“Sorry,” she pulls away immediately, looking back for the waiter, before biting her tongue, “fucking waiter tripped me,” the two of them glance around, but see no one, “I’ll have to talk to my grandfather’s advisors about this. No one trips the granddaughter of Naobito Zenin,” she mutters, and Satoru’s eyes snap to her. 

“You’re a Zenin?” And it clicks, the wedding, “who arranged this meeting?” 

She tilts her head, “My father, but he heard about this from my cousin, Naoya—“ 

He checks his phone — and he sees a missed call from you. 

Fuck. It was a set-up — in both ways. 

“I have to go,” and he can only hope you wouldn’t do the same to him when he came back. 

Satoru calls you, but you don’t pick up. You can’t bring yourself to stare back at the photo he had set as his contact photo — the picture Yuta had taken of him clutching at his phone with your picture on his screen. 

You needed to talk to him in person. 

And it’s not long before he’s back home — practically teleporting at your feet. 

You swear, stumbling and he grabs you, tugging you close, “Got you,” he smiles, tugging off his blindfold for you to see his eyes — the startling blue that you still couldn’t navigate without drowning in its depths, “does that mean I can keep you?” and you want to pull away, you want to run, but you can’t help but melt into his touch, your fingers gently clutching at the front of his shirt. 

“That depends on whether I’m the only person you’ve said that to,” and you look up at him, his brow furrowed, “and held like this,” 

“The meeting today, it was supposed to be with the elders — I was going to discuss our relationship again but—“ you show him the pictures on your phone, and his brow knit together, “how did you—“ and he doesn’t finish his sentence before he realizes, “it was a set-up,” 

“I know,” and relief washes over features for a moment, but your eyes can’t meet his, your lips a thin line. 

And he glances at the photo again, seeing the one where he’s holding Airi, “She tripped, sweetheart, trust me—“ his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing the length of your cheek, “I don’t want to hold anyone but you,” 

“I know Naoya and the Gojo clan probably set this up,” you whisper, leaning into his touch, “but—” you pull away from him, every step away from him a fissure in the foundation of this bridge built, “I don’t think I can do this anymore,” 

And he’s blinking, “Why?” 

“I’m not good enough,” you’re shaking your head, stepping back as he steps forward, “I hurt you by leaving, and I was this close to doing it again—” 

“But you didn’t—” 

“And your clan doesn’t want us together, and I don’t know, I feel even if we’re together,” the words that leave your lips break your heart and his, we’ll only hurt each other in the end,” 

“Why do you always push me away when we get close?” 

“No I don’t—” 

“You don’t think the sorcerer that’s an expert at pushing others away — wouldn’t know if he’s getting pushed away?” 

“This isn’t working out,” you cut him off, as the slice cuts through thin air — but it’s not your head that goes rolling — it’s his heart, “we should stop — I think your clan has been convinced,”

He’s silent for a moment, before he replies, “well, I haven’t been convinced,” 

You scoff, his hands by his side, as his quiet footsteps approach you, “convinced of what?” 

“Convinced that,” he stops in front of you, “you don’t feel the same way I do,” Your breath catches, as his fingers find your cheek, “all these years, sweetheart, and you didn’t know?” 

“But,” you can’t process this, it doesn’t make sense, “but Suguru—“ 

“Was important to me yes,” he murmurs, “but it’s been years, and it doesn’t mean I can’t have deep feelings for someone else — especially when I’ve had them for over a decade,” 

“You—“ was this real? As he stood before you, in his living room low lights, sunlight streaming in from his windows, “what?” 

He laughs, “Didn’t know it was possible to render you speechless, sweetheart — guess there’s a first time for everything,” he steps over your missteps with the same ease he does everything, “I really do have to spell everything out for you, don’t I?” The back of his fingers ghost over your cheek, “I’m in love with you—“ 

“No,” you’re shaking your head, and his face falls, “Satoru, we can’t—“ 

“But—“ 

“Your clan doesn’t approve of me, they won’t stop trying to break us up, and I could put you in danger,” you murmur, “they could use me against you — just like Suguru did,” you couldn’t bear the thought of that, “and is that worth it? Worth it for something that may not be real?” You ask the question you’re afraid of asking him — of asking yourself — “was it ever real?” 

And he’s still trying to reach for you, despite it all — he knows it’s dangerous to be around him, he knows anyone close to him is in danger — and that’s why he was okay when you left. If only you’d be safe — but he knew that if he always played it safe, he would never be happy, “It’s real to me,” 

“It’s not to me,” you turn towards the door, “I’m sorry.” 

And this time he doesn’t stop you. 

It’s for the best. 

That’s what you tell yourself. The same thing you say when you’re leaving his place. The same thing you say the next morning you wake up with only a pain in your chest and a dull ache in your head. The same thing when you accept a long mission overseas. 

It was for the best. 

Then why — then why did you think of him? Each and every day, every minute, every second. But it was for the best. He was safer without you, it was easier without you, it was better — better and yet each day seemed to drag when you couldn’t talk to him. And your notes were filled with unsent texts to him — and your mind was filled with nothing but memories. 

And you couldn’t touch memories nor could you talk to them. 

Several months later, you’re sitting in a plane, watching the animation of the plane fly back towards Tokyo. You had been checking in with Yaga several times a month, but you hadn’t heard a thing from Satoru. 

Or rather, Gojo. Not that you expected to — not after what you did. 

And soon enough, you’re arriving home — heading inside your home to find a bunch of your mail had fallen out of your mailbox, knocked out of the rickety box from the storm the night before. You pick up the drenched mail between two fingers that was stuck to the sides of your walls, as you fumble with your keys to open the door. Your suitcase and mail fall to the fall as you close the door behind you, sighing. 

Fuck. You were home. 

You dragged your suitcase inside, picking up the mail off the floor. You collapsed on your couch, tossing the wet envelopes onto the table — when a name catches your eye. 

Gojo? 

You pick up an envelope — the frilly envelope doing nothing to protect the contents inside — you barely can make out any of the text, except the faint inked kanji of his name. 

You gingerly open the envelope, peeling out the insides — and your heart drops. 

Is this an invitation? The faint text was blurred and smudged from the rain — the contents all but faded and you could only make out three things — ““marriage,” today’s date, and bits and pieces of what you thought was an address. 

Satoru was…getting married? 

It felt like logic had fled your mind and panic took its place — as you looked up the parts of the address that you were able to decipher. And you found it — it was a popular venue not far from here. 

You didn’t think — you grabbed your keys and drove. 

You couldn’t let him get married, no, no — you had made a mistake when you left. You thought he was better off, you thought it was for the best — but it wasn’t. It couldn’t be when your chest hurt like this — felt as if your heart was splitting in two with a sword stuck between your ribs. It couldn’t be because you pushed him away because you were scared — scared of getting hurt again, scared of hurting him, scared of being with the only person you ever had loved. 

Basically, you pulled up to the venue, you were an idiot. 

You hadn’t changed, you hadn’t showered off your who knows how long of a flight, and now you were on the steps of a wedding venue that Satoru was getting married at. You froze before the doors. 

You couldn’t do this. He didn’t deserve to have his day ruined by you — not when you had ruined enough. If he had found someone else to spend his life with — whether it was arranged or not, he deserved to be happy. 

Even if it wasn’t with you. 

So you step down — walking off a distance to watch when the couple emerged — which judging by how dark it was and how staff were already almost done setting up — would be any minute now. 

So you wait. 

And finally when the doors swing open, you steel yourself — knowing it would do nothing, nothing to shield you from the pain of seeing—and your eyes find the groom. 

That wasn’t Satoru. 

He certainly had the white hair, but he did not have his blue eyes — he had a lovely bride regardless, who looked at him the way you had always looked at Satoru. Was that the look you had hidden away for so many years? And why were you still hiding? 

And your eyes find Satoru almost instantly — as fast as his eyes find you seemingly, as your name escapes his lips — as he parts through the crowd to your side. He’s wearing the other suit he had tried on — the white suit that had been your second favorite — his white locks parted and combed to the side, but still impossibly unkempt as they always were. 

“You got my invitation?” you blink, tilting your head. 

“But you—what?” and his brow furrows. 

“Don’t tell me you lost your ability to read and speak while overseas, princess,” and a small chuckle escapes your lips as you shake your head, wringing your hands. 

“Satoru, the invitation was wet because of the rain, I thought—” your voice wavers, glancing away as your cheeks burn, “I thought you were getting married.” 

He raises an eyebrow, lips curling, “And you were about to burst in and object?” 

You roll your eyes, but even so you can’t meet his gaze,  “Satoru—” 

His smile only grows wider, “What were you going to say? A passionate speech about how you’re still—” And you’re tugging him close by the collar, and his breath catches, your name leaving his lips. 

“I’m in love with you, Satoru,” your voice is steady as you speak, your hand sliding to his cheek, “I always have been — I was just afraid to admit it, I didn’t want to hurt you — whether it was by my own hand or not,” and his brow furrows, but you continue, “but I’m not scared anymore — because it hurts more to be nothing than something with you—” 

And his lips find yours. It’s everything you want — because it's him, he’s everything you’d ever wanted, and everything you’d ever want. You want the way his arm slides around your waist to pull you closer, you want the way his hand cups your cheek, you want the way his lips smile against yours, and you’d want his past, present, and future. And you’d do anything to keep it. 

“Promise you’ll never leave like that again?” he murmurs, his arm tightening around your waist as he says the words, his forehead pressed against yours, “I already have abandonment issues,” and you chuckle, your fingers finding his cheek. 

“I promise,” you murmur, “I’m sorry I left — both times I left, and there won’t ever be a third,” 

And he smiles, “You proposing to me, sweetheart? I’m not one to rush into things, gotta take me out on a proper date first,” 

“How about tonight?” you find his lips again, the taste of sugar on his lips — undoubtedly from indulging in a slice or several of wedding cake. 

“So soon?” he hums,and his gaze softens, as he presses a kiss to your forehead, “someone’s eager,” and your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing his, as you would a million times more,

“Well, you don’t know until you try.” 

✧ a/n: ahhh another celebration fic done!! this one was lowkey a struggle towards the end so i hope this turned out okay. it's beyond me understanding if it did or not lmao. i hope you guys enjoy ahhh -- gotta probably put up a poll to decide the next celebration fic this weekend :) (it's only because i'm horribly indecisive).

✧ taglist: @yunjinabla, @weluvsza, @yamaguccitadashi, @gojobbg, @soulofoz, @hfdkhjghjkghfj, @forest-fruits-jam, @cerene-dipity, @sleazymac-n-cheesy, @reaperxdeath, @octopishisahybridanimal, @hanlay, @whereflowerswenttodie, @tsukimefuku, @numbing3scapism, @arcswonderland, @kirashuu, @fushitoru, @spider-fan72, @jayathelostdragon, @sunflowmaryam, @satorusmochis, @catsgomurp, @simply-a-s1mp, @kentocalls, @weluvsza, @lucy-xv0202, @mazzd4, @dontshuugo, @zz-snow-zz

[takimakiiiii]

meet me in shanghai!

part 8 to the ¡Cosmic Girl Records!

summary: the shanghai grand prix in underway! as the weekend approaches you figure out maybe ollie’s the sensitive gf in the relationship. the usual 2019 rookie banter you never get tired of, also mercedes admin beef with y/n ⁉️

pairing: ollie bearman x mercedes fem engineer!reader & reader x platonic!f1grid

tw!: mention of killing, kill yourself jokes, threatening, swearing, italian (kimi) slander (i’m sorry😖)

a/n: i haven’t done one of these in ages but i got the motivation from the new season to bring back the cosmic girl records, so here you are, enjoy!

liked by olliebearman, landonorris, lilymhe, alex_albon, charles_leclerc and 2,789,557 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: exploring shanghai w my girlies 🤭

tagged: lilymhe and alexandrasaintmleux

user1: WE ARE BEING FEDDDD 

user2: guys what if i died from y/n’s lethal face card 

alexandrasaintmleux: my fave girls 💗

 unfortunatelyy/n: 🤍

user7: this trio is one to rival the 2019 rookies fr 

 landonorris: 🤨

 alex_albon: 🤨

 georgerussell64: 🤨

 user8: YOU SUMMONED THEM

 user10: they’re like demons 

 unfortunatelyy/n: agreed.

olliebearman: without me. . .? 💔

 unfortunatelyy/n: ur sitting right next to me pal 

 user3: pal 😭

 unfortunatelyy/n: gotta put a dude in his place fr 

 user4: IM SORRY I CACKLED 

 olliebearman: dude? just say you hate me 😔💔

 unfortunatelyy/n: so dramatic geez 🙄

lilymhe: we were such explorers today 

 unfortunatelyy/n: FR‼️

 lilymhe: you’re the boots to my dora 🤭

 user5: that’s w rizz right there 

 unfortunatelyy/n: woah that’s so romantic 😍

 alex_albon: EVERY SINGLE TIME 

 user9: oop 

 alex_albon: WHY DO YOU ALWAYS FEEL THE NEED TO STEAL MY GIRLFRIEND 

 unfortunatelyy/n:  well you see that depends, do you mean hypothetically or literally 

 alex_ albon: BOTH 

 unfortunatelyy/n: i think the real question is why is it so easy 🤨

 alex_albon: girl stfu

 unfortunatelyy/n: i rest my case 🙌 

liked by oscarpiastri, lilymhe, alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes, landonorris, georgerussell64 and 1,389,983 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: karting w the gang

tagged: kimi.antonelli, olliebearman, landonorris, alex_albon and georgerussell64

user1: i see that the gang has new members now 

 user2: do you think they have a blood pact 

 user3: maybe they have a gang handshake 

 landonorris: can confirm we do 

 user10: TO WHICH ONE 😭

 georgerussell64: y/n made us 

 unfortunatelyy/n: I DID NOT 

alex_albon: that’s exactly what someone who did would say 

 unfortunatelyy/n: “that’s exactly what someone who did would say☝️🤓”

 user4: ngl he’s probably used to it at this point😭

 alex_albon: kys 

unfortunatelyy/n: perhaps not

 user5: she’s him fr 

user15: y/n’s relationship with the 2019 rookies is so dear to me you don’t understand

kimi.antonelli: remember when you lost today that was funny 

 unfortunatelyy/n: YOU SAID YOU WOULDN’T SAY ANYTHING 

 kimi.antonelli: i lied. 

 unfortunately/yn: that’s it. just you wait, i hope you’re looking forward to this weekend 

 kimi.antonelli: wait, what does that mean 

 kimi.antonelli: y/n 

 kimi.antonelli: answer my calls y/n

 kimi.antonelli: i see you online, answer me 🙏

 user10: little bro is COOKED 

 user11: that’s also his engineer right there 😭

user12: dawg isn’t gonna survive this weekend, i fear 

olliebearman: so i’m just “gang” now? 💔

 unfortunatelyy/n: WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY 

 user6: he’s just a girl 🎀

unfortunatelyy/n: a girl that’s getting on my nerves right now 

 user7: do we think he’s still alive

 landonorris: can confirm he is not 

unfortunatelyy/n: has anyone ever told you how helpful you are?

 landonorris: yes actually they have

 unfortunatelyy/n: well they’re lying to you

 user8: HELP 😭

 user9: aaand sassy y/n’s back 

 alex_albon: unfortunately so

 unfortunatelyy/n: kys mwah🫶

liked by landonorris, olliebearman, kimi.antonelli, lilymhe, franco.colapinto and 2,494,299 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: i got hacked. who are these homeless guys 

user1: kimi just casually throwing up gang signs 

 user2: he’s so pookie fr 

landonorris: this was not the intention of these photos 

unfortunatelyy/n: good. 

olliebearman: I SAID SORRY ALREADY WHY 

 unfortunatelyy/n: because i hate you (said with love) 

landonorris: you disgust me 

 unfortunatelyy/n: shut up mr situationship guy or i’ll tag magui (threat)

landonorris: consider me shut upped (not a threat) 

carlossainz55: ah so this is why they had your phone today

 unfortunatelyy/n: it felt like forever💔

 landonorris: you’re a phone addict okay we were helping you 

unfortunatelyy/n: I AM NOT 

 landonorris: stage 1: denial 

 unfortunatelyy/n: what if i killed you (threat) 

 landonorris: i’d report you (threat) 

 unfortunatelyy/n: you’d be dead by then (threat) 

landonorris: not if i kill you first (threater threat) 

nicole.piastri: what if i killed you both for acting like children (threat) 

user8: MAMA PIASTRI?  user10: OSCAR’S MUM HELLO??

 user9: well that certainly shut them up 

kimi.antonelli: am i getting fired for this

 user4: bro’s fighting for his life rn with his pr i just know it 

 user5: we need an update @unfortunatelyy/n 

 unfortunatelyy/n: shhhh, toto is deciding whether or not to fire him or not (i voted yes) 

totowolff_original: i would appreciate it if you did not spread misinformation online y/n

 unfortunatelyy/: am. . . I. . .  fired. . . ? 

 totowolff_original: i am deciding 

 user6: WOAH i did not know toto was chill like that😭

user7: he’s such a diva fr 

 kimi.antonelli: HAHAHAH see that’s what you get y/n

 unfortunatelyy/n: stfu italian pasta boy 

 mercedesamgf1: maybe we should begin that pr training y/n . . . 

 unfortunatelyy/n: NO WAIT 

 unfortunatelyy/n: PLEASE I BEG 

liked by lewis.hamilton, franco.colapinto, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc, iamrebeccad, carlossainz55 and 3,483,954 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: me at work when i get told i actually have to do my job 

charles_leclerc: what did i do to you

unfortunatelyy/n: live.

user1: she is NEVER letting that go 

user2: it’s part of their lore 

 user3: only the og’s know 🔥

georgerussell64: that is a very unflattering photo of me 

 unfortunatelyy/n: that is why i chose it 

georgerussell64: right. 

 user6: they’ll just never get you like we do y/n😔

oscarpiastri: okay what the flip 

unfortunatelyy/n: i’m sorry it’s the only photo that came up on google when i searched staring into the abyss and questioning life 

 oscarpiastri: fair enough 👍

 user4: classic oscar reaction 

user5: not the thumbs up😭

 user8: dad ahh thumbs up reaction 

 unfortunatelyy/n: see, he gets it he’s just a chill guy fr unlike the others 🙄

 unfortunatelyy/n: *cue the chill guy theme song 

 landonorris: sometimes i wonder how you’ve made it this far 

 unfortunatelyy/n: idk if i should be flattered or insulted 

landonorris: how, what, yk what nevermind and open the front door i've been standing here for 10 minutes 

 unfortunatelyy/n: i know i can see you through the cameras 

 user9: I CACKLED?

 landonorris: OPEN THE MFING DOOR RIGHT NOW I NEED TO USE THE BATHROom 

 unfortunatelyy/n: whoopsies 

liked by olliebearman, francocolapinto, carlossainz55, landonorris, oscarpiastri, nicolepiastri and 1,930,749 

unfortunatelyy/n: dawg that’s my driver we’re cooked 

user1: LMAO?😭

user2: he knew this was coming 😭

kimi.antonelli: mama mia what is this 

 user3: oh god i think we all know what’s coming next 

 unfortunatelyy/n: “mama mia🤌🇮🇹🍝🍕🥖” 

 kimi.antonelli: WHY IS THERE A BAGUETTE 

 unfortunatelyy/n: too far im sorry. 

 kimi.antonelli: i hope you know that this weekend i’m not listening to you over the radio 

 unfortunatelyy/n: that’s okay sometimes i turn it off anyways 

 kimi.antonelli: WOW. 

 user4: see kids, this is what you call a healthy racer engineer relationship 

maxverstappen1: i would appreciate it if you did not attack my grid child like this 

 unfortunatelyy/n: OMG who’s the father? is it charles 

 charles_leclerc: what.

maxverstappen1: what. 

 unfortunatelyy/n: omg what? who said that?

 landonorris: HAHAHAHAH

 user5: i can literally imagine him rolling on the ground rn 

 unfortunatelyy/n: at least someone appreciates my humour 

 landonorris: only this once

 user6: wholesome y/n and lando interaction for once?

 unfortunatelyy/n: absolutely not that message was typed with pure spite and hate 

liked by olliebearman, lilymhe, francisca.cgomes, alexandrasainxmleux, iamrebbecad, lilyzneimer and 2,482,934 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: out n about w the huzz

tagged: olliebearman

user1: PLEASE TELL ME HUZZ IN THIS CONTEXT MEANS HUSBAND 

user2: they’re like 20 chill 😭😭

user3: she’s really mastered the art of clipping ollie

 user12: if you think THIS is her clipping ollie you should see her other posts 

user7: her posts about him are so cutesy i cant 

user8: i’ll just be crying happy tears in the corner don’t mind me 

olliebearman: i approve of these photos 

 unfortunatelyy/n: i tried my best but there were just no bad ones from recently😔 

 olliebearman: . . . i’m just gonna pretend you didn’t say that

 unfortunatelyy/n: okay 🤗

user9: cause of death - cuteness overload 

user10: who’s crying? i’m not crying you’re crying wtf 

user11: no disgusted lando in the comments?

 landonorris: oh im still here i just choose peace right now 

 unfortunatelyy/n: that’s new.  

liked by olliebearman, landonorris, lewis.hamilton, kimi.antonelli, alex_albon, carlossainz55 and 1,749,997 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: IT’S RACE DAY RAHHHHHH🔥🔥🔥 (time to actually do my job) 

mercedesamgf1: 👀

 unfortunatelyy/n: how’s it going admin?

 mercedesamgf1: how’s the pr training going y/n?

 unfortunatelyy/n: i was joking💔

 mercedesamgf1: so were we 

user1: destined to be best friends forced to be enemies 😔

user1: y/n who do you think is going to win today

 unfortunatelyy/n: idk but i have a feeling mercedes is gonna be pretty good 

 mercedesamgf1: 🤨

 unfortunatelyy/n: I SAID PRETTY GOOD OKAY 

 mercedesamgf1: 🙄

user2: y/n and mercedes admin beef goes crazyyy

 unfortunatelyy/n: ikr like what 

 mercedesamgf1: 😠

 unfortunatelyy/n: OH MY GOSH GO AWAY 

 mercedesamgf1: perhaps not 

 user3: we NEED to know who admin is rn 

 user4: NAME DROP PLS ADMIN 

 unfortunatelyy/n: i would also like to know the name of the person WHO WON’T GET OFF MY ASS 

user5: what’s the probability of it being kimi 

 unfortunatelyy/n: oh gawd 

a/n: thanks for reading! i hope you have an amazing day and stay safe!!

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin

[rc-writes]

𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐲

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 | 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢

pairings: matt murdock x reader (could be both romantic & platonic)

warnings: reader has poor vision and can't really get around on their own without their glasses

a/n: brought to you by this little blurb i wrote a little while ago! completely inspired by me realizing a few weeks ago that i would be useless even in my own house without my glasses/contacts and then thinking about what would happen if i was outside anywhere lol

This could not be happening.

All you wanted to do was go home and celebrate by doing nothing the rest of the day because your boss let everyone in your department go home early. But then the elevator just had to be out of order, and you just had to take the stairs, and you just had to have happened to wear those shoes you couldn't fully walk correctly in just yet, and you just had to momentarily stumble on the third step down.

All events just had to happen in a domino effect that resulted in your glasses sliding off your face and then over the railing. You being forced to helplessly listen to them clank against other rails as they went down until they hit the ground, most likely shattering into a million pieces.

For a long moment you just looked over the railing, down into the blurry abyss as you contemplated whether or not you could make it the rest of the way down by yourself. A decision that was abruptly decided when you realized even if you made it the rest of the way down without falling, there was no way you would be able to make it back home. No way you could walk through New York City half blind and no way you would trust getting into a taxi without being able to see where they were taking you. You did NOT want to end up on one of those true crime shows all because you tripped on the third freaking step!

After another long moment of panic creeping in you suddenly remembered there was one person you could call for help. One person you knew would never let you hear the end of this but also someone who wouldn't laugh at you cruelly.

You had to call Matt Murdock. You had to call the one blind man in your life to guide YOU home.

And so, here you were sitting on the top of the steps as you searched through your phone contacts with your phone just a few inches from your face. A task so simple if it wasn't for the fact that if you moved your hand just the tiniest bit back you could no longer read the names on the screen and the fact that in your panicked state your hands shaking.

Finally, you found his name and clicked the call button as if your life depended on it. Which considering you probably couldn't tell who or when someone else entered the stairwell, this could be considered a life-or-death situation.

Unfortunately, however, at this moment Matt, Foggy, and Karen were in a meeting with a potential client at the office. Something that shouldn't have caused too much of an issue since Matt would normally have immediately left the room when his phone rang and said you were calling, but there was another domino effect in place.

Earlier that morning when Matt put his phone on his desk, he somehow accidentally set it to silent. There was no sound signaling someone was calling and it being in the other room meant no one could see that it was lighting up.

Not knowing why he wasn't answering, you were forced to leave a voicemail and pray he would get to it soon. And then when "soon" didn't happen you decided texting Karen to tell him to check his phone was the backup move. Though you refrained from telling her any details, not wanting your little mishap to spread to more ears.

This refraining being one of the three causes Matt was just about to have a heart attack in the middle of the office at 1pm.

The second being your vague and terrifying voicemail. "Matt can you please come get me from my work? I'm in the stairwell. Hurry please!"

The third being that any of his attempts to call you back failed, it kept going straight to the recorder.

Now while you were sitting in the corner at the top of the stairwell praying no one else used these stairs with a phone that died right before he tried to call, Matt was in the middle of Hell's Kitchen looking like a lunatic jumping from roof to roof.

"Hey, where did Matt go? He was just here?" Foggy had asked Karen about two minutes after Matt left.

"Uh, he just said he had to leave right now because his "world depended on it" and then he kinda just jumped out the window…"

"I'm going to kill him, I swear. We were so close to getting a client that actually wanted to pay us!"

As Matt drew closer and closer to your office building, he grew more and more confused. Yes, he could hear that there didn't seem to be any real danger around you, but that didn't explain why your heart was beating a million miles per minute.

"Wait, that's why you called me sounding so frantic? God, I thought you were hurt!" Matt said between a laugh and a huff when you explained to him your predicament.

"Well, my ego is definitely hurt so you weren't that far off." You had tried to joke. You couldn't exactly see the look on his face, but the blob in front of you looked vaguely like his hands were on his hips which told you he wasn't exactly in the joking mood at the moment.

Eventually, after just a few steps out the building the jokes from him did start piling in.

"One of us is legally blind, the other is partially visually impaired. Guess who's the one leading who!"

"I think you just stepped in an odd substance." "What!?" "Just kidding!"

"Watch out there's a car there." "Matt I'm pretty sure I can still see a giant metal rectangle five feet from me." "Just wanted to make sure!"

"Watch out for that lamp post!" "I'm pretty sure that's a dog." "No, I think it's definitely a lamp post."

Oh, how you wanted to just push him into oncoming traffic. If you did though you'd probably get charged with a hate crime, AND you would have to wonder half blindly the rest of the way back home.

So, you don't push him. this time. Matt could be such a little shit but who else would have dropped everything to scurry across the city at the odd chance that you were in trouble? Who else would make you feel not stupid about being afraid to go off on your own? Who else would make a situation that is incredibly terrifying in an insane city seem like just another fun day with someone you cared about? Who else could possibly replace Matt Murdock?

[annarobszombies]

Loving your writings so here's my request ♡

If you are comfortable, imagine Stan and Xeno trying to court reader (gender neutral if you can) who's jewelry artist asexual but romantic, who just can't for the love of god recognize naturally flirting like gestures towards them and just thinks people are being kind or reading it as platonic gesture.

When reader is being told out loud straight to the face that someone is actually interested or in love with them by anyone, the reader would become insecure as they have deep doubts that their platonic and romantic attraction alone towards people is enough after bad dating experiences from past where people have claimed them being cold hearted machine because of the lack of sexual attraction and blindness to see nor notice flirting kind gestures naturally thus not responding those when others have expected that so the reader kind of shots down the people who dare to confess their love towards them out of fear being hurt all over again, even when their own romantic feelings are awakened.

I like this prompt a lot, I just hope I did it justice. Sorry this took so long, I had to consult with a friend, so parts of this is more how they said they felt when things like this happened. Honestly, though, I don't think Stanley and Xeno would mind if their partner was asexual.

StanXeno x gn!Reader

You stare hard at yourself in the mirror, searching yourself for the part of you that was broken. You think there must be something; why else would that be what everyone you’ve ever dated says to you as they walk out the door? 

You don’t find anything, except for a few familiar blemishes.

With a sigh, you trudge out of the bathroom to finish preparing for the day. You were running a bit behind, but it wasn’t like you had that many customers in the stone world. At most, Xeno would already be waiting for you to ask for something, but he rarely complained too much about such things. If anything, he should know not to show up until at least ten minutes after when you typically “opened”. 

You take the steps down from the living quarters to where your little shop was a bit too quickly, causing you to miss the last step. Your stomach drops, heart racing out of control as you fall, your whole body tensing to prepare for the inevitable pain of landing. 

But instead, a pair of hands grabs you at the last second, stopping you just centimeters from the hard ground. 

“Gotcha,” Stanley’s voice sighs in your ear. Turning your head, you find him looking a little winded, as if he’d just raced down the stairs himself. Behind him, Xeno is making his way down much more casually. 

Huh. That was weird.

You mumble a soft thanks when Stanley helps you steady yourself on your own feet, which he just nods at. 

“What fortunate timing,” Xeno says. “Stan and I were just on our way to meet you.” 

“Good thing, too. That would have been a bad fall.” Stanley says, his own hands now behind his back.

The three of you take the rest of the short journey together, both men quiet as you unlock the door and bustle around the inside of your tiny jewelry crafting space. 

Xeno had this put here for you after you’d complained a little too loudly about how much you missed your craft. He’d had the space carved out, and all the materials had been given to you for no other reason than you wanted it. So he claimed, anyway. 

You didn’t get why people didn’t think he was nice. He was good to you all the time, always finding time to stop by and say hello, and never getting upset with you if you took too long to do something for him. 

Stanley was nice to you all the time too, even if he sometimes stood a little too close. He brought you things you wanted, did lots of heavy lifting whenever you needed the help, and liked to just linger around your shop and keep you company. 

“So,” You say. “What brings you both by?”

“Are we not permitted to visit just because?” Xeno asks. 

“No! No, of course you can come hang out! I like your company,” You say with a smile.

“We like your company, too,” Stanley says, sliding a cigarette from his pocket, sticking it between his lips, and lighting it. 

“Oh, Stanley, could you not-” You don’t even finish the sentence before it’s out of his mouth and he’s pinching the end to kill the ember. He sticks it behind his ear for later. 

“Sorry, sorry,” He says. Xeno lets out a soft huff, but otherwise says nothing about the short moment. 

“It’s okay,” You say with a soft chuckle. “I’m sure it’s hard to remember not to smoke in here, since I’m the only one it seems to bother.”

“It bothers me, but it seems my opinion means little,” Xeno says, and you think he might actually be pouting a little. 

“You’ve never actually asked me to put them out,” Stanley says. “If you want me to stop that bad, just tell me.” 

The look Xeno gives him has you laughing even harder.

“Anyway,” Xeno says, redirecting. “There is an actual reason we’re here.” 

You want to make a joke about him originally saying they were here just because, but he looks a little too serious now for that. Stanley, also, straightens back up at Xeno’s tone. 

“What’s up?” You ask, suddenly feeling nervous. The two of them look at each other, something secret whispered between their gazes. 

“Stanley and I are interested in you.” Xeno finally says. 

You blink, confusion filling you. 

“I don’t follow,” You say. 

“Romantically,” Stanley says. 

Oh. Oh. Oh no. 

You already had a feeling where this was headed. Were they asking you out? Seriously? Why? Surely they knew there was something wrong with you by now. You’d heard it whispered by a previous partner you’d briefly had within the colony. There was no way it hadn’t reached Xeno by now. 

“I, um,” You don’t know what to say. You don’t know what to do. 

Romantic feelings were nothing new to you, but getting into relationships had always been a painful struggle. Relationships a lot of times came with the expectation of eventual sex, and that’s where your hard line was. You didn’t crave things like that, like everyone else did, and that had led to far far too many harsh breakups that left you believing more and more that you weren’t worth anything. 

You didn’t want to fall in love again. You didn’t want to get hurt, to build something with them only to have it torn down like all the others. 

“I don’t think…” You have to let them down easy, to salvage what little relationship you’ll have left after this. “I don’t think I’m the right person for this.” 

Xeno’s head tilts, as if not comprehending what you were saying. He makes a gesture with his hand, encouraging you to continue. To explain. 

“I-I just…I’m not good at…at relationships,” You say. 

“Is anyone?” Stanley asks, now mimicking Xeno’s head tilt. “Isn’t the point of being with someone to grow with them?” 

You learned something new about Stanley Snyder today. He never struck you as such a romantic before. 

“If you feel anxious about joining our relationship as a third party, I can assure you that there is no issue. Stanley and I have discussed this at length,” Xeno says. 

“No, no, it…it’s not that,” You say quickly. “I just…I…didn’t realize…you felt that way, I guess?” 

“No?” Now Xeno looks contemplative, mentally searching his memory for every encounter you had with each other and reevaluating them one by one. “I see. So it was a failing on our part to get our intentions across.” 

Stanley steps forward suddenly, closing the distance between you and him fairly quickly. He reaches for you, taking your chin in his hand and forcing you to look up at him. 

“I’ll say it real slow, so you catch it this time,” He says. “Xeno and I like you, and want you to be a part of our relationship. Romantically. Is that clear enough?” 

You nod as best you can with how firmly he’s holding you. His grip doesn’t hurt, but it’s clear he has no intentions of letting you flee without an answer. 

“Crystal,” You say. His fingers loosen, rubbing where he’d been holding you as if he worried he’d held too tightly and hurt you. 

The softness of his touch makes your chest ache. It makes you want to lean in, to open your heart back up one more time and let him and Xeno run off with it while just praying they don’t leave you when you don’t give them your body as well. 

“So then, now that we all understand each other-”

“I don’t have sex.” The words fall out of you without any prompting, bursting from your chest before you even had time to comprehend you’d said them at all. 

The silence that follows makes you want to throw up. 

“Sorry,” You wheeze. “I-I don’t know where that came from I-”

“Is that your reason? Your real reason?” Stanley asks. You can’t read his face, or Xeno’s, but now that it’s in the open, you have no other choice but to keep talking. 

“I just don’t feel it, you know? The…the want…for it…And I know that it’s supposed to be important in a relationship, and I’ve gone through this so many times already, so I just…I figure you should just know I’m broken ahead of time so-”

“Broken?” You’re not sure you’ve ever heard Xeno sound like that before. “What fool would say that you were broken?” 

Everyone. All your past loves had said you were broken, that there was something deeply wrong with you. That you were unfixable. 

Stanley has a look in his eye, and somehow you know he’s mentally targeting someone already.

“I just…it’s not normal, is it? To not…feel any desire in that way?” Your voice sounds small. You feel small. 

“It’s statistically unlikely that everyone on this planet feels physical desire. The human body is a marvel-”

“Do you feel love?” Stanley asks, cutting Xeno off before he can start to lecture for real. 

“That’s not really enough-”

“Not what I asked.” 

“I…yes, I can. I do. I just-”

“Okay then. Why does anything else matter?” 

His words short circuit your brain, leaving you staring at him with parted lips like a gaping fish. 

You’d always been told it mattered. That sex was what was most important. That your purely romantic love for someone just wasn’t enough. You’d always been pressured for more. 

“Let me assure you,” Xeno steps up, shooing Stanley to the side so that he can make eye contact with you while he speaks. “What we are looking for is a romantic partner. There are not, and will never be any expectations for you to perform in a way you are not comfortable. We want you for other reasons.” 

“Like what?” You ask, desperate to understand further. 

“Your personality, for one. The fact that we simply enjoy being in your presence. You’re intelligent, skilled, you make Stanley laugh like a child, something I have not seen anyone do in years-” 

“We want you because we’ve started falling in love with you,” Stanley cuts in, once again stopping Xeno before he can get too deep. “And you said you feel love, so it works out perfectly. If we need to fuck someone, we’ll just fuck each other.” 

The laugh that bubbles out of you at his blunt vulgarity has him grinning ear to ear. Stanley always looked happy when you laugh. Xeno, too, seems pleased at how your mood is rising a little. 

“Let us care for you,” Xeno says. “And have a little more faith. We aren’t animals.” 

“Can I think about it?” You ask. It was a big decision, whether you wanted to open your heart the way they were asking you to or to stay in your little bubble forever. There was a large part of you that was still terrified that you were going to get hurt again. 

“Of course,” Xeno says, reaching up to brush a tear you didn’t know you’d started shedding from your face. “Until then, I believe Luna has been begging you for some earrings.”

You let out another weak chuckle. 

“Yeah, she has,” You say with a soft sigh. “I…I won’t take too long. Just…give me till the end of the day, okay?”

“Of course, my dear. Should you need anything before then, though, we are still available to assist you,” Xeno says. 

“Then…can you guys help me sort some of these gemstones? The boxes are heavy as hell and I need extra hands-”

“Whatever you need,” Stanley says. “We can do it.”

[wandasgf]

Okay but what about g!p Nat getting r pregnant at a one night stand. R actually being yelenas best friend who always said her sister is off limits and told nat her friends are off limits. Nat being a player. But like a happy ending

KISS ME UNTIL MY LIPS FALL OFF mdni. 18+

pairings ; natasha romanoff + f ! reader (romantic), yelena belova + f ! reader (platonic), wanda maximoff + f ! reader (platonic)

summary ; you know you shouldn't, really you do, but there's just something about natasha that pulls you in and wraps an iron chain around your heart

warnings ; fade to black smut (i'm the worst, i know), natasha has a penis, unprotected sex, pregnancy, top ! natasha, bottom ! reader, tiny bit of angst, intoxication, morning sickness

wc ; 2.5k~

a/n ; i hope this is what you were looking for !! i got a liiiitle carried away with this i think. also this is not proofread ! (also, please do not use the term 'g!p', just say 'character with penis' please !)

“She is off limits, Natalia. I can see that look in your eyes, she’s too nice for you.”

“She is no good for you, Y/N. Don’t fall for her annoying charms.”

That is what Yelena had said to both of you, separately, of course, the first time you met her sister. For Natasha it was a thinly veiled threat and for you it was a warning– Natasha was no good, she would break your heart. 

That was about four years ago and while the two of you tried your best to respect Yelena’s wishes, you more so than Natasha, it was getting increasingly harder to deny the attraction you felt towards each other. You never wanted to cross Yelena’s boundaries, she was your best friend since you two were old enough to walk. A betrayal like that would shake your friendship in ways you didn’t want to think about. 

You understand that Yelena just wants the best for you, knowing of her sister’s habit of sleeping with girls only to leave them in the middle of the night and suddenly forget they exist, but there was just something that wouldn't stop tugging you towards Natasha. There was no denying her attractiveness, anyone with eyes could tell that the redhead was attractive, but it was the way she treated you that really had you weak in the knees. She was frustratingly charming and stupidly sweet. When Yelena was around to shoot daggers at her for her flirting, she claimed that she was just being friendly. 

“What’s wrong with being nice to a pretty girl, Lena?”

You two had shared more than a few tender moments alone, but nothing past a soft kiss and a quietly whispered ‘You know we can’t’ that always left Natasha wanting more of you. She knew you wanted to respect Yelena, she did, and she lov– liked you for how much you cared for her sister, but God, she wished you cared a little less. She wished you were a little more selfish, a little more willing to let her have you. 

Natasha doesn’t know when she developed actual feelings for you past physical attraction, and she’d rather not think about it, if she were being honest. It didn’t matter what she felt for you if she could never act on it, if it would make her feel rotten for acting on it, for crossing a boundary Yelena had set and you were trying your hardest to set yourself. So, she did what she’d been doing best for the past three years: slept with almost every girl that the only gay bar in Ohio had to offer. 

It’s not like the both of you hadn’t tried to move on, but nothing ever seemed to stick. None of the girls Natasha slept with made the burning hole in her chest ease its aching, and no one you ever tried to date could ever compare to Natasha. Even that pretty blonde pilot with the same type of dominating presence couldn’t tear your heart away from the Russian. You think you might have to try and erase Natasha from your memory, but even then you don’t think it would work. Your heart would still remember her. 

Too many drinks and Yelena’s birthday party is how you ended up here, in the one place you shouldn’t be. Natasha just looked so pretty tonight, even wearing something so simple as her usual leather jacket and black jeans, you finally just couldn’t contain yourself. You two are in the guest bedroom of Yelena’s apartment, Natasha’s hands gripping your waist as you grind against her lap, your hands tangled in her hair. 

This is the first time the two of you had gone past a soft kiss or a gentle hand brushing against each other. It’s been four years of torture, trying to deny each other of what you both wanted, and now that you have it, it doesn’t seem like either of you want to let go. Natasha had been a little shocked when you barged into the room she was occupying for the night, but who is she to deny you when you were all red cheeked and asking for her to please kiss you?

“Okay, okay. Slow down, sweetheart.” Natasha laughs, breathless as she pulls away from your lips, her hands stilling your hips. God, she wants to keep going, but she could taste the liquor on your lips, and the last thing she wanted to do was let you do something you’d regret. You try to chase her lips, a pout making its way onto your features, but she holds you back. 

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Just looking at you, Tasha.” You grumble, trying to press your lips to hers again. 

“Hey, hey, come on. Listen to me for a minute, okay?” She reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ear and brushes her thumb across your cheek. The touch feels like electricity shooting through your body and you wish she would just stop trying to talk to you. Does she not want you like you want her?

“You know, once we do this there’s no going back, Y/N. You have to be sure, okay? Do you want this?”

“Yes. Please, Tasha, I want you. Don’t make me wait any longer, please.”

And, well, who is Natasha to say no to that?

It isn’t until Natasha sneaks out of the room at 4am to get a drink and she’s confronted with Yelena in the kitchen that she realizes what she’s done. Yelena has never told her that anyone is off limits besides you, and she can’t even keep it in her pants for one night? (She knows it’s been four years, but you’ve only approached her like this the one time.)

She tries to act like nothing is different, like she’s just grabbing some water, but Yelena raises an eyebrow at the difference in the air around her sister. She’s not as stupid as the two of you seem to think she is, she’s noticed the downright disgusting tension between the two of you and the horrible lovey dovey eyes her sister makes towards you. 

“You break her heart and I break your ribs. Got it?”

Natasha chokes on her water, she would’ve thought she’d be a little more concerned for her heart, but this is fine, “Got it.”

And then Yelena is walking out of the kitchen to go to her own room. On her birthday? You two just had to do it on her birthday? Unbelievable. 

Since that night, you and Natasha had gone on a couple of dates and you’ve been trying to spend as much time with each other as possible. You hadn’t slept with each other since, it was hard to find the right opportunity while she was staying with Yelena for the next month while her house was being renovated and your roommate Wanda always seemed to be at your apartment lately. 

About a week later you woke up feeling like something was off. You didn’t know what it was until your body was moving on its own accord and you found yourself rushing to the bathroom to empty the contents of your stomach. God, you hoped you weren’t getting sick. As you sat with your back leaning against the cool glass of the shower, you closed your eyes for a second before it hit you. 

Natasha didn’t wear a condom. 

Oh God, Natasha didn’t wear a condom. You scramble to get yourself up and brush your teeth before rushing out of the bathroom and tugging on a pair of sweatpants and an old college sweater of Natasha’s that she left a couple of nights ago. What time is it? You pat your pockets and then fish out your phone, 7:56am. Okay, the pharmacy should be open by the time you get there. 

This is fine, it’s probably nothing. You’re probably just sick, maybe you shouldn’t have eaten as much candy as you did, but Natasha was so happy to get you something you liked and you were really craving it. You tug on your shoes and you’re out the door and walking down the street in less than two minutes. 

The walk to the pharmacy is relatively short, you chose an apartment in the city, so nothing is more than a 15 minute walk. Your fingers tap against your thigh as you pick out one of the many options and you walk to the checkouts, but not before grabbing a chocolate bar. You’ve been really wanting one for days now, but that has nothing to do with this, you just like chocolate, that’s all. You groan, what are you even trying to do right now? Convince your subconscious that you’re not pregnant?

The walk back to your apartment seems like it takes forever and you don’t even need to drink a bunch of water because your nerves are making you feel like you’re going to piss your pants anyway. 

Wanda chooses the exact moment you start pacing in the bathroom to come out of her room, concealing a yawn behind her hand. “Y/N, why are you doing laps in the bathroom? If there’s a bug somewhere just kill it.”

“No, I’m not– there’s not a bug, Wands. I’m just…” You pause, fidgeting with the hem of your, well, Natasha’s sweatshirt, “I think I might be pregnant.”

A pause. 

“You think what?!”

“Don’t say that like that! It’s not a bad thing I think. I just– I just don’t know how Natasha will react.” You wrap your arms around yourself and deflate a little bit, just the idea of Natasha being upset has you acting like a kicked puppy.

Wanda softens and walks towards you, wrapping her arms around you in a hug, “I’m sure Natasha will react just fine. And if she doesn’t then that’s her problem, not yours.” You lean into her and let yourself relax for a minute. You hadn’t known Wanda for as long as Yelena, you only met in your freshman year of college, but you consider her one of your best friends. 

“Y/N… I think you should take a look.” Wanda had taken a quick peek at the test over your shoulder, and she squeezes you softly before pulling away. 

You turn around and try your hardest not to feel too scared. Either outcome is fine, right? 

Two lines. 

You were pregnant.

Tears start to prick at your eyes and you’re not sure why, but you find yourself turning and hiding yourself in Wanda’s arms, not able to stop yourself from crying. You only just started properly seeing Natasha, what if she hates you? What if she never wants to see you again? What if–

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. Everything’s okay. She won’t hate you.”

Wanda’s soothing voice reaches your ears and you realize you must have been saying those things out loud. You nod against her chest and sniffle, trying to get yourself to stop crying. You had to tell Natasha, you have to get yourself ready and make yourself look presentable. 

Wanda helps you get ready, telling you soothing things every once in a while when you start to worry again, trying to reassure you that Natasha isn’t going to hate you. And, if anything, this is Natasha’s fault anyway, but she doesn’t say that part. She drives you to Yelena’s apartment where Natasha is staying for the time being and gives you a reassuring smile, saying she’ll be waiting right outside if you need her. But if you don’t come out in 15 minutes she’s leaving because she has to go open the bookstore for Darcy. 

You give her a weak nod and walk the now intimidating path up to Yelena’s apartment. You stand outside for a whole two minutes before getting the courage to knock. You knew Yelena wasn’t home and that it would be Natasha to answer the door. The blonde went to kickboxing every Saturday morning and wouldn’t be back for at least another hour. 

Natasha is a little surprised to see you standing outside her door at 8:30 in the morning, but then she takes in your slightly red eyes and still tear stained cheeks and she’s ushering you inside with an arm around your waist and a concerned look on her face.

“What’s the matter, baby? Are you hurt? What happened? Do you need me to call Yelena? What’s going on?” The words tumble from Natasha’s lips before she can stop them, the need to protect you and make sure you’re safe overpowering anything else she might have wanted to say. Like how cute you look in her sweater. 

You shake your head and suddenly there are tears in your eyes again and your bottom lip starts to wobble. “No, p–please don’t call Yelena. I just– I need to talk to you.” You’re trying not to cry again, but you don’t know how to say it. You don’t know how to break the news in a way that won’t destroy the only thing you’ve wanted for the last four years. 

The concern in Natasha’s eyes isn’t making this any easier as she takes you over to sit on the couch, sitting next to you and taking your hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over your knuckles. “Alright, we can talk. You can talk to me. What’s going on, sweetheart?” 

“I-I…” Your fingers twitch nervously in her hands, “Natasha, I’m pregnant.” And the confession ruins any chance you had of stopping yourself from crying, afraid she’s going to push you away or yell at you or tell you to get out or–

Natasha’s eyes widen and her breathing stops for a moment, you’re pregnant? But you hadn’t slept together since– Oh. Oh. 

And then she snaps back to the present where you’re crying and she’s frozen like an idiot. And she’s gotta do something before you come to the wrong conclusion. This should be fine, though, right? She loves you, she can do this. She can do this, can’t she?

 “Hey, hey, hey. Look at me.” She speaks softly, cupping your cheeks and wiping your tears with her thumbs. She takes one look at your face and now she’s trying to keep the tears out of her own eyes. “Everything’s gonna be okay, yeah, baby? Everything’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna figure it out.” She brings your head towards her chest and wraps one arm around you while the other strokes your hair. You’re crying harder now, but you think maybe they might be relieved tears, happy ones, even? 

“We’re gonna figure it out.” She murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Yeah, she can do this.

[ddlydevotion]

Jackie and Jack Kennedy both being enamored with you…

a/n: read part one here ⋆₊˚⊹ ࿔⋆!! As soon as I heard the lyrics "I'm possessive, it isn't nice" in the song below, I instantly thought about them and knew I had to write a part two.

currently listening to: Lay All Your Love On Me by ABBA

The two of them have a habit of calling you by a shortened version of your name. Similar to the way that Jack would call his sister Rosemary, Rosie.

As I mentioned in my first post, you expected Jackie to be infuriated with the wandering pair of eyes and hands that Jack had when it came to you, but you couldn't be more surprised when she didn't seem to mind. If anything, the both of them are just as touchy. The only difference is that Jackie's affection can be deemed as friendly by the people around you.

Yeah, her settling her hands on the plush of your hips and squeezing as she passes by you is totally platonic. Her longing gaze definitely isn't, though.

They know the relationship the three of you share isn't conventional nor is it easy on you emotionally. Sure, the three of you share an undeniable love for one another but at the end of the day - they have each other. You aren't married to either of them and the terms boyfriend and girlfriend seem far too childish for what it is that the three of you share. It's easy for you to get in your head about it and question your actions, but they're always there to bring you back down to Earth.

There's no point in asking them what is this? what are we? Because they'll look at you as if you're clinically insane. The three of you have shared some rather...intimate moments together & they've explicitly told you that they love you and you're asking what is this?

"whaddya mean what is this? You're ours, that's what it is. And we're yours."

did you read that in Jack's nasally boston accent because I know I did.

Don't even try to get romantically involved with anyone else, that person wouldn't be able to compare in the slightest. Not romantically nor sexually. You'd constantly be reminded about the fact that your spouse isn't able to meet the immensely high standards that the Kennedy couple left you with. Oh you poor thing, your boyfriend got you roses instead of tulips? Jackie would've remembered that tulips are your favorite. Your boyfriend called late to wish you a happy birthday because of "work"? Well, Jack never let work get in the way of his time with you...

Like, I said, don't even try to date anyone else. It won't end well.

Constantly being seen at galas and fancy political dinners right beside the couple. Jackie uses the large crowds as an excuse to guide you through the venue by your hand. There's photos of the two of them leaning into your space while engaging in hushed conversation over the dinner table, Jackie complimenting your cherubic features while Jack affirms her sweet statements as he occupies himself by playing with your delicate fingers.

"oh it's true, darling, you do look beautiful. C'mon, you know it's true don't get all shy on us now."

They've made themselves incredibly easy for you to depend on. It wasn't long before you started calling them & only them when you need somebody to cry to. You know that they'll calm you down with zero issue whatsoever. Jackie will smooth your hair over before leaning down to press her pink lips to your temple, furrowing her fluffy eyebrows in concern while cooing at your trembling form. "I know, honey, I know. It's okay, we're here now." Jack will show just as much comfort. He'll cup your cheeks in his strong hands, pressing a wet kiss to your smushed lips but not before murmuring:

"oh don't cry, sweetheart, it'll just make me and Jackie sad. You don't wanna see us sad d'ya? Hm?"

Going on boat rides and walks on the beach together at Hyannis Port. You have your very own room at both properties in Hyannis Port and Palm Beach. They gave you your own room because they didn't want anyone growing suspicious. If it wasn't for the risks that'd come with such a decision, they'd just have you stay in their room full time with no need for you to have your own bedroom. (you kinda already do spend all of your time in their room but nobody knows so shh).

sooo many letters expressing your love for one another being shared between the three of you.

get ready to be Jackie’s muse when it comes to her photography. She loves taking photos of you and Jack together, and photographs of the three of you standing in front of a mirror so that everyone is visible.

If you don't already know how to ride horses, Jackie will take it upon herself to teach you. The gentle manner in which she brushes the horse's manes and the way she softly coos at them to settle down makes your heart melt.

She loves playing with your hair any chance she can get and puts your hair into different styles to busy herself while the two of you talk. If your hair is short (like mine), she'll put a pony tail in the very center of your hair and giggle because "you look like a little radish!" If your hair is long enough to braid, she'll teach Jack how to put your hair into braids.

keeping Jackie company when Jack is at the office and accompanying her to go visit him.

Spending time with their children and offering a helping hand when the time calls for it. After the birth of their baby, Jackie immediately wants you in the room with her and has you hold the baby. She gleams up at you as she watches you cradle the newborn, taking notice of how gentle you are. A tired smile spread across her lips when you immediately dashed towards her as soon as you were let into the room, your focus strictly on her at first - making sure she was okay. It was only until after you checked on her that you turned your attention towards the baby.

They're constantly inviting you to accompany them on trips/European getaways. Jackie's knack for photography shines even stronger and her entire camera roll is filled with photos of you & Jack laid out in the sun together, Jack hand feeding you dinner because he's an obsessive freak, and you smiling at the camera like your life depends on it while you bask in the Tuscan sun.

copying Jack’s strong accent because you cannot mistake where that man is from, you knoww he’s from Boston.

“Oh, I do not sound like that.”

Taglist: @bluelancergirl @vixenihy @h-l-vlovesvintage @bobbykennedyswife @darcyspirits @romanticismboop @divinedelusional @fortheloveofjos @summerrivera777777 let me know if you’d like to be added!

dedicated to @unmarlou once again 🌷💌!

[blackynsupremacy]

HAIR LOVE

pairings: nicholas a. chavez x black!fem!reader

cooper koch x black!fem!reader

summary: your man helps to ease the tension during the first few days of receiving box braids.

contains: short blurb, based on this request, short blurb, fluff, reader is not getting knotless braids in this (sorry), established platonic/romantic relationships with either nick or cooper it’s up to the reader, swearing, hurt/comfort, cooper and nick being green flags.

a/n: sorry for the wait! motivation has been low, but this brought me joy a little. this was too cute.

taglist: @greengoblinswifey @thabiddie23 @hopefully-saturn @jkr820 @hoffmansgirl @austeenbootler @niteskysx @sabrinasopposite @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip @supaprettyg @motherismotheringggg @oscarisaackissmykitty @simply-lovley44 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @venic-bxtch @stargirl-mayaa @miguelspvssy

imagine coming back home to nicholas or cooper after spending up to two and half hours in your stylist’s chair receiving the protective style you needed for your upcoming vacation together. there’s nothing like having a fresh set of braids in the color you desired that flowed effortlessly down your shoulders and back, but there was one issue that you had to deal with: you call it hell week. you knew it wasn’t a lie when they say beauty is pain. hell week is the first seven days after getting box braids where all you can feel is the tight tension within your scalp that literally hurts like hell if you move in the slightest bit. it’s hard to turn your head and it’s even more of a trial when you want to lay down. when with nicholas or cooper, you already gave them the run down on hell week, so once they heard that first groan of pain escape from your lips, they’d be ready to assist in the best way possible with the best solution possible.

a nightly oil massage.

when you first met, he saw you as royalty just simply by the way you carried yourself and what’s a royal without their crown? whether it’d be braids, silk presses, or your full natural, you took pride and care into your hair which is one of the many things he loved about you. of course being of a different culture, he’d ask questions that were genuinely out of curiosity and fascination.

“would you mind if i touch it?”

“how’d you get it styled like that?”

“how long does it take you to do it?”

“does it hurt?”

you’d answer all of his inquiries with accuracy and honesty, but what really got you going were the compliments.

“your hair smells so good. what do you use?”

“wow, you look—amazing!”

“is there anything that you can’t do?”

he also had to understand that with most processes, comes with the pain. you were grateful to him that he was so willing to help you after witnessing you struggle to face him due to the agonizing tension in your scalp. it pained him to see you in such a state. you both knew what you had to do to make this bearable.

“i wanna do it this time.” he said with the utmost sincerity.

“oh, no, love! you don’t have to. i got it, foreal.” you protest, but he insists.

“no, i want to. you deserve to have things done for you too, y’know.”

he’s seen you do this in prior occasions and each time the muscles of your arms and fingers would tense up after a while of massaging, causing you more pain. this act of service wasn’t a chore to him. he wanted to take a burden off your shoulders as you’ve done for him in the past. he wanted to do this because he cared. he cared for you. after you give in, you gather your warm towel, your braid oil, and your bonnet. you were then prompted by him to take a seat on his lap, so that he could proceed with your treatment.

he’d start by gently wrapping the towel around the majority of your scalp, careful not to move any part of your hair that may cause any further tension. his hands would apply the lightest pressure as the steam from the lukewarm towel would temporarily numb the skin. as you both wait for the towel to cool down, he’d ask about your appointment. you’d tell him that your stylist put on this wild movie that had such a star studded cast, but the plot was confusing as all get out and the ending still had you scratching your head, well you can scratch it after hell week is over. you both just reveled in each other’s company through laughter and your excitement of your upcoming adventure.

“you’re gonna look so beautiful with this hair on our trip next week—you always look beautiful, but it’s gonna hit different this time.”

you chuckle. “you always say it’s gonna hit different each time i get my hair done.”

“my point exactly!”

you also indulge in a bit of gossip. it was nostalgic like the setting of the hair salons you used to go to in your childhood.

“i’m telling you! she actually did that and now look what happened, but what do i know?” you’d comment after dishing out the word, feigning surrender as you lifted your hands.

“no fucking way!” he’d gasped, followed by a chuckle of disbelief.

once the towel had cooled down, he carefully uses the applicator of the hair oil to distribute it evenly along your aching scalp—not missing an inch. he gets the top, sides, back, and even the nape of your neck before pouring some on his palm and his fingers gingerly rub the oil into the skin with light, pressured circles.

“mmm—that feels good.” your eyes shut as you sigh in content, feeling a little tension dissipate from your head. he smiles, his heart warm at your satisfaction.

“i’m glad, sweetheart. i’m gonna move your head down a bit, so i can get this spot, ‘kay? let me know if anything hurts and i’ll stop.” with such a gentle coaxing voice, you couldn’t help, but to follow his lead as his digits continued their heavenly touch within your hair. this was nice. maybe he was onto something when he first offered. you didn’t have to worry about missing a spot, standing up for a while, and no pain in your limbs.

“how does that feel?” he inquired as the oil was being caressed in every single area of your head and your praises only kept him hyped up.

“mhm, that’s it.”

“a little to the left anddd—oh, yeah.”

“you’re the realest for this.”

“what do you want to eat tonight? because whatever it is—it’s definitely my treat.”

his cheeks flutter with a hue of red and he’d humbly receive your praises with a soft “thank you” and continued his work until he concluded with one last area. after closing the top and placing the oil down, he lets you know of the next step of putting your favorite satin braid bonnet back on.

“you hold the front while i get your hair in.” you do so and with gentle hands, he picks up some hair at a time to place the strands within the soft fabric until each one was comfortably tucked underneath. you sigh in relief, thanking him profusely and entrapping him in a hug in which he instantly wraps his arms around you, your scent giving him instant butterflies.

“anytime, sweetheart—y’know how much i love your hair.”



[saturnsbabyboii]

🍓Synastry Astro Observations🍓

(Cause I haven't been active for three months)

🍓Regardless of the sign a planet is in, it is important to check the aspects it makes to other planets. This is especially the case for synastry charts and readings as aspects create an activation that can enhance, block or overturn the energy of said planets.

🍓People with Sun conjunct Sun aspect are very competitive with one another. This is usually exasperated when one or both have this aspect in a Fire house.

🍓Natives with Mars squaring others Neptune are usually challenging people realities. For the Mars native, the Neptune person is usually a cause of drama or someone that is petty or inauthentic. The Mars person can easily see through the Neptune person facade. However positively, the Neptune person can soothe the Mars native, despite their defensiveness. For the Neptune native on the other hand, this could be a relationship where the Mars person helps them overcome and outgrow harmful cycles, or actualize their dreams. Worst case, the Mars person is very harmful to the Neptune native mental health and psyche. They could be an abuser of sorts.

🍓Mercury trine Mars are people that can help each other process things and brainstorm as they work very well with one another balancing ideas and workload. This is the dream team for any project.

🍓People with their MC in square aspect to your Sun might feel embarrassed to be seen with you in public. Best case they prefer to be more personal and private with you, bringing you into their personal space and away from their outer persona.

🍓Personally, I have found that the predominance of Squares usually only works in context of friendship rather than in romance, sex or family. Although it could create conflict between personalities, when done right, it can signify support, companionship or even someone that'll be instrumental in helping you break out of toxic patterns or elevate into a higher level and field.

🍓MC square MC is an indication of having drama or a falling out publicly.

🍓Lunar Nodes in aspect to your personal planets have a strong effect on you, although it would be temporary. Meanwhile, someone Nodes in your angular houses (1st, 4th, 7th, 10th) will play a big role in your life. This is would be particularly true if they're in aspect to your Ascendant/Descendant/IC/MC.

🍓Aspects between Venus and Venus create more harmony and attraction than positive aspects between Mars and Venus/ Mars and Mars.

🍓Jupiter conjunct Saturn are two sides of the same coin. They're two people with the same ideals and principles yet they approach and practice them differently.

🍓Even though it is not "official" or as widely done, but I give great importance to the compatibility between the houses in synastry, regardless of the planets present. Since the houses are a reflection of our life map, it can help us better understand our similarities and differences, plus our possible standpoints.

🍓When looking over synastry with a parent, take a good look at the aspects made by their Saturn and Chiron to your personal placements. Chiron in specific can show where/what they unleash or heal their trauma through you.

🍓Mars opposition Saturn is a high indication of a relationship being described as a "Cold War".

🍓Having Chiron and/or Pluto conjunct someone inner planets means you're are here to serve them karma or bring them justice.

🍓Ascendant conjunct Venus creates a very beautiful pairing. Whether it's romantic or platonic, this pair accentuate one another's beauty.

🍓Check the aspects your Neptune makes to the other person. The planets aspected indicate where do you overlook traits, paint a false picture, or what are you in denial about regrading the person. This works in terms of justifying behavior, making up a connection, and possibly lying on or magnifying "bad traits" in others that don't exist. It also goes the other way around.

🍓The placement of someone's Moon in your houses can summarize their emotional state towards you or what they find in common with you on a deeper level. For example:

Someone's Moon in your 1st house can be a person that feels endowed or in awe of your appearance (especially when their Moon is inconjunction with your Ascendant). You may carry yourself in a way that they relate to or deeply desire. This person may also be someone that shares superficial feelings of you or thinks that you're shallow. Possible jealousy.

Someone's Moon in your 2nd house is a sign of codependence, specifically of the Moon native towards you. Since the 2nd house rules resources and self esteem, this person may require a lot from you, and might be a bit too comfortable taking things from you. You yourself may also enable this behavior and don't see a problem with it. In some cases, this could be a person that is emotionally supportive and reinforcing of your own worth. In contrast, this could be someone that creates blockages and hinders your material growth.

Someone's Moon in your 3rd house will be a person that you feel very comfortable talking to. This can be someone you find out that they're from the same hometown as you or have lived/is living in your childhood neighborhood. A potential life long roomie. An indication of a nurturing or "motherly" way of communicating with one another.

Someone's Moon in your 10th is similar to that of the 1st, in that the Moon person would be either in awe or jealous of you. In this house, this is exhibited overtly. This person could be your biggest cheerleader or biggest hater. Something about you succeeding (or even failing) affects them deeply. It's likely that this person won't have your best interest at heart and may use associating with you as a way to gain fame or monetary wealth. In positive cases, this person could be a confidant in professional environments.

🍓People that have more than two planets in your water houses (4th, 8t, 12th) will have a profound effect on you for the rest of this lifetime. These houses are not only related to our deeper selves and private life, but they're also karmic. Our relationship with such people is much more darker and intimate, showing hidden aspects of ourselves that we may not be aware of. Being around them may be draining as those relationships can feel like a blood oath, to say the least. Particularly for the 12th, this person can unravel you in the best (and worst) ways possible. As the house of hidden enemies, this person might be harmful to you in an unforeseen ways. If both of you share planets in these houses then it's an indication of trauma bonding.

🍓A person with their natal Mars in your 8th house can be someone oddly provoking. Its giving "why do I even like you?". These are not the people you usually find attractive yet they have a strange hold on you. They're your forbidden fruit.

🍓Aspects made to the ascendent can explain ones first impression of another. For example, Venus in aspect to the ascendent describes a sense of intrigue and attraction based off of desire (Opposition), envy (Square), resonance (Conjunct), belonging (Trine), or curiosity (Sextile).

Bye Ugly xoxo

[kerrslvr]

reward // mary earps

summary; in which, after she wins SPOTY, you give mary a reward like no other.

warnings; dom!mary, sub!reader, cocky mary, cunninlingus, fingering, mary loves to manipulate reader into saying i love you, strap-ons, grind pads, reverse cowgirl, spanking, daddy kink (blink and you'll miss it), nipple stimulation, fluff at the end. probably missed some warnings and probably made typos, sorry. also… take this as a christmas present. merry christmas u filthy lesbians x

pairing(s): romantic mary earps x scott!reader, platonic jill scott x sister!reader (r is about 24/25 in this… mary & jill are their current ages at the time of writing - 30 & 36 respectively)

based on this request x

"this is live on the BBC and you're wearing a dress with a slit that deep?"

the frown in jill's voice was clear as you stepped out of the taxi and into the chill of the manchester air, the immediate swarm of camera flashes turned your way.

"can tell you're getting old," you replied as you adjusted the skirt of your dress, "you're starting to sound like mum."

your oldest sister was not amused by her likening to your mother. shelly couldn't make it to the spoty ceremony, and seeing as most of jill's friends were going anyway, she'd invited you. originally, you'd been invited by the company you work for, but being a sports journalist in-training, they'd found someone more qualified than you to do the job; and jill didn't like that.

"just make sure your dress doesn't malfunction and cause headlines tomorrow," she said, waiting patiently for you to catch up as you scurried along beside her, "otherwise mam'll have a breakdown."

you shrugged your shoulders at your sisters worry, you weren't wearing the dress for her, or the cameras. there was only one person you were wearing it for, and you could see her in your peripheral vision, stepping out of her vehicle, dressed to the nines in what can only be described as a revenge dress on you.

she spotted you instantly, your pretty hair and your not-so-innocent eyes and the way they twinkled as they met hers across the carpet. your dresses almost matched, the gaping neckline, the peeks of skin through the lacy mesh, the long black skirt.

you had to fight your jaw so it didn't drop to the floor, and it seemed like everyone else around you also had to fight their urges. people screamed mary's name and you struggled to keep your composure as you and jill eagerly waltzed over to see her.

"i'm so proud of you," jill sqeaked eagerly as she wrapped her arms around mary's shoulders. the look she gave you when your sister wasn't looking almost let your knees give way. "and you look lovely."

"very similar to your sister, come to think of it, jill," mary pointed at your dress and scanned you up and down, "minus the obscenely high split."

you cursed mary with a knowing look before jill turned to compare. if she found out you and mary were frequent flyers in each others beds she would probably wring you out herself, let alone your mother.

"i was just about to compliment you, earps," you shrugged off her devilish eyes and knowing smirk, "but i think i'll just keep my mouth closed."

the two of them did press for a little while, and you watched from the sidelines, admiring mary's demeanor. you couldn't remember how long ago everything started between you and mary, although the euro's final was the first night you spent entangled between her sheets. you didn't even know you were into girls - let alone mary - when you first started sleeping together, and at first, that's all it was, until it wasn't.

she started picking you up from the station, inviting you to games, date night after date night, after date night. one morning things changed and you both realised there were painfully strong feelings of love underlying, but she was thirty and you were twenty five, and she was your sisters best friend, and you were a sports journalist. you both knew how bad it looked.

but, the feelings of love outweighed the feelings of lust, and that was the worst part.

"don't you fancy asking me some questions then, love?"

mary's voice lulled you from your daydream, and she met you in a less crowded corner of the carpet. you could see jill mingling with leah and jen, the three of them chatting politely while they waited for mary to finish up with her interviews - at least, thats what she told them.

"surely you've had enough of questions, mary."

she tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and let her hand rest on your shoulder. the heat from her skin on yours sent burning flashbacks rushing through your brain.

"maybe i have," she leaned down and tilted up your chin with her fingers. even without her heels on she towered over you, but with her heels on she was even taller, nearing six foot, and it made you squirm. "but i've not had a single question from the person i want to speak to."

you couldn't help but let a smile come to your face, and mary admired your fluttering eyelids, "and who might that be, earps?"

mary's thumb traced your lip, and you couldn't help but pucker your lips. "i think you know exactly who it is, princess," she laughed, and for a moment, she thought about kissing you, but she wanted to have her fun tonight, "you can unpucker those lips and ask me your first question."

you sighed and looked at her with soft eyes - of course she was in one of those moods tonight. mary got off on you when she put you in these situations, it drove her absolutely insane. "don't you want to kiss me in public?"

mary rolled her eyes and leaned in, her lips pressing against yours softly as the breeze of manchester air blew across the two of your bodies. a storm was coming, and the chill sent goosebumps across your skin, mary's too, but she was much better at composing herself.

you wanted to deepen the kiss, to outstretch your arms and pull her closer, to guide her hand up into the slit of your dress, but you knew better than to draw attention to your escapades.

mary was first to pull away, and the pink hue of your lipgloss had tainted her light brown. it was a sight to behold.

"better?"

"hm," you shrugged, "what do you plan on doing if you win the award tonight?"

"finally a question i can answer without lying," mary hummed, "if i win tonight i'm going to be taking my girlfriend back to my hotel room, and doing many, many inappropriate things with her."

you shivered at her words, and had to fight the urges running rife inside your bloodstream.

"oh, really?" you questioned, a raised eyebrow. jill noticed you two were standing together in a quiet corner, "and what do you plan on doing if you don't win?"

"oh, well, lets see," mary faked a thought, and you spotted jill walking towards you both with an excited grin, "oh, yes, i'll be taking my girlfriend back to my hotel room and doing many, many appropriate things with her."

you couldn't help but blush, and you opened your mouth to reply but jill stood in your way. "ceremony's gonna start soon, we really should think about going in, Y/N," she gave you a questioning look, silently asking if you were okay, and you nodded. "they want you for a few more pictures, mary, we'll see you in there."

jill was quiet as the two of you walked behind leah and esme, and you were petrified she would bring up the question and ask you what's going on between you and her best friend, and you didn't have an answer.

"she's your type," she said after a while, nudging you with her shoulder, "mary, i mean, not the girl you were telling me about in the car earlier. mary's the best, hilarious, good with her hands -"

"okay, jilly, thanks," you hit her on the shoulder, "i don't need you to play matchmaker, especially not with mary earps, now c'mon, my heels are killing me."

*

mary couldn't quite believe she'd won the award, and as the night lingered on, her body consistently kept gravitating towards yours. you didn't mind, it seemed everybody in the room kept themselves occupied, if they weren't pulling mary away for five minutes, they were mingling with each other.

jill noticed you and mary spending more time with one another than what she thought acceptable as two people who don't know one another all that well, and she knew she ought to bring it up, but when you began to say your goodbyes approximately ten minutes after mary did at almost midnight, her intuition kicked in.

"leaving already?" she asked, coming up to you before you could show up in front of her, "you and leah are almost always the last two on the dancefloor singing shania twain, or... do you have something better to do?"

you knew that look, the look she was giving you. it was the look she always gave you when she was disappointed you didn't tell her things, like when you failed your driving test and told her you'd passed just so she'd let you drive her new car, or when she'd swung open your bedroom door when you were nineteen to find you in bed with your first boyfriend, much to her disgust.

"if you're galivanting off to sleep with mary, i don't mind," she said, brushing the hair out of your face, "i've watched the way she's looked at you all evening, i noticed the brush of her hand on your thigh and the way you look up at her. i don't mind, y/n, really, i don't."

you knew mary would be on her way to the hotel by now, if not, already there, waiting for your arrival. as much as you wanted to spill your two and a half years worth of secrets to jill, you couldn't bring yourself to do it in this moment.

"then why do you sound so disappointed?"

"i'm not disappointed, i just wish you'd tell me," she ruffled your hair and kissed your cheek, "i'll see you at the buffet for breakfast, and please, for the love of god, stick a do not disturb sign on mary's door."

you slipped into a taxi, and within fifteen minutes you were knocking at mary's hotel room door, and the time it took her to answer the door felt like forever. she swung it open, only so you could see her from the neck up, but you could tell by the angle in which she was standing that she was hiding something.

"took you long enough, love."

"i could say the same for you," you replied, watching mary as her eyes trailed right down to your exposed leg, the slit higher than she remembered, "what're you doing in there?"

she smirked, simply allowing the door to swing open, and when it did your knees almost buckled again. your eyes weren't really sure where to look, it seemed the lace top of her dress was detachable from the long black skirt, and there she stood before you in a lacy bodysuit which made your mind reel.

this was far from the mary you knew, usually with her hair in a messy pony, more often than not, a face with faint green stains of grass, and the familiar smell of either the pitch or the training room, her dominance unrelenting.

although she was in a lacy black bodysuit, the latter statement about her dominance still stayed the same.

"are you just going to stand there gawking, or are you going to come in and let me get my reward?"

you stuttered, struggling to get the words to travel from your brain to your mouth. it was too late for you to answer, though. mary had lost her patience, and she pulled you in and - for lack of a better word - you slammed into the nearest wall.

mary kicked the door and her lips devoured you as if she hadn't kissed you for months, her hands struggling to find a place to rest. your hands settled on resting around her shoulders, your heels giving you just enough of a height boost to be able to stand in that position comfortably, your lips moving together in perfect harmony.

mary's hands found a place to rest on your hips, but she wasted no time in parting the split in your dress and letting her hand explore. a blush crept its way onto your cheeks when she clocked that you weren't wearing underwear.

"oh, sweetheart, really?" she pulled her lips away from yours and gave you that look, the one that accompanied the 'you're not smart, so don't act like it' talk, and you gave her your best innocent eyes, "no underwear, sweetheart, why's that?"

"because you told me not to," your voice was shaking as you spoke, "last week, you told me i couldn't, y-you told me if i did that you wouldn't be very happy."

mary pushed the split in the dress apart and the fresh air touched your cold pussy, sending goosebumps across your skin. it was even worse for you when she knelt down, the heat from her breath juxtaposing the goosebumps and sending your skin into overdrive.

"have i ever told you how pretty of a pussy you have, darling?"

"once or twice," you pushed the hair from her face so it didn't tickle your skin and push the goosebumps further, "but you can tell me again if you - oh."

mary couldn't help herself, her eager tongue needed to taste you. she licked along your slit as you spoke, and reduced your words to a slur of moans. she parted your legs further and scooted closer to your body until you were practically sitting on top of her face, her tongue slipping further and further into your folds.

"i should be the one d-doing this to you, surely," you hummed, hoisting your dress across your hips and allowing her much easier access to your pussy, "you have just won the best award in your career to date."

mary pulled away and you could see her chin glistening with your wetness, causing her makeup to go patchy. her fingers traced the space that her tongue had just been, circling your hole teasingly in only the way she could.

"yes, i have, and you can keep stroking my ego by telling me that again as you take off your dress," she raised an eyebrow, halting the movements of her finger until you did as she asked, "but, your pussy is my reward and i expect to get as much of a reward as possible this evening, do i make myself clear?"

"y-yes," you nodded, allowing your dress to slip straight down your frame until it pooled at your ankles, showing your naked frame to the woman kneeling before you, "i understand."

mary's finger slipped inside of you, albeit ridiculously slow and with nowhere near enough friction to make you cum, but it felt great nonetheless.

"you're such a good little girl for me, aren't you, y/n?" she asked, stretching you out with another finger and curling her fingers in an excruciatingly slow come hither motion, "leaving the afterparty like i asked you to, following me back to my hotel room so i could look at this pretty pussy and hear those innocent little moans all night," she kissed your clit softly and it sent a fluttery feeling scattering through your stomach, "anyone would think you love me, darling."

you opened your mouth to speak, and right as a word began do leave it, mary added a third finger. the stretch was painful, but delicious at the same time and you bunched a hand in her hair, fighting all your urges to cum all over her fingers. she smirked, "cat got your tongue, sweetie?"

"oh, fuck," you hissed, "fuck mary your fingers feel unbelievable."

"that's not what i was looking for you to say, angel, but i'll take it."

she smirked again, this time her lips pursing around your clit and causing a long, breathy moan to tumble from your mouth. the feeling bubbling away in your stomach grew with each flick of her tongue, each curl of her fingers, and it left you a wriggling mess.

you knew what she was waiting for you to say, her body was practically fizzing with the anticipation of hearing you tell her you loved her. it was her new favourite sound of yours to get off to, and she had plenty; but something about your voice was so soft, so subtle.

neither of you ever anticipated it would turn into this, loving each other, you weren't even sure how to love somebody. you both thought that hiding the relationship would be much harder, but it was significantly easier than you realised, less pressure, less worry. and mary didn't ever want you to stop saying it.

"you know you're not allowed to cum until you say it, darling, so you might as well get it over with."

"i love you, mary," every single time you said it, the words slipped out of your mouth easier than any other words ever did, and you hated how much it affected you both. "i love you, now, please - f-fuck - make me cum."

the smirk on mary's lips was unfathomable, and her fingers stretched you out deliciously as she continued to fuck you with them, desperate to stretch you out so she could slide her cock inside you. she stood up, her free hand wrapping itself around your neck instinctively, temporarily halting the bloodflow to your lungs as she squeezed in rhythm to her thrusting fingers.

"you really wanna cum that badly, huh?" she asked, lips scraping your ear with every word, "said you loved me twice in one sentence."

you were unsure whether mary was in a mood nice enough to let you cum now, and while you craved it desperately, you were there for her pleasure this evening, not the other way around.

"god, m-mary, please just let me cum, p-please," you choked, "i-i know you're gonna want my pussy nice 'nd wet, so p-please let me cum."

the noise mary made was akin to a growl, and she sped up the movement of her fingers, moving the angle so her thumb was rubbing your clit frantically. your legs threatened to buckle and you locked your hands around mary's neck, a moan tumbling from your mouth as a trail of her spit lingered on your bottom lip.

"god, not so fuckin' innocent now, are you? can't believe i found myself such a naughty little girl," her teeth nipped at your earlobe and she noticed the bead of sweat trickling down your forehead. "are you going to stand there moaning or are you going to cum for me, little one?"

the use of your favourite petname sent your head spiralling, and with that, your legs shook and your entire core tensed as your orgasm peaked. mary's name fell from your lips and she couldn't help but groan as your wetness flooded her fingers, trickling down her knuckles and the palm of her hand, and the sound of your release was music to her ears.

as mary pulled her fingers out of you, she gave you time to breathe, despite the look of disapproval on your face now that you weren't full. you watched her tongue slide across the skin of her palm and it made you feel dizzy.

"look at those little puppy eyes, my love," she held her fingers out in front of your mouth and let you suck them clean, "how could i ever say no to that face?"

your eyelids fluttered as you tasted yourself on mary's fingers, and when you licked them clean they pulled out of your mouth with a pop. she slipped her arms out of her bodysuit and you watched with eager, desperate eyes as it fell down her hips and to the floor. your eyes almost bulged out of your head at the sight of mary naked, it never felt real.

"what do you want, sweetheart?"

"hmm?"

"i know that look, it's the look you give me when you want to ask a question," she gave you the smirk again, "so, ask me the question."

"i, uh," you straightened yourself up, "i thought as your reward you could let me ride you."

mary leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips, "oh, my darling girl, you can't ever be without my dick inside you, can you?"

you shook your head sheepishly, and mary said nothing as she walked to the bed around the corner of the room. there, on the corner of the bed, lay mary's favourite toys. a strap and its harness, lube and her grind pad, which was a lifesaver when she fucked you. it meant she could feel every sensation, and cum when you did.

"why don't you get my pussy nice 'n wet, darling, hm?" she tucked a curl of hair behind your ear, "and then we'll think about letting you ride my cock, okay?"

nodding, you sunk to your knees and steadied yourself between her legs. she was already preparing the strap harness, fiddling with the grind pad and waiting in anticipation for you to taste her.

she shivered when your tongue made contact with her clit, allowing herself to soak up the feeling by pausing her movements and letting a hand rest on your head.

you did exactly as you were told, getting her pussy nice and wet by smearing your spit all across her clit. she pulled you off, your enjoyment of eating her out short lived, but mary knew if she let you carry on a minute longer she would cave to her instincts and let you eat her.

"if i don't fuck you within the next five minutes, i think i'm going to die," mary hummed, "so please, my love, wait patiently for my cock."

as you sat and waited, you reached down to take off your stiletto's, but mary stopped you.

"don't you dare," she stood up, tightening the loops on her harness and leaning down, "you know how much i love fucking you in heels."

she sat back down on the bed, pulling you down - not completely, just so you were leaning over her frame with your hands on her thighs - and pulling you in for a kiss. it was hot, searing, and your hand instinctively pumped at the lube until you got enough to stroke the strap up and down, soaking it in the liquid so your descent would be easier.

mary groaned as if she could feel the friction through the strap-on, and it made you whimper.

"do you want me to face front or back?" you asked, pulling away for air. the answer was clear when mary's hand came down hard on your arse, the sting brutal but desperately needed. she rubbed the spot she slapped before repeating the action sequence multiple times.

"as much as i love looking at your pretty face, and that insane rack," mary chuckled, "you know i'm an arse girl, love."

you hummed, shifting your body and allowing her to get into position on her back. a whimper left your mouth when you saw her pumping the cock with her hand. she patted her upper thighs, a silent signal for you to lower yourself down, and as you got into a comfortable position, you threw your head over your shoulder and gripped the base of her cock with one hand.

the noises you made as you sunk yourself down on her cock were like music to mary's ears. the grind pad gave her the perfect friction, and as she grunted while you rocked to get comfortable, it felt as if the whole notion of you riding her dick were real.

"c'mon love," she pinched your hip, "don't have all night to waste rockin' back and forth on my cock, you know what i wanna see you doing."

"mhm," you slowly began to pull your hips up from the base of her cock, "yes daddy."

your reply earned you a slap to the bum as you sunk back down, and a sharp moan left your lips. "say it again, love, just once."

"y-yes, daddy."

slap.

"one more time," she stroked the reddening cheek with the palm of her hand, "for daddy's sake."

"yes, daddy."

slap.

mary let out a deep grunt, throwing her head back as you began to bounce up and down to a solidified rhythm, your knees already beginning to ache but this was your reward for mary, and she was not going to take over unless you collapsed from an orgasm; but with her grind pad in use, it was only a matter of time until mary's orgasm crept up on her anyway.

with every bounce of your hips, the pad stroked at mary's clit with a perfect amount of pressure, and a perfect angle, that everytime you pulled up she would whimper, or draw a sigh of relief that her orgasm hadn't hit her yet.

"fuckin' hell, love," she slapped the other cheek this time, "you really do have the most perfect arse, don't you?"

she couldn't help herself, her fingernails digging into the skin of your hips as she began to raise her own off of the bed, fucking up into you and watching your arse ripple with each thrust of her hips. your moans grew louder, unable to control your noise as you gripped onto mary's ankles.

she bent her legs at the knee to help take the weight off of your legs, allowing you to rest on her thighs a bit more. the change in angle of mary's legs changed the deepness of her cock, and it was so deep inside you now it almost made you feel sick.

she reached her hand around your waist so her fingertips brushed your stomach, "can you feel my cock in your stomach, baby? hm?" she waited for you to nod, and her fingers lowered to your clit, "want you to make yourself cum all over my cock, darlin', can you do that for me?"

"not gonna last much longer, mary?" you questioned with the little sarcasm you had left in you. a loud smack echoed the bedroom, and you immediately regretted your question.

"say something stupid like that again and you won't cum at all tonight," she pinched your stinging bum, "understood?"

"yes, mary."

she sat herself up now, so your back was pressed flush against her stomach, and instinctively you wrapped your arms around her neck. the angle of her legs changed again, spread out ever so slightly on the bed so she could hold her balance within her core.

with this angle, mary's fingers were able to pinch at your nipples, and you were so caught up in the feeling of rocking back and forth, and the sound of mary's moaning that you completely forgot you were supposed to be rubbing your clit.

"don't see much going on with your fingers, love," she teased, "please don't make me pull out of this tight little cunt now, and just do as i say, hm?"

you nodded, your index and middle fingers immediately circling the bud of nerves that had you whimpering immediately. mary's lips traced your neck, and without even giving you time to complain, her teeth sunk into the skin and softly nibbled. mary's tongue soothed the burn of her teeth on your neck right as she dragged her fingers under your nipples, making you yearn for an orgasm.

you could tell she was close, her core was beginning to become lose and her legs were beginning to twitch, and your orgasm was on the cusp.

"m-mary-"

"-wait," she breathed, her lips trailing back up to your ear, "wait for me, love, 'nd we'll cum together."

"i-i don't know if i can hold -"

"-you can, and you will," she pinched your nipples, "i'm close, but the longer you talk, the longer this will take."

you nodded, biting down on your lip to fight the urges of begging. a few more rocks of your hips and mary would be toppling over the edge.

"oh, fuck, Y/N," she hissed, "ready to cum all over my cock?"

you nodded aggressively, a feeble 'yes' tumbling from your mouth in a desperate attempt to cum. mary stilled when her orgasm arrived, allowing your hips to do the friction work against her clit, your name falling from her mouth in a desperate groan.

her noises triggered your orgasm, and as much as you tried to ride your way through it, your hips stilled and your fingers on your clit carried you the rest of the way through. you didn't even clock that mary had moved her hands to your hips so she could steady you, and her lips kissed soft lines along your shoulders.

"i'm never going to get over that sound," she said, her hands moving from your hips to around your waist, hugging your body close to her, "i can't believe you're mine."

you managed to wriggle from her grip and lay down against the pillows, with mary following suite. her body cocooned you from the cold air, and her hands resumed their position across your waist.

"i can't believe you're mine," you repeated her words, and turned your neck to the side so you could kiss her nose, "but, i, uh, i think jill knows about us."

the look on mary's face didn't change. in fact, she was relieved she didn't have to hide you anymore. she wanted to show you off, and she was thankful it was almost out in the open now.

"i don't care," she hummed, "maybe it's a good idea for us to get it out in the open now, we've been doing it long enough."

"i like that idea," you spun your whole body around in her embrace at this point, and the smile on your face told her all she needed to know. "i'm so proud of you, maz, nobody deserved to win tonight more than you, i love you."

a heartwarming smile came to mary's face, and you relished in the way you still made her cheeks blush.

"i love you too, darling," she kissed your nose and nuzzled her head into your neck.

"now please, lets get under the covers because i'm freezing my tits off."

[yanderes-galore]

Sure! You're a Targaryen in this due to being a Dragon Rider

Yandere! Rhaenys Targaryen/Velaryon with Dragon Rider! Darling

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Potential Targcest (If Romantic), Possessive behavior, Implied affair(?), Kidnapping, Violence, Dubious companionship/relationship.

The main thing I want to focus on is the idea I had a while ago with dragon riders.

The idea of dragon riders manipulating their obsession due to the bond their dragons have.

This will be my first concept to explore the idea.

We all know that Rhaenys' mount is Meleys, The Red Queen.

The beast is a large red dragon with horns around her head.

Imagine if you had a dragon... only for Meleys to become fond of them.

You're no doubt a Targaryen.

Perhaps even a sibling of Rhaenyra, or perhaps an older Targaryen around the same age of Daemon.

Imagine if around your first visit to Driftmark for business, you land your beast.

There's the familiar screech and roar of dragons around you.

Vhagar, when under Laena's care, is no doubt grumbling in her sleep.

Seasmoke is restless upon smelling the scent of your dragon...

You weren't expecting to be greeted by Meleys, the large yet old dragon moving from her lazy rest due to the new dragon.

Rhaenys had called you to meet her and you had flown your way from King's Landing with permission from Viserys.

Rhaenys had told Corlys she wished to greet you first, dragon rider to dragon rider.

You two had known one another for a while, all due to family matters.

However, your dragons never usually interacted.

After all... Meleys was resting and your dragon preferred the Dragonpit.

So as you greet Rhaenys in Driftmark, you pause when you feel something in you stir.

Even more so when you hear roaring and screeching from behind you.

You're quick to turn around... only to see Meleys roaring softly towards your smaller dragon.

Your dragon returns the roar before Meleys presses her large snout against the scales of your mount.

This may actually be the first sign of the bond you and Rhaenys will have due to Targaryen dragon bonds.

You see... Targaryens typically have a deep connection with their mount, depending on the strength of their blood.

It's the reason Targaryens typically "keep the blood pure" when pairing (Exactly what you think it means).

As a result (Or at least I HC), Targaryens may vent their personalities through their dragon.

Similarly to Starks with their Dire Wolves in GOT.

Going based off such a HC, I imagine a yandere Targaryen would have their dragon react to their obsession.

Not only would said dragon respect their rider's obsession, but may even pair with their obsession's dragon if they have one.

In my personal view, this pair can be romantic/platonic, regardless of their rider's intentions... but they tend to match their rider more often.

Meleys showing your dragon affection means she has chosen to pair with the smaller beast.

A reflection of how Rhaenys feels for you... and something she may use to her advantage.

Ever since your dragons pairing, Rhaenys calls upon you more often.

She uses the excuse that Meleys misses your dragon, often keening into the night for your own dragon.

Truthfully... Rhaenys misses you too.

She's... fond of you...

Be that in a parental way or romantic way... either works.

All she knows is Meleys is giving away her emotions.

It's easy to tell the dragons are paired.

Your dragon often huddles under Meleys once you're away.

Rhaenys muses about this with you, seeing how comfortable both dragons are with one another.

She may even make... suggestions....

Imagine if Rhaenys, away from the eyes of Corlys, used the dragons as an excuse to be affectionate.

She loves Corlys, but clearly you both have another kind of bond with one another.

Perhaps as she watches Meleys cuddle your dragon, the older woman pulls you into her arms.

Perhaps she brings up how dragon and Targaryen bonds work, all while pulling you close.

Maybe you should hold one another like your dragons?

It could strengthen your own bond.

She keeps such indulgences hidden from Corlys.

The Seasnake would never understand... This is a Targaryen matter.

Rhaenys is subtle when making her suggestions.

She asks how you feel about her... gesturing to her dragon nuzzling and nipping yours playfully.

Perhaps yours returns the favor... or yours submits quietly... either way, it reflects you.

It reflects the bond you have with Rhaenys.

It would make sense if Meleys was the more dominant dragon.

Rhaenys' has an obsession over you... There's no doubt Meleys would burn many to keep you and your dragon close.

What are you going to do? Refuse her suggestion?

You can't hide it from her....

Doesn't your dragon look happy to be paired with Meleys...?

Rhaenys can make you just as happy....

With subtle words and gentle displays of affection... Rhaenys may just make you hers.

She's careful, no one but you two know.

You can imagine The Dance affects you both.

The Dance can affect your bond depending, first of all, on your side.

If you join The Blacks, Rhaenys doesn't have to worry.

Knowing you'll join she doesn't hesitate as much when Rhaenyra asks for her to lend her forces.

After all... Meleys (and her) would love the company.

If you joined The Greens? Rhaenys would take you prisoner.

She'd tell Rhaenyra she'll do it herself.

Your dragons are hesitant to fight... yet they sense their rider's tension.

Rhaenys would try not to harm you or your dragon fatally.

She has Meleys aim for your dragon's wings, forcing your dragon to land.

Once you tumble off the beast, Rhaenys has you collected.

You're actually transferred to Driftmark instead of Dragonstone.

She keeps you in a cell and has your wounded dragon transported to the den of Meleys.

Meleys, the red queen, stays around your dragon tightly... a keening sound echoing from her throat.

Your dragon doesn't fly again... and you're a prisoner to the Targaryen you were once fond of.

Rhaenys promises to you that Meleys will feast on the bodies of those who took you from her.

On the other hand, you joining The Blacks can also be intense.

You're never sent to ride your dragon alone, Rhaenys accompanies you everywhere.

That way, if you're attacked by a dragon such as Vhagar, you will be protected.

Rhaenys is protective and possessive... just like her dragon.

Only death could separate you from her, even if she shouldn't indulge.

If you insisted on flying alone, she insists it's treason... leaving you to also be locked up but your dragon remains unharmed.

Rhaenys is subtle and usually tame as a yandere.

Yet she is cunning and picks her battles.

She'll have you to herself... one way or another.

Like a Targaryen, she'll use Fire and Blood to get you.

After all, even Meleys wishes to keep you and your dragon...

How can Rhaenys deny such feelings if even her dragon feels the same?

[castielthinkr]

WHICH TROPE ARE YOU?

PAIRING: enhypen x gn!reader SUMMARY: what trope do you and the enhypen members share? WARNINGS: a smidge of angst in jungwon + heeseung’s, all set in high school apart from jay + heeseung’s, implied toxic parents in jungwon’s, written on my phone so the formatting might be weird

NOTE: thank u sm for all the love on my last post and 155 followers!! i rlly appreciate you guys 🫶🫶 also i’m definitely gonna rewrite some of these as actual fics bc i love them (looking at u jungwon and niki)

— HEESEUNG 희승 — second chance romance personally i’m not a big fan of this trope but it just fits heeseung so well like ??? hello yes i would give u a second chance. there’s no doubt in my mind that cheating would not be involved, instead it was something that happened when you two were young and immature, but when you meet again you’ve grown and can continue to do so together

it had ended awfully the first time. neither of you were particularly mature, and a heated argument had caused your entire relationship had come crashing down. sixteen year old you would always regret the way you gave heeseung the cold shoulder for a reason you couldn’t even remember, and the way you had both yelled and screamed at each other. you hadn’t spoken for years when, all of a sudden, you bumped into him in a cafe. then at work. in the park. after six years of no contact, he was everywhere. it was like the universe was telling you to give him another chance. eventually, your walls crumbled, and heeseung made his way back into your heart. the two of you had never been happier.

others under the cut!

— JAY 제이 — fake dating jay is perfect for this trope imo, especially when it comes to fake dating at a wedding. put me in a psych ward bc whenever i think abt him in a suit i go insane. also your whole family would love him because he’s such a gentleman. he’s so perfect

it was your aunts wedding, and all of your siblings were bringing their significant others as plus ones. your brother had joked about how you’d be the only single one in the wedding party and, rather than face the humiliation, you lied and told him you did in fact have a boyfriend. it was a lie you forgot about until two weeks before the wedding, when your aunt mentioned being excited to meet the mysterious man. you panicked, running to tell jay about your issue. while you were contemplating telling your family that the mysterious man had broken up with you, jay said “why don’t i pretend to be your boyfriend? just for the day?” except, his fake boyfriend touches didn’t feel very fake. your aunt remarked that the two of you reminded her of herself and your new uncle when they were young. by the end of the night, you and jay were sharing kisses outside the reception. yeah, fake boyfriend my ass.

— JAKE 제이크 — you fell first, he fell harder jake seems like such a loser (affectionately) that he’d be the one to fall first, but just imagine that he doesn’t realise his feelings are romantic. he just thinks everyone sees their best friends that way and when he finds out otherwise? oh he’s head over heels in love with you. such a loser. i love him

the way you and jake interact is far from platonic. you had developed a crush on him when you were just fifteen, and since then you'd been trying to drop hints. when he started reciprocating your admittedly flirtatious gestures, you thought you had a chance, but he never made a move. in fact, jake never realised that he shared those feelings until one of his friends pointed out that the two of you were incredibly flirty with each other. he thought everyone saw their best friends as gorgeous, as an angel sent from above, as someone who they'd willingly spend the rest of their life with. after that it was hard for him to see you in any light other than romantic. when you asked him out he practically screamed yes. he is absolutely head over heels in love

— SUNGHOON 성훈 — opposites attract i was gonna pick grumpy x sunshine for him but he’s not exactly grumpy so opposites attract it is!! he’s reserved and only really lets loose around those he considers close, whereas you’re loud and bubbly with lots of friends. one of my fav tropes for a reason

sunghoon’s attention was brought to you via your laughter. it was loud and bright, and he’d never heard anything like it. since then, he’d yearned for the sound. though he lacked the confidence to actually ask you out, he began seeking your company. he’d study with you in the library, would offer to walk you home. things that friends do. you, on the other hand, were absolutely smitten. sunghoon was quiet and a little mysterious. you could never read him, and yet you were absolutely entranced by him. you thought he was absolutely gorgeous, perhaps one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen. one day, while sunghoon was walking you home in the rain, you’d stopped and turned to face him. “what are we?” you’d asked. sunghoon remembers blanking immediately, not knowing how to reply. instead of words, he answered you with a kiss.

— SUNOO 선우 — best friend’s brother okay but imagine: you go over to ur best friends house and end up gossiping with their brother and all of a sudden,, he’s soooo attractive? and then he starts developing this crush but he can’t date you because you’re his siblings best friend. there’s probably be some secret dating involved (which i’m also a sucker for tbh)

you'd been harbouring a crush on sunoo for a while now, never acting on it because he was your best friend's brother. you looked forward to the weekly gossip sessions that the two of you shared when your friend left you together arguably more than you looked forward to seeing your friend (but don't tell her that). little did you know, sunoo felt the same. fleeting glances and not-so-platonic touches began growing between you two. eventually, sunoo asked you out. you wanted to say yes so badly but couldn't betray your friend like that. instead, you began dating in secret. it was only two months of sneaking around, 'jokingly' flirting, and kissing in places where she wouldn't see before she finally exploded, yelling that you two were gross but had her blessing. going public only increased the pda by tenfold, and people quickly grew sick of your sappy conversations. not that either of you cared, of course.

— JUNGWON 정원 — academic rivals turned lovers [full fic!] ACADEMIC RIVALS TURNED LOVERS!!!!! i love this trope sm and i think it fits won so well. i was gonna originally give this to niki but he wasn’t rlly in school. so. jungwon it is!! i can see you two as the top two in your year and always competing when one day it all comes crashing down for you. jungwon is suddenly? nice? and we go from there 🤭🤭

yang jungwon had never been the nicest person to you. sure, he was never really mean per-se, but the two of you were so competitive that nothing said was particularly nice. you and jungwon seemed to constantly be on par with each other academically, consistently being the top two students in your year. in english and sciences, you usually pulled ahead, while jungwon excelled in maths and other subjects. the rivalry between you was so tense that even the teachers tried to calm it down but to no avail. the reason behind your competitiveness was your parents. the pressure they put on you was immense, and one day you just broke. you’d had a fight with them, and the next day flunked a biology test. your grades began slipping from then on, and jungwon began to take notice. he stopped making quips, instead resorting to leaving some snacks or study tips on your desk when he thought you weren’t looking. he began giving you sympathetic looks until you eventually confronted him, telling him you didn’t want his pity. it wasn’t pity, though, it was worry. your relationship changed after that, no longer rivals but a little more than friends.

— NI-KI 니키 — childhood friends to lovers/first love OKAY HEAR ME OUT. u were childhood friends. niki realises his feelings and he’s all like oh no i can’t feel this way abt my bff :( and tried to pull away from u but ur like ??? yes tf and that’s how u become lovers

niki had been your closest friend for longer than you could remember. in both of your houses there sat baby pictures of the two of you together. you’d grown up together, going to all the same schools and most of the same clubs. in highschool, you were known as inseparable - if someone wanted one of you, they got both. but one day, niki started pulling away. it was fine, you told yourself, he was just growing up. you both were. but when he stopped answering your calls and texts and started actively avoiding you, you were hurt. you’d been by each others sides for so long that you didn’t really know how to live without him. the truth was, he’d discovered feelings that he’d never felt about anyone before. he knew he shouldn’t feel like this about his best friend, but he couldn’t help it. he was miserable without you, so much so that his friends were telling him to just ask you out. they told him that you definitely felt the same, so he took the leap. and thank god he did. you’re his first love, his everything.

[remushrts]

evan or barty comforting the reader after they hear someone talking about them??

Catharsis

— pairing: barty crouch jr x reader

— a/n: hii, thank you for the request!! you didn't specify if you wanted that platonic or romantic, so it can be read either way! also i chose barty because this is a little self indulging and i took it in a bit of an other direction, hope it's okay anyway

— warnings: inciting violence (because it's barty), reader (literally) breaks a tv (don't try this at home please), not proof read

When the bedroom door unlocks with a soft click, you don't know who you'd expect to enter, but definitely, it was not Barty. He walks over to you, eyes falling to your watery ones as he gives you a smile, only a bit softer than usual. "So, who do I need to beat?" He asks, sitting on the floor by your side without a care in the world.

"Nobody." You sniff, chuckling softly. "Good to know you're up for it though."

"Yeah, hell I am." You can tell his a bit stiffer too, he's not used to the whole thing, you think. Comforting people, being gentle with them, it was never Barty's strength. "Wanna talk about it? Or smash a tv?" You frown, his offer is tempting, but strange.

"Whose tv?" You ask, laughing softly. The sound is almost a huff, the only hint of humor in the soft curls of your lips.

"Don't worry about it." He smirks, propping himself up on his feet and holding out a hand for you, his eyes exhibiting a dangerous glint to them. "So, you wanna smash a tv? We can find the fucker's house too if you feel like breaking a window."

And yeah, maybe you do.

For Barty's credit, he did tell you you could break a tv. Still, you're a bit surprised as he walks you to his backyard and a full television stands on two bricks, looking brand new except from a few scratches on the led screen. Barty smirks at your reaction. "It's like a rage room, but I don't have a room to worry about cleaning up after." He explains, picking a bat from the floor and swirling it lazily, pretending to hit an invisible ball.

"Did you steal this?" You can't help but ask. Following after him, you can't help but notice the glass shards and wood splinters littering the floor, as well as a few bottle necks here and there.

"Of course not!" He feigns offense like the worst actor in the world. "It was on Evan's flat when he moved, but it's broken. Also, it reeks of beer, he thinks the bastard that owned it dumped a few cans on it and it broke down. He said it's not worth fixing, thus this baby sitting on my yard."

You only nod. Breaking a tv with Barty was not how you imagined your day would end, but you were not one to complain. At least you weren't crying yourself to sleep in your room.

"So, what's it gonna be, princess?" You open your mouth to ask what he's talking about, only to see him holding out the baseball bat and another brick on his hands. "Choose your weapon." You pick the baseball bat, and he handles you a pair of safety googles, to which you raise a brown. "What? I'm not an animal." As soon as you've secured the googles on your eyes, Barty lowers his own. "To who do we own the honor?"

You know what he's asking, the name has been stuck in your throat since he first asked, aching to get out like an ich you can't reach. You don't mean to feel as frustrated as you do with them, but you can't help yourself. You shout their names loudly, raising your bat in the air.

"And their little fucking shit talking friends!" Barty completes loudly, because of course he cracked it the moment he saw your state, raising a crow bar in the air, red painting chipped at both ends, you're not sure why or how he came do possess one of those, but you don't question either.

Instead, you swing your bat in the air, smashing the tv screen with a loud noise, glass shattering at your feet. Barty smiles by your side, and for a moment, you forget why you were so upset in the first place.

[izels-writing]

s. black — i’ll see you around

Pairing: sirius black x fem!reader

Summary: whoever said love was easy was lying, especially to sirius.

Warnings: ANGST with NO happy ending, i felt so bad writing this, y’all can blame the guy who was a dickhead to me, (TW) alcohol use, i felt so bad writing the bimbo part, listen to the 1 by taylor swift or the one that got away by katy perry to get a REAL experience

you felt tears brim your eyes, a burning heat in your chest as his worlds echoed in your head. you felt nauseous, unable to meet sirius' eyes. you couldn't look at him.

we're just not right for each other right now.

"y/n, please look at me." sirius pleaded.

you blinked, letting the tears fall as you looked up at him. a part of you was furious, wanting to throw any object you could at him. how could he pursue you? how could he...knowing this was his ultimate ending with you?

"fine, we're done," you replied, sniffling quietly. "uh, i'll see you around." you added, looking at him one last time and leaving his dormitory.

you walked past your mutual friends, not daring to spare a glance at them. you ignored their calls and ignored marlene and lily as they tried to run after to you, to no avail.

you needed time. time alone.

——

FOUR MONTHS LATER…

"come on, you don't want to go out tonight? this band is playing at the pub tonight! you'll love it!" marlene exclaimed, throwing your duvet off your body. you groaned loudly, attempting to pull it back on.

you glared at marlene through half-lidded eyes, "i want to nap, leave me alone," you muttered.

mary sat in the chair of your vanity, legs crossed—showing off her gogo boots. she smiled softly. "y/n, you can't become some shut in for the rest of your life because of sirius black..."

you rolled your eyes internally. "i'm not a shut in because of sirius,"

truth be told, you were. not necessarily a shut in, but for four months, you hadn't opened yourself up to anyone else. not platonically and certainly not romantically. maybe in your young mind, you were wrong and dramatic, but you were convinced that he was it for you. and now that you didn't have him? well, you just felt stuck.

"then come out with us tonight, find a guy to shag! sex away all your problems!" marlene grinned.

"or girl," mary suggested.

"for the last time, mary, your dream of y/n being gay just isn't happening!" marlene scolded, throwing abt-shirt toward mary. mary laughed and dodged her t-shirt, sighing, "a girl can dream..."

"if i go out for two hours, will you let me be?" you huffed, sitting up in annoyance and staring at blonde and brunette with frustration. they glanced at each other before turning to you, nodding vigorously.

"fine," you muttered, moving off the bed. "give me two hours to get ready,"

marlene squeaked with joy.

within two hours, you were ready for a night out on the town. you wore dark sultry makeup, a mini black dress, cute heeled boots, and a cropped band tee over your dress. you hair was pulled back into a bun, with two pieces of hair framing your face.

with the magic of apparition, the three of you were in front of the pub in no time. you entered timidly with your ecstatic friends, who quickly met up with your shared group of friends. in one side of the pub sat peter, remus, james with lily in his lap, dorcas, emmeline, and...sirius, with a girl in his lap.

"look who we convinced to come out tonight!" marlene grinned, enjoying the happy cheers from their friends as you appeared beside mary and marlene.

"doesn't she look ravishing tonight?" mary grinned, kissing your cheek before joining emmeline in her chair.

lily, likely feeling your uncomfortable energy, smiled and got up from james' lap. she pulled you into a hug, "hey, love! how are you? want to get a drink?" she asked, you smiled in return.

"i would love one," you replied, avoiding looking at sirius and the girl on his lap. the girl was certainly looking at you. she guided you to the bar and ordered you both a vodka cranberry.

"how are you? with all that, i mean," lily asked. "i know you didn't want to come tonight, but i also know marlene and mary can be persistent,"

you laughed and nodded. "that they can. it's fine, they've got good intentions,"

lily leaned closer, smiling softly. "i know it's hard seeing him, but i'm here if you need me. also, don't pay attention to the bimbo attatched—i can be mean to her if you want,"

you chuckled. "lily, that's really not necessary,"

lily looked at you innocently and wide eyed. "oh it's no problem," she shrugged. "i was already planning on being mean anyway,"

you laughed, clinking your drink with hers softly as it was placed in both your hands. "evans, have i ever told you how much i love you?"

"no," she grinned cheekily. "but i already know."

——

“how have you been?” sirius asked, looking at you as you diverted from james’ animated retelling of his quidditch game. straight after school, he’d been scouted to join a national quidditch team—and lord knows how talented james is.

“fine,” you replied, subtly taking notice to the fact that aleesa had gotten up to get another drink at the bar. she had been giving you glares every time you even looked at them. no wonder he was talking to you.

“just fine?” sirius grinned.

“yeah, just fine,” you replied curtly—taking another sip of your vodka cran that actually tasted like rubbish. but given you only turned 18 a few months ago, it was the only thing you really felt courageous another to order at a bar.

he grin fell slightly. he wasn’t quite used to your cold nature toward him. you had seen each other on and off the past few months, but since your friends less than favored the tension, they didn’t invite the two of you together for many events. sirius was used to the soft and kind-hearted you, the only that massaged his scalp during movie nights and smiled at his every joke. not the you that hardly looked at him and couldn’t even pretend to laugh at his jokes.

god, how could he not miss you?

perhaps you were the problem. perhaps you were too self-centered, perhaps you should let go of this relationship. but he was your first everything, how could he let go so quickly when you struggled to even glance at old pictures of the two of you?

suddenly, you felt a figure loom beside you. you looked up, smiling at the handsome young guy who had come up to you with a smile. he was certainly brave, doing it in front of your friends.

“hey, love,” he grinned, his green eyes scanning you.

you smiled slightly, looking up at him with confusion yet amused. “hello…?” you paused, waiting for his name.

“luke,” he replied shyly.

you smiled. “luke, lovely name.”

“i bet yours is even lovelier…?” he paused as well, waiting for your name. you chuckled, cradling your drink close to you like some form of comfort.

“y/n,” you replied.

“and i was right,” he grinned. “wanna dance?”

“actually, we were—“ sirius began, but lily put her hand on his shoulder and he looked at her confused. like this was something he wasn’t supposed to intervene in. like his attempts to help you were selfish intentions.

“i’d love to,” you smiled, putting your drink down and taking his hand. he was kind, so far, and tall and handsome. how could you say no?

you quickly joined luke on the dance floor, dancing along to the live music—joining everyone else in their drunken night of dancing and singing. he held you close, and the two of you talked, you laughing quietly yet noticeably at his jokes. he seemed to enjoy your company as well.

sirius watched the two of you from afar, and one thing became obvious. as the music was drowned out by his racing thoughts, as he suddenly felt no wanting for the girl by his side, and as he felt a cold rush envelop his body—it was then he realized.

he had made a mistake breaking up with you.

bonus;

“i sure hope you can come, and bring a date!” you smiled, handing sirius a lively, white and blue invitation. as soon as he saw you and luke’s name on it, he began to feel sick.

sirius chuckled. “and if i can’t find one?” he joked, hoping to ease his own tension.

“you’ll find one,” you smiled.

except he didn’t want another date. he wanted you. for the past four years—all he’s wanted is you. how could he attend? attend you and another man getting married?

“or, of course, you can come alone,” you suggested, feeling an unease in the air as he stared at the invitation. “i’m sure most of my cousins would fancy a dance with you,”

he chuckled. “you think?”

you chuckled. “you’re a very handsome man, sirius, don’t forget that.” you joked, patting his shoulder before standing up from his couch. “well, i’ve got to deliver the rest of these—i’ll see you around,”

and off you were.

and with a frown, sirius took a sip of his tea—staring hard at the invitation in his hands, attempting to trick his mind into seeing his name beside yours.

[thesirencove]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ WILDFLOWER -- SAM WINCHESTER X FEM!READER

hi everyone !! this is a fic i posted on a previous blog , that i since removed from said blog as i decided to focus on another topic so i created this blog so that i can once again share my works :) i've since edited this fic as i wrote it little bit ago !! let me know your thoughts on this one and enjoy <3 my requests are open and let me know if anyone would like a part two to this !

oh and grab some tissues .

sam winchester x fem!reader (romantic) // dean winchester x fem!reader (platonic)

summary: when a hunt goes wrong...

warnings: blood and bleeding , death , descriptions of being unable to breathe , descriptions of feeling worthless , sad sam :( , lots of angst and overall sad .

word count: 1.8k

it wasn’t meant to happen this way.

y/n and sam were supposed to live a long, happy life together. they were meant to hunt for a little while longer and then retire and live their happy little ‘apple pie life’ as dean trademarked it. they’d already talked about having kids and a dog and building their dream house together. they were supposed to be together until they were old and took their last breaths together. 

simply, together.

but sometimes things don’t go according to plan. just like the moment they were in right now.

sam was kneeling on the floor, covered in blood. not his own. hers. it soaked through his shirt and stained his face.  

“y/n please stay with me,” sam pleaded, holding her limp body in his arms, her shallow breaths barely audible for him to feel any sense of comfort. he was pressing down on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. trying to stop her from dying. still, more of her blood poured out from god knows where. 

“i-’m sorr..y,” she croaked out. y/n could feel herself fading away. the oxygen wouldn’t fill her lungs properly and every one of her limbs were so, so tired. 

the hunt started out perfectly. y/n, sam, and dean were quick to figure out where the monster was and how to get rid of it. a nest of vampires, hiding in the woods, preying on the little town nearby. bodies had stacked up over the years, but it wasn’t until recently that it became suspicious. y/n happened to be the one to find the newspaper article. 

“guys! i found us a case!” she brought the newspaper clipping over to sam and dean so enthusiastically. she was so excited, so proud to have found a case on her own instead of relying on the winchester brothers to find one for them all. they saw the glint of her eyes and couldn’t say no. how could they, seeing how wide she was smiling?

so they went. they should have known it was too good to be true. the vampires were working with a pack of werewolves nearby. they were ambushed. sam and dean had been fighting off a pair of vampires when suddenly–

crack.

it hadn’t come from either of them. sam’s head whipped around to look at y/n, who was clutching her arm close to her chest as she continued fighting off the three monsters who’d grouped up on her. her lips were cut and he could see blood pouring out of a cut above her eye. the beginnings of a bruise stained her cheeks. sam’s vision went hazy, wanting to help her but being so afraid that he couldn’t move. it wasn’t the monsters that scared him. it was seeing y/n hurt. he was frozen in place.

it wasn’t even five seconds later when he saw the last standing werewolf swipe at y/n, eliciting a yelp from her. she swung her silver blade quickly after and the werewolf’s head rolled across the floor. his body dropped, thudding when it went down. 

she followed soon after. y/n dropped to her knees. sam finally snapped out of the trance he was stuck in, rushing to her side. the sound she made when her knees hit the floor rang in his ears as he caught her, pulling her into him. 

his hands were covered in blood as he held onto her. it wasn’t his blood. nor the werewolves. it was hers. her blood was pouring out, staining her shirt and his and both of their hands. it scared him. there was oh so much of it and sam was panicking. 

his y/n. his sunshine. his wildflower. 

she was bleeding out at an alarming rate and he couldn’t do anything. he felt useless, so utterly useless in this moment.

“hey, hey y/n. sweetheart stay with me. please stay with me,” sam practically begged her, as though it would make a difference for her current condition. his voice cracked as he yelled out for dean. for his big brother to do something to save her. his heart was cracking, if not already broken. the tears built and built, finally spilling over like an old dam that couldn’t contain the flood. 

y/n could barely keep her eyes open as she laid there, weakly grabbing onto sam’s arms. she looked down towards her wound. the deep, jagged lines from the werewolf’s claws painted her abdomen. she whimpered at the sight. it burned worse than anything she could have ever imagined but the scream she wanted to let out got stuck in her throat, only building on the agony she felt. 

and the blood. there was so much blood. 

too much of it.

dean rushed over to where sam was holding y/n in his arms, clutching her close to him, like a child who didn’t want to share his favorite plushie. he was holding her so firmly, scared that if he didn’t then she’d somehow disappear. that she’d die faster. he couldn’t lose her, what would he do with her gone? how could he continue to live? 

sam looked up at dean and they exchanged a look, prompting dean to run outside. y/n could faintly hear dean calling out for cas before the weak pounding of her blood became too loud. 

“sam,” y/n rasped, her voice weak. she couldn’t keep the tears from rolling down her cheek. sam didn’t say anything, barely acknowledged that she said his name, not wanting the reality to set in of the situation. not wanting to accept that y/n was dying. the love of his life was dying and he could do nothing about it. he felt so utterly useless, thinking about the countless lives he’d saved, and yet he couldn’t save his love. 

the wounds were too deep to patch up and the nearest hospital was 20 miles away.

“sam,” she repeated, more urgently this time, before subsiding into a minor coughing fit. the blood started coming out of her mouth as well at this point. 

 “shhh, don’t speak sweetheart. you’re going to be okay. it’ll be okay. dean’s going to get cas. he’s going to heal you. it’s going to be okay,” sam said frantically. he was assuring himself of this as much as he was y/n. but both of them knew that this was the end for her. if cas didn’t get here in time then she would be gone.

her breathing became shallow as the blood pooled in her lungs. she felt like she was drowning. falling deeper. and deeper. she felt herself panic and her heart trying to pump more blood, so she could breathe but it just couldn't.

“y/n please stay with me,” sam pleaded. 

“i-’m sorr..y,” she croaked out. 

“promise me, y/n. promise me you-you’ll hold on. promise me that you’ll recover and, and come back. that we’ll live a long and happy life together. the one that we-we..ve always dreamed o-f. with-with a little cottage in the woods. we’re going to have three kids. three of them and a dog,” he trailed off on that last word as he sobbed, stumbling over words as he couldn’t keep himself together. 

“i need you to promise me that.” he begged her once again.

“i promise. but only if you pro-mi..se me-” y/n trailed off, getting weaker with every word she said, “that you’ll move o-n. if-if i die, sam, i ne-ed you,” she gasped for air, “to move on.” sam shook his head, but y/n whispered a measly, ‘please.’ sam, looking into her glistening eyes, once so full of life and now fading from him, and nodded.

dean ran into the room, and sam whipped his head around towards him only to be met with a disappointing shake signaling that cas didn’t come. 

“h-hey dean,” y/n whispered, coughing yet again only for more blood to come out, spilled over her lips and staining them red.

“hey, crazy girl. you’re going to be okay. don’t go pulling a me on us here, alright? heaven and hell are too crowded for you to be joining them,” dean said, taking one of her hands in his and weakly smiling at her. she chuckled weakly, as much as she could, before looking at him again with sad eyes.

“tak-ke care of sa-am for me. and take ca..re of yourself for me, to..o.” dean nodded at her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, one final goodbye for his closest friend and the girl he’d been so excited to see finally get married to sam.

that future was blurred now. no longer an option.

“i lo-ve you, sam” she croaked out one last time, giving him the best smile she could. she wanted him to remember her smile above anything.

“i love you too, wildflower,” sam sobbed, wiping a tear from her cheek and pressing one final kiss to her lips.

and so her heart slowed to a stop. her eyes became devoid of life. her body was fully limp. unmoving. unwavering. sam’s heart had stopped along with hers. 

a final tear made its way down her cheek, like the last fall of snow in winter. 

the flap of wings that they had all been praying to hear had finally come. but it was too late. too late to save her, too late to get married and have the kids they’d once dreamed about, too late to build a home together. too late. 

the sound that came next made dean wince. sams sobs had turned into such agony, such rage that he screamed out as he held the body of his now-dead lover. he screamed at cas, cursing at him, the outburst so unlike him that dean had to look away, squeezing his eyes shut. 

the screams turned to silent weeping as sam held y/n’s body closer to him than before, his flannel and shirt now soaked in her blood. her limp body shook in his arms as he cried. 

and cried. 

and cried.

until he couldn’t anymore. his cheeks and eyes were raw and red from crying. he felt so worthless in himself and in the fact that he couldn’t save her. that he couldn’t get her back. the chapter of their lives had closed, the next page blank. he kept looking into her eyes, so lifeless it terrified him. the girl who made everything she touched full of life was gone. 

he’d never be able to hold her again. never see her smile, or the light shine in her eyes. so many never’s and what if’s filled his brain over and over. every new thought that seeped into his mind was so loud. it was like the thoughts were never ending, until a final thought filled his head.

the sunshine was gone and his wildflower was dead and his heart was broken, and there was no way to fix any of it. but he’d find a way. somehow. no matter how long or what it took. he’d get her back.

[justyouraverage-simp]

she's in good hands// t.s, s.r

pairing: steve rogers x reader (romantic), tony tark x daughter!reader (platonic)

warnings: tony being a bit of a douche to steve, tooth rotting happy relationships

summary: tony was very protective of everyone he cared about but his daughter meant the most to him out of anyone so when he has to face the music that shes growing up he finds it hard to accept especially when it comes to boys but not just any boy captain america

*gif not mine*

Y/N swore she could never love anyone as much as she loved her dad, he was the only man she needed in her life. The two were peas in a pod, they were best friends and after Y/N got her heart broken who was there to pick up the pieces? Her dad.

Everyone swore Tony wouldn't be a present father, that he would send his child off the first chance he got. Just like his parents did to him. But Tony used that to be better, he became the worlds best dad at least in Y/N's eyes and to him that's all that mattered.

****

When the avengers were formed they all was told to keep their hands to themselves when it came to Y/N. No one risked to see where the line was because Tony had never been so passionate about something in his life. His little girl (although she is now 24, she will always be the little girl he used to play tea parties with and dress up with her like princesses) was his world, she saved him when he lost his parents, she gave him a reason to keep going and he will always protect her.

What Tony wasn't prepared for was her getting to the age where she was interested in boys and becoming more curious about them and her feelings. She didn't have a mother figure in life really other than Pepper then eventually Nat became an auntie/ older sister to her, so it was down to him to teach her everything and it was the first time Pepper had seen Tony unsure of himself.

Y/N went through her fair share of rough relationships, the worst being a three year relationship that ended with her being cheated on. Tony was furious seeing his girl crying over someone. She swore to him she was done with men, that he was the only man for her, the only one she needed. She was happy being single and free. That was until 2011 when she met Steve Rogers.

*****

Y/N and Steve both agreed to keep the relationship a secret to start with so the two could find their footing without the whole world watching their every move. And also so they could work out how to tell Tony without putting him or Steve into an early grave.

"Hey, how would you feel about telling my dad about us?" Y/N said looking up at Steve who had his arm draped over her shoulder as they cuddled into the sofa.

"As long as you want to I'll do whatever you want sweetheart you know that" Steve says.

"I know I'm just nervous"

"I know you are but we love each other right?"

"Yeah"

"So your dad will see that and how he hasn't noticed yet I don't know but we will show him that I'm not like the others" Steve says placing a kiss onto Y/N's forehead.

It was a few hours later and Jarvis had made Y/N and Steve aware Tony was back from his mission with Nat and Clint. Everyone meet in the living room to welcome the three back when Tony looked up at his daughter suspiciously.

"Why are you being weird?" Tony says bluntly.

"Wow nice to see you too dad"

"Honey you know what I mean, your quiet and your not as happy to see me" "I just need to talk to you when you get a minute"

"You can talk to me whenever you need, I'm your dad"

"In private please?"

Tony and Y/N walk to her bedroom, Steve following behind sneakily to be there for Y/N.

"What's going on kiddo"

"I'm just going to come out and say it" Y/N says running a finger through her hair "I'm dating Steve"

"As in Captain America?"

"No Steve from down the road, yes Captain America"

Steve takes this a time to walk through the door and wraps his hand over Y/N's.

"No" Tony says quickly

"No?" Steve says "What do you mean no?"

"I mean nope, not happening, over my dead body. How else do you want me to say it, I can say it in another language if that helps you Cap"

"Dad, I wasn't asking you if I can, I'm telling you because I don't want to hide him. I want to hold his hand or sit next to him on the sofa without having too worry someone will catch on. I want you to be able to accept that I'm not your little girl anymore I've grown up" Y/N says getting more annoyed at her dad.

Seeing how passionate his daughter is makes him realise she loves Steve, not in the same way she loves Tony but the way he loves Pepper. It made him realise he will always be the man who taught her what to expect from men, to not accept anything less than 100%. Steve however he showed her what 100% is, he showed her the meaning of true love. He chose her and he would risk everything to make sure she knew how much she loved him.

Tony looked between the two of them "Rogers promise me something?"

"Yeah Tony?" Steve says unsure of what he's signing up for.

"Promise me you'll look after my girl, she's my world and if you hurt her I will not be held responsible for what happens"

"I promise, I will always protect her and I will always do what's right by her" Steve says looking down at Y/N lovingly, pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

"Just because I know your together doesn't mean the PDA can come out thank you very much" Tony says as he leaves Y/N's bedroom shacking his head.

*****

That evening Y/N is cuddled back up to Steve on the sofa dozing off slightly as the Avengers all have a movie night which was tradition when someone came back from a mission.

"Tony I'm surprised you haven't blasted Steve to another planet for touching Y/N" Nat says looking over at the two.

"Nope, she's in good hands and I'm okay with that" Tony says as he watches Steve admire his girl sleeping.

[northlight14]

A PSA to non asexual arcane fans!

Ok with the recent announcement that Viktor is asexual, as an asexual myself who has Viktor as their favourite character, I wanna get some shit out the way. There’s a good chance I’m gonna stop interacting with the arcane fandom because of this announcement because every time I’ve seen a character be confirmed asexual there’s always just this influx of acephobia and misinformation which makes it impossible for me to even interact with the fandom and feel safe. So throwing this at y’all and then we’ll see what happens. However, I do not speak for the whole of the asexual community so some aces may disagree with me and that’s ok, as long as y’all aren’t rude we can have a discussion (or you can just scroll or block me, whatevs🤷)

Asexual and aromantic are not the same thing. This is something the creator clearly doesn’t know since he used Viktor’s asexuality as a rebuttal against Jayvik which makes zero fucking sense but sure. So asexuals can still date and aromantics and still have sex. Some like myself are both but that’s not always the case

“Asexuality is a spectrum! Some asexuals still have sex!” is not the good excuse you think it is to depict asexuals in sexually explicit situations. Every time I see this paired with this excuse, the character is very obviously just made to be allosexual in the fanwork. Either stick to sexualising the allosexual characters or do your research on sex neutral/favourable asexuals and represent them properly. Otherwise what you’re doing is no different to writing a fic where a canonically lesbian character has sex with a man

“Asexuality is a spectrum! People can be demisexual or greysexual!” If the character was demisexual or greysexual, the creator would have said. But they didn’t. They said they were asexual. You changing the label doesn’t make you inclusive, it makes you acephobic

Viktor being announced as asexual only after the show was released and it being in rebuttal to a gay ship where the writer clearly doesn’t know what it actually means to be asexual isn’t the win for ace representation some might first think. Asexuals deserve explicit representation by people who bother to learn how to represent us properly

Having the only asexual character also be the character who’s storyline focuses on disability, something that people already infantalise also isn’t the win people might try and make it out to be. Disabled people are frequently denied sexuality and it is part of the way they are infantalised in western society. So having Viktor be disabled and also be the only asexual character feels a bit iffy to me. Obviously there are disabled people who are ace and I don’t want to diminish that experience either. And there would be ways to explore that in a more nuanced way but that’s not what happened. And frankly it would be so easy to avoid this by just having more than one ace character so it doesn’t feel like a trait exclusive to disabled people but sure go off I guess

A lot of you only give a shit about QPR’s (queer platonic relationships) so that you have an excuse to ship aromantic characters. Granted, I’m so in favour of QPR Jayvik because their relationship explicitly goes beyond what we consider standard for a platonic relationship, even if it’s canonically not romantic. But I’m bringing this up anyway because a lot of the time in fandom and society in general, QPR’s are seen as a way to make the aromantic character more “palatable” to the allo’s and shippers. And as someone in a QPR, that idea honestly feels both insulting but is also so damaging to the aro community as a whole. Loveless aromantics exist. Some aromantics who do feel other forms of love still don’t want a QPR. Some like myself were/are indifferent and some like my partner really want one. Not all of us are the same

Might’ve missed some stuff but yeah. Any acephobia will be deleted but I’m happy to have civil conversations and answer questions. Ultimately I just want a fandom to actually listen to ace people for once but I know that won’t happen. Still, I wanted to at least say my peace