#and he always trusts his family to watch his back
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Sinners
Summary: In a small town, you try living up to your mother’s expectations while encountering Wanda Maximoff, a mysterious woman and a childhood friend of your mothers. It leaves you questioning her intentions and your beliefs.
Parings: Wanda x Fem R
Taglist (click and comment to be added for future chapters)
Warnings: Fictional mother is an asshole
Author notes: Things to consider before reading: You are 19 years old while Wanda is 36. I'm not familiar with the bible so please do not take this seriously. It's only fiction.
Warnings will be added as I update more chapters! ♥️ Happy reading
The handles are warm as you push the double doors open of the church, their hinges creaking softly in response to the intrusion. As the door swung apart, it revealed the dimly lit interior bathed in sunlight whistling through the skylight. Thousands of dust particles scattered around the beams, casting a glow. On either side of the church, the stained-glass windows painted with vivid patterns, painted their shadows on the polished floor.
As you lingered behind your parents, hands clasped together at your front. The four walls of the church momentarily silenced the bustling streets before more people entered, quiet murmurs spreading across the churchgoers. People passed by to take their seats, some offered greetings to your parents, while others remarked on how you have grown into a fine young lady. Your family was well known for the small church gatherings they hosted, always extending their hospitality to the community. However, you could not shake the feeling your parents’ ego was involved, driven by their desires to keep their status. Your mother seemed intent on being the best, regardless of the situation, while your father followed her lead.
Lost in your head, you hadn’t noticed the priest approaching your parents until he stood before them, a gentle smile on his lips. “Good morning, everyone,” he greeted, his voice warm and inviting. “I trust you all found yourselves well?”
“Certainly, Father Steve. It’s always a pleasure,” your mother affirmed with a nod, her hand briefly resting on the priest’s arm. Beside her, your father offered a gentle squeeze of
Father Steve’s hand.
His eyes landed on you, a wide grin reaching his face as he moved between your parents. Your feet shuffled beneath you, a slight bow to your head as he addressed you directly.
“My child, you are growing quite fast,” he remarked warmly. “I’m sure your mother and father must be so proud of you.”
You nodded, a faint uncertainty lingering in your response. “I hope so,” you murmured softly. Your gaze flicked over to them, your mother’s stern facade causing a tightness in your stomach. Before the tension could linger further, the priest politely excused himself to begin the ceremony. You followed your parents towards the front row, Father Steve took his place at the altar.
Your mother, focused on the moment, spared no mind at you, her hushed reminder to keep your posture straight and your head forward as you took your seat beside her.
The urge to roll your eyes was strong, but you fought against it, instead clenching your fists tightly against your thighs and felt your jaw tense and your teeth grind together in frustration. A flicker of movement draws your attention. A woman sitting on the right far end at the fourth row lingering on the edge of your sight, compelling you to get a glance.
Father Steve gently echoes through the church, drawing your focus back to the front with swift precision. “As we gather here today, let us remember the grace and mercy of our Lord, who is our eternal Savior. With his love God watches over us, guiding and protecting us. We strive to lead by good deeds by following his teachings and commandments, we can trust him for his protection.”
“But let’s not forget we are human, mistakes are bound to happen. God will not judge for our mistakes and in his eyes there is always the opportunity for redemption. Through prayers we can seek forgiveness for our sins."
The final sigh of amen hangs in the air, marking the end of the prayer. You can sense your mother stares before she gets up along with the rest from the row. Your thoughts briefly drift to the encounter with the mysterious woman before refocusing. You got up and followed behind your parents, still you couldn’t keep your eyes forward as you searched for the woman.
Approaching the altar, the chalice tipped gently down as you savored the taste of bitterness on your tongue. You move for the next person, your head down fixed at the worn out tiles.
A sudden collision made you come back to reality. “I am so sorry.”
“No harm done, honey,” she chuckled softly, so husky yet smooth. “I’m Wanda.” She happily says and extends her hands for a greeting.
You gave your name and took her offer, your hands met in a firm grasp. Wanda was undeniable beauty, her cheekbones formed natural crowns on her face. The strange sensation from earlier startled within, however you pushed them aside and ignored it.
“Well I should be getting back to my parents.”
“Of course don’t let me keep you.”
Everything about her kept you wondering who she was. Her face was so recognizable, you pushed yourself to remember where you had last seen her.
With everyone getting their share, you navigated past the rows where your parents were engrossed in conversation near the doors. Your mother’s words echoed at the tip of your ears, reminding you how impolite It is to interrupt. So you lingered on the side, fidgeting with your hands as your gaze remained fixed on Wanda. You didn’t know how long you stood there before your mother called out your name, finally getting your attention on the third call.
“You’ve been out of it all day, pull yourself together now.”
“Yes, mother, I’m sorry,” you gritted out, feeling anger settle in you.
You squinted as you emerged out of the doors, stuffing your hands in your pockets as you jogged down the three steps. Families and friends crowded outside while you watched, your parents, well your mother couldn’t help but throw her sentimental joy at people's faces. With a sigh, you kicked a small pebble across the ground.
Just then, they’ve come to join you where you stood, thankful to be leaving. But as you all started towards the car, the small shriek of your mother’s voice halted both you and your father. You looked up seeing Wanda heading towards you, her presence alone twisting your insides.
Surprised, your mother’s eyes widened as fixed on the red head. “Wanda?" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Shaking off the feeling, you reassured yourself that you were just being paranoid about Wanda. There’s no way you could forget a face like hers. It’d be ridiculous not to remember meeting a woman with such elegance. Wanda appeared as a flawless Barbie doll, ravishing with politeness and beauty. Her demeanor seemed almost too perfect to be real.
Wanda chuckled, her arm draping over your mother’s shoulder with a sharp but soft expression. “Surprised to see me?” She teased.
“You never told me when you were coming.”
With a casual shrug, she stepped back, her gaze briefly landing on you and your father before focusing elsewhere. You tapped your feet, swaying one of them back and forth by your heels. Something about her still didn't settle right with you. It seemed she knew your mother well, what a consequence. You observed your father and can tell he knew her as well.
“Well, you know me. I always enjoy making an entrance. Arrived yesterday morning and managed to snag a room at that quaint little motel. Your town is absolutely lovely.”
Your father greeted Wanda with a firm handshake before turning to you. "This is our daughter," he said, his hand gently patting your shoulder, urging you forward as though you were still a small child.
Wanda waved her hand, dismissing the encounter. “Oh, we already met in the church.” She gave you a little pat on your arm, leaving her hand there for a little second longer.
She winked and you felt goosebumps scatter through your body as you stood confused why this woman who you never met before besides a brief encounter was making you feel this way.
“How about you coming over for dinner tomorrow? We’d love to have you.”
Wanda nodded and clasped her hands together, a smile broke out on her lips. “I’ll be there.”
#wanda x y/n#mommy wanda#wanda maximoff#wanda x fem!reader#dark wanda x reader#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff smut#wanda x you#wanda maximilf#wanda x reader
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JOEL'S EX WIFE WANTING HIM BACK - HEADCANONS ✨
No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader
A/N: hi besties!!! Just a small little idea I got while I was watching some good old female rivalry soap opera drama over breakfast ❤️
Warnings: Sarah is a teen here ❤️
• when you got together with Joel, Sarah was already 12, her mom had been gone since she was a baby and though neither of them had any problems about talking about what happened, it wasn't a frequent subject, even if they treated it with naturally, they didn't like talking about it and it was completely understandable, after all, Joel had been abandoned with a weeks old baby and that baby had to grow up without her mother around
• so you always simply decided to pretend she never really existed in the first place, and technically, in your life, she never really did it, because from the moment you began dating Joel, he wasn't her ex-husband anymore, but instead, he was your boyfriend, and Sarah wasn't really her daughter, but your stepdaughter and you both had learned how to love and enjoy each other's company
• you were leading a happy life with the Millers, being part of their household and falling into the same routine as they did, as you spent longer at their place than at your own, until it didn't make any sense for you to keep paying rent, after all, you and Joel were very much together and in love and the natural course of your relationship would be of course, getting married or something like that
• you were happy with your little family, Sarah's issues regarding her mom seemed to be filled up pretty good by you once you joined the family, as she finally had someone she could talk to about boys and other girl stuff. She also really approved yours and Joel's relationship, always commenting on how happy you made her dad and how nice it was to have a more family like routine
• things were good and happy and you couldn't wish for anything more than that, you were as pleased as you could be, and you were pretty sure Joel was the man of your dreams, there was no way you could love someone as much as you loved him and so was the story of how the Millers became a very happy family
• and that was why it shocked the fourth of you - because Tommy was hella shocked as well - when Sarah's mom, Angela, decided to get in touch with Joel; she had found him on Facebook and messaged him, much to his shock, he'd done the same with Sarah, just like that, texting the daughter she'd abandoned as if she was just an old pal saying hello after losing touch for years
• at first, the two of them decided to ignore it, not sure how to act or how to even respond to it, but after a couple of days more in which Angela kept insisting on texting, more like begging Joel for a chance to talk, he decided to talk to his daughter and get to a conclusion together and after considering a lot together, they decided they would answer to her and see what she wanted
• and of course Angela sent quite a few sob sad texts saying how hard things were for her, how much she'd missed her family and mostly her daughter and how she regretted leaving. Joel wasn't quite convinced with that, quite the opposite, he was still bitter and angry at everything that went on, but he could tell Angela's words somehow messed up with Sarah's feelings, after all, she was a reject baby by her mom and at some level, she needed her approval in any way
• so Joel and Sarah agreed to meet up with Angela again, something small, at a coffee shop where they could all sit down and talk things through so they could see how things went between them, you'd also decided not to show up, it was such an intimate moment, you didn't belong in that scenario and you also had no reasons to be suspicious of Joel, you loved and trusted him and he trusted and loved you back, there was no reason to worry about anything at all
• you were genuinely happy to know Sarah had warmed up for her mom and the two of them hit off, having a lot in common and deciding to spend more time together, going on dinners, lunches and movie sessions together; it seemed Angela's presence was a benefit for them, and it was, you liked to see Sarah so happy about her return, it only became a problem when Angela started to show up more and more often at Joel's home
• it was your home too, and as much as you didn't want to be selfish or annoying, you had to admit it bothered you A LOT she was all the time around, at first she started with smaller things, such as visiting you all on Sunday afternoon, or bringing up a dessert, which of course, had to be Joel's favorite and kept gushing about the times they were still married; Angela was a pretty woman, you couldn't deny that, and the fact she seemed so willing to be nice and pleasant around her ex-husband
• and that imposition of her presence into your house and your family was beginning to bother you even more; suddenly, Sarah didn't want to go to the mall with you anymore, instead, she wanted to go with her mom. She didn't want to bake cookies with you anymore because your cookies had that sugar thing in the bottom so she liked her mom's better and as much as you tried understanding Sarah needed and had all the right to enjoy her mom's company and presence, it still hurt you, because you missed Sarah, and yet, it felt as if you weren't important to her anymore
• Seeing the shifts in your dynamics with Sarah, Joel tried to be understanding and even offered himself to talk to her, but you dismissed the idea, it was embarrassing enough you were feeling jealous, you didn't need Joel to get into the middle of that, but it still made you upset when Sarah decided to go to the movies with her mom to watch the newest Ghostbusters movie you two had agreed on going together
• and just as Angela stole Sarah from you, she was more than willing to steal Joel as well: she wanted him, he was even more handsome, his business became successful and he lived comfortably and now Sarah wasn't an annoying baby anymore, it was fun to be around her and she wanted her family back
• so to you, things started going sour when you decided to stop by Joel's business to bring him lunch; you'd prepared him a pretty good lunchbox and you were very excited to see his reaction, however, when you got to his small office, you found him and Angela eating a foot long sub, as it was kind of an inside joke between them from when they were young
"oh shit baby, I had no idea you'd bring me lunch, if I knew it..."
• Joel said wiping his mouth with a napkin as he had sauce on his beard like an idiotic child would and it made your blood boil, Angela simply smirked at you and you knew exactly what she was doing, your gut feeling was right all along, she was a filthy bitch
"it's fine Joel, it's just a sandwich, it's not like you're cheating"
• you didn't know exactly why you said that, it was the first time in your life you had ever said that towards Joel because it had never even crossed your mind there might be a possibility of it happening, but once you said those sour words, an awkward silence, a think tension in the room spread and you felt extremely uncomfortable to be there
"I'm sorry, you can give the lunchbox to Tommy in case he hasn't had lunch if you want, that way the food won't go to waste"
• you told Joel and turned to Angela, you didn't want to hide how much you didn't like the fact she snuck into his office to bring him lunch like a devoted wife
"you know, it's an odd choice to bring your ex-husband lunch instead of your daughter, I'm sure Sarah is starving right now..."
• in the evening, Joel felt very bad about what had happened, he hadn't done anything wrong, but at the same time it was wrong because even if it was just a sandwich, it wasn't about the sandwich but rather who had brought it to him, he knew it had hurt your feelings and he wanted to make it up to you, so he arrived home, using all his charms, his puppy eyes, his sweet talking and his soft neck kisses to convince you to go out with him; he was going to take you out for dinner: at a restaurant, not a bar for beer and burgers, but an actual meal
• you enjoyed your time with him, appreciating his effort to make something nice for you, so you grabbed a table, ordered meals and enjoyed each other's companies, as Joel held your hand and talked about his day, telling you how much he'd missed you and how gorgeous you were, dinner was going smoothly and what happened during lunch time had almost faded from your mind, when you heard someone clearing their throat
"oh hey... Enjoying some romantic dinner? That's a good place, right? Joel used to bring me here every so often, money was very short back then, but he always made an effort"
• Angela gave the two of you a bright smile, loving every single ounce of anger that clearly went through your face, what the fuck was that disgusting woman doing there? Why did she have to ruin your date night like that? It made your blood boiling, Joel immediately sensed the tension and tried coming up with something to say, but Angela just shrugged
"I came over just to grab myself some dinner, excuse me and enjoy your evening"
• she faked sympathy and blew Joel a kiss, knowing damn well the whole evening was already ruined for you, which made her pretty good about herself
• once you got home, you decided to have a heartfelt conversation with Joel, tell him every single thing that was bothering you, after all, communication had always been a big deal for you and it was important for you to open up and be straightforward about the matter, and he agreed with you, he said Angela was crossing the boundary and he assured you he was gonna talk to her
• so during the next few days, things were alright again between you and your sweet Joel; you were still very much in love and Sarah had been so busy with her tests at school, you didn't even hear of Angela's name and you'd be lying if you said you weren't happy about it, it was a relief she wasn't around and you even suggested Joel to make barbecue on Saturday, you'd have an extra shift but then you could enjoy the weekend with your family
• he gladly accepted it and you spent the rest of your week quite excited for it, you liked his barbecue, it was such a dad trait he had and you wanted to spend some time in bed with him too, once you arrived from work, you smiled as you saw Tommy's truck and you could smell the delicious scent of food, as you got off your own car, you went straight to the backyard, smiling from ear to ear
• but it didn't last long, your smile died when you spotted Angela; she was wearing a short summer dress and laughed happily at something Joel said, it must've been so funny because Sarah was laughing too. Angela was holding a bowl of egg salad and the moment she saw you, her own smile died, as if she was the one who had her day ruined by an intruder in her family, and not the other way around
• you frowned as Sarah sighed at seeing you, it didn't take a rocket science genius to see she was disappointed in seeing you there, as if you had got in the way between her mom and dad, you stared at Joel, your eyes filling up with angry tears as he immediately walked to you, holding you by the waist
"baby..."
"I'm going to the bathroom to wash my face and when I come back I don't wanna see this woman here, I've had enough, I don't care if she's your ex or Sarah's mom, she clearly wants to take my place and sometimes I feel like she has already..."
"don't say that, baby girl, that's not true"
"so get rid of her Joel"
• you left to the bathroom so you could freshen up and clear up your mind; hoping she would be gone by then, you didn't want to see her at all, so once you stepped into the kitchen, you were ready to start your weekend, with the exception of the scene before your eyes: Angela's lips on Joel's
• you felt as if you lost the ground from under your feet, and even if Joel shoved her away from him and began apologizing one hundred times, you'd had enough; Angela got what she wanted: you out of the way
• you ignored everything Joel said, as you blinked your tears and shook your head, leaving the house, the house that used to be your home, but now you weren't so sure; maybe all you did all that time was fill up the absence of Angela, and now, that Joel and Sarah had the original one, they didn't need you anymore
• that was only one out of many thoughts that crossed your mind, you didn't want to believe that, you loved Joel and Sarah and you wanted to continue thinking they also love you, but your heart was broken and Joel Miller was to blame 💔
____
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal headcanon#pedro pascal headcanons#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fanfic#joel miller headcanon#joel miller headcanons
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cc!Dream is a puppy, but I'm ready to fight for fact that c!Dream is a CAT!
He pretends that he doesn’t need anyone, that he can handle it on his own, and then he simply comes to his loved one for comfort and affection (yes, I’m talking about Punz).
He is upset that Techno rejected him (and I understand Dream), he literally sounds like a cat who was coldly and harshly thrown from his warm lap and his sweet slumber was interrupted. He is betrayed and does not understand what he did to deserve this from the person he trusted and who was safe for him.
Dream organizes a manhunt because games bring kittens closer together, building family bonds.
He climbs trees and sleeps anywhere, and especially likes to lie and bask in the sun on the roof of a Community house.
I'm sure he hisses at people and walks silently, scaring everyone and everything.
He tries to spend a lot of time with each friend, mostly he follows them around and watches (like with Puffy), or chats animatedly and asks a lot of questions (like with Sam when he's building something), or sleeps nearby, or maybe directly on a person (as with George and Sapnap).
Although Dream wears a mask most of the time, it’s difficult to notice how he looks at you and blinks slowly, but this is how he shows love.
He also watches how people eat and guards them during meals, either eating everything first or after the others.
Dislikes enclosed spaces and prefers to have access to all rooms (he hates that he built Pandora's main chamber so small).
He loves soft things, so he always wears things that are comfortable and pleasant to the touch. (He hates that Pandora doesn't even have a bed.)
He loves meat, and sometimes eats it raw (this saves time!!). Considers attempts to replace meat with artificial meat a crime.
Loves water, and especially dolphins and playing with them. Their energy and speed match his own and give him the opportunity to not hold back.
P.S. This is a mix of headcanons and my attempt to show that c!Dream is a cat.
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German!Gale AU
And now for the other one that won't leave me alone.
Gale was born in Germany, but he lived in France for a decent portion of his childhood. His parents moved there for work. His mother was a part-time typist and his father. Well his father was many things; whatever people paid him to be (and as fast as possible), but he was known for transport.
Gale loved growing up in France. It was so busy he could pass by unnoticed and enjoy his people-watching in peace. So many people came from all over to enjoy one of centres of European culture, or so the Americans called it. His parents didn't like that much, but Gale liked the Americans the best. Brash. Up front. Not much guessing about what they really meant. He got enough of that at home.
But then dad came barging in the front door of their modest apartment at 2.23 in the morning with a black eye, and they were packing the essentials and anything of value, and crossing the border the Germany, barely stopping on the way.
Neither his mother or his father ever explained why they'd had to move, but Gale didn't need them to confirm what he already knew. He'd lost enough of his own precious belongings - a collector's edition of his favourite comic series; a perfect, detailed model plane he'd won in a maths competition at school; the watch his grandfather had given him before he died.
And then there were the drunk ramblings when mother had gone to bed about how Gale had cursed this family and his luck, and everything was all his fault.
He was five the first time he felt the back of his father's hand and heard the vitriol he really thought of his son. And he was never allowed to forget.
When Gale was barely a man, in those final stages of gangly teenagehood, things...changed in Germany. It wasn't anything groundbreaking. More like when the floorboards that always creaked finally moved a little under your feet. People were still struggling to recover after the War, and all the voices that had been looking for someone to blame were getting a little closer to home, a little louder, a little more important and harder to shrug off.
One of his only friends Solomon had stopped looking him in the eye. When Gale had demanded an answer in that quiet, firm, unyielding way of his, Solomon had scoffed.
"You look just like them, Gale. The posters."
Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Everything Solomon was not.
"Mama says we have to go before... well. Just, before. But you'll be fine, Gale."
He never saw Solomon again.
In his twenties, they were at war and his dad still worked in transport. People came to the house and paid him to take things to places they'd only wrote down once before making his father burn the paper.
But then his father pocketed the money and when those people left, he'd make a call and those officials with the impeccable uniforms would turn up, question his father thoroughly, before handing him a packet of money as well.
"Hitler will turn our fortunes around, boy. You'd best fall in line, before you ruin this for me, too, and kill us all."
Now Gale was quiet, but he wasn't meek. And he didn't think the Nazis had it right at all. But they'd abandoned a lot of their pretenses by now and news of attacks and deaths and beatings were commonplace.
So Gale decided to get into the family business. He didn't tell his father, and people who knew his last name were slow to trust, but anyone who spent any significant time with him couldn't help but respect him.
He didn't understand why, but he was grateful, honoured.
The first time he reunited a dark haired, dark eyed child with their gaunt and terrified parents he crawled into the hayloft in the barn and sobbed into the straw. It wasn't anything grand, he wasn't a human smuggler. He simply found ways to move some small supplies around for others make the bigger, grander gestures of resistance. But when frightened breaths came from the wooden crate, he'd had to bite his lip until it bled to stop from vomiting at transporting someone that small like goods.
For their life, Gale, he'd told himself.
He hated himself and was terrified in equal measure. Filled with a righteous fury that made him want to fight it all. Terrified that he'd wake up to those impeccable uniforms pointing a gun at his head, and his father grinning and pocketing his pay packet, before they pulled the trigger.
Then, one day, the last straw broke the camel's back. Or, more accurately, fell into his cabbage patch.
The dark haired man was drenched in blood. There was barely any skin visible from the top of his head to the collar of his jacket. Dark blue eyes glared out from the red.
He was tall, taller than Gale, broad and strong looking. But Gale was clearly in a better state. If it came down to it, he was sure he could hold his own.
The man held his hand to his lips, gasping on his knees in the dirt. "Bitte," he whispered in an American accent.
"Amerikaner?"
The man nodded and tapped his chest with one hand, the other still raised, palm out. "John."
John. Gale returned the favour in kind, and he liked the way his name sounded in American.
Just as he was about to ask the man if he needed help - the stupidest damned question he would have ever asked in his life because seriously - barking and shouting came from the woods a ways behind the house.
Terror flashed in those blue eyes.
"Please," the man begged, dragged from the depths of him and Gale got the impression it wasn't something he said often. "Please help me."
And the awful limbo Gale had felt stuck in for years started to crumble away. He marched forward and grabbed John roughly and hauled him to his feet. He half carried him to the hay cart and tossed him onto it. John barely had time to give him a single bewildered glance before Gale was shoveling hay over him and dragging the cart around the barn and next to the silo. Then over the hill came a small band of hunters, dogs and guns and all. One of them was a regular visitor to his father and Gale ran forward waving his arms and yelling.
"You are looking for someone?"
They were.
"They are injured?"
They were.
He led them to the cabbage patch and the blood on the pale leaves.
"I've checked everywhere and they're not hiding anywhere I can find."
And because most people saw his father when they looked at him, the hunters gave nothing more than a cursory glance around, before they left.
And Gale is left with an American man hiding in some hay, who by hook or by crook, he was going to get out of here.
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a request for mob boss Nico, is there ever a time where the boys call y/n for help because they trusted her and didn’t want to upset Nico?
Oh definitely it happens all the time. They use her to soften up blows to Nico when they mess up or help clean them up if things get out of hand.
The first time they realized they could call her though was when her baby Holtzy needed help
——————————————————————
Alex Holtz joined the Devs after he got into legal trouble back home and reached out to Jesper for help. He had been disowned by his family and was living on the streets, and he made a mistake that was gonna haunt him forever now that he was aging out of being a juvenile. So Nico and Jesper brought him in, sent out the private jet and moved him to Jersey where he moved into a loft with the Hughes boys.
Bad idea off the bat but they’re all young and Nico thought they’d click (They do, a little too well).
Late on a Friday, you and Nico were sprawled out on the living room floor with piles of Lego pieces between you. You were racing to see who could build their set the fastest, not that it mattered because there was no real prize, but you two loved the competition.
Nico was finishing up one of the succulents on his set when a ringing phone interrupted the romcom you’d put on the background. Assuming it was work phone based on the hour, you went about your business until Nico fumbled with his silent phone and looked at you in confusion.
“S’yours baby.” He catches your attention, and you look over to the coffee table where you left your phone. Sure enough it’s vibrating across the glass, the screen lit up with Alex’s name.
Quickly, you grab the phone and slide to answer.
“Hi Holtzy, you ok?”
Immediately you know something is wrong. You can hear it in his breath, how it shakes and quivers. And you can hear the frantic voices in the background, whatever boys he went out with tonight obviously panicking.
“Y/n?”
“Yeah, I’m here. What’s the matter?”
By now Nico is on his knees, watching you with concern. You can tell he’s ready to jump up and run, to fix whatever is going on. But Alex didn’t call him, he called you.
“I-something happened,” his voice is small and weak through the speaker and it makes your chest ache. “I didn’t mean to, I just-“
He’s cut off by a sob, one so shattering you can feel it in your own chest. “Ok, it’s ok. You wanna tell me where you are? I’m gonna come get you, ok?”
“Nico will be mad, he won’t want you here. I shouldn’t have-“
“Alex, he doesn’t care. We care about you, kid. Tell me where you are and I’m gonna fix it, ok?”
And Alex has always been good at responding to authoritative tones, better than any of the other boys that are his age. But he’s let down a lot of grown up’s in his life and you know how scared he is to do that to you and Nico.
He mumbles out an address not too far from the loft, telling you he’s in the lot out back with Jack and Luke.
“Do you want me to stay on the phone?”
Alex sniffles, chokes back another cry. “No, no drive safely. I can be ok.”
“I’ll be there in ten, don’t move and don’t touch anything ok? Unless someone’s gonna hurt you, you stay put.”
Mumbling his agreement, you tell him you’ll see him soon and hang up. Nico, having picked up on the conversation, has already collected the keys to the Range Rover and his gun, his feet tucked into his shoes.
“Where are we going?” He asks you and you pull on a jacket and shoes. Taking the pocketknife he holds out to you, you tuck into your pants.
“I’ll give directions.”
~~~~
Whatever Alex and the Hughes boys had been doing, they ended up outside an abandoned factory in a lot that is closed off.
Not that it stopped them seeing as the gate has been pried open and Nico is able to drive into the gravel covered lot.
You can see the Hughes boys kneeling over something on the sidewalk, barely illuminated by the street light. Alex is sitting a few feet away, curled into himself against the brick wall of the building. Before Nico can even stop the car, you’re jumping out.
Whatever scold Nico shouts after you is lost.
Jack and Luke look up at you helplessly when you jog up to them, panic stricken in the poor light. It only takes you a second to see why.
There’s a man under them, one that’s strangling out breathes and covered in blood. He doesn’t appear to be awake, but you realize the two brothers are both pressing their hands into the wound on his abdomen.
“Oh fuck,” you mumble, crouching down to feel for the man’s pulse. It’s weak, but it’s there so you rise again, wipe the blood on your finger onto your pants.
“Keep holding, I’ll be right back.”
Jack and Luke call after you but you don’t hear them. You’re too busy approaching Alex, sinking down to your knees in front of him. He doesn’t lift his head out of his hands until you gently touch his knees.
The sight of him almost has you in tears. His eyes are red and puffy, cheeks splotchy from crying and he’s matted his hair with the blood that was on his hands.
Somehow, he looks even younger than he actually is.
“Alex, are you ok? Are you bleeding?”
He shakes his head, a fresh set of tears streaming down his face. “I don’t know what happened, one minute we were joking around and then he was talking shit and shoving Luke and I-“
“You did what you had to,” you assure him, reaching for his hands. “You were protecting family, Alex and that’s what we do.”
You stroke over his knuckles, nod along as he tells you about how he just went blank, he was so angry he couldn’t even see anything and then the man was bleeding and they didn’t know what to do.
So Jack dragged him into the empty lot and told him to call Nico. He couldn’t though, he couldn’t let Nico know that he messed up so badly already.
You wait for him to finish talking, push his hair off his forehead. “It’s ok, it’s ok,” you assure him. “You did exactly what you were supposed to. You were smart and you were quick, and you protected Luke.”
“Nico told us to protect you,” he mumbles sadly “I shouldn’t have brought you into this but he’s so scary sometimes. What if he sends me back?”
You squeeze his fingers, make him look at you. “Holtzy, you’re a Dev.” You say firmly, “Nico knows what that means, we all know what that means. You’re here, you’re with us no matter what. And if you think me being here is putting me in danger, you’re wrong. It’s my job to protect all of you.”
Finally he relaxes, shaking as you rise and help him to his feet. You cup his face, wipe away the tear tracks on his face before pulling him down into a hug. He squeezes you back, grateful.
“Go to the car, there’s clothes in the back.” You instruct, nudging him towards the parked vehicle. “Ignore Nico, he’s just a driver tonight, ok?”
You can see the reluctance in his eyes but he nods anyway and drags his feet to the car. Taking a deep breath, you join Jack and Luke again, and Nico who’s now crouched down with them.
“He ok?” Nico asks you, glancing towards Alex. You nod, rolling up the sleeves of your hoodie. Accepting the answer, Nico hands you the med kit he’d brought out from the car.
“Didn’t know the plan,” he tells you “you gonna fix him or are we leaving?”
Jack and Luke look between the two of you, and then at each other. They’re obviously thrown by Nico’s behavior, and it’s then that you realize this is the first time one of them has called you in crisis.
“Fix him,” you decide, flipping open the large box and digging out everything you’ll need to clean him up and stitch him. “And when he wakes up, you’ll make sure he forgets everything.”
Nico’s eyebrows shoot up, surprised and impressed with your answer. “Yeah?”
You nod, pulling on some gloves. “But make sure he knows that if he ever touches Luke or even thinks about Alex, I’ll personally be undoing all the hard work I did on him tonight.”
You don’t miss the smile that rises on your boyfriend’s face, how his eyes crinkle and dimples sink into his cheeks. “Sure thing, boss.” He agrees, moving around you so he can pull your hair back for you and tie it up.
Pressing a kiss to your head, he rises to his feet and moves towards Alex and the car.
“Nico,” you stop him, and he turns to look at you. “He’s shaken and he’s sorry. Be a friend.”
Biting back another grin, he nods. “And clear out the backseat, these three are coming back with us.”
He nods and turns on his heel, doing as told. Certain that he’ll listen to you, you get to work on fixing up the man below you. And you swell with pride when Jack and Luke follow your lead like obedient soldiers.
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Figure You Out
Rise Good Future Leo x GN reader
warnings/summary: NSFW just to be safe, Leo thinks he could be a better boyfriend, yandere-ish, implied relationship sabatoge, possessive and jealous traits
Leo feels sick to his gut over his secret most days.
He takes care to make sure it doesn’t bleed out in any of his words or actions. He has strict guidelines to follow, and so far it’s kept both you and his family off his scent. No one expects what he’s thinking when your eyes light up and it’s not in his direction, but at the little device jingling in your pocket. Some days he gets the wild idea of stealing your phone while you're occupied with one of his brothers, of deleting the number or blocking it, but that thought is always cooled by the thought that it’s too risky, that he can’t tip his hand just yet.
But god, he wants to. He wants you. He wants you when you’re sleepy and a little too trusting, leaning against his plastron during the late night movie nights and snoring softly into his side. He burns with the desire to tip your head back, to smother your mouth with his kiss, to write his name on the inside of your heart until you only look at him with that lovesick, puppy dog expression.
But now, you don’t even notice when his gaze shutters, turning flat and emotionless as you answer your phone.
You’re excited. You're happy. In some distant corner of his mind, he knows he should be happy for you, shouldn’t begrudge you the feeling painted clearly on your face.
The larger part of him though, the part that is barely held back by what he knows to be the right thing to do, howls because it’s not what should be.
You don’t notice the wolf crouched in front of you. How could you, when your eyes were tinted with rose colored glasses where he’s concerned. To you, he’s Leonardo Hamato, your dearest friend, your secret confidant.
You have no idea of the miasma of desire crawling underneath his skin every time he so much as catches your scent. You have no idea the way he wants to have you, to consume you, until you can’t breathe without his name slipping out in some fashion.
He wants to brand you, wants the echo of his touch, his possession, on your skin. He catches the errant thought that the light bruise just under your collar would look better from his mouth, that the little mark was an insult to you. You deserved so much more than that tiny, whispered footnote.
He’d give you a proper mark, a whole necklace of bruises if he could, or maybe a bite…
He catches himself on the edge of the cliff, stuttering to a stop, eyes flickering to your own to see if you’d notice the way he was looming into your space.
But you hadn’t, chattering away on the phone, your own gaze catching on his for just a moment.
He forces a smile to his mouth, certain it looks strained, fake, but you only give him that little smile that he hopes, for your sake, is reserved for him alone, before turning back to the phone once more.
But you don’t move from his orbit. Mentally, Leo marks that as a win in his favor, the sound like nails on a chalkboard in his mind’s eye as he leans against the wall next to you and watches.
Waits.
He’ll have you, eventually, he just needs to be patient.
When you turn, murmuring some low goodbye, jealousy catches him in the chest, scorching the beast hiding in his gut. He manages to keep from snatching the phone, though his fingers twitch in the tight fist he’s trapped under his arm.
When you hang up and turn, his once more, and give him another giddy smile, he wonders for a moment how it is you can’t see the wolf smiling back at you.
How is it you can’t feel the imprint of his teeth around your throat when his gaze dips down and lingers on where he thinks it would look oh, so pretty.
Leo reels the beast back in, slipping on the mask of ‘best friend’ once more, letting it sooth the hungry edges of his mind when you slip underneath his arm with ease once more.You’re his, you’re his, and he’ll make you see the truth soon.
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https://www.tumblr.com/drewsbuzzcut/749147223848337408/httpswwwtumblrcomdrewsbuzzcut749144799770263
Need a blurb
Warnings: mentions sex and drinking and I think that’s all
“Maty, baby, please don’t be upset,” you hummed as you’re pulling into the driveway of your parents’ house.
“What, babe? Your brothers and I are cool now,” he says, thinking you’re talking about his relationship with your siblings.
You give him a fake smile and shake your head to let him know it’s not about your brothers. You take in a deep breath of air, because you have no idea how he’s going to take this.
“No. Um… remember that guy my brothers told you about. My brother’s friend who I slept with a few times. Well, it never dawned on me but he’s a close family friend. And he’s inside because he’s literally invited to everything. I just wanted to give you a heads up,” you cringe as you speak, especially once you see your boyfriend’s displeased expression.
“You mean the guy who gave you your first orgasm? That’s just great,” he groans, throwing his head back against the headrest.
With a sigh, you quickly put your car in park and unbuckle your seatbelt. Without hesitation you toss your legs over Mat’s lap and straddle him in the passenger seat.
“He may have given me my first orgasm, but you’re the only guy to ever make me squirt and give me tons of orgasms in one night. Ryan was just a one and done type of guy. You, my sexy hotshot, rock my world every time you touch me,” you reassure him, gathering his hands and guiding them to cup your boobs. He gives them a hearty squeeze and you can feel your core tingle with excitement.
“Damn right I do,” Mat grins and pulls you into a kiss that has the power to make you orgasm on the spot.
“As much as I’d like for you to fuck me in your car, I really don’t want to be caught in my parents’ driveway,” you sigh and pat his chest before moving off of him.
-
“Hey, Y/n,” Ryan greets you and you can feel Mat tense up next to you.
“Ryan, hey. This is my boyfriend, Mat,” you introduce Mat to the man and watch with weary eyes as they shake hands.
“Nice to meet you man. Sorry about the playoffs this season,” Ryan hums. His eyes linger on your form, not that you even notice. Mat does, though.
“It’s all good. It just means I get to spend more time with my girl,” Mat muses, pulling you in front of him and wrapping his thick arms around your waist.
Ryan’s eyes travel down to where Mat’s hands rest on your abdomen, but they move fast so you don’t even notice. Mat does, though. Your boyfriend’s hands travel to your hips, squeezing your jean clad flesh and making you melt into him.
He captures your lips in a sweltering kiss and his tongue tangles with yours. His smile beaming against your mouth breaks up your lip lock.
“I love you,” he whispers, his nose nudging yours.
“I love you.”
Ryan clears his throat and it snaps you out of your daze. Sometimes you forget where you are when you’re with Mat.
“Sorry,” Mat smirks, his hands still wandering the curves of your body. His attention is solely on you and the way your ass presses into his groin. Every now and then, Mat’s eyes will flit up to see Ryan uncomfortably shift on the heels of his feet.
“We need to go greet everyone else,” you part ways with Ryan, dragging Mat along by his belt loops.
“Come find me if you get bored,” Ryan suggests, making Mat send a glare his way.
With you under his arm and your ears not even picking up on Ryan’s words, Mat places one more wet kiss on your mouth.
“Trust me, dude, she won’t get bored,” Mat gives him a cocky wink. He doesn’t like Ryan.
-
“He’s in love with you, or he at least has some feelings for you,” Mat whispers in your ear after he pulls you onto his lap.
“Who?” You ask, not quite sure who he’s talking about.
“Ryan,” his words cause you to frown.
You turn your body into his and bring your hands up to cup his cheeks.
“What are you talking about?” You ask against his lips.
“Ryan likes you a lot. He is always staring at you longingly. He’s also been trying to find different ways to talk to you,” Mat explains, pecking your lips and pulling away to look at you.
“He’s even looking at you right now. His eyes are literally glued to your ass. I knew you shouldn’t have worn these jeans, they look too good on you,” Mat huffs, his lips forming the cutest pout you’ve ever seen.
“Good thing you’ll be the one to pull them off of me,” you whisper in his ear, purposely pushing your boobs closer to his face.
You grab one of his hands and place it on your ass, for everyone to see or just for those who were watching. You fix him with a devious smirk and he not so subtly cops a feel.
“So Ryan, do you have a girlfriend?” Mat asks after moments of him ignoring the guy’s existence.
Ryan finishes off his beer before his eyes slide over to you perched on Mat’s lap. You watch him with curious eyes as you notice his intense stare.
“No. There was the one that got away, though. She’s something special, but other than that I haven’t found the right girl yet,” he answers and he can’t help but focus on you as he speaks.
You look away and focus on your man and his darkened eyes. Although his body is typically rock solid, you can still tell when he grows tense. Sensing his jealousy, you press your lips to his jaw and caress at his muscles. You smile against his skin as you feel him fall back into relaxation.
“Aww man that sucks. The wait is worth it, though. When you find the one, they change the whole trajectory of your life,” Mat simpers, his jaw clenched while his eyes are locked on yours. He knew it. Ryan didn’t need to explicitly say your name for Mat to know he was talking about you.
“Maybe true love is overrated,” Ryan blurts out. His stare is hard, almost bruising.
“Nah, true love isn’t overrated. I’m sure you’ll find the right person someday, and you’ll see that true love is special and can’t be messed with,” Mat cocks an eyebrow at the man, letting him know that he can look all he wants but he can’t have you.
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Harry running to Japan because it is the safest place for him.
Kingsley watching this child who was melded into a soldier in the holding cell, holding his baby close to him, waiting for a trial after losing control. There is .very little chance of Harry getting out of this alive
(Someone tried to take his baby. What was he supposed to do? He doesn’t know.)
He makes a choice, and unlocks the cell. Harry runs.
Harry being broken into his apartment by Hermione and Ron, frantically packing his bags, and taking the portkey to Japan. There is no time for goodbyes.
Him running to the bad parts, so he doesn’t get discovered by the Japanese aurors, and having to fight to keep his kid alive.
He gets a job and food through shady back alley deals, and jobs willing to hire a 17 year old who hasn’t been to proper school since he was 10. One thing about quirks, there are so many people that drop out of school due to their quirk and go into the streets.
Sure they don’t really have a roof over their head some nights. Sure Teddy is wearing one diaper that Harry is just cleaning over and over again. But they have each other, and that’s enough.
Aizawa seeing this *kid*, whose quirk doesn’t stop with his, and his kid with the strongest quirk he ever seen on a newborn. He makes it his mission to get him into UA.
Namdnsnsnsnsbsbnssb screaming about this
Harry who was turned into a soldier, into a killer, when he was still young. Who took his first life at eleven and had to keep going. Who was famous for killing the same man twice. Who never had the space to process the blood on his hands much less get real help for it. His friends tried, the shattered little family they had built tried, but they were not trained professionals. Most of them had never heard of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder much less what it could do to someone, but still they tried.
But everyone knew Teddy Lupin was Harry’s whole world from the moment he had laid eyes on him after the battle. The entire wizarding world knew that Harry Potter, The Man Who Conquered, was fully devoted to his child in a way he had never been to anything else.
Still they were surprised to see what lines a trained killer would cross when they tried to take his world from him. The lengths he would go to save his child when from the age of eleven he had blood and ash on his hands.
Harry… didn’t remember much of the attack. Didn’t remember how his magic had burst from him the moment he felt someone try to take Teddy from him. Didn’t remember the second wave of power when the aurors tried to take him down and made the mistake of getting a bit too close to Teddy with their wands drawn.
He did remember waking up in the cell with Teddy still clutched in his arms and Kingsley looking at him through the bars.
“Minis-“
“I’m not here officially, Harry.” Kingsley cut him off with sorrow in his eyes. “I’m not here as an order member, either. I’m here as your friend.”
Harry didn’t understand at the time, but he didn’t step back when Kingsley unlocked the cell door. He trusted Kingsley. He wouldn’t hurt Teddy.
“Run fast and run far, Harry Potter,” Kingsley said the words like a prayer. “We never deserved you.”
And Harry ran.
He took the bag a tearful Hermione pressed into his hand, let Ron press a wet kiss to his forehead, and grabbed the portkey that would take him and Teddy far far away. He kept his head down and kept moving where he could. He barely slept. He stole and fought to make sure they had food. He took any job that would take him as long as he deemed it safe enough for Teddy to be around. He transfigured the same three pairs of clothes so no one questioned why they always wore the same thing.
He survived.
Alone. He was so alone other than Teddy, but his child was safe. And that was all that mattered really.
The vigilante justice thing hadn’t been a part of his plan. He couldn’t turn the saving people thing off even now. Merlin, it was probably worse now with how his magic writhed in him like a living thing. He couldn’t pretend not to see the crime around the when the very same could come to his and Teddy’s door. He had to protect his baby. Had to protect the last family he had. Anything to protect Teddy and help those who needed it.
That… didn’t mean he knew what to do when a vaguely familiar man (one of the local underground heroes?) started stalking him on his nightly patrols. With Teddy watched over by Kreature in whatever abandoned building the two of them had charmed into a house for the night Harry had started to go out lore and more. Needing to lose some the eager edge of his magic ever since the attack.
He knew even less of what to do when the man watched him, unblinking, as he set down a package of diapers (exactly the size Teddy was in now) before swinging up to the rooftops.
Harry took the diapers, barely acknowledged the eyes that followed him from whatever job would take him back home then out on his patrols, and kept moving.
“You never stop running, do you kid?” The hero asked one night when he found Harry poised on the edge of a rooftop, ready to apparate out in a moment’s notice.
“I can’t.” Harry said, hating how his voice cracked on the last word. “It’s all I know.”
The hero tipped his head to the side, watching, always watching behind those weird goggles. “I’m a teacher at UA.” Harry had heard of it. It was rather impossible not to. “We can protect you and the kid.”
Harry bared his teeth, his magic making both of their hair stand on end as it built between them. A warning. the calm before the storm. “I’ve heard that before. I won’t let you take him from me!”
“We’re not going to.” The hero didnt look away. Harry doubted he blinked. “I’ve seen how you are with them, kid. You’re a good parent in a bad situation, but someone will eventually try to take him if you keep on as you are.”
The snarl that ripped from Harry’s chest would have put Greyback to shame, but he didn’t attack, didn’t loose the leash he had on his magic. (He was a soldier. A killer. But he had rules. And the hero had helped them.) “He is my baby.”
The hero tipped his head in a nod. “Then protect him, kid. Give him a home and get a degree so you can get a real job to take care of him. Doesn’t he deserve better than this?”
Harry didn’t answer, instead disappearing with a crack loud enough that it set off a few car alarms, but he didn’t attack either.
Eraserhead took that as progress.
#the elf talks#mha#bnha#harry potter#feral teen mom Harry is a vibe tbh#a new au approaches?#could definitely see Harry knowing about Dabi and toga in this one
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QUEEN OF TEARS FINALE
This drama is gonna tug your hearstrings.I am literally crying and laughing at the same time.Kudos to the cast for their incredible performances.
Finally the moment that everyone is waiting for. In the last two episodes Hae In finally underwent surgery but in order to live she has to pay a price and that is to lose all of her memories. We can always create new memories but we only have one life left to live.Baek Hyun Woo and Hae in finally sorted out their feelings prior to the surgery but Eunsung schemed to separate the lovely couple once again.
Baek Hyun Woo's character appears to be the knight and shining armor.Not only was he framed by Eunsung but he took a bullet for Hong Hae In. He was the kindest and adorable male lead I've ever seen which only exists in dramas.But viewers can't help but swoon how smart and talented he is. He had this undeniable charm that makes Hong Hae in fall in love with him all over again.
Hong Hae In remained very cautious even after the surgery.Though she lost her memories but she still acts like her old self. Eunsung tries to distort the truth but his plans failed.
Eunsung was a child yearning for a love and affection from his mother who abandoned him and never kept her promise.He suffered in the hands of his adopted parents and struggled to live a better life.His mother was just to cruel not only for the false promises she made but for pushing all the blame to him even after he died.Eunsung is one example of how pain changes a person.The mother and the son needs to wake up and they showed no sign of redemption.
In the end justice was served.Hyun Woo was so fortunate to have a very strong support system from his family and to have a trusted friend who always had his back.
I can finally sleep in peace knowing Hae In and Hyun woo lived happily and had a child together.manifesting that this too would happen in real life.
For the first time in so many years that I ship another kdrama couple.I mean they look so adorable together.Fingers crossed hoping that they will work in a new project together.
The OSTs are the best.With all of the bts and snippets from the drama I think there is no moving on.Promotions are going well for this drama.As they always say strike while the iron is still hot.It will always be one of the best dramas this year.
P.S. I am hoping to see KJW and KSH to attend awarding ceremonies this year.Probably walking on the red carpet together.
I have seen some snippets of their interviews and they both are introverts just like me.I can relate hahaaa.Btw I need watch a new show tonight to finally say goodbye to this drama.
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I know everyone likes to make fun of Ezra for believing Maul, but I honestly really liked that, because. Like. He's been working so hard to learn to trust people again. His new-found family is teaching him how to open up and how to let himself love others without being too afraid of losing them to connect
And he doesn't immediatly trust Maul, which shows that even if his trust issues are much better now, he's still not stupid and knows to be careful around strangers, especially if you found them inside a Sith Temple
But. Maul shows and tells him what he wants to see; he acts kind with him, reassures him when he's in doubt, and manipulates Ezra (who is a CHILD) into beliving in him so he could get what he wanted
Then he betrays him, and by blinding Kanan, he proves Ezra's 'little me' right
#i actually think it's beautiful how he still keeps trying even after having been hurt so many times#and it's not even about maul hurting him. it's about maul hurting kanan#like if maul hadn't done that then ezra would've been perfectly fine w having him as a slightly evil friend that his entire family hates#part of the reason why i love ezra is because bc even though he's been betrayed#he still works to be better#he still fights for what's right#still helps others. he can and will jump in the middle of the battlefield to save a stranger because that's who he is#and he always trusts his family to watch his back#he's been tempted by the dark side so many times and yet he's still “dark side? never heard of it”#and even when he DOES use the dark side. he gets better. he realices that what he's doing is wrong and GETS BETTER#ezra's world was violently taken away from him when he was only a child#he lived on the street for years with nothing but himself. he learned to never trust anyone and to always think for himself#he couldn't afford to help others (unless it wasn't TOO dangerous and he could get smth out of it) because he can't put himself in danger#he learns to forget his parents's beliefs#then the ghost crew comes along and they show him that world again#and now that he knows it he will never leave it again#star wars#star wars rebels#sw rebels#swr#ezra bridger#darth maul#star wars meta#sw meta#twilight of the apprentice#avis' post
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okay this scene is making me emotional in multiple different ways right now
in a sweet way because the knowledge that he used to use his magic to keep her warm when she was little, and did it enough for it to become her nickname, is absolutely ADORABLE
but also in a sad way because like. okay, in my experience, when you're a little kid:
when your parent who is pretty much always cold to you does something to hurt you, of course that sucks. but you're like "yeah, of course that happened, they're just mean like that."
but when your parent who is sweet to you sometimes, who has proven themself *capable* of warmth, does something to hurt you, it feels 3x worse. it feels like a betrayal. sometimes you might even wonder it it was because of you
so here we have alador, who kept her warm, who she looked up to. but who neglected her and helped his wife abuse her.
and i doubt it was a flipped switch that happened one day to change him from "good dad" to "bad dad". i even doubt that it was a linear development from good to bad.
i doubt that memory in understanding willow was an isolated incident. he'd probably hurt his childrens' feelings multiple times long before he was forced to really withdraw from them. and in between those incidents, he was probably pretty sweet and kind to them.
and when you're so young, you have no choice but to accept that kindness. you're evolutionarily hardwired to seek out the care of a parental figure. so you run back into their arms even though you're scared they're gonna betray you again.
and amity STILL seemed to care about him, at the older age of 14 when you don't have such an instinctive pull to seek the care of an adult, after all that he'd done and after barely seeing him anymore. her whole goal of joining the tournament in reaching out was to feel close to him, even though he hadn't started to redeem himself and she didn't trust him enough to accept a hug from him.
so she'd probably been really hurt every time he sided with her mother. and him pulling away was probably really painful. and she's probably dealing with so many complicated emotions as she starts to trust him again, even with the proof that he's actually improved and won't hurt her again
ouch
#eliot posts#toh#toh spoilers#the owl house#toh meta#amity blight#alador blight#abuse tw#i got a little spoiled on stuff before i started watching the show back in s1#i started watching around grom when my whole dash was flooded with posts about the show#and i was like okay lemme go see what all the fuss is about. i'm in the market for a new show anyway.#so i saw understanding willow spoilers#and so i have been invested in blight family angst from the very start and watched all amity episodes w it in mind#*slaps roof of amity* this bad boy can fit so many of my familial issues in it#before the more recent reveals it was just the hatred i feel for them now#but now? it is the Complicated feelings i had about my own dad when i was real young and couldn't hate him yet#(stuff w my own father was Worse tho bc he was shitty on his own volition. and was just always unstable and immature)#(and was outright violent at times)#i don't forgive my own father. idk if i ever will but even if i do i will never trust him or want him in my life ever again#but i am crossing my fingers for my fictional girl to get a happy family bc i want good things for her#...and bc she's too young to be able to outright cut them all off
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Dick expressing his confidence in Roy my deeply beloved
The Teen Titans (1996) #16
ID under cut
Three panels of the Titans talking. The background is a dark blue to purple sunset which washes out the colors of some the characters. Roy as Arsenal stands next to Garth as Tempest, next to Wally as Flash, who’s turned towards Dick as Nightwing. Dick stands slightly away from the rest of the group.
Wally: “Dick, you’ve been Mr. Titans from the start. Ever think about taking these kids on and playing mentor?”
Dick: “Funny you should mention it. Toni asked me that earlier. We all benefited by having mentors, so it does seem reasonable.”
The next panel has Dick stepping away from the others, and he’s in color while the others are still washed out in blue. The others look at him in shock.
Dick: “But I’ve finally gotten my life to the point where it’s my own, and I’m not under anyone else’s shadow. I’m staying on the sidelines for now... especially since there’s another qualified candidate.”
Dick turns back and smiles at Roy, both in color on opposite ends of the panel.
#*chanting* do it again do it again do it again#especially at the end of this arc because they've all been judgy towards Roy so seeing Dick say this in front of Wally especially#is just so very satisfying to me#any time a character expresses how great Roy is an angel gets his wings (a bonus extra angle gets one if it's Dick in particular)#crying because Roy has confidence issues and an inferiority complex when it comes to Dick because he was always compared to Robin#just like ;-; the complicatedness of their relationship because everyone always compares them and while Dick can be judgmental he still has#said that he'd rather have Roy watching his back than anyone else#and leading/watching over the titans is such a big deal to Dick and when Roy took over the team before it wasn't good at all#(there were other things - failed marriage - going on for Dick at the time and he didn't handle it gracefully)#so like Dick just expressing his trust and confidence that Roy can watch over the team that's essentially Dick's family is just ;-; so good#dick grayson#roy harper#god i love their messy dynamic so much
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husband!gojo ✮| headcannons
gojoxfem!reader
MDNI -> warnings: afab reader (but anyone can read yk), sfw&nsfw, arranged marriage, slight angst, comfort, pet names, flufflufffluff!, cunnilingus, gojo is pussy whipped, fingering, creamycreamycreamiest creampies, reader calls gojo daddy!, tummypushing
a/n: i had a dream abt this with some random guy and when i woke up i was so disappointed :(( LOL angwah heres some quick gojo headcannons bc i truly miss him and im so lonely.
husband!gojo who you married per each family’s request, making your marriage an arranged one.
husband!gojo who hated the idea of being tied down.
husband!gojo who couldnt wait for the ceremony to end, however when he watched you walk down the aisle, looking so innocent, he felt a tug at his heartstrings.
husband!gojo who didnt know what to do when on your honeymoon. he didnt know whether or not to interact with you or to keep his distance like he promised himself. he decides for the latter.
husband!gojo who enjoys coming to work everyday after his honeymoon because his cute little wife always delivers his lunch to him despite not asking you to.
husband!gojo who starts to soften even more when he sees that you wait for him to come home from work. youre usually sleeping on the couch. he gently scoops you up in his arms and takes you to bed.
husband!gojo who sees that you start getting tired of the routine after a while. making his lunches, waiting for him to come home late. you stop delivering his lunches personally, opting to just give it to him before he leaves in the morning. he doesnt see you when he comes home either.
husband!gojo who makes sure to wash up before slipping into bed with you, wrapping his arms around you . he missed you.
husband!gojo who feels you wake the next morning, obviously confused to see his arms around you. he sighs before bringing you closer to his chest.
husband!gojo who whispers apologies and sweet nothings in your ear as you settle yourself into him with suspicion.
he strokes your head as he says. “im sorry. i know you didnt want this marriage either. im sorry that youve been doing all this alone. i promise ill be here for you. just tell me what you need and i will do everything to help you. youve changed me y/n.”
you look at him, with creased eyebrows, obviously still not trusting him fully.
“ill give you time.” husband!gojo sighs as he lets go of you to get ready for work. you still make him lunch that day.
husband!gojo who comes home and doesnt see you on the couch. he understands that he needs to wait for your response but there is a small part of him that is wondering whether or not you have left.
husband!gojo who sighs in relief when he opens the door to your shared bedroom, seeing you all dolled up in a pretty pj set, sitting comfy on the bed.
husband!gojo who smiles when he sees your face brighten in delight. you walk up to him.
husband!gojo who is surprised when you wrap your arms around him and kiss him with your soft lips. he groans into the kiss, regretting the fact the he never kissed you after the wedding.
husband!gojo who melts to your touch as your bring him to the bed. you remove his jacket and tie as your straddle him, kissing him more harshly.
husband!gojo who makes sure youre okay with with what’s going to happen next. he kisses you again when you say yes.
husband!gojo who takes his sweet time with you. stripping you from your garments,leaving you bare infront of him. he sinks his long fingers into your sopping cunt, your head lolling back in pleasure.
husband!gojo who’s eyes roll back when he finally tastes you. youre addcitive. he laps up your juices, swirling his tongue on your clit. you cum twice on your husband’s tongue, his hands holding your legs apart so they wont close. his fingers continues to scissor you until youre screaming.
husband!gojo who fucks you in missionary position, making sure to watch your face as your react to the pleasure hes giving you.
husband!gojo who cums inside of you only to turn that cum into a creamy mess around your pussy as he pounds into you some more. he can feel his creampie dripping out of you and down his balls.
husband!gojo who enjoys how loud youve become. moaning obscenities and calling him daddy. he wants to fuck you till your dumb!
“fuck princess, youre so fucking messy. fuc—nghh..” he tries to speak but your pussy is squeezing him too well he can barely get words out.
“please daddy!! i need—aghh.. i need you! dont stopp—ahh…” you groan as you have your fourth orgasm of night.
husband!gojo who watches hearts form in your eyes when he cums inside of you for the final time. you can feel his warmth trickling into your womb.
husband!gojo who pulls out and watches his loads flood out of you. he presses on your stomach, watching as more cum gushes out of you.
husband!gojo who brings a warm towel to wipe up the cream around your sex. you moan as he does so, still recovering from all of your orgasms.
husband!gojo who wraps you up into his arms once again, praising you for how well you did.
“you did so good love..” he says stroking your back.
husband!gojo who reminds you that he has fallen in love with you and will do anything and everything in his power to make sure that you are comfortable in this marriage with him.
husband!gojo who knows the two of you will be okay when you peck him on the lips and tell him that you love him.
#gojo x you#jujutsu gojo#gojo smut#gojo fluff#jjk gojo#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#gojou satoru x reader#gojo saturo#jujutsu kaisen
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Can you please write jealous Zuko? It can be however you like😊
a/n: i love jealous zuko! however this ended up being more angsty than i intended😭 hope you enjoy!
summary: a party at the palace leads to a deep revelation for zuko
He was miserable.
The palace didn’t throw parties very often these days, but the recent conquering of another Earth colony was deemed a call for celebration, and so all of the noble families in the Capital City were invited to attend. A grand feast was held and praises were showered upon Ozai throughout the night. It was one of the rare times Zuko didn’t have to worry about his father’s wrath, and so he should have been enjoying himself.
But he couldn’t, not when he could see that across the way another boy was flirting with you right in front of him.
You were Zuko’s everything- his childhood best friend that he’d always held harbored feelings for. During his banishment he thought of you constantly, and upon his arrival he immediately asked you to be his girlfriend. You were sweet and friendly, easily approachable and always able to cheer him up despite his moodiness, you were perfect. And apparently this other boy could see this too.
You smile out of politeness and nod along to the boy’s rambling story about his fire bending skills and high IQ, not very interested in listening but too nice to brush him off. It infuriates Zuko to see someone else take advantage of your kindness, and he’s unable to just sit back and watch any longer.
A harsh hand lands upon the boy’s shoulder, startling both of you in the process. Zuko’s eyes are blazing with fury, his palm scorching the fabric of the boy’s robes and scaring the spirits out of him in the process.
“Can’t you take a hint? She doesn’t want to talk to you!” the Prince bellow angrily, prompting a few guests nearby to turn their heads curiously towards the commotion. A bit embarrassed at the sudden attention, you gently pull Zuko’s hand away and drag him out to the gardens before he can escalate the situation any further. The last thing you need is for him to cause a scene at his father’s party.
“What?” Zuko says defensively as you wordlessly walk through the palace hallways. “I was helping you!”
“You were acting jealous again,” you chide gently.
“No I wasn’t!” He argues defensively only to shrink under your pointed gaze. “…I was.”
“I love you, Zuko, but I don’t love how jealous you can get sometimes. I’m your girlfriend, don’t you trust me?”
“Of course I do!” He interjects quickly, almost offended at the notion.
“Then what is it? Why do you act this way?”
Zuko is silent, his eyes casted sullenly to the floor as you patiently wait for his answer. You take his hands in your own and give them a reassuring squeeze to let him know you’re there for him, and the act seems to coax him out of his stupor.
“I’m afraid you’ll change your mind about being with me, and once the right guy comes along you’ll realize you’re better off without me,” he admits quietly, almost ashamed to voice the thought out loud.
“Zuko…” you utter sadly, heartbroken at the fact that he could even believe such a thing.
“Why do you want to be with a boy who’s been exiled from his own country before? Whose own father burned his face? Who’s so messed up in every way possible?”
Gently carefully cupping his face in your hands, you tilt his head upward to meet your sincere gaze. His eyes are glossy with tears he refuses to let fall, and your heart aches for the poor boy before you. You wish you could take away all of his hurt in agony, but you can’t, so you do your best to take away his insecurity instead.
“I wish you could yourself the way I see you,” you tell him lovingly. “You are more than enough for me, more than I could ever ask for. You’re strong, you’re brave, you’re smart. You’re you. I love you, Zuko. No one’s ever going to get into the way of that.”
He says nothing in response but simply yanks you into his arms for the tightest hug you’ve ever possibly received. You know he isn’t the best at words or emotions, but his embrace conveys that he is grateful for every word to come out of your mouth.
He knows he may be jealous at times, but he also knows that he doesn’t have to be anymore.
Because you’re not going anywhere.
| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303
| zuko tags: @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @taeeemin
#zuko#zuko x reader#zuko imagine#prince zuko#prince zuko x reader#prince zuko imagine#atla#atla x reader#atla imagine#avatar the last airbender#request
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DP x DC Writing Prompt #5
Damian does not glance back at Bruce when he knocks on the door. Instead they both wait in silence.
After a moment, the door opens.
"Hello," Jasmine, Jazz, Fenton greets politely, unsurprised to find the Waynes on her doorstep. Damian's expression grows ever darker at this revelation.
"Hello Ms. Fenton, are your parents home?" Bruce asks, placing a firm hand on Damian's shoulder, to ground as much as to restrain. To his credit he does not shake it off.
"No, they're out of town for a conference," the eighteen year-old says, opening the door wider. "But I think you'd better come in."
Bruce would normally decline, but Ms. Fenton is a legal adult and he has already, even unknowingly, waited 16 years. Damian makes the choice for him, striding past the threshold.
"Please take a seat," Jazz says as she leads them to the living room. She ignores Damian's swinging head as he takes in the home. It is deceptively large, a 90s style house filled with modern furniture. The walls are bright, with purple and green accents that would normally feel garish but somehow work. The stairs leading to the second floor are lined with family photos that Bruce yearns to take a closer look at. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"
"No, that's alright, thank you," Bruce says, taking a seat on the long plush couch. A men's windbreaker lies haphazardly thrown across one of the arms. A closed container of Oreo cookies sit on the coffee table next to a physics textbook open to chapter 16, half covered in highlighter and filled with sticky notes. There's a child's painting framed next to the tv, a handprint made to look like a thanksgiving turkey in bright blue.
For the home of experimental scientists, it is cozy and well lived-in.
Damian repeatedly glances at the stairs through the doorway.
Bruce clears his throat. "We were hoping to--"
"I've texted--oh, I'm sorry," Jazz says, having spoken at the same time. Bruce gestures for her to go on.
"I've contacted Danny, he should be here soon. He was out with some friends." Jazz explains. As she hadn't pulled out a phone in their presence, Bruce can only deduce they have some sort of camera at their front door. This also explains Ms. Fenton's complete lack of surprise at their appearance.
"So you know who we are." Damian says, the first words he's spoken since they arrived at the house and the longest sentence he's spoken since they arrived in Amity Park.
"I do," Jazz says, calm in the face of Damian's clearly simmering anger. Bruce trusts him not to attack Ms. Fenton, but he still watches him carefully.
"He told you about me," Damian says. It is the same question, but it is also not.
"He did," Jazz says.
Damian swallows. "I see," he grits out.
Jazz's neutrality slips and her face softens in sympathy. "Damian," she starts hesitantly, but before she can say anything else the front door opens.
A moment later Bruce's son walks through the doorway, and Damian is on him.
This is what Bruce hoped to prevent, but despite his numerous checks of Damian's luggage his son has still managed to smuggle a small dagger, which he now produces and swings in a calculated arc at Daniel Fenton's jugular.
Danny dodges cleanly, and dodges every swipe thereafter in a manner that speaks to continued practice long after his time at the League. Damian is a perfect product of his training, but it is up against Danny his flaws come to light. He is just as good as he always was, but Danny is better.
In a matter of seconds Damian grows frustrated and sloppy in his attacks, completely atypical for him. Danny takes Damian out at the knees and pins him down with one arm, pressing his face into the carpet.
"Calm down," he orders. His voice is deeper than Damian's at sixteen to his twelve, the accent that still traces Damian's words completely gone from his speech. Damian growls and thrusts his head back into Danny's face, meeting it with a sharp thunk. He rolls up as Danny recoils, putting distance between them. Danny glares at him from several steps away, hand to his forehead. Damian tosses the dagger into his other hand as he charges, and to Bruce's surprise Danny does nothing more than turn his face to the side, allowing Damian to draw a sharp line down his cheek.
Damian stops dead in his tracks.
"Are you done?" Danny asks, blood beginning to pool at the seam of the cut.
Damian's expression is stricken, eyes stuck on the blood starting to drip down his brother's face.
"I said, are you done, Damian?" Danny asks. His voice is cold.
Damian hears him this time, and he flushes red. "I--you--"
Danny sighs. He looks at Jazz, whose expression is back to carefully controlled.
"Are you alright?" he asks her. She nods.
"You left me," Damian accuses, standing there holding his bloody dagger limply.
Danny turns back to him, raising an eyebrow.
"You left me," Damian repeats louder, rapidly blinking.
"Yes. I did." Danny provides no excuse nor any explanation. His stance is unyielding.
Damian's eyes bounce wildly, shifting to Jazz and Danny slides smoothly in front of her, protectively. He looks at Damian warily, not as if he is his brother, but as if he is a danger. Damian flinches.
Hope is the last to die, Bruce thinks, watching as that last bit of hope Damian had is extinguished, the knowledge working its way through every inch of his body like ice in his veins. His eyes darken. He turns and runs from the room, the front door slamming shut not a moment later.
Jazz stands up, pulling a few tissues from the box on the coffee table. She presses them to Danny's face, cupping his cheek until he holds it himself. "I'm going to go get the first aid kit," she says gently. It is a thinly veiled excuse to leave them alone, and Bruce is grateful for it as she heads for the stairs.
They both wait until her footsteps have faded, taking each other in. Bruce looks at his mother's eyes and the sharp turn of Talia's nose. Damian's everything, four years older.
"You shouldn't have come here," Danny says, throwing himself on the armchair Jazz has just vacated.
"You know who I am," Bruce says carefully.
Danny glares. "I've kept your secret. She nor my parents know."
"I know," Bruce says. "That's not what I meant. You know who I am. And who I pretend to be. So you know I am familiar with masks."
"And?" Danny asks, looking vaguely bored.
"And so I can recognize when someone is wearing one. Damian will too, once he's calmed down."
Danny's expression sharpens. "No, he won't. Because you are going to go to back to whatever bed and breakfast you're staying in, pack up, hop in your private jet and fly him back to Gotham immediately before the League realizes you've gone. If they haven't already," he mutters.
"This is about the League then," Bruce says. "Do you not believe I can protect you?"
"I don't need your protection," Danny snaps, and watches Bruce actively extrapolate with a dawning resignation. "So this is the World's Greatest Detective at work," he says, slumping bonelessly into his chair, the first teenager-y thing he's done.
"Damian's in danger from the League," Bruce says. Danny glares from his slump. It's almost cute. "And as long as the League doesn't know about you, he's safe."
"Draw your own conclusions," Danny says, baring his teeth. Damian often makes the same face. "As long as you leave."
"I can protect him. I can protect you both," Bruce says. "Let me help you."
Danny closes his eyes. He centers his breathing in an exercise someone has clearly walked him through in the past. Bruce would bet money on the adoptive sister waiting patiently upstairs.
"Mr. Wayne. You are not my father," he says. "My trust in you extends to the point that I left Damian in your care, but that is where it ends. And that was when it was sanctioned by the League. By coming here you have endangered those sanctions."
Bruce disregards the sting, doubling down on his analysis. Talia had left Damian with Bruce well after Danny had left the League. But Danny speaks as if the decision had been his.
Or perhaps, Bruce realizes, it is not that Danny decided upon it, but that Danny allowed it to continue.
Bruce takes a second to review what Oracle had gone over with him before they left for Amity. Daniel Fenton had by all accounts, since leaving the League, lived a fairly normal life. His adoptive parents were eccentric scientists dabbling in the occult but their findings that bordered pseudoscience circulated a very niche community of like-minded eccentrics. The bulk of their income came from alternative energy, a more viable source of study that they'd veered harder into in the past year or so, a government contract with the EPA currently in the works. This had in part funded a vacation to an all-inclusive resort the family had taken that past summer.
Danny received average grades in school, above average in science and mathematics, declining sharply in his freshman year and sophomore year before evening out around the second semester. He had gotten into fights repeatedly with one student in particular, suspended for two weeks following an incident that resulted in a the student receiving a black eye. Teachers reported him to be highly intelligent but distracted and removed. They had recommended he be evaluated for an attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder. He had no social media. He had missed multiple picture days. The ones he had attended he was sneezing, or a blur of movement, even going so far as to fall off his stool, legs flailing. Bruce had drank up every last one as Barbara had waited patiently.
A normal life. A family vacation to Bermuda. Average grades.
His freshman year, distracted and removed. The same year Damian had arrived at Bruce's home. Masks upon masks.
"You have informants within the League," Bruce says. Danny, to his credit, has no discernible tell. But there is no other explanation. "What will you do, if they find out you are alive?"
"That is none of your concern," Danny says, but he might as well be saying whatever I have to.
He never stopped practicing, after all.
"If they go after Damian, it is my concern."
"And that is why you need to take Damian back to Gotham before they do." Danny says. "I will take care of it."
Damian had barely spoken since he had realized Danyal was alive. But Bruce had seen the reverence in his eyes as he looked at the file.
"الوريث الصحيح" he had murmured. The rightful heir.
"You are proposing going after the entirety of the League with no backup," Bruce says. "Even if you think they won't kill you, you won't win either."
"Maybe they will," Danny says lightly. "Kill me. That would also work."
Bruce inhales sharply. "Danny," he starts.
"Go home, Mr. Wayne," Danny says, pushing himself up with one hand. The other still clutches the wad of tissue to his cheek, partially soaked with blood. "Go take care of your son."
"I'll go," Bruce says, "I'll take him to the Watchtower. And then I'll come back."
"Mr. Wayne-"
"I should've come for you," Bruce interrupts. "Sixteen years ago. I should've come for you."
Danny's brow furrows. "You had no idea I existed."
"But if I had. I would've come. I never would've left you there. And now that I know, I am not leaving you now."
For the first time Bruce watches Danny be completely caught off guard. He openly gapes at Bruce.
"You would've died," Danny lands on, voice thin. "They would've killed you."
"Unlike you, I would've brought backup." Bruce says, mimicking Danny's lightness.
He's lying. Sixteen years ago he would've thrown himself at the League to save his newborn son without a plan, without a thought beyond rescuing his baby.
Danny barks out a laugh. "You would've laid siege to Nanda Parbat with The Big Blue Boy Scout?" he looks wistful. "That would've been rad."
Bruce sees his opening. "Danny," he stands, eye to eye with his son. "Let me help you."
Danny evaluates him. "The Batman," he says softly. "I didn't want you to come, then. I didn't need one more person I had to prove myself to. All I wanted was to live amongst the stars, in the quiet of the cosmos."
"You want to be an astronaut," Bruce says. At Danny's cocked head, he says without shame, "I read your essay on personal heroes. You wrote about Edward White. Ad Astra Per Aspera."
Danny smiles slightly, sadly. "It is a rough road."
"You can be whatever you want to be," Bruce says. "I won't stand in your way."
"Even if I want to be Danny Fenton?" he asks.
"Even then."
Danny sighs. "I don't need your help Bruce," he says. "No," he says as Bruce opens his mouth. He pulls the wad of tissues away from his cheek. Underneath the splotches of dried blood the gash in his face has cleanly knit itself together, a faint white line now all that remains.
"I don't need your help," he says clearly. He holds a palm forward, and a green fire grows from its center, until the flames are licking delicately up his fingers.
"I know The Batman does not kill. But I am not a Robin. I am something else entirely," Danny says, his eyes reflecting the green of the flames. Or not, as he looks up at Bruce, his eyes green all on their own. They are sad. This is why he stayed away, Bruce realizes. Not out of fear. Danny is not afraid. Danny is tired.
But for his brother, Danny will wake up.
"And If the League takes one step towards Damian, I will raze them to the ground."
#Danny I AM RETIRED FROM MURDER Fenton#the informants are ghosts#the thing about deductive reasoning is sometimes you deduct incorrectly#particularly when you don't know about the ghosts#danyal al ghul#damian wayne#danny phantom#batman#dp x dc au#dp x dc crossover#dp x dc#dp x dc prompt#bruce wayne#this is an au where damian doesn't get blown up and lose most of his vital organs#like bruce still isn't a super responsible parent but no nine year olds blow up so that's something#danny: he only blew up once so he can stay with you#batman: he did get speared straight through but we fixed it#danny: he wHAT#i wrote this instead of eating dinner#because drafts are for the mentally healthy#tbh i don't think his name would be danyal al ghul in this one#he's trying really hard to stay under the radar I don't think he would choose essentially a homonym
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ALL'S FAIR (IN LOVE AND MERGERS) ✩ SATORU GOJO
✴︎ summary: you're not sure what's worse -- being an arranged marriage or being an arranged marriage with the person who used to be your best friend.
✴︎ contents: 18+ only, nsfw, arranged marriage au, gojo and reader are both heirs to large companies, childhood best friends to enemies to lovers, lots of fluff + banter, gojo is down bad, geto makes an appearance, handjobs (f!+m! receiving), oral (f!+m! receiving), creampie, unprotected sex, dom! + sub!gojo, degradation (slut), breeding kink, gojo has a praise kink, semi public sex, office sex, tiny amount of sexting, under the desk oral (m!receiving), pet names (sweetheart, princess, baby), pregnancy mentions
✴︎ wc: 16,381 (why do i do this to myself?)
“Why do you look so down, Princess?” Your eyes flicker up from your book, forcing your expression to stay disinterested — the one emotion Satoru hated, “shouldn’t you share your feelings with your fiancé?”
“Don’t call yourself that,” you snap, and his lips curl at your reaction, “what are you so smug about? You’re stuck in the same position as me,”
“And what’s that?” You close your book, glaring daggers at his all too perfect face.
“Marrying your worst enemy.”
It wasn’t always like this.
Satoru Gojo used to be your friend — your best friend in fact. The fact your families’ companies were rivals often meant you ran in the same social circles more often than not. And it meant more than one boring adult party that the two of you were stuck with each other.
The two of you had become inseparable — attending the same prestigious schools with the most pretentious children, though the two of you were no exceptions. But you liked to think you were.
And you didn’t realize your feelings for Satoru, until someone else had.
“Do you want to hang out on Friday?” You ask, flipping through the channels as the two of you watched TV, looking for something other than the second half of movies and the reruns of shows you didn’t care for.
“I can’t, I’m going to the formal,” he replies, not looking up from his phone, and you pause.
“You’re going to that?” You raise an eyebrow, “we’ve never went,”
“Well I never had someone ask me who I wanted to go with,” his eyes flicker up from his phone, a smirk on his lips, “you jealous?”
Your reply leaves your lips like whiplash, “You wish,” you cross your arms, but you can’t help ask the question burning on your lips, “who are you going with?”
“Akari,” and you scoff, “what?”
“That girl goes out with a new guy every week,” you shake your head, “you’re better off staying at home with me,”
“So you are jealous,” he hums, leaning back on the couch, “if you wanted to go with me, all you had to do was ask, Princess,”
Your cheeks flush, which you make up for in indignancy and sharp words, “Don’t call me that,” the nickname your family affectionately had called you had become Satoru’s favorite thing to call you, “I’m just telling you to be careful — that girl isn’t someone you should trust with your feelings,”
“I think I’ll use my own judgment instead of someone who hasn’t even been on a single date before,” his tone is far too biting and his accuracy is far too sharp — and you can’t stop your face from dropping, and his lips part - regret flashing across his features, “princess—“
“Go home, Satoru,” you rise, brushing past him, “you know the way out,”
“Princess—“ he tries to reach for your hand, but you slap it away. His hand retracts like he’d been burned.
“Please, go,” you open the door for him, and he does, and little do you know that would be one of the last times you spoke.
The day of the formal arrives, the two of you hadn’t seen each other outside of class since that day. But Satoru did see you at the dance that night - on the arm of his former best friend, Suguru — the same one he had a falling out with a year ago. He doesn’t say a word to you, but you don’t miss the hurt in his eyes - but you wonder why it was there in the first place - and why he was acting like you put it there.
It all goes to hell after.
The Gojo Corporation poaches one of your family’s biggest clients in a shady backroom deal, breaking their truce and your family’s trust. Arguments and stress reach a peak over the phone and lines are drawn and metaphorical guns are drawn.
And you and Satoru are caught in the crossfire.
Not that you weren’t firing shots yourself.
It wasn’t until you pulled Satoru into a secluded classroom, and you shut the door behind the two of you. Even with the sunglasses perched on his nose as always, he flinches in the bright light of the sun setting behind you, dipping the classroom in a blazing orange — light sensitivity nearly required him to wear his sunglasses out, but he certainly made a statement in them — though what didn’t he make a statement in?
“What are we going to do about our families?” you chew your lip — you had listened this morning to your father rant about the Gojo family — unkind words to say about them all, even Satoru himself, who your father had treated as a second son — and now he was grilling you about what you had told him about the family business.
“What can we do?” His arms are crossed and his gaze is upwards, “they are going to do what they want,”
You stare at him, your heart cracks, blood rushing in your ears, “Satoru, if this gets worse, we won’t be able to be friends,” you refuse to let your voice break.
“So what? I know the way out, don’t I?” But your heart did break, “I’m sure Suguru could comfort you,”
Your eyes burn, but you can’t, you can’t let him see you cry, “Why are you so upset? You had a date—“
“And mine wasn’t the person who backstabbed me,” he bites back, “what my family did is done, and so are we,” and he doesn’t look back when he leaves.
And it was good — because he didn’t see you cry.
And now you sat with him in your living room, trying to process the fact you would be legally married soon enough.
“Worst enemy? I know you liked to embellish princess, but that seems excessive,” he snorts, “glad to know I haven’t escaped your thoughts these years,”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” and he grins his shit eating grin, and it’s almost as if no time has passed, except the person who sits before you isn’t a seventeen year old with an attitude of a shithead — it’s an adult man (albeit with the same attitude).
“Don’t need to - you already do that for me, baby,” he winks, and you don’t know whether you want to slap him or strangle him. Either way, you wanted him to shut up, “shouldn’t we at least try to make the best of this?”
“The best of what?” You scoff, ready for your veins to burst out of your head, if only to spare you the agony of this conversation, “Gojo, we were best friends a million years ago and then we weren’t and now we’re getting married - all on the whims of our families, so how do we make the best of it?”
He pauses a moment, almost thoughtfully, “I was your best friend?”
And you rise to your feet, “this is impossible,” you brush past him, but he catches you by your wrist, his thumb grazing your pulse.
“Princess, I’m sorry,” he says, and you stop, meeting his gaze reluctantly, his lips part, “that you were so annoying in high school—“
“Fuck you,” and you storm off as he cackles, but you don’t notice the small smile on his lips that stays as he watches you.
And nor do you hear him say, “God, I missed you.”
“This is ridiculous,” you mutter under your breath, as you place back the millionth dress you looked at, “we’re hardly celebrities but we have to make a public appearance?”
Your families wanted the marriage to be portrayed as a love marriage in the media - childhood friends falling in love after reconnecting - the thing of love stories. The thing that would circle the drain on social media on cute threads of meetcutes and what ifs. When in fact, you were being forced on a shopping date with an already well paid and positioned paparazzi ready to take pictures of this charade.
“You may not be, Princess, but I am quite the catch,” Satoru takes the attention in stride, not only of the paparazzi, but the passersby who gawked at the two of you. It was true, Satoru was nearly always listed as an eligible bachelor in far too many of these lists that existed, if not the eligible bachelor, and yet here you were, glued to his side like some taudry accessory.
“So does that mean if I just toss you away, someone else will catch you?” You grumble, and he looks at you over the rim of his sunglasses.
“Like it or not, you caught me,” he flashes you those pearly whites, and you supposed he blinded you as you stumble forward, tripping. But you don’t kiss the pavement — but you almost wish you do. He catches you, his arm around your waist, the other on your shoulder, and his eyes graze over you in a flash of concern, and then amusement, “and I’m not going anywhere this time,”
And you flush, the clicks of cameras in the distance snapping you back to reality, as you right yourself with a fake smile plastered on your lips. You brush his shirt off as lovingly as you can, “And if I go?”
His lips only curl into his obnoxiously charming smile, as he gestures for you to walk on, “I’ll follow, Princess,”
Finally the trip is over, and Satoru is driving the both of you back, “I’m surprised you took a day off for this,” he remarks, “usually you work all week,”
“Well I wasn’t given much of a choice, now was I?” And then you glance at him, furrowing your brow, “how do you know how often I work?”
“What’s the phrase? Keep your enemies close, and your lovers closer?” He gives a wry grin as you scowl at him, “you’re not surprised I kept tabs on you, are you?”
“Well, no,” because you did the exact same. You pinned the blame on late nights and doom scrolling on social media — curiosity killed the cat.
“And now I know you kept tabs on me,” he looks far too satisfied with himself, “I’m flattered,”
“Yeah, yeah,” you wave him off, “it’s not like you’re that interesting to begin with,”
“Sure,” he smirks, and then you glance outside, noticing you were getting further out from home rather than closer.
“Where are we going?” You sit up, glancing around — you didn’t recognize the area.
“Oh, you didn’t think our date was over yet, did you?” his lips curl, his eyes still on the road, “we are just going to a more private location,”
“If you take me to a hotel, I will slap you,” you murmur, and he laughs, a sound that makes your stomach flip.
“I didn’t know a princess’s mind could be in the gutter,” he remarks, his fingers flexing on the wheel, a small infinity tattoo on his ring finger, and your mind really then all but fled to the gutter as you thought what else he could use those fingers for.
“Oh my mind goes a lot of places,” this was growing more dangerous — for your tongue and for your heart.
And he notices your gaze flickering to his hands, and his lips curl, “I think I’d like to familiarize myself with the places your mind goes, Princess,” You flush, “but that’s for a different day.”
“Where are you taking me anyway?”
“We’re almost there, just enjoy the ride,” you eventually pull up to a park, and he leaves the car, opening the door for you, “after you, my lady,”
You slide out of the car, as he shuts the door behind you, and then pulls a basket out of the back, “Is there tape and rope in there?” You raise an eyebrow.
“Didn’t know you were into that,” he winks, as you glare at him, “it’s a picnic basket - this is a nice spot to watch the sunset,”
“You watch sunsets?”
“Only with you,” you roll your eyes.
“Such a dork - are these the lines you use on all your dates? And don’t say only with me,” you add quickly, and he snorts.
“You catch on quick,” and he takes your hand, leading you along, “come on,”
His hand envelops yours, his fingers eventually intertwining with yours, his warmth flooding your body, but you can’t urge yourself to pull away.
A bottle of sparkling cider and a charcuterie board later, the two of you watch the sun begin its descent, blazing colors bleeding into one another.
“Why are you doing this?” You ask, looking over your glass as you sip, “even when we used to hang out, I was the one to bring the snacks,”
“Well times change,” he replies, “plus you’re the one who always stopped me from buying snacks,”
“You always bought only sweets — it was always chocolate, sugar, and desserts,” you roll your eyes, “I see you got over that,”
“Nah, I just decided to buy things I know you like,” and your heart traitorously squeezes, but then he points, “look,” and your gaze falls onto the sunset and you gasp softly.
“It’s beautiful,” you sigh, and you don’t notice Satoru’s gaze on your face, a small smile on his lips.
“It is,” and you look back at him, his eyes shifting to you again.
“You never answered my question,” you say, “why are we doing this?”
“Why wouldn’t we? We’re getting married, Princess, did you forget?” He expertly dodges the question, swiftly leaping over a landmine, but you weren’t one to mince words or hesitate to do a direct assault.
“We’re getting married, it doesn’t mean we have to date,” you tilt your head, “Gojo, tell me—“
“Call me Satoru,” his words are so soft, hesitant even, as if his words could break apart any second if he had spoken them any quieter.
It’s a fragility he doesn’t often grace you with - that’s he’s maybe never given to you, and you don’t wish to break it.
But you’re also scared - scared that this will break yours.
“Satoru,” you whisper, and he smiles — the same smile he’d greet you with when you would meet up after school, the same smile when he’d beat you at whatever game you guys were playing, and the same smile you hadn’t seen in so long, “why are you doing all of this?”
“Is it not obvious?” He’s leaning closer and you only realize that you’re doing the same when your wrist hurts from leaning on your hand.
“Nothing is obvious when it comes to you, Satoru,” his lips warm yours with his breath, and the sun has set - there’s no other explanation for the warmth blooming on your skin other than him—
Ring. Ring. Ring.
His phone ringing sends both of you flinching apart, but his eyes don’t leave you for a lingering moment, before he picks up.
“Hello,” his voice is unwavering even after the moment you shared, you barely hear what he says over the blood thundering in your ears, “yes, we’ll be home shortly. Ok. Bye,”
He turns to look back at you, “My parents were wondering where we went,” and you nod, “we should get back,” and he begins to pack away the things,
“Satoru—“ you start, but he grabs your hands, tugging you forward.
“What?” he smiles, “not ready to part with me yet, princess?”
You scowl, pushing him away, brushing past him to the car, “Forget it,”
And he catches you by your wrist and pulls you back to him, your back against his front, “I don’t want to forget it,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “I—”
And his phone rings again, and he sighs, showing you that it was your father this time, putting his phone on silent, “Our parents have impeccable timing,” and the moment is broken, as the two of you walk back to the car in relative silence, the sun long sunk below the horizon, and the moment along with it.
The wedding comes and goes without much ado — it was a private ceremony done with only your families and a few close family friends. And aside from a photo shoot that was to be “leaked” of the two of you looking far too lovey dovey that wound up circulating the media drain and ended up causing you and Satoru to keep a low profile for a week or two, not much of your life changed. The only thing being that you and Satoru slowly start to move in together, each moving your things into separate bedrooms, not that you’re around enough to even notice a shift as the work piled on due to the merger, only accumulates, and as do your late nights.
You come home again, back to your shared apartment, late at night, shutting the door softly behind you. You slip your shoes off, along with your jacket by the door, before setting your things down. You stretch your sore muscles, your stomach crying for mercy of the deprivation you had put it through today, and you allow it to lead you to the kitchen.
Satoru was surprisingly neat, aside from his own room that was a disaster zone not worth entering. The living spaces were always clean, as was the kitchen (though you had a sneaking suspicion he had hired a cleaning service to specifically tidy up when you were gone (due to the lingering lemony scent every surface had at times). You rummage through the refrigerator as quietly as you could, but not quietly enough as the lights flick on, and you feel akin to a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
“I feel like I’ve seen the mailman more than my own wife this week,” Satoru stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame of the door, a small grin on his lips, but a hint of something else in his eyes — concern? You don’t have the time to decipher the feeling, as your mind chooses to replay the phrase “my wife” on repeat.
“The merger has been killer to deal with — all the diligence requests has buried us,” you grumble, as you grab a box of cereal off the top of the refrigerator and the milk from the inside, and he’s holding a bowl and a spoon, “thanks,” as you reach for it, he holds it away from you.
“You know there’s something called delegating that you should try sometime, princess,” he says, tilting his head, “otherwise, you’re likely to run yourself into the ground,”
“It sounds like you care,” he puts down the bowl and spoon, grabbing the cereal and milk from you, and fixing a bowl for you, as you rub your eyes, sitting on the stool by the island.
His lips curl, “Who said I didn’t?”
You lay on the counter, staring up at him, “Didn’t know my husband could be anything but annoying,” and you enjoy the way his eyebrows shoot up, and it may have been your tired eyes, but you swore a small pink flush settled his way onto his cheeks, “cute,” you mumble, the word escaping you before you could stop it.
“What?” his eyes snap to yours, but he only finds them closed, the soft snores from your lips told him you weren’t pretending, as he stares at you, biting his lip, before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, “what are you doing to me, princess?” he murmurs.
And the next morning when you wake, you find yourself tucked into bed, as you roll over, to find your alarms had been turned off, and you were far too late to several meetings you had that morning.
You jolt up, before you find a note stuck to your shirt, you pause in your panic, to peel it off and read it:
Canceled your meetings for today and had your staff handle the ones they could deal with. You’re taking a break. You need it. - Satoru.
You wanted to protest, but even as you willed yourself to try and check your email, your body was screaming in agreement with Satoru, and you sighed, lying back down in bed, as you drifted into a dreamless sleep, with the note still in your hand.
~~~~~
“Gojo, get back in bed,” you cross your arms in front of his doorway, “you’re sick,”
“I’m fine,” he pouts, his normally pale skin flushed with a red tinge that gave away his fever, his eyes bloodshot from a restless night, and yet he still looked as perfect as ever, if not a bit rumpled from his askew hair and ruffled clothes, “I have to—”
“Rest,” you say, gently pushing him backwards towards his bed, “you need rest. You made me rest, and now it’s your turn,”
“But—”
“Satoru,” and the use of his name stops him in his tracks, as his knees buckle as his legs hit the end of his bed, “please?”
His resistance crumbles, “Princess, I’m fine—” and you press your forehead to his, making his breath catch, your face far too close far too fast.
“You’re burning up,” you ease him back into bed, as you roll your sleeves up, “will you be okay? I’m going to run out and get some supplies - have you taken any medicine?”
He shakes his head, “You can send out someone,” he says, reaching for his phone, but you grab it, “Princess-“
“I’m texting everyone that you’re sick and that you can’t make it in for the next two days while you recover,” you pocket his phone, putting it on silent, “consider this payback,” and you’re pulling on your jacket, “and I’m going to get you some things. I don’t need to send someone out. Do you want anything? I can’t get anything sweet because it will make your cough worse, but is there anything that you want?”
He shakes his head, as you snap your fingers and head out of the room, before returning with cold medicine, “I’ll give you this for now, and then I’ll grab some more while I’m out,”
You pour the medicine into the cup, and he sits up as best he could, reaching for the medicine cup, but you cup his chin, feeding it to him. He feels like his body is burning hotter from your touch than it is the fever, “I have to make sure you drink all of it, you can’t leave half of it in the cup like you did when we were kids,”
“You remember that?” he mumbles, as you help him lie down again, your hands gentle as you help lean back, and you tilt your head.
“I remember every ridiculous thing you did,” you snort, as you check to make sure you got everything — phone, wallet, keys — “just rest here, and call me if you need anything, ok?” his eyes are already starting to droop, heavy with sleep, and he gives a small nod.
And he catches you by your wrist, “Do you have to go?” he mumbles, pulling your hand close to his face, “I don’t want you to go,” his words slur, and he’s asleep in a moment, his hand still clutching yours to his face, lips brushing against your palm.
Heat flares up your cheeks, as you stand, motionless, his soft snores filling the room, as you manage to tug your hand away, and you stand over him, his mouth in an adorable pout, as sweat glistened on his forehead, white locks sticking to the damp skin. You leave for a moment to grab a cold compress for his forehead, and you come back, brushing his hair back to place the compress on. He shivers ever so slightly, but you just rub his head slowly, and he drifts back into sleep.
“I’ll be right back,” you whisper, and you wonder, how often has Satoru been cared for by maids or employees rather than his family? How often had they passed the buck of caring for their son to others as if it was more of a chore than a privilege to take care of someone they loved.
You leave his phone on video call with yours so you can keep an eye on him as he sleeps, even if you were going down the street, you didn’t want to leave him alone completely. Instead of music, you listened to the cacophony of his soft snores and shifting of his sheets. You grabbed the things you needed - medicine, supply for meals, vitamin water, vitamin c supplements, and anything else you could think of.
You return, door shutting softly behind you as you hang up the call, and set everything down on the counter. You poke your head into Satoru’s room to find him still fast asleep, and you remove the cold compress, going to replace it with a new one, but his hand catches yours as it brushes your forehead, and he mumbles your name.
And you flush — were you sure you weren’t getting sick at this point?
You sigh, running your fingers through his hair, “You’re as touchy as you were when we were kids,” and he was — there wasn’t a moment that Satoru wasn’t all over you before the ages of puberty — holding hands, hugging, even laying on top of you — but it was innocent. But even as you got older, it was poking, it was a leg over yours, it was grabbing your wrist instead of your hand.
And now, your hand was dwarfed by his, consuming your wrist and hand with his own, and it was so warm — though exacerbated by his fever. And you couldn’t help but want to lace your fingers through his. But — you pulled your hand away and replace his cold compress — you couldn’t afford thoughts like that.
Not now.
You cooked soup for him, filled with vegetables and nutrients that he clearly did not get enough of, made freshly squeezed orange juice, and put the supplements you wanted him to take on the tray you had found in the kitchen.
You washed your hands, as you start to clean up, your back to his room, and you hear Satoru say your name.
You turn and see him in the doorway, “What are you doing?”
“I should be asking you that,” he murmurs, rubbing his eyes, “what’s all this?”
“Lunch,” you walk over, waving him back into bed, “you need to rest,”
“Did you make me lunch?” he asks slowly, and you help him back into bed, as he frowns, “you didn’t have—”
“You’re my husband, Satoru,” you say, tilting your head, “I’m going to take care of you and not let you work yourself to the bone while you have a cold,”
And his lips curl at the words slowly, “Your husband,” he repeats, as if the words were foreign to him, and your cheeks flush as your words that were embarrassing enough to say linger in the air, “thank you,” he mumbles, as you nod, trying to calm your utterly burning cheeks before entering with the tray.
Satoru sits in bed still, more coherent than a few minutes before, a small smile on his lips as you enter his view, and you place the tray carefully on his bed, “Will you feed me?” And your eyes flit up to his innocent baby blues full of skies that you couldn’t say no to — and he knew that, “please?”
And now you’re feeding him, your lips carefully blowing on the hot soup as you spoon fed him, and he takes each one, “is it good?”
He nods, “It is, I didn’t know you could cook. The last thing I remember you making me was a microwave brownie that you burned,” and you rolled your eyes.
“That was because you told me to microwave it for too long,” you pout, and he laughs, sending him into a coughing fit, “karma,” and he scowls at you, before his lips split into a grin, “what?”
“Must have been pretty good in my past life,” he says, as you blow on another spoonful, “to end up with a pretty little wife like you, Princess,”
And you nearly drop the spoon, a few droplets slipping from the utensil, as he makes you flustered for the eighteenth time today — “Satoru,” you chide, and you’re not even sure what you are chiding him for — his word on a loop in your mind, “i think you’re high on cold medicine, or your fever,”
You don’t think he had ever called you pretty before.
And he leans forward pressing his forehead to yours, “I have no fever right now,” he whispers, his eyes glancing at the tray, “and I haven’t taken my cold medicine yet,”
Your words catch in your throat, and you’re swallowing thickly, as your eyes drift to his lips and back again, “Toru,” and you can’t lean away from him, he’s pulling you in, like he always did.
But then he pulls back, his cheeks flushed, “I think I should lie down,” and you blink, as you nod hastily.
“Of course,” you grab the tray and flee, leaving his medicine and water on the bedside table, heart thumping against your ribs and blood rushing to your cheeks.
And you don’t hear him grumble, “If only I wasn’t sick.”
After Satoru gets better, you barely see him. It feels empty in the house without his presence. You had grown accustomed to his loud, obtrusive presence, the clothes half thrown in the laundry basket, his snacks stacked up in the pantry and sometimes on the counters, and his cologne wafting through the halls. It seems all of that has faded with time, as he does his best to spend his time at work, and away from you.
After the billionth time of this, you get a phone call from his colleague, Nanami, asking for you to come and fetch him. You furrow your brow as he texts you the address of a bar near his work, and you arrive to find him passed out at a table, drink glasses and small plates littered the tabletop, his pale skin flushed, as he snored slightly as he slept.
His colleague too was flushed, but still sat with drink in hand looking utterly irritated and bemused, “How much did he drink?”
“Maybe two drinks?” and you raise an eyebrow, “he’s a lightweight, but he likes to pretend he isn’t,” he snorts, shaking his head, “did you two have a fight?”
You tilt your head, as you check on him, fingers brushing over his skin — he was so warm from the alcohol, “No, why do you ask?”
And Satoru is mumbling your name, again and again, pouting, “Is that you, my wife?” you flush, and that was your cue to get him out of there. Nanami helps you get him to his work car, luckily that came equipped with a driver, and you slide in beside him, as he dozes, his head drifting to your shoulder. His breath is warm against your neck, as he nestles into the soft skin of your nape, and you can feel his lips move, only catching your name between soft sighs and snores.
“Satoru,” you mutter, brushing his hair from his eyes, “what did you do?”
The driver helps you get him inside, and you’re left with him, his body leaning against yours on the couch, as you rouse him, “Satoru, wake up,” your hands cup his cheeks, and his eyes flutter open blearily.
You can still smell the scent of alcohol on his breath — and you know it’s sweet from the scent that drifts from him. Sometimes you wonder if he would taste sweet with how much sugar he consumes, but you brush that thought to the back of your head, as he finally speaks.
“Are you a dream?” he murmurs, and you have to suppress your laugh at his puppy dog stare.
“Don’t think so, Satoru,” you pinch his cheek lightly, “see? I’m real,”
He smiles, so gentle that it almost takes you aback, “Too real,” his hand slides over yours, flattening it against his cheek, “your hand is so soft, just like when we were kids, and we’d always hold hands anywhere we went,”
You swallow thickly, wondering if your cheeks were hotter than his were from the alcohol, “Well my family hasn’t sold me into manual labor yet, so they’ll stay that way,” and his eyes widen almost comically.
“I wouldn’t let them do that,” he says, almost every other word slurred, “can’t do that to my wife,” and your traitorous heart squeezes, despite itself, despite everything telling you that it didn’t mean anything — that he was drunk — and the million other reasons to brush it away, your heart does what it does best — takes it to heart, “I missed you so much,”
And he’s burying his face in your shoulder, warm breath against your skin making you shiver as you hold him gently, “then why have you been avoiding me?” He’s mumbling into your shoulder now, as you can’t help but laugh, “Stop, you’re tickling me.”
And his stare lifts and settles upon you, stopping your breath in its tracks, “I didn’t want to avoid you, I just was…” he mumbles something incoherent, “I couldn’t face you,”
“Why?” and it’s objectively cute the way he pouts, his face scrunching up like a child, his brow adorably furrowed, as he mutters under his breath slurred words you can’t make out, “let’s get you to bed — if you promise not to avoid me anymore,” you hold up a finger to his face.
He nods, lips still in the same pout, “promise,” he murmurs, as you help him into bed, but as you do, he grabs you, tugging you into bed with him with a yelp, his arms trapped you against him, as his face snuggles into your back, “stay,”
Your skin burns at his touch, his face buried into your back, his arms wrapped impossibly around you, “Satoru—”
“Please?” and the resistance you have crumbles, as you sigh, relaxing as best you could into his touch, “thank you, Princess,” he mumbles something else you can’t make out, before falling asleep.
And you bite your lip, ignoring how your skin feels under his touch — how were you ever going to sleep now?
But you do.
Satoru wakes with a slightly pounding head, a small groan caught in the back of his throat, as he stirs at the bright sunlight streaming in, his eyes fluttering awake to find you. His breath catches, as he stares at you. Your mouth slightly ajar, you softly snore as you sleep, your head resting against his arm, and he swallows thickly, as memories of last night trickle in.
And he nearly groans. He had avoided you to stop himself, to hold himself back from embarrassing himself, and he had gone and pulled you into bed with him after getting drunk. How pathetic was it that it only took you referring to him as your husband for all his walls to come crumbling down? Not that those walls ever stood a chance against you — it was easy for him to pull away from everyone, as if he had a barrier around him, stopping anything from coming near. But you — you were one thing that could penetrate his infinity — and the one thing he wanted to be infinite, if only for him.
His cheeks burn at his revelations and he can only be thankful you’re still asleep as he stares at you — god, he had almost let it slip twice last night. He had mumbled it twice, but from what he remembered, you hadn’t made out the words.
His cheeks burned, god he had said the words twice, and you didn’t even hear him, but the words had left his lips. And how many years had he been waiting to say them?
His fingers caress your cheek, making sure you were still asleep before he said them for a third time, “I love you.”
“How many social events must be inflicted upon us?” you mutter, pressed next to Satoru at the bar, as Satoru sips a soda instead of the alcohol they offered — if only to avoid the disaster that was the last time. But still, the lack of alcohol only makes your touch worse without its dulling effects, “and why did we need to go to this?”
“C’mon sweetheart, it’s not so bad,” Satoru smiles, his eyes skimming over your new suit that you had donned for the occasion, “I like seeing you all dressed up,”
“Well I rather be dressed down at home,” and he raises an eyebrow and you flush, “i mean in a t-shirt and shorts, you absolute perv,”
“Whatever you say, princess,” and you’re too busy elbowing him to notice who's walking over, until you hear your name.
You spot Satoru’s eyes narrow, his lips pursed, as you spot Suguru holding a hand up in greeting, patented grin on his lips, “Yo!”
“Suguru, it’s good to see you,” you greet, as he sweeps you up in a hug, and you shoot a look at Satoru, nudging him to be polite at the very least.
“Satoru, long time no see,” Suguru says, and Satoru plasters a fake smile on his lips.
“It has been,” and the three of you make pleasant small talk about your work — Suguru’s family was in a business adjacent to the work your families did.
“I heard about the merger your companies are doing, how have preparations been?” you open your mouth to answer, but Satoru gets to it first, his arm curling around your waist.
“It’s been going well, our marriage was the first step after all, wasn’t it, baby?” and you flush as Satoru does, doing your best not to glare at him.
“It was,” you smile, as Suguru raises his eyebrows.
“I hadn’t heard you both had married — congratulations,”
And then you’re beckoned by your family, and you slip away for a moment, going to speak to them about one thing or another, leaving Satoru and Suguru alone.
“It’s too bad we lost touch all these years,” Satoru sips at his drink.
“You don’t have to say that, Satoru,” Suguru replies, his grin melting away, “I know part of the reason was the business with our families companies, but I also know that it was personal,” and Satoru follows his eyes to you, as you laugh at something your mother said, “how has married life been treating you both?”
And Satoru glares, his grip tight around his glass, “Is your interest personal?”
“It’s not, but I see that you still haven’t been honest with each other,” he smiles over the lip of his drink, “was this marriage arranged by your families?” and Satoru’s silence was enough to confirm it, “well you should be careful, a marriage is a fragile thing, especially without love,”
“Is that a threat?” and Suguru’s dark irises meet his, full of mirth.
“No, just an observation, Satoru,” and you make your re-appearance, looking between the pair, sensing the tension, as your hand curls around Satoru’s, “It was lovely seeing you both. I hope to see more of you.”
And with that he’s gone, “What was that about?” you ask slowly, and Satoru can’t meet your gaze, only sipping his soda, “Satoru?”
“It’s nothing, princess, don’t worry about it,” and you tilt your head, your brow furrowed.
“That’s it,” you sigh, as you glance between the two of them, Suguru’s gaze still lingering on the two of you, “I know what this is about,” you declare, stepping ever closer to Satoru, your fingers brushing at his shoulder, sending his heart into a gallop.
“Princess—” your hand is sliding up his neck, brushing at his undercut, and your lips curl.
“I didn’t know you had an undercut,” and he can’t form words to respond to you, as you tug him closer, your lips were so close now, “it’s kind of hot,” and his mouth is so dry, his eyes can’t help but flicker down to your lips again, as you lean forward, pulling his head closer, closer, closer—
And you kiss him, it's barely a brush at first, but then you pull him in again, and he can taste the wine on your lips now, as your lips meet, his eyes fluttering shut as his hand slides to cup your face, the other around your waist. And finally you part, small pants leaving your lips, as your fingers toy with the hair resting on the back of his neck, smiling at him, as if you had done this a million times before.
And he wanted to do it a million times more. His fingers trace the length of your jaw, delighting in the shiver you give as he touches you, and wondering what other noises he could pull from you.
“Is he still watching?” you whisper, as you smooth over his collar, and he blinks, his eyes following yours to Suguru, who glances at the two of you before looking away, “think we convinced him?”
And his heart sinks just as high as it had soared, “what?” he murmurs, confused.
“He suspected us, right?” you continue with the phony smile on your lips, the heated lust in your gaze, and your soft touches — and it was all enough to break him.
But he doesn’t. He’s Satoru Gojo — he can’t be allowed to break.
So he gives a smile instead, “Yeah, I think we convinced him.”
He can’t help be quiet on the drive home, and he senses your unease, fidgeting in the seat beside him, your attempts to fill the silence falling on deaf ears, and you eventually stop trying, settling to look out of the window instead, until the two of you pull inside your driveway.
You both head inside, and the door shuts behind you, and he watches you struggle to take off your heels, the buckle not cooperating, as you lift your leg to undo it.
But then he’s kneeling before you, undoing your heels for you, as you stammer, “No, Gojo, you don’t have to—”
But his touch is gentle as he helps you out of your heels, one by one, his fingers brushing against your ankles, and then he rises, and for a split second, you forgot how tall he really was.
“No, I want to, because you’re my wife,” and his fingers brush against your jaw. “And I want your thoughts to be of me when I touch you, and not of someone else,” and he tilts your chin up, thumb dragging against your lips before he kisses you.
It was gentle but insistent — and far, far too fleeting, as he pulls away, “and I’ve told you before — I’m your husband, call me Satoru.”
And with that he’s gone, leaving you speechless and alone in your entryway.
You can’t sleep. For several nights.
You replay the moment over and over, the kiss, his words, and all of it.
What the fuck. Were you really up all night because of Satoru Gojo? You lay on your stomach, kicking your feet in frustration as you bury your hot face in your pillow. Your husband was going to be the death of you.
And especially with tomorrow.
Satoru’s family was hosting an event to announce the merger, and you stood in your bathroom, getting ready. You had opted for a baby blue dress that Satoru had picked for you when he had insisted on taking you shopping. He had winked and said you could wear his gaze this way. And you had only rolled your eyes at the time, but now it felt you could feel his eyes upon you.
“You look beautiful,” and you whirl around to find him standing in your doorway, a small smile on your lips, and you flush. It doesn’t go unnoticed, “is that all it takes to embarrass you now, Princess? I used to have to work a lot harder,”
You glare at him, “Shut up,” and your eyes flick to his untied tie, and it’s unspoken, as you walk over to tie his tie for him, “how did you even tie this the day of the formal if you don’t know how to?”
“I didn’t wear one,” he shrugs, his attention making you mess up the knot twice, “I only went to make you jealous anyway,”
Your fingers pause, as your eyes meet, “What?”
“I don’t want to play games anymore, Princess,” the back of his fingers brush against your cheek, “or at least, if I’m going to play, I’m going to play to win,” and you continue tying his tie, if only to distract yourself from your stomach doing flips, “do you know how it feels to want someone for so long only to end up married, but it’s not either of your choice?” And you swallow, not daring to look at him, “because I do.”
“Satoru,” your hands are shaking now, “I-“
“I don’t expect an answer, I don’t expect anything to change,” he adjusts his tie as you finish, turning his collar down, his blue button up matching your dress perfectly, “but I wanted you to know where I stood, and know wherever you are,” his gaze rakes over your form, the same color as the dress than clung to your skin, “I’ll always be here for you,”
“Satoru—“ but he gets a call — as always with impeccable timing, his parents were asking when they would be arriving. He hangs up shortly after, offering his arm with a smile.
“Shall we?” And you take his arm, ignoring the flip your heart does when his arm curls around yours.
The drive over is uneventful, but not the same can be said for the event itself. The merger event was being held at Satoru’s childhood home — the home Satoru had grown up in and around — and never wanted to be at.
“Are you okay?” you ask, your arm still curled around Satoru’s arm, as you glance at him, his shoulders tense and lips tight, before your concern makes the tension melt away a moment, rolling off his shoulders like snow on a spring day.
“I’m fine,” and you’re unconvinced, “just this place is like time has stood still,” he chuckles, his eyes finding the place where the two of you had cracked the chandelier fucking around with a ball inside, “look, still there,”
You snort, “I’m surprised your mother never noticed,”
“She did, she gave me hell for it,” he sips his drink, “I just didn’t tell you,”
“Why?”
“There was a lot I didn’t tell you,” his eyes snap to yours, his pain almost too visceral as he glances around the room he had grown up in — and you could feel him in this room, the ghost of his past roaming the halls, “why do you think I spent so much time at your house?”
“Because of my incredible company?” you half-joke, lips forced into a small smile, but he laughs, rolling his eyes.
“That too,” he hums, his fingers tracing up and down against your wrist sending a wave of heat down your spine.
“Well, you always have an escape now, don’t you?” you intertwine your fingers, “our home is always graced with the presence of your wife,”
He grins, the first actual smile you had seen all evening, “How lucky for you that it’s also graced with the presence of your incredibly handsome husband,”
And you open your mouth to respond, before Satoru’s father interrupts, his hand on Satoru’s shoulder, making him stiffen, “Son,” and his icy blue eyes slide to you, “and my daughter, would you mind if I steal my son for a moment?” it always struck you how different his eyes were from Satoru — the coldness as opposed to the warmth.
You glance at Satoru, and he gives a slight nod, “No, of course not,” you step away, as he pulls Satoru into a side room, and you linger nearby for him, mingling as best you can, when Satoru emerges, eyes downcast and fists clenched, “Satoru-“
“I’m okay,” he plasters on an easy smile, “it’s fine—“
“We’re leaving,” you grab his hand, “let’s go,” and he’s staring at you, as you drag him from the party, wordless.
“But your parents, my parents—”
“Have done enough for us already,” you say, and the two of you walk to the car in silence, “I can drive—”
“It’s ok, I got it,” and you both shut the doors, as he begins to drive. The ride home is quiet, and you glance at him here and there, but you hold your tongue, “you’re not going to ask?”
“It’s your dad - do I need to ask?” You scoff, “It may has been years but I know he’s nothing but a bully — especially to you,”
You may have been young, but you remembered the phone calls Satoru would get, the lectures about his potential and responsibilities as the next heir, the scoldings he’d get for anything less than perfect. And you remembered the look he had the next day — the same one he had when he had come out of that room.
And you couldn’t protect him then, but you could do it now.
He sighs as he pulls the car into the driveway, “You don’t deserve that, Toru,”
“Then what do I deserve?” And he meets your gaze with glassy eyes, and you give a small smile, your fingers reaching for him, brushing along his jaw.
“Love,” and you lean across the gap of the console, across the line you had drawn, across the misunderstandings you had, and you chose him. Your fingers cup his cheek, drawing him close, as you hear his breathe hitch, “can I—”
“You don’t need to ask me even once, Princess,” and you kiss him, your lips grazing his again and again, until your lips finally slide against each other, deepening it as he presses himself against you, hand bearing against the armrest between the two of you. And you can taste the sweet taste of the strawberry dessert that he all but inhaled at the party, the hint of the soda he drank instead of wine, and something that tasted utterly and perfectly of him.
“Toru,” you murmur, but his lips keep finding yours, and you can’t breathe much less think, “I—”
He silences you with another kiss, his fingers finding purchase on the back of your neck as he tugs you impossibly closer, before his lips are tracing a path down your jaw.
“What was that, sweetheart?” he smiles against your skin, “you what?”
“You’re insufferable, you’re endlessly frustrating, and I swear I want to murder you at least twice a day,” and he smiles, as you gasp as his teeth graze your pulse, “but you’re also my best friend, and I—“ you make him meet your eyes, fingers cupping his chin, ocean blue eyes drowning you with their gaze, “I love you,”
And he blinks ever so slowly, before his lips curl into the most beautiful smile you had seen, before he’s kissing you again, as you gasp, “Toru—”
“I’m never going to stop now, Princess,” he grins endlessly, as he presses his forehead to yours, dragging a thumb down your kiss ruined lips, “waited too long for you, but I’d wait a million years to do that again,”
“So should I make you wait?” you tease, and he’s looking like a kicked puppy, pouting and wide eyed, before he’s pressing butterfly kisses to your face, and you’re laughing, “I’m just kidding, baby—”
And he pauses, “‘Baby?’” and his grin is a million watt, as he kisses you again, “never thought I’d see the day you’d call me a pet name,”
Your noses brush as you both laugh, “Well, you are a big baby,” and he pouts again, and you kiss them, “but you’re my baby,”
And you barely remember how you manage to stumble into your home. Frantic touches and hurried kisses and fumbling keys. As soon as the door slams shut, he has you pressed against it, fingers busy with undoing your buttons, as he grins against your mouth.
“Know how long I wanted you? How long I dreamt of this?” he bites your bottom lip, “had to call you my wife before i could call you mine — thought about you dating Suguru, about all the times I wanted to lean over during our movie nights as kids and just kiss you — and how much I regretted it,”
“So you admit you’ve been pining for me,” you gasp as his teeth drag against your neck now, biting and sucking, as your fingers thread through his white locks, “Satoru,” you moan, biting your lip.
“Judging by that moan, I’m not the only one,” he smiles cheekily, his hands sliding down your back to rest at the back of your thighs, large palms and thick fingers pressing through the all too thin tulle of your dress, “can’t wait to see how fuckin’ wet you are for me, Princess.”
You gasp at his vulgar words, a rush of heat that leaves your legs shaking under his touch, “Now whose mind is the gutter?” You tease, your fingers tugging at his tie, unfurling the knot.
“Always has been when it’s come to you, want to make this perfect princess filthy,” he coos, and he’s pulling you up against the door, your hands wrapped around his neck, “wanna make my beautiful little wife scream my name, don’t I?”
“Toru—“ you gasp as his teeth graze along your chest, tugging the neckline of your dress impossibly low, “you’re going to rip it—“ and he does, pulling the fabric apart with ease, “what the fu—“ and he’s swallowing your swears with his tongue.
“I’ll buy you another,” he grins, “in fact I’ll buy you any amount you want, as long as you keep letting me do this,”
And he’s peeling the dress off of you, dress falling to the floor in a shamble of tulle, and your skin flushes at the air hitting your bare skin, and shivers at the feeling of his sharp breath against your neck.
“How are you so fucking perfect?” he sighs, burying his face in the nape of your neck, pressing butterfly kisses down your collarbone, “I should get an award for patience — not being able to touch you, to kiss you, but living with you?”
His fingers are skimming down your underwear now, snapping the waistband against your skin, you gasp, “Fuck, Toru,” you whimper, “thought you’d talk less during this,” your fingers are undoing his shirt now.
“Oh I can think of a few things that could shut me up,” his lips curl deviously, and you’re slipping his shirt off his shoulders, your lips pressing to his collarbone.
“I don’t think you’d even shut up from that,” as he shivers when your teeth graze his soft skin, “I think you’ll only whine more,”
And his gaze is hot as his eyes meet yours again, as he grasps at your thighs and picks you up, “let’s see who’s the one whining at the end of this,” you squeal, grasping into his shoulders, as he carries you into his bedroom, as he settles you down on his bed. His eyes raking over you, panting and disheveled, he drags his thumb down your bottom lip, “can’t believe you’re all mine, Princess,”
“Satoru,” you’re reaching for him, but he pins your hand to the bed, “wha—“
“Patience, baby,” he purrs, as he presses his lips to your wrist, “let me enjoy you,”
He’s so pretty it’s unfair - the way his breath hits your skin steals yours, pretty pink lips parted as he runs his tongue over them, the same ache between your legs longing for that tongue between them. But it leaves you with so little of the patience he asks you to have — especially after over a decade of this in the making.
And your impatience is evident, you suppose, by the pout on your lips, and he laughs, “Want a kiss, baby?”
You don’t have the time to say you want much more than a kiss, as he humors you with a kiss, lips teasing you with their sweet taste, and you don’t fail to notice his smile as you lean up into his touch. And suddenly his hands brush down your bare sides, squeezing your hips, and you’re gasping, “Feel good, Princess? We’ve barely started—“
“You keep teasing me and I’ll make you regret it,” you grumble, between breathless kisses, the bite of your words dampened by the soft pants that leave your lips, “Toru, I swear—“
And his thumb presses against the wet patch on your underwear, flimsy layer of soaked fabric barely doing a thing to hide your arousal, “Not acting like a good little girl for me,” he tuts, as you keen against his touch, gasping as you throw your head back as he grinds his fingers against your puffy clit, “all it took was one touch to have you so pliant, huh? Should’ve done this a long time ago,”
“Stop,” you whine, and his grin only grows larger with such self satisfaction, you don’t know if your lust addled brain wants you to strangle his neck or his cock, “please, just—“
“Just what?” And his fingers are breaching past your underwear, just barely touching the outer lips of your cunt, “come on, Princess, use your big girl words, or are you already fucked stupid before I’ve barely touched you?”
“Motherfuck—“
“I will be one once I get my needy little wife pregnant, won’t I?” And his long fingers finally tug down your underwear — the wet schlick of the sticky fabric hitting the floor make him drag his teeth over those beautiful lips, “but we got plenty of time for that, after all,” his fingers tease the outer lips of your throbbing pussy, “practice makes perfect,”
And he sinks a long finger knuckle deep — and a whine crawls its way out of your throat, his fingers were thicker than yours were — and so much better. His thumb teases your clit in tight circles as he begins to tease your walls, reaching deep, deep, deeper, your slick starting to drip onto his palm, “God, you’re soaking me, Princess,” and your hips can’t resist the urge to grind against his touch, “oh, and where’s that mouth now?” you can barely see much less talk, words failing as he begins to stretch you out - his other large palm rested against your thigh, keeping your legs nice and spread for him.
He’s grinning, he sinks another finger into you, teasing your walls apart, beginning to finger fuck you in earnest, “my mouthy girl just needed to be fucked right? Didn’t she?” And all you can hear are the filthy sounds of your cunt, as his fingers piston in and out, “nothing to say, Princess?” And he spanks your pussy, making you yelp, a whine leaving your throat, “and you thought I’d be whiny, look at you now, baby,” his fingers cup your chin to force your glassy eyes to meet his darkened blues, “such a good fucked out wife for me,”
And a third finger joining right as he brushed against a spot that had you seeing stars as his thumb bullied your clit, eyes rolling back as he did, and he’s grinning, “my perfect princess and her perfect little pussy,”
You came with his name on your lips, panting and shaking as he held you steady, his fingers dripping with your release, as he pulled away, watching your cunt twitch around nothing, aching for his fingers.
You're coming down from your high, chest rising and falling, as you watch him gather your release on his fingers, toying with your cunt, before he sucks them clean, “Fuck,” you whimper, as he licks and cleans himself of your cum, “Toru-“
“Fuck, baby, how’ve I resisted tasting you for so long?” And he’s bending down as he noses your thighs, making your hips jolt, still sensitive from your orgasm as he deeply inhaled, tip of his tongue darting out to lick your release from your thighs, “smell as sweet as you taste,” he hums, your legs trying to close, but his palms keep them spread, “can’t keep a man from his vices, can we baby?”
And his tongue teases your cum that pooled from your orgasm, the tip hot and wet as it tastes it, “tastes when better coming from this filthy princess cunt,” he grins against your thigh, teeth grazing your skin, making you lurch.
“T-Toru, please,” fuck you hated how needy you sounded, but you needed more — but he’s leaning away, pressing his cheek against the soft plush of your thigh.
“Need you to do something me first, sweetheart,” and his fingers are drawing teasing infinities on your thighs, “tell me how much you want me,”
“Fuck you,” you groan, “I know what you’re gonna say,” you add, cutting off his snappy retort of “I’m trying to,” “I want you, Satoru, please, I’ve wanted this for too long,” and your voice grows more teasing, “how long is my husband going to keep me waiting?”
And his eyes darken, the slight flush on his cheeks growing deeper, as his mouth presses a wet kiss to your sopping pussy, “good girl, think you deserve a reward,” and he’s manhandling your thighs, spreading them wide, as he buries his face in your cunt, “such a good little wife deserves to be eaten out,”
And eating is exactly what he does - you had only seen Satoru eat sweets with the same voracity he devoured you, pressing his thick fingers into your thighs as he splayed you out as his mouth pressed wet kisses to your dripping lips. His hot tongue drags up the length of your cunt, “best fucking thing I’ll ever taste, know what my last meal will be,” he’s murmuring against you, making you twitch, as he looks up at you with half lidded eyes and saliva and slick covered lips, “awww my pretty pussy begging to be filled? Well I can do that for you, baby,” and he’s burying his tongue in your messy hole.
The moan that leaves your lips leaves his cock harder and hurting, he didn’t know you could make such a lewd noise, and he couldn’t wait to make you make it again and again. He’s making out with your pussy at this mouth, your hips doing their best to grind against him, desperate for more, more, more.
And your fingers find his shoulders first, before sliding up to his hair, pressing him further against you, “you’re so fucking cute,” he murmurs, as he spreads your folds with his thumbs before tongue fucking you. His tongue teases and abuses your walls, deeper and deeper, before he pulls back to flick his tongue over your clit, making you moan even louder, “neighbors are gonna hear you at this rate, baby,” but he only sucks at your clit, harshly, “oh well, they know we’re newlyweds,” he’s humming as his ears hear your broken whines and pants, body tensed up against his.
And you’re so wet now, your slick drips down his jaw, mixed with his spit, “you’re all mine now, baby, can’t live without tasting you now—“ and he groans when your hips buck into his mouth again, feeling your walls twitch, “I know you’re close, Princess, tell me how good it feels,”
“S’good, Toru, I can’t—“ you’re pulling at his soft white locks now, making him grunt, and you fall apart, back arching as you cum as all you can hear are the squelching sounds of his tongue and mouth as he continues to eat you out through your orgasm.
And you’re twitching under him as he sucks up every bit of your cum, “so fucking good for me,” he’s finally pulling himself from your messy pussy, “can’t wait to feel you around me, should’ve known you have a little princess cunt,”
And he’s licking his lips and chin clean, as you watch him with half lidded eyes, still panting, as your eyes skim down his body, his jacket had been thrown aside at some point, but his now wrinkled shirt is only messily untucked from his dress pants, and disheveled was too good of a look on him, but you rather see those clothes on the floor of your bedroom, “you’re still annoyingly dressed,” you manage between breaths, still aching from his ministrations, “strip,”
He’s raising an eyebrow, a wicked grin on his lips, “So demanding for someone who was moaning my name a second ago,” but you pull yourself up, supporting yourself on a shaky arm while you use the other to tug on his tie, smashing his lips to yours.
You unfurl the very tie you tied, fingers flying to unbutton his shirt, “Made me feel so good, baby,” and now you were kneeling in front of him, your release slipping down your thighs, as you slipped his shirt off his shoulders, tossing it aside, heated eyes raking over his bare chest, tongue running over your lips, “only fair if I repay the favor,”
You’re undoing his belt for him, pulling it free from the loops, as your hand grazes his noticeable bulge in his suit pants, “surprised you haven’t ripped through,” you squeeze lightly, making his hips jerk, as he pouts all too cutely — and now you knew why he always teased you, “didn’t you tell me to have patience, love?”
“Your husband is running low on that at the moment, never been one to be patient, sweetheart,” he’s gritting his teeth, as you slip his pants off leaving him only in boxers.
Your eyes are glued to his erection, visible through the damp front of his boxers, wet with his precum, “so fuckin’ big, even better than I thought,” you say almost with reverence, and his lip quivers at the praise, a quiet groan leaving his throat. You raise an eyebrow, “like to be praised, baby boy?”
And he swallows, adam's apple bobbing, sweat on his forehead from his treatment of you, but a red flush deepens on his skin, “Princess,” it’s half a warning and half a plea—and morphs into a whimper as your fingers tease the head of his cock through his boxers, rubbing his precum into the fabric, “f-fuck, s’good with those hands, sweetheart,”
“Imagine how much better it’d be with your boxers out of the way,” you say leaning down and licking at the tip through the sticky fabric, as his head falls back with a soft moan, “can’t wait to feel this between my legs,” as you kiss the clothed tip, two fingers slipping in only to snap the waistband of the boxers against his skin, and he’s biting back a moan, a pout on his kiss ruined lips, “god, you’re so pretty,”
Another noise in the back of his throat, “Fuck, Princess,” he hissed, as you finally spare him, pulling his boxers off, his erection slapping against his too fucking incredible abs — how was he so unfairly perfect? He was so gorgeous — more long than girthy, but he was so thick still, and flushed red with pearly pre-cum at the tip. Each vein and curve felt as if he was made for you.
“All this for me, baby?” You tease, as his mouth opens and then closes as your fingers tease the head of his cock, a sharp inhale that keeps echoing in your ears, “all turned on from eating me out, huh?” You move close, nearly straddling him, but you don’t let your cunt brush against his cock — not yet.
And his dick twitches in your hand, “Sweetheart,” he whimpers, eyes nearly glassy with need, “such a fucking tease,”
And your lips curl, “Match made in heaven, baby,” you rub your thumb against his flushed tip, spreading the pre-cum along his shaft, “can’t wait to taste you, wonder if you taste as sweet as what you eat,” licking your lips, and he’s biting his lip, “tell me what you want, Toru,”
“Y’know what I want, Princess,” he’s panting as you lean forward to kiss him, lips sliding against his, just as your palm starts to stroke him, his moan is nearly pornographic, words spilling from his mouth, “want your pretty pussy around my cock, sweetheart, plesse,”
“Not so fast, baby,” you hum, your other hand moving to tease his balls, achingly full, judging by the gasp that left his throat, “wanna take my time with you, like you did with me, right?” And he breaks your kiss with a whine, “you feel so good in my hands, Toru, been thinking about this cock for too long,” and he’s grunting, lips parted as he pants, burying his face in your shoulder.
“How good?” he mumbles, and you’re grinning even wider — the great Satoru Gojo fell to pieces with only your touch and some praise, his face beautifully flushed as you tug him by the back of his hair, thumb running over his undercut as you do.
“So good that I wanna make you fall apart over and over until my name is the only thing on your lips,” you squeeze the base of his dick, making his hips jump, “gonna be a good boy for me and let me do it?”
And he’s nodding, utterly fucked out even before you’ve even started. And you guide him to the end of the bed, as you get on your knees for him, his gaze darkening as he watches you lean down to press your lips to the tip of his weeping erection, making him groan your name. And you trace his slit with the tip of your tongue, tasting his salty release, “How long you gonna tease me baby? I’m being so good for you,” he’s whining, his baby blues fluttering with lust as he looks down at you, choking as he sees how his precum paints your lips, “please, fuck, just—“
And you finally guide his cock into your mouth, and he’s jerking at the sensation and groaning as he watches your pretty little mouth take his length — those same smart lips that always had a reply for everything, the ones he’d jerked off to the thought of this very situation — you on your knees for him, the ones he’d wanted around him for so long — it was too much.
He almost blew his load all too fast, your warm mouth all too accommodating to his cock, as your wet walls and tongue swirl around him, tasting and sucking, your fingers grasping his thighs. And you bob up and down his length, the weight of his cock making the ache between your legs worse, and your eyes flicker up, and moan as you watch him.
He’s so fucking gorgeous — panting and so fucked out, as his lips part for you, your name leaving his kissed red lips, teeth baring down on his bottom lip, “Fuck, my little wife is so pretty on her knees,” as his hands settle on your head, watching you sink your mouth down on his cock, pleasure running up his spine, as his thick fingers dig into your scalp, “so nasty, baby, fuuuuck, gonna fuck your throat at this rate,” he groans, “how’d you get so good at this baby? Don’t answer that,” he adds, a growl in his words, and you almost giggle around his dick.
“Learned so I could blow you, husband, after all, this mouth is yours,” you grin, and his lips curl too and then they part as he grunts, as you press teasing kisses along his length before sliding it back into your mouth, beginning to let the tip hit the back of your throat. You gag on him, making him moan, as he helps you deepthroat him, his hips thrusting against you lightly, his white pubes brushing against your face.
And he’s moaning even louder, as he watches you, drool slipping down your chin as he fucks your mouth, tongue massaging him as he did, “Made just to fuck me, huh? Want my load that bad, Princess?” And his words have your eyes rolling back as he’s moving against you, his cock twitching telling you that he’s close, “shiiit, fuck, my wife’s a slut for me, gonna swallow my cum baby?”
“Only for you,” you pull away a moment, a string of spit connecting your lips to his dick, smiling, before you slip him back into your too eager mouth, and you hollow your cheeks, the lewd noises of your tongue and mouth sending him over the edge.
“Fuck, fuck, gonna cum, baby, can I cum in—“ and you make his tip brush your throat again as you suck, looking at him with half lidded, dilated eyes. And he spills into your mouth, hot cum down your throat, as he holds your head gently in place, “shit Princess,” his hips jumping at the sight of you, cum and spit slipping from the corner of your mouth as you pull his cock from you, “s’good for me,”
He’s still panting, as you climb into his lap properly, his cock sliding against your cunt, making his face twist in pleasure, as you lick your mouth clean of him, wiping your chin, “Taste so good, Toru,” you hum, his eyes half lidded with pleasure, chest still heaving, as he leans back on shaky arms, “you may be my favorite meal, but I think I rather,” you grind on his lap teasingly dragging his tip against your messy cunt, “have you cum inside me,”
And he gives a delicious gasp, “baby, too sensitive,” but you’re tilting his chin back as you meet his lips, both of you moaning as you taste yourselves on the other’s lips, “you’re gonna be the death of me, Princess,” he’s chuckling, as he starts to grab your thighs, putting you properly into his lap, “you gonna ride me like a good little princess? Fuck yourself on my cock?”
How does he have the upper hand when you’re the one on top?
As you feel yourself clench around nothing at his words, and he’s sliding your body back and forth, his cock slapping and sliding against your wrecked cunt, so close to sinking in. His hand bears down on your ass, slapping it, before his fingers squeeze it, making you jump against him, your chest brushing against his, “you like that huh?” he’s grinning, as he kisses you again, his lips sliding against you, swallowing your moans eagerly, “what do you want, baby? Remember to say please,” he adds, and you want to roll your eyes, but his fingers rub your clit, and any protest you had fled your mind.
“Please,” and you’re using your fingers to part yourself above him, making his eyes roll back, as you grasp his cock, teasing your dripping cunt with the head of his dick, “fuck me,”
And you sink onto him, inch by inch, as your head looks back, your walls squeezing as he parted your folds, “You’re drenching me, sweetheart, fucking perfect princess cunt is gonna wring me dry,” he grunts, as his fingers splay over your hips, grasping but not pushing, letting you go at your pace, “s’good, might just have to fill you up, again and again,” and your pussy twitches at that thought drawing a laugh from him lips, “you want that? My wife wants to be full of my cum,” he’s groaning when you finally fit all of his cock in you, cunt clamping down on him, “trying to break my cock? Don’t have to go that far to keep me, I’m living in this sweet cunt from now on,”
You’re a mess — whining and moaning, your chest bouncing as you begin to move against him, “Toru, so full, s’good,” his own hips jumping against yours, a low growl in his throat, as his hands begin to guide your hips, snapping his own hips as he fucks you onto his own cock, reaching new depths, as your eyes squeeze shut, “fuckfuckfuuuck, Toru,” you’re babbling and moaning his name, again and again — and he just needs more.
And he’s spanking you, hands coming down on your ass, as he grunts, your warm walls twitching and squeezing him, brushing against sweet spots that have both of you groaning, “such a fucking good girl, taking my cock — I know you can take more, baby, my perfect wife,” and he’s capturing your nipple in his mouth, teeth grazing it before he sucks, his hips growing even faster, until his cock finds your special spot.
“Toru, g’nna cum, I—“ And your orgasm hits you, head thrown back as your lips part in a silent scream, toes curling as you wrap your legs around his waist, and he’s fucking you right through — fucking relentless, almost limitless, with his pace, groaning as he watches his the base of his cock covered in your release, a pool of white that almost has him cumming then and there.
“S’ fuckinh pretty, Princess, and all mine,” he says, as you moan, as he slows his pace, your face buried in his shoulder, as you come down from your high, and he’s tilting your head.
But he isn’t done yet.
In a moment, he’s pulling his cock out — a whine parting your mouth — as he manhandles you so that you’re flat on your back, your ankles thrown over his shoulders, and spread wide for him. You’re the picture of filth — lips in a kiss ruined pout, chest rising and falling as you gaze up at him with needy eyes, and your perfect cunt leaking and drenched for him — he could see everything — all of you, the way your cum slid down your hole, the way it clenched around nothing, the pretty pink insides he was desperate to make his.
He licks his lips, “soaking my lap and sheets with your cum, baby, such a dirty girl,” and he’s spreading your lips, letting your release trickle out.
“Satoru,” you whine as he runs a finger over your still twitching pussy, as if begging for his cock back, “please, too sensitive,”
“Please what, sweetheart? Because your cunt seems to disagree,” his chuckle is a deep noise that reverberates through his chest as he leans down to press your lips to yours in a languid kiss, “such a nerdy princess, imagine how’d your family would feel — seeing you beg for my cock, huh? Not the chaste little princess anymore? Nah, you’re my filthy baby,” and you’re whimpering, “tell me baby, I know you’re not nearly fucked dumb yet, you’re too smart for that,” he coos, a grin on his lips as he stares with that damn crystalline gaze.
And finally he’s sinking into you again, cock sliding back into your soaked cunt, “God, I love you,” he murmurs, as he’s somehow deeper inside you, pussy pressed against all of him, “so fucking perfect, baby, better than I imagined,” he’s pussydrunk now as he rails into you, and you’re grasping at him, the only sound in your ears is the squelch of him as he filled you again and again as his chest presses against yours, fucking you long and hard, “you’re all mine now, baby. My wife, my body, my love, my soul — all of it,” he growls his last words, grunting as his hips begin to stutter as he kisses your sweet spot again and again, “you want me to cum in this sweet princess pussy, baby? Wanna make me a daddy?”
Your cunt twitches at that, and he laughs, “did you just get wetter, baby? Didn’t think you could do that,”
But you’re only moaning, you’re so fuckin’ close but you want him to cum with you - wanna feel him sink into as he does. And so you’re meeting his lips in a searing kiss, his hips thrusting harder and longer, “give me your baby, Toru, breed me,” you whisper, words slurring as you pant and stutter, all sense had left your mind - and all you wanted was him.
“Fuck, Princess,” he’s grunting as he pistons in and out of you, bed groaning under his thrusts, until your walls clamp down again and again on him as you cum, throbbing and needy as you moan his name, back arching, “g’nna cum,”
And he does, his cock hitting the deepest part of you as he does, his warm seed filling you up, as his hips continue to fuck it deeper into you, making you whimper, as he just keeps on cumming ropes, “oh, f-fuck, Princess,” he rasps as he kisses you, sloppy and wet, as he pants, watching your face come down him your high, eyelashes fluttering as you look up at him, “so beautiful,” he murmurs, as he rubs his thumb down your lips.
He pulls out slowly, groaning as he watches your mixed releases leak out of you, dragging the tip of his weeping erection down your cunt, a whine leaving your throat again, “So fucking filthy, baby,” he hums, a shiteating grin on his lips, as he collects his cum on his fingers, and pushes it back inside of you, as you jump, a small pout on your lips making him laugh, “gotta make good on my promise, baby,” and he’s kissing you silly again, “gotta get you pregnant and full for me,”
His body is sticky with sweat, as he eases your aching legs down, as he kisses up your body, nosing your neck, “So perfect for me, Princess, I love you,” he says so earnestly that it makes you melt, as you pull him into a kiss, “suppose we consummated our marriage now, does this mean we get to have a honeymoon now?” he’s grinning, as you roll your eyes, “come on, don’t you want to travel?”
And you laugh, “I don’t think we would even leave the hotel room if you had your way,” and he’s pressing his thumb against your bottom lip and dragging down, before kissing you, sliding his tongue into your mouth to taste you.
“Would that be such a bad thing?” And your breath catches a moment, before you sigh, and he grins again, “so?”
You roll over to grab your phone, kissing his lips, pulling up possible destinations, “where are we going?”
“Satoru, we’re at the office, uhmph—“ Satoru’s kissing you even before the elevator doors shut, and you can’t help but not care if anyone saw either of you making out, his talented tongue stealing your logic from under you, before he’s pulling away, your lipstick nearly smeared all over his face. You bite back a laugh, before using your thumb to wipe away the evidence of your kiss, “we’ve been here less than a minute, and you’re already making a mess,”
And his lips catch your thumb between them, kissing it sweetly, “What do I do better than make a mess of you, princess?” and he’s pressing sweet kisses to your fingertips, before you’re pulling him back for another kiss, right before you hear the elevator ding, and you scramble apart.
Your cheeks flushed, as you stepped onto the floor of the newly merged company that was formerly your families’ individual companies, now united as one — just as you and Satoru were now — which was why he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of you. The two of you had come into the office to finalize the transition for your staff, each of you dealing with formalities on either side, but Satoru did little to help your focus on the process with his blatant stares and sneaky touches.
Twice already he had pulled you into his office, only to have you either pressed against his door, or bent over his desk. And god, you sat in your office, biting your lip as you thought about paying him another visit — and fuck, this is what he wanted.
You pull your phone out and text him: You suck.
And his reply is instant. If I recall from last night, you’re the one who sucks ;)
You’ve left me high and dry, Satoru, and I shouldn’t be thinking about fucking you in the office. Especially with both of our parents around in meetings all day.
He replies, Nah, that’s exactly why you should be thinking about it.
And then another text.
Imagine our parents walking in while you’re under my desk doing what you do best, you’d be quiet for me, Princess? Wouldn’t let us get caught when I fuck your pretty mouth?
You’re biting your lip — Fucker, I hate you.
Nah, you love me, a little too much, Princess. Another text — especially the way you were moaning my name last night.
And there’s a knock at your door in that moment — “Come in,” you intone, and you were ninety-nine percent sure that was Satoru — ready to make good on his promise — and then white hair visible as the door swings open, “Father,”
It was a Gojo, but not the one you expected — your father in law, instead of his son.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he says, lips curling in a smile that was all too the same as his son — but missing the same charm, the distinct softness that made you adore Satoru was not present in his father — nor was his father very present at all — except to chastise his son on how he thought his son should live his life.
And he was interrupting — interrupting you about to sext his son and your husband from the confines of your office, but you only offered a smile, “Not at all, can I help you with something, Father?”
He’s shutting the door behind him, before taking a seat across from you, “I just wanted to have a chat with you — it’s been so long since we’ve been able to see the two of you — we still haven’t had you over since you’ve returned from your honeymoon,”
“It’s been very busy,” and it had been, but not too busy to see Satoru’s family. Since the launch party, you and Satoru had agreed to steer clear of his father for some time, until Satoru could develop some more healthy boundaries with him. And so you could get through a conversation without strangling him (although Satoru wasn’t opposed to seeing that), “with the merger and Satoru and I trying to spend time to get know each other again,”
“Of course,” but his smile told you he was unconvinced, “I wanted to talk to you about something important, I’ve seen how close you and Satoru have gotten since the engagement and the wedding, and I was happy to see you pushing him in the right direction,”
“”Pushing him?’” you repeat, raising an eyebrow.
“With the merger, I haven’t seen him so focused, so determined, and I knew my suggestion to my wife to have you marry him was the right choice,” and you stare at him, mouth agape, as anger slowly melts from your stomach into every vein of his body, fingers curling into fists.
“Excuse me?”
He leans back in his chair, “When the idea of the merger was floated by me, I knew I wanted a condition to be your marriage to Satoru,” his eyes glance over the things on your desk — the stacked folders, the paperwork, and the pictures of your family and of Satoru, “you’re driven, you’re focused, you’re perfect — I knew you could change him, and I was right,” his lips curl, and you can’t hold your tongue anymore.
“Maybe what your son needed was someone to support him,” your words are even, but your body is tense, “he needed someone not to scold him, to put him down, to whisper doubts in his ear when he needed help,” you rise from your chair slowly, “I respect you as my father-in-law and as my family’s old friend and co-owner of this company, but,” you glare at him, “no one insults my husband’s capabilities, and makes me takes credit for his achievements,”
The old man’s teeth grit, and he opens to respond, when there’s a curt knock at the door, and Satoru enters, “Old man, how about you go chat with the other old farts in the room? Pretty sure you’re bleeding investors by the second the longer you talk with my wife,” he slides a small smile to you that tells you he heard everything.
Satoru’s father shoots a glare at both of you, before leaving the room in a huff, door shutting behind him, and you sigh, rubbing your temples, “I’m sorry if I made things worse—”
And he’s pulling you into a hug, arms snaking around your waist and pulling you against him, “Thank you, Princess,” he murmurs into your ear, making you tense, “oh you like that, huh?” and you roll your eyes, laughing.
“Even in a moment like this, huh?” you lean up and whisper in his ear, “I don’t just like it, I love it,” and it’s his turn to shiver, his cheeks burning, “you’re so cute,” you grin, before leaning up and kissing him. He melts into the kiss, his fingers cupping your cheek to deepen the kiss, pulling your waist against his, and you feel his arousal pressed against your thigh.
You pull away, tilting your head, you snort, “Already?”
And he bites his lip, “Take some responsibility, baby, it’s your fault,” and he leans down and grazes your ear with his teeth, “not my fault my hot wife defended my honor and then decided to whisper sweet nothings in my ear,”
You hum, guiding his lips to yours, your teeth graze over his bottom lip, “And how should I take responsibility, baby?” and he shudders, crystalline eyes glazed over with lust, “we’re in the office, not very professional,” his fingers unbutton your blouse, so he can lean down and kiss your collarbone.
“I was never very professional to begin with,” he smirks, his teeth grazing over the soft skin, sucking and biting, making you gasp, “don’t be so loud, someone will hear us, what will they think?” he murmurs, with a grin against your skin, as he continues to undo your blouse, as he turns you around so your back is against your chest, he tilts your head to look at your door, “look it’s unlocked, anyone could walk in,” and his fingers sneak down the front of your skirt, fingers teasing your panties, “fuuuck, princess, you’re soaked through — are you more turned on by the idea of getting caught?” and you whimper, only making him grin wickedly against your neck, “my filthy girl, imagine your father walking in, seeing your husband’s fingers down your skirt, legs spread wide like a slut,”
“Satoru,” you’re biting your lip so hard that you wouldn’t be surprised it would bleed, your knees buckling, as his fingers part your dripping folds, “we can’t—”
“We can,” he shushes you, guiding your lips to his, fingers cupping your throat, but he leans back to get confirmation that you were okay, and you lean in again to kiss him, “such a good girl,” You whimper, and he laughs, “gotta break in the new office don’t we?”
And his fingers slip your panties aside, two fingers parting your folds, and you gasp, as he stuffs two fingers into your mouth as well, “Not so loud, Princess, can’t give the office gossip mill something really juicy, now can we?” And his digits start to really fuck you, in and out, the wet squelch ringing in your ears, as his fingers bully and stretch your walls, until they find what they are looking for — your g-spot.
You fall apart, but it’s gushing all over his hand, soaking his hand, as your hand grasps at the fingers in his mouth trying to stifle your noises, “Fuck, Princess, did you just squirt for me?” He’s grinning, “such a sloppy little Princess, look you’re staining the carpet with your cum,” he guides your head to look, seeing the spot on the carpet, as you lean against him, “gotta do this again,”
He kisses you as you moan. Tangled limbs and eager touches, as you guide him over to the desk, as you settle him into the chair, lips still parting as your tongue slips in, “Your turn,” and before he can even react, you’re slipping down to your knees, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, slipping his aching dick out, nearly slapping your face with it, you drag it along your lips, “Like you said, I’m the one who sucks right?” you wink, before you finally lick the length of his cock, tracing the veins to the slit, “you always taste so good, Toru,” and he’s hissing now.
“Fuck, baby, you always so pretty on your knees for me,” and you have to disagree — he’s the one who looks pretty — shirt disheveled, chest rising and falling far too fast, as he looked down at you with his snowy white eyelashes half lidded with a lust ridden gaze — “your pretty mouth is s’fucking perfect, can’t wait to cum down that lovely throat,” he hisses, as his fingers dig into your scalp, urging his cock deeper, his tip brushing against your throat, making you gag.
He opens his mouth to apologize, but you only shake your head, as you do it again, making his hips buck against you, tip hitting your throat again, his composure quickly falling to shreds, as he’s fucking your throat now, biting his lip so hard to keep his groans in, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was bleeding afterwards.
“I-I’m close,” he’s gritting his teeth, but you only redouble your efforts, “so fuckin’ perfect, made to suck this dick—”
And that’s when there’s a knock on the door, making you both freeze. You panic silently — before Satoru is shepherding you under your desk, while he adjusts himself, scooting your chair in more, so his weeping cock is hidden along with you.
“Come in,” Satoru says, as even toned as someone who was just fucking their wife’s throat can manage, “Dad—what a nice surprise,”
And you cover your mouth — fuck it was your dad — Satoru called his dad, “old man” — what the fuck.
“I should be saying that to you son,” you bite your lip, listening to their conversation, “where’s my daughter? And why are you in her office?” and you covered your mouth, shit — you were hiding under your own desk, while Satoru sat in your chair.
Shit, shit, shit.
“I was just waiting for her to come back with lunch,” he manages, and you can almost see the dependable smile on his lips, “she volunteered to get us lunch and she told me to wait here so we could eat together,”
Your father was seemingly convinced after that, but to both of your dismay, sat down to speak with Satoru about business matters. You crouched, utterly bored as you listened to them talk, his erection beginning to wane, and you got an idea in your pretty little head — you grinned — well, Satoru should be careful what he wishes for, or he might just get you blowing him in front of your father.
You start slow — teasing the head with a brush of your fingers, easily could have been an accident, but it nearly makes him jump, as he gives a warning nudge with his foot gently. But then your hand begins to rub him in earnest, fingers using your spit as lube, as you heard your husband stammer over his words to your father. But it was nothing compared to when you closed your mouth over his cock, and began to deepthroat him again.
“Satoru, are you okay?’ you hear your father ask, as you discreetly suck your husband’s cock under his desk, and you can only imagine the delightful shade of red your Toru is turning.
“Sorry, I’m not feeling like myself,” he mumbles, as he grits his teeth in an attempt not to moan, and you can feel his thighs tense as he forces himself not to fuck your mouth as he wants to right now. He’s so close — as much as you like the idea of getting caught, you think Satoru likes it as much or maybe even more — his cock is twitching in your mouth as you suck and swirl your tongue around it, as your fingers dig into your thighs, “I apologize, I’m getting a call. Could you excuse me?”
And your father is oblivious, and excuses himself from the room, door shutting behind him, and Satoru groans, “Fuck, princess, you almost made me cum in front of your dad in this nasty fucking mouth,” and you suck harder, fingers fondling his balls, as his fingers find your locks again, and his hips jerk into your mouth, his white pubes tickling your nose, “thaaat’s it, fuck, so fuckin’ good, i’m close, sweetheart,” he groans, “you want me to cum—“ and you bury his cock deeper into your mouth as an answer, your hands pumping what you couldn’t fit, until he cums down your throat.
You meet his half lidded gaze, swallowing his cum, as you ease off his cock, a mix of cum and saliva connected your lips, “You taste so good,” you lick your lips, as you push the chair a little back and climb out, as you tug his boxers and pants back up, tucking his cock back in, “my favorite treat,”
He smiles, chest still rising and falling fast, “I love you, princess,” so genuinely as he pulls you into a deep kiss.
You giggle, humming against his lips, “So heartfelt after getting your soul sucked out of your dick,” you glance at the door, “do you think anyone heard us?”
He shrugs, as he pulls you into his lap, “I hope they did,” he grins against your neck, as you roll your eyes.
“You’re terrible,” and his lips curl.
“And you love me,” you kiss those same lips you would each day.
“I do.”
~~~~
“What do you wanna do today?” Satoru asks, your legs thrown over his lap, as you read a book you had picked up the other day out on a date with him, and he eats the kikufuku he had insisted on picking up the same day.
“Hmm, I have some ideas,” you hum, hiding your smile with a book, and you don’t need to see his face to know he’s grinning.
“And what’s that, Princess?” he leans forward, plucking the book from your fingers, as you tut at his sugar covered fingers, “shouldn’t you share your feelings with your husband?” And his lips brush against your neck, nose brushing against the soft skin of your nape, inhaling your scent.
“Well I have a surprise for you,” you weren’t planning on giving it to him now, but you pulled a wrapped box from behind the couch cushions, “should I make you wait?”
He’s reaching for the box already, as you laugh, and he’s snatching it from your fingers before you can tease him, “can I open it?” He was so eager, as always.
“Go ahead, baby,” you bite your lip, a small smile on your lips.
He lifts the lid of the wrapped box off, and the first thing his eyes flit across is the word “positive.”
His mouth parts, as he stares at the pregnancy test carefully nestled into the box, “is this—“ his cerulean eyes meet yours, a soft gaze with wonder, “are we—“
“We’re having a baby, Toru,” you nod, and he’s sweeping you into his arms, as you squeak, his body sweeping you up in his, as he buries his face in your neck, “Toru—“
“Is this real?” He murmurs, into your skin, all soft words and soft kisses, “I feel like I’m dreaming,”
“Well I am your dream girl, so maybe don’t be surprised when I pinch you and you wake up,” you pinch his cheek lightly, making his pale skin cutely flushed, pink dusting his cheeks, “no dream here, all real — so I guess you’re just lucky,”
“The luckiest,” he hums, a quiet noise that soothes you, “a beautiful wife, and now,” his fingers graze over your stomach, before lifting the hem of your shirt, to press his lips to it, “and now we’re going to be a family,”
Your lips curl, tilting his chin up so his watery gaze meets your own, thumb rubbing the length of his cheek, “We already were a family,
He raises his eyebrows in mock surprise, “I thought we were mortal enemies,” and you laugh, before shrugging.
“That too,” and he pulls you into his lap, smiling, “but you’re actually pretty cute,”
He gasps mockingly, “Princess, do you have a crush on me? A mere commoner?”
You roll your eyes, pressing a languid kiss to his lips, tasting the lingering sweetness of the kikufuku, “I hate you,” you say, when he knows you mean quite the opposite.
And he only smiles the same way he always did — and the same way he always would — “love you too, Princess."
✩ a/n: so this was also inspired by a character AI made by @/fairybaby that has been living in my mind rent free for far too long. thank you to @/laneymusings for being the best emotional support from writing to formatting to everything in between
✩ tag list: @ryliobrow, @getosho3cakes, @delaneyyyy, @soukokufan, @purplscnerie, @solarlunarsstuff, @growingupnrealizing, @forest-fruits-jam, @achipstea1ingseagull, @fruitscall, @starplasma-cujoh, @crashing-a-jeep, @mwah-chia, @vorschlaghannah, @xrysakts, @emonaculate
#satoru gojo#gojo satoru#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo fanfiction#satoru gojo smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#sab [mlist]#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x reader#jjk au
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