#‘I’ll get him for this- I’ll kill him if it’s the last thing I do!’

[gglitch1dd]

Us & You Pt 3

DILF Kirishima Eijiro x Teacher Reader

Context: Kirishima Eijiro has done everything to forget Bakugou Katsuki in his life and just focus on his daughter, his amazing and loving daughter. The light of his eye. Due to an incident, Eijiro meets you, a teacher at his daughter school who he can’t help but fall for. However, as his daughter grows older and questions start being asked, it feels like the peace he tried to cultivate is slipping through his fingers.

Note: Prolife vs Prochoice, friends to enemies to strangers. Katsuki is TRANS!!! (AFAB)

PLEASE NOTE BEFORE READING THIS SHORT SERIES: There will be some deep discussions about morality, children, abortion arguments pertaining to Pro life vs Pro choice as well as the father’s role in raising a child/conceiving a child. It also deals with the struggles of being a single parent. It’s very messy and very much real life. Katsuki is Trans in this story (mostly cause I couldn’t find another character to be Sachiko’s mom and you’ll see why).

[PART 1] [AO3 Link] [PART 2]

Bakugou Katsuki tapped his hand anxiously against the counter. This was all a lie. It was a joke. He was just sick with a stomach bug and there was nothing more to it. There had to be nothing more to that. He looked down at the counter of his bathroom in his apartment. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. It was all a lie. None of this would be true.

He heard the beep and closed his eyes. When he opened them, his life wouldn’t end, everything would be okay and there would be no reason to worry.

Crimson eyes opened to look down at three pregnancy test sticks. Every single one of them were positive.

Katsuki wanted to kill himself.

One night. That’s all it was. One night with his good-looking best friend and it resulted into this. He couldn’t know how in the hell was this possible. He wasn’t supposed to ovulate or for any fertilised egg to be able to implant itself onto his lining. One drunken night where he had had one too many drinks, stumbled into Eijiro’s side of their shared apartment and ended up having the best fuck of his life and here he was.

Pregnant.

“Katsuki!” Speak of the devil. Katsuki whipped his head to look at the door of the bathroom. He quickly moved to grab the three sticks. The last thing he needed was Kirishima Eijiro finding out about this. The last thing he needed was Eijiro here, right now, knocking on the door of their shared bathroom while he was about to have a panic attack. “Katsuki, I need to take a leak, are you finished in there?” Eijiro asked.

“Hold your shit, Eijiro, I’m coming out now!” Damn did he sound bitchy. A bit more than usual, but then again, he was always in a sour mood, so it wasn’t exactly a surprise. However, the issue was how well Eijiro knew Katsuki. He knew Katsuki well enough to know any hitch in his voice consequent for something wrong.

“Are you okay?” He heard the giant redhead ask.

Katsuki was pacing. He didn’t know where to put these. As a last-ditch effort, he threw them into the hamper. Eijiro would never check there because Eijiro didn’t do laundry except once in a blue moon and the laundry basket wasn’t full. Katsuki quickly covered them up, shoving them deep into the hamper before straightening up his appearance and opening the door.

Eijiro stood there shirtless, like always, sweatpants hanging low enough to see his thick black happy trial and deeply cut sex lines. He looked to Katsuki with a raised eyebrow. He had a towel around his neck as he looked to the blond with a tilt of his head. “You okay, Kats?”

Katsuki hesitated. No, he wasn’t. “Of course, I am.” He shrugged off the redhead, as he brushed past him. “I gotta go to my lecture. I’ll see you later.” He pushed his hands deep inside his pockets as he moved to the kitchen. Katsuki waited for the door to close before his shoulders dropped in relief. This was something he shouldn’t be thinking about or entertaining. He just needs to get through his class and come home and then he could think of a plan. Actually, there was only going to be one plan. And that’s-

Just as Katsuki fished out his house keys, the door in the hallway opened. He prayed Eijiro wasn’t looking for him as he moved towards the door. He just had to make it to the door. Why on earth did this apartment hallway seem so long.

“Hey Kats…”

Katsuki kept going, moving to grab the apartment door. “Yah.”

“Why are there pregnancy test boxes in the trashcan?”

He forgot the boxes…

For a hot minute, there was silence. Katsuki thought of every and any sort of lame excuse to give, but Eijiro wasn’t stupid. He was dumb but he wasn’t stupid. Katsuki swallowed down hard as his expression went hard as he turned around to face Eijiro. The two best friends faced each other in their mediocre apartment that they paid rent in and lived together. It was an odd thing really.

Eijiro held one of the boxes in his hand. Katsuki glanced at it, deciding to focus on it. “It was for Mina. She wanted me to get her some.”

Eijiro furrowed his eyebrows. “Mina went to go visit her mother; she isn’t in the city.” Katsuki closed his eyes almost in physical pain. He internally cursed, forgetting about that. Eijiro’s grip on the rectangular box went harsh. He swallowed down hard trying not to think about the worse case scenario. “Katsuki.” He stepped forward. “Are… were they for you?” He asked. Katsuki didn’t say anything. He kept his mouth shut. When all else failed, just say nothing. Eijiro hesitated. “Were… were they positive?” Katsuki didn’t say anything again. “Katsuki.”

“I’m going to be late for my lecture.”

Eijiro took a step forward. His eyebrows furrowed. “Katsuki, if you’re pregnant, we have to talk about this.” He urged.

Katsuki turned to look at his best friend, a scowl on his face. “We don’t have to talk about anything, Eijiro. There won’t be anything to talk about. I’ll get an abortion and it will be like this never happened.” He stated simply. Eijiro froze at his words, being too shocked as Katsuki left just like that, slamming the door behind him.

"Katsuki, please." Eijiro begged, trying to stop the blond as he walked to the door. Eijiro grasped his wrist, forcing him to turn to look at the redhead. Katsuki scowled as he looked to his best friend, but that quickly eased when he noticed something. He was crying. Eijiro had tears in his eyes. Katsuki was surprised. He had half expected it, knowing how Eijiro had grown up but the pure desperation in his voice was something that even made Katsuki’s heart clench. "Please, don't do this." Eijiro whispered, almost begging.

Katsuki let out a sigh with a roll of his eyes. He wrenched his hand out of Eijiro’s hold, "Eijiro, why the hell are you the one crying? I'm the one who's pregnant right now." He motioned to his chest.

“Why am I…?” The question almost felt like it was a joke for Katsuki to be asking him that. Eijiro let out a breath before motioning to him. "Cause you want to go kill our baby, Katsuki."

"Eijiro, it's not our anything.”

“Yes, it is. I was there! It takes two to make a baby, Katsuki!”

Katsuki let out a groan as he moved to drag his hands down his face. He took a deep breath, before putting his hands together. “I can't be pregnant right now. We have just barely finished our degrees. We’re twenty-one! And I am sure as hell not going to raise a child, at least not right now. We- or at least I am not financially or mentally ready for that." Katsuki reasoned.

Eijiro stepped forward with a trying expression. “My parents are ready to help us.” He announced. “They said they could help us raise them while we get our bearings, and my parents are more t-”

“Your- Eijiro.” Katsuki’s face fell, becoming void of all emotion. “Did you tell your parents?”

Eijiro blinked confused at the change in face. His glossy wide ruby eyes blinked. “Of course, I did.”

Katsuki let out a loud frustrated groan. The one thing he didn’t need was more people knowing about this… this unfortunate development. He looked to Eijiro with a fed up look in his eyes. “Eijiro, why on earth would you tell your parents!”

“I…” Eijiro hesitated but shrugged. He moved to hold his arms as he seemed to shrink. “I didn’t know what else to do. Katsuki, you know how close I am to my family. When I found out that we were having a baby I-”

"It isn't a fucking baby, Eijiro! It isn’t anything. It is nothing but a useless parasitic clump of-"

"NO!" The interruption even shocked Katsuki himself as he closed his mouth, wide eyed. Eijiro had his eyes closed as he shook his head. He opened his tear brimmed ruby eyes. "Don't say that." He whispered so softly and yet sternly. "Do not say that."

Katsuki scoffed as he threw his hands up. "Oh, for heaven’s sake, Eijiro. This is not the time for your family’s conservative values to come out right now.” Now Katsuki could feel the tears in his eyes as he looked to his best friend. He felt his attempt at a calm demeanour, slip away as he looked at his best friend. “I thought you had changed! I though you were better!”

“Better? Katsuki, I’m still the same man. Nothing has changed.” Eijiro felt confused. Nothing about him had changed, nothing was different. He was still the same Eijiro that hung on Katsuki’s every whim.

Katsuki let out a cynical laugh. “Eijiro, I thought you were better than your family! That you wouldn’t be blinded by some old Japanese conservative bullshit!” He motioned to the side.

Eijiro frowned as he looked at his best friend. “Don’t call my family’s values ‘bullshit’, Katsuki. I’m not bad! I’m not judging you! I’m not hating you! I’m just asking you to give our baby a chance!” He begged.

Katsuki looked at Eijiro, so unable to understand him. He sniffed as he wiped his nose before looking away from him again. “You are one of my closest friends… and I love you, I really do but we made a stupid mistake and slept together. A stupid irresponsible mistake that resulted into something that isn’t meant to be. We don't want this." He stated adamantly.

"Katsuki, I do! I do want this!” Eijiro urged as he motioned to himself, his voice loud and no doubt they would get a complaint from the neighbours, but he didn’t care. He wiped at his eyes as he let out a sigh. “Katsuki I’ll do anything. I’ll work three jobs if I have to, I’ll work for my parents, I’ll literally do anything, just please… We can do this together if you just had a little faith in us.” He pleaded, hoping and praying that his best friend would believe in this as much as he did. “We can do this... please.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes as he made his way to the door, picking up his keys as he did so. He saw no use in continuing this conversation. A rush of fear went down Eijiro’s spine. Katsuki was leaving and Lord knows that Eijiro wouldn’t be able to stop him once he left. So he did the one thing he could do.

Katsuki paused at the heavy thud behind him. He didn’t want to look back, but he did so anyways.

There was his hulk of a best friend, on his knees, head bent down, hands in front of him as he bowed. "Katsuki, I'll do anything, just please. I'll give you anything you want. I'll take full responsibility, you won't ever have to see the child again, I’ll pay you if I have to, anything you want. Any amount you want. Just please…” It was a crippling and pathetic plea.

But the only thing Katsuki could focus on was on payment.

Anything he wanted...

He glanced back at Eijiro. His best friend. Eijiro came from a wealthy family. Wealthy enough to have a say in politics. The Kirishima diamond company was one of the wealthiest in Asia. Despite the wealth, the Kirishimas were great people, friendly and caring. Although they were a strict and solid in their values, they were definitely friends worth keeping. However, Eijiro grew up wealthy, he had decided to follow his passions instead (typical rich kid stuff).

He wasn’t like Katsuki who even though fashion was in his blood, everything he ever wanted was cut back for his parent’s dream of their own fashion industry. A dream that Katsuki shared, a dream that he spent countless years dreaming of and envisioning. A dream he spent late nights trying to perfect in his head with countless of designs just waiting for a spot. However, money was what made dreams come true. Money that the Bakugou’s needed to support their shop especially now in its early stages.

Money that the Kirishimas had.

“Anything?” Katsuki asked lowly.

Eijiro lifted his head, he saw a chance, a silver thread that would be his last opportunity to take. One that he knew would not last long if he hesitated. “Anything you want, Katsuki.”

The blond looked back at him. He sighed and turned around, his face turning hard and stoney as he folded his arms. “If I am going to do this for you, Eijiro, it will be on my own terms.” Eijiro nodded his head, understanding whole heartedly and willing to go with (almost) whatever the blond would want. Katsuki scowled at how eager he looked. “In no way shape or form will I be responsible for the… the foetus. Nothing will come back to me. I don’t want my name anywhere, I don’t want anything to do with it. I carry it to term and that’s all.” He listed first on one finger as he stood in front of Eijiro. “Two, I don’t want this being announced or spread about anywhere. No one should know about this other than your family and mine. Three, you will pay me a desired amount twice a week and pay for everything having to deal with this pregnancy. I am not going to spend money on something I don’t want. Every doctor’s visit, prenatal pills, all that shit, I am not spending my money on. Those are my terms.”

Eijiro nodded his head. All something he could agree with. If it was what made Katsuki keep the baby, he would do it. He would do anything. He quickly scrambled onto his feet as he looked at Katsuki with a hopeful and relieved smile, his ruby eyes shining as he looked down at Katsuki. It made the blond squirm. “Oh Katsuki, thank you! Thank you, so much! You won’t regret it!” As he moved to hug the blond on instinct, Katsuki put up a hand to show that he was in no way wanting to touch Eijiro. Eijiro paused.

Even though Katsuki never really was one to initiate physical affection, he never rejected Eijiro.

Katsuki had his eyes closed for a moment as he took a second before opening his eyes. “I think its best… you move out.” He looked up at Eijiro with cold eyes.

Eijiro froze for a moment, processing what Katsuki had just said. He felt almost out of his body for a second as he lowered his arms slowly, his smile moving off of his face. “What… what do you mean?” He asked softly, his voice a low sound, nothing like the boisterous booming voice that normally rumbled out of his chest.

Katsuki folded his arms but he couldn’t look at Eijiro. “I think it’s best for us to keep our distance right now. I don’t… I don’t feel comfortable with you here.”

That was a lie. It was a lie as easy as the sun rising from the west and yet it stung more than anything he had ever said to Eijiro. The redhead’s face cracked for a second as he couldn’t comprehend why Katsuki would say that. However, when Katsuki finally moved his crimson eyes up to him, rising his head as he stood by what he said, Eijiro knew that Katsuki didn’t regret it. At least not to himself.

Eijiro forced a painful smile to his face. He nodded his head as he sniffed. “Yah… yah okay. If… if that’s what you want.” He let out trying to make it sound light in the tense hallways as he wiped his eyes with his big hands. He put his palms to his face for a second before letting out a deep stuttered breath. “Let me-let me go pack somethings then.” He motioned back to his room.

Katsuki nodded his head. “Okay.”

Eijiro hesitated, waiting for something, anything, for Katsuki just to tell him that he wanted him to stay… just at least that. But Katsuki didn’t say a word. His face never changed as he just stared at Eijiro. Eijiro nodded his head, shoving his hands into his pockets and walked himself to his room.

Ever since that day, their communication was limited to short texts and text reactions more than anything else. Eijiro moved in with his older sister in the meantime, he would have moved back in with his parents, but he still had to take his last few lectures and exams before finally finishing his degree. However, Akari barely noticed him at all and that concerned her, and it was only when she really looked at him did she realise the worse. He had fallen back into his depression.

Ever since middle school, Eijiro had been prone to depression. His emotions just were so much and so strong for him to handle that it would leave him in a lingering feeling of emptiness for a while. It would be no feelings or all feelings all at once. It made him physically unwell for the most part. It was worrying, especially since Eijiro had been doing so well for the past few years.

However, with a phone call back home, Takeo and Yua decided to pop in for a while. They were worried for their son, like any concerned parent would be. He was always in his room, barely eating as much as he normally did and the endless self-loathing wasn’t helping either. That was until, Takeo decided to do something about it.

Takeo entered. “Eijiro.”

His son lay on his bed, holding a pillow, as he had his back to the door. The curtains were drawn blocking out any light. Eijiro was motionless, not bothering to turn around and see who it was. The room was slightly stuffy, and it was clear that Eijiro had no intention of cleaning up around his space.

Takeo frowned as he walked over to his son. He put his hands in his pockets. “Eijiro, you’ve been in here too long. How about we go take a walk?”

It took a moment before Eijiro responded. “No, thank you.” He spoke lowly as he stayed where he was, his bare back still towards the door.

Takeo let out a breath as he glanced back at his wife. Yua motioned for him to continue trying. Takeo scratched the back of his head, trying to think up of something to say. He sat down next to Eijiro on the edge of the bed. “Eijiro buddy,” He put a hand to his shoulder. “I know… I know that you miss him and that it hurts that a decision that you made resulted in the end of your friendship, but… at the end of the day it’s better you stick to your morals and what is right rather than going against that, even if it’s for someone that you love. The people that love you will understand that or at least would try to. Remember, every life is a blessing Eijiro, and this new life will be a blessing to you to.” He spoke sincerely. He gave a smile before patting Eijiro. “Now how about you get up and you can come and intern at the company, huh? I’m sure I can put in a good word for you to the boss.” Takeo chuckled at his own joke (considering he was the current CEO of the company).

Eijiro didn’t laugh.

Yua sent him a pointed look making Takeo raise his hands in confusion. “What? I thought it was funny.”

She shook her head before looking back to her two eldest children. Ayah and Akari stood in the hallways looking behind Yua, the identical twins mirroring each other. They looked down at their mother. Akari knew what she wanted them to do and immediately shook her head. “No thank you, ma, I don’t really do encouraging Eijiro.” She let out tensely with a grimace.

“Yah, we kind of just bully him until he feels better. Works ninety percent of the time.” Ayah spoke confidently with a nod of her head. “Maybe he wants beef pie?” Ayah thought as she put a hand to her chin in thought. “That makes me feel better.”

“Same.” Akari nodded her head. The two identical twins looked to each other and nodded. “We can make beef pie. That’ll make him feel better.” The two of them left without even waiting for a response from Yua.

Yua sighed in dismay. She shook her head before moving into the room herself. She moved to the other side of the bed, sitting down carefully as she looked at her son. She watched as his ruby eyes moved up to her, soft, sad and sullen. She gave him a sad smile. She put a hand to his hair, threading through it slowly. “What’s going through your head, honey?” She asked softly.

Eijiro was quiet for a moment before closing his eyes. “He… he said he was uncomfortable with me.” He whispered. “That who I was and what I chose, made him uncomfortable, made him not want to be around me.” He tightened his grip on his pillow. “Ma, I have always supported him. Never once have I ever hated or hurt or hindered him from being himself, from what he’s always wanted. But… but this one thing that affects the both of us… and suddenly I’m viewed as a monster, like I’ve never loved him or supported him. It almost makes me feel like…” Eijiro closed his eyes as he tightened his grip on the pillow.

“Feel as though you made the wrong decision?” Eijiro didn’t respond. Yua figured as much, it was only natural. She took a moment before looking back at him. “Eijiro, I know how much you love Katsuki, how much he’s your best friend and maybe meant more to you in your heart, which is why I know how painful this is for you.” Her soft and sweet voice made Eijiro just want to cry even more at her affirming his feelings. “I know how hard it is to hear such things from a person you love, however, your father is right. If we take our family’s ideals and morals out of the equation… whatever you believe, shouldn’t be compromised just because you’re afraid of what other people think.” She advised as she moved her hand to his face. “We are who we are. I know it’s painful, but you made this decision for a reason. Right?”

Eijiro thought for a second before nodding his head. “Yah.”

“Right. You made this decision, now let’s think of both sides.” She lifted up her hand. “On the negative, yes you probably just lost a close friend. You might be labelled as a monster who is trying to force Katsuki into keeping a baby he doesn’t want. Yes, this will be hard, watching Katsuki not want to have anything to do with the baby. It is going to be hard caring for a child without a mother, having to sacrifice a lot of your dreams to care for this child, sacrifice your fun Fridays and Saturdays.” She lifted up her other hand. “But if we were honest, at the end of the day, Katsuki made the decision that he would do it for the money. He agreed with you, you gave him an alternative and he took it. And Eiji…” Eijiro looked up at his mother, she had a beautiful smile on her face, her warm golden eyes looking down at him. “You’re gonna have a baby, a new person in your life who is going to love you unconditionally and who will look to you as if you were the world.” She bent down and placed a kiss to his cheek. “There’s no better feeling than seeing your child for the first time. So, take your time, breathe, think, but come back stronger proud in your decision. It will take time, but that’s okay.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze before standing up. She motioned to Takeo to follow her out.

Takeo looked at her with love sick eyes. “Honey, you’re so amazing.” He said sweetly with a smile. “You’re so lovely. Such an amazing mother.” Takeo stood up as he followed her, Yua dragging him along out of the room. “God, I love you so much.”

“I know, Takeo. I know. I love you too.”

Now Eijiro wasn’t entirely sure what to do or how he was feeling but after a while, he realised his parents were right, that and he was tired of sitting down all day. Which was how Eijiro got up out of bed (albeit it took thirty minutes to do so) and hit the gym. An odd thing to want to do first, but Eijiro always found that he thought better when he was moving and exercising. Luckily for him, Akari had her own gym so he didn’t exactly have to leave.

First off, Eijiro realised that if he was going to be a father, he had to pull up his socks. Figuratively of course. He had to snap out of his mood and realise that if he was going to be responsible for someone else’s life, that means that he will have to change for the better. Change would mean accepting some harsh truths, it meant giving up on certain things (and certain people) and choosing another path.

And that’s what Eijiro did. It was painful at first, but he did. Takeo was overjoyed when his son came up to him asking him about work at the company, almost enough to make the grown man cry. It took a while to get used to the fact that he would actually be working for his family's company and not just doing his own thing like he wanted to, but it was a change that he felt he needed. Ever since then, Eijiro did not bother himself with much thoughts of Katsuki because that would send him spiralling. He had to focus on something else that wasn’t himself, and that was the baby.

Katsuki didn’t like it when he came to doctor’s visits. Eijiro went to the first one and that was tense enough to cut air with a butter knife. Although, Eijiro didn’t half mind Katsuki, because that was the day he heard his baby’s heartbeat for the first time. It was terrifying and yet beautiful. The baby was there, and they were living and Eijiro teared up just seeing the little growing baby. He didn’t care that Katsuki had his earphones in, blasting some music to keep the heartbeat out of his ears, he didn’t care about the weekly payments leaving his family bank account that was probably equivalent to a salary, none of it mattered when he saw his child for the first time. 

Katsuki and him at some point, stopped talking entirely. If anything, Eijiro only got news from Mina. As a mediator friend and having moved in with Katsuki after Eijiro left, Mina kept between the two of them. She was there with Katsuki daily, to every doctor’s appointment and all rushed trips to the bathroom to throw up breakfast, she was there. She was Katsuki’s closest confidant and yet she was also Eijiro’s too. Maybe that’s what Katsuki hated about the whole arrangement. No matter how safe he felt around Mina and how much she stayed neutral and saw the logic in everything when Katsuki was seconds away from blowing a fuse, she was Eijiro’s friend first. She knew the Kirishimas since she and Eijiro were in primary school. There was deep connections laced there.

But Katsuki tried his best not to let it bother him. Especially at Mina’s birthday get together at their apartment that Katsuki was forced to attend (mostly because he lived there too). The baggy clothing couldn’t hide much when six months pregnant and at that point Katsuki had learnt to just accept the bump and the presence it had.

He accepted it for the betterment of his sanity, but it didn’t make it any less harder when everyone wouldn’t stop talking about.

“Wow, Kacchan.” Izuku smiled down at the blond who scowled up at him from where he stood in his slippers having gone to grab a cup of grape juice. The tall green haired man stood with his hands in his pockets, having already just given Mina her gift. “You look-”

Katsuki put up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it Deku. I nearly kicked Denki out the window because of what he said, I don’t want to hear shit from you too.”

Izuku chuckled, not surprised at all. “All I was going to say is, you look great. Better than I thought you would.” He commented. Izuku was one of the few people who knew everything about the situation with the baby. Having had gone through his own surprise with Ochaco around a year ago, he was one of the few people who understood both sides of the court, one as a father and two as Katsuki’s friend.

Katsuki glared up at him with a huff, a small pout on his face. He had been gaining weight that he honestly hated during the pregnancy, but it also gave him an excuse to exercise and keep moving. It kept him busy. It kept him not thinking about the new movements of the little Kirishima inside him and not thinking about Eijiro either. “Yah… what can I say. According to Mina the little… parasite makes me glow.”

Izuku and him made their way towards the dining room, where most were already. Albeit, Katsuki was slower than normal, waddling next to Izuku (which he had to suppress giggling at). “You can call it a baby, Kacchan, it’s not gonna kill you if you do.”

“It’s not a baby.”

“Of course.”

Katsuki glared at the clear sarcasm. Izuku gave him a smile before turning to greet Sero.

Mina was bouncing around the apartment with a birthday hat on her head as she was making sure everything was perfect. Although lunch was just about ready, there was only one person left who had only just arrived.

“I’ll get it!” Mina got up from her chair, noting that Katsuki looked five seconds away from throwing a chair at Denki, while she went into the hallway. She moved to the front door and opened it. Her face lit up at the sight of one of her oldest friends. “Eiji.”

Eijiro stood with a velvet box in hand and birthday card. He smiled broadly, a sharp grin on his face as he stepped forward to give her a warm hug. She eagerly moved into his arms, having missed him over the past few months that he hadn’t shown his face. “Happy birthday, Mina.” He let out lowly, a soft sigh at a friendly face.

She moved back, her hands on his shoulders as she looked him over. He had cleaned up well, wearing a button down with sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Eijiro never used to wear button downs unless there was something formal happening. She raised a pink eyebrow at the sight of is him. She hummed with a smirk. “All this just for little old me?” She asked.

“You know I would do anything for you, Mina.”

She chuckled. “Don’t flatter me, Eij. Come on, we were just about to start.”

She led him down familiar halls, with memories that he found rather painful to think about still. A part of him didn’t even want to come today. Not because Katsuki would be there, but just seeing their old apartment and being a stranger inside it. He moved down the halls, hulking heavy footsteps announcing his presence in the same way Katsuki would hear when they shared an apartment.

Mina smiled as she entered the decorated room, taking the gift from Eijiro. “Guys, guess who’s here!” She let out happily, motioning back to the large man who came in walking after her.

Denki shot up. “Eijiro!” The blond made his way to his friend, making Eijiro laugh. “Where have you been man? We haven’t seen you in months.” However, the blond stopped short as he tilted his head with wide electric eyes. He raised an eyebrow, motioning to Eijiro. “Is it just me, or is there something different about him?” He asked with furrowed brows as he put a hand to his chin and thought hard.

Sero chuckled as he leaned back in his seat. He folded his arms over his chest as he did so. “His hair, Denks.”

That was true. Eijiro’s hair wasn’t its usual signature vivid crimson red that he was known for. His hair was an inky dark midnight black and chopped shorter than any one of them had ever seen it. His natural hair colour was something they rarely, if ever, saw. Denki’s eyes widened noticing the change in colour and length. Although short, it looked good on him. Eijiro chuckled as he pulled Denki into a hug. “It’s good to see you too, Denki.” He greeted. “And I’ve just been working. Working for my father is no easy thing. I think the man forgets I’m his son half the time.”

“You finally took your old man on his offer?” Sero asked surprised. It was something that Eijiro had usually denied ever wanting. Not that he didn’t like his family’s business but he always wanted to go out and do his own thing. Own a gym, travel, probably go into rugby since he was a star player at their university before they graduated. Katsuki looked to Eijiro with a twitch of his eyebrow.

Eijiro nodded his head with a small smile, “Yah, I did.” He had nothing more to add about it.

“You run out of hair dye, big red?” Denki asked looking up at his tall friend, who even though wore a button down with the top two buttons open, the third one seemed to strain against his muscles and pecs.

Eijiro shook his head. “No, I just decided to go back to black.”

Shinso hummed as he lifted up a glass of champagne. “Amy Winehouse would agree.”

Eijiro said his greetings to everyone before finally landing on Katsuki. And when the time came to acknowledge each other, the room seemed to go silent to see how that would turn out. Katsuki sat in his large hoodie that was truthfully Eijiro’s once upon a time before long winding up with Katsuki. Eijiro wasn’t cruel enough to state it, but it made him uncomfortable because he liked how Katsuki looked in it. Especially with the baby bump visible enough to distend the fabric.

Katsuki sat without a particular emotion on his face. Crimson eyes looking up at him. Katsuki had always liked Eijiro’s hair red, because Eijiro liked his hair red.

Eijiro forced a smile to his face. “Bakugou.” The sound of his family name on Eijiro’s lips stung. It was Kat, or Kitty Kat or Katsuki or some other cute stupid nickname. Bakugou… It was formal. It was business. This was business.

“Kirishima.” Katsuki let out tensely, quieter than he would have liked.

Eijiro moved his eyes down to the baby bump, his smile turning small but genuine at the sight. Katsuki instinctively put his hands around it, disrupting whatever moment Eijiro had for a split second. Eijiro’s smile left as he looked back to Katsuki’s face. “How are they?” He motioned over to him as he sat down next to Izuku and Mina.

Katsuki tapped his stomach cordially. “Fine.”

“How was the doctor’s visit?”

“Fine.”

“The pillow my mother sent for you?”

“Fine.”

“Anything new?”

“No.”

“Perfect. Izuku,” The interaction was so stiff, lifeless and fast that even Izuku was taken by surprise when Eijiro’s attention was on him now solely and moved off of Katsuki as easily as if it was never there. His eyebrow’s shot up in surprise with a hum. Eijiro gave a chuckle. “You look tired.”

He wasn’t wrong. Izuku had bags under his eyes and a slight slump to his body, however he didn’t exactly look drained. Izuku put a hand to the back of his neck and chuckled. “What can I say? Newborns are a lot of work, especially with Asahi.” He joked lightly.

Midoriya Asahi, Izuku’s one year old son, was born with paraplegia (born paralysed from the waist down), luckily it just affects his legs, otherwise the boy is as healthy as a horse. He was a cheerful child, with Midoriya’s signature green eyes and freckles but born with his mother’s brown hair. He was an absolute sweetheart and Izuku would do anything for his son. Although him and Ochaco never worked out, he couldn’t care less because now he had Asahi.

Izuku looked to Eijiro with a friendly smile, leaning back in his chair. “I think fatherhood would suit you, Eijiro. You’ll love it. Minus the diaper changes and midnight feedings.”

Eijiro chuckled. “You sound like my mother.” He joked. “Actually, I wanted to tell you that I told my father about your business proposal and what you’ve been working on.”

That caught the green haired man’s attention, as he sat up. Izuku was ridiculously smart. Smart enough that he was studying and interning as a Bioengineer. It was quite convenient actually because with Asahi, Izuku had found a new inspiration in working in creating technology for those who suffered from paralysis or palsy related conditions. “And he’s interested.”

“Yah?” Izuku asked with wide eyes, and a glint in them.

Shinso immediately saw the look in his eyes and side. “Oh no, he’s going to-”

“Because honestly, I’ve been working on a few models recently that I really thing have potential. Although one in specific is to help with cerebral palsy. Now of course, I don’t think it gives full on control of affected limbs but it does give independence and I think that’s the main objective here. I’ve read some very interesting cases and with the company I’m working with giving the approval for the funding of it, I really think it would be a big help having the Kirishimas on it. Actually it gives a lot more for you guy considering we use some of your diamonds in the lasers and-”

Mina sighed as the green haired man went rambling off. Mina looked to Eijiro with a pointed look but amused nonetheless. She was just happy to see everyone together again.

Katsuki rolled his eyes not surprised. “Oi! Deku!” He shouted, catching Izuku off guard. “Stop talking and lets eat lunch. Some of us are hungry.”

Lunch and cake was divine and Mina couldn’t have smiled more at having all her friends here with her for her day. She was happy and that was all she ever wanted for the day. As the socialising came to a close and everyone started to head home, Katsuki had moved to his room, his social battery having run low. He got up to grab some beef flavoured chips from the kitchen, since that was one of his new cravings, when he paused. He noticed something out on the balcony.

Mina stood with Eijiro, the last to leave for the day. She held a little cupcake in her hand with a bright smile as she looked up at him. The sun was setting and the orange light fell on her making it the perfect golden hour for her skin. “Come on, Eiji, I know you want to know.”

Eijiro hesitated. “Mina, this is your day. I don’t want to take away from that.” He told her honestly, hesitant to take the cupcake.

Mina gave him a pointed look, golden eyes looking up at him. He eased at the sight of her. The sun was just setting and the brown skinned woman always had a knack for weakening Eijiro’s defences ever since they were kids. “Ei, this is just as important to me as it is for you. You deserve to know and this is one of the only times I’ll get to see you again until like three months from now. Come on, this is for me just as it is for you.”

Eijiro looked down at the vanilla cupcake. He let out a breath and picked up the cupcake. He undid the wrapping and took a bite out of it. The cupcake was sweet, soft and fluffy and the butter icing was great too. He nodded his head and pointed to the cupcake. “You should put an order for me into Sato,” He said muffled by the cupcake in his mouth. “cause these are-” He stopped talking as he looked inside the middle.

Pink.

It was pink.

Eijiro paused as he looked up to Mina. He seemed frozen in time for a moment as she giggled. She made jazz hands as she smiled dearly at him. “You’re gonna be a girl dad, Eiji.”

Suddenly there were tears in his eyes. He’s jaw started to tremble as he tried his best not to cry but was failing. He put a hand to his face as he moved to lean against the railing, tears coming to his eyes. Mina awed as she moved to take him into her arms, chuckling as he was overcome with emotion. She rubbed his back as she held him, which only made him sob worse.

He swallowed down the piece of cupcake he still had in his mouth before looking to Mina with tears falling down his face. “A girl?” He let out weakly.

Mina chuckled as she felt her own eyes sting. She nodded. “Yep, a girl. Not very surprising, looking at your family.” That made him laugh which brought a broader smile to her face.

Katsuki stood watching the moment quietly, the grip on the packet of chips was hard, almost deathly. Something inside Katsuki felt sour and angry. Maybe it was because Eijiro was happy about this, and he felt like he was supposed to be too. Maybe it was because there they were, sharing a happy moment about something that Katsuki rejected from the start. Katsuki wanted to be the one to tell Eijiro the news, not her. He was supposed to be in Eijiro’s arms, getting praised.

But then again, Katsuki had known for a little over two weeks now…

and he had no plans on telling Eijiro at all.

Around at 38 weeks, Katsuki moved in with the Kirishimas. A decision he didn’t want to take but one he took regardless. He wanted this delivery as hushed as possible and the Kirishimas had everything needed for a at home birth (to be expected for a family that had a new member joining every two years max). So when he moved in with the Kirishimas he wasn’t worried about that.

He was more worried about the tension around him. Now the Kirishimas weren’t bad people, and they didn’t say anything about the situation or what they thought about it (At least not to his face). They treated him kindly and made sure his stay was as comfortable as possible. Maybe that’s what made it worse. The fact that they were keeping him all nice and comfortable, bubbling about the new baby that was to come.

Katsuki hated it.

He hated that they were nice to him. He hated that they were not hating him. He hated that they weren’t calling him an attempted murderer for wanting to abort the foetus in the first place. He hated that they got him everything even if he didn’t ask for it. He hated how with every shout and profanity and harsh comment he said to them, they just smiled it off and continued to help him.

Katsuki hated it.

What he hated the most was giving birth. That was a bitch. He had never experience something more painful in his entire life and he hated every second of it. He hated the pain, he hated everyone around him telling him he was doing a good job, he hated that he just wanted all the pain to go away and for the stupid child to get out of him. But most of all, he hated the relief he felt when she was born.

Katsuki finally took a deep breath as he fell back against the pillows, tears in his eyes as he finally got to breathe and to think. Everything was so loud around him and yet finally for a second he could hear nothing. A solid second of nothing. Just pure nothing. He took an inhale and suddenly the world came back to how it was. A hand wiped the sweat off his forehead with a cloth. He looked to the side to see his father with a smile. Masaru placed a kiss on his forehead. “Good job, firework.” He whispered.

Katsuki was half surprised that his father stayed the entire time. His crimson eyes moved to the other side of the room. There was Yua and Ayah crowded around something that was crying. Katsuki wanted to rest. He wanted to sleep. But he couldn’t do that when that… that thing was screaming its head off.

Yua wiped the baby with an adoring smile on her face. “There you go, there you go. It’s okay, little one. You don’t have to cry. We’re all here for you. I know you’re scared but it’s okay.” Her voice was soft and calm, motherly even. Katsuki hated it. She swaddled the little baby, putting on a pink little knitted beanie she had made for the new baby girl. With the little girl now all attended too, Yua moved over to Katsuki while Ayah automatically moved to check his vitals and how he was doing. “Katsuki.” Yua spoke gently, but Katsuki half wanted them all to disappear. He had done his job. Why couldn’t they leave him be. “Do you want to hold her? She’s the cutest little-”

“Don’t let that thing touch me.” Immediately Yua moved back, keeping the baby in her arms as Katsuki glared at her. His eyes moved to the baby that was still crying. “Take it outside. I don’t want it in this room.”

Yua paused as she looked to Masaru. Masaru hesitated but looked to Katsuki. “Katsuki… most of the things the baby needs is in here. If you don’t want to touch her, that’s fine but-”

“It’s making a fucking noise and I’m tired!” He shouted up at Masaru with tears in his eyes before looking at the bundle in Yua’s arms. “I don’t want it fucking near me! Get rid of it!”

“Katsuki, calm down, son.” Masaru said softly as he put a hand to Katsuki.

Katsuki slapped his hand away. “Don’t tell me to fucking calm down!”

Masaru swallowed down hard and looked to Yua. Yua nodded and held the little crying baby to her chest. She quickly moved out of the room, heading to the next room over. She was more worried about the baby not getting the critical skin-to-skin she needs right now than anything else. She trusted Katsuki in Ayah and Masaru’s care. Ayah had studied to be a pediatrician and was beyond skilled enough to monitor Katsuki more than Yua herself, being a nurse.

Yua entered the room where Eijiro was. He stood in the room with Takeo and Akari, but immediately turned to his mother who held the baby in her arms. His eyes widened, not having expected everything to be happening so fast so suddenly. Before he could even ask, Yua spoke. “Eijiro, sit down.” Eijiro couldn’t even argue before he was being forced into a cushioned seat in the room. “Shirt.” He wasn’t gonna argue with his mother now. She was in nurse-no-nonsense mode and he wasn’t about to fight her. He took off his shirt, Akari taking it away from him before the small girl was placed on his chest.

Eijiro’s eyes widened as he looked down at the newborn. Her cries became smaller as she came in contact with his skin. Yua put the warm blanket around her back and over Eijiro, to keep her warm as she rested her head on Eijiro’s skin. Eijiro held her carefully making sure that she was supported well enough. Soon the little one stopped crying as she let out soft whimpers.

She… she was so small.

Compared to Eijiro. She was a pretty big baby for the most part. Her little scrunched up face seemed almost in distress. Her eyes opened, deep red wine crimson eyes as she withheld cries. Eijiro carefully caressed her back as he shushed her sweetly out of instinct. “Hey…” he let out in soft disbelief. He tried to fight away tears but failed as they brimmed his ruby eyes. She had soft black hair underneath her little beanie, her skin was so soft and she felt so light Eijiro wondered if she was an angel sent from heaven. “Hi.” He looked down at her.

She let out another small whimper that broke his heart.

This was his girl. His little girl and she was finally in his arms. Safe from everything that could hurt her.

Yua stepped back seeing that everything was handled. For now she had to worry about warming the colostrum she managed to get for the baby. Before she could leave, Takeo stopped her. He motioned for her to look again. She paused looking at her husband confused before looking upon her only son. Eijiro sniffed as he looked down at the little girl, so humbled and so speechless.

This was a moment that couldn’t be replicated again.

Takeo was quiet as he moved over to Eijiro. “Have you thought of a name?” He asked.

Eijiro paused, all his attention on the newborn girl in his arms. He had put his finger in her hand, her fingers couldn’t even wrap around that. He let out a soft scoff. “Despite everything, you’re here with me, aren’t you? My sweet little girl.” He whispered softly. “You fought all the odds to be here, you know that?” He asked. “My little miracle. My little Sachiko.”

Katsuki and Eijiro never spoke even after Sachiko was born. Hell, Eijiro didn’t even know if Katsuki knew the name of the baby girl. It took Katsuki three days and then he was gone like the wind, never said a word to Eijiro.

Eijiro sighed as he put a hand to the back of his neck. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked back up at you. He wasn’t entirely sure how you would receive this news. He hadn’t talked about it in years, mostly because he never saw a need to, but it felt good to say it out loud. You were silent as you digested what he just told you.

Eijiro swallowed hard at your silence as he looked down away from you. His large hands gripped one another harshly. “I… I know this might change the way you think about me… I know that you might think that I’m-”

“Eijiro.” The large man looked up but froze when he found you standing right in front of him, looking down at him. You had your hands on his face, caressing his face. You seemed almost worried almost concerned. “Thank you for telling me. That must have been hard for you to deal with.” You spoke in almost a whisper.

Eijiro just stared at you confused. “But… why… why aren’t you-” He tilted his head confused, so unbearably confused. Get angry with him. Shout at him. Stop looking at him like he-

“You did nothing wrong, Eijiro. Why should I be angry with you?” You asked with a tilt of your head. You carefully brought his head to your chest as you held him close to you. Eijiro closed his eyes as he held onto you. Eijiro took a breath.

-Glitch1d

#kirishima x reader #mha x y/n #eijiro kirishima #dad kirishima #kirishima #dilf kirishima #dilf eijiro kirishima #kirishima x bakugou #past kirishima/bakugou #trans bakugou #trans katsuki #kirishima eijiro #kirishima eijiro x reader

[teslaluvszombies]

IMMUNE

carl gets bit and y/n refuses to let him go out alone, she wants him to wait until after he turns to kill him and he reluctantly agrees only to find out he was immune.

(intended lowercase)

warnings : death, slight implication of suicide.

“please leave, I don't want you to see this.”

you shook your head at his plea, you couldn't leave him in there alone knowing what he was planning to do. rick and michonne had tried to get you to leave but it was no matter because you refused to leave him, refused to let him go out alone.

“i’m not leaving you in here so you can kill yourself!” you couldn't contain the sobs that came with your words, you'd done everything to keep yourself calm but it was futile. you sat by his side hunched over in tears, not being able to look at his face for the first time since you met him. when he had arrived at alexandria you could've sworn he was the prettiest boy you'd ever seen, you hadn't been able to keep your eyes off of him, even after he lost his eye and begged you to look away. now, here you sit, unable to look at his face, drained of color, eyes void of light.

“I need to do this.” he insisted, despite knowing it wouldn't deter you in the slightest; you always had been stubborn.

you searched your brain for something to say, something to prolong the inevitable moment, “i’ll do it.”

“y/n—”

“the second you turn I'll shoot you, I swear. just let me have these last couple moments with you, please.”

you hear him sigh before he lifts his hand off of the gun it'd been resting on, instead resting on top of your shaking hand. “okay. I trust you.”

for a moment you feel the weight on your chest lessen, sudden relief at the thought of more time with him even if your time with him will be cut short regardless, any time is better than no time.

“look at me.” his voice is gentle and plainly weak, but had a factor of desperation in it that was undeniable. for the first time since you had found out you allowed your gaze to meet his, his eyelid was droopy and he wore a soft smile, his expression alone telling you that he didn't have much time left. he began to rub circles on the back of your hand, his eye examining your face like he was trying to make sure you were permanently engraved in his brain, even in the afterlife. “promise me something?”

“anything.”

he chuckles at your quick response before continuing his statement, “promise me you'll keep going. I know you, I know how you are, I can see it on your face— you have to keep going, have to keep living. judith,” a quiet sob escapes him at the mention of his younger sister, “she needs you. dad and michonne are great and all, but she's gonna need someone to show her how we do things, someone like you.”

it took everything in you to not remind him it was him that she needed, not you, but you were sure it was known. “I don't know what I'm gonna do without you.” you say, silently agreeing to his request.

“you’ll figure it out.” he reached his hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb swiping over a stray tear. you hear him groan in response to propping his body up on his elbow, “come here.” a shaky exhale passes your lips as you lean into him, your head resting in the crook of his neck and your arms wrapped around him just as you had done just a few days prior in the safety of his room. part of you knew that this was it, you could tell this was goodbye by the way he held you — it was different compared to any embrace the two of you had shared in the past, more permanent, like there wouldn't be a next time.

“I love you.”

your nails dug into his back, a choked sob sounding out in the nearly vacant building, “I love you,” you weep, “more than anything.”

you wish there was a way to trade places with him, to not be forced to live without him, but it was too late for wishes, wasn't it?

he pulls back, his lips finding their way to yours in a gentle kiss. it was slow and soft, just like it had been the first time, though this time it was laced with more urgency and desperation, like the other might disappear into thin air. he pulls away, his forehead resting against yours, 

“thank you, y/n, for everything.” he says, pressing a kiss to the bridge of your nose, his hand moving to push the gun underneath your fingertips, his way of telling you it was over.

you feel him fall limp against you, his eye falling shut.

you contemplate sitting there until he turns, letting him turn you too, but you made a promise and you can't break it, not so soon.

you push him back against the hardwood, your entire body visibly trembling as you do so, loud sobs echoing through the building. you grab the gun and make sure it's loaded and ready, scooting back from his body a bit. you knew it was a mistake to promise to do this but it was worth it for the time you got.

your eyes lock on his body, watching as his chest continues to rise and fall even if it's weaker and more delayed than usual. you had never seen someone turn, you'd only heard the stories, so you weren't sure how much longer he would continue to lay there before he did fall victim to the virus, but you did know you refused to shoot him until then.

it had been hours since then and his chest was still rising and falling at the same pace, it was torture, a game of waiting. you thought back to the stories you'd heard, it had never taken this long, but maybe this was your punishment for all the wrong you did during the end of the world and maybe even before. no one was perfect so why would you be subjected to such hell? there were plenty of worse people out there, you were sure you were just the tip of the iceberg.

“y/n?”

you'd been so lost in thought that you nearly shot the wall in your shock. your eyes immediately fell onto the boy in front of you, your mouth agape at the sight, “carl?” you were sure you were seeing things, maybe you had fallen asleep or succumbed to the same hallucinations rick had been faced with after losing lori. “your—?”

“alive? yeah.” he said, sounding just as confused as you were.

“but you got bit! how is that even possible?” your hands raised to your hair, the gun you had been holding falling to the floor.

“I don't know.”

the two of you stared at each other in disbelief, seemingly searching each other’s faces for a sign this wasn't real, not that either of you were hoping it wasn't.

it wasn't long before the tears started again, mostly from confusion and relief, “you're alive, oh my god, you're alive.” you couldn't resist throwing yourself in his arms, him happily reciprocating. his arms held you close to his chest, his head resting on top of yours as you sobbed in relief, his heartbeat echoing in your ears.

neither of you were sure how it was possible that carl was still alive, how he hadn't turned, but it didn't matter too much in the moment — he was alive.

your face left his chest to look at him, scanning his face once more to assure he was real before you collided your lips with his. the kiss was messy unlike the one you had shared before he supposedly passed, there were noses bumping together and teeth hitting each other, but it was the best kiss you had ever experienced.

“you think this means i’m immune?” he pulled away to ask, a geeky smile across his face at the reality of being alive and being with you.

“I don't know but let's not find out.”

#carl grimes x reader #twd x reader #chandler riggs #grimes family #the walking dead x reader #twd fanfiction #carl grimes #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x you #the walking dead #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x fem!reader #twd carl #the walking dead angst #carl grimes angst #carl grimes smut #carl grimes fanfiction

[dokidokitsuna]

“Some of us…will always be alone”

Skipping forward a bit in this re-concept, just because I can~ (loooong post ahead)

So one of the many things I found underwhelming about Return of the Mammalians is the lack of villainous impact Mr. Grizz has on his own story.

For starters, he’s straight up absent from 80% of it. =/ Just a vaguely threatening disembodied voice that does weak comedy bits with Cap’n Cuttlefish from time to time…and that’s basically it until we face him in the final battle.

The worst thing he’s responsible for in the story (as in, a successful act we have to contend with, rather than a work-in-progress that we interrupt) is dehydrating Cuttlefish…which is very temporary and played for laughs immediately afterwards. We don’t even get the opportunity to engage with this “tragedy” by actively rescuing the Cap’n in gameplay, we just suddenly find his body during a cutscene.

Compare this to Commander Tartar manipulating the player and lying directly to their face throughout the game, attempting to kill the player during the reveal of its treachery in one of the most memorable scenes of the entire series, brainwashing a former protagonist into fighting the player, and then attempting to destroy an entire city while quietly confessing that it murdered thousands of victims just to get to this point.

I’ll let you guess which one of these antagonists feels like a genuine threat, and which one just feels like a disappointment. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Now, I don’t mind Mr. Grizz being less violent and deranged than Commander Tartar…the two have different personalities and slightly different goals, and anyway a body count isn’t really necessary to be a convincing villain. But I DO mind him being so totally uninvolved, despite being a character that we already knew and interacted with beforehand. Like, at the very least…talk to the player. o_O Care about the player. Do something to interfere with the player sometime before the last minute! The fact that Grizz just doesn’t give a damn about our existence for most of the campaign is baffling from a writer’s standpoint, and heartbreaking from a Grizz-fan’s standpoint. ;_; Notice me, Kuma-san!!

…Anyway, there’s a million ways to remedy this, because it’s such a simple and obvious problem that really shouldn’t exist. ^^; And the one I chose for #re_rise (besides having Grizz haunt the game like an ever-present specter, as explained here) is one of my old tried-and-true favorites: using the villain to parallel the protagonist.

Basically, both characters are lonely at heart. Agent 3 left home for the Splatlands in search of a “fresh beginning”, after spending most of their life feeling like they never fit in anywhere. Throughout the story, we get subtle clues that what they want most is belonging and friendship…which they’re clearly discovering through their interactions with Deep Cut and Smallfry, although it’s not until the climax of the final battle that they can truly believe in it and accept it.

And of course, Mr. Grizz lost his home and entire civilization, and even in the midst of a thriving new one (that he actively engages with through his corporation…!) he’s apparently such a massive bigot that he doesn’t consider it worthy of his company. ^^; Fish-people do not count to him, thus his loneliness is self-inflicted and intensified. He believes his only recourse is to transform the world back into something he can accept.

These parallels, plus the desire-manifesting powers of Alterna’s crystals (discussed in this post) eventually brings the two characters to an understanding of sorts. Without having to exchange words, they can see and consider the similarities of their innermost feelings.

This doesn’t have much of an effect on Grizz, outside of something he might muse about while Agent 3 ascends the launchpad (and maybe quietly internalize as proof that fish-people have feelings too, just to give his last-second change of heart at least one leg to stand on). But it weighs heavily on Agent 3, especially since they’re being physically changed by their adventure in a way that makes these parallels even more relevant…yes, I’m finally gonna talk about what I actually drew. ^^

My idea was that spending too much time around Fuzzy Ooze will affect you even if you don’t touch it (i.e. through splashes/aerosols), just to a lesser degree. And since Agent 3 was the first to actually enter the underground lab spaces and spends more time fighting there than anyone else, they’ve had an unprecedented amount of secondhand exposure to it.

Through O.R.C.A.’s files, they can understand why this mild fuzzification is happening to them, and that it may not be reversible, although they press on anyway (I’d like to imply that they’re willing to ignore it to impress Deep Cut~). But Grizz’s offhand comments make them realize that they may be unintentionally setting themselves up to be cast aside again, slowly turning into a repulsive mutant monster that no one will want to be around. The only one of their kind in the world, just like a certain Ursine Anomaly…and if they succeed in stopping Grizz’s plan, that’s all they’ll ever be. 

…On the other hand, if they were to sit back and let him fuzzify the world, then…no, they couldn’t do that. They…wouldn’t…

#splatoon #re_rise #splatoon 3 #new agent 3 #mr grizz

[ssplague]

Chapter Four

Mature 

Masterlist

Warnings: A/B/O themes, soulmates, mating, sex, manipulation, power and control.

Oh how can one’s feelings

spin a tale so profound? 

For only true love shall

Determine whether darkness 

Or light shall abound?

You were now queen of an earthland kingdom, you were married to the Dragon King, a mere princess no more

                                                                                                          ✨          👑          ✨

“Gods for the millionth time, I’m fine! Why are you two so worried about this all of the sudden?!” Bakugou snapped, slouching further in his high backed chair.

It made him angry that he’d had to leave you like he did just to meet with these two old geezers! That combined with their repeat line of questioning had him growing increasingly furious. 

“Now more than ever are your draconian instincts going to need regulating Katsuki, you can’t run the risk of letting them get the better of you, if you get upset and do something irresponsible like shifting accidentally, your wife could be in real danger” Jeanist reminds the soon to be king. It was frustrating for a decorated general like himself having to tip toe around the truth. A surprise shift pales in comparison to what those “in the know” truly feared happening. Both himself and Aizawa had made a promise to Midnight that they would advise Bakugou to the best of their abilities in order to keep tragedy from befalling the Royal family once more. If they fail, then what would remain of the kingdom would forever be condemned to suffer, and surely the young King’s soul would be eternally damned.

“You’re sure she’s your true mate? What does your dragon feel about her? If we’re satisfied with its response then we’ll dismiss you for tonight” Aizawa offers, yawning loudly before focusing on the young monarch. Closing his eyes, it’s easy for Katsuki to call forth his dragon and it needs no prodding to talk about you; “I knew she was mine as soon as I laid eyes on her, her scent puts the most expensive perfumes to shame, I’m growing restless, what importance are these stupid human customs when it comes to claiming my mate? I want to kill anyone that looks at her with lust in their eyes, and crush the skull of anyone harboring perverse thoughts about my goddess, she’s mine and im going to make sure she knows it, 

y/n…my greatest treasure”.

“You harbor no ill will towards the lunarian princess? You do not despise the light that radiates from her pure heart?” Jeanist asks, studying the king’s form for any hint the dragon is thinking of uttering a false hood. “Dragon’s protect their mates, our love knows no bounds, our love is eternal, and unconditional…unlike you human’s” snarls the beast. “That’s good enough for now” Aizawa states, signaling for the king’s consciousness to return.

With a fierce display of teeth Bakugou returns, “There, are you geezers happy now?”.

“For now…but I think we should meet once more the morning of the wedding, and weekly after that” Aizawa says, looking at Jeanist for his approval. “I agree, just as a per caution-“ the finely dressed dressed man adds, only to be cut off by a furious snarl. 

“I’m getting real fucking sick of you two insinuating I’m some loose cannon that would bring harm to my woman!” The irate blonde shouts, banging his sparking fist on the table “Ever since I returned home and told you guys about her you’ve been acting weird, is there something going on that I don’t know about?!”.

Both of the older men give each other a side eye, which only proceeds to agitate the temper-mental man further. 

“For years I’ve respected you both for your knowledge and strength, that’s why you became my trusted advisors in the first place! That aside, I’ll tell you one last thing…” the dragon king gets to his feet, leaning forward on the sturdy oak table “If I find out either one of you has been keeping information from me, are aware of any conspiring, privy to any plot against my marriage or that could possibly bring harm to my wife…I will execute you myself…understand?”.

Crimson irises are alight with fury as they stare down the two men. Neither one of them display any emotion as they reply in unison;“Understood, your majesty”.

“Good, this meeting is fucking adjured…Tell the old hag I’m retiring for the evening” with that, the soon to be king storms out of the room, red cape billowing behind him.

Mate is safe, she’s here where she belongs, that’s all that matters…forget their words, the Thoughts and feelings of humans mean nothing when it comes to the bonding between dragons.

With a heavy sigh, Katsuki can’t help but agree.

The day before the wedding has you bombarded with last minute preparations non stop. You’d stood for nearly two hours as the capital’s best seamstress, accompanied by her assistant, took your measurements and quite literally crafted a dress (made from your ideal choice in fabrics) by magic. Naturally everything happening was seen under Queen Mitsuki’s watchful eye. Which allowed the two of you time to bond, the stories of her time as ruler had you looking at her with stars in your eyes. This woman was not to be trifled with; She was a warrior unlike any other, going as far as to ripping out the heart of an enemy general who had attempted to over throw her rule. You weren’t entirely sure how old she was, since it’s rude to ask (but dragons do live extremely long lives), she looked to be in her late twenties, and her mannerisms were every bit as youthful as her outward appearance.

“My son is lucky that the goddess has granted him such a perfect bride, and myself such a wonderful daughter” the older woman says as she marvels at your appearance in the finished wedding gown.

Examining yourself in every angle from the surrounding mirrors you can’t help but be delighted. You finally felt like you were coming into your own as a future queen, not just the daughter of the moon goddess.

As the day wound to a close you were finally dismissed from wedding preparations! Completely worn out, you couldn’t be happier to finally sit down for dinner. A table had been placed in your room to make things easier for the maids helping you get dressed tomorrow. A small spread of food rests atop it, along with four place settings for yourself and the three individuals you insisted dine with you.

“I don’t understand where Katsuki could have run off to, he’s been gone all day…I didn’t even get to see him off this morning, he left before I woke up” you glumly inform your new friends. Serro and Denki took Kirishima’s place in guarding you, as his majesty had apparently needed the bulky redhead for something. “You most likely won’t see him until the wedding your highness, he had plenty of his own preparations to see to” explains Serro. “You gotta tell us your secret on how you deal with him y/n, he’s been so weirdly calm ever since you came to stay” Denki states, tearing his bread roll in half.

“Well I hope to continue keeping the peace around here in the future, I’ll do my best….unfortunately I have no special secret, or method that I use on him” you reply with your usual polite smile in place.

“Not even your “womanly wiles”? Ow! I was joking Mina geez” the electric blonde cries, rubbing the knot on his head.

“Do you want to get executed? You idiot! You are talking to the new queen, if his majesty hears that kind of talk happening around her you are dead!” The pinkette scolds.

“I swear I won’t tell! We’re all friends here, right? No telling the king anything that won’t hurt him!” You exclaim nervously, “That was a hard hit you delivered Mina, how does a hand maiden know anything about hand to hand combat?”. The two men begin to snicker at your question, hiding behind their hands as the pinkette glares at them. “Actually y/n…I have a confession to make…I’m not a hand maiden, I’m the second in command of his majesty’s royal guard” Mina admits, giving you a bow and a wink.

“Wait…what?! Oh no! How rude of me to have been thinking you were my assistant this whole time! Oh goddess, what must you think of my ignorance” you fret, the other three watch you with amused smiles. “You didn’t treat me badly y/n! We’re friends remeber?” Mina asks, using your earlier words against you. “Yes, we are…we’re all friends! Regardless of station, you’re all my precious new friends” you say with a nod, dazzling smile back in place. The rest of the meal was uneventful, your guards tease you about tomorrow’s festivities until it’s time for you to turn in. The two males take their places outside your door, while Mina stays to brush out your hair. Once you bid her good night and get into bed you already know it’s pointless. Your mind and body are abuzz with excitement and anxiety, sleep won’t be coming so easily. Moonlight peeks in through the cracks in the curtains, you sit up noticing the soft glow growing brighter, the shadows shrink back as if they were being burned, the air in the room began to shimmer.

Without any warning a gorgeous woman materializes at the foot of your bed. Her long silver hair sparkles, her deep blue eyes twinkle, she wastes no time in coming to hold you close to her chest. “My sweet girl, so far from home…about to become Queen of this foreign land…my how you’ve grown up so much in such a short time” her voice is as beautiful as the sound of wind chimes in a summer breeze. “Are you proud of me? I’ve finally found my way” you ask, nuzzling into her embrace.

“I am always proud of you, that will never change” Selene responded, holding her princess tightly. 

“I wish you could have met Katsuki before the wedding, I know it all seemed so rushed but words can’t describe how he makes me feel…It’s just right, I know it is” your words are rushed as you try to get everything out in one breath. This makes the moon goddess chuckle, your bottom lip begins to poke out.

“What makes you think I haven’t met him, hm?”

The question hangs in the small space between the two of you.

She motions for you to scoot over and she brings her legs up to rest atop your bed. Her hand begins to caress the top of your head once you’ve gotten comfortable with it laying in her lap. “How? When?” You ask, blinking up at her in adorable confusion. “The first time was about a year ago…the last was around six months ago” Selene says thoughtfully, “Before you get angry at him for not telling you, I used my power and swore him to secrecy, he couldn’t have told you if he wanted to”.

Just as you open your mouth to protest, she cuts you off;

“That story can wait until another day, you need to rest, tomorrow is an exciting day, your mind needs to be focused on the present”.

“You’ll be here tomorrow? From the time I wake up?” You ask as your eyes begin to grow heavy.

“After you get dressed I’ll come to see you, but I want to be seated well before the ceremony begins so I don’t take away any attention from you, we’ll have time to talk afterwards, good night my love” as soon as her words reach your ears you fall asleep.

“Your majesty”

You’re suddenly roused from the most peaceful slumber you’ve had in ages. 

“Princess, it’s time to wake up”

“Mm awake…jus need a minute” you murmur groggily, yawning and rubbing your eyes. 

“We prepared a light breakfast for you your highness, it’s on the table” says a maid to your left.

“Would you mind if we applied some oils to your hair while you eat? That way once you finish, it will be ready to wash out before you get in the bath” says the maid to your right, who places a robe over your night gown.

“Whatever you guys need to do is fine, let me know however I can help make this easier on you” you replied, shuffling over to the table that had a single plate amongst a number of other items. Unwrapping the silk scarf from your hair both maids lightly brush out your strands and set to work applying the conditioning mixture. It doesn’t take long to finish your toast, handful of grapes and swig down the cup of tea that made up your breakfast.

The same two maids usher you into the bathroom and you’re immediately reminded of that first day with Mina and Momo. Only you aren’t nearly as shy when you allow these women to exfoliate your entire body and scrub all your cracks and crevices. It was during that time each of them gave you their names.

“You have such a lovely complexion, it’s nothing like I’ve ever seen before!” Hakagure croons as she and Tsu finish drying you off. “Is it true you come from the moon, princess?” The green dress the dark haired woman wears reminds you of a frog’s skin. Especially with the off putting way her tongue seems to peek from between her lips on occasion. “Yes, that’s where I was born…” you replied, hesitating to disclose any more private information to these two women. So you skirt around any further personal questions, just replying politely to mundane small talk as they got you ready. Mina stuck her head in to check on you a little while later, and immediately took over the task of styling your hair. Demoting Tsu to polishing your now sharpened nails as she did so. Momo entered shortly after that greeting you and giving congratulations before handing you a silk bag.

“Ooooh let me see!” Mina squeals as you examine the contents. Reaching in you grabbed out what appeared to be a scrap of lace, confusion had you looking further into the bag and upon further inspection your face burns with embarrassment.

“You‘ll change into them after the ceremony!” Ponytail assured you “Those things are for his majesty’s eyes only, so don’t feel embarrassed”. The pinkette snickers, waggling the hair brush at you, “I’ll help you put them on 

y/n don’t worry!”. The other two women laughed along with her while Momo berated them for such childish behavior. The memories of having the king pressed up against you the other night immediiiately came to mind.

“Treasure…”

Just remembering the way he sounded growling in your ear as he ground into you against the wall. It had a flush crawling up from the tips of your toes to the roots of your hair. “I need to tell you guys something…so I can ask some questions…and I hate how this will sound so commanding…” purposefully using the repeat pause between words to build up the nerve you needed, your eyes briefly close. When they reopen any flicker of insecurity or hesitation was absent, the e/c irises now sparkling with confidence,

“As your soon to be Queen I demand that any part of this conversation is not repeated outside of this room, is that clear?”.

A cheerful chorus of “Yes, your highness” comes from each of the women helping you get ready.

A relieved sigh allows you to relax against the high backed chair you occupy, “I’ve never had any sort of intimate encounter with anyone, let alone anyone of draconian descent sooooo…What exactly am I supposed to do? How will our um…how will he? Oh goddess you lot know what I mean right?!”. So much for the cool, calm, collected persona you’d channeled seconds ago.

MoMo clears her throat in attempt to hide her embarrassment, “Ahem, well my lady if I may, since you are looking for pointers on how to go about consummation-“

“Bite him!” Mina interrupted.

“Scratch and growl at him!” Hagakure exclaims.

“Stroke his ego” Tsu offers.

“Ladies please!” Momo shouts, the other three are still tittering with laughter as she clears her throat once more “Now as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, when it comes to consummation in our culture”.

Now that her mediative hour had concluded Midnight gets to her feet, stretching her limbs to combat the soreness from being stationary for so long. Extinguishing the incense she’d been burning, the dark haired woman moved across the room to push back the heavy drapes and throw open the large floor to ceiling windows. Inhaling a large breath of fresh air, she savored the taste of spring on her tongue. The oracle was optimistic, her cheery disposition had been favorable as of late. Eyeing the dark purple slip and black robes she planned to wear for the days festivities, she began to get ready.

Only for a sharp rap on her door to interrupt, her cheeks puff out in frustration as she hurried to answer it. The two men on the other side don’t wait to exchange pleasantries as she allows them entry.

“How did your talk with his majesty go?” 

The difference between the two men was always similar to that of night and day. Today however, it could be considered comical; With Jeanist in his perfectly pressed dark blue General dress robes adorned with shining silver metals, matching cuff links sparkling brilliantly. Standing tall beside Aizawa in his black Dress robes with a few obvious wrinkles but equally decorated with badges of honor, his tattered scarf ever present around his neck. The latter speaks first; “The king was more on edge than usual, I’d chalk that up to pre wedding jitters, the beast-“.

His companion is quick to take over the explanation, “The dragon gave the same answers as we reported the other night, I detected no treachery or malicious intent, to be honest it seemed preoccupied…possibly a bit bored”.

“So it’s thoughts were elsewhere? Where might that be, my lord?” asks Midnight from behind her changing stands, an airy chuckle reaching their ears. “I hardly think it’s up for discussion if there was no indication of hostility towards the Princess” Jeanist replied in a clipped tone, but professional as always. Stepping out in her new outfit, the oracle grabs a black ribbon off her vanity and moves towards the dark haired man. 

“Since you will be amongst the audience you’ll get a chance to see the two of them interact, we can rehash our individual thoughts after the ceremony concludes” Aizawa says with an annoyed huff as Midnight pulls his hair back, tying the ribbon around his messy locks.

“I agree with that, now which of you is escorting me?” Her violet eyes fluttering as she smiles at the men, even though she knows the answer.

Jeanist opens the door, gesturing for the Oracle and Advisor to go ahead of him. “Don’t forget to lock it!” The woman calls as she tosses a key towards the sharp dressed man. Heeding her request, Jeanist shakes his head as Midnight’s patronizing giggles echo down the hallway.

“Are you nervous?”

The question comes from one of the two older women sitting behind you. It was strange to see Selene and Mitsuki enjoying a cup of tea together in this setting.

Both beautiful in their own right, two powerful women, one a queen of this earth land kingdom, and the other a queen residing over the moon that oversees this blue planet from the heavens above. It was the moon goddess herself that had made an offhand suggestion that perhaps Mitsuki would be able to trace her lineage back to the warrior queen of Mars. They both chuckled at this, and watching their exchange you can’t help but wonder if there just might be truth to her claim.

Seeing them get along so well made you feel at ease.

“A little” you admit, examining your reflection in the mirror for the umpteenth time “But listening to your banter has made it easier to relax, you two seem more like old friends rather than two women who just met the morning of their children’s wedding”. Both women looked towards each other before looking back at you with smiles on their faces. Almost like they knew something you weren’t aware of.

“Maybe Goddess Selene will bless us mere mortals with her presence more often now that you’re here” Mitsuki’s voice had a slight teasing tone about it, and you could swear your mother had the slightest flush to her cheeks.

“Careful what you wish for, what if you were to grow tired of my constant intrusions? Then I’d have to give you twelve years of bad luck” Selene replies, as quick witted as ever, yet her tone held no malice.

“Mother!” You squeaked, shocked she would even joke about such a thing. The two older women laughed at your reaction. 

“Well I suppose I should go check in on Katsuki, I haven’t seen him yet today” the blonde woman says as she gets to her feet.

“You haven’t seen him at all?” You ask confused.

“That boy is a nightmare to deal with when he’s preparing for an important event, one could hardly blame me for preferring the company of two lovely celestial ladies over the company of my foul mouthed brat” she replies, patting you on the back as she walks past. Only to pause at the door and glance back at Selene, “I’ll meet you in the foyer in fourty-five minutes?” She asks.

Your mother nods and the two of them hold eye contact for a few seconds before the blonde woman leaves the two of you alone.

“How long have you known?” 

The question is sudden and quiet.

The goddess sighed before answering your question,

“After you fell asleep last night she came to your room and sought me out, I just found out”. You merely nod in response, now wasn’t the time to confront her about it.

“You look so beautiful, I’m happy that you followed your own path, I raised a perfect young woman” Selene comes to stand behind you, wrapping an arm around you.

The both of your reflections smiled in the mirror, “Oh no! I forgot to ask you-“ your sudden exclamation was hushed by your mother “I have it”. The shimmering piece of selenite appeared in your hand, it was crafted into a perfect crescent shape, a small gold hoop stuck through the top. “Thank you momma” you gushed happily “It’s perfect”. “I have one more thing to give you” she replied, moving towards your dresser. She brought back a small stone box with a large moon on the lid, ancient inscriptions were carved in on all sides proving its age. 

“This belonged to my great grandmother, and now it’s yours” 

The handsome (albeit grumpy) king readjusted the gold chain and fang necklaces around his neck for the umpteenth time. An annoyed growl rips from his throat as he takes the smaller few off. Looking back In the mirror he nods, now sporting only the largest golden chain and his newest piece made from the fangs of the ancient dragon he’d slayed recently. The Royal jeweler had just delivered it this morning, along with a few other pieces that Bakugou had also requested be made.

“Very impressive your majesty” Kirishima says with a flash of his own fanged smile. The red head and three other members of the king’s personal guard lean against the wall of Bakugou’s bedroom closest to the door. Just the five of them occupied the room, the servants that had tried assisting the temperamental Royal at getting ready had vacated the premises a long time ago.

“Looking a little nervous my king” Kaminari says offhandedly.

“Not getting cold feet are you?” Serro is quick to add, both men smirking at the king’s now obviously ruffled feathers.

Katsuki whirls around on them with clenched teeth and fire alight in his eyes, and just as he opens his mouth to begin a ferocious tirade, the bedroom door opens.

“You clean up well brat” Queen Mitsuki teases her son as she enters the room “Would you four give us a moment, it’s about time for you to take your places”.

A chorus of “Yes your majesty” comes from the four knights as they single file out of the room.

“Here it is, the day of my first and only son’s wedding…The day you will become king in more than just words, this land will be not just your’s to rule but your Queen’s as well” the blonde woman comes to stand before her son, “I know your father is proud of you, and I am just as proud of the man that you have become Katsuki”. The way his mother wraps her arms around him comes as a surprise to the king, he is still quick to return her hug just as tight, mumbling a soft “Love ya mom”. When the two of them separated the older woman dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her dress, “Don’t you dare hold this against me, I’m probably going to be bawling more than once today”.

“Wouldn’t dream of it hag”

“So much for a sentimental moment between mother and son, you brat”.

“My lady, it’s time” the voice of a servant alerted you. Taking one last look at your reflection, the glittering tiara atop your head fills you with new confidence. The magic that flowed through your veins even seemed to be amplifying thanks to the treasured heirloom. You had to walk yourself down the aisle, which would mean that every eye will be focused solely on you. Remembering that you are a representation of the lunarian kingdom, you were sure to stand tall and proud, walking with the utmost grace. Exiting the open door, a beautiful burgundy rug has been laid out over the grass, leading down the sloping palace grounds, between the many rows of occupied seats. Excited whispers began as everyone turned to watch you walking down the aisle.

“Absolutely stunning!”

“Is she really from the moon?”

“How beautiful our new queen is!”

The compliments only made you more reassured in your self-confidence. You look towards where the rug ends, seeing steps leading up a raised platform and your heart skipped a beat. The Dragon King stands waiting for you in all his glory; His usual fur lined cape is draped over his shoulders, tribal ink snaking up his impressive biceps, that unintentionally flex as his arms are crossed in front of his chest. The golden chain around his neck glitters, drawing your attention to the second necklace he wore made up of black beads and large jagged teeth. Somehow you manage to keep yourself from hurrying forward. Each step you take is slow, and meaningful and once you finally reach the bottom step Katsuki reaches a hand out to you. Which you take and return his firm grip with a squeeze, allowing yourself to be led up the remaining few steps. He resembles something like a demigod, with the way his blonde hair shines in the sunlight, surrounding his head similar to the halo of an angel. Both of you smile as you take in the appearance of one another, quick to become lost in each other’s eyes. The priest clears his throat and it puts an end to the stupor you two were seemingly caught up in.

“Today marks a momentous event that will forever change history; A bridge between heaven and earth, the joining of celestial and terran, the blessed union between our Dragon King and the Lunarian princess” the elderly man says, pausing to allow the applause and cheering of the crowd. It was nice to see the few hundred or so people seated in chairs closest to the raised platform, but it was astounding to see all of the hundreds if not thousands of people, along with magical creatures, crowded in to the castle grounds. Those that didn’t fit were seated atop the heads of dragons, enabling them to watch the ceremony despite being behind the protective walls.

Turning your head away from the crowd, the squeeze of the grip on your hands has your eyes flitting upwards. Looking into Katsuki’s eyes was like being swept up in a harsh current. The priests words were immediately garbled nonsense, you were drowning in a sea of red. The veil over your face fluttered in the wind, and the king says something aloud. 

The smile he gives you has you feeling weak in the knees.

“Princess Y/n”

The sound of your title has you standing at attention, listening to the priest’s words intently;

“Do you take King Bakugou Katsuki as your husband? To have and hold through good times and bad? To stand beside him and rule this country to the best of your ability as a queen and wife?”.

“I do and I shall” you replied confidently, squeezing the large hands holding your own.

“Then by the power invested in me, witnessed by all that are here, I now pronounce you husband and wife” as soon as the words were said the veil was lifted from your face and Katsuki was kissing you. The kiss was deep and breath stealing, you could feel the desire and happiness in it. Cheers had broken out all around the courtyard, the roars and shouts echoing from all around the kingdom. Just as your lungs began to burn from lack of air did the kiss finally end.

“I now present your new King and Queen!” Announces the priest, holding his arms open as he declares this to the crowd.

The events that followed all happened in such a rapid procession, it felt like you were wrapped up in a sort of whirlwind.

You remember receiving hugs from both Mitsuki and your mother, but after that it was just a bunch of congratulations, well wishes, and handshakes from a variety of strangers. It was only once you were ushered back into your bedroom that you could take a moment to breathe. Sitting down on the soft bed everything had started to sink in; You were now queen of an earthland kingdom, you were married to the Dragon King, a mere princess no more. Speaking of which, you hadn’t gotten a single moment with your husband, the kiss at the altar was the only one you’d gotten thus far. He hadn’t said a word while you two were being bombarded by the gathering well wishers. You hadn’t even been able to give him your present…

Fishing the selenite out from your cleavage, you sighed. Without warning the door of the room burst open and in came Mina and Momo.

The latter holding three champagne flutes, while the former clutched a half empty bottle.

“Congratulations y/n!” The pinkette cheered, hugging you happily.

Kicking the door shut behind her, the dark haired woman strides over gracefully, offering you one of the flutes, “How about a toast before we help you get ready for your special night?”. “Ah yes! That would be lovely” you smile, taking the glass as you get to your feet.

“To our new queen, and beloved friend y/n! May your marriage be happy and the fires stemming from undying love as well as passion never extinguish!” Mina exclaims and the three of you clink glasses.

Laughter proceeds only after you’d each drained your respective glass, along with Momo giving Mina a hard time about her ridiculous toast.

True to her word, Mina had indeed helped you Into the garments from that silk bag.

You couldn’t bare the embarrassment as you peeked at your reflection in the full body mirror. The two women had made sure to bathe you throughly once again. “The king won’t react well to anyone else’s scents on you during your bonding” Momo had explained, as you gave her glove covered hands a strange look.

They rubbed you down with a slightly vanilla scented, shimmering body oil (Apparently it was close to your natural scent, according to Mina). Now you were standing in the middle of your room skin glittering, clad in what was essentially scraps of silk, with dragon scale accents that hid your nipples and pussy (barely). Just as you were downing another glass of champagne, the girls pulled a thin, floor length black cloak over your shoulders. Making sure it was secured before placing a cape over your shoulders. “A gift from the King” you had been told. The outside fabric was thick and white while the inside was a black velvet, and a black fur made up the collar. It was almost just like the one your husband always wore. Your helpers made sure everything was fastened to keep any of your unmentionables from slipping out.

Just as they both stood back to admire you, a loud knock could be heard on the door. “You’re all set! You look lovely your majesty” Momo smiles. “Remember everything I told you! Especially that last bit! Just relax It’s going to be great, no worries!” Mina reminds you cheerfully as the two of them accompany you out of the door.

Kirishima was standing there waiting to escort you with his usual smile in place, he offers you his arm. Taking hold of it, the knight begins to usher you down the hall, both ladies cheering until you rounded the corner. “You look very nice my lady” the red head compliments, keeping his eyes forward but still smiling all the same. “Thank you…” you appreciate the compliment but the nervousness you felt grew with each step forward.

Finally reaching the end of the hallway, its down a short staircase and the knight opens a door for you. Another exit from the castle you weren’t aware of. The breeze is gentle, and stars are beginning to twinkle in the twilight sky. You see your mother and Mitsuki talking to Katsuki, who immediately looks towards you as you walk across the grass. His intense gaze has your face heating up, and if both your mothers weren’t standing there he probably would have pounced on you. Once you come to stand beside the three of them your king takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it “Ready to go?”. The spot his lips touched sends tingles throughout your body, all you can do is nod in reply. “You two have fun” Mitsuki says while pulling you into a hug.

“Mother, I thought you and I-“

Selene interrupts you before giving a hug of her own, “Plenty of time for that when the two of you return, enjoy this special time with your husband”.

You don’t have time to argue due to the sudden appearance of a familiar red dragon waiting just a few feet away. Bakugou bids your mothers goodbye and scoops you up bridal style. He doesn’t set you down once the two of you are seated, you stay in his lap as Kirishima takes flight. Katsuki groans as takes in your scent, nipping and kissing the sensitive flesh “Been waiting for this moment all day, could hardly wait to get my hands on you”. One of his hands slips beneath the cloak to run up your bare legs. Your toes curl as he squeezes one of your thick thighs, he doesn’t miss a beat when engaging you in another passionate lip lock. Your fingers lightly caress his cheeks before running them down to his pecs.

Your tongue tangles with his when you finally feel yourself slicking up.

The wetness between your thighs reminds you that a thin string is the only thing there to catch any drips, and you’d rather not leave a wet spot on your new husband’s pant leg.

Breaking the kiss, you rest your forehead against his as you catch your breath. “My king…I’m sorry if I may not act like a proper lady tonight, I hope that come sunrise you won’t hold any of my actions against me” You say with a sigh, moving your head back to properly look him in the eye. A blonde brow is raised before a sinister smile appears on the king’s handsome face, “oho is that a challenge or a threat? my queen”. Your eyes catch sight of the slivers of sharp canines in his mouth, and your gaze lingers on them as you quietly reply, “It’s neither…I just don’t exactly feel like my usual self right now, not to say I’m someone else but my feelings are unfamiliar and overwhelming”.

Gently you reach for one of his hands and guide it towards your chest, laying it over your heart.

A sudden shyness comes over you, and looking up at him with innocent eyes you enquire, “Do you feel it?”.

Unbeknownst to you, Katsuki had been able to hear the pitter patter of your heart this entire time.

How adorable, it’s just like a bunny that’s been cornered by a hungry wolf

He can’t help but agree, his hold on you becomes impossibly tighter.

Eliminating any space between your bodies, he cradles the back of your head in a large palm. Guiding you to rest it in between his neck and shoulder. “S’normal to be nervous treasure, because after tonight you will be a different person” your king presses a kiss to your forehead “Just relax for now, it won’t be much longer until we arrive”. Something inside of you feels as though Katsuki’s voice has this underlying nefarious tone to it. An abrupt shiver shoots down your spine, in attempts to soak in the natural warmth that radiates off his skin you’re quickly wrapping your arms around your lover.

The wind is always a bit cooler at night, especially at this altitude. That explains where these continuous chills are coming from.

Right?

A/N: Something I didn’t call attention to at the end of last chapter; If you read the prophecy laid out in the prologue, and compare it to the version that Izuku reads during the flight in chapter 3 you’ll notice quite a big difference! Just to explain that in case anybody didn’t catch onto it; Only a few people in the kingdom were made aware of the complete prophecy that Midnight spoke of. There was a heavily censored version that was put out to the kingdom’s general public and it’s regarded in a celebratory way. So much so, the people turned it into a nursery rhyme song for children. This is because they remain ignorant to the other half of it. The version they know only speaks of the king finding love and that the kingdom will in turn be blessed and forever remain prosperous.I felt this was important for me to explain, just so nobody is thinking “This bitch is so dumb she can’t even remember words that she wrote three chapters prior 🙄”.I would hope none of you think that negatively of me 😅 It sure doesn’t seem that way but just Incase! ❤️‍🔥 So any thoughts or theories as to what’s going on or going to happen?

Thank you all for every like, share, comment and follow! 

Honorable mentions 💌

@lalachanya  @mrsmelaninhood 

@whatdidshesayyy @faemagic88

@viridianhero  @alishii @rv19 

@maggiecc @crazy-eight17 @nnubee @nemisimp @yesitsmewhataboutit 

#katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha #dragon bakugou #dragon king bakugou #bnha fantasy au #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader

[chaotic-orphan]

Hey! I've just read your defiant leader x confident villain story and HOLY SHIT is it good. I love the personalities that you've given the characters, and how the villain doesn't really want to hurt the leader and is trying to ignore all of their feeling. Ugh!

I would love it if you could write more of the story. I have a feeling there's a lot more twists and turns on the horizon 👀✨

Defiant Leader x Confident Villain (5)

Read part one here

Continued from here

Guys… i am so sorry to everyone who has requested more parts for this series… it has taken literally months, I am only finished now because I queued it when I discovered it again! I am very sorry, it is an active WIP again!! I hope you enjoy!

TW: NEEDLES

~*~*~*~*~*~

Leader woke to the door of his room opening. He was still sitting in the chair in the room where Supervillain left him. The last thing he remembered was staring at the wall to pass the time, limbs still tied down tightly. Sometimes, when he was feeling adventurous, he’d glare down at the hammer that mangled his hand, but even that got boring. He didn’t realise he fell to sleep until he was waking up with the click of the lock in the door.

He didn’t have time to wake up, so his mind shot alert, clearing the fog that usually came with waking suddenly. He felt his body come alive at the thoughts of Supervillain coming to destroy his other hand. His limbs were asleep but still Leader made a fist with his free hand trying to get feeling back into it just in case.

What he could do to fight against Supervillain he didn’t know, but… but who was he kidding?! Supervillain seemed to smash every bone in his good hand, his strong hand, his punching hand.

Leader wanted to cry out as he tried to make a fist with his hand on instinct, but swallowed the cry to a sharp hiss as loud, quick footsteps thundered behind Leader’s chair and they froze.

Those footsteps were unmistakable, and there was only one set. A swift slap to the back of the head and Leader let out a startled: “ow!”

“You deserve more than that, you fucking idiot!” Villain hissed, coming to stand in front of Leader, setting a doctor’s bag down on the floor in front of Leader and dropping to one knee, unzipping it. “What were you thinking, pissing Supervillain off, Leader? Do you know how difficult you are making everything for me?”

“How about you just let me go and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Villain jerked their head up, piercing gaze furious and accusing. “Would you? Be out of my hair?” Villain challenged. Leader was the first to look away, and Villain scoffed, before dipping their head again and searching through the bag beside him. “Yeah. Thought so.”

“Villain… I…” Leader began, searching for the words to express themselves, but none came, and Villain didn’t seem to be in the mood to hear them even if they did somehow miraculously find the words to defend themselves. “Look, you don’t have to keep coming to my rescue.”

“Clearly I do,” Villain ground out, accusing eyes finding Leader’s again. “If you keep riling Supervillain up, Leader, he will kill you. I’m not fucking around. He will murder you, but you won’t die quickly. It will be long, drawn out, torturous.”

Leader’s brows lowered over their eyes, hooding the sockets in shadow. “I know that, Vil.”

“I don’t think you do!”

Leader’s eyes widened at the intensity colouring Villain’s voice, the slight fear in their eyes as they spoke. It was almost… desperate, almost helpless. Villain scoffed and looked away, running a hand through their hair, pulling slightly at the end of the strands.

Leader frowned. “Villain… what’s that look?”

Villain didn’t answer right away but a million different thoughts seemed to flash across his expression— doubt, fear, disgust anxiety. Every time Villain opened their mouth to speak they seemed to pause, chew their words, search for a better way to say what they wanted to tell Leader.

Eventually a grim resolution moulded their features and they looked at Leader again instead of through them.

“Supervillain,” Villain began hesitantly not quite meeting Leader’s gaze, and instead running a nervous hand through their hair. “He didn’t exactly trust me when I wanted to join his side so he devised a sort of… test, or trial run and he gave me the job he thought I would run away scared from.”

Villain risked a glance at Leader’s expression, then let out a long sigh and pinched the bridge of their nose, rocking back on their heels.

“It’s not something I’m proud of but I had to prove myself and if I didn’t do it someone else would have—”

“It’s okay, Vil,” Leader told them. Startled eyes found Leader’s and Villain’s expression softened slightly, shoulders losing tension. “Go on.”

“He made me the interrogator… or that’s what he called it, he made me his torturer,” Villain said quietly and it was as if all the oxygen had been sucked from the room. Leader stared at Villain, studying their face. Villain let out a shaky breath. “Every Hero we captured, or enemy someone brought in I would take care of them. Get information, work the confessions out of them, or just make them suffer— whatever Supervillain told me to do.”

Villain licked their lips, their eyes looking down to their hands before continuing.

“That’s not even the worst part, Leader,” Villain continued, tightening their hands into fists. They raised their head, gaze steeled and said: “The worst part was that I was good at it.”

Leader would rather Villain pick up the hammer and smash their other hand, or every single bone in their body rather than tell them this. Rather than this be true, because Villain wasn’t… Villain couldn’t— Villain… it felt like all air was robbed from their chest as they stared at Villain and for the first time since they came, Leader finally saw Villain.

They saw how much Villain changed. The little moments that were shining through of the old Villain were only that. Fleeting moments. Villain looked the same, although they had a new haircut and a crueller smirk. They carried themselves a little taller, but they looked like Leader’s Villain, but there was something now that seemed to finally let Leader see the real Villain.

The new Villain.

As if a blindfold had just been taken off Leader’s eyes.

Villain looked older, not by much but they had a less innocence in their eyes. Instead they were hard, certain kernels of experience. They didn’t just carry themselves taller, Villain had a new confidence about them as if they had finally found their calling. As if they were born to be a Villain, to be an… interrogator.

Villain’s expression softened and they turned away, letting out a shaky laugh. “You hate me now, don’t you?”

“Not even a little bit,” Leader said without hesitation. Villain let the shock show across their face as they met Leader’s eyes again.

Leader forced their resolve to show on their face, as sure as anything. “You did what you felt you had to do, Vil,” Leader continued softly. “You did what I always knew you could: you survived everything that life threw at you. How could I hate you for that?”

Villain looked so vulnerable in that moment, and Leader wished that they had seen it sooner. They wished they noticed how lost Villain was within the team, how sad they were. Always lashing out, always a little more distant and reserved.

“I should have done more, Vil,” Leader said and Villain rocked back on their heels, shaking their head side to side. They opened their mouth to reply but Leader beat them to it. “No, I should’ve, I’m sorry you felt like you had to leave the team. I’m sorry about the way things ended… I— I miss you, if I’m honest. But sometimes…”

The words were rushing out of Leader’s mouth now, all emotion. “Sometimes when we start out life presents us with opportunities and we just go along with them because, well, what other option do we have? But you… I’ve never seen you more alive, more at peace. You really seem to have found your place in the world Villain and I couldn’t be more happy for you.”

“You can’t say that, Leader,” Villain whispered.

Leader laughed. “Says who?”

Villain frowned. “We are enemies, we’re on the opposing sides. We can’t— there is no world where we’re friends.”

“Just because I don’t agree with you, Villain, doesn’t mean I don’t know you. I don’t still care for you, that the years we shared mean nothing.”

“It does,” Villain protested. “It has too.”

Leader leaned forward in their chair. “If it does, then what the hell are you here for, Villain?”

The question was like a slap of reality that stunned Villain for a moment before they sighed. They glanced down to the bag they brought in and rummaged through it, pulling out a small black case and flicking it open.

Inside was a needle and a small bottle of something. Villain reached in and grabbed the needle. Villain reached into the bag and drew out two medical gloves and slide them onto their hands, snapping the band at the end of one and grinning up at Leader.

It unnerved Leader a little as they stared down at the bottle, trying to read whatever it was Villain was so happy about showing them. Now with the knowledge that Villain was the resident torturer.

Not that it was particularly news to Leader. When rumours started circulating about Supervillain’s new vicious agony agent it was Rogue who brought the idea of Villain to Leader’s attention. Rogue ran with other people before Leader; heroes, vigilantes, villains… probably the one with the most contacts across the city.

“How certain are you?” Leader asked them.

Rogue shrugged one shoulder. “I trust contact with my life. They’re not the gossiping type.”

Leader didn’t show it then, but the thought, the very possibility that it could have been Villain terrified them. How wrong did they go with Villain to make them want to hurt people? But looking at them now, Leader couldn’t help but see the same Villain they had always known. Maybe just more grown up and sure of themselves. The way they were working so deftly with the needle and vial. Drawing some liquid into the needle and spurting it back out again to re-draw.

They smiled up at Leader once they were satisfied and started rubbing Leader’s hand with cotton balls covered in rubbing alcohol. Leader hissed jerking their arm back, but Villain continued as if Leader was sitting quiet as a mouse.

“I know, but you gotta hurt to get better. No pain no gain, right?” Villain asked with a grin. Leader smothered their anxiety at that grin. Villain’s old reassuring grin, the same one they wore before they ran recklessly from the group to defend them. When they directly disobeyed Leader’s orders to intercept their enemies before it was time.

Now, it wasn’t any of that. It was reassuring and light, so Leader nodded and set their jaw into a tight line as Villain smoothed the skin on Leader’s hand. Leader clenched their teeth as their bone rubbed off bone.

“Okay, this will hurt.”

That was all the warning Leader got before Villain plunged the needle into their hand. Leader jolted forwards, swallowing a scream to a mewling whine in the back of their throat instead.

They felt the liquid being injected into their hand, it was a strange sensation but not one that was unfamiliar. Once Villain had thumbed down the plunger and injected all of the liquid they pulled it out gently. They replaced it with a cotton pad the dab the blood away.

Leader stared at Villain. “Okay. That actually wasn’t that bad,” Leader told them.

Villain grimaced. “Leader, that was the easy part.”

Leader frowned and then the pain came. It was a simmering kind of burning at first and Leader’s wide eyes shot to Villain’s.

“Vil… what is this? What is this?” They rushed out, gasping between the questions.

“It’s okay, Leader. It just resets the bones in your hand.”

“It what?” Leader shrieked, closing their eyes as they felt their bones start to move in their hand.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Leader cried as their hand ignited in agony. They gasped and shot forward as far as the ropes would allow them, their neck muscles straining as they tried to not scream but their hand was on fire.

“Hey, Leader. It’s okay, I know. I know.” Leader only very distantly heard Villain whispering assurances and comforting words to them as they writhed beneath the ropes.

“Villain!” Leader gasped, throwing their head back as a guttural scream was torn from their throat. Leader kicked out and tried to buck themselves out of the chair but the ropes just remained firm as Leader screamed louder than they ever have before. The pain ricocheted from their hand — where their bones were moving and mending under their skin — all the way to their shoulders and then deeper into their chest.

It was too much.

Stars burst behind their eyes as they felt their bones crack into place.

Villain was speaking to them. Lips moving but Leader couldn’t hear a word they said. Villain’s eyes widened as Leader let the blackness swallow them, the last thing they saw was Villain lurching from their crouch.

*~*~*~*~*

Orphanage roll-call (tag-list, lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @nameless-beanie @aarika-merrill @criohfreeze @bandnbookbag @gala1981 @theonewithallthefixations @libellule888 @cardboardarsonist @shywhumpauthor r @written-by-jayy @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @whump-is-love-whump-is-life @icarusignite @shirtzip @honeyed-euphrates @shameless-dumbass @dutifullykrispyland @starlight-hope @thatlittlefirestarter

#defiant leader x confident villain #defiant leader #cocky leader #confident villain #cocky villain #whump writing #whump series #emotional whump #past relationship #past friends #hero turned villain #hero team dynamics #past teammate #team leader whump #leader whumpee #tw: needles #needles #cw: needles #tw needles #scared hero #hero x villain #hero villain writing #hero villain snippet #writblr #hero #villain #whumpee #whumper #strained relationship #orphan writing

[beefrobeefcal]

Catfish to BigFish feat. Dark!Frankie Morales

Summary: Boston. The Frontiersmen is a crime syndicate that deals in drugs, arms, and anything else they can to keep themselves on top. But how did Frankie 'Catfish' Morales, the coke-addicted, lanky mess of a man become its leader? And where did the moniker 'BigFish' come from?

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 2,283 | 3+/- years before OTWF begins

Content Warning: threats of violence, crime, violence, betrayal, Big Fish is a bad man in the making, character death, allusions to drug use, swearing, choking, punching, eating, comments on body, weight gain, friendship but at what cost?, Tom is a bag of smashed assholes

Author's Notes: this is a prequel showing us the how, what, why, and where roughly three years before Honey comes into the picture in Chapter One: Signed and Sealed. The biggest, juiciest, wettest thank you to @neverwheremoonchild for brainstorming this with me and to @strang3lov3 and @noxturnalpascal for their love and eyes. Pour one out for @xdaddysprincessxx - she will need all the hydration she can get.

On the Waterfront Masterlist

“If it were anyone else…”, Tom warned. 

“Yeah, we know. But it’s not. It’s Fish. He’s one of us.”

Pope sat back and watched Will do something none of them thought they’d have to do – convince Tom to give a shit.

“He’s a fuckin’ coke head! Snortin’ our own shit and lyin’ about it!”, Tom boomed, standing over Will. “You ran the fuckin’ numbers, you can see how much money we lost up his fuckin’ nose! And now you wanna spend more money tryin’ to get that fucker clean again?”

Will didn’t bend. He didn’t shrink and he didn’t back down. “It’s Frankie. Catfish. Our Catfish. And he needs help.”

Tom huffed harshly enough in Will’s face that his hair moved, then turned his ire to Pope. 

“You think Fish’s worth it? Already cost us a shit load of money and Will wants to blow more on that fuckhead.”

Pope slipped into his smooth and nonchalant voice and crossed his arms. He’d hoped this would give Tom the impression that he was just as unnerved and steadfast as Will.

“You know he’d do the same thing for any of us.”

“Fuckin’ altruistic bullshit!”, Tom barked, slamming his fist on the table. 

Pope felt his blood heating up and his jaw tightening. Will looked over at him quickly, his blue eyes ice cold and angry, and then back to Tom. 

“I disagree. He’s just as much my brother as Benny is. Or you, or Santi. He’s family and I’ll get’m help as many times as possible. And you know what you’re sayin’s bullshit-“

“Fuck you and your fuckin’ family values dog shit! You and I both know that he’s gonna get clean, last a week or two, then shit’s gonna start goin’ missing again and he’s gonna be right back to bein’ the fuckin’ crypt keeper he looks like now! He’s not gonna change. We need to cut him loose and let him kill himself. He made his choice, Will! Admit it - Fish ain’t worth it!”

Will stood up and moved close to Tom, almost nose to nose. Yeah, Tom was bigger, stronger even, but Will was precise and skilled in a way that seeing him square up like that scared Pope. He unfolded his arms and stepped forward. 

“Hey! Hold up! We’re not gonna do th-“

“You’re supposed to be our leader – our fuckin’ captain.”, Will seethed lowly. “I’m not gonna take orders from some mother fucker who decides to ‘cut loose’ one of our own. Fish needs our help and fuck you for turnin’ your back on’ im.”

Tom glared at Will. “Fine.”, he spat, then dug his index finger in Will’s chest. “But when he he fuckin’ OD’s, it’s on you!”

*****

It felt like more than 90 days when Pope rolled up in front of the rehab centre to pick up Frankie, and when he saw him standing outside, waiting for him, he frowned. Not because he wasn’t glad to see him looking better and fuller, but because this was the third time he had picked Frankie up from a stint in rehab. 

Frankie pulled open the passenger door and slid in, not daring to look up. 

“Fish…”, Pope broke the silence as he put the car in drive. “You look good - ”

“How mad is he this time?”, Frankie interjected.

Pope sighed, knowing exactly how mad Tom was that the Frontiersmen funded another one of Frankie’s stays in an expensive treatment centre. The fact that Tom could be mad at Frankie for this used to baffle him, but by this time - the third time – he could at least see where Tom was coming from. It didn’t sway his growing dislike of their leader though. 

“You keep clean, and he won’t have a reason to be pissed.”

“Fuck… Santi… I try, and – “

“Just shut the fuck up and keep clean, Frank.” Pope snapped, cutting Frankie off in turn. “Besides, I have something in mind to keep you motivated.”

All Frankie could do was nod, despite not knowing what Pope could offer as motivation. He never wanted to relapse, but the call was too sweet, too enticing, for him to stay away too long. He’d said this the day before while he was going through the exit procedure and the facilitator just shrugged and said, “Find something else to get high on then.” 

*****

Less than two months after Frankie came back to the compound, Tom was dead. 

Pope had walked down the hallway to the office where Will waited, and he pushed open the door. Will had looked up, expecting to see Tom, and when he saw Pope instead, blood on his hands and splattered on his body and face, and wide eyed, he stood up, confusion etched on his face.

“Santiago… what the fuck is goin’-“

“He’s dead.”

Will dropped the file folder he held precariously and moved quickly to Pope’s side as he sat heavily in one of the armchairs. He wiped his hand over his face, smudging the semi-dried blood, and he sighed.

“Who’s dea- “

“Tom… Tom’s dead. He’s fuckin’ dead, Will.”

“Santi.”, Will said in a low, controlled voice that just barely masked the panic writhing below. “What happened?”

“I… I was… I didn’t…”, Pope paused, trying to find a way to confess. Instead, his conscience was silenced by his ego, and he found himself lying without even really thinking. “He was… taken out by… by the Gutierrez gang… those fuckers… they ambushed him, Will.”

Pope looked up at Will, daring to see if what he said even sounded feasible. To Will, Pope’s wide, frightened eyes convinced him to ignore the itch at the back of his brain, needling him to probe further.

“I was… I was with him when he… I found him before he died. He was fuckin’ babbling some shit… who was supposed to take over…”

Will’s eyes narrowed subtly, but enough for Pope to register. He knew he couldn’t say he was the one Tom wanted; it would be too suspicious. And he couldn’t say Will because that would give him full control - something Pope truly believed would be his own downfall. 

“He wanted Fish…”

*****

Frankie was a half a year sober – actually, really, fully, no-word-of-a-lie sober – and had been the head of the Frontiersmen for just shy of four months. He’d spent the last six months trying to find a new vice that wouldn’t render him a liability and bankrupt the organization. He was just barely making an impact as the new leader; no one took him seriously. He was skinny and quiet. Only his inner circle knew how violent and dangerous he could be, but even then, they knew he really had to be provoked to get him to that point.

Pope decided he had to do something. His plan to put Frankie in the captain’s chair was failing miserably, and he knew if he couldn’t land this, he would be sussed out. 

“Fish… come on… we’re going out for dinner.”, he said, slapping Frankie’s back.

He looked up at Pope, tired and miserable. “Why?”

“Because you need to eat. You’re skin and bones and no one wants to be led by a corpse.”

Frankie’s expression turned from confused to hurt as his shoulders dropped, feeling the weight of everyone’s expectations gnaw at his sobriety. He carried this somber aura all the way to the restaurant. 

*****

The dingy little Italian restaurant had a name – Marcello’s - and it became Frankie’s haven. It was nowhere near as festive or amazing as Benny had indicated. The way he raved about the place, Pope thought he was taking Frankie to a pasta titty bar paradise, and instead he found them in a mid-century dive with carpet and wood paneling on the walls. 

It wasn’t until the hostess came out from the bar to greet them that Pope understood exactly why Benny loved this place, and he understood it even more when they had their food served.  It had started out as once a week, then turned into almost every night. The effects of pasta, heavy cream sauces, and garlic bread we’re beginning to show on Frankie. Gone were the feeling of his ribs when Pope patted him on his back and gone were his sunken cheeks. Frankie had filled out and he was glad to see his friend looking better. 

That was, until he noticed something. Yeah, Frankie was clean from coke, but he seemed to have turned that same veracity that he’d once carried for the narcotic on to food. It used to be that Frankie could barely finish a frozen TV dinner, being able to stretch one over two meals. As Pope sat across from him at Marcello’s one Tuesday evening, he watched his friend plow through two whole plates of pasta in one sitting. Pope noticed that while Frankie ate, he seemed almost tranquil, serene.

He’d found something else to get high on.

There was a notable change in Frankie as he gained weight. The soft spoken, always amenable Frankie was slowly being enveloped by a bigger, meaner, and more vicious version of him. 

When he was thinner, Frankie could get lucky with women if he tried, but he wasn’t the most confident and rarely put himself out there. But as he grew, so did his self-esteem. He no longer sat back and accepted things as they were said to him – he questioned and even demanded answers, using his newfound size to intimidate if need be. If he saw something he liked, be it clothing, electronics, cars, he took it and gave no one a chance to say otherwise.

The legacy Tom left behind began to fade within the Frontiersmen as Frankie’s violence took centre stage. His quick temper and fists built a reputation; he was still quiet, but the silence he offered was no longer one of contemplation, it was one of simmering rage, liable to explode into violence at any moment. But this was within their group alone. No one outside of their crew took him seriously enough to even warrant giving him a foot in the door.

All of that changed one evening and Pope got a front seat to watch his plan to hide behind Frankie finally bear fruit. Catfish’s temper finally exploded on the right person to get the message out. 

Chuck, the leader of another group called the Golden Kings, had sat across from Frankie at a roundtable, hosted by one of the other gangs to broker agreements and territories. Chuck had taken every opportunity to remind everyone that Frankie was a junkie who used to pilfer his group’s own product to get high. When he stopped getting the reaction he wanted, Chuck moved onto Frankie’s weight, which had pretty well doubled since Tom’s death. 

Will, seated on the other side of Frankie, quietly said, “Let it go, Catfish.”

“Catfish?”, Chuck laughed cruelly. “Fuckin’ Catfish? Really? Fatfish is more like it. What happened, Morales? You eat your feelings ‘cause you can’t get high no more?”

Pope caught a glance at Frankie’s face which only could be described as dark and malevolent as a thunderclap. It unnerved him to see Frankie looking so dangerous around other people. It was one thing for him to beat one of their own for being a dipshit, but this was someone who wasn't below Frankie – he was ranks above him. Frankie sat, glaring across the table at Chuck, his elbows on the armrests and his hands tensely tenting his fingers.

It seemed that the rest of the men at the table could sense the electric tension between Frankie and Chuck. Dan Connor, leader of the Dead Rabbits and host for the evening, motioned to Frankie with a head nod. 

“Get it out, Morales. Can’t move on with you having a bitchfit at some name callin’.”

Pope knew none of these men took his friend seriously and it was either going to be Frankie using his keen negotiation tactics or Frankie showing off his newfound rage. 

The latter won. Frankie sat in silence as Chuck beat his mouth off at him, trying to get Frankie to react, to no avail. He didn’t speak; he just watched, letting Chuck keep talking, letting him fuel his violent rage even more, until it reached a tipping point. 

“You may be a big fish now, you fuckin’ goof, but you’re still a rat-faced junkie.”

It happened quickly. Frankie stood up and grabbed Chuck from across the table by his suit jacket lapel and pulled him to his side as his fist began beating into the man’s face over and over.

Chuck’s men stood up, but Dan Connor’s hand came out, motioning for them to sit. His own men waited for their cue to remove Frankie from Chuck, but Dan just watched in reverence.

The punching stopped and Chuck gurgled in pain, and Frankie wrapped his huge hands around Chuck’s throat and squeezed. 

“I am Big Fish, you fuckin’ cunt.”, he growled in a calm and low tone, then he spat on Chuck’s face.

Will looked at Frankie horrified, and Pope couldn’t help the grin that forced its way to his face. Dan finally motioned for his men to intervene, and it took all four to pry Frankie’s hands off the bloody, gasping mess that was Chuck. 

Chuck’s men moved to get their boss away from Frankie as he sat back in his chair, and nodded at Dan, signaling for him to continue. The room remained silent, save for the pathetic whining of Chuck in the hallway. Dan looked at Frankie, eyes narrowed, then finally he started laughing – hard.

“Fuckin’ BigFish Morales! Welcome to the table, asshole.”

no more taglist! follow @beefnotes for fic updates!

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal tummy #frankie morales #triple frontier #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales fanfiction #chubby frankie rights !!!!! #dark!frankie still chubby though #dark!frankie still chubby though #dark!frankie au #dark!frank #on the waterfront #otwf #beefro’s bistro #🥩

[fatkish]

Could you do a Aizawa x suicidal daughter please?Sorry if this is too dark but I’ve seen some of your other works about stuff like this and it makes me feel seen I guess thanks :)

(Sorry Anon, I know that you specifically asked for an x daughter reader, but I feel that this is a topic that happens to a lot of people so I decided that I would make it Gender Neutral since everyone could used a little Dadzawa every now and then. If you want me to make one specifically for a Dadzawa x Daughter Reader then I’ll do that.)

Father Aizawa x Suicidal Reader

If I was Happy

TRIGGER WARNING: The following contains mentions of suicide ideation, self harming thoughts and feelings and other potentially triggering things. Please be advised and refrain from reading if this will trigger you.

You hadn’t always struggled with these kind of thoughts and feelings, or maybe you did. Maybe you had these thoughts before, but it had felt like so long, you couldn’t remember a time when you didn’t feel this way.

You didn’t understand why you felt so horrible about yourself or when it started but you knew that originally, you didn’t think this way about yourself.

As these horrible thoughts ran rampant in your mind, thoughts of how you’re worthless, maybe you’re fat or you’re too skinny. Maybe you’re ugly or you have acne. Maybe your nose just doesn’t fit your face, or you have oily or greasy hair that you just can’t get rid of. Maybe you heard people who made fun of you and their words made you bully yourself worse than they did. Maybe you hated everything about yourself and you couldn’t take it anymore. Or maybe the state of the world was too depressing and you didn’t want to be a part of it. Whatever the case is, your world grew darker as you turned on yourself. You became your own worse critic. But still, you didn’t let anyone see the truth, especially your amazing dad.

And maybe that’s when you finally got the idea. The thought that maybe you should die.

You couldn’t remember when the last time was that you didn’t have these thoughts. It’s like a demon came inside of you and decided to poison you, making you hate yourself and everything that you were.

It hurts. It hurts to live like this. People can say things like, it’s selfish to kill yourself. Or killing yourself isn’t the solution. That you’re only hurting the ones that love you, but if those people really loved you, then wouldn’t they want your suffering to end? Why would the people that love you want you to suffer? Aren’t they the ones being selfish? You wouldn’t force an animal that’s in pain and has little to no quality of life to continue living just because you love them. Right? That’s inhumane. So why must you keep living if you don’t have any quality of life?

These were the kind of thoughts that plagued you late at night. You tried your hardest to live on and not let anyone know that you were suffering, especially your dad.

Your dad was amazing. He’s the best father you could ask for. Maybe he isn’t perfect, but you never once doubted his love for you. You knew that one of his best friends had died when he was in highschool. You know that it severely affected him. He might not be the most affectionate person in the world, but he doesn’t have to be. His eyes and smile say it all.

One night, you couldn’t take the thoughts anymore. You decided that you would write a letter and explain to your dad why you killed yourself and tell him is wasn’t his fault. You loved him so much, he’s always been there for you. But you know how stressful his life is and you just can’t fight off the part of you that believes you’re a burden to him. Your dad doesn’t need anymore stress especially from you. So you write a note and decided to do something special for him. You wrote, played and recorded a song for him.

(Play song above or play on YouTube)

Dear God, please, hear me out

I know it's been a couple years

Since I've reached out and said hello

I bet You're wondering

Why I keep

Obsessing on and stressing all the little things

When I should be

Living life and soaking up the memories

I know I've been selfish, I have

No excuse to give you, it's true

Hanging by a thread's how I live

I don't know why, but I feel more comfortable

Living in my agony, watching my self-esteem

Go up in flames, acting like I don't

Care what anyone else thinks, when I know truthfully

That that's the furthest thing from how I

Feel, but I'm too proud to open up and ask ya

To pick me up and pull me out this hole I'm trapped in

The truth is, I need help, but I just can't imagine who

Who I'd be if I was happy

As you played the song and sang, you didn’t know that your dad had come home. He knew that you had been learning to play instruments from Hizashi but he didn’t realize you were this good. He started to walk up the stairs and as he listened to the lyrics, his heart began to hurt, as he wondered why you sang this particular song, and with such emotion too.

Yeah, been this way so long

It feels like something's off when I'm not depressed

I got some issues that I won't address

I got some baggage I ain't opened yet

I got some demons I should put to rest

I got some traumas that I can't forget

I got some phone calls I been avoiding

Some family members I don't really connect with

Some things I said I wish I would of not let slip

Some hurtful words that never should of left my lips

Some bridges burned, I'm not ready to rebuild yet

Some insecurities I haven't dealt with, yes

I'll be the first to admit that I'm a lonely soul

And the last to admit I need a hand to hold

Losing hope, headed down a dangerous road

Strange, I know, but I feel most at home when I'm

Living in my agony, watching my self-esteem

Go up in flames acting, like I don't

Care what anyone else thinks, when I know truthfully

That that's the furthest thing from how I

Feel, but I'm too proud to open up and ask ya

To pick me up and pull me out this hole I'm trapped in

The truth is, I need help, but I just can't imagine who

Who I'd be if I was happy

Your dad listed outside your door as he took in the words and began to worry and hope that you were just going through an edgy phase but with his experience, and his gut, he knew that is wasn’t just a trivial thing.

Don't know what's around the bend

Don't know what my future is

But I can't keep on living in

Living in my agony, watching my self-esteem

Go up in flames acting, like I don't

Care what anyone else thinks, when I know truthfully

That that's the furthest thing from how I

Feel, but I'm too proud to open up and ask ya

To pick me up and pull me out this hole I'm trapped in

The truth is, I need help, but I just can't imagine who

Who I'd be if I was happy

If I was happy

If I was happy

As you put down the guitar and walked up to the recording device you spoke.

“Dad, I know that you’re probably upset… no… you’re definitely upset and I’m sorry for causing you this pain, but I just couldn’t keep living like this. The pain is never ending and I don’t think it ever will. You’ve been so great to me all these years and I love you so much… I … I’m sorry. I know it hurts and I don’t ever want you to blame yourself for what I chose to do. I’m sorry I hurt you and you don’t ever have to forgive me for taking my own life, I know I won’t forgive myself for the pain it’s causing you. There wasn’t anything you could have done to prevent this… I love you… and I always will…”

You couldn’t continue as your tears overflowed and you couldn’t stop yourself from crying. As you fell to the floor with your face in your hands a pair of sting arms wrapped around you and pulled you into a strong chest. Through your crying you could hear the crying of another person, and through your tears you saw the familiar black shirt and white capture scarf that belonged to your dad.

As you cried you wrapped your arms around your dad and continued to cry into his shoulder. He pulled you into his lap and cradled you in his arms as he held you tightly, afraid to let you go.

“I’m so sorry that you feel this way but please don’t do anything drastic, please. Baby I love you so much and I don’t know what I would do if I lost you. You mean everything to me and you’re the reason I come home every day. You’re my world and my everything. So please… please… don’t kill yourself or hurt yourself anymore. I don’t think my heart could take it”

Aizawa cried as he spoke softly into your hair as he held you. He remembered the day he first met you in the hospital. Your tiny newborn body was so small, your little hand could barely wrap itself around his pinky finger, but you held his hand for the first time. Your tiny little hand held onto his finger as tears spilled down his cheeks as he took in the sight of his newborn child. He feel in love at first sight as he held your tiny body. He vowed to protect you and be there for you no matter what.

And you opened your eyes and looked into his. You were his whole world. The only things that existed in the moment were Aizawa and his newborn child. To him, you’re everything, you’re what he fight to come home to, you’re his reason to live and survive even the most gruesome and brutal fights. He’ll never give up and he’ll always come home to you. After all, that’s the promise he made you when he first met you.

As you both pulled away and looked into each other’s teary eyes, you smiled and laughed.

“What’s so funny”

“You’ve got snot on your shoulder… I’m so sorry”

You apologized but couldn’t help but laugh at that for whatever reason. Your dad just smiled softly and wrapped his arms around you.

“You do realize I changed your diapers when you were a baby right? You puked on me, shit on me, there’s no body fluid that you haven’t already gotten on me” he smiled as you laughed even harder at the image of a younger him covered in baby vomit with a grossed out face.

As you both laughed and he told you stories of you as a baby, he remembered everything he loved about you.

“I love you sweetheart, I always will. Tomorrow, we are going to the hospital to get your mental health evaluated and whatever happens, I promise I’ll be there for you, okay”

“Okay”

You gave you dad one last hug before cleaning everything up and you decided to take a bath before bed.

(I might make a part 2 to this so if you’re interested in a part 2, just comment 2 or part 2 to let me know if anyone is interested in a sequel of this fic.)

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x reader platonic #aizawa x reader comfort #aizawa x child reader #dadzawa

[writingsbyzuzu]

Don’t Get The Blues

Sheriff!Ted Nivison x Outlaw!Reader

if I made a typo on this one sorry pookies I tried my best to proofread

I’m glad y’all liked one, here’s two, I hope you enjoy

two- from a dream I’m waking up

Ted brushed his clammy hands on his pants, watching you for the longest time. Eddy approached, still scribbling in his notebook, before seeing you, children running around you as you laughed. “Do you know her?” Eddy asks. Ted jumps at the sudden approach, and blushes. “She and I grew up together at the orphanage. Thick as thieves back then, never left each other’s sides.”

“Then what?” Eddy asks. “I got adopted, and left her there. Left all of them there. We drifted apart, I grew into my new father’s money, and she stayed here. Nowhere else to go.” Eddy nods, as the two of them watch you.

“Things don’t have to change, peach.” Ted looks at you, earnestly, as you tie his tie. “I’m going to come back for you, once I earn money. He’s rich... We’ll fix this place. I’ll marry you and you can do whatever you like, and no one will look down at you for being poor and unmarried. Whatever you want to do with your life.” You look at Ted, his eyes full of naivety even at 15 years old. You knew better. His whole life was about to transform. The six of you didn’t fit in that new puzzle. Especially you. You shake your head. “It’s no use Teddy. You aren’t going to come back for us.” Ted looks at you incredulously. “Of course I will. You’re my best friend. You- you’re all my best friends. They’re like my brothers. I cannot live without you all.” You shake your head once more, finishing the knot. “I think you and I both know that the rules are going to change for you after this, Teddy. You can’t marry me.” You hold his hand for a minute, and there’s a knock at the door. You drop his hand as the orphanage caretaker and Ted’s new adoptive father step in. You step away from him, clearing your throat, before saying “Farewell, Theodore.” Ted gains a pained expression on his face like you just scalded him with hot water.

“Ready to go, son?” The banker outstretches his hand. The banker looks at you with a look of slight disdain, before smiling at Ted. It all but confirms your feelings. It puts a nail in the coffin of yours and Ted’s childhood dreams. Ted nods, handing him his suitcase, and walks with him. He turns to look at you one last time, mouthing “I promise.”

Theodore Nivison never kept his promises. Not ones to you, at least.

The two men stepped forward, but were stopped almost immediately. “Theodore Nivison.” Hasan stood before them. His eyes were dark, hardened by an anger Ted recognized. “It’s Sheriff,” he responds coldly. “Oh I know. Where do you think you’re going?” Hasan crosses his arms, and the two men stare each other down. “We have to interview everybody,” Eddy chimes in, a smile on his face. He puts out his hand. “Edward Burback, deputy. Nice to meet you.” Hasan shakes his hand, but his gaze never leaves Ted’s. “Mind telling us where you were this morning?” Ted asks through gritted teeth. He was kind of hoping, praying even, that Hasan would just somehow confess that he did it so Ted could just move him out of the way.

“I was with that young lady over there.” Hasan points in your direction. “Helped her round up what little cattle we have.”

“I’ll ask her that,” Ted murmurs, pushing to move past Hasan. “Don’t.” Hasan almost growls. “She shouldn’t have to talk to you, she doesn’t want to.” Ted keeps going, shaking his head. Hasan scoffs, turning on his heel to go back to where Schlatt stood. Before he stalked off completely out of earshot, Ted heard him mumble. “It’s just like you to ignore what we want regardless.”

Ted approached you, Eddy directly behind him. “Hello. It’s good to see you.” Your laughter had died as Ted approached. “What do you want?” If looks could kill, he swore he would be on fire at that moment. “Mr. Barker of the main General store was robbed. We believe a young lady was kidnapped by the robbers not far from here. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I think I would perish if something bad happened…happened to you young ladies and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

“How about perishing regardless?” You forcibly smile at him before shutting the book in your lap. It pissed you to no end that he was here. He didn’t really care about seeing your lives after your adoption, he didn’t come when something bad happened to the lot of you, but he’d come when a rich man got robbed two miles away. You knew it was his job now, but seriously? Eddy butts in. “Deputy Burback. Say miss, you didn’t see or hear anything did you? I would like to reiterate that this robbery happened about a mile or two from here. Anyone stand out?”

You shake your head at Eddy. “I brought in the cattle and then I’ve just been with the children all day. Not really any opportunities to see something amiss. I apologize.”

You felt bad for the poor deputy. His first day and he was stuck with Ted, who in turn, was stuck in your pasts. “I don’t think you’re going to find what you’re looking for here, Sheriff, Deputy. I’m sorry,” you said softly, before scooping up a young boy who had begun to cry. Ted watched you for a moment. And for a moment, he had felt like the one robbed, not Mr. Barker.

✩⭑✩

It was nighttime now, Ted and Eddy had long since gotten their horses and left. They didn’t find anything, and even if the other outskirters knew it had been the six of you who had done the robbery, they wouldn’t have said anything regardless. The people have the same thought process you did. The six of you stand around the fire, as you stirred the pot of beans. “When’s the next one?” you ask, looking over at Hasan and Kurtis. Kurtis thinks for a moment before responding. “There should be a carriage coming in to Mr. Barker’s store in a few days.” Schlatt, who was moving to pass you the bowls, looks over at Kurtis. “Do we really want to target him a second time? It’s going to seem like we’re targeting him.” You pour beans into the bowls, before speaking. “Good. It’ll throw those idiots off.”

“That Burback fellow didn’t seem like an idiot, thank you,” Hasan murmured, grabbing his bowl from your hand. “Well, Ted is an idiot and he’s Burback’s leader,” Schlatt said. “Don’t call him that, We are not his friends, he is nothing to us. His name is Sheriff Nivison.” You shove Schlatt’s bowl into him, and he looks at you with pity, before taking his spoon and beginning to eat. “I need to go to town next week, buy some supplies,” Charlie says in between bites. You sit next to him as you begin to eat. “I’ll accompany you,” you reply, smiling at him before eating. “None for me?” You hear a callout, as Ludwig approaches. He takes off his gloves, looking at the five of you. “I just worked the whole day and you didn’t even plate me a bowl.” He shakes his head incredulously. “She might be a woman but she’s not our wife, plate your own damn bowl,” Schlatt retorts before shoving a large spoonful of the beans into his mouth. “You’re one to talk, I’ve been plating your bowl since you were 14!”

The six of you laugh.

✩⭑✩

Hasan watches you as you pull back the blanket. “I tried to stop him. I know you don’t want to see him.” He spoke so softly, that you would have all but missed it if you weren’t used to it from sharing a room for ten years. “I don’t know what you mean,” you murmur, removing your hair pin and combing through the strands. “You know you don’t have to pretend with me. You don’t have to lie to me.” You sigh, putting the hairpin on the dresser, before looking at him. He gazes at you, and you can’t tell if it’s pity or sadness or mourning or what have you.

You’ve never been good at reading Hasan. But he would argue he knew you second best behind one person. “You love him. You love him, and you need to stop pretending you don’t.” You raise your eyebrows before moving to get on the bed. “Hasan, I don’t want to discuss this.” He lays next to you, and the two of you lay in silence for a moment. “Tell me Schlatt is not right. That you aren’t doing it out of spite. I, Charlie, and the rest of them, will follow you to the ends of the earth if you ask. This was your idea. If it’s spite, your anger is going to escalate and get us killed. And if I was going to die for you, that’s not how I’d want to go.” He tucks your hair behind your ear, and the two of you hold a look. “My anger is not going to interfere. He isn’t going to help the people where it matters. We can if we do this.”

“Say it.”

“I love him. But I was never meant to marry him, and I am not doing this out of spite. I want to do more, but we were thrust into this world without the ability to do more. This is what we can do.” He lays there in silence, staring into your eyes.

“To the ends of the earth,” he whispers. “To the end, old friend.” He rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “I’m sorry you couldn’t marry him. But we could marry, if you wanted. Or Charlie. We’ve always taken care of each other. You’d be safest with one of the two of us.”

You turned onto your back as well, taking a moment. “I’ll think about it.”

✩⭑✩

Ted lays next to you on the grass, the two of you staring at the stars. You’re 11 years old, sneaking out of your orphanage bedrooms to look at the sky, an activity you’ve done every week since you befriended Ted. “If we see a shooting star-“

“When, Teddy. When.”

“When we see a shooting star, what are we going to wish for?”

“We get money. Not a lot, but enough to help. Enough for everyone not to be hungry. For everyone to be happy.”

“That’s a far shot.”

“What do you mean?” You turn your head to look at him.

“I don’t think there’s enough money in the world to keep everyone happy. Those men in town, they have all the money they could need and they are still unhappy.” He turns to gaze at you.

“Well. Then just enough to keep us happy. And enough to help as many people as we can. Until we can’t do it anymore,” you give a decisive nod, turning back to the sky. “Any other wishes?”

“One. But I won’t tell you.”

“Can I tell you mine?” Ted asks, his small hand grabbing yours. You nod. “You can’t tell anyone. But I picture us. In a house. We get married, and we’re happy.”

“I like that dream,” you whisper. You squeeze his hand. And then the two of you see it. A shooting star. “Make a wish,” Ted whispers. And you do.

Ted sits up in bed, rubbing his face. It’s been a week since the robbery, and he’s no further in determining anything than he was when he saw you. He gets up, getting dressed. He figures he’ll get breakfast at the local saloon before meeting with Eddy, so he steps out of his home. When he arrives, he sees you, walking down the road, arm in arm with Charlie. He takes a deep breath in, and decides to approach. You and Charlie stop, seeing Ted approach. Charlie looks at you, and you squeeze his arm with your hand. “Hello,” Ted says quietly, his eyes flitting between you, Charlie, and your hand, still on his arm. “Interesting to see you both.” “It’s good to see you, Sheriff.” Ted’s eyes widen at your matching soft tone. “It’s good to see you too.”

“What are you-“

“What-“

You speak at the same time. You gesture for him to go first. “What are you doing in town?” “Oh. I can’t go alone, and I didn’t want Charlie going alone. It doesn’t look good for an unmarried woman to be unchaperoned, even if she is lower class. Between that and the robbers who took that poor woman, it’s just not safe.”

“Well,” Ted began, “Needless to say, I’ll find them and bring them to justice.”

“I’m sure you will,” you say harshly, an almost sarcastic tone to it. You seem…almost hostile again, and Ted’s stomach drops, before your shoulders soften as you look at him. “I’m sorry, Sheriff. People are giving us looks. Maybe we should be on our way, lest the people think we’re suspicious. We barely get them to serve us our necessities to begin with,” Charlie suggests. Ted looks disappointed, but he nods, stepping to the side. “Until I see you again, Miss. Mr. Dalgleish.” Charlie steps forward, opening the door for you. You turn back to look at him, offering one last smile to him, as you step into the general store. And Ted allows himself to hope. But he also feels confused. Why the sudden hostility by saying he’d catch the robber?

✩⭑✩

“You look familiar.” Mr. Barker eyes you up and down suspiciously, as Charlie is telling the clerk exactly what he needs. “I’d hope so sir, I'm here twice a month to buy beans and salt pork,” you flash your brightest smile at him. “I’m not quite sure that’s it. Say. You’re that girl that’s part of that sharpshooter’s act!” You let out a small breath, unaware you were even holding it, before nodding. “Yes sir, Hasan Piker’s act. He performs out of town usually but he’s done some shows here in Red Oakland.” You continue to smile, as Charlie approaches. “Not bad for a couple of…outskirters like you. Talent may get you out of the slums. That’ll be 4 dollars.” Charlie furrows his brows as he pulls the money out from his bag. “More money than it was last month.” “Pork prices have gone up in the last month. What, you can’t pay? Do I need to bring the sheriff in here?” Charlie shakes his head. “No problem sir, we hold our own.” He puts the money on the counter, before the two of you exit. The two of you walk home, Charlie carrying the sacks of beans and rice, as you hold onto the bandages. As you climb down the hill on the path outside of town, you turn and mumble to him. “I’m glad we’re gonna rob that son of a bitch again.” Charlie throws his head back laughing, and you giggle alongside him.

✩⭑✩

Hasan aims his pistol carefully at the cart barrelling along the path, the sun slowly peeking over the horizon. He shoots, and the bullet hits the wheel, jostling the cart. As the driver stops and gets down from the cart, you and Schlatt sneak up to the driver, the two of you pointing your pistols at his head. Schlatt looks at you and then looks at the driver. He clears his throat and the driver drops what he was holding, startled. “Don’t make this difficult, sir. Give us the money you have and the vials of penicillin. And we’ll let you live,” Schlatt says, as the man slowly rises. The man looks at both of you, before tackling you to the ground, trying to wrestle for your gun, and you cry out. You hear a click. “Get off. Or I’ll shoot.” Hasan is standing over the two of you on the ground, and the man rises. You pick up your gun and also point it. The man gulps, before tossing the money and the vials into the bag. Kurtis, who had snuck up to the cart, pistol whips the man as soon as the bag was handed over.

Hasan examines you for a moment, your elbow bleeding. “Ludwig, give me a bandage.” Ludwig is busy, digging through to see if there’s anything else worth grabbing. “Ludwig!” Hasan raises his voice. Ludwig looks up, having grabbed one, tosses it to Hasan, who gingerly grabs your arm to wrap it. He wraps it quickly, clumsily, before hissing out “We need to move. Now.” The five of you scurry down the path. As you make it back to the cabin, Hasan slams the door. Charlie looks up from sitting at the table, startled. “She cannot come with us anymore.”

You and the others look at Hasan, startled and confused. “I beg your pardon?” you ask, your brows furrowing. “That man heard you cry, he’s going to know you’re a woman and that you’re part of this, and I won’t let you stand by and-“

Charlie walks over to you, examining your arm. “What happened to you?” He goes to adjust the bandages, growing concerned.

Hasan gestures to Charlie, still holding your elbow. “See that’s what I mean. She was hurt today, because that man perceived her as smaller and less of a threat, and now he knows she’s a woman. And she was hurt. We can’t let her get hurt again.”

“If Kurtis didn’t kill him.” Schlatt puts his head in his hand. “This was a bad idea, we’re going to get fucking hung.”

“Alright then, I’ll just fucking not go! I’ll not go anymore and I will just stand back and do nothing right? Just sit there and smile and be the happy little woman baking. You want me to do fucking nothing?”

Hasan looks at you, his eyes pleading. “If it’ll keep you from getting caught and it’ll keep you from getting hurt.”

You look at him, then at the others, and at Charlie. They all look to be in agreement. You look at Hasan, picturing the little boy he once was, who used to compete with Ted and Schlatt and Ludwig in boyhood races, the one who always wanted to beat Ted. And without even thinking about it, it slips out of your mouth, pulling your elbow from Charlie’s grasp. “You sound just fucking like him. You’re no fucking better.” And with that, without even looking to see their faces, to see Hasan’s face, you turn your heel, stomp into your room and slam the door shut.

✩⭑✩

Ted buries his head into hands as the cart driver slams his hands on Ted’s desk. “I was robbed by a woman during sunrise! You must do something!” Ted nods, groaning. “Yes, I understand that Mr…?” “Linus! Linus! I told you. Oh it was those forsaken outskirters, I know it was. So grimy, no money. Only they would have a woman robber.” Ted lifts his head, nodding, before having the man escorted back to the general store. “What do you think, Eddy?” “I think we ought to go back to the outskirts, push around more.” And with that, the two men headed off again. But as they arrive at the outskirts, seeing your cabin, Eddy calls out to Ted. Ted turns. “I don’t want to disrespect you. I don’t want to disrespect your past.” Ted looks at Eddy, before motioning him to continue speaking. “But thinking of the logic so far. There are five robbers. We know one’s a woman. They’re probably very close in relations.”

“Edward, don’t say what I think you’re about to say.”

The two men look at each other quietly, before Eddy speaks again. “I hope I am mistaken.”

Ted looks at the cabin, seeing his childhood friends working around the land. “I hope we are too.”

#don’t get the blues #ted nivison x reader #hasanabi x reader #charlie slimesicle x reader #jschlatt x reader #reader had a moment of weakness but she’ll be angry at Ted again soon enough #This isn’t the last robbery reader will commit #have trust

[daydreamerdrew]

Contact Comics (1944) #2

#I’m intrigued by the gender politics of this #as Black Venus this character is essentially taking on the role of an official pilot #while her tracking down the body of this pilot and then vowing revenge for his death has a romance framing #I think it’s also a kind of narrative that’s commonly used for ‘brothers in arms’-type characters #her competence as a pilot also wasn’t questioned in last issue’s story by the other characters #and there and here it’s not being remarked upon that she flies well for a woman in the narration #I like that Black Venus cries when she finds the body and then directs those feelings into #‘I’ll get him for this- I’ll kill him if it’s the last thing I do!’ #also the Agent X that murdered the pilot is revealed to be a woman #when Black Venus learns this she’s really startled #and Agent X says ‘Don’t let that deceive you! I can still defeat you!’ #she does not actually as Black Venus succeeds in murdering her #also it seemed to me that this pilot was not the same primary love interest from the first story that stood out from all the other pilots #so I was thinking that Black Venus' civilian job as a U.S.O. girl would give her a revolving door of love interests #but then at the end of this story she dramatically declares that because of this pilot’s death #‘From now on no matter how many people are around me I will always be alone!’ #/if/ they actually maintain that she’s swearing off romance then that would be an interesting conflict with her job #aviation press #black venus #my posts #comic panels #racist language tw

[latinokaeya-moving]

treated myself to the very short beginning section of three houses just now but i had to stop n turn off my switch when the game asked me to pick a house bc i started agonising over whether to go w edelgard first or just jump straight into the claude route

#x #fe posting #everyone and their momma says to leave verdant wind for last bc it’s the most satisfying to tie up all loose ends route #and to do azure moon or crimson flower first. bc they work better as one of the first routes #and i TOLD myself ok ok sure i’ll do edelgard first then that’s fine. i like her and a lot of the black eagle characters im sure it’ll be #fun. but meeting claude in game and giggling n twirling my hair over everything he says is KILLING MEEEEEE i can’t abandon him i can’t IM #GONNA FEEL SOOOO BAD #he’s so charming crying real tears rn. i Know what i need to do but man…. pain n suffering … #i remember seeing a take somewhere once that said smth abt how claude gets so permanently shut out of the true potential of his goals on any #route that doesn’t pick him bc he doesn’t get the chance to really establish himself / figure out all the secrets of the game #and so he’s just narratively. barred/locked out from his dreams for good. and ever since i read that it makes me wanna crawl up n DIE when #i think abt it CLAUDE. CLAUDEEEEEEEEEEEE 😭😭😭😭😭😭 #also just in general he’s SOO funny and quirky i love him so much he only said like maybe ten lines total but he’s literally such a riot #playing the game while knowing what his entire deal is is HILARIOUS he’s so fucking funny. and painfully tragic even from the get go. AUGH #one of his first things being calling himself the embodiment of distrust is so. it’s just so!!!!! like he WANTS u to know it’s all an act #EVERYONE knows it he’s not being subtle at all BUT THATS THE POINT!!!!! bc if everyone knows it’s an act that he plays around w then they #wont go snooping around as much!!!! AUGHHHHHHHHH !!!! CLAUDE !!!! #im going crazy i shouldn’t have played this i need to finish my last assignment first. n then i can lose my mind over claude #OHHH also can i just say his + edelgards first interactions are SOOOOO funny they’re so much fun. i love their little banter n back n forth #literally iconic showstopping no one can top them EVER #anyways. it’s almost 3am i need to sleep n write my essay tmrw lol

[scoreplings]

almost four months out from ending a ten year long friendship / three year long relationship. seven years of saying we’d live together our whole lives and planning the house we’d move into together. where we’d build our life together. and that life isn’t going to exist now. and it sucks. and it hurts. but i am doing better now than i have in years. and its bittersweet because of that pain. but its still good. i have people in my life who love me. i have family, and friends, and a boyfriend i love so much it makes me feel crazy. and i’m about to move across the country and get a chance for as fresh of a start as i could ask for. anyone who’s hurting or hopeless or heartbroken i want you to know things do get better. you do get over it. you do keep on living. you find people and things that make you happy and you move on. you’ve got better things coming for you ❤️

#i am stupid in love and i was thinking today #like what if that guy was it for me yknow? what if he was my soul mate what if the fact we were together so long means we were meant to be #together forever and ive made a terrible mistake and i should have tried harder #but yknow what? #1) he never tried for me. it was always me reaching out to fix things no matter who’s ‘fault’ an issue was. and i dont want to do that for #the rest of my life. #and 2) so what! i was not happy with him. i was miserable to the point of sucidality while i was with him. if that’s my soulmate then i dont #want one! #and of course getting him out of my life hasn’t fixed everything. #i am still depressed sometimes. #but a year ago i was having daily anxiety attacks and physically self harming and making plans to kill myself #now the last time i had an anxiety attack was about a week ago. and i cant remember the one before that #ive been suicidal once that i can remember in the past two weeks and i had no plan and took no action toward it. #just last a few hours until i calmed down and ive been fine since. #its. really incredible. #how good for me cutting him out was. even if it made me miserable for awhile #i dont think i’ll be ‘over’ him for a long time. but i am at the very least able to say with certainty its a good thing hes out of my life #sorry for being cringe anyway. goodnight i love you

[gojonanami]

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

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

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x sorcerer!reader

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

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

✧ wc: 16,043

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yup, you have a headache now. 

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

Why were you considering this? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He said your name, “Well?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gojo, this is—“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No one can see us,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gojo, I didn’t ignore you—“ 

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

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

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

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

“How long will you be gone?” 

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

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

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

“You don’t have to—“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were already there. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Isn’t it like 2:00 AM there?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Gojo—“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You glanced at the time, he’s late. 

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

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

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

It was probably the latter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A bad rom com,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was unspoken. 

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

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

Your eyes are growing heavy. Maybe not ever. 

Your neck hurts. 

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

Or what you thought was your bed. 

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

Gojo. 

Gojo??? 

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

You really should have fucking known better. 

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

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

Fuck. Your. Life. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?” 

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

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

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

Unfortunately, you did not fall into that special category.

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

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

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

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

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

Right. Tomorrow. The wedding. 

Fuck. You were so screwed. 

KNOCK. KNOCK. 

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

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

Another knock. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Naoya raises an eyebrow, “Girlfriend?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like it always never was. 

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

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

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

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

“My apartment isn’t—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But what you said—“ 

“I said what I had to—“ 

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t have to—“ 

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

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

“Give you what?” 

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

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

No, it was. It was, right? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Slap. It’s definitely a slap. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he realized it was you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, it was real.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How about we make breakfast together?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t know what to do with yourself. 

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

And you supposed the soul wasn’t present. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was expecting to meet 

I suppose we’re on the same page,” 

He tilts his head, “Really?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You needed to talk to him in person. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he’s blinking, “Why?” 

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

“But you didn’t—” 

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

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

“No I don’t—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—“ 

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

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

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

And this time he doesn’t stop you. 

It’s for the best. 

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

It was for the best. 

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. You were home. 

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

Gojo? 

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

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

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

Satoru was…getting married? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even if it wasn’t with you. 

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

So you wait. 

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

That wasn’t Satoru. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#sab [mlist] #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo fanfiction #satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo fluff

[gutsby]

Wedded Bliss

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.

Warnings: 18+. Dubcon. Corruption kink. Virginity loss. Arranged marriage between enemies. Brat taming. Breeding kink. Beefy, mob boss Bucky devolving into a fall-to-his-knees-just-to-fuck-you kind of horny mess.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You kissed him and wished him dead in the same breath. You said ‘I do’ and meant ‘I don’t,’ exchanged your vows like your own last rites, and felt him slip the ring on your finger as if he’d just tightened a noose around your neck.

You didn’t want to be a bride, and you sure as hell didn’t want to be the bride to Mr. James Buchanan Barnes.

Frankly, you were mortified.

And terrified, too, now that you knew your groom might actually kill you in the kitchen of your honeymoon suite.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

“I walked down the aisle, didn’t I?”

Another plate went crashing on the wall behind your husband’s head just as he managed to duck. He side-stepped a spray of porcelain and glass and probably crushed several hundred shards beneath his polished black oxfords when he walked—stalked—over to you.

You’d just reared back to hurl a serving plate at his face when you found your speed swiftly outmatched. Bucky had your elbow gripped between his forefinger and thumb in less than a second, and, pinching the bone like he might readily break it, he said, even as always,

“Put it down.”

You did as he told you and dropped the platter to the floor with a crash.

Rather than berate you for the broken china—or the four other pieces before it—your husband only smiled.

“Are we done?”

Hell, you wanted to be. Slide over a pen and a one-way plane ticket to someplace in BFE, and you’d be signing those divorce papers in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, your dear husband was just referring to the temper tantrum.

You weren’t totally sure if you were finished on that front, so you looked him up and down and shrugged.

“Now darling—” he started.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Light of my life—”

“I’ll kill you.”

Your cool, level-headed groom took each gibe like it was his sworn duty, and only when he yanked your wrists behind your back and shoved you toward the bedroom door did you sense that he might not be too pleased with your behavior.

Your knees struck the edge of the California King at the center of the room, and before you could will yourself not to fall face-first, Bucky nudged you hard again.

Still pinning your hands behind you, he followed your collapse on the bed and leaned over your prone body.

His breaths were hot on your ear; you could tell he was smiling as he started to hike your dress up your legs.

“It’s all part of the deal, doll.”

You wriggled under his hold and tried to angle yourself better to see him, hoping he’d see your scowl.

“The deal was to get married,” you reminded him.

“Mhmm,” Bucky hummed, just then starting to trail a finger up the uncovered skin of your calf with his other hand, “And what is it that married people do?”

You kicked your foot reflexively, paused, then said,

“Fight. Constantly. Probably resent each other for the better part of two decades before we finally decide that ‘making it work’ for the kids isn’t worth it at all, and I claim half of everything you own in a bitter divorce.”

That earned a chuckle from Bucky. He kept his roaming hand brushing up the back of your thigh and squeezed the flesh just below the swell of your rear.

“Don’t worry, my lawyer drafted a pretty good prenup.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but then he was tracing the contour of your ass with his palm, and you cut yourself short. Bucky carried on, careless as ever.

“But the kids you mentioned,” he said, “How are we supposed to get those?”

You pursed your lips and tried hard not to move when his fingers drifted inward—you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm. The bottom of your dress was bunched around your hips now, leaving you sorely exposed. Had your bridesmaids not thrust that stupid white lingerie set upon you hours before the wedding, you probably would’ve chosen something a little more modest than a thong. But here you were.

At least the sight seemed appealing to your husband, whose eyes hadn’t left you once while his hands grew even hungrier to feel your warmth.

“I’m hoping a sperm donor or one of your double-crossing mobster friends will knock me up, honestly,” you said, feigning enthusiasm at the thought.

A tart slap delivered to your ass told you that Bucky hadn’t found that funny. After, he started kneading the skin a bit harder.

“No shot,” he shook his head, suddenly gliding his fingers down closer to your core and waiting for you to say something in protest, “Only one that’s gonna be pumping this thing full of babies is me, I promise.”

It was like he wanted your retaliation, whether that be by a thinly veiled look of disgust or a reactionary jab of your own. You weren’t keen on fulfilling any wish of his, but at this point, you felt you had no other choice. When you sensed he was distracted by the newly-discovered heat between your legs and had loosened his grip on your wrists, you flipped yourself over on the bed. Shoved at his chest before he knew what to do with himself.

Of course, the push didn’t send him far, but it was enough to get his attention—and his hands off of you.

“I’m not having your babies, Barnes! I am never going to fuck you, no matter how long we stay fake married,” you spat.

At that, Bucky just raised his eyebrows and wet his lips. You were cramming your wedding dress back into place, glaring at him the whole time, and were scarcely more aware of the bright, teeming city outside the window than you were of your husband’s own growing erection.

Finally, you’d said it. His new wife wouldn’t fuck him. The sound of your resistance was almost a pleasure unto itself, and the longer you stared at Bucky with growing contempt and resolve not to do that thing, the more determined he became to make it happen.

Cat-and-mouse games had long been a staple in his life, and he was pleased to see them carry into his marriage as well. Surely if he’d triumphed in every pursuit for the last twenty years—facing the likes of some seriously execrable bandits and racketeers—he could take on a bratty woman less than half his size. You said you didn’t want his babies now, but just wait until he’d fucked you full of his cum once or twice. You’d be begging him for it in no time at all, and shortly thereafter, he’d have you barefoot and pregnant as many times as he liked. Always swollen with one of his children and whining for more.

The woman before him now had a murderous glint in her eyes, but he could fuck that away easy. In fact, he would live to do it. He traced the outline of your thigh over your dress and smiled when you tried not to recoil.

“Surely you didn’t think we’d be finger-painting and reading poetry to each other on our wedding night, hm?” he asked, almost delicately.

“Thought you might have one of your other women lined up,” you snorted. When you tried to move away, Bucky pinched your leg to make you stay. You winced.

“That’s not funny,” he said, a little more consternation in his tone. Like he actually cared whether you thought him a profligate Lothario or not, “Now that we’re married, it’s only you and me. No mistresses, nothing.”

Yeah, and he was just as likely arriving to your marital bed a blushing virgin. You rolled onto your side and pretended not to feel him tighten his grip as you did.

“Try the carnal part of our marriage yourself and I’m sure you’ll find I’m an exceptional fuck,” Bucky continued, speaking low as he stroked the chiffon of your dress.

You didn’t doubt the man was good—certainly the extent of his sexual escapades as a twenty-something seemed to demand it—but exceptional? No fucking way. You knew men like Bucky, with the world and every walking pair of tits at their fingertips, and almost all were incurably selfish. Cocky. The kind to jackhammer a woman for three consecutive minutes, roll over, and say, ‘Did you cum?’

No, there was not a snowball’s chance in hell your husband’s sexual prowess was even half as good as he claimed it was. Deciding to bite your tongue for the first time that night, though, you just stared at him blankly.

What you didn’t know was that your silence only stoked the flames of his ego, prompting him to press the matter further.

“What? You think I can’t fuck?” he said, “Any woman lucky enough to bed me has cum at least twice. Every time.”

Sure they did, Bucky, you wanted to say, but were suddenly drawn into his lap before you could speak.

“But let’s pretend I can’t,” he said, heedless of the face you made as soon as you were straddling his hips, “You wouldn’t let your husband prove himself tonight?”

“I don’t fuck strangers.”

Bucky smiled at that.

“Everyone’s a stranger until you get to blow them, honey,” he teased, squeezing your hips when you didn’t seem amused at all. Then you let out a cry, feeling yourself thrown back on the mattress like a rag doll while Bucky moved off.

Before you knew it, he was tugging your ankles down the length of the bed and widening his stance just a bit. He stopped pulling once your knees were grazing his black dress pants and your feet were dangling off of the bed.

“You like skylines?” he asked.

You frowned and raised a brow that he was quick to interpret as a ‘yes.’ He hauled you onto your feet.

“‘Course you do. All pretty girls like pretty skies,” he rattled on, strolling with you step-by-step to the set of French doors at the end of the room.

Bucky led you out to the balcony. The air was warm as it ever was, dull gusts of the evening wind curling up from the coastline below. Just as your husband had promised, the skyline of Santorini greeted you on either side, and you had to admit, it was more than just pretty. The views from your villa were absolutely breathtaking.

You stood with your back to Bucky, hands resting on the marble balustrade, and you felt him there, behind you. You didn’t bother to tilt your head when he drew even closer.

“What do you like most about it?” The question was simple enough, punctuated with a kiss on your shoulder. Your eyes scanned the horizon, the sea, even the quiet little streets down beneath, and you racked your brain trying to think of an answer that might satisfy him.

Before you could, though, you sucked in a breath when you felt your dress start to come undone at your back.

Bucky was unzipping your gown, gentle as ever, and probably grinning from ear to ear as he watched you shift uncomfortably in place and try to hold the material above your breasts where it had been fastened all day. Presently, you kicked your heel backward and hoped it would land somewhere near his balls. You missed.

“James,” you hissed.

Bucky groaned at the sheer intonation of his name on your lips.

“Yes, dear?”

“Why are you undressing me?”

Bucky had successfully dragged the zipper all the way down to your ass, and it seemed he was trying to shimmy the dress off your frame. You held on tight.

“I’d like to fuck my bride over the balcony railing, if that’s alright with you,” he answered truthfully.

The man was nothing if not blunt and crass. You turned around to give him a look, yanking your gown even closer to your chest.

“I’ll— I’ll tell my mother, Barnes.”

You felt stupid as soon as you’d said it—using your go-to threat whenever you were in distress. What were you, eleven?

“Your mother?” Bucky repeated, words steeped in derision, “Last I recall, mommy dearest was practically begging me to get you pregnant at the reception.”

Your jaw clenched, and you internally cursed your whole family. Your parents were supposed to be on your side throughout all of this—it was bad enough they’d pawned you off to a mob boss of unrivaled infamy all to settle a debt, but this? Your mother had assured you just the day before that Mr. Barnes was bound to tire of you within the year. No mention of sex or babies whatsoever.

The same mother who had beat you over the head with the notion of your own virginity since you were old enough to read, the one who had underscored just how important it was to wait for the right man to give yourself body, mind, and soul to, turning around and telling this filthy criminal to have you any way he liked. And knock you up? The fucking nerve of that woman.

You were so preoccupied with thoughts of your own backstabbing family that you hardly felt Bucky drag your dress the rest of the way down your body. It was only when you were completely bare before him, and your husband had just started to skim his lips over your tummy that you tensed with surprise.

“I don’t have to fuck you just yet, doll,” he murmured, having sunk to his knees and only moving lower. Then the corners of his lips twitched, “Least not with my dick.”

You tried to pry his head from between your legs before he could stretch his tongue so much as an inch.

“James!”

Again with that name.

“You know, I love when you call me that, Mrs. Barnes.”

Bucky was peering up at you now, soaking in the sight of your body in a white lace bra, panties, and stockings.

“Is my bride feeling shy?” he teased, gently nipping at your inner thighs.

You weren’t sure what you were feeling in that moment, to be honest. Revulsion, betrayal, arousal, you name it—each crowned with an all-encompassing hatred for the man currently occupying the space between your legs—while a still stronger desire almost hoped he would stay.

“You can hate your husband all you want and still let him tonguefuck you,” Bucky growled against your skin.

Like he’d read your mind.

In reality, your husband hardly needed the powers of telepathy to tell him just how turned on you were; the sopping wet spot in your panties said as much. From his vantage point, Bucky saw the disgust in your eyes slowly eclipsed by lust, and with a single flick of his tongue, he knew he would have you exactly where he wanted you.

“Just let it happen, honey.”

He felt your fingers thread tight through his hair and the first stir of your hips in tandem. One small, delectable whimper crossed your lips, and it took everything in Bucky not to tear your panties straight off with his teeth.

Instead, the man opted for a soft, gentle lick over your clothed slit. Testing the waters.

Your whimper was quick to meld to a moan, and then, just as fast:

“N-no, Bucky.”

To your dismay, his tongue didn’t retreat, only making firmer laps against your centre while his lips grazed the lace. He gripped your thighs and wedged himself deeper, and again, you cursed the paper thin fabric of your panties for letting you feel everything his mouth was doing. He hadn’t even made proper contact with your cunt, and your knees were already starting to shake.

He pressed a kiss above your clit through the flimsy material, and you almost tore a clump of hair from his head.

“No. Please.” You hardly made sense to yourself; it was clear you wanted his touch, but something inside you wasn’t quite ready to submit to the idea that this was all okay. That your husband’s tongue and lips might be meant for something like this, and you didn’t have to feel so guilty for wanting it either. Fucking purity culture.

“My pretty girl,” Bucky presently murmured above the fabric, words sending a dozen little shockwaves in their wake, “My beautiful fucking wife.”

The man inhaled your scent and could’ve sworn he was in ecstasy. Blinded by desire as he was, he really wasn’t bullshitting in the slightest when he gathered you to him and said you were the best; he’d genuinely grown transfixed by the feel of you, in spite of every fibre of his being telling him not to. The marriage was arranged, fake, and fueled by hatred—and somehow, Bucky couldn’t get enough.

Nor could he wait any longer. One light swipe of his finger tugged your panties aside, and then he was latching on, no cover this time, to take your clit between his lips. Sucking hard, going fast, needing it bad.

A moan rang loud in his ears, and your hand on his head was instantly joined by the other. You yanked his hair like you never had before, pulling so tight at the roots as though your pleasure depended on it. Bucky smiled around the soft pearl in his mouth and flicked it gently with the tip of his tongue.

“Feel good, baby?” he breathed.

His head tilted up to you, and he could see you were struggling just to breathe, face painted with a medley of emotions.

You didn’t know if you could, or should, be feeling this good from a man so evil. Bucky flattened his tongue and licked a long stripe up your pussy to ensure that you would. Then he posed the question again, smirking.

“You like my tongue on this wet, needy cunt?”

His words were so damn obscene, but you nodded anyway. Feeling small and powerless beneath those big, broad hands as they pinned you back on the marble and spread you even wider for the taking.

He loved how innocent and lewd you looked at once, wincing with pleasure and still trying to keep your composure like you thought a good girl should.

Bucky wanted to break that resolve. He brought one hand closer to your entrance.

And, just as your breaths were starting to hitch and grow more ragged in your chest, he pushed two fingers inside. The act surprised your husband almost as much as it did you—not quite, but almost—upon feeling how tight you were, how resistant to even two digits you seemed to be. He hardly knew whether to shove them deeper or pull them out, so fast did your muscles contract around him.

When you whined a loud, protracted, ‘FUCK!’ he figured he would stick with the former. He grinned, having never heard you speak, much less swear, out of pleasure like this.

Your head lolled back and your body made an arch when his fingers curled inside you. You were panting, moaning, coating his hand with your juices, and Bucky knew you were close.

He started pumping his fingers in and out while his tongue worked your clit, chin practically doused in your arousal by now. A swell of pride rose within him: he could finally bring you home to that sweet release, have you a shaking, soaking mess above his face like you were wholly his and no one else’s. He moved his tongue even faster and sank his fingers straight down to the knuckle.

Then, unexpectedly, both were robbed of your touch.

Seized with fear, you shoved Bucky off and stumbled away from his glistening face. You took off toward the doors and fled the balcony before you could think.

“What the f— honey? Honey?!” Bucky sputtered. He bounded after you.

You’d thrown yourself in the master bathroom and locked the door behind you in the blink of an eye. Outside, your husband had only to stare in pure bewilderment and awe, mind reeling at what had just happened.

Fucking hell, he knows. He knows! You collapsed against the door and slid down a couple inches. Your hand reflexively flew to your mouth to stifle the sounds when Bucky began pounding the wood behind you.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What’s—what’s goin’ on?”

In truth, you’d rather chug bleach than divulge the thought that had just scared the everliving fuck out of you back there. It was stupid and senseless and should’ve been frightening you for weeks before it ever came to this, but here you were, panicked in the bathroom of your honeymoon suite because you’d never done this before—and you’d never reached climax in your life without bursting into tears.

Fuck, you felt stupid. How could you think this would be any different—or that Bucky’s tongue wouldn’t eventually attempt to wrest an orgasm out of you?

It’d just felt so good, you thought maybe a new climax brought by someone else’s fingers might free you from the same unsavory demise you’d met a hundred times before, but then it hit you, shortly after Bucky had plunged his fingers inside, you were going to cry.

You winced when Bucky’s knocks grew louder, his voice gaining more ire by the second, it seemed.

“Open the fucking door!”

He’d rake you over the coals for this. Getting so close to what he wanted, only to have his silly little bride snatch it all away and run hiding in the en-suite bathroom? Your stomach turned at the thought of what men in the mob were liable to do with women like you—what Bucky might conceivably do now that you’d sparked his rage.

Your eyes darted to the window just as his fist shook the doorframe behind you. You ran over to the tub, tucked squarely beneath the windowsill, and climbed onto it just to get a hold of the fastenings around the glass.

One click synchronized with the furious cadence being hammered on the door, and just as you started to slide the pane up the way, a heavy thud sounded outside. The weight of your husband’s body being thrust against the door, most likely.

You bit your lip and lifted one leg over the windowsill, shuffling your body even closer to the outside world.

Three floors up! Have you lost your mind? You could hear your father’s words ringing in your skull already. There was a ledge, you reasoned, no more than ten feet below, if you could just grab hold of the frame right there and slide down the cool stone you might—

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned.

You watched your husband heave through the busted door of the bathroom, wide eyes and a ‘Here’s Johnny’ flourish raging hot on his face. Your heart leapt to your throat, and you started to lower yourself out of the window, hoping desperately for that ledge below to be sturdy. But before you could make it even half of the way there, strong arms were circling your frame and yanking you back inside, hurtling straight into the bathtub with Bucky tumbling over you.

“What are you doing?!” he roared.

You wriggled under his weight, petrified of the fiery look in his eyes as he lurched over your frame.

He straightened up just enough to shake you by the shoulders—like a parent reprimanding a child.

“What the fuck was that?! Huh? You think that’s fucking funny, jumping out windows?”

No, no, not funny, you wanted to bite back, but found your mouth dry and unable to speak. When Bucky shook you again, you had only to whimper a pathetic sound.

The man was enraged. Stubble still damp with your juices and looking undeniably frazzled and spent, he drew closer to your face and demanded you look at him. When he took hold of your cheeks in both hands, the command couldn’t have reached you any more clearly.

“What— what was that for?” his voice lowered as he tried to catch his breath. You still couldn’t move.

“I-I don’t—” you stopped and hardly knew how to say it:

Sorry to cut our tonguefucking session short, I was just afraid I might burst into a fit of uncontrollable tears while you licked and sucked me through the best orgasm of my life. I’d rather jump off, or out of, a building than tell my mob boss husband that I can’t cum without crying. By the way, I’m a virgin!

Instead, you just blinked and stared back at him.

“Can’t…do it,” you murmured.

Bucky’s expression only grew more puzzled by the words out of your mouth. He squeezed your face tighter and leaned in even closer.

“Do what? Sex? Fuck, I— I didn’t mean to be that aggressive, hell, I’m sorry.” He stopped to run a hand through his hair, and for the first time, you could’ve sworn you saw the first glint of compunction in his eyes.

He looked away a few seconds, as if collecting what fragmented thoughts he could, then brought his head back down to your level and took your hands in his.

“Honey?” he tried getting your attention, just barely above a whisper now, “I know the whole thing’s fucked, I know.”

That was the understatement of the century. To your surprise, Bucky’s gaze softened when he saw a scowl cross your face.

“We don’t…have to do anything. I was just pushing your buttons earlier. Being a dick.”

His tongue moved to wet his lips once more, this time without the seductive, smug demeanor he usually wore and simply exhibiting discomfort. He swallowed. The bow tie around his neck appeared to him to be fastened far too tight all of a sudden, and then, haphazardly, he started clawing at the garment to get it off.

You didn’t know why you felt compelled to help. It was like all ten fingers just lifted of their own accord to join Bucky’s hands in trying to undo his tie.

The silk fabric wasn’t tied, but knotted, crudely and inflexibly, beneath the little black bow. You frowned. Still unable to meet his gaze as you worked your fingers under the tangled material and tried to pretend like the two of you weren’t still sweating profusely from the events that had just transpired—both the tonguefucking and the window-jumping.

“Who tied this, a five-year-old?” you muttered.

“I’m thirty-eight, thanks,” Bucky returned just as quietly.

Both of you indulged in a smile that lasted no longer than a second, but you felt the tension ease a little.

This was not where you thought your dreaded wedding night was headed before. Curled up in a bathtub with your hands around your husband’s neck—and not actually trying to kill him—while Bucky blinked almost nervously the longer your hands lingered on his collar. It seemed he’d found something especially tantalizing on the wall behind your head, because his stare remained fixed on that spot the whole time you fiddled with his tie.

Maybe that, along with the last ebb of alcoholic influence from the reception still coursing through your veins, had emboldened you to come right out and say it while Bucky was looking away. You couldn’t be sure.

“I’ve never had sex before.”

At last, the tie loosened a little.

Bucky flicked his gaze back to yours in a second.

“What?”

You lifted a brow, wondering if he really needed an explanation as to what it meant to have never gotten laid before, but you decided against indulging him any further. Bucky seemed keen on doing that all by himself.

“You’re a virgin?”

You nodded.

“Didn’t my overbearing mother make sure you knew?”

“Yeah, I thought she was full of shit,” Bucky answered bluntly. Then, catching sight of the semi-offended look in your eye, mixed with a tad more amusement than indignation, he added, “I mean— I didn’t think you’d, uh, wanna wait…twenty-five years for some action.”

He winced when he realized that sounded just as bad. His throat cleared shortly to make way for a new attempt at comity, but you cut him off, shaking your head as you finally got the knot to untangle.

“No, I get it. I don’t know why I waited this long either,” you shrugged.

As soon as you’d freed him from his bow tie, you started to stand from the bath tub. Bucky, too, straightened to his full height and started to close the window while you walked back to the bedroom.

You eyed the rose petals strewn across the duvet and felt a little more relaxed this time around. The weight of the V-word had been lifted from your shoulders, and now you had only to share the crying-while-cumming stuff to Bucky later on. Much later on, you hoped.

You crawled onto the bed and stretched out on your belly, playing with the soft red petals and wondering if room service was still offered at this hour.

Bucky had just stepped out of the bathroom when he halted at the threshold. Saw your body sprawled out on the bed, back arched and ass pointed in the air as you reached over for the phone on the nightstand. He stared for a second too long and felt a familiar stir in his pants.

Sonovabitch, he started to think, before chiding himself silently, Shut up, man, she’s a virgin. Be cool. Be cool—don’t make her jump out a window again.

He ducked back in the bathroom and eased the door to just a crack while you discovered a voice on the line:

“Hi! Hey, I’d like to order room service to, uh…” your voice trailed off. Then, covering the mouthpiece, “James, what’s our room number?”

Inside the bathroom, Bucky squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of his name. Already palming his erection through his dress pants as he leaned against the wall.

“We rented the whole building, dear,” he called back.

“Oh.” He could just imagine the slight pout on your lips as you spoke. Then you asked if he wanted anything to eat, Bucky thought only of the sweet nectar between your legs, and he answered aloud, no, he was fine, really.

For the first time in his life, the man felt positively ashamed he was about to rub one out in a bathroom, alone. It wasn’t like this was the first it had ever been done, but now there was you, innocent and oblivious in the next room over, while Bucky undid his belt and quietly freed his cock from his dress pants. It felt kind of perverted, in a way, but he knew he needed this release to put his mind at ease and not feel so affected by you.

While you scanned your phone for a menu and chatted with the concierge downstairs about various food items, Bucky was spitting in his hand and fumbling for his shaft. You talked American Wagyu sirloin, lobster thermidor, and seared Faroe Island salmon while he thought achingly about the way your cunt had tasted and how badly he wanted to try it again.

How did he feel about an artisan cheese platter? Bucky hardly had the wits about himself to answer beyond a strangled, ‘Whatever you want, honey’ and a tightened fist around his cock, stroking hard to get the filthy thoughts out of his head before the food arrived.

Ever sweet, soft, supple, and savory—his mind reeled with fresh memories of that place between your thighs, and he almost lurched forward in pleasure.

Your brute of a mob boss husband was irreparably pussy-whipped and hadn’t even fucked you yet. He gripped the bathroom sink beside him and sincerely wished it wasn’t his hand doing the work right now. But of course, he had to be patient, had to be kind—couldn’t force himself on a woman who clearly wasn’t ready.

Again, he spit in his palm and jerked himself fast.

Any minute now, he thought with some relief.

Your feet padded softly into the living room as the pleasure inside him was starting to crest. Still pining for your warmth and the way your legs trembled around his head, Bucky was all but fucking his hand at this point. He’d snagged his bottom lip between his teeth in a lopsided smile and groaned, too low to be heard, and pumped himself even faster for his impending orgasm.

A thought crossed your mind as you stopped ahead of the sofa. You pivoted.

Suddenly, you were skipping back to the bathroom, wanting to know Bucky’s wine preferences before you placed another order.

You barged in and froze.

“Sorry!” you squeaked, darting out just as fast.

Five seconds slower and you probably would’ve seen Bucky blow his load all over the sink. As it was, the man was left sorely at a loss for any form of release and heaving fast, ragged breaths from the colossal scare you’d just given him.

Good fucking going, Buck—your wife wants to cuddle and eat cheese and you’re out here beating your meat.

Bucky shoved himself back in his pants and waited an excruciating minute for the sound of your second window exit of the night. A slammed door, a frantic phone call, a few sobs into your pillow as you realized how dirty and depraved your husband was, anything.

He was only met with silence.

Taking one more shaky breath, Bucky reached for the doorknob and started back out. Cautiously.

The man took his slow, silent leave of the bathroom with his gaze trained toward the doors—half-expecting to see his bride rappelling from the balcony—but then quickly shifted to the bed. Finding you kneeling at the edge.

“James?”

Your voice almost pained.

A word was all it took. Bucky was back on his knees.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted it to go away, honey. I’m sorry.”

Go away? You quirked a brow and couldn’t hold his gaze much longer; just trailed your vision down his torso to his pants, then his erection, still standing prominent as ever.

Bucky struggled to decide whether you were ticked off or intrigued, seeing your eyes make their painful appraisal of his length beneath his pants. Your brow was pinched, but your head was cocked. Almost curious.

“Are you mad at me?” you asked, gaze fixed on the spot.

Immediately, Bucky rose to his feet and crawled back on the bed, seizing your body with both of his hands.

“No! No, not mad at all,” he mumbled as he sidled up beside you. Pleased to see you hadn’t recoiled, “I was just, uh…missing you, ‘s’all.”

If his men could see him now, Bucky was sure he’d be the laughing stock of all the town. Doting and kind, eyes softened beyond recognition, he just watched you and wanted nothing more than to repair the smile that had ebbed from your face. Come ridicule, hell, or high water, the man was infatuated with his bride—all broken plates and attempted window escapes be damned.

Presently, you brought your hand down to his bulge.

Bucky stiffened but didn’t speak. He wanted you to do this on your own, of your own volition.

“You seem kinda mad to me.” You hardly knew what you were doing. Just rubbing his length and hoping it was something he’d like.

Where Bucky had wanted to see you smile, you just wanted to hear him grunt and whine—maybe grab your hips and beg you to do something, please. You’d never felt any such degree of control, and you suspected Bucky had never not felt it himself. You wanted him desperate.

You were playing a dangerous game, you knew it, but something inside those baby blues said he wanted to do it, too. Do anything for you, quite frankly.

You watched the rise and fall of Bucky’s broad chest and stroked his length even softer.

“James.”

“Uh-huh?” His mouth hung open with a gentle grunt, fighting every instinct to buck into your touch.

At last, you squeezed his shaft and prodded him on. Let your head drift closer to his so his lips would graze the apple of your cheek, and just when you sensed he wanted a taste, you tilted your face toward his own,

“We haven’t even kissed since the ceremony.”

Bucky stared blankly at you, enrapt with the pulse of your fingers. You could tell he was aching to move.

“Oh yeah?” he murmured.

You nodded a wordless affirmation and slid sharply back in bed as Bucky lunged after you. Your hands flew from his pants to the plush mattress behind you as you shifted—or, rather, scrambled—back in place and felt your husband climb over you hungrily.

“That what my wife wants?” he murmured, frame slotting tight between your legs.

You nodded again, and had only to suck in a breath before Bucky was devouring your lips. The kind of flushed, frantic, filthy kiss that would’ve doubtlessly wrought looks of horror on every face at your wedding had he grabbed you that way after the declarations of ‘I do’ had been spoken.

You loved him like this, impassioned and a bit unhinged.

His tongue worked his way past your lips and scoured every soft, fleshy inch between the insides of your cheeks before he took your face in his hands, kissing you roughly.

Something hard and throbbing nudged your sex, and suddenly you were whining in his mouth. Wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Ah, honey, don’t,” Bucky groaned, visibly straining to contain himself. When you dug your heels even deeper in his back, the groan that followed from him was hoarse and guttural.

“I thought— I…fuck,” your husband turned his head to curse as you grinded your hips up to his. You had to bite back a smile.

“I just wanna do what married people do,” you murmured coyly, pretending not to see when Bucky shot you the most red-hot, wanton look he’d imparted all evening.

“Yeah?” Like a kid in a candy shop the size of Sears.

Bucky took your face in his hands once more and made sure to scan your expression for any shred of doubt. On finding nothing there, he sat panting, half-disbelieving and half-contemplating all the wretched things he wanted to do to you. You squeezed his sides with your thighs and just hoped your husband knew what to do, because, in truth, you didn’t have the first fucking idea.

A few dry, clinical terms flashed before your mind’s eye, along with your mother’s bleak depiction of what treatment lay in store for a woman on her wedding night, and as Bucky started to work his belt and his pants off, you just hoped he wouldn’t be cruel.

He couldn’t be, right? He’d only mowed down a hundred men and dismembered dozens more, you were told, but surely a set of eyes this soft, caring, and kind couldn’t belong to a monster. You let him lift your hips and shimmy your panties, garter belt, and stockings down your legs, and when he returned, you tried your best not to betray the thoughts in your head.

Bucky hadn’t been with a virgin for as long as he could remember—maybe ever. His own ‘deflowering’ an ancient relic of his boyhood and the multitude of partners since then a mere flurry of nameless faces, he sincerely couldn’t recall a time when he’d asked, or cared, whether the woman beneath him had her cherry intact. He didn’t suppose it could be too different, as he peeled the last pieces of your lingerie set off your body and saw you seemed perfectly ready. He ran a finger between your folds and felt you shiver with what looked like excitement. Piece of cake, he thought, smiling.

No doubt he would take great joy in making you his own. His bride, his wife, an unblemished beacon of light in a life as sordid as his, looked perfect spread before him. You would adjust to his size. Bucky trailed the head of his cock up your slit and coated himself in your juices, and just when he’d bracketed his other arm around your head on the pillow, you let out a small sound.

“Are you sure it’ll fit?”

Bucky fisted his length and pressed the tip to your entrance.

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

He hadn’t yet met a woman who wasn’t able to fit him.

“Okay.”

Somehow, your voice sounded even smaller, head lodged between pillows and the crook of Bucky’s elbow. You felt small. Frankly, it didn’t seem like your husband was quite computing the worries that were pervading your brain, but you decided he knew best—your mother had assured you that husbands always did—and when Bucky first pressed the head of himself to the seam of your cunt, you hardly even whimpered.

You watched his brow furrow above you. He tried to go further.

Your folds were as soaked as he’d ever seen a woman’s, your hole practically pulsing with desire, and somehow, he couldn’t push in.

Bucky snagged his lip between his teeth and braced himself with the aid of the headboard, taking your hip in his other hand. A breath sounded on your lips the second he adjusted, and shortly thereafter, he felt your gaze on the same place he was watching: the spot where your bodies were trying to connect.

His features darkened at the prospect of failing, or even appearing incompetent to you in the slightest. He’d done this hundreds of times before, why wouldn’t it work?

When he felt your eyes trail back up his body and study his face—maybe wondering why her new groom hadn’t gotten around to thrusting into her yet, he thought—he felt a swell of panic and pushed.

Against his better judgment and the feel of your body, he muscled his way through and forced his cock inside. Bottoming out in a single, stabbing thrust.

You seized in pain but wanted to be a good wife for him.

Bucky, too, felt his hips stutter at the resistance your walls were giving him, but then remembered how he’d sworn to be a dutiful husband, and kept going.

Together, you stared anywhere but the other’s face and gritted your teeth for two entirely different reasons—you, in agony, and Bucky, in ecstasy, the latter hoping with everything in him that you liked this as much as him.

Bucky took a tender, if not slightly awkward, rhythm rutting against your body and stared steady at the headboard like he always did.

You were in pain and faced with nothing but his hulking chest, moving up and down, back and forth, over and over again like a goddamn seesaw from hell while it felt like your insides were presently being torn to shreds.

Who fucking enjoys this? you wanted to wail, but feigned a moan instead, raking your nails down Bucky’s back, Why isn’t he looking at me? Why isn’t he touching me?

Your walls involuntarily clenched around him, and he swallowed a moan.

Just think of baseball, beer, math, the Roman Empire, anything to keep from busting right now, Bucky told himself as he clenched his jaw and fought to maintain his pace. Your pussy just felt so. fucking. good.

Beneath him, you had tried and failed to fight back tears. The burn was just too much; the longer he thrusted, the more your walls contracted, and confusingly, stupidly, it seemed like he was using you. Your mother was right, most likely, that sex was just a means to an end for men like Bucky, and your husband didn’t care about your pleasure at all. You fought hard to keep the waterworks at bay, that one thing you hadn’t wanted Bucky to see, but eventually, the tears were flowing freely.

You stifled a sob that your husband mistook for a moan.

He fucked you even faster and felt a grin start to twitch at the corners of his lips when you made a sound that seemed consistent with pleasure.

“Feel so fucking tight,” Bucky grunted, about to lower his gaze to your face for the first time since he’d entered you, “So nice and tight and w—hey, hey, baby?”

He stilled inside as soon as he saw that you were crying. Took your face in his hands and almost couldn’t believe the sight of your tear-stained cheeks beneath him.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, scanning your face for any signs of harm.

You just shook your head and tried to brush him off.

“Keep going, I’m good.”

Bucky seemed angered at the suggestion. He brought your face closer to his and stared almost reproachfully down at you. Then he paused a beat and swiped one of your cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked.

“N—”

“Don’t lie.”

You squirmed a bit and winced. That was answer enough for Bucky, and he slowly pulled out of you.

“Aw hell.”

The two of you glanced down to see a blooming red spot on the comforter. Bucky rubbed the blood in disbelief.

He’d gone too far. Again. Hurt something inside of you that couldn’t be fixed with a kiss. While you struggled to sit up among the pillows, Bucky was running a hand through his hair and cursing himself up and down.

“Why didn’t you say something?” he scowled.

“I didn’t wanna interrup—”

“If I’m making you bleed, you stop me, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well you seemed to be having a pretty good time!”

Bucky didn’t need to tell you in words what was painted on his face; he was pissed off and probably bound to slip off the bed any second, when your tears started welling up again. Then he eased off, remembering he was more mad at himself than anyone else, and slid closer to you. He tried pulling you into his chest, but you didn’t budge.

“C’mon,” you said, grabbing his wrist, “Let’s keep going.”

Bucky eyed you incredulously.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh,” you insisted. He shot you a glare but didn’t protest when you guided his hand between your legs.

You were spread back open for him in no time. Still stinging like hell and ready for another go. Bucky almost couldn’t believe it.

“My headstrong wife.” He managed a smile before kissing the crown of your head, and kept right on kissing that spot no matter how far his fingers were traveling.

“You owe me two orgasms, remember, Mr. Barnes?”

It seemed Bucky’s boastful claims of late were in fact the furthest thing from his mind as he crawled back over your body. He pried your knees apart and left just enough room for his frame, taking his fingers to your folds and rubbing in light, gentle circles.

The bleeding had stopped. What little remained was long forgotten, and duly, the pain from recent memory was slowly but surely purged with every flick of his thumb. Bucky planted an arm next to your head and kept touching you there until your face relaxed completely.

When he chanced a finger inside, he was careful not to rub so much as plunge in quick, shallow motions, and at the first signs of pleasure, press light and tender kisses on your skin.

“If it hurts at all, you tell me.”

He sounded stern as he inserted another finger, but really, the man was all putty in your hands, wanting to please you and tease you in any way that he could.

When you told him faster, he sped up; you gripped his hair and said slow down, he did the same. He curled his digits in time with every whimper and moan you made and took care not to be too harsh on your sweet spot.

The only time he paused was when you looked up and asked him point-blank: could he fuck you sweet and gentle now?

Bucky paused. Swallowed.

The man would’ve screwed you six ways to Sunday if you asked him; that wasn’t the problem. The only traces of hesitation remained where your eyes said something different. Even as he shuffled between your legs at your behest, aligned his cock with your entrance, and felt a wave of desire wash over him, he pressed his forehead to yours and searched your glossy gaze once more.

“You sure about this, bunny?” he murmured.

Your heart melted at the name. You couldn’t deny you were frightened, and perhaps a bit worse for the wear after your last attempt, but his words were a comfort, his hand on your cheek a welcome gesture. When his thumb grazed your lips, you kissed it and nodded.

“Alright sweet girl,” Bucky said, tone laced with affection.

This time, before pressing the head of himself inside, Bucky caught your lips and kissed you softly. Rubbed himself up and down your slit—paying extra attention to your clit—and coated himself completely before trying to penetrate you again.

Your cheeks flushed, and you kissed him harder.

“P-please, Bucky, fuck me,” you murmured against his mouth, eliciting a small grunt from him.

“Yeah? You want your husband’s cock inside you, doll?” He kept the pretense of teasing, but really, he was just trying to make sure you wanted this as badly as he did. By the blissed out look on your face and the soft, ceaseless squelching noises produced by your arousal, he got the message pretty quickly.

He breached your folds with just the tip at first. You both felt your muscles contract. Instead of blindly pushing ahead like he had before, Bucky trained his gaze on your face and watched for any signs of discomfort.

“Everything okay, bunny?” he hummed as he brushed a few strands of hair from your face.

You were half in awe of how attentive he was, and doubly impressed by the stretch that followed—like a pinch, but nothing like the pain you’d felt before. You peered up at your husband and squeezed his shoulders.

“It— it doesn’t hurt this time,” you said, breathless.

Bucky could’ve caved at the sweet, innocent expression alone—like you were pleasantly surprised this hadn’t caused excruciating pain—and his lips moved down to pepper your cheeks with kisses again.

“Doll, I’m so sorry.”

The sounds and sighs of your pleasure beneath him, along with the words telling him it was okay, really, he hadn’t meant to do it, all made him feel even guiltier for having hurt you in the first place. It took him some time assailing your face with tiny, apologetic kisses before he even thought to feed you another inch.

When he finally plunged himself deeper, it wasn’t without your express permission; even then, Bucky feared he might split you in two.

The whole time he eased himself inside, he was moving his gaze between your face and the place between your two bodies—watching you open for him and take him inch by inch. He rubbed his thumb over your clit when you whimpered.

“Doing so good for me.”

“Stretching so nice for this cock.”

“My beautiful, beautiful wife.”

Every syllable of his praises flooded your head like honey. Feeling him stretch you out, fill you up, and rock you softly with his first shallow thrusts, all while talking you through it, had your mind ablaze and near-euphoric.

Pleasure practically searing your veins, you didn’t even hear yourself, or really mean to say it, as soon as you did.

“This doesn’t feel dirty at all.”

An epiphany to you and a puzzle to Bucky.

“What’s’at, honey?” He was still rutting his hips and slowly picking up speed. Your husband groaned when you clenched around him and pulled him even deeper—before you realized what you’d said.

Your cheeks flushed.

“I— I was always told sex made you dirty. This feels—” you stopped to swallow a moan when Bucky grazed a particularly sensitive spot inside you, “pretty nice.”

‘Pretty nice.’ Your husband couldn’t help the smile twitching at the corners of his lips as he leaned down to kiss you. He wrapped his big, muscly arms around you and pulled you closer to his chest.

“Makes you dirty?” Bucky said, disbelief evident in his tone before his smile broke into a grin, “Baby, you’re the cleanest, sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He didn’t let you endeavor to protest, just buried his face in your neck and pressed teasing kisses all over the skin while he continued to pump in and out of you. He knew to keep hitting that spot, too.

You were drowning in whimpers and kisses when Bucky brought his lips to your ear.

“Doesn’t make you dirty at all,” he assured you, “Just makes you my wife.”

You clawed Bucky’s back when he sped up a little, and you felt the pleasure soar to even greater heights when he propped your legs above his shoulders—a brand new angle for him to bend you like a pretzel and fuck you good.

“You take this cock too nice to be dirty,” he gritted his teeth and continued to soothe you just how he knew you liked it, “Such a good little wife, sucking up every inch of me like you were made for it.”

Your lips parted in a soft ‘o,’ feeling him plunge the depths of your cunt like he never had before. Bucky slipped his thumb in your mouth while he held your face.

“That what you are, bunny? A good girl?”

You nodded your head and sucked his thumb, feeling yourself fucked dumb as you did. Bucky loved that blissed out look in your eyes.

“Good girl for daddy?” he cooed.

Your ankles trembled around his neck as soon as he said it. You nodded again, yes, you were, and felt a light coil start to form in your lower stomach as Bucky kept pounding you and pushing his thumb between your lips.

Then, with a pop, he plucked the digit from your mouth and brought it down to your clit. He started soft at first, but before long he was rubbing vicious circles on that little bundle of nerves, watching you come undone before his eyes and clench around him even tighter.

“B-Bucky,” you whined, fisting the sheets underneath you both as you squirmed.

“Mhmm?” Your husband pretended to be oblivious.

“I w— I’m gonna—” The words could scarcely leave your lips without finding themselves punctured with a whimper as soon as they were spoken. Bucky thrusted harder.

“Gonna what? Cum for daddy?” he grinned, “Make a mess all over this cock?”

Your moans of pleasure more than sufficed for an answer. You nodded and winced, felt your whole lower half seize with a warm and heady feeling, and before you knew it, Bucky’s thrusts were sending you spiraling over the edge, with a wave of bliss following shortly behind. Sounds of skin slapping skin hardly faltered, and Bucky kept rubbing and fucking you all throughout the waves of your high.

Tears sprung to your eyes, and you didn’t care. Your mind was alight with more bright, fervid feelings than you could count or comprehend, and your body washed over with pleasure.

You clung to Bucky and felt him keep fucking you, even as you shrieked against his skin.

“One more for me, honey.”

You didn’t think that was possible. You had just spilled all over him, squeezing his cock like a vice and screaming his name, and now he wanted it all over again? So soon?

Your fingernails sunk into his arms as he continued to rut into you, and you started to shake your head.

“C-Can’t Bucky, I can’t, I can’t,” you sobbed, tears still streaming down your cheeks.

“Sure you can.”

Your husband had his mouth at your ear again, panting as the pace of his thrusts grew faster. He tilted his body slightly forward so your legs were pushed even higher above you—damn near grazing either side of your head—and pounded you relentlessly.

His voice seemed so calm and assured as he spoke,

“Cum for daddy. Show me just how fucking good this cock makes you feel and cum again for me.”

With a command like that, how could you refuse?

You came a second time, hands seizing Bucky's forearms, and screams tearing through your chest as you rode your high impaled on his cock over and over again. The sights and sounds and repeated, pulsing spasms of your pussy on his shaft sent Bucky chasing his release not long after, and you felt a warmth spread inside you.

Your eyes were filled to the brim with tears, your cheeks practically drenched already. As you came down from your high, you started to blink.

But just as you lifted a hand to sop up the moisture, Bucky was leaning over you and into you with the brightest smile. Then he was kissing each wet, salty stain like it was the most natural thing in the world, sponging soft and gentle touches all over the spots your tears had overflown.

It seemed every nerve ending in your lower half was on the fritz, your body little more than mush underneath him, but somehow you managed to catch his mouth as he traversed the skin. You kissed him back, and Bucky drew you closer.

The two of you separated for a second, Bucky’s cock still resting comfortably inside you and his broad frame engulfing you in bed. He paused a beat. Seemed to consider something in his mind before speaking aloud.

“Honey,” he started, unsure of how he wanted to say this.

You peered up at him, curious. His seed had filled every contour and crevice of your aching walls and was just then starting to dribble out of you. Bucky seemed unfazed. He cupped both hands around your face.

“I love you.”

You blinked. No fucking way you were hearing those words.

“What?” You felt too awestruck to say anything else.

“I love you,” Bucky repeated. A smile was starting to tug at his lips, his thumb tracing your cheek while you stared at him in disbelief.

You would’ve liked to speak.

Would’ve loved to say those three little words right back.

In fact, you had just opened your mouth to tell him that, when a sound at the foot of the bed startled you both.

The warm glow of moonlight pouring in from the window panes was your only means to see it. But sight wasn’t worth much at all when a man appeared and pressed the barrel of a gun to Bucky’s temple, letting out a chuckle.

Another man, clad head-to-toe in polished black tactical gear approached from the far end of the room. Bucky gritted his teeth but remained motionless, hearing that man cock his firearm as well. You were surrounded on either side of the bed. Your blood ran cold.

“Sorry to interrupt the fun, Mr. Barnes,” the man on the left spoke so low and gruff he could scarcely be heard.

When Bucky started to stir, the man on the right raised his pistol as well. Curled his finger on the trigger.

“We haven’t even met your beautiful bride.” A set of cruel, glinting teeth turned in your direction. Suddenly, all eyes were trained on you—along with a third handgun, pointed at your head, as another man approached.

“Wedded bliss treating you well so far, Mrs. Barnes?”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel #mcu #mob bucky barnes #marvel smut #marvel x reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes #mob bucky #mafia!bucky #mafia bucky barnes

[exopelagic]

I love my degree I love my department I love my uni

#killing and biting and screaming #if I have to do one more thing ever again I’m gonna lose it I can’t wait for may I can’t wait for may #I had a very nice chat with a phd student today who confirmed everything I’ve been thinking from a different perspective #and let me tell you. vindication is nice. #I’m so close to things being bearable but to get there I have to make it through The Horrors. there are so many horrors #okay the one thing has happened someone’s asking me to read an email that’s it I’m done forever #I will keep going even though I’m gonna have to claw my way through. bc unfortunately I have responsibilities #such as ‘run this dumb club’ and ‘give this dumb presentation’ and ‘email these dumb supervisors’ #and my friend is being so fucking annoying abt how we like the same supervisors and is complaining abt me going for similar people #oh people are fucking upstairs that’s fun love to hear it #anyway I’m literally sending her people to talk to and she’s complaining that I like the sound of this person she brings up. #sorry dude im not applying to shit I don’t like to save your ego #anyway I can’t wait to get out of this city maybe I’ll move somewhere else when I graduate and spend the year there #phd student earlier was suggesting places to go to get research assistant jobs #oh my god she was also talking abt how biology is so nepotistic it’s all abt the people you know #and then I go talk to the friend again whose dad has a fancy research job and she’s LITERALLY CITING HIM IN HER PRESENTATION #HE OFFERED TO GET HER A JOB AT DEFRA. HES GIVEN HER THE IDEAS FOR HER LAST TWO PROJECTS. #PEOPLE KEEP THINKING ITS CUTE AND COOL AND SHIT THAT SHES GETTING STUFF FROM HER DAD AND I WANT TO SCREAM #LAST YEAR SOMEONE TOLD HER SHE SHOULD PUBLISH THIS ANALYSIS SHE DID OF DATA SHE GOT FROM HER DAD. BC NOBODY ELSE HAS DONE ANYTHING WITH IT. #I’m gonna have to live with her next year #murder. murder #why did saving as draft give everything double tags will that show up when I post #weird. #I am being soooooo normal abt everything I can function so good sleep deprived #okay it’s fine. I’m gonna. finish eating. wash up. call home. write presentation. read this guy’s thing so I can email him. hockey? #very ambitious but if I get some things done that’s fine #luke.txt

[confused-wanderer]

It would be hilarious if villains loved Nightwing and were terrified of Officer Dick Grayson.

Dick Grayson- who is used to open spaces and adrenaline- being stuck in a boring bleak office, surviving on shots of coffee and red bull with caffeine that would make Tim concerned.

The thugs soon realised that unlike most of the other cops - Dick was from Gotham.

No one fucks with Gothamites.

Villain *shooting at Dick with machine guns*

Dick *appearing from the shadows behind him*: Boo.

Villain: THIS IS A FIVE STOREY BUILDING HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET HERE

Or

Thief *throwing a counting down bomb at Dick*

Dick: *catching and tossing the bomb at a safe distance before turning round and shooting it so it explodes mid air while running after thief*

Thief: .. what the actual fuck

Dick: Gee look at all that time you had! Shame you threw it away :D

Thief:

Dick: I’m from Gotham

Thief *realising they fucked up* : Please don’t steal my bones

OR

Shooter: *sets elaborate booby traps throughout the houses in an active hostage situation*

Dick *using his training as robin and inhuman flexibility to surpass them with ease*: Ah been a while since I got to have a nice stretch thank you.

Shooter:

Dick:

Shooter:

Dick: .. Hi :)

Shooter: Are you Satan?

AND

In interrogation room

Murderer: I think I’ll take your eyes and add them to my collection

Dick *running on spite and caffeine that could give Superman a sugar rush* : Funny.. I was going to say the same thing to you

Murderer: .. what

Dick: I wouldn’t take your eyes though.. they look like the inspiration behind the whole Medusa’s “look at it and you turn to stone” thing-

Murderer: Hey! Take that back before I gut you

Dick *smile stretching wider without blinking* : oh? Or what? I know everything about you. Who says I can’t kill you and walk out with everyone being none the wiser? I know how to kill someone too..you aren’t special.

Murderer:

Murderer: I’m scared for my safety.

Because the thing is, Nightwing is who Dick really is. It’s who he can be free as, be himself as without red tapes and regulations. Where he can give as good as he gets, and he’s kind and empathetic. He gets to help the downtrodden and goes easy on most of them if they give up right away, not to mention the fact that he never causes permanent damage.

But officer Dick Grayson is a different story. He runs on sleepless nights and no self preservation. Seeing an officer with an uncanny skill set they’re scarily good at, not to mention the cheery attitude he always has scares the shit out of criminals. Cuz no way in hell is a smiling Gothamite not a deranged one. He chases crimes like a bloodhound, and isn’t afraid to make good on threats he makes to ensure they never hurt anyone again.

Bonus if the batfam doesn’t know about this.

Red hood: Shit I can’t believe we ended up in Bludhaven

Red Robin *tying up the corrupt politican* : Since this is a sensitive case, we need someone we can trust to make sure it is seen through.

Red hood: .. So we paying a visit to Officer Grayson?

Politician *screeching* : NO NO NO NO! PLEASE NOT HIM!! JUST KILL ME INSTEAD AND TAKE ALL MY MONEY I CANT DEAL WITH HIM!

Red hood: .. is he fucking serious?

Henchmen: Sir he is. And we agree. Please take our bones and kill us but don’t take us to Officer Grayson.

Red Robin: Wait what did he do?

Henchman 1: He asked boss if the hat was sentient.. and said that if it was would it make that hat the top and boss the bottom.

Henchman 2: Last time we met I tried to shoot him but suddenly my gun was blank and he raised his hand and let the ammo drop

Red Hood: Well even I could do that-

Henchman 2: They were my bullets. I had selected the colour personally.

Red robin *growing concerned*

Henchman 3: He sang a lullaby to a child when we were holding the station hostage, and replaced the people with my family members. He even sang their social security numbers!

Henchman 4: He’s the most dangerous of them all. I ain’t shitting ya when I say he’s as scary as the bat from Gotham.

*all nodding in agreement*

Red hood:

Red Robin:

Red hood: Nah that doesn’t sound like Dick

Red Robin: Agreed. Let’s go there Hood.

*villains’ sobbing intensifies*

#batman #dick grayson #jason todd #red hood #nightwing #tim drake #batfam #red robin #officer dick grayson #batfam headcanons #dick Grayson headcanons #dick grayson police officer

[augustinewrites]

cw: it’s just angst

“i’m not mad.”

satoru closes and locks the front door, trailing after you into the kitchen, apprehension rising in the space kept between you. “really? because you seem kind of mad…”

“it’s fine, gojo.” you snap. “i’m fine.”

he watches you, quiet as the two of you go about your evening routine. leftovers from meals brought to the infirmary stowed away. week-old laundry tossed into the basket. you don’t say a word to him, emotions you don’t know how to make sense of still simmering.

“i’m sorry,” he says plainly as you’re both putting away the dishes. 

you wipe your hands on the tea towel, glancing over at him. “do you even know what you’re apologizing for?”

he shifts, unsure. “no…”

“of course you don’t,” you sigh. 

“then tell me,” he insists, exasperated. “i don’t want to fight.” 

“i don’t want to either,” you snap. “but you’re doing it again.” 

“doing what?”

“you just spent a week in the infirmary. you were hurt.”

“c’mon,” he laughs weakly. “there was no real chance of me dying.” 

“that’s not the—” you voice rises, then immediately quiets when you realize the kids are asleep. “that’s not the point. you’re losing yourself in it again. soon you’re going to drift away from us— from me,” you tell him, bleeding into the pain you’ve felt the last few days. “like you did when we were in school.”

because for as long as you’d known gojo, his drive was to constantly do more. be more. the period of time after the failure that was the star plasma vessel mission was the first time you’d witnessed it. gojo satoru doesn’t do anything halfway. he won’t permit himself to.

that’s what really scares you. he doesn’t know when to stop.

“i’m sorry that i worried you,” he apologizes, sincerity etched into his expression. you know him, know that he’s scared to say the wrong thing, that he’ll mess this up or somehow make it worse. “i had to. the higher ups—”

“satoru,” you interrupt, walls crumbling right in front of him. “i’ve always liked that you care about the jujutsu world. i just don’t want you to only care about it. not with where we are in our lives right now.”

“i don’t—”

“you do! you always have, and i get it. i know the world needs you…but things are getting worse, and we need to start thinking about the future—”

“everything i’m doing is for the future. for the future generation of sorcerers all over the world—”

“i don’t care about the world! i just care about you, and that’s the problem. one person always cares more in a relationship and that’s always been me.” 

“that’s not true,” he insists, a desperate edge in his voice. “all i’ve ever wanted is you. all i’ve never needed is you—”

“i need you too! maybe that sounds selfish or needy, but i don’t want there to be a day where i have to tell the kids that you’re not coming home. if you can’t understand that—”

he doesn’t think you realize you’re crying, frustrated tears gathering in your eyes and threatening to spill over. satoru reaches for you out of instinct, your argument the furthest thing from both your minds at this moment. you let him pull you into his arms, let him hold you. 

but you’re exhausted. 

this is fight you’ve been having since the moment you’d met him, and you don’t think he’ll understand the impact of it until you walk away.

“if you don’t understand that,” you continue softly, “then maybe we need to take a break.”

_____

outside the apartment door, nanami and shoko sit side by side, sharing a bottle of "welcome home" wine.

"guess they forgot we were coming over," the doctor mutters, pressing her ear against the door to see if jujutsu tech's favourite couple was still fighting. “it’s way too quiet in there. you think she killed him?”

nanami sighs, loosening his tie. “it’s quite possible.” 

“i’ll be the alibi and you’ll get rid of the body?”

“of course.”

#fushigojo breakup fic part one #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #keeping up with the fushigojos #jjk angst