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plutoswritingplanet · 2 months

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It's A Special Death You Saved (Feyd Rautha x Female!Reader) pt. 2

a/n: re-uploaded cause tumblr wouldn't show it in the tags for some reason Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: Dub-Con, Arranged Marriage, Reader is an Atriedes, Horny Violence, and some angsty family relations (lmao)

Summary: The courting becomes more and more complicated, as both you and the Na-Baron discover something about each other.

Part.1, Part 3. Part 4.(finale)

- He's a beast.

Lady Jessica stops in her tracks, her hands sliding gently across the fabric of your nightgown. It's your Mother, that puts it out on the table next to your bed. But the person, who turns back towards you with an unreadable expression, is most definitely not her. You're talking to a Bene Gesserit sister now. A freezing chill runs up your spine, and you start picking at the skin around your fingernails, a nervous habit you've picked up a long time ago.

- Have you forgotten all that I have taught you? - she asks, turning to face you fully, in the dimly lit space of your bedroom

Subconsciously you retreat into yourself, body leaning further away from her, as if that distance might save you from whatever unpleasant revelation will most likely fall upon you. Lady Jessica takes a deep breath, her lips pulling back into an easy, soothing smile. In the past, you would look for expressions such as this, fish them out for comfort. Now, as you look upon your Mother's face, it all seems to be a trap made specifically for you.

- Men like him, beastly men, are the weakest ones - she explains, taking slow steps towards your hunched form - They need the power and the blood to feel worthy of existing, which makes them easy to manipulate. Keep them pliant under your hands like fresh dough.

She sits beside you, your mattress dipping under her weight, and your eyes are immediately drawn to your Mother's elegant hands, folded neatly in her lap. You wish you could put your head there. Have her pull your running thoughts out with gentle caresses. A hairbrush lays abandoned on the vanity in front of you, and silently you contemplate, whether you'll ever have the opportunity to have your hair brushed by her.

- You must find his weakness, what drives him to do what he does. And then control it.

- I don't want to control my husband - the words spill out of your lips, before you have the chance to stop them - I want to love him, to support him. To give him children he'll love, children I'll love.

Tears fall in heavy waterfalls down your cheeks. You haven't had the luxury of a good cry since your betrothed had arrived, and it feels divine. Letting your body shake and shiver, wrecked by uninhibited sobs, as your Mother looks down upon you, torn between the two roles she must fulfill.

The more you've thought about your situation, the more hopeless you felt. The Harkonnens will never let you see your family again, you're sure of it. You'll have to deal with all the horrors of Giedi Prime entirely on your own, with no support from your husband, no friends, no family. And your children, as they are sure to come, will be taken away from you. Thrown into the black and white, until there's no love left in them.

The Emperror is a cruel man, you think. An execution would've been a kinder end.

- Why did you have to make me a Daughter? - the way your voice breaks in desperation fills you with shame - Why couldn't you give Father another Son?

You know you've overstepped, as soon as the accusatory tone registers in your brain. It is far too late by then, and the hands, which just moments before you've fantasized about running through your hair, grip you tightly. Your Mother's face, a constant image of beauty, twists into something darker, something you don't recognize, and you gasp, as her dull fingernails dig into the skin of your wrist.

- Your Father has Paul - her voice is barely above a whisper, blue eyes stabbing you with the intensity of her gaze - I gave him a son, because he asked for a son. Because I loved him enough to give him one. And he can have him. He can fill him with lessons of male leadership, of short-sighted plans. You. You are my Daughter. You are mine, and I've trained you well enough to conquer this task.

A hopeless pit settles itself in the void of your stomach.

You've always known your destiny would be to marry well, to further House Atreides' legacy. And yet, somehow, there was a sliver of hope, treacherously worming itself into your brain. Your Father had Paul, the perfect heir. Surely, he could send him off for the greater good and leave you to your own devices. Let you find someone to care for you, someone you'd do anything for. The thought sits in the pit of your stomach, turning your insides in shame. Still, you can't shake the sinking feeling, that if the universe was kind, you would've been born a Son.

Your Mother, or more likely, the Bene Gesserit, stands up, a cold chill filling the space where her body used to sit. She regards you once, a stern, unwavering gaze.

- Wear black tomorrow.

Perhaps, you'll die in your sleep tonight. Perhaps the universe will bring you this small mercy.

*** Perhaps you did die.

Through the haze of dreams, you can see him. Bare, as the day he was born, body gleaming white in the darkness of your room.

You can't move, can't see his face, and when he approaches, every single one of your muscles tense. You shift under the covers, cold tendrills of fear engulfing you entirely. He comes closer, moves like a wild cat, stands at the foot of your bed.

The need to run is overwhelming, but your body refuses to listen, as slowly, torturously slowly, he climbs on top of you, defined muscles moving under his skin in a way that reminds you of some cursed demon, rather than a man. His scent fills your nostrils, a mixture of something heady and metalic, and, like a little child scared of the dark, you try to hide your face under the covers.

This demon version of your betrothed sits down, sculpted thighs squeezing around your sides, and with rising panic you realize, he's slowly choking the life out of you. A fitting end, a welcomed one. Perhaps it would be better to die right now, before you discover what atrocities he plans to commit on your body and mind, after you're wedded.

Then, his hand reaches behind his back, full lips pull upwards, exposing blackened out teeth. You barely register the glint of his sword, not until he holds it high up, above his hand. You're not allowed a moment to wallow in your confusion, as your future husband brings the weapon down, sinking it with brutal force into your beating heart.

You awake screaming.

***

In the morning, you pull a black tunic over your head, remnants of your dream clinging to you like an unwanted shadow.

Every move of the silky fabric against your skin feels like a small defeat, and with your head hung low, you make your way towards the dining hall. Truly, you're not hungry, stomach turning and twisting, a steady presence of nerves keeping your body on edge. Your attendance is required however, such are customs, and it is entirely too eaarly for another lecture about your behaviour.

As you enter the room, your mask of tired indifference slips just for a second, a mixture of fear and anger flickering in, and out of existence.

There, opposite of your Father you can see him. Your future husband, the love of your miserable, ending life. Slow horror washes over you, as you suddenly realize that this demonic, otherwordly version of him, which visited you in your nightmares is just how he looks. He greets you with a polite inclination of his smooth head, and you consider not showing any outward sign of repulsion, a small victory on your part. Your Mother doesn't think so, but you dodge her sharp eyes in favor of greeting your brother.

It doesn't go unnoticed, the way Feyd Rautha's eyes drink in greedily the sight of you embracing Paul. His gaze lingers on your smile, and he raises his cup to his lips, scrunching his nose ever so slightly at the unfamiliar drink he's been offered. You want to ask, if they have coffee on Giedi Prime, but the question is forcefully swallowed down. You will not talk to this man. He will never know anything more than contempt from you. Curse your Mother's words, you'll fight this battle every day, on your own, if you have to.

- My Daughter will show you around the training barracks after breakfast - Duke Leto announces, and you freeze with a cup of coffee half-way to your lips.

- Will I? - you ask, trying to control the edge in your voice.

- Na-Baron has made inquires about a place to train - your Father explains, giving you a meaningful side eye - You'll accompany him.

The coffee tastes like rot in your mouth, and you place your cup down with a note of finality. You won't look at him, you don't have to. That knowing smirk could be felt through the very particles flowing in the air, every single one laughing at your predicament.

Despite your best efforts, the breakfast comes to an end, your family slowly rising to attend to their duties. Your Father, ever the cordial man, bids his farewells to the unwelcomed guest. Your Mother does the same, albeit sounding more honest. Paul lingers as long as Lady Jessica allows him, until he is forced to retreat by a slender hand tugging mercilessly on his elbow. A gesture both of you know intimately from your childhoods.

Before you know it, you're left alone with the pale imitation of a man. He arises slowly from his seat, smoothly making his way towards you, each of his footsteps echoing in the dining room.

- Shall we, my Lady?

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his offered hand, like a white spider living just outside of your vision. With a shudder, you slip out of your chair, trying very hard not to touch him, and failing immediately, when his broad chest nearly pushes you back into your seat.

He smells nice, your brain betrays you, the scent bringing back images from your night terror, causing an involuntary shiver to run up your spine. With averted gaze, you turn to leave, ignoring his still extended hand. He follows you like a shadow, catching up to you in no time, as you slide through the corridors of the Palace. It's uncomfortable, to say the least, walking with him behind your back. His eyes bear into you, a prickly feeling at the base of your neck making you roll your shoulders.

It follows you, as he follows, right to the very destination. All in blessed silence, a small miracle to save this already dreadful morning.

The men, launging about at the training barracks freeze in their spots, and your heart nearly jumps out of your chest, when Duncan Idaho catches your eyes. His skin has a beautiful, warm tone, highlighted by the morning sun flowing into the room through the windows. You nod, he nods back, an unspoken understanding blooming between the two of you. There could be no suspicion of any closer bond, lest this engagement would be called off. A result, perhaps favorable to you personally, but your family would never live down the shame. And you would never jeopardize Paul's future, no matter how hollow yours looked.

- You have a warrior's body - your betrothed comments, as he inspects the blades laid out on a small table - Do you train here as well?

Small talk, you could do small talk. With a sigh, you tear your gaze away from Duncan, and turn to the Harkonnen, forcing something resembling a polite smile to bloom onto your features.

- Yes, I do - you answer curtly, eyes falling onto elegant, white fingers, sliding over a shiny metal blade.

- It is not a common practice here, is it? - he looks at you, eyes gliding over your stature - Women being trained to fight?

Suddenly very much aware of your body, you cross your arms on your chest, hugging yourself tightly. You don't miss the way his gaze seems to linger on the low neckline of your tunic, and with bitterness on your tongue you wonder, has this man ever felt ashamed.

- Not common, but it does happen - your voice betrays your emotions, a sharp edge settling over your tone, causing the man to arch an eyebrow.

Finally, he settles onto a chosen blade, bringing it up to the light and with laser focus observing the way particles dance on the steel surface. Then, he looks back at you, catching you in the act of observing the prominent, lean muscles on his neck. You ignore the knowing smirk and will your blushing cheeks to suddenly become devoid of color.

They don't, of course, and you scurry to the side of the table, to fiddle with the rest of the weaponry. Your favorite training blade is there, and instinctually, your hand reaches for it.

- Train with me.

The request catches you off guard, and you shoot him a questioning look, one he deflects with a nonchalant shrug.

Your muscles flinch, as you drag your hand back from the blade.

- It would hardly be appropriate - you counter, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your tunic.

To that, he tilts his head, light eyes studying you for a longer moment, until you truly feel uncomfortable under such scrutiny.

- And suddenly you're worried about what the court says? - he cuts you off, before you have the chance to ask, just what exactly does he mean by that - Perhaps you're too soft to fight me.

- I know what you're doing - you point an accusatory finger at his chest, and the man smiles, blackened teeth peaking between his full lips.

- And what am I doing? - it's hard to ignore the teasing timbre in his voice, and you swallow thickly.

- You're trying to get under my skin.

Shivering under the expected cruel glint in his eye, as another, most likely filthy innuendo purses his lips, you turn to him fully, a serious expression on your features.

- I've seen you fight, Na-Baron - his jaw tightens at the sound of your voice curling around his title - I know you're a force to be reckoned with, I'm not scared to admit that.

He straightens, regards you with furrowed brows for a longer second, until, yet again you start to fidget under his gaze.

- Perhaps then, you're scared you'll hurt me - the mere idea is so preposterous, your head snaps in his direction - If I had known, you liked me that much...

- That is entirely not true, and you know it - you deflect again, although annoyance begins to paint your voice.

Then, his hand shoots out, gripping your arm and pulling you closer. Air seems to thicken around you, as you look up at him, with surprise quickly morphing into outrage. His breath mingles with yours, and you can't seem to look away from his eyes, pupils nearly drowned in the overwhelming blue of his irises.

- Stop hiding, my viper. Fight me.

The command, spoken in a harsh whisper just shy of your lips, turns your insides into molasses.

His taller form leans down to tower over yours, an intense expression settling over his sharp features. Close to excitement, much too close to desire, even closer to a murderous curiosity. Your throat feels entirely too dry, and before you can stop yourself, you swallow thickly, tongue darting out to lick your lips. His eyes snap almost immediately downwards, and your heart stops beating. You can't see anymore blue in his irises, only black. Darkness covers his eyes reflecting his thoughts, and you feel like you have to flee right now, before something terrible happens to you.

So you do just that. Ripping yourself away from his closeness, you return to the table, hand finding your chosen blade without really looking.

Another flash of black teeth, as the Na-Baron realizes what you're doing, and the both of you enable the shields surrounding your bodies.

The gathered soldiers watch on, as you march towards the center of the room, determination filling every step to the brim. Duncan gives you a look, which you choose to ignore. You can't think about him now, not when you have your honor to defend against this Harkonnen monster of a man.

Feyd Rautha rolls his shoulders, discards the thin fabric of his dress shirt, and once again you are stricken with his almost god-like physique. The blade looks like an extension of his hand, as he weighs it and slashes the air in front of him. Then, he fixes you with a challenging expression, as if he expects you to do the same, to try and best him at some shameless display.

You decide to keep your clothes on, blade held high, ready to strike.

He jumps from one leg to another, and immediately an orchestra of alarm bells rings out in your brain. Should a man really be this excited at the prospect of fighting his future wife? Should you be this excited? Questions without answers, and before any of you make a move, another one absent-midedly floats to the surface. Just how much can you hurt each other, before the wedding is concluded? How much you'll inevitably hurt each other after?

The darkness he has brought on the ship with him must be contagious, because despite your better judgement, you smile. A sharp smirk, that makes your eyes look less like a human and more like a wild animal. And he drinks it all in, as he begins to circle you.

You'd never show him your back, never again. He's a tried and true predator, the only instinct he has, is a killer one. A fact you quickly get aquatinted with, as he unleashes a series of lightning fast strikes your way.

Immediately you realize, that small show of cruelty he organized at your grandfather's theatre was nothing, compared to what he could truly do. And still, you suspect he's holding back, as you barely dodge a nasty stab, right under your ribs. Another one is blocked against your sheild, and before you have a chance to collect yourself, third one sends you back a couple of steps.

He doesn't let you get away, with confident steps pushing you further and further out of the center of the training floor.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Duncan Idaho stand up from his place. Thinking back to your last training session, you shudder bitterly. "Never fight in anger" is easy to say, when you're not forced to marry, bed and sunsequently give children to the man you're fighting.

Panting and sweating, you give Feyd Rautha your all, twirling in place, sliding on your feet. A different kind of choreography, which seems to work surprisingly well, with his almost animalistic force. Gurney taught you how to be powerful, how to land strikes which were as effective, as they were cunning. Duncan, on the other hand, taught you how to dance. So that's what you do.

Finally, you manage to grab at his free hand, locking your feet between his and bringing him closer to your blade. It stops just short of his artery, blocked by his dagger, the clash of metal reverberating through the halls.

The smirk he gives you is beyond nasty, and forcefully, you push away from him, as if the very idea of skin to skin contact repulsed you. And it does, it truly does, especially now that adrenaline mixed with frustration boils in your head.

- Again - you snarl his way, assuming your fighting stance.

- As my Lady commands - his voice has a natural growl to it, made even more prominent by the exertion of the fight, and he twists his body into a perversion of a curtsy.

This time you're the one to attack first, ignoring your menthor's words and relying on pure rage to guide your steps. A stab to his thigh, which he deflects with seemingly childish ease. Your tunic slips through his fingers, as you slide under his arm. Out of the corner of your eye you can see his blade, when he hides it into his belt. Confusion hits you suddenly. Was he giving up, why was he hiding his weapon? None of the questions get answered, as a foot curls itself around your ankle.

Your balance leaves you with a gasp of surprise, and soon, your back is on the floor, Feyd Rautha following closely behind. Your heated gaze meets his, as one hand wrenches the blade from your grasp and pins both your arms above your head. The other one supports his weight, as he hovers above you, light bleeding behind him in an unfitting image of a halo.

Your chest heaves, sweat rolling down your collarbones, and the Harkonnen doesn't even try to hide the way his gaze follows a stray drop of salt, as it disappears between your breasts.

- You fought well - he complements in a hushed tone, and you writhe desperately under his body.

The night terror rears its ugly head again, as you feel his tighs press onto your sides, almost as if he wants to shape your flesh into the imprint of his body.

- I think I prefer you like this - he whispers, face coming closer to the exposed column of your neck - You belong under me.

That's what does it. Your face twists into an expression of equal parts disgust, and fury. You won't give him this victory, you'd rather die. Legs tangle themselves around his calves, and you use all your strength fueled by the burning need to fucking hurt him.

The world spins, two bodies rolling on the floor, and suddenly you're on top of him, legs biting into his hip bones. While one hand supports your weight on his naked shoulder, the other finds the dagger hidden in his belt. The surprised gasp, which leaves his lips feels like music to your ears, and you don't even try to fight the awful smirk splitting your mouth.

The shield on his neck glows an angry red, as you press the tip of the blade down, right under his bobbing Adam's apple. He swallows, for just a second letting you see the mask of self confidence slip. He has quite long eyelashes, you notice, as his eyelids flutter, a low hum reverbating through his chest. Eyes that are neither blue nor completely black drink in the sight of you. The halo of your hair, the snarl on your lips, the curve of your waist, where one of his hands settle.

Missing all of this, too enraptured by your own fury, you push the blade further down until it pricks his alabaster skin. He hisses through his blackened teeth and you want more, you want him to scream. A thin streak of red begins to flow down his neck, and God help you, it looks like art.

His grip on your waist tightens, all five fingers digging into your flesh through the thin tunic. Feyd Rautha bares his teeth at you in a cruel smile, one that makes you question whether you're the one in control.

And then his hips roll upwards.

A barely noticable movement, easily mistaken for a spasm of the muscles, but you know better. You can read it all from his expression, his pupils blown wide, the quickened breaths of air slipping past his lips. From the quickly hardening length pressing against your inner thigh.

Your stomach flutters with a well known feeling, and that terrifies you more than any pain-motivated erection ever could. Because he sees it, he sees the beginning flames of desire taking root in your center, and the realization looks like ecstasy on his face. Humiliation washes through you, fills you completely. There is no awkward blush on your face, no. All you feel is white, freezing terror, as all your defences seem to crumble all at once.

Like a scared animal, you're off of him in a split-second, and he doesn't chase you, as you all but run from the training barracks. Doesn't have to, he already has everything he needs.

#my writing #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune x reader #dune part 2 #dune 2024 #they try to silence me again on tumblr dot com but i won't let them

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lgbtlunaverse · 7 months

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the wangxian + a-yuan "dads with an adopted son" thing is fine and enjoyable in fanfics honestly but I think we as a fandom are really not utilizing the idea of all of them in unconventional familial structures enough. Like, canonically it wasn't so much that wwx was a-yuan's guardian as that a-yuan was being raised collectively by the wens and wwx was adopted INTO the larger wen family. And lwj got attached to him through that. A-yuan just has these very attached weird uncles/older cousin figures that aren't related to him by blood at all but keep sticking around.

Just think of a modern AU with a lot less death where lwj does as he does in canon and keeps showering a-yuan in gifts as much as he can and when wwx is like "aiyah lan zhan you're gonna spoil him. Not everyone is as rich as you! What's his family supposed to say if they can't buy him all the stuff you do?" lwj just goes "Hm". And from then on out every year once a-yuan's birthday is near the extended Wen family members (well. the ones that are invited that is. No one wants wen chao at a birthday party) wakes up to a wechat payment from lwj.

Random wen cousin number 6 texts granny like

cousin 6: i just got 400 yuan????

granny: oh that's just wangji

cousin 6: i've never met this guy in my life???

granny: he wants you to buy a-yuan a nice birthday present!

cousin 6: how does he know my bank account???

#mdzs #lan wangji #wei wuxian #wen yuan #lan sizhui #granny wen #wangxian #i just don't think we're thinking enough about wangxian as nonconventional family to a-yuan enough #lwj leaving early on chinese new year's eve to go to a party over at the wens??? hilarious #wen siblings move in with granny to care for her and help with a-yuan. wwx crashes at their place for months #eventually lwj is there more days than not. the white wash cycle is like 70% his clothes #granny sleeps in the room next to wwx's and once wangxian happens #she sometimes very pointedly goes well!! i'm gonna go to the park!! for about an hour! which means I WON'T BE HERE. *wink*#as always when talking about underrated dynamics i am not hating on anyone for writing what they want. merely exploring concepts i enjoy

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canisalbus · 6 months

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hello! i've written a short little machete fic, and i wanted to share it with you as thanks for all the incredible art and generous question-answering you've been doing these last few months. i hope that if you give it a look, you enjoy it. <3 keep up all your amazing work! archiveofourown [.] org / works / 50945128

✦ A Voi ✦

#wake up honey new fic dropped #feeling blessed #eating this out of your hands like a baby deer #it's so good you guys treat my lads so well #and write so beautifully and vividly and eloquently #I rambled about this in length in the fic's comment section so I won't repeat myself too much here #but in this one Machete has a little breakdown and gets lovingly bathed like the sad and stunned dog he is #really captured his neuroticism and endless uneasiness #excellent Vittorio content augh I adore him #I'll definitely come back to this later and draw proper actual fanart because some of the scenes are so thematically and visually strong #I need to be able to see them with my actual eyes #dangit I forgot the cut on his lip #had a minor crisis over the color of Machete's robe but maybe it'd be white like the rest of his sleepwear #as a contrast to the usual blacks and reds #fic A Voi #doomcountry #own art #own characters #Machete #CanisAlbus #blood #I said this before and I say it again #if you read the thing and like it it would be very kind and appreciated if you left a small comment to doomcountry as a thank you #you don't need an ao3 account and you can do it anonymously

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boytoychick · 4 months

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Imagine an older guy who sees too much of himself in you to let you repress any longer. He just wants you to be a boy, his boy, so badly it doesn't even bother him to fight you over your weekly injections. It shouldn't matter if you think you're just a normal girl. He knows how bad it is to miss out on the young manhood he's trying to give you, why won't you just be good for daddy and give in already?

#save me older man who won't be put off by how feminine I look and how repressed and ashamed I act #save me older man who forces me out of repression just so i'll be his boytoy #force masc #forced masculinization #forcemasc #autoandrophile #autoandrophilia #my writing is incoherent

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lotus-pear · 6 months

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i think you guys are onto smth..

i unironically got invested in this HELP

#WHERES THE FIC AT IF SOMEONE WRITES THIS I WILL PAY THEM A HUNDRED DOLLARS😭😭#kunikida serving the country while dazai's serving cunt😔#dazai was born to malewife but forced to manipulate and i think that's the greatest tragedy of bsd #anyway some facts i would like to share abt this au thay i came up w while drawing!!#takes place in 1939 (start of wwii) and there was a mandatory draft that required one male over eighteen from each house to serve #both of them are still twenty two and had been engaged for abt two years before getting married that year #newlyweds! unfortunately kuni had to go fight and they were seperated :(#before the war kunikida was a math teacher at the local high school and dazai obviously managed the household and didn't work #he's hopeless at cooking and meal prep even w recipie books so they either get those prepackaged meals or kuni makes dinner when he gets ba #so like when he's making lunch for kunikida he normally just packs a basic sandwich w raw fruit #kunikida always appreciates the effort even tho hes probably sick of having the same thing everyday but he won't complain abt it #when kunikida joined the army he was relieved that the mess hall had better food than dazai #he was the only one in his platoon that never complained abt the food so his fellow soldiers assumed it was bc he came from a tough bg #when in reality he was just used to being poisoned on a daily basis from his dumbass husbands cooking and was hardly fazed from army ration #they write to each other although its more dazai sending and kuni receiving bc hes off fighting and doesnt have time to write back #dazai talks abt life on the homefront and how he has to grow a victory garden (everything is DYING HE CANT EVEN RAISE TOMATOES)#and kuni writes abt his fellow soldiers and how the war is going and when he thinks he'll be home and how he misses sleeping in a bed #ANYWAY yea thought i'd share sry for infodumping in the tags again #this post is for like the four ppl that care abt this specific flavor of knkdz so hopefully this gets four notes at least #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #kunikida doppo #doppo kunikida #kunikidazai #knkdz #lotus draws #bro sry for posting at two in the morning i couldnt sleep until i got this out of my head they have infested my brain

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spriteofmushrooms · 5 months

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The first time Jin Guangyao held Jin Ling did not go as he'd expected. Jiang Wanyin, half-mad and barely functional, for some reason had been allowed into the nursery by Jin-furen. The moment whispers of this reached Jin Guangyao, of course he went to intercede; and it was fortunate he had. He could hear wailing halfway down the corridor.

"Why is he crying?" Jiang Wanyin demanded of the wetnurse as he held the baby incorrectly.

"This one is sure Sandu Shengshou knows better than her," she replied, eyes wide. Jin Guangyao made note of this, but he had few hopes of improvement. Jin servants knew to be meek.

"Obviously, I don't," Jiang Wanyin snapped, brows furrowed as he stared down at Jin Ling. Jin Guangyao purposefully brushed the silk of his robe, and like a dog Jiang Wanyin raised his head at the sound. "Lianfang-zun, what am I doing wrong?"

With a smile, Jin Guangyao moved between the shaking wetnurse and the mad dog of Lotus Pier. "Jiang-zongzhu, babies require support. Adjust your hand--yes, ah, slightly to the side--"

"Please just show me," Jiang Wanyin said, sounding tired as he held out Jin Ling.

The moment stilled. If his cultivation were better, Jin Guangyao believed he would hear the wetnurse's breath stop. She was, after all, expressly forbidden from allowing his whoreson hands to touch his nephew; yet neither of them could deny a sect leader.

A-Ling was warm and soft, sweetly heavy as all babies should be. His embroidered, daffodil-colored swaddling still burned with the heat of Jiang-zongzhu's high cultivation. Automatically, Jin Guangyao checked the boy for a fever; but of course no illness was allowed to fester in this child.

His chubby cheeks were red from crying, but as Jin Guangyao settled him in his arms, Jin Ling slowly quieted.

"As expected of Lianfang-zun," Jiang Wanyin said, slightly mocking.

When Jin Guangyao gauged his expression from under his eyelashes, however, Jiang Wanyin seemed wistful. He looked as young as he was.

(For a moment, Wen Ruohan's laughter filled his mind. "Xiao-zongzhu" had been a common target of derision, in the beginning. Wen Chao's account of the rape of Lotus Pier had been unusually thorough, and its contents were well-known amongst Wen Ruohan's inner circle. Jin Guangyao had not included the details in his reports to either his father or Lan Xichen. He doubted that this discretion would matter at all to Jiang Wanyin, who had tortured Wen Chao at the side of Wei Wuxian. What would he do to Jin Guangyao for being the last to know?)

Choosing to ignore the self-deprecation and memories both, Jin Guangyao instructed Zidian's master on the handling of human children. Jiang Wanyin made an attentive student, but he did not reach to take Jin Ling even once Jin Guangyao finished. "Would you like to hold him?"

Frowning with concentration, Jiang Wanyin nodded and sidled closer. He held his arms as Jin Guangyao had shown him, and then he checked Jin Guangyao's face, seeking approval.

"Good," Jin Guangyao said. Jiang Wanyin didn't smile, but some tension eased. Careful not to touch hands, Jin Guangyao returned Jin Ling to his jiujiu.

The wetnurse's gentle "oh" described the scene well.

Against the black and violet, Jin Ling looked like a ray of sunshine piercing clouds. Jiang Wanyin's face cleared until he looked as delicately beautiful as gossip painted him to be; while Jin Guangyao generally considered him fragile, it was more in the sense of an arrow point designed to break once it pierced flesh. Now, though, he could understand why Jiang Wanyin was so often painted as a mourning lover spurned by the Yiling Laozu.

Then Jin Ling fell asleep, and Jiang Wanyin's eyes watered. He slowly settled onto the couch, careful not to jostle their nephew.

"How long can I stay?"

Ideally, half an incense stick. Jin Guangyao turned to the wetnurse. "Could you please ask Jin-furen to advise us?"

She bowed her head and left.

After a few moments, Jiang Wanyin said, "She needs guards in the room with her. If she can't even tell me I've fucked up, how will she fare against assassins?"

"Gold Scale Tower has many guards," Jin Guangyao began, but Jiang Wanyin snorted.

"Where do you think we are? If some pompous Jin cousin demands Jin Ling, would she say no? Much less someone with weapons drawn."

"As a servant--"

"Jiang servants can and would."

Jin Guangyao smiled. "Is it not true that Jiang servants are entirely comprised of disciples, disciple candidates, and those who failed to cultivate but chose to stay?"

"It's a sect," Jiang Wanyin answered. "Typically, they are operated like sects, yes."

"Gold Scale Tower must run in accordance with its scale," Jin Guangyao said. "The servants are often merely servants."

Jiang Wanyin, whose face displayed his opinion of that, said nothing for a moment, allowing Jin Guangyao to notice his headache. "She needs guards for herself, not just outside of the room," he repeated.

"Perhaps this is something you can address with Jin-furen?"

Looking up from Jin Ling, Jiang Wanyin studied him. "Alright. Is there anything else you want me to say?"

Jin Guangyao's fingers twitched with the desire to straighten his gold robes. "Between Jin-furen and Jiang-zongzhu, I am sure that all concerns have been considered."

"Please, you notice everything and didn't accept one single item I suggested for a-jie's wedding," Jiang Wanyin said. "Do you expect me to believe you don't have opinions on Jin Ling?"

Jin Guangyao inclined his head, and then he tentatively offered an observation and a suggestion. When Jiang Wanyin merely looked thoughtful, Jin Guangyao continued; while Jiang Wanyin occasionally asked clarifying questions, he never reacted emotionally.

It was... strange, to be in a room with this man, discussing the care of a child he wasn't allowed to do anything for. He wondered what he must look like to Jiang Wanyin to be accepted so easily as an expert on Jin Ling, on anything. Unsettling.

Yet unlike Nie Mingjue, being seen didn't seem dangerous; unlike Wen Ruohan, being noticed didn't accompany invitations to violence.

No, Jiang Wanyin observed him, and his conclusion was that Jin Guangyao could teach him how to hold his one treasure.

For the first time, it seemed like sharing a nephew with this man might be interesting, not simply alarming. Jin Guangyao looked forward to observing him further.

#pallas.rtf #mdzs #chengyao #my writing #i've never written from jgy's pov before 🙈 hopefully it's not too wrong #i wanted to show that jgy is the kind of person who is always thinking; always remembering; always connecting threads #you know. the kind of person who won't get dementia because his neural links are too vast and sexy #and also that he's afraid All The Time #anyway.#chengyao real #also that he plays with jiang cheng like a very stupid but cute puppy #this is deeply important to me and my chengyao feelings

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teddybeartoji · 1 month

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☆. contains: suguru geto x gn!reader; a meet-cute in the park, fluff, trigger warning for a sweaty suguru, double warning for a very flirty suguru!! mentions of teeth and biting bc yk i love that shit wc: 4k

reading in the park can be such a good way to spend the day – you get to hear the lovely little birds sing to each other, you can see the kids faceplant onto the ground and laugh it off, you can smile at passing dogs, you can feel the sun and you can feel the wind and for just a while – everything is good.

it's more windy today than it is sunny but that doesn't bother you too much. the gentle spring wind dances in the trees, swaying the tiny green leaves that are just beginning to grow. the ground is still wet from yesterday's rain but it's not too muddy. you're grateful for the shower anyway, excited for the fresh grass to rise from the soil, pretty flowers alongside it. everything smells good, too. the air is crisp and filled with new beginnings and laughter and now you feel yourself getting a little too poetic.

looking down at your book, you twirl your pen between your fingers as you try to bring your focus back to the words on the pages. okay, reading in the park can be a little distracting sometimes. but most of the time it's not that bad—

you raise your head from your lap when you hear the steady steps and it's weird because you've learned to not give your attention to every passerby.

but this isn't just some passerby. the soles of his feet dig into the ground as he approaches and something about him just pulls you to him. you only have a second to look at him before he passes but it's enough to peak your interest like nothing else.

a pair of dark grey shorts with some black underpants underneath them, a pair of surprisingly clean sneakers on his feet, a pair of black socks, a dark blue almost skin-tight jacket and a black cap are what pull on your ropes but the messy black bun that peeks from under the cap, the various piercings and the dark purple eyes are what tie the knot.

his phone is in a little make-shift bag that surrounds his very big and glorious bicep and he has earphones on. you've never been this observant with a stranger before.

right when he passes by you, his eyes flick down to yours for a fraction of a second and then he's already gone. steady pace and steady steps as he heads down the path in the park, leaving you longing behind him.

you shake your head and once again, try to focus back on your reading. but it's even harder now that you know a man like that is just jogging around the place. you eye him from a distance away, wiping his sweat as he passes another runner. you've never seen anyone run as gracefully as he does. you force your eyes from him and glue them to the pages that lay neglected in your lap.

around eleven minutes later, you hear him again. you just know it's him by the sound of his steps, by the sound of his shoes hitting the ground – you look up and find him already looking at you as he closes in on you. there's a slight flush to his face, beads of sweat rolling from his temple and he looks gorgeous. he gives you a small smile, a really fucking charming one, and jogs on, leaving you staring at him again.

he does glance back at you, though. when he's a minute away and just when the path turns back around, his eyes search for you over the field of trees. his lips pull into a smirk when your head raises toward him and you drop it the second your eyes meet from far away. cute.

another ten minutes have passed and you've reread the same page four times now. the thought of quitting on the book is heavy on your mind as you consider just focusing on the man instead. it feels silly – stealing glances at a random crush at a park but you can't help it. he has wooed you with just about nothing; you don't know nothing about him other than the facts that 1. he's ridiculously good-looking and 2. he's a really fucking good runner. the lap he seems to be doing is one of the biggest ones in the park and yet he seems to be completing it in record time. maybe it's those long legs of his?

you twist and twirl the pen again until it slips from you, rolling onto the ground. you curse under your breath and then you hear him again. scrambling from your spot, you hastily grab the pen – a little afraid to be in his way; scared to embarrass yourself in front of him.

he's a bit more flushed this time around, sweatier and sexier. he exudes confidence; like not the type to be an annoying fuck-boy but more of a dangerous one. the type to break your heart like it's nothing but a glass toy. but then he gives you another smile and the thoughts fades. his smile is soft and his eyes crinkle as he does so. he nods his head at you and you do it back – you reckon you're really getting somewhere here. is this flirting works?

you watch him run off and almost die when he glances over his shoulder to get another look at you. a blink and you would've missed it – a wolfish grin; wide and sharp, it merely flashes at you but when you squint your eyes to observe him closer, he's already too far again.

your heart is beating way too fast for a person that's literally sitting down and your hands feel clammy. damn. luckily, you have the wind to help you cool down as you try to think of a plan to get his attention. you'd offer him water but that's a bit too far from a complete stranger. you'd ask him— what would you ask him? how's the run? no, that's bad. how's the weather? horrible. what kind of music are you listening to? c'mon, you can do better than that. come here often? awful, just awful. you decide that you won't say anything – stopping his run for some small talk would just be awkward and you'd rather just keep looking at him. that's the safe bet, that's what you'll do.

he's back. he's on his fourth lap and he doesn't seem to be stopping any time soon. all self-respect has gone with the dancing wind as you blankly stare at the handsome stranger. the tips of his ears have grown red too and he's really panting now. he's just so— he slows down. his steps falter a few feet from you and your eyes widen. well, you didn't really consider the possibility of him starting the conversation. you check the name of your book to make sure you won't make a complete fool of yourself and repeat your own name in your head. there's no room to fuck up with a guy like him.

he glances down at his feet and your eyes follow. oh... his laces are undone. that's... disappointing. you're about to curse yourself for even thinking that he'd actually wanna talk to you but his silky smooth voice breaks your little bubble.

"may i?" his slender finger is pointing the bench your sitting on and you can't to open your mouth, humming an reply instead. his posture is extraordinaly as he walks to you and plops down a bit too close for a stranger (you most definitely do not mind).

it's quiet for a moment before he speaks up again. "what are you reading?"

you quietly thank yourself for checking the name and introduce it to the man beside you. even as he's tying his shoelaces, he has a strong presence. he keeps glancing at you from the corner of his eye, letting you know that he is in fact listening to you. when he's done he leans back against the bench and sprawls out his arms on the backrest; one of his is dangerously close to your shoulder but he'd never make that move this early. he just wants to make clear that he is as interested as you are. he lets his legs spread out a little wider, situating himself a bit more comfortably on the wooden bench and you stealthily pinch yourself for stealing a look at his strong thighs.

"you know, i thought about what to say but i couldn't come up with anything good... 'how's the run?' is pretty stupid, isn't it?" you ramble as you feel yourself melt under his gaze.

"you thought about what to say?"

...

"i– "

your head falls down to your chest as your whole body heats up – now you're actually afraid of melting away. you hide your burning face in your palms and you sigh. so much for not embarrasing yourself, huh? he in turn, lets his head fall back as he grins up at the sky. his lip piercing shines under the greyish light and his eyes fall shut as he basks in your flustered state.

when he feels like your cuteness meter is just about full - he lets you off the hook. "that's really sweet of you."

peeking from between your fingers, you look at him. his eyes peer from underneath his cap, and in a way, it's really adorable how you're both hiding your eyes from each other. maybe not even hiding, but just, sheltering them. gauging when to finally drop the act and let yourselves stare at each other freely just the way you actually want to.

"not totally embarrassing?" you joke, forcing down the nervousness and letting a smile sprout on your lips instead.

"not at all." he assures with his saccharine voice. you almost believe him.

"it's never a bad thing to be prepared." you've known him for mere minutes but you know he's teasing. the tease is smoothly hidden in his charismatic tone but it's there nonetheless. a bead of sweat rolls from his temple and he wipes it with the back of his hand.

you bite the inside of your cheek as you drop your hands but avert your gaze, turning to the trees for a boost of strength.

he'd never admit it but... he too had to think of a way. he too thought that it'd be too weird to just ask about your book – he had to think of a way to break the first barrier. so, he untied his laced before he reached you. but that's a secret.

"suguru."

you whip your head your back to him, surprised by his little introduction. you repeat his name out loud and it tastes like honey, the syllables falling from your lips like a sweet goo. he does the same with yours and you swear you've never heard anyone say it the way he just did. there's a purr to his voice, coming from deep inside his chest - each letter is given so much thought and care. accompanied by the determined look in his eyes – you're just grateful you're already sitting down; he has your knees feeling weak, the muscles in your body tensing as he shifts just a little closer. barely an inch but it's enough to speed up your heart even more, enough for your body temperature to be reaching a new high.

his hand reaches over and you follow it in slow motion; you can hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears as his fingertips graze your cheek. heat blooms from the touch and you feel like you're about to burst into a thousand little butterflies.

"you got a little something here..."

he takes notice of the warmth even though the contact lasted a fraction of a second – he's as observant as ever. his foxy eyes twinkle with a dose of smugness, a certain heat running through his body at the effects he seems to have on you.

pulling his hand back, he displays the single eyelash he just caught on his pointer finger right in front of your face. "c'mon, make a wish."

he watches your eyes flick from his finger to his eyes and then back down, he watches your brain work out your silly little wish. he thinks about what his would be and wonders whether you'd want the same.

you inhale sharply before blowing on his finger, letting the eyelash take flight and disappear with the wind. smiles bloom on your faces – the childish act bonding the two strangers forever.

"the run was good, by the way." he rests his hand back behind your shoulders, making you subconsciously lean closer. "the weather is good; i like this better. hard to focus when the sun is bearing down on you."

you nod your head, utterly bewitched by the man before you, and he knows it too. "'though it's hard to focus when i have you sitting here, too."

he has you hooked and he won't let you go. your eyes widen as his bore into you, absolutely feeding off of your every reaction.

"oh, you're killing me..."

"am i? i'm sorry for that, sweetheart."

you can't keep the groan that bubbles from the depths of your throat as you double over, hiding your face in your hands again. his quiet laughter rumbles through his chest and when you swear that when you raise your head, a singular sunray shines from behind the clouds. it lights up his smile, his eyes crinkling in the process. wow.

"when are you gonna come here again?"

there's no time to waste – you have to shoot your shot. you have to.

he lets the laughter die slowly, impressed by your sudden burst of confidence. "tomorrow."

"you run every day?" his ego grows in size at the surpised tone and he nods. "wait, how come i've never seen you before then?"

"maybe you were actually reading your book all those other times, hm?"

your heart does a little flip in your chest and you bite down into the soft flesh of your lip. he's sooooooooo...

he adjusts his hips on the bench and catches you looking. he's tempted to make another tease but—

"i would've definitely seen you if you were here. you're kind of hard to miss. very hard to miss actually."

he hides his reaction with a deep hum, infatuated with the fact that you can keep up with him so well despite your flustered state. "i just recently moved here, so... it'd actually be very nice to have somebody to show me around. the coffee would obviously be my treat, you know, if you're down for it, if you want to be that person for me."

his offer almost flies over your foggy head but his last words sink their claws into you at the last minute. the butterflies in your stomach are making you feel sick, a giddy nervousness swimming in your veins.

"i'd love to be that person for you." you nod your head, gluing your eyes to his as the final push to show you that you're as interested as he is. as if that wasn't clear enough already. "mainly for the the free coffee, though."

"right... right..." one of the corners of his lips is crooked upward and he looks so good. he looks like he bites, like he would sink his teeth into you so, oh, so gently and then lick the wound to make you all better again. you're really in it now.

unbeknownst to you – the sky has turned a shade darker, grey clouds now swarming the entirety of the field of blue above you and suddenly you feel a cold drop on your warm skin. and then another. and another. craning your neck up, you take in the foggy ceiling as the rain starts to soak your clothes.

you scramble to pack your bag, throwing your precious book in there before frantically looking for your pen only to have suguru hand it to you with a smile. "here."

"thank you."

you don't want to go. he doesn't want to go. the strap of your bag sits on your shoulder, the soles of your feet dig into the ground but nothing. you chew on your cheek and he picks at his fingernails – neither of you ready to part with each other just yet.

but thunder booms, yanking yourselves out of it. reminding that this chapter is only beginning and that the first page is always the shortest one anyway.

"you're gonna get a cold like this..."

"like what?" the water droplets cascade down his neck as he leans closer.

"oh, i don't know... sweaty and hot? what if the wind and the rain get to you and i don't get to have my free coffee, hm?"

he does want to bite you. his canines bite into his bottom lip as he observes you. how you're completely unfazed by the rain, how your confidence is clearly growing as you tempt him with your words.

"the wind and the rain have nothing on me, angel. i'd kill to get you that coffee." lightning strikes as his words fall from his tainted lips and he can't tear his eyes from you.

finally, he pushes himself off the bench and you watch him stretch his whole body like a big cat. an inch of skin shows itself from below his jacket, his happy trail making your eyes bulge before you clear your throat with a quiet cough and push yourself up aswell. making sure you have everything, you check your bag and your pockets and turn to him, only to find him already staring down at you. he's tall. he looked tall before too... but now that you're standing next to him – he's really fucking tall. and he seems to be thinking the same thing as he takes the oppurtunity to assert a little dominance by closing the distance between you.

"and maybe the rain will do you some good too... maybe it'll help you cool off, yeah?" there it is again – hidden by a tone of genuine advice – the tease. it slips from his curved lips with ease, with too much ease, and you hate that you can't even argue with him. you burn under his eyes and the rain is seemingly the only thing that's keeping you alive at this point.

"i think you should buy me so many coffees." you sigh, clutching onto your bag strap. he's towering over you, so you need just about anything and everything to keep your composure.

"yeah? what for?" he laughs. god, you love his laugh.

"for putting up with your teasing. i think i deserve a reward, honestly."

it looks like a scene out of a romantic little movie – the two lovers standing in the storm; fingers twitching beside their bodies, gazes lingering on each other for longer than they should. nobody would guess that this is your first meeting.

"terrible manners, by the way. i can't believe i'm still talking to you." you give him another sigh, albeit an overly dramatic one this time.

suguru hasn't been this beguiled since... ever probably. yes, his friends tend to give him snarky comments like this but it's entirely different coming from you. it gets his heart pumping like nothing else – the rush from the run has nothing on you.

"oh, my deepest apologies, your highness. shall i kiss thy hand before we part?"

his little bit coaxes out a loud cackle – his chest swells at the sweet melody, getting addicted already.

"yes! yes, i think you should do that, kind sir." your cheeks hurt from smiling when you hold your hand out for him, testing whether he'd actually do it.

(he's forcing down a full-body reaction at you calling him sir.)

suguru is not a man to back down and you're about to learn all about it. the thunder rumbles loudly, echoing through the park he takes your smaller hand into his bigger ones, raising it to his mouth. his purple eyes twinkle at you and your breaths are getting shorter and shorter. his lips graze your wet skin before he's fully pressing them against you, all while keeping eye contact with you.

a shiver runs up your back and you're about to pass out. or throw up. or die. something is happening to you and he's the sole reason behind it.

he lowers your hand and offers you another dangerous grin; his sharp teeth glint from behind his pretty lips as the lighting flashes again and you gulp.

"don't die on me now."

...

your jaw drops and you place your hands on your hips, tilting your chin up to show your 'annoyance'. "exactly what was the point of the kiss, if you plan on continuing your little act, hm, suguru?"

"the point is to get to kiss you again."

..................................

oh.

this stranger will be the death of you. your whole body flushes again, your own built up cockiness fades away, leaving you small and shivering before him. the perfect prey ready for picking.

"not today though. can't have the highness grow too big, now can i? but perhaps next time? over that promised coffee?" his voice is sticky and sweet, meant as a trap to catch little doves like you.

you squeak out a mhmm as he's already getting his phone from his little bag.

by now, you're both absolutely soaked. the spring thunder cleans you from the groggy winter feelings and thoughts and gives life to... whatever this is going to bloom into.

you exchange your socials, giggling at how the screens refuse to cooperate under the rain but you get it done nonetheless.

"please, don't get sick."

"if i do, you'd nurse me back to health though, wouldn't you?"

you slap his chest, unable to bear the teasing little remarks any longer. his charisma knows no bounds and it's 100% not what you expected him to be like. maybe you should've – the eyes betray him.

"probably, yeah. nurse you from this horrendeous act. where are you learning it from anyway? some terrible love coach?" you scoff.

"something like that yeah." he trails off, once again hypnotized by the way your wet eyelashes shine when you blink up at him.

"okay-okay, we have to stop this now or we'll both get sick." you shake your head, physically trying to remove every thought of him that has been swimming in your head for the past hour or so. he hums as a reply. he fixes the cap on his head and awaits for you to make the first move.

it's taking everything in you to do so – it's almost as if you're glued there, right in front of him and it just feels right. his voice is right, his words are right, his eyes are right, his lips, his teases; but when the thunder booms again, you know it in your guts that he's gonna be in your life for a long time.

this kind of turned into smth way different than i intended but i'm not mad hihihi

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honestlydarkprincess · 1 year

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why do I have to write the words huh why can't i just copy paste them from my brain to my document

#i can see the scene so clearly in my mind but it just won't go into words !!!!#waaaaaa #jess.text #writer problems #writing #fanfic writing #writerblr #writeblr #textpost

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sharp-fanged13 · 13 days

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What a wonderful occassion to remember this happened and is canon af:

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stellamancer · 6 months

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limitless (satoru gojo x reader)

notes: uh. should be working on my halloween fic lmaoo. but uh. thought i'd bang this out. inspired by a conversation with @shotorus about the names we use to refer to certain characters in narration. lmao.

contains: fem! reader (the only physical trait is that reader is shorter than gojo, gojo almost uses a gendered term for reader, but is cut off), established relationship (me: coughs up blood), typical gojo antics, nickname usage (darling, honey, sweetheart, babe), part of the infinite loop fic verse

wc: around 720

"...I have a question."

You look at Gojo expectantly. Normally, he just says whatever is on his mind without pause, without filter, so you don't get why he's standing on ceremony right now. "Yeah?"

"We're dating, aren't we?" he asks.

You nearly spit out your drink. He's not wrong; for better or worse, he is your boyfriend now. The fact of it is actually kind of unbelievable when you think about it. Not just you dating Satoru Gojo. But you dating Satoru Gojo. If you had told yourself that it would have come to this ten years ago, even five years ago, you would have thought yourself a liar.

Now he's the one giving you the expectant look, his lips curved upward that little smile that always manages to get your blood boiling. The cocky bastard probably just wants you to admit it.

You consider saying 'no' just for the hell of it.

You decide not to. It feels almost as if you’re pulling teeth when you respond, “...we…are.”

Gojo’s mouth puckers and you brace yourself knowing full well that he’s about to start whining about something. There’s always something with this guy…"If we’re dating, then why am I still just 'Gojo' to you? I call you by your first name!"

"You've always called me by my first name," you dead pan.

"That's because I've always loved you!"

You roll your eyes. You know that's a lie, but you don't intend to argue with him— at least not head on because you know that it’s just going to lead to a dead end. "No, you love disregarding proper social etiquette. Or rather, you don't see the point in it."

"Oh, darling, you know me so well!" Gojo gives you a saccharine smile and you almost gag.

"Don't call me that."

He pouts. "Well, if you say I always call you by name, shouldn't I call you something else to show how special you are to me?"

"...no, actually, just my name is fine." A nickname from Gojo sounds dangerous. The thought of being called some cutesy nickname in front of everyone you know is mortifying. In fact, Gojo would do it solely to embarrass you.

So, naturally, he ignores you. "If darling is no good, what about... babe? Honey?"

"Gojo, really, you don't—"

"Sweetheart? My love? Oh, I know, I bet you'd love to be called pr—"

"Satoru."

He immediately stops talking, his mouth hanging open in stunned silence. You didn't think that that would have that much of an effect to be honest. For once, it feels like you have the upper hand. You make sure to savor the moment because you know they are far and few in between.

"Just my name is fine," you repeat. "...okay?"

He gulps and answers, "...okay."

You try not to let your mind linger on the fact that his voice just now was lower than usual. "Good. So—"

"Say it again."

You blink. "Huh."

"My name," Gojo says, his voice thick with emotion. "Say it again."

When you don't say anything he takes a step toward you, the infinite cosmos in his eyes staring you down. You feel defiant. It's not fair of him to ask you anything when he looks and sounds like this. Gojo takes another step closer and you think that if you're adamant about not giving in to him you better do it before he gets too close.

"You've... " you start and hate how breathless you sound. This bastard knows exactly what he’s doing to you. "You've hit your daily limit."

Gojo pouts and takes another step. "Well, that's not fair."

"You're not fair," you retort.

He doesn't argue and you take that as Gojo admitting that he's playing dirty. "I think you should up the limit."

You hold your ground as he takes one more step closer.. "No. You think there shouldn't be a limit."

Gojo chuckles and leans down to bridge the rest of the distance between you. He cups your cheek, bringing your face closer to him. Your breath stills as you feel his own on you and it’s damn near intoxicating. His mouth is barely touching yours and your thoughts shift from trying to keep the banter going to how the slightest movement from either of you will result in a kiss.

“You’re right,” he murmurs, lips brushing against yours. “There shouldn’t.”

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo x you #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #nikuniku fics #i'm defs not the first person to write on this topic #and i won't be the last #reader never did answer his question though #but gojo gets one usage of satoru a day #they don't roll over #but if he's a good boy he can increase his allotment #unfortunately he is never a good boy #i'm going through gojo withdrawls don't look at me #i'm not really pleased with the ending #don't know how i'm gonna fix it tho #okay i gotta get back to my halloween fic #infinite loop!verse

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