#loved tracing the patterns

[soosoosoup]

✨💖Pop👊Pop👊 Poppy💖✨✨

[sugarwarachan]

obsessed with characters that are able to utilize parts of their body outside of themselves because I always make it filthy. case in point: hawks and his fucking feathers

[esilher]

For the @come-what-may-challenge , using the prompt Trace.

[sp00kymulderr]

Fingers tracing Dieters tattoos as he’s babbling about his day on set and how frustrating it was and how he just wanted to come home to you. Fingertips on his skin following inked in lines and he’s already forgetting what he was talking about focusing on your hands instead.

Softly running a line down his body and to his hip, where the secret tattoo he got just for you sits. Patterns traced against it, and he’s truly forgotten what he was saying.

Eyes closed and he lets out a happy sigh and melts against you

[lochnkey]

Sorry we're late this week

Ibushi got lost looking for his Queen again

but anyway, here's the latest installment of my weekly(ish) Monster Hunter Drawing Challenge with @artgoes-here

[wildlcck]

no bc sadie really is so very cat coded

[madamechrissy]

Veiled Secrets

art is by @3-aem they're insanely talented 🥹

pairings- emperor! gojo x arranged empress! reader

summary -you've been set to marry the new emperor Satoru Gojo, but he wants nothing to do with all of that, he doesn't even come to your first meeting - rude! No, he must bathe with his concubines, but when he sees you for the first time and doesn't even know you're his wife? Everything shifts, but it turns out he doesn't know that you're not happy to be here either. Leaving your past love behind and everything you know for a foreign country, just to be unwanted by your new 'husband' is almost enough to break you. You're ready to go through the motions, play your role, but do you really know who Emperor Gojo is?

contents/warnings - heavy angst, depression, enemies to lovers, longing, mutual pining, explicit smut, back and forth games, court tactics, Satoru being a hoe, reader missing her lover Suguru, a fuck ton of drama and games, he falls hard. This chap - oral (m and f receiving), fingering, angst and jealousy, Satoru kinda being a dick but also a consent king, masturbation (m), mentions of sex with others- 11k WC - based on emperor! gojo headcanons

This one the poll as the thank you for 20k followers!! Thank you all sm 💗 If you enjoy, rbs and comments are so appreciated! Taglist closed

playlist - Part Two>>>

Part One

The pretty, intricate tea cup swirls with amber liquid, you’re gently spinning your little gold spoon in it, as you wonder at the time. It’s your second cup of tea, as you wait for him - your husband to be, the Emperor Gojo. You don’t know anything about him aside from tales of his military exploits, and you have heard he’s very young still. Some say he’s handsome, but you can’t say you care.

The memories of the love you left, the family you left behind, to now be surrounded by strangers, was brutal, lingering pain mixing with the terror of being in a new country. You are trying to understand their customs, their cultures, luckily you know their language, but you miss your home terribly. You miss feeling safe in the castle you grew up in.

Mostly, you miss him - your guard, the man you’d just finally started to kiss, he’d started to explore your body when you two had the briefest of moments. You thought you’d run away with him, only to be dragged here, without a chance to do more than leave him a letter of farewell, and now you’re waiting for a man for - it must have been an hour - sipping on your third cup of tea.

Everything is immaculate in this place, your chambers, the pavilion itself, covered in blues and whites, the colors of the Gojo family. You were greeted friendly enough, shown your new ladies in waiting, as yours were not allowed to come, the palace itself was under constant high security. They didn’t welcome outsiders, and you can tell they don’t welcome you.

Having been whispered about, talked about as you walked through the lively pavilions, passing many workers and ladies who bow to you, before whispering behind your back. It’s as if everyone smiles to your face, then starts gossiping - and god do you hear all of it, even now, the three ladies standing behind you murmur to each other behind their fans.

He’s an hour late, he’s not coming!

What an insult… he’s probably with his favorite concubine!

Concubine Lola, it must be.

What if we worked for her - her pavilion-

“Could you all please stop?” Your words have the three girls gasping, you don’t even look back at them, tracing your fingers along the pretty rose patterns of your tea cup, of the little dish under it. You scoop some of the honey in a little dish, watching it roll gently into the tea, still steaming up with puffs of condensation.

They quiet down, or their whispers are quieter you should say, as you sit there in your immaculate gowns, the highest of fashion. You were done up with make up, your hair piled high in the latest fashion with the prettiest blue pin that had been bestowed upon you from him - from Gojo - through a servant of his.

Yet, here you are, alone.

Your mind drifts as you wait, as you eye the elaborate tarts that the cook has whipped up, sitting there untouched, your tummy hurting from the nausea rolling over you in waves. How could you just leave Suguru behind? Did he get your letter? He always knew there wasn’t much hope, but you were the one littered with wild ideas, the hopeful one.

He kissed your neck the last time you saw him, toying with you under your skirts - the style back home was many voluminous ones, and he had no problem finding your clit under them. He’d drank in your quiet little whimpers as his violet eyes looked down at you, his other hand at the nape of your neck when you’d said it - I love you.

He had kissed you quiet, having you cum for the first time, the memories make you heat up and blush. You’d both had to separate, and that’s the night you found out you had to leave your home forever. Not just another territory or land, no - an entire country, a five day trip on ship and two days on land to get here. A man who clearly has no interest to even show up.

Suddenly, a beautiful woman with long white locks comes in, smiling kindly at you, she has brilliant blue eyes - so blue they’re enchanting. You quickly recover your thoughts, standing as well, palms just a little sweaty as you bow your head, and she does as well, decked in the color blue, her hair falling just a bit in front of a beautiful face.

“Former Empress Gojo,” she greets then, she comes over to kindly take your hands, you smile nervously. “I’m so sorry, my son is… occupied… and will not make the meeting.”

“Oh, I see,” you are seething - can he not walk a few steps to greet you after the week it took? But you hold it all in, keeping your composure and smiling, as her ladies whisper behind her to your ladies - god the court is gossipy. “Is he well, your majesty?”

“Don’t be so formal, I’ll be your mother in law soon.” She kindly smiles, but you hear the whispers.

He’s with all of them?

At once? Scandalous!

Do they get along that well?

“Ladies,” his mother chides them, like a sweet mother duck, and they instantly quiet, she looks at you, tilting her head. “You are most beautiful.”

“Oh, thank you Lady Gojo.” You bow your head again.

“And such manners, you’ll do well.” You wish her words made you feel better, but they don’t.

You just want to fucking go home.

But you put on your fake smile, you’ve done it your entire life as a princess, you’re truly just moving from one gilded cage to another, that’s all your home was - despite the love and friends you built. You had no freedom, and you won’t have any here, where at least your parents were doting, they used you as a political pawn, such is what happens to women.

You thought you could really run away, how foolish a thought. It sinks in your mind like a cruel joke, as the former Empress Gojo goes on, she’s so kind, you can feel it’s not fake. It seems genuine, her understanding, like she’s been here before - clearly from some different land judging by her unique looks. You wonder what she thought when she had to go through this.

“I will have our attendant Ijichi show you around, he’s very knowledgeable about everything here, moreso than even my son, don’t tell him I said so.” She laughs a bit at that, you give her a perfunctory smile.

“You are most gracious, Lady Gojo.”

Soon a tired looking man walks in, but he seems sweet and kind, smiling and bowing his head. He wears a little monocle on one eye, wearing the traditional dark blue robes you’ve seen other attendants and guards wear. He takes your hand and bows over it, some inky black locks falling over his brow.

“My lady,” his voice is quiet and calm. Aside from Lady Gojo, this may be the only other person you have had a decent sense of character from. “It’s an honor.”

“Hello, Mr. Ijichi, I’m excited to learn more about the palace.” You smile and he nods his head a bit.

“I’ll show you around so you know where to go, I’m so sorry his majesty… was… occupied.” The snickering of the six girls earns Gojo’s mother’s scowl, and they quickly hush, but you see a blush on Ijichi’s face, a frown.

“It’s quite understandable, he must be busy. I look forward to meeting him,” you’re lying through your teeth, but you know it’s the correct move, as he smiles with an exhale of relief. It wasn’t his fault his Emperor was seemingly a man whore. “I’d love a tour.”

“Then let us go.” You say your farewells, and Ijichi walks you outside, his hands together under his large sleeves, and you notice many onlookers whispering.

She’s so beautiful.

She is, but can she catch his attention?

He’s clearly not interested, despite her beauty.

Emperor Gojo is about more than looks.

He is quite quirky.

“Do they always gossip like this?” Your question earns a surprised laugh from Ijichi, he seems stoic but his smile is sweet.

“They never stop.”

“God!”

He chuckles again, and you find yourself comfortable with him - when you learn he’s twenty seven however, you have to wonder how hard Gojo works this poor man. Five years older than you and he seems much older, perhaps Gojo was every bit the tough ruler he was rumored to be.

“This is the bathhouse, if you wish you can bathe here instead of your chambers, it is renowned to be one of the best.” You look curiously, remembering the last time you bathed was before you came here, you’d die for one right now.

“Are they?”

“Indeed, they are. Here is one of the temples,” he’s pointing as you two walk, you incline your head at passersby, all while walking right next to him. “This one is a sacred temple from many centuries ago.”

“It’s quite beautiful,” you eye it, truly majestic in front of you, with its gorgeous architecture quite different from many. “Can I go there?”

“Unfortunately only men can enter,” he blushes then. “I’m sorry my lady.”

“No, that’s quite alright.”

“This temple,” he points to another distant one, as the sun warms you over the thick silk brocade of your yukata, and a few pretty butterflies flutter by. You focus on where he’s pointing, a large dark green building with curved roofs in the distance. “You could enter with your future husband, however.”

“Ah,” nice, you could enter a temple with the man you don’t know, the one too good to meet you for tea. “And this building?”

“It’s the sapphire pavilion,” he trails off again, clearing his throat. “It’s Concubine Lola’s pavilion.”

“I see.” You remember hearing earlier, she’s his favorite, her pavilion is perhaps more opulent than any of the others you’ve seen, second only to yours.

“Yes, it is quite lovely I suppose.” He seems unimpressed, eyeing you then. “I believe Emperor Gojo will… enjoy your pavilion, if that’s not too bold to say.”

It’s your turn to blush, looking down now, hands in front of you as you two walk along the soft grassy knowl, and he lays one of his outer robes down for you to sit. You smile and thank him. “I don’t know if I agree.”

“I have known Master Gojo my entire life, I do believe it’s true,” his soft words make you relax just a bit. “Master Gojo is young and… difficult at times.”

“Perhaps I wish I’d have you for a fiance.”

“My lady!”

“You’re very sweet.” You’re giggling behind your hand as he blushes.

“I’m no Emperor Gojo, but thank you for the kind words.”

“Ah, well I don’t know him yet. I know no one here,” your words get trapped in your throat, you watch the hustle of the servants as they work, cleaning or gardening, the merchants taking down their carts across the way in a little circular shop, while a butterfly lands on your knee. “Oh look.”

“They say it’s good luck, my lady.” He smiles kindly again, reaching a finger out for the butterfly to go to.

“He likes you.” He laughs a bit, sighing.

“Insects do.”

“They’re good judges of character.”

“He will like you, I know it,” you’re unconvinced, it’s as if Ijichi feels sorry and is trying to cheer you up, but you nod a bit to appease him. He stands and holds out a hand, helping you up. You brush yourself off and hand him his now crumbled robe, which he folds over an arm. “Let us go back.”

You miss him already when he leaves, the kindness of him was so welcome in this place of deceit, of fakeness, of lies. Everyone seemed out for something, you suppose home wasn’t much different, but to the extent the ladies gossiped it was utterly ridiculous.

“I’d like to go to the bathhouse, Miwa would you take me?” You ask one of the girls, she’s a little quieter than the other two, a little more friendly.

“Of course I can, my lady, but also you could have a bath run?”

“I hear they’re very nice, and I’d love a chance to see.” She nods, grabbing a gown for you, as the other two whisper again, earning your eye roll. “I brought some hair soap, let me fetch it.”

“What’s hair soap?” She asks, you show her now and she seems curious. 

“I have several if you’d like to try.”

“If it makes my hair that beautiful, yes!” She’s smiling warmly at you, now you feel just a little more comfortable, as she walks you through the massive doors, it’s dusk now, the sky alit with purples and oranges. “Emperor Gojo is the most handsome man in the land.”

“Is he now,” you really don’t give a fuck, to be quite honest. Suguru was a beautiful man, his violet eyes, his little lazy smile, elegant fingers that would hold your hand in secret any chance he got. Gojo may be gorgeous, but you had him in your head, the man who loved you.

Well, you think he did?

He never got a chance to say if he did back or not, kissing you in that moment, the last moment you had. The nightmares over and over on the trip were enough to make you sick, you kept writing letters and burning them, not knowing how the fuck you’d ever get one to him in secret. Your parents were fond of him but never enough to match your station.

“What’s wrong, my lady?” You realize you’ve quit walking then, just standing there as the pain echoes.

“I’m sorry, I’m a little tired, Miwa.” She nods, and you enter the enormous bathhouse now, fragrant steam already pricking your nose as you two enter a room with several women changing.

You blush just a bit, things were more open here than back home, the girls are more friendly as they smile, and walk off, leaving you to have Miwa start undoing your obi, the delicate bands of silk. She’s slowly untying you until you’re bare, and then steps in front of you, holding the thin white shift out.

“We wear this?” 

“You will, yes, attendants don’t bathe here, we go to a different area of the bathhouse.” She’s slipping it over your head, like a whisper of silk as it dances across your body, while Satoru is on the other side, being fed grapes and lavished on by his favorite girls, in lieu of meeting you.

Satoru Gojo’s kissing his favorite, Lola, her pretty lips dewy from the baths, as his other girls are brushing their hands all across his body. He’s chuckling a bit, trying to kiss every single one of the four girls now, they’re all touching him, massaging him, littering kisses on his body. The warm waters undulate against his skin, lapping around his chest as he sighs, his eyes shutting.

It’s almost good enough to forget the endless responsibilities he never fucking wanted, all the sweet scents and practiced touches of his concubines. If Satoru could say anything was a perk, it was the beautiful, voluptuous fucking concubines, as if they were all tailored to perfection. Their giggles get louder when he sucks one of their tits in his mouth, over the thin white material, the others clamoring over who got it next.

Even for an emperor, Satoru Gojo was bold.

Emperors did not lay with more than one concubine at once, it was not a harem after all, though in his travels he’d seen several of those. Now that seemed the way to do it, have a house full of beautiful girls that only fuck him, only want him. Utterly devoted, though these girls were in their own way, he also knew their power plays.

They all wanted one thing, Satoru to put babies in them, and well… he had not made that happen yet. Just two years into it, and young, it was normal, but Satoru made sure he didn’t have babies, pulling out strategically without them noticing, because he just wasn’t ready yet for more responsibility. Plus, once you had one heir, you needed a spare, and more and more with how fragile that could be.

He wanted to have a little more fun, but also he hates tradition, hates the duty disposed on him. War and battle were something he was inherently good at, but running things politically was outright boring. Much of that fun was coming to an end, with this mysterious fucking wife he was to marry in a few weeks time.

He knows he irritated his mother not showing up, but being fed grapes and having his dick sucked? Much better time spent in his opinion, than some meek little princess from far away. She'd likely be some perfectly trained airhead, all the broken betrothal before were just that, but apparently this one they would have no argument of.

He's not really curious about her, he supposes he'll have to see her soon, perhaps lay with her, then he'll come back to his other girls. Life is mostly good for him when he loses himself in them, in drinks and throwing elaborate parties, in forgetting the overwhelming duties that lie ahead. 

Suddenly, the doors to the baths open, certain high ranking ladies could also come in, so he curiously looks over, to a sight that makes his heart pound in his fucking chest. She's beautiful, surely but he shouldn't be so affected, when her eyes catch his and he's dying to know just what's behind them.

Satoru just doesn't think that way.

You catch sight of him as Miwa undoes your hair fully, letting it fall and brush against bare shoulders, you feel exposed then, to his insanely bright eyes. He is as beautiful as they say, perhaps even moreso, the glimpses of the hard lines of his face, as the soft lanterns cast a glow above.

Surrounded by four beautiful women, but he's staring right at you instead. You figure he's curious who you are, and brush off the feeling. Miwa dampens your hair and proceeds to massage it in your scalp, you sigh at how good it feels, head falling back a bit, eyes fluttering shut.

Satoru can't take not knowing who you are one more moment.

“Who is she?” He asks Lola then, and she blinks a bit, tilting her head, her dark locks falling over a shoulder.

“I’ve never seen her, Gojo,” she looks at her scrutinizingly. “She is… perhaps going to fill Concubine Ana’s place?”

“I heard someone would be soon,” says Concubine Lara now. “She’s very beautiful.”

“She doesn’t look like she’s from here, however,” Lola says curiously. “Her attendant also looks unfamiliar.”

“Hmm.” He’s eyeing you carefully, as you step down into the waters, you dip your head back and then stand up, and that’s when he sees your entire body from that soaked, thin white material. It clings to every delicate line and curve of a body that makes him ache.

You’re so lovely, though you’re not even looking in his direction, leaning back against the wall and sighing, your breasts gently rising and falling, as if begging for his mouth, for his hands. He can’t help but be drawn to you, looking like some beautiful painting, serene and ever so precious, the need to cup your face was as big as his want to cup your tits.

He’s a lover of all beauty, he has four gorgeous concubines kissing all over him right now, but there’s something about you that leaves him breathless. God, he should feel truly sorry for whoever his wife would be with you here as well, another beauty but one that’s so perfect he can���t fucking speak or think.

His wife truly wouldn’t have a chance if he got you.

He steps away then, much to their displeasure, their pretty pouts, he smiles down at them. “Never fear, I want to find out who she is.”

“Of course, your majesty.” They all incline their heads, none of them were really jealous, though they all pouted a bit that he gave Lola some more attention.

It wasn't that Lola was more beautiful, she was very smart and enjoyed playing chess with him. So he tended to just be there more to hang out with her, having the nicest pavilion wasn't really him either, Lola just decorated the shit out of things and had everything immaculate with her staff.

Aside from that they all got along extremely well, and knew he'd marry. They were a little worried he'd spread his time between five of them, but they know he's proficient at managing them all.

Now, eyes locked on your perfect frame, he walks through the warm waters, feeling them softly ripple as he pushes through the water, until you feel his movements, opening your eyes.

Your eyes, the way they look at him, unreadable and so beautiful, he puts on a charm, a smile, but you just blink, water droplets falling from them as you straighten up, running your hands through silken strands. “I’m emperor Gojo.”

You just eye him further, saying nothing, as he blinks in confusion at you. You turn a bit, sighing, the sadness he hadn’t noticed now prevalent on your face, before your eyes return to his. “An honor, your majesty.”

“Please don’t be formal.” Maybe he is like his mother a bit you muse, taking in the beautiful blue eyes even closer, far too blue, like the sky but with a myriad of shades, some you’ve never seen, framed by thick snowy lashes.

He is a beautiful man, by far, but one that has no interest to you. He seems content with his four concubines, who are whispering right now about you behind his back. “Emperor, then?”

“Call me Gojo, are you… here to fill one of the new concubine positions?” You smile a bit at that, a mean quirk of your lips.

Is this what held him up from tea, fucking four women in the baths? Even for royalty this was quite too much. “No, I’m afraid not.”

“God, what a shame,” he steps closer, until his fingers brush against your cheeks, the sensation feels better than you wished it did. You wished it felt horrible, a betrayal of your love, but the touch makes you tremble, and you can’t lie and say its with disgust.

Satoru is enamored when he touches you under the water then, big hand on the small of your back pressing just so, taking it over as he steps closer, so tall and imposing in the water. Your breasts brush against his abdomen, as your breaths quicken, a mix of irritation and something more you don't want to admit, your nipples pressing on his skin as clear arousal happens from his proximity.

You look down shyly, studying his chest, seeing scars scattered across it. You've heard a lot of his military prowess, but didn’t expect him to be that involved. You almost trace a finger across one of them, raised up and pink, before trailing your gaze back to his eyes, so intense to look at it’s difficult, but it’s also impossible to look away once they’ve caught you.

You both stay there for a moment in the quiet, saying nothing and just looking at each other, when he leans down, pressing you along the warmth of the hard wall behind you. One of his long thighs presses against your heat, and you hate how your body reacts, how your cunt pulses around nothing, tummy clenching then, you know the feeling of desire, so you can’t even lie to yourself.

 It feels like such a betrayal of the one you loved, of Suguru, what was he doing now? You cannot be like this, and for a man who doesn't want to even know you, couldn’t even meet you. He made you look so stupid to everyone, and to what, be fed grapes by naked women? An action he can accomplish anytime.

You bite back a sigh, mind swirling, the steam of the water rising and entering your lungs, your heart fucking hammering. Satoru leans down further, too close, far too close, an arm on either side of you, strong arms bulging with muscles, veins raised under his pale white skin, shades of blue and green that you want to trail your fingertips across.

You must remember who you are, where you are.

There are no friends here, there is no love, lest you be so foolish, lest you be so enamored by pretty eyes, as if your love didn’t have those too. It’s one thing to do your duty, but your heart cannot fall prey to such tactics, he clearly is expert at them, every touch and look feels calculated, like a play unfolding, with the prettiest actor.

“Your majesty…” you trail off, this wasn’t appropriate behavior for him, was it? Perhaps it was, the man wants anything but his bride to be.

“Gojo,” he corrects, a soft chuckle then as he assesses your face at this angle, so tall over you. Satoru was taller than anyone, so it’s how he is, bigger, imposing, but it makes you feel even more fragile in his hold, the thoughts making his cock ache. “So fucking pretty, god.” He murmurs then, and earns your blush.

The outward praise and the lewd way he says it is too much, he chuckles as he sees it, flushed color on your cheeks, when his lips hover over yours now. You think for some insane moment he’ll kiss you. Your hands go to his chest, as if to stop him, when you feel his steady heart beat under your palm, his warm skin even hotter than the water.

“Can you at least tell me your name, mysterious girl?” He asks, and that’s when you snap out of it, for just a moment.

When you say it he immediately recognizes the name, faltering and stepping back, eyes wide, his lips parted as if he means to say something, but nothing comes out. You can’t help but smile, it’s a mean little smile, batting your lashes as you tilt your head, as if you’re stating something so casual, not the fact that you’re the very bride he’s avoiding.

“Indeed, it was such a shame you couldn't meet me for tea, your majesty.” His jaw clenches at that, as you watch him try to save face.

You can’t be his bride, you can’t be…

He knows then, the clear hurt on your face, the sound in your voice, that he did indeed say fuck tradition and miss meeting you to fuck his four girls instead. He didn’t think he’d care how you felt, he didn’t think it would affect him until he saw the lip you’re biting, the anger flashing in your eyes.

“I… well, I…” he’s trailing off, him, the emperor of the nation, lost to an angry little brat in the waters, one clearly relishing in this one moment. He glares now, feeling himself harder as you scowl, why are you so pretty like that!? “I was otherwise occupied.”

“Yes, indeed, I see you were otherwise occupied,” you eye the girls behind his shoulders, whispering to each other wildly, when you push him back, hands on his chest. “It's rude not to even meet me after I got dragged on a five day journey by ship, you know.”

He is eyeing your hands on his chest that he now pins there for a moment, gripping your delicate wrist with long fingers. It feels too good then, his hold on you, doing things to your body you don’t want to even try to comprehend. Your eyes lock again, as he speaks. “You're my... you can't be... you…”

A sigh escapes your lips, as you tug your hands back from his firm hold, before your dumb brain thinks about those long fingers one more moment. You lick your lips, feeling your throat has suddenly gone dry, nodding. “Yes, I'm your betrothed, I suppose this is our first meeting.”

“I suppose it is…” He trails off, brushing back strands of that silken white hair, looking down now at your body again, in a way that feels like he’s fucking touching you. Part of you wants to shrink back, but the other makes you stand firm, tilting your chin up and keeping eye contact.

“I'll leave you to your pretty concubines, I'm afraid I don't intend on becoming one.” You turn and climb up those steps, the slip forming to you like a goddess, as you turn him down.

No one has ever turned Emperor Gojo down, and not because of his power, his wealth, no everyone wanted him for so much more. His prowess in bed, his body, his face, his entire aura, yet here you are, turning and giving him a little smile as your attendant hands you a towel.

He repeats your name softly, you look back at him, smiling again, that mean little one he’d love to kiss off you, a thought that makes no fucking sense. He watches as those droplets fall from your curves, the material rippling and clinging to every part of you, fucking him up to distraction.

“Perhaps you'll make it to the wedding, your majesty,” you say, wrapping yourself up with the towel, and bowing - a mocking fucking bow that makes him glare right at you as you walk off.

He doesn’t even go back to the four girls waiting, he is so confused by what just happened, instead drying off and then sitting in the sauna, leaning his head back on one of the wooden benches. As if the steam and heat will just fucking sap whatever the fuck you just did to him away.

*****

It’s the day of your wedding to Emperor Gojo.

You’ve not seen him since that fateful meeting in the baths, and you’ve avoided him actively when you’ve run into him, every time you see him you either duck behind a pillar, a fruit stand, something. Once you couldn’t so you just inclined your head in a bow and continued, infuriating the living fuck out of him. He’s seen you hiding and ducking like a foolish child.

He doesn’t actively seek you out however, he doesn’t make any of the three meetings you’re supposed to have before marriage. So it’s both of you just avoiding each other like a plague, he’s laughing with that booming sound of his, throwing his head back as he walks arm in arm with his girls. You stay alone, just your attendants walking behind you.

People are spreading rumors about his clear lack of interest, and Satoru hears them frequently. When one of his concubines says something to the other about how he must not find you to his liking, he almost wants to laugh, because that sure the fuck wasn’t the case. If it were looks alone, you were the epitome of everything he finds attractive, but it’s more than that.

For the past few days his mind keeps fucking drifting to you, he can’t stand it truly, when he was getting his cock sucked by Lola and had to shut his eyes, wondering what it’d be like between your plush lips. He was so frustrated he couldn’t even keep it hard - and that has never happened to Emperor Gojo, notorious in fact for round after round.

Lola had been as perplexed by him at this development, but now when he walks past you and inhales your sweet scent, his cock is hard from that. Absolutely infuriating, he wonders if your country is one of witches truly, and you’re here to just fuck with him, ignoring him on top of it. Your chin up in the air, stubborn and rude as you walk by in those pretty robes.

It’s an agonizing few days, for Satoru, and a dreadful few days for you. All you can think of is Suguru, you keep writing and writing, knowing he’ll never see it, until your tears soak the ink on the paper. You’d hug your pillow in that huge bed, in that lonely room, hating yourself for even finding Satoru attractive, forcing those thoughts out of your head, so you can remember.

He didn’t want this anymore than you did.

The thoughts of that reign supreme now, that it wasn’t as if Satoru wanted this marriage, and in that way perhaps you two could find some common ground, some agreement that keeps the contact minimal. You’re knowledgeable about what your role is as a wife, how to serve him sexually and domestically, so you hope that will help you separate it all.

The only experience you had was Suguru, his loving kisses and his desperate tugs at your bodice, he’d slip a nipple into his mouth while hidden in the corners, behind the curtains, wherever he could get a moment. Brief, beautiful moments, where you fell deeper each time, that can’t just fade, it can’t just disappear.

To know you’ll watch your husband with several women, that he’ll not just sleep with them, but spend time with them, have babies with them, and you can’t even write the man you love is an even more bitter pill to swallow. You know it’s a man’s world, of course it is, but the cruelty there is a joke, at least back home men tried to keep their mistresses hidden.

You know Suguru would have never been that way.

You try to push past the hurt as you enter the immaculate hall where you are to bind yourself forever to a stranger. You walk quietly, looking at the man who doesn’t want to be here any more than you did, truly, eyeing the tall white haired man wearing his thick dark blue sokutai. It was not a traditional one, the robes altered to reveal far too much of his muscled chest, as Satoru liked to do you noticed.

He seemed to relish in how attractive everyone found him, a trait that just turned you off more truly, but you suppose none of it matters, this is all for political gain, for a show. There will be nothing between you two, even though with each step bringing you closer, you feel the pressure eating at you, you feel the walls closing the fuck in until you almost can’t move.

The eyes on you, the whispers, and now Satoru’s blue eyes drinking you in, you actually for one moment tremble, before putting on your fake fucking smile, the one that you practiced in the mirror. Making gracious head movements as your robes trail, whispers of silk and satin along the laid out rug you’re walking across, meeting his gaze finally.

Satoru’s heart hammers in his fucking chest as you come closer, as all of you enters his field of vision. To say you were beautiful before seems an understatement, now looking at you leaves him speechless, throat dry as you wear that beautiful sky blue ceremonial juunihitoe, layers of blue and white, embossed with silver flowers just flowing from your body. 

His pulse races so badly he can hear the blood flow in his ears, swallowing nervously as you clutch your hands together until you’re in front of him. He tentatively takes your hand, swallowing it in his huge grip, fingers wrapping around your own, not saying anything, but looking at you so intensely. You see none of his concubines attended, perhaps they do not join such festivities.

You wonder if he can’t wait to go back, and you wonder if it bothers you either way, as the ceremony begins. It’s long and tiring, as they say the words that you both scarcely pay attention to, as they bond you together in a contract that is iron clan, that will never be something you can get out of. You feel your freedom - did you ever have it?- slip away with every word.

Satoru is surprisingly quiet, you’re not sure what you expected, something mocking or some sort of boredom, but he’s frowning, eyeing you over and over, as if searching for something. You wonder if he’s trying to find a flaw, or if he’s just trying to find something he might like about you enough to handle the times he would have to spend.

In the first month, he would have to spend all his time in this pavilion, not to say he would not go off and do things, but husbands - even emperors - were supposed to spend some time devoted to their new brides. You imagine he wouldn’t like it anymore than you would.

There is music playing, and beautiful dancers waving their fans, when you both sip on each of the three cups of sake, as is tradition, speaking the words. Satoru places his lips on one end of the little ceramic dish, then hands it to you, eyeing the red painted on your lips.

He notices how it shimmers, that your makeup has been done clearly, there's color under your eyes, a pinkish hue that makes them appear even prettier. He catches sight of the blush along your precious cheeks - precious, why did he think that? The thought irritates him, along with not being able to rip his fucking eyes off you, when you two continue the ceremony. 

Eventually it’s well past night time, and he's prepared in just a thin Kimono from his attendant, loosely tied. “Master Gojo…”

“Yes, Ijichi?” He’s very close with him, Ijichi has been serving Gojo since he was a teen himself, he eyes the tired man, who sighs a bit, tightening the sash.

“I think your new bride is…”

“Speak it, you’re allowed.”

“She’s lovely,” Satoru blinks in surprise then, Ijichi has never said that about a single one of the ladies here, to the point Satoru assumed maybe he didn’t even like women. “It’s bold.”

“You think a lady is pretty? That’s new.” Satoru teases, and Ijichi stands back, serious look as always on his face, but he’s also shifting a bit, nervously.

“I think many women are pretty, I suppose I meant her… not just her outer appearance.” Satoru tilts his head in confusion now.

“Not just appearance?”

“She’s caring, funny, and intelligent. She was very kind to me as well…” Satoru could swear he sees a blush for the first time on Ijichi’s cheeks, is it possible your witchcraft has even affected his butler?

“I see, you like her.”

“Very much so, I just wonder if you might too, I know you’re against this marriage, but you never know.” Satoru looks away then, sighing a bit.

“Not sure she’s fond of me.”

“You did miss tea-”

“Are you on her side!? You serve me.”

“Yes, Master Gojo.” He’s all quiet again, as everyone in the fucking kingdom is offended for you at this point it seemed, from the lowest servant to his attendant, to his damn mother.

“I appreciate your thoughts, I’m sorry. I’m tired.” Satoru explains, and Ijichi nods, clearing his throat now.

“Shall you go to her chambers?”

“That’s what I must do.”

Satoru won’t admit he’s nervous, that his hands are sweating, walking over to your chambers now and entering them. Ijichi bows at you, while you’re sitting in front of the vanity, your attendant brushing out your hair. You look at them both in surprise, as if you didn’t expect him to come, even on your wedding night.

“My lady, congratulations on your wedding.” Ijichi says, and Satoru watches you soften, a sweet little fucking smile that he doesn’t think he’ll ever get from you, one that lights up your beautiful face and stops his heart.

“Thank you so kindly, Mr. Ijichi.” You smile again as he blushes, turning away and disappearing down one of the halls quietly, leaving Satoru with you. He inhales the sweetness of your scent, mixing with the incense you've lit, looking at the attendant then, who is blushing as well.

“You may leave,” Satoru orders Miwa out then, she curtseys and runs off, leaving you alone with a stranger, an emperor. He eyes you curiously, tilting his head as he studies your robes, light blue, your breasts exposed down the center, showcasing much of your skin. “Stand up.”

“Of course, your majesty,” his jaw tenses as you speak, as you stand slowly and his blue eyes drink the sight of you in. “Surprised you weren’t too busy to come.”

“You’re awfully angry about tea, hmm?” He steps closer now, long strides with his impossibly long legs, towering over you when he’s close, so close. You swallow nervously, but put on a brave face, a fake smile.

“Perhaps we should get on with things quickly, so we can have an heir.”

“What now?” His thin brows lower over his eyes, which narrow.

“Indeed, the quicker you put your seed in me, the quicker we can be done, at least one would look good for the kingdom.” Your words fucking baffle him, when you step back, undoing the knot of your robe then.

“What are…” He trails off, blushing when you’re naked, his cheeks burning as he sees your beautiful body, the one he’d jerked off to just the fucking outline of the other day.

He doesn’t jerk off, he has women for that, but he couldn’t stop himself, cumming more in his hand from the looks of you than with any of his women. He can’t help but look at your pretty breasts, they sway just a bit as they’re released, and you shift just a bit, hands knotted together in front of you, as if you’re preparing for an inspection, seemingly calm.

“What are you going on about?” His eyes slip lower, across the soft curve of your hip and stomach, even lower, to your cunt just there tempting him between the plush of your thighs that are pressed together.

“An heir, it’ll make things easier for us both,” he chuckles then, a mean smile on those vermillion lips. “Should I prepare you, your majesty?”

Satoru’s about to fucking lose it, his fists clench at his sides, trying to look in your eyes and not those beautiful fucking tits just begging for his hands. He pulls it together, snorting as if he finds you amusing and not heartbreakingly beautiful. “As if you know what to do.”

You step closer now, hips swaying as if to torture him with each undulation, all bold just like in those baths, you’re not the shy and practiced girl, you’re not the one giggling and teasing. You’re not the girl he expected, not even fucking close, how your fingertips brush the cool silk of his robe over his overheated skin.

Satoru was used to being the one in control, just what the fuck was this, how you’re acting, what you’re doing!? He is furiously blushing now at your proximity, annoyed you have whatever odd effect this is, when you speak - “I can make this at least enjoyable for you.”

“Tch, 'you think you're adequate at it?” You smile just a bit, it’s not that cute one you gave Ijichi, it's evil and making him harder.

“I've had instructions on how to please my future husband, there are many books that show it, I was given them to read.” Satoru laughs, trying to play it off, when he undoes the tie finally, as his robes land on the floor at a pool of his feet. He’s just in a fundoshi, a thin strip of material showcasing a straining erection.

“Let's see it, then.” He says, all cocky, until you're on your fucking knees before him, slipping down his fundoshi ever so carefully like some professional. He’s sputtering, unsure what to think - maybe you've done this before, but why should that bother him!? Why does that thought make him infuriated, as you have him whimpering from your breath on his inner thigh.

You have his cock free, it is so heavy that after slapping his stomach it just hangs there, thick and already hard from just seeing you. You bite your lip as the cool stone floor hurts your knees, just a bit. You take your hand carefully, stroking him slowly, from the base where he has tufts of white hair, to his pink tip leaking milky drops, admiring the veins that wrap it.

You could swear you hear a whimper, but your heart is pounding in your ears so much it’s hard to know. You swallow nervously and put on your act, running your thumb over his tip and smiling up at the man, his entire body carved and chiseled to such perfection.

“I thought I'd have to get you in this state, how curious since I hadn’t even touched you yet? the books didn't mention it being ready…” Satoru glares now, you're insulting him without even knowing it!? You’re casually calling out his desperation for you, that he’s hard when he just sees you.

He struggles to handle your insolence, your question appears innocent but he doesn’t buy it, not with you. He entangles a hand in your hair then, pulling it firmly as you lap at his tip, almost making him cum from that, while he wraps your hair around his fist, the sight of you enough he could bust ropes all over your pretty face.

“All right, let's see what you've learned, hmm?” He taunts, but you just nod a bit, stroking him then, little hand up and down in gentle twists. He’s tense now, as it feels even better, when you suck him into your mouth, just the tip at first, swirling your tongue around it and tonguing out the salty precum. “Fuck…”

He hopes that whisper was quiet enough, as you take more of him, every inch deeper and deeper from each stroke and movement of his cock in your mouth, while you just look at him like that. Like you want to end him with your pretty eyes and demon mouth, it shouldn’t even feel this good, but his eyes roll back in his head as he fucks your hot mouth, faster and faster.

He’s gasping out, he has never felt anything better even from the most practiced girls, no you have the perfect suction, the way your tongue swirls is obscene, as he fucks your throat and feels you taking so much. He almost thinks you could fucking take it all, seeing the slobber glisten on his cock, moaning at the sight of how your eyes flutter shut when he thrusts his hips inside.

God you feel too good, you have him losing his mind with your little gasps and gags on his cock. “Slutty fucking throat,” he whispers, you pull back just a bit, glaring at him, only for him to whimper, and cry out - “You’re doing s'good, sweetheart…”

Sweetheart?

Slut?

What a conundrum of a man you think, you feel him pulsing in your mouth, but also you feel your tummy clenching, something you didn't expect. You didn’t expect to enjoy this part of sex truly, you didn’t expect to enjoy anything without love, but something about his snowy lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, about his sweet cries, it does something to you.

Your nails are pressing on his muscled thighs, leaving marks on that perfect pale skin when he rips you off him then, saliva dripping from your mouth along with his precum. You’re pulling back to sit on your heels, as he lets go of your hair, and you wipe away some of the drool that’s gathered.

“Um… was I not adequate?” You hate that you actually care if you were, but then Satoru Gojo laughs without humor, standing you up now unceremoniously.

“Not adequate?”' He is lifting you like it’s nothing, your feet dangling off the fucking floor then, when Satoru Gojo slams his lips on yours, shocking you as you cling to him tightly, not to hold him but not to fall. He’s got your thighs on his hips, as he kisses you desperately, tongue devouring your mouth, every corner of it.

You’re lost for a moment, feeling your cunt leak arousal on his tummy, as his huge hands are on your ass, squeezing while he’s tasting himself on your lips. You’re kissing him back without fully realizing it, maybe it’s the surprise, maybe it’s something more that you don’t want to think of, and you get no chance to, when he’s carrying you across the room.

You find yourself thrown right on your enormous bed, decorated in more blues, the color of the Gojo clan, the colors of his eyes - some of them at least, for when he’s hovering over you, saliva string dissipating between your mouths, they’re some dark shade you can’t fathom. His pupils are so blown out it seems like they’re black, his breaths heavy and loud in your ears.

You didn’t think he’d kiss you.

Satoru Gojo’s elegant long fingers slip down your body as he feels it tremble, slipping down further, until his fingers find your slick cunt then. You gasp at the sensation of it, the delicious swipe right up and down, as his plump lips kiss down one of the soft globes of your breasts, sucking a nipple in his mouth. You’re biting back your own moan as he toys with your clit, it twitches under his touch.

“Soaking wet, from sucking my cock, slutty.” He taunts, dangerous voice, even while he’s rutting his cock on the silk blankets, sucking on another pretty nipple as you cry out. The sounds of you end him.

“Y-your majesty, you don't need to do all of that,” you tug at his hair, pulling him off, closing your thighs on his hand now, just trapping him as if he won’t keep rolling those circles. “Ah! Just... get it done, okay?”

You can’t like this.

You can’t betray the memory. And for what, a man who’s doing what he must do tonight, then will run to his favorites? You can’t.

Your words make the emperor pause, looking up and seeing you then, your plump lips are swollen from his kisses, your skin flushed, eyes glittering as your breaths come quicker and quicker. He stops his fingers for a moment, god he’s dying to be inside of you, he wants your cunt to know the shape of him, fuck only him, a maddening thought raging with another.

Your words to get it done, they make sense, they were what he was going to do, until you stunned him again. His eyes trail across your face, seeing the apprehension mixed with clear desire, before trailing down your body ever so slowly. All of the concubines wanted Satoru, all of the women he’s ever been with have begged for him, and here you were, 'doing your duty'.

Something gnaws at him, he leans up and pulls his fingers off, as you look at him curiously, blinking rapidly as if to right yourself. “Do I need to suck you more?” You ask softly, and he shakes his head, clearing his throat then, as he sees the confusion making your brows knit together.

“No, you don’t need to suck me more, you sure liked it hmm?”

“Um, I could just touch you?” He grips your wrist as you try to do so, trailing a hand down his hard abdomen, pinning it before it touches his cock, aching to bury itself inside you.

“Tonight, we will not consummate the marriage.”

The words hurt you deeply, the sense of rejection making your throat close up, you have to at least fulfill your duty here, it’s all you’ve ever even been trained for, and he’s shutting it down.

“Oh, um… did I displease you?” Your voice isn’t confident like earlier, no it’s shy and unsure, he frowns a bit, wondering what the layers of you would be like, to peel them off slowly like your robes.

The thought of a woman not wanting him, especially you, infuriates him. “No, you did not displease me, foolish girl.”

You glare at that, how foolish you are he thinks to himself, do you not see how clearly he desires you, how much he was affected by your naked form, what your moth did to him? He picks you up by your hips, and shoves you up the bed then, making you blink in confusion at the change. “Emperor…”

“So formal, naked in front of me, after I fucked your throat?” He taunts in a whisper, kissing down your tummy with hot brushes of his mouth on your skin. He watches it tense as he dreams of making it bulge with his cock, seeing you tremble under his caress. “Answer me.”

“Fine, Gojo then,” you manage, it’s not as if it’s his first name after all. You’re trying not to cry out as his hands press into your hips, but you fail, head sinking back into the soft satin of the sky blue pillows under your head.

“Are you untouched?” His words earn another blush, averting your eyes from the man settling between your thighs now, thighs that tense on either side as he shoves them apart with his shoulders. “Can’t use your words?”

“I have not lain with a man, no, but I am not untouched.” Satoru's furious that anyone saw your pretty body, but he makes no comment at your honest answer.

Truly, he absolutely hates tradition and wouldn't care if you were or were not a virgin, in fact he prefers experience with his women, but for some fucking reason that thought irritates him, to picture you cumming for someone. Did you smile at them pretty and sweet, or the cruel little sexy look you gave him instead?

Did they drink your cunt, like he’s dying to at this moment? When he sees your pretty pussy, glistening and soaked, he moans softly. He parts your puffy lips then, as you bite your lower lip nervously, thighs trembling on either side of his head, while your slick pools from your little hole. He’s marveling at how wet it is, while his breath ghosts over it, making you jerk.

“Y-your majesty, that's not - ah- in the books!? Mnh what are you - oh!” You’re lost for words, when Gojo has his tongue slipping up your slit, hot and wet lapping a stripe right up it. You’ve never felt something like that, fingers felt great but what the fuck was his demonic tongue delving between your folds? “What are you doing!?”

He’s smirking against your cunt at your cute, cut off little question, seeing your mouth is wide in a slutty O, fuck you’re pretty. “Not everything is in your books, sweetheart,” he teases softly, and he laps up your slit again, making you whine out loud this time, your little fingers are gripping his shoulders, your nails pressing in and just making him harder.

“You’re… doing…” You’re done with speech apparently, not when Satoru’s lapping the juices pouring from your hole, his nose bumping your clit, your hands pressing deeper, feeling the muscles of his biceps as your breaths come quicker and quicker, desire washing over you. “You don’t have to do that!?”

“I'll have you cum on my face tonight,” his words are now muffled as he buries his face in your sweetness, letting the juices drown him and the heady desire consume him, pressing his cock on that mattress and almost cumming from it. “Over and over.”

He’s whispered those last words against your cunt, you’re lost in the sensations then, crying out in desperate little sobs as he works your body. He feels you tense, feels your cunt pulsing around his tongue when he fucks into your gummy walls that grip him so fucking good. He shoves your thighs apart further, dragging you impossibly closer to his face.

You're lost in how good it feels, no longer pulling him off, but tugging him closer without realizing it, pleasure overtaking your mind as your cries mix with his filthy suction, drinking all the liquid just fucking pouring. He’s moaning and rutting his cock, blue eyes looking up between the valley of your breasts, and it’s too intimate, it’s too fucking much.

You've cum before with your lover, but never have you done this, this intimacy of his mouth on you. You’ve never felt this, so intense, so much pressure in your tummy just building, the heat spreading throughout your body further with every vibration of his mouth on you, sending you closer to the edge.

You're screaming out, hips arching as he makes filthy sounds with your squelching cunt, he’s so close to cumming from just this, lost in every sensation of your body. Fuck, he's never enjoyed this so much, and he loves to please - but never was he about to bust his seed all over blankets while he fucking did it, and god he can't help but pay attention to every little thing.

Every movement, every twitch, every pretty cry while your hips arch up for more, until you’re using him, until you’re riding his face so sexy, he doesn’t think you know you are, but he’s fucking you deeper with his tongue. You yank on his hair, as if to tug him off, earning his chuckle as he just clamps down then, sucking your twitchy little clit into his mouth.

That’s when it’s too fucking much.

“Ah!” You’re screaming out, shameless now, while he lavishes every part of your cunt with his tongue, you swear nothing is fucking left unexplored, and now your clit, so sensitive, so stimulated. “Sensitive - mnh!”

“Good,” he’s smirking with his chin coated in you, sucking your clit into his mouth again as you’re screaming out for him. God, he wants you to call him Satoru, he can't say it though, that’s madness. Your cunt is madness, in how he wants to drown in it, how he wants your thighs to suffocate him. “Cum. Now.”

He devours devours your pussy after his clear fucking order, Tongue flicking on your clit as he hums on it, teeth just barely grazing it until you shatter for him. There are no words, just filthy, messy sounds, slurping and squishing echoing in your brand new chambers, while you cum all over your new husband's face, and fuck if you’ve never felt anything like it.

Your eyes are rolled back in your skull, shaking violently as the waves just rush through you, brain short circuiting with how much pleasure he’s rushed through you with his wicked mouth. You're shaking as you come down, as the orgasm leaves aftershocks, pulsing around nothing at all, craving things you shouldn’t, wanting impossibly more.

The pleasure is so intense you’re dizzy, barely able to fucking see, as you’re trying to gain your senses, orient yourself, looking down as Satoru presses one more kiss on your pretty cunt. He’s leaning up then, smirking down at you, pressing a kiss to your lips, when you taste yourself you're a blushing mess.

“You’re yummy, aren’t you? Do you like tasting it?” His voice is husky, his heavy cock brushing your thigh, hot and twitchy, leaking that sticky substance as you’re struggling to form a fucking word.

“I… you… we…” He’s chuckling, you’d scowl at his audacity, but your brain is altogether too fucked out.

“All that talk, all those books you read, it’s cute,” he brushes your hair back and smirks. “But I don't think you're ready f'me yet, sweetheart.”

You’re opening your mouth to say anything, trying to catch your breath as he stands up, bending down to snatch up his robe, lazily tying it over his body as if he’s casually chatting, not fucking your brain up. You sit up and look at him then, at the man you barely know, his eyes linger across your body as he swipes his chin, and you see it’s glistening, coated with your slick.

“You’re messy, tsk.” He smirks again, you’d like to smack that smirk off his face if you could form a thought!? You finally tug the blanket over you, he chuckles, murmuring - cute - like you’re amusing to him then.

“So where will you go, Emperor Gojo, will you go to your concubines to cum?' he chuckles then again, fucking infuriating. He leans down low, tilting your chin up as you look at him.

“Maybe I will, would that bother you, sweetheart?” You shake your head, it can't bother you, and you won’t fucking let it. No way, this will be your life now, you can’t let one interaction distract you, make you forget everything.

“Why would I care, you’ll be doing that all of our marriage, won’t you?” Your question makes him tense. “If roles were reversed, would you care?”

“What nonsense is that?” He’s scowling, and your mean little smile is back, he’d have to fuck that look off you one day.

“It would not bother me, it’s expected.”

“Ah,” he shakes his head, caressing your cheek almost tenderly, you feel foolish fucking thinking it. “You're not the best liar, that won't help you play the court, you know, you’ll have to get a better poker face.”

The mother fucker turns and walks away then, leaving you alone after he’d just licked your cunt, every inch to be precise, after he’d kissed you, looked at you in ways that bother you. The guilt sets in, hot and heavy, you’re crying for the first time in so fucking long, remembering your other vows, the ones that you promised to Suguru.

And now these are your fucking vows.

Just who was Satoru Gojo, and did you care more than you’d like to? No way, you shake that off, trying to process just what the fuck happened, as you tug at the pillows and sob into them. You miss home, you miss Suguru, and now instead of consummating it, you could handle that, you did something worse.

You enjoyed it all.

*****

Satoru doesn't go to his concubines that night, sure he let you think that, but how the fuck could he after he'd just tasted the sweetest nectar that exists right from your cunt? When he'd had your throat constricting his cock, those eyes looking up at him under those lashes?

How could he go try and be with one of them when he just wants to go back in there and sink inside your perfect cunt? Wreck your thoughts of him, rearrange your brain and your guts with his cock? Show you things you never did with whoever was on your mind, make sure you'd only think of him.

He held back for two reasons, one, you were fucking him for duty. Something about it just felt wrong, as a man who hates tradition and duty, but also as a man who needs to be desired in all aspects. The slight fear and nerves in your eyes were enough to make him realize he can't do his ‘duty’ like this, not this way.

He's throbbing when he's back in his chambers, staring at the high ceilings and intricate patterns along it, taking several breaths. He shuts his eyes and all he can see is you lying under him, he can still feel your sticky wetness on his fingers, taste you on his tongue.

He quickly stomps in long strides to grab a caffer of wine, pouring it into one of the silver goblets on his elaborately carved wood night stand. He downs it as quick as he can, hoping he can get drunk enough to sleep after that, to not run back in your room and take you for the first time, fuck he'd take you in every way.

He's soon grabbing his cock, he could have let you suck him off, but something about that when you didn't truly want to, just using knowledge from books, also made him feel wrong to do so. Instead, he could have any girl in the fucking palace please him, but he's stroking his cock like a boy in leading strings, not like the Emperor Gojo at all.

He's laying back on his bed, the overhanging curtains around the four posts closed as if he could hide from even himself what he's doing, stroking his sensitive cock and picturing only one person. Maddening, insanity, he doesn't want a wife, you don't want a husband, but all he can see is how your tits jiggle, while you jerked in his hold, while you whined out and gasped.

He can feel the sting of you yanking his locks as his hand strokes his cock up and down, achingly slow, a maddening pace. He's whimpering again, just like you made him do with your damn demon mouth. Maybe you're some witch, to have him stroking his veiny length, spitting on his cock and wishing it was your juices making him slick instead.

As he jerks himself, touching his tip, he leans back against the giant wood headboard, crying out your name before he can stop himself. Cheeks flush, lashes flutter, while his cock is twitching in his hand, the sounds lewd in his empty chambers, just breathy cries, whispers, and the sound of his hand moving up and down his glistening cock.

He finally cums, cursing and moaning - ‘f-fuuckk’ - while his cum pours all over his hand, an embarrassing amount that he'd like to explain away as not having cum today, as being edged by your throat, but the sight of so much milky seed all over his hand says much more than he'll admit. He's never seen so much, still pulsing out of his pretty pink tip.

“Fuck…” he quickly cleans up, stripping down to nothing and staring at the looking glass in his room. He's got a thin sheen of sweat on his skin, shaking his head as he looks at his own dilated eyes, wondering…

Just who is his new bride?

Well this is gonna be longer than I thought lol! Hope you all enjoyed <3

taglist 1 - @kimkimoruo @dazed-lavender @kitchen-cryptid @labelt-san @enyathedrakaina @astrasworldsblog @7thsthings @kitassecretgf @heavenlystarstruck @gh0stgirl333 @wisepeachwitch @jeankirschteinsimp @mochii-13 @gojom0jo @liasacountgothacked @ic-slxt @lumilarity @unwillingstars @cl3xr @duooy @jo-potter1 @tojicidal @captainsarcasmandsass @plimplimmeiododoi @ciciley12-blog @riddhimabhatt @cinnamonpinktea @ravenbc @nienieeeeeeee @ihateexistence @yesdere @p1nkfl0wers @luvsymai @yihona-san06 @mysticranger575 @bunn1o @aldebrana @trishiepo0 @altyx @dyedscarletletter @vinsushi @crazyartist0001-blog @kitty-yaps @lnette04 @kindasortafairytale @yasmin-oviedo @lvc-lv @ashlantismorning @babychickenscareme

[celestiaras]

ft. jinu x f! reader — kpop demon hunters

╰₊✧ when you piss off your girlfriend so she decides to drain you dry tonight┊0.5k words

contains: smut!! dom reader & sub jinu┊demon stamina, established relationship, jealousy of rumi and possessiveness, creampies/breeding, roughness and scratching

➤ author's note: i saw this prompt on twitter and just had to write it for someone but it’s short because i typed this all out on my phone

making you jealous was one mistake.

making you jealous, pointing it out with a chuckle, and then brushing it off as nothing important was a death sentence.

it wasn’t his intention to belittle your feelings, he swears, he was just being stupid because his mind is all over the place between gwi-ma, his past, his half-blood enemy, and his new occupation as a kpop idol. he didn’t think fans in the human world shipping him with the purple-haired demon hunter was going to bother you so much. he found it to be completely harmless, but you clearly thought otherwise and decided the best punishment was to let out your frustrations on him. 

his head was spinning at this point, thrown back into the plush pillow as another useless moan fell from his lips, unable to keep track of the number of rounds you two had done and how many more were to come. all he knew was the non-stop pleasure you’ve been giving him for the past hours, the fire of ecstasy burning in his soul with each drag of your velvet walls along his cock, the smell of sex, the pain of your nails scratching at his chest, how beautiful you were on top of him with your skin shining with a thin sheen of sweat and the intricate patterns drawn all over your body glowing were every time he hit your spongy sweet spot— he didn’t even remember why you were so pissed off at him in the first place. 

through his half-lidded eyes, he could see evidence of his previous peaks oozing out of your tight little cunt where the two of you met, leaking out a little more with every raise of your hips and getting pushed deeper into you each time they slammed into him. he wouldn’t even be surprised if he’s fucked a baby into you at this rate, but the thought of it combined with unnatural stamina kept him rock-hard despite the fact that he’s been shooting blanks for the past fourty mintues. he doesn’t know if he still has it in him, but he knows you aren’t going to relent until he’s properly drained and all of the underworld knows that you’re the reason why he’s screaming so much.

your hand traced up his torso, tracing the design up his abs and chest, leaving feather-light touches all over, from his board shoulders where you left sunken bute marks so deep that it was a wonder there was no blood to the dark purple marks you left on his fair neck up to his sharp jaw. the possessive glare you gave him made shivers shoot up his spine, and he swears he came again with how his vision went completely white and his entire body stilled for a moment. 

that was, until he felt you lightly smacking him in the face multiple times until he opened his eyes and saw you smirking at the pathetic state he was in. “aw, are you going to tap out already, jinu? you look so cute when you’re all fucked out like this… i’m so glad it’s a sight that only i am able to see…”

god, he’s so in love with you. his hand cupped yours, looking up at you as the only one for him. “right, only you… i’m yours, forever and always…”

[classyrbf]

dad bod!toji who’s still the big, muscular man he is but you can tell he’s gotten older and his metabolism has slowed down a little bit. He’s gotten chubbier in his arms, thighs, tummy. Not to mention, he’s started to gray and grow stubble on his face, the perfect salt and pepper mix. Toji says he hates it, always moaning and groaning about needing to hit the gym but you…? You fucking love it. It takes everything in you not to ravish his right then and there, wanting to pounce on him every second of the day. You’re always kissing up on him, grabbing on him, dragging him to the laundry room while the kids watching tv so you could have a quickie. And he’s so confused on where all this extra energy and affection has sprouted from, but he loves it. You’re always so eager for him, fucking your self on his cock, him waking up to you kissing his neck and stroking his dick, dropping to your knees and giving him head without his asking. He wonders what he’s done to deserve all of it.

He’s standing in the mirror one late night with his shirt off, examining just how chubby he’s gotten. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little insecure, thinking how gorgeous you are and how you shouldn’t settle for him. “I’m losing myself,” he grumbles. “What’s going on, baby?” You walk in the room, a smile immediately on your face when you see his shirt is off, definitely a sight to see. “I need to head to the gym is what’s going on.” He flexes his muscles in the mirror. You giggle and walk up behind him, snaking your arms around his waist. “I think you look so handsome with a little weight on you,” you whisper in his ear. “Does something to me.” You nibble on his ear before trailing kisses along his jaw, and that’s when Toji realizes why you’ve been so affectionate with him, like a lightbulb going off in his head.

Just mere minutes later, you’re riding him like your life depends on it, slamming your hips down on his, creating a sticky mess between you two. “S-shit,” he pants, “slow down, mama—fuck!” His bruising grips on your hips only tighten the faster you ride him. Your pussy sucks him in with each thrust, clenching around his throbbing cock. “I can’t…you get so me so hot and bothered, baby.” You grin, running your hands down his chest.

He swears he could cum right then and there, with the way you were riding him and that look in your eye, he was ready to give you another kid. And now you were kissing his neck, moaning and whimpering in his ear. “You’re so perfect, Toji,” you mewl. “Fuck me.” His eyes roll back before fluttering shut. “Keep going, yes, yes, just like that, mama. You’re gonna make me fucking cum,” he groans. You keep that same rhythm, squeezing your pussy around him, milking him. He suddenly wraps his arms around you, holding you in place as he thrusts up into you, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. “Ah, fuck!” You cry out, your cum dripping down his shaft. His thrusts grow sloppier and harder and next thing you know he’s filling you up, pushing his cum deeper inside of you with slow thrusts. Laughter erupts from your chest as you catch your breath, kissing him slowly and passionately.

“Mmm, goddamn,” he huffs, pulling you to his chest. “Now I finally know why you’re so goddamn horny all the time,” he chuckles. You blink up at him with a small smirk. “Can you blame me?” You trace patterns on his skin. He can see the look in your eye, that hungry stare you’re giving him, wanting more. “What are you thinking about, hm?” He caresses your cheek. “Oh nothing…just how badly I wanna give you some head right now, but I’ll wait.”

[kenntoria]

you find him asleep on the couch again.

his tie’s loosened, collar wrinkled, one arm flung over his eyes like even in sleep he’s trying to shut the world out. there’s a book half-open on his chest—one he’s been trying to finish for weeks but never makes it more than ten pages in before he knocks out.

he’s so tired lately.

you walk in quietly, bare feet soundless against the floor, and crouch beside him. just looking. just admiring.

you think he must’ve been beautiful even when he was younger, but something about him now—the tired eyes, the rougher hands, the laugh lines that don’t get used enough—makes your heart ache in a good way.

you touch his hand. not to wake him, just to feel. his fingers twitch and then wrap around yours instinctively, even in sleep. god, you love him.

and you must be radiating it or something, because his lashes flutter, and a second later he’s blinking awake, murmuring, “what time is it…?”

“late,” you whisper. “go back to sleep.”

he shifts, groggy, and squints at you. “what are you doing down there?”

you smile. “watching you.”

he exhales something that’s halfway between a huff and a groan. “that’s unsettling.”

“you’re pretty when you sleep.”

“you mentioned i drool when i sleep.”

you shrug. “still pretty.”

his fingers tighten on yours. then he pulls your hand up to his lips, kisses the inside of your wrist, his eyes fluttering shut again.

you scoot closer. lift yourself to kneel between his legs, lean your cheek against his chest where the book had been, and feel his heartbeat through the fabric of his shirt.

“you okay?” he murmurs.

“mmhm.”

“good.”

and for a few minutes, that’s all. the soft ticking of the wall clock, his hand gently tracing patterns over your back. you press your nose to his shirt and breathe him in—aftershave, paper, the faintest scent of his cologne—and it makes your chest ache.

you don’t realize you’ve spoken aloud until he says your name softly. questioning. careful.

and you blink up at him.

“what?”

“say it again,” he says.

you frown. “say what?”

he looks at you like he doesn’t want to scare it away.

“you said,” he whispers, “you love me.”

your breath catches. maybe you did. maybe it slipped out in the quiet.

“i do,” you say softly. “i really do.”

his eyes close. his mouth presses into your hairline. and in a voice so small you almost miss it, he says,

“i hope you never stop being this in love with me.”

you swallow. pull back to look him in the eye. touch the side of his face, and brush your thumb along his cheekbone.

“i won’t,” you say. “ever.”

he smiles like that means more than he can say. like it scares him and heals him at the same time.

you curl into his chest again, and he pulls a blanket over the both of you. holds you tight.

“don’t let me fall asleep like this,” he mumbles.

“okay, ‘nami.” you lie.

and when he starts snoring ten minutes later, you don’t wake him. you kiss the corner of his mouth, bury your face in his neck, and think—

i really, really won’t.

[yuwritesstuff]

The moment Satoru found out his wife was pregnant, something shifted inside him — like an ancient spell breaking open in his chest, releasing light and warmth he hadn't known he'd been missing.

He’d stared at the little test in your shaking hands, blinking under the harsh bathroom light, and when you looked up at him — nervous, hopeful — he didn’t say a word at first. He just fell to his knees and pressed his forehead gently against your stomach, arms wrapping around your hips as if to say thank you to the tiny life just beginning there.

From then on, it was like the world had flipped upside down in the gentlest, most absurd way.

Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer alive, was suddenly anxious about everything. He kept one hand behind your back every time you walked as if you'd tip over without it. He scowled at the stairs as if they’d personally offended him. He triple-checked the expiration date on everything you ate, even the fruits. Apples!

“Do you think our baby likes apples?” he’d asked one afternoon, watching you crunch into one while curled up on the couch.

“I think I like apples,” you laughed.

“Okay, but we’re a team now. You and the baby are a package deal. So I’m asking for both of you!”

You'd just rolled your eyes — but smiled the whole time.

He thought your cravings were adorable. Even the 2 AM “we need fried chicken right now” kind of cravings. There was no mountain he wouldn't climb for you — and in fact, he did climb one once to get a specific type of peach you said you wanted. He’d teleport to different prefectures if needed.

Your growing belly was his favorite thing in the world. He loved watching you rest your hand on it absentmindedly, like you were already cradling the baby. He’d trace soft patterns over your skin with his fingers, murmuring nonsense stories to the child who kicked like they already had opinions.

He was fascinated by everything. The sound of your baby's heartbeat on the monitor. The way you waddled and scolded him when he called it cute — but he did think it was cute. You were beautiful like the moon — soft, whole, glowing in a way that wasn’t meant to be touched but cherished from beside.

He kept a journal. Something he never told anyone.

It wasn’t elegant or poetic — it was full of rambling thoughts, doodles, little “today the baby kicked again” notes, and things he wanted to tell them when they were older. Sometimes he wrote about how scared he was. How the world was cruel. How much he wanted to protect them. How he was afraid he wouldn't be enough. But always, at the end of the entry, he’d write:

“But your mom is here. And that makes everything okay.”

Satoru was the kind of man who laughed too loud and talked too much, but around you lately, he’d gone soft and quiet in the evenings. He loved brushing your hair back behind your ear. Loved kissing your shoulder when you leaned into him. Loved pressing his cheek to your belly and just… being. No missions. No curses. No battles. Just you.

And despite all his fears — the world, the danger, the weight of who he was — he was happy. Genuinely, finally happy.

It hit him one night when you fell asleep on his chest, your hand loosely over his heart, your child nestled between you two.

He whispered into the silence, voice rough with awe, “I think… I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

And for once, Satoru Gojo didn't feel like the last one standing in a war-torn world. He felt like a man — loved, loving, waiting for a life to bloom.

[gf2bellamy]

love — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: spencer accidentally reveals your secret relationship by kissing you in front of the whole team—oh, and blurting out “I love you” for the very first time, too. content warnings: secret relationship , mention of a case , spencer being very worried about the unsub and case but its mostly fluff !! a/n: haiiii !!!!! hope you didn't miss my secret relationship fanfics too much </3 also i finished writing this like 10 minutes ago but i was too excited not to post it

Things were heating up.

You were getting closer, so close, to catching the unsub. The map was sprawled across the table in front of you, dotted with red circles.You traced another location with your marker, murmuring quietly under your breath, a habit you'd most definitely picked up from your boyfriend.

Spencer was nearby, slouched in a chair, mumbling to himself in a similar fashion. His brows were furrowed. You could tell this case was hitting him harder than most. Maybe it reminded him of something, or someone. Whatever it was, it weighed on him, and that meant it weighed on you, too.

You took care of him as much as you could, though it wasn’t easy with your relationship still hidden from the team. Last night, you’d slipped into his hotel room after everyone else had turned in, finding him already buried in files. You didn’t ask if he was okay, he wouldn’t have answered honestly. Instead, you’d wordlessly sat beside him on the bed, running your fingers through his hair until his shoulders finally relaxed.

“Want to cuddle?” you’d murmured, and he hadn’t even hesitated before nodding, letting you pull him down against the pillows. He’d tucked himself under your chin, his breath warm against your collarbone, and you’d held him, fingers carding gently through his curls until his breathing evened out.

Of course, sneaking out at 6 a.m. had been its own mission. It took you twenty minutes to escape Spencer’s sleepy, koala-like grip. He kept murmuring thank-yous against your skin, kisses trailing from your collarbones to your jaw, like punctuation marks of affection. It had taken everything in you not to crawl back into bed with him.

Now, back in the briefing room, you had even more reason to catch this unsub.

"I got it." Spencer’s voice broke through the silence.

His head snapped up, and the words came pouring out of him like a dam breaking. Facts, patterns, dates, connections. The rest of the team, who had been working in silence, immediately turned their attention to him, hanging onto every word.

“Okay. Morgan and Reid—I want you with me,” Hotch announced the moment Spencer finished unraveling the unsub’s pattern.

Garcia’s fingers flew across her keyboard, sending the coordinates to their phones in a flurry of clicks. This was one of those rare, high-stakes cases where even she had to join them in the field. “Location’s live on your devices,” she said, her usual bubbly tone subdued. Hotch gave her a curt nod of thanks before striding toward the door, Morgan right behind him.

Spencer, however, seemed miles away as he snatched his brown coat from the back of his chair. His mind was already elsewhere, locked onto the unsub. Then, just before following the others, he turned to you.

You were still standing by the board, capping the dry-erase marker and watching him with a soft, worried smile. He seemed exhausted.

“Be careful,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

He blinked, as if snapping back into himself for just a second, and mumbled, “I’ll be okay. I’ll see you later.”

His fingers caught your chin, thumb beneath your jaw, index curled gently under your bottom lip. Time stuttered. His kiss was fleeting, achingly tender, and then his lips brushed yours again as he whispered, "I love you," like it was the simplest truth in the world. And then he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him.

Silence.

Absolute, suffocating silence.

A pin drop would’ve echoed like a gunshot.

“Oh. my. god.” Garcia’s shriek could’ve shattered glass.

Your fingers flew to your lips, still tingling from the ghost of his kiss. The rest of the team was frozen, Rossi’s eyebrows had nearly disappeared into his hairline, JJ’s mouth was slightly open, and Emily looked like she was torn between laughing and demanding an immediate explanation.But you barely registered any of it.

Because Spencer had just said I love you. For the first time.And he’d done it in front of everyone.

Garcia was already flailing her hands, rapid-fire questions spilling out of her“Since when? How did I not know? Oh my god, the touching, the lingering looks, the—!”

But all you could hear was the echo of his voice, playing over and over in your mind like a broken record.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Your face burned. Your heart threatened to beat out of your chest.

You didn’t even notice Emily waving her hand in front of your face until her voice cut through the haze. “Earth to lovergirl,” she teased, grinning.

Blinking, you turned toward the team, all of them staring at you with varying degrees of shock, amusement, and sheer anticipation.

“What?” you managed, voice still breathless.

“That’s all you have to say?” JJ asked, plopping onto the edge of the desk in disbelief. She grabbed a Cheeto from an open bag, crunching loudly. Garcia was still gaping at you, hands pressed dramatically over her mouth. Behind her colorful glasses, her eyes were massive. Rossi sipped his coffee slowly, clearly judging the entire situation.

“Huh?” you repeated dumbly.

Emily’s smirk softened just a fraction. “You okay?”

You stared at her, still dazed, before muttering, “He said ‘I love you.’”

Another beat of silence. Garcia gasped. “That was his first time saying it?” Her hands flew away from her mouth, gripping the sides of her head like she might explode.And then chaos. Again.

“Oh my god—”

“Since when—”

“Wait, wait, wait—that was the first—”

You spent what felt like hours fielding an avalanche of questions, barely able to catch your breath between them. At first, you tried to dodge them, played dumb, gave vague smiles, busied yourself with the files on the table, but it was pointless. Garcia saw straight through you, pinning you with a look that practically screamed, You’re not getting out of this, sweetheart.

So you caved. “Six months,” you said quietly. There was a loud collective gasp. Garcia clutched her chest like she’d been personally betrayed. ( She was. ) “Six?! Six whole months? And you didn’t say anything?”

You winced. “We were trying to be subtle.”

“You failed!” she cried, throwing her hands up.

Emily laughed. “Okay, next—who made the first move?”

You hesitated, cheeks burning. “He did.” Another round of dramatic gasps echoed around the room. Even Rossi raised his brows, murmuring, “Didn’t peg him for the bold one.”

“He’s… not. Not usually,” you admitted with a smile you couldn’t quite suppress. “But with me… I guess he was.”

And on it went, question after question, as if they were making up for six months of missed gossip in a single sitting. It was messy, chaotic, borderline embarrassing, but it was also kind of nice. Being known. Being happy. Then came the final question.

JJ’s voice was quieter than the others, softer. “Do you love him too?”

You froze.For a moment, the whole room seemed to hold its breath. Even Garcia stopped typing. You looked at JJ, then down at your hands, then back up again. And nodded.

Garcia screeched, practically launching herself out of her chair. “I knew it!” she howled.

Emily beamed, her smile so wide it crinkled the corners of her eyes, and even Rossi let out a low chuckle, shaking his head like a proud uncle.You were a little overwhelmed, okay, maybe a lot, but underneath the chaos, you also felt a sheer amount of happiness that you've never felt before.

Hotch interrupted the moment by calling Garcia. “Unsub’s in custody. We’re on our way back. Everyone’s okay.”

Your breath left you in a rush. Spencer was okay. Your heart, though, it hadn’t quite gotten the message. It was still thundering in your chest, hammering against your ribs with every second that ticked by.

The others must’ve noticed the way you kept glancing at the door, because JJ finally nudged you gently toward it. “Go wait. We’ll clean up.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Garcia waved a dismissive hand. “Honey, please. You’ve got heart-eyes so intense it’s blinding. Go stand dramatically in the doorway like you’re in a movie or something. We’ve got this.”And so you did.

You found yourself hovering in the doorway of the conference room, a half-hearted folder in your hands, pretending to sort through paperwork as you stared through the glass. Watching. Waiting.

Then you heard it, the sound of the SUV pulling up outside. Every head in the room snapped up like it was choreographed. Honestly, for a team of professional FBI agents, they acted like a bunch of high schoolers most of the time.

You glanced back over your shoulder. Sure enough, all of them were watching you, wide-eyed and waiting like you were the final act in a romantic drama. You rolled your eyes with a half-smile, dropped the stack of files onto the table and walked out of the conference room.

As you left, you heard Emily mutter, “Garcia, don’t follow her.”You didn’t wait to hear the response.

The moment you reached the main hallway of the precinct, the doors opened and there he was.

Spencer stepped inside, his curls slightly mussed, cheeks flushed from the cold, and as soon as his eyes found yours, he smiled. That gentle, crooked smile that always made you smile.You barely registered Derek behind him, hand gripping the cuffed unsub and throwing you a confused look when you didn’t even acknowledge him. Even Hotch glanced over in surprise as you made a beeline for Spencer.

“Hey—wait, what—?” Spencer managed, eyes widening as you grabbed his arm and all but dragged him down the corridor.

You shoved open the nearest empty office, tugged him inside, and closed the door firmly behind you, leaning back against it.

“Did you mean it?” you asked, your voice urgent, breath a little uneven.

Spencer blinked. “Mean what?”

You stared at him in stunned disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

“What?” he said again, completely baffled. “What did I do? Did Morgan tell you about what happened in the field? I know I wasn’t supposed to go near the unsub without backup, but I swear, I had it under control—”He started to ramble, hands gesturing as he pouted in that way he did when he was simultaneously nervous and a little too proud of himself. “He had a weapon, but I de-escalated him. You would’ve been proud.”

“You did what?” you interrupted, your mind now juggling two emotional crises.

Spencer blinked again. “Wait—so Morgan didn’t tell you?”

“No,” you muttered, your voice flat with disbelief. You shook your head slowly, trying to process it all. The nerves, the kiss, the I love you, and the fact that Spencer genuinely hadn’t realized what he’d done.

Spencer’s expression shifted from confusion to concern in a heartbeat. “Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Did I do something wrong?”

His voice was careful, gentle, and far too kind for how scrambled your brain felt. “Can you tell me what it is?” he added, tilting your chin up just enough so your eyes met his.

Your mouth opened slightly, but the words were stuck. How could he not know? How could he be looking at you like that, all wide eyes and soft brows and pouty lips, and not know?

“Spencer,” you said finally, his name sharp on your tongue.

“Yes?” he replied immediately, those puppy-dog eyes locking onto yours like he was bracing for impact.

“You kissed me.”

His brows pulled together. “I’m—I’m sorry?” he said, clearly confused.

If you weren’t so worked up, you might have laughed at his face. But your heart was hammering, and your nerves were tangled in knots.

“You did it in front of everyone,” you clarified. And then you said it , softly, barely above a whisper. “And then you said—”

“I love you.” His voice cut in before you could finish.You watched as the memory clearly snapped back into place. Realization washed over his face, followed immediately by a bright, burning blush that crept up his neck and across his cheeks.

“Mhmm,” you hummed, nodding slowly, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as you studied his reaction.

Spencer rubbed the back of his neck, eyes wide, flustered in a way that only made you want to kiss him senseless. “Oh,” he breathed, glancing away for a second before meeting your eyes again. 

“Yeah… oh.” you repeated. Both of you stayed silent for a second.

“I did mean it,” he stammered out.

A smile tugged at your lips, finally. After an hour and a half of bouncing knees, chewed lips, the words you’d been dying to hear had finally landed.

“I love you,” Spencer repeated, a little firmer this time, like he needed to hear it aloud again to make it real. Like maybe saying it twice would help his brain catch up to his heart.The warmth that bloomed inside you was instant. You weren’t sure you’d ever felt this happy in your entire life.

Then, of course, Spencer kept talking.

“Did I say it too soon? I’m not sure. On average, men say it around three to three and a half months into a relationship, while women usually wait closer to four months,” he rambled, already blushing furiously, eyes darting anywhere but your face. “And I know we’ve been dating for six months, so technically it took me twice as long, which isn’t statistically ideal, but honestly I almost said it on our first date, which definitely wouldn’t have been optimal and—”

He was spiraling. Fast.

So you did the only thing that would shut him up. You stepped forward, gently grabbed his face in both hands, and said, soft but certain: “I love you too, Spencer.”

He stared. Just stared, like he was trying to memorize this exact moment, burn it into his brain with all its warmth and disbelief and wonder. You watched his expression shift, first stunned, then relieved, then something so bright and boyish it made your heart lurch.You’d never seen him so happy before.

Well, once. That first time you kissed him. He’d looked a little like this, dazed and blissed out. But now he looked like his whole world had just clicked into place.

“Yeah?” he breathed, voice shaky with excitement, his grin stretching so wide it practically crinkled his entire face.

“Yeah.” You laughed through the word, nodding, the emotion bubbling up in your chest and spilling into every part of you. Your smile was a mirror of his.

Spencer let out a breathy laugh and pulled you into him, arms wrapping tightly around your waist as if he couldn’t stand the idea of space between you anymore. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, grinning against his skin.

“This is real, right?” he asked into your hair, voice muffled. “I’m not dreaming? Because sometimes I do dream about you saying that and then I wake up and it’s just—”

You cut him off with a kiss to the warm skin of his throat.“It’s definitely real,” you mumbled against him.

Spencer let out a shaky breath and held you tighter. You stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, both of you grinning like idiots. It felt absurdly, wonderfully perfect. Then you muttered into his neck, “You do know you outed our relationship to everyone, right?”

Spencer’s arms stiffened around you just slightly. “Yeah. Totally. I knew that. I did it on purpose,” he lied, too quickly, voice pitched a little too high.

You giggled and pulled back, hands still resting on either side of his neck. “You’re a terrible liar, Dr. Reid.”

He didn’t even bother to defend himself, just gave you an adorable, crooked grin and leaned in to peck your lips. “Yeah, I am,” he mumbled, brushing his nose against yours.

You kissed him back, just once, then poked a finger into the center of his chest. “Also, we’re going to talk about your little superhero stunt at home.”

Spencer blinked. “Right,” he echoed, suddenly very aware of his earlier reckless attempt to talk the unsub down without backup. “Are you mad?”

“I’m not not mad,” you replied, giving him a look. “But I love you, so I’m saving the full lecture for later.”

He winced slightly, then smiled. “Fair.”

You let your fingers drift through the curls on his forehead, brushing them back gently. “Well,” you sighed, “for now, we have to go out there… into the land of chaos and gossip.”

Realization dawned slowly on Spencer’s face. His eyes widened. “Oh no. Garcia definitely filled Morgan in already.”

“And Rossi’s probably already told Hotch,” you added grimly.

“And JJ and Emily—”

“—were there when it happened,” you finished.

You both stood there in mutual silence for a moment, dread creeping in. Spencer cleared his throat. “Maybe we could… go out the window?”

You laughed, smacking his chest lightly. “Nice try, genius.”

He gave a helpless little shrug. “I had to try.”

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed the handle of the door behind you. “Ready?” you asked.

“Absolutely not,” Spencer said without hesitation.

You squeezed his hand anyway. “Come on, lover boy.”

To say that the conference room was chaos would’ve been an understatement.Garcia let out a sound that could only be described as a squeal-gasp hybrid, immediately launching into a breathless barrage of questions that involved timelines and pet names. Morgan clapped Spencer on the back so hard he nearly stumbled, muttering something about “my boy finally growing up.” JJ just smirked from the corner, quietly sipping her coffee.Hotch had walked by at one point, muttered something that suspiciously sounded like “About time,” and kept moving without missing a beat.

The jet ride was somehow worse.

You’d sat next to Spencer, hoping for a quiet, post-case decompression. Instead, you were subjected to Garcia and Morgan playing twenty questions from across the aisle. Rossi, pretending to read, chuckled behind his wine glass the entire time. At one point, you tried to rest your head on Spencer’s shoulder, and he’d blushed so hard you thought he might combust.

You weren’t sure if he was embarrassed from the attention or just overwhelmed from finally saying what he’d been keeping in for months. Probably both.

But the days that followed? Even worse.

Because the teasing never stopped. Emily sent you heart emojis during briefings. Morgan kept calling Spencer lover boy, which you regretted giving him the vocabulary for. Garcia had created a mood board on her computer and refused to delete it. Even Hotch raised an eyebrow when you asked to share a rental car with Spencer.

But through it all, Spencer stayed by your side. Every awkward joke, every embarrassing comment, every not-so-subtle glance,he never flinched. If anything, he leaned into it. He held your hand in the bullpen and he kissed your cheek at the end of the day. It was domestic chaos.

Romantic disaster. Beautiful, awkward, completely perfect hell.

[bowtiepasta]

nanami doesn’t argue.

that would imply there’s a debate to be had. there isn’t. you’re wrong, and he’s right, end of story.

except right now you’re standing over him, arms crossed over your chest, smirking, and somehow — he’s the one apologizing. on his knees, too.

his fingers skim the inside of your wrist to the faint lines of your palm, thumb gliding over the crease of your fingers. tracing a slow, thoughtless pattern like he’s waiting for you to say something.

he exhales, sharp. “love, what exactly am I doing?”

“apologizing,” you bend closer. barely an inch, but enough that the air between you feels warmer, “..because you feel bad?”

his fingers tighten — just a little — before they smooth over again, sliding down to the ends of yours, holding on like he’s considering it. “I don’t.”

you raise a brow, irritated now. “no?”

he sighs, long-suffering, but doesn’t let go. if anything, his grip shifts, trailing down until he’s holding onto the end of your sleeve instead, brushing over your knuckles, still here, despite how tired he looks.

you press, voice softening, teasing though expectant. “do you feel bad at all?”

there’s barely a second joining the words and the way he moves — your back meets the kitchen counter with his hand around your waist, breath against your lips when he murmurs, “I do.”

his fingers slipping under your shirt at your hip as he exhales, words slipping out on your mouth:

“I’m,” kiss. “so-” kiss. “so.” kiss. “sorry,” kiss. “baby.”

you laugh into it, fingers curling into his sweater, breathless in a way you’re sure he notices. he pulls back to see the look on your face — the one that means you know you’ve won.

and for once, nanami doesn’t argue.

[fushiguruuzzzz]

satoru loves when you coddle him, and that satisfaction only heightens in the times you do it after he gets all scarred up.

maybe it is because of the fact that he cares most if you still think he is pretty (he knows he is, but hearing it from your lips makes it feel so much more meaningful; something more than a remarkable face, something to be appreciated and loved by the eyes of the affectionate rather than feared by strangers on the street). maybe it it because you are one of few that appreciate the things he had to do to end up with them at all — the hatred branded into his skin, not just a sign of survival, instead a reflection of the many who seek to end a life that was pushed upon him. in the end, none of it matters, because he grins and tilts his head into your touch the moment your knuckles ghost over his cheek all the same.

his skin is a pattern of silky smoothness and rough, scarred skin that create a rhythm speaking of his existence as you trace them. it is like reading your own form of braille, the words unintelligible but pouring the comprehension of his strength into your soul. he is so strong. even as his eyes soften and a boyish sigh leaves his lips, even as his shoulders ease and his lashes flutter in a matter that is so mortal, he is strong.

“can’t keep your hands off me?” he asks, but truly he has been waiting for it all day. he surely would have jumped your bones and forced the caress to his face if you dared to not touch him. but satoru does not say that, not right now. for once, he lets himself be quiet. he lets himself not feel a need to fill it, knowing that not every weakness must be cloaked by wit when he is in your presence.

you smile. his heart jumps the same way it did when he was a teenager. “more or less,” you say, and he cannot help but snigger.

his own hand comes up, digits bracketing your own between the plane of his cheek and his palm. he holds it there for a moment, staring up at you with such intense sapphire eyes that have softened to a powder blue as the tranquility overtook them. he watches, and he does not need six-eyes to see the look in your eyes. you are cherishing him. loving him. seeing him for what he is: a man. and although he is strong and confident and cocky, the heart does not speak of humour or intelligence or other likes of the brain. it only calls out for something to beat for. right now, he has found that, and he has never felt more human than he does in the midst of it.

scarjo 🩵🩵🩵🩵

[straycatj]

Recently, one of Oliver Clegg’s “works” came to my attention again.

It left me with deep pain and sadness.

I have no intention of blaming the person who posted it, nor those who informed me. But—

Please take a moment to imagine:

What if a photo you love—of something, someone, or some animal you hold dear—

was traced without permission, presented as someone else’s artwork, renamed, and

spread further by well-meaning people, ultimately generating income for someone else?

This is not just between me and him. It could happen to any of us, at any time, with someone like him.

I have consulted a lawyer specializing in international copyright through a project supported by Japan’s Agency for Cultural Affairs.

I understand some people still say “it’s not a big deal.”

That is exactly why I’d like to share a few facts:

His actions are tracing, which is different from imitation or reference.

At least for my photo, this cannot be considered fair use.

His website is accessible from Japan, and therefore infringes upon Japanese copyright.

My rights are protected internationally under the Berne Convention.

I am not trying to stop anyone from appreciating his work.

But I do want the facts to be recognized.

Oliver Clegg is still clearly and deliberately violating both the law and the rights of individuals.

As those who follow my work may know, neither of my cats is named “Rocky.”

I have identified at least seven of his images as traced.

On April 30th (JST), I informed his gallery and requested an investigation.

I sent a follow-up on May 3rd, asking for a response by the end of business on May 6th (local time).

To date, I have received no reply.

Perhaps they believe the words of a Japanese blogger are not worth acknowledging.

So be it.

Let me be clear: I am not seeking compensation or an apology.

All I want is for people to understand that this is a repeated pattern of appropriation.

Among the seven traced works:

One is my own photo.

One is the work of Staice Shitanda, as shared with me.

One is a Getty-managed image. If that is the only image he sought permission for, it would suggest a disregard for individual rights.

One is a published book image.

One comes from a private blog, even if it later became a meme.

One appears across Pinterest and social media, but originates from an individual's SNS post.

One features a well-known Japanese cat, for which I personally contacted their official in 2023 and was told they had never been approached by Clegg.

These images all match in composition and linework, and cannot reasonably be considered imitation or reference.

While I will not repost the artwork or comparison images here, I am prepared to share my documentation with media or art professionals who wish to investigate further.

2025.5.7　straycatj

[sinkuna]

Toji Zen'in, who doesn't get down on one knee or has a ring hidden in his pocket waiting for the perfect moment.

Instead, he's lying on your bed with you, the sheets still tangled around your legs, his calloused fingers tracing lazy patterns on your hip- gentler now than the bruising grip they'd held just moments ago.

Toji Zen'in, who's never planned a damn thing in his life, living by pure instinct and impulse. Whose love language is leaving bruised fingerprints on your skin and possessive bite marks. The same man who makes decisions in the spaces between heartbeats.

When he pulls you back against his chest you feel his chin rest atop your head. His breathing deep and even.

“Marry me.”

Toji Zen'in, whose “marry me” isn’t a question at all- just say two quiet, unguarded words slipping from his lips, like a confession he’s carried for far too long. The words falling so softly you almost miss them.

You turn in his embrace so that you can face him, the sheet sliding off your shoulder, and what you see makes your breath catch. He isn't smiling when your eyes meet- his expression stripped bare of its usual sharp edges and smirk.

Toji Zen'in, whose eyes tell stories of a man who's never had anything permanent, never wanted anything to last.

Until you.

Who traces your cheek with calloused fingers like you're something precious, something that could slip away if he doesn't hold on tight enough.

Toji Zen'in doesn't smile nor whoops in triumph or pull you into a passionate kiss. He simply pulls you closer to him after you whisper "yes," tucking you under his chin where you've always fit perfectly.

Whose heartbeat is steady against your cheek- the rhythm of home, of belonging, of a man who has finally found his harbor after a lifetime at sea. No grand gestures needed, no flowery declarations.

This is all Toji Zen'in needed- his arms around you, his breath in your hair, and the absolute certainty that he has finally found something worth keeping... Worth staying with forever.

⋆｡˚꒰ঌ 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ໒꒱˚｡⋆