#there is a freedom and restfulness in routine

[charmedreincarnation]

Lucid Dreaming Challenge (Simple + Low Effort!)

I know it’s been a while, but I’m finally putting together a new lucid dreaming challenge :) This one will be super simple: no long routines, no heavy Law of Assumption work, and minimal time commitment.

Optional: Supplements that can help

(Not required, just an extra boost for those who are interested)

– Galantamine (can be found on Amazon): A supplement that increases acetylcholine levels, often used to enhance memory and awareness. Many lucid dreamers use it to increase dream recall and trigger lucidity.

– Huperzine A: Similar to galantamine, it boosts cognitive alertness and dream vividness.

– Valerian Root: Helps promote deep, restful sleep and can lead to more vivid dreams.

⚠️ Important: Do not take any supplements without doing your own research. Always check for allergies or pre-existing conditions, and if you’re under 18 or on medication, consult a doctor before trying anything new.

Step 1: Set a Reminder to Reality Check

Set an alarm to go off every hour during the day if you can. If that’s not realistic, just try to manually remember to check as often as possible.

Each time the alarm goes off, ask yourself:“Am I dreaming?” Look at your hands, check the time twice, or try to push your fingers through your palm. The goal is to make this a habit that carries over into your dreams.

Step 2: Choose One Focus Method Per Day

I’m leaving this part up to you. Every day, you’re going to pick one of the following four and do it. Don’t overthink it!! just stay consistent. Each one trains your subconscious in a different way, so whichever you choose will work as long as you’re intentional about it.

1. Listen to a lucid dreaming subliminal for 1–2 hours

This works by bypassing your conscious mind and feeding your subconscious direct commands. Most subliminals layer affirmations under music or white noise. your brain still picks them up. Over time, your subconscious starts acting on those affirmations, especially in dream states where the conscious mind is less dominant.

2. Write “I am lucid” 100 times

This is a form of subconscious imprinting. Writing something over and over builds a neural pathway especially when you stay present and focused. It’s old-school repetition, and it works because your brain registers written words as intentional. You’re building identity through muscle memory and thought pattern.

3. Listen to lucid dreaming affirmations out loud for 1–2 hours

Affirmations help rewire your inner dialogue. By listening consistently, especially in relaxed or passive states, your brain starts normalizing the idea that you lucid dream. The more familiar the idea becomes, the more likely your brain is to bring it into your dream world. You’ll start noticing cues and remembering dreams more vividly.

4. EFT tap while saying lucid dreaming affirmations

EFT (Emotional Freedom Technique) works by stimulating acupressure points while saying affirmations out loud. It calms your nervous system and removes energetic resistance. If you’ve ever struggled with believing you can lucid dream or you get frustrated when you can’t, EFT helps remove that block while programming in new beliefs.

→ Pick one and stick to it daily. Don’t switch around too much. This part is less about intensity and more about repetition. You’re planting seeds in your subconscious your only job is to water them.

Step 3: audio aid

We’re going to be using two audios as we fall asleep, before we even get into the actual lucid dreaming method. Use them like a warm-up for your subconscious.

Put both in a playlist so they play back to back:

•The first audio is the shorter one; start with that.

•The second audio is 10 hours long, so it should be second. Just let it run while you sleep.

Step 4: The Main Method We’re Using – SSILD

I do have a full lucid dreaming guide, but for this challenge, we’re focusing on SSILD, which stands for Senses Initiated Lucid Dream. It’s one of the easiest and most effective methods out there, especially if you don’t want to rely on supplements or stress about doing too much.

SSILD works by tricking your brain into becoming hyper-aware during sleep. You cycle through your senses: sight, sound, and touch in a specific way that builds subconscious alertness without fully waking you up. When done right, this creates the perfect conditions for lucidity to happen naturally while dreaming.

How to Do SSILD (Quick Summary)

Wake up after 4–6 hours of sleep.

You want to be in a lighter sleep cycle. Set an alarm if needed.

Get up for 5–10 minutes. Just enough to become a little alert, but not fully awake. Don’t turn on bright lights. No scrolling.

Go back to bed and start your cycles:

Sight: Close your eyes and pretend to look at the darkness behind your eyelids. Don’t strain

Sound: Listen to the silence. Focus on any background noise or ringing in your ears.

Touch: Pay attention to how your body feels—your hands, your heartbeat, your bed, the weight of the blanket.

Then Cycle through sight → sound → touch slowly and calmly. One round takes about 20–30 seconds.

Do 3–5 rounds then let yourself drift off.

SSILD builds dream awareness by sharpening your internal senses right before sleep. You’re basically training your brain to “wake up” inside the dream without trying too hard. It’s subtle, easy, and works best when you’re relaxed and consistent.

This is the method we’ll be using throughout the challenge. You don’t have to do it perfectly just stay chill and curious. Your body will start catching on.

That’s it .Don’t overcomplicate it.You can mess up and still get results.

Even if you do it half-assed, it still gets your brain into that hypnagogic, in-between state. You might get false awakenings, random vivid dreams, or just lucid dreams straight up. From there, you can easily:

– Spawn someone (like a dream guide or character) and tell them to take you to your desired reality or the Void

– Make a portal or door in the dream, walk through it while setting your intention

– Affirm with your eyes closed in the dream: “I’m entering the Void,” “I shift easily,” etc

– Become lucid mid-dream and just let go and fall when you fully surrender or become weightless, you might drop right into the Void

– Ask a dream character to help you shift—they often know more than you think

– Recognize yourself in the dream (like seeing your reflection, name, or face) and use that moment to command a shift

Step 5: Succeed and send me your success story, because you deserve to be celebrated.

When it happens (and it will), I want to hear about it. Whether you had a false awakening, a full lucid dream, shifted, entered the Void, or just got closer than ever before (it counts).

You did that.You deserve to be seen for it.Send it to me so I can hype you up properly!!!!!

Now This isn’t supposed to be some intense, life-consuming thing. I know people have hard lives, stressful jobs, school, responsibilities. this challenge is not meant to add pressure. It’s supposed to be gentle. Supportive. Fun.

Everything you do here even the smallest effort is scientifically rewiring your brain. Your subconscious picks up on repetition, intention, and belief whether you’re trying hard or barely doing anything. So just let the world do its magic. Your only job is to show up with curiosity. And honestly, you can use lucid dreaming for anything not just shifting or entering the Void.

This isn’t a LOA-focused challenge but even Neville Goddard who’s like the blueprint for modern manifestation talked about lucid dreaming.

He told a story once about waking up with a literal object from a dream. He had a dream where he was in a desert and picked a branch off a bush. The next morning, he woke up in his bed with that exact same branch in his hand. Like physically. In real life.

He said he didn’t imagine it, it was actually there. And he used that moment as proof that consciousness isn’t limited to the physical world. What happens in dreams, in imagination, in the subconsciousit’s real. It can materialize. That’s how powerful your inner world is.

So yeah, lucid dreaming isn’t just some side hobby. It’s a doorway. A technique. A way to access higher states, shift realities, and literally bring things back with you.

You literally spend one-third of your life asleep. That’s decades of untapped time where your body rests, but your consciousness can still create. You don’t have to wait for your reality to change you can go into your dreams and become the change first. So yeah…go manifest. Shift. Tap into the Void. Do whatever you need to do. The world is already a dream. Life is already weird. You might as well use that to your advantage.

[lqveharrington]

Never Planned | F.W.

summary: you and fred had been friends for so long that it never occurred to the both of you that everyone thought you were dating.

pairing: fred weasley x gryffindor!reader

includes: fluff, the both of you being mischievous, kissing, cursing, the two third years being wingmen when they don’t even know it

a/n: officially working on requests the second this gets posted!

You and Fred had the same routine every Sunday night after dinner. The routine was simple and familiar—so familiar that even the younger students knew it all too well. Every Sunday evening, you would typically read the Daily Prophet or do final touches to your essays while Fred would find a way to bother you until you finally gave into him and give him attention. That’s how Sunday nights would always go.

Except for tonight. For some reason, today felt off and neither of you could place a finger on it. The evening started off normal, but the longer you ignored it, the more the feeling intensified.

You were supposed to be working on your Charms essay, but all you could think about was the small feeling nagging at the back of your mind. You were so absorbed with the thought that you didn't realize you were biting the tip of you quill until Fred pulled your hand away from you, propping his feet up on your lap.

"What's with the face, Faucett? Need help with your Charms essay?" Fred asked, pouting dramatically when you snapped out of your trance and pushed his feet off your lap. "You hate me."

You scoff and roll up your parchment, placing it away on the side table. "I do not hate you, Fred."

“You do.” He teased and angled you to face him, pulling your legs to lay over his lap instead. He watched you rest your head against the cushions of the couch, making him tap your knee in concern. “What’s wrong?”

You huff and play with the threads of you sweater that Molly had made you this past Christmas, meeting his eyes that were filled with more emotion than you could place. “Nothings wrong with me, but it feels like something in this room is, you know?”

Fred looked over at the other people in the room. There were hardly any people in the Gryffindor Common Room on Sunday evenings. Everyone was out either making use of the last few hours of freedom they had before classes started the next day or in their dorms, trying to cram for any surprise quizzes.

The only people that were in the Common Room were a group of first years comparing notes, some fourth years playing exploding snap, and a pair of third years conversing quietly in a corner, tucked away from prying eyes and voices—such as Fred Weasley himself.

Fred raised a brow at the two boys who looked away quite quickly when they met the older boy's gaze. He turned back to you for a quick second, replying quietly to your previous comment. “Maybe…”

You crease your brows and look over at the pair of boys as well, “What—?”

“Oi!” Fred hollered at the two third years, making the entire room snap their heads over at the sudden boom of a voice. You blew a piece of hair away from your face in exasperation, giving the other students apologetic looks for the commotion.

“What are you blokes whispering about?” He called out, making the third year on the left burn bright red.

You poke Fred's arm when you saw the poor boy's face, not deterred by all his muscles underneath his own sweater. “Fred, stop bothering them."

The same boy looked away from you two, swallowing thickly while his friend pursed his lips in an effort to not laugh at the current situation. While the rest of the room went back to what they were doing, Fred continued to watch the pair, waiting for a response from either one of them.

Finally, after the two boys whispered back and forth—for Godric only knows how long—one of them spoke up, making the red-head beside you perk up instantly.

“Nothing important.” The teen on the right said for the sake of his friend, waving a dismissive hand in your general direction. “Just trying to figure out how to ask this girl out."

The second you both heard those words come out of the boy's mouth, you looked over at Fred who was already looking back at you with a grin that could only be described as smug.

You sighed, knowing you couldn't do much to stop whatever Fred planned on doing. “Freddie, don’t—“

He stood from his spot on the couch, hands placed on his hips like he suddenly knew the answers to everything in the universe. “Luckily, you’ve come to the right man—“

“—Boy—“ You quipped from his side as you followed him to ensure he wouldn't do or say anything stupid.

“Shut up.” Fred half-heartedly pushed you to the side, still catching you when you stumbled over your feet. He stuck his thumb in the other teen’s direction, “Anyway, who does he fancy?”

You roll your eyes at his antics and give them a warm, reassuring smile, hoping it would take their minds off whatever foolishness Fred has in plan. “First, what are your names?”

“I’m Oliver, and he’s James.” The boy on the right said tentatively, the one on the left—which you both now knew was James—nodding in agreement.

Fred clasped his hands together and nodded mindlessly, keeping his eyes trained on the boys. “Alright, I’m Fred and she’s the pain in my arse—“

“Can you focus?” You groan and shove him to the side, laughing loudly when he threw you over his shoulder to get you to stop interrupting—although the two of you knew it was hopeless.

“Oliver, who does James fancy?” Fred asked, ignoring your calls and protests.

You continued to wiggle yourself free from his grasp, huffing when he held onto you tighter. At that point, the rest of the Common Room gave you odd looks, making you flush a bright pink in slight embarrassment.

Oliver opened his mouth to speak, hesitantly as he stared at you and Fred in concern and confusion, unsure what to do in the situation. “Uhm… He fancies this girl in Hufflepuff named Lila—“

You gasped and hit Fred hard in between his shoulder blades, earning a groan as he dropped you from his arms. You spun around and gave James a soft look, knowing exactly who Lila was. You had tutored her last year in Potions—and based on your five minute interaction with James—the would be the perfect pair.

“She’s really bright and gifted in Herbology.” James says softly, making your heart ache at how he spoke about Lila in adoration.

“Have you tried to ask her out before?” You ask and watch him fidget with his hair.

He shakes his head, eyes darting away from your face toward the ground. “I’m too nervous.”

After recovering from you sudden attack, Fred clapped his hand on James’ back, ruffling his hair when the boy looked up at him. “Don’t be, you look handsome and clearly you’ve got the brains for it.”

In an instant, you saw an increase of confidence in the thirteen year old, making you grin at the sight. Maybe Fred being nosy in other students’ conversations wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

You watched for another second before murmuring something to Fred about finally finishing your Charms essay, giving the two boys one last smile. Before you left for the couch, Fred subconsciously pressed a kiss to the top of your head, knowing you were leaving even though he barely listened to you as he continued to speak to the younger students.

“Ask her out to a picnic by the lake or in one of the outdoor gardens—Not Hagrid’s, of course. That would be a nightmare.” Fred clarified with a small smirk decorating his face, leaning back on one of the armchairs behind him as the boys listened intently.

“Thanks, I’ll ask her tomorrow after class.” James replied with a new found determination in his voice.

Finally snapping out of his small trance, Oliver switched his gaze from Fred to your spot on the couch, tilting his head with a raised brow. “How did you ask your girlfriend out?”

Fred copied his facial expression, turning his head to follow the boy’s eye line when they landed on you. He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue before clearing his throat, waving a dismissive hand in the air.

“Oh, we’re not dating.”

“Sure seems like it.” Oliver crossed his arms and raised both brows this time, judging Fred like he was a liar. “You can’t give out advice about dating without having a girlfriend yourself.”

“My advice is fool proof!” Fred blurted, almost baffled that a thirteen year old accused him of spreading false information—though he has done that multiple times before to everyone he knew

“Then how come you don’t have a girlfriend?”

Fred opened his mouth and shut it, putting his index finger up toward the boys before turning and walking over to you. He stood in front of you with his hands in his front pockets, waiting until you finished your thoughts on the essay before speaking.

“Did you know people think we’re dating?” He said quietly, earning a wide-eye look from you. Based on your reaction, you probably didn’t know either. “Yeah, weird. Those two boys thought we were dating.”

“That’s the weird feeling I was getting in this room.” You say as you twirl your golden charm necklace between your fingers, looking over at the two boys who suddenly looked guilty and mischievous at the same time. You raise a brow and look back at Fred with a small smirk, making him grin back.

“Can you imagine the shock on their faces if they believed it took you two seconds to land a girlfriend?”

Fred bent over by the waist, lips mere centimeters from yours. “And what do you have in mind, Faucett?”

Your smirk widens before you pull him in by the collar of his sweater, lips meeting his faster than anyone could have expected it. As if someone flipped a switch in Fred’s mind, he quickly reciprocated, hands coming up to cup the back of your neck and cheek.

For a second, the two of you were completely immersed in each other that you didn’t realize that—once more—the Gryffindor Common Room stared. This time, they stared only for a brief moment before looking away. It seemed like everyone expected it since the moment you both walked into the Common Room together on any Sunday evening.

You separate after the kiss that lasted longer than you both thought it would last, the two of you slightly out of breath, but still wearing eat-shitting grins at fooling the two third years in their small corner. Fred glanced at them from the corner of his eye, winking at Oliver specifically when he stared with a gaped mouth.

“That’ll be the best piece of advice they’ll ever get.” You laugh quietly as Fred plops down beside you, resting his chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arm around your abdomen, warm against your skin under the sweater. “You’re not going back to those two boys?”

“Nah, it’ll ruin the fun.” He drawled and looked up at you with his pretty brown eyes, pressing a lingering kiss to your shoulder unexpectedly. You looked down at him and raised a brow, waiting for an explanation from the one Weasley you liked a little more than the others.

“So, you? Me? Next weekend? Hogsmeade?” He asked with a confident smile, twirling a piece of your hair in between his index and thumb.

You bite back a smile and pat his cheek, his own smile never wavering. “You really know how to make a girl feel special, Weasley.”

“Is that a yes?” He questioned, looking between your eyes.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” You say as you go back to finishing your essay, not caring for the blush that rose to your cheeks.

You and Fred have been friends since first year, but it never crossed your mind that you could ever be in the relationship everyone assumed you were in. Not until this year. It felt like you clung to every single word he spoke to you this time, and it felt so different.

All the pranks he would plan with Lee and George was always relayed to you, every gift he planned to give to his family members went through you—you were practically his without officially being his.

“I plan for many things, Faucett.” Fred moved to sit properly and dragged your legs back on top of his lap, messing with the embroidery on your jeans. “But I never planned on someone like you kissing me just to mess with two thirteen year olds.”

“You went along with it.” You clarify, knowing damn well that he also wanted to prank the two teens. Besides, it’s not like it was your first time kissing Fred. Not at all.

Your gaze meets his, “So what, you actually want to take me out on a date now?”

“Yep.” He continued to grin and trace the embroidery.

You carefully tuck away your Charms essay once more, continuing to hide the smile that came with the thought of going out with Fred Weasley. “I guess I’ll go on a date with you.”

Fred didn’t even know his grin could get bigger, but it did. He pulled you as close to him as he could, arms wrapped securely around your waist as he tilted his chin down to meet your eyes. “You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

“You are bad news.” You laugh and melt into him when he pressed a kiss to your forehead. You raised a brow at him, “Never planned huh?”

“Nope.” He popped his syllables with a smile so bright you swore the sun would shake in it’s presence. “Never planned.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[xuchiya]

secure me in your arms || choi san || one-shot

| genre: fluff. small tinge of angst. army! choi san. | mentions: a little bit of angst here ...

word count: 2.2k

It was supposed to be a normal evening.

The kind where the sky burned in soft hues of orange and rose, with the sun gently retreating behind the buildings. The kind where the wind cooled your face just enough to make you forget about the day’s heat. The kind of evening that never made headlines—quiet, forgettable to most—but for you, it had always felt quietly significant. Something sentimental, maybe. Like the universe was whispering that something small but meaningful was about to happen.

After eight straight hours of office work and back-to-back department meetings, you finally clocked out. You tapped your ID against the monitor, the familiar beep marking your freedom for the day. As you walked past the lobby, the security guard gave you a nod and a smile.

“Have a safe ride home!” he called out.

You smiled back, dipping your head politely. “Have a great evening, sir.”

With a quiet sigh, you adjusted your bag on your shoulder and made your way toward the parking lot. Your usual routine involved a short walk to the bus stop at the far end of the lot, but today, something—or rather, someone—disrupted that rhythm.

A few steps ahead, you saw a familiar figure standing beside a sleek black motorcycle. His helmet sat on the seat while his phone rested in his hand. He stared at it for a long moment before placing it down and exhaling—slowly, like the weight of something heavy clung to his chest.

“San-ssi?” you called out, your voice hesitant but clear.

He looked up, startled—eyes widening the moment he saw you.

You blinked. “Oh. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Truthfully, you were more than surprised. Most days, you only caught glimpses of him through your office window, always at the same time—just as you were packing your things, he’d hop onto his motorcycle and ride off with a kind of calm urgency. You had always assumed his schedule was tight, especially since you remembered him once mentioning he was a reservist in the military.

But seeing him now—still here, waiting—was unexpected.

San’s eyes softened, but his surprise lingered. Not because he didn’t want to see you—but because he hadn’t planned on being seen. His mind had been busy rehearsing what he might say if he ran into you—how to casually offer you a ride home, how to keep it from sounding like he’d been thinking about it too much.

And then, there you were. Standing just a few feet away, holding his gaze. Every rehearsed word vanished.

He cleared his throat, swallowing down the lump that had formed.

“Hey… are you on your way home?”

You nodded, adjusting your grip on your shoulder bag. “Yeah. My pup’s probably crying nonstop by now.”

He winced internally. Obvious. So painfully obvious.

He knew you. Knew how you preferred staying home rather than going out, how your weekends were spent curled up with your dog and not at some café or get together party. Still, he asked. Maybe just to say something. Anything.

He let out a soft chuckle, gaze lowering for a second as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. The kind of smile that made the world feel like it was slowing down. The trees around the parking lot shimmered faintly with fairy ball lights, casting delicate golden glows that reached across the asphalt. But what those lights highlighted most wasn’t the motorcycle beside him. It was you—the soft shape of your face, the warmth in your eyes, the way your hair caught the breeze.

He tried not to stare, but it was always hard not to.

You glanced at him too. There he was, leaning casually against his bike like he wasn’t the most dangerous kind of calm you’d ever seen. One hand held his helmet loosely at his side, the other ran back through his hair as he laughed softly at your joke. That laugh—you’d heard it before. It had the strange power to settle the world. To make things feel okay, even when they weren’t.

And then his phone buzzed.

Then again.

Once.

Twice.

Silence.

Out of curiosity, your eyes flicked to his phone. The screen showed nothing but: Incoming Call: PRIVATE LINE. It confused you, but something about the moment told you not to pry. It felt too heavy… too confidential.

But he knew who it was. You saw it in the way his whole face shifted. His posture stiffened. His shoulders squared. Something had changed—and you could feel it. Your foot shifted anxiously as he picked up his phone, eyes scanning whatever message was on the screen. You didn’t need to read it to know something wasn’t right.

“…What’s wrong?” you asked, your voice softer now. The calm had shattered, replaced by unease that crept into your chest. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stared at the screen for a few more seconds before locking his phone and placing it back on the holder. Then, he reached into the back compartment. You watched as he pulled out the extra helmet—the one he’d kept meaning to give you. Days. Weeks. Maybe even months had passed, each moment eaten away by hesitation and fear.

Every time he thought about giving it to you, his courage failed him. And now, when it might already be too late, this was all he had to give. A silent gesture. A fragile hope. A quiet promise that he’d come back. But he couldn’t say that aloud. Not when the country was teetering on the edge of something burning. Not when he wasn’t sure if he’d even get the chance.

“I need you to trust me,” he said. His voice was calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that didn’t belong to him. Something inside you twisted. A quiet panic stirred.

“Why?” you asked. “Is something wrong?” You looked at the helmet in his hands, then back at him, “San-ssi?”

The phone buzzed again. This time, a name flashed on the screen, Sgt. Montano – URGENT. You didn’t know who that was. But the dread in your stomach didn’t need names. You knew. You knew this wasn’t just a regular night anymore. Even though the two of you were just co-workers on the surface, you both shared something deeper. Something unspoken. Something both of you were too afraid to touch.

He inhaled sharply—one of those deep, measured breaths that people take when they're trying to hold it together. The kind that sounded like goodbye without saying the word, “You hold on to this until I come back,” he murmured, pressing the helmet gently into your hands.

You stared down at it. It felt heavier than it should. Smooth, glossy black, visor tinted just enough that you could faintly see your reflection on its surface.

You looked at him again, “San…” your voice cracked a little, uncertain and small. “Please tell me what’s happening…”

“This is where you need to trust me.” Your fingers tightened around the helmet he’d handed you, confusion flickering in your eyes. “Wait—what’s going on? Are you—”

Before you could finish, his hand gently settled over yours. Warm. Steady. Grounding. Like an anchor in a storm you didn’t see coming.

“You trust me, right?” he asked—not about this moment, not about the weight of the situation unfolding before you. No, his voice carried something deeper. He was asking about everything you had shared—quiet lunches on lazy afternoons, late-night conversations over takeout, the secrets you’d entrusted to each other without realizing just how sacred they’d become. It wasn’t about how long you’d known him. It was about the depth. The certainty.

“I always trusted you,” you whispered, though your throat felt like it had been scraped raw.

He smiled at that—not the kind of smile that stretched wide and carefree, but a quiet, almost shy tug at the corner of his mouth. The kind that hinted at something he couldn’t say. Maybe fear. Maybe a goodbye. Maybe both.

You watched as he turned away, slipping his helmet on with practiced ease��his movements efficient, automatic. Muscle memory forged from something far more serious than daily errands or weekend rides. He was readying himself. And suddenly, so many things clicked at once.

“No kiss at least?” you blurted, voice embarrassingly soft and trembling.

The calls from someone named "Sergeant." The way he always kept his phone within reach. The silent pauses when the news came on, about rising tensions and military deployment.

You’d known something was coming. You just hadn’t expected it to be now. And before your brain could talk you out of it, your mouth acted on impulse.

It made him freeze. You instantly regretted it. His posture went stiff, like you’d startled him, and for a second you feared you’d crossed a line neither of you had spoken of. But then—slowly—he turned to you. His visor lifted halfway, revealing only his eyes. Wide. Surprised. And… flushed.

His cheeks turned a soft shade of pink beneath the helmet’s shadow, and then he tilted his head with a barely-there smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Without a word, he gripped the bottom of his helmet, pulled it off in one fluid motion, and leaned in.

The kiss was feather-light. A mere breath of a moment. But it was real. And it burned through you like fire. Like a promise.

When San pulled back, you hadn’t moved. Couldn’t. You just stood there, breath stolen, heart thundering, “Until then,” he said, pulling the helmet back over his head. His voice came muffled this time, but the meaning still struck clear. He nodded toward the helmet you were still holding. “Secure me in your arms.”

Then, with a swift kick, he flicked the bike’s stand up and revved the engine. The sound split through the quiet street as he shifted into gear. A second later, he was gone—riding into the night, swallowed by city lights and the invisible hands of duty.

You stood in the silence he left behind, the helmet still cradled to your chest. The wind tugged at your clothes, carrying his scent away with it. When you finally looked down, something glinted inside the helmet. Frowning, you reached in. Your fingers brushed against something cool—metal. Your breath caught.

You pulled it out slowly. Choi San’s dog tag.

And your heart sank and soared all at once.

Instantly, your mind drifted back to the day you first found out he was part of the army. It was during a company team-building trip—a warm, sun-drenched afternoon by the beach. Everyone was split into groups for a game of tug-of-war, laughter echoing along the shore, the ocean breeze tousling hair and lifting spirits.

San had been on your team. You remembered clearly how the fabric of his tight white shirt clung to him after the game, and how something silver around his neck clinked softly with every movement. The chain had caught your eye. It had gleamed in the sun—subtle but noticeable.

After your team won that round, you’d collapsed onto a weathered log, panting and exhilarated. A moment later, San approached, holding two bottles of water, the sea wind tousling his damp hair. He handed you one before sitting beside you, his shirt collar slightly pulled open.

That’s when you saw it clearly. The dog tag.

Curious, you had glanced sideways. “You’re in the army? Or the navy?”

He turned to you with a soft smile, shoulders still rising and falling from the exertion. “Army,” he said simply, and took a sip from his bottle.

You nodded, letting your gaze drift back out to the beach. The waves lapped gently at the shore, soft and rhythmic, crashing lightly against the rocks. Something about it—maybe the calmness—reminded you of your father.

“My dad was in the navy,” you said after a beat, voice quieter. “He served for twenty years before he retired.”

San shifted slightly, clearly surprised that you’d shared something so personal, but he didn’t speak. He leaned in slightly instead—listening, attentive.

“He knew the risks when he married my mom, had a family,” you continued, eyes still on the sea. “But he still went through with it. When things got dangerous, and he didn’t know when—or if—he’d be back… he gave her his dog tag. Said it would help her sleep better at night.”

San didn’t answer right away. His eyes followed the shoreline, then slowly returned to you. “You know,” he began, voice low, “whether it’s army, navy, or air force… when someone gives you their dog tag, it means they trust you.”

You turned your head to look at him—and were caught off guard to find his gaze already on you. Close. Focused. Your heartbeat stuttered for a moment. Something in his scent—faint cologne and the salt of the ocean—was oddly calming, like he belonged in that moment beside you.

“Is that… normal?” you asked softly. “To give someone your tag?”

He shook his head. “Not really. It’s not standard or anything. But when we do… it usually means we’re going into something dangerous. Or something we might not come back from.” He paused, eyes flicking down to the small space between your hands.

Then—gently—he reached across and wrapped his fingers around yours. “But right now,” he said, holding your gaze, “it means there’s someone out there we want to come back to. Someone we believe in. Someone who believes in me.”

The memory snapped away as your present vision blurred with tears.

You looked down at the helmet in your hands, and the cold metal nestled inside it. San didn’t just trust you with the helmet. It was the dog tag that mattered most. And now it sat in your hands—his name etched into it—pressed against your chest like a silent promise.

[molter-writes]

As a dedicated grey ridge fan, a fanatic at times (honestly I’ve read grey ridge so many times for comfort) i adore Rhaenyra’s relationship with little Helaena. I especially love how protective and gentle she is! Such a perfect mother. I was wondering Molter if you have any headcannons about Helaena being a mommy’s girl. (Also I absolutely the love the grey ridge prequel! Such a great read! And Leaf and Blade is among my favorites!) much love Molter!

🥹🥹🥹💗💗💗

her youngest. her princess. her girl. her little alicent, as sweet and as kind as the girl she met twenty years ago

[madamechrissy]

Stripper! Satoru

Pairings- Stripper! Satoru x Bride! reader

Summary- You've been promised your entire life to Naoya Zenin, and now there's just one night left. Never having a choice, or any freedom, raised to be his perfect bride- your friends throw a party with the hottest male revue show there is, and that's where you meet him - Satoru.

Warnings - MDNI- Satoru is basically Magic Mike, angstyyy, explicit sex, loss of virginity, oral ( f receiving) sweet/whipped Satoru, sheltered reader, kissing, drinking, reader is engaged (arranged marriage) so morally gray but it's Naoya so fuck him, emotional asff , open end for now! (story will wrap it up) <3

This will be a FULL length multichapter fic after I finish a cpl wips, it's been eating me up to write so I want to show you at least a preview of it! tag list open for when it's released, drop a comment if you wanna get added! it's a long one <3

Stripper! Satoru who is the star of the biggest male revue in the nation, he's always showing off his well oiled, defined abs, and making every girl there feel so good. He loves watching how they tremble as they touch his abdomen, loves the way they giggle when he dances, straddling them in their chair, brushing their cheeks with his fingers, a wink that makes them melt.

Stripper! Satoru oils his toned, muscular body before each show until it's gleaming under the lights, hips undulating as he tossed that cowboy hat into the air, clad in assless chaps and a thin tie, with some black silk on his cock that shows his entire outline. And God was he packing, the other dancers of the review get the oohs and ahs, but he is always center stage and thrives in it, in the looks of everyone dying to bring him home.

Stripper! Satoru and his crew have an exclusive party tonight, for a bride to be - and she must be wealthy, because they're walking right into a mansion, dressed up as cops tonight, Satoru loves to put on a good show for these women, his white hair tucked under a police cap, as he rings the doorbell, which opens with what he assumes are the bride's friends. They're already giggling and rushing the men in, one pulls Gojo aside, whispering in his ear - 'please, make her smile tonight... she's really...' he doesn't need the rest of the answer when he sees your face, so lost and broken, and it makes him falter.

Stripper! Satoru has never seen a bride not giggling and excited, once or twice he absolutely saw them nervous or worried, some of them would want to sleep with him or the crew as their 'last night' of freedom, and most of them were usually fine giving it to them. Not Satoru however, although he has hooked up with his fair share of women, he does not sleep with brides to be, as much as they have tried, he does have a couple small boundaries and that is one.

Stripper! Satoru still gave them a good show, he still licked across their skin and let them touch his body, he put a smile on their faces, made them blush, he made them all soaking wet. But he's never encountered the sad eyes that meet his now, the nervous biting of your lower lip as you look around in utter confusion. Your friend sighs, tugging Satoru down now. 'Arranged marriage, and he's... fucking horrible. Please, help her forget for one night?' he sees now why they paid so much, it's clear your friends love you, as the lights turn off and the LEDs turn on, your face is illuminated with red light, haunting him as he almost forgets the routine.

Stripper! Satoru and the crew begin to 'pretend' to arrest you and the girls, fake handcuffs on their wrists while the men press the girls down on the chairs, beginning their 'pat down'. But as Satoru approaches you, and touches your skin with the toy, fake metal of the cuffs, you just sigh, making him pause. The music continues, but he instead gently presses you on the seat, getting on his knees now, as your eyes drink the prettiest man you've seen once he takes off those dark shades. Your breath catches when he gently brushes your hair off your shoulder, and asks - 'Are you even okay with this, sweetheart?'

Stripper! Satoru doesn't realize, you've never been asked if you're okay with anything, your whole life was just made so you can marry the leader of the Zenin clan, so that you were a pristine, perfect and untouched wife. You take a shaky breath, easing in his presence, finally having someone ask if you were okay was something you didn't even have growing up. To come from a stripper dressed like a cop was surprising, but you instantly relax, thighs spreading just a bit, which his insane blue eyes dart to. 'I'm sorry, yes, I want to, please...'

Stripper! Satoru has never felt whatever the fuck it was when he touches your skin, the sensations shooting through him, he watches goosebumps rise on your skin when his crew grabs his attention. He smiles, looking at you once more. 'I'll give you the funnest night, I promise' you giggle, you don't think you've ever giggled, nodding as he steps back, and the men play that music and rip off the fake outfits bit by bit. That's when your tummy clenches, heat pooling, watching Satoru's body revealed as he rolls his hips, and your friends all smile at you, seeing you actually happy for the first time since you heard the wedding was impending.

Stripper! Satoru is insanely talented, not just his ripped, perfect body, but how he moves it, so clearly the leader of them all, surely they all had gorgeous bodies, but something about him drew your avid attention. You get flustered and shift as you study his movements, and his eyes just won't leave yours, they kept glancing at you, a smile on plump lips while they all strip down, and then step close to each of you, you're the only one without the cuffs, they sit on your lap instead. Satoru braces his arms on either side of you, breath trailing across your neck when he dances between your thighs, abs flexing right in front of your face. Your breath dances on his skin as you nervously exhale, feeling your heart pounding in your chest.

Stripper! Satoru runs the most famous male revue for a reason, he's about as charming and confident as it gets, it's enigmatic his pull, but mostly you keep looking at those eyes, getting lost in them - for a moment forgetting your wedding to Naoya tomorrow - a man you've known bits and pieces of for a long time, long enough to be terrified of him. For a moment you let go and smile nervously, you touch his slick muscles when he puts your fingers on his chest, and the laughter carries through the room. As their set ends, an entire party begins, with shots everywhere and dancing, you see your friends stealing little kisses, envying their freedom, but the blue eyed man with slicked back white hair seems to focus on you, taking your hand and bringing you into a dance then. You giggle again, shaking your head. 'I can't dance... what's your name? The real one, not the stage name' you say, looking up at him then, and he tugs you closer against him. 'It's Satoru'

Stripper! Satoru uses a stage name, but for some reason he wants you to have that name, a hand sliding down your body over your pretty white dress, addling his mind. 'Anyone can dance, you've just never tried, sweetheart' you shake your head again, but he's already moving your hips for you, turning you so that your back presses against him, and that's when he feels it, your sweet body against his making him ache in ways he hasn't in a long time. 'See, you're dancing now' you lean back against him, shutting your eyes then, just feeling him. 'My friend set you up to cheer me up, huh?' he sighs against your ear, aching to press a kiss against your neck, but knowing he shouldn't. 'You do have good friends, but I just like dancing with you'

Stripper! Satoru has you downing another shot, the atmosphere is intense- these parties get this way, frequently, another perk of being the most famous male revue was endless beautiful women, and making bank on top of it. Satoru notices the dilation of your eyes when you take one more shot, licking your lips before peering around so shyly. 'Everything okay, these parties get a little...' he's asking about you again, the mere thoughtfulness pushes you to step forward, pulling him down by the black bow tie he's got on, nothing else but a black speedo at this point, revealing the body carved out like a statue, but he lets you yank him down, eyes lowering to your lips. 'If I could, have a kiss, a real one before I... don't get a choice anymore' your whisper ends him, his heart breaking for a girl he doesn't know, even in a haze of liquor and undulating bodies, everything fades but you.

Stripper! Satoru can't help but ask in surprise - 'you've never kissed?' and you see the surprise in his eyes, you look around, the music still blaring, overwhelming your senses. 'No, never, um... I shouldn't-' Satoru breaks his own rule then, slamming his lips down on yours, your first kiss, one you will think upon when it's just that cruel man looking down at you instead. You gasp against his lips, inviting his tongue to dance inside your mouth, yours dances along his, messy and clumsy but following every movement like a dance itself. He feels it then, his cock throbbing from a kiss, you don't seem to notice or maybe don't even want to say something as it presses high up on your tummy, while his hands slip up your body, for all eyes to see. But your friends clearly are pleased- they wanted you to have one night of fun, even if it wasn't what you were 'supposed' to do.

Stripper! Satoru has you against a wall before you can blink, like a switch went off in his mind and all that turns on is you. His hands are on either side of you when he pulls back, taking a breath, cursing softly, your breasts are rising and falling as you look up at him, desire for the first time in your life overtaking you. 'Thank you, Satoru' you smile sadly, was it better to not kiss at all than to have this? 'Is it that bad, the guy?' he murmurs then, and you look down, trembling just a bit, and his instinct is to protect you when he doesn't even know you. Satoru is protective of those he loves, but this feeling makes no sense. Tears fill your eyes and you sniffle, looking away, but he tilts your chin up, swiping one off with a thumb now. 'Thank you for tonight, I see why you're so popular...' he tries to smirk then, raising a brow. 'Because I'm so sexy?' you giggle even through your tears, you've never laughed so much in your life, shaking your head, making him pout. 'You're kinda mean, you're saying I'm not?'

Stripper! Satoru is trying to tease it off, the feelings throbbing though his body, but you're too much when you say - 'no, it's because you're really something special' another tear falls despite tremulous lips, swollen from his kiss, he feels the eyes on him, this isn't what he does, never ever the bride, but it's like he can't drag himself away from your gravity. Kissing you again is too easy, lifting you like it's nothing is even easier, the way you cling to him and lose yourself as the two of you are now locked in a room is even easier. Your dress slips up your hips with a silky whisper, his big hands gripping your hips and dragging you against him, you whine out as you feel it, the sweat dripping against your skin while he barely holds it together, ignoring the fact that he knows better, forgetting that you're not his, and how badly that for some reason feels to him, while he's got your back on a bed, kissing down your breasts and tugging at your dress now.

Stripper! Satoru has his mouth devouring every pretty inch of skin you allow him to, hot and hungry while you melt under him, clothes dissolving with gentle tugs, baring you to his vision, his fingers dance across your skin like you're a canvas and they're delicate paint brushes at first, then they're more insistent, more pressure, hungrier and hungrier for you. 'Fuck, you're beautiful...' he doesn't say that either, of course he compliments, but he's never seen someone earn that title quite like you, when he frees your breasts and they gently bounce from your bra, when your nipples perk up just for his mouth to suck on. When your hands entwine in his silky white hair, and he's pulling one into his mouth, while the other hand twists your other bud taut, and your cunt starts drooling, throbbing, one that's never been touched, even by yourself. Sheltered and taught it's all terrible, your friends had shown you some things but you're mostly lost to anything Satoru is doing, just lost in how good it all feels.

Stripper! Satoru pauses for a moment, as he's licking a trail between your breasts, eyeing you under snowy lashes, watching as you breasts rise and fall. 'We should stop now, before... I can't stop' his husky declaration is filled with need, your hand rushes through his hair, taking a shaky breath and whispering - 'would you be my first?' he pulls back, terrified at the statement, his mouth wide open, he knows it's too far to do, his morals grey enough, just hovering. 'He's cruel and he's... awful to women, it won't be happy for me. I just want once, to be my choice...' Satoru swallows nervously, lifting one of your thighs now, pressing his cock against your heat, watching your head fall back. 'You're really stuck in this? there's no way to get out of it?' you shake your head, trying to focus as your body responds to him. 'N-no, there's no way, y-you don't have to just I-' he moans then, internally cursing himself, because he's already intoxicated off you. 'Your choice' he repeats softly, you nod quickly, taking shaky breaths and gripping his shoulders. 'My choice'

Stripper! Satoru has his long pink tongue slipping across your panties, hot and wet against your cunt, the material pressed tighter and tighter, you're whining out, uncaring of any noise you make, the first time any one has touched you and it's with his mouth. Satoru moans against you, vibrations making your cunt throb when he yanks your panties to the side, baring your perfect, pretty pussy to his hungry gaze, glistening already with your slick. You cry out now, hips raising up for more, when he places a lewd kiss on it, honeyed arousal pouring from your little hole. You should be more nervous right? Afraid of a stranger seeing you? But you're not, you're so ready the moment his mouth latches you're screaming out, hips bucking, whining out at how good it feels.

Stripper! Satoru loses it once he tastes you, those panties slipped down your thighs, torn between leisurely teasing you and straight up devouring you. He opts for the latter, slipping panties down your thighs and gripping you by the fat of your ass, bringing your cunt flush so he can bury himself. He drowns in your cunt as his tongue lavished your walls, while you are rolling your eyes back, breaths coming in little pants while he licks every part of you, tastebuds soaking in your flavor. He has you falling apart under him in moments, your gummy little walls gripping his wet muscle, feeling you tremble underneath him as your first orgasm rocks you so hard you can't see.

Stripper! Satoru presses one more kiss, leaning over you and slipping down that thin satin layer between you, revealing a thick, long cock, you gasp when you see how huge it is, for one moment wondering how it would fit, when he kisses you so messy and desperate, hot heavy cock slapping your skin. 'Satoru!' Your cry makes him leak precum against your inner thigh, as he looks down at you, sighing. 'Are you sure, sweets? We can stop here' again, he gives you the choice, despite speaking through gritted teeth, as if he's in pain, holding his breath and just watching you. You shock him then, hand sliding down to touch his cock, a featherlight brush that almost makes him cum, eyes meeting his now. 'I want it, please'

Stripper! Satoru isn't going to turn down your sweet plea, your desperate ask under him, asking him to take something so special, but he understands you, he knows you need to have a choice without even knowing you. He kisses you then, more intimate in moments than he has been with women before ever. His cock teases and dips against your soppy little hole then, pressing slightly and feeling your tight resistance, moaning as he does. 'It will hurt just a sec, okay sweetheart?' You nod then, and the pain hits, sharp and sweet and addictive, he pauses, letting you adjust, trying not to bust from how fucking right you feel, how perfect. Instead he holds back, watching you with bright blue eyes. 'You okay honey?' - and making you relax under him, the burn and stretch mixing with pleasure the further he presses, nodding eagerly, dragging him back down for a kiss, which he whimpers into as he thrusts inside.

Stripper! Satoru hardly holds back, knowing it's your first time, shaking with the effort not to fold you in a mating press and fuck you to the hilt like he wants. 'Perfect, fuck you feel s'good, mnh...' he's muttering those words as he pulls back and thrusts further, stretching you out impossibly, she's soaking down his veiny length to accommodate, while she pulses from her aftershocks, and you feel that fullness, you're so full. Satoru shoves in harder, deeper, seeing what you can take, your head falls to the side to be littered with kisses, careful not to mark you, though God he wants to, to bite and bruise every inch of skin with his teeth. He wants to leave bruises on your hips, fill you with so much cum you drip him when that man comes near you - but he knows that's fucking stupid.

Stripper! Satoru is pussy drunk so fast, as you open for him, as you loosen your hold, arching your hips up to meet his thrusts, unleashed as you scratch his back, leaving your marks, marks he'll wish will never leave in the coming days. You kiss across his neck, teeth sinking into it and leaving your bite, as he bottoms out in your perfect cunt, the echoes of the squelching wetness and your cries mixing with the smacking of skin, as he loses his control, and you fall off the edge with him. Moans and sighs, gasps and cries, all while he's filling you over and over, bringing you closer to the brink, losing anything and everything all under his long, lithe body, the shadows casting and stretching across the wall, of him over you, of your thighs wrapped around his narrow waist.

Stripper! Satoru has never felt anything like you gripping him, never tasted anything like that honey lingering on his lips, fucking you and dragging his tip on your spot just so, until you shatter, cumming blindingly, crying out his name as you do. He quiets you with a kiss, your cunt spasming around his cock and gushing down further, making a mess of the bed, of him, of you. You're blinking back your vision as you gasp and he leans up, dragging you all the way down his length, his whine so sexy while his head falls back, veins in his arms bulging as he grips you so tight, watching the bulge in your tummy as he slowly moves in and out. 'cum once more, please, wanna feel her again' his whisper is met with a jerky nod, when he finds your clit with the pad of his thumb, running in circles and shoving in so deep he slams your cervix.

Stripper! Satoru watches the pretty bride - not his, how are you not his? - cum for him then, thighs shaking, your head falling back into the soft pillows, and he's done for, leaning forward to pump a few more times, fucking you through that orgasm, before he pulls out with a gasp, wishing he could finish in you, instead pumping that cum on your tummy, white networks of ropes decorating it as it moves up and down with your heavy breaths. You start to come to, when he's cleaning you up, when he's wiping the soreness between your thighs, when he's holding you and kissing you. You feel the emotions hit, the overwhelming pleasure can't override this one singular feeling - dread - and moreso now that you felt this, that you know what it is, to feel so perfect and cherished by a stranger.

Stripper! Satoru panics when you cry, 'was it too much, are you hurt sweetheart or-' you shake your head, hugging him to you tightly, sweet kisses on his neck and cheek then. 'No, it was perfect, so perfect Satoru. Thank you' you shouldn't be thanking him, he musees to himself, letting you kiss him as the knocks finally sound on the door. He gently helps you get dressed, the party is clearly still going on but your friend wanted to check on you, to see your disheveled state she just smiles, rushing off and apologizing, but your skin is decorated in your blush, and he sees it, the fear in your gaze. 'Am I horrible?' he shakes his head then, kissing you again. 'No, you're perfect' and it just leads to more, he can't stop kissing your skin, he can't stop fucking into you, each time hurting less and just feeling better, letting you ride him tentatively, holding you from behind as he fucks you, until the two of you fall asleep, against each other.

Stripper! Satoru overslept clearly, as you're all ready to leave - for a wedding to a monster - and most of the men are hungover, sipping coffee and ready to go home. When he does get dressed in the normal clothes he brought with, you hold his hand, looking down and swallowing, not knowing what to say - that you think in one night you fell for a man - that you'll never be available. It sounds too cruel to say to someone, when there's no future, so instead you hug him tightly, and he holds you against him, trying to hold back everything he wants to say and do. 'Are you gonna be okay?' he asks softly before he leaves, and you smile as brightly as you can, nodding. 'I will be. Thank you for... everything.' one more sweet kiss, and Satoru has to let your hand go, knowing he will never have you again eats at him and he was just inside you, he can't even speak or answer a question, all he can think of is you.

Stripper! Satoru seems like a fantasy, as you walk down the aisle, seeing the bored and cruel gaze staring right at you, dark brown eyes with murderous intent, a nasty smirk as he assessed you. Tousled blond hair, he looks instead at a few of the women sitting in the benches waiting, winking at them instead, before turning back and setting his jaw. When you stand in front of him he yanks back your veil, eyes narrowing and humming to himself. 'Suppose you'll do' he says then, leaving you to feel sick as he grips your wrist, unceremoniously putting a glittery ring on it. 'that hurts...' you whisper weakly, and he squeezes harder, glaring now. 'Keep your mouth shut, little bitch, got it? you're my property now' you sink back, knowing then, the pit in your stomach had been correct, the rumors must be true- he is horrible.

As you sit through the ceremony, as your friends try to comfort you are sent home, as your entire world crumbles and ends, you try to cling to the memory of feeling special, beautiful, you feel his touch, you feel his caress - his gaze. You cling to it as your eyes fill with tears, as your stomach fills with nausea, as he's yanking you onto his lap and laughing cruelly at you. You think of him...

Satoru

Soooo yes this will be a long one, and dw it will end happy somehow! Comment for tags of you're interested in their story <3

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[loveletterlore]

bucky needs a break ♡ b.b. x reader

pairing: thunderbolts!bucky barnes x thunderbolts!fem!reader THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS

summary: being a part of the team has had a strange effect on your lives, for you it has allowed you more freedom while for bucky it had given him more work - and the man needs a break.

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI smut, not an established relationship, use of pet names [doll, darling, babygirl, baby], kissing, touching, fingering, oral [f receiving], penetration [p in v], unprotected sex, cream pie, straight up porn, reader is described to have a vagina, aftercare, subspace if you squint

word count: 5.1k

authors note: i can't believe i just wrote 5k words of smut, strangely proud of myself, hope you enjoy! <3

Family life with the New Avengers wasn’t exactly what you had signed up for when Bucky had called you, asking for your help with investigating Valentina’s dark web goings-on. It was supposed to be a simple recon mission, finding Yelena, Walker and Ava and getting them to testify before the court. If only it had been so simple.

Nowadays, you found yourself amongst a team of misfits, the equivalent of a collage on a schoolgirl’s moodboard. Yelena and Bucky took most of the public facing work, being the two members with the least amount of public disturbances - which in itself is a baffling statement - while Ava and John tended to work background. Alexei, well, Alexei did what Alexei wanted and there wasn’t much any of you could do about that. 

Bob was still largely unaware of what had happened to form the team, appointing himself the New Avengers #1 Cheerleader and Dishwasher. It had taken a couple of months to get over everything the Void had unearthed, a couple of months to stop seeing his eyes glow every time you looked at Bob. 

Since then, daily life had consisted of more media and publicity than missions and saving people, which had taken a while to get used to. Bucky often found himself pacing the tower, already having experienced the world of politics through his time in congress and not wanting to get into it all over again. Yelena, on the other hand, finally felt like she was doing some good, helping people in the way that she had needed in the past.

For you, it was bittersweet. A part of you missed going on missions with the team, missed the moments in between the fighting where someone would tell a joke and nothing else would matter. In comparison, it was lovely not being woken up at 3am by some emergency that needed immediate attention. Some of the day-to-day normalities of modern life had seeped into your routine, making you feel more like a domestic goddess than a kick-ass assassin.

The abundance of free time had allowed you and the team to get to know each other better, beyond the basic questions of “who designed your suit?” and “how much ammo do you carry?”. Genuine friendships had formed as you learned of everyone’s pasts, likes and annoying habits. At least, these friendships had formed with most of the team.

Bucky hadn’t been too keen to join in with the morale building, usually holding back with tablet in hand, focused on the comms that never seemed to stop. 

Sitting in the main room of the tower, the team were dotted across the sofas. Bob sat in a beanbag in the corner, listening in to the ongoing conversation while keeping his eyes on the windows. 

You glanced around, eyes searching for Bucky, but coming up empty. It wasn’t uncommon for him to arrive later or leave earlier, he was never there for a whole conversation.

“But Yelena,” Alexei bellowed, standing with his arms open. “What is so wrong with wanting my name to live on in the world?”

“I don’t think starting a bear fighting show is really the way to go about it,” Yelena rolled her eyes, leaning back in her seat. 

Alexei spun, eyes brushing over the rest of the team, “Bears are strong! Bears are fighters! I know in my soul, I am a bear.”

You just blinked at Alexei, questioning so many of the things he said. 

“I think you’re onto something,” John stated, raising an eyebrow.

“Shut up, Walker,” Ava replied, a bored expression on her face.

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of the doors opening, revealing Bucky in his tactical gear. Your heart jumped at the sight and you shifted in your seat, turning towards him. 

“Ah, Bucky!” Alexei started towards him before Yelena stood, marching towards Bucky.

“Bucky, have you seen this?” she pulled her phone from her pocket, turning him away from the group.

Your heart sank, a part of you hoping that he would have come to join the group. Bucky’s eyes caught yours for a second and you recognised the feelings instantly, the man was exhausted. It all added up - longer hours, being one of the public facing members of the team, constantly on the go - Bucky needed a break.

You began to wrack your brain for ideas on how to help him, knowing all too well the feeling that he was experiencing. The group continued chatting, Alexei louder than the rest, and while you were sure they were distracting each other, you stood from your spot on the sofa and headed towards Bucky and Yelena.

“Hey,” you spoke softly as the two turned to look at you, expressions serious and eyebrows furrowed. “Sorry, I just need Bucky for a moment before I head out.”

Bucky looked at Yelena before looking back to you, Yelena giving a quick nod before going back to the group.

“What’s up?” Bucky asked, hands settling on his hips as he turned his attention to you. 

“Can you help me with something in the training room?” you asked, eliciting a curious expression on his face.

Sighing, he nodded and held out his arm for you to lead the way. Instead of heading to the training room, you took the turn that led you towards the dorms, causing a confused look on Bucky’s face.

“Okay, I lied,” you whispered, leaning in slightly. 

Bucky’s confused expression deepened as he waited for you to continue. You reached the corridor with the doors to everyone’s rooms and stopped in front of yours, Bucky’s just a few steps further down the corridor.

“You’ve been doing so much lately, it kinda seemed like you needed a moment,” you continued, hoping you were on the right track. “I don’t know if saving you from Yelena was the right call or not, but it gives you an out to go and hide in a dark room somewhere.”

After a moment, the corners of Bucky’s mouth twisted upwards. He raised an arm, placing his hand on the wall, leaning his weight against it. He let out a breathy chuckle, running his other hand over his face.

“Was it that obvious?” his voice seemed lighter than usual.

“A lil’ bit,” you chuckled, a grin on your face as you watched his shoulders starting to relax.

“Damn, didn’t realise you could read me so well,” his hand dropped and his eyes focused on your face, studying the expression there.

You felt your cheeks flush under his gaze, hands clasping together in front of you as you leaned back against your door, “I’m just glad I got it right.”

A smirk grew on Bucky’s face as he watched your cheeks tint with a blush, his eyes softening at the sight, “Well, I believe I owe you a ‘thank you’.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you replied with a sweet smile. “Just go take a break, Bucky. You deserve it.”

His heart leapt at your words, he was always a sucker for someone showing him any form of appreciation.

“I don’t really know how,” he admitted, a bashful smile on his face. “Never had too much of a break before.”

Your eyebrows raised as he spoke, “Surely you’ve got some guilty pleasure that you never have time for?”

“Nope, not that springs to mind,” he shook his head, hands returning to their rightful spot on his hips. A cheeky grin grew on his face as he chose his next words carefully, “Why, what’s yours?”

You attempted to stifle the blush that threatened to grow even further on your cheeks, “Um, I don’t know, reality TV? I never get time to catch up with the latest seasons.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have time now, would you?” he grinned, eyes meeting yours again. “I think it’s only fair that since you saved me from work today, I return the favour.”

Your lips parted with surprise, mouth forming an ‘O’ before you realised and clamped it closed again, forming a soft smile, “As it just so happens, I do. I have everything logged in on my TV, I even have a secret snack supply.”

Bucky’s eyebrows raised, “Secret?”

“I wasn’t about to risk all of my snacks being raided by Alexei,” you giggled, a smirk on your face. “Or Walker for that matter.”

Bucky nodded as he stood straight, “Seems like we have everything we need.”

You reached your arm out, still holding Bucky’s gaze as you opened the door behind you, “Come on in.”

Moments later, you found yourself sitting next to Bucky on your sofa, flicking through streaming services to pick the perfect show to watch. While reality TV was a secret love of yours, Bucky had yet to experience the highs and lows of middle aged women fighting each other on national television, so you were trying to pick the perfect show to put on. 

“Okay,” you placed the remote down as an older episode loaded. “There are going to be lots of women shouting at each other, prepare yourself.”

An amused expression grew on Bucky’s face, more at your excitement for the show than the premise, “I don’t know how to prepare for that.”

“You’ll be fine,” you chuckled, settling into the couch and placing a variety of snacks on the table in front of you. “Just get ready to enjoy it.”

The show began to play and your brain finally started to quieten, your body relaxing into the comfort of the sofa beneath you. Throwing a quick glance at Bucky, you noticed how he had stripped off the majority of his tactical gear, left in a tank top and his combat trousers, boots left by the door. Your attention was pulled back to the TV by a shout and a dramatic sound effect, but what followed was even better.

Bucky laughed. Well, it was most of a laugh. Perhaps a sharp exhale from his nose would be a more fitting description, but in your mind it was a full-on belly laugh. Your heart fluttered at the sound and it took all of your effort not to turn and grab his face between your hands, forcing him to do it over and over again. 

Forcing a breath in an attempt to calm your racing heart rate, you leaned further back into the seat, shifting slightly. Bucky reacted, adjusting his position as well, his thigh brushing against yours for a brief moment. You stilled, eyes fixed on the TV as you tried to ignore the rush that went through you at the contact.

Bucky noticed your reaction, of course he did. He also noticed the way that your heart rate had picked up and you had been nibbling on your lower lip for the past few moments. Cautiously, he shifted his seating, pressing his thigh against yours more firmly this time, paying attention to how your body reacted. 

You gulped, eyelids fluttering for a second as a fresh wave of weakness spread through your body, warm and gentle. The communication was completely silent, just a hint of reciprocation as your thigh pressed back against Bucky’s. 

A smirk grew on his face as he felt your body pressing back against his, his hand snaking across to rest just above your knee. His fingers began to draw slow, deliberate circles on the inner side of your thigh, his heightened senses well aware of how your breath hitched as he began. 

If anyone walked in at this point and asked what you were watching, they would have received a garbled mess of sounds in response. Everything in you was focused on Bucky’s hands and how they were resting against your bare skin. Your lower lip was tucked between your teeth, absentmindedly running your tongue back and forth behind your teeth as you attempted to hide any reaction.

Bucky leaned in closer, his shoulder bumping against yours as his hand slid further up your thigh, delicately brushing the skin with his own flesh hand. He let out a quiet groan as electricity buzzed where your bodies met, jaw clenching as he tried to keep his movements controlled and gentle. 

The sound broke any restraint you had left and you turned your head to face him, taking in the blissful expression on his face. The line of his jaw was hard as his teeth clenched together, eyes half closed as his hand caressed the bare skin of your inner thigh.

“Bucky,” you whispered, something between a moan and a whisper. 

His eyes flashed open, immediately finding your gaze with a flash of desire and uncertainty. He pulled his hand from your leg, clearly thinking your voice was some form of denial. Rather than responding with words, you reached out to grasp his hand tightly, bringing it back to your thigh, higher than it had been before. His eyes darkened with desire, jaw still tight as he held himself back from doing anything too intense too quickly.

“Doll,” his voice was gruff with want, husky and hoarse. “We don-”

“I want to,” you whispered, cutting him off before he could continue his sentence. 

He ran his tongue along his lower lip, hand squeezing the pudge of your upper thigh, thumb reaching the soft skin of your hip as he stroked it gently. A whimper escaped your lips, the sight of his tongue immediately sending warmth between your thighs. You pressed them together and Bucky growled at the feeling.

“If we’re going to do this,” he spoke, voice dark and dripping with desire. “We’re going to do it right.”

Excitement rushed through your veins like an icy wave, eyes fluttering closed for a second as your head fell back. Bucky watched this happen, seizing the opportunity and pouncing.

His lips attached to your neck, kissing and licking at the sensitive pulse point as his hand raised to your hip, clutching at you as if you could disappear at any moment. The rough texture of his beard prickled against the delicate skin of your neck, the feeling stimulating every nerve ending in your body as you let out a delicate mewl. 

You lifted a hand to tangle in his hair, leaning your head back to allow him access as he continued to ravish your neck with attention. 

“Buck,” you whimpered, tugging at the ends of his hair. “I can’t-”

“Can’t what?” Bucky teased, nipping at the spot under your ear that made your body melt into his touch.

“Can’t be a one-time thing,” you moaned, a part of you afraid that this would scare him off. The growl that escaped his lips sent arousal directly to the spot between your thighs.

“Who said it was a one-time thing?” he replied, hand lifting to pull the straps of your tank top and bra off your shoulder as his lips trailed down your collarbone. “I certainly didn’t say that.”

You let out a sigh, pulling at his hair to bring his face to yours, “I’m serious, Bucky.”

“So am I,” his eyes searched yours, desperate to show you that he was telling the truth. 

You held his gaze for a moment, eyes darting between his eyes and lips before letting out a breathy chuckle, “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

“I hope you’re gonna hold me to many things,” he teased, nose brushing against yours. 

You rolled your eyes playfully before pressing your lips to his, a moan escaping your throat as you felt his grip on your hip tighten. Lifting your leg, you wrapped it around his waist and pulled him down towards you. His hips slotted between yours as he balanced above you, your back pressed to the seats of the couch. You kept a leg tight around him, holding him in place as your hands dipped under the hem of his shirt.

He whimpered at the feeling of your hands dancing across his skin, your fingertips sending tingles on his skin. His teeth nibbled at your lower lip, tongue swiping against it as a plea for access. You relented, tongues dancing as the kiss deepened. You could feel your arousal pooling between your thighs, hips pressed firmly against Bucky’s as he leaned his weight on top of you.

Bucky’s metal arm rested above your head while his flesh hand pulled the other strap of your shirt down, exposing your shoulders and collarbones to him. Reluctantly, he pulled his lips from yours, trailing them down your neck and along your collarbone. The way he kissed you was wanting but careful, as though he didn’t want to risk shattering you under his grasp. He placed a kiss to the top of your sternum, eyes glancing up to meet yours.

The look on your face was pure bliss and Bucky was completely addicted to the sight. The thought flashed through his mind that the main goal of the rest of his life was to see it as many times as he could before he died. His hands slipped under the hem of your shirt, pulling it up gently before he moved his face away, placing an arm behind your back to lift you in order to remove the shirt completely. 

“Yours too, Buck,” you breathed, face flushed as you attempted to recapture your breathing. 

He flashed a grin at you before pulling his tank top over his head, revealing his muscular chest to you. Your hands immediately lifted, fingertips tracing the scars and marks that dotted his skin, the touches gentle and caring. His smile turned soft at your actions, the realisation that this was something real for you, for both of you. His eyes closed as he enjoyed existing in your touch, letting you explore the parts of his body that had been hidden for so long. 

Your hands drifted down, fingers hooking in the belt loops of his tactical pants before pulling his body back towards yours, lips crashing into his as your bodies collided. Your hips rolled upwards in search of friction, in search of him. He growled against your lips, hips pressing down into yours as his hand slipped beneath your back, arching your back to press your abdomen against his.

“Look at you baby,” he moaned against your lips. “Already so needy.”

“Someone got me all worked up,” you mumbled, hips rolling against his again as you bit your lower lip. 

Bucky chuckled in response, the sound airy and breathless as he nuzzled his nose into your cheek, “Hmm, maybe we should do something about that.”

“Please,” you were well aware of how desperate you sounded, the word like a prayer on your lips. 

Bucky smiled against your cheek as his hand slid beneath the waistband of your shorts, fingers brushing the dainty material of your panties. His movements were delicate, calculated, careful. The dance of his fingertips along your abdomen, inching closer to where you wanted him most, sent shivers through your body as you writhed beneath him. 

The moment his fingers spread your folds you gasped, suddenly aware of just how much you wanted this, just how wet you had become. Bucky bit his lip as his finger slid over your clit and towards your hole, the sensation of your slick sending blood straight to his cock. 

“Shit, doll,” he whimpered, which sent another wave of arousal through your body. “Didn’t realise you needed me this bad.”

Any response died on your tongue as his fingers began to draw sloppy circles over your clit, hips jittering upwards as you searched for more friction. Bucky couldn’t help himself, his clothed crotch rubbing against your inner thigh as you moaned beneath him, lips parted perfectly. 

“Need you,” you breathed, forcing your eyes open to watch as Bucky’s blissed out eyes found yours. 

“Use your words, baby,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek, a wild juxtaposition to the insatiable movements his fingers were currently working on your clit.

“Need your fingers,” you groaned, lips pressed against his jawline. “Please.”

“Good girl,” Bucky praised, leaving a trail of kisses along your cheekbone before yanking your shorts down your legs.

You gasped at the sudden cold air on your folds, instinctively squeezing your thighs together. Bucky placed a hand on each knee, forcing your legs apart with a gentle tut.

“Princess, if you do that again we’re going to have an issue,” his eyes were serious before turning soft as you let your legs drop wider. “That’s better.”

You flushed at the praise, hips grinding against nothing as you gazed up at Bucky’s face. Shuffling down your body, Bucky lay flat until his eyeline was directly facing your panties. He took in a deep breath, pressing his nose to the dainty fabric before licking a stripe directly over your desperate hole. Your back arched at the feeling, causing Bucky to reach up with his metal arm, pressing your back down against the bed. 

Nuzzling his nose against you, he nudged your panties out of the way before pouncing, pressing a chaste kiss to your clit. A moan echoed in your chest, guttural and raw, as Bucky began to lick at your delicate folds, slurping like a man starved. The sounds coming from the pair of you were borderline pornographic, all moans and gasps and squelches. 

“Fuck, can’t believe you’ve been keeping this from me,” Bucky muttered into your clit, unable to tear his lips from your taste.

Bucky teased your hole with two fingers, sliding them in as your walls fluttered around him. 

“Shit Bucky,” you exhaled, hips grinding against his face. 

“Tell me doll,” he groaned against you, his hips thrusting wildly at the sound of your voice. “Tell me how good I’m makin’ you feel.”

“So good, Bucky,” you rasped, eyebrows furrowed as your eyes squeezed shut. “Feels so fuckin’ good.”

Bucky hummed in response, tongue lapping at your clit as his fingers curled inside of you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, jaw going slack as you felt the familiar burning in the pit of your stomach. Unconsciously, you clenched around Bucky as he nibbled at your clit, following it up with a sloppy kiss. 

“Can feel you’re close, princess,” Bucky teased, unrelenting with that tongue of his. “Show me, wanna see you fall apart on my mouth.”

The words were enough to send you over the edge, hips shaking as your thighs tightened around his head. Your walls fluttered around Bucky’s fingers as your orgasm washed over you. Your breath hitched in your chest as your entire body tensed, brain unable to comprehend the pleasure that overtook your senses. 

Bucky began to press kisses to your thighs and hips as he let you ride out your orgasm on his fingers. Once your body began to still he lifted his fingers to his mouth, tongue poking out to lick your slick off of his digits with a groan. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he leaned down, his dog tags resting on your bare chest.

Your hands lifted to feel his chest, his heart racing beneath his warm skin, prickled with sweat. A finger wrapped around the chain of his tags, pulling him down to meet your lips as you pressed your faces together. Your other hand slid down his chest, teasing at the waistband of his tactical pants. It didn’t take long for Bucky to have them off, throwing them across the room before immediately returning to your lips.

You pressed your palm to his erection over his boxers, whimpering into the kiss as you felt the size of him. Pulling away from his lips, you glanced down to see him held in your hand, the girth sending a shockwave through your body. A wet patch had begun to form on his boxers as precum leaked from his tip, no doubt related to the way his hips had been rutting against the arm of the couch as he ate you out. 

He hissed at your touch, evidently sensitive from the night's events. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck as you began to stroke him gently, pressing kisses to his hair. He thrust his hips into your touch, needing you just as bad as you had been needing him.

“Doll, as much as I love you touching me,” he moaned, pressing a kiss to the corner of your jaw. “I fuckin’ need to be inside you.”

You didn’t take any further convincing, pushing down his boxers to free his rock hard cock. He leaned back for a moment, studying the view before him as he stroked himself a couple of times. He lined himself up with you, one hand gripping your hip tight as the other came up to stroke your cheek as he eased himself into you.

Your eyes immediately fluttered closed, jaw dropping at the sheer size of him. Garbled sounds fell from your lips, it sounded like you were casting a spell in some long-forgotten language. Bucky stifled a deep growl as he felt your walls tightening around him.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he mewled, pressing a desperate kiss to your lips. 

Any type of control Bucky had had before, the precision he had displayed while working on your pleasure, disappeared the second he felt your pussy clenching around his cock. He continued to enter you until he was fully sheathed, jaw clenched as he held himself back from immediately slamming his hips into yours. 

He watched your face carefully for any hint of pain as he began to withdraw, gently sliding into your tight hole again. Your face contorted with pleasure, unable to force any words from your mouth as you succumbed to the pleasure radiating through your body. Bucky took that as a sign to continue, hips rolling back and forward as his cock pounded deeper and deeper into you. 

Your fingers grasped at Bucky’s shoulders, searching for stability as your bodies moved together. Words defeated you, only lewd sounds falling from your lips as your forms united. The sound of wet slaps echoed around the room, punctuated by the deep groans elicited from Bucky’s chest as he felt the warmth of your body around him.

““Fuck,” Bucky hissed through his teeth, punctuated by the harsh slamming of his hips into yours. 

Your entire body vibrated with desire as you heard just how bad Bucky needed you, just how bad he needed to fuck you. You reached up to place a hand on his chest, the other on his shoulder as you pushed against him, flipping him onto his back. You saw a flash of surprise on his face as you threw a leg over him, the look immediately replaced with one of desire and want. 

Leaning down to kiss him, you pressed your lips against his before trailing kisses down his throat, tongue poking out to lick over his Adam’s apple. He growled at the feeling, hands clutching and squeezing at your hips. You felt his hips buck upwards against you, the head of his cock brushing against your clit as you let out a needy whine.

The sound broke something in Bucky and he grabbed your hips, pulling you down on his cock. He slid inside of you easily, even deeper than before as your eyes rolled back in ecstasy. You leaned back as you rolled your hips against his, grinding your pussy against him and hands resting on his muscular thighs.

Bucky thrust his body upwards, his balls slapping against you as the head of his cock hit the perfect spot inside of you, turning your body to jelly.

“Fuck-,” you moaned, the tip of your tongue poking out over your bottom lip as you focused all of your energy on staying upright. 

Bucky sensed your weakness, bending his knees to plant his feet in the bed as he fucked up into you relentlessly. 

“Shit, can feel you getting close babygirl,” he grunted, movements becoming sloppy as he felt his own high building in his abdomen. 

You whined in response, hand drifting down to stroke desperate circles around your clit, “So close, so fucking close.”

“Where’d you want me to finish, doll?” Bucky said, movements beginning to stutter.

“Inside, please,” you moaned, eyes opening to look down at him. “Wanna feel you.”

The words sent Bucky over the edge as he leaned up, wrapping his arms tightly around your abdomen as he slammed his hips into yours over and over. Your orgasm washed over you, body tensing as you crumbled into his embrace. Bucky’s arms were the only thing keeping you from falling on your face as he bit down on your collarbone, stifling a scream as he shot hot ropes of cum deep inside of you.

His hips didn’t stop, fucking his seed deeper and deeper inside of you as you garbled nonsense into his scalp. After a few moments, his movements became languid before stopping entirely, his arms still embracing you tightly as your chests heaved with breaths. His lips placed gentle, sloppy kisses along your shoulder as Bucky turned your bodies to lay you on the bed. You whined as his softening cock slipped out of you.

“I know baby, I know,” he whispered, continuing to place kisses along your jaw as he laid you down. 

Your eyes were still closed, lungs struggling to recover after the rigorous events that had just occurred. Letting out a gentle moan, you reached your arms out for him.

“One second doll, gotta get you cleaned up,” he spoke gently as he stood, moving to the bathroom to grab a washcloth and returning to the bed. 

Carefully, tenderly, he wiped at your sensitive folds, eradicating any proof of your joint activities. He threw the washcloth to the end of the bed, then brought the blanket up to cover your bodies as he wrapped an arm over your midsection.

“You back with me?” he asked, stroking gentle circles against your delicate skin.

“Yeah,” you hummed in response. “Holy shit.”

Bucky chuckled, the sound chesty and real.

“I think you should take a break more often,” you pressed your lips to his chest as you snuggled in closer. His arm wrapped tighter around you as you did, kissing your hair and inhaling your scent. 

“If it involved this every time,” he grinned. “I don’t think I’d ever do any damn work.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” you pulled away to look up at him. “Anytime you need a break, you come find me. I’ll be your perfect excuse.”

Bucky smiled down at you, realising just how much you truly cared for him. He hadn’t thought anyone had noticed how tired he was or how desperate he was for a break, but you had. 

“You got yourself a deal, sweetheart, but for now, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

a/n: i'm a slut for bucky in thunderbolts

ever wish your favourite character could send you a personalised letter? now they can via my Etsy store <3

masterlist for more of my work <3

[halcyon-writings]

nav.

Zayne had a certain habit. You observed him enough times to make note of it. Whether it was just the two of you or when you were out with a group of friends.

You would sit on a bench or chair, your bag on your lap. Zayne stands behind you, his hands on the back of wherever you were seated. You’d type at your phone, most likely to see what sort of meal you both wanted or a new spot you wanted to check out.

Your friend notices as well, when it is the group of you all around the city. She gives you a secretive smile when Zayne stands behind you as you sit, like a routine. His eyes are sharp and focused, yet when you show him your screen so that he can look at the cafe’s menu, they soften.

“It’s sweet,” Your friend comments, the corner of her eyes crinkle. Zayne had gone to grab the order, volunteering since the place looked busy.

“What is?” You ask, still not getting it just yet.

“How he does that little protective thing,” Another friend explains for her, mentioning what she’s also noticed. You can’t help but flush a little, the back of your neck getting warm. “And how he easily makes sure you’re able to keep space in the more crowded spots.”

You can’t help but laugh a little, your heart skipping a beat. Now that she pointed it out, you can’t deny it. Not that you wanted to, but it was just something you could add to the long list you loved about Zayne.

“I guess it just happens so much when we’re out that I didn’t realize it was so novel,” You admit.

Your friend simply grins cheekily, the other giggling lightheartedly, but both say no more as Zayne returns with the order. He pulls out your chair at one of the nearby tables outside, pushing it in for you once you sit. As well as taking his seat dutifully at your side.

It was beautiful out, so it was no surprise for the city to be a little crowded today. With the recent rainy days, the sun and gentle breeze were a welcome surprise.

Even so, as you all walk, Zayne’s palm rests gently against the small of your back, still giving you the freedom of movement, but also helping you balance on the sidewalk in between the other groups of people or kids playing around the park.

Your friends notice, but they don’t tease you about it… not too much anyway.

Zayne’s own eyes crinkle slightly in amusement. When you send him a curious glance, Zayne only takes one of your hands, giving it a gentle squeeze as he entwines your fingers together. In between, when he thinks no one is looking, he lifts your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

You smile in return.

[fyeahnix]

Sevika is known as "Zaun's Scariest Woman," but when she's alone with you, she could give the sweetest, most innocent dog a run for its money.

------

Sevika barely uttered a word when she came in that night. You thought to scold her when she didn't greet you as normal, but judging by her rigid shoulders and perpetual scowl, she'd had a particularly crappy day.

When she finally finished her longer-than-usual shower and night routine, she clambered into bed, reaching to pull you closer before burying her head in your chest. She sighed, then inhaled, then sighed again.

"Hi, baby," she finally said.

"Hey. You...feeling better?"

She nodded and tightened her grip around you. "'m sorry. Didn't mean not to speak earlier. Wasn't mad at you or anything. Just...had a day. Needed to unwind."

You brushed strands of her loose hair out of her face. Innocent strokes traced arcane marble, massaged her skin until you journeyed to train fingers through dark hair. "You know I'd help you with that if you asked."

She buried her face deeper, muffling her voice. "You're helping a lot now."

You smiled.

Having moved to lay between your legs, Sevika rested there, nuzzling her nose into the side of your breast. She breathed. Deeply.

You sat with her for an unspoken amount of time, feathering your nails across her scalp and down her neck for the occasional shiver that rolled down her spine. She wasn't sleeping—not yet, anyway, even in the dim, amber-lit bedroom you shared—but soaking in the comfort. For a person like Sevika in her line of work, high stress was a given, an expectation. Day in and day out was a fight for survival and a fight for freedom. There would always be days like this, where she'd come back to you in one piece but her mind shattered from the day's events, where she'd search for solace in your embrace to help piece herself back together. You always regretted destroying that modicum of peace with the same probing question that came to mind.

"You wanna talk about it?"

Indignation colored the breath that escaped her flared nostrils, and she slow-blinked into the distance. You'd seen that expression enough times to know what fueled it. She left the question to linger in the air. You respected it.

She reached for your free hand. Pulled it close and kissed your knuckles one by one. Then pressed her lips against the heel of your palm. Another. Then another. And on and on until she inched higher and landed in the center of your palm. Like a meditative process, the motions calmed her, relaxed her facial muscles 'til serenity returned to take control.

"Not now," she whispered and motioned closer to fit her scarred cheek between your collar and neck. "Just wanna lay with you."

And so you did.

Silence overcame once more and for a time you lay still, only interrupted by the sporadic moan that escaped Sevika as she succumbed to sleep.

------

taglist: @gaudesstuff @archangeldyke-all @abitohoney @sexysapphicshopowner @iamaboringrattat

@ash-fall7 @the-anonmaton @peanutbutterprincess @thesevi0lentdelights @kylorey25

@thegothicchangeling

[hotdigitallegend]

✧･ﾟ: your lilith summer guide :･ﾟ✧

✸ lilith in aries

you weren’t made for politeness.

this summer, every “no” you say clears the path.

✦ anger is sacred. courage is messy.

burn what no longer mirrors your power.

✸ lilith in taurus

your pleasure is prophecy.

they’ll call you indulgent — it’s fine.

✦ this summer, rest like a queen in exile.

your boundaries are velvet + iron.

✸ lilith in gemini

you are the unfinished sentence that haunts them.

✦ speak less, mean more. vanish mid-thought.

flirtation is a spell, every question is a knife.

truth is yours to withhold.

✸ lilith in cancer

your love isn’t soft. it consumes.

✦ nurture is not submission — it’s strategy.

this summer, let your tenderness take over.

protect what’s yours, even from yourself.

✸ lilith in leo

your light is unruly and that’s the point.

✦ this summer, don’t shrink. don’t dim.

demand the stage. ignore the applause.

you are the sun — not the shadow.

✸ lilith in virgo

you’ve been the knife, now you are the cut.

✦ stop healing what hurt you. stop organizing dysfunction that isn’t yours.

your rebellion is clinical, divine.

precision is your power.

✸ lilith in libra

pretty can be poisonous.

✦ this summer, stop performing fairness.

unbalance the scales. choose yourself even if it tilts the room.

grace with an edge is still grace.

✸ lilith in scorpio

you are the secret no one forgets.

✦ desire is dangerous — that’s why you lead with it.

this summer, own the part of you that seduces and destroys.

nothing real is ever safe.

✸ lilith in sagittarius

freedom isn’t a phase.

✦ escape what cages your curiosity.

this summer, choose risk over routine.

your truth doesn’t need permission.

✸ lilith in capricorn

you are the architect of your own rebellion.

✦ this summer, break the rules you once built to survive.

power is yours — it is not borrowed. nor inherited.

wear it like armor, release shame.

✸ lilith in aquarius

you are the glitch in the matrix.

✦ this summer, speak the taboo, dream the impossible.

you’re not too much you’re just too early.

revolution lives in your pulse.

✸ lilith in pisces

you feel everything and that’s the magic.

✦ this summer, let the dream spill out of your mouth.

dissolve what dims you. enchant what remains.

delusion is sometimes just divine timing.

[fushitoru]

chapter 3: the manor a bridgerton!au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, heir to a dukedom mr. satoru gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary ⸺ you and gojo have just uncovered your mothers' matchmaking scheme: a plan that sends you both to his extravagant countryside manor in kent, arriving a week earlier than the rest of the ton. the question remains—can you endure gojo's insufferable nature during this secluded stay? (8.3k)

prev. the aftermath | next. the game

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n krnfeknfkejrn i was so tired writing this chapter but used it to procrastinate on the reports and papers i have to write for internship/reports (wtf is quantum physics anyways). ty as always to @/sinn-clair for being the best beta reader <33333

Dear readers, 

Apparently, last week, there was an altercation in Lady Itadori’s drawing room involving Lord Gojo, Miss Itadori, and a dog. The dog was the victor. 

Furthermore, If one is to trust the betting books, then Lord Gojo shall be witness to wedding bells before the year is through.

As much as it pains This Author to agree with the betting books (they are written by men, and thus inherently flawed), This Author must concur in the prediction.

Duchess Gojo will soon have her daughter-in-law. But who she will be⸺ah, Gentle Reader, that is still anyone’s guess. 

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

Mary Wollstonecraft’s A Vindication of the Rights of Woman⸺a work I have long heard whispers about but never fully encountered until now. Her words, as bold as they are revolutionary, have struck a chord deep within me. She speaks of the education and independence of women, of our capacity for reason and our right to be regarded as more than mere adornments to the lives of men. Her arguments are so meticulously crafted, so unwavering in their conviction, that they have compelled me to reflect on my own circumstances.

I confess, there is something intoxicating about the notion that women might be more than what society has so neatly confined us to be. Is it truly so outlandish to consider that we, too, possess minds capable of great thought and spirits yearning for freedom?

I cannot help but wonder if there will ever come a time when these two worlds might reconcile⸺the status quo and that of what the book articulates. When women might be both respected and fre

Before you could finish writing in your diary, you suddenly heard frantic footsteps down the hallway, leading closer and closer to your door. Nobara bursts into the room, and you look up at her in confusion and, partially, dread. Nobara wouldn’t be bursting into your room unless there was someone who absolutely couldn’t see what you were doing in your past time.

Before she could catch her breath, she wheezed out, “Your mother.”

You quickly hopped into action with practiced and routine movements. Lunging for the floorboard that had hollow space beneath it, you moved it so you could place the book and your diary underneath and quickly hide evidence of you reading scandalous and radical works.

Just in time, it seemed, as your mother walked into your room to see you on your bed.

She squinted her eyes in suspicion. “What were you doing?”

You averted her gaze. “Nothing, just daydreaming, Mama.”

Usually, she would prod further into the matter, but it seemed as if she was too excited for that. Clapping her hands, she exclaimed, “I have just got an exclusive invitation for you! One that could secure you a very good match.”

You gave her a quizzical look as she walked closer, sitting at the foot of your bed with an expression of barely contained glee. “We shall be visiting the Gojo estate in Kent!”

At the mention of his name, your left eye twitched, though your mother remained oblivious. “Indeed, Mama? As is every other lady in London, I presume.”

“No, no,” she replied, waving your quip away with a dismissive hand. “We are to arrive at the Gojo estate before the house party.”

Your heart sank, dread pooling in your stomach. Oh, no, no, no, no. A sudden pressure gripped your chest, and you found yourself clutching at the bodice of your dress as if to steady your racing heart. “Before the house party, Mama?” Your voice, despite your best efforts, came out higher-pitched than usual, though you tried to maintain a semblance of composure. “Whatever for?”

“To secure an advantage, of course!” she replied with a bright smile, as though the matter were the simplest thing in the world. “The Gojo family has extended a personal invitation for us to stay with them for a few days prior to the event. It is plain to see⸺he is quite taken with you. Even that dreadful Lady Whistledown has noted as much.” She smiled indulgently, reaching out to gently smooth a stray lock of your hair. “It is your natural grace and charm, my dear, that has made you the season’s diamond.”

As your mother continued to speak, the twisting in your stomach began to intensify, morphing from nausea into something sharper, something more akin to anger. You kept nodding, trying to maintain a slightly pained smile, but the thought of spending time at the Gojo manor, in such close quarters with him, became increasingly unbearable. The memories of your recent encounters⸺his biting remarks, his mocking gaze⸺were still fresh in your mind, and the idea that you were being pushed toward an engagement with him made your skin crawl. But you knew better than to express your true feelings to your mother.

“That is… unexpected,” you managed to say, choosing your words carefully. “Are you certain this is a good idea, Mama? Perhaps we might appear too eager and ward off other potential suitors, lest they mistake me as claimed by Gojo?”

“Nonsense!” she replied with a dismissive laugh. “If all goes well, you’ll be announcing your engagement at the house party itself!”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You could hardly breathe as the full weight of what she was saying sank in. An engagement. To Gojo.

You almost felt faint, but as the initial shock wore off, it was replaced by a simmering anger. How dare he? How dare Gojo make a game of this, toying with you as if your future was nothing more than a sport to him? And how could your mother not see that she was playing right into his hands?

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure, but the anger was bubbling up, threatening to spill over. “But, Mama, what if he does not wish to marry? What if he simply enjoys… toying with people?”

Your mother’s expression softened as she reached out to pat your hand, oblivious to the storm brewing inside you. “My dear, you are overthinking this. Men like Lord Gojo may seem playful and insouciant, but they are ultimately driven by duty. A man in his position knows the importance of finding a suitable wife, and you⸺my darling⸺are just the woman for the role. You are intelligent, accomplished, and beautiful. He would be a fool not to see that.”

Each word only fueled the fire of your anger. Duty? Suitable wife? You bit your lip, feeling the weight of her expectations press down on you like a suffocating blanket. But beneath that weight was a growing resolve, a refusal to be treated like a pawn in some grand game of power and prestige. Gojo might enjoy playing with others' lives, but you would not be his plaything.

You gave her a pained smile. “If you say so, Mama…” you replied, the anger now evident in the tightness of your voice.

“Of course, I do!” she declared, rising from the bed with a self-satisfied smile. “Now, we must begin preparations immediately. There is much to be done before we depart.”

As your mother closed the door, you stormed over to the floorboard, whipped open your diary and prepped your quill to furiously write: 

Lord Gojo is a most intolerable wretch. Though his outward appearance might deceive many, there is an endless well of impurities within his character.

Indeed, God truly blesses the wrong soldiers with features such as his. However, I take pride in being one of His strongest for I possess the fortitude to resist the temptation of ending Gojo’s miserable existence myself.

Were Sukuna here, I daresay he would assist me in disposing of the body with great enthusiasm.

While the Gojo dinner table was stocked with the finest of meals⸺that deserving of a wealthy dukedom, of course⸺Satoru found himself eyeing one dish of all⸺the scones.

Observing his mother and father, who were engrossed in deep conversation, he realized he could make the move. As discreetly as he could, he stocked his plate with many of the treats. The cook, bless his soul, knew how to make scones exactly right: soft, yet hard around the edges that have Satoru drooling when he takes a bite in to get a burst of flavor. He discreetly tucked a few sweets into his pocket for tonight’s work session on some Gojo business, thinking himself subtle.

Satoru could continue writing endless love poems in his head towards his chef’s scones, But Lady Gojo, ever watchful, noticed his little scheme. She arched an eyebrow, her tone teasing as she remarked, "Satoru, darling, it astonishes me that you remain so fit with such a fondness for sweets."

Without missing a beat, Gojo flashed his usual charming smile and responded, “Perhaps it is because I am kept on my toes constantly by you, Mother.” His parents shared a laugh at this, clearly amused by his playful banter.

The Gojo dining fell into a comfortable lull once again, sounds of forks and knives scratching against porcelain plates. The silence was better, Satoru believed. Because he knew he was not going to be pleased at what his father had to say to him next, judged based on the thoughtful look he adopted while staring at Gojo. 

“And how fares the season, Satoru? Have you made any progress?”

Satoru wanted to groan so bad, but instead, he straightened in his seat, the smile on his face now simply a facade. “I am confident all will proceed as expected, Father,” he replied, though his tone lacked its usual certainty.

Duke Gojo narrowed his eyes slightly, sensing something amiss. “Are you sure about that?” he probed. “You know very well, Satoru, that your inheritance of the title is contingent upon securing a wife and producing an heir. This is not a matter to be taken lightly.”

The weight of his father’s words hung in the air, pressing down on Gojo with the full force of expectation.  Would it be eccentric if I decided to scream to the heavens right now?

Before Gojo could even formulate a response, his mother, ever the one to steer the conversation, interjected with a delighted exclamation. “Oh, it’s all handled, my dear! Did you not hear? The diamond of the season is arriving a week early to our manor in the countryside!”

All thoughts of screaming himself mute vanished as his mother’s words piqued his interest. Now, this was interesting. You? Spending time with him, under his roof, with no escape? The idea alone was enough to spark a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Satoru almost started cackling maniacally at the thought of pestering you until you broke that oh-so-perfect and uptight demeanor of yours, until you were reduced to exactly what you were: an unruly and highly emotional know-it-all.

One could say Satoru was very bitter about the losses he had bore for that horse race.

As a self-assured smirk started to creep up Satoru’s face, Duke Gojo blinked, surprised by the news. “A week early? That’s quite unusual,” he remarked, turning his gaze back to his son.

Satoru offered a sweet smile. “Yes, unusual indeed.” He knew his parents were well aware of the marital implications of such an arrangement, and he could feel their eyes on him, gauging his reaction.

But Duchess Gojo, satisfied with her announcement, continued with a gleeful smile. “I daresay, it’s all coming together perfectly. Even matchmakers could not have planned it better.”

Indeed, Mother! The prospect grew more delightful with each passing second, and the corners of his mouth curled into a sly grin. You were in for quite the week, and he would relish every moment of ruining your composure.

Yuji leaned in closer, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied your face. “Sister, did you perhaps neglect the chamber pot today?” he asked, his tone teasing but his gaze serious. “Your expression is quite telling.”

 The carriage, though spacious, felt suffocating with the tension hanging in the air. Your mother sat by the window, her eyes sparkling with what could only be described as gleeful scheming regarding your imminent week at the Gojo manor. You, on the other hand, simmered with barely contained fury, with a pinch of nausea, your thoughts consumed with how you would confront Gojo at the ball you were all headed to. Yuji’s scrutiny only added to your irritation, his amused yet concerned face a stark contrast to your stormy mood. Across from you, Choso couldn’t suppress a snicker at Yuji’s comment, clearly enjoying the exchange.

You snapped, unable to contain your frustration any longer. “Yuji, if you do not cease your incessant prying, I shall see to it that you regret ever opening your mouth!”

Yuji flinched, visibly startled by your outburst. His confidence wavered as he stammered, “I⸺I meant no harm, sister.” He quickly extended his elbow to you, his movements almost robotic in their sudden politeness. “Please, allow me to escort you inside.”

You ignored the offer, your focus already elsewhere. The moment the carriage came to a stop, you heaved yourself off, stepping into the entrance. Grand revelry was before you; many suitors and young ladies were present, necks glittering with diamonds and hands adorned with gloves. Roving your gaze around, you saw him.

The world around you seemed to blur as your gaze locked onto Gojo, everything else fading into the background. A sleazy and handsome grin on his face, definitely talking about some useless nonsense. 

Like a bull seeing red, you marched forward with determined fury, your sights set solely on him. He stood there, the picture of nonchalance, completely unaware of the storm heading his way. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your anger propelling you forward with each step. Yuji and Choso exchanged confused glances as they lingered by the entrance, unsure of what had just transpired.

As you closed the distance, Gojo finally noticed you, his usual smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. But there was no time for his usual banter; you were ready to confront him head-on, no matter the consequences.

“What have you done?” you roared, striding towards Gojo. His head turned slowly, an amused and condescending smile creeping across his face. “I know this is⸺”

“Miss Itadori,” a voice hissed, dripping with offense. You turned to see Miss Yuki glaring at you. “Lord Gojo and I were in the midst of a very private conversation.”

You blinked, realizing that in your anger, you had entirely overlooked Miss Yuki’s presence. Though inwardly rolling your eyes, you knew it was best to maintain decorum. You curtsied in apology. “My sincerest apologies, Miss Yuki. I shall leave you both to continue your conversation.”

As you stepped back, giving them respectable space, Miss Yuki side-eyed you with a sharp “hmph!” before turning back to Gojo with a flirtatious smile.

“So, my lord,” Yuki began, her tone coy, “what type of woman would be to your liking?”

Gojo scratched his chin, feigning deep thought as he prepared his response. “Well, Miss Yuki, I would imagine she must be intelligent, accomplished, and⸺” He paused dramatically, taking her hand and kissing the back of it with a slow, deliberate drawl, “⸺and beautiful.”

You suppressed a sigh. Does he never tire of that tiresome gesture? It’s grown exceedingly dull.

Yuki’s pleased grin widened. “And what level of intellect do you find satisfactory, my lord?”

“Well,” Gojo mused, “I would prefer a lady well-versed in calculations. I often find myself making errors in my ledgers late at night, and a wife who could assist would be most valuable. Moreover, I would enjoy engaging in debates on scientific matters.”

Is he seeking a wife or an accountant?

The unusual nature of his request clearly left Yuki taken aback. She blinked, her smile tightening. “Indeed, Lord Gojo, these are rather...uncommon expectations for a wife.” Yuki then hesitated, glancing around as though searching for an escape. “Well, my lord, as intriguing as this conversation has been, I fear I must take my leave. My mother has been awaiting my return, and I would not wish to keep her waiting.”

She curtsied with a strained smile, clearly eager to extricate herself from the awkward situation Gojo’s peculiar standards had created. Without waiting for a reply, she swiftly turned and made her exit, leaving you alone to confront Gojo, who now had an amused look on his face, as if he had purposefully answered that way to ward Miss Yuki off.

You pointed your finger at him, wagging it accusingly as you hissed, “Gojo, I know this was one of your ploys.”

He let out an exaggerated groan, and he dropped all flirtatious pretenses he had adopted when conversing with the other lady. “Ah, yes. Please, by all means, heap more blame upon me for things entirely beyond my control. I derive immense pleasure from being the target of your needless and misdirected fury.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

With a strained smile, he sighed. “It seems our mothers have taken it upon themselves to orchestrate this entire charade.”

Your hands flew up in exasperation. “I cannot believe this! I would sooner perish than marry you, and heaven help me if I were ever to bear your children!”

“Spare me the theatrics,” Gojo replied, shaking his head as if amused by your outburst. He inclined his head slightly, gesturing toward something in the distance. “We are being observed.”

You followed his gaze and saw, across the dance floor, both of your mothers trying—albeit poorly—to appear inconspicuous as they exchanged furtive glances and whispered behind their fans.

You huffed in frustration, turning back to Gojo. “This is absurd.”

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in closer. “But would it be so terrible to bear my children?” he murmured, his tone teasing yet somehow serious.

Your pulse quickened at his words, but you refused to let it show. You straightened your posture, meeting his gaze with as much poise as you could muster. “I can’t think of far worse fates, my lord,” you replied, a touch of sarcasm lacing your words.

Gojo’s smile widened, clearly undeterred. His hand brushed lightly against your arm, the touch fleeting but enough to send a shiver down your spine.. You felt a slight tremor of awareness course through you, and despite your best efforts, a hint of warmth crept into your cheeks.

He leaned in even closer, his voice a low murmur. “You seem flustered, Miss Itadori,” he said, his breath warm against your skin. “I must admit, the idea of a future with you is… intriguing.”

Flustered and at a loss of witty remarks, you stammered, struggling to find your voice. “I⸺I hardly think that⸺”

Gojo’s smile widened, clearly enjoying your reaction. He gently took your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. His eyes had this sultry expression to them, one that you didn’t need to ponder more than one second to know had no good intentions. 

With that, he released your hand, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding and your cheeks aflame.

Gojo ⸺ 1, You ⸺ 1. 

Choso crossed his arms, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Mother, why are we departing a week earlier than the rest of the ton?”

The carriage rocked gently, the luggage rattling with the motion. You slumped in your seat, weary from the long hours of travel, your thoughts drifting to the comfort of a soft, fluffy bed. Your mother, noticing the beads of sweat forming on your brow, handed you a handkerchief before turning to respond to Choso. “Well, my dear, your sister has caught the eye of Lord Gojo, and his mother has personally invited us to arrive early so that we may become better acquainted.”

Your eldest brother frowned, while Yuji stared vacantly out the carriage window, enraptured by the sheep present on the farm you were passing. “But why should we do so?” Choso pressed, his tone firm. “It is not as though Sister is lacking in suitors. Why should we entertain Lord Gojo’s interest above all others?”

Even in your heat-induced lightheadedness, your attention was drawn to Choso’s defense of you. A flicker of hope ignited in your chest; as the viscount, Choso held considerable authority over your mother, and he could potentially influence the matrimonial decisions made on your behalf.

“Lord Gojo is the most eligible bachelor of the season,” your mother insisted. “We would be foolish not to seize such an opportunity.”

Choso retorted quickly, “And Sister is the most eligible lady of the season. She is the diamond. If Lord Gojo’s eligibility rests on his title, would we not do better to pursue a match with Duke Nanami?”

You silently cheered Choso on, hoping he might sway your mother’s mind away from the ridiculous notion of a match between you and Gojo.

But your mother was not easily deterred. “I am quite set on Lord Gojo, Choso,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “Your sister seems to have formed a rapport with him, and this is about more than just titles. We must also consider her inclinations.”

Both your mother and Choso turned their expectant gazes upon you, awaiting your response. Flustered and unwilling to directly oppose your mother, you swallowed nervously and nodded. “Whatever you think best, Mother.”

The remainder of the ride was marked by the satisfied smile on Lady Itadori’s face and the glowers⸺yet paired with concerned glances⸺from Choso.

The slowing of the carriage and its turn onto a smooth pathway roused you from the gentle lull of travel. You blinked your eyes open and glanced outside. A magnificent flower bed greeted you, a sea of blues ranging from the palest sky hues to deep indigo. But what truly stole your breath was the manor itself⸺more a castle than a mere country home. Its grandiose structure rivaled Buckingham Palace in regality, with elegant blue spires and stately beige stone walls that seemed to stretch towards the heavens.

The carriage came to a complete halt at the base of a grand staircase, where Duchess Gojo stood waiting, surrounded by footmen and maids all dressed in coordinated baby blue livery. As the carriage door was opened, you, your mother, Choso, and Yuji stepped out into the warm afternoon air.

“Lady Itadori!” Duchess Gojo descended the stairs gracefully, her arms extended in greeting. Your mother met her with an equally warm embrace.

“Your Grace,” your mother replied fondly, her face lighting up with familiarity. The duchess then turned her gaze towards you, her smile gracious and welcoming.

“And this must be our diamond,” Duchess Gojo said warmly, her eyes twinkling.

You offered her a polite smile and curtsied. “Miss Itadori, Your Grace. I am deeply honored by your hospitality.”

She waved off your formality with a flick of her hand. “The pleasure is entirely ours, my dear. We are delighted to have you with us, and I do hope that you and my son will find ample time to get better acquainted before the house party.”

You returned her smile, though unease stirred within you. “Of course, Your Grace.”

Choso and Yuji introduced themselves with the same practiced politeness, and after the formalities were concluded, the duchess clapped her hands together. “Come now, let us take tea. You must be quite fatigued from your journey. I shall have the staff see to your rooms so you may rest after.” She directed the servants to unload the luggage from the carriages and then motioned for you all to follow her into the manor. “To the drawing room!”

As you crossed the threshold into the manor, you were struck by the sheer opulence surrounding you. The high ceilings were adorned with intricate gold and blue detailing, and the walls were lined with endless portraits of the Gojo family. Your gaze was momentarily drawn to a portrait of Lord Gojo himself. The artist had rendered his eyes in a cold, oceanic blue—quite unlike the electric blue intensity they held in person. The painting failed to capture the vitality, and perhaps the insufferable smugness, that characterized his gaze.

You quickly looked away before anyone could notice your lingering stare, hurrying to catch up with your family as you reached a grand set of double doors. Footmen stood at attention as Duchess Gojo led you into a drawing room, elegantly appointed with plush furnishings and laden with trays of sweets.

“Please, make yourselves comfortable,” the duchess urged, gesturing towards the seating. She and your mother settled at a small table near the door, while you and your siblings gravitated toward the couches in the center of the room, where a tempting array of desserts awaited. As you sat down, maids swiftly arranged teacups and began pouring the tea. Yuji and Choso took seats across from you, their expressions reflecting varying degrees of interest—or lack thereof—in the proceedings.

“So, Miss Itadori,” You looked across the room to look at the duchess, who was leaning further to grab at her teacup and take a sip. “How do you find this season?”

“I find the suitors of this season very pleasing and kind, Your Grace,” you sat up fully, placing the scone you were eating down to fully face the duchess. “It has been a very extravagant season; I hope to continue my search to find a suitable match for myself.” Duchess Gojo nodded. “An admirable pursuit, of course. Is a love match what you are searching for?”

Her question hung in the air, and in that instant, you felt the weight of every gaze in the room fall upon you. The most searing of them all, though, was your mother's. You could feel it like a prickling heat against your skin, a silent reminder of the expectations that had been laid out before you long ago.

A love match. The words echoed in your mind, each syllable twisting into a knot of uncertainty. The very idea of love seemed foreign to you—elusive, abstract, something that belonged in novels rather than in the practical world of arranged marriages and alliances. Love was not what you had been taught to seek. No, your upbringing had been grounded in duty, decorum, and the quiet understanding that marriage was a contract, a union of convenience rather than passion.

But how could you say that aloud? How could you tell the duchess—tell anyone—that your dreams did not include the fiery passion of a love match, but rather the comfort of a peaceful arrangement? Your throat tightened, and the words that had once seemed so simple lodged themselves in the back of your mouth, refusing to emerge.

Your mother’s eyes bore into you, filled with unspoken expectations. You knew what she wanted to hear: that you were pursuing love, that you were open to it, that you were the ideal picture of a hopeful young lady seeking her romantic equal. But that wasn’t your truth. Your truth was more complicated, filled with desires for stability, understanding, and a life unburdened by the chaos that love so often seemed to bring.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the beat almost deafening in the sudden silence of the room. What were you supposed to say? How could you balance the delicate line between honesty and propriety?

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, you swallowed hard, the dryness in your throat making it nearly impossible to find your voice. The tension swirled within you, an unrelenting force that made you wish you could simply disappear. What if they could see through you? What if, with one wrong word, they uncovered the truth of what you really wanted—a marriage that was practical, peaceful, and devoid of the complications that came with love?

But that wasn’t something you could admit. Not here. Not now.

You forced a polite smile, hoping it hid the whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind.

Before the weight of the room could settle further, the heavy double doors swung open with a soft yet deliberate creak. Every head turned in unison, and the air seemed to shift as your savior, Satoru Gojo made his entrance.

His attire was impeccable—a finely tailored waistcoat of deep blue, embroidered with silver thread that caught the light just so, paired with polished boots that gleamed as if they had never touched the ground. Yet, despite the formal attire, there was an air of disarming casualness about him, a kind of effortless elegance that made the room's grandeur seem almost insignificant by comparison.

His damp hair, still tousled from what must have been a recent bath, added an edge to his otherwise polished appearance. Droplets of water shimmered at the tips of his white locks, catching the light as he ran a hand through them. The scent of his cologne, rich and intoxicating, seemed to announce his arrival to you even before he spoke.

He strolled in with an air of ease. “It seems that our guests are finally here!” He moved with an easy grace, crossing the room in a few long strides, bowing slightly to the duchess and your mother before turning his attention to you. His gaze lingered on you for just a moment longer than necessary, a playful glint in his eyes as if he could sense the internal battle you had been fighting mere seconds ago.

“Miss Itadori,” he greeted you with a smile that could have melted the iciest of hearts, “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.”

Your mother’s eyes lit up at the sight of him. “Ah, Satoru! Come, sit with us.” She motioned to the spot next to you with enthusiasm. “Why don’t you and Miss Itadori sit together?”

Choso’s sharp gaze followed him with a hint of suspicion, but he made no objection as Gojo accepted the invitation, seating himself beside you with an infuriatingly confident smile. Yuji and Choso remained on the opposite couch, observing the scene with varying degrees of curiosity and caution.

“Well then,” Gojo began, grabbing an obscene amount of scones to heap on his plate, “I was just at the 

archery range earlier today. Quite the exhilarating sport. I find it sharpens the mind as much as the aim.”

Yuji, ever the admirer of feats of physical skill, leaned forward with interest. “Archery, my lord? That sounds remarkable! I must admit, I’ve always found it to be one of the noblest of pursuits.”

Gojo leaned back into the couch, resting one arm casually behind you on the backrest, his posture the very picture of relaxed confidence. He smiled at Yuji’s enthusiasm and continued, “Archery has long been a favored pastime of mine. It requires precision, patience, and an understanding of balance—qualities I find both necessary and rewarding. I've dedicated many years to perfecting my skill with the bow.”

He paused, allowing a slight, reflective smile to touch his lips. “In fact, just last month, I competed in the annual tournament at Her Majesty’s estate and managed to hit the bullseye in every round. Some of the other competitors remarked that it was almost unnatural, but I assure you, it is merely the result of countless hours spent at the range.”

Yuji’s eyes widened with admiration. “Every round? That’s incredible, Lord Gojo! Your dedication must be unparalleled.”

Gojo shrugged with mock humility, though his eyes glinted with pride. “It’s all in the discipline, really. Once you understand the rhythm of the draw and the release, it becomes second nature. Of course, the challenge is in maintaining that focus while under pressure. But I’ve found that to be the most exhilarating part—especially when the crowd is watching.”

Yuji nodded fervently, clearly enthralled. “I would love to see you in action, my lord! Perhaps you could give me a few pointers one day.”

Gojo chuckled, his gaze shifting to you for a moment before returning to Yuji. “Ah, I’m sure you’d take it quite well, Yuji. Perhaps we could all visit the range together during your stay here.”

 The nonchalant arrogance in his voice, paired with the image of him lording his skill over others, irritated you. You couldn’t resist a small quip, your tone light. “Oh, indeed, Lord Gojo. Your accomplishments are so profound that I fear I might believe you are telling tales. Of course, I wonder with all this focus on archery, do you leave any time for pursuits that require a bit more… finesse?”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as they met yours, his gaze sharp with understanding. Yet, rather than take offense, he allowed a playful smirk to curl on his lips, his voice laced with teasing intent. “Ah, Miss Itadori, archery indeed requires finesse, I assure you. But perhaps you’d care to test that claim yourself? I’d be more than happy to provide a demonstration.”

As he leaned in closer, you found yourself all too aware of his presence. The scent of his cologne, a warm and intoxicating blend of vanilla and tobacco, filled the air between you, making it difficult to maintain your composure. His face hovered just near enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke.

“In fact,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone, “I’d wager that with a little practice, you might find yourself hitting the mark with more than just words.”

His proximity made your heart skip a beat, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. Despite your resolve to remain composed, the effect of his closeness and the quiet intensity in his voice left you momentarily at a loss for words.

Choso, sitting across from you, gave Gojo a sharp look. Meanwhile, Yuji was practically beaming at the prospect of an archery lesson from the lord himself.

You inhaled sharply, trying to steady yourself. “Perhaps,” you replied, your voice more controlled than you expected, though there was still a slight quiver in it. “But I’ve found that words can be just as powerful, if not more so.”

Gojo smirked, his gaze lingering on your face as if savoring the moment. The challenge in his eyes was unmistakable, and you could feel the weight of it, pressing against your own resolve. But you wouldn’t allow him to see just how much he affected you—at least, not yet. 

Despite the warmth in your cheeks and the flutter in your chest, you held his gaze, meeting his playful intensity with your own determined calm.

However, your mother’s voice broke through the spell. “Oh, Your Grace, might we have a tour of the manor sometime?”

Duchess Gojo, clearly delighted to show off her home, nodded eagerly. “Of course! There is a pavilion overlooking our garden where we can play pall-mall, and the library is quite extensive.” Your interest piqued at the mention of the library, and you made yourself a mental note to explore where it was.

Then she turned her gaze towards you, her expression growing more conspiratorial. “And as for Miss Itadori, Satoru has promised to give her a personal tour of the grounds tomorrow after she takes rest today.”

You stiffened at the suggestion, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Gojo lean in slightly, his mischievous grin widening as he whispered, “I’ll be sure to make it… thorough.”

You couldn’t sleep.

Restless thoughts kept you tossing and turning, denying you any hope of finding solace in slumber. The events of the day had left you drained, and after the conversation in the drawing room, you had collapsed into the plush, inviting bed. Sleep had claimed you almost instantly. But now, in the dark silence of the night, you awoke with a start, your mind refusing to quiet. No matter how you tried, you couldn’t escape the whirlwind of thoughts that stirred within you.

The prospect of the coming days loomed over you, a storm of anxiety brewing. Spending time with Gojo, of all people? Your mother’s insistent push for this potential marriage was unbearable. How could you possibly tell her that you despised the man? The mere thought of being bound to him in matrimony was a nightmare⸺marriage itself was daunting enough, but to an arrogant, loquacious, and insufferably self-assured man like him? It would be nothing short of Hell on earth.

With a frustrated sigh, you rose from bed and rubbed your face, trying to dispel the fog of sleeplessness. Perhaps a visit to the manor’s library⸺the one mentioned during tea⸺would offer some distraction. Grabbing a lantern, you slipped out of your room, treading softly down the stairs and into the main hallway. You moved with the caution of a thief; your mother would surely not approve of your nocturnal wanderings. Her voice echoed in your mind, sharp and reprimanding: “Good things never happen in the dead of night!”

As you opened the library’s grand doors, a soothing fragrance enveloped you⸺the scent of aged paper mingled with a hint of vanilla, a fragrance unique to this room. But what truly took your breath away was the sheer size of the library.

Bookshelves lined the walls, rising two stories high, creating a space that could easily have served as a grand ballroom. Cozy nooks beckoned you to sit, while further exploration revealed tables and armchairs tucked away behind towering shelves. It was a bibliophile’s paradise.

Your eyes roved over the multitude of volumes: ancient ledgers, personal family records, scholarly works on politics, astronomy, and the sciences. Though you did not often indulge in scientific pursuits, you found them fascinating whenever the opportunity arose. One book in particular caught your eye:

Observations on the Planet Venus.

Drawn to the back of the library, you found a large window offering a stunning view of the garden and pavilion, bathed in starlight. You couldn’t resist the allure of the table beside it, where you settled in and began to read.

“The planet Venus is an object that has long engaged my particular attention. A series of observations upon it, which I began in April, 1777, has been continued down to the present time…”

Time slipped away as you became engrossed in the text, the lantern’s light flickering softly as you pored over the meticulous observations and calculations. Your hands were soon stained with ink, evidence of the notes you had been feverishly jotting down on scraps of parchment you had found in a supply cabinet. A good hour or two had passed before you finally leaned back, stretching your tired muscles. You rested your head on your arms, intending to close your eyes for just a moment. Soon, you found that your sleepy brain forced you to reflect and muse upon your life, as a mind often does at three.

What a pity it was that you couldn’t bear the thought of marrying Gojo. If only he were different, you might have lived in this manor, with its perfect library, forever. You could imagine it: waking in the mornings in your fluffy bed, sharing the latest discoveries in astronomy and medicine with your handsome husband…

Truly, what a pity. Your sleep-deprived mind began to conjure an image of this imagined husband—tall, nearly Gojo’s height, with kind eyes and lips that would kiss you gently awake each morning (unlike Gojo’s snark). You envisioned banter over breakfast, late-night rendezvous in the library, and tender embraces in bed…

Before you could delve deeper into your fantasy, the sound of footsteps jolted you back to reality. The tread was deliberate, too similar to your mother’s for comfort, and panic flared within you. Your mind, already muddled with exhaustion, conjured the worst possible scenario—your mother finding you here, in the library where you had no business being at this hour.

Memories of her discovering forbidden books in your childhood flashed before your eyes, and your breath quickened in fear. Rising as quietly as you could, you pressed your hands over your mouth to stifle any sound, creeping toward a bookshelf to hide. But the footsteps drew closer, relentless in their pursuit. You felt like prey, cornered and desperate.

Getting out of your chair as quietly as you could, you squeezed your eyes shut and put both of your hands over your mouth so you didn’t start making audible gasps that would let the person know where you were immediately. Softly⸺but panickedly⸺walking towards a bookshelf, you hid as you traced the footsteps getting closer and closer to you. You tried to walk away from the sound, but it seemed like the person was listening intently for your movements. You couldn’t help but think you were like prey, cornered and desperate.

However, it was all for naught; your heart sank as you realized you had ended up in an alley of bookshelves that were up against the wall, essentially creating a dead end for you. The steps got closer and closer, and you drew yourself closer and closer to the wall. Your eyes was still shut, but you could hear the steps around the corner, coming closer and closer. 

The footsteps were merely a few feet away from you, and in a moment of sheer panic, you blurted out, “I am sorry, Mother⸺”

“Excuse me,” came a voice that was decidedly not your mother’s. Your eyes flew open to find none other than Gojo, his blue eyes alight with offense. “Do I resemble your mother in any way?”

You blinked, struggling to process the sight before you. He was holding a quill, ink, and a stack of notebooks that resembled the ledgers you had seen earlier, along with a plate of scones that looked absurdly sugary.

“I—” you stammered, taking a sharp breath to compose yourself and paused, looking at Gojo⸺who was shooting you a petulant frown⸺take a big bite of his scone. “Your tread was uncannily similar.”

He paused, chewing on a scone with a sulky expression, while you averted your gaze in embarrassment.

When he finished chewing, he cleared his throat. “You must possess rather poor hearing to mistake a man of my stature for a lady.”

You shrugged, still flustered. “Perhaps you have an unusually light step.”

An awkward silence settled between you as Gojo took another loud bite of his scone. You hastened to break it. “It is quite late; I must take my leave. Good night, my lord.”

You bowed your head slightly and moved to leave, but before you could slip past him, he blocked your path, suspicion narrowing his gaze. “What business do you have in the Gojo library at this hour?”

“Nothing of import,” you squeaked.

At the not-very-innocuous tone in your voice, his eyes narrowed further. “Your tone suggests otherwise.” He leaned in, his gaze sweeping over you with exaggerated scrutiny. Noticing the ink stains on your hands, he quipped, “Were you tampering with important records?”

Your heart raced, knowing that he wouldn’t be entirely wrong to suspect you⸺what else would a lady be doing in a library at this hour? It was a no-win situation: confess to reading a book and risk your mother’s wrath, or be accused of something far more serious.

It was best to come clean. “I was merely reading a book,” you confessed. “I can show you precisely where I sat and what I was doing.”

Gojo’s expression softened, but he quickly continued his theatrical suspicion and hmmphed. “Of course. I must be certain that no mischief has been afoot.”

You led him back to the table where you had been reading. He sat across from you, depositing his supplies onto the table with a flourish and leaned back, crossing his arms. Ever the investigator, he watched as you retrieved the book. It bore no resemblance to the Gojo ledgers, which had the telltale blue cover and Gojo insignia, which consisted of six eyes. 

Upon seeing this, he nodded in acknowledgment. “You are exonerated.”

At that, you sighed and clutched your chest. For a moment, you contemplated pleading with Gojo to keep your late library visit secret from your mother but you shot the idea down for two reasons. First, you would never lower yourself to plead with Gojo, and second, Gojo⸺ever the insufferable man⸺would definitely make sure to mention it to your mother and further exacerbate the issue. 

As he began arranging his ink bottles and quills, preparing to work on his ledgers, you took a moment to observe him. He was dressed in casual attire, loose-fitting trousers and a white shirt with several buttons undone, revealing a hint of his chest. Slut.

It took you a moment to realize that he was settling in at your table. You frowned. “I beg your pardon, but this is my spot.”

Gojo looked up from his work, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “My dear, this is my library. Thus, it is my spot.”

You opened your mouth to retort, then closed it in frustration. He was right, after all. The entire manor was his. Your silence seemed to amuse him, as he returned to his ledgers with a smug smile.

Now, you didn’t really know what to do⸺should you go back to your room, or should you stay and continue reading the book? In your indecision, you continued to flip through the pages of the book, particularly because you wanted to finish the conclusion section before going to bed. But you soon felt his gaze upon you, the sound of his quill slowing down.

You didn’t look up. “Might I suggest you cease staring at me? It is quite improper.” “What? Why would I do so? To watch you peruse a tedious romance novel?”

“This is a book on the state of the art of astronomy.” 

“Indeed? I confess, I am surprised.”

Your irritation flared and you whipped your head up to glare at Gojo. “Whatever do you mean by that?”

“I was under the impression that young ladies’ interests lie solely in matters of the heart.”

“So, in addition to gossiping, you are also prone to narrow-minded assumptions?”

Gojo scoffed. “Narrow-minded? It is a simple observation. Both men and women often indulge in fanciful notions of love.”

You scoffed. “Ah, so you hold yourself above other men. What are you, God?”

Gojo ignored your remark. “Those who read such frivolities are seldom engaged in serious thought or the appreciation of true art.”

“Romance allows one to experience love and joy. Does the prospect of happiness through art truly horrify you?” You stood, glaring at him. “Unlike you, my lord, ladies such as myself cannot frequent dubious establishments such as brothels to seek out lovers. Our reputations and futures are at stake.” Gojo began to respond, but you cut him off. “To deny women the solace of love is cruel. It is our only refuge in a world that forces us into unwanted marriages!”

When you were done ranting to Gojo, you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in. Truly, this man could bother you like no other; only your siblings have caused this much heat on your face due to anger. The only sounds in the library was your rushed breathing, from anger.

Gojo scoffed. “You truly think too much.”

You offered a sharp scoff. "And you, far too little. Even Sukuna Jr. possesses more emotional intelligence than you."

"Do not compare me to that wretched creature," Gojo retorted.

You gasped in disbelief. "How dare you speak of Kuna in such a manner!"

"Then perhaps you should keep him from fouling the air around me!" he snapped.

A sly smile crept across your lips. "He merely knows whom to guard me against."

At reference of That Night, Gojo sighs exhaustedly. “Do you find trouble with the judgments I made that night? None of that was meant for you.”

“Are you quite serious?” You were in disbelief. Does he truly feel no remorse? Frustrated, you ran a hand over your face. “Your words may not have been intended for me, but they were no less cutting. I cannot abide such arrogance, my lord.”

Gojo leaned back, crossing his arms with an air of indifference. “Arrogance or simply honesty? I merely spoke the truth as I see it.”

“Your so-called truth is nothing more than disdain wrapped in wit,” you snapped, feeling your temper rise again. “You speak as though your opinions are infallible, as if you alone have the right to pass judgment on others.”

“I only say what others are too afraid to voice,” he retorted, his tone cool. “If that makes me arrogant, then so be it. But I will not apologize for it.”

“Of course not,” you said bitterly. “An apology would require some measure of humility, and that is something you clearly lack.”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, his voice growing more clipped. “I fail to see why my opinions should trouble you so much. Perhaps you are simply too sensitive.”

Your anger flared at his dismissive tone. “Or perhaps you are too blind to see the harm your words cause. You claim to be honest, but what you truly are is cruel.”

“Cruel?” Gojo’s voice was sharp now, his composure slipping. “For speaking the truth? For refusing to coddle those who cannot handle it?”

“For refusing to consider the feelings of others!” you countered, your voice rising in frustration. “Not everything is a game or a joke, my lord. Your words have consequences, whether you acknowledge them or not.”

A tense silence fell between you, each of you locked in a stubborn glare, neither willing to yield. Finally, you shook your head, the weight of your frustration pressing down on you. “I cannot do this,” you muttered, turning away. “You are utterly impossible.”

You began to walk away, but Gojo’s voice cut through the silence. “Running away so soon?” There was a hint of something in his tone⸺something almost like disappointment⸺but you dismissed it.

You paused, glancing back at him with a hardened expression. “There is no point in continuing this conversation. You refuse to see reason, and I refuse to waste any more of my time on you.”

Without waiting for a reply, you turned on your heel and left the library, your heart pounding with irritation and anger. As the door closed behind you, you couldn’t shake the feeling of heaviness in your chest. 

prev. the aftermath | next. the game

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n gojo the type to hit ur g spot every ti---WHAT WHO SAID THAT?

anyways yes we r getting (sort of) freaky in the next chapter (gojo busts in his pants seeing reader's ankles /j)

gojo when reader thought he was her mama

also tysm for all the asks, and comments, and love you guys have shown me. super motivating that you guys are enjoying the story and propels me to write more <3

comment, reblog, and send in an ask to let me know ur thots :3 memes are also appreciated <3

TAGLIST

@ncitygreen @backstagepaige @serinatly100986 @nappingmoon @coochellati

@extremelyexh4usted @yoshisaurmuchakoopas @nixiepixee @generalstephkenobi @vernasce-blogs

@byhuenii @geniejunn @a-girl-with-thoughts @dazedin2d @chuuqxs

@megumiivs @anthastudios @arranacosmist @arishaxml @jingyuun

@undercooked-chaos-noodle @jaegersity @camzzn @bluelai @1sweetheart1

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@soobssedwithyourex @manyno @samkysnks @stefnarda @bbqsauceonmytitties2

[uyuforu]

What do you look for in your Relationships with your 5H Ruler

©uyuforu All Rights Reserved; Do not copy work.

Pictures found on Pinterest, Dividers from Tumblr; Credits go to owners.

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email adress: tarotjunoboda@gmail.com

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݁ᛪ༙ The 5H in Astrology is about our love life, our flirts and romance, and often if we want to know what we want truly in love, we can check the ruler of this house and where it falls in our chart. Modern & Traditional rulers can be used. Example: 5H Ruler is in Aries, Aries is ruled by Mars, so we are gonna check where in your chart Mars fall. Please also note your Venus placement counts in this as well.

𖤝 Rulers 𖤝

Aries: Mars Taurus: Venus Gemini: Mercury Cancer: Moon Leo: Sun Virgo: Mercury Libra: Venus Scorpio: Mars & Pluto Sagittarius: Jupiter Capricorn: Saturn Aquarius: Saturn & Uranus Pisces: Jupiter & Neptune

♱ 5H Ruler in 1H: You look for someone who will love you physically but also internally, someone who will love you for who you are. You want to be desired but also you want to be seen. You could so desire a partner who will see you for everything you are. This placement can also suggest looks is very important to you. This can also suggest someone who only wants to be seen in a relationship but doesn't necessarily think more of their partners, please only take if it resonates. 𖤝

♱ 5H Ruler in 2H: You can look for someone that will make you feel safe in the relationship, but also someone who will worship you, who will desire you, who will also be romantic with you. You look for romance, for a safe place, but also for stability in a relationship. Someone who can take care of you. 𖤝

♱ 5H Ruler in 3H: You look for someone you can speak about anything, anytime, anywhere. You want a best friend, someone who will understand you, listen to you, but also themselves confide to you. You can also look for someone to talk in general, having a mental connection is something very important for you. 𖤝

♱ 5H Ruler in 4H: You look for your home, someone you'll be able to share your deepest feelings with, someone who'll make you feel comfortable. You could unconsciously look for someone to depend on, but this could simply you desiring to finally rest and be able to be safe with someone without having to worrying about things. 𖤝

♱ 5H Ruler in 5H: You look for romance mostly, you want the flirt, you want the thrill of the relationship. You want to seduce and be seduced. But you also desire to be adored, and you search for the fun also. You want a relationship that makes you feel happy, and someone with whom you'll have the best time of your life. 𖤝

♱ 5H Ruler in 6H: You look for stability in your relationships, you can often want to feel like you and your partner have a routine together, you may like this kind of life. You may also look for someone who will be dedicated and as serious as you in your relationship. 𖤝

♱ 5H Ruler in 7H: You can look for romance in relationship, you can also simply look for "the one". You may only want to be with the person you'll want to marry, so you do not date just for fun, it's a serious commitment to you. You look for the love, the strong partnership, marriage. 𖤝

♱ 5H Ruler in 8H: You can look for someone who will be passionate, intense, someone you'll feel strongly attracted to, but also you can look for someone who will want to take care of you. You could be attracted to passion in general, so you may not want to date just anyone, but someone you have a strong pull towards. 𖤝

♱ 5H Ruler in 9H: You can look for something different than you in relationships, in fact you may be moire attracted to people who are different than you, physically, mentally, but also in their culture for example. You can look for spontaneity, freedom, but also knowledge in romance. 𖤝

♱ 5H Ruler in 10H: You can look for stability in your relationships, you can look for someone to build something longterm and serious with, you can also perhaps look for status in romance. You may want to attract a partner that will provide and take care of you. 𖤝

♱ 5H Ruler in 11H: You can look for friendship in your relationships, you can often desire to build a strong connection with your person. You can so desire to find someone who understands you, listen to you, who will never judge you and in fact accept you as you are. 𖤝

♱ 5H Ruler in 12H: You can look for romance, sweetness, and a true connection. You can often dream of an unconditional love, someone to connect with on another way than just a "normal" bond. You search for those deeps bonds and a one time love. You also perhaps want to feel such deepness in a relationship that you may even want a spiritual one. 𖤝

Thank you for Reading!

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©uyuforu All Rights Reserved; Do not copy work.

[bueckersworld]

SORRY ABOUT YOUR SHIRT

SYNOPSIS: a spilled drink, a ruined shirt, and one unforgettable first meeting. you weren’t looking for anything serious—but then paige bueckers bumped into you, and everything shifted.

WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, mild suggestiveness/flirting.

WORD COUNT: 3.0k. info. masterlist. taglist. just for the summer.

────୨ৎ────

miami is alive.

not just loud—but alive. neon signs flicker against polished windows, the scent of citrus and smoke weaving through the air, and bass-heavy music vibrates through the floorboards of the packed rooftop bar you’re standing in. people sway under the warm night sky like they’ve never known a bad day. and for once, you’re trying to join them. you’re here to forget. to loosen the grip of routine, to be someone untethered—at least for a little while.

your friends laugh around you, deep in some chaotic story about someone’s ex and a boat they weren’t supposed to be on. you’re only half-listening, sipping something cold and strong, fingers resting on the condensation-covered glass.

you tell yourself this is what you needed. a trip, a break. no strings, no expectations.

just freedom.

and then, out of nowhere—impact.

a sudden bump, a jolt against your side, and—

“shit—oh my god!”

ice-cold liquid splashes across your chest, soaking your thin tank top in a second. it takes you a beat to register what just happened.

your eyes shoot down to your shirt, now clinging to your skin, and then up to the person responsible.

she’s standing there, mouth parted in horror, a cocktail glass in one hand and panic written all over her face.

blonde hair pulled back like she didn’t spend too much time on it. sun-kissed skin, long lashes, and piercing blue eyes that lock onto yours in disbelief.

paige bueckers.

you recognize her instantly, but not because she’s trying to be recognized. if anything, she looks like she’s trying to blend in—lowkey hoodie tied around her waist, sneakers instead of heels, drink in hand like she belongs here just like everyone else.

“i am so sorry,” she blurts, immediately grabbing a handful of napkins from the bar. “i wasn’t paying attention—I was just trying to get back to my table—god, your shirt—”

you blink at her, stunned, then glance down again, water dripping down your side. “well… that’s one way to say hello.”

her eyes go wide—then a laugh escapes her, soft but real. “wow. okay. if you’re making jokes already, maybe you’re not about to punch me.”

“wasn’t planning on it,” you smirk, accepting the napkins she offers. your fingers brush for a second, and there’s this tiny spark of electricity—maybe from the nerves. maybe something else. “but i’ll take your name in case this shirt needs replacing.”

she grins. “you sure you don’t already know it?”

you raise an eyebrow.

she nods toward your phone on the table. “you’ve been trying not to look at me all night.”

your mouth opens, then closes. guilty.

“okay, wow,” you laugh. “full of yourself much?”

“not usually.” she shrugs, smile widening. “but i had a feeling. and now that i’ve basically ruined your outfit, this felt like a good time to confirm.”

“paige bueckers,” you say, mostly to show her you’re not clueless.

“guilty.”

“you’re a little smaller in person.”

she gasps in mock offense, hand to her chest. “wow. rude and soaked.”

you grin, blotting at your shirt, still cold and sticky. “you’re lucky i’m not wearing white.”

her eyes flick down, fast, then back up. “trust me, i noticed.”

you weren’t planning to blush tonight—but here you are.

⸻

“let me buy you a drink?” she offers, shifting her weight. “it’s the least i can do after ambushing you.”

you glance at your table. your friends are too caught up in their own chaos to notice you’re halfway to falling for a girl with a crooked smile and stained fingers.

“sure,” you say. “but i’m ordering something expensive.”

paige lifts a brow. “oh, you’re dangerous.”

“you started it.”

the bar is crowded, elbows and perfume and bodies that move like they’re made of rhythm. paige leans in close to order, voice low and confident, and you catch yourself watching her instead of the bartender. she’s not just pretty—she’s magnetic. calm in the noise. she looks at you like she’s actually seeing you.

you wonder what the hell she’s doing in a place like this when she could be anywhere else.

“here,” she says, handing you a fresh drink. “not exactly couture-level apology, but it’s cold and overpriced, so that counts for something.”

you take a sip. “not bad. still want a new shirt though.”

“i can’t tell if you’re flirting with me or threatening me.”

“can’t it be both?”

her laugh is effortless. loud. her hand brushes your arm, and it feels like a deliberate accident.

the music shifts, slower now. a little more sultry. the kind of beat that invites leaning in closer. neither of you move away.

“you here on vacation?” she asks, her fingers drumming on her glass.

you nod. “long weekend. you?”

she hesitates. “yeah. sort of a post-season getaway with some old friends. nothing serious.”

you smirk. “funny. same.”

she looks at you, head tilted like she’s trying to figure something out. “you’re not what i expected.”

“you were expecting someone taller?”

“i was expecting someone to be mad at me. not… talking to me like this.”

“like what?”

her eyes fall to your mouth again, only for a second. “like they don’t want the night to end.”

you sip your drink to hide the way your breath catches.

“it’s the shirt,” you say. “it brings people together.”

she laughs again, shaking her head. “you’re something else.”

“so are you.”

eventually, she glances over her shoulder. her table is waving her back, one of her friends mouthing something clearly teasing.

“i should probably go,” she says, reluctant.

“you should,” you agree, even though you don’t want her to.

she hesitates, then pulls her phone from her pocket.

“only fair i get your number. you know—for shirt reimbursement purposes.”

you raise an eyebrow. “strictly business, huh?”

“strictly.”

you hand over your phone anyway, watching as she types something in. her contact name pops up—paige (drink assassin)—and you laugh.

“smooth,” you say.

“you’ll thank me later.”

she lingers for a second too long after returning your phone. like she wants to say something else.

instead, she just offers a crooked smile. “don’t wash that shirt yet. it’s got history now.”

you roll your eyes. “you’re impossible.”

“you’re welcome.”

and just like that, she’s gone—disappearing into the crowd with one last glance over her shoulder, her friends tugging her back toward the table.

you look down at your shirt. still wet. still clinging.

you smile anyway.

© bueckersworld

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ chapter one, how are we feeling?? 😓😓

𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝘩𝑢𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠, 𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑟

taglist: @elswhore @private-but-not-a-secret @paigebaby5 @raimund00 @bravemode @d1paigebueckersglazer @evanpeterstoe @zi0nnnn @jadasogay @fuddaround @jaylie-bee @everyonewatchesuconnwbb @mrsarnold @lol-12n @sayurireidotcom @iwasbored-okay

[bunni-v1]

Wriothesley SFW & NSFW Headcannons

🍓The offical Bunni Wrio headcannons. Long time coming for me and my husband. I really wish I had the money (that also doesn't need to go into me feeding myself for the next four months) to commission an artist to draw him and my OC together. I'm so regular and normal about him. Anyway, please enjoy my thoughts. I'm a humble loser.

TW: NSFW; Rough Sex; Choking mentioned

Info: Wriothesley x Reader; NSFW below the cut; gn!reader (no explicit body parts or pronouns used); use of "walls" to refer to sexual organs

Word Count: 5.5k

-Wriothesley is both incredibly complex and very simple at the same time, and he doesn’t care if anyone but him understands that fact. He doesn’t need to be understood by anyone else, though he does appreciate it when his friends go out of their way to accommodate him.

-Quite honestly, there are only two people in Teyvat who understand the way he ticks, and he only regularly interacts with one of them. Part of this is honestly because he can’t be bothered to deepen most relationships when he’s so isolated from other people, and a more… honest and vulnerable part of him knows that he doesn’t really enjoy being known.

-His childhood being stripped from him did a number on his ability to trust, as it would any other person. He’s built up a nice, tall, icy wall between himself and most others. He’s not unreachable, of course, but most people don’t even try to get to know him when they see how guarded he is. 

-Again, he doesn’t mind it. He likes the freedom it gives him, and it means he doesn’t have to worry about complicated relationships. He has enough difficulties on his plate from running the fortress in the first place, there’s no need to have any extra stressors.

-Needless to say, romance isn’t something on his mind. At all. In fact, he’s likely never had any kind of romantic relationship. He never had the chance to have one, and he naturally assumes that it’s not his thing. 

-Not to say that he’s never felt anything toward anyone, he’s human, he just never acts on it. He can also easily clock when someone is attracted to him, and makes a mental note to shut them down as quickly and efficiently as possible. If he can’t, he just avoids them. 

-It’s not a fear of romance, nor a disinterest in it, Wriothesley just cannot be bothered. While yes, he has plenty of free time around the fortress, he also lives there. It would be cruel to any potential partner on the surface for him to accept their advances, and anyone in the fortress was either his employee or a prisoner, and excuse him for not wanting that kind of power dynamic in his life.

-Wriothesley was content being single for the rest of his life, down under the sea in his quiet office with no one to bother him. Then you come into his life.

-Sent down to the fortress from Neuivilette after Sigewinne expressed worry about him overworking himself. She tended to mother him a little too much, and Neuivillette listened to her faithfully every time she worried about him. 

-It wouldn’t be much of an issue… If Wriothesley didn’t find himself so stumped on what to give you to work on. He had a good routine that he was used to, and it got things done efficiently, so there wasn’t really anything for you to do. But when you look at him with those pretty eyes, he can’t help but find some excuse to keep you in the office with him just a little longer.

-He doesn’t immediately fall for you, of course. It’s more like a slow flutter down a thousand-foot cavern, unsure of what was at the bottom, but certain that he was falling.

-It just starts as a business, of course. You were technically his superior, as a direct aide of Neuivillette, he had to answer to you more than you did to him. You never really treated it like that, though. You were witty and playful, matching his quick tongue with your own smart jabs. It was nice to have someone on the same wavelength, and this naturally led to more friendly conversations about things outside of work.

-You start spending time with him far longer than you need to, way after either of you has finished your duties for the day, and it doesn’t take a genius to tell what's going on. There’s just one problem… Wriothesley can be a bit… dense when it comes to actual romantic tension.

-He isn’t stupid, of course, he can tell that there’s something there… but he second-guesses himself. He just doesn’t believe that you could possibly be genuinely interested in him; he brushes off the flirting, acts like he doesn’t notice the tension, and eventually, you’re called back to the surface without anything happening.

-It’s easy to shrug off everything for him, chalking it up to circumstances and nothing more. He can’t deny how it stings a little that you could easily act like it never happened, not receiving any letters sucks, but he can’t blame you. Again, he doesn’t believe he’s built for romance.

-He thinks he’s handling the whole thing fine, but Sigewinne clocks him faster than he can say his own name. She points out that within a week that he seems mopey, and that if he misses you so much, he should just visit or send a letter. Of course, he doesn’t, because that requires a level of vulnerability he admits he just doesn’t have in him yet.

-Luckily, he doesn’t need to take that first step. Pleasantly surprised when you make an unannounced visit to his office, only about a month after you initially left. He thinks that maybe Neuivilette had sent you back, but you’re not dressed like you normally would be for a shift with him. (You look very good in your casual clothes, which fluster him quite a bit more than he’s willing to admit aloud.)

-No, you hadn’t come for work or anything like that, you had – with flushed cheeks and eyes dodging his – come just to see him. You admit you had missed your chats, and thought that maybe he might’ve as well. Hoped that he had. And oh, you have no idea what it does to his heart.

-He’s not a musician, but his heart broke out into a symphony that thrummed through his whole body. 

-From there, you become a regular part of his week, coming down to his office at the same time once, then twice, then nearly every day in a week. He finds himself sulking when you can’t make your regular meetings, and feels as if he is on cloud nine when he sees you. He never expected himself to be such a hopeless sap, but he supposes those romance novels weren’t exactly wrong about how much love can change someone.

-Talks over tea turn into gentle, flirty touches. Not so subtle hints at something more, but neither of you is really pushing any further. It’s a very slow build of confidence for Wriothesley, and every interaction reassures him of your shared feelings. It gives him confidence to take the next step, to go a little further, to finally put a label on things instead of pretending nothing's there.

-It’s cute how he goes about it, too. Normally, you’re the one to come down to him after you’re done with work, but instead, he greets you in the lobby of the Palais de Mermonia. He’s got a bouquet of your favorite flowers and the biggest grin on his face – he even cleaned up a bit! 

-It makes you feel silly seeing him all dolled up when you’re still in your work clothes, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he hands you the flowers. Officially asking you on your first date, which is an even cuter picnic watching the sun set together.

-He’s quite a hopeless sap when it comes down to it, he’s very enamored by you, and he does get a little caught up in the newness of it all. It’s still completely genuine on his part, though. While he might have rose-tinted glasses on, he really does feel that deeply for you, and he makes good on showing you that affection.

-Now, before I get into the meat of the cutesy shit with him, we need to acknowledge some of the problems he might have as your partner.

-Firstly, Wriothesley is a very emotionally stunted person. He wasn’t shown affection for a good part of his childhood, and the affection he did receive was coated in deceit, so he struggles to express himself when it counts. He’s great at setting and respecting boundaries, but genuine emotions? Well… count him out. 

-He really struggles to open up to you, despite how much he knows he should – how much he wants to. It’s just not something that comes easily from him. He needs patience, understanding, and maybe a bit of handholding through it all. 

-It is a slow crawl through a lot of cold shoulders and gentle deflection, but he tries his best, and he gets there eventually. He still doesn’t really like to bog you down with his own issues, but if you reach out to him and ask him what's bothering him, he’ll tell you. He’ll allow you to take care of him and worry over his well-being and collude with Sigewinne to get him to take breaks.

-Even when he isn’t willing to let you inside, he’s still appreciative of your efforts, and he shows you through subtle acts of service. Quiet thanks for worrying, even though he’s just not ready to let you see the more broken sides of him.

-Another issue that runs right along this one is his problems with trusting, not just you, but pretty much anyone who isn’t Neuvilette or Sigewinne. (He thinks he also trusts Chlorinde, at least professionally, and Navia is nice enough, but he won’t be spilling his life secrets to either of them.)

-Naturally, you’ve already won him over a bit, so you have more of an advantage than most other people, but he’s not really transparent to start. He’s kind of mysterious, giving you little hints, but never quite letting you past the surface of the sea.

-You’re curious about his past, most people are – what with the giant fucking scars all over his body. Anyone would want to know where their partner got them, and it’s not like he’s ashamed of them… he just doesn’t want you to think of him like that.

-He doesn’t want you to know how helpless he felt all those years ago, the terrible things he did to stay alive, and how hard he fought to get to the point he was at now. Most people would call it a triumphant story, but Wriothesley wants his past to stay in his past. You were his future, and he didn’t want to see the pity in your eyes when he told you about that part of him.

-Yet, no matter how hard he tried, it was a part of him that he couldn’t get rid of. If he wanted a life with you, he was going to have to tell you at some point. He would rather he be the one to get the story to you, rather than someone else (like Neuvilette, who would tell you if you played your cards right.)

-It’s hard for him to tell you, and even harder to see how gentle you are to him as he talks. There’s a sadness in your eyes that makes his heart ache, but you don’t treat him like he’s helpless. You just let him talk, and you listen, and when he’s done, you tell him that it doesn’t change the way you think about him at all.

-You don’t make it a big deal, you just… accept it. It’s nice, and while he doesn’t know how to express that appreciation properly, he knows you know how much it means to him. You always seem to know him better than he realizes, and he thinks you can say the same about him.

-I also mentioned earlier that there’s the issue of him living in the fortress. I know most people headcannon he has a place above the surface, but that just doesn’t really feel in character for him. He has no real reason (before you) to have a home on the mainland of Fontaine, so why would he waste his time and money picking out and decorating a home when he lives in his office most days?

-After getting with you, though, he has to find a way to bridge that physical gap between the two of you more efficiently. Sure, he gets to see you nearly every day when you’re finished with work, but you always return to the surface, and he doesn’t get to wake up to you ever. 

-His solution? Sleep shifts. One night he’ll come up to your place on the surface, the next you’ll stay down with him. It’s not the most efficient method, but he isn’t going to make you stay in the fortress with him, and he can’t reasonably live above ground all the time in case something happens that needs his attention.

-He loves the domesticity of seeing you when he first wakes up. You look so good with your hair all messy and drool pooling on your pillow. It’s not something he’d ever been afforded in his life, so he savors the little moments that he gets to have with you. Frequently, you wake up to him stroking your hair tenderly, watching you with all the love in the world.

-Something else he really loves is making breakfast with you. Whether he’s cooking or you are, it doesn’t matter; dancing around the kitchen while pancakes cook on the stove is a fantasy he’d never imagined he’d be allowed to live out.

-Oh, he also loves it when you help him shave his facial hair. If you like it, he’ll let it grow out a little longer than he normally would, but Sigewinne always complains past a certain point. To keep both of you happy, he lets you shave him when you both have free time.

-Seated on the edge of the sink in the bathroom, he stands between your legs with his hands on your thighs, purring out sweet nothings as you carefully run the razor over the sensitive skin beneath his jaw. It’s a surprisingly intimate moment you get to share with him, somehow made romantic with the way he holds you so close and gazes at you with unspeakable affection.

-It takes a lot of trust to let someone hold a sharp blade to your neck, and while this isn’t the same thing, it’s got the same feel.

-Something to note about Wriothesley is just how gentle he is with you. Regardless of if you’re bigger than him or not, he handles you the same way. He’s never rough with you. He never grabs you, he never pushes you, and he doesn’t ever yell at you either.

-It’s important to him that you feel safe around him. He doesn’t want you to know the sheer terror he had to face as a young child, learning that he was going to be sold off and likely slaughtered by the people who were supposed to love him.

-He does love you, with no secret motive, and he spends every second with you, displaying that with every fiber of his being. Every touch is soft, every word is chosen carefully, and every act of service is made with complete consideration of what you want. It’s like he knows what you need far before you can even think of it, and he makes it seem so effortless. It’s not, though, it’s very intentional and just a silent gesture he uses to show you how much he cares.

-Even when you argue, Wriothesley does not raise his voice. You will never hear him speak to you the way he speaks to the prisoners of the Fortress. He respects you, even when he is angry or when you are screaming at him. His cold demeanor can come off as uncaring, but you come to realize that he is acting that way because he cares. He would never raise his voice to you, ever. He loves you too much to see you cower under the weight of that.

-This bleeds into his fierce need to protect you. You are an adult, you can take care of yourself, but boy, does he want to do it all for you.

-It’s not an ego thing, nor is it a power thing; he just really likes taking care of you. It isn’t even something that’s really obvious, mostly subtle little shows of care. Like him checking in and seeing if you’ve eaten, or massaging your knots out of your back, or letting you nap on his couch after a long day. It’s usually sweet manifestations like that.

-Usually.

-As the warden of the biggest prison system in Fontaine (the only prison system in Fontaine), Wriothesley has his fair share of people who wish him ill. Comes with the job description, and it isn’t like he didn’t have that even before taking his place as Duke of the Fortress. He can take the heat, it’s not an issue for him.

-What is an issue, however, is when that ire for him is turned toward you.

-Most times it’s just stupid prisoners making a passing comment, (which he doesn’t tolerate either, but doesn’t make a big show out of. A few sharp words shuts them up quickly enough.) You brush them off fine on your own, and you can pack a punch thanks to him, so he doesn’t worry much about them.

-The issue lies with those who mean to harm him. As the Duke of the Fortress and a Pankration champion, most prisoners know he’s pretty untouchable. They don’t have the influence to undo him, and they can’t beat him in a fight. There wasn’t much to hold against him… until there was you.

-It’s no secret to those living in the fortress just how much Wriothesley adores you, you’re quite the soft spot for him. It’s obvious that those who want to get to him would try to use you to achieve that. It’s just… they never really get far enough to do anything in most cases.

-Wriothesley is so attentive to you that he can just get in the way of any plans they might have. If he can’t stop them from trying, usually a show that he knows what they’re doing is enough to get them off you. But there are the brave, stupid few.

-If anyone, and I mean anyone, tries to cause you harm intentionally, they’re a dead man walking. The second they lay a hand on you, their life is essentially over. He’s not above beating the point into their skull if he needs to. Poor Sigewinne has quite a troublesome case on her hands after that.

-Forbid if they actually lay their hands on you. It takes all of his self-restraint not to kill them, which he does not do, because he has a lot of self-control. It doesn’t stop the thought from running through his mind over and over as he escorts them to a high-security cell, though.

-While he cannot legally kill anyone, he works very hard to keep them locked up and stuck with him for as long as possible. They also become a social recluse in the Fortress, as most prisoners and employees are rather fond of you.

-It’s not a side of himself he’s proud of, which is why he tries his best not to let you see it, but it’s part of him nonetheless. He just cannot afford to lose you for any reason. You are the most important thing in his life, and losing you would devastate him to a point he’s never seen before. 

-Other than that, he is usually a very gentle and loving man, wholly devoted to your relationship.

-He values any time that he gets to spend with you, be that sitting quietly in his office doing things separately but together, or having you settled in his lap as he works. It doesn’t matter much so long as he has you there. 

-Speaking of, he is very physically affectionate. You wouldn’t imagine him to be, but with a partner, he just has a need to touch. He’ll settle a hand on your waist, an arm around your shoulder, press a kiss to your temple, pull you into his lap as he works, and pretty much anything that he can get from you, he’ll take.

-Something particularly charming is that when he passes you, he’ll pull you to the side so that he can kiss you. Then he moves on with his day like nothing happened. It leaves you flustered, but it’s so sweet that you can’t find yourself getting mad about it.

-He’s also a tease, through and through. He’s always poking fun at you and making silly comments to get you to smile. It’s just the way he expresses comfort around people, but he really knows how to get under your skin.

-Don’t worry, though, for as much as he can annoy you, he’s doubly sweet and caring. He always knows what you need far before you need it, and if he doesn’t, he makes sure that he can get what you need done as soon as possible.

-He’s reliable, a sturdy rock for you to lean on when you need someone there for you. While you have some issues, what couple doesn’t? Wriothesley is more than willing to go through whatever highs and lows with you, so long as it means both of you can stay happy in love for as long as possible.

NSFW :3c

-Wriothesley’s relationship with sex isn’t something that he likes to talk about for a multitude of reasons.

-He’s not some touch-starved helpless virgin, but he also isn’t the most experienced. Most of his experience in bed comes from a mutual need to get off when he was still a prisoner, a sort of agreement between him and a select few partners that kept them satisfied.

-It was rough and aggressive and honestly a little shameful looking back on it now, not something he really wanted to think about too hard. Certainly not how he wanted to have sex with you, it felt too… disconnected from his feelings.

-He also didn’t want to force things; your first time should be natural, but also intimate. He wanted to lay you out on his (or your, whichever was closest) bed and take his time with it, not bend you over his desk and make you take it. (He could do that, if you wanted him to, but not for your first time together. He was really trying not to live up to the hardened prison warden stereotype, after all.)

-Even with his own expectations in mind, he mostly wanted it to feel good. He wanted things to flow together without needing to push or pull, and he didn’t want you to feel like you had to do anything for him. 

-Yeah… the level-headed Wriothesley was 100% overthinking things. You can’t blame him, though! He’s never really had sex for anything more than a feeling, and he wanted you to feel loved, not like you were an object for his own pleasure.

-This leads to him subconsciously rebuffing your advances like an idiot. You weren’t in the right place, he didn’t have any protection, it was getting too late, blah blah blah. He kept making excuses in his head as to why you wouldn’t want to have sex, when it was really him complicating things needlessly.

-Luckily for you, you had an ace up your sleeve! Sigewinne, your little gossip buddy in the fortress, heard all your woes of Wriothesley potentially not finding you attractive enough to have sex with. He seemingly never wanted to be with you, no matter what you tried or how eager you seemed.

-She shows up to his office one day with a box of condoms and some lube and tells him to get it over with or she’ll have to mix up a special little remedy to deal with it herself.

-Not wanting his first time with you to be under the influence of an aphrodisiac, he takes the hint and mentally prepares to make a move. He’s still nervous as hell because there are a million what-ifs running through his head, but the second you walk through his office doors, it’s like all of that melts away.

-Having the thought of “I’m going to do this” rather than “Should I do this” really helped him out. His usual confident and assured demeanor is back, and when you seem to imply you’d like to spend some alone time in his bedroom together, he tosses you over his shoulder (playfully, of course) and does just that.

-He allows you to take the lead the first time, mostly because he needs to figure out what you like before he can confidently guide you. So, lucky you, one of your first sexual encounters with him is sucking his dick! (The little “Oh wow” you let out seeing his size was an ego booster for sure. The following: “You think it’ll fit?” made his head as big as his dick.)

-He’s someone who learns over time, so it takes him a few times with you before he starts actively pursuing sex. He takes note of things he does that seem to get you hot and bothered. Like the way he tugs at his tie when he’s feeling overworked, or how you stare shamelessly as his arms while he’s moving things around, oh and his ass of course. That’s a fan favorite, it seems.

-It’s a slow thing, but over time, he starts using those little ticks against you. When he’s feeling needy, he makes you feel needy too. There’s a nice sense of pride he gets when you pursue him, especially when he knows you weren’t the one in the mood first.

-It’s also nice to know that he isn’t pushing any boundaries when you come to him for sex first, so he really only engages you like that if he’s sure it’s something you want. He would rather live through a hundred life sentences than ever make a move that you don’t want.

-It’s really sweet, but it can result in him getting… pent up rather frequently. The two of you already rarely have time for sex, and his suppressing his desire doesn’t exactly help either of your positions at all.

-It makes sessions after longer periods without sex come off as more… rough than he would like. He really does want to be gentle and loving with you, but he also really likes the feel of bending you in half. Quite the conundrum he’s got himself in.

-He’ll bring this fact up to you, and if you give him the okay to be rough? Well, have fun! 

-Wriothesley likes it rough, as much as he wishes he could be the sweet, loving, gentle partner all the time, he can’t help that his brain lights up like a switchboard when he sees you struggling so hard against him. It stems from all that time he spends being in control of the prison; it’s very hard for him to let that go, even for you.

-Still, communication is much more important to him. You have very long conversations with him about what is and is not okay, establish a safeword that both of you can easily remember in the heat of the moment, and always make sure that both of you understand that one of you can say no at any time and it’s done.

-So, what does he like?

-Well, he likes it when you fight him. Be that verbally or physically, the fastest way to get him hot and bothered is to act like a brat. You can show that you’re smart and witty, which is already attractive enough to him, but having you intentionally get under his skin? You'd better hope no one will be needing him anytime soon.

-He has fun putting you in your place and reminding you who exactly tops who in the relationship. He even entertains you sometimes, letting you think you’re getting away with your smart ass mouth, only to suddenly bend you over his desk and remind you of your position with him.

-He doesn’t talk much, though, so don’t expect him to verbally degrade you. He thinks the position and the rough treatment should be enough to get the message across. Sometimes he might growl out a little comment about how desperate you are for him, but otherwise he’s mostly grunts and groans. 

-If you physically fight back against his hold, it excites him more. It’s very unlikely you could overpower him, so all of your efforts are futile, and yet you still seem to try every single time. You push and punch and squirm, but it always ends the same way with your legs over his shoulders and hands pinned above your head.

-It’s also a given he’s into restraining you. With his need for control and easy access to legitimate prison-grade restraints, there’s just no way he doesn’t use that to his advantage. Usually, he’ll just cuff your hands to the headboard or behind your back, but occasionally he’ll bring out more heavy-duty stuff at your begging.

-Oh, that’s another thing. He won’t ever ask you to do it, because it’s an odd request in his eyes, but he loves it when you beg. He’ll get you teary-eyed and whining, and the only way to get him to snap out of his teasing is to beg him to let you cum. It works like a charm every single time.

-He also loves to overstimulate you to the point of tears. He can spend hours between your legs pushing you over the edge and watching you cum over and over for him. He thinks you’re so cute when you whine at him like that, and if you don’t tell him to stop, he probably won’t.

-He doesn’t even care about his own pleasure; he’s just so obsessed with watching you fall apart under his touch. His cold blue eyes will stare you down through the whole ordeal, watching every little twitch of your expression with rapt attention. It’s wholly overwhelming to have his intense eyes watching your every little move, but so damn hot at the same time.

-If he isn’t looking at your face, he’s likely watching the way you take him. He just can’t stop himself from staring, it’s an addicting sight to see how he sinks into you over and over – be that his fingers or his cock, it doesn’t matter. It’s mesmerizing all the same.

-And if you pleasure yourself for him? All the better. It’s nice to see you struggle to get off when he knows he can do it so much faster than you can. Almost cute the way you pout up at him when you were the one who asked him to keep his hands to himself.

-He likes to feel you, too, most of the time putting you in positions where as much skin as humanly possible is touching. The way your body reacts beneath his touch is dizzying, he can feel the pleasure twitching through your muscles as he holds you close. Oh, and feeling the air force its way out of your lungs as his hand wraps around your throat is another kind of addiction he didn’t know existed.

-The last, rather odd kink he has, one that he’s very ashamed of, is that he’s huge on smelling you. He’d lean down between your legs and just get a whiff if he could, but since that would be a bit too obvious, he settles for burying his nose into your shoulder and smelling your sweat-slick skin that way.

-Doesn’t stop him from sneaking your used underwear and pocketing it for later use – usually when he’s having a particularly rough day, he’ll bring it out and get a nice long sniff of you. Always gets his ass going until he can see you again and really let his stress out.

-Now, I mentioned earlier that he’s pretty impressive in size, and I wasn’t joking. He’s big for a regular human man. About six and a half inches long, his dick curves upward and slightly to the right, perfect for abusing your gummy little walls. He has several veins, the most prominent being one along the left side of it stopping about halfway up. 

-He’s slightly darker than his actual complexion, and his tip is a pretty light red color, flatter than most other men's. The stretch he gives you is instant, as he only flares out a little from the tip. He’s about 5 inches around, too, meaning he’s not just long. Also, he’s uncircumcised, so do with that what you will.

-He knows how to keep a good balance between rough and soft, and he’s usually more intuitive about what you’re looking for in a given session than what he’s looking for from you. He doesn’t want you to think he only wants you for your body, and as such, he tries to make at least one session in a week soft and gentle if he has the time.

-Sex is a stress reliever for him, yes, but it’s also an expression of trust and love from both of you. He trusts you enough to let you see him in such a vulnerable state, and you trust him enough to treat you the way he does, because you know he would never go out of his way to hurt you ever.

[the-cosmic-cauldron]

Here are some contradictions I’ve noticed in the moon signs:

Aries Moon: Quick to react, blow up, and blow things out of proportion. But let someone else react just as fast—perhaps because they don’t like being disrespected or mistreated by the Aries moon—and suddenly, the Aries moon doesn’t understand why that person is reacting as strongly as they do.

Taurus Moon: Calm and chill on the surface, but the contradiction lies in their desire for others to be highly emotional. Yes, Taurus moons want to maintain their own calm and composure, but they enjoy when others express their feelings, strike up thrilling conversations, and bring emotional energy. As much as they crave peace, they want to be the calm one while everyone else brings the excitement.

Gemini Moon: They love to talk and constantly intellectualize their feelings, but they get irritated when someone else wants to share the spotlight or talk just as much as they do.

Cancer Moon: Deeply emotional and strongly connected to their feelings, but they often get annoyed when others are highly emotional themselves—especially if they feel those emotions are redundant or unproductive.

Leo Moon: Constantly seeking attention and validation, needing compliments and recognition to thrive. But let someone else take the spotlight or shine, and they become irritated and snobby about it. They love being the star of the show but struggle to support others who take center stage.

Virgo Moon: Desiring everything to be perfectly structured and in order, yet often surrounded by chaotic people. They want their life to feel orderly and controlled, but others tend to pull them in different directions. Even their routines can become entangled in other people’s chaos, leaving them feeling overwhelmed.

Libra Moon: They love partnerships, relationships, and connecting with others, but they can be jealous and possessive. It’s as if they can’t exist without their partner’s attention. They want to talk to their partner constantly but get upset when their partner talks to someone else—even if it’s just a friend.

Scorpio Moon: They hold their feelings tightly, keeping them deeply guarded. Yet, they have an intense curiosity about other people’s emotions and constantly probe others to reveal how they feel. They want to know everything about you while sharing nothing about themselves—the ultimate contradiction.

Sagittarius Moon: They crave freedom, avoid being tied down, and want to live life with the carefree spirit of a child. Yet, they often impose rigid rules and expectations on how others should live their lives. It’s a puzzling contradiction.

Capricorn Moon: Composed and often cold, to the point where they can come across as harsh or even mean. But guess what? They don’t like mean people. They get irritated when others act as pretentious or emotionally detached as they do. They may put on a “I don’t care” facade, but deep down, they want others to care while they sit there with a resting “I don’t care” face.

Aquarius Moon: Highly individualistic, independent, and innovative, always striving for change. But they hate when others impose their beliefs or ideas on them. How dare someone else be innovative or push their agenda—it’s only acceptable if it aligns with the Aquarius moon’s interests.

Pisces Moon: Sensitive and dreamy, lost in their own world, often oblivious to what’s happening around them. Yet, they expect others to tune into their emotions and understand how they’re feeling. They want people to enter their world while also wanting the freedom to drift through life on their own terms. A contradiction, indeed.

[mochieekittenz]

Hold Me After

cw: p*ssy eating, (not so) dry humping, thighf*cking

character(s): caleb x f!reader (smut)

aaaaand before we begin! thank you so much for all the love on my last Sylus post — your comments, reblogs, and general interactions absolutely made my week. You guys are insane in the best way, and I adore you for it!! <3 It makes me genuinely so happy seeing people enjoying my work because I try to put my everything in it

THIS FIC is brought to you by my sleep deprivation and the ghost of my dignity. Warning! This is 90% my Caleb obsession and 10% me desperately trying to keep up. I take no refunds. Proceed with caution and enjoy! :>

──★ ˙

𝓘t was summer — Last year of highschool

The school year was practically over. Graduation was just a few weeks away, and for the first time in ages, the idea of “what comes next” didn’t make your stomach twist with anxiety — it actually excited you. You were done with the routine, the crowded hallways, same questions, same answers. There was something thrilling about the thought of stepping into the world on your own terms.

You’d always dreamed of that moment. Of being your own person, following your own rhythm. It should’ve been exciting. You were ready for it — or at least you told yourself that.

But the truth was, independence didn’t always feel like freedom. It felt like silence, sometimes. Like boredom. Like being left behind.

It also meant change. Real change.

Especially when it came to Caleb

You used to see him every day. He was your partner in crime. A best friend, someone with you didn’t have to pretend anything. You knew each other too well for that. You shared the same roof, same stories, the same stupid inside jokes that could only build after years of proximity.

He’d tease you, you’d mock him, you’d steal food off each other’s plates, pinch eachother, even argue at some times. The unstoppable bickering between you two was a no stranger.

It was simple like that

But now? Now everything felt…grown-up. Fragile. Like if you said the wrong thing, you’d ruin the balance.

He’d started college — aviation. He was chasing clouds while you were stuck finishing essays and pretending high school still mattered. And Caleb changed — not drastically, but in little ways that stung. He spoke differently now, carried himself with a quiet kind of confidence. He was sharper. More thoughtful. His voice deeper, his face leaner. There was still the same warmth when he smiled at you, still the same teasing edge — but something else, too. Something you couldn’t name without feeling stupid for noticing.

He was visiting you and grandma as much as he could, when he wasn't heavy with his responsibilities, like now — early June when holidays were almost there. When the sense of nostalgia filled the air and made everything rush back to you.

However — Today the house was still. Caleb had been out all day, catching up with old friends he hadn't seen since winter. Dinner was long over. Grandma had gone to bed early with one of her crime novels. You were laying on your bed, freshly showered and still warm from the steam, your hair damp against the back of your neck. The heat had lingered even after sunset, turning your small room into a suffocating bubble of humid air and sticky skin. An old fan clattered weakly at the foot of your bed, doing more noise than good.

It was too hot to think. Too hot to sleep. You lay on your stomach, chin propped on the pillow, staring at your phone screen and scrolling through the same posts, fingers moving out of habit more than interest. Pictures. Videos. Nothing new. You were bored out of your mind.

That restless kind of bored that made your skin feel too tight. That kind of bored that made you itch for something, anything to feel.

You sighed heavily and locked your phone, you let it rest on your chest, staring up at the ceiling in the darkness. It was so hot. It was so fucking hot.

It felt ridiculous. But your body wouldn’t settle, no matter how many positions you tried, no matter how many apps you opened and closed again.

There was nothing to do

There was no one to talk to

And you couldn’t stop thinking about Caleb

Not in that way. Not…like that.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

But he’d been so different lately. Distant, quieter. Still kind, still Caleb — you caught him looking at you sometimes. Not in a way that you could call out. Just…a second too long. A flick of the eyes when you weren’t wearing a bra under your tank top, or you were wearing something shorter. You never wanted to admit it to yourself, you never let such thoughts even cross your mind — You felt bad about it.

But on the other hand.

You weren’t stupid

You noticed the way his eyes flicked away the instant you met his gaze, like he was caught but unwilling to admit it. That brief pause, that half-smile that never quite reached his eyes. It made your heart both race and ache, all at once.

Your legs shifted, thighs pressing together. You exhaled slowly through your nose. Your hand moved to rest on your abdomen, fingers mindlessly fumbling with a string of your sleep shorts.

It was dumb

But you can still feel it — the way he looked at you, those barely-there glances that never failed to set that weird sensation in your stomach. It made your skin tingle in the worst way possible. Your heartbeat quickens just at the thought of it, a slow, taunting ache blossoming inside you.

Without really thinking, your fingers twitch at your waistband. Your hand drifts, almost hypnotically, sliding underneath the soft fabric of your shorts.

Not because of him. Of course not. He was just a passing thought.

A shiver runs up your spine as your fingers press gently against your underwear. The touch is light at first, a delicate tease as your fingertips trace the smoothness of your panties. You feel the faint heat beneath, a warmth you hadn’t fully acknowledged until this very moment. It makes every nerve in you ignite.

With an heavy exhale you begin to circle your fingers. Your touch slow at first, barely there. Just enough to make your body tense, to make your hips lift slightly into your own hand. Your other hand gripped the sheets. Your breath stuttering. The world outside faded, leaving only the uneven rhythm of your breath and the gentle rise and fall of your chest.

Your mind drifts again, tangled in fantasies of what those looks might mean — what might possibly happen if you dared to meet his gaze and hold it.

And you imagine his voice.

Low

Breathy

Over your ear

Saying your name the way he doesn’t.

Just a passing thought. Yeah

You press harder, your fingers finding that perfect spot over your underwear, that little bump covered by the fabric, rubbing in gentle, measured circles. The friction — the pressure — it’s not enough, but it’s a good start.

You know this won’t take long

Not when your body already knows what it’s chasing. Not when you’ve been carrying this heat all day, pretending it wasn’t there.

You bite your lip, trying to keep quiet, a soft sigh escapes. Your legs part a little wider, giving your fingers more room to move, pressing harder, faster.

Your whole body is flushed, caught in that delicious, desperate chase. You catch the inside of your cheek with your teeth. And just as your thighs started to tremble—

...

Click

The door swings open

Caleb.

You freeze

"Hey pipsqueak, I've—" you can swear that his face just went through at least 15 emotions, all at once.

....

"Shit...Sorry—"

You lay wide eyed. Heart hammering. Hand still buried under your shorts, caught in motion.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. He didn't knock — because he never had to knock — and now there he is — Caleb. Standing in the doorway, just like he’s always done, comfortable, casual — except this time, he had seen everything.

In one frantic motion, you yanked the sheets over your hips, sitting upright so fast your head spun.

“Jesus—Caleb, knock—!” you blurted out, voice breaking somewhere between anger and panic.

He had seen.

“I—fuck,” he stammered, eyes darting to the floor, but he didn’t step back, didn’t shut the door.

“I didn’t know — I thought you—"

“Y-you were supposed to be out—" you muttered, your voice strangled.

“I was. But I left my charger in your room,” he whispered, voice low and ragged. “Didn’t think…”

....

Your skin prickled. Your heart wouldn’t slow down, no matter how hard you tried.

“…didn’t think I’d walk in on you doing that.”

You swallowed hard, chest heaving.

“W-Well—congrats. You did. So—"

He still stood there, caught like he’d stepped into a dream he wasn’t sure was real. His gaze raked over you—slowly, like it hurt to look and hurt more to stop.

You both stared at each other, locked in the kind of silence that stretches forever. He didn’t move. Didn’t leave. And for the first time, you saw something in his expression that wasn’t brotherly at all.

Something else flickered there — a shift you didn’t know what to do with.

His gaze was too steady. It made your stomach clench. You saw the way he shifted his weight, the way his hands curled and uncurled at his sides. You were both hovering on the edge of something irreversible.

“Were you...gonna finish?” His voice was quieter now, lower. Not teasing. Not mocking. Just… raw.

What. The. Fuck

"Wha-...C-Caleb, what are you—"

“You were gonna finish, right?” he asked again. “When I walked in?”

The way he said it — not teasing, not cocky. Just…careful. Wanting. So painfully full of restraint it almost hurt.

Your eyes were like two red coals, Caleb never saw such desperation on your face, he really did done something to you. As if this insane desire was matching up to his own - long suppressed one.

“I wasn’t—”

“Don’t lie.”

You looked at him and you didn’t even knew what to say anymore.

He ran a hand through his hair. He was flushed — from frustration. Confusion. Something messier.

You swallowed, your face turned crimson by now.

“Caleb—”

“Please...Tell me what you were thinking about.”

You shook your head, your eyes dropping to the floor.

“Tell me,” he said again, quieter.

“I… I don’t…”

"Please. I need to know." he groaned as if he was going through some kind of pain

You couldn't find your voice at this moment.

Caleb took a nervous second of look back, then clicked the door shut gently, the sound barely audible. He paused, motionless, as if weighing his next move. Then, with slow, deliberate steps, he approached the bed and crouched beside it.

“Did I ever cross a line with you pipsqueak?” he asked. “Ever made you uncomfortable?”

“I...No.” you shook your head.

“Then tell me the truth.”

You bit your lip, eyes cast down.

“Were you thinking about me?”

You were silent, but the corner of your eye twitched. That was everything he had to know.

And he breathed out like if you had just knocked the air from his chest.

Caleb's heart raced, pounding against his ribs like a drum. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He couldn't believe what he was witnessing. You, touching yourself, thinking about him? It was everything he had ever fantasized about and more. But it was also so, so wrong.

He swallowed hard, trying to push down the dark, depraved thoughts that flooded his mind. He couldn't think about you like that.

“…Shit. Please don't do this to me." he exhaled heavily.

His voice was low, like it barely made it out of his throat. Like he regretted the question even as he asked it.

You didn’t know where to look. You couldn’t meet his eyes. Your thighs squeezed together and it only made it worse.

He knew he should put a stop to this conversation right now, should push you away and pretend he had never heard your confession. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't bring himself to deny you, to deny himself the chance to be close to you in a way he had always secretly dreamed of.

He was too fucking selfish, too consumed by his own dark desires to do what was right.

“I was trying so hard not to be a sick fuck. So hard.” his face was washed with something you've never seen before. His hand moved out, intertwining his fingers with yours. He swallowed. Hard. His eyes flicked up to your face.

"I'm trying to be good , pipsqueak...I really am. But I don’t know what the fuck we are anymore.” he muttered. ”And do you?”

Your fingers curled tighter around his as you were watching how your hands connected.

“I…” your voice came out small. “I don’t know.”

Caleb exhaled through his nose, eyes shutting like he was trying to keep something inside from spilling out. But it was already too late for that.

“I keep thinking it’s just a phase,” he said. “That I’ll get over it. That it’ll pass.”

His eyes met yours, and they were haunted. Desperate.

“But then you look at me like that. All wide-eyed. Like you’re scared of me. Like...you don't know me? Or worse — like you’re curious.”

Your eyelashes fluttered, your eyes taking in every inch of expressions that were washing over his face at this very moment.

“I hate myself for it. For all of it.” he continued

“I’m not...—proud of what I thought,” he admitted. “Of what I felt. Of the things I imagined when I was alone.” you could swear that his eyes were freaking glossed as he rambled.

"Caleb..."

“I'm so sorry pips. But...I just— I don’t think I can play pretend to be your good proper brother anymore. It's driving me batshit crazy. I’ve been swallowing it down for so long. Every glance. Every goddamn brush of your skin against mine. And it’s—it’s eating me alive.”

He stared at you like he needed you to hate him. Or need him back.

“I don’t want to be this guy,” he said. “I really fucking don’t…”

He moved closer, forehead pressing against the edge of the mattress like it physically hurt to hold back.

“If you tell me to leave, I swear to God I will. I’ll walk out that door and never bring this up again.” his voice came out a muffled desperation.

“But if there’s even a part of you… that feels this too…Then please. Let me stop pretending.”

You felt your throat tighten, the words caught somewhere between fear and fire.

“I…I thought I was crazy.”

He stilled. Moving his face up to look at you.

“I thought...it was just me,” you whispered. “The looks. The way my stomach would flip when you’d come into my room—” you felt your eyes starting to sting, you bit your lip to prevent your emotions from showing. Caleb was watching your face silently.

“I...I hated it. Hated...how wrong it felt. How wrong I felt. But you were always so calm. So normal. Like it didn’t even cross your mind. And I figured it was just me being…sick.”

“No,” he said instantly. “God, no, baby—”

“I know,” you whispered. “Now I know.”

Your fingers curled around his.

He was silent, his eyes bright as all the stars brought together. His lips were parted slightly, as If he couldn't believe his own ears. He swallowed and exhaled through his nose, rising slightly on his knees.

"Can I...Can I kiss you?—"

“Yes.” your response came faster than you could think. You thought about it. Fuck you thought about it so many times, even if you wouldn't admit it to yourself.

His breath shuddered. He leaned in slowly, as if he was giving you every second to back out. But he never found any hesitation.

He closed the distance. His lips brushed yours like he was testing the idea of a kiss, not taking it. Feather-light, his breath trembling over your plushy lips.

You made a small, aching sound in the back of your throat — not even a word. Just need.

And that was it.

He pressed his lips against yours. He kissed you, this time real. His hand curled into the sheets near your hip, still not daring to touch your skin, but his mouth moved over yours like he was starving for it. Like kissing you was a sin and a salvation all at once. You whimpered against him, your lips parting, and he groaned into your mouth like the sound had been ripped straight from his chest.

Your hand reached up blindly, curling into the front of his shirt, pulling him closer with a breathless little noise you couldn’t hold back. That was all it took for him to lose the last of his control.

He deepened the kiss — not harsh, but needy, hungry in a way that felt like it had been building for years. And you kissed him back — shy, nervous, a pure instinct.

As if driven by some quiet courage you didn’t know you had, your free hand found his wrist. You squeezed it gently.

He pulled away to catch his breath, his eyes flicked open, searching yours — surprised but not pulling away.

Slowly, hesitantly, you guided his hand downward, until his palm rested against your inner thigh. You held his hand there for a heartbeat, your heart hammering in your chest like a drum. And then, with a trembling breath, you guided it further.

Right between your legs.

Caleb froze for a second — his breath caught in his throat. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he looked at you with something fierce and tender all at once.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, voice rough and barely controlled.

You nodded, cheeks flushing hotter than before.

He shuddered and leaned back towards you. He started to plant soft kisses over your jaw, sliding down to your neck. He nuzzled his nose into your collarbone, letting out a shaky breath as he let his fingers fumble underneath your sleep shorts.

His breath caught — sharp and audible — and for a second, his whole body visibly shuddered.

“Holy—…” he whispered, voice cracking in his throat.

His fingers pressed gently against the dampness soaking through the thin cotton, like he couldn’t believe what he was feeling. You squirmed, your face twisting slightly as you felt his fingertips grazing your panties.

“You’re—” He stopped, swallowing hard. “Fuck, you're soaked..”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his face flushed, lips parted, chest rising like he couldn’t catch his breath.

“You got like this… just from touching yourself?” he asked, eyes searching yours, stunned and wrecked.

You nodded, shy but unable to lie.

His fingers kept moving slowly over the soaked fabric, each drag making you twitch beneath him. It was maddening — warm, steady pressure just shy of what you needed, and you couldn’t stop the quiet, aching sounds spilling from your throat.

Caleb was staring at your face like he was watching something sacred. His jaw was tight, eyes wild, and his lips hovered just inches from yours — close enough that you could feel every shaky breath.

You whimpered, hand fisting the sheets beside you.— like the sound was dragged out of your chest without permission. Your eyebrows pulled together.

His breath caught again — like every sound you made hit him straight in the chest.

“You’re already shaking,” he murmured, voice rough. “And I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”

Your breath shook — a sharp, broken sound that made his whole body jolt.

“I can feel you through them,” he rasped, fingers teasing along the edges of your panties. “You’re so wet I could probably taste it through the fucking fabric.”

You squirmed. His mouth found your ear, he kissed it slowly, reverently, as his thumb dragged down the soaked center of your underwear once more — slower this time.

“I’m...trying to go slow,” he murmured against your earlobe, words hot and wet against your skin. “Trying not to scare you. But, fuck, pipsqueak…”

He groaned, soft and strangled, his hand pausing again.

“You feel like this and expect me to be normal?”

You shifted, thighs twitching around his wrist, and his fingers twitched in response — a helpless reflex.

“God, pips… I’m so hard right now.”

He swallowed hard, eyes dark and desperate.

“I swear, it’s like my cock’s about to burst.”

He leaned downwards. His lips found the corner of your mouth, moving down to jaw, then your neck — slow, open-mouthed kisses dragging down every inch of your skin. You whimpered uncontrollably.

“You have to be quiet,” he murmured, barely above a whisper, “Because if Gran' hears, we’re both fucked.”

Caleb’s hand massaged you for a moment longer, trembling with every touch — before he slowly pulled back, his eyes dark and searching. His fingers hooked under the hem of your shorts, sliding them slowly down you.

You swallowed hard, cheeks flushing even more, caught between embarrassment and want

“I hate that you couldn’t finish… because I walked in. I’m gonna make it up to you,” he vowed, voice desperate but soft. “I promise.”

“I want to do this right,” he whispered, voice low, rough with need. “I want to make sure you feel everything — all of it.”

Caleb stripped your shorts off with practiced ease, the fabric pooling at your ankles. He dropped to his knees beside the bed again, hands firm as they slid beneath you, pulling your hips to the edge with a quiet hunger. His breath hitched, eyes locked on the darkened center of your underwear, his pupils wide with want. He wetted his lips slowly, gaze flicking up to meet yours — a silent question, or maybe...just maybe — a promise. He leaned in.

His mouth found you through the damp fabric, a low hum escaping him immediately as he kissed you there. His nose grazed against you as he breathed in, savoring the scent of your arousal. You gasped softly, hips jerking upward in response, and his eyes didn’t leave yours for a second — dark, burning, and full of intention.

”H-Hah...Caleb—" you whined out

He lingered there, lips pressing to the soaked fabric as if testing your patience — or his own. He exhaled a shaky breath, then slowly, deliberately, let the tip of his tongue drag along the dampness, tasting you through the thin barrier. His hands gripped your hips tighter as he let out a low sound of approval, the vibrations humming against you.

His mouth moved with purpose now — no longer tentative, but hungry, sure of the effect he had on you. His tongue traced slow, deliberate circles, then flicked with precision, alternating rhythm and pressure in a way that made your thighs tense around him.

Your face twisted with that kind of pleasure — that you didn't even knew could exist - until now of course.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured into you, his voice breaking on the edge of awe. “You taste so sweet… I need—” his breath caught, “—I need to make you cum…"

And with agonizing slowness, he hooked his fingers under the edge of your underwear, his fingers tracing the lacy frill that was already soaked by your arousal. He lifted his eyes to yours once again — a silent pause, waiting for your permission, your surrender. When he saw it, he pushed the fabric aside, baring you to his heated gaze.

"Gods—You're so...pretty, pipsqueak."

He took his time, as if memorizing every detail, before leaning in again. This time, there was no hesitation. His tongue met you fully — wet and hot — It made your hips jerk up harshly, your hand flew to cover your mouth. Fuck and the whine he made...was pure need. Each drag of his tongue was hurried, worshipful, drawing a gasp from your nose as your body arched into his mouth. You couldn't blame him, he waited for so long after all. He held you there, pinned by the weight of his hunger, devouring every reaction with his mouth, his breath, his eyes.

You shivered like you've never did before. A bead of sweat rolled down your back. Your fingers found his hair, threading through the soft strands, pulling instinctively as your hips arched toward his mouth. He responded with a low growl, gripping your thighs tighter, holding you open, guiding you exactly how he wanted you — nowhere to run, nothing to do but feel.

His lips sealed around your clit. Tongue closed around the delicate bud, flicking and teasing with maddening precision, the tip of his tongue blessing it with kitten licks, sending shockwaves of fire straight to your core.

"C-Caleb, I-I can't—" you whimpered over your hand.

“I wanted to get my hands on you...for so long...” he stammered, then sucked — hard. His lips locked tight around your clit like he was trying to drink the years of longing straight from your body.

”I...I just wanted to do this to you...” his fingers stroked your thighs, tender but desperate, like he couldn’t decide whether to hold you or worship you.

“You don’t get it,” he gasped against your heat. “You don’t fucking get it. I’ll ruin myself for this. For you. I’ll tear myself apart. I’ll fall on my knees, I’ll beg, I’ll fucking crawl. I'll do anything you ask me for—"

He whined like a damn puppy. It was cute — in it's own way, but so fucking sick and twisted at the same time.

“Can’t believe you’ve been walkin’ around with this between your legs…and I couldn’t touch it,” he whispered raggedly, kissing your inner thighs, his voice cracking like he was close to crying. “All those nights thinking about it. Thinking about you—how you’d taste. How you’d sound.”

He groaned like it hurt to say it, to feel it, to taste it. His fingers trembled slightly as he spread your folds open, almost like he was afraid you’d disappear if he wasn’t careful. He pressed his tongue flat against you and dragged it up with aching precision, then locked eyes with you again, pupils blown wide.

You try to hold back, to stay quiet, but the tight, uncontrollable squeeze inside you betrays your will. Your hole contracts reflexively — even though there’s nothing inside, it clenches around empty air, like it’s already craving him, already hungry for the fullness you know only he can give. Your hips buck upwards sharply, and he pulls you by your hips even harder.

“Shit...please. Please just...use my...—Use my face.”

You swear you could feel your eyes almost rolling back your skull. A single tear rolled down your cheek — From the immaculate pleasure you couldn't comprehend. Your body shuddered, hips jerking instinctively as he devoured you, tongue pressing harder, driving you closer to the edge. You grind into his mouth, desperate, needy, gone — and he doesn’t stop. He won’t stop. He’s slurping you up through the edge, into it, past it — until your vision whites out and your body forgets how to do anything but come, violently, endlessly, wrecked on his tongue.

As soon as you whine out into your clasped over your mouth hand — you feel him stiffen. A strangled cry — half a whine, half a gasp — ripped from Caleb’s throat. His whole body tensed like he’d been shocked, a sharp ache crossing his face.

“Fuck—” he gasped, pulling back slightly, breathing heavy, a flush spreading across his cheeks.

You froze, heart pounding, eyes wide.

”C-Caleb? What's...What's wrong?" you breathed out harshly, still struggling to compose yourself.

Before you could ask more, he shook his head, swallowing hard, voice hoarse and embarrassed. “I… I just… came,” he gasps out, breath ragged.

Came from freaking watching you come. Fucked.

A flush rises to your cheeks, a mix of surprise and something tender swelling inside you. You didn’t expect this vulnerability, this raw honesty from him. It makes your heart skip, even as your body aches, still pulsing from the way he touched you.

“Caleb…” you whisper, voice soft but steady.

“I-I'm okay,” he whispered, voice trembling. He reached up to brush your sweat drenched bangs from your forehead.

“Fuck, it never happened to me before” Caleb huffed as if he couldn't believe himself. He swallowed hard, biting his lip as if to hold back something fierce. He pushed himself up and leaned over to press a kiss to your temple.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, voice rough but tender. “I didn’t mean for that to happen now. I just… I need you. Need you so much.” His hands trembled slightly as he reached for your panties. He gently pulled them back into place, like he was protecting you — even though inside he was burning up with need. You furrowed your eyebrows in question.

“I don’t deserve to touch you bare—not yet.” he explained. Then, without breaking eye contact, he slid his hand down to the front of his pants and freed himself.

You saw him — like really saw him for the first time. Your breath hitched. That was this moment, a flicker of time when everything else fades away. His cock was still hard and pulsing, it was something you’d imagined a thousand times, but nothing could prepare you for the reality of it.

Your eyes traced every line, every vein, the way it throbbed with need. The heavines of his arousal was suffocating. You felt a flush creeping up your neck, your heart pounding as a mixture of excitement, nervousness, and something almost like awe washed over you. It was bigger than you expected, powerful and alive, and seeing it like that—so close, so exposed—made your skin tingle all over.

For a heartbeat, his confident, desperate facade cracked, and a flicker of fear passed through his gaze. Were you scared? Did he push too hard, too fast? There was a flicker of worry in his eyes, like the intensity of your stare unsettled him more than you realized. “If you’re… if you’re scared, I get it. I just—”

“No,” you breathed, voice shaky but sure. “I’m not scared.”

He still didn’t move. His hands hovered, frozen in the space between reaching and retreating. You saw how tightly his jaw was clenched, the way his brows pulled together like he was bracing for rejection.

“I’ve just… never seen one in real life before,” you said quietly, eyes flicking down, then back up to meet his. Your cheeks burned. “And it’s… bigger than I thought.”

Silence.

Caleb’s entire body tensed like you’d hit him with something physical. His jaw dropped a little. His eyes went wide — stunned — and then something deep, guttural escaped his chest, like the sound was ripped from him. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered, voice breaking as his hand flew up to cover his mouth, like he was physically trying to hold back whatever that did to him.

You could see it — the way his stomach tightened, the way his cock twitched, visibly, painfully. His knees almost buckled.

"I'm gonna lose it..." he groaned.

He moved slowly, but with purpose — stepping back into your space, his hands curling tight around your thighs. He didn’t rush. Instead, he pressed himself against you—through the thin fabric of your panties—his desperate need to feel you flooding every inch of his body. The thick, hot head of his cock found the damp center of your panties, and you both sucked in a breath at the same time.

"A-Ahh—...Caleb–" you hitched sharply.

He let out a deep, broken groan as he rocked his hips forward — slowly, like he was trying to savor every millimeter of friction. The tip of his cock dragged along your soaked fabric, sliding right through the heat of your folds. He hissed, forehead falling against your shoulder, like the sensation alone had him unraveling again. His hand moved down to his own cock, fingers wrapping around the thick shaft, stroking hard and steady while he pressed himself into you.

“Your clit… fuck, it’s right here,” he whispered breathlessly, dragging the tip of his cock over the wettest spot he could find through the fabric.

You whimpered. He whimpered too, his control fraying with every slow stroke. Your body reacted instinctively, thrusting forward as if desperate to chase that burning touch, though you didn’t even understand how just panty-rubbing could fuck with your head this hard.

You couldn’t handle it. The urge to reach out, to pull him closer, to feel him pressed against you in a way that wasn’t just teasing, was unbearable. You let out a soft moan, your hands twitching, craving contact.

Caleb caught it immediately. Of course he did. He was watching your face more than anything in this world. It was always like that. Even when you two were still kids. He always wanted to catch every emotion, to know if you were scared, shy, uncomfortable — It became a habit of his own. Without hesitation, he shifted, moving over you until he was hovering, chest pressing down on yours gently, his heavy breaths mingling with yours.

He kissed you fiercely, lips claiming yours in a hunger that matched the ache between your thighs. His hands slid down to your legs, wrapping around your thighs with a gentle grip.

“Squeeze your thighs for me,” he murmured against your lips, voice thick with desperate need.

You looked at him strangely for a moment but without thinking about it for too long — you pressed your thighs together. And Caleb not wasting his time, guided himself between your legs — Slowly, carefully.

You saw his cock sliding out from between your thighs, looking straight at you, making your breath hitch. Your eyes flicked up at him as your teeth tortured your lower lip. He held your eyes as he began to thrust—not inside you, but between your thighs, grinding firm and steady. The fabric of your panties stretched and slickened under the pressure.

Caleb groaned deep in his throat. His hands roamed your body, holding at your hips as he continued to thrust between your thighs, hips rolling in needy circles, desperate for every inch of your warmth. His mouth claimed yours again, kissing fiercely, tongue exploring with a desperate hunger that matched the relentless grinding below.

“Gods—...you're so soft here pipsqueak..." he muttered over your lips as he pulled away to rest his sweaty forehead over yours.

You whined a little bit, trying to keep your noises mindful. Your eyes were locked down on your closed thighs. The sight of his hardness vanishing and reappearing between your plushy flesh was making your head spin.

"S-Squeeze them tighter..." he choked out, your eyes flicked up to his face, watching it closely.

You clenched your thighs harder, grinding up a bit to help his cock catch onto your clothed folds better. And when you did that — the look on his face was absolutely everything. His face scrunched in pleasure, eyebrows drew up together, he looked as if he was about to cry — at least.

It was that easy for you to make him lose his mind.

”Shiiiit...Just like that—Good girl.” the nickname made something ugly churn in your stomach. He used to call you that earlier. Many times. Like when you got a good grade on your test, or when you achieved something he knew you could do. But now? It was an entirely different thing — and it made you mewl.

”You're making so much noise pips, you're some kind of pervert?...” he chuckled softly, even though his breath was ragged and he was clutching his self control tightly.

"S-Shut up..." you squirmed, your hand pushing at his shoulder.

”Don't get your panties in a twist pipsqueak...I always knew you liked when I called you that — You used to be fishing for my praise, y'know?...”

"I-I wasn't—"

"You were. No need to hide it pips...I think it was cute — it still is, if you ask me..." he snorted softly, laughing through his nose.

Then he groaned, his hips speeding up in it's moves. Your sweaty thighs slapping together.

"Ah...Fuck...” he hissed, taking a shaky inhale.

”You know, pipsqueak...I think, that you've always liked my attention on you.”

His hand sank down, to press himself better over your underwear as he fucked your thighs. You whined, and he smiled. Fucker.

”When you were younger you always found your way to have my eyes on you. You were pinching me, biting, kicking, stealing my stuff, showing off...” he huffed, his eyes closing as he tried to keep himself at the bay.

”But now when you got older, you understood some things...You know what I mean, yeah?"

You squirmed as the head of his cock firmly rubbed over your center with each thrust.

"N-No—"

”You know.”

He leaned down to your ear, placing a hot kiss over it.

”When you started to understand how to rile me up in a much better way — Like...You stopped wearing a bra whenever I was around. Those teasing touches when we would watch a movie together. When you—Ah...Shit—When you would tickle me because you knew I wouldn't put my hands on you anymore....You can tell yourself that you didn't know what you were doing, but deep down you know you wanted me to notice. You're not stupid, and i'm not stupid either.”

”Caleb—” a shiver rippled down your spine as he murmured into your ear. Not only from how close he was, but because of how right he was. You were losing it fairly.

”You're not going to shy away now, are you?” he scoffed, his hips slapped foward, making noise. He let out a shaky moan.

"Fuck i'm so close already..." he muttered over your earlobe, your fingers tightened on his shoulder, your eyebrows drawing together, overwhelmed from the friction. He moved his thumb to press his tip strictly over you.

"Y-You feel, too good...I can— Feel...How wet you are...It's doing things to me that you won't understand.”

You let our a shaky breath and moved to wrap your arms around him. You needed him close in this moment, heart to heart. Your thighs started to tremble as he rubbed against you, that similar ache blooming deep inside you once more, it was all purely for him, only for him.

"Gonna cum baby?..." he caught onto it immediately, his efforts doubled.

You choked down a moan and nodded, your back arching subtly as you bucked up to meet his delicious movements.

"H-Hah...You gonna cum with me, okay?..." he breathed over your skin. Everything was becoming dizzy so fast. Your eyes closing, all of your senses heightened.

You felt — Everything

Starting from the way his ragged breath shook over your ear, how your slick with sweat bodies slid against eachother as if they were meant to be together, the squelching noises you two were creating, the subtle slaps that eachoed through the walls of your suffocating room when he pressed close. It was so much. It was beautiful, because it was you and him, just like it should always be.

You begin to feel a knot after knot, tying down in your abdomen. Your thighs clamp instinctively, you grip tighter around Caleb as if holding onto the very source of your rising pleasure. The friction builds relentlessly, a delicious torment that tightens your belly and curls your toes. You can feel the muscles deep inside your pussy, contracting and relaxing in an involuntary rhythm — trembling with the power of what’s coming.

Your breath hitches and stutters, uneven and quick, like you’re struggling to catch the air that keeps slipping away. Caleb's hands clutch at your hips, fingers digging into your skin as if trying to hold you close forever. His jaw clenches tight, muscles taut as he fights to keep himself together, but the heat is overwhelming—too intense to control. He breathes deeply against your lips, his eyes squeezed shut.

”Cum for me...P-Please cum for me..." he whines, his face contorting. He's almost there. And so are you.

Just as the wild surge of pleasure begins to shatter your control, your breath catching in ragged gasps, Caleb moves with urgent purpose — he closes the distance, his lips crashing over yours in a fierce, searing kiss that shuts down any cry before it can escape.

And there it is.

You squeeze your eyes shut, Caleb swallowing every single of your moan, and so you are his. Your whole vision went blank as your thighs shook off the stimulation. Pure bliss washing over your body.

You feel the wave of his own orgasm wash over him—hot, intense, overwhelming. His body shakes and his hips stutter — his essence spurting out over the place where you meet, a testament to the fire you’ve ignited together. He elongates the kiss before pulling back from your lips to catch his breath.

The silence afterward feels sacred. Caleb is still above you, but there’s no urgency now. His body is trembling, his chest still heaving, but his hands… his hands are soft. Careful. Like he’s afraid you might disappear if he doesn’t keep holding on.

And he kisses you. Once on your temple. Then your cheek. The corner of your lips. Reverent, unhurried. His touch glides from your hips to your stomach, slowing with each stroke, like he’s trying to calm your body and his at the same time.

“A-Are you okay?” he whispers finally, voice still hoarse with what just happened, but gentler

You don’t answer right away. Just a small nod, soft, but there’s that tiny smile — faint, tender, a little dazed — And it makes his heart melt.

Without a word, he reached over and pulled the hem of his shirt up, tugging it off of him, careful not to disturb you. The fabric was soft against your skin as he pressed it lightly against your lower stomach, where a few stray marks of his release still glistened. His touch was delicate, almost hesitant, as if afraid to break the fragile quiet between you.

”I'm sorry i've made a mess...” he muttered

You shook your head to reassure him. ”We are even.”

He raised his eyes to you and a bashful smile blossomed on his face. He gently swiped the fabric across your skin, wiping away every trace with a tenderness that made your heart squeeze. It wasn’t just about cleaning—there was a sacredness in the way he cared for you, in how he always cared for you.

“I got you,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion.

You felt the weight of those three words, how much they meant for you, coming from him — gentle and devoted.

He discarded his dirty shirt somewhere on the floor without a care in the world. He reached beneath you, sliding his hands to the edges of your underwear. His fingers trembled just slightly as he carefully pulled them down your legs, his gaze never leaving your face. You feel no shame here, only a profound tenderness as he helps you shed the last remnants of the night’s intensity. He folded them neatly and set them aside — mentally noting to wash them tommorow. Then leaned down to kiss the soft curve of your hip, his lips warm and soothing against your skin.

He moved up, letting himself slump beside you. Intertwining your hands together — As if he has to know you're here, that you're not just a speck of his imagination. His thumb moved slowly over the back of your soft hand, he pulled it up to press a gentle kiss over your knuckles.

Your breathing slows in unison. The chaos of earlier melts into a soft hum beneath your skin. You don’t speak for a long moment, because there’s no pressure to fill the silence. It’s the kind of quiet that only comes when you’re held by someone who sees you—truly sees you—and stays anyway.

Eventually, Caleb lets out a quiet laugh.

“What?” you murmur, turning your head to look at his side profile.

“I don’t know,” he says, exhaling slowly. “I just… I feel like I waited forever for this. And now that it happened, I keep thinking I’ll wake up. Like maybe I fell asleep on the couch while you were ignoring me and now I’m dreaming the whole damn thing.”

You shift, lifting your chin slightly to meet his eyes. “You’re not dreaming, Caleb.”

He smiles, and it’s soft. His thumb traced the line of your knuckles. “If I was, though, I think I’d want to stay asleep.”

You nudge him playfully with your forehead. “That’s so corny.”

“Mm. You like it.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop smiling either.

He leans in and kisses you again—not hungrily this time, but with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. His lips move slow, reverent, and he pulls away just to whisper, “You look like a mess right now.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Caleb, you meanie.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You smile and nuzzle yourself into his lips. With a small, content sigh, he slid his arm around you, tugging you gently closer until there’s no space left between you. You feel his heartbeat thrumming against your back, steady and strong, and it grounds you deeper than any words ever could.

”Can you stay in my room for tonight?” you hummed softly.

”I wasn't exactly planning on leaving, y'know” he murmured quietly, amusement tugging at his voice

”Good.” you smiled to yourself

You both sink deeper into the bed, the softness of the sheets a gentle cradle beneath you. His cheek rests against the top of your head, his breath tickling your hair, his heartbeat a lullaby only you can hear. Your eyelids grow heavy, and a calmness unlike anything you’ve felt before settles over you.

You've never felt more at peace than you did now.

Just before sleep can pull you two under, Caleb’s arms tighten just a little, holding you closer as if to reassure you that he's here.

”I love you.”

That little whisper was everything you ever ached to hear. You didn't realize it until this very moment.

...

”I love you too.”

And in that shared silence, wrapped together in warmth, you both drifted gently into dreams. In his arms, you feel safe. Loved. Whole.

...

And now?

Now the change you were so scared of — turned out to not be bad at all.

Now It felt — Like home.

[lightaflaem]

𝐩𝐨𝐯: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭.

pairing: tattoo artist!suna x f!reader

genre: semi-angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive

word count: 5.1k

content warnings: profanities, suggestive themes, mentions of needles, sticks, poking, sharp objects, blood, mentions of abuse, scars, violence, trauma, addiction

summary: after countless attempts to convince your tattoo artist college friend, suna rintaro, to do your body art, you couldn’t understand why he keeps on rejecting you. not until he told and showed you the real reason why.

“Is this the chair where your clients sit to get their tattoos done?” you asked, pointing at the leather chair in front of you.

“Yeah, where else do you think I got it done?” Suna answered, not removing his eyes from the patterned tape he’s been wrapping on the grip on the gun.

“So, when are you going to do mine?” you hopped on the leather material, arm resting on the extended side as you clean your antecubital area with your other free hand. It’s obviously not set for your height as you tried making yourself comfortable on the depthness of the chair.

“Very funny, Y/N. Now get off that chair and help me set these up. There's small sized gloves under the cabinet beside that chair, wear those before touching anything.” he ordered, not giving a single fuck about your question. Rolling your eyes, you stood up and started searching for the gloves in the compartment.

“Why won’t you do my tatts?”

“‘Cause you're my friend.”

“Seriously, Rintaro? You have favoritism.”

“Seriously, Y/N. I don’t have favoritism and I don’t do tatts for my friends because I already know them. My brain becomes a mush when it comes to thinking of designs when I already know the person.”

Your jaw dropped at his answer. You don’t buy it. Seriously, what the fuck is he playing with? Irked, you intentionally wore the pair of latex with much more force, making it slap against your wrist hard enough to leave marks. You placed a sterile mat on the stainless surface of the table, aligning the vaseline-coated small cups horizontally and started loading it up with black and red inks.

“You’d make a great apprentice.” he commented as he watched you do the preparations the same way he does it before every session. Each and every step was done with fragility, just like how you retained his routine by watching him do the same thing for the past few years of being with him.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to get a red tattoo,” you spoke as you continued filling the cups. “It’s sexy and I think I’ll look hot in it.”

“But you always look hot, with or without that red ink.” Suna said casually, making your heartbeat accelerate but you didn’t let it get into you because he probably said it to his clients most of the time.

“I know right. That’s why when my college friend became a tattoo artist, the force of getting it done doubled up. Specifically by him.” you know that you didn’t fail to emphasize how badly you wanted to get your body art done by him but maybe for him, he saw it as nothing but a mere compliment for his works.

Who would have thought that the quiet kid from one of your elective classes way back in college a few years ago who subsequently also became your close friend because of a mutual friend, the Miya twins, who were your classmates since you’re in elementary school, will become a famous tattoo artist specializing in line arts, minimalism, and patchworks.

Suna also probably never saw that his future will be like this. From just surviving everyday to a big time personality of inks and needles. With the freedom and peace he gained from following his calling, he also took a leap of faith to change his physical appearance from cropping his hair shorter, both arms, chest, and neck full of patchwork of random tattoos, and his signature snake bites that captivated the hearts of his crowd.

He never liked fame, though. He always hides whenever he’s got the chance to escape from paparazzi and respectfully declines the clients he doesn't want to work with and cannot work with. He's hard to get. That makes him more fascinating in the eyes of others. It’s like he’s hidden behind those inks and it will take thousands of needles to uncover. He’s surely one of a kind.

His skill in generating different designs specifically for each client is no joke. A lot of local and international artists and internet personalities are hitting up his instagram direct messages, asking for his details of booking. You vividly remember one of his interviews wherein he was asked if he ever recycled a design for different clients and what makes him unique from other tattoo artists. He answered“Each client has their own blueprint depending on their cup of tea. That’s what makes me unique from other artists. I created my own scheme and let it align on my client’s skin like it’s running out of breath and ink’s the only thing it needed to satisfy its hunger.”

He’s distinct. He’s consistent. He’s a genius.

But why the hell wouldn't he do your tattoo?

“You're an ink virgin, right? Why do you want to get your tattoo done by me so much?” With much curiosity, Suna leaned against the chair, arms crossing against his chest as his eyes squeezed, waiting to scrutinize your answer.

“Why not? It’s because it’s you.” you simply answered back, finally capping the bottle of ink. In your peripheral vision, you saw how Suna’s eyes dilated but still kept his unpleasant posture. “But if you don’t want to ink my body then it’s fine with me. I’ve been pestering you about it since you started and it’s been a few years. I’m not getting any younger, that's why I wanted to at least get my first tattoo before I turn 27.”

Taken aback by your statement, Suna stayed quiet for a few seconds. Finished with your extra lending hands with his set up, you threw the pair of gloves into the yellow trash bag and finally faced the 6 '1 guy. Suna’s lips were pursed before he licked the lower part, tasting the cold metal of his lip piercing.

“Where do you want to get your first tatts?” he questioned as his gaze started lingering on your bare skin.

“I don’t know, do you have a preferred part?” you threw back, not having a single clue on where you wanted to get your first one.

Removing himself from the chair, he took a step forward, slowly making his way towards you. You weren’t sure why but your feet felt like it was glued on the ground. The vision started to get blurry, almost feeling dizzy but you found your vision focusing more on Suna, who’s already in front of you with a small curve of smile written on his face.

“If you ask me where,” he lifted his hand, letting his delicate fingers glide from your shoulder up to your collarbone that sent shivers to your spine. “I prefer it to be somewhere where others can’t see it. Somewhere where I’m the only one who can see it. Somewhere exclusive only for me.” he smirked and pulled himself away from you. “Kidding. Your body, your rules.”

His touch left your skin yet you could still feel his cold fingertips against yours. You felt your breathing stopped as you held it the whole moment he was in front of you and whispered those words to you. Damn you, Suna. He surely knew how to shake your whole existence in a few words.

“I’ll be going away for three days. I’ll go to Tokyo to attend a tattoo convention.” he spoke, not letting his gaze wander to anywhere except you. “If you happen to finally be decisive about the placement before I get back, I’ll do your tatts. In exchange, I’ll tell and show you something.” 

You grinned, finally hitting the jackpot. Bingo.

“Deal. I’ll see you in three days.” 

Suna let out a small chuckle when he saw how happy your eyes were. Silly, he thought. Who knew that a single tattoo could mean the world to a 25-year-old adult like you?

“Oh before I forget,” he suddenly remembered, turning to you once more. “Don’t worry. I’ll update for the next three days.”

“Holy shit, Rintaro finally agreed to do yer tatts?!” Atsumu exclaimed, almost flipping the table.

“Shut your mouth, you’re spitting the best burger in Hyogo all over the place!” His twin brother, Osamu snarked at him.

Despite graduating from college and living your lives separately, one becoming a professional volleyball player for Japan, the other opening his own onigiri business, and you having your own clothing line, you couldn’t ignore the fact that the Miya twins literally have a special place in your heart. So here you are, sitting across them in a fast food chain with burgers and fries stuffed in your mouth as you continued catching up with each other’s lives after a few months of not seeing each other.

The twins know how much you wanted to get your first tattoo from Rintaro. Giving all their best shots and trying everything within their might, they still cannot lure their old mate into the trap. They were always shut down by Suna, especially Atsumu since he’s the one who’s been doing all of the talking and bargaining because apparently, he’s got a big mouth according to their fox-eyed friend.

They even went as far as recruiting the innocent Sakusa Kiyoomi, also one of their tattoo artist friends who recently opened his shop to blackmail Suna into inking your body; however, the latter just scoffed at their failed idea and told them to try harder again next time. With that, Atsumu shouldered Sakusa’s business permit expenses as a “payment” for pestering him.

“I mean, I’m also surprised, ‘yah know? It took me years to persuade him and now I just have to decide for the placement. But I would love to get it in red ink, though.” you shared your thoughts as you sipped from your diet cola.

“Did you already have a placement in your mind? Maybe your shoulders?” Osamu pointed at your exposed skin from wearing a tank top.

You just shrugged because honestly, you haven’t given it much thought yet. “I have an idea. But Rin told me that he prefers to do it somewhere exclusive only for him.” 

Atsumu bursted out, laughing his whole ass off that earned a few stares from the people around you. You and Osamu were puzzled, giving him a tyrannical look.

“Fucking hell, man. I am so proud,” he said between his laughs. “Rinrin has grown into a man! He’s got balls, Y/N! He finally got the dick, Samu!”

The rest of the night went well as you guys hit karaoke and arcade after dinner just like the old days. If it wasn’t for Atsumu’s official schedule the following day, the three of you plan to invite Suna for a drink because he’s finally returning back tonight from his 3-day tattoo convention in Tokyo. 

He kept his word on updating you. The very first thing that you saw when you opened your eyes on his first day in Tokyo was a ‘good morning’ text, followed by a mirror picture of him wearing a featured shirt from your summer collection. You blushed at the fact that he’s wearing your own creation even though he’s very supportive of it since the very start. He looked really good in your design.You told him that he doesn’t need to update you that much but his response was ‘Na uh. I’ll still update you so hurry up and think about where you wanted to get it, Ma’am.’. You knew that it was just a polite term yet, it’s enough to make your knees feel weak. But you were quick enough to shake the thoughts off, thinking that it’s just a friendly term to address his future client.

As the darkness engulfed the sky, the twins dropped you off in front of your apartment and bid them goodbye. It’s already 9 in the evening and you wonder if Suna’s already back in Hyogo because your message was left delivered and you haven’t received a single text from him since this afternoon.

As if on cue, your phone buzzed, flashing Suna’s contact photo on the screen.

Rintaro is calling…

“Yo.” you answered, unlocking the door of your unit.

“Ma’am? Did you just get home?” his raspy voice boomed on the other line of the phone. You never knew how much you longed for his presence, not until you heard his voice again for the first time in 3 days.

“Yup. We went to karaoke and arcade after dinner. We’re supposed to invite you for drinks but Tsumu’s got an official sched tomorrow.” you paused, kicking your shoe on the rack. “How about you? Did you just get home?”

“Yeah. Just got here and the first thing I did was to call you after fully charging my phone. It’s been dead since afternoon because I lost my charger. M’sorry for not messaging you.” you don’t know if you’re just a little bit tired from earlier but you could sense the hidden craving behind his voice.

“It’s okay, Rin. It’s no big deal,” you assured, as it was really not a big deal for you. “So, about the offer.”

You heard him clicking his tongue, followed by a soft chuckle. “Have you thought where you wanted to get your first ones, Ma’am?”

“Mhm. You wanna know where?” 

“Surprise me.”

It made you giggle like a highschool kid talking to her crush for the first time. Suna is really good with his words. On the other line, Suna was leaning his head against his black bed frame, unintentionally scratching his bare chest as he’s not used to wearing a top inside his house and saw it. He took a deep breath before biting his lower lip to surpass the fact that he’s thrilled with the thought of him finally marking your skin.

“Where do you want to get it done? It can be in my studio but I can also do home service, exclusive only for you.”

“I want to get it done in the studio. I wanted to experience sitting in your leather chair as a client, Sir.”

Damn. Something ignited inside Suna when he heard you calling Sir, right back when he started calling you Ma’am. It’s like a switch being flipped on. Composing his mind and shaking any thoughts, he nodded as if you’re seeing him right now.

“Alright then. We’ll start tomorrow at nine in the morning. Make sure to get enough sleep, eat breakfast and drink water. I’ll brief you tomorrow once we’re there, Ma’am. Remember that in exchange, I’ll tell and show you something.” he reminded, knowing that you don’t like going to bed early.

“Wow, your customer service is top tier.” you commended as your mind started intensifying with the thought of finally doing it tomorrow.

“Exclusive only for you, Ma’am.” he reminded once again, trying to hint you up.

“Okay, Sir. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you. Good night, Y/N.”

Fuck. It’s not the first time Suna has said that to you but your insides are rumbling. You felt your blood rushing as your vital organ increased the pumping because anytime now, you could feel suffocated from the excitement. Calm down. Calm down.

“Good night, Rin.”

With that, he let you hang up the call. Later that night, you tried your best to get a good night's sleep yet in your fantasy, you still feel like you’re sleep calling with Suna. You couldn’t take your mind off with his words earlier. He’s going to tell and show you something? Still trying to squeeze every cell of your brain, you cannot pulp any idea on what it’s going to be.

You just hope it’s nothing serious because it’s actually scary, the thought of him being dead serious on something. You shrugged off any negative thoughts and wished that it's nothing because you wouldn’t be able to grasp if it’s going to significantly impact your life in a pessimistic way. You might lose your shit because you know that you’re clearly, madly, deeply attached to Suna Rintaro.

“So this is how it feels like to sit right here.” you spoke with awe as you comfortably aligned yourself with the chair’s depth. It was adjusted perfectly for your height.

Suna grinned, setting up the materials on the stainless table beside you. You offered to help but he quickly declined it, reasoning that you’re here as a client today, not as his self-labeled apprentice.

Despite being here lots of time already, it felt like this was the first time you’ve seen his studio. The details you didn’t notice before suddenly popped in your vision, such as the fern green wallpaper and plants that he’s been watering regularly. On the outside, it looks like Suna’s more of a monochrome guy but in reality, he adores green so much because according to him, it brings the dull color into life. For him, it feels like life.

You also noticed the usual well-lit led ceiling lights wrapped around the four corners of his studio are now dimly-lit as well as the aroma of lavender mint from his scented candles that he ignited for the first time since he got it lingering probably to cover up the smell of blood, dead skin, and ink. Oh, and there’s also an inspired portrait of his favorite characters from his favorite movies drawn in his own artstyle framed and hung on the walls. His usual arctic monkeys and heavy metal playlist was replaced with some 88rising, r&b, and keshi which are you favorite artists and genre at the moment,

You never took your time to appreciate Suna’s studio this much until now. 

“Okay Ma’am, show me where you wanted it to be placed.” he asked, almost ordering you. Taking a deep inhale, you were surely nervous as heck right now but you already made your mind. Somewhere where he’s the only one who can see it. Somewhere exclusive only for him, huh?

You slowly lifted your white shirt, revealing your red lace bralette that perfectly hugged your breasts. You specifically chose this outfit for this occasion. Swallowing a lump, you pointed at your waist up to the side of your right boob, passing it and nearly up to your armpit. “Here. I wanted to get it here.”

Suna was quiet the whole time yet his widened foxy eyes tell you otherwise. He’s speechless. His eyes were fixated on you, admiring the view which he saw for the first time. He knows that you’re sexy and elegant, but he didn’t expect that you’re this sexy. In his eyes, you are the most beautiful art he’s ever seen in his whole life. He fought the urge to hold you in your waist because he wanted to feel your skin against his.

“Tough spot. Damn Ma’am, you’re courageous.” he commented on your preference. You felt your cheeks heating up as embarrassment started creeping in because Suna hasn’t removed his gaze yet on your body. “Can I…touch it? I’ll just…assess it.”

You nodded, pressing your lips together as Suna’s gloved hand made its way to your body. He traced your torso up to your ribcage and he couldn’t help but to squeeze a small smile in between.

“Will it hurt?” you hesitantly asked.

“It will. But I’ll be gentle, I promise.” you almost choked on his answer because it gave you other ideas. “Now make yourself comfortable. Tell me if it hurts, we’ll take a break. I’ll do my best to make it painless but I cannot guarantee.”

You fixed your position on the inclined chair, making yourself at home on your left side but your torso was slightly flattened down, facing him to get a better access to the area, especially your sides up to your armpit. Suna sat down in the swivel stool and faced you from your left, maintaining his demeanor as he grabbed the stencil he prepared. You intentionally didn’t ask about the design he planned because you also wanted to surprise yourself with Suna's creativity. You wanted to astonish yourself and it pretty much tells how big your trust is when it comes to Suna.

Once he’s done with shaving the excess hair, the paper hits your side, tickling your skin as Suna’s gloved hand starts flattening it against your body. It was followed by the cold sensation of the adhesive washing the paper. His right pinky accidentally brushed against your boob, making you scream internally. In no time, he’s already removing the piece of paper, indicating that the stencil’s already in place.

Suna licked his lower lip and you noticed how he wore his usual snake bites differently today by swapping the horseshoe jewelry into a plain one. He pushed himself forward but still maintained the distance between the two of you. Reaching out for the tattoo gun, you’ve already had an idea how it sounded but when he tested it and made a whirring sound that buzzed on your ears, you found yourself clutching the hem of Suna’s shirt due to the tense building up inside your stomach.

“You alright, Y/N?” he asked, staring down at you. The whole point of view sent you to spiral as you never imagined yourself being under Suna.

“Yeah, sorry. I hope you don’t mind this.” you pointed at your hands curled into his shirt which earned him a few laughs. Suna thought that it was so fucking cute when look so small to him.

“You’re free to hold me wherever.” he smiled, caressing your exposed shoulder as a sign of assurance. “Remember that if it hurts too much, just tap out and we can take a break, Ma’am.”

Bobbing your head, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath as the sound of the gun reverberated once again. Suna started poking the needle against your skin. The first five minutes were much more uncomfortable rather than painful - almost feeling like a slow rug burn. However, as he moved upwards and started hitting the bones of your side ribs, it started feeling hell that you couldn’t help but small whimpers escaped from your mouth. It stings like crazy.

“Are you okay? We can take a break. Do you want some water?” Suna offered concern as he saw your forehead creased into an agonizing expression.

“N-no, just continue. I’ll eventually get used to it.” you declared, not wanting to raise your white flag.

Suna nodded and started working on it again. You could feel like he’s outlining something in more of a swivel way. You could also feel like there’s a lot of lines and shading going on. The next 30 minutes were spent with the two of you talking about college, reminiscing the memories you shared together as well as with the Miya twins. Another 30 minutes and he’s already wrapping up by taking one last wipe before applying the tattoo jelly on the area. 

“I thought that it will be painful as fuck,” you said truthfully. “You wrecked my expectations, Rin.” 

“Well, it’s an honor to be complimented by you. I told you, I’ll be gentle.” he winked, removing his gloves on his hands. “Congratulations, Y/N. You’re no longer a tattoo virgin.”

Laughters echoed in the room as he clapped at your achievement. He grabbed the mirror that was lying beside your chair and signaled you to sit up. Obeying him, you lifted yourself as you felt your skin being stretched.

“I hope you like my design, Y/N.” flipping the mirror, you saw your inked skin for the first time.

Your mouth parted, eyes filled with wonderstruck. 

There’s a lot of fine lines from the upper part of your side, down to your ribs, and finally your waist. The lines were broken yet some of them were connected with each other. In the middle, there’s multiple flowers drawn in outline, looking like they have bloomed together. You couldn’t elucidate the design in words yet your brain could tell how it looks and your heart could tell how it feels like to be inked distinctively.

You finally understood why they call Suna a genius. Because he’s the only one who has the ability to make you feel like you're abstract and he’s the only one who can understand you.

“Do you like it?” he asked, a little bit nervous as you stayed silent.

“Like?” you questioned. “I fucking love it, Rintarou. I love it so much that it made me speechless… Thank you. Wow…Seriously, thank you.”

You’re not kidding. You’re not exaggerating. You were at a loss for words because only the silence of appreciation could speak for right now on how you feel about the design.

Pleased, a genuine smile carved on Suna’s lips as he watched you beaming with joy on your first body art done by none other than him.

“Now in exchange, I want you to pop my shirt.” he cleared his throat, bringing the mirror down as he signaled you.. Your face was puzzled. Pop…his shirt? “Come here, Y/N. Take off my shirt.”

You were hesitant at first but you gradually moved towards him and lifted his shirt out of his body. You have never seen him shirtless before because as far as you know, it makes him uncomfortable to show some skin to others before that’s why you never saw him wearing sleeveless before. And now he’s asking you to pop his shirt for what reason?

Pulling the fabric above, Suna’s exposed skin was hit with the cool air. You gasped when you saw multiple scars across the chest and lower body. Some of them formed multiple layers above each other, making the skin rise from its base. He doesn’t have any tattoo in his lower body but he has one in his chest, near his heart. And it was…shit. Could it be…?

“You see, Y/N, I never really talked about this before but my dad used to uh, beat me up with a socket wrench when I was a child,” he spoke, voice filled with coldness. “He’s an addict and whenever he doesn’t have the money to support his damn addiction, he’ll find another way to release his stress and that is to beat me up whenever he’s got the fucking chance.”

You felt like all the nerves in your body were paralyzed as your eyes slowly widened, sinking his words inside your head. He’s dad is what? Beating him? With a socket wrench? Fuck.

“I thought I wouldn’t be able to reach college, ya know? That’s why when I was given the privilege to still continue my education, I didn’t let it go to waste as I thought that it was the only way to escape from the madness of my life.” his fingers brushed against his scars. It was healed, probably years ago yet you could visibly see the paint being painted on his face as he felt the trace of his yesterday.

“And suddenly, all of this turned all the way around when I became friends with the twins and you.” he lifted his gaze, maintaining his eye contact with you. Something ignited inside Suna when he met your orbs. He felt like colors bursted in his eyes. “When my dad finally got the help he needed and I made peace with whatever demons I have, that’s when I felt like I had another chance with life. That’s why when I started taking interest in inking, I took it very seriously because for the first time, I saw that I finally saw that I got the chance to stand in life. To live, not just to survive.”

The sincere confession made a short pang inside your heart. All this time, he was hurting. All the damn time, he’s living his life in hell. And being friends with him, just being by his side, made him realize that he can finally free himself from the uncanny of his life.

“The reason why I keep on rejecting your request is because I am not ready yet. Y/N, I spent my whole career crafting the most unique design I could ever create for you. Just for you. I wanted to make it the best among the rest. Also, as cheesy as it may sound, I wanted to be the man worthy of inking your very first tattoo.”

You felt like your heart’s going feral inside your ribcage. Suna stood up in front of you, bare bodies touching each other. You could feel his minty hot breath tickling your nose despite the coldness of the room. Slowly, he grabbed both of your hands and intertwined your fingers together before bringing it in front of you to plant a soft kiss on it.

“I’m sorry that it took me this much time to be worthy of everything. Thank you for not giving up on me. You may notice the lines in your tattoos, it represents the thought of despite being broken, you could still find your way back and bloom within it. Y/N, you gave me that reason to bloom again at my own pace.”

He dragged your hands in his chest, making you feel the only tattoo he has on his upper body. “Y/N, this is your initials. This was my very first tattoo and I intentionally got it in my heart so that whenever I hold my heart, I’ll always remember that you’re here.”

Suna’s eyes glimmered, mirroring yours as you could feel him getting more emotional any second. Giving up, you stood on your toes, enclosing the centimeters given between the two of you by latching your lips to his. Without giving it a second thought, Suna pulled you closer, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. It was a hot, wet kiss that the two of you shared as tears started tearing down in your cheeks. When Suna tasted the salty liquid, he finally let his guard down and cried himself between the sloppy kiss.

Pulling away, both of you were panting as your cheeks were stained with the liquid that you shared. You let out a chuckle and pulled him into a tight hug which he gladly returned.

“You’re never late, Suna. You will always be the tattoo artist that captivated my heart, no matter what and no matter how long it takes. I’ll always wait for your creations, and I’ll kiss every one of your flaws until you realize you’re love.”

© lightaflaem. do not repost on any platform.

bonus

y/n's "exclusive" tattoo made it to suna's instagram :]