#and that i find it so difficult to go out and meet more

[clairewritesfanfics]

civilian au: vtuber shiesty mark

I headcanon that Shiesty struggled financially growing up. Unlike the others, he didn't have access to a secure house and Debbie struggled to put food on the table. She juggled multiple jobs and her son getting labeled as a troublemaker at school and hanging out with the wrong crowd made it difficult to be the ideal mother.

Eventually, she died and Mark dropped out of school. He committed petty theft with his friends, but he never killed anyone and avoided physical altercations. He was the type of robbers who are all bark and no bite, which is still a bad thing but he didn't like hitting people.

He lived in a dingy apartment with barely any furniture. He kept it clean, but not neat. He also taught himself how to cook decent meals under 25 dollars because he got sick of eating instant noodles everyday.

At some point, Mark gets his hands on a gaming laptop. He always wanted one but Debbie couldn't afford any, but now he can finally play.

He started streaming for fun, just his voice. He didn't expect to blow up in popularity. He has a handsome voice plus he can be funny without trying so he has a lot of fans.

He uses most of his money on his friends and to get better gaming equipment, but he never intended to move to a better place. 

A lot of fans want him to do a face reveal but he's too shy, plus he knows that if his looks don't match their expectations they'll abandon him, so instead of showing his face he saves up and commissions for a really cool-looking Vtuber model. (I haven't decided what that would look like. You guys decide your own headcanons.)

He avoids drama and keeps a professional distance from everyone, fans and colleagues. He just wants to play, he isn't interested in dating, and if he were, he wasn't going to use his job to find a partner. All in all, he's a successful dude.

He can be toxic though in that he shares a lot of male players’ cozy games aren’t games mentality. He doesn’t go out of his way to bully others for calling themselves gamers for playing The Sims or Infinity Nikki, but you just know he’s one of those guys.

But then he meets you. (How? I’ll leave that to you.) Love happens and you become his first and only serious partner.

He starts branching out from his typical content (fighting, action, racing, shooting, RPGs–the so-called “serious” games) and tries cozy and casual games. 

He loses a portion of his original audience for this but he ends up attracting even more fans, especially since he gets so serious about the silliest things, like building the perfect house and decorating the best office for his partner’s in-game character.

He’s a puritan when it comes to gacha and discourages spending as much as he can. When he does pull for a new character or weapon or costume, he has you sit with him.

During streams you would knock softly on his office door (yes, you eventually moved in together) and if he can, he’ll pause his game and greet you. When you “interrupt” his streams it’s usually to give him a snack or drink. His viewers like to make bets about what’s on the menu because that’s how often you do it.

He always tells you his schedule so you know when he can’t open the door. During those times, you will knock to let him know and then leave the tray outside for when he gets a break.

MAIN MASTERLIST

Any questions for the author? Ask here.

[syndrossi]

The AU of Restoration AU where whatever Ned thinks is the twins backstory is actually true. How would Rhaella meeting and negotiating with Daemon Targaryen/Blackfyre/Who-Even-Cares go?

Hm, so I'm assuming this is the variant where we have Stepstones-era Daemon who hasn't had his twins yet, so anywhere from 30-34ish.

The main difficulty is in keeping Caraxes secret from the world, since in Restoration AU, no one has any notion of dragons being back. Not even Ned (yet)! So perhaps he is injured in battle and ends up Winterfelled near Braavos, separated from Caraxes at first. When he stumbles into Braavos, declaring himself a Targaryen, he's led by Targaryen sympathizers to the house with the red door.

Rhaella being in a position of power over him helps, I'm sure, because he looks enough like kin to stir unwanted memories of Aerys. But he's very kind to her children, who adore him, and insists on finding his "dragon." Once he's better, he invites Rhaella to accompany him to see that he speaks the truth about his dragon.

By now, I assume Rhaella has heard his stories of being Daemon Targaryen, rider of Caraxes, wielder of Dark Sister, and only his sword has lent the story any credence. But when they go outside the city, perhaps to one of the mountainous isles in the lagoon, she sees Caraxes for her own eyes.

At this point, his story is looking at least somewhat more true. He has no knowledge of current events, he knows a great deal of history, he has a dragon. And that's the important thing. He has a dragon.

It must be Rhaella who tells him that Caraxes must be kept secret from the world until they make their strike. Daemon is all ready to rain fire down on Robert Baratheon, but they need soldiers. They need the Golden Company.

Marriage is the best alliance, and Rhaella will do what she must for both her children and her family's legacy. She proposes that they marry, even though she is forty years of age now, and after a quiet ceremony + Daemon scaring up some coin by torching a roving band of raiders or something on Caraxes, they set out for the Disputed Lands to meet with the Golden Company.

After only a few moons, Rhaella finds herself pregnant once more. Dany is maybe a year old by now, and it's overwhelming to think about going through another difficult childbirth, but having Daemon's children will almost assuredly cement his loyalty to her. Surprise! It's twins.

I like to think that the two of them falling in love happens at different speeds. Daemon is taken very quickly, admiring Rhaella's spirit despite all that has happened to her, and her maternal affection for her children. It takes much longer for Rhaella, for obvious reasons. Daemon playing with her children as though they are his own, protecting them from dangers on the road, ruthlessly destroying anyone who threatens their family--not out of paranoia, like Aerys, but because their safety is the most important thing in the world to Daemon.

By the time they arrive in the Disputed Lands, the marriage is less one of paper. Rhaella probably urges Daemon to claim that he's a Blackfyre, though Dark Sister isn't the best blade to produce as evidence, but the Golden Company doesn't even care because that's a full grown dragon.

Because the Golden Company comes to know of Caraxes, rumors likely make it out into the world, only to be dismissed. The main weakness I see with this AU "mirroring" Restoration is that I don't think it would take eight years for Daemon and Rhaella to feel confident to retake the Iron Throne.

That said, I like to think they go in search of dragon eggs, finding the ones that Illyrio has in canon, and one hatches for Rhaella, Viserys, and Dany apiece. The twins' eggs are found following a lead to Volantis. Maybe Daemon wants to wait until Rhaella's dragon is full-grown (or close enough), and that's the reason they wait eight years. Two dragons is a better security policy than just one, and Viserys will be old enough then to aid in battle.

The twins going missing would actually be a kidnapping. Hard to say who's at fault. Daemon has been a part of Viserys's life long enough for him to view him as a father, and he has a dragon to curb some of his instability (a lot of which was exacerbated by having to raise Dany alone, penniless and in fear of assassins). So I don't think it would be him? Perhaps it's an actual surviving Blackfyre heir, aiming to challenge Daemon's claim somehow. Who knows!

[akira-dulbar]

a precious jewel.

Image from Pinterest (I finally know how to post images).

Summary: For your age, you have a unique appearance; you look younger than you are, but it becomes difficult to have someone, although that stops being the case when you meet a man in a suit.

-----------

Thanks to your genes, you've never had to worry much about your appearance. Some call you a time stealer, others believe you have the fountain of youth, and others call you a liar for not believing in your age.

But that never bothered you, you didn't pay attention to it, not until you realized that finding a partner was difficult, or rather, VERY DIFFICULT.

You didn't pay much attention to having children, but you still wanted a partner who loved you and didn't see you as just a pretty face, or something even more unpleasant.

Every man you've dated was worse than the last, and you have several examples.

There was one who was a little younger than you, not enough to worry about, but still considerable enough to date you. He was charming, sweet, and romantic, but that was forgotten when he started calling you his sugar mommy and started making jokes about it. You wanted to ignore it, but you couldn't when he insistently asked you for money.

Then another man came along who was a little older than you, which didn't bother you because you thought he'd be more mature than the last. That was forgotten again when he started showing you off like a trophy, saying you were younger than you were to impress others by landing a "so young" woman. You hated him like crazy because you were proud of your age because of your experience and everything you'd been through, thank you.

And so the list of imbecile men you had the misfortune of dating continued. You almost thought you'd be left without a partner…

Until you met a particularly polite and charming butler.

---------------

You volunteered to pick up your niece from school. You didn't have anything special to do that day, and when your younger brother called for help, you didn't refuse.

And there you were, ready to go pick her up. When you got out of your car to head for the gate, you saw a man dressed like a butler standing in front of the gate next to a car shouting for money. There were a few minutes left until the kids left, so you just decided to stay at the gate for your niece to see you. Nothing unusual.

The minutes passed, and you were still waiting for the gate to open. You decided to close your phone and check the notifications to see if anything happened. You didn't realize you had dropped your wallet when you took it out.

"Excuse me, ma'am, you dropped your wallet." You looked up to see the same butler from before, only this time with your flower-printed wallet.

"Oh, thank you very much, sir…" you gesture to the man as you take your wallet.

"Alfred Pennyworth, if it's not too much trouble, I could ask where you got that wallet."

"Well, Mr. Pennyworth, I couldn't tell you where I got it because I made it."

"Really? You have some very peculiar designs. You have good taste, madam…"

You tell him your name as you put your wallet away and he thinks for a moment.

"Do you like flowers, Mr. Pennyworth?"

"That's right. Gardening is my favorite hobby, and your flower designs are beautiful." You feel a smile spread across your lips when he says those words.

"Wow, it's nice to meet another gardener in this city," you say as you shake his hand.

"Do you like gardening too?" Alfred shakes your hand and squeezes it gently.

"Yes, and sewing too, although you can deduce that from the wallet." You try to let go of his hand, but he takes it and kisses your palm, making you freeze and feel your cheeks turn a little pink.

"It's also nice to meet a woman with good taste like you," he says, still holding your hand in his. Your heart wouldn't stop beating, and you felt like a schoolgirl.

You weren't religious, but if God finally granted your wish for a good name, you'd be so happy and a good believer. You say, looking into Alfred's eyes, as he also takes after you.

"Alfred?" He says in a low, somewhat childish voice. The two of you turn your heads, letting go of each other's hands as you look at a dark-skinned boy with green eyes, frowning at the two of you.

"Master Damian, it's good to see you," Alfred says, turning to look at the boy named Damian. The boy just stares at you while nodding at Alfred.

"Likewise…"

"Well, we have to say goodbye. It was a pleasure meeting you, miss." You turn to look at Alfred and say a quick "likewise" as he watches her leave with the boy, opening the door for her to get in.

Before he gets in the car, he turns to look at you intently.

"I hope to see you again, miss."

You smile at him while nodding and then watch him leave.

"Hello, aunt." You don't turn to look at your niece while she's by your side. You just look at where the car was and feel like you can smile.

"Auntie?" Your niece seems bewildered as you turn to look at her, smiling.

----------

"What was that?" Damian gets out of the car as he heads for the mansion's door. The entire drive from school to home was silent, perhaps because Damian didn't want to think about what he saw, but now he did want to talk.

"What was that, Master Damian?" Alfred follows behind him.

"Alfred, I'm not a child. I know what I saw." Damian enters the mansion with Alfred to head to the table where the others were waiting for lunch.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Master Damian."

"Alfred…" Damian was interrupted by Dick, who appeared in the living room doorway.

"They're here! How was school?" Dick gives Damian space to enter the living room.

"The ride was as smooth as always."

"Alfred was flirting with a lady at the school entrance," Damian says, interrupting Alfred as he stares at his father, who's choked on the water he's drinking.

"What?" asks Tim, who's across the table, his laptop open.

"Alfred… flirting?" Dick stares into space while holding onto a chair, seemingly unable to process those two words together.

While everyone was silent, a pin could be heard dropping as everyone seemed to process the information.

Suddenly, Jason's snorting laughter was heard, standing next to Tim. He was clutching his stomach as he turned to look at Damian.

"Good joke, dude. Make it more believable next time," Jason said, sighing with laughter.

"This isn't a joke, Jason. I saw with my own eyes how he took her hand and kissed her palm."

"What?!" the three boys said, while Bruce still seemed to be staring at the glass.

Meanwhile, Alfred quietly left the room and headed to the kitchen to serve the food.

--------------

"Come on, Aunt!" Your niece kept wanting you to tell her what happened at the school entrance. The two of you were in the car while you drove to your brother's house.

"I've told you several times, little one, it was nothing," you say, looking at her in the rearview mirror.

"It was nothing? Aunt, you were blushing! You seemed delighted." She smiles as if she'd discovered a huge secret, while you can only manage a small smile.

"Honey, don't exaggerate, it was just a one-time thing… maybe I won't see him again."

"What if it's not just a one-time thing? What if you run into him again? You have to be ready!" Much to your chagrin, it doesn't seem like your niece is going to let the subject go.

"I don't think it will happen."

"But if it does?"

You don't say anything as you park the car in front of your brother's house, then turn to look at your niece.

"Sometimes it's good to dream, honey," you say, taking off your seatbelt.

"In any case, don't say anything to your father. You know how he gets at the thought of me having a partner." Not only have you suffered with your previous relationships, but your brother has become so involved in them that he doesn't find it funny to talk about a future partner.

"Yes, Aunt…" Your niece nods as she gets out of the car, probably remembering how some of your previous partners were such idiots that her father had to intervene.

At least it makes you happy that someone still dreams of something that's best for you.

--------------

"What's she like?" Tim asks as he helps clear the plates from the table. Alfred forbade them from talking about it while they were eating, but now that they'd dug, they could talk as much as they wanted, much to Alfred's dismay.

"Who's who, Master Tim?" Alfred remains unaffected as he continues walking toward the kitchen.

"Oh, come on, Alfred, you don't have to be shy," Dick appears behind Alfred as he follows him into the kitchen.

"Dick's right, you can tell us." Jason is already in the kitchen, watching Alfred and his brothers enter.

"Well, she likes gardening, and she's a seamstress. She's pretty, but she clearly has a good knowledge."

"This is historic! Alfred finally has a conquest!" Dick stands in the doorway, smiling at Damian, who didn't seem happy about any of it.

"What's that supposed to mean, Master Dick?" Alfred raises an eyebrow at Dick, who now seems nervous about what he said.

"Well, that's… I mean… It's not that you can't win anyone over… It's just that…" Dick seems more nervous as he speaks, but luckily Jason seems to take pity on him.

"What the golden boy means is that we've never seen you interested in any woman since we met you… not even Bruce can see that," Jason shrugs as he points to his adoptive father, who is also standing in the kitchen doorway.

Everyone looks at Bruce, who just stands in the doorway, staring at Alfred, confirming what they suspected.

"Alfred… is it safe?" Bruce approaches his sentimental father while he's cleaning the dishes. While everyone (except Tim) sighs when they hear this, Alfred swears he hears a "it was obvious he'd say that," possibly from Jason, as he turns to look at his sentimental son.

"Master Bruce, you guys are acting like I'm getting married without warning. I barely met her today and we haven't even exchanged numbers. I might never see her again."

"That's why we need to investigate thoroughly, just in case you run into each other more than once. Let me…"

"Master Bruce, if I may remind you, I'm the one who checks your dating history. And in this case, the young lady seems to be… exceptionally qualified."

"Did you just call her 'qualified'? That's the hottest thing I've ever heard from your mouth," Dick whispers to Jason, who looks at him with a raised eyebrow in confusion.

Alfred, ignoring them but with an almost imperceptible smile, continues, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to make the tea." Just for me… unless someone else wants to behave and deserve a cup.

Everyone falls silent as Alfred strides out of the room, leaving a silence filled with complicity.

-----------

You walk through the crowd as you head to your favorite coffee shop. It's been two days since you ran into that gentleman, unfortunately, and you haven't been able to meet up with him again.

Your brother couldn't pick up his daughter, so you couldn't use that as an excuse to see him again. Going just to see him seemed inappropriate, considering it can only be a one-time thing.

So there you are, sipping coffee at your favorite coffee shop while you decide to read some poetry. It was better than thinking about your disastrous love life… or lack thereof.

You sigh as you continue reading your book.

without noticing three people entering the shop, heading to the register to order.

"You didn't have to come, Alfred." Tim looks at the menu as he approaches the register.

"It's no bother, Master Tim. Besides, I've seen some good reviews of this place, and it seems perfect to try coffee from outside for once."

"The previous places were a mockery of its name."

"Or maybe you have too high expectations, Damian."

"Because it doesn't meet its objective."

"Not all of them have your taste. You're too critical of those places." As Tim continued speaking, Alfred noticed your presence. You were sitting not far from him. Seeing that the kids were still talking, he decided to leave them for a moment and head over to you.

"If it's not me, then who? People have terrible taste," Damian spoke, not noticing Alfred's absence.

"This isn't going anywhere, Alfred, could you… Alfred?" Tim turned to see where Alfred had gone, seeing that he was heading for a specific table.

"Damian, is it…?"

"Yes, it's her…"

Meanwhile, Alfred stopped at your table.

"Wow, Gotham seems smaller every day," Alfred said softly but loudly. You look up in surprise to find Alfred there, spilling some of your coffee. He quickly offers his handkerchief.

"Mr. Pennyworth, what a… coincidence?" You smile, embarrassed by the small incident.

Before Alfred can figure it out, Tim appears behind Alfred, followed by Damian.

"Oh, hi! Are you that famous purse artist? Alfred keeps telling us about—(Alfred stares, causing Tim to cough.)—"let's say, your… good taste in flowers."

"Drake, that was pathetic."

"And you're…?" You look at Damian, remembering perfectly that he was the guy Alfred picked up from school. You can't quite remember his name, since you weren't thinking clearly at the time.

Damián crosses his arms, staring at you. "The one who checked your background. Clean, for now." That leaves you surprised and speechless.

Alfred quickly intervenes. "Master Damián, please." Alfred turns to look at you, continuing. "Excuse your… enthusiasm."

Before he can answer, Alfred turns to the two boys, resigned. "Teachers, why don't you choose a table? I'll join you in a moment."

Damián looks like he wants to protest, but Tim drags Damián to a distant table, but he doesn't stop looking.

"Is it always like this?" you ask curiously, since you've never experienced that kind of scenario before.

Alfred sighs theatrically, gives them one last look, then turns to you. "Unfortunately, yes. But…" (you see him take out a pencil, then grab a napkin and write) "perhaps a phone number will make up for the embarrassment," he says, handing you the paper.

You accept the napkin more cheerfully and smile at him as he says,

"I'd be delighted, Mr. Pennyworth."

"Just Alfred, please, ma'am." You smile at them, while Tim and Damian don't seem very happy.

----------

I wanted to write more, but I'd like your opinion on whether to continue or not. I'm thinking about this theme: Bruce as a jealous son who doesn't want to give up on his father and who will interrogate you whenever he can; Dick and Jason being the happiest, but also a bit cautious; and, finally, Damian and Tim joining forces to prevent this from going any further, as they don't want to give up on their grandfather.

An example or something that will happen in the next chapter (?):

Will Bruce react with paternalistic protection? ("Alfred, if she makes you happy, fine… but if she hurts you, Batman will come for her.")

Will the Waynes investigate you? (Jason: "I'm going to stalk her to see if she's worthy of Alfie." Dick: "No! Let's do it discreetly!" Tim: "No! We have to hack her.")

Or will Damian be your biggest obstacle? ("Pennyworth is family. I won't let a stranger take him.")

And much more! Literally a lot, a LOT more—well, maybe not that much—a little drama, somewhat unusual situations, etc.

But…

That's up to you. If you like it, I'll obviously continue and turn it into a miniseries, or if I want to continue, I will, but I think the final decision is mostly yours.

Good morning/afternoon/evening.

I don't know much English.

[evecolourshock]

First of all Beck, I'm apologising to you. I should have known better than to drag someone into the mess that is Nort's and my history like this, especially in a forum like this one, and that's on me. I'm sorry.

In regards to his scars... he swore to his User he was going to get those fixed, when we last met - when they were fresh. That's not an oath made lightly, for Encom Programs - it's about as binding as a promise can get, something that will be done by any means necessary. Either they're worse than he let on, or he broke his oath.

Further information about me (and him, where unavoidable) under the extension, if you want to read more.

To summarize, I'm someone Nort used to work closely with back on Encom, long before you were written. We were friends back then, or at least I thought we were, but... not so much any more. I still worry about him, but while we have the same goals we walk different paths to reach them.

When we worked together, he used to defend the system and screen what came into it. Anything he deemed safe was passed on to me to be directed where to go. Occasionally I'd join him in fighting, if he got pushed back to where I was, but that didn't happen often.

Users for us... weren't like Flynn. We never met them in person - any of them, a good hundred or so if I remember correctly. They were as unfathomable to us as the Sea is here, powerful though not all-knowing, and as inclined to create as they were to destroy. Nort's User took me in after my own disappeared, and he was the one that decreed we worked together.

We followed our Users' commands, even if they didn't make sense to us. Part of a purpose we could not comprehend. And Nort...

He trusted his User. More than anything. Struck down a tyrant with the power of his belief and trust in the one who wrote him, aided by a gift from the same. Even after meeting Flynn and having many things we thought we knew about Users proven wrong... he still trusted his User. If that's changed, if he no longer holds that faith...

He held out the longest, back then, when the MCP tried to break us and cause us to reject the ones who made us. He had hope that we could still find a way to beat the unbeatable, that we could help the Users take down that cold mass of logic and data - because they were fighting it, and we were their weapons. Together, User and Program, we could not fail.

If that hope is gone, then I fear the Grid will fall.

As for why you don't know this... you're right in saying Nort's entitled to his secrets - he certainly hasn't been given much privacy to keep them with, before recent events. I've tried not to reveal too many of them. It's also... a time he's not fond of speaking about. Everyone lost friends, but... he lost far more than anyone should have. That's all I'm going to say about it.

I... will consider apologising. If he finds me. Comparing him to Sark was uncalled for. However, it is rather difficult to apologise when you're derezzed, so I'd have to survive long enough to get the apology out for it to count - I could, but I also don't want to hurt him further and don't think I can risk sparring him at full power, which puts me at a disadvantage.

One of my nieces says she likes your hair. And is happy to have met someone else with brown eyes. I'd say they found you. Also one of my nephews (the inventor) won't stop raving about the tuning on Zed's custom lightcycles. Or Able's vintage lightcycle - mostly because he knows I have the model that came before it.

Happy really late fathers day to my dad's! You all know Able, but I can't tell you who my other dad is.

[rox-and-prose]

.

[icewindandboringhorror]

(also feel free in the tags to clarify Why you made the choice you made!! :0c)

[starry-bi-sky]

watch me end up making a superdad au coz of WTNS

because!!! because i was thinking about how funny it is that Bruce's first two kids (Dick and Danny) would be superman fans, and how funny it would be if that influenced his opinion on Superman when they first met. And then I got to picking that apart, and how Danny's opinion and feelings on Superman would have the bigger impact on Bruce than Dick, since Dick's admiration for Superman (presumably) comes from the standard little kid "he's an alien and he can FLY" (and flying graysons) stuff. Which, while very very cute, is easy to ignore and disallow swaying feelings on.

But DANNY? It's not the same. While part of Danny's admiration comes from the same "holy shit he's an alien and can fly thats so COOL" vein, it also comes from a place of feeling deeply relatable to him. Both he and Superman were/are perceived as incredibly powerful, deeply dangerous creatures that are nigh impossible to stop, they have a handful of powers that are similar to one another, and they are (one of) the only ones of their kind. Superman is (one of) the last Kryptonian, Danny is (one of) the only Liminal in existence, and they might not be the same species but the principle remains the same and they're in the same boat.

As a result, Danny would just, god, he'd find so much relation in that. And yeah they're not the same but Superman would make him feel just a little less alone, a little more seen, and he'd find so much comfort in that.

And Bruce, by the time he meets Superman, would know by then about Danny's powers and his experiences and his time as Phantom and as a Liminal. And it's easy to ignore your kid's admiration for another Superhero when it stems from a place of plain hero worship or simple appreciation. It's harder to ignore it when your kid admires a Superhero because they make them feel seen and relate to them on a level you can't reach them on.

When that's the reason, how could he not think differently about Superman? When, by then, he's seen the scars left on Danny's body from all of his fights; when he's seen him cry and break down over never being able to fly again thanks to the blood blossom poison; when he's heard all about the struggles he faced with his powers, the fear he had about being found out, the fear he had when he was first developing them; and how he was ostracized by his city for his efforts just because he wasn't human, despite how much he was just trying to help.

How could he not look at Superman when they first meet, mask-to-mask, and have a little voice in the back of his mind go: 'my kid is a lot like you'

its making me emotional. if these feeligns persist im going to end up making a superdad au

[faggling]

I love taking care of people omggg 😍😍😍

[neverendingford]

.

[xximperioxx]

Work Crush

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x fem!reader

Word count: 3k (I blacked out)

Warnings: age gap (reader is in her 20s), cursing, nothing too spicy - my man just wants to kiss his girl, sex toy mentioned lmao

Notes: y’all this man has me in a chokehold. He may be a little ooc but idc. This is kind of set before the first episode. I literally don’t know any about social workers so please ignore. It’s been soooooo long since I’ve written something so please be gentle. Also when you read it you can totally tell I listened to I Can See You by Taylor Swift writing this.

———————————————

Being a social worker at the Pitt has been interesting to say the least. You never know what’s going to come through those doors. The days are long and the shifts are difficult but the people and families you’ve helped regardless of the situations have made it worth it.

You started as an intern a few years ago, working directly with Kiara. You’ve become a tight knit family in the Pitt in a short amount of time.

You obviously cared for some co-workers more than others. Kiara was like your mom in and out of hospital. Dana was your work mom, Langdon was like your annoying brother, Collins and McKay felt like older sisters. Robby was different.

At first it started as a silly work crush. Blushing every time he said your name. It had to be how he looks in scrubs. That’s what you told yourself anyways. That was until you both saw each other outside of work at a local coffee shop.

You walked into the coffee shop down the street from your apartment, half asleep even though it’s after 2pm on your day off. Lifting your sunglasses to the top of your head, you scan the restaurant. You take an earbud out and stare at the menu debating on trying something new.

You feel someone stand next to you. Not ready to order, you turn to the person, “Oh I’m not ready yet, you can…Robby?”

He looks down in surprise, almost not recognizing you in casual clothes. His eyes travel down to your leggings and an old band tee with your hair in a lazy ponytail. You wanted to cringe, immediately regretting the lazy outfit.

He gives you a smile, “Fancy seeing you here.”

Your cheeks warm from his smile. “Just needed an afternoon pick me up.. well technically morning.”

He lets out a chuckle, “Just woke up too? I think I rolled out of bed like an hour ago.” Lies. He barely slept.

You nod with a smile, noting the lie you can see in his eyes. He feels like you see right through him.

He looks down at you, “Do you come here often?”

You purse your lips, not trying to laugh, “Was that supposed to be a pick up line?”

Robby feels himself grow red. He didn’t mean it like that. At least he thought. He opens his mouth to respond but the barista interrupts him. “Dr. Robby! You want your usual?”

Robby slowly nods in response and takes a step towards the register. You let your eyes finally take him in. Off shift Robby. He was wearing sweats and a hoodie. God he’s hot in regular clothes too. You find yourself thinking he looks a little too good in sweatpants. Get a hold of yourself.

Robby clears his throat. You’re caught red handed. Your eyes meet his. “Let me buy your coffee.”

“You really don’t need to do that.” You stutter out embarrassed. Is he being nice or flirting?

He gives you a look. “Too late. Order.” He motions you over, “C’mon, before I change my mind.”

“Yes, Sir,” you mumble before taking a step towards the barista with a smile. You can feel Robby’s eyes on you. His mind is racing with a million thoughts. He hopes you can’t hear his heart beating out his chest.

As you’re ordering, Robby pulls out his wallet. His eyes can’t help but wander over your ass. He catches himself and pulls himself back when he hears the barista’s voice. He feels like a dirty old man. He meets the eyes of the employee already looking at him. The barista repeats the amount due. Robby quickly hands the cash over.

You both walk to a table. “Thank you for the coffee. I really appreciate it.”

The smile he gives you almost weakens your knees.

“Anything for my favorite social worker.”

You let out a laugh, “Yeah, when Kiara’s not at work. She’s the best. ”

He shakes his head, “Give yourself some credit, kid.” You feel yourself deflate at the name but shake it off. “You’re fantastic at your job.”

“Says you, Dr. Robinavitch.” He makes a face at the praise and shakes his head.

It’s quiet between the two of you. You can see him thinking. Taking a sip of your coffee, you joke quietly, “One of these days, Michael.” His brown eyes meet yours with furrowed eyebrows in response, “You’ll tell me what’s going on in that brain of yours.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the coffee shop, you found yourself watching how he carried himself around patients, around his coworkers, those he thought of as friends, and you. How he cares more about others than himself. The way he smirks when jokes around, the way he smiles when he sees his residents working hard. Your heart begins to beat faster whenever he catches your eye.

You began to feel Robby’s eyes on you more. The lingering touches when he brushes past you to get to another patient. The two of you ignoring what you’re both feeling.

Langdon even noticed the tension. He thinks it’s funny to gag whenever he catches you two looking at each other. It normally ends in a hard shove and a wince.

You don’t realize you’re spacing out in front of the computer until Collins repeats your name for the third time and McKay is snapping her fingers in your face. You blink a few times before looking at her. “Sorry, I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Collins hums, “Any particular reason?”

You shrug and take a sip of your coffee. “I guess I have a lot on my mind recently.”

McKay frowns at you, “Are you taking your medication? You really…”

You stop listening to her as you see Robby walk through the door. His eyes find yours and gives you a smile with tired eyes.

McKay stops talking, following your eyes. She scoffs as Collins and Mohan both snicker.

“How does that song go?” Mohan begins to sing, “‘Daddy’s home, home for meee.”

Collins lets out a loud laugh before joining, “You know your daddy’s home. It’s time to playyyy”

“You guys are mean.” “It’s too early for this” You and McKay say at the same time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had only been about two hours into the shift and you had already talked to families about tough situations. A miscarriage, death, postpartum mental health, addiction. You had lost count already.

Sighing as the low battery message popped up on the tablet you were using, you walked over to the desk to get a new one. Langdon, Mateo, and Mohan were deep in conversation about a patient you assume.

“Listen, all I’m saying is, the majority of the people who use toys like that aren’t getting laid.” Langdon said as if it proved a point.

You turn to the trio in shock, “What the fuck did I just walk in to?”

Mohan greeted you with a smile, “Patient‘s penis got stuck in one of those hands free strokers.”

You blanched at the thought. “That’s rough.”

Mateo nods in response before joking, “It was a sticky situation.”

A snort escapes you, Mohan stifles a giggle, and Langdon groans at the bad joke.

“Alright tea party’s over.” Robby interrupts the group, “Gloria is already up my ass today. I don’t need her seeing this.”

The doctors go in separate directions, each going to check on patients. Robby sits down at a computer with a sigh. He puts his readers on. You glance at him with a smirk as you work on paperwork for a recent patient, “Is today the day?”

He lets out a snarky laugh, “To talk about my feelings? In your dreams.”

“You always are, Dr. Robinavitch. You wouldn’t believe half the things I dream about,” You cheekily respond. He shakes his head at you. A real laugh escapes him.

Kiara comes up to you with a smile and you greet her. She looks between you and Robby. Noting the smiles on your faces. “What’d I miss?”

You hear McKay call you over to a patient. Picking up a new tablet you begin to walk away. You turn your head and joke, “Dr. Robby just mentioned to me he was finally interested in talking to you about what’s going on in that brain of his!”

Kiara looks at Robby with a hopeful smile, “Really?”

“No.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later in the day, you found yourself at the counter again working on a patient file. Langdon noticed you and looked away from Dr. Robby, “What about you, (Y/N), what’s your take on dogs and kids?”

Glancing up from your tablet, “I’m actually more of a cat person myself. Had one growing up and I have one now.” You answer with a shrug.

Langdon scoffed, “You’re basically an old cat lady.”

You send a glare his way.

“You have a cat and haven’t gotten laid in like a year.”

Your face turns red in embarrassment. You confessed to Langdon that it’s been over a year since you’ve had sex when you went out drinking with him and his girlfriend not too long ago. You could almost hear the way the couple let out a sad oh in response now. Could this get anymore embarrassing?

Thankfully you don’t notice Dr. Robby’s eyes widened after hearing Langdon. Surely a young woman like yourself didn’t spend most nights alone. He finds you attractive, he wouldn’t deny that. He remembers hearing you mention Leo a few times in passing. Does this mean you don’t have a boyfriend? He shakes his head, ignoring his thoughts. He could be your dad for Christ’s sake.

“And you’re a swiftie.” Dana added.

You gape at her. “How did you even know that?”

The charge nurse chuckled, “I saw you crying in your car at All Too Well a couple months ago. The 10 minute version if I recall.”

The two doctors raise their eyebrows at Dana, surprised to know her knowledge of the song.

Robby slides his glasses down to look at the charge nurse with a smirk, “Kinda sounds like you’re a swiftie, Dana.”

Your eyes find his and you try not to smile at his way to try to change the conversation. Robby’s smirk turns into a soft smile at you. Langdon looks between the two of you and keeps his mouth shut this time.

She puts her hands up in defense, “Blame my daughters.”

“They have great taste!” You defend her daughters. Ignoring the urge to cringe knowing Dana had caught you crying over a silly guy who broke your heart.

Langdon turned his attention back to you. Pointing his pen at you, he smirks, “Officially an old cat lady…just in a 20 something year old’s body.”

Dana puts her hand on your arm, “Sweetie, you’re too young to turn into a cat lady. You can’t be spending your nights off with your cat.” she says with a light laugh.

“For your information, Leo is great company.”

Robby looks up from the computer, “Leo’s your cat?” Langdon and Dana let out a laugh at his comment.

You pick up your tablet with an eye roll. You mumble, “You guys suck.” You begin walking away before you look back, “You guys remember this next time you need me for a patient!”

Robby found himself standing up and following you. As he got closer to you he began to regret his decision. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his hoodie with a sigh.

Now in step with you, his elbow bumps your shoulder.

“That last part didn’t include me, right? Because I-..” A laugh from you interrupts him. He lets out a chuckle too.

“No Robby, I’m all yours.” You stop, eyes wide after realizing what you said. “I mean like - you don’t suck,” Robby’s grin grows causing you to turn red. “..I’m going to stop talking now.”

“Oh no, please keep going.” He teases.

You try to joke, “Is this karma for earlier?”

Your smiles wipe off you when you see Gloria standing with an unimpressed look on her face. She’s looking at Robby. You slowly turn to look at him, placing your hand on his bicep. You purse your lips and lie, “I’ll um… go talk to that patient in 103 that you mentioned,” you lean in whispering, “Good luck.”

He gives you a tight lipped smile.

Collins stops you on your way to speak to one of her patients about counseling. You walk into the patient's room with a calming smile.

As you’re discussing what services will be covered by their insurance, you get interrupted by Robby’s annoyed voice yelling, “I can only tell you so many times that this wouldn’t be happening if you hired more help! It’s fucking ridiculous. We are doing all we can down here while upstairs is empty.”

Your eyes widen and your patient lets out a laugh. You apologize for the language before casually peeking out the door to see what happened. You only see an irked Gloria and a group of nurses and doctors looking at each other awkwardly. No Robby to be seen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After finishing up your conversation with the patient you excuse yourself. Dana looks up from the computer to see you at the desk signing some paperwork.

“You talk to Robby?” She questions.

You meet her gaze and shake your head. She sighs and you look around the room, still not seeing him. “I was going to ask you that. Where did he disappear to?” You get a shrug in response. Nodding, you put away your tablet and decide to look for the stressed doctor.

You end up finding Robby leaning up against the wall in a quiet hallway. His head against the wall with his eyes closed. You watch him for a minute, debating if you should leave him alone.

You decide to join him. Leaning on the wall, your arms brush. It’s quiet.

You rest your head back and close your eyes as you enjoy the moment of peace.

Robby’s voice fills the air, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

You hum, “I know.”

He turns his head to look at you. Feeling his stare, you peek at him with one eye. You can’t decipher the look he’s giving you. “Stop looking at me like that.”

He lets out a chuckle and turns away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You laugh.

The two of you stand in comfortable silence. The loud noise from down the hall drowns out the loudness of your beating hearts.

“Does it bother you that I’m twice your age?”

The question takes you by surprise. This time you turn your head to look at him.

“I find it sexy.” You tease and he lets out a huffed laugh.

It's quiet again. You sigh, “No, it doesn’t bother me. It never did,” you pause almost hesitant, “Does it bother you that I’m young?”

Robby let’s out a tired sigh, “It would be a whole lot fucking easier if it did but it doesn’t.” He runs his hands over his face. “Everything would be a lot easier if I didn’t feel this way about you.”

You nudge his shoulder. You push yourself off the wall and face him, “Tell me about it. I’ve had the hots for you since I started here,” you begin to take a step backward to create some space and laugh, “I tried to convince myself it was purely a work crush and next then I knew is - you’re all I could think about. Day and night.”

Robby reaches for your waist and pulls you in close.Your hands rest on his chest.“Remember when you blushed every time I said your name?” You roll your eyes, “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

He turns serious again, “You take one look at me and I feel like you see right through me and it’s fucking scary. Yet every time you smile at me I suddenly feel like a teenager again.” His thumbs grazing your hips he holds you and jokes, “More like a dirty old perv actually.”

You scrunch your face, “We all have our quirks. Me with my attraction to sexy older men and being a cat lady - ”

“You’re ridiculous,” He cuts you off with a shake of his head and a smirk. “And one sexy cat lady.”

You let out a giggle.

The two of you look into each other's eyes. Robby’s eyes occasionally glancing down at your lips. His head dips down and you lift head up to meet his lips. Your lips brush against each other and you mumble, “Michael, if don’t you don’t kiss me soon I think I might pass away.”

You feel the rumble of his chest as he chuckles, “Always so dramatic.” His lips finally meet yours for a slow, gentle kiss.

You eagerly kiss him back. His hands trail up your body and cup your face, kissing you harder. You both deepen the kiss and find yourself unzipping his sweatshirt and taking it off him. He pulls his hands away from your face for a second to help take it off, your lips never parting. It falls to the ground. Your hands travel up his biceps and back to his chest. After a few seconds, you both pull away with cheesy smiles on your faces, breathless. His hands fall back to your waist and gives you a squeeze.

Your hands wrap around his neck, “That was really nice.”

He lets out a snicker before pulling you into another passionate kiss. His lips begin to travel to your jaw and down your neck. You let out a breathy sigh, “This is even better.”

Your breath hitches as he begins to suck at your neck. This couldn’t keep going farther. It'll only be a matter of time before someone catches the two of you. You let out a moan, “You've had me hot and bothered since you told Gloria off.” He groans before he nips at your shoulder in response and pinches your sides.

You squeak, “And as much as I would love to jump your old man bones right now,” another pinch, “We should really get back before she comes looking for you.” You gently pull his face back up to yours.

He nods. “You’re right.” The look in his brown eyes says otherwise. He shrugs with a teasing smile, “Maybe just one more.”

You roll your eyes before pulling him into another kiss.

It was only a matter of time until Dana found the two of you, “Hey! We don’t have time for this! Get your asses back to work.”

You jump away from each other embarrassed, blushing like two teenagers who got caught by their parent.

[militaryapple]

WHATS YOUR SAFE WORD?

synopsis. you ask caleb to degrade you, and when he agrees with his own terms you take it as a challenge.

cw. fem!reader, mild degradation, asphyxiation, fingering, cunnilingus, caleb has you in a headlock, marking, he gets hard when you call him colonel.

add ons. hope everyones having a wonderful monday

wc. 1.6k

"you want me to what?" caleb said surprised. degradation? it wasn't his forte. It's not like he didn't want to degrade you, tell you how much of a fucking slut you looked when you begged for him to fill up every little crevice of your throbbing cunt. he couldn't help but praise you though, you always took his cock so nicely. it was practically made for you. the sounds you made whenever he would go deeper in your sweet cunt, how perfect you looked when he fucked you senseless. it just rolled off his tongue naturally!

"caleb" you whined softly. he thought about it. oh he couldn't help but say yes to you, he couldn't say no. not when you look up at him, batting your eyes in a way that makes you look oh-so-innocent. he couldn't help but have a wide grin fall upon his face. "okay okay, fine pipsqueak." he said playfully "but-" and there it was.

your once gleeful face dropped. of course there was going to be a "but" this is caleb after all. why did he have to make this more difficult than it needed to be? it was just gonna be like.. a test the waters thing.

"hey don't look so sad on me now, I know why you're asking me to do this anyways." he clicked his tongue after finishing his sentence, pushing his hand into his pocket before pulling out a sheet of paper, and you felt your heart drop.

oh god.

oh lumiere.

"100% masochist.." how did he?

"98% rope bunny?" take it back.

"87% experimentalist?" your face flushed, you felt like you were burning before rushing towards him and grabbing the small piece of paper. dammit! this is why you don't do things with your friends after you drink! you leave evidence of shit around! you hit Caleb as hard as you could before he ducked and laughed. how could he even find this?! you swore you hid it well. well enough that after you woke up with a very bad hangover you forgot where you placed it.

"i know everything about you pips. you think I wouldn't be able to find a small little paper you attempted to hide away?" caleb said, almost mocking you. "did you forget who took care of you last night? I'm glad I looked at it when I did. i'd be a little sad to miss something this interesting about you." he shifted over on the couch where he was seated. you plopped yourself down next to him in embarrassment.

fuck your life.

"ah- back to our conversation, my only 'but' was that we have a safe word." his gaze shifting from the paper now peering at you. his face smug. like he fucking knows everything. "you go through my things, you make fun of me and now you want a safe word? ha? do you think i'd need to tap out or something?" you snarled back at him

caleb shifted from a comfortable position to a more.. open one. his legs widened as he couldn't help teasing you. look how flare you get? how your cheeks puff and your eyes burn into him. shit you were sexy like this.

"i'm just saying pip-squeak, if you cant handle it anymore, just say the word and i'll run a warm bath for you. we can cuddle and.." he trailed off as you moved to him, placing yourself on top of his lap as his gaze, once shifted downwards to meet your eyes now looking up.

"the safe word is apples. I won't need it since you're obviously challenging me." you retorted. there was no way you were losing some sort of game to caleb. he might have physical strength but you have mental strength, and that's more than enough.

caleb hummed in approval before grabbing you by your sides and swaying your hips on his crotch. oh fuck did it rub you just right. "I know everything about you." he whispered in your ear, his breath hot. fiery. you could feel the dent in his pants rising as the friction only made you feel so much better. you couldn't give in now, you both were just beginning.

caleb dug his face in the crook of your neck his kisses moving up as he bit the side of your neck, hard enough for you to feel it but not enough to make you bleed, softly coating the area with his saliva. "I know what you like," his nibbles becoming more and more prominent, "what you hate" the feeling was euphoric for you. "what you need." oh fuck, was he marking you?

you didn't have time to react before you were flipped to your front side. it didn't take any time before caleb unbuckled your pants and undoing your zipper. one of his arms putting you in a headlock, not quite hurting you but squeezing you, while his free hand made its way down your pants and in your panties. you would be lying if you said this wasn't turning you on, and caleb knew.

"you're drenched for me baby. what is it? you like the feeling of my big arms being wrapped around your pretty little throat? its almost pathetic." his arm tightening at the feeling of you wiggling beneath in, ah ah. you weren't getting out of this that fast. he rubbed your clit slowly, kissing the back of your neck as you pleaded for him to move faster. this was torture.

caleb was more than amused, he watched as you wiggled and writhed under him. oh how he would love to just give into you but he couldn't, not when you wanted him to be mean, and that's when he heard it.

"colonel, please."

could you say that? it didn't matter. he was rock fucking hard. hearing that from you was like sweet music to his ears. caleb rubbed your throbbing clit faster, your hand grabbing on his arm wrapped around your neck keeping you stern in place. "say it again, call me colonel, tell me how much you fucking need and how you cant do anything without me." you could only shake, you were so close to your release. your head fuzzy from the low oxygen you were getting, and the feeling of you creaming your pants.

caleb moved his hand away, moving it on your thigh as he rubbed it. you begged for him to touch you again. for him to make you cum all over him. "i know baby, just say it. say you need me, say you need your colonel." he coos. you felt fucking stupid. drunk off his slim fingers which made you feel so divine. all you could do was nod your head and let out a small "okay". caleb kissed the side of your head. "see baby? you're not that stupid."

he moved his finger back as he kissed and smothered you. rubbing your sensitive area as you babble out whatever you could. "I need you colonel. please, please I need you in so many ways. I'm nothing without you, I need you." it was a melody for him, a tune that would play over and over in his head until the day he actually dies. you shook as he felt you tense up. the familiar feeling he knows all too well. "you came? who said you could do that? jeez you are slutty."

he scooped you up and brought you to his room, throwing you down as he undid his pants. he looked over and noticed his work gloves, and a bright idea came to his head. caleb walked over and grabbed his gloves, sliding them on before towering over you and moving his hands to pop right inside your exhausted pussy.

"you cant expect me to just stop now. i wanna feel good too, until you call quits is all." caleb made fun of you. you weren't going to give out, even if he felt so fucking good, and the way his fingers slipped in and out of you. fuck the gloves were cold, but they felt so so good. you shivered underneath as he hit all your good spots.

you squirmed, your body aching for more, you grabbed on his arm and looked up, babbling for something, anything. though you were met by the soft coo's of caleb. "come on use your words, I know you can." he held you down while his fingers abused your cunt.

"please caleb, please just fuck me already." it was those few words that made him flip you upside down and slide his cock in you. he moaned and held on you while he got into a somewhat steady pace. in and out, in and out. his balls hitting your clit while his tip kissed your sweet spot. "yeah? you like that? nasty little thing." he coo'd.

you couldn't take anymore, you had to cum. your body shook. you were close, so so close it was like you would fall off a ledge. you grabbed caleb whining. "please colonel, let me cum, please I've been good." you pleaded. caleb drowned at your words, he was rearing his end too. "okay baby, yeah, cum for me, okay? come on come on." his body slammed into yours, feeling a wave of euphoria wash of you. it took Caleb a few more slaps before he eventually slowed down. he slid out of you, watching your every movement.

"I told you" you said sweetly. "we didn't need a safe word. I can take you." you were right to some extent, but you were still fucked out. as for Caleb, he moved back to admire what he had done to you, before letting out a small chuckle.

"what pip-squeak? you think that we're done? you haven't tapped out yet, which means we aren't done."

[blank-potato]

I Love The Girl With Magic Ways

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Witch!Reader

Summary:

He’s there, standing at the foot of your bed, shadows clinging to him like silk. Those eyes, golden and curious, lock onto yours. Not threatening. Not kind. Just... watching. “You dream of me,” he says, not asking. You swallow, and the air thickens. “That's not an invitation to break into my room at night.” He tilts his head, taking a step closer. “You called me. You always do—when your thoughts stray, when your control slips. You think about me more than you care to admit.” You don’t respond. Can’t. Because he’s not wrong. Or When training with Bob goes awry, you come face-to-face with The Void, and he's interested in you; he wants to know what makes you tick.

WC: 2.5k

A/N: Title from Magic Ways by Tatsuro Yamashita (such a good song). I'll probably write a part 2 to this, methinks (linked below). Here's the link to the request here. Enjoy!

Part 2

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ✴︎˚｡⋆ ✴︎˚｡⋆

Training with Bob wasn’t going well. It was frustrating, more for him than you, but still difficult. When you had tried to help him focus, to channel his power, you’d taken a gentle approach, even though gentleness didn’t come naturally to you all the time.

He’d broken the mirrors and the containment shields in the training facility and accidentally thrown you into a wall with his mind.

“I swear, I didn’t mean to.”

“I know…” You groan, brushing dust off your sleeve as you push yourself up.

You make your way back over to him. He’s sitting on the floor, hands in his lap, and anxiety is coming off him in waves.

“It’s okay,” You say softly, sitting beside him. “You’ll get it.”

You don’t know if the look on your face is reassuring or just tired, but judging by the way he won’t meet your eyes, it probably isn’t convincing. He doesn’t seem any more confident.

You sit next to him, trying to think of how to teach him control in a way he’ll actually absorb. You sigh, watching him.

“When I harness my magic, it’s like… holding energy, shifting it from one place to another—like water between cupped hands. Maybe if I show you how I do it, you can follow. How’s that sound?” You sigh, not meaning to sound tired, but you swear you still have a crick in the neck from hitting the wall.

“I’ll give it a shot.”

You nod, the light glowing in your hands, flickering softly like a heartbeat. Bob finds it beautiful, the way you shape it and mould it with such ease. He doesn’t fully understand it himself, not yet, but there’s awe in his eyes.

“Your turn,” You say gently, passing the moment to him.

He tries. Nothing happens at first, just stillness, but then there’s a faint buzzing in the air, a low hum that tickles the edges of your senses. He can feel it. So can you. His eyes glow as he concentrates.

He’s getting there, but—

“Just a little more…”

Your hand hovers next to his, almost touching, and suddenly, there’s a jolt—like a circuit overloading. Lights flicker, then short out, sparks raining from a fixture above. Half the room is thrown into darkness, the other half stuttering with flickering light.

Bob exhales sharply, his face contorting in frustration. “I messed up again,” he mutters, rubbing a hand down his face. It had been at least the tenth mistake in the last thirty minutes, and it was starting to wear him down.

“Control can be hard to learn, but it doesn’t mean it’s impossible…” You say, trying to keep your voice steady, calm, and reassuring.

“I’m hopeless…” Bob murmurs, the words heavy with self-doubt. His chuckle is bitter, empty, and the silence that follows feels louder than any explosion. His eyebrows knit together, and he looks away, shoulders slumping under the weight of his frustration.

You step closer, the glow still dancing faintly in your palms.

“You’re not hopeless. You’re learning. And that’s never a straight line.”

You feel a chill slide down your spine as something shifts, and darkness begins to creep in, curling at the edges of the room like smoke spilling through cracks.

“Bob?” You call again, more urgent now.

The room is fading into a thick, velvet black, seeping into every crevice, swallowing light and colour like a slow tide.

“Bob? Talk to me,” You say, your voice cutting through the dark, a single thread trying to reach him before the void does. It’s too late, though. 

He keeps his head down. It’s clear the words aren’t even getting to him anymore. The darkness overtakes him, swallowing him whole. What emerges is a shadowy figure only being illuminated by the faint flickering light of the broken overheads.

You step toward him, slow and cautious, before you meet his gaze.

His golden eyes glint back at you through the dark, sharp and gleaming with something unreadable. A sinister smile works its way onto his face, deliberate, unsettling in its calmness.

“I’m curious about you,” The Void murmurs, voice low and unnervingly calm. “I want to know what you can do.”

“And I want to talk to Bob,” You retort, eyes narrowing.

“You are talking to Bob,” it replies, with a slight twist of amusement, mocking, almost cruel. “...a part of him, at least.”

You smirk, sharp and laced with sarcasm. “Charming.”

He steps closer and invades your space like a cold draft slithering under a door. The air tightens, heavy and bitter. You can feel his presence: not just beside you, but around you, coiling like smoke, probing.

Still, you hold your ground, looking straight into his eyes. You don’t flinch. “How interesting,” he muses, tilting his head. His darkness moves again, tendrils slipping toward you, tasting the air around your magic, your thoughts, your fear.

But they meet resistance. Your magic flares, and the darkness recoils, hissing as it brushes against your glow.

You remain standing, untouched.

“I’m not afraid of you,” You say, voice like steel wrapped in silk. “And Bob isn’t yours to keep.”

He studies you before letting out a low, curious laugh. “No,” he says finally. “Maybe not.”

“Could I keep you instead?” The Void asks, voice low, almost amused, but there’s something sincere beneath it. He reaches out to touch your face, fingers grazing the space between you.

But you grab his hand before he can. You laugh softly, a little disbelieving.

"I think I suit you quite nicely," he murmurs, undeterred.

"I can see what they can't," he continues, his eyes narrowing, glinting with something ancient and knowing. "The anger, power right at your fingertips and yet you try to play the hero. Why?"

“I’m not playing at anything,” You say firmly, voice steady, eyes locked on his.

He leans in, the shadows around him thickening, curling like tendrils reaching out. They’re dark, hungry, trying to pull you closer, to draw you into their world.

But you fight back. Not with every ounce of will you have, pushing against the invisible pull, anchoring yourself.

“I beg to differ,” he murmurs, his breath grazing your skin like a whisper, cold and intoxicating. “Such wasted potential. All for the notion of being good when you could be so much more.”

You reach out, your hand hovering near his temple. Your fingers glow, light pulsing softly, alive. He watches, unblinking, as your magic stirs in the air like smoke catching fire. It’s ethereal, coiling, licking at him, and it has him curious. 

You're trying to see into his mind, but—

“I think the real question is…” he interrupts knowingly, tilting his head, “…are we inside your mind or mine?”

The words twist around you like a spell, and suddenly, the weight shifts. The darkness starts to peel away from your limbs, sloughing off like ash in the wind. You blink, feeling the ground under you change, reality sliding sideways.

The Void just smiles.

“I’ll see you soon.”

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ✴︎˚｡⋆ ✴︎˚｡⋆

You’re still thinking about it… about him.

Every time you’re training with Bob, he’s there, at the edge of your thoughts. You’re not in fear. You’re not scared of the Void, not really. It’s more like a wariness, a flicker of unease that one wrong move, one flare of power, might open the door again. Might bring him back.

It was wrong. And confusing. But a small part of you wanted to see him again. 

Your mind drifts when you’re not paying attention—whether it’s during missions, training, or even in bed. He’s in your dreams when you fall asleep, and sometimes, you wake up imagining the ghost of his voice in your ear.

The Void hadn’t tried to hurt you. No, he watched you—studied you. And in some twisted way, he seemed to want you. Not to harm, not to destroy… but to possess, to understand. You just wanted to know why. What did he see in you? What was it about you that drew something like him in?

One night, you’re in bed, the day heavy on your bones, the world finally going quiet around you. You’re slipping closer and closer to sleep…

But you sense it, that shift in the air, a pulse of dark presence curling at the edges of your senses. You feel him before you even open your eyes.

“This is bordering on obsession,” You sigh, eyes still closed.

You hear him laugh, low and amused. The sound crawls down your spine, equal parts unsettling and intimate.

“Not bordering. It is obsession,” he replies, and you can hear the smile in his voice, like he’s proud of it.

Reluctantly, you open your eyes.

He’s there, standing at the foot of your bed, shadows clinging to him like silk. Those eyes, golden and curious, lock onto yours. Not threatening. Not kind. Just... watching.

“You dream of me,” he says, not asking.

You swallow, and the air thickens. “That's not an invitation to break into my room at night.”

He tilts his head, taking a step closer. “You called me. You always do—when your thoughts stray, when your control slips. You think about me more than you care to admit.”

You don’t respond. Can’t.

Because he’s not wrong.

“You’re speechless,” he teases, voice like velvet laced with static. He sits on the edge of your bed, casual, as if he belongs there.

You shift away instinctively, creating space, as if a few more inches could keep him from seeing straight through you.

“Biding my time. There’s a difference,” You reply, keeping your voice even, though your pulse betrays you.

The Void watches you closely, amused by your defiance. Or maybe by the fact that even now, you're still trying to guard yourself. Still playing the game.

His eyes flicker, a faint glow blooming within them like embers. “You may say you don’t want me here, but you keep opening doors.”

“I’m not doing it on purpose,” You bite back, sharper than intended. He smiles, but there’s something beneath it, something hungry. “That’s the best part.”

His hand twitches slightly, not reaching for you, but close. Waiting. 

“You’re more than you think. More than they let you be, more than you let yourself be.”

The air thickens again, and you’re feeling him again, his presence threads through the room like smoke.

“What do you want from me?” You ask, tired of circles.

Suddenly, he sounds less teasing, more honest. 

“To see you become more than this,” He leans closer as if observing you, “You’re no hero. You’re something else entirely.”

He almost sounds in awe of you.

You want to lie. You want to turn away, pretend you don’t feel it, the weight of his words, the strange reverence in his voice.

But in some weird, completely twisted way…you felt seen.

“Show me what you can do,” he says softly, like a challenge… or a plea.

Against your better judgment, your hands move. Fingers lift with purpose, glowing as your magic rises like a tide. Not to attack. Just to beckon. To draw him in that fraction closer.

And he comes.

He leans in, unflinching, until his lips hover just a breath away from yours. The air between you hums with tension, your power brushing over him.

He doesn’t flinch. He invites it.

He looks at you, eyes gleaming. They weren’t cold, but burning. Goading.

“Do it,” he whispers. “Manipulate me. I want to see you try.”

Your magic coils, crackling faintly between you both, held barely in check. It licks at his skin like fire starved of air. You could push. You could twist something in him, see what bends and what breaks.

That thought strikes sharp and fast, and then you remember.

Bob. Somewhere beyond this darkness, behind the weight of The Void’s presence, he’s there. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t risk hurting him.

You lower your hands slowly, magic fading from your fingertips. The crackle in the air dies with it, and you feel the release.

The Void sighs dramatically. “What? You don’t want to hurt me? I’m disappointed.”

You vanish from in front of him, slipping through space in a blink, reappearing beside him, your lips by his ear, breath warm and taunting.

“I live to disappoint,” You murmur with biting sarcasm.

He chuckles, low and amused, the sound vibrating in your chest more than your ears.

“So you’re playing with me then?” he asks, a smile curling through his voice, teasing and predatory.

You teleport again, this time behind him, close enough to feel his back press against your body like the edge of a knife.

“Something like that,” You say, voice calm, almost bored.

This little verbal spar you had with him was… addictive. A dangerous dance on a wire stretched taut between temptation and control.

But then he shifts, turning around to face you. 

His expression darkens—not angry or violent—but filled with intent. He turns, slowly, deliberately, and starts walking you back with that same quiet pressure in the air that makes your skin prickle.

You don’t step away. You should, but you don’t.

Then, his hand reaches out, and in a second, you’re pinned against the wall. The cold wall meets your spine, and again, before you can blink, he lifts you effortlessly with his mind, sliding you up until your feet leave the ground. His body never touches yours, but his presence crashes over you like a wave.

“I don’t want to play games,” he says, voice low and electric. You meet his eyes, your own burning with something halfway between challenge and adrenaline.

“But this one is so much fun,” you quip back, your tone reckless, like flicking sparks into a powder keg.

His jaw clenches, just slightly. Not in rage. In restraint.

“I came to see you,” he says, eyes scanning your face like a puzzle he hasn’t yet solved. “But all you do is run and hide behind your clever little words.”

“Maybe you need to chase me,” You reply, breath shallow but steady. The Void pauses, his voice surprisingly soft when he answers, “And how long would you make me chase you?”

You meet his gaze, your heart skipping.

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you disappear from his hold, reappearing right in front of him, so close you can see the sweep of his eyelashes. You lean in just a little more, the space between you charged.

“Until I think you’ve had enough.”

His eyes widen a little, but he stifles it. 

“Until I’ve had enough…” he repeats to himself, quietly, like he’s tasting the words. He searches your eyes, there’s something in you, something he needs. Finally, a slow, dark smirk spreads across his lips.

“We’ll see.”

The energy between you crackles, thick and electric. You both want this; he wants to pull you into the darkness, to make you lose yourself. Sure, you wanted to play with him, but you could kiss him and still keep him at bay.

But just as your eyes flutter shut and you feel the weight of his presence drawing near, then suddenly there’s only air.

You open your eyes, breath catching. You turn and he’s standing by your door, smiling at you again.

“I’ll see you soon.”

With that, he fades away, leaving you standing alone, still in your mind.

Masterlist

[boopsiesdaisies]

being near each other

bob reynolds/sentry x reader | 2,130 words | angst&fluff | gn!reader

THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS

tw: panic attacks, swearing

bob and you are both so bad at feelings, but maybe you'll find a way to make it work?

a/n: i'm down bad crying at the gym, why does he look like a kitten in a storm drain, but ripped as shit??

link to part two!

____

Living with the New Avengers was the most difficult task that you had encountered in your life. Sure, you had defeated your fair share of villains, but living with roommates was arguably the worst experience of your life. Not just any roommates, these roommates specifically. All of you had tried to establish a chore chart, but after Walker’s week of hell, it was a collective decision to abandon that. You had no idea how that man had survived life to this point, since he somehow made chloroform to clean the communal kitchen and knocked out every member of the team, you had decided that he was never to be allowed near bleach or rubbing alcohol again. If cleaning the base didn’t stress you out enough, the bass on Alexei’s speakers that played nearly 24/7, or the constant lack of personal space from working and living together was going to drive you mad. But cleaning, noise, or personal space weren’t the issues that worried you the most. The worst issue was Bob. 

You had hoped that after living with the team that you would be able to shove any emotional feelings for Bob deep, deep down. It hadn’t worked. Instead, you spent everyday attempting to hide any upturn of your lips and softness for the man as the feeling in your chest continued to grow. It only grew worse with every single interaction. From sitting next to him in meetings to watching him quietly hum to himself while he washed the dishes. Alright, so maybe you watched him a lot, but that wasn’t your fault! It had to have been Bob’s fault with his dumb stupid hair, and dumb stupid smile, and dumb stupid laugh, and dumb stupid abs that you would  have never expected on him– 

Woah. You were getting ahead of yourself. The blush began to creep higher on your cheeks as you tried to will yourself to focus on the moment. 

“Okay, who's sitting out of the mission tonight?” Yelena’s voice pulled you back to the present. 

“None of you look at me, I’ve done it so many times it’s not even fair,” Alexei said.

“Who’s turn is it anyway?” Walker turned to look at the chart in the meeting room.

“No, no way, you didn’t like the chart so don’t go looking for it to save you now,” you laughed. 

“Actually,” Walker’s tone increased in pitch, elevating the level of cockiness to him. “It’s your turn.”

“My turn?” You clarified, fear beginning to pull at you.

You wanted nothing more than to get out tonight, the heat of your blush was beginning to go to your head, and the idea of sitting with Bob tonight was not going to cure it. 

“Yep, your turn,” Walker solidified and turned back to Yelena. “Do we want to wheels up at 0800?” 

“Oh my God we get it you were in the military John, get a hobby,” Ava spat as she began to stand.

As she stood, it cued everyone else to stand, as you were left reeling. Panic began to set in as you realized you couldn’t be left alone with Bob today, your heart might explode in an ungraceful love confession at this rate. 

“Wait, wait, wait, I can’t stay behind this time guys.” You said as you tried to stop everyone from leaving the table.

“It’s your turn,” Walker said.

“Okay, so it’s my turn because the chart said so, but if the chart said it was your turn you would fight it, how is that fair?” You pushed.

“Because it is convenient for him now, it’s no big deal, we each take turns staying home with Bob,” Yelena pushed back, as everyone left the room, except for you.

“Guys, c’mon,” you groaned and turned your back to face the wall, only to see the face of Bob staring back at you. There was a softness in his eyes despite the childish display you just put on.

He cleared his throat and looked down, “sorry you got stuck with me.”

“I didn’t get stuck with you, I just didn’t–” you started, quick to stop yourself. Shit, this was going to go poorly. 

“It’s fine, I’m used to it. Well not used to my powers, which is why you’re stuck here, but I mean, used to being left behind.” The small smile that graced his lips made everything worse.

“You’re not left behind, it’s just not safe for you until you know what you’re doing, which is why we probably shouldn’t let Walker anywhere out of the house.” You laughed softly to yourself. “I just wanted to go today, that's all.” 

You were lying through the skin of your teeth and you were hoping that the seemingly every permanent blush on your face wasn’t going to give you away. 

“So, since we have a few hours to ourselves, do you want to make dinner or something?”

“Sure!” Bob bounced up, seemingly recovered from your persistence to leave earlier and bounded over to the kitchen.

If you were never letting Walker in the kitchen again, you weren’t going to let Bob near it again with a ten foot pole. You had never encountered someone who truly could not find anything or do anything in the kitchen. At every step, you guided his lost eyes to where he needed them and while the love of him was rising in your chest, you could feel the energy beginning to shift around him. 

“Hey, it’s no big deal, why don’t you just taste test for me and you can help me clean up after we’re done?” You asked.

“I just want to be useful,” Bob said. 

The tremble of Bob’s lower lip made you reach for him, the worst idea you had in a while. Your fingers lightly brushed against his hairline as tucked the ever persistent piece behind his ear.

“I think you’re useful, just maybe not at cooking,” you replied.

Bob’s hand covered your wrist and suddenly everything went dark as you relived the very worst moments of your life. 

___

When you finally came to, the smell of burning food overpowered your sense as you gasped for breath over and over. The tears that pricked the edge of your eyes overflowed as you pushed yourself to sit up. The panic in your body began to rescind but the pain from falling to the floor seemed to dull any other sensation or cohesive thought. As you tried to reorganize your thoughts, and catch your breath, the only thought that came to your mind was Bob. He was here when you fell and now he’s gone. The panic refilled your lungs again, although it wasn’t about you anymore, it was entirely for Bob. Every fiber of muscle pushed you forward as you searched for his figure around the kitchen. Seemingly absent from the kitchen, you pulled the food of the burner worrying about turning the stove off later, as your feet began to run to the hallway of shared rooms. Your voice carried his name over and over as you prayed that you were going to be able to find him before the Void took over. You cursed yourself, feeling entirely at fault since it was your inability to come to terms with care for another person that put him in this mess. As you approached the hallway, the level of destruction increased. Overturned furniture, picture frames torn off the wall, and blocking the path, crowded you as you pushed through the mess to find him. 

You heard him before you saw him. Loud sobs coming from behind the door to his room, only halfway on its hinges. Slowing, you peek through the door to see him. Balled against the furthest corner of his room, with hands pressed over his ears, gasping for air just as you were only moments ago. You were so focused on him you couldn’t tell if your breathing was still ragged. 

“Bob?” You asked softly, praying the human part of him was still winning the fight.

He didn’t respond to you as you pushed through his room. The broken wood and glass fragments crunched under your shoes as you stepped closer to him. The darkness pulled away any of the light near him or of the setting sun in the window, covering the edges of his arms. You crouched down, and sat next to him.

“I’m going to touch you okay?” You asked as you reached to rub his back.

“No!” He pulled away, “you can’t, it’ll happen again.”

“I don’t think it will, it’s okay, I’m just going to rub your back.” You lightly placed your hand on his back, and began to rub small circles on his upper back.

Bob began to speak again, but stuttered over his words as the sob racked through his body.

“Hey, it’s fine, take a deep breath, I can’t help you if I don’t know what's wrong.” You leaned closer to him as looked up to you.

Bob’s eyes scanned the room, he seemed so afraid. “What does it matter, you don’t care.”

“Of course, I care,” your hand fell off his back. “I care about you a lot.”

“You wanted to leave,” he said, quoting the moment from earlier and part of your heart ached.

“I did,” you agreed. 

There was no point in denying the moment, but you weren’t quite sure how to vocalize why that would make sense.

“I don’t–” you began only for Bob to interrupt you.

“I don’t even know what I was thinking, rigging that stupid chart like they all suggested to get you to talk to me, why would you even want to talk to me?” He fully turned away from you in that moment.

The irony of the moment made you laugh. 

“See now you’re laughing at me and –” He started.

“No, I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing at how bad we are at…this.” You gestured to the invisible this, and noticed Bob’s breathing, while still quick, seemed to had slowed down enough for conversation. In a moment of bravery, you pulled Bob’s face back to look at you.

From this distance you could see the details in his eyes. The brightness that pulled into them as his powers grew in intensity was overwhelming. The eye contact was going to kill you as if you didn’t already want to crawl into a hole and die. Your communication skills were going to shit the longer you looked at him. The constant blush that accompanied your face when you were near him seemed to worsen, as you hoped the tightness in your chest was from the fear of sharing your feelings over another run in the Void. 

“I wanted to leave because I’m afraid of talking to you,” you started. 

The hurt that flashed across his face in that moment seemed to make everything worse for a moment. “Shit, not like that, not in the ‘I think you’re scary’ or ‘I don’t like you’ kinda way, but in the ‘I like you a lot and I’m afraid of real feelings’ kinda way.”

Still getting no response from Bob you kept going, “I had hoped that if I kept avoiding talking about it that it would get better. But everything you do makes me feel whole and like there's this warmth in my chest whenever I’m near you, and I’m blushing like I’m some high schooler, and it’s weird and I don’t hate it but I don’t know how to deal with it.” 

“What?” The starkness of the question pulled you out of your tangent.

“I like being around you,” you said softly. “I really do.”

“You’re not mad at me?” The tears began to well in his eyes again.

“No, why would I be mad at you?” You asked.

“Because of the kitchen?” He looked down at his shoes, apparently finding something interesting in the chaos of the room.

“Did you do it on purpose?” You asked.

“No!” Bob started, before you stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“Then I would never be mad at you.” You did your best to sound reassuring.

After a few moments of silence, Bob spoke. “I don’t know how to talk to you either, but I like being around you.”

“Okay, so we’ll work with that.” You smiled. “We’ll just start with being near each other.”

Bob’s eyes met your eyes again. “Okay.”

“Okay,” you replied as you brushed the piece of hair out of his face again. This time, his eyes were back, the blue looking almost gray in the low lighting of the room.

“What the fuck did you two do?” Yelena’s voice pulled the two of you out of the moment. 

You really hated your roommates at that minute.

[p1astr81]

Trying to beat best friend lando at the racing sims by sitting on oscars lap so he can do the pedals and him getting hard mid game

so I may have gotten a bit carried away… smut!! you’re responsible for the content you consume!! dom!reader (if you squint), sub!oscar (if you squint), oral (m!receiving), semi public sex

“Ugh! It’s not fair! This is your job!” You complain, having been beaten by Lando for the third time on the sim.

He brought you to the mtc, wanting to give you a tour. You’ve now spent more than an hour racing each other on the development sims.

Lando laughed. “Sorry, I’m just better than you.”

“I can steer. I just can’t get the breaking points right.” You grumble, slumping into the seat with your arms crossed.

“Wanna go again?” He asked.

You thought for a moment. Then an idea popped in your head. You smirked. “Yeah, but I’ll be back.”

Lando expected you to be gone for a couple minutes, not ten. And he certainly didn’t expect to see Oscar trailing in the room behind you.

“Alright what are you up to?” Lando asked impatiently.

Beaming, your eyes drifted from Oscar to Lando. “Your very nice teammate has agreed to help me beat you.” You laid a hand on his bicep.

“He can’t race for you! That’s cheating.”

You frowned. Then, “okay. So he does the pedals and I do the steering.” You shrugged, peering up at Oscar for confirmation.

He blinked, hesitant to agree knowing that would mean you’d be sat on his lap. It was risky. He already had a thing for you. But it also meant you’d be close to him. And it meant making you happy.

So he agreed.

“Perfect!” You cheered and Lando rolled his eyes.

You let Oscar get situated before finding your seat on his lap. “Can you see?” You twisted over your shoulder to ask.

Your faces were too close. Your hair smelt too good. The heat of your body as you back was pressed against his chest was impossible to ignore. He swallowed nervously and nodded.

Try as he might, he realized a couple laps in that his task was going to be very difficult. You squirmed in his lap with every turn you made, leaning with the wheel. He tried so, so hard to tune it out.

Focus on the pedals. Focus on the pedals. Focus on the pedals. He told himself over and over again.

But it didn’t help. The stimulation was too much. He felt his dick get harder and harder with every movement you made. And he could do nothing but wish on the stars above that you couldn’t feel it.

Eventually, he held your hips in place, fearing he’d cum in his jeans if you continued to squirm. “Try not to move so much. You’ll have more control if you stay in one place.” He told you. Not a full lie, but definitely a coverup.

And thank god, you listened.

You lost, again. But not by much. Only by two seconds instead of twenty seconds.

“Hey, we don’t make a bad team.” You laughed, a hand clasped around his bicep. “Yeah.” He laughed, slightly breathless.

When you got off his lap, your ass cruelly brushed against the bulge in his pants. He bit back a gasp, coughing instead. “I’ve got to meet Tom. I’ll see you guys.” He waved, leaving the room as fast as he could.

“Oh,” you frowned. “He forgot his water bottle.” You plucked it from where it sat on the ground next to the sim rig, following him out to the hallway.

He heard you call after him and cursed under his breath. He played it cool, smiling.

The water bottle was held out to him. “You forgot his.” Your face was accented with a mischievous smirk. He took the bottle from your hands, muttering a thanks. “Oh and uhm,” you called again when he started to walk away. You closed the gap again, dropping your voice. “Sorry for that problem I’ve caused you.”

Heat pooled up his neck and colored his face a dark crimson. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to happen. I hope you’re not upset. I just-“

“Don’t worry, it’s natural, isn’t it?” You cut him off, laughing. “But you’ve also got the same affect on me.” You told him, your seductive voice rushing more of his blood down south. You took a step forward. “You know…” you started, taking another step. “I can make up an excuse.” Another step. “Tell him I’m tired.” Step. “Or hungry.” Step. “And you could… take me home.” And step. You were directly in front of him now, almost touching, batting your lashes up at him.

He faced the ceiling, not believing his eyes nor his ears. “Oh, fuck.” He whispered.

You giggled. “If that’s what you want.”

He hesitated, and then, “shouldn’t I take you to dinner first?”

Smiling, you shook your head. “Your mother raised you right, but no, you don’t have to.”

He paused. “But can I?”

Your smiled brightened, and you turned back in the direction of the sim room. “Wait for me!” You called back.

“Hey, I’m kinda hungry and I know you’ve still got something with Zak so Oscar’s just gonna take me home.” You told Lando. He had no reason to suspect anything, not when your smile was so innocent.

He shrugged. “Thats fine. Tell him I said thanks.”

You bit back a laugh. “Will do.”

Oscar’s car was nice, like Lando’s but with cushier seats. “I did it on purpose.” You confessed. His brows shot up, eyes widened. “Well, not at first. But when I felt how hard you were against my ass and heard how hard you were trying not to make any noise… I couldn’t help but tease you a little—push you to see if you’d slip up.”

He breathed out, an attempt at a laugh. He was in disbelief. “I underestimated you.”

“As did I. I didn’t know you felt that way about me.”

“I meant I underestimated your innocence.”

You grinned. “Turn left up here.”

His brows furrowed. “But that’s-“

“Just turn left.” You chuckled.

He did as you told. “You listen so well.” You teased, a hand finding his thigh. His breath hitched. “Can I tell you something?” You asked after a moment. He nodded. “I always thought you were handsome.” Your hand trailed up his torso, feeling his abs tense. “With this hair,” you ran a hand through the messy strands. “and all your freckles,” your hand cupped his cheek, running your thumb over his cheekbones. “and this jawline.” You traced it with a finger before placing a kiss to it. Pink lipgloss was left in place of your lips. You smiled at the sight.

“You’re very distracting.” His voice was uneven, and the strain of his pants was getting more uncomfortable by the second.

You continued kissing down his neck. “Am I?”

“Yes.” You felt the vibration of his voice against your lips.

“So find a place to pull over.”

The area was secluded, lying outside of the city. He pulled the car into some parking lot in front of the football fields, far from the main street and secluded by tall grass planes. He shut the car off, cutting the headlights.

You wasted no time in freeing his dick from his pants. “You wanted me this bad?” You teased with an evil grin. He nodded, not caring how desperate it looked. Not when your hand was wrapped around the base of his cock.

You didn’t even need anything extra, his cock was already slick with pre-cum, making it easy for your hand to give him tantalizingly slow strokes.

He bucked up into your hand, his head thrown back. “Shit, please,” he gasped.

“Hm? Please what Osc? You’ll have to be more specific. I’m not a mind reader.” You chuckled cruelly, fully knowing what you were doing to him. The sight of him losing himself just from your hand was making you dizzy.

He groaned, hands balled into fists. “Please, suck me off or just… anything! Please, oh fuck! Please!” He gasped as your strokes sped up.

“You want my mouth on you?”

“Yes! Please, baby!”

You pouted, feigning sympathy, and kissed his cheek. “Since you asked so nicely…”

“Ah! Yes!” He moaned as he felt your lips wrap around his lip, tongue darting out to lick up the underside of his cock.

You sunk deeper and deeper on him, earning louder moans and groans with each inch. If anyone where around, they’d surely hear them from outside the car.

“Oh fuck, you’re perfect.” He praised, bucking his hips into your mouth to hear you gag around his length.

You continued to suck him off, cheeks hollowing around the length of him, your tongue continuing to run along the underside. “You’re- hmm, ah! Shit!” He whined when your hand went to play with his balls, whatever way he was going to praise you flying out the window.

His hand settled on the back of your head, tangling in the strands. He didn’t do anything, though. No pushing or directing the frequency at which you were sucking him off. It was just there, perhaps so he could feel at least a little in control.

When his moans turned to whines, you knew he was close. He confirmed as much with a desperate, “‘m gonna cum!” Followed by thick ropes shooting down your throat. You swallowed every drop.

He slumped against the seat, breathing heavy while looking at you like you were a slice of his favorite cake.

“How about that dinner and then I’ll take you back to mine for dessert?”

[nezuscribe]

𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you find yourself in a marriage that you never wanted in the first place. your husband seems to hate you and you begin to wonder if anything you used to think of him was even true. who would have though a marriage to gojo satoru would be so difficult?

warnings: 18+ mdni, arranged marriage, misunderstandings and just not talking shit out, mentions of cheating, slight angst (with comfort), eating out (fem! receiving), fingering, gojo doesn't really know how to husband for some of it

word count: 10.9K (whoops)

note: part two is up! i really had a lot of fun writing this so reblogs and comments are always appreciated! as always, thank you to @jadeisthirsting for beta reading <3

jjk masterlist

never did you think that you’d be stuck in a marriage to a man who didn’t love you, but there’s a first for everything. 

you should count yourself lucky that he’s not old and bald. he’s pretty. in fact, he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. his eyes are the bluest, bluer than the sky. his hair mirrors the winter snows, and his back ripples with muscles whenever he fights. 

his agility is unlike any other man. he fights swiftly and cleanly, never taking more than a couple minutes to get rid of whatever it was that stood in his way. he’s charming with his words (or so you’ve heard), and he knows how to make somebody swoon if he really wants them to. 

and he seems to despise you.

you had known gojo since you were a child, the two of you running around each other's fields as you chased him with your wooden sword. you remembered watching him in training, wishing him good luck whenever he went on a hunt. you could even remember how he would stutter whenever he tried to talk, something he must have worked on because he never seemed to stutter anymore. 

he was always nice to you, his cheeks rosy whenever you kissed him goodbye. he was kind back then, grinning brightly whenever he saw you. 

but as time grew and you with it, and it was only a matter of years before the two of you went your separate ways. it didn’t help that once he turned thirteen he had to leave for training and fighting in whatever it was that was needed of him, but you had hoped that he would be able to write back. 

you would send him letters whenever you could, it was tradition whenever the two of you were separated for too long to do so. each letter telling him about new experiences and embarrassing things that happened in your life, but he never responded. you liked to send one every week, sometimes including little tokens you thought he might enjoy. but you stopped sending them after the first two years and stopped asking about his whereabouts after three. 

but you were hopeful that when you saw him that night so many months ago, he’d be civil with you. you were nervous, sure, but who could blame you? you had recently gotten news that his time to serve his clan was over and that he was finally back home. it wasn’t as though the two of you had left on bad graces, so you were hopeful that he would at least remember you. but he could barely meet your eyes whenever you tried to catch him from across the room, acting as if you had never existed. 

he looked so different since the last time you had seen him. he was taller than most of the people in the room, his white hair just as bright as it used to be. he had gained muscle mass almost everywhere, and you felt yourself wondering just how much training he had to go through to look this way. you could see him talking to a girl, a smile on his face as he tilted his head to look at her better. you gave him some time to socialize, not wanting to intrude on anything. 

after an hour you decided that it was long enough, and tried to weave your way through the crowd to get to him. you had tried to call out to him, waving to him despite your mother quickly shoving your hand down, saying how improper it was. he heard you and you knew that he was purposely ignoring you, so you began to feel heavy-hearted after a couple of attempts at trying to catch his attention, eventually giving up. 

and now, despite you wanting to, you can’t even blame him for hating you. 

ever since your mother caught you, alone with him, a man you hadn’t seen in so long, she had swiftly and promptly proposed the idea of marriage only a few days later. it was really to save face for the two families, but it helped that this marriage would unify the two clans. 

you were sure he had ladies lined up to marry him, and you weren’t somebody he was actively trying to pursue. you didn’t even know if he was in love with somebody else if he shared a connection with a girl who was surely not you and cursed you for taking that away from him. 

not that it mattered now. 

all you wanted was to reconcile, to catch up on all the things happening in your lives. you wanted to hear all the stories he must have racked up over the years, not for this to happen. all the things he wanted for himself were ripped away because of one night from one simple act of kindness, and so you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate him for the way he acted.

you rarely come down for dinner whenever he’s there, but when you do, you feel those eyes turn icy, tracking your every movement till you sit down opposite of him. he doesn’t say much, just mutters a quiet “good evening” and you’re sure he’s only doing it so the maids don’t start to gossip. 

whenever your hand brushes his you feel him snap back, flexing his hand as though your touch burned him. he rarely came by to ask you about how you felt, and so you stopped trying to act kindly towards him if he didn’t want anything to do with it.

any semblance of romance you had dreamed of as a young girl quickly dissipated when you realized your husband wanted nothing to do with you, so you didn’t try to pursue any sort of love, deciding it’d be easier if he just did his part and you did yours so the two clans wouldn’t worry. 

he was always gone, which might be the best for the two of you. when he’s not training new men then he’s gone in a hunt. if he’s not in a hunt then he’s somewhere in his endless home, hiding away. 

you don’t know if he does this for him, for your sake, or for everybody else. 

“did you see your husband this morning?” one of your maids said excitedly as she tugged the undergarments over your raised arm, a gleeful smile on her face as she rambled about something gojo had done. you couldn’t help but return a smile of your own, although it didn’t quite meet your eyes. 

“yes, briefly. he’s busy with having to worry about the feast,” which wasn’t a total lie. you’d seen him hurriedly brush past you, quickly glancing at you as if he had forgotten you were his wife. you felt your chest tighten up with the way he glanced at your hand, and then quickly left. 

it was only a few nights away and you knew that it was the only buzz of news anybody seemed to talk about. unfortunately, for you, it meant having to socialize with other clans. you were fine with that aspect, you’d been doing it since you were young, but this time they had a right to be nosey. you knew there would be endless questions asked about the honeymoon stage of your marriage, to which you had no answer. 

sure, you’d been making up answers to hypothetical questions, but you didn’t know what gojo would be answering with, so you were only praying some of your responses would line up. 

for a night the two of you would have to pretend to be husband and wife, and while the people around you knew you were anything, you knew you had to commit to the role for the sake of you and your family’s dignity. 

but all this worrying isn’t good for your head, you could already feel the pang as you squeezed your eyes to try and get rid of it. you tried to move on from your worries, going to comment on her necklace, it seemed new, but a knock interrupted you. the two of your heads popped up, looking at where the sound came from. 

“come in!” you called out, buttoning up the last bits of your top as you thanked myra. she nodded, bowing as she went to open the door. you could hear her faint footsteps, not bothering to look up as she greeted the person behind. you guessed it was franchesca coming with the fabric samples. 

“sir,” you heard myra say, and your head swirled around, only to see the topic of your conversation make his way into your room, excusing your maid with a swift motion of his hand. she glanced once at you and then to him, ducking her head as she left, closing the door behind her as she left you two alone. 

you felt heat prickle at the back of your neck as he looked at you and then to your room. the two of you slept separately, as per your request the first night. you couldn’t bear the agonizing silence between the two of you, and he obliged. 

he was dressed for sparring. he had a loose-fitting tunic on, and pants that would allow him to move freely and without constraint. it was in moments like these that you were reminded of the fact that gojo was the strongest warrior that any of the clans had seen, that the child who once splurged on sugar in his tea was capable (and has done so before) of taking down entire armies. 

he had matured so much since what you last remembered from him. he no longer acted rashly nor spoke without thinking about what it was he wanted to say. but you still saw him eating sweets with the same fervor he did as a kid, and it never failed to make you smile, hiding it behind your hand so nobody could hear your quiet giggle. 

it had been a while since it was just the two of you, alone, and all you could think about was that night. your cheeks heated up just thinking about it, and it seemed that gojo could tell your discomfort with the way he cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair as he began to speak. 

“good morning,” he started, his eyes darting around, never setting on yours. it was funny if it didn’t cause your heart to hurt irrevocably, at how the strongest warrior in all the land could barely look at his wife. 

if only you knew.

“good morning.” you offered him a quick, disingenuous smile, moving around until you found your vanity, rummaging through your laid-out earrings as you kept your back to him, not trusting your face to give you away if you were to look at him for too long. 

you heard him take in an audible breath, but he continued whatever it was he wanted to say. 

“with the feast coming up, i want to clear some things with you,” you turned around, looping the earrings in as you nodded for him to continue. it was such a shame he was so stunning, effortlessly attractive as the sun caught off his cheekbones, bouncing off of his chest. he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, and you wondered if being here was just as painfully awkward for him as it was for you. 

“we should act like we’re…” he trailed off and you felt yourself itching to leave, knowing what he meant without having to say it. 

“in love?” you finished and he slowly nodded, gnawing on his lip as you brushed past him, going to find the mirror so you could adjust your jewelry. you could see him fidgeting in the corner, and for once you could see a hint of nervousness and unease on his features. 

and a part of you hurt. you would never admit out loud that you harbored a crush on him for as long as you could remember. it hurt knowing that you acting like you were in love was perhaps the lost genuine form of love you could show. 

“what if they ask about the night we met?” you ask after a couple of seconds, looking up from what you were doing. deep down, you knew somebody was bound to ask. even if it was just your mother who had caught the two of you alone in that garden, the news of it somehow spread (she was always one to talk). 

he scratches his head, shrugging as he eventually settles on an idea.

“just tell them the truth.” 

the truth. 

tell them how he followed you after you had run outside, sick to your stomach after a man, who was as old as your father, had introduced himself as a possible suitor. how gojo, the most ruthless warrior in all the land, had carefully put his hands on your back as you retched, offering you a towel he had fetched from inside to clean yourself up. 

tell them how you hadn’t seen him in years but the first thing you had done was to hug him tightly. how his hands wrapped around your back as though they were the only things keeping you afloat. perhaps they were. 

tell them how he murmured words in your hair to bring you back to reality, his thumb running up and down your arms to calm you down. how it seemed like even though it had been years since you two last saw each other, it felt so right, so normal, to be back in his arms. 

tell them how he had looked at you with such worry, such care, unlike anybody else had looked at you, and you for once felt safe in somebody’s arms. 

tell them how your mother found you two in such a compromising position, with your head nestled in his chest as he tried his very best to soothe your cries. it was humiliating and embarrassing to be caught with a man you had only seen back in your teenage years, and especially so in such a vulnerable position. 

you shake your head, scoffing at the idea, “i’ll just come up with something,” was your answer and he nods along, realizing how the story would be too private to share with people you barely knew.

“and we need a reason for why,” he cleared his throat once again, pink dusting on his cheeks as his eyes dropped to your stomach. your eyes met his in the mirror, and one of your eyebrows raised, “well, you’re not exactly looking like you’re carrying a child at the moment.” 

you quickly looked away, the tension in the room increasing as you moved away from the mirror, doing anything you could to keep your hands occupied. you flushed at the comment, your throat drying up as you glanced at your stomach.

the two of you have barely touched, much less been intimate with each other. you were glad he hadn’t forced the idea onto you, instead, leaving it to you to bring up the topic. you only talked about it, once, the night of the marriage, and then never again. you knew that it would have to happen eventually, but you couldn’t do it right now, not with your state of mind. 

you scrambled to say something. in all honesty, you had been dreading this question. you hadn’t been answering any of the letters your mother sent, and you knew people were expecting to hear the news of a pregnancy. 

“we’ll just say we’ve been so busy and preoccupied with the politics of marriage that we couldn’t… consummate.” you offered and he just shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as if this was the biggest inconvenience to him. 

you knew that this marriage was brought upon quickly and before either of you could object to it, but at least you tried to hide it away. if only he hadn’t acted so rashly that night, his hands on your shoulders, eyes bewildered as they racked over your figure. if only he had been more careful, or you were smarter in picking some place to be more concealed, you wouldn’t be put in this position. 

but neither of you was thinking ahead, and here you were. but he was certainly making sure that you knew of his contempt for this arrangement far more than you were. it was irritating, it scratched at your skin and ate away at your mind the more you saw each other.

“look,” he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, off of the way you were fiddling with the ring he had delicately placed on your hand so many weeks ago, “i can come up with whatever they ask, so just try your best to do the same.” you say, your voice tinged with anger, the ring on your finger acting as an anchor to the depths of the sea with the way it weighed down your movements, feeling your chest swell as he stayed silent, watching you as you opened the door. 

“i don’t-”

“um, i won’t be joining you for dinner, so don’t wait on me…i apologize, i need to work on some things for the feast…have a good day.” you swiftly murmured, shutting him in your own room as you left, your heart thumping erratically in your chest as you almost ran down the hallway. 

you had no idea how you were going to persuade the masses that this marriage was working if you couldn’t even persuade yourself. 

---

the feast of clans came earlier than you expected. 

you found yourself perched at the end of the table, gojo next to you, your stiff bodies mirroring each other as the people around you joyously helped themselves to the vast variety of food offered. 

you could barely touch the meal in front of you, your stomach churning uncomfortably with the sheer number of people that surrounded you. back home, you hated these feasts, opting to leave after a couple of bites and finish the rest of what you could pocket in your room, but here, as the clan leader's wife, you had no such luxury. 

“are you not hungry?” you looked to your side, gojo staring at your plate and then to you, his eyes squinting as he tried to decipher what you were feeling.

“i can’t eat,” you murmured, playing with your utensils as you swallowed thickly, “i don’t do well in large crowds.” 

he nodded once, looking out into the sea of bodies as he inched a little bit closer to you. he was donned in expensive fabrics, although his hair still messily fell all over. the candle that was lit in front of you had different hues of oranges and reds bouncing off of his pale skin, and if you didn’t know any better, the blush on his nose and cheeks could have been from the frigid winds from outside. 

“i’ll have myra save you a plate,” he said, giving you a curt smile as he went back to eating. 

you were momentarily taken aback by his comment, but tried not to show it, going back to fidgeting with your ring as you looked at the sea of people. nobody had thankfully come up to you and bombarded you with questions, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t going to eventually happen. 

“thank you,” you say, glancing at him and then back to your plate. 

“anything for my wife,” he replies. it’s only for show, you remind yourself, after all, when was the last time he referred to you as such? 

“gojo,” an old man had walked up to your table, his face lined with wrinkles and a beard, dressed in orange as he offered gojo his hand to shake, “i’m glad to see that you finally settled down.”

gojo blushed deeply, trying to offer him a smile as he motioned to you. 

“it’s hard to resist marriage when such a woman offers it.” he says, and you feel your eyes widen as you try to laugh off his statement. 

“yes,” the old man chuckles, eyeing the two of you. he looked familiar, and you were sure you had seen him around these sorts of gatherings before, “it was only a matter of time before it happened. we all knew just how much you liked her back when you were children.”

the two of you sputtered on your coughs, and you felt a little smile grow on your face as gojo did what he could to usher the man away. 

you could tell with the way he shifted uncomfortably in his seat that gojo wasn’t expecting that, and before you could realize what you were doing you found yourself talking. 

“i’m not a fan of feasts.” you quickly said, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them. it’s not like you felt you owed him an explanation, but you said it regardless. 

gojo looked up from his plate, grabbing his cup so he could wash down his bite. 

“any feast?” he asked, and you could feel the way the air shifted. he was glad you brought up a different topic. 

“one’s as big as this,” you twisted your ring back and forth on your finger subconsciously, “i get nervous in big crowds.”

“i remember,” a small smile grew on his face as he thought back to when the two of you were children, “you would hide under the tables and force me to come with you.” 

you chuckled, blood rushing to your ears at the fact that he remembered this about you. it was the bare minimum of what you remembered from him, but you had convinced yourself that he had washed every memory of your last selves from his mind. 

a rush of distant memories came to your head; nights spent under the tables, laughing as you two tried to keep your voices down as you tried to dodge the feet. you could still hear his whispers of staying quiet, trying to sneak out so he could smuggle in some pastries for you to eat.

“the adults scared me; they were always loud and insistent on asking personal questions.”

“like they are now?” he replied back, a tilt in his voice as you nodded feverishly. 

“yes!” you covered your mouth with your hand as you let out a laugh, a genuine one as you tried to look as put together as you could, “i swear, it’s even worse than when we were young. just the other day a wet nurse came to me and told me the best positions to get into when giving birth!” it really was a mortifying moment, your eyes darting all around as the old lady even took it upon herself to demonstrate the movements, but gojo didn’t seem to mind, laughing along with you. his eyes twinkled as they took in your giggly state, years since he had last seen you like this. 

“i feel like i should apologize,” he starts, having to cover his own infectious smile as he ducks down his head in shame, “i had her sent up to your chambers.”

your mouth dropped open in shock, lightly smacking his arm as he grinned at the look on your face.

“to mortify me so that i would never leave?” your thumb moves your ring back and forth and gojo watches you as you do it. 

“you seemed sick at breakfast, but i guess she thought it was a different sort of sickness.” gojo tells you as he cuts off some of his meat, not knowing just how much his words affected you. 

you had forgotten how simple and easy conversations were with gojo. although this was under a guise to fool people, you felt at ease with him, as if you didn’t have to be on guard with your emotions when he was around. 

“do you still want to hide under the table now?” he asked a couple of seconds later, chewing on a potato as you shrugged, looking around before your lips grew into an apologetic smile. 

“…yes,” you admitted bashfully and he smiled at your honest response. 

“if you want to hide, i’ll-”

“satoru!” a booming voice interrupted your endless spiral of thoughts as the two of you glanced upwards at the sound, “it’s been too long!” 

a man with hair as dark as night and a smile wider than any ocean had come up to your table. he was the first one to do so all night, but gojo didn’t seem bothered by it. he seemed to smile, crescents forming around his eyes as he took his friend's hand.

“too long,” he emphasized with a charming grin, motioning to you and then back to the man in front of you as if he suddenly remembered the two of you and never met, “suguru, this is my wife, y/n. y/n, this is one of my oldest friends.” 

you extended your hand outwards and the man, suguru, took it, placing a soft kiss on the back of it as he shot you a playful smile. he wasn’t at the wedding, but then yet again, it was a rather quick one. the only people who had attended were your families. 

“it’s a pleasure to meet you.” he greeted, and you nodded in agreement, sitting back down next to gojo. you felt his long fingers reach for yours, enveloping your hand in his as your heart sputtered at the touch. 

“likewise,” you answered and the man grinned politely before he slightly tilted his head, looking at the two of you sitting next to each other. 

“he’s not bothering you, is he? i know satoru can be fiendish when he wants to be, so call for me and i’ll take care of him.” he teased and you could only smile tightly and laugh along, gojo’s fingers slightly tightening around yours as he moved your hand to rest on his thigh. 

“i can take care of him when he’s fiendish. i just have to take the sugar away, right?” suguru snorted and gojo glared, but it was playful the way he looked at you. 

his hands were warmer than you would have expected. you could feel the indents of calluses on his fingertips, could feel his thumb moving back and forth on your skin in a calming sort of manner. he didn’t look over at you as he did it, playing it off as second nature. 

“i apologize for not having much time to get to know you, but i have something i need to talk to gojo about. would you mind? it will only take a minute?” he asked, and gojo let go of your hand at the time of his friend's voice. you had to control your urge to roll your eyes, shifting in your seat as you motioned for suguru to talk to your husband, watching as he stood from his seat, leaving with the man as they went somewhere a little more secluded. 

you watched as gojo leaned down to hear whatever it was that suguru was whispering in his ear, pulling back with a frown on his face. he snapped something that only caused suguru to reel back, cast a quick glance at you, and then shake his head in clear annoyance. 

you saw gojo look up, his eyes landing on somebody from across the room, and you followed his stare, only to land on a girl. 

she wore a dark yellow tunic and skirt, colors from a neighboring clan. you hadn’t seen her before, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t known. just one look at the men surrounding her and you could pick up on their lovesick expressions. 

she motioned for gojo to come to her with a bend of her finger, slyly brushing her hair out of her face to make it look as though it was nothing, exiting from the dining area and vanishing into one of the halls. 

you looked down in case either of the men glanced over to see if you were staring. your eyes pierced through the meat on your plate, bile rising up your throat. 

you gave yourself some time, counting up to a minute before you looked back to where suguru and gojo were, finding suguru standing alone. you looked at where the girl was and saw a flash of white hair before it disappeared, your heart sinking as you glanced back at suguru, only to find him looking at you. 

you looked back at your plate, picking up a knife and fork as you stabbed the meat. you couldn’t keep anything down but it’s best to pretend.

---

gojo didn’t return until half an hour later, and you refused to talk to him. 

“did anybody bombast you with questions?” he teased, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. he didn’t seem to pick up on your darkened mood as your fingers dug into your dress. 

“i had a woman ask me if you had disappeared with your mistress, but that was it.” you remarked, silence filling the void between the two of you and you realized that all you had thought of him was crumbling down. 

you didn’t care for your image anymore, giving curt answers to any questions somebody had asked. you could feel his stare on the side of your face but you didn’t humor him in looking over, focusing on your plate instead. 

so what if he was seeing somebody else? you would have been naive to think that he wouldn’t wander. the two of you barely touched each other. 

once all the guests had left over the course of the following days, you did everything you could to steer away from gojo. 

you no longer came down for breakfast or dinner, choosing to eat in your own quarters. if he wanted to have his own secrets, he could do whatever he pleased. 

though you rarely saw suguru after the feast, he did try to talk to you the morning after it took place. he cornered you after you had left from breakfast, his once playful demeanor turned serious as you tried your best to end the conversation. 

“what you saw last night-”

“is none of my business,” you finished, raising your hand as you cut him off, “if gojo has his own private matters to deal with, i’m indifferent to them all.” 

“you know that’s not what it was.” his hand hovered over your arm, careful not to touch you but not wanting you to leave either. 

“i ruined his life, didn’t i?” you tilted your head a bit in questioning. after all, that’s all you could hear from the women who gossiped as they folded the laundry, or behind the hands of the girls who watched you and gojo interact and the mothers who wanted their daughters to be set up with him only sneered at you from across the tables. 

“you…where’d you get that from?” his brows scrunched together in confusion as you scoffed, hoping he couldn’t see the tears welling in the corner of your eyes at the sting of your own words. 

“i can see it on his face. if gojo wants to have his own affairs, he can have them. it’s not like we’re in love. hopefully, i find my own way out so that the two of us look happier and this marriage looks somewhat presentable to the public.” 

you didn’t want to see the look on his face, but you’re sure he reported this all back to gojo because he didn’t look at you once after it. 

you heard from a maid a week later that he was gone for another meeting with a clan, a southern one from what you picked up, and that you should probably go and wish him some luck. 

leading up to the night of his departure you anxiously paced around your room, your feet padding on the floor as your nightgown swished behind you. 

you hadn’t talked to gojo at all that day, and purposefully so. 

it was petty, you know it was, to not want to see him, but a part of you still aches when you look back on that night. at how he didn’t explain where he was even after you asked, at how it was suguru he had sent to fix his dirty work for him. 

“y/n?” a muffled voice came from outside your door. 

your head shot up at the familiar sound, quietly dragging yourself out from your bed as you grabbed the candle, hovering on the other side as you waited for him to say something else. 

“are you awake?” you heard a soft thud from his side, almost as if his head or arm had hit the door. 

you didn’t answer, still, waiting. 

“i’m leaving tomorrow and i wanted to see you before i left.” your heart skipped at his words, careful not to make a sound as you near the door. 

“if you’re sleeping i won’t bother you anymore but if you’re not,” you could hear the old stutter he had coming back, his words meshing together as he tried to regain control, “and you’re choosing to stay quiet, i…” he sighed, his forehead thumping down as he rested it on the door, “i wanted to apologize for the feast. i shouldn’t have left you alone, and if you’d open the door, i would explain why…” he could see the flicker of the candle from underneath the crack, and saw the way it blew away, darkness following suit. 

you walked back to your bed, turning your back to the door as you set the candle down on your table. 

“goodnight,” his voice was quieter than before, and you felt guilty, but pushed the bitter feeling down.

a couple of seconds later you heard him let out a sigh of defeat, his footsteps leading away from your bedroom as you curled into yourself, hoping you would let your heart stop taking control of what your head should be doing. 

---

gojo didn’t return for a while, and you grew more impatient by the day. 

it normally took him and his men a week at maximum, and once two had passed, you felt yourself growing uneasy. 

you tried to act as passive as you could, but even myra could pick up on your growing apprehension. you have never voiced your worries over your husband before, but she knew this wasn’t like any other time. 

when you went to bed, the only thing you could dream about was that night, your brain re-running the images as you tossed and turned. 

“are you alright?” he asked, his hands on your elbows as you could barely speak, your blurry vision impairing your sight. you could only see a mop of white in the darkness, your stomach betraying you as you tried to keep the sick down. 

“i don’t feel too good,” you mumbled, trying to put some distance between the two of you as you pushed him away, only to feel him coming closer as he placed a hand on your forehead and then to your cheeks. 

“you’re burning up,” he muttered under his breath, guiding you gently so that you wouldn’t trip over your feet. 

“i’m sorry, you can go back inside, i don’t want to keep you out here.” you were slurring your words as you tried not to throw up on him. you wiped at your eyes so that you could see him better, only to reel back in utter shock to see the face of your childhood friend frowning down at you. 

your mouth formed in the shape of his name, going to say something else, before you hunched over, feeling his strong hands pat your back and keep the hair out of your face as you felt your world tilt on its axis. 

you ate your dinner at the table, eyeing his empty seat as you tried to shove his last night out of your mind. you shouldn’t feel this way, especially about a man who feels nothing towards you, but your little heart was churning in its confines the more you let yourself think about it.

sitting in the same spot where the feast took place only brought back the venomous taste in your mouth, and so you pretended that you were back home, eating somewhere without the worry of your life weighing you down like a thousand weights on your shoulders. 

myra tried her best to distract you, but she could see the distant look in your eyes, how your voice never seemed too genuine. she began to worry for you, but it seemed like your mind was fixed on one thing. 

until you found yourself pacing around your room, just like you were the night you last heard of him, playing with the ring on your finger as the moon carded through your window. 

“my lady,” you heard myra through the door, her voice shaky and a bit more on edge than usual, “there’s-” but before she could finish it slammed open, revealing the man you’d been biting your nails over, standing in the flesh.

his eyes were a dark blue, squinted as they looked right through you. his chest heaved as he looked like he was trying to catch his breath. you could see the streaks of blood that lined his usually clean clothes, the red that stained his cheeks and jaw. 

he looked feral, and it was throwing you off balance. 

“out.” he snapped at myra, and before you could scold him for his tone she fled, the door shutting roughly behind her. 

the two of you could only stare at each other. you didn’t know what to think after weeks of uselessly worrying over him, not knowing about his well-being, to see him here, in front of you, but looking different than he ever had. 

“are you alright?” 

you could barely get it out, the works sticking on your tongue as you took a tentative step forward, not knowing what to do with his state of being. 

he eyed the blood on his shirt, wiping at his cheeks as if he had forgotten it was there. he didn’t look too dirty, less dirty than one would expect from a five week endeavor through the woods, but he didn’t look too good either. 

“you were awake.” is all he says, his chest still moving up and down as though he couldn’t breathe properly. 

“that night i came by, you were awake. i saw your candle, i heard your footsteps.” he says this as though it’s fighting its way out of his mouth as if it’s all he could think about to tell you. 

“i,” you pretend that you don’t care, shrugging, “i wasn’t up to talk.” 

“you were with suguru.” he snaps, his tone shocking you, and he steps back as if he had shocked himself. he jammed his palms into his eyes, tilting his head upwards before he looked back at you. 

“for five weeks you were all i could think about. i wanted to come back, i wanted to tell you what i felt but we kept running into issues with other tribes and clans.” 

“what could you possibly think about that occupied your mind for five weeks?” you so desperately wanted your voice to come out strong but it sounded weak, as though you were hanging off of his every syllable. 

“you had told suguru that you were going to find your…own way out,” he took a step forward, and here you could see the scratches on his chest, the cuts on his arms, “i was praying to every god there was that you hadn’t found somebody in these past weeks, that you hadn’t…”

you could barely believe his words, not knowing if you should feel offended, shocked, worried, or a mix of all those three. 

“what business would it be to you if i did?” you hate that this was the response you settled on. hurt flashed across his face but he tried to regain his composure. 

“you are my wife-”

“and you are my husband!” you snapped and watched as he was momentarily taken aback by your outburst, but you continued your nose flaring, “you cannot argue with me on this when you left with some girl in the middle of our feast!” you felt all your emotions finally pouring out and you had no control over them, “everybody was talking about it, everybody was looking at me in pity!” your voice cracked, tears poking at your eyes as you pointed an accusatory finger at him. 

gojo looked down, running a hand through his hair as he pointed a finger back. 

“if you had let me explain myself, you would have known that she was trying to do what you thought she was. i left as quickly as i could but you would barely look at me!” you wanted to rip your hair out, cursing yourself for ever feeling any sort of worry for this man. 

“i know that this marriage was the last thing you wanted but at least you could play the part of a husband! you didn’t send a single note, anything to tell us that you were okay, that you were alive!” you heaved, fidgeting with your ring as you wiped at your cheeks, “and you come back here accusing me of adultery? all everybody could talk about was the fact that you were warming somebody else’s bed! they said a meeting never takes this long unless something…somebody else comes up.” your voice wobbles at the end, and you find yourself furiously rubbing your tears away, hiding your sniffing as though that would do anything.  

he paused upon seeing you cry, his face falling as he tried to step forward but you angled yourself away from him, hoping he’d get the hint. 

he wanted to hold you, to tell you that all the rumors you were hearing were false and that the only room he had left in his heart was for you. but he couldn’t blame you for feeling or thinking this way. hell, he was so sure that he’d open the door to find another man comforting you that he didn’t even stop to consider what must have been going through your head all these weeks. 

“one of the clans tried to attack us, and we weren’t ready for it. that is why we took so long.” 

you sniffle again, not caring for his explanation although it did soothe a part of your past self. 

“you could have at least sent a letter telling me what happened,” you fidget with your ring, your thumb running over the diamond, “everybody asked me questions that i should have had answers to, but i had no idea where you were or what you were doing…” he nods, his lips pressed into a thin line as he agreed with you. 

“you're right,” his voice was thick with emotion, the words slurring in his mouth as he found himself anchored in place, not knowing what to do. but you were rambling, your thoughts going on and on and you couldn’t stop yourself. 

“…but i know you don’t like letters, so the least you could have done was send a parchment saying i’m alive or something like that.” you rub at your nose again, feeling like all the weeks of worry we’re coming to a standpoint. 

he looked confused now, if anything, and scratched at his jaw. 

“what do you mean?” 

you scoff at the audacity, rolling your eyes as you feel anger prickle at your skin. 

“you never once responded to any of my letters. in my eyes, that must mean you have some sort-”

“letters? what letters?” 

you glance at him, taking in his shaking form. 

“come on gojo,” you feel embarrassed as he urges you to speak, having to spell it out for him, his eyes pleading with you to continue, “the ones from when you left for training.”

his mouth opens and then closes, looks at the ground and then back up to you as he shakes his head. you could hear your fireplace crackling in the background. the only sounds circling the room were the pops of ember and your breathing. 

“i…” he feels like there’s cotton in his mouth, hoping that you’re lying, “i never got any letters.” 

the fire crackled once again and you could almost hear a pin drop as you shook your head vehemently at his statement. 

“n-no, no you did. i wrote to you every week, i sent one every week for two years and you never responded and my mother said that you must have forgotten about me…” and you trail off, the tears in your eyes stoning as he furiously wipes at his own eyes, and for the first time since you had seen him fall down when he was a kid, you saw his own tears staining his cheeks. 

“nobody gave me your letters. i thought that you,” he takes a deep breath, tongue poking inside his cheek as he tried to control himself, “i thought that you didn’t care for me anymore.” 

you hug your midsection, your emotions running wild at his words. 

“i was under the impression that you hated me.” you admit, and he looks as though you stabbed him through the heart. if only others could see the powerful warrior now, stripped bare to his conscience and all he could think about was you. 

“why…why would you think such a thing?” you two inch closer without knowing it, longing to touch each other, wanting to know that the other was really there and that this wasn’t a figment of your imaginations. 

“gojo, you could barely looked at me that night at the gala and now it seems as though you, well, look at you - you’re flushed!” you’re grasping at straws, motioning towards his face,  twinged with pink as you rub at your nose, “you seem angry whenever i am near-” 

“the only person i am angry at is myself.” gojo whispers, but his voice echoed around the expanse of your skull. 

“yes, i’m aware,” you feel cold despite the fire in the corner, your tone carrying an air of know as you scorn, “i know the last thing you expected by comforting me was a marriage but-” 

“you think i am angry because i married you?” he was moving closer, his hands shaking, his eyes wet. you could see the ring on his finger glow in the dim light of the fireplace, how it shined brighter than any of the night skies, “the only good thing that has happened to me these last few months was being able to introduce myself as your husband. i know that i stripped you bare of any love you may have had for any other man, but call me selfish for feeling glad that i did.” 

you could barely focus on what was happening, his words sinking deep into your skin, going to your bones. 

“i told myself that you had forgotten about me those years i left. when i saw you that night i was so sure you had come with the intention of finding a suitor that i didn’t want to distract you, but then i saw that man come up to you…” and he couldn’t finish, choking on his words as he stuttered, and you saw a glimpse of the boy you had fallen in love with so long ago. 

“and i followed you out. if i knew that simply being alone with you would have gotten me married to you then i would have cornered you in a closet the moment i saw you enter the dining hall.” 

a tear rolls down your chin, splattering on the ground beneath you as you struggle to make sense of what he was saying. it felt as though the months of being married to him were weeks spent pacing around your own rooms, thinking the same worried thoughts, and not having the strength to confront each other about it. 

“you…you don’t hate me?” your voice is timid, almost not believing yourself as the statement tumbled out. gojo had the audacity to laugh a bit, shaking his head as strands of his hair fell into his face. 

“my every waking moment is spent thinking of you. when i was in training, you were all i could dream about, hoping that when i’d come home i could finally have you to myself. 

“you have control over my emotions, my mind, my soul, and i cursed myself for taking away your options for a husband, but the only thing i’ve wanted to do these past few weeks was to hold you in my arms. to tell you just how deeply i yearn for your love back.” 

he wiped at his cheeks, glistening in the faint light. he looked angelic, despite the grime and blood that decorated his clothing. you didn’t want to think about the men he had killed just to come back, to come back to you, and the thought of ever losing him hurt you more than when you spent nights wondering why he never responded to any of your letters. 

you couldn’t stop your feet from leading you toward him, and you could only watch as he met you in the middle, catching you with all his strength, holding you as if you weighed nothing, and it only took a few seconds before your lips collided. 

it was rushed, and messy as you felt his hands holding you as if you carried the weight of the universe. your teeth clashed, your tears staining each other's skin as your hands gripped at his hair, using it for leverage as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, enjoying the whimper that escaped your lips when he nipped at yours. 

it was what years of longing and desperation felt like. how it felt like you two just molded into each other as if your bodies were cut out with the other in mind. you felt like your heart was about to stop beating, and you knew gojo felt the same with the way he’d whine against your lips, wanting you more than you could have ever imagined. 

“we’ve been stupid people, haven’t we?” you whispered as you pulled away, trying to catch your breath as he smiled against you. if only you knew just how much he’d been wanting to kiss you like this, to see your swollen lips as you looked at him from beneath your eyelashes. you were his venus, his only saving grace, and he could only vex himself for ever making you feel anything but love. 

“very, “ he pressed a kiss to the corner of your eyes, “very,” to your nose, “stupid,” his lips were on your cheeks, feeling like he was breathing in new air at the sound of your laughter, “people.” he pressed his lips to yours again, cherishing in the way you whined at the harshness. 

he had spent months convincing himself that you no longer cared for him. weeks of perilous training to only come back to a bed and dream of a girl who didn’t share his emotions when in reality you did. he wants to track down the letters you had sent him, to read every word carefully, as if each sentence carried its own riddle inside of it. he wanted to apologize for never having the honor of experiencing your skilled penmanship, for leading you to believe that he had simply forgotten about you. 

“gojo,” your fingers curl in his tunic, your heat transferring, trying to be rational in such an irrational state of being, “you’re bleeding, i should call for the doctor.” he didn’t stop kissing your face, moving to your jaw as he smiled hearing you shudder. 

“it’s not my blood,” he murmured and you wanted to smack him for how cocky he sounded, “and don’t call me gojo.” he nipped at your lips again. 

“husband?” you found yourself smiling at the title, but he shook his head. you saw how he was trying to hide his own grin. 

“sire?” you tested it out teasingly, hating how it sounded. he seemed to agree with the way he grimaced at the name. 

“my lord?” he wanted to bottle up your laughter forever, knowing he could get drunk off of the sound. his nose nudged up at your jaw, pressing wet kisses wherever he could. 

“hmm, what about my liege?” you're curling a strand of his hair around your fingers letting him settle you down on your vanity as you spread your legs so he could slot between them. 

“my men call me that.” he says, cringing as it falls off your mouth. you pretend to think, not knowing how you were able to live without this banter for as long as you did. 

“satoru?” you felt breathless saying it after so long. but he still didn’t seem to find it satisfactory enough, a pout on his lips as he wanted you to find a better one. 

“close, but only when you’re angry with me.” you tuck that information in the back of your mind for if you ever need to scold him, your cheeks flushed as he interlocks his fingers through yours. 

“‘toru…?” his lips broke into a giddy smile, and you had to control yourself as he swooped back in for a kiss. his eyes were so much softer when he laughed, the kind ones you fell in love with so many nights ago. 

“there it is,” his voice was husky, raw as your fingers gripped at the baby hairs at his nape. he was taking your air away with him and you couldn’t find it in yourself to fight back for it. 

“i forgot how cheeky you can be,” you bite your lip to keep the moans inside, feeling feverish as his tongue ran over his love marks, not knowing what to do yourself as you scrambled to grab onto something to keep you afloat.

“you have no idea how much self-control it’s taken not to ravage you,” his breath is hot on your skin, and he’s tugging at your shirt, fingers slightly brushing upon your breasts, “every night you’d come down for dinner i wanted something different to eat.”

“stoppp,” you mewled, not used to this. he chuckles as his slender fingers work to untie the knot keeping you together, tugging at the string until it falls, revealing your naked chest, heaving as the fabric pooled at your hips. 

you wanted to cover yourself up under his heavy gaze, to take the fabric and hide, but you felt pierced by his stare. his eyes darted to yours as if checking to see if you were okay. when you gave him a timid nod, it seemed as though it prompted him to finally move. 

his fingers were gentle as they ran across your waist, large as they covered the soft of your stomach, eager as they went upwards. he looked like he was crazed and starved, as if you were his last meal and he couldn’t wait for the sweetness death would give. 

your breath stuttered as his fingers found your mounds, rubbing a soothing thumb over your nipples as his pupils grew. he was eager as he flicked them over and over, a cheshire grin growing as they hardened under his touch. 

“you’re perfect,” he murmured, dropping down so he could suckle at your tits, his spit shining in the light of the fire, and you tilted your head back, soft moans escaping as his tongue drew circles around your buds. 

“f-fuck, ‘toru, that’s,” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, his second hand coming to cup your other tit, not wanting to leave her unattended as he sucked and bruised, wanting to forever leave his mark on your untainted skin. 

“good?” he’s so cocky, and you want to smack the smug smirk off his devilishly handsome face. 

his knee is purposefully rubbing against your clothed clit, and you feel yourself subconsciously rubbing yourself against it. you hope that he can’t feel how drenched you are from him just sucking your tits, but he pinches you, pressing his tongue flat against your skin as he looks up through his lashes.

“horny from just me touching you?” he’s teasing you, it’s so painful the way you want, need him like oxygen. you tug on his hair roughly, bringing his spit-soaked lips back to yours as you bite down on his lower one, enjoying the groan you draw out from him. 

“don’t be mean ‘toru,” you taunt, and you feel him melt in your fingers, nodding to your request as he lowers himself down. 

he presses wet kisses down your torso, stopping just above your hips, his fingers hooking along the rim of your underwear, being careful and slow in his movements as he waits for any objections, making sure you’re okay with this. 

but you were in your own world, hitching your leg over his shoulders, drawing him in closer to you, sweat dotting your forehead as he licks a stripe over the cotton on your pussy, smiling to himself at the taste of you. 

you were so sweet, sweeter than any desert he’d indulge himself on. he was sure that once he had a taste of you he’d be able to repent, to go before any god, and to tell them that you were his religion.

he had spent countless nights, tossing and turning in his bed, the only thing putting him to sleep being the idea of coming home to you. running after you that night was him running home to you, regardless of where you were. he was glad he got your hand in marriage, but if he had to, he’d wait another ten years just to hold you in his arms again.

he peels your underwear off, a string of your arousal connecting to it, and he tucks it in his pants, for safekeeping. 

“you’re going to be the death of me.” he says against your heat, his nose rubbing against your clit as your eyes wring shut in pleasure. his hands grip your thighs, making sure you stay in place as he kitten licks around where you need him the most. 

“don’t let…don’t let any of your enemies hear,” your voice comes out in bits, your hand resting on the back of his head as your leg tightens around him, “don’t want them to come after me or something.” 

he snorts, pinching your thighs as if anybody could come within a ten feet radius of you without losing an eye. 

his lips come closer to where you desperately want him, a finger prodding at your tight entrance, his tongue finding your clit as he begins to suck. 

it’s all too much, the sensations far better than your own fingers have ever proved to be. 

his fingers are skilled, long enough that they reach deep within you. he sinks one fully in, your walls clamping around him as he continues sucking your clit, his teeth grazing it every so often, making your head thump against the wall. 

“talk to me, how do you feel?” his mouth discontented from your bud and you whine at the loss. he sinks in another finger to make up for it, but he doesn’t move them, waiting for your response. 

“‘s good,” one of your hands is fisting your discarded robe, trying to hold onto your senses as you desperately nod, “don’t stop ‘toru, please,” and he obliges, loving the sounds of your begging, but loving the sound of your pleasures more. 

his fingers stretch you open and you welcome the sting, your nails digging into him as you long for more. 

he switches his mouth with his hand every now and then, his tongue taking the place of his fingers as it licks at you, groaning at your taste as he eats you out with his entire being, his chin shining with your essence and his spit as his thumb rubs furiously at your clit. 

“mmhhh, just like that, fuck!” you’ve never heard your voice at this pitch, never knew it was possible to feel this way. his other hand reaches up to flick at your nipple, the extra sensation making white dot around your vision. 

you feel yourself getting closer to the sweet release, feel your wall clamp around him even tighter as that knot in your stomach builds to a crescendo. 

“come on, let go f’me, know you want to, know you can.” he spurs you on, his fingers unrelenting as they piston in and out of you, reaching that gummy spot that makes you go dumb.

“fuck, ‘toru, m’gonna, m’gonna come!” you cry out and you’re sure anybody walking past you could hear the debauchery. your thighs were starting to shake and you felt it all go black as you reached your high, your orgasm washing over you unlike anything you’ve ever felt. 

you creamed around his fingers, gushing around him as you wailed out, tears dotting your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling. you squeezed around him, wanting to never lose what this felt like, trying to catch your breath as his mouth never stopped sucking at your nub before he was sure your climax was over. 

when he finally pulled away the only thing that could be heard was the two of you, trying to come back down as stupid smiles made their way onto each of your faces. 

he was boyishly charming as he stood in front of you, licking yourself off of his fingers as he grinned at the taste. you couldn’t be bothered to be embarrassed after having him just between your legs, but you still felt a heat blossom in your chest. 

“so…” you awkwardly start, sweat dripping down your face from just how hot the room had suddenly gotten as you avert your gaze, “what now?” 

he shrugged nonchalantly, despite the fact that his heart was about to beat it’s way out of his chest. you let him pick you off of the vanity and tucked you safely away into his chest as he led you to your bed, gently setting you down in your mountain of pillows and blankets as you felt sleep etch away at you. 

“i’m going to clean you up,” he pressed a kiss to your hair, smiling at the way you giddy smiled at whatever he did, a dopey grin on your face as your hand searched for his, interlocking you fingers with his as if you didn’t want to watch him go, “if you let me.” 

you yawn, your head tilting as he sat down at the edge of your bed, still not letting go of your hand as your fingers run through the soft pelts beneath you. 

“and what about you?” your chin points the obvious hard-on growing in his pants. he looks down as if suddenly realizing, and he plays it off by looking back up to you with a wink. you felt your mouth going dry at the size of it, not knowing if you could even be able to take something as big as that. 

“for another day,” he promises, and you’re sure he’s not going to forget it. not like you want him to.

“and then?” 

your question lingers in the air. you don’t want to wake up to him acting like this never happened, as if your feelings were only a figment of your wildest dreams. but his eyes hold onto yours, never letting go as he brushes some strays away from your face. 

“and then i get a bigger bed for my room because there’s no way i’m letting you sleep here alone after this.” his thumb runs along the palm of your hand, his fingers tracing patterns into the soft of your legs. 

“and then?” 

“and then you tell me all the things i missed out on when i was gone. i’ll tell you about the time suguru shaved my head, and you’ll tell me about anything on your mind.” 

“what if i run out of things to say?” sleep is overtaking your voice, and you’re already nodding off, not even truly knowing what you were asking. 

“then i’ll make up stories so that you’re not bored.” he finds a clean towel, soaking it in water from a nearby pitcher as he drags it slowly across your body, as if your fragile and made of porcelain. 

“how do i know you’re not a dream? you might just be,” you yawn, rubbing at your eyes as your finger traces his ring, “you might just be my own mind tricking me.” your eyes are shutting, but the teasing smile on your face never leaves. 

“because a dream wouldn’t hide under a table with you if you asked.” he whispers, kissing your lips with a soft peck as he pulls the blanket over you, letting you sleep into a slumber as he crawls in next to you, holding you to his chest just as he did that night, just as he will every night from now on, and just as he longed for those nights he wished you next to him.

[drdemonprince]

I worry that today’s generation of kids on the internet have never gotten to develop much digital agency or form safe, empowering relationships with older people. More broadly, I think our current culture of isolating children from all unrelated adults, supposedly in the name of their “protection” only causes them to become more ignorant, lonesome, and vulnerable to exploitation.

There are many ways in which restricting youth access to information technology and training adults to avoid all contact with children makes kids even more powerless and dependent.

If a child cannot post their sexual health questions on Ask Alice or go searching around online, then they have to believe whatever they hear from their parent or priest. If a young person longs to taste the freedoms of adulthood but aren’t given any room to explore, then the grown-up in their DMs telling them that they are so mature becomes a hell of a lot more seductive.

And if a kid never gets to search for sexual content online, learn about adult sexual experiences, or touch themselves and find pleasure in the privacy of their own minds, they may never fully learn that their body is them, for them to enjoy and express themselves however they see fit.

For queer youth, the dangers of isolation are amplified. A study published in the journal Child Protection and Practice in April of last year found that LGBTQI+ children face an elevated risk of grooming and sexual abuse because they are discriminated against by peers, preached against within their religious communities, and mistreated or kicked out of the house by their families — and also, because an adult with no respect for boundaries might be the only person offering to talk with them about queerness or sex.

It’s very difficult to know the difference between a healthy relationship and exploitation when a predatory adult is the first queer person a kid ever knows. If a relationship with an abuser is the only way that a teen ever gets to live out their queerness or explore their budding sexuality, then it becomes immensely difficult for them to walk away — leaving the groomer is like tearing off a crucial part of themselves that never gets expressed otherwise, or even seen.

This is also true of children who have the early rumblings of kinky sexualities, too — when you long to be controlled or tied up, you need a safe outlet to learn and fantasize about doing such things consensually one day. If you do not know that such options exist, you’ll settle instead for abuse. The more options that a child has to learn about sexual practices, to meet other queer people of ages, and to form appropriate relationships with unrelated adults, the harder they become to manipulate, and the more power they have to walk away.

...

Being a minor is a position created by legal oppression, but most people consider a minor’s lack of freedom to be so natural and morally correct they don’t even recognize it as oppression. Instead, they see it as protection, a healthy separation between the world of the human and the not-quite-human yet. Though they would never admit it, a minor is not the same thing as a person to them, for a minor can be thrown out of public spaces, locked away, silenced, disregarded, and left to rot in the ways full persons are not.

I believe that we queer adults are failing our younger siblings by refusing to play a part in raising and looking after them. We have chosen to privilege our individual safety from accusations of ‘inappropriate’ conduct over the need for queer youth to see their own sexualities and identities normalized, envision a diversity of possible futures for themselves, and seek aid and understanding when they are mistreated.

For those of us who’ve had the liberty to escape our ignorant hometowns, get on HRT, have joyous gay sex in dark rooms, or even just dance tenderly with a sexy androgynous stranger’s cheek pressed against our own, we have a responsibility to pour from our filled cups, and to remember what it was like to have no such access. As terrified as we are of losing our documentation, our access to medicine, and our legal rights, we must remember those queer people who presently have none of those things, and do all that we can to extend our aid to them.

I wrote about the troubling culture of the "MINORS DNI" bio, and how it contributes to the mass isolation of young queer people. You can read the full piece or have it narrated to you by the substack app for free here.