#they’re hell bent on allowing him a normal life

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

The first mission the Court send their newly minted Talon on is an assassination attempt on the ward of one Bruce Wayne… Dick Grayson.

Calvin— can’t kill Dick. He can’t.

He didn’t know it would be the boy he grew up in the circus with they want him to murder in cold blood. He didn’t know— didn’t recognize him until the knife was already at his throat.

But he remembers now. And he won’t do it. Never. Never.

He’ll run. Disappear. Dick doesn’t know who he is, it’s better that way, and if he’s lucky the Court will be too busy hunting him to care about the failed assassination.

Unfortunately for Calvin, Dick does remember; Recognizes the Talon.

And he’s not inclined to let his childhood best friend slip through his fingers again after years of believing him dead.

[alexiroflife]

"mutual understanding"

part 1.

modern | business au, business heir!gojo, hints of fluff, banter, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage

satoru gojo x reader

Synopsis: you, the daughter of a wealthy law firm ceo, are forced into a binding arrangement with your father's competitor's son for the sake of his company

to sum it up: you've always hated satoru, and now you're expected to marry him for your father... how the hell were the two of you meant to get along?

WC: 19,667

Warning(s): none

-> i'm alive guys! so sorry about the delay, i've been super busy but i come home from vacay in a week and should be back to a normal uploading schedule soon! i hope you enjoy, i got carried away with this one :) [also requests are still paused as i catch up on those submitted before i traveled!]

You found this entire ordeal to be absolutely ridiculous.

You sat in the corner of the room on one of your father’s lavish couches, arms crossed frustratedly as though you were a toddler having been shunned to time out. In many ways, however, it almost felt like you had. Your father had grown tired of your bickering and disdain over this stupid arrangement, and had sent you to quietly sit at the other side of the room and to not serve as any more of a ‘distraction’ he claimed you had already become.

I mean, how unfair was this bullshit?

Not only was your father orchestrating your entire future before your eyes without allowing you a say, but he was doing so in collaboration with his previously opposing company; his former competition. You glared angrily ahead into the back of the elder, snowy white haired man’s head as he presented a contract that your father bent over the desk to put pen to, then gritted your teeth as the said men tossed their heads back in scheming, haughty laughter in response to some throwaway joke that was made, making amends at your expense. 

Your father had always taught you the importance of business expenses and exchanges for the sake of successfully pushing forward, but was this all really necessary? You were twenty five years old, having just completed law school, and this was where your father wanted you to be, cramped inside his eloquently stuffy office with the head of the Gojo Firm, feet away from his heir who your father is forcing your hand to in marriage. 

You clicked your teeth at the sentiment, having listened to his seemingly endless rants about the Gojo Firm and their business practices that he oh so frowned upon, yet were the same practices that brought the two companies neck and neck with each other, and at times, the Gojo Firm ahead of your father’s.

“Those Gojos,” your father would hiss through gritted teeth, pacing his office. “Such arrogance. They don’t even bother to polish themselves the way we do, and yet, they’re constantly climbing the ranks! That head of theirs will be the very death of me, and don’t even get me started on his Satan spawn of a son they call an heir-”

Yeah, the same Satan spawn that your father was suddenly springing onto you for the hope of a lifelong commitment. He was such a hypocrite, feigning a bright, gasy grin as he shook hands firmly with his enemy, clasping his other firm hand over their conjoined ones to solidify the commitment. 

He had not even bothered to ask you what you felt about the entire ordeal. He begged you not to complain or misbehave, but you felt he should have known his daughter better than to be one to sit back and complacently accept the forceful conjoining of her life with another snobby little nepotism baby for the sake of the company. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t understand why your father was making you go through with this. You knew perfectly well that choosing to make amends and to bind the notorious families together by means of marriage would work wonders for all of you in the end, and you wouldn’t have had to work another day in your life, but it simply wasn’t what you wanted. You had your own goals, your own aspirations, and marriage in your mid twenties had never, ever been a part of those plans. 

Additionally, you’re unsure if your father’s opinions bleeding into yours were to blame, but you simply could not stand the man you were expected to be marrying. 

You snuck a harsh glare over into your right direction, peering angrily at the Gojo Firm heir, who leaned back into the adjacent sofa with his long legs spread out so widely before him as he sank into the cushions. A look of resenting apathy splayed over his expression, eyes staring emptily forward as he tuned out whatever his father was yammering on about. 

You scowled at the very sight of him. 

If you were to be deciding upon yourself to engage your life to another human being’s before your life had truly even begun, Satoru Gojo would not have been your first pick. In fact, he would not have even made it as a contestant within the race to capture your heart. You doubted that Satoru was any more interested in you than you were in him, but you didn’t care. You felt you had reason to dislike him, when he merely appeared to be pouting about getting tied down. 

You had the misfortune of crossing paths with the twenty six year old a few times before, and each time you saw him, he made it a point to remind you of his father’s advantage over your own. He’d stop in his tracks upon seeing you on the street, at a shopping district or climbing out of your father’s limo to enter a restaurant, and the same, sickening smirk would curl its way onto his porcelain features, crystal eyes slimming in judgment and pride as he peered over you, pressing you for a reaction as though he enjoyed to watch you doubt yourself at his manipulation.

He was exceedingly pompous, he was childish, and he had no manners. He did as he pleased, and while the two of you were in the same boat in regard to your privilege and your parents’ success weighing down on your own lives, he behaved that much more uncouth than you did. You at least had the decency to practice what you liked to call normal human decency, despite your ranking as the 1%, but Satoru Gojo behaved just the opposite. He paraded around gallantly, flaunting his riches, blabbering on about his future reception of his father’s company, which was and remained the “best law firm in Japan, if not the entire world,” according to his own beliefs. 

You had often curled your nose in disgust at Satoru's behavior. How someone could have been so blatantly self involved, you didn’t understand. You believed he was the very reason as to why the world frowned upon the richer, isolated sanction of the world, though you could have probably chalked that idea up to naivety since you yourself remained on the inside looking out, struggling to understand the issues society had with you all. 

Nevertheless, you believed yourself to be better than the Gojos tenfold, and far better than Satoru Gojo could have ever been, but now, you had to harbor that hatred elsewhere, channel it into something other than your… dreaded fiance. 

Satoru took notice of your gaze on him and turned his head to catch your eye boredly. He curled an irritated brow at you, and you rolled your eyes, turning away staring angrily forward once more. You could feel those pools of ocean blue seering into you after you looked away, likely challenging you to see how long you could ignore him. You clenched your jaw, tightened your crossed arms and pushed yourself further back into the seat of your chair.

After what had felt like forever, your parents turned to you with the freshly signed contract within their grasp.

“Kids,” Gojo announced. “I do believe (L/n) and I have come to an agreement. Have you come to an understanding?”

You refused to answer, shaking your head subtly in opposition as you turned away. Silence filled the air as Satoru looked to you, then back to his father with a disinterested face.

“Dad, can’t we just reconsider?” he sighed. “Clearly the girl can’t handle a business collaboration.”

You perked your head up, whipping it into his direction. “Um, excuse me? The business collaboration isn’t the problem, it’s who I'm doing it with and how.”

“(Y/n),” your father warned, throwing you a testing look. You tossed your hands up and leaned forward, curling your lips downward.

“What? I can’t speak my mind anymore?”

“Maybe you just need to speak a little less in general, how about that?” Satoru posed, tilting his head over his shoulder to raise his eyebrows at you challengingly. “I’m sure you’re much prettier that way. Sitting in silence, yeah?”

Your gaze upon him hardened as your already bubbling irritation grew the longer those eyes of his zoned in on you and the brattier his attitude became. As unhappy as you deemed him to be with your parents’ transaction, he was still working hard to make it seem as though you were the only individual making this process of your engagement difficult.

“I’m not the one who has an issue with sitting in silence, blabbermouth,” you shot back.

“Sure you don’t, honey. As if I didn’t just watch your daddy tell you off for complaining.”

“You know what-”

“Enough,” your father’s voice ordered, a resounding boom throughout the space. You rolled your eyes, tossing your head away as Satoru looked up, his amused smile lingering though his eyes whispered a hint of vexation from your father’s interruption. “Whether the two of you like it or not, our family’s our conjoining through your commitment to each other.”

The very sound of the notion made you physically ill. “But dad, can’t we just-”

“(Y/n),” he stopped you. “As I have said numerous times, the decision is final. The papers have been signed.”

You clicked your teeth. “I heard you the first fifty times.”

“Then I do not know what more you wish to dispute about.”

You didn’t miss the swift manner in which Satoru breathed out a puff of amusement beside you, swiping his fingers over his mouth and clearing his throat to pretend as though he had not produced the noise.

His father, however, caught wind of the little action as well and turned his head stiffly to him, a cold admonition wavering over his worn expression. Satoru’s smile faded, his hand remaining over his mouth as he looked off to the side with hardened brows. 

“Clearly the issue of the two of you butting heads remains,” your father continued. “Therefore, I suggest that you find a way to get along, and to do so promptly.”

“Does marriage have to mean that we like each other?” Satoru questioned, raising a brow and lifting his hand from his mouth, elbow propped on the arm of his seat.

You scoffed. “Clearly not in this case,” you mumbled.

“Look, we are not naive enough to believe that the two of you would begin to have feelings for one another,” the Gojo head said, leading you and Satoru to grumble in agreement with the sentiment. “But the very least that you can do, for the decency of our families, is to try to be cordial with one another.”

“Yes. Go out for drinks. Take a drive. Treat one another to dinner,” your father suggested. “Do something to build the slightest bit of rapport with one another. To the public, you must at least appear that you tolerate each other.”

Tolerate? Please, what a joke! Your father could barely even tolerate the man beside him, and yet you were being forced to shake hands with the heir that your family had always despised. 

“You expect me to go out to dinner… with him?” you frowned in displeasure.

“Dinner should be the least of your worries now, sweetheart. We’re getting married,” Satoru reminded you.

“How could I possibly forget,” you exhaled wearily. “How long exactly do we even have until the wedding? If you expect us to be ‘cordial,’ I hate to tell you, but even thinking about doing that with him would take years. If I’m being generous.”

“Awww, do you really think I’m that bad?”

“Yes.”

Satoru’s father made a poor attempt to hide his disapproval of your behavior before your father interceded once more. “You have two weeks.”

You and Satoru bolted upward. “Two weeks?!”

“We have been discussing this cooperation for quite some time now,” Gojo said. “There’s no need to delay any further. The quicker you are married, the quicker we all benefit.”

“But-” you stammered in disbelief. “You’ve been discussing everything without us! What about the preparations? How the hell are we gonna get those done in two weeks?”

“The preparations have already been put in motion.”

“Are you serious? Wh- and my dress? The decorations? The-”

“The Gojo estate will be taking care of it all. You will not need to worry about such things,” Satoru’s father responded. “Though, there is a schedule for those aforementioned tasks that you should be aware of.”

Your chest tightened with discomfort. You couldn’t comprehend the fact that your wedding was being planned for you, an event that was meant to bring joy and the excitement of starting a new life with someone you loved, by your will, by your own heart’s desire. Instead, your father’s rival was orchestrating the things you had dreamed of organizing in your childlike girlhood. 

What was once a notion of devotion and happiness had been soured by the will of your obligation to your father’s legacy. You had always been defined by your own father’s successes, which had made it significantly harder for you to venture out on your own and create a narrative that was undefined by your family, and the moment you had believed yourself to be inching toward independence, this had been sprung onto you. 

It was all so unfair. 

You could never love Satoru Gojo. He was the epitome of all self involvement and false amiability. His goal had always been to tear you down, despite hardly knowing you personally, and you highly doubted that he would suddenly change his ways once he had become married to you. In fact, you believed he would only grow worse. You determined that he would make your life hell, holding this arrangement against you until the very end and making sure to sleep with as many women as he possibly could behind the scenes of your poorly constructed bond. 

You envisioned your marriage with Satoru to be distant interactions, frequent occurrences of mutual adultery, and a cush prison in which you were contained. 

You almost wanted to cry. You felt so trapped, and to know that you are unloved by your partner within a lifelong commitment was going to tear you apart and break you down piece by piece. You knew you didn’t love Satoru either, but the difference was that his tendency to berate you impacted your sense of self more than yours could have ever impacted his. 

You had two weeks to mentally prepare yourself for the rest of your life. Two weeks to undergo fittings, cake tastings, and color samplings that wouldn’t even be picked by your taste, but the taste of the wealthy Gojo estate. You had no control within this marriage. None at all, and it was going to destroy you.

When the room took notice of your silence and the twisted frown upon your face as well as your downcasted gaze, your father elected to shift. “We will give the two of you some time alone to process,” he said, and though his physical expression did not show it, you could tell that he was softening ever so slightly for the sake of your now silent displeasure. It was one thing for you to parade around, chanting about your distaste in something, but the moment you deflated and the words failed to fall from your mouth, your father at least had the sense to attempt to de-escalate, though his idea of de-escalating by leaving you alone with Satoru was a very poor choice all around. 

Satoru snickered rather sourly to himself, shaking his head and leaning it back. His long leg jumped restlessly as he looked agitatedly at the ceiling. 

“Satoru,” his father spoke. The heir didn’t bother meeting his eyes at the address. “Do not disappoint me with your foolishness.”

The silence in the room seemed to strengthen. Satoru clenched his jaw, remaining quiet the longer his father’s presence loomed over him. You had always known the Gojo head to be a rather strict man, so this interaction came as no surprise to you, but what had caught your attention was the fact that Satoru had been clearly bothered by the comment, when you had previously believed him to be unbothered by any and all. 

“We will be downstairs discussing the arrangements further,” your father added. “Make an effort, you two. Please.”

Your father casted you one more knowing look before the two left the room, the door closing gently behind them.

You ran your hands over your face and released a frustrated grunt. “This is such bullshit!”

“You’re telling me,” Satoru mumbled from across the room, his mannerisms still slightly sour. “Marrying you was definitely not in the cards for me.”

You leaned over in your seat to glower at him. “As if it were in mine, either,” you seethed. “Especially not with the god damn Gojo firm’s heir.”

“Please,” Satoru exhaled. “Quit acting as though marrying me isn’t a privilege for you. We’re the wealthiest law firm in Japan.”

“Excuse you, but my father and I never needed you to do us any favors. We’re just as successful.”

“If that were true, then we wouldn’t be here, now would we?” 

He rolled his head over his shoulder to meet your gaze lazily. The moment he caught the anger in your eyes, his bitterness melted into subtle satisfaction, blue eyes lidding over. 

“What the hell is your issue, huh?” you frowned. “Our fathers literally just told us to try to be cordial, and all you can do is shit on me and the very family you're marrying into.”

“You’re acting as though you weren’t just trash mouthing me two seconds ago,” he argued. “I’m not the only one here who has an issue with how things are going. We both have issues with one another, sweetheart, it’s not just on my end. You just tend to let things get to you more easily.”

“Have you ever stopped to think that maybe I don't like you so much because of the way you first started talking about me and my father? All you’ve ever done is gloat like you’re the only damn person on this planet to exist. It’s insufferable.”

“And you have a problem with pretending like you aren’t on the same exact plane as I am.”

“What the hell are you talking about? You literally always make fun of me because you think we’re not on the same level.”

“I’m talking about when it comes to who we are. What we do. How society views us. Whether I’m better or not, we’re both still rich assholes. I’m not any more of a dick than you are.”

“That’s not true. I don’t act the same way you do.”

“Maybe not, but you’re still just as arrogant as I am. You just portray your arrogance in different ways.”

“Quit trying to drag me down to your level.”

“There’s no ‘dragging down’ when I’m the one ahead of you,” he smirked. “And like I said, you’re already just as bad as me.”

You scoffed, unsure of how to even respond to his claims. He toyed with you as he stared, lifting his brows and twirling the corner of those glossy lips upward. “I can’t stand you,” you spat.

“I know, sweetheart.”

“And don’t call me that.”

“Alright, honey.”

You fumed. He got off on this back and forth between you two, feeding into it and swiftly constructing a response that could counter yours before you could even think. “This is not happening,” you grumbled to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Well, unfortunately, it is. There’s not much either of us can really do about that.”

“And what, you’re just gonna go with whatever your father tells you? You really think this is a good idea?”

He shrugged. “Aren’t you doing the same exact thing? We don’t have a choice.”

“Then how the hell are we supposed to get along in two weeks?”

“They obviously don’t really expect us to do that. They just want us to make a show of it. Then when we’re alone, we don’t have to cling to each other anymore.”

“Who said we’d be clinging to each other in the first place?”

“God, (Y/n), I really thought you were supposed to be smart.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“You’ve never acted before? Never had to play something up for the public?”

“Not to this extent, no,” you sighed. “This isn’t just any other publicity stunt. We are literally engaged.”

“It’s all the same to me at this point.” Satoru suddenly stood, lifting his arms into the air and stretching over his head. He placed a hand on his hip and turned to look out the window, past you, before his eyes found your face again. “I can hold your hand and kiss you without it meaning anything. It’s just work.”

You scrunched your face. “Like hell I’d ever let you kiss me.”

“Get over yourself for one second and stop being bratty.”

“Me? Bratty?” you chuckled. “Bit of the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?”

“Just listen,” he said firmly. “It’s easier for people to believe that we’re together by choice than by force, because then it would be painfully obvious that we’re only doing this for the sake of our companies.”

“Well, duh, but I feel like that’s painfully obvious already. Our companies have always hated each other.”

“So the better actors we are, the more clients we get.”

“You don’t need to speak to me like I’m an idiot, I already get this gist. I just don’t understand the point. It’s extra work that we’ll have to do for no reason.”

“Obviously you don’t get it, or else you wouldn’t be saying it’s for no reason.”

“Gojo, listen. The more effort we put toward pretending to be in love, the more exhausting this entire thing will be. Being cordial is, you know, fine, but holding your hand for people to see isn’t gonna make this look any different in the public’s eyes.”

“You’re wrong.”

“You’re literally only saying that because you always think you’re right.”

“I am always right. Like I am now.” You rolled your eyes. “Listen, sweetheart-”

“That’s not my name.”

He ignored you. “-I’m more familiar with this territory than you are, being the next head of the firm and all. I know what I’m talking about. I’ve seen this a hundred times over. I would’ve thought you have too,” he stopped, looking over your stiff posture. “Or, if this is just about you being stubborn and pretending you don’t want to show me affection, then that’s an entirely different thing.”

“I’m not pretending! I don’t want to marry you, let alone kiss you!” you barked. 

“Oh, come onnn,” he drawled, saunting over to you pridefully. You kept your gaze hard on his face as he approached you, his hands tucking into the pockets of his slacks as he leaned over you with a playful glint in his eye. “You haven’t thought about what it would be like just once? You can admit it. I’m no stranger to women falling in love with me.”

You pushed your hand against his forehead, shoving him away harshly. He flailed, stumbling back as he waved his arms about to regain balance. “As if. I don’t want whatever herpes you’re carrying.”

“Herpes?!” he exclaimed, rubbing his forehead dramatically. “I’m as squeaky clean as a bar of soap. I don’t know what kinda men you’ve been around.”

“I don’t go around men in the first place. All of you suck.”

“That would explain a lot then,” he snorted. “It’s okay. I don’t blame you for keeping your attraction to me a secret. After all, you’ve worked so hard to hate me.”

“Never, and I mean never, in a million years would I be attracted to you,” you said flatly, face blank.

“Everyone’s attracted to me. I’m a Gojo.”

“Then congratulations! There’s a first for everything,” you smiled tightly. “One day you’ll learn that being a Gojo isn’t everything in this world. Beneath all of that, you’re still a piece of shit.”

“You wound me,” he sucked his teeth. “How could my wife think so lowly of me?”

“Don’t call me that either. We’re not married yet. Hell, we’ll hardly even be married when we actually are.”

“And that’s exactly why we’re gonna have to pretend.”

You slimmed your eyes, examining his figure, attempting to look past the mask of indifference that he wore, replaced by an irritable playfulness. “This doesn’t bother you?”

He cocked a brow, crossing his arms as he stood before you. “What kind of question is that?”

“I’m just saying,” you started. “I mean… this is our whole lives, and you want to just act the entire time? Have you even really processed any of this?”

The glimmer in his eyes dimmed slightly, a far off look occupying the space in his irises. He looked back out the large window panes that stretched from the floor to the ceiling behind your father’s desk chair, gazing over the city. “This already was my life,” he said, blandly. “I’m gonna be the next head. I always knew I’d have to marry in accordance with the company’s needs.”

You blinked. “Yeah, but-”

“Don’t be naive, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “I’ve got much bigger things to worry about than marrying for love. Whether it bothers me or not doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter to you either.”

Your brows drew together tighter at the sentiment. “How could you think like that? That’s no way to go about living at all.”

“And yet, it’s the life we’re beginning to live, isn’t it?”

You watched him for a few seconds more with your lips clamped together and your eyes sharp. He kept your gaze, unwavering, his smile drifting back onto his face. You caught the snap of his icy eyes over your seated figure before they flew back up to yours in an instance, then shielded themselves behind his lids the moment he closed his eyes. 

“You gotta stop thinking with a heart and think with your brain. Life isn’t a fairytale, and I’m definitely not your Prince Charming. The two of us will probably end up falling in love with other people and getting tangled into a messy affair that inevitably destroys us and this contract years down the line. But hey, our firms will have been making money and I’ll be head by then. I’ll be able to make it all go away with the snap of my fingers. That’s what matters.”

You shook your head in exasperation. “You’re so shallow.”

“As much as I’d love to go in circles about how shitty of a person you think I am,” he tilted his head, peering down at you through strands of white hair. “We’ve got a wedding to plan, and a relationship to build. Or at the very least, some master classes in acting to take.”

You tossed him a strange look. “Are we seriously gonna go hang out in public together now?”

“...You like to bowl?”

“Don’t piss me off.”

“We gotta do something, (Y/n). I mean, is it really a horrible thought to let me take you to dinner?”

“I don’t think you want me to answer that, Gojo.”

Satoru jutted out his bottom lip, looking up to the air as if contemplating. “You know, my father told me about this party that I should attend. I’m sure you’ve heard about it too.”

You paused, looking at him quizzically. “A party?” 

“Mhmmm,” a mischievous glint flickered in his eye. “Friday night.”

You took a moment to think. “Wait…”

“Thrown by the Itadoris,” he posed.

Your eyes widened in realization. “No.”

“Maybeeeee,” he continued.

“No, absolutely not.”

“You and I…?”

“I am not going to the stupid ass, stuffy ass, creepy ass mansion and I sure as hell am not going with you.”

“See, but that’s the issue,” he hissed. “I have to go, and it would practically be a crime not to bring my fiance along with me as my date.”

“For fuck’s sake,” you groaned.

“Soooo…” he grinned, shrugging innocently. “My offer stands. You wanna come?”

“You’re not exactly letting me make a decision!” you barked.

“Because you don’t really get to. Our parents already agreed that we should go together anyway.”

“Oh really?” you frowned. “And why the fuck do you know everything about what our parents plan but I don’t?!”

“Only one of us is going to be the head of the wealthiest law firm, so only one of us really needs to be in the loop. All you need to worry about are your pretty little dress fittings, remember?” he smiled condescendingly.

You gritted your teeth together. “I swear on my life, Gojo-”

“That’s another thing,” he interrupted you. “It’d be a little weird for my future wife to address me the same way she addresses my father. From now on, just call me Satoru.”

“I’d rather die.”

“That’s your prerogative,” he winked. “But seriously. I’m not my dad. My name is Satoru.”

His tone shifted slightly when he uttered the last phrase, as though the idea of being jammed into a box with his dad were the very worst thing he could possibly endure. Your brow twitched slightly at the observation, and while you wanted to argue on the subject more, somehow you felt as though this was not something Satoru was willing to go back and forth with you about.

“Alright, fine,” you huffed. “I’ll call you Satoru, but only if you knock it off with the pet names. You can keep calling me (Y/n), but I dare you to address me as some shit like ‘snugglemuffin’ in public.”

He snorted. “You think I'd do something like that?”

“I know you would. Just to get a rise out of me.”

“Ah, don’t worry. I’ll stick to the basics.”

“Yeah, like hell you will.”

He grinned, presenting you his outstretched hand. You stared at it, unimpressed, before looking back at him boredly. “It’s a date, then?”

You pondered it. His hand remained stuck rather closely before you, failing to provide you any room to turn it away. His hand, in many ways, represented your future, drew you into a promise that you made against your morals and in honor of your family’s legacy. His hand, with soft lines creasing over his palm and long, slender fingers splayed out toward you, was a symbol of the life you were leaving behind and the life you were stepping into against your will. Into the unknown, into the godforsaken misery spent beside the Gojos from now on until forever more. 

Before, you would have never allowed yourself to even be caught dead in the company of Satoru Gojo, but now, as the worlds forced into collision and the very bane of your existence stood before you as your future husband, you swallowed your pride and apologized to your past self for giving in to a fate drawn out for you rather than by your own hand.

Your stomach churned and your hand met his reluctantly. His fingers clasped tightly around your hand, pressing into your skin, and your eyes warned him to relax when his lips curled further to emphasize his dimples. 

“We have a date,” you finalized bitterly, and Satoru laughed as he shook your hand.

“Don’t sound too excited.”

“Please, this is the most enthusiasm you’ll ever hear from me,” you mumbled, tearing your hand away from his after a few seconds passed. You stood to your feet, brushing past Satoru to gather your purse from beside you on the floor. You were frankly entirely too exhausted with this conversation, as well as Satoru’s presence, and you wanted nothing more than to go home and mourn your existence. “What time is this gala anyway?”

He hummed to himself, watching you as you made your way to the door. “I’ll pick you up at 9. How about that?”

Your hand froze over the door handle as you turned over your shoulder to glare at the white haired man. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Not all questions can be answered, can they?” he teased.

The muscles under your eye twitched before you took in a deep breath and closed your eyes. “Just- fine. Okay,” you muttered. “I’ll be ready at 8:59. And don’t you fucking be late, Gojo, or I swear to god, your family will have to find another arranged bride.”

“I’ll be on time when you address me properly.”

You gritted your teeth. “Satoru. Don’t be late, Satoru.”

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded, satisfied. He reached over to grab his jacket from his chair and made his way behind you once you pushed open the door. “I will be there right on the dot.”

-

You didn’t know why you had expected Satoru to actually stay true to his word. By the time 9:00 on Friday night rolled around, you had been waiting by your door for the next thirty minutes, and there had still been absolutely no sight of the bastard.

Conveniently, after having abused his privilege of obtaining your phone number upon your initial meeting with your fathers and blowing up your texts every second he found to himself with nonsensical bullshit, the moment you began to demand to know where he had been was when he had fallen uncharacteristically silent and ignored your texts.

You had spent the past few days attempting to adjust to this newfound closeness to the Gojo family. Your days had been filled with servants taking your measurements, wrapping measuring tape tightly around your waist and your arms to get a rather fitted measurement of your dress size, alongside long lectures given by both your father and Satoru’s, consisting of the two of them advising you of how to behave in the public eye. Satoru’s father had even taken it upon himself to tell you what he expected of a Gojo bride, and how if you failed to meet certain expectations, you would have reflected poorly on not only the public but on hundreds of past Gojo generations. 

You had tried to reason with your father one more time the night after you all had met in his office, but all he did was turn down your concerns.

“Daddy, why won’t you listen to me? You know how awful Gojo is! How could you expect me to marry him?” you whined.

“My dear, I don’t know what more to tell you,” your father had exhaled, shoulders slumped with the weight of exhaustion and stress. You, however, did not care to pay those signs any mind. You were entirely too roped up in your state of distress. “I know the boy is a nuisance, but you’ll have to make do. You and Satoru will marry, and that is final.”

“And what about my career? My life?!”

“Good god, (Y/n), your world isn’t ending. There are much worse fates than marrying a wealthy heir,” he attempted to reason. “Besides, you're my daughter. As much as you wanted to build a life of your own and get your own employment, you never needed to do any of that. I’ve been trying to tell you that forever.”

“Yeah, and at the same time I’ve been trying to tell you that I don’t want to be handed everything all the time!”

“Believe me, if you were born less fortunate, you would not cling to such childish ideals.”

You fumed, body trembling, feeling as though you were preparing to burst at the seams. You wanted to explode, but you had no outlet. You wanted to scream, but there was no tunnel in which your voice could escape freely. You were no longer free, you thought to yourself. You were trapped, stuck, and the feeling tore you to shreds like no other emotion ever had.

You believed that the very worst of the remainder of the week were the rumors that had already begun circling around about you and Satoru. You recalled waking up one morning to a text from your friend Shoko, and narrowing your eyes in shock when you read what she had said.

Sho: Um, girl, please tell me what I hear about you marrying Satoru Gojo isn’t true.

You immediately took to the internet, scouring Twitter, Instagram, and every celebrity news blog possible to find a secret picture of you and the white haired man taken from afar from at least two months back. You remembered the exact occasion, as well. You had been on your way home from a lecture when you ran into the blue eyed freak at the market. He had significantly invaded your personal space, by the looks of the picture and if your memory had served you well, which it always did, and he was leaning over you with a challenging grin, eyes half lidding and hand pressed to the brick wall with his arm blocking your path by your head.

He had made a comment about something you were wearing, or perhaps it was a snippy comment about where you were coming from - you don’t exactly recall all the details, but you could tell by your rigid stance that he was irritating you once again. The paparazzi, however, and the thousands of people soaking up  the gossip, mistook this brief interaction for a romantic rendezvous, a suggestion of a flirtatious exchange, a hint toward a far deeper connection.

The suspicions alone paired with the picture may not have done too much harm on their own, for rumors about wealthy individuals’ personal lives spread all over the internet every single day, but what transformed what could have been an innocent, meaningless encounter into a bigger scandal was a particular tweet that you found with a blank profile and teetering over a million hearts that read: “I heard that the Gojo heir and the (L/n) daughter are getting married…”

This could have also been completely taken out of context, but the uproar from the picture combined with such a drastic piece of gossip only further fueled the internet’s hunger and curiosity.

This had Gojo’s father and his team written all over it. 

And you had no choice but to tell Shoko that the rumor was, in fact, laced with no trace of falsehood. As you expected, she reeled in shock and asked a million questions, considering her knowledge of your long-harbored hatred for the man, but you pleaded with her not to say anything to anyone until you and Satoru yourselves went public with the information. She agreed, and you at least were given the opportunity to rant to your friend about the truth behind the news once she was sworn to secrecy by your undying trust in her. 

You felt such pity for yourself, especially as you studied your reflection in the mirror as Satoru neared the forty-five minute mark with no text, no car, and no arrival. Gold jewelry dripped from your ears and dazzled around your neck above the crease of your cleavage, your satin black gown hugging your body velvety-smooth. You tugged at your gown gloves, eyes boring into your own. You were the very pinnacle of first class wealth and beauty, a gem untouched by the greedy grasp of man, but that would only last until the moment you arrived at the altar with a man you did not love, with a man you rather despised, with a man who couldn’t even keep a promise to pick you up at the time he had set. 

You had such grand dreams for yourself, a life away from a legacy birthed into you, a life christened by your careful planning and your nurtured ambitions, and all of it had been crushed within a matter of seconds. 

You envisioned yourself years down the line, dressed in a similar fashion, awaiting your husband’s arrival for a charity event that the two of you were to attend together. He was late, and time ticked on, and the bags weighed heavily under your eyes as you stared into the empty souls of your eyes, once filled with vibrance yet having been drained by the tireless despair of pretending to be happy within a crystal palace of your own doom.

Was this your life? Was this who you were meant to be all along? Had the years studying in school, traveling, honing in on your own craft though so closely connected to your father even been worth it? Was this worth it?

Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud honk of a car horn from outside your front door. You jumped slightly, then immediately filled with rage at the notion that Satoru had the audacity to not only show up almost an hour late, but to beep his horn as though you were the one who had been delaying the two of you this entire time. He didn’t even have the decency to greet you at your door, and you wondered for a moment if he treated all of his dates like this or if you were the only exception. 

You thought about ignoring him and staying home, but the honking persisted and your patience was wearing thin. With an aggravated grunt, you swiped up your bag in hand and marched out of your door, slamming it closed upon seeing Satoru laze about in the driver’s seat of his benz, parked up in the center of your circular gravel driveway with the engine running. 

You didn’t even bother acknowledging him when he looked up and you were already yanking his door open and shutting it harshly behind you, brows angled and eyes fiery with anger. You sat rigidly in the seat, arms crossed over your chest tightly. 

“...So, I’m a little late-”

“So help me Gojo, drive the fucking car or I’ll kill you right here and make it look like an accident.”

He sucked in a breath, tugging his mouth down as he bared his teeth and shifted the car back into drive. “Someone’s pissy tonight.”

“Oh, and I wonder why!” you exclaimed, whirling your head over at him heatedly. You could barely see his eyes through the dark, round shades that he wore, which complemented the navy velvet tux adorning his figure. “Your ass is too busy being blind wearing fucking sunglasses in the dark instead of getting here on time like I specifically told you to do.”

“What? You don’t like ‘em? I think they look good. And I get held up with work, relax,” he groaned. You threw a hefty punch into his shoulder, leading the man to yelp and clutch the injured area. “What the hell?!”

“You’re an hour late, Gojo!” you yelled. “Not five minutes, not ten, not fifteen, a whole hour.”

“Technically, there’s still a few minutes until it’s an hour-”

“Who the fuck cares?!” you interjected. 

Satoru blinked at you, trying his very hardest to bit back the smile that was creeping onto his face in reaction to your anger. “What do you expect me to do- you want me to apologize, sweetheart?”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”

“I’m just getting into character,” he defended. “I’d hate to start off our first date with such negativity.”

“I can not do this with you tonight. Hurry up and drive, Gojo. We’re already late.”

“Mmmm, try again, honey. Remember, what did we agree on?”

“We agreed that you’d get here at 9:00 and that if you were late, you needed to find a new fiance,” you hissed. “But since I can’t exactly make that happen, I’ll settle on not calling you Satoru.”

Satoru clicked his tongue. “You’ll need to switch that up once we’re at the party, (Y/n).”

“I don’t think I will,” you smiled tightly. “I’m not going to make tonight easy for you in the slightest. You want me to come? I’m coming, but I’m not doing so happily.

He gave you an irritated glance. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

You lifted your clenched fist as though to punch him again, and he flinched, leaning away and shielding himself with a hand. “Okay, okay! I’m driving. Sheesh.”

The car ride over to the Itadoris’ was rather silent, save for the radio that Satoru had turned on for the sake of the tension bubbling in the air, inspired solely by you. You kept your body twisted and tensed toward the passenger door, hair blowing about your face as the wind whipped through the open vehicle. You kept your gaze to the dark sky above and the blurry city lights that glazed over your eyes as Satoru sped through traffic.

Eventually, the two of you made it past the excitement of the bustling city to the other side, where tall, bright buildings and flashing billboards were replaced by rural, gran estates, cottages, and temples. The landscape shifted as well, rolling hills cascading amidst tall, flourishing flower trees and ponds guarded by quant bridges. You took in a deep sigh, anticipating the very worst as you entered the vicinity in which the Itadoris lived. 

Lavish, large, and disgustingly rich, Jin Itadori, the head of a well-loved shipping company, housed a luxurious home on the other side of the city, amidst the brush within a secluded section by the edge of the forest. There, the patch of greenery seemed to clear for the very loud residence of the family home, where the entire Itadori lineage lived in one space. 

The Itadoris, while immensely well known, were a rather strange… eccentric crew, to say the very least. While you felt that you could at least attempt to handle one of them at a time, the thought of having to encounter all five of them at once was incredibly unappealing to you. You were already experiencing the displeasure of arriving as Satoru’s date and fiance, therefore, being forced to mingle with the likes of such a chaotic bunch was not something you were looking forward to very much.

There was Jin, of course, who had assumed the role of the head of this company by Wasuke, the former head as well as his father. Wasuke, once a sharp mouthed, spritely, mischievous young man who had gone great lengths to achieve his ambitions of wealth and success, had aged into a sharp mouthed, mischievous old man, bitter with his permanent physical connection to the rest of his family whilst still living amongst them all in his mansion, despite his refusal to move into a nursing home at his elderly age. Wasuke had the terrible habit of delving into lengthy rants about the very expansive list of things he did not care for regarding his family, as well as how the world and its society developed into a gentrified, modernized “pit of doom,” as he would have liked to describe it. With every chance he found, he was souring a moment of joy, tainting happiness with his miserable outlook on life. 

His son remained the more reasonable of the group, attempting to regain composure when chaos inevitably erupted. He served as the anchor, the man of reason with an incredibly strong, though dwindling tolerance for the hell that his family put him through every day. He was currently working toward showing his son, Yuji, a kind hearted sixteen year old boy, the ropes of running a company to prepare him for the day that he succeeded him as the business’ next head. 

Yuji never bothered you much, for he was a kid with a bright future. He always made sure to greet you happily whenever he saw you, asking questions about what you were up to and humoring your desire to branch out on your own. Yuji Itadori may have been the only person in this world you had met who did not immediately judge you by your relation to your father, and for that, you had always admired the kid. You only hoped that the path his family led for him did not hinder his wonderful spirit. 

His half-brother, Choso, was not in any way directly connected to the Itadori legacy, yet he was a member of the family nonetheless after having been estranged for years. He often kept to himself, straying away from the public light unlike the rest of his family. You weren’t entirely sure of what his goals were, however, he wasn’t a terrible guy. He was quiet, reserved. You would have pegged him as a misunderstood artist, or a poet, or something like that - far separated from the world of business that those around him were so heavily involved in. You doubted you would even see him tonight if he weren’t clinging to the wall in the corner with a bored look upon his face.

But then, the very worst of them all and perhaps the main reason why you didn’t want to attend this party, was Sukuna, Jin’s twin brother and Yuji’s uncle. 

You weren’t even sure where to begin with him. Hell, you could barely decide who was the worst of them between him and Satoru, and that certainly was saying something.

Sukuna was an asshole in a far less playful and lighthearted manner than Satoru portrayed himself to be. He was the type of man to get ‘canceled’ by Twitter four times within a month, without providing any form of apology for the rather outlandish things he elected to say. He was often saved by his brother’s mercy, and let’s not fool ourselves, the curse of impeccably good genes that graced his facial and physical features. 

Whenever something went south at the Itadoris’, it was mainly due to his antics and thirst for conflict. He figured that since he was already undeservingly wealthy, and not any successor of the company, he could get away with more than most, only when he behaved out of line, it had an impact on those who were actually involved in keeping the company afloat. 

And oh, Sukuna loved when he threw his family into a scandal then acted as though he was not responsible, fading away back into the noise and watching the entertainment unfold. 

You groaned. You felt it in your gut that something was going to go wrong tonight, especially so if Satoru intended to expose the two of you as a couple at this gala. 

Dread flooded your stomach as the two of you pulled up into the gravel, past the thick ravine that surrounded the entryway just behind the gate. A man in black guided Satoru’s vehicle to a row of expensive cars lined the circle before the Itadori estate.

“Ugh,” you grumbled. “I hate this place.”

“Tell me something you don’t hate, sweetheart,” Satoru quipped, parking his vehicle and turning off the ignition. He turned to you, eyes glinting over his round frames with his hand still gripping the wheel. “Are you done pouting?”

“Are you done getting on my nerves?” you raised a brow, glaring at him. “The answer to that is no.”

“You can’t still be mad about me being late. I told you it was because of work,” he whined. “We have a whole night ahead of us. You need to let it go.”

“What work exactly were you doing to make you an hour late?”

“Does that even really matter right now?” he shifted. He reached an arm back, stretching over the back of your seat and pushing himself upward, invading your space slightly to reach for an item behind you. You leaned away, tightening your lips. Satoru glanced at you once he grabbed whatever he was looking for, seating himself properly back into his spot. “You could stand to not look so disgusted by being close to me, you know.”

“But I am disgusted by being close to you.”

“Then you won’t like what we’ll be doing soon at all,” he laughed slightly to himself, shaking his head. You opened your mouth to retort when he presented a small, velvet box in his hand before you, holding it to you over the console. You examined the box, your mouth falling open in shock. “Here. It’s yours.”

You furrowed your brows, looking at him incredulously. “That is not what I think it is.”

“Open it and find out,” he pushed it further into your lap.

You pushed your hand against his, shoving the box back to him. “I don’t want it.”

“(Y/n),” Satoru began, clearly becoming just as annoyed as you already were. “Neither of us want it, but you need to wear it. Open it and put it on, for god’s sake.”

“No! This will not be how you propose to me, Gojo - not in your car in the middle of the night at the Itadori estate!”

“I’m not proposing, you idiot. We’re already engaged. You need to wear it so people here can know that we’re together.”

“I’m not wearing it,” you argued stubbornly. Satoru’s brows angled, jaw clenching. 

“Yes you are,” he murmured firmly.

“No, I’m not.”

Before you knew it, he was snatching your wrist up in his grasp forcefully. You yelped in retort, attempting to tug yourself away, but the Gojo heir’s strength proved to succeed your own, just as he did in every other aspect of your lives. You faltered slightly, watching with blown eyes as he held you securely with one hand and popped the box open with the other, revealing a breathtaking gold ring encrusted with a shimmering, turquoise gem in the midst of winding, plated vines. 

You admitted that the piece of jewelry was absolutely beautiful, not to mention that it was gold - the color of jewelry you had worn all your life. 

Wordlessly, Satoru pinched the ring between his fingers, lifting it from its velvet bed to slide onto your outstretched ring finger, settling it snugly around your digit. The warmth of his palm was immediately ripped away once you were wearing the ring. He turned to toss the box into the backseat over his shoulder behind him, then swiftly pushed open his car door. 

“Happy?” he growled over his shoulder. You had nothing to say as you stared confoundedly at the ring he had just pulled onto your hand. “Great. Now let’s go.”

In the midst of your surprise by his forcefulness and by the way the ring complimented your hand, you followed his order and dazedly got out of the car, closing the door gently behind you with your gaze casted down to your hand. 

You were too distracted to notice Satoru making his way over to you, and before you knew it, his arm was looping around yours, pulling your hand from your gaze and gluing you to him. You huffed when your side collided with his, your shoulder pressing into his bicep. You flinched and looked up as the blue eyed heir towered over your side. He peered at you out of the corner of his eye, catching the way you stared at him like a lost puppy, and his previous anger diminished slightly. 

“What’s the matter?” his smooth voice slid out. “Getting flustered on me already?”

His comment immediately snapped you out of your trance and your face hardened once more. “Fuck no.”

He laughed, guiding the two of you slowly to the staircase. “But you like the ring, don’t you? I can see it all over your face.”

“It’s a ring, Gojo-”

“Satoru.”

“Whatever. It doesn’t mean I like you.”

“I mean, it could,” he proposed, allowing you to take the first step up as you gather the hem of your gown in your hands. You kept your eyes to your heels, proceeding carefully, and Satoru did the same while your mind was occupied, eyeing the motion of your feet intensely as your dress draped over your exposed angles, dangling from your pinched fingers. “The ring’s a family heirloom. It’s been passed down for generations. So you liking the ring at least means you like us just a little bit.”

“Are you serious?” you asked him. “I didn’t peg you guys for the gold jewelry type.”

“Guess there’s a lot you still don’t know about who I am,” he answered rather swiftly. The two of you finally made it up the stairs and stood before the wide doors of the estate.

“How late exactly are we?” you asked him, shifting uncomfortably on your feet as he tugged you closer into him. You bore a grim expression, looking off to the side.

“Uhhh, not that late,” Satoru responded. “Maybe about two hours.”

“HUH?!” you exclaimed. “Two?! You mean to tell me you were already trying to get me an hour after the party even started?”

“I was busy, and I never arrive at these things on time. I prefer being fashionably late.”

“There’s a difference between fashionably late and just late, dumbass.”

“Either way, we’ll make a big entrance. And that’s what we want, right?” he smirked down at you. “Attention.”

You sighed heavily. “I can’t believe I got talked into this.”

“You’ll be fine,” he drawled. “Just relax and stay with me. And remember, we’re getting married!” he pressed himself down to you, leaning his mouth toward the shell of your ear. “Try to act like it.”

You shuddered, recoiling aggressively. “Don’t do that!” you barked over his symphony of amused laughter. 

The two of you entered the space as servants pulled the doors back for you, the symphony of classical music echoing through the pristine space. You were led past the main spiral staircase to the left, down winding hallways, through spacious corridors, and into the ballroom. The entryway was guarded by two marble, Greek statues on either side, welcoming its visitors regally. 

You felt Satoru’s elbow tighten slightly around yours, catching your attention. His piercing eyes swallowed you whole, glasses tipping down the bridge of his nose as he looked at you. “Smile,” he whispered.

You yanked his arm back just as tightly, tilting your head with a tight jaw. “Don’t tell me what to do,” you grinned, bearing pretty teeth in a threatening, forced manner. 

He smiled, breathing out softly, before entering the large space scattered with well-dressed, familiar faces, the most honored names within the small community of the 1%. You shivered as a cold gust of wind brushed over you, sprouting goosebumps across your bare skin as eyes flickered your way and whispers ignited in accordance to your arrival. Your eyes looked over the people, noting everyone you saw and praying to whatever god above that you wouldn’t run into Wasuke or Sukuna first thing tonight.

Thankfully, the two of you were greeted by Jin mere seconds after you stepped into the space. Hushed murmurs of gossip continued to circle the huge room, and you caught a few glances darting to your linked arms and the ring adorned on your finger. 

The salmon haired heir approached you with a knowing look upon his face, eyes focused on Satoru tiredly with his hands clasped behind his back. Satoru bore a wide beam, nodding toward Jin casually. 

“Jin,” Satoru greeted grandly. “So happy to be here. Thanks for having me.”

“Satoru,” the said man exhaled. “The gala ends in an hour. What the hell are you doing here so late?”

The white haired man shrugged. “Just got caught up in some business. You know how it goes.”

“Oh really? The same business that you often neglect to take care of your own personal needs? Like the time you took my son to the mall instead of signing off on papers?”

Satoru sucked in a gulp of air slowly, his smile remaining as shamefully as it always had been. “Damn, you know about that, huh? I could’ve sworn I bribed Yuji to keep that a secret.”

“There’s no need to bribe him, the kid can’t keep a secret to save his life. An honest one, that boy. Maybe too honest,” Jin murmured. “So what were you really doing?”

“Come on, Jin, don’t make me spell it out,” Satoru said cheekily, his attention suddenly turning to you. You perked up, put on the spot, and looked with confusion between the man at your side and the Itadori family heir. You reeled at the manner in which Satoru gazed at you, his eyes swollen with feigned admiration as his tone dripped with infatuation, albeit rather over the top. “I’m sure you’ve heard the news about (Y/n) and I. You remember the (L/n) daughter, don’t you?”

Your eye twitched while you tried to keep a steady, small smile. Jin turned to you, nodding. “How could I forget? You’re the girl who always manages to rile my brother up.”

You puckered your lips and knitted your brows together. “Uh-” you stopped. “What? You mean Sukuna?” Jin nodded again, a hint of an amused smile gracing his weary face. “I don’t remember ever sharing a conversation with that a- mm- I mean, I’ve– never really had the pleasure of crossing paths with him to even say something that would bother him.”

“Please, save it. I know my brother’s a monster,” he chuckled and you relaxed slightly. “That’s not what I meant anyway.”

“...Then what did you mean?”

Jin paused, shifting his heavy eyes between you and Satoru. “It’s nothing,” he elected to say. “Now, tell me- what is it you were saying about you and (Y/n), Satoru? Are you…?”

Satoru nodded, his smile molding into something rather tense. “Engaged,” he finished quickly. Jin visibly faltered, his rather cool exterior altering when the word fell upon his ears. Your breath hitched in your throat, for you hadn’t expected Satoru to jump right into blabbering your business to the whole world.

You felt his other hand creep over yours, the one attached to your conjoined arm, and he melted his touch into the back of your palm, smoothing gently over the skin and your ring. You tried not to jump, to pull away, to tear yourself far from the man when you felt the unwarranted and rather intimate contact. Your nose twitched slightly and your stance went rigid, eyes blank as your lips curled into what you believed to be something akin to a love stricken grin. 

“...Engaged?” Jin repeated.

“Yep. For quite some time now, actually. We’ve just been keeping it quiet considering how our companies have always been with each other. But that’s all in the past now. I’m late because we just got so caught up in our newly betrothed excitement,” Satoru recited expertly. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

God, you wanted to kill him. You wanted to kill him so bad. If you could have just slapped him straight across his face and left a burning red handprint on his sickeningly perfect skin, you would have been satisfied, but instead, you buried the urge.

“That’s right,” you nodded, refusing to make eye contact with Satoru as you did. 

Jin cleared his throat. “Well, congratulations. I would have truly never expected something like this.”

“Yeah, neither did I,” you giggled kindly, feeling the way Satoru physically reacted to the comment as subtly as possible when his fingers pressed into your knuckles. 

“What she means is that we hadn’t expected to fall for each other so easily,” he clarified. “Who would have thought that I would settle down with someone like her?”

You sensed the backhandedness of his statement and swiftly bounced back. “It’s funny, I certainly wouldn’t have guessed I’d settle for someone like him either. Not in a million years,” you grinned, finding his eyes when you tilted your head back up to him. The two of you communicated through your tense gazes, exchanging sentiments of aggravation nonverbally, momentarily forgetting that Jin still stood before you.

The said main puffed a laugh, raising his brows. “Hey, as long as the two of you are happy.”

You and Satoru turned your heads back to him at the same time. “Very,” you unified.

“And what about your parents? What do they think?”

“You know, it took some adjusting, but they’re actually taking quite well to it now,” Satoru said.

“Surprisingly, right?”

“I bet,” Jin said. “Alright then. I’ll be sure to ask (L/n) and Gojo for the details. The family and I will be happy to make it.”

“Better clear your calendar soon,” you hissed quietly under your breath, Satoru tugging you in warning though Jin did not hear.

“Trust me, you guys will be the first on the list,” Satoru grinned.

“We appreciate it,” Jin said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to make sure my brother hasn’t harassed any more of our guests. Enjoy the evening. Or whatever’s left of it at least.”

You smiled and waved as Jin bid you farewell, watching him turn and leave. “Care to knock it off?” Satoru growled from beside you.

Your smile dropped as you looked at him heatedly. You turned to stand before him, unlinking your arms and prying his fingers away from your hand. “I told you that I don’t wanna be here, and you pissed me off. I’m not in the mood to play nice.”

“That’s your issue, (Y/n), you never are,” he grumbled. “You act like a spoiled brat. You can’t get everything you want in this life and pout because of it.”

“Watch your mouth, Gojo. Don’t pretend to know who I am or why I act the way I do.”

“But you can do the same to me without consequence?” he challenged. “You’re a hypocrite above everything else, too. And for the last time, my name is not Gojo.”

“And I told you I don’t care,” you leaned in, pursing your lips together stubbornly as Satoru returned your hard glare. You had failed to notice the proximity in which the two of you had closed into one another, your faces mere centimeters away as your mutual frustration fueled your minds. 

Fortunately for the two of you, from the outside perspective, you appeared as though you were cosying up to one another, keeping close in the bliss of your personal bubble. You clicked your teeth and pulled away eventually. 

“I’m going to get a drink.”

Satoru seemed to oppose the idea, stepping forward to reach for you, but you dodged him. “We need to be seen together more-”

“Then have your dad take another secret picture of us and plaster it all over Tokyo for all I care. That’ll last longer than any second we spend with each other in person,” you said sternly before turning off to the organized array of drinks on the other side of the room. Satoru stood and watched you march away tensely, hands clenching into fists and unclenching at your sides as your heels clicked loudly against the floor. You disappeared into the crowd, gown fluttering at your feet, and he sighed. He truly didn’t understand how you could behave in such a complicated manner. He didn’t understand you at all, and it was gnawing away at him minute by minute. 

The night drifted on rather slowly, despite the fact that only an hour had remained when the two of you got to the estate. You had successfully shaken Satoru off of your back for the time being while you occupied yourself with speaking to Yuji and a few other people you had stolen the time to catch up with. Each person you spoke to asked the same question of whether you and Satoru were together, which you reluctantly affirmed each time with the flash of your ring before greedy eyes. Gasps of delight ensued and you masked yourself with an expression of giddiness, soaking in everyone’s reactions. Yuji himself had been rather confused to hear the news, considering how well he knew you and Satoru, but congratulated you happily nonetheless. Wasuke, however, who you inevitably ran into, held you captive by a ten minute tangent about the horrors of marriage, which you honestly couldn’t find yourself to disagree much with in this case scenario.

Satoru kept a sneaking eye on you the entire time you were parted, watching the way you lifted the rim of a glass to your painted lips daintily, glassy eyes moving over the room with contempt as you feigned politeness. His lips flattened into a firm line as he watched you, studying with simmering annoyance. Despite your constant complaining, you managed a room very well with your false exclamations of joy. You had a presence about you, certainly so in the dress you wore, though he had always known you to be a woman of great beauty. He could recognize that from a general standpoint.

Still, the way you behaved irked him to his very core. He didn’t understand how you so easily blasphemed his character and everything he stood for when you paraded about with the same riches and privilege. You thought too highly of yourself, withholding this image of righteousness and uniqueness that deluded you into the fantasy of going to law school and trying to branch out from under your father’s firm. You looked at Satoru as if you were insulted by his very existence, as though he reminded you of the worst parts of yourself, and you took this insecurity of yours out on him. Granted, Satoru knew that he could be a handful. He had heard so from plenty, watched the many different ways people reacted to his carefree, audacious personality, but he didn’t care. He knew who he was and wore his pride on his sleeve unapologetically, but you didn’t seem to know who you were at all and you made it his problem.

Satoru never wanted to marry you, despite his fascination with pushing your buttons. He couldn’t say that he hated you though. What he felt for you was more so a form of befuddlement by your sheer naivety and your quickness to turn the blame of your own doing to anyone but yourself. He found you vexing, at times, because you couldn’t own up to your truest self. He thought you were bratty, mouthy, and prissy, but he didn’t hate you. Not the way you hated him.

He wasn’t ecstatic when his father first presented the news of the two of you marrying because he knew how things would go with you. You were impossible to work with, and yes, Satoru knew that his teasing didn’t make your tolerance of him any more plausible, but even in putting that aside, you refused to meet him halfway or see him eye to eye. It drove him crazy.

You couldn’t even fathom standing by his side for more than five minutes at a party. You were too caught up in yourself and your hatred for him, or more so the effect he had on you, that it interfered with your social abilities and therefore Satoru’s goals. 

God, you were a pain. A gorgeous, stubborn, spoiled pain that Satoru had the misfortune of marrying. Utahime’s words faded off into white noise as she yammered on to the white haired man before him, his mind stuck to you and the very meticulous ways you aggravated his entire being. 

You were heading over to find another drink presented by a waiter when your path was suddenly blocked. You halted, looking up past the broad suited chest before you to find the second face you dreaded craning over you with a sly grin. You failed to hide your disdain, your face dropping and your shoulders slumping the second your eyes met the crimson ones before you.

“Sukuna,” you groaned. “What a lovely surprise.”

“Is it?” his smirk widened, hands tucked into his slack pockets, voice dripping with malice. “It doesn’t seem like you’re very happy to see me.”

“What. No, I’m thrilled,” you said flatly with no emotion, and Sukuna hummed.

“Clearly,” he jumped his brows. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you tonight.”

“Well, I was praying you wouldn’t.”

He tutted lightly, dragging his brows together as if to scold you with his expression. “Come now, don’t be so rude. You are a guest in my home, after all.”

“Technically, this is your brother’s home.”

“Technically, it’s Wasuke’s but that’s besides the point. We all live here, so the details of whose house it was in the first place are of no importance.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure.”

“So, let’s cut to the chase,” the burly man began. He took a step close to you, moving to your side as his eyes wandered the area, then back to your face deviously. “I saw you come in with Gojo.”

Great. Another interrogation. “Yeah. So?”

“Jin says you’re dating, now. That true?”

You shook your head, twisting your mouth up. “If it is, why do you care?”

“Everybody cares, doll. You’re the talk of the town these days. I’m just trying to get my facts straight.” His body turned into you, and you shuffled back slightly. “Is it true?”

“You know, people used to have this thing called privacy. You ever heard of that?”

A low chuckle rumbled through Sukuna’s chest. “What’s the use of privacy when you live like this?” he questioned. “The notion’s practically nonexistent.”

“Then it’s out of the question to tell you to mind your own business?”

His smirk widened, blood red eyes simmering into you. “You’re always so feisty.”

“And you’re always a creep.”

“Am I now?” he mused. “You’re avoiding my question.”

“Because I obviously don’t want to talk to you about my love life, Sukuna.”

“Then I was right. You are together.”

You were about to reply when a body pressed into you from behind, pushing into the space between you and Sukuna and settling itself close to you at once. You knew it was Satoru when the scent of his signature cologne invaded your nostrils and the familiar rigidness of his buff, lanky form collided into your own. Sukuna was forced to step back slightly when Satoru invaded, and you jumped when a hand snaked itself around your waist and rested snugly.

You glanced down at the sight, the way Satoru’s hand clutched at your side and pulled you into him almost possessively. When you caught the look on his face, you noticed a bitterness swimming in his eyes and biting at his jaw. Though his glossed lips pressed into a smile he had worn all night, this one appeared blatantly exaggerated.

“Isn’t it clear by the ring on her finger?” Satoru grinned, blinking at the salmon haired rogue. “Or maybe your sense of sight is starting to fail you after all these years. You gettin’ old, Ryomen?”

“What? I can’t ask the woman a question myself?” Sukuna crossed his arms, eyes slimming when he registered the sight of Satoru before him. “I hate to jump to conclusions. I don’t like to believe everything I hear without going to the source first.”

“If you’ve heard our names circulating, then you’ve heard that we’re getting married.”

Sukuna made an unimpressed scoffing noise, lifting his painted fingers to scratch the side of his jaw as he eyed you suspiciously. “Like I said, I don’t believe everything I hear,” he muttered lowly. “How long exactly has this been going on?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you countered. Ryomen flashed an enticed grin your way, and Satoru’s fingers instinctively dug further into your side. You could tell by his body language and the way his grip tightened around you that he and Sukuna did not exactly enjoy each other’s company. You assumed by the way he had swooped in that there was something he felt he needed to prove to Jin’s twin, and whether it was his superiority as a businessman or as your ‘fiance’ you weren’t sure, but what you did know, or believe, was that it was still all for show. 

“Honey, the man’s asking, so there’s no need to keep any details from him, hm?” Satoru proposed sweetly, his eyes still burning into Sukuna’s face as he spoke to you. You remained hesitant to play into his behavior, though Sukuna’s interference admittedly made you want to fit into the role more than you had when he wasn’t pestering you. Nevertheless, hearing Satoru address you as ‘sweetheart’ and ‘honey’ proceeded to rub you the wrong way. You chalked it up to disgust at first, but the pit in your stomach that was forming due to discomfort was attempting to sway you. 

Maybe it was because he was calling you such cute names while his arm was wrapped around you. The contact was rather foreign to the both of you, yet Satoru did so as though he had done it a hundred times over. 

It felt… odd, in the sense that it didn’t feel terribly out of place. 

Your underlying bitterness still peeked through and impacted the shift of your opinions. As strangely natural as Satoru’s touch abruptly felt, your disapproval of the evening and the overall ordeal remained. Satoru was your fiance, not your friend or lover.

“Seems like she doesn’t have much to say,” Sukuna jumped in. “Possibly because… it’s not true,” Sukuna posed, rolling his head to the side as he surveyed Satoru’s reaction devilishly. In many ways, you noticed the similarities between the two men like this. They both sought to bring a rise out of others, though Sukuna aimed to do so with as much ill-willed intent as possible and a very obvious lack of subtlety. In comparison, Satoru seemed like a saint when Sukuna uttered the most foul things he could think of to piss someone off. You could tell he was simply charging up to do so in this case scenario.

“How could it not be true when the goddamn ring is on her finger,” Satoru shot back slyly, eyes narrowing. “If you really want, I could bring the signed papers for you to see too. Would that be real enough for you?”

“I just find it hard to believe that miss ‘hard-to-get’ here managed to settle down within the span of a month,” Sukuna shrugged. He looked back down at you. “Could’ve sworn you told me you were never gonna entertain another man, much less get married to one.”

“I’m sure she was only saying that about you,” Satoru chuckled. “Since you couldn’t take a hint if a meteor was hurtling toward the earth and (Y/n) shoved you into its path.”

“You really think she wouldn’t do the same to you once she gets tired of pretending?” Sukuna’s brow raised. “I can see right through you. I know what this is really about.”

“I do too. It’s about my future wife preferring to marry me over having two seconds of regrettable sex with you.”

“Ha!” Sukuna bursted out, leaning forward slightly with the release of his aggressive amusement. “Regrettable? I may be a lot of things, but my dick is anything but that.”

“OKAY!” you exclaimed, pushing your hands at the both of their chests, shoving them away from each other. Satoru’s hand failed to leave your waist as you moved, his eyes holding a coldness to them that made his smile appear rather daunting as he stared at Sukuna. “Whatever the fuck is going on with you guys, knock it off right now. This is not the time or place to have a dick measuring contest. Alright?” you lectured, looking wildly between the two men. Sukuna watched you with lazy hilarity as Satoru tugged you back to him.

“I’d win one anyway,” he grumbled, your back colliding with his chest.

You turned to give him an exasperated glare. “I doubt it,” Sukuna pushed.

“Enough,” you hissed. “The fuck is wrong with you two?”

“Wh- he started it!” Satoru accused, looking down at you from over your shoulder.

“And you entertained it,” you growled.

“Uh oh,” Sukuna snickered. “Trouble in paradise? All because of me?”

“Jesus Christ, Sukuna, find a hobby.”

“I’ve got plenty of hobbies, doll.”

“Don’t call my wife ‘doll,’” Satoru frowned.

“Sorry, does she prefer ‘baby?’”

Satoru hummed lightly. “You know what I’d prefer?” he simpered, holding you close. “Taking this outside.”

“Must you always resort to violence?” Sukuna exhaled as though he weren’t practically known for his tendency to get involved in unnecessary brawls at bars. “And at my family home of all places. Tch, some heir to the Gojo firm you are. I bet your father’s real disappointed in how you’re turning out, but it seems he doesn’t have much of a choice but to trust you against his better judgment.”

“What the fuck did you just say?” 

Satoru’s smile widened into something almost sadistic, his grip on you finally slacking to inch toward a confidently still Ryomen. You butted in again, wedging yourself directly in between the two of them, trying your best to handle the situation without drawing much attention. 

You pressed yourself into Satoru, urging him back. “Stop it,” you demanded.

Your fiance didn’t even look like he had heard you, though he allowed your touch to guide him back despite his overwhelming strength in comparison to yours. He stumbled about with a wicked expression, eyes locked in a murderous haze. You had never seen Satoru look so riled up before, on the brink of insanity. It had all happened so fast as well, and you weren’t exactly sure how to handle the situation.

“No, let him swing,” Sukuna urged. “I’m sure his father will love to see the headline in the morning. ‘Gojo Successor Throws Punch at Itadori Twin on a Generously Extended Invitation to Family Gala.’ It’s got a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“Sure does. I wonder how the headline would change if I stomped your face in,” Satoru mused, moving to approach once more, but you pushed him back with all your might.

“Satoru!” you seethed through gritted teeth, voice dropping with intensity. He blinked, flickering his eyes down at you hesitantly, caught suddenly between your objective and his own. Sukuna puckered his lips as though to make a silent ‘ooo’ sound, taunting Satoru from behind you. The blue eyed man eventually ripped his gaze completely from Sukuna and met your eyes. “Cut it out,” you mouthed carefully, pupils shrunken and hand pressed firmly to the space in which his heart beated rapidly amid his chest, your other hand firm on his shoulder.

Gojo’s chest rose and fell slowly, deeply, eyes searching your own as he slowly allowed his resolve to crumble under the severity of your gaze and the press of your palms to him. He had never seen you so serious before, so dominant with intensity when you normally took to whining and pouting around. Not only that, but you were trying to protect him from his own behavior, or perhaps you were protecting yourself, which was the real reason why you looked so sincere. Either way, it succeeded in convincing him to back off when he normally would not have bothered to stop and think about what he was doing. 

“I’ll be damned,” Sukuna snorted, catching your attention. His eyes hardened, clearly disappointed in his failure to push Satoru to the edge. 

“What?” you grimaced.

He breathed out heavily, closing his eyes. “Looks like you’re together after all.”

You furrowed your brows. “What does that mean?”

“Just that not even Satoru’s father can bring him down the way you just did. And we all know how Satoru’s father is,” he responded, suddenly disinterested. Your brain stuttered, unsure exactly of what Sukuna was implying by the notion. “Just don’t go off staining any of the couches in the house. They’re more expensive than all of our lives combined.”

Sukuna turned to leave when he stopped himself, looking back at you. “And if you ever get bored, you know where to find me.”

“Fuck off,” you snapped, leading him to chuckle and walk away.

The moment Sukuna disappeared, you grew hyperware of your hands still placed on Satoru’s chest. You turned back to him and swiftly let your hands fall, clearing your throat as Satoru followed Ryomen’s fading figure with his eye. “What a tool,” Satoru snarled. “Imagine if we were a real couple and he said that stuff. He’d have gotten his windpipe crushed.”

“I don’t know,” you started, eying Satoru questioningly. “You looked pretty ready to kill him anyway. Wanna tell me what that was about?”

The white haired man scratched the back of his head, looking off to the side with an exhale. “Not really,” he told you. “He and I have always hated each other’s guts.”

“I can see that,” you shook your head. “Seriously, what were you thinking? You were just gonna fight him in the middle of his ballroom? With all these people watching?”

“Calm down, jeez. You get worked up so easily.”

“Me? You just threatened to beat his ass!”

“For show, (Y/n). For show,” he smiled. “And I’m pretty sure it worked. He was convinced that we’re together by the time he left, wasn’t he?”

“Not to pretend like I know you very well, but I’ve seen the way you are when you act. That wasn’t acting. You looked pissed. For real.”

“Aw, thanks,” he beamed. “Must mean my practicing is paying off.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“Hey, I was doing you a favor,” the blue eyed man defended, his hands finding his hips. “You weren’t exactly enjoying your conversation with him. I helped you get out of it.”

“Which, by the way, you did not have to do by grabbing my waist!” you pointed out, recalling the touch that swarmed your lower half. “You need to learn more about personal space.”

“How many times do we have to go over the fact that I need to be handsy with you to convince people we’re together,” he craned his neck to ask you, looking down at your stubborn expression.

“Not the way you did it. That was way too intimate.”

“And what’s so wrong about that? Husbands and wives are intimate with each other all the time.”

“Yeah, but we’re not an ordinary husband and wife- we’re not even husband and wife yet.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever,” Satoru blabbered, leaning back to stand up straight. 

“I’m serious, Satoru. We need to talk about what just happened.”

The Gojo paused the wandering of his eyes, looking down at you as a grin spread over his face, his eyes twinkling. You looked at him oddly in return. 

“What are you looking at?”

“You’re calling me Satoru now.”

“I-” you stopped yourself, realizing that you had let his first name slip when you were trying to regulate his argument, or whatever the hell that was, with Sukuna. You clamped your mouth shut, having subconsciously gone against your own promise to yourself. Satoru only continued smiling smugly at you, awaiting a response. “…Shit. I did.”

Satoru’s chest jumped with laughter. “All on your own, too. Isn’t that something.”

“Look, I had to get your attention somehow. It just slipped out,” you rubbed your brow. “Don’t make it a big deal.”

“It is a big deal~” he sang, stepping closer to you.

You held your hand out. “What did we say about personal space?”

“You’re warming up to meeee.”

“No, no,” you pointed out your index finger, tilting your chin downward. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

Gojo pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, keeping his grin contained.“At least just a little bit.”

Against your better judgment, you felt the corners of your lips twitch slightly, his rather contagious pestering at long last impacting your mood. The moment you caught wind of yourself almost smiling, you forced the feeling away, looking everywhere but at Satoru and doing your damndest to look as though you were unmoved. You blamed the slip on the two glasses of champagne you had welcomed yourself to.

“I’m still mad at you for being late,” you reminded him. “And for even dragging me to this hellhole in the first place - two hours into the event.”

Bright hues of crystal blue held the vision of you for a bit longer, as though the heir were thinking, until he finally spoke again. “I’m kinda hungry.”

You were puzzled momentarily. “Okay…? They’ve got… like… horderves here.”

“No, I’m hungry for real food,” Satoru clarified. “Like a burger or something.”

You still weren’t sure which direction he was taking this declaration into. “Alright. And you’re telling me this because…?”

“You wanna get out of here?”

You stilled. “For a burger?”

“Why not?” he grinned.

“...You’re not asking me on a date, are you?”

“I’m asking you if you’re hungry and want to leave, because either way, I’m dipping in the next two minutes and you’d have to come anyway. Besides, you’ve been going on and on about how badly you wanna get out of here.”

You were torn. On the one hand, you were absolutely working up and appetite and itching to run as far away from this stuffy scene as possible though you had only been present for about forty-five minutes, but on the other hand, you weren’t sure if you could handle spending any more one on one time with Satoru.

Even so, you only dreaded so because for some reason, you weren’t entirely opposed to the idea at the moment. It had felt like such a long night already, and you were already out and about… you figured another hour or so with the Gojo wouldn’t kill you. You admitted that he somewhat defended your honor tonight with Sukuna, whether it was for his own gain or not, and you couldn’t deny the fact that you would have killed for a burger at this late hour. 

You didn’t feel very suffocated by Satoru as you stood before him, though you had felt so up until this very moment. That alone frightened you, confounded you, sparked the gears to turn in your head over what about this gala had you softening to accept your fate just a little bit, succumbing to the will of your father and playing the tiniest bit nice. 

Hell, you didn’t know, but you truthfully hoped that you would snap back to reality the following morning. For now, however, a meal was on your mind. 

“Well?” Satoru urged and you huffed in defeat.

“You’re lucky I’m starving,” you said. “And I wanna get the hell out of here.”

“I can’t believe for once in our lives we’re on the same page.”

“Don’t get used to it. And I’m only coming if you’re paying.”

-

The two of you shamelessly conducted an irish goodbye when departing, and half an hour later found yourselves in the parking lot of a rather deserted fast food drive through at the other edge of the city, the distant sound of horns honking and tires screeching drifting off into the background. You leaned your head back in Satoru’s passenger seat, fingers graciously clutching the cheeseburger in your hand as you stared up at the starry night sky peacefully, chewing quietly.

Satoru sat with his seat reclined and his legs propped over the dash, his tie undone and dress shirt unbuttoned, blazer tossed carelessly in the back. He sipped the straw of his soda as he held what had to be his second or third burger in his other hand, keeping his gaze on the same sky above as his bluetooth transitioned into the next queued up song. 

You found this moment reluctantly tranquil, your energies to bicker occupied by the satiation of your hunger and your building exhaustion. After a night of shallow interactions and little food, the greasy meals within your grasps tasted like heaven had melted onto your tongues and jolted your senses back to life, therefore, you ate in peaceful seclusion. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

You turned to look at Satoru, mouth full and cheeks round with food. A spec of ketchup dotted the corner of your mouth and the white haired man laughed lightly at the sight before you swallowed and swiped the back of your hand over your lips. 

“Why do you always wanna ask questions?” you mumbled, distracted by your next bite.

Satoru peeled back the wrapper of his burger, the paper crinkling loudly over his music. “I’m a curious guy,” he said simply, looking down at the food in his hands. “What was going on with you and Sukuna back there?”

You hummed in retort, bringing your burger to your mouth to take another bite. “Y’mean- with how he was talkin t’me?” you asked, voice muffled as you shielded your mouth to chew and talk at the same time.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “It was kinda weird.”

“Dunno,” you shrugged. “He’s always been like that with me.”

“But you told Jin that you’ve never had any interaction with him. Why lie?”

You swallowed, angling your brows. “I didn’t lie. I misunderstood. I’ve never had an interaction that warranted Sukuna being angry with me, which was what I thought Jin was trying to say earlier, but I guess not.”

“Oh,” Satoru nodded, proceeding to eat again himself. He tucked his soda cup back into his cup holder and tilted his head back, eyes searching the black sheet above as he charged up his next question.  “So, he basically just wants to fuck you and you’ve always rejected him?”

Your mouth twisted upward at his words. “I mean- I guess, but you don’t have to be so vulgar about it,” you responded. “Plenty of men behave that way with me, which is why I don’t pay them any mind.”

“Sure, but Sukuna’s in a league of his own.”

“Yeah, a league of belligerent douchiness,” you quipped, causing Satoru to chuckle. “He just likes to push my buttons. Like someone else I know.”

You eyed the blue eyed twenty-six year old, and he rolled his eyes. “Hey, don’t lump me in a box with that prick. What he does is borderline sexual harassment.”

“Oh please, like you’ve never consistently hit on a girl who hasn’t been interested in you.”

“Can’t say I have, ‘cause women are always interested in me.” You scoffed.

“Whatever. You two have your resemblances.”

Satoru lowered his burger to his lap, looking at you in astonishment as though you had offended him. “Like what?”

You pressed your lips together, suppressing a smirk. “You both get on my nerves.”

“That’s not grounds enough to compare us like that!” Satoru exclaimed. “Only one of us has something actually going for his life while the other wreaks havoc because he’s bored. Not to mention, I’m more likable, more popular, more handsome, funnier, more charming- I could go on.”

“Please don’t,” you begged. “You obviously have more of a problem with him than I do.”

“I’ve just never liked him,” Satoru sighed. “He thinks he has the authority to knock me down, but he doesn’t. Yet he keeps trying and trying. It’s like he wants to see me fail for some reason.”

“You think he’s jealous?”

“Ryomen doesn’t get jealous. He just gets competitive.”

You looked down, crumbling up your wrapper into the balls of your hands once you had finished your burger. You avoided eye contact with Satoru as you prepared to speak. “And that stuff he was saying about your father?”

Satoru fell quiet for a second, his playlist filling in for his silence. “What about it?” he finally asked, his voice deflating. You could tell that this was a sore topic. 

“That was what set you off in the first place. After he was targeting me, he went for your dad and you let him get to your head.”

“That’s…” Satoru took in a breath, turning his head away from you. “Something entirely different.”

“Is it?” you said slowly. “Is there… something I should know? Considering I’ll be a part of the family.”

“No,” he answered quickly. “I mean- nothing that concerns you. My father is…” he trailed off, searching for the words to say. He must have noticed that he was trekking further into uncomfortable, foreign territory, and his eyes got that distant look in them again. It wasn’t like him to be so occupied mentally by something. Examining his reaction to your gentle prying about his father was surreal, for you had never pegged Satoru to be an emotional or swayed person. Yet here he was, struggling to describe how he felt about his own flesh and blood.

You knew the Gojo head to be a stern man, and a rather dislikeable one, but you had never stopped to think about how his personality clashed with Satoru's, who harbored such a free spirit. There was never any mention of a mother in the picture, for as long as you’d known about the Gojos, it had always just been Satoru and his dad as well as their predecessors, but perhaps there was more. Perhaps there was an underlying reason behind Satoru’s attitude welded within the burden of his family name shoved onto his shoulders by a cold and calculating father who had prioritized business training over emotional connection with his son.

It was second nature to ponder over it now, but you had never bothered to before, having been so blinded by your hatred for them. 

And for someone who was always so quick to give you replies, Satoru was surely taking his time to answer.

“My father’s a tough guy,” he eventually elected to say. 

You leaned a hand over to grab hold of your fries, jutting your brows in agreement. “I can see that,” you said. “He must get on your ass a lot since you’re his successor.”

“You have no idea,” he mumbled, picking at his wrapper. Your gaze lingered curiously as he looked down, yet the moment he looked up again, you turned away. “Anyway,” he tried to lighten the mood and change the subject. “Again, not your issue.”

“If you say so… but the man will be my father in law, so I figure I should know at least a little bit.”

“I’m sure you’ve already noticed everything you need to know about my family.”

You thought back to the robotic servant hands gripping at your body and the inhospitable words of Satoru’s father as he privately guided you through his expectations. “You’ve got a point,” you admitted. “I will say, you seem to stand out in that setting.”

“Hm?” he bit and chewed. “How so?”

“You seem a little more lighthearted than the rest of them when you’re being an arrogant dick.”

He snickered. “Do I, now?”

“Yeah, but take that as you will.”

“Are you trying to say I’m more tolerable than the rest of my family?”

“No- stop putting words into my mouth,” you pinched a fry between your fingers. “I’m just saying, even though you’re still bad, you’re a little warmer than the people I’ve met at your estate. Psh, especially your dad. That man could make hell freeze over.”

You stopped yourself when you lifted a fry to your lips, believing you had possibly crossed a line when mentioning his father in such a way.

“Sorry,” you murmured, shoving the fry into your mouth to shut yourself up.

Satoru sported a humorous grin, dimples popping as he gazed at you in surprise. “Don’t apologize on my account,” he said, lifting a free hand to nudge your arm playfully. You shot him a weary look. “That actually makes me feel better.”

“Hearing me shit talk your dad makes you feel better?”

“Believe me, I’m surrounded by plenty of people who ride his ass out of fear or greed without knowing the worst of it behind closed doors,” he confessed bitterly. “It’s a good change of pace, your disapproval of him. Which, obviously, I know goes hand in hand with your disapproval of me,” he was quick to add.

He reached his hand over and stole a fry from your bag, and you quickly turned your food away and tucked it under your arm. “Hey! Eat your own food, fat ass!”

“I paid, so it’s all fair game,” he smirked, making a show of eating your fry before your eyes very slowly.

“You’re wicked,” you frowned.

“I know, sweetheart, I’m terrible,” he played along, his comment earning him a swat to his shoulder that he took like a champ by laughing at. “Enough about my father, though. What about your dad?”

“Ugh,” you groaned. “Do we have to talk about our families?”

“You’re who one who started this conversation…” Satoru kicked back further, tilting his head completely to you to show that you had his full focus. “What’s he really like?”

“You seem to have your own opinions of him already,” you said, referring to all the times Satoru had delivered conniving comments about your dad and his practice for you to hear.

“I have my business opinions of him,” he modified. “I don’t know what the man is actually like  beyond that.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, he’s my dad,” you quickly said, not entirely desiring to indulge this topic. “He works hard. He tries his best to make the right decisions.”

“You seem pretty close to him.”

You looked at him. “What makes you say that?”

“In comparison to how my dad and I are. I don’t know, I can just see it in the way you talk.”

“...Has anyone ever told you you’re nosy?”

“Yeah.”

You scoffed a laugh, lowering your head with a soft smile. Satoru studied the sight closely, unfamiliar with such a sign of contentedness portrayed by you in his company. 

“I guess you could say we’re close, sure,” you mumbled. “It’s just me and him, too.”

Satoru shifted, turning his upper body to face you as he lounged. “No mom?”

You exhaled. “No.”

“...She’s not dead, is she?”

“No, no,” you shook your head. “Well, actually, I don’t know. She ran off when I was five. I never really knew her.”

“Oh,” Satoru deflated. A stiff moment of silence settled between you as the man tried to figure out how to respond. “That’s… sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you assured him strangely, for you had never heard Satoru apologize to you. “Like I said, I didn’t know her.” You paused. “What about yours?”

“Ah,” he scratched the back of his neck, a hesitant, awkward smile befalling him. “Dead.”

Your eyes widened and your heart dropped. You hadn’t expected him to admit such a thing, and to do so in such a casual way. “Wh-? She…?” you stammered. “I- I had no clue.”

“How could you have? She’s the one thing my father doesn’t talk about or share with the whole world. Only a few people know that. The rest of the world probably just thinks it’s always been my dad and I, which I guess, it always has,” he explained.

You turned your body, sympathy overtaking you as you faced Satoru with severity. “How old were you?”

“Younger than you were. Probably four,” he said calmly. “I didn’t really know my mom either. I do remember how she felt, though,” he began, eyes glazing over as he looked past you, daydreaming. “I only know because she was the only source of warmth I ever felt in that house. Then it was gone so fast.”

Your brows drew together, heart hammering with empathy. “That must have been hard.”

Satoru noticed the glint in your eye, one of sadness rather than pity, and he cleared his throat. “I was a tough kid. It wasn’t so bad.”

“Still… I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t kill her, (Y/n).”

“I know, but-” you stopped, pursing your lips. “I know…”

Satoru smiled. “Don’t look so sad. Sweet of you to care, but it’s a little weird seeing you all choked up because of me. Where’d that fire of yours go?”

“I’m not a monster, Satoru,” you clicked your tongue. “Besides, I know what it’s like to grow up without a mom.”

“...I guess we have at least that in common.”

You tapped your fingers against your bag restlessly, nodding slowly. “I think my dad and I are close because of it,” you eventually said.

Satoru looked over your face. “Yeah?”

“We have our moments, of course. We don’t see eye to eye on everything, including this whole… arranged marriage thing, but I can see he’s just trying to do what’s best for us. I think I give him a hard time for it.”

“All kids do that to their parents,” Satoru chuckled. “Especially daughters with their fathers. You guys get away with everything.”

You smiled to yourself. “He tells me the same thing… I wanted so badly to make my own life, but he never saw the purpose in me doing that.”

“I can’t say I see the purpose in it either, if I’m being honest.”

You frowned. “Why?”

“Look at me, (Y/n). My whole life has already been planned out for me, and I've got no reason to stray elsewhere. Not a lot of men in this world get to say that they were born into a wealthy home and have had a successful career on lock since the day they were born.”

“Okay, but haven’t you ever wanted something different? Haven’t you ever wanted to create your own path?”

“Of course I have, I’m a human being,” he said obviously. “But this is my legacy, and that also doesn’t mean that I have to take everything on the same way my father did. He calls me a disappointment because I like to have fun and not be cooped up in an office every hour of the day. I get my work done and I do what I have to do, but I’m gonna still be different nonetheless, which is the only path of freedom I take.

“People say I’m irresponsible and childish, but I don’t know anyone on this planet who lives happily as an emotionless slave to labor. If I’m gonna work for the rest of my life, I can at least do so with personality- in my own way. My dad may not agree, and he may call me a disappointment, and it may suck, but I don’t care. Either way, I’ll still be rich and I’ll have my dignity intact, which isn’t something a lot of people like me can say.”

You stared at Satoru blankly, taking in his words carefully. He caught the way you looked at him and sighed once more, smiling gently. “Look. I get how you feel. I really do. We’re both in this together, but you have to take a second sometimes and realize just how good you have it by even having the choice of not working for the rest of your life. You turn your nose up at everyone else like you because you’ve got this idea in your head about what life should be, but I don’t even think you’ve seen life through the eyes of the ordinary people who actually live it. You think you know, but you don’t.

“You and I may never agree on anything. We may never like each other. We may very well be miserable for the rest of our lives, but you will be secure and I will take care of you because that’s my responsibility. Yours is to just trust that I’ll do just that, whether you want to or not. I don’t blame you for wanting to build yourself up. I don’t blame you for going to law school, and I don’t even blame you for resenting the world we live in, but you need to have more of an open mind. I’m not here to trap you, I’m here to help you.”

Your eyes searched for him, his honesty entrapping you in the isolation of his overwhelming regard. You wanted to argue, to tell him off for even thinking to lecture you so similarly to how your father would have and even had in the past, but you felt no anger. You felt no agitation or aggrievance. For the first time in your life, you saw Satoru Gojo rather clearly before you, untouched by the bias of your judgment or your father’s, untampered by your headstrong displeasure and resentment. He wasn’t trying to irritate you, he was trying to connect with you.

Even so, you couldn’t agree with him.

“All my life, people have been telling me not to work,” you started. “Nobody understood why I wanted to push myself, or why I got so passionate about steering away from the title of my father’s daughter. I know you think I’m spoiled and naive. The whole of Japan thinks the same thing. I’m not surprised, and I can’t even really tell you how you should think of me. Because you don’t know me. Not really.”

You looked back up to the sky, examining its vastness.

“It may have been stupid to go to school. It may have been stupid to fight with my dad so much about it, and it may have been stupid to dream so far out of my reach… but I don’t care. You’re not a woman, Satoru. You’re an heir and you’re a man. I don’t get to take on my father’s business, because even with all my knowledge about his work and having been raised within it, he doesn’t trust me as a woman to handle it. I either have to live as an extension of him or as myself, and it’s damn near impossible to do the latter. I know that. I’ve always known that, but I couldn’t just hold myself back because of what society expects me to do. I couldn’t just stop dreaming and wanting for myself. I couldn’t give up on me, and yes, it’s a naive way of thinking, but as long as I had a mind and an ambition, it was enough for me to try.

“Men look at me and see a little girl with a head full of fantasies, but I’m more than that. I’m me. I know what the world is like, and I don't negate that, but that doesn’t mean I have to push down my desires in accordance with how other people live. I’m my own person. I never asked to be stripped of my privilege, I just asked to be independent. To be addressed as (Y/n) and not my father’s daughter. As a woman in this world, I’m supposed to just sit back, look pretty, and not think. I’m supposed to be content, to marry and serve as a trophy or a piece of arm candy, but that’s not me. It never has been, and the more I speak my mind about it, the stupider people think I am. That’s not something any man can understand from a woman’s point of view.”

Something unreadable flashed in Satoru’s eyes as he listened to you. When you found his gaze again, you weren’t entirely sure what it was. He had mellowed out, his breathing steady and tranquil as he took you in, really took you in after having judged you so harshly, and you him. 

His glasses, having been removed for quite some time now, sat on the dash beside his feet and his brilliant gem-like eyes pieced you apart wordlessly, dug into your soul and into your mind. 

His snowy lashes fluttered delicately over his orbs, and you weren’t sure if the man was simply tired or captured by your conversation. 

He watched the ways your eyes shined as you spoke, and how they proceeded to once you were awaiting his reply. You looked so true to your word, so humbly outspoken. Your gentle words had guided a light of maturity onto you, one that Satoru was a complete stranger to in your wake, and it left him unsure of how to go on. 

His eyes danced down to the ring still on your finger as you clutched your empty fry bag. You followed his gaze, glancing. Your eyes bounced back up to his face inquisitively.

“What?” you mumbled softly. 

Satoru was shaking his head before he could speak, eyes failing to leave the sight of your ring. “I just think I’m starting to understand you,” he said lowly, his voice no louder than a whisper.

When your eyes met again, you felt something within you twitch, struggle, churn under him. You shuffled your feet, busying yourself with tucking your trash back into the empty bag on the floor. “I can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing.”

“Me neither.” 

You felt his eyes stay on you, and your patience wore thin. “What?” you demanded again, turning to glare at him as though you were mad.

He smirked, eyes shining. “You’re not so bad like this.”

“Like what?”

“Not snapping at me. Just talking,” he said. “Black looks good on you too.”

Your body released an involuntary reaction, your cheeks pinching and tingling with heat as his honey like voice droned out to compliment you. You panicked, for you had never reacted in such a way to Satoru’s taunting before.

“Uh uh,” you immediately shut him down. “Don’t start with me.”

“Start what?” laughter bubbled into his words.

“You know what,” you growled. “I’m not falling in love with you any time soon, so quit the flirting.”

“Oh, you’re afraid of falling in love with me?” he teased, pushing himself up to sit upright.

You flustered, tossing the fast food bag about angrily. “No, because that’s not happening! This is strictly business, like you said.”

“Right,” he rested his elbow upon the middle compartment, leaning his head to look up at you. “Of course. Business.”

“So stop looking at me.”

“There’s never been any harm in looking, sweetheart.”

You gnawed on the inside of your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of revealing your flustered state. You pushed yourself back into the seat, tightening your posture and holding your arms to yourself, your gown suddenly growing uncomfortable the longer you sat in it. “It’s late.”

“It’s been late, (Y/n). You’re all of a sudden noticing that now?”

“I’m just- I’m tired,” you excused. “And I wanna get out of this dress. Take me home.”

Satoru smiled, taking his own trash and piling it into the back along with whatever else he had thrown back there. He readjusted his seat, lowering his feet from the dash. “Looks like someone’s back,” he snickered. “I guess you can only be easy to talk to for so long.”

“I should be saying the same thing about you!” you fumed.

“Uh huh,” he dismissed you, now having seen a raw side to your frequent antagonization of him. He was hardly affected by your attitude now that he knew how your mind worked a little better. “I’ll take you home, don’t worry. But what do we say for treating you to food and for telling of Sukuna at the party…?”

He leaned his head toward you expectantly, and you were quick to nudge him away stubbornly, your chin propped in your hand as you looked harshly out the window. “I’m not thanking you for picking me up late, moron.”

Satoru grumbled dramatically. “Seriously?! You’re still stuck on that? I thought I had made up for it.”

“You’ll be trying to make up for that for the rest of your life.”

“It’s a little impressive how long you can hold a grudge.”

“I only hold onto them when you’re involved.”

When Satoru dropped you off at home and watched you head into your house safely, the gnawing feeling that something had shifted between the two of you prevailed in both of your minds. The blue eyed man studied you intensely as your figure ascended your steps, your figure moving gracefully snug in the magnificent dress you wore, your ring still twinkling in his sights even from afar. 

He thought about shouting something out to you before you stepped into your front door, something that would leave you festering with annoyance, that would leave you thinking about just how much he grinded your gears, but nothing came to him. He had no more words for you, nothing left to say. He was silent, dumbstruck.

Meanwhile, you worked your very hardest not to turn around as you walked away to sneak another glance at the white haired man, for your entire body was trembling with the betrayal of your own heart. You didn’t know what it was about tonight that allowed you to see Satoru in a slightly different light, that gave you insight into how he behaved and what life was like to inspire him to pester you so much. 

You thought back to the way he held you at the gala, how he had dragged you along and blabbered to practically the entire space that the two of you were together. You recalled the darkness in his eyes when he cut into Sukuna’s harassment of you, his easy retraction when you called him by his name and pressed yourself before him. 

You slapped a hand over your face, mulling over it all, upset with yourself. You lifted your hand to look at your ring once more behind the safety of your front door, lips turning up with confliction. 

You didn’t want to think of yourself as someone who could fall for Satoru Gojo. You knew you were better than that, but you were his fiancé now. You were to be married in less than two weeks, and it was dawning on you with such heaviness all of a sudden. 

You hated Satoru Gojo. You did, but something about him tonight had admittedly gotten to you. Whether it was the way he looked in his suit or how he had opened up to you about his mother, you weren’t sure, but you were impacted nonetheless, and it was driving you insane. 

You only prayed that you were not stupid enough to step further into the dangerous territory of warming up to your previous competitor.

[thecameronchronicles]

5 Minutes Or Less

TW: Public Sex. Smut. Degrading Language. 

Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank.

Enemies x Lovers.

SUMMARY: JJ’s eavesdropping ends in your pleasure…

WORD COUNT: 1700

*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*

5 Minutes or Less

You couldn’t even fathom why he would even be here. It wasn’t as if he was the life of the party as he may have been on his side of the island, on The Cut. Yet, he was shameless to indulge in what was offered to you and your fellow friends by the lead Kook who arranged this weekly gathering of drinking and drugs to quell his own vices. But as others were too focused on the imminent high or approaching intoxication, he just kept his eyes narrowed to you. Even if you shouldn’t have been surprised as this seemed to be his go-to interaction you shared as tensions from across any room in which you were together, for some reason tonight it had put you further on edge than normal. Perhaps it was because he was without his other pogues. Or perhaps it was even the way his eyes didn’t waver from you for even a second. Not as he took a sip. Not as he was bullied by your friends. And not as you could no longer take the heat of his iced focus. 

“Maybe something is just broken in me…” You confessed to Sarah as she bent over the vanity of the bathroom, applying another line of gloss over her lips. 

“You just haven’t had the right guy. I’m telling you, high school guys have no idea what the hell they’re doing…” She confessed. “Which is why I don’t waste my time anymore.” You slowly nodded, the details of the conversation rather vulgar despite the fact they echoed well into the hallway. 

“Sorry to hear about your predicament, princess…” JJ’s voice stilled you in place as Sarah continued down the steps and you turned to find him leaning against the wall of the bathroom, dimples on exposure as he was quite proud of himself. 

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re not above eavesdropping…” You shot in his direction before attempting to slip away back in the trail of your friend. But once again, his words were a means to stay. But not because they were welcomed by your heart, but because they were a further fan to the hatred that burned for him beneath your otherwise soft exterior. 

“I know what your problem is…”

“Oh really?” You asked with a roll of your eyes before he now blocked the path you could have made to escape these tensions. 

“You just haven’t had the right person is all…I mean…it shouldn’t take too long-”

“And what would YOU know about it?” You spat as he scoffed. 

“Only that I could do it faster than even yourself.” Your brow raised, the need to prove him wrong having caused any lines of morality and reason to blur. 

“Like I’d ever let you touch me to find out…”

“I always knew you were entitled and materialistic…but I never took you as a coward.” Your jaw clenched, “I’d even give you the benefit here…Let’s say…Five minutes or less…”

“You think you can make me come in less than five minutes with nothing else but your fingers?”

“It would be even shorter with my tongue, but yeah…definitely…” You clenched your jaw at the thought, having now been at rest at the wall between the steps and the bathroom as he had set you this way throughout the conversation. 

“Fine then…” He smirked, drawing his fingers to his smirk and sucking them into a drip, before moving closer to your shorts. 

“I hope you taste sweeter than you are because you can be such a brat-”

“You aren’t any-” Your words were silenced by his fingers making contact directly at your sex. The way he was able to keep you almost in a trance just by his own gaze had proven itself once again as you had been moved in such a way without learning of his fingers as they moved stealthily to you. 

“Is that all it took to shut you up after all this time?” Your eyes narrowed as you were stubborn, not allowing even a second of satisfaction to read across your face, even if his touch was enough to want to ride to your release. You’d had other fingers between those lower lips, but none that felt like his and you couldn't understand why. He wasn’t even allowing pleasure in longevity or depth as he was strictly teasing you, but perhaps this was what made you force those tremors into reserve. Because he was teetering around that satisfaction,well aware if he were to move a hairline over to your clit or a degree lower, he would have you belting out his name and renouncing your Kook citizenship, simply to come. And you loathed how he had this effect over you. The same effect that made you need to prove him wrong to such a degree that left any remaining virtues at your feet as he grinned widely at your reactions.

“Oh look at that face…you’re not going to come already are you? More desperate than I thought…” He berated as your grip tightened around his wrist as you rode further into his ringed fingers, a second now in attendance as his thumb made broad circles over your clit. 

“Oh you want to, I can feel it…" But as you could no longer fight him, the expiration of time still well out of reach, he would lengthen your torment. 

"Just how desperate are you, sweetheart?"

"JJ-" You spoke through clenched teeth, your tone aggressive, as your eyes pleaded with him. 

"Bet you'd let me fuck you right now…"

"Yes! Please!" His face suddenly read in pure bewilderment that quickly shifted to amusement until your hand wrapped around the back of his neck. Maybe it was the fact it was forbidden as far as social standards were concerned. Or maybe even the fact you had always been curious for his touch. Either way, you were desperate to know it. But that grip wrapped at his soin would drive his lips to yours, a single collision that left you willing to do whatever was necessary to keep the connection. 

His kiss was sweet, a contrast to his vulgar words and even more aggressive touch. But you craved it. You wanted to know all the ways your body would respond to him alkaot ad much as he wanted. Almost. But all he needed was the confirmation of your submission before he turned you towards the wall, fingers remaining to pleasure you, as his second hand pulled you back at an angle to kiss him. 

"You ARE desperate for me…wanting me to fuck you like this…where anyone can see you.. " You were too lost in the pleasure to care. You didn't care how it would appear. Nobody had ever made you feel like this and you were certain nobody ever could again. Nobody but him at least. 

"You wanna come?" 

"Please JJ!"

"Then beg like a good little slut begging for this pogue cock…"

"I want it…" You mewled as he continuously edged you. 

"Why don't we beg a bit more? Sounds so pretty, princess. So desperate for me-"

"Please…JJ…."

"Hasn't even been three minutes…" He scoffed, taunting you for your inability to exercise even a moment's patience. 

"I'd bet you'd also suck me dry just to keep my fingers like this…"

"Please, JJ! Please!" You pulled him back into a kiss as he was left in consideration. But the way you pressed against him and moaned before him was too much to bear. And so, in seconds, you were exposed from the waist down as the sound of his belt and joint buckle would be enough to inform you he joined in the vulnerability. 

"Yes!" You cursed aloud as he pounded into you, his dominant hand kept at your sex as the other was stationed at the wall for support. Your body was taken into an angle and then thrust into the wall in repetition as you moaned for him. 

"Has anybody else even ever been inside you, you're squeezing me like a fucking virgin!" He nearly growled into your ear as you validated you were experienced, but not enough to know how to make yourself come as he threatened to make you. Your eyes rolled at the thought. 

"Just never been fucked right, is that it? They're probably soft with you, telling you all those pretty words…but you need the dirty ones to make you come…"

"J-"

"Like how you're a whore dressing where I can tell you like to wear thongs? Or how about how I know you've made yourself come thinking about me…but it doest feel like this does it, sweetheart?"

"No…." You confessed. 

"You're gonna let me come inside you, right? Enough to drip down your thighs as you try to walk back to your little friends? I bet you won't make it another hour before needing me again…just needing my tongue because you'll be too sore for my cock again…"

"Please!"

"Tell me what you want. I don't think I've made you any stupider than you are…But if it is making it hard to say it.." His hand moved from your clit and to your neck. "Then scream it." 

"Fuck me!"

Your body was suddenly unleashed. Never before this moment had an orgasm charged through you to this degree. Only pleasure surged as conduits beyond each nerve as you felt him find his own release behind you. But even if he would have caused pain by how stuffed he left you, nothing could counter the effect he left behind. Your skin almost buzzed and your eyes were unable to see anything but remnants of the stars he forced to form behind compressed eyes.

You would never admit it. But you didn't have to. He knew he was the best you'd had. And just as you wouldn't offer that confession, neither would he. 

"Guess I won…" He smirked into your ear as you savored your tremors. Like sparks from a live wire, the desire remained. But just like the safety of such danger, it faded as he descended the steps, leaving you unsure of what would transpire if you were to see each other again. But you hoped you would.

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @drews1love @pankhoeforlife @pankowperfection

[beigehearts]

I literally love every request you send me and I appreciate you so much 😭 as always my friends, discretion is advised I don’t really use all capitals for expression of emotion but I thought it would work here. Also I didn’t write about how Hisoka would react if Illumi was hurt... but he would brutally murder whoever harmed him.

CW: abuse, blood, broken bones, bruises... there is some really gruesome and gory description so please only read if you know you can handle it

Illumi had told Hisoka that he put you in the basement as punishment. Hisoka wasn’t too concerned, he trusted Illumi to properly punish you when there is unacceptable behavior. So he went to be in his boyfriend’s arms and didn’t give it too much thought. 

It’s a gloomy morning and Hisoka wakes up first. He decides not to wake him up, and to go check on you. He stretches his arms in the air and yawns as he approaches the basement door. Before even getting downstairs he has to unlock a myriad of locks. It’s dark and a gust of cold air sends a chill up Hisoka’s spine. 

He flicks on the light switch and witnesses a crime scene. Blood is trailing down the stairs, and on the concrete ground there is a trail of blood that looks like someone has been dragged. Hisoka ventures down the stairs and follow the blood trail. What he sees is beyond gruesome and indefinitely cruel. 

You’re laying on the ground, curled up in a fetal position and practically unrecognizable. There is hair ripped from your head laying around you in the pools of blood that you bathe in. Your body dawns bruises that almost look like splatters of black paint. Your right arm is bent in an inhuman way, at a 90 degree angle, backwards. On the same arm, your hand is practically hanging off of your forearm, barely holding on. 

In a panic, Hisoka picks you up in his arms and his heart begins pounding. Your eye is resting on your cheek while similarly to your hand, is hanging on by a tiny bit of meat. Your face is unrecognizable, battered and bruised as if someone tried to make you suffer. Someone.

The real panic sets in when he realizes how shallow your breathing is, almost no air entering or leaving your lungs. And your heart beat is weak, begging for mercy. 

Hisoka races up the stairs and screams, “ILLUMI!” His scream bounces off the walls, shaking the entire house.

Illumi travels down the stairs but when he sees you his heart skips a beat, and not out of love. For once in a blue moon, his face shows nothing but panic. Hisoka is fuming, bloodlust flowing through his veins and seeing everything in a dark tint of red. 

The both of them put that aside and rush to the hospital, which is not something they would normally allow. 

- - - -

Your ears are ringing with a screeching sound. Soon it dies out and is replaced with rhythmic electronic beeps. Without even opening your eyes, the light is blinding. 

It feels like you’re floating, floating with knives in every part of your body. It stings, it burns, it hurts, the pain is indescribable. 

It takes much effort, but you open your eyes. Your vision is blurry and you can’t tell if something is far away or right in front of you. Something is covering your left eye, and that’s when you recognize the numbness in it. 

What you can make out with your one good eye are some monitors, a needle in your left arm, and... them. They’re only undefined shapes, soft on the sides and blurry everywhere else. They seem to be closer to your bed, and you feel a cold hand on your leg. You don’t understand what they’re saying, it just sounds like a quiet version of the teacher from ‘Charlie Brown’. 

You can’t move your fingers, you can’t move your right arm. You glance down at it, it’s bandaged heavily but they’re soaked in a dark red. What happened?

Ah yes... You tried to jump out of the window, and Illumi grabbed you, and dragged you to the basement. After punching you hard in the face, he kicked you down the stairs to the cold and dark basement. That’s all you remember. Perhaps your brain is blocking out the traumatic experience in hopes to keep you somewhat sane. 

How could you forget? Your reality, your day to day life... Is a living hell. Except now, the devil decided to handle you by himself. 

[heroloverangel]

Cloud City

We interrupt your regularly-scheduled filth for some surprise Sad Boy Hours.

You’re six years old when Oboro Shirakumo drops into your life. Quite literally, in fact.

It’s your first day of school, and you’re terrified. Your family only moved to this city a few weeks ago, and you haven’t had a chance to meet any of the other kids in the neighborhood. So here you stand in the school yard, shyly watching from behind a tree as your new classmates play together. You’re lonely, but too nervous to approach them. Your tiny mind is on the verge of a breakdown and you can feel the sting of tears in your eyes. “Don’t cry,” you whisper to yourself. “I’m not a baby, don’t cry.” You sniffle, but your train of thought is interrupted by the sound of a twig snapping above you.

There’s a boy floating on a cloud several feet over your head, one hand grasping a branch to keep himself steady. “Hi!” He grins down at you, and you look back with wide eyes. “I’m Oboro! Wanna be friends?” You gawk up at him; you’ve never seen a quirk like that before. Even his hair looks like a fluffy cloud in the breeze. 

“Okay,” you agree after a few more seconds of confused staring. Your new friend gives you a thumbs up, immediately loses his focus, and the cloud dissipates underneath him. Both of you scream as he comes crashing to the ground, landing on your back. You’re rewarded with some impressive scrapes to both your knees, and him with both his front teeth knocked out. You’re inseparable from that moment on.

You’re the best of friends through elementary, but things begin to change once you hit middle school. It’s cute when you’re six and happily tell your parents that you’re going to get married when you grow up. It’s just awkward when you hit puberty and start to discover that your feelings for your best friend suddenly aren’t so cute anymore. The two of you grow apart with separate friends and different interests, but still make it a priority to walk home together every day. 

“High school admissions are due soon,” he points out during one of these walks. It’s been storming all day, and the two of you huddle under the same umbrella in a half-hearted attempt to stay dry. He’s hit a growth spurt over the years and towers above you now; it’s hard for both of you to stay out of the rain if you’re not nestled suspiciously close together. “You figure out where you’re applying yet?”

You shrug, stepping wide to avoid a puddle that he ignores. “Probably just Endor. It’s close, and they’ve got a pretty decent reputation.” You nudge him with your shoulder. “You’re going for UA, right?”

It’s never been a secret that Shirakumo wants to be a hero, and there’s no doubt in your mind that he’ll be great at it. He stops walking and you look at him, surprised to see his expression so discouraged.. “Yeah, of course. You’re not? Their general studies class is supposed to be one of the best, too.”

You glance away. “Too much pressure, I think. And it’d be hard, going to school in a different city where I wouldn’t know anyone.”

“You’ll know me.” You’ve both had a grip on the umbrella, but now his fingers wrap tightly around your hand and squeeze.

“Oboro…” You’re not used to him having such a serious look on his face, his eyes wide and unblinking as they stare into yours.

“Come with me.” It’s not an order, it’s a plea, and your chest feels tight at the thought of disappointing him. You swallow hard and nod. It won’t hurt to apply, you think. You probably won’t even get in.

Shirakumo pushes a stray strand of hair out of your face and leans down to press his lips against yours. Your first kiss isn’t perfect; his neck is bent at an uncomfortable angle to make up for your height difference, your nose bumps awkwardly into his as you shift, a car drives by too fast and splashes both of you with frigid water. Still, when he pulls away his smile is as warm and bright as the sun. You’ll gladly follow him to UA. You’ll gladly follow him to hell and back if it makes him happy.

He’s accepted into the hero course without a problem, but you make him promise that he’ll go even if you fail. You’re more shocked than anyone when you open the envelope to find an acceptance letter welcoming you to UA, and you finally allow yourself to feel excited. You’ll be going to the best school in the country, and you’ll be there with your favorite person in the world. For the first time you won’t be in the same class, but you’ll still be close enough to watch him reach his dreams. 

The first few weeks of high school are a whirlwind of chaos before you settle into a routine. You have to be at the train station before dawn; every morning Shirakumo meets you outside your house, still half-asleep and groggy as you walk. You split something simple for breakfast most days while you ride. When you’re lucky enough to find two open seats together, you can manage a well-deserved nap slumped against each other’s shoulders. Your classes are tough but with enough effort you manage to do well once you form a study group going with the other girls in your class. They’re friendly, and they’re both impressed and jealous to learn that you’re already dating a hero student. They swoon when he appears at your side on the first day of school to buy you lunch, and you can’t help but gloat just a little at your good fortune.

The hero course is even busier than general studies, and you don’t get to see much of your boyfriend during school hours. It’s nearly a month into the term before he catches sight of you at lunch again and practically sprints over, flanked by two classmates you recognize from the stories he’s told you on the ride home every day. “Guys,” he grins and throws an arm around your shoulder. “This is my girl! The one I’ve been telling you about.” Your heart skips a beat at being called his girl, and knowing he’s been gushing about you to his friends. Yamada’s a bright, loud ball of energy when he introduces himself, while Aizawa barely mumbles his name and looks like he’s been dragged over against his will. They both seem nice, and you’re happy he’s found some good friends to work with.

Everything goes surprisingly well for your first year at UA, and your second seems like it’ll be just as good. It’s late one night, several months into the school year, when you’re woken by a tapping at your bedroom window. This isn’t the first time Shirakumo’s snuck you out of your house, but the window gets harder to crawl out of every year and you’re glad that graduation isn’t too far off. “Hey, come look at the stars with me. They’re really pretty tonight.” It’s not like he needs to give you the excuse, but you can see he has a point.

Ten minutes later you’re laying on a cloud together, floating a few feet over the power lines in your neighborhood. It’s cold up there, and you cuddle together for warmth as you watch the stars overhead. You know more about the sky than him, and he’s happy to listen while you point out a few things above you. A chilly breeze blows through your thin pajamas and makes you shiver, and he pulls you in closer to share his heat. “Was all of this just an excuse to get me alone up here?” You laugh, kissing his smiling lips.

“Not all of it,” he jokes with a smirk. “We’re past the halfway point this year already. Just one more, can you believe it?” You curl up close and listen to him chatter about his big plans for the future. You’ve heard this all before; he’s always so excited about the idea of opening that hero agency with Aizawa and Yamada. “I figure we’ll do the sidekick think for awhile, work up some solid experience, y’know? Then it’ll be smooth sailing when we break off on our own after that. Four, maybe five years?” You nod, running your fingers through his familiar fluffy hair. “And then once things settle with the agency, we can get married if you want,” he announces with only the faintest blush betraying his nerves.

“Oboro, what?” You bolt into a sitting position, gawking at him with wide eyes. Sure you’ve thought about the future you might have together, but the two of you have never talked about it before. “You can’t just spring that on me out of nowhere!”

He folds his arms behind his head, totally unconcerned. “It’s not really out of nowhere, is it? You know I’ve been in love with you since we were six, right?”

This boy is ridiculous. “Me too, but still! Isn’t this a little sudden? There’s so much more to talk about if you want to get married.”

He shrugs. “Like I said, it won’t be for a couple of years. We’ve got plenty of time to talk it over.” He grabs your hand and pulls you back down to rest your head against his chest. “I’ll wait for you, as long as you want.” You stay like this for a few minutes, mulling the proposal over in your head. “Just think about it for a couple years, okay?”

Slowly, you nod. “Okay.” You’re already warming up to the thought of marrying him. You’re seventeen, and you’ve been together for eleven years now. You can give him another five. Or ten. Or fifty, if that’s what he wants. In your heart you already know you’ve decided on an answer, and you murmur it into his ear later as he’s helping you climb back through the window into your bedroom. He’s beaming with happiness as he kisses you goodnight and flies off. You’re too giddy with love to sleep the rest of the night.

If you’d known what was coming only a week later, you never would have said goodbye. He promised to call you after his internship the night before, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d fallen asleep instead as soon as he got home. You’re not worried until he doesn’t show up in the morning to walk with you, even after you call him twice with no answer and wait until the last possible minute to leave on your own. You arrive at school just as the final bell rings, and it’s a bit of a relief when you catch a glimpse of Aizawa looking even more tired than he normally does. They must have had a really tough time on their patrol, you assume, and Oboro just decided to take a well-deserved day off.

Your day is uneventful until lunch, when you hear your name called to the office. The principal sits there with your homeroom teacher and the counselor, all of them looking grim. A lump forms in your throat; you’ve got no idea what you could have done. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes. We understand that you’re particularly close with Oboro Shirakumo from the hero class.”

You nod. “Yeah, we’re dating. Um, actually we’re kind of engaged now, I guess?” Your stomach drops at the sad expressions facing you. “Did...did something happen? I haven’t seen him all day. Is he hurt?”

Nothing in the world could have prepared you for the answer. “He was killed in an encounter with a villain yesterday. I’m sorry for your loss.”

You want to argue, insist there’s been some mistake, but the words don’t come. A sudden sense of numbness sweeps through you as it sinks in, and it feels like everything within you shuts down. Your brain doesn’t process the voices offering you sympathy and compassion. Your lungs refuse to take in air. You’d swear that your heart itself stops beating in some attempt to defend itself. You’re not even aware of your movements as you stand and leave the room while your teachers are mid-speech. You need to get out of there. You need to be alone. You need to breathe, but you can’t. You’re on autopilot as you rush down the empty hall, if you can get up to the roof there’ll be fresh air-

Completely blinded by your grief, you collide hard with another body and almost fall before hands grab your shoulders to steady you. “Sorry,” you gasp through the lump in your throat. “I just-” You blink back your tears and stop when you recognize him. Up close, he looks even worse than usual. His eyes are red and hollow, the dark bags under them could pass as bruises. It’s obvious he hasn’t slept all night, you can practically feel the exhaustion radiating off of him. “Aizawa,” you croak, your voice cracking on the syllables. He doesn’t say anything, only gives your shoulder a squeeze, and something inside you completely breaks.

“Oboro, he’s...” is all you can manage through your tears. You fists ball into Aizawa’s jacket as you sob against his chest, and he doesn’t stop you. He knows there’s no comforting you; the only thing he can do is let you use his shirt as a tissue while you mourn. You’re vaguely aware that a bell rings to resume class, but you ignore it. You can’t bring yourself to do anything except cry until there’s nothing left, and he stands there holding your shoulders to keep you upright. It’s the best way anyone can help you right now.

An eternity later, you wear yourself out. Your throat feels raw, your eyes are burning, and your fingers hurt from the grip you’ve had on his uniform. “Thanks,” you manage out, and he nods silently. He’s not the most exciting, but you’ve always liked Aizawa’s calm personality as a match to your boyfriend’s unstoppable energy. Your own emotions are a train wreck, and you don’t think you could handle being around anyone else after that news. “I’m glad he had you,” you muse out loud.

“Thanks,” he says awkwardly with a shrug before fixing his wrinkled jacket. “You should get back to class.” Aizawa walks off before you can think of anything else to say.

You don’t go back to class. The other students have noticed something’s off, and rumors are beginning to spread around campus already that there’s a new, empty space in the hero course. You grab your bag and head for the exit as fast as you can, ignoring everyone else along the way. You spend the rest of the week at home; your parents allow it once they learn what happened. It’s a struggle to get through the first month without Shirakumo’s presence hanging over you like a cheerful little cloud, and the rest of the year doesn’t get any easier. Your friends do their best to console you, but it’s a losing battle when you feel his absence every minute of your day. It’s all too familiar, too easy to see the missing piece that’s been a part of your life for so long. You transfer to Shiketsu for your final year, where no one knows about Loud Cloud and you aren’t stuck going through a routine that’s been irreparably broken.

It’s an uphill fight. You force yourself to do well in school, because it’s what he’d want for you. You throw yourself into work and establish a good career, because it’s what he’d want for you. You make yourself move past your loss and date other men, because it’s what he’d want for you. By the time you’re 31 you’ve got a divorce under your belt, a sad excuse for a social life, and a cat with fluffy white fur; you loved him the moment you laid eyes on him. You’re not entirely satisfied with how your life has turned out, but it could be worse. You can go entire weeks now without thinking about him. Sometimes you wonder what kind of life the two of you would have, but you try not to dwell on those thoughts. 

You’ve had the day off and have spent it happily lounging around the house. You treat yourself to lunch and settle on your couch to watch a movie with your beloved cat when an unfamiliar number pops up on your phone. You answer without a second thought. “Hi, if you’re out of noodles, I can just get rice instead. It’s fine.”

There’s a beat of silence before the man confirms this is the correct number. You don’t immediately recognize his voice, but you’re sure you’ve heard it somewhere before. “I’m not with a restaurant. This is Aizawa, from...from UA, when we were younger.” You can tell he’s choosing his words carefully, and he continues. “We need to talk. It’s about Shirakumo.”

It’s surprising how hearing his name is enough to reopen wounds you thought healed years ago. You swallow nervously, fresh dread pooling in your gut. You can hear how hoarse your voice is when you answer. “Okay. I’m off today, if you want to meet.”

You’ve got a very bad feeling about what you’re about to learn.

[calaofnoldor]

Driving My Baby

Characters: Dean x Reader (gender neutral)

Words: 2,183 (i can’t drabble)

Summary: Dean doesn’t know about your mad skills behind the wheel, but it turns out there’s nothing hotter than seeing his baby driving his Baby.

Warnings: implied smut, language, fluff, dean’s bow legs, references to the fast and furious franchise

A/N: was originally gonna post a slightly angsty 2-part dean fic next, but decided against it in light off recent events lol. there’s really no plot or substance here, just some light floof. (and yes, the title is a reference to the song ‘you’re having my baby’)

MASTERLIST

The roar of Baby’s engine rumbled to a halt as Dean glanced over at you, “Alright, so you gonna sit tight while I go scope this place out?”

You sent him a close-lipped smile, trying your best to repress the excitement bubbling within you. “Mhm!” you concurred with a bouncy nod, pausing to sneak a quick peek at his shapely behind when he stepped out of the car, “I’ll try and see if I can get a hold of that morgue guy again.”

Walking over to the passenger side, Dean bent down to kiss you through the open window. “Mmkay, I’ll be back soon,” he mumbled against your lips, before turning to commence his search for the potential vamp hideout you suspected was in the vicinity.

“Oh wait! Dean!” you called out, stopping him in his tracks.

“Yeah?”

“The keys?”

Dean looked down at his pocket where the Impala’s keys were safely nestled and then back up at you with raised brows.

“You’re not gonna leave me in here like a dog, are you?” There was a subtle hint of amusement in your voice, but also a challenging edge, as well as a slight pout which you added for good measure. You knew he could never really say ‘no’ to you.

And as expected, Dean returned to deposit the keys into your waiting hands. You gave him a wide smile in return, “Thank you! Love you!”

Your boyfriend narrowed his glimmering green eyes at you, imparting one last suspicious glimpse in your direction as he grumbled somewhat warily, “Love you too,” and then finally sauntered off for good.

Biting your lip, you watched with bated breath as his figure grew smaller in the rear-view mirror. Normally, you would have enjoyed the exquisite vision of what you often dubbed his ‘sexy ass bow-legged swagger’, but this time, it was when Dean was no longer in sight that a devilish grin broke out across your face.

But really, who could blame you? You’d been a car enthusiast all your life, and classic cars were your weakness. “It’s just you and me now, Baby.” Your fingers glided along the dashboard.

With Sam on the bench due to a broken ankle (courtesy of the werewolf from your last hunt), you and Dean had driven out to Piedmont to take care of this vampire case on your own. So now after two years with the Winchesters, you finally had a chance to explore the front seat of Dean’s Baby, his pride and joy, the glorious, refurbished 1967 Chevy Impala.

When you’d joined forces with the brothers, it was readily agreed upon that you would be better off riding together in the sleek American muscle car, so you ditched your stolen, rusty 2003 Honda Accord and never looked back. Since there was a giant moose to accommodate, you were naturally relegated to the back seat, and rightfully so, but boy, did you miss the thrill of being in the driver’s seat.

You were always a bit of a demon behind the wheel, and it’d been ages since you’d gotten the chance to flex your driving skills. Back when you and Dean first got together, he promised you joyrides (and other recreational activities) in Baby, but the hunting life never seemed to let you get it on.

Sliding across the bench seat, your lungs released a contented sigh as you wrapped your hands around the leather-bound steering wheel. Dean’s bowlegs, however sexy, were not the same length as yours, so you pulled the lever beneath the seat to adjust its position to your liking. Perfect.

You took your time getting to know the ins and outs at the helm of the Impala, though it seemed like none at all had passed when you suddenly heard Dean’s deep voice cry out.

“Y/N!” Your eyes shot up to the rear-view mirror to find an image of the older Winchester running towards the car. “We gotta go!”

Well that’s strange, you thought. Dean never ran – not unless someone, or more often something, was chasing him… Oh shit. Had he somehow woken the vampires? But the sun was still thriving; how much could they retaliate out in the open at this point during the day?

“We gotta get outta here! Now!”

Dean’s voice was much closer now and if you’d learned anything from your experiences hunting with the Winchesters, it was to never doubt your boyfriend’s commands. He was a seasoned pro and possessed instincts like you’d never seen. It’s a good thing you’ve also got some of your own.

Plunging Baby’s key into the ignition, you started the car without hesitation, allowing yourself only a second to relish in the thunderous purr of the engine below you and the incomparable feeling of glee that always sprouted in your chest whenever you were sat at the wheel of a powerful, capable vehicle. Indeed, the adrenaline was already rearing.

As Dean approached the car, you quickly reached over to open the passenger side door for him. “Get in the car!”

“You- Wha-“ Dean stumbled for a split second, so accustomed to taking the driver’s seat. “Y/N, they’re awake and they’ve got bikes – a bunch of Harleys!” he continued to explain, as if that would get you to move out of his designated spot.

“OK, so hurry up!” you yelled again.

Seeing no better option, Dean hastily climbed into the car. Just as he got in, your ears picked up the unmistakable resounding growl of revving motorcycle engines. From the sound of it, they couldn’t be too far off. So when Dean slammed the door shut, your foot came down fast and heavy against Baby’s gas pedal, propelling you forward with an aggressive lurch before you whizzed off, burning rubber and leaving nothing but flying leaves and dust in your wake.

“Jesus!” Dean bellowed; his eyes had grown to about twice their usual size.

You paid him no attention though, too busy reveling in the delightful buzz that vibrated through your body starting from your fingers and toes, where you could feel every unit of Baby’s intoxicating horsepower, and travelling up your limbs until the exhilaration settled deep within your very core.

Stealing a glance at the rear-view mirror, you caught sight of the monster-driven motorcade advancing considerably, so you decided to take the next available turn as an attempt to throw them off. Things were getting truly exciting now.

“Vamps on bikes? Really?! And covered in leather?” you huffed mirthfully with a shake of your head.

But it was Dean’s turn to ignore you. He was clutching at his door tightly, as if afraid your driving might somehow hurl him out of it. In fact, when you took the first corner without warning, Dean just about fell over.

“Woah! Slow down, Toretto!” he shouted in alarm, looking over at you as if you’d grown a second head.

Seeing you’d managed to surprise the vampires with your unexpected maneuver however, a loaded smirk was your only reply.

It took you about twenty minutes to get the vamps off your tail, during which time Dean managed to recover from his initial shock and began instead to absorb your radiant form. The look of exuberance on your face and the utter determination in your bright eyes, mixed with the mischievous tug of your lips, and combined with the all-around liberated and euphoric aura that surrounded you was sexy as hell, not to mention your sheer competence. All of it astounded him and caused his blood to flow to places he could not have foreseen.

You seemed to be completely at one with his esteemed Baby, handling her with perfect control and aptitude, and all the while enjoying yourself so very much. It was something Dean never knew you were capable of, but more so, it was something he never knew he needed.

Dean had always loved how much you loved and appreciated his car, but this made him feel like he was seeing you in a new light; it made him feel like he was falling for you all over again. That devilish glint in your normally kind and virtuous eyes, your ever jubilant and fervent love for life after enduring so much pain and grief, the way you never ceased to amaze and surprise him – it was all gloriously heady and irresistibly addictive. His teeth couldn’t help but pull at his lower lip, emerald eyes glazing over with lust and adoration as he stared over at you in the driver’s seat.

So when you ultimately pulled into an empty clearing, not wanting to lead the vamps straight back to your motel room, Dean was at a loss for words.

“So, a bloodsucking motorcycle gang, huh? Can’t say I’ve seen that before,” you speculated in a cheery, nonchalant tone, feeling perfectly satisfied after your little stunt driving escapade.

Dean, on the other hand, appeared not unlike a fish out of water with his furrowed brows and pouty lips which appeared undecided as to whether they should remain open or closed.

“That was… I just- You-… I don’t even know…” he ran his hands through his hair, pulling the short strands forward roughly, “What just happened?”

You sent him a small, innocent shrug, rather amused at his adorably stuttery response.

“You never told me you could drive like that.”

“You never asked,” you replied truthfully.

“Fuck, Y/N. That was… so… incredibly…”

What? Your curiosity was killing you. Dean’s opinion always mattered to you and at the moment, you could read a myriad of emotions upon his face. He looked stunned and confused, perhaps a bit frightened, but at the same time awed and impressed, and maybe even – were you reading that right? – slightly… aroused?

Dean lowered his voice to answer your unspoken question, “Hot,” he finished emphatically.

You heaved a breathy laugh, “Yeah?”

“Fuck yes! Baby, that was incredible. The way you handled Baby like a fucking pro, the little faces you made when you were living for the thrill of the chase. The skill, the speed, the Tokyo drifting, all of it. Goddamn, you are so sexy when you’re driving my Baby like that.”

“Well that’s a coincidence ‘cause I also happen to find you amazingly sexy when you’re behind this wheel,” you joked lightly, “In fact, I think seeing you drive this car might’ve been part of the reason I fell in love with you.”

“And I think I just fell in love with you all over again,” came Dean’s suave response.

You giggled a bit, but soon sobered when you saw his gorgeous eyes cloud over with wanton desire. One minute you were dwelling in the heavily charged sexual tension that seemed to consume the entire car, watching his gaze wander down to your lips while yours did the same, and in the next your mouths met ferociously as your bodies swooped forwards simultaneously, crashing together in the center of Baby’s front seat.

You moaned into the kiss, your hands finding their way around Dean’s ridiculously broad shoulders and up to his thick neck. When you were forced to come up for air, his lips began to work their way down to your collar bone. “Mmm, god Dean.”

“Seriously baby, that was such a turn on,” he rambled across your skin, “I didn’t even know driving could be so hot.”

Your laughter was really more just an exhalation of air. “Are we finally gonna do it? Are we gonna christen Baby now, thanks to your newfound kink?” you whispered salaciously, your brain already presenting obscene images of the two of you re-enacting something akin to the infamous Titanic scene.

Dean paused for a moment, allowing you to rip off his outer layers with relish before he brought his large hands up to cup your cheeks. “See I wouldn’t call it ‘newfound’,” he started, dazzling forest orbs boring into your soul, “Cause I’m pretty sure it only turns me on when it’s you behind the wheel, and I’ve always had a kink for you.”

You stare at him in disbelief, unable to keep the smile off your face, “You are such a smooth fucker sometimes, Dean Winchester.” And with that, your lips and bodies collided yet again. His strong hands held you impossibly close while yours ran joyously across his expansive chest before travelling down to find the zipper of his jeans.

“Ungh, wait a sec,” you pulled back a little with knitted brows, a playfully incredulous tone taking over your voice, “Did you call me Dominic Toretto earlier?”

“Well, yeah. You were driving like a madman!” Dean exclaimed candidly.

You smirked, “So does that make you Letty Ortiz?”

“Sweetheart, I will gladly be the Letty to your Dom anytime you want… I still can’t believe you just took me on a high-speed car chase, that was fucking awesome! Just wait ‘til Sam hears about this one!”

Laughing as you pulled him back in, you shut him up with your tongue as it invaded his mouth, pausing only to smile against his luscious lips, “Mmm, well maybe he doesn’t have to hear about this next part?”

A/N #2: thank you so much for reading, feedback always appreciated! oh and here’s a look at some new stuff at lexicolor.redbubble.com :)

[costellos]

k. so you know that post you made with la squadra realizing theyre hopelessly in love. can i get uhhhhh that with itadori, fushiguro, gojou, and nanami maybe 👉👈

a/n: you sure can! and congrats on being the first to suggest JJK content, I’m honored to write u some of that #goodstuff. also, like the last post, you and your partner are already in a relationship here.

tw: none.

disclaimer: I'm anime-only, so apologies if my interpretations aren’t accurate to the characters!

❥ ┋ ❝ gojo, nanami, itadori, & fushiguro realizing that they’re hopelessly in love!

gojo satoru.

Gojo realizes that he’s hopelessly in love when he finds that sensitive spot on your side.

it was honestly an accident. he was trying to demonstrate the proper hand motions for a specific cursed technique. don’t flare out your elbows, tuck them in. you’ll damage your shoulders otherwise. open up your fists, palms out... but in trying to readjust your elbows, he reached a little too far and pushed a little too hard on that sensitive spot in your ribcage.

the squeak you made in response was adorable. well, hilarious first and foremost, but cute nonetheless. you can’t see his eyes. but that sly grin and furrowed brow tells you everything you need to know: he’s delighted he found such a peculiar quirk.

now whenever he approaches you from behind, he pokes your side. it’s become his way of greeting you. that squeak and your clutching your sides always makes for his grand entrance. he knows you hate it. but he also knows that you’re not going to do anything to stop him.

and he doesn’t mean any harm. he would stop if you asked. it’s just that your reaction shows so much about you. how you click your tongue and scrunch your nose at him. how you always tell him that you’re going to get back at him. it’s so you, wrapped up so nicely in such a small act. he’s not poking you because he thinks it’s hilarious; he’s doing it because he loves that you respond the same way, every time. ↳ “oops, my hand slipped! ...you know, you look really cute when you’re pouting.”

nanami kento.

Nanami realizes that he’s hopelessly in love while watching you interact with the students.

he overhears you show Kugisaki a more effective way of fighting. your student is already incredibly strong, but most of that strength comes from her upper body. by keeping her back straight and her knees bent (“don’t let them slide past your toes!” you tell her), she can place all her power in her quads, launching herself toward cursed spirits with terrifying speed.

she’s saying that the position feels awkward. you laugh in response, nodding and telling her that it takes some time to get used to. yet she’ll get the hang of it eventually, and you’ll be there to guide her every step of the way. she can trust you on that.

he says that he can separate professionalism and sentimentality. he also says that you’re too soft with the students. but hearing you believe so vehemently in these kids, assuring them that they can always rely on you... well. if you could see him, he’d sigh in response.

in truth, he’s envious that you can show so much of yourself to these kids. he’s so tired. working as a salaryman has wasted so many years of his life. being a jujutsu sorcerer hasn’t done him many favors, either. you’ve had your own share of stress. he doesn’t know how you can still show so much kindness to the world — day after day — despite that. but it’s a big part of why he loves you. ↳ “make sure you’re getting your rest. you can’t function properly if you keep pushing yourself.”

itadori yuji.

Itadori realizes that he’s hopelessly in love while watching a b-list movie with you.

you watch a movie with Itadori every Thursday night. take a break from the world for a moment; get out and live life as a normal human being. it helps that the movie theater closest to the school always shows new releases for 500 yen. it’s honestly a steal with inflation worsening by the day, and it gives you a good excuse to get off campus. because this has become a weekly habit, however, there’s only one, new movie waiting for you both: Mega Shark Versus Mecha Shark. aka, some shitty, American b-list film.

he doesn’t even have to ask. you know. this is it, this is going to be the pick of a lifetime. and boy, does Mega Shark Versus Mecha Shark not disappoint. 

the thing is though, Itadori isn’t even paying attention to the movie. he’s watching you from his peripheral. watching as you laugh at this stupid movie, ooooo’ing at the awful special affects. you squeeze his hand whenever things get particularly ridiculous, and he blushes every time.

no one else will sit down and watch these dumb movies with him. it’s just a waste of time, they tell him. but it’s not a waste of time if you’re having fun, right? who cares if the plot and CGI are some of the worst on the market. that’s what the experience is all about. and judging by your wide smile, cheeks sore from laughing all the way through the movie, you’re the only person who gets that. hell, who gets him.  ↳ “[Name]! the prequels are on Netflix! wanna check ‘em out when we get back?”

fushiguro megumi.

Fushiguro realizes that he’s hopelessly in love when he sees you reach for him in your sleep.

students aren’t allowed to have sleepovers in their dorms. that doesn’t mean that the staff is very good at enforcing it, though. you spend a lot of nights in Fushiguro’s room, sometimes to hang out, sometimes to cram for finals. it started as an accident, with your falling asleep after pulling an all-nighter for a test earlier that morning. Fushiguro didn’t seem to mind. so you took it as your green light.

he’s getting up to use the bathroom when he sees you do it. although you’re still asleep, your hand swishes across the sheets as if you were looking for something. you huff and mumble something he can’t understand. which is.... odd. but what if... he places his hand on top of yours? 

the moment he does, your scowl turns upwards. you readjust your own hand to lace your fingers with his. that’s when it hits him: him. you were looking for him. and suddenly, his face feels unbearably hot.

he’s not used to anyone caring that much about him. sure, Gojo cares about him as a student and Itadori as a friend, but you? that moment solidifies that you see him as your other half. a confidant, the friend you look for even when you’re asleep. all facts that make his heart as warm as his face that night. ↳ “I’ll be back soon. just... be patient.”

[captainlevisteacup]

Oooh, an idea has struck. The brothers reacting to Dom Male!MC reuniting with his childhood bestfriend in the Devildom, only their bestfriend is now a high ranking/powerful incubus who has a fuck ton of influence & money. (Not nearly as powerful as any of the brothers or Diavolo, of course, but you get the point)

And while normally a simple childhood friend wouldn’t be enough to bother the brothers, DM!MC’s Femboy CH!Bestfriend is the optimum of gorgeous, with a lithe & toned body and an “innocent” charm to him.

Spoiler Alert, CH!Bestfriend has been in love with DM!MC since they were kids (though it was just puppy love back then) and is determined to never let him get away from him again, resulting in him being extra clingy and needy.

Another Spoiler Alert, DM!MC’s childhood bestfriend may or may not be a mix of a “Worship” & “Self Sacrifice” Yandere.. (Look up “The Dere Types Wiki” if your confused)

You have some very interesting ideas😂 im so sorry this took so long, I didn't want to post it until I was back up to my full working capacity after getting injured and after breaking up with someone😁

Anyways, without further ado, here ya go😘

The Brother's Reactions to M! MC'S Yandere Childhood Incubus! Friend

Warnings: Violence, Language, Blood, VERY SLIGHT sexual themes, some non-consentual touching in Levi's section, brief mention of drugging in Beel's

Lucifer

At first, didn't think twice of MC having a childhood friend

But when he heard the word incubus

He got the smile on his face

You know the one

Lucifer "innocently" is around whenever the incubus is around

Its starts off small

Little poisoned glances from the incubus here and there

But eventually it escalated and turned into him putting a possessive arm around MC's waist

Lucifer snapped

The second the Incubus was alone, Lucifer followed him down an alley

Slammed that fucker against the wall and held him there by the throat

The incubus started laughing, even when Lucifer tightened his grip

"You'll never get rid of me. I have connections to everyone, Fallen Angel. I've loved him since before you even knew he existed, and a prissy peacock like you isnt gonna stop me from making him mine, even if I have to drug and kidnap him"

Lucifer only smiled and released him

The incubus smirked, daintily dusting off his lithe figure

Thinking he won, he shouldered his way past Lucifer

Only to stop short in horror

Deep growls greeted him

Lucifer didn't even bother hiding the screams of the incubus as Cerberus ripped into him

After a while, he signaled Cerberus to stop

As the incubus lies on the ground whimpering, Lucifer calmly says:

"Now that I've shown you just what I'm willing to do to protect MC, I'll make you a deal. MC cares about you, as a FRIEND. But his heart belongs to me and me alone, and mine belongs to him. If you can understand and respect that, I'll allow you near him. But one wrong word, one wrong placement of a hand, and I won't hesitate to finish you off myself. And believe me," he says with a dark chuckle "I won't be as gentle as Cerberus."

Mammon

This man immediately is on high alert

Someone trying to take what's HIS?

The incubus makes him more greedy than ever

Decides not to leave MC's side for a second

Even when he's sleeping

When Mammon can't help the incu-bitch (his nickname for the childhood friend) being around, he acts sort of like a child, which makes him look like a dick in comparison to the incubus's calm and innocent facade

Mammon tries to tell MC there's something up, but he just chalks it up to Mammon being Mammon

One day, MC randomly receives news from the human world that his mother contracted something contagious and was placed in ICU

The incu-bitch was, of course, right there when MC started tearing up, letting him cry into his shoulder

Mammon sees this and starts to protest

This leads MC to snap and tell Mammon he's being a child

Mammon leaves them be and thinks hard

Comes to the conclusion that maybe MC is right, and he begrudgingly decides to apologize to the incubus

As he approaches him, Mammon catches a glimpse of the Incubus's *expensive* phone

Unable to resist, he throws a coin against the wall in the opposite direction.

When he turns to look at the noise, Mammon snatches the phone and yeets off to his room

When he gets there, he opens the phone- no lock- and is startled by what he sees

A fake texting app, along with the messages telling MC his mother was sick

Mammon was about to run to find MC, when he heard a slight chuckle

Looking up, he saw the incubus...holding a knife

"You just couldn't stay away, could you? You've been a pain in the ass ever since I got here. But no matter, once MC sees how *cruel* you are to his defenseless childhood friend, he'll want nothing to do with you. And he'll be mine to fuck and own as I please."

Mammon gritted his teeth and ground out "Making MC think his mother was gravely ill just to get close to him when he's vulnerable? You're disgusting. I actually care about MC, and I respect them more than you ever will."

The incubus snorted, and raised the knife.

"Oi! What do ya think you're doing with that?" Mammon yelled

He raised the knife....and slashed it across his own arm

He then threw the knife towards Mammon, threw himself to the ground, and yelled out in pain

Suddenly, MC burst into the room

Mammon sputtered out a panicked explanation, but MC cut him off with a stare

He kneeled down next to his friend, who reached up with a bloody hand to cup MC'S face

MC put his hand over the incubus's....and sharply bent it backwards

He leaned down and whispered into his ear: "I heard everything, you little shit. Now, get the FUCK out of my house and away from my boyfriend, and don't even THINK of defiling my life with your presence ever again"

After he left, Mammon cautiously said "boyfriend, huh..?"

"Shut up mammon"

Levi

Oh, this won't do

Immediately feels threatened and triggered

He is the avatar of Envy, after all

His response?

Prove to MC nobody can know him as well as he can

He does this every single time the incubus is near

"MC, I got you your favorite drink!"

"MC, I ordered you some food. Don't worry, I already know what you like"

Flinches whenever the incu-bitch touches MC. It literally makes him cringe

His suspicions are confirmed when the incubus shoots Levi a malicious glance next time he touches MC

Levi snaps

Challenges the incubus to a video game duel

He surprisingly accepts

He cheats like hell and beats Levi

Levi goes into his demon form and rages

But MC thinks he's just being a sore loser

He tells Levi to back off and to go cool down

Once Levi storms off, the incu-bitch thanks MC for standing up for him

Then, he promptly tries to make a move on MC

He reaches out a hand to unbutton MC'S shirt

MC slaps his hand away, but not before noticing writing on the Incubus's hand

Before he can pull away, MC snatches his hand and sees cheat codes written on them

Gets super upset and tries to get up to apologize to Levi

The incubus pulls him back down by his wrist and pins them to the couch

"MC, don't you realize? You're all I want, all I need. I WORSHIP you, MC. And you're going to be mine. Nobody else can have you. And you're going to love me, whether you realize it right now or not. You'll learn with time to need me just as desperately as I need you"

Starts to take off MC'S clothes in spite of their fighting and protests, the incubus shushing him

"Shhhh, I know you don't see it, but this will make you see."

Levi slams open the door, tail lashing and face white with rage

"Get your normie hands the fuck off of my human. Now."

The incubus nopes the fuck out. He may be a high ranking incubus, but he still isn't as strong as one of the seven demon brothers.

Levi holds MC tightly as they fumble over an apology

"Shhh MC, its okay. I'm here now. Let's watch some anime and calm down together, yea?"

Satan

Do I even have to explain this one?

Is hostile as soon as MC even MENTIONS a childhood male friend, let alone an INCUBUS

Honestly, the Incubus is a bit scared of Satan

But, he decides he wants MC more than he fears Satan

So, he swallows his fear and patronizes Satan in tiny, unremarkable ways

Ways that would only be noticed by Satan

A stray hand here and there that lingers a LITTLE too long

Wiping a crumb from MC'S lips during a meal

Tucking a stray hair behind MC'S ear

Every last one of these actions makes his blood boil

It gets so bad that Satan is just in a perpetual state of rage, never leaving his demon form

Satan starts passive aggressively insulting the incubus's intelligence

"Oh, you mean you don't know how disestablishmentarianism impacted the overall congruence of Midwest society? Thats odd, its fairly simple. Practically common sense."

Is shocked when MC got livid at him, because he was being condescending for seemingly no reason

Starts to get angry at MC

"Can't you see? He's trying to turn you against me. Just LISTEN, DAMNIT!" He says as he grabs MC'S shoulders

The incubus barges in and shoves Satan away from MC

"Are you ok, MC? Did he hurt you?"

The amount of white hot rage in the room was tangible

He can't do it anymore

Slams the incubus against the wall

Knocks him to the ground

But when he falls down

A bunch of photos fall out of his jacket

Not normal photos

Horrifying ones

One of MC while he showers

One of MC sleeping

One of MC changing

Even one of MC and Satan having a steamy moment

MC goes still...and then SLAPS the shit out of the incubus.

He wordlessly turns to Satan, eyes pleading

"It would be my pleasure, MC" *evil grin*

Cue Satan dragging the incubus off by his hair

Asmo

P A S S I V E A G R E S S I V E

He sees this lovely incubus with NEARLY perfect hair, a lithe and toned body, and a seemingly innocent attitude, and he just wants him gone

He's been with plenty of Incubi, so he knows what they're like

Because of this, he doesn't want this one anywhere NEAR his darling MC

Comes up with a plan to use all his fashion design connections to outdress the incubus

He knows they're vain by nature, so he comes to the conclusion that this is the best course of action

But there's a problem

"Is that a statement piece from Priya Lacroix? She hasn't even released her collection yet"

Asmo.exe is not responding

He knows that HE is the only one Priya would ever give an early release to

So why does THE INCUBUS have her statement piece?

And WHERE is his phone?

Complains to MC, but MC doesn't take him seriously because he's too busy catching up with his friend

Asmo gets jealous and storms off to do a stress relieving skin routine

As MC and the incubus hang out, the incubus's phone goes off

Only...the ringtone is sinful indulgence

Mammon storms into the room

"AHA! I FOUND YA ASMO, YOU ANNOYING LITTLE- huh?"

"I/N? Why do you have Asmo's phone?"

"MC, you have to understand, I just want you to realize I'm the only right one for you. You NEED to realize you can't be with anyone else. Because you're mine, MC. You always have been."

Screeching could be heard in the distance, then footsteps quickly getting closer and closer

"THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY" Asmo yells as he slams open the door

"As if MC would choose a crusty, obsessive, STEALING, lying, probably STD having Incubus like you over me! Now give me my phone back and get out of here. And while you're at it, take off that Priya piece. There's a reason I'm the only one allowed early access."

Beel

Honestly doesn't think that much of it at first

He thinks its nice MC reunited with one of his childhood friends, and an Incubus at that

But when he meets the friend, something just feels off

He gets a weird sensation, and its not hunger

Its like his senses are on red alert

The incubus was nice enough to Beel, seemingly charming and genuine

But Beel couldn't help but feel rubbed the wrong way, with a sensation similar to seaweed against legs in the ocean

He doesn't want to mention this to MC, because he's convinced he's just overreacting

He feels a little sad that MC is too busy for him, but he does his best to give them time together

One night, he had made some food in the kitchen and decided to bring MC and I/N some

When he neared the door, he almost dropped the plate

He heard a loud thud, and MC saying "Hey, I said no, okay?"

He gently opened the door and looked at MC, who immediately forced a smile to his face

"Hey MC, I brought you guys some food. Is everything ok?"

"Thanks Beel, that's sweet of you. Everything's fine, I promise"

Beel relaxed a bit, although he still knew something was off.

The incubus excused himself to use the restroom, encouraging MC to eat without him

Beel and MC sat down, and Beel scarfed down his portion

Chuckling, MC offered his plate to Beel, who gladly accepted

The incubus opened the door shortly after with an expectant look on his face, as well as rope and a gag in his hands

Upon laying eyes on MC, a shocked expression came onto his face as his eyes darted between MC and the empty plate

"How are you still conscious?" He blurted

Confusion flashed across MC'S face. "What do you mean, I/N?"

"You drugged it, didn't you?" Beel spoke up.

"I thought it tasted odd," Beel continued "but I never would have guessed you would actually drug MC. I'm guessing you couldn't handle that MC rejected your advances, so you drugged the food while MC was distracted talking to me. Am I right?"

The incubus chuckled. "Guess I was wrong about you. You are more of a threat than you seem. Heh, I guess you're not just a talking stomach after all."

A loud smack could be heard shortly thereafter.

But the devastating blow didn't come from Beel

It came from an enraged MC

"Trying to drug me I could keep my cool over. If thats all you did I would have just told you to stay the hell away from me. But the SECOND you spoke to Beel like that, you signed your own death warrant."

Before he could react, MC summoned the brothers one by one, Beel explaining the situation.

"Well, MC, perfect timing as always. I was just beginning to get bored" Satan drawled

*screams*

Belphie

It takes a yandere to know one

Belphie doesn't want to alarm MC though, so he decides to outmaneuver the incubus without him noticing

It starts small, with I/N reaching out to put an arm over MC'S shoulder, and Belphie's arm already being there

Eventually, they start glaring daggers at each other the second MC looks away

After a while, Belphie decides to up the ante

Religiously falls asleep on MC when I/N is trying to spend time with him

Goads the incubus so much that he corners Belphie when he snaps and can't take any more

"Listen, I know exactly what you're doing. But if you think that YOU can take him away from me, you're sorely mistaken. MC is mine whether he likes it or not. And if it turns out to be the latter, well, let's just say he won't have much of a choice in the matter, nor will you have any control over it. Got that?"

Belphie does the one thing he knows will get the outcome he had painstakingly built up to the past couple weeks: he laughs

"Ah, you have a good sense of humor, know that? Funny stuff. All kidding aside, MC already belongs to me. So your child's play isn't gonna cut it. Got THAT?"

With a choked cry of fury, the incubus pulls out a knife and stabs Belphie

Belphie, having planned this, falls to the floor just as the door opens to reveal a shocked MC.

"BELPHIE! Shit, please be okay! What the FUCK is wrong with you, I/N?"

The stunned Incubus could only stammer out a couple words

"I- he...was gonna...tried to take what was mine. Tried to take you..."

MC laughed bitterly and shoved him to the floor.

"I don't know what sick world you're living in, but I belong to Belphie. I love him. And I hate YOU. Now I'll leave you be so you can deal with THAT. Ta ta." He says as he scoops up Belphie and heads out the door

"Deal with what?" I/N nervously asks after him, backing up warily

The incubus stops when his back hits something hard.

Gulping, he looks up...

"Hello, I/N, I'm Beel."

"Nice to...meet you? I imagine you're one of the brothers?" He replies shakily

Beel smiles. The light doesn't reach his eyes.

"Yes, I'm one of the brothers. You see, I'm Belphie's twin."

Across the house, Belphie smiles at the faint screams, MC curled up next to him after patching him up.

He succeeded in protecting what was his. He deserves a good nap. Holding MC tighter, he goes back to sleep.

[tg-headcanons]

Nsfw alphabet with naki?

HORNY HOURS WITH IDIOT (affectionate)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): he’s never quite sure what to do right when it’s over and will probably just wait for his partner to do something. He’ll follow their lead for the most part, but what he really wants is praise and cuddles. He’s one of those ghouls who really needs the post sex cuddle sessions to avoid the emotional drop

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): on himself he likes his teeth, on his partner he doesn’t like anything in particular. He’s demisexual and when he is attracted to someone sexually he doesn’t really break down what specific things he likes into parts. He’s content to just like their body as a whole

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically): he needs his partner to be patient with him since he doesn’t come very easily. It takes him awhile to get there and he can’t finish without his kakuhou being touched, some ghouls are just built like that but he’s a little embarrassed by it

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): though he’s more used to quick and careless rough stuff, what he really wants is to be pampered. Tell him he’s pretty, touch him gently, fuck him or ride him. Let him lay back and be taken care of, let him know that he deserves it. He’s a pillow prince at heart

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?): he has experience, but it isn’t all good. In the past he’s had partners ranging from distant and pushy to downright cruel. Some have been alright, he’s hooked up with people like Miza and Hooguro and really liked it, but others weren’t as kind. Plenty of people have slept with him without caring if he enjoys it, plenty have fucked him through his heat and left him to deal with the emotional drop alone, and Jason in particular was among the worst when it came to downright brutal sex. Naki wants people to give him affection and attention, but sadly Aogiri isn’t the best place to find safe and respectful partners. By now he thinks of sex as something that’s usually painful but can earn him some praise. His partner will need to be very gentle and soft with him at first, he needs to learn that he can set boundaries and that his pleasure is just as important as theirs

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying): if he’s bottoming he likes missionary, He’s used to being bent over things in any abandoned building or broken into house he and past partners could find and unceremoniously fucked so being able to look his partner in the eyes and kiss them is amazing. When topping he likes doggy, he hasn’t had much of a chance to be dominant before, and he really likes the feeling of control from time to time

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.): he’s not going to joke around, and if his partner is joking he probably won’t notice

H = Heat (what are heats like for them? How do they handle it?): some ghouls get lucky and have brief, mild heats, and others get very unlucky. Naki is among the ladder. They’re absolutely horrible, he was unfortunate enough to end up with a heat hormonal disorder and no way to treat it so he suffers with them. They last a whole week, he has horrible cramps, fevers, nausea, unrelenting muscle weakness and insomnia. In the past he’s handled them by trying to find a decent place to hide and wait them out, but most of the time they break him and he resorts to sleeping with anyone to relieve it. It isn’t safe and the type of ghoul who would fuck someone in heat without talking it out with them beforehand isn’t the type to be kind and respectful. His partner will need to sit him down and talk about how he wants to go about it before it happens to be sure they have a plan and don’t cross any of his boundaries, and he’ll honestly be grateful for the sense of security that comes with a safe place to get through it. Just keep him from overheating, bring some painkillers, be gentle with him and maybe ask around among rich ghoul circles for doctors who can treat heat disorders and he’ll fall in love all over again

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): he’s very intimate. He always holds out hope that sex will be romantic and kind and even with the kind of people he’s been with in the past he hasn’t given up on that fairy tail Candlelight-And-Velvet sex he wants. Tell him how pretty he is and kiss him and he’ll be melting in your arms

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon): considering that he’s homeless, roams with a pack of people, and that it takes more for him to come than it takes others, for Naki jerking off takes more planning than you’d think. He needs to wait until he can find somewhere that he can go in private between missions, often rooms in unoccupied buildings where the White Suits are staying, and then he can relieve himself. Since he needs his kakuhou touched he rubs up against something to stimulate it. If he’s lucky he can find a living room or bedroom with pillows he can use, but if he can’t he’ll fold up his jacket. Between touching his cock and rutting his kakuhou against the pillows he’s able to get himself off every so often before slipping back into the group and hoping no one has questions about where he went

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks): blindfolds. You know how when vets treat horses and deer they cover their eyes to make them less nervous? The same thing works on Naki. He’s a little uneasy when getting started and oddly enough, if he’s blindfolded and unable to anticipate movements, that fades away. All he has to do is focus on the sensations of being touched and words of praise, and any anxiety is replaced by euphoria

L = Location (favorite places to do the do): bedroom. For most that seems normal but for him that’s a luxury. A comfy bed? A door for privacy? Lights that can be turned off? That’s living like kings right there

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): genuine affection. Nothing gets him hard like assurance that he’s loved and wanted through the simple kindness he craves

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): Naki has some trouble with setting boundaries, he assumes his partner will be mad and needs the assurance that there’s nothing wrong with not being comfortable with things. He’s not quite sure where to start so he’d have to say that he doesn’t like anything too rough or mean. Things like bottoming unprepared, impact play or degradation. Biting and hard grips are fine since that’s normal for ghouls to enjoy but things that are purposefully sadistic are off the table. He’s getting better at speaking up when something hurts physically or emotionally, and it feels good to be able to say no without feeling guilty about it

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): he prefers to give. Because he’s a ghoul, Teeth Near Dick is a valid fear and one that he’d rather avoid. Though he isn’t opposed to being the one giving head

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): he can take a lot, but prefers for his partner to be gentle and slow when he’s bottoming. Though when he’s on top, he’s pretty quick, not so much that he’s trying to be rough, rather he gets caught up in feeling good and ends up fucking like a rabbit

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): he hates them. He knows that “quick fuck” = “not enough time for him to finish” = “not enough time for post sex cuddles” = “huge emotional drop.” He needs to have time, he needs to have the right touches, and he needs to have decent aftercare. Quickies don’t allow for that so he isn’t too keen on them

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): he doesn’t really like to. He knows his comfort zone in regards to sex and he knows that he doesn’t do well with pushing its boundaries. He’d rather stick to doing it inside, and if there’s anything new his partner wants to bring into the bedroom it would need to be gradual

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): he lasts a hell of a long time. He goes a round or two before being tapped out, but with how long it takes him to come those rounds can be awhile

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): he doesn’t have any. He wouldn’t be opposed to some being used on him as long as they don’t hurt though

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): he doesn’t like teasing and he doesn’t like to be teased, he doesn’t see the appeal

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): I’m sure this comes as no surprise but Naki cries during sex. He does it when he’s in pain, he does it when he’s feeling amazing, he does it with any strong sensation at all so no matter what it’s just going to happen. It’s normal for him to let a few tears fall while he’s fucking, along with some pretty loud moans. What is surprising is that he’s one of those rare ghouls who purrs during sex. He doesn’t always do it because he needs to feel very safe and very good, but with the right partner he’ll be purring like a kitten

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character): he likes wearing things that his partner gives him. It’s a task that he can obey, it’s a physical reminder that they care enough about him to decorate him, it’s something that shows everyone who he belongs to. Whether it’s a collar or a suit he jumps at the opportunity to wear something that marks him as theirs

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes): 7.5 inches, life may have screwed him over but at least his meat is huge

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?): a little below average. Sex isn’t as important to him as romance, rather it’s another expression of romance, so only doing it a few times a month is enough for him. Though he’d be okay with doing it more if his partner wants to, he likes doing anything as long as it’s with them and sex can be amazing

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): he doesn’t fall asleep after sex unless he’s sure he’s somewhere safe. He’s used to having to immediately fix his clothes and leave whenever it’s over, but if he has a partner who cares about him, a room that’s safe, and some cuddles to put him at ease, he’ll slowly drift off

[thatesqcrush]

Ivy & the Ink

Nevada Ramirez x Reader. For VDay bingo, using “Yayo” by Lana del Rey. The wonderful @beccabarba​ requested:  Helloooo! When you have a moment to indulge me, and if you want to, I would love you to write Nevada x Reader in lingerie, with aim of seducing/impressing him (maybe they're a couple and they had a fight, or he's not noticed her before and she's determined he will? And he gives her everything he's got. "Let me put on a show for you daddy Let me put on a show Let me put on a show for you tiger, Let me put on a show... " Please and thank you.

CW: Smut - rough sex (hair pulling, some light smacking, spanking, etc.). There is some degradation talk, destruction of property, name calling, language. 

WC: 4.3K

****

You frowned as you glanced at the clock on the nightstand; it was late and your boyfriend still hadn't arrived at your apartment. It was normal for Nevada to work late, even disappear for a stretch of time. But something about tonight felt different - felt off. 

You reached for the phone and hit the redial number. The phone rang four times before going to voicemail and you sighed as you left yet another message. "Hey papi, it's me; I was just wondering where you were … it's lonely without you here. Just call me when you get this. I love you."

Your guts began to churn as your imagination raced; thoughts of Nevada hurt, or even worse, were the most prevalent. You opened your iPad and pinged his location. He was at the club, but earlier he had been at the airport. You furrowed your brows in confusion. ‘What the…?’ you wondered. 

You grabbed a sweater off the back of the chair with one hand, and your keys with the other. 

You were going to Nevada’s club. 

Any other time, you would not have been so dramatic, but recently things had become more tense;  you argued over the smallest of things. Nevada swore that all was fine between the two of you, but your paranoid side kept itching that something else was amiss. 

As you drove through the dark streets of The Heights, a thought hit you. 'What if Nevada didn't want to come home?' 

Despite the recent hiccups, you vowed to make things work, to make your lives together better because for you, Nevada was worth the sacrifice. He was the great love of your life that was never supposed to have happened in the first place – he was the one.

You met him while celebrating a friend’s bachelorette party - you had a one night stand with him and then on the ride home, you found yourself propositioned by him to be the Queen, to his King. To maintain appearances, you kept your place in Kew Gardens. Nevada had tried to convince you to live with him and let him be the provider for your life, but you refused. You enjoyed earning your own money and having a place of your own. You were loyal to him, but you wanted to keep your own independence. 

**

The drive from Queens did not take as long as you had anticipated. Traffic was fairly light for a Friday evening. You arrived at the club and spotted his black Escalade parked underneath the streetlight. In your jeans and cardigan, you appeared out of place amongst the other club goers who were dressed to the nines. The line wrapped around the block, but you knew you would not have to wait. 

You greeted one of the bouncers, while the rest of the club goers jeered at you and your innocent appearance. “Is Vada here?”

Miguel the bouncer, was burly and intimidating - but he didn’t frighten you one bit. He looked at you and didn’t greet you as he would have usually had.

“Vada’s here.” He replied after a beat, as he waved some people through.

“Last time I checked you weren’t made out of air. Can you move so I can get in?”

“I know for a fact he’s busy. Some personal stuff. You should go home.”

You furrowed your brows, fear lacing through you. Placing your hands on your hips, you jutted your chin at him. “You don’t tell Vada’s woman what to do.”

Miguel turned to you. He dipped his head to your ear, his voice menacing. “You don’t, but Nevada sure as hell does.”

You scoffed. “I am going in.” You pushed past him and he grabbed a hold of the back of your sweater. Instead you allowed for him to rip it off you, as you shoved the sleeves off. You gave him the finger before making your way inside. 

Everything at the club was seemingly normal. The music was loud, you could feel it vibrating in your bones. You pushed your way through the mass of bodies to the staircase which led to Nevada’s private office on the second floor.

The door was opened just a crack and you could see Nevada leaning against his desk, smoking a cigar while in a heated discussion with someone else. This was all normal to you - with the work he was involved in.

A brunette woman approached Nevada and pulled him into a hug causing you to freeze. You expected him to push away, but instead, he returned the hug to this mystery woman. Nevada dipped his head to whisper something in her ear and when he pulled away, you saw him smile and brush her dark hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear.

Your heart pounded against your chest and you wanted to puke. Chewing on your bottom lip, you continued to watch, unable to turn away. The woman reached for a glass of amber liquid that you realized Nevada had poured her.

At that moment Nevada pulled away and looked at his watch before reaching for his cell phone. He raised a finger to her and the woman nodded watching him as he moved, probably to sit at his desk. Sure enough, your cell phone began to vibrate but you chose to ignore it.

You turned back to the stairs and made your way back down and pushed through to the bar. You grabbed a seat and ordered a beer. You did not recognize the bartender and you realized they must have been a new hire. You were grateful for not being recognized. 

As you took a drag of your beer, the upstairs woman was standing beside you. She offered a friendly smile at you before signaling the barkeep. She ordered a shot of whiskey and handed a five dollar bill with the understanding that he could keep the change.

"You lost?"

You turned to her, eyeing the shot she had in her hand. "Excuse me?"

"Your outfit.” She laughed. “You don’t exactly fit in here."

You arched her brow at her comment. Chuckling, you nodded. "Not lost." With the tilt of your head, you chugged the beer and you tried hard not to grimace as the cheap, likely skunked beer made its way down your throat. 

“So, man trouble?” She guessed. 

“Something like that.” You commented as you ordered a shot of tequila.

You downed the shot, grimacing once more. You wiped your hand on the back of your hand and took in the woman fully. You could see what Nevada saw in her; the mere fact that she too had dark hair, like yours, was eating at you something terrible. Putting the glass down, you forced a sweet smile to the surface as you quickly scanned the bar for any instances of him returning. With no sign of him, you re-centered your focus, your eyes becoming sharp and steadying on her. "Do you have a boyfriend?”

"I do. He’s on his way. And something's got him in the mood tonight, if you get my meaning - he’s on his way actually. He’s like a drug; I can’t get enough.” she winked as she turned her head quickly, her shoulder length curls following her. You scowled as you gripped the glass tighter, your mind running.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the too-warm bar, but your hearing began to ring and your vision was white-hot. Ideas formulated and raced, seeking the perfect retribution. You were hurting, and the only way you could alleviate it would be to inflict that same pain on Nevada. And you knew just how to do it.

Now standing, you spotted Nevada as he approached the bar, the mystery woman waving to him emphatically. Your gaze was fixed on his line of sight, and you postulated that he didn't even see you. The excitement that the mystery woman held served as a knife burrowing deep into your heart, and the intense feeling of getting away increased.

"Hey, where are you going?" the mystery woman asked, turning back to you. You smiled once more and shook your head.

“Like you said, I’m lost. Nice talking to you."

**

Outside, you walked towards your car, the squeak of your sneakers being the only constant sound on the asphalt. Your intentions were clear now, and popping the trunk, you reached in to grab the aluminum baseball bat that you had been meaning to give as a gift for your nephew. Holding it in your hands, you gazed at the bat and felt the weight, swinging it to its full potential. With one hand, you closed the trunk and scanned the street, a devious smile crossing your lips. Your gait became easier as you approached, one thought being dominant as the gleaming Escalade that he so loved stood bathed in the street light.

For a split second, you paused. 'Come off it Y/N. You are better than this. This isn't you at all – you are putting everything on the line.' However, the thought left as quickly as it arrived. You could hear the woman’s comments echo in your mind and you couldn't help but think about what she said, about her and Nevada potentially sharing a bed – the bed you shared with him.

Rage filled you and at that moment, as your heart shattered into a million pieces, you swung the bat down, aiming for the headlights. The sound of glass shattering filled the night and clear crystals decorated the ground. Blood boiling,you swung once more, this time aiming for the side view mirrors. It took a few swings, but you were victorious in denting the metal and cracking the mirrors. Glass crunched underneath your feet as you continued your assault. The line of people still waiting to get in, gasped and shouted, lifting their phones to record you. You didn’t see it happen, but Miguel ran into the bar to get Nevada.

Moments later, you reached for keys that were dug deep in your pocket. You dug your key into the side of the door, scraping it. Figuring the damage you had inflicted still was not enough; you bent down and jammed the key into the back tire, puncturing it. Air hissed out of the tire and you moved to the front of the car, doing the same to the front tire.

You smiled in satisfaction as you took a step back to assess the damage you had done.

Nevada ran over to where you were standing, taking in the damage you had inflicted on his car. His eyes were wide and his face was beet red.

"Y/N, what the fuck are you doing?" Nevada yelled. You looked up and muttered an expletive as you dropped the bat, it clanking to the ground.

"What am I doing? I should be asking you the same thing! Actually, I don't have to since your whore told me what you two have been, and would be, doing!"

The mystery woman stepped out of the club and her eyes also widened as she recalled you from the bar.

"Puta!” You screamed as you grabbed the bat and swung at the car once more.

Nevada wrestled the bat out of your hands. Instead you chose to start punching and hitting him instead. He looked over his shoulder at Miguel. “Get Marisol out of here.”

“Oh that bitch has a name?” You shrieked once more. Nevada wrapped his strong arms around you, lifting you easily off the ground.

"Let me go!" you furiously replied as Nevada dragged you back into the bar. "You cheated on me!"

Nevada was quiet as he dragged you up to the office. His blood was boiling and as he kicked the door in. He dropped you unceremoniously on the couch.

Nevada slammed the door behind him. “What the fuck Y/N!”

You looked at him incredulously, your eyes were red and swollen. “You cheated on me!”

Nevada sighed. “It’s not what you think it is.”

“I saw you with my own eyes! I am not stupid!” You shouted. “When you didn’t come home, didn’t answer my texts, I tracked your phone. You were at the airport and then you came to the club. What is that all about? God, I can’t believe I let myself fall for you. I must be stupid after all!” 

You were now openly sobbing on his couch. “I thought you loved me.”

Nevada raised his hands to the back of his head, his eyes wide; he shook in anger, his face was beet red. "I do love you, you fucking loca. She’s my cousin.”

You stared at him, hiccupping. “What?” 

“She’s my cousin - she flew in to visit. She needed a ride from the airport since her boyfriend was put on a double. He’s a cop. I went to pick her up and then brought her here.”

“Your cousin.” You whispered. Everything suddenly made sense.

“I was not, nor would I ever, cheat on you. I want you, you crazy bitch.” Nevada grumbled.

“Then why was Miguel acting so shady?” You demanded. “He made it seem like I couldn’t be there.”

“Fuck if I know.” Nevada snorted. He poured himself a drink and then one for you. As he handed it to you, you eyed the blue inked snake tattoo on his forearm. You tilted the glass all the way back, drinking it in a single gulp. “You know your beer lines are skunked.” You replied quietly, still hiccupping.

“Noted.” Nevada replied quietly. He made a call, speaking in Spanish, which you didn’t understand. As he put his phone away, he sighed. “Let me take you back to Queens. They’re bringing up another car.”

**

Another black Escalade rolled up, identical to its predecessor - except not damaged. The ride was quiet and sufficiently awkward. Now in your apartment, Nevada shrugged off his clothes, leaving himself in just his boxer briefs. You washed your face and then shrugged off your clothes. Nevada climbed into the bed after you, and you were out like a light as soon as your head hit the pillow, exhausted.

**

In the morning, you woke up to the smell of eggs frying and strong coffee. You got out of the bed and followed the smell to the kitchen where Nevada was cooking. 

You stood on your tip toes and peered around his shoulder. “Smells good.”

Nevada let out a grunt. You frowned and wrapped your arms around him from behind. “I’m sorry for last night.”

Nevada turned to you, and turned off the stove. “I’m sorry too. I should have told you.”

You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck. Your eyes were lost in the green pool of his eyes.

“You hungry?” Nevada asked.

“In a little bit - I want to go shower.” You replied. “Start without me.”

Nevada nodded and plated some food before going to sit on your couch. 

After you showered, you took your time trying to figure out what to wear. You pulled open your delicate drawer and began to leaf through the various garments. Your fingers traced over a lingerie set you hadn’t yet worn and you smiled. 

**

Nevada was still puttering around the kitchen when you joined him once more. 

“Hungry yet?” He called out from behind his shoulder, not looking over fully as he dumped the frying pan into the sink. You saw that he had a plate of food set for you but you weren’t hungry for that - not at least in that moment.

“Something like that.” You cooed. Nevada turned around and as he drank you in, the corners of his mouth twitched. 

You wore a mauve babydoll chemise set with silver lace trim and rhinestones embellishments. There was a sheer wrapped skirt and a matching panty with a thick lace band and thong cut out. You hadn’t washed your hair, just freshened it up with dry shampoo and you left it loose, the way he liked it. Your face was bare, except for a sheer plum lip tint. For what you wanted to do, lipstick would have just gotten in the way.

“Is this for me mami?” Nevada asked. His eyes were darkened with lust and through his briefs, you could tell that his cock had come to life, already straining against the fabric.

“Yes papi.” You cooed. “I wanted to show how sorry I was for everything. Let me put on a show for you daddy.” You trailed a hand across your decolletage and then down to the swells of your breasts that were already pushed up to an obscene limit thanks to the underwire and padding of the bra. 

“I should punish you.” Nevada growled. He didn’t miss how your eyes lit up at the suggestion. He took three wide strides to meet you. He ran a sole finger down your cheek and your eyes fluttered closed in response. That was short-lived as a sharp jolt of pain caused your eyes to fly open. Your head was bent to the side, your hair wound in Nevada’s fist. 

“Yes.” You breathed out, a shot of arousal shooting through you. “I need you. Take me right now.”

“I can’t believe you thought I would cheat on you. Why would I do that, when I have these nalgas right here?” Nevada growled, using his other hand to pull you close by grabbing the flesh of your ass. He let loose his grip in your hair and his other hand joined in rolling the fat of your cheeks. 

You could feel his hardened member press against the softness of your belly. The feeling caused your cunt to kick and your panties to dampen.

Nevada’s mouth dropped to the slope of your neck, the stubble of his beard grazing your skin. He sucked a dark mark into your skin. You let out a soft moan at the sensation as he continued to rub his beard against your skin, leaving rash marks in its wake.

He spun you around roughly, so your back was to his chest. You could feel the soft curls of his chest hair against your back. He cupped your tits roughly together, before pulling the cups down so your tits spilled out. He grabbed them roughly again, rolling and pinching your nipples until they were hardened buds. 

You pushed back against his cock, gyrating in small circles. Nevada held you against him, his heavy, muscled arm wrapped around your chest. He used his foot to nudge your legs apart and his other hand went to your pussy. He gripped it hard and you let out a small squeak. 

“This is my pussy, me entiendes?” Nevada growled in your ear. 

You let out a gasp as he pushed your underwear to the side and sunk his fingers up and into you. The strokes were initially languid, but then they increased in speed. You lolled your head back and his mouth found your neck once more, sucking a bruise into your flesh. 

Nevada removed his fingers from you and you whimpered. He brought his hand to your face and you could see the evidence of your arousal on his long digits. He released his other arm and brought his hand to your throat, gently tightening. He rubbed his fingers on your lips before pushing them roughly in your mouth. You let out a muffled moan as you cleaned his fingers. 

“Muy bien.” Nevada growled. He grabbed your hand and led you to the bedroom. He wasted no time removing his briefs. His cock stood proud. The crown glistened with pre cum and you instinctively licked your lips, needing to feel the weight of his cock against your tongue.

He placed his hands on your shoulders and pushed you down so that you were on your knees and eye level with his cock. “Open your mouth.” He dragged his cock across your lips and instinctively they parted, ready to take his length into your mouth.

“Open wide mama. Gonna make you choke on this cock.”

You let out a squeak as he smacked his cock against your cheek. You opened your mouth wider and Nevada fed you his cock. He wrapped his hands around the back of your head and he pushed into your mouth further until your nose was nestled against the soft curls of his pubic hair. Your tongue lavished every vein and ridge. You used one hand to stroke him as you bobbed along his length. Spit was dribbling from the corners of your mouth and down your lingerie 

His hands gripped your head more tightly, holding you in place. Thrusting his hips forward, Nevada fucked into the back of your throat rough and fast, the sound of you choking and spluttering around him was drowned out by his grunts and groans. Spit covered your chin and your eyes watered, with tears running down your face. All you could do was close your eyes and take it. He took a step back and you gasped as air filled your lungs again. Nevada gave you a lascivious grin and he stroked your cheek, wiping a tear away. 

“Such a good girl taking my cock like that.” He praised and you keened in response. He offered his hand and he helped you stand.

Nevada claimed your mouth his. It was rough, all teeth and tongue. He nibbled on your lower lip before sucking on it. When he released your mouth, he gripped your cheeks with his forefinger and thumb and squeezed.

“I am going to fuck you now and you’re going to thank me for it.” He released your face and then gave you a small tapping smack on your cheek. 

You jutted your face at him and he did it again. “Get on the bed, loca.”

“How do you want me?” You asked as you scooted back on the bed.

“Por detrás. Take off the rest of your clothes.”

You did so and got on all fours, anticipating Nevada’s next move. You felt the bed dip with his weight and felt his cock rub against your ass. You heard the cap of a bottle open, followed by the sound of him slathering his cock. Two fingers then pressed against you and in you, massaging your walls. You dropped your head forward, moaning slightly.

“Is that what my puta likes? Getting fucked?” Nevada hissed. His mouth was on your ass, biting your flesh, marking you once more. 

“I need you.” You whined. “Give it to me.”

Nevada acquiesced and slid into your hot, wet cunt without warning, until he was fully seated. His hips nestled against the curve of your asscheeks and he gripped your hips hard. He set a pace, hard and fast as he wrapped a hand around your waist to pull you down onto his cock so it was nudging at your cervix with every thrust. He was deep and the stretch his girth gave you was glorious. A dreamy smile came across your face and you gripped the mattress below tightly. No one fucked you as well as Nevada did.

“Next time you think I would cheat on you, remember this.” Nevada growled as he drove his cock in and out of you. A sharp smack landed on your ass and then he repeated it on the other cheek, over and over again. The spanks that followed were delivered just as harshly, maybe even more so. He purposely hit your skin in the same areas as before. Your ass was red, hot and stinging.

“Fuck, oh yes, papi!” you whined. Nevada chuckled darkly. He had a knowing smile on his face.

“You want to cum, huh, mama?” 

“Please.” You begged. A hand slipped from your hips and found your clitoris, rubbing roughly. 

“You wanna cum on papi’s cock?” he asked once more, his breathing staggered.“Alright ma’, you can cum.”

You didn’t have a chance to respond as your walls clenched violently around his cock, gripping as your orgasm washed over you. 

As you came down from your high, Nevada had pushed you all the way down onto the bed, his weight completely on top of you. The changed position meant his thrusts were more shallow. You relished the feel of him on you. Primal, animalistic grunts were in your ear as he chased his own release.

You felt his hips still and with a roar, he pushed into you once more, spilling his hot load into you. 

Nevada leaned up on his arms, so his weight wasn’t fully on you. He pressed a kiss along your sweaty back before flopping over onto his back. You felt him pull you into his arms and you just allowed yourself to curl into him.

“Vada?” You murmured, as you stroked his chest hair.

“Yeah, mama?”

You looked up at him. “I’m sorry for everything, but especially for fucking up the car. Is it completely damaged out?”

Nevada shook his head as he sat up and grabbed a cigar from the stand next to you. He blew out a puff of smoke. “Nah, I got someone fixing it up already. By tomorrow it’ll be good as new.”

“I owe your cousin an apology.”

Nevada grunted. “You make one hell of an impression Y/N.” He pulled you tightly against him. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 FIN

*****

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[tobe-sogolden]

Regarding Olivia - I had to delete twitter because I didn’t want to keep seeing the constant nastiness aimed at her/their relationship, I couldn’t do it anymore. I didn’t want it to ruin my enjoyment of Harry’s new music and album. I know it’s still happening, like when she posted about Coachella I could tell that would make people mad lol. It’s just the most depressing thing in the world to me that Harry actually has someone who clearly adores him and puts in effort with his schedule and hers - which is really important to sustain a relationship, especially with his lifestyle - and people can’t get past their hatred and jealousy. Like that is the most selfish thing in the world. They’ve obviously not had it easy from the start and they’ve made it work, which speaks volumes. This is something he deserves more than anything and has wanted for a long time. working as a team with someone he loves. It fell apart last time and he was heartbroken and y’all are acting like this when he’s happy and settled with someone?? There is something seriously wrong with some people and they should not be a “fan” of an ARTIST if they’re that fucked up about him being taken lmao. They say the shittiest things about Harry as well because they’re so mad and feel betrayed by him. “I hope x song gets number 1 instead” “He can’t get anyone to stay so this won’t last 🤣”. How the hell can you be so horrible to the person you’re supposed to be a fan of 😭 I do think we shouldn’t give these people too much power in Olivia or Harry’s life, because they know how to distance themselves from it. Harry has clearly learnt that and drawn clear boundaries with social media. I don’t blame him because I can’t handle it for long without it affecting me and it’s not even about me or someone I love. But the fact that it’s probably something he’s discussed with his partners/dates for years now and tried to help them deal with, makes me really sad. I’m sure he feels like a burden sometimes because it never fucking changes and is out of his control. There’s probably gonna be references to her and their relationship throughout the album because it’s his life and his experiences and he’s open in his music, but there’s gonna be endless discourse and complaining about it and it sucks!! He can’t even be an authentic artist without people being weird. I’m thankful for his more normal casual fans. At the end of the day you don’t have to like anyone, for example I’m not the biggest fan of Nick and he’s beloved by harries. I don’t talk shit about him though, he was important to Harry for years. This is just to make a point but…he’s said his fair share of weird/shitty stuff and people are allowed to like him, because he’s not a bad person overall and he was cute with harry. Why can’t people feel that way about Olivia lol? i’m really sorry for writing you an essay I’m just really tired of this fandom and above all, I feel bad for Harry because I think he’s a lovely person who deserves happiness with who he chooses. He’s always advocated for spreading love and being kind, and yet his own fans let him down lmao? Make it make sense because he would severely dislike a lot of you who feel so comfortable being nasty instead of just listening to his music. Olivia is clearly in it for the long haul, he’s not broken up with her because of your tantrums and deep dives into all her mistakes, so keep embarrassing all of us. It’s futile because you’re not a part of his life. I have mental illness but damn y’all take the cake when you’re hell bent on Harry being single or with someone you think is suitable for your own comfort 🤷🏻‍♀️ Again I apologise, I just had to get this out because I knew you’d understand

Literally nothing to add. You said it all!! 👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾

[onebizarrekai]

I think that lucia di lammermoor is one of my new favorite operas not just because of the mad scene but because the opera makes no sense whatsoever

there are literally so many plot holes in the libretto. there are so many unexplained facets of the narrative, unresolved arcs, dialogues that mandate copious creative liberties, things that only happen off-stage, and some unsolvable problems that can only be fixed by cutting things or directing things a certain way. there’s so much nonsense it’s actually hilarious. if you read the source story of the bride of lammermoor the opera diverts quite a bit, but the bride of lammermoor is actually even worse, so let’s put that to the side.

let’s just start from the beginning of the opera, paraphrasing as much as possible. lucia’s evil brother, enrico, is the first lead to greet the stage, minutes after his goony normano. normano tells enrico the tale of how enrico’s archenemy, edgardo, saved the life of lucia, and he reluctantly admits that they are now in love with each other and are secretly meeting up all the time. enrico flips his shit and sings about how he’s going to kill edgardo or whatever. bide the bent (aka raimondo, but schirmir really said bide the bent, whatever the hell that means) exists and does priest stuff because he’s a priest. by the way, there’s this whole thing about how the ashton family (aka lucia and enrico) are protestant and edgardo is catholic and that’s why they hate each other and that’s why there’s a priest.

anyway they all leave, and then lucia and alice enter. lucia is, naturally, waiting for her illegal boyfriend: edgardo. she is very scared because enrico is a piece of shit and wants to kill her boyfriend. alice is like “yo man this is a bad idea” and lucia is like “where’s edgardo” but lucia is also perturbed by something else. she has a ghost story to tell about this nondescript fountain and tells alice about the girl who was killed by her lover at this fountain, and then suddenly goes like “by the way the ghost of the dead woman appeared to me” and like wow ok lucia. after singing about all of the water turning to blood in her hallucination, she proceeds to completely change moods and sing about how much she loves edgardo because she is crazy. after all of this, edgardo finally arrives and tells lucia about how he actually has to go to france to do ambassador stuff and disappear for an indefinite period of time. he says that they should finally tell enrico about their relationship. lucia completely shuts him down, and then edgardo cries about how enrico has killed his family and how she’s the only light of his life. they end up deciding to keep their relationship a secret anyway and then vow to marry each other.

act 2, enrico has ordered normano to forge a break-up letter from edgardo to send it to lucia. normano shows up to give it to enrico, enrico summons lucia into wherever he is to tell her that he needs to marry her off to some other guy in order to save their family. lucia is like “but I’m marrying someone else” and enrico is like “oh yeah? read this” and gives her the letter, and lucia naturally breaks down because it’s a big lie about how edgardo has found someone else in france. she cries about it until this big fanfare plays to welcome her new husband, arturo. at this point lucia is singing about nothing except how much death would benefit her right now. enrico leaves after being an asshole for a few more minutes, and then in comes bide the bent to lecture lucia about the invalidity of her previous marital vows. she leaves to change into a wedding gown.

enter arturo, this random loser that enrico wants lucia to marry. his lines are so cliché that he’s probably reading them off a sheet of paper (which is exactly how we staged the production I am currently doing). somehow arturo knows about lucia’s affair with edgardo because those two were actually horrible at being secretive, but also he doesn’t care because he gets to marry a hottie. enrico tells arturo about how lucia’s mother died and that’s why she’s crying about the wedding. lo and behold, lucia enters and she is crying. they hold the wedding right then and there under the Authority™ of bide the bent, enrico forces lucia to sign the wedding documents, and then everyone is like “wait who’s at the door?” and then EDGARDO BREAKS IN and he’s like “EDGAAAAAARDO” and they sing a whole sextet that borders a confusion ensemble except it’s a bel canto tragedy.

edgardo is like “yeah man! it’s my right to be here since I’m engaged to lucia!” and enrico is like “PSH” and bide the bent comes up like “sorry she just signed this Other Marriage Contract” and shows it to edgardo and edgardo is like WHAT and he comes up to lucia like BRUH YOU DONE THIS?? and lucia doesn’t even know what’s happening at this point, she’s just like “yes?? but” and then edgardo takes off his ring and hers and then throws a temper tantrum before he gets kicked out.

behold the wolf’s craig duet, the most stupid and pointless thing in this opera considering what happens later. enrico barges into edgardo’s house and they sing about how they’re going to kill each other and duel at the graveyard. that’s it. there’s probably sexual tension.

after that, there’s a wedding party, except with a Horrifying Twist. lucia goes upstairs with arturo and fucking kills him. having lost her mind, she comes out covered in blood and sings for like twenty minutes in a very impressive manor. she collapses on the floor at the very end.

there’s a random recit right afterwards where enrico, bide the bent and normano briefly talk about lucia losing her mind. while enrico is crying about lucia, bide the bent literally blames normano of all people, who did exactly nothing, for every bad thing that happened to lucia.

the final scene begins at the graveyard. now, I know what you’re thinking. edgardo and enrico promised to duel each other here, right? right! so where the hell is enrico? I dunno, not here. edgardo is here, and he’s crying and stuff about his dead father. he’s very sad and probably wants to perish. a chorus shows up mourning something. edgardo asks about it and no one wants to tell him. bide the bent appears in all his priestliness and tells edgardo that lucia is now in heaven. how did she die? beats me. she died of insanity or something. edgardo has lost the final thing in his life that matters to him, so he decides to “go see her” and stabs himself.

the opera ends.

welcome to lucia di lammermoor. now, some of these plot holes are resolvable through directing. for example, lucia’s insanity is inexplicable in the libretto. nobody is just sad about their boyfriend and commits murder–granted, her first aria had her singing about a ghost and a fountain of blood. why’s she like this, though? she’s probably not ok. so like, some people explain this by making enrico way way worse than just a big liar. in the production that I’m doing, enrico is being depicted as sexually abusive towards lucia, and like, yeah that helps do some explaining. but you know what it doesn’t help? the parts of the opera that normally get cut, like the stupidass wolf’s craig duet that exists for no reason and usually gets cut because it makes no sense. also, the scene right after the mad scene where bide the bent comically blames normano for everything even though it is clearly enrico’s fault and enrico is randomly mourning lucia even though he was horrible to her for the whole opera. unfortunately, when you have companies like the met, which do full operas with no cuts, you get the whole, nonsensical story in its full glory, not to mention the met tends to shy away from taking creative liberties with the directing.

so like, why do I say this opera is a new favorite? well, aside from it being fun to sing, since I’m doing it for the first time, it’s absolutely hilarious to consider who the real mastermind here is, since for some reason, the librettist seems to think that it’s normano. you have to make up so much subtext in this story in order to even make it begin to make sense, so how far can you take it? how much nonsense can you create?

easy mode is assuming the mastermind is enrico. he’s a horrible person. obviously bide the bent accuses normano because he’s trying to divert the blame from enrico, who may or may not kill him if he says the truth. however, enrico does not go to the graveyard to kill edgardo and tie off loose ends (which I personally think he should have). enrico just kind of disappears, honestly, in spite of being the main bad guy.

bide the bent is another viable option. he blames normano to divert attention from himself. he plays the role of the peacemaker between edgardo and enrico during the sextet, but it’s all a sham. the reason bide the bent appears in the final graveyard scene is because he’s the true villain here. he simply took advantage of everyone around him in order to make sure everything went according to plan. enrico’s bs towards lucia, lucia’s insanity, edgardo’s depression, normano loyalty, the whole deal. he wishes to rise in power… perhaps the reason enrico does not show up in the final scene is because bide the bent has already disposed of him.

what if it was edgardo? what if he and lucia devised a plan to create an opening that would allow them to run away? what if arturo was in on it? lucia pretends to murder arturo, pretends to go insane, and the plan was to finally flee with edgardo… but then they were INTERCEPTED. their plan was ruined. lucia was disposed of by the enemy off-stage and it was too late. they claim she died of insanity, but she was killed by normano under enrico’s orders, or whoever else is the designated evil one here.

in the met, for some reason, they decide to have lucia’s ghost come in during the final scene and silently “coerce” edgardo into ending his life, which sounds cool, but it was ridiculous. I just remember the blood bag being in the wrong place so he had to stab himself in the kidney and lucia actually pushed the prop knife in like she wasn’t literally a ghost. there was also a ghost during lucia’s first aria that totally upstaged her. this opens up many stupid doors for directing such as arturo’s ghost returning as well if need be. anyone’s ghost could be there. ghosts canonically exist at the met. arturo could be fortnite dancing during the mad scene.

behold, a terrible take. edgardo is having a secret affair after all, but he’s having an affair with enrico. enrico is enraged when he discovers edgardo’s relationship with his sister because he thought that THEY had a thing. he vengefully tries to break them up by marrying lucia off to arturo. enrico and edgardo sing the wolf’s craig duet as a not-tragic breakup song.

honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in this goddamn cast was sleeping with each other. the possibilities are endless

during the staging period of the show, we all came up with so many stupid and hilarious ideas that we could stage an entire comedy version of this opera. maybe one day it could happen. maybe…

anyway it’s like midnight and I’m doing my cast’s performance of this opera in two days, and I just drove home a while ago from performance 1 today talking with my family about all of these stupid possibilities, so it’s all on my mind. at least the mad scene is fun to sing

[kjack89]

there are so many good ones on that list but UHHHHH... 24 or 31? (or 36. or 37 👀)

Every now and then I like to take a prompt that is clearly intended to be angsty and instead make it...not so.

This is one of those times.

ExR, Modern AU, established relationship. Brief misunderstandings, healthy(ish) communication, and lots o’ fluff.

31. “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

“Are you shitting me?” 

Grantaire stared down at the brightly colored flyer in apparent disgust, and Bossuet bent over to pry it from him. “What could possibly…” he started, trailing off as he saw what had caught Grantaire’s ire. “Ah. I’ll take it he didn’t, uh, clear it with you first?”

“It’s not about clearing it with me,” Grantaire snapped, snatching the flyer back. “I’m not his keeper. But I would think it would get at least a cursory mention.”

“What’s going on?” Joly asked from across the table, using Bossuet’s preoccupation to snag a bite of hashbrowns from his plate. Grantaire just thrust the flyer at Joly, who took it from him, raising both eyebrows as he read out loud, “‘Pucker Up for Change – A Kissing Booth to Fight to Legitimize Sex Work’?” He glanced up at Grantaire, who was scowling. “But what does this…”

It was his turn to trail off as he spotted the name listed among the other participants at the bottom of the flyer: Enjolras. Joly switched his glance to Bossuet. “What do you think?” he murmured out of the corner of his mouth. “Do you think Courfeyrac blackmailed him into it?”

“Either that or Combeferre’s getting revenge for something,” Bossuet muttered back.

Grantaire cleared his throat. “I don’t think the why really matters,” he said, his tone clipped. “When the more important thing is that my boyfriend is participating in a kissing booth and, y’know, neglected to tell me about it.”

“I’m sure it just slipped his mind,” Bossuet said bracingly. “You know that Enjolras has been so focused on the cash bail reform bill that’s in the House at the moment that he probably completely forgot he even agreed to participate.”

“Or,” Joly added, in what he clearly thought was a helpful way, “maybe Courfeyrac signed him up as a joke, and Enjolras doesn’t even know about it!”

“Or, maybe Enjolras forgot that he had a boyfriend who wouldn’t be super thrilled about him macking on a bunch of randos for ten bucks a pop,” Grantaire said sourly.

Joly and Bossuet both stared at him for a moment before Bossuet bit his lip, and Joly elbowed him. “Not the time,” he hissed, and Bossuet shook his head rapidly, clearly trying to stop himself from laughing.

Grantaire sighed. “What?”

“Just…’macking’?” Bossuet repeated with a snigger.

The corners of Joly’s mouth twitched. “I thought you were going to point out the use of the word ‘randos’,” he said, the pitch of his voice rising as he tried not to giggle.

Grantaire sighed again. “You two are the worst friends,” he grumbled, picking up his phone and texting Enjolras the four most ominous words in the English language: We need to talk.

----------

They didn’t talk.

Enjolras texted Grantaire back that he was in and out of meetings between the community bond fund and various state legislators, and asked if it could wait until that night. Considering that the damned kissing booth was scheduled for that afternoon, that didn’t exactly give Grantaire any opportunity to bring up the fact that Enjolras was planning on spending his afternoon locking lips with random passersby.

He texted Jehan. Pretty fucked up that passersby is the plural of passerby, and not passerbys.

I’ll take it you’re freaking out about the kissing booth thing? Jehan responded not even a minute later.

Grantaire didn’t bother asking Jehan how he knew about the kissing booth, or how he knew that Grantaire was upset about it – he had learned a long time ago not to question Jehan’s borderline omniscient ways. Don’t you think he should’ve at least told me about it??

I think that you’re interpreting the fact that he didn’t as evidence that he doesn’t care about you, Jehan replied. Which is crap. Enjolras loves you. 

Loves me enough to make out with strangers without telling me about it?

Jehan’s response took longer this time. I highly doubt there will be any making out. And have you considered that the reason he didn’t tell you is precisely because he didn’t want you to feel this way?

The thought had occurred to Grantaire, who scowled down at his phone. Doesn’t change the fact that he should’ve told me, he texted stubbornly.

Maybe not. But maybe you should give him a chance to explain tonight.

Grantaire’s scowl deepened and he shoved his phone back in his pocket. He figured he could be magnanimous enough to allow Enjolras a chance to explain.

But he sure as hell wasn’t going to wait for that night.

----------

“Next,” called the bored-looking guy who was managing the short line waiting for the kissing booth, and Grantaire took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Boy, girl, or nonbinary?”

“Sorry?” Grantaire said, blinking at him in confusion.

“Would you prefer to kiss a boy, a girl, or a nonbinary person?” the guy clarified.

Grantaire knew he should be impressed that something as asinine as a kissing booth was inclusive, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to be. “Boy,” he said, and the guy gestured for him to head over to the right side of the booth.

Taking a deep breath, Grantaire squared his shoulders and stalked over, plunking a ten dollar bill down in front of where Enjolras was sitting. “I believe this is the going rate,” he said stiffly.

The look on Enjolras’s face was everything that Grantaire had hoped it would be, a mix of horror, regret, and a particularly Enjolras-like defiance. “I suppose I owe you an explanation,” Enjolras started, but Grantaire held up a hand.

“First things first,” he said. “I paid, so I should get what I’m owed.” Enjolras rolled his eyes but nonetheless leaned in obliging and gave Grantaire a swift peck on the lips. “Not sure that was ten dollars worth…” Grantaire said, before continuing, “Now, about that explanation—”

It was Enjolras’s turn to hold up a finger, and he leaned back in his seat to talk to someone on the other side of the booth. “Hey, I’m tapping out for the moment.” Whatever response he got was apparently enough, as he stood, reaching out automatically for Grantaire’s hand.

For a brief moment, Grantaire thought about yanking his hand away, but even as ticked off as he was, he couldn’t do that.

Instead, he let Enjolras take his hand, lacing their fingers together as they walked away from the kissing booth . Enjolras glanced over at Grantaire and opened his mouth to say something, but Grantaire shook his head. “Not here,” he said tersely.

Instead, they headed to a nearby Starbucks, though Enjolras made a face when he realized where they were going. “Starbucks, really?” he asked.

“You spent an afternoon kissing people who are not me,” Grantaire said. “The least you can do is buy me an overpriced coffee.”

Enjolras didn’t argue any further, and they both got their coffees and made their way over to stand against the bar, their shoulders brushing against each other as they drank their coffee in silence.

“So,” Grantaire started eventually, and Enjolras sighed, draining his coffee.

“So I gather you’re upset,” he hedged, and Grantaire looked flatly at him.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

A small smile crossed Enjolras’s face. “Am I at least allowed to make my defense?”

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “If you think there’s anything you can say in your defense that will make even a remote bit of difference.”

“How about this: I agreed to the kissing booth before you and I started officially dating,” Enjolras said calmly. “And you know that I honor my commitments.”

“Just not the commitment you made to me.”

It was unfair of Grantaire to say, and he knew it, but Enjolras just sighed and shook his head. “I’m not going to pretend that I owe you every part of my life,” he said. “And I’m not going to pretend that I didn’t decide that asking forgiveness was easier than asking permission.”

Grantaire frowned. “You don’t need my permission,” he said.

Enjolras arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t that what this is about?”

“No, this is about you deciding that it was easier for us to not at least have a conversation about it,” Grantaire said evenly. “I know damn well that you don’t need my permission for anything, and vice-versa. But you still should’ve at least given me a head’s up about it so that I wasn’t completely blindsided.”

For a moment, Enjolras looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he ducked his head and nodded. “You’re right.”

Grantaire blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“I said, you’re right,” Enjolras repeated, a little louder.

Grantaire smirked at him. “Oh I heard you, I just wanted to make you say it again.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Hilarious,” he said dryly.

“Yeah, but my superb wit is one of the things you love about me,” Grantaire said, still grinning.

“You are unfortunately correct,” Enjolras said with a light laugh, pulling Grantaire in and kissing him. “So does that mean that I’m forgiven?”

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “That depends. You got any other makeout sessions for charity planned?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “There was no making out,” he said, a little impatiently. “It was just kissing.”

“Tomato, to-mah-to,” Grantaire muttered under his breath. 

“And it wasn’t technically for charity. It was in protest of how things like kissing booths are completely normalized and accepted, but sex work is marginalized and—” Grantaire yawned exaggeratedly and Enjolras rolled his eyes again, but it was with obvious affection. “It wouldn’t kill you to pretend to care.”

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “Pot, meet kettle.”

Enjolras’s expression softened. “I do care,” he said. “And I’m sorry for making you doubt it.”

Grantaire softened as well, not at all surprisingly. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to stay mad at Enjolras for long. “Well, for that at least, I am more than willing to forgive you.”

“And for the rest?”

But that also didn’t mean that Grantaire was completely willing to just roll over. “Answer my previous question.”

“No, I have absolutely no future plans for any kind of kissing booth or anything like that,” Enjolras said firmly. “Besides, I don’t know if I could bring myself to do it again.”

Grantaire cocked his head slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

The breath seemed to catch in Grantaire’s throat, and a slow grin spread across his face. “Good answer,” he managed, before tugging Enjolras to him and kissing him.

When they broke apart, both men were grinning. “That’ll be ten dollars,” Enjolras said, a little breathlessly.

“Shut up,” Grantaire said, laughing.

“So am I definitely forgiven now?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire just kissed him again, curling his fist in Enjolras’s shirt, knowing full well that the kiss would say far more than words ever could, and content in the knowledge that from here on out, the only person that would be kissing Enjolras was him.

And he wouldn’t even have to pay $10 to do so.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

I got escape for the word generator, so can I get yandere trigger happy havoc boys with and s/o who's the ultimate escape artist?

Ooooo I haven’t written any yandere content in a hot minute *eyes emoji*

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

Mondo

Not too knowledgeable on how to properly tie someone up himself.

His gang usually takes care of that with rope, chains, and bent metal pipes.

So it’s rather easy for his s/o to slip out of any restraint they’re put into.

Of course, Mondo will throw a massive temper tantrum every time to scare them into staying hidden.

But if any of the members tried to beat them up to get them to comply...

Well, let’s say they’re never seen again and Mondo’s gotta wash tons of pink off his hands.

Crazy Diamonds could disband for all he cares--they come second, his s/o is first.

His s/o feels bad for the gang, and wonders if Daiya would ever approve of this.

Taka

He’s madly in love with his s/o--finally being able to experience romance without studies or family matters hindering him.

But is it to the point where he’d try to restrict their free will so they couldn’t abandon him? No. 

The first time he tried to, he only managed to approach them with a chloroform rag....

Before giving up and crying into their arms, ashamed of his intentions.

His s/o is alarmed by his bizarre change in behavior, but comforts him and promises they won’t leave him.

He just becomes overly affectionate and clingy instead, trying to study all he can about romance to be the perfect lover.

Taka is the nicest type of yandere...if you could even call him that.

Kiyondo

If Taka’s soul-bond takes over, he pretty much acts like Mondo.

Minus the biker gang.

Though he’ll try barriers, zip ties--anything he can find to keep his s/o from leaving him.

But his work is often sloppily done, since part of him is still somewhat convinced his actions are wrong and immoral.

When they do get free, he just huffs and has a brief temper tantrum.

Though eventually he walks away to cool off.

Usually he’s back to normal sometime after that.

Leon

Doesn’t care about music, baseball, or even his own looks anymore.

But when he sees someone being a bit too “friendly” or rude to his s/o...

Suddenly he feels like practicing some swings with that baseball bat in his closet.

When that’s taken care of, he’d try to imprison them in a batting cage, using whatever kind of lock he can get his hands on...

...only to turn around and find his s/o outside of it, holding said lock with a bored expression.

“A common lock? That’s child’s play. You really need to step up your game, sugar.”

*insert the ghostly face Leon made when Makoto demanded he showed his toolkit to the class*.

Chihiro

With this seemingly sweet and innocent boy, it’s hard to believe he’d be a challenge for the Ultimate Escape Artist.

But you’d be wrong.

He learned how to program locks with complex codes and ciphers that are nearly unsolvable by anyone except him.

Keyword is “nearly”, because he does feel some guilt if he keeps his s/o confined for too long.

So he’ll scatter numbers and letters around the room, allowing them to piece together the code on their own.

Usually the keys are things of “importance” to him like their birthday, the day they met Chihiro, their anniversary date, etc.

Yasuhiro

Any type of restraint he tries only has a 30% chance of working.

Which is quite low, and so his s/o escapes quickly.

Though he did manage to put them into the Robo Justice suit (minus the helmet), having learned how it works and making sure he destroyed the blueprints.

For once they’re actually stuck for a bit, and he’s shocked but pleased with himself.

“Hiro, we can’t have dates or properly hug when I’m in this suit, y’know..”

“....really?? Awh man..”

He’s gullible as hell and decides to drop the whole yandere thing after they get free.

Hifumi

He’s thought of..interesting ways to trap his s/o.

But he’s too nervous to actually try anything, given how smart and skilled they are at escaping.

So he just writes fanfics about it instead.

Definitely calls himself “yandere” and looks into yandere-based animes.

But he’s fairly harmless.

So his s/o doesn’t have much to worry about.

It’s safe to say his love for them surpasses his love for 2-D.

Togami

He’s read about many escape artists and other criminals/delinquents in his spare time.

So he knows their tactics--their methods of escape.

He doesn’t see his s/o any differently from them.

But he still loves them dearly, so he makes the traps/restraints he utilizes like a game for both of them.

If they break free, he tries something else the next day. Something more difficult.

He just wants to see how long it takes before they quit and surrender.

But they’re stubborn, like him, so it’s entertaining.

Makoto

He won’t even try anything.

Although he worries about his s/o leaving him for being “average”, it’s not like he wants them to live a restricted life.

From time to time, he might corner them and ask them where they’ve been.

But he’s quick to drop the act and apologize.

Like Hifumi and Taka he won’t cause any problems whatsoever.

He only trusts that with his luck, they’ll stay with him.

[murderousginger]

Where is your boy tonight?

John Shelby x Russian Maid

Warnings: Alcohol. Drugs. Cussing. Explicit. It’s a Russian orgy party. They’re criminals guys, they do bad things.

Word Count: 3,432

Note: ... Well this went raunchy fast. I’m not a smut writer... so like... I’m sorry ahead of time. I’m posting this before I lose my nerve. In other news, I see you John girls, and I absolutely adore you. I’ll be working on prompts as quickly as I can. <3

"Remember ladies,"

Tatiana Patrovna strutted around the room of half dressed women in her lace lingerie, running her fingers along one maid's back as she bent over to put on stockings, across another maid's arm as she straightened her skirts, looking over each and every woman. Each woman had to be perfect. The princess resembled a general overlooking her troops before war. In a way, Anna supposed she was. 

"These men don't know Russian women. They think women are soft. Vulnerable." 

Tatiana's wild eyes danced along every strap, every lace garment, every painted face in front of her. The duchess had hired the best whores as maids, and paid them well when the entire family left Russia to come to England. 

The staff already knew what was expected of them. The family was rich, bored. Bored Russian royalty was dangerous. The staff sated every whim. England would have crumbled by now if not, Anna mused as she watched Tatiana flit between each girl. She was already bored of this pep talk.

"Be who they want you to be," Tatiana's wide eyes shone dark as they darted around the room. "But when they cry in passion, learn from them. Then bring it to me."

Tonight was not a regular night. Three brothers were to join the festivities and every woman was to be on guard. Men often talked when their balls were empty and the lights were low. Men told secrets they wouldn't admit under torture. Men were weak that way. 

Anna was just another maid. Another whore brought over from the old country, here to entertain the wild family and whomever else she was instructed to. She had been with them for years, watching the parties grow wilder with each passing phase. 

In England, the family no longer seemed bored. Instead, they seemed like they could no longer return to what society would deem a normal life. Too many orgies, too many nights with a gun to their head laughing and hoping to find the correct chamber, too often feeling the rush of adrenaline and subsequent crash of psyche that came with the roaring highs of the drugs and sex. They were unhinged, mad with power, and she had decided long ago that she was fine with watching it play out. 

Anna's dark hair and features that were common back home held a sense of wrongness in England. They stuck out against those that looked carefully enough. So far she has only been allowed outside of the house once, to get food from the market. Her dark eyes had watched all of the England common folk bustle about with curiosity. How did they live in comparison? 

She had eyed a man with a fruit stand, watching him carefully as she traced over the options with her lithe fingers. He had nodded good morning to her and she smiled, lifting an apple from the stand and taking a large bite. She rolled the sweet fruit over her tongue as she decided to play with him. Why? Because why not. 

He started to tell her the price of the apple, and she gulped the bite down, playfully spreading the apple juices that ran down her hand along her exposed throat. Now it was his turn to gulp. 

She came back from the market late, with a bag of apples that she did not pay for and the knowledge that English men were far easier than she had imagined.

"Anna," Tatiana snapped, and she jerked her head out of her daydreams. "What did I say?"

Anna assessed the woman in front of her as she hiked her leg onto a chair to put her stockings on. She did not bother to have them perfect; they wouldn't be on long anyway. Tatiana watched her with cold eyes as she stepped in between her legs, her fingers dancing along Anna's knee and up the stocking to her inner thigh. Her fingers lazily played with the fabric between her legs as she waited for an answer. 

"You want us to fuck the three Englishmen within an inch of their lives, so they are ruined from their wives and tell us every boring secret they have," Anna sounded, completely ignoring the cool fingers that traced her. 

"No."

Tatiana teasing fingers swatted her. Anna flinched as the princess turned away and walked into the middle of the room. 

"I said, the leader, the one that goes by Thomas, is mine."

Tatiana glared at every woman in the room, waiting for defiance. None spoke up. 

"The other two, do whatever they want," she waved away the harshness she had just possessed. "What might blow their mind could be silly to you. Do it anyway, and do it with ferver."

A round of mumbled agreements echoed. The princess nodded, more to herself than the girls, and left without another word. The men were coming, and she had to get ready herself.

Anna finished putting on her maid  skirt and top and sat in the seat, waiting as the other maids got ready and gossiped among themselves. 

What could be so interesting about three Englishmen?

----

The Englishmen came through the doors with the princess and the duchess hours into when the party began. Murmurs between help warned that they had already been welcomed with mind games; the two royal women had stripped the brothers down to assess them, the men tearing buttons from shirts like wild animals. One or two maids had been given the shirts to mend already. 

Russian men had already started on vodka, cocaine, and women that morning. The party had already risen to the haze of fucking in the open, half naked women parading around as they like by the time the three Shelbys eyed the room. 

Anna had already entertained some of the men, but easily sloughed off their advances as the newcomers arrived. She had even managed to keep her maid outfit on. The stockings, however, had been long tossed into the fireplace. 

She watched the men, bug-eyed by the general activities of the den. 

"Fucking hell, Tommy," one breathed as he ran his hand along his neck. 

"Remember, play nice," the dark haired one said, clear blue eyes coldly looking around. 

Anna held her breath for the few seconds his eyes had looked at her. They were so calculating. That had to be the one Tatiana was after. 

"Sit with me, Tommy," Tatiana simpered, taking the dark haired man's hand and leading him to a couch. 

Another maid appeared beside the older looking brother with the mustache, leading him toward a chair. She brought him his own bottle of vodka. The last brother continued looking around the room, giggling uncomfortably but looking at everything like it was Christmas morning. 

Anna slipped past the duchess, who took her place by the fireplace to watch, and picked up an almost full bottle of vodka from a bucket of ice that sat beside one of the couches with an maid and a Russian man fucking slowly. She ran her hand along the Shelby brother's bicep and squeezed, a coy smile across her lips as he whipped his head around to see who had approached him.

"Would you like some company? Vodka?" Anna said, lilting her accent at him. 

His eyes looked over her outfit as she handed him the bottle of liquor. 

"Yuh," he said stiffly, eyes not leaving her hem as he cleared his throat, "sure. I was just about to ask those two men if I could enter their poker game."

"Then you will need me," Anna said as she wrapped her arm around his and led him to the table. "It is strip poker. The girls undress as you play."

"I didn't realize," he said, looking over the two bearded men sitting at the table with half dressed women on their laps. "Name's John. Yours?"

Anna pulled the chair out for John, motioning for him to sit. As he did, she made herself comfortable sitting on his lap, moving his arm to her waist. 

"He wants to play poker with you," she said to the men in Russian. "Deal him in. Let him win."

The men laughed amongst themselves and complied, throwing their cards in the center to start a new game. The women chittered on their laps but made no move to put clothing back on. Anna leaned against John, twisting to put her hand on his chest and her mouth to his ear. 

"They're starting a new game for you now," she said, feeling him gulp as her lips brushed his ear. "And you may call me whatever you like, John. Who do you want me to be?"

Anna trailed a finger along his neck as she leaned away to look him in the eye. John's blue eyes were wide and watching the table where his cards lay. With a deep breath he met her dark eyes with his bright blue ones. 

"Let's start with your name, yeah?" A playful smirk appeared on his face as his grip tightened on her waist. "And we'll go from there."

"Anna," she deftly moved his hand from her waist to her thigh along the hem of her short skirt as she leaned forward to pick up his cards and handed them to him. "Better drink to catch up. The men don't like sober players."

"Fucking hell," he breathed, handing the cards back to her and picking up the bottle he had sat beside his chair. 

He guzzled it down and the men made cheering noises, squeezing their women to their laps. One woman was completely topless, only her skirt and panties on while the man bounced her on his knee to watch her tits jiggle. The other woman had only her top and panties on, but her man had become impatient and was groping through her clothing as she giggled. 

Anna innocently shifted in his lap, trying to tempt John as he drank nearly a third of the bottle. His hand squeezed her thigh as a warning and she laughed as he set the bottle down. 

"That enough for you fucks?" He growled as he took his cards roughly from Anna's hands. "Let's play."

Anna would move occasionally in his lap, but used the game to watch the room. To watch the other brothers.

"I sewed your buttons back on," the maid said as she ran her hands across the older brother's chest, "I wanted to make sure I did a good job."

Arthur took a swig of the bottle of vodka in his hand as he watched her hesitantly. 

"You did a good job," he breathed.

She lifted a button up, circling it in her fingers deftly. 

"No, I did not."

The maid took the older his hand and guided him up from his chair and out of the room. Anna smirked. 

The other one, Tommy, the leader, was leaned on a couch, Tatiana laying against him under his arm. She looked bored.

"Why do you play games with people with no benefit to you?" Tommy asked, annoyance across his face as he took another drink from his glass. 

"In Russia because we were bored," Tatiana said succinctly. "In England because we don't know how to stop."

Anna moved on, ignoring the rest of the conversation to stop herself from rolling her eyes. She looked back to the table as John cheered, his arm squeezing her closer as he threw his cards at the table. 

"We won, Anna," he cheered again as she looked to the two sullen Russians for confirmation. 

"That means," she said, softly pressing his arm to release her, "that I no longer need my top."

Anna grabbed the fabric and lifted it above her head, throwing it to the topless girl on the other side of the table with a giggle. John's hand stilled on her thigh as he leaned back with a frown.

"When you win here," Anna said, twisting in his arms to face him, "your whore loses clothes, not your opponents." 

His ears turned a light pink as she shimmied at him with a laugh, her head thrown back. 

"There's rarely a game that doesn't end in fucking."

John's eyes were fixed on her, and she gave a throaty chuckle as his hand grabbed blindly for the bottle at the floor. He was attracted to her, at least. The pressure in his pants would not lie about that. He took another large gulp of vodka as the cards were dealt again. 

Anna watched as one of the men, the one with the girl who only had panties and a shirt on, began whispering in the girl's ear. She nodded, stood up and turned around to kneel before him and undo his pants.

She looked back at John, who tried to ignore the scene in front of him as he picked up his cards, but his eyes wandered to her bobbing head. 

A quick sweep of the room told Anna that Tommy and Tatiana were also gone. These brothers are shy, she noted.

The Russian men began muttering as John threw his hand at the table. 

"Won again," he said and looked at the Russian who muttered in front of him, his hands grabbed the back of the woman's bobbing head to bare her down on him as he gritted his teeth. Anna smiled, earning John's gaze that couldn't help but flicker to her chest before he met her eyes again. 

"Lucky for you," she said as she stood in front of him, topless with her hands at the waist of her skirt. "I have no underwear." 

She stepped out of the skirt and stepped closer to sit on his knee. His eyes were wide and his mouth slack as she straddled his leg facing him. She playfully grinded against his thigh, letting his eyes be glued to the motion, before she leaned back and took his new cards from the table. She stretched, watching his gaze travel up her naked body as she fanned his cards in front of her face to hide her smile. He was too easily shocked. 

"What happens if I win again?" He panted, licking his lips as he reached for the cards. 

Anna pulled them away from his reach and pushed herself up his thigh, twisting so their cheeks touched as she showed him his cards. 

"You, my Englishman," Anna said breathily into his ear. "Win all three of us, or whoever you wish. I can promise you, you want me."

John's eyes started to dilate as his mouth parted. 

"Oh."

The game, -- what little it could be called that -- was short lived. One man was completely engrossed in the lips around his cock, the other taken to pinching his maid's nipples until she screamed as she bounced on his knee, and John was uncomfortably frozen under Anna as she writhed on his thigh and moaned into his ear, completely breaking the concentration he was trying so hard to have on the card game. 

When the men finally threw all their cards down, John turned pale when the other men grumbled again and quickly became engrossed with their women. 

Anna looked over her shoulder to the cards on the table and smiled a Cheshire cat grin. 

"You won."

Before he could answer, she lifted herself from his soaked pant leg and grabbed his chin. He stood, meeting her eyes as she led him backwards, blindly reaching behind her for the door to a side den she knew was there. 

"You seem to be the type to want privacy," Anna purred. "Should I call the others?"

"No, no," John breathed, looking into her black eyes. 

"As I thought," she said and opened the door and led him in. She let go of his face as he stepped through the threshold.

John took a deep breath as he turned and  closed the door before he turned back to her. She was still so close, he went to take a step back and hit the door.

"Look, I--"

"Tell me what you like," she whispered as she pressed against him. 

"Have a wife, Esme--"

"She doesn't have to know," she said, leaning to run her tongue along the shell of his ear, "unless she likes to know about these things."

"No, she's just had a child--" he stuttered, trying to grab at Anna's forearms and push her back. Just a little space. To breathe. She was so close.

"So you've been without, poor man," she pouted mockingly, pressing against his hold. "Let me make it better. Do you love this wife? Do I resemble her?"

"Well you're both dark haired--"

"Do you love her?" Anna's eyes flashed as she smiled, grabbing his hand and pressing it toward her neck. "Do you hate her? Have you ever just wanted to squeeze the life--"

"Stop!" He bellowed as he pushed her back. He stomped past her, near the fireplace in the room, as he paced, muttering to himself and rubbing his face with his hands. 

Anna heard "fucking Russians" and "Tommy said they were fucking insane" mixed in with the rumblings, his tone frantic. He was coming undone at the seams, she thought, too much pressure and he'll break -- but not how Tatiana wants him to. 

She rushed to him, hushing him as she stopped his pacing. 

"That's enough, John," she soothed, his eyes wildly looking around the room at anything but her. "I'm only here to make you happy. What will make you happy, hmm?"

"Just let me fucking breathe, woman," he snapped as he stormed away from her. 

"Alright," Anna said as she crossed her arms and looked around the room. She shuffled in place uneasily, rubbing her arms as she began to notice the chill of the room. 

"Oh for fucks sake," he muttered, looking at her and then darting his eyes away as he took his jacket off. "Here, wear this, come to the fire. You must be freezing prancing around like that, yeah?"

She hesitantly came forward and allowed John to drape his jacket across her shoulders before she murmured a thanks and wrapped it tighter. 

After a few moments of silence, Anna dared to speak. 

"What now, then?"

John exhaled shakily, scratching his neck and stealing a sideways look at the Russian in his coat. 

"They expect you to fuck me, don't they?" He whispered. Anna hesitantly nodded, earning a nod in return as John ran his hand over his face. 

"And my brothers will never let me hear the end of it if I don't," he mumbled. 

"Do you… not like girls?" Anna said slowly. "I can call in one of the men--"

"God no," John laughed. "I just… it don't feel right…"

Anna shifted. 

"Is it me?"

John's eyes softened as he looked at her and smiled. 

"You're bloody gorgeous, darling," his smile turned lopsided. "It's not that."

Silence filled the air again. John exhaled.

"How about this," he said, his hands pushing the air down to the floor. "How about we walk out there and say we did. I'll tell them all that you sucked the soul out of me cock with those lips of yours, and you can tell your princess I cried like a little baby, or whatever will make her happy, yeah?"

Anna nodded. 

"We'll go out there, you can continue to be my girl for the night, and no one knows any different. Keep my coat till the morning if you like."

"Alright, John."

His face brightened and he held out his arm. Anna stepped forward and slid under it, smiling at the odd man at her side. 

"Let's go back, then."

----

"The old one," the maid said as she stood beside Anna as Tatiana ate breakfast at the table, "Arthur. He was hesitant but bred me like a dog. I think he whimpered a few times, but it only made him rougher."

Tatiana hummed as she drank her tea. 

"And the other?"

"The youngest one is named John," Anna said with a yawn. 

He refused to fuck me because he loves his wife, Esme, and they recently had a child. One of many. He was polite and attracted but wouldn't budge.

"What about him?" Tatiana snapped. "Out with it."

Anna frowned. 

"He was a fast lay," she said. "He came in my mouth after two strokes. He was so spent he never touched me after. He cries when he cums."

"How boring," Tatiana laughed. "I suppose I did save the best for myself."

"Yes, princess," the maids droned. They were dismissed with a wave.

[thursday-knight]

This fic is for @ihni, who drew me fanart recently for a thing and when I said I'd write her fic for it asked for  "hmm, I've been feeling overworked lately, how about some exhausted, bone-tired Billy? Free interpretation on that!" So here you go! I hope you like it.

//

It's been a long fucking day. The kind of ugly, awful, long fucking day that's had Billy snarling at everyone he's come across, the kind of day that's had him low enough that the only thing he's grateful for right now is that he hasn't threatened anyone. Or hit anyone, though he's certainly had the urge. He's felt the urge, the one he used to let fly free as easy as breathing, that urge, he's had it just under his skin all day and every trick he's learned through years of therapy and introspection are only just barely keeping it at bay.

But there's a saving grace. His shift is almost up. Five more minutes and he can go home and take a shower and get this sweat and beer stench off his clothes, off his body, he can put on his favorite sweatpants and dive into re-reading IT and it'll be okay.

It'll be okay if he can just make it these next five minutes. 

He makes it three before Anthony, the new guy, comes up and asks him if he'll stay an extra hour, saying he wants (needs) to go deal with a roommate squabble or something at home.

Billy pictures biting this guy's arm clean off as he tells him that, no, he won't be staying late tonight because he is not, in fact, anyone's fucking babysitter. He took this shift and he can work it 'til it's done, that's what working is, what having a job is and if Anthony is too young to know that, it's not Billy's job to teach him.

Once Billy's done with his little spiel Anthony looks like he just might cry, but he also lets him go. And Billy's time is up, so he grabs his jacket from under the bar and he goes.

Outside it's cold. Like freeze certain body parts off cold. It's cold and it's snowed and Billy kicks at one of the front tires of his cheap, shitty second-hand shit brown Toyota, the one he's hated ever since the day he bought it, the one that will never, could never take the place of his beloved Camaro but that was all he could afford at the time, given the circumstances. 

He continues to kick at the tire and even adds in some screams for good measure, hoping it'll at least make him feel better, but it doesn't. It gets him nowhere.

He hates the snow and he hates the cold and he hates Indianapolis and he hates his car and he hates this day and there's nothing he can do about any of it.

And okay, usually he doesn't mind living in Indianapolis that much, usually, he can accept the fact that they won't be here forever, that they're just here while Steve finishes up school. 

He's put up with cold weather for years now and while he hates it, he's used to it. And at least it isn't as bad as it was that first year out here in the midwest, where he had no proper jacket and no money for one.

Same goes for working two jobs, he's done it for years and he's used to that, too.

Usually.

He's used to it, usually. But today, man. Today… today fucking sucks. Today is the culmination of a lot of bad things all lined up in a row and he can't help but feel it all the way down to his toes. 

He hasn't had a single day off in two weeks, he didn't get a wink of sleep last night for absolutely no reason whatsoever, he was just up all night watching Steve sleep peacefully while his mind came up with scenario after scenario, grisly image after grisly image of all the bad things that could happen to Steve, the one person he loves most in the world. All the monsters that could get to him both human and non-human. (Not to mention certain three-lettered viruses that are currently tearing through the population of guys just like them all across the country, the continent, the world.)

And then, to make all of that worse, in his exhaustion, he forgot his lunch at home. And then at least six different middle-aged women hit on him at the bar and since he's come out, he's realized he really, aggressively, actually hates that. He doesn't like women hitting on him to begin with, but women more than twice his age doing it? It makes his skin crawl and makes him feel like he needs to burn all his clothes and take a long, hot shower. 

And then one of them spilled their drink on him and didn't even apologize for it, either, just giggled drunkenly and tottered off on her stupidly high, stupidly pink high heels.

So all in all, it's been a long, terrible, shitty fucking day. 

It only gets worse when Billy gets home. 

There isn't any gum anywhere in the kitchen but he does find Steve's secret stash of cigarettes and that, well, that punches his craving in the face more than the gum would've helped in the first place.

Then his favorite sweatpants are in the dirty laundry hamper, still covered in mustard from that cooking incident last week. 

Then, to top it all off, like the cherry on top of the shit cake that is this day, that is his life at this point, the hot water in the shower only lasts for about five minutes, leaving Billy, who has never liked anything cold that wasn't the ocean, to stand there shivering and washing the shampoo out of his hair with cold water. 

Then Steve gets home and something in Billy erupts.

Steve's barely just taken his shoes off when Billy's yelling at him, "And what the hell are these?" and throwing the dusty, bent, and probably years-old pack of cigarettes at him. 

They both know that Steve hasn't smoked in years, they both know that the cigarettes were less a dirty little secret and more something forgotten at the back of a junk drawer, but Steve blushes like a tomato at the accusation anyway. "Ummm…" he squeaks, voice a good bit higher than it normally is. "Nothing?" 

This is the wrong answer and it has Billy huffing in anger. "I quit a month ago on your say so and you made me dump out every single cigarette I had and this whole time you've been holding out on me? Like you're allowed to smoke but I'm not?"

"Okay, first," Steve says, all manner of squeakiness in his voice gone and replaced by something much more steely and layered with a heavy resolve. "Quitting was your idea. You talked about it for almost a year before I gently nudged you into doing it and—" 

"Nudged! You insisted!" Billy shouts, interrupting Steve before he had a chance to finish. "You made me do it!" 

Everything falls to silence after this and Steve's face is instantly inscrutable. Billy swallows and it feels like he's trying to swallow around a marble or maybe something bigger. He starts to feel guilty. He knows he's picked a fight over nothing. 

Fortunately, so does Steve. So without saying anything, Steve reaches down, grabs the cigarettes, and squeezes past Billy, even though he's taking up most of the space in the hall and marches to the kitchen where he immediately chucks the cigarettes into the garbage can.

Billy follows after him, head down, and waits.

And Steve makes him wait. 

For about three minutes, then he says, "Have you calmed down yet?"

Billy nods. 

"You wanna tell me what's really bothering you?"

Billy nods and looks up. "Bad day," he says. 

And he waits, as always, for something bad to happen. For Steve to get mad at him. For Steve to tell he's done, this is over, five years has been more than long enough. He's paid his dues, done his time and now he's out. He deserves someone better than Billy, someone who isn't this much of a jackass, someone who isn't carrying so much baggage, someone who doesn't get angry over nothing like this. 

But instead, as always, Steve walks forward and takes Billy's hands in his and kisses his knuckles gently. "Would making dinner and cuddling on the couch help?" he says, soft, as always. 

And again, Billy just nods and this time he lets Steve step in closer and hug him, lets Steve's warmth wrap around him and lets out a deep breath and buries his nose in the side of Steve's neck and breathes in deep.

It doesn't make the entirety of his bad day go away, it doesn't make the stress of the past few weeks go away and it doesn't make his exhaustion go away, either, but it helps.

Steve always helps.