#and all of this girl love is filling my soul

[ackerfics]

my love is mine all mine ch 3 | toji fushiguro x female reader

part one of to the girls who are failed by the narrative series.

series summary:

'the glorified womb', 'the heir bearer', 'the blessed flower of the jujutsu society' — they are just some of the titles given to the women of your mother's clan, and all of them eventually fell to you, the prodigal firstborn who has the misfortune of birthing someone who will be stronger than their predecessors. with the fate of someone's clan on your shoulders, there are only a handful of things told to you while growing up; be as demure as you can be, never open your mouth and squash your thoughts, sit with a posture befitting that of a lady wearing an invisible yet heavy diadem. but the one that rings the most goes like this: your only purpose in this world is to be a silent wife to a man who will give you the opportunity to carry the next generation of powerful sorcerers. you remember all of these as you walk toward zen'in ogi in your uchikake, the constricting material around your waist akin to the gripping hold of your cursed technique.

and in fate's funny little ways of fabricating legacies and stories, you forget them when you are spirited away by the man who always welcomes the coming of the seasons with you without fail.

chapter title: the answer will be an echo: why did you do this?

warnings: the zen'in clan.

Your sister inherited the Joushou clan’s cursed technique.

It’s an announcement that has any member of your family reeling. What a waste, they say. This could have been phenomenal if not for the sex of the child. What good would a woman have if they assume the position of heir to a powerful clan that owns shrines of purification for generations? And with the head’s reluctance in re-marrying another pitiful woman, there is no chance that a son will be celebrated, which brings you at this moment—holding your little sister who was given the role of the heir a few months ago. It’s something that you have to accept for you have no ability to create a field of reversed cursed technique that can nullify any nearby techniques.

Four years have gone and your sister celebrated four birthdays with only you and a couple of loyal maids by her side. Your father, being the head of the clan, has growing paperwork and responsibilities on top of his desk with the passing years. Now older, your father has been scrambling with marriage proposals from other clans, all vying to have you in their hold — their riches on his table.

A wife. Pliant, obedient, meek, poised, virtuous; are some of the traits expected of you. They are drilled in your head every time you have lessons with your current tutor, a lady from one of the Joushou branch households, one Lady Yukina. Despite the harshness of the lessons she brings, she might be the only old lady who has never looked at you with disdain. Her gaze fills with understanding and sometimes sympathy when she reminds you that you have to be a woman fit for the jujutsu society.

You have long since understood that even with a title to your name, you are not safe from the whims of men. You remain as a piece in their games, meant to be broken when Time and Fate are not merciful to your soul. You know it—after all, your mother has lived long enough to tell the tale.

The Hanamo clan has always stood as the harbinger of a new generation of sorcerers, as the historians so love to write about in their scriptures. 

The ancestry flowing in your veins is proof that you will always be tied to the workings of the jujutsu world, that you will be a slave to the norms delegated by the higher-ups who uphold the traditions of time immemorial. It continues to resemble the essence of your existence. Without it, you are nothing but a husk—tossed aside for lacking purpose. To put it bluntly, you don’t want to be a wife if it means having a life lived by your mother. You are older now and aside from gaining marriage proposals, you have gained this awareness that not even your father can prevent. You wish to enjoy what they call middle school. At your age, you can’t help but think that maybe you could have been a senior. You want to join clubs, stay at school after classes, or go to cram school because you want to enter a prestigious high school. You long to experience staying up late and getting confession letters in lockers—feel the giddiness stolen glances in a room brings.

However, since Fate is not kind to girls like you, you are stuck here letting the wind carry your thoughts.

“Onee-chan!” 

“Hmm?”

You are drawn to reality at the sound of your precious little sister’s voice.

“What is it, Tiny?”

She giggles, teeth showing and eyes crinkling in happiness at the syllables of her nickname from you. The little girl of four bounds over to the picnic blanket that you are sitting on, the constricting material of the kimono around her figure preventing her from running too wildly. You carefully watch her, your arms stretching out and torso leaning forward when she nearly topples to the ground. The sigh of relief your chest has been holding is let out when she is secure in your arms, which is then followed by a small huff since she has been getting bigger. The little girl in your embrace places her chin on your chest, her pudgy cheeks pressing against you. “Onee-chan’s sadness, go away. I don’t want Onee-chan to be sad.”

You hum, your smile mirroring hers. “Why would I be sad when I have the cutest, most special girl in my arms?”

She squeals when your fingers start tickling her sides.

“Onee-chan, no!” Her voice is being carried by the wind, gleefully intermingling with the melody of the breeze. “Stop it!”

Laughter continues to bubble in your throat. A huge surge of warmth prompts you to lean down to press your forehead against your sister’s. “Why would I be sad when I get to see the most precious thing smile and laugh?” You nuzzle your nose on her hair. She always smells of something citrus and sweet, a combination fitting for the reason behind your smiles. “Tiny, your existence is enough to drive the sadness away. Nothing can make me shed tears if you’re here by my side.”

“Did Mama feel like that about me?” The slightest falter in your demeanour is unnoticed by your sister. “Ah! I didn’t mean to make Onee-chan sad again.”

“What?” You breathe out. You try painting a smile on your lips. “I’m not sad.”

“You are!” She retorts with an adorable scrunch on her nose. “The flowers never lie, Onee-chan! They always lose their colour when you’re sad.” You don’t even have to ask how your sister knows about your connection with the flowers in the garden because she continues explaining in a tone that is awfully similar to Father when he was still instilling the ways of the clans in you when you were a child. “Aida-san told me that Mama’s family speaks to flowers. I know Onee-chan can speak to them, too, and just like me, they feel sad when Onee-chan is sad.”

“I do have a smart girl for a baby sister,” you muse, running your hand through her hair. “Yes, Mama could speak with any kind of plant you can think of and I know that your existence is something she asked for; she prayed every night for you to be here. You are her precious little dewdrop—I know it because the flowers told me so. Mama talked to them while she was carrying you in her tummy, you see.”

“Was she happy when she had me?”

The smile on your face never dims. “ Super happy,” you make sure to emphasise the first word.

“Were you happy?”

“The happiest big sister in the world.”

“I’m happy you’re my big sister, too!”

Your bottom lip wobbles, quickly hiding it by burying the toddler back into your arms. “You’re so cute, Tiny! Ah,” you sigh out, “I don’t ever want you to grow up; I want you to stay this little forever.” Your tiny dewdrop that you can carry in your arms forever, a place where she truly belongs and will remain untainted by the world revolving around you two.

“But I want to grow up!”

This surprises you. “Why, Tiny?”

She beams, “Because I get to be with you more! You’re always away with Papa and I’m all alone. If I’m grown up, I will be by your side more often.”

You give her a rueful smile. Your hand perfectly cups the side of her head as if both are puzzle pieces fitted with each other. “I can’t wait to see you in the future; but for now, I’ll cherish you like this. Because you want to know a little secret?” The smile on your face grows at the sparkles lighting up your baby sister’s eyes. They seem to gleam like jewels within a pool of moonlight. The hand cupping her face transfers to cover her ear, your voice dropping into a whisper purely for the two of you to hear—not even the flowers can be a witness to your little secret. “Nothing in this world truly belongs to me except my love for you, owner of my heart and my tiny dewdrop. You are the one gift Mother gave to me and I don’t know what I’d do if you slip from my fingers too soon. Let me love you as my baby sister and let Time pass by the way it always does. Alright?”

A sheen then covers your sister’s eyes as she stares at you in pure, adulterated emotions that a four-year-old like her can muster.

“I love you so much, Tiny—always remember that, okay?”

She meekly nods, your words flustering her cheeks in a faint surge of heat. “I love you, too, Onee-chan.”

It’s you two against the entire world. Despite how the circumstances bring you your sister, you will never love her any less. You may have familial burdens to carry on your poised shoulders, they don’t include the most precious treasure to you at the moment. 

The moment is shattered when the flowers slightly express their disappointment before you can sense the pattern of footsteps behind you.

“Ojou-sama, Lord Yoshiki is summoning you to his office,” Aida, a maid that you have grown quite fond of through the years, tells you, her head low like the head maid has taught her during her initiation—always show reverence to the members of the main family; they are your benefactor, your salvation, your puppeteers.

“Did he say why, Aida-san?” You pry from her, your arms still around the girl nestling on your lap.

The woman shakes her head. “No, Ojou-sama. But if it helps ease your mind, he is not in a troubled mood.” A knowing glint sparks her eyes as she trails them on the swaying vermillion blades dancing by her feet. 

“Very well,” is all you offer to her as a response. You turn to your baby sister, who is already pouting at the thought of spending the rest of her afternoon in solitude. “Tiny, I’ll see you at dinner, okay?” She is looking at you like she’s begging for you not to leave her alone and that alone nearly shatters your resolve. As the only child aware of the workings of the clan, you must attend to Father’s summons. Your sister will have this role in the future but for now, even with no shed of the Joushou’s cursed technique in your veins, you should do your duty. So, you carefully lift her from your lap before settling her feet on the grass. “I promise we’ll eat your favourites later.”

“And watch Sanrio?”

The smile on your face grows. Ah, your obsession with that cartoon and its characters; it’s purely the reason why your sister adores the white long-eared puppy as well. You, yourself have developed a liking toward the hooded bunny and the golden retriever characters. “And watch Sanrio,” you echo after her. 

“Yay!” She cheers, her hands high in the air and her smile bright enough to illuminate an abyss.

You let go of her small hands before turning around to face the maid sent to escort you to where Father is. “Take me to him, Aida.”

“As you wish, Ojou-sama.”

The walk is silent—you can even hear the grating of the wood against a sudden gust of wind, bringing the scent of cherry blossoms in the air.

Ah, it's spring without your mother again. 

You remember watching her work wonders in the gardens during this lucky season of the year. The pinks the entire world is waiting to sprout are sitting on top of Mother’s palms, the small spark of her cursed technique speaking with the roots and the trunks until all you can see are raining petals of cherry and plum blossoms. You never once looked forward to spring again after her passing. But there is an undeniable clench in your chest when you think about your baby sister never sharing the same enthusiasm about that season; she doesn’t get to press her face on the glass windows at her age every time spring knocks on your household’s door.

The scent of the flowers die down when the shoji doors to Father’s office slide open.

“You called for me, Father?”

The image of your father has long since dwindled. He was never the same again since the death of Mother. The elders have always expressed their bafflement at him refusing another proposal to be remarried. The clan needs male heirs, they say, one that can withstand even the next strongest sorcerer to be born. His previous impeccable appearance is replaced by a rugged man with the constant presence of stubbles and hastily tied hair. There are no elaborate kimonos; instead, he is often dressed in rather simple hakamas, but that doesn’t betray his station. He is still the head of the Joushou clan, the only clan to have ever survived the Domain Expansion of the recorded strongest sorcerer across centuries. 

Father doesn’t look up from his paperwork. “You are dismissed,” he directs the words to the maid who escorted you.

You flash Aida an imperceptible smile right after she bows her head as lowly as she can without toppling over. Her footsteps are silent and she leaves behind you and the man who will decide your fate.

“Who is it this time?” You still fix your eyes on the hardwood panels of the floor. 

The sigh that comes out of Father amounts to the weight he carries after reading the papers on his hand. He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he fishes out an unsealed piece of paper from a nearby stack and throws it on the table.

You walk to the edge of his desk to catch a glimpse of the sender. Something pulses inside you at the implications the letter’s seal brings. You know it’s inevitable to be tied to this family and you have long accepted it but that doesn’t prevent the trepidation clogging your throat. “The Zen’in?”

After you make it real by uttering the syllables of their name, Father pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyebrows scrunched in an uneasy exhibition of pain. “I’m sure you remember that Zen’in Ougi’s wife died a few months before.” Your silence is an enough answer for Father to continue. The memory of attending the funeral is still fresh in your mind and there’s no mistaking the reeking disappointment coming from the clan elders of the Zen’in. Another wife gone; another chance for a holder of the Ten Shadows lost. “They want you as his second wife.” His fists clench on top of the papers.

You’re quiet for a moment. “Can I read it, Father?”

Father waves his hand.

The sound of crinkling paper fills the room. You flip the folded flaps of the letter. The tidy calligraphy starts by addressing your father. Your eyes skim over saccharine words crafted to impress him.

The letter opens with the head of the Zen’in clan iterating that this is the perfect opportunity for the Joushou clan to enter the inner circles of the jujutsu society.

It goes on by saying that if the Gojos never had that pesky godling born in the same year as your little sister, your clan would have made it within the triad of jujutsu families, even rivalling the authority established by the Kamos. Pity that the Gojo clan beat your family by a hairbreadth and pity that the inheritor of the Purification Technique is of the lowly sex. You take a glance at Father, knowing that this section of the letter is the reason behind the tick in his jaw. You continue on reading how the children from this union would be the leaders of the next generation of jujutsu. With the Glorified Womb and a carrier of the Ten Shadows Technique, it is bound to be fruitful—the most awaited heir of the Zen’in clan won’t just be a figment of someone’s imagination.

We hope this is met with utmost consideration. After all, this is the pinnacle we are both waiting for. Wed your bloomed flower to my youngest son and all will be well—you will be compensated handsomely. Everything you could think of, we will provide as long as they belong to our capabilities. Do not make the wrong decision, Joushou. The fate of your clan rests on your word. 

“This is not in my position to ask but,” you start, lifting your head from trailing your eyes over every well-crafted, harsh word the Zen’in sent, “Father, tell me you’re not going to consider this?” He doesn’t offer a response. He simply stares at a spot on his desk, his hands woven over his mouth. You hear your heartbeat in your ears as you place the letter on the furniture separating you from him. “Father.” The man goes on to blankly stare at you. At the silence, your voice gains volume. “He’s the same age as Uncle Hatsugu!” He stands up from his seat, lifting his chin in the air while you feel tears peeking through your bottom eyelids. At the stony facade he dons, you slowly shake your head. “Father, no. No, no, no!”

Father merely blinks. The previous tension weighing on his shoulders vanishes and in front you is the man who thought it was best to force your mother to bear the son he wanted. “[Name].”

“Please tell me you haven’t—”

“It’s the Zen’in.”

“But that doesn’t mean—!”

“You will have four years.”

Standing in this room with him becomes suffocating with each passing second. Marrying young has always been the culture in your hidden world. Women are a commodity. You hope that because Father was kind enough to tell you of each suitor sending their letters, he will also be kind enough to reject them until you have fully lived your life. “Please,” one word is all you can say. And if that isn’t enough for Father, you try to convince him with your eyes. Yet the more you look at him, all ready to kneel and plead to give back your girlhood, you gradually understand that you have no choice. Father looks like he’s seen a ghost within you. The shock morphs into rage, then, later calms into a quiet nothing that rings so loud your tears cascade on your cheeks. “I-I don’t want this, Father. The Zen’ins—”

“Are a respectful family that is worth leagues more than ours,” he finishes. “They stand as what orthodox should be in our world. This,” he taps his forefinger on the letter, “is just the beginning, [Name]. We are nearing the pinnacle of jujutsu in this generation and it starts with your marriage to this man.” You open your mouth to retaliate. He cuts you off from speaking with a hand. “You are someone born in my family. Do your duty just like any other woman before you.”

“Just listen to me—”

“Am I clear, [Name]?” Father fixes a wide-eyed glare at you. “You didn’t inherit your mother’s viability for heirmaking for nothing. This is your purpose. Whatever fantasies you have running in that head of yours, cease it. Do you understand?” 

You don’t answer him.

“[Name].”

Flinching at the way he says your name, you look down at your feet.

“Do not make me angry; we both know that it won’t end in your favour.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. “I understand, Father.”

“Good.” Then, he waves you away. “Go. I have a letter to reply to.”

You don’t know where your feet take you. After the shoji doors slide shut behind you, you are floating. You see and hear nothing. When you lift your head from mindlessly tracing the ground you walk on, you are outside in the gardens, the little girl you left behind earlier still in the same place. She turns around at the sound of your footsteps but you don’t give her a chance to call you because you pull her into your arms. You can feel her pressing her cheeks against yours and it hurts. You bury your face in her hair, your embrace fully encompassing her from the world. The air smells of hellebore and amidst the lake of white and purple, a clump of begonia stands as a beacon.

Toji spits out blood on the blades of grass surrounding the Zen’in estate. Imposing eyes follow him from the visible hallways of the traditional Japanese household. He can already assume what they are whispering about— the black sheep of the family is at it again, disappearing in random hours of the day and coming back all bloody like he wants to taint our sacred home . Toji clicks his tongue at the thought and by doing so, irritating his split gums, which irritates him even more. He couldn’t care less. Let them talk, let them paint him into their version of a devil, let them say that he’s the curse of the family; to Hell with all of them.

He keeps on walking until he reaches the nearest entrance to his father’s wing, where his side of the family resides. The maids scurry away from his path and the only sound accompanying him to his destination is the jingle of charms dangling from his wallet. It’s jarring, how stark the various shades of pink and blue are against his dark garb. If he is one of the nosier women in the estate, he would have questioned it as well. The carved flowers make a nice melody with each step and they all sing something that’s purely her . Because that’s the reason why the hanging charms are in his pocket—they’re all for her , the precious doll of the Joushou clan and the belle of everyone’s ball, including his. Even as he let himself loose by facing a dozen curses in an abandoned hospital, he still managed to think of something so soft, a feat in itself that he never thought possible for someone like him.

It’s a miracle that nothing intercepted him. Usually, during his excursions, Jinichi would make himself known and throw remarks that would have the two of them grappling for the first punch. This time around, none of the notable people in his family lurks around the corner, waiting for their moment to strike. It’s peaceful for once and Toji doesn’t know how it makes him feel.

“You.”

A maid squeaks when Toji’s gaze falls on her.

“Where are the others?”

Her chest rises and falls rapidly. She can’t fully look him in the eye.

“I’m fucking talking to you,” comes from Toji’s mouth.

With a hitched breath, the maid answers, “They’re all gathering in the Master's office.”

“The old man is dying; what are they gathering there for?”

The maid grips the edges of her cheap uniform, creating creases that would surely earn her some nagging from the matron of housekeeping. Locking eyes with him is a mistake because she starts sweating even though this part of the estate hasn’t met any heaters in the last few months. Perks of being the most favourite disappointments. Toji carefully wraps his hand around the kanzashi nestled inside his pocket, the ornaments it carries caressing his skin. This is taking too long. Then, the maid stutters, “I-I heard they received a message regarding a marriage proposal.”

“Who?”

“I-I don’t know, Sir.”

Toji lets out a mirthless laugh. “It’s bitchy Ogi, isn’t it? Should’ve known.”

The maid keeps quiet with her head down. Without addressing her any further, Toji walks past her and makes his way to the main wing of the estate. 

Despite saying that he doesn’t care for the inner workings of their clan, he can’t help but feel amusement for another failed marriage to surface. After his newest aunt’s funeral, all anticipation and hope for the clan’s future has been sucked dry. Pity that these women are sent to this wretched family, hoping to at least be treated as royalty. All they got is the constant spiel that they are far beneath their husbands even though they share a last name through marriage. Toji’s mother was one of those women. And Heaven forbid, another tombstone will be added to the clan’s guarded cemetery with this letter.

With silent footsteps, Toji leaned on the wall next to the sliding doors of his grandfather’s office with his arms crossed on his chest.

“—Can’t tell me this is fucking fair!”

His father.

“You have not proven yourself worthy for this, Ichiro.”

The wheezing gives it away.

Booming laughter erupts from behind the closed doors, followed by a guzzling of a drink. “If only your wife died before giving birth to two failures, one of which is standing with us in this room also vying for this girl’s hand in marriage. Would you look at that, you two are almost twins sneering at me like that!” Another round of cackles from his alcoholic uncle. “You would have a chance with this girl who’s even younger than your sons! Ha! Just saying that makes me want to puke—”

“Not in here, Naobito,” a warning from Grandfather.

“—the contents of my stomach.

“Like Ogi is any better.”

“Do not bring me in your squabble,” says a calm, grating voice.

“I still believe this is something you have planned to dethrone me from my chance of being the heir. Are you that threatened by my son’s manifestation of cursed energy?”

Ogi scoffs. Toji imagines him lifting his chin in the air—the arrogant bastard. “It’s not my fault you are hindered by the existence of your precious child. Or do you regret ever siring him for a chance at a young girl? I’d say you are a hypocrite, brother.”

“Say that to my face, you little piece of shit!”

“Father, why not Jinichi?” Toji’s father tries pulling the tides in their favour. “They are close in age. My son developed a technique uniquely his, a promising one that would shake the other clans if he would inherit the position of heir. Why not give him this girl as a chance to redeem our bloodline? The future user of the Ten Shadows Technique will surely emerge from their coupling.”

“It is true that our family has established a hierarchy unlike the others,” the senile man coughs out, “but I would never waste something worth more than diamonds on your dying bloodline.” Toji can hear his father raising his voice while his older uncle cackles in glee. If only he’s not carrying treasure in the depths of his pockets, he would have bled through his pants with how tight he’d be clenching his hands. “Compared to Ogi, your son’s technique is nothing. My son has gained a reputation from the higher-ups of our world, a feat your son could only dream of. What Ogi can do will only be the catalyst in a fruitful union.” There is a pause. “And there is the case of your other child. What’s to say Jinichi is tainted by his younger brother? Don’t even make me begin on how that abomination always succeeds in being the family’s blunder. I have presented the letter for her hand in marriage with Ogi in mind and no one else. Do not make me exert my power over you, Ichiro, because you are nothing but a failure to me.”

“Father, you surely know how to knock down someone,” Naobito says in mirth.

Toji is still against the wall of the old man’s office. His hands are itching on pummeling something to the ground. Fucking elders and their ridiculous degrading words—they make him want to wring their necks and feed them to the curses they keep in the basement. Toji wants nothing more than to witness the light dim and eventually flicker out from this senile man’s eyes. Heat starts travelling all the way to the tips of his ears. Hearing everything urges his body to retreat in his room and wallow in self-pity. But anger gets the best of him, always. This fucking family and their superiority will be the death of them; he is already cursing them. They would ask for Heaven for what he is doing to them in his head. Then again, Hell would probably be Heaven for them for all the grotesque things they do behind closed doors. 

“Then, it’s final. Ogi will wed Joushou [Name] the moment she turns eighteen. This is the pinnacle of jujutsu and I expect nothing but congratulations from you pitiful fools.”

That is the moment Toji realised, he would take down the pinnacle of the jujutsu world.

Notes:

in the victorian language of flowers, hellebore can mean 'we can overcome scandal and slander'. when paired with begonias in a bouquet, it brings a reminder that future challenges will arise.

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[boundinparchment]

Patience

A moment between Dottore and his young daughter. Established Dottore/Original Female Character. Part of the Heretic and Forsaken series. On AO3 here.

“Ya ruhi” > “my soul”

“Abi” > “Father”

A faint tugging barely tore Zandik’s attention away from the report in front of him. Without breaking his focus, he spoke softly, only enough edge in his voice to warn, never scare.

“Remember: be gentle.”

“Blue,” came the reply, proud and excited.

“Yes, that’s blue. What else is blue, ya ruhi?” he prompted.

“Hair!”

Out of the corner of his eye, the Harbinger caught a tiny hand reaching for his hair. She was dexterous for her age, eager and excited; however, she didn’t know her strength and Zandik was well aware of the consequences of it. Deftly, he reached up and redirected her hand so she gripped his fingers instead.

“Yes, my hair is blue. So is yours.”

He skimmed the rest of the report and then cast the paper aside. There was still plenty to do, especially in the aftermath of it all. He needed to oversee soil and water samples for traces of elemental energy, evaluate Leyline flare-ups from residual memories that didn’t burn properly, allocating resources and smoothing over conflicts. The latter was hardly his problem directly but Pierro would ask and it was better to have an answer ready.

Without Archons, humanity could take back the reins, finally. They would know this world and all its secrets and wonders.

It would be better. Born through revitalizing fires, sprouting from the ashes anew.

“Abi?”

It was refreshing to hear his language from someone else and caught him every time. He'd been away for so long, shunned from it, but he could never truly erase the traces. Karina emphasized that she wanted their child to know who they were, where they came from, and language was vital. He agreed (after all, he'd studied dozens of them himself) and was filled with an odd sense of pride every time he watched eyes glow when something clicked in her growing mind.

His daughter shifted in his lap and tapped her hand to his cheek softly before she experimented and brushed over the scruff he hadn’t bothered with as of late. She giggled, running her hand one way and then another. He never grew out an entire beard (too much maintenance) but some mornings, there was no time for more than scrubbing away the day’s dirt. Especially when Karina was away.

Zandik carefully pried her hand from his face and blew kisses into her palm. She squealed and his heart lurched at the sound.

This world needed more of that.

“Having fun, ya ruhi?” he teased.

Her smile was an echo of her mother’s; congenial and sweet in a way his never could be. Eyes like emeralds, so verdant that he’d been bizarrely relieved. But then he was left with the question of how recessive red eyes were after all; he would find out eventually, he supposed, if Karina was willing. Such gems contrasted with a head full of thick blue curls, her one defining and unmistakable trait of her parentage.

“Yes! Love abi!”

“I love you, too. It’s late. Do you want to—“

“‘Spection!”

The little girl threw her arms wide, narrowly missing her father’s nose. Her diction would come with time, he reminded himself as he collected her in his arms.

“Exactly. We’ll inspect the lab and make sure everything is safe. And then it’s bedtime.”

He felt the pout more than he saw it, an idle hand playing with his earring as they walked.

“Sleep is important, ya ruhi,” he chastised carefully.

She couldn’t fall into his habits. As wide as her eyes were about the world, she had time for it all. And he wouldn’t sacrifice her wellbeing for his selfishness of wanting these moments to last longer.

The quiet was better than outright protest, but only just. Her acceptance of authority made these moments easier, certainly. Soon enough, she’d be telling everyone no and seeing how far she could get.

Soon enough, she’d be too big to be carried.

Zandik shifted her slightly to rearrange his hold as he pushed open the door to the laboratory. Nothing as grand as what he had at the Palace but large enough that he could do as he needed. He went about, pointing to things and speaking clearly, letting her touch what wasn’t dangerous, asking her simple yes or no questions. Now was not the time to engage in larger topics but if she asked, he answered in ways that felt complete enough for now.

She could learn about crystalflies properly another time.

He watched her face light up as he tidied up his desk and locked away important papers. Really, the most imperative things were in his mind, but written records were crucial.

“Mama!”

An excited hand pointed to the metal arm resting on a stand atop his desk. The plating was removed, wires dangling in organized heaps, the sharp fingers angled like a claw.

“That’s right,” Zandik said before he kissed the girl’s temple. “Mama’s arm.”

Karina came back with a strained expression and the arm in her good hand. The device was made of the strongest metal and the finest circuitry; he’d crafted it with care he didn’t know he was capable of. She’d handed over the arm with an apologetic kiss and then hugged their daughter tight with her good arm, holding back an expression he hadn’t seen since…

“Abi fix mama?” She said it with an upwards inflection, the way she did when a toy broke or something went wrong. Worried for nothing except her mother being able to hug her.

Zandik held the child in his arms a little tighter.

“Yes. Yes, abi will fix mama’s arm.”

#oc: karina alexandre #dottore #il dottore #dottore x original female character #fluff #will eventually post to AO3

[vaedis]

my goodbye’s to The Bad Batch.

Tech,

your mind is beautiful, and your heart is just as radiant. your selflessness is inspiring, and your drive for knowledge makes me want to know more. some may say that you are stuck up, but i see how much you truly love your family. you may process things differently than others, but you are worthy of the exact same love. i wish i could see your mind process more, i hope that you’re happy. may there be infinite knowledge where you are. you deserve the very best. i love you.

Wrecker,

you inspire me to be strong enough to be gentle. you have a beautiful soul, you make me laugh, and you are worthy of every delicious meal. you have protected your family well, and you have managed to do it with a smile on your face. i’m so proud of you for holding them together. i hope that wherever you end up, it is filled with laughter, full plates, and more excitement than you can wrap your head around. i love you.

Crosshair,

you are so worthy of love, never doubt yourself or your abilities. even if things aren’t necessarily the way they used to be, you are still worthy of love. i see the ways that you care for your family, and you are anything but a cold sniper. i am so proud of you for overcoming everything, even the things you don’t speak about, despite how difficult that may have been for you. i hope that you find rest, i hope that you heal, and i hope that you are happy. you deserve the best, Cross. i love you.

Omega,

you are such a light to your family. never doubt that, and never forget it. your brothers love you so so much, you have given them purpose. you changed them; you have done the best thing that anyone could have done for them. never forget how much you matter. you are so intelligent, beautiful, strategical, and you show so many positive traits of your brothers. there is such a wonderful purpose for you in this huge galaxy. never stop exploring, sweet girl. i love you.

Echo,

you have seen and overcome so much, and you have done an incredible job by remaining kind despite it all. you have always been a good soldier, and i hope that you never forget that. your wisdom, strength, and courage are inspiring. you are worthy of so many gentle and kind things. you work to make things right, and that is such an honorable trait to possess. anyone would be lucky to have you in their corner. i love your heart. i hope that you find the peace that you deserve, you are a good man. you deserve a happy ending. i love you.

Hunter,

you have been a good Sergeant; any team would be lucky to have you at the head. you have led your squad well, and i am so proud of you. never forget how loved you are. never forget how much they love you, and look up to you, and care about you. even when you think that the pressure is alone on your shoulders, you are never alone. the bad things were never your fault. you have grown into an honorable man, putting your family above it all. you have learned so much and come so far, and i am so grateful to have seen you change throughout the journey. you deserve peace, rest, and happiness. i hope that you are happy, wherever you are. i love you.

Clone Force 99 / The Bad Batch,

i love you all so much. i can’t believe that i’m saying goodbye to you all. you have made me feel so seen, you have made me feel like i’m not alone. the way that you love each other is so special; never forget to love each other above it all. look after your family, and honor those who have fallen. you have all been good soldiers, and even better men (and girl). i salute you, and i love you all. may the force be with you.

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb hunter #tbb omega #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb tech #crosshair #hunter and omega #the bad batch season 3 #tech and crosshair #hunter and crosshair #crosshair and omega #wrecker and omega #tech and omega #the bad batch omega #arc trooper echo #clone trooper echo #bad batch echo #the bad batch hunter #hunter is a dad #wrecker bad batch #tech lives #tech is alive #star wars

[homosandhomies]

the lack of misogyny in heartstopper is so fucking refreshing. all of the girls in the show just LOVE each other. no jealousy. no cattiness. no competitiveness. elle, tara, darcy, imogen, and sahar are all just vibing together. in a world where literally every single tv show has women being pitted against each other, it makes me so happy to see full love, solidarity, and support amongst these leading ladies.

#also it’s important to note that in heartstopper the friendships are just as important as the romances #and all of this girl love is filling my soul #girl power is real you guys 🥺 #summer says stuff #heartstopper #heartstopper s2 #heartstopper season 2 #elle argent #tara jones #darcy olsson #sahar zahid #imogen heaney

[aerticent]

my love for Maven has evolved into something and no matter how hard i try i cannot put it into words and it’s driving me crazy

#i have a post talking about how his body is decaying from the inside out due to his soul rejecting his mother and that’s the closest i’ve #gotten so far at explaining my feelings for him rn #i’ve also stopped seeing him as this sad pitiful creature and am more so leaning towards he was a rage and resentment fillled creature and #his main ways of showing love went hand in hand with him putting Cal and Mare through the worst pains/horrors imaginable #he also is absolutely batshit like #bro is on the brink of madness the whole time it’s a wonder he never fully falls through #bet u money if he had been successful in killing Mare or Cal he would’ve fully lost it #cause like now what #this whole war and the two ppl he hates/loves the most r dead and it’s his fault #idk what i’m talking about #he got me feeling like #[CAR CRASH] [GLASS SHATTERING] GOOD LORD! [GENERAL COMMOTION] [BABY CRYING] WAAAAH WAAAAH [YELLING] [POLICE SIRENS] WEEWOO WEEWOO #he still is sad and pitiful but he’s also a rage filled monster who was given too much power without enough guidance #just running on hatred and whatever fucked up version of love he knows of #the closest he got to truly not gaf about literally anyone or anything was his reaction to Elara’s death #did all that running on nothing but anger and hatred almost killed Cal he was so enraged #does this make any sense? #he’s still baby girl sunshine loml 🔛🔝 tuck him into bed and read him bed time stories little angel

[bitofthisandthat]

Leosami for our little crossover corner of the rpc @reanimatedmuses

#reanimatedmuses #🛠️ASAMI SATO🛠️ #{ MY © ART } #C: Leonardo Hamato #WILL YOU STILL LOVE ME WHEN I GOT NOTHING BUT MY ACHING SOUL? || ASAMI X LEONARDO (reanimatedmuses) #V: STILL HEIRESS; STILL DEBUTANTE; STILL NOT DADDY'S HELPLESS LITTLE GIRL || ASAMI IN NYC ROTTMNT VERSE #rise leo #rise leonardo #{ I won't fill ALL tags because frankly K/or/ra people scare the crap out me and Zach so } #{ Legs are annoying as is proportions when you smoosh people I still think this is p ok for a FAST draw-ring } #{ And when I've NEVER draw rottmnt characters before ever this picture so I NEED PRACTICE. }

[yawnderu]

Simon lets out a deep chuckle as he sees your daughter pick flowers from the light, clean grass, her tiny hands barely even managing to gather enough strength to get the stems out of the ground.

“C'mon, that's enough.” His voice is patient, calloused hands picking his daughter up as he brings her up to his chest, a small smile when he sees her holding onto the flowers for dear life, giggles leaving her lips as he starts bouncing her while they walk.

It became a routine, in a way, for Simon to bring his daughter whenever he visits his family. She's too young to understand, so pure, so untainted from the dangers of the world, always kept safe by Simon and you, yet he can't fight off the urge to make his family see her.

He walks for a few minutes, enjoying the chilly air while his daughter cuddles up to him, one of her tiny hands gripping his jacket, while the other one is still holding onto the flowers. He stops in front of a set of four graves, the familiar pit of dread setting deep within him starts to come out, shaky hands managing to gently put the little girl down on the cold ceramic.

Mrs. Riley.

If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever.

Simon was hiding his hurt quite well, managing to sit down next to his little girl, one hand on her back as she started crawling around, finally setting the flowers down.

“Mum?” His voice is quiet, almost cracking, as if he was the scared little boy his mother defended with her life. His daughter looks up at him with curious brown eyes, sitting down and entertaining herself with her own onesie.

“I remember telling you I'd never settle down because I could never get as lucky as Tommy and Beth...” He dragged out, gaze going down to the ring on his finger, the physical representation of your union.

“You've met my wife before, and now I want you to see my kid too.” He's barely managing to speak, words coming out rough and choked up as his hand caresses his daughter's thin hair, making him pause just to examine her features. She's a tiny carbon copy of him, a lovely nose and a set of brown eyes that will never see the horrors he lived.

“She's a proper daddy's girl, but you would've loved each other.” He's sure of it. His mum was always so lovely, so nurturing. A true angel on earth with way too much forgiveness and patience for her own good.

He picks his daughter up, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. Simon thought he cried all his tears when he was a little boy, yet his nose is starting to sting, vision getting blurry for a few seconds until a choked sob manages to escape his lips. He's quick to wipe any tears away, simply trying to focus on the peace and quiet the cemetery offers, his hand running up and down his daughter's back, patting it softly just to hear that little giggle that seems to always repair his broken soul.

“All of you would've loved her, shy little thing she is.” He sniffles again before a quiet laugh leaves his lips, smiling despite the way his eyes are still filled with tears threatening to spill at any moment.

“I'm quittin' the SAS soon, don't want her to grow up without a father. The wife's happy about it, too.” Simon lets out a small sigh, looking down at the graves of his family, all buried next to each other. He shakes his head softly, his free hand quickly wiping off his tears before he goes back to holding his daughter, rocking her with care.

“I'll come back with her next time, jus' wanted to talk to you today. Let you meet this lovely girl.” Big brown eyes meet his gaze, instantly cheering him up despite everything. He pinches his cheek softly only for the little girl to smack his hand away with a giggle, only making his smile grow wider at how hot-heated she is. Just like her mother.

#cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #simon riley #call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #dad!ghost #dad!simon riley #ghost x fem!reader #ghost x female reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #simon riley imagine #simon riley cod #ghost call of duty #mw2 ghost #simon riley x you #mw2 angst #mw2 hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #cod mw3 #cod #modern warfare ii #modern warfare 2 #mw2 #ghost mw3

[lovecolibri]

GOD as if - wasn't a heartbreaking enough album as it is, the whole visual album is beautiful but a gut puch to the soul. The simplicity of each video with the underlying story of the car going into the ocean, the gorgeous scenery, the soft sweaters, the pain and hopelessness mixed with the light trying to break through and the struggle to draw hope in, it's all just So Much 😭😭😭

But out of all the videos, the most striking is, of course, Dusty because it's the song about being reminded in the midst of all the grief and fear that there is still a child that needs her dad and a dad that NEEDS desperately those moments of joy and reminders of life. It's just such a bright happy song/video (girl dad Ed is SO important to me) in the midst of all the pain and it managed to make me love the song even more which I didn't think was possible.

ANYWAY this album wrecked me in the best way and I am desperately trying to figure out if I can go see him while he's on tour.

#ed sheeran #- #subtract #also as someone who is both eternally unlucky in love and isn't sure if i want/can have kids #any video of gentle girl dads just fill my soul with an indescribable ache and longing #which reminds me that maybe it isn't so much that i don't know if i want kids it's more that i'm so executively dysfunctional #that i could not do it alone but i'm old enough to have seen all my friends and family that have kids basically be single moms #because they have another grown man-child instead of a partner #ANYWAY #*i just have a lot of feelings.gif*

[meltingmidas]

Coachella Rut

Paring: Idol!Hongjoong x Non Idol!Reader

CW: DomJoong/SubReader, Joongie is aggressive :))), pinv, unprotected sex (don’t do this plz this is not sexy!), creampie, mentions of marks and bruises, degradation, pls lmk if i missed anything!

WC: 920

Midas's Notes: So I literally started this right after watching the Coachella stream.. holy shit. Joong really did something to me and idk if I’ll ever be the same. Is there possibly a Mingi one in the works? Maybe. Uhhh this is NOT edited cause I’m too tired and this is just raw horniness so please enjoy (and excuse) this messy fic! PS also didn’t have a fuckin clue what to name it so enjoy the random title <3

🔞 Below 🔞

“Fuck Joong, slow doowwwn- ugh please!” You whimpered as he roughly pounded into your abused pussy, your legs over his shoulders, his arms beside your head. He’s been at it for nearly 2 hours now, rejecting your every single orgasm, giving you no time to rest. Your neck is littered in bruises, cheeks red from his previous slaps, eyeliner dragged down to your jaw. He’s always like this after a concert; but for some reason Coachella has him in a rut.

He’s aggressive, raw, and borderline psychotic. A wild smile plastered on his face, the shitty red dye running down his face over his eyes and around his cheeks, down to his chin and neck. He locks eyes with you as he brings his hand up to roughly hold your jaw, your cheeks uncomfortably squishing together. “You are fucking mine, got it? Your heart, your soul, your thoughts, your pretty pussy, everything. You belong to me. Yeah?”He whispers out, inches away from your face, he’s movements never faulting. You nod, and mewl out a small “Yes sir” before he gives the corner of your lips a small kiss and returning to the side of your head, giving light nips to your neck. Hongjoong looks straight out of a horror movie; and it’s fucking sexy.

You’re dragged out of your thoughts by a particular hard thrust, kissing your velvety sweet spot inside you, making you sing his name like it was a prayer. “You look so fucking good underneath me. All fucked up on my cock, yeah? You can’t get enough of me, can you?” He grunts out, his voice course from the previous show he put on. You nod eagerly, your nails scratching at his shoulders, bound to leave your mark all over him. “Yeaah that’s right slut. Tell me how good I am.” You moan loudly at his request, surely others would hear (not that you cared), starting to attempt to form a sentence. “Cock feels to-fuck feels too good Joong. Need you to fuck me harder. Please!”.

He chuckles deeply, heavy into your ear, soft grunts and pants leaving his lips. “You feel so fucking good, you were made for me, whore.” You scream out his name as he starts fucking you faster; harder than he’s ever gone before. You whine and whimper, begging for your release, “Please Joong- pleasepleaseplease fill me up sir, I need it so bad. Need your cum inside me so bad.” Hongjoong moans loudly in your ear, his breath fanning against the shell. He lifts up to look at you, the fully sits up, your lower half now slightly lifted up off the bed thanks to your legs still over his shoulders. He gives you a wild smirk, eyes dark and full of love and lust. His hands find the plush spot of your hips, nails digging his shape into it. You whine, tears spilling out as you keep your babbling pleas for his seed. “Fuck- such a good girl, asking so politely for my cum.” One hand moves from your hips and finds your clit, your eyes shoot open and a drawn out moan leaves your lips, a new spark shoots up your spine and your release edging closer and closer.

He grunts, his thrust growing sloppier and harder, you can feel him twitch inside you as he gets closer. “Gonna make you mine sweetheart. All mine- fuck.” He peers down at you, a smile and his signature laugh, “Cum for me, doll.” That was all you needed as you find yourself twitching, hips bucking up into his, you feel your walls convulsing around his, feeling your sweet slick run down to your ass. He moans, voice scratching as a string of “shit” leaves him, as you feel hot ropes of cum fill you up. You whine, feeling so full of him and his milky cum. “So so good. Fuck you’re mine. Mine all mine..” he whispers out, more to himself, as he pushes his final spurts of cum inside you.

You look at him through your wet lashes, admiring the scene of his sweat drenching him, basking in his post sex glow. He catches your eyes, a soft smile leaving his lips as he leans down to meet yours. Hongjoong gives you a soft, gentle kiss, completely different to the ones you received earlier. “I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t do too much did I?” He asks, slowly pulling out of you, a mix of both your cum oozing outside of your puffy pussy. You shake your head, “No, not at all Joongie. But holy shit, I don’t think I can get up after all… that.” You laugh, and you hear him quietly joins you. “Here.” You look over to find him handing you a glass of water (that he already prepped beforehand, what a gentleman), and a towel in his hand beside you. You gladly take it, shaking as you hastily take a sip. You feel him gently lift one of your legs, softly patting and wiping you off. “I’ll start you a bath, and we can take one together. Or would you rather eat first? Which sounds good?” He quietly asks you, throwing the towel to a dirty clothes hamper and grabs your hand to give it a kiss. You giggle, “Bath, then food, please.” He nods, slowly rubbing your knuckles in his hands. “Sounds good sweetheart.” He gets up to start your bath, you sit up, sipping your water and wondering if you should get chicken or a burger.

#Ateez #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #kpop #kpop smut #kim hongjoong #hongjoong #hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader

[buckyalpine]

Choices (Bucky version)

So you all know the fic choices and choices 2 with a cheating Bucky and sweetheart Steve. I couldn't help myself, I decided to also have a version where Steve is the cheater and reader ends up with Bucky. I'm such a Bucky girl, it cannot be helped. It's the same fic with a few details added to suit the character changes, reversed roles and all in one part.

18 + minors dni 

Steve x reader, Bucky x reader

Warnings: ANGST, cheating, Steve is a dick, SMUT, fluff, Bucky is a sweetheart

“Fuck you taste good sweets” 

Your stomach dropped, cold sweat erupting over your body, hearing your husband’s voice and a woman’s moans from your bedroom. You’d suspected it for a while but it couldn’t be true, he wouldn’t. 

You quietly opened the door, slapping your hand over your mouth over the sight in front of you, Steve’s head buried between some woman’s legs, her thighs thrown over his shoulders as he held her open with his thick arms, groaning as he ate her out. She cried in pleasure, tugging his hair forcing his face in deeper, their clothes thrown on the floor, her bra carelessly tossed on the framed wedding picture you had on the bedside table. 

You couldn’t move, rooted on the spot as he pried her legs apart further, making her back arch, his tongue assaulting her clit, flicking and swirling circles around it, his hips grinding his cock into the mattress, moaning. 

“Best fucking pussy ever baby, can’t get enough of you, could cum just from your taste baby fuck”

You felt light headed, leaning against the hallway to catch yourself, slipping onto the floor, unable to leave even if you wanted to. You pressed your hands to your mouth, desperately trying to silence your cries. 

“Oh god Steve FUCK, push your tongue in me baby, just like that, fuck just like that Captain”  You could hear the wet slapping of his tongue, her voice screaming higher as he made her cum with his mouth. 

“C'mon cum for me baby, want it all over my face, oh god m’gonna cum just rubbing myself like this, no one else gets me off like you, FUCK sweets, AH-” 

His moans caused your heart to splinter, the aftermath of their affair slowly winding down to labored breaths and messy sheets. You lifted your head slightly, seeing Steve pull her into his arms, making out with her, his face covered in her slick, his cock softening against his abs. Their tongues tangled, moaning into each others mouths as he pulled the covers up, his arms wrapping around her. 

“You’re wife will be home soon, I should get going baby” She traced shapes onto his chest as he pulled her hand, pressing a kiss onto her palm.  “No, stay just a little longer, 5 minutes sweets, please?” 

The slight whine in his voice begging her to stay make you nearly throw up. Your body felt like it was filled with cement, hearing the woman giggle, snuggling to up with your husband. 

“Hmm, does she make you feel good like I do, handsome?”

“Nothing compares to you darling, don’t worry about her” He murmured with a light chuckle, leaning into her touch while she stroked his beard. "Wish we had a little longer"

She sighed, grabbing her bra off your wedding picture, scoffing at it. 

“You could do better you know, she doesn’t seem like you’re type”

“I do know” Steve sat up, kissing her shoulder as she strapped her bra on “I got you pretty girl, I’ll see you tonight?"

"Won't your wife ask where you're going" The woman had the audacity to sound annoyed though what killed you the most was the way Steve groaned in agreement.

"Don't worry about her, I’ll come over, okay?” 

“Wouldn’t miss it baby, see you later Cap” 

Your heart shattered, sprinting away from the room, down the hall and out the door, sobs wracking your body.

He promised.

He whispered vow’s he’d written just for you. You’d loved him with your entire being, cradling him, taking care of him, pouring your heart and soul into everything that had to do with him.

You already knew the excuse he'd give. He’d say he had a rough day and would avoid you until tomorrow. He’d go to the bar for a drink to unwind, needing alone time and you’d let him because you wanted to give him space. He’d go over to her place, and make love to her for countless hours into the night, seeking the comfort of someone else.

Your love wasn’t enough.  

-

You left the house, immediately getting into your car, driving mindlessly with no particular destination in mind. Your chest heaved, tears blurring your vision as you pulled into an empty parking lot, breaking down again. You sat there for well over an hour, your entire body burning, a ding from your phone interrupting your thoughts. You checked your phone, scoffing at the text message from your husband.

“Going out tonight, don’t stay up.” 

You screamed in frustration thinking about every time you fell asleep on the couch waiting for him, the countless hours of sleep you lost worried about him, calling and texting him throughout the night, wondering if he was okay. The number of times he brushed you off, telling you not to be so clingy. You’d put in so much of your love and affection for this man who didn’t have the decency to tell you to your face he didn’t love you anymore.

The entire world looked up to this man as their hero, Captain America, a symbol of justice, hope, fairness and he couldn't care less to at least respect your dignity and leave.

You felt a surge of anger, how dare he!? Bring another woman into your home, into your bed, your sheets, wrapped around her naked body, her fucking clothes thrown all over the floor. How many times would you have slept in the very same bed after he warmed it with her?!

You could do the same.

You pulled into the drive way, making your way up the stairs, knocking on the front door.

“Y/n? Its late, is everything okay? Is Steve okay?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, walking into the house, kicking your shoes off. Poor Bucky, always worrying about his best friend, just like you, concerned for his well being, coddling him like a baby. What a fucking waste.

“He’s great actually. He’s currently buried balls deep in someone else”

Bucky choked, staring at you wide eyed as you sauntered around the living room, mindlessly looking at framed pictures he had up, including one from your wedding.

“What?!”

“Mhm, you didn’t know? A red head. Saw them both today, in our bedroom. He was so pussy whipped he didn’t even realize I came home. In fact did you know the great Captain who constantly tells people to mind their language swears like a sailor when he's fucking someone's brains out”

“Fuck, I told him not to- FUCK. I’m so sorry y/n, I didn’t think he’d ever cheat on you”

“You told him not to what?” You turned around, your expression unreadable as you stood in front of Bucky, his face flushed as he looked at the floor before looking at you.

“He’d- fuck- He’d always flirt when we went out. I told him to stop but he said wasn't even doing anything. I thought it was him still adjusting to all the attention but he used to do it in the 40's too. I thought maybe he didn't even realize what he was doing so it was harmless”

You scoffed, shaking your head as Bucky stepped forward, wrapping his thick arms around you. “I’m so sorry doll, I should have stepped in”

“You can step in now”

“What?”

Bucky pulled back, blinking down at you, looking confused as you smirked, trailing your fingers along his chest, going up to play with the dog tags that rested against his chest.

“Step in now James”, You tugged at his chain, his breath hitching in his throat as your lips brushed by his ear “Make it go away”

You could feel his cock stir as you pressed your body on his. Bucky had always had a crush on you. Of course he never acted on it, you were his best friends wife. But here you were, offering yourself on a silver platter, he’d be a fool to say no. Still…

“Y/n” He squeezed his eyes, hoping some blood would return to his brain, his cock aching in his jeans. “We can’t”

“And why’s that?”

“It’s wrong” Bucky's words didn’t  match his actions as he gripped onto your hips, pulling you flush against him, his boner rubbing against you, it was so wrong but it felt so right.

“Tell me you never thought about it?” Your hands trailed down to palm over his length as he groaned, resting his forehead on yours “about us? You never thought about how I’d look spread out on your bed, saying your name instead of his?”

"Y/n"

"Make me forget, Sergeant"

Fuck it.

You screamed out in pleasure chanting Bucky’s name like a prayer, his cock splitting you in half, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you. Bucky chuckled at your fucked out state, pausing for a moment to let you rest before the next round.

*3 missed calls*

He returned with a bottle of water and some strawberries, feeding you one as you tossed your phone carelessly to the side.

“What’s wrong doll”

“Ugh, he called”

Bucky thought for a moment before grabbing your phone and propping it up, a wicked smile on his face.

“You wanna show him what’s keeping you busy?”

-

You both woke to a loud banging on the door; your body too sore to bother moving.

“BUCKY OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR”

Bucky yawned, wrapping his arms around you tighter, pulling a pillow above his head.

"I think your husband is here" He sleepily mumbled, tucking his face into your neck, the scruff of his beard tickling your skin.

"He's your best friend" You mumbled back, burrowing yourself further into his hold, ignoring the incessant knocking.

“Y/N, I KNOW YOU’RE FUCKING THERE, GET THE FUCK OUT NOW”

Bucky rolled his eyes, his semi hard cock pressing into your ass making you giggle.

“Someone’s happy this morning”

“All for you baby”

You heard the banging get louder.

“BUCKY, Y/N FUCK”

“Should we get that?”

“5 more minutes”

*36 missed calls*

*47 unopened messages*

Oh, this was going to be good.

Bucky groaned, tucking you in the sheets before getting out of bed and pulling some sweats on.

“Y/N, I KNOW YOU’RE THERE”

He rolled his eyes, sauntering over to the door, opening it to a raging Steve, his chest heaving, sweat dripping down his face, the knuckles of his right hand bloodied and bruised. Someone’s upset.

“WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU DOING”

Bucky smirked, his chin glistening, licking your arousal that was still on his lips from mere seconds ago. He made a show of sucking your taste off his fingers, humming in satisfaction.  

“Sorry, just woke u-

“Where the fuck is she?!”

Steve shoved Bucky aside, stomping up the stairs making his way to the bedroom, only to be grabbed back and pushed against the wall.

“Don’t do this, where the fuck is my wife” Steve’s voice was low, chest rumbling as his fists clenched at his sides, trying to collect himself.

“You remember you have a wife?” Bucky cocked an eyebrow, dodging Steve’s fist and catching it with his metal arm before slamming him against the wall.

“How the FUCK COULD YOU SLEEP WITH HER?!” Steve spat, unable to scrub the images of you moaning for his best friend, your legs wrapped tightly around him, crying out in pleasure, begging for more. He couldn’t rid himself of the way you looked slobbering over Bucky’s cock and balls, looking up at the camera with doe eyes, moaning when he came in your mouth, sticking your tongue out to show you swallowed it all like a good girl. You made a show of letting Bucky rail you from behind, screaming his name while he tugged your hair and pushed you down, spanking your ass raw. His dog tags hung between your breasts as he tugged and rolled your nipples between his fingers.

The words were so much worse.

"Come on, ride your Sergeants cock babydoll, that's it, so fuckin' good for me"

"Cock's too big Jamie, hurts"

Your breathy, whiny voice made Steve want to throw up, your lip chewed raw, eyes unfocused.

"Awww, is it too big? So cockdrunk for me princess, I got you love, c'mhere, y'like that? Like when I'm on top my pretty girl, I'll make you feel good baby"

"Gonna be the death of me gorgeous, wouldn't give you up for the world, you hear me? Gonna cum in your princess, can't hold it, you're perfect-FUCK"

“HOW COULD YOU CHEAT ON HER!?” Bucky’s grip tightened, feeling rage, disappointment, but also a tinge of arrogance; now he had you and he wasn’t going to let you go.

Steve swallowed thickly, no longer resisting, letting his arms drop to his side. He stared at the floor, guilt and sadness washing over him.

“How could you cheat on her” Bucky’s voice was soft now, genuinely upset over his friends actions. He let Steve go, both men standing in the hallway, the air thick with tension.

“It was a mistake”

“You brought someone else into your home, into your bed, you picked someone else over y/n, what else did you expect her to do”

Steve felt his heart race, he couldn’t lose you like this, he made impulsive choices but you were the one who always believed in him. He started towards the bedroom door again before Bucky grabbed his hand stopping him.

“I want to see her” His eyes were pleading but Bucky shook his head.

“She saw you, you know. That’s why she came here” Steve looked up at Bucky in shock, his eyes wide, he felt like he was going to throw up. Bucky scoffed looking at Steve’s pained expression.

“Just get out”

“Bucky just let me see her-

“Don’t”

Steve’s emotions were running a thousand miles a minute, jealously, anger, guilt, sadness. He drove straight to her house, needing to fuck his pain away, spiraling as he sped down the streets. He went up to her apartment, knocking at the door, hearing another voice behind the door before she opened it.

“Steve? I- what are you doing here, I- it’s not a good time” She kept the door a crack open, without letting him in, her eyes shifting nervously.

“Baby, everything okay?” A man’s voice called her from behind. She nodded, mumbling something to him before stepping into the hallway.

“What the fuck?!”

“SHH, my husband is inside!”

“You said you weren’t together any more”

“I-it’s nothing”

“How the fuck could you” Steve felt his chest tighten, he shouldn’t have even come here, he shouldn’t have been in this position in the first place, it was you in his heart, he loved you.

She scoffed. “You cheated on your wife with me and I’m supposed to hold out for you and expect you to be loyal to me too?”

Steve left without saying another word, anger surging through his body, rage flowing in his veins. How the fuck could he stray from you, he pushed you away every time you tried to take care of him. He took advantage of your kindness, took advantage of how much you trusted him. He couldn’t lose you but you were in his best friend’s arms and Bucky would never do what he did.

The house was utterly destroyed. Anything that came into his hand was shattered against the wall as Steve took all his anger out in the house. Why the fuck did he act so impulsively, how could he let you see that, why the fuck did he let someone else into his life when you were his whole heart.

He stepped into the bedroom, not wanting to touch a single thing that would take away from your presence; he wanted things to be exactly how you left them. He looked at the wedding picture on the table, breaking down into sobs; you were smiling up at him, your eyes bright, looking at him with so much affection. He had his arm around you waist, he promised to love and protect you for as long as he lived. He called you his angel, he told you he’d never hurt you and here he was.

Steve nearly threw up looking at the bed. The sheets were still tangled from that afternoon, pillows thrown aside. He washed them repeatedly, his stomach churning when he could still smell her on them.

Steve thought he was losing his mind, the coldness of the bed. The silence of the house. He could no longer smell your soft scent on the sheets, nightmares plagued his mind. His chest ached thinking about how broken you would have felt seeing him, how meaningless the entire affair was to him and it took away the one thing in his life that gave him a reason to live.

A week later

“Just sign them Steve”

“Baby please don’t do this”

You sighed in frustration having spent hours arguing with Steve as he refused to sign the divorce papers.

“You made your choice, I’m making mine”

“It was a mistake y/n, I- I can’t fucking exist without you-

“You should have thought about that before you fucked someone else in our bed Steve”

“Don’t call me that!” He pleaded with you, hating the way his name sounded, you never called him Steve.

You shook your head, getting up and leaving him with the papers as he cried after you, begging for you to stay.

“Goodbye Steve”

6 months later

You had packed your things, staying with Sarah for the time being until you found your own place. Steve was drinking himself into oblivion, unable to even get drunk from the dark liquid. He hadn’t slept in the bedroom since, staying on the couch instead.

Bucky let himself in the house; not like Steve bothered to lock it any more.

“You have to stop”

Steve scoffed bitterly, taking another swing from his glass, finishing another bottle of whisky.

“Easy for you to say”

Steve felt a pang of anger in his chest, he had no right to be mad at you or Bucky but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t find peace, keeping a sweater you left behind with him when he tried to sleep, crying into it every night.

“Don’t. She loved you”

"But I still love her"

Bucky shook his head, a part of him feeling bad for Steve. He tried so hard to win you back, but the damage was done. The image was burnt in your mind, nothing would ever take that away. You tried to give him one chance but the second he touched you, your mind flashed to the way he touched her. You couldn’t. It was over.

“How is she”

“Doing better. Not great, but better”

3 Years later

You fixed you veil, holding onto your bouquet of flowers as you made your way down the aisle. He stood there, waiting for you, soft blue eyes brimming with tears as he watched you, his chestnut hair combed back, beard trimmed.

“You look amazing y/n” The best man gave you a teasing wink, smiling as you took your place in front of your soon to be husband.  

“Thanks Sam” You grinned,  feeling your face heat up as Bucky lifted your veil, a stray tear slipping out as he look your hands in his, his voice cracking, hardly above a whisper.

“I love you”

***

“You may kiss the bride”

You giggled as Bucky gently cupped your face, pulling you into the sweetest loving kiss, everyone in the crowd clapping and cheering, your heart fluttering with happiness. You were so in love with him; you thought you knew what love and happiness was before but nothing compared to this. This moment; so pure, so full of love.

***

Bucky held you close to him, his hands on your waist as you both swayed to your first dance as husband and wife. His hand tipped your chin up, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips; he was so utterly and deeply in love with you.

“You look gorgeous tonight Mrs. Barnes”

You giggled shyly, taking his hand in yours as the song came to an end. You made your way through the crowd, greeting guests,

“Congratulations, I’m happy for you” Steve smiled softly looking at you in Bucky’s arms. He wanted to mean what he said but his heart was still in pain. He had you and he let you go. He wanted to feel happy for you, happy for Bucky but it was too much. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat, blinking back tears as you looked up at Bucky, in pure happiness.

“Thanks punk” Bucky gave him a quick hug, keeping you by his side as you both continued to greet guests.

“They’re so sweet” Sarah giggled watching you both sneak quick kisses, Bucky whispering something in your ear making you gasp before playfully slapping his chest. Steve felt his chest tighten, getting up and leaving the room, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe.

He closed his eyes. He remembered the way you looked at him when you walked down the aisle. The way you looked so angelic in your dress. The way you danced together for the first time, your arms draped around his shoulders, his hands holding you close. The pure love he felt for you, he told himself he’d never let you cry. All the times he stopped trying because you had enough love for the both of them. He remembered the day he met her.  He hesitated but gave into his desires, the side of him that need to feel wanted by others, thinking you were with him because you loved him but he needed more. To be desired. And now here he was. He’d never be able to love again; it’d never be the same. He had the one person that would love him unconditionally and he threw it all away.

“You gotta let her go” Sam broke Steve out of his spiral, patting his shoulder lightly, giving him a sympathetic smile. “C’mon, I’ll take you home”

Steve sighed, as he watched longingly. The shy smiles, gentle touches, whispering sweet nothings to each other, he’d never get you back. You’d found your forever, your happy ending.

-

"M'always gonna love you, you have my heart" Bucky whispered against your shoulder, his bare skin pressed against yours as you both caught your breath. His fingers gently grazed your scalp, kissing your forehead, a part of him still wondering if it was all a dream.

The woman he loved so dearly under him while he made love to her on their wedding night.

Her soft thighs wrapped around his waist.

Her moans of pleasure all just for him.

All of his spend filling her up time and time again until he had no more to give.

It was all too perfect, too much too-

"And you have mine" You whispered back, draping your arms around your husbands shoulders, your hand snaking up to card your fingers through his hair, "I love you too"

And just like that it was all perfect.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barns imagine #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky x you #bucky x smut #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #marvel smut #marvel fanfic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #bucky fan fic #bucky fan fiction #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes

[yuutx]

ೀ ׅ ۫ . 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ! (𝒲𝑅𝐼𝒪𝒯𝐻𝐸𝒮𝐿𝐸𝒴)

wriothesley x f!reader . 18+ content. ⟆ nsfw + unprotected sex/raw sex. praise kink. huge size kink. size difference. breeding kink. cervix fucking. love bites/hickeys. creampie. ⟆ mdom + fsub ⟆ not proofread ! ૮꒰˶ฅ́˘ฅ̀˶꒱ა

i had such bad writers block ,, so so glad its gone, i rlly wanted 2 finish this fic as it's been in my drafts for ages ! i was gonna post sumthing alhaitham related again but decided to just post this instead ! ♡ + ↻ are rlly appreciated ! !

He drank in the sight of you, his eyes raking over your body, memorizing the soft planes of your skin and the curves that molded to his hand perfectly. It was as if you were made for him, the way you fit so snugly against his broad form, the way your lips melded together, it was like you were fated to be together. He couldn't wait any longer, his hands moving down the swell of your hips to pull at your thighs, spreading them wide open, giving him a view of the treasure between your legs. A groan slipped past his lips, eyes glued to the way you dripped for him, a trail of slick connecting your folds to the wet spot on the bed. He had barely even touched you, and yet you were already soaked.

"You're so wet, baby. All for me, hm?" he cooed, rubbing his length along your cunt, smearing your juices along the girth. You could only moan, nodding in response, unable to speak with how worked up you were. The way he was looking at you was enough to drive you crazy, the lust and hunger swirling in his eyes. It was almost too much, your breath catching in your throat, your heart stuttering at the sheer amount of affection he had for you, the love he showed with his touch and his gaze. He was absolutely obsessed with you, and you loved him just as much.

He kissed along the column of your throat, leaving bruises and bites along the smooth skin, his hips pressing forward until he bottomed out. You fluttered around his cock, the stretch a delicious burn, a pleasant sting that made your stomach clench. You could feel him in your belly, his length nestled perfectly in the warmth of your gummy walls. A broken cry slipped past your lips, your arms winding around his shoulders, nails digging into his back. He gave you time to adjust, the both of you relishing in the feeling of him being so deep inside of you.

"You're doing so good, my love. Taking my cock like a good girl.." he breathed, his lips ghosting along the shell of your ear. You whined, a needy sound, and his hips snapped forward, burying himself to the hilt. You cried out, the sound quickly morphing into a moan as he began to fuck into you, the head of his cock bumping against your cervix with each thrust. You could feel every inch, the girth of his dick stretching your pussy to the limit. Your thighs tightened around his hips, urging him on, desperate for more. Each thrust made your mind spin, the feeling of him filling you up again and again sending your head into a frenzy.

You were practically drooling, eyes rolling to the back of your head as his lips found your throat, sucking at the delicate skin, surely leaving marks. They would bloom beautifully, the colors mixing and mingling with one another to create a masterpiece that only he could paint, a canvas for his affection and love. He worshipped you, his lips and teeth marking every part of your body that he could reach, leaving not an inch untouched. You could feel him in your very soul, the pleasure coursing through your veins. His voice was sweet like honey, praises and curses falling from his lips in a steady stream. How good you were, how tight, how pretty, how perfect. Each compliment was met with a sharp thrust, a well-timed drag of his cock hitting every spot within you that made your toes curl. The way you clenched around him, how your body trembled and shook with the force of his thrusts was a sight to behold.

Your face was twisted with the intensity of the sensations, eyebrows knitted together and jaw slack as he pounded into you, his thrusts growing more and more erratic with each passing moment. He could feel his orgasm fast approaching, the familiar heat in his belly, and the way you tightened around him only spurred him on. He couldn't wait to fill you, to spill his seed and watch as it dribbled out of you, leaking from your puffy, abused pussy. A low growl rumbled through his chest, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hip. You could feel his hips stuttering, his length twitching and pulsing inside of you, the heat of his release painting your insides. The warmth spread through you, a fullness that you never wanted to lose. He ground his hips into you, ensuring every drop filled you to the brim as your own climax crashed over you, the stimulation bringing you over the edge.

Wriothesley pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, his tongue swiping along the plush skin, tasting the saltiness of your skin. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, murmuring praises against the heated skin. You could barely breathe, your chest rising and falling with the effort. Your entire body felt like jelly, the exhaustion of your climax hitting you full force. Still, the weight of his body was a comfort, his warmth a familiarity you couldn't bear to let go of. He rolled his hips once, twice, a third time before pulling out, a gush of his release following, spilling out of you. You were positively wrecked, the sight of his cum dripping down your thigh making his spent cock twitch with interest. Perhaps another round wouldn't hurt.

#୧ ‧₊˚ ☆ athena's creations ! #genshin smut #genshin x reader #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x y/n #fem reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact hcs #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin hcs #genshin impact smut #wriothesley imagine #wriothesley headcanons #wriothesley hcs #genshin impact x female reader #genshin x female reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin impact #wriothesley #genshin wriothesley #wriothesley imagines

[eddiesxangel]

If you ever felt like it, would you be cool writing reader and Eddie; their best friends and they both perv for each other but never show it and she was invited to DND and she needs to rush to the bathroom to literally rub one out and Eddie silently makes his way to see what you’re up to

Just Friends |Perv!EddieMunsonX Perv!bestie reader

AN: I made it modern just to make it more pervy! hope you enjoy :) ps. If you see any typos no you didn’t 🤫

WC: 3.2k

It’s been almost a year since you and Eddie became friends, you’ve been inseparable since. You and Eddie first met when you were sleeping over at Nancy’s and Eddie was over for a DND session. You had literally run into Eddie, you smacked your face into his chest as you rounded the corner, in your pyjamas no less. You gave an awkward giggle and introduced yourself. You didn’t really recognize him, your lunch periods weren’t the same and he wasn’t in any of your classes. But fate swooped in, and due to that fated night everything changed. 

Eddie was struck by you the second you crashed into his chest. He had seen you occasionally with Nancy in the halls but never could come up with a good excuse to approach you. He thought you were cute, like really fucking cute. So cute to the point that when you did actually touch him (by accident) he popped a boner the second your sparkling eyes looked into his for the first time. Lame, he knows. He couldn’t believe you had this visceral reaction over his body, but all he could think about was your lips, how they moved when you spoke his name and how you smiled at him. Eddie was absolutely screwed, and he had to do something about it he just didn’t know how. So when you finally approached him at Mike’s one day he seized his one opportunity. Turns out you were really fucking cool, on top of being really fucking cute. 

Eddie wanted to spend the most amount of time with you that he could. He was always asking to hang out one on one. His favourite would be when you would ask him over to your house. He loved being able to have access to all things you. The first time he was invited over he couldn’t believe his luck. In the midst of your hang out, you had to take a phone call in the hallway and you left him alone in your room. Eddie felt like a creep the first time but he had to know. He found your underwear drawer, it was filled with soft cotton and lace. His eyes almost popped out of his head when his hands found your red lacy thong. Pocketing it and slamming your drawer ship when he heard you giggle goodbye. 

The second time Eddie was left in your room you told him you were going to take a quick shower, leaving him to his own devices for a least ten minutes, he saw your book on your nightstand, it had a cutesy little cartoon cover, very girly, he was planning on mocking you when you got back in because who reads romance novels? He opened up to where your bookmark was, and his eyes bulged open when he saw what exactly it was you were reading

His strong hands gripped my bare hips as he pinned me down to the bed. His fingers travelled down to my soaked pussy, slowly and agonizingly circling my sensitive clit. I begged for more but he only laughed, "Only good girls get what they want" he whispered and I ground my hips up into him the best I could, but his hold was too much. "Please' I begged. "Please Sir I will do anything, I want your cock so bad, I promise I'll be a good girl." I cried. He was torturing me...

Eddie could not believe his eyes, he had no idea you were so dirty. His best friend had another side to her that he had yet to see, that he would literally sell his soul to see. Oh to hear you say those dirty words to him that he had just read. He popped a boner just thinking about it. He hadn't time to fix it so he grabbed your cow squishmallow to put on his lap when you re-entered the room in nothing but your pink bath towel. You were literally going to be the death of him. 

You loved when Eddie would come over, but you also loved being in Eddie’s space. Being consumed by all things Eddie, the decor, the smell, the comfort of being surrounded by him. Eddie let you into his home anytime and all the time, it didn’t matter if he wasn’t home yet, you knew where the spare key was, he texted you he would be home in 40 minutes so you let yourself in and hung out until he got back. 

You walked into Eddie’s room and the urge to snoop was growing. You didn’t know what you were looking for until you found it. Stashed under his mess of clothing was Eddie's laptop. Your hands couldn’t move fast enough to the search history. Luckily for you, he was dumb enough to be logged into everything automatically. You didn’t care that this was wrong, yet you wanted to know if he had been talking to anyone. You hadn’t seen him romantically attached to anyone in the almost year you’ve been just friends. You're sure he would tell you. However, the jealousy gremlin was nipping at your ear; telling you to keep going. 

After being unsuccessful at finding any dirt you continued through the search of his laptop and found a particularly interesting bookmark. You knew this was so wrong and he probably would never forgive you if he found out but you had to know what Eddie was into. 

You clicked on the link and a porn website opened. The video was of a woman solo touching herself, and using very racy language about what she would do to the watcher. It was much different than what you consumed when you were to indulge yourself, but it was starting to turn you on as you examined the naked woman spread out in front of you. Thinking about Eddie and what he would be doing while watching this…in this bed you were sitting on, naked, touching himself to her sexy words. You thought about how big he would be, how those delicious fingers would grip himself. You often found yourself dazing out while staring at his thick ring-clad fingers. Especially when he would practice guitar, and how quickly he could move them without missing a note. Your mind drifted and you found yourself lying down in Eddie’s bed. 

Trailing your hands down underneath the waistband of your jeans, you brought a worn t-shirt that was thrown on the bed up to your nose, it smelled so strongly of Eddie. Your fingers teased your clit edging yourself as you pretended they were your best friends. You thought of how it would be to have him on top of you, how it would feel to have his cock slip past your entrance. You hummed his name quietly over and over until the slam of the screen door made you jump and you snapped out of your bliss. You quickly exited the screen and slid the laptop under the pile of clothes that rested atop the bed before Eddie entered his room. 

A bright smile struck his face when he saw you there sitting in his bed. He was oblivious to what you had been doing seconds earlier. Eddie's mind spun with the scenarios he imagined the both of you in, preferably naked. He never divulged these fantasies, of course, he couldn’t have you finding out about what a perv he was for you, or else you would never let him near you again. 

Tonight Eddie invited you to watch in on Hellfire because you told him Nancy had a date and you had nothing to do this Friday night. You’d never attended before, you were always busy with Nancy. So when you showed up to game night you didn’t know what to expect. Eddie tried so many times to explain the game to you but you never really understood, there were too many rules and you’d always zone out as you watched his plump lips at work. Day dreaming of them on your lips, or on your neck, or on your pussy.

You walked up the the Wheeler household feeling a bit strange that you weren't here to see Nancy. You were let in by Mrs. Wheeler who was on her way out with Mr. Wheeler for a very rare date night.

"Hey guys" you greeted the group as you made your way down to the basement. 

“Hey, cutie" Eddie greeted back with the biggest smile on his face. 

It truly was a mystery to the others how the both of you weren't picking up one another's signals. You saw Mike roll his eyes after Eddie spoke but you took it like he didn't was his annoying sister's friend here to ruin their ritual. Little moments between you two were clear as day to any onlooker but to the both of you, you were oblivious. Too blind to see the signs because you’ve convinced yourselves that the other one would never share the same feelings. 

You had settled in sitting on the couch behind the DND table so you could give them space without crowding around. Eddie was directly facing you so you could see everything but still do your own thing.

As the night progressed you’d been so turned on by Eddie’s performance. The passion that filled him, the way he deepened his voice, the gaze in his eyes as he described the frightening scenes that played out for the club members. Everything that you lusted for from Eddie was heightened by 100 tonight. Eddie had such a hold over you that he didn't even know about. 

You crossed your legs trying to focus on the tiktoks you tried distracting yourself with however they were not helping because it had been a bunch of thirst traps and sexy excerpts from romance novels. Yes, you were on Booktok and no you were not ashamed of being an avid smut reader. 

Since the distractions were not working and the throbbing between your legs was becoming unbearable you needed to excuse yourself, and quickly. You barely mumbled that you needed the washroom before sprinting to the main floor to find some peace in the powder room. 

You shut the door so quickly you may have accidentally slammed it which altered Eddie's even more. He was worried about you. You'd been squirming on the couch looking very uncomfortable, and then you ran out of there like a bat out of hell. He knew he needed to see if you were okay, maybe you had gotten your period or something? 

Eddie walked up the steps and called out your name but there was no answer. As he rounded the corner he noticed the light coming from under the closed bathroom door. He walked closer and heard your muffled voice but couldn't make out the words. As he approached the door he almost knocked but froze halfway when he heard your voice loud and clear.

"Eddie please" you moaned. Eddie couldn't believe his ears because there was no way this was happening...until you did it again.

"Fuck me please, Eddie right there!" you gasped. Your clit had been throbbing the whole time you’d been downstairs you couldn’t help but relieve it. You were silently watching the secret video you had taken of Eddie while he was commanding the game. It has turned you on so much, and watching it back was even better. Eddie didn’t know what to do. But he had to think quickly because his time was limited. He hesitantly knocked on the door and cleared his throat before he spoke. “ uhhh are you alright right in there?” he stuttered out his words. The knock on the door scared you. You let out a small scream as you ripped your hands away from yourself and up to your chest feeling your heart pounding. How much had Eddie heard? How much does he know you don’t think you’re being that loud? Where are you? Oh shit, maybe you were? 

“Uhhh I’m-I’m fine Ed’s” you managed to stutter. Oh my god, you were mortified. The handle of the door giggled like Eddie was trying to come in. “Come on sweetheart open the door I really need to come in,” he continued on jiggling the door until you unlocked it. Eddie needed to seize this moment. He was never going to have another opportunity like this.

“Eddie I-” You didn’t finish your sentence because Eddie had cut you off with a kiss as he cupped your face while backing you into the opposite wall. “You’re such a little pervert. I know what you think about now when you want to touch yourself, do you think about me and what my fingers can do to you huh?” Eddie broke away from the kiss and started kissing down your neck. All of this was so sudden. You had no idea that this was going to happen when you had left the basement. “I’m not a pervert!” You defend yourself. “No baby? So if I took your hand and sniffed these fingers I wouldn’t smell your pussy all over them?” he cocked his brow. “And I didn’t hear you moan my name twice just now?” He hummed. You had never heard Eddie speak like this, not even in your wildest dreams did you think he had such a filthy mouth. “You want me, baby? I heard you and your dirty words through the door. Do you want Eddie to make you feel good? Can’t get off without me? That's it huh?” Eddie’s cockiness was only making you wetter. “Fuck Eddie I need you I have needed you for so long. Please touch me.” You gasped as his plump lips sucked the delicate skin of your neck.

“Could have just asked baby, I would give you the world” His hand grazed up your leg to the open zipper of your jeans until his calloused fingers found the waistband of your baby pink panties. Your breath hitched as he found his way into your pants, brushing over the short hair of your mound to your slick wet slit. “Oh oh oh baby,” he chuckled darkly “you’ve been hiding this from me? I don’t think you deserve me to touch you, you’ve been very naughty. Tell me, baby, you always get this wet for me? What other dirty things do you do when I’m not around?” Your mind was numb with pleasure as Eddie slowly made contact with your pussy lips. He was being so mean like he was punishing you, grazing everywhere but your clit. “Fuck. Eddie please” you beg girding your hips up into his fingers to get some relief.

“I don’t think so sweetheart” you’ve been a very bad girl. “Have I? You try to spit back. “I recall you stealing my favourite pair of panties. Don’t play innocent Munson. I found them in your room yesterday.” You chide.

Eddie kissed you to shut you up. His tongue pushed its way into your mouth as you moaned in pleasure. Your slippery slick coated Eddie’s fingers as they prodded their way up into your tight hole. “Oh, Eddie!” You sighed. “Fuck say my name again” he growled.

“Eddie!” You moaned throwing your head against the wall. His fingers were so thick. He really knows how to work his fingers. “That’s it scream my name” his cocky smirk hasn’t left his face. All disregarding everyone downstairs, you didn’t try and keep quiet. Eddie watched your chest heave as your breasts raised and fell. His free hand scaled up your shirt over your bra. His hands explored your breasts and he pulled down the cup to free you. His hands worked your nipple and your clit. The way his fingers felt exploring your body only made the feeling in your core build and build. Eddie dipped his head to take your perked nipple in his mouth. You arched your back into him and his warm tongue latched onto you. A soft “Eddie baby” slipped from your lips as you were washed away with the feeling of everything Eddie. You were getting so close so fast, you had already warmed yourself up and Eddie was here to take all of the credit. Not that you’re complaining but the coil in your core was being wound up so tightly you need for it to snap. “I'm so close! please don’t stop.” 

“Oh, so you are a good girl who knows her manners, go on then, on cum for me baby” 

Eddie kissed the sweet spot on your neck while playing with your nipple with one hand and your pussy with the other. Your senses were on overdrive and you were bumming from his words. Your body shook and your release dripped down Eddie’s fingers. A few seconds later after you come down from your high you realize that he was having all the fun and you haven’t touched him yet. You graze your hand down his stomach, to the button of his black jeans. You quickly moved your fingers to unbutton and unzip his pants. You slide down the bathroom wall and get on your knees in front of Eddie. He gathered your hair in his hands and you pulled out his cock. “You’re complaining about me hiding from you when you’ve been holding out on me this whole time?” You don't hesitate. You start making out with the base of his cock moving your way up to the tip. You coddle his balls in one hand and use the other to tease the tip of his red cock. “Fuck” Eddie sucks in a breath. You continue to worship his cock. How could you not? It was so pretty, long and thick, and slightly curved to the right. Hearing Eddie whimpering above you was music to your ears. You loved the feel of the weight of him on your tongue. You swirled your tongue on his tip taking in the taste of his precum before sliding down his length to the hilt. His pubs tickled your nose but you ignored that as you hummed onto his cock. You bobbed your head up and down. It was messy and it was loud. 

“Baby fuck fuck fuck if you keep going like that I’m-” Eddie couldn’t finish his sentence before he came down your throat. The hot thick liquid ran hot down your throat. “Shit I’m sorry I’m sorry” he panted as you continued to suck him dry. Humming in satisfaction. Eddie finally loosened the grip of your hair as you pulled back and opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue to show him you’d swallowed it all. Eddie’s eyes went wide, he hadn’t expected you to be so filthy, just for him. He pulled you back up by your hair to stick his tongue down your throat. A giggle left your mouth and he pulled away. 

“We are so doing that again” he breathed. 

A pounding on the bathroom door made you both jump. 

“We get it you guys are disgusting! Let's get back to the game please!” The sound of Lucas’s angry voice came from the other side of the door. You could practically hear his eye-roll. Eddie and you burst out laughing “Come on baby, the Dungeon Master needs to finish up and then I will be seeing you later for more” Eddie left you in the bathroom, flushed and more than satisfied. You couldn’t wait for him to finish that sexy little game. 

#Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson x you #Eddie munson smut #perv!eddie munson #perv!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x best friend reader #eddie munson x perv!reader #requests #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson headcanons #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson concept #eddie fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie stranger things

[youryanderedaddy]

War Prize

pt. 1, pt. 2

Tw: female reader, dub-con, somnophilia, stockholm syndrome, possessive behavior, hinted kidnapping, threats, commissioned piece

It had been so long since Raven captured you - five or six years in total, although you couldn't be quite sure of the exact amount as you had no access to books, calenders or even ink to write with.

Nowadays it was mostly calm around the occupied territories - almost domestic in a sense. You let yourself be pampered more often than not - you drunk the silky, bitter coffee Raven's slaves left out for you, and bathed in the sweet oils he picked for you. Long gone were the days when you fought him over the slightest injustice, long gone were the days when you stopped to think about every miserable soul who had to suffer so you could live in luxury. 

It was easier this way really. The barbarian was good to you, even if it wasn't in his nature initially. The hands that once bruised and hit and wrapped around your hair were now caressing your skin softly, the lips once sealed tight with furrowed hairy brows were leaving hot, wet kisses down your throat, feverish to the touch. You could wear the finest furs and dresses, your body covered in stolen gold and plundered diamonds from head to toe. Raven had made it clear - he loved you, and that meant that the whole world belonged to you the way you belonged to him.

Your life was simple, you had one purpose now - to please your master. You didn't have to work long hours on the field or take care of  a big, starving family ever again. All you had to do was spread your legs at any given moment, and stay soft and pliant in his rough, muscular hands. 

***

You'd usually wake up early in the morning from the slow, deep thrusts inside your hot wet cunt - stars dancing in your eyes as his length brushes against your cervix, filling you up to the brim. Your wrists are pinned above your head with little opportunity for movement, keeping you tightly into place. 

Raven starts slowly and keeps turning up the pace until he is practically shoving himself sloppily against your overflowing hole, his nails digging into the meat of your thighs so he can have more leverage over your quivering body.

“I love to see you fall apart beneath me.” He'd growl in your ear, his forehead resting against yours as his nostrils flare - eyes filled with sick, animalistic need to possess you fully. You moan, closing your eyes - too overwhelmed with pleasure to form a proper response. “Ah, ah, ah - no hiding from me. Let me see you, pretty girl.” Raven hisses, spreading your legs even wider, bouncing your hips up and down on his throbbing cock. 

Your lower lip trembles, desperate to stop another wave of wanton moans - but to no avail. Your sweet voice fills the tent, echoing beyond the thick walls.

“Look at you, all cute and teary for me. Aren't you just precious, slave?” The barbarian chuckles condescendingly, all while groping and slapping your ass lightly - playing with the hot doughy skin. “I want everyone to hear you.” His gaze darkens as his fist wraps around your neck possessively. “I want every single one of my men to hear you sing for me. I want their robes to strain with greed and jealousy with the knowledge that they'll never have my most prized possession.” 

You inhale sharply, lost in a cloudy headspace of dreams and red - hot pleasure. You feel your master's hand squeeze your throat tighter, and your pussy flutters around his length, slick running down your thighs and towards your asshole. It doesn't make sense - he is using you for his own satisfaction with little care for your personal comfort, but his touch makes you feel so warm and floaty, fuzzy butterflies tearing at your stomach - proud to belong to such a strong, powerful man. 

“I want you completely broken. I want to fill you up with my love and ruin you for any other man out there.” He'd groan, sinking his teeth into your neck and aiming for your sweet, sweet blood. “I want everyone to know that I tamed your pretty little brain and made you all mine, now and forever.” Raven kisses you, stealing the breath out of your mouth, sucking in all the panicked little sounds coming out of it. “Say it.” He orders, both threatening and desperate like a lovesick child. 

You can't stand it anymore - you throw your arms around his shoulders. You need to feel him against you, skin on skin. “I'm yours, all yours.” You cry out, holding on for dear life. There is no point denying it now - you can't imagine life without your master, no matter how cruel or difficult he may be. Who else would warm your bed? Who would give you purpose? Where else could you even go now that he has claimed you - and everybody knows?

“Say you love me.” His voice breaks, hands shivering as he holds you painfully close to him - as if the moment he lets go, he'd wake up and you'd be gone just like before. “Say you love me like I love you. Say you'll never leave me - or I swear to the Gods I'll chain you up here to never see the sun again.” He blubbers on and on, thrusts getting fast and frantic, pushing in and out of you with the ferocity of a lover and the fear of a man possessed. 

“I love you.” You whisper, laying back like a good little doll - letting yourself move and twist just the way he wants you to. He pulls you up into a standing position and all but swallows your sobs and wails, his tongue fighting yours for dominance. He lowly commands you to keep repeating it over and over again - until he gets sick of it (if ever), and paints your velvet walls all white and sticky with his seed. 

You take a couple of short shallow breaths, trying to resume your normal breathing. His hand rests on your neck - his eyes finally lose the furious, jealous spark, and he reaches out to stroke your hair gently.

“Good girl.”

#yandere #yancore #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere smut #yandere oneshot #yandere x you #yandere male x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader

[2-dsimp]

Hear me out... Yan priest with a non believer reader....like just imagine....Yan priest"you don't believe in heaven huh...then I'll take you to heaven...then continued to 💥 her....

Cw: 🔞NSFW MDNI🔞 Fem reader! Throatpie, coercion, corruption, dubcon, religious aspects, creampie, cum shower, slight humiliation, degradation, praise, overstimulation, Zebad turning you into a true believer

—————/—————/—————-/————/———

Zebad sighs in contentment as he watches you collapse onto the altar, his wet slick and cum covered shaft slipping out of your overused cunt with a wet pop. He takes a moment to admire your body, feeling his own softening member hardening with avengeance as he sees the marks and bruises he so graciously bestowed upon your skin. Before he quickly flips you over, ripping off your top with a gentle smile.

"Mmm, my lost Dove~ did this prayer session help to enlighten you by chance?"

The Priest hums with a twisted expression on his face confronting the non believer gasping for breath within his holy sanctum. Right before the lords eyes of the marble statue which stood tall above them and judged with a solemn stare.

He reached out a hand to firmly grasp onto your hair, his rock hard cock hovering near your lips. While he smacks his meat against your face, before nudging the tip of his leaking fat tip against your lips smearing it with your collective love juices from prior rounds.

"Oh how precious you are my dear, your pretty head looks as if it’s all empty inside. Allow me to fill it with something meaningful"

The Priest coos lovingly before he shoves his penis into your mouth, forcing it down your throat. He can feel your gag reflex kicking in, but he doesn't care. This was meant to teach you a lesson on how not to turn your back on the gracious blessings. That the lord could bestow to you if you’d just let your heart open fully to the wonders of the teachings he gives…

In all honesty Zebad was bullshitting about his preaching for a god he didn’t even have half a mind to remember the name of. He couldn’t care less about said god nor did he fathom entertaining the prestige beliefs of his pious church brethren. Why would he spend time trying to convert you into worshiping the lord when he could make you revere him as your sole savior.

"That's it, Love suck just like how we’ve practiced. Being such a good girl for me"

He purrs continuing to thrust into your mouth, his balls rubbing against your face as he uses you for his own pleasure. Grinning with satisfaction as he feels your fingers wrap around his thick length, your mouth still wrapped around it like a newborn. The corrupt holy official could feel his cock twitching with impatience, eager for your attention. He starts to buck his shaft inside your salivating mouth, relishing in the moist heat of your tongue sliding back and forth on his foreskin.

Yes, he’d make you utterly reliant on him for the rest of your days. Spend his sweet time training you, molding you into his perfect believer who’d only get on their knees and revere him as both your lover and guiding light to damnation. He alone would encompass the entirety of your mind, body, and soul.

"You’re gonna learn to accept me as your lover and savior and become an obedient bitch for me yes?"

Zebad coaxes with an sugarcoated timbre whilst he continues to rock his pelvis against your face, his body wracked with pleasure as he feels himself getting close to cumming again. He can ascertain how much your esophagus was tightening around his dick, making his balls twitch from the sensation. Of how he knows that you're so eager to please him.

"Oh what a delectable sheep you are, my darling~ so docile and compliant for me."

The Priest pants as he finally drives his shaft to the hilt, smacking his balls up against your drooling face. He lingers there for a moment, enjoying the tightness of your throat around him as you gag. He can feel his cum building up inside of him, and he knows that he's getting close to the edge.*

"Fuck, Dove, go on and take it! Take your lord and saviors cum like the good believer I know you are."

He starts to flood your taste buds with the peculiar taste of his gummy sperm, making you gag even more. The amount is too much for you to handle, so he spills the rest of his cum all over your tits and face in white beady rivulets. He grins with satisfaction as he watches his cum dripping down your body.

"Mmm, you look so beautiful covered in my cum perhaps I should make you walk around in it all day. And make it test of your faith towards me wouldn’t you say?”

Zebad goads, his voice low and seductive. Paired along with a devilish smile that was present on his face full of infatuation and obsession for his poor little sheep that wandered helplessly into his clutches.

#Zebad the Priest #yandere priest #yandere smut #smut imagine #smut headcanons #smut scenarios #smut drabble #yandere male x reader #yandere art #yandere drawing #male yandere #yandere male #yandere x female reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yanderecore #yandere concept #yandere cw #yandere content #yandere blurb #yandere blog

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ I WANT THE YOU WHO WANTS ME AGAIN ❞

Gojo Satoru x male!reader | angst, unrequited love, arranged marriage, some comfort, in the end, | wc: 4.5 K | not proofread

warnings: death of a parent through sickness (unspecified), cheating (gojo with geto), r! goes through it (lmao), megumi is rooting for r!

masterlist; part 1; part 2; part 3; alternate ending; playlist; au's and what if's

Perhaps at one point in your arranged marriage, you had loved Satoru but that’s all but vanished away when you see how he looked at Geto. Still, you provide comfort to your husband when he seeks you even if his six eyes (and soul) all bear to you that he does not see you. Satoru realizes too late that he cares for you - that he loves you. He despises your empty stare, he wants you back. He desperately wants you back.

authors note: i know i said i was taking a break but writing this made me feel a little bit better — cathartic almost. it's been in the drafts since last year anyways so might as well. (autumn leaves by bts inspired fic)

It seemed as though even the clouds were pitying the sight before it. Grey and darkened, they gathered to block the sun as whispers of doubt combed through the trees surrounding the temple — they reach your ears despite the attempts of your mother. "Now, don't you look handsome". She tucks a stray lock of your hair behind your ear, pursing her lips at the look in your eyes. "(Y/N)". Her hands grasp at your face. The warmth of someone's hands on your cheek jitters your brain awake, and your pupils contract back into focus. "Have you been eating well, darling?" For a moment, your heart squeezes at her kind words. It's been so long since another had asked you that question so sincerely. The tears well but your hair sways as you shake your head, urging your cheeks to form a smile. "I'm alright, mom. Just getting over a cold". She brushes her thumb over your cheek then presses a kiss to your forehead. "My son". You're pulled into an embrace and suddenly you're little again — clinging to her after she had bandaged you up from your training session. Your eyelashes darkened as tears slip past them, hands trembling as you grip her tightly. "My beautiful son". Eventually, the sun sets but the rain continues to pour. The sounds of the raindrops are violent, accompanied by flashes of lightning and thunder it seemed as though the Gods were angry. Angry Gods do little to scare your father. He gazes at you coldly from where your head is laid upon your mother's lap. Defiantly, you avoid meeting his eyes as you relish in the fingers smoothing out your hair. "Your husband will not be pleased with this," your mother's glare is reproachful. "Our son has come to pay us a visit, his husband needn't worry about him," his nostrils flare and he looks as though he's about to go on another rant about image, expectations, manners, servitude. But before he could, the shoji door slides open. It's one of the servant girls, her bow immaculate you could see the swirl pattern of her hair growth. "Gojo Satoru has arrived, Master (L/N)" She's addressing your father, you know because you are now Master Gojo. The air is filled with expectations. The rain does little to muffle it. Pitying her back, you rise from your mother's lap. "Inform my husband I'll be out in a moment" She bows deeper and straightens her composure to slide the door close but freezes as you address her. "Is my husband alone?" When her mouth opens to form the syllables of Geto Suguru your eyes turn to the floor. You're unsure if she's finished her sentence but find very little fucks to give as you silence her with raise of your hand. Wordlessly, she bows and closes the door.

"Ah, husband!" he slings his arm around your shoulder. His weight, his warmth, his presence — too casual it's an insult. You cared little for tradition, scoffing at it sometimes, but the way Satoru displays himself in front of your parents causes you to grit your teeth. Suguru shoes are in the peripheral of your vision, you will your gaze to the side.

Once upon a time, the four of you were friends. Satoru, Suguru, Shoko and you.

Those blue summers and warm winters as first-year sorcerers. Memories so bright and heartfelt others probably only see on movie screens. Then you were betrothed to Gojo Satoru, family stuff, expectations and duty, and everything the both of you roll your eyes at. A part of you had been elated. Blinded by the idea of marrying the boy your heart beats for. Sure, falling in love would have been preferred but despite the arranged marriage, you were thick as thieves. So, in your foolish daydreams, you'd sigh at the idea of you two falling in love. Shoko could only watch as your dreams crumble before you. She tried her best to be some sort of support — shocked when she spotted you smoking her cigarettes after a year into the marriage. "I never noticed the way they look at each other". Your words follow the stream of smoke and Shoko settles next to you with her elbows placed on the railings. "I mean, I knew but I just thought...I just thought he'd look at me the same one day". She is silent as you curl over the railing, shoulders jerking with silent sobs. "How foolish, huh?" She places a hand on your back, saying nothing as you wept.

Suguru greets your parents with more tact than your husband who is smiling ear-to-ear. "How was your mission, Gojo, Geto?" the way their surnames sounded made your jaw ache as you continued locking your jaw. Your husband is squeezing you to his side, like a friend. Satoru feels your shoulders stiffening and he loosens his grip to look down at you but you slip out from under him and hastily walk towards the car. "Young Master —" a servant gasps as he attempts to match your pace, the umbrella he holds barely shielding you as you feel your tears mix with the rain. "(Y/N)!" Suguru calls, catching up to you with his own umbrella and you feel searing guilt stab at your chest. Suguru had never been mean to you — he's been there for you through the years and despite your sudden avoidance of him here he was trying to ensure you remained dry. A clap of thunder muffles your sob, the only mercy the Gods are giving you, and you will yourself to pass Suguru. The car door is slammed shut in Suguru's face and before he can wonder the driver is driving off. He stands in shock, the servant that had been chasing you sharing his expression. Satoru tilts his head, hands in his pockets as he Suguru gives him a look of apprehension once he reaches him. Your parents — his in-laws — are apologizing. More so your mother. Your father's anger is palpable despite his puckering lips. "We'll get you another car, Gojo, Geto" your father calls for his personal driver

Satoru’s eyes — with that bright, heavenly, blue that put the sky to shame — linger on the fading signature of your aura. Suguru’s bangs stick to his forehead due to the rain and the sight of him alone has Satoru tear his gaze away. They land on Suguru who offers a furrow of his brows and so Satoru reaches to wipe the wetness away.

“Hey!” the action is rough, anything but romantic. Suguru feels like a cat being pet too roughly — with their skin stretching back and eyes growing wide — and so he smacks Satoru's hands away.

Friendly. Playful. Banter. Boys being boys.

Your mother squints her eyes nonetheless. She had heard that Satoru had been less than willing to marry. Her husband had thought it was his hubris but bowed until his forehead met the floor of the Gojo clan’s home. Their name was no laughing matter — a strong line of curse users much like the Zenin’s.

But Gojo Satoru was sought after by many the second he turned 16 — the marriage proposals flooded in like a tsunami.

He refused them all. Except the (L/N)'s.

She had thought it was the dowery. Perhaps, even the fact that an alliance would soothe whatever ill tides their clans had once had. Or maybe it really was just a stroke of luck her son got along so well with Satoru while attending Jujutsu High (her husband had enrolled (Y/N) only when he heard whispers of Satoru attending).

But fear gripped her heart as Suguru tugged on Satoru’s ear.

Had he accepted...just so he could remain close to his true love?

“I’m sorry”. You pause the wiping motion, delicately lifting your head as your mother’s cloudy gaze floats aimlessly in the room. You were used to her nonsensical speeches, her random bursts of conversations and weepy apologies. It's been a year since the sickness unexpectedly came over her and you suppose that is what most people do when they’re close to death's door. Confessions of this and that just shooting out in a weak attempt to right old wrongs.

“Nothing to be sorry for, mother”. She places a hand over yours and squeezes. How frail. When has your mother looked so frail?

“Come home, be a (L/N) again”, confusion contorts your face. “Mother, whatever you’ve heard is all unfounded. Rumours. Father has dealt with them”, despite her fragility her fingers squeeze your wrists so tightly it forces your own to release the damp cloth.

“Then say that to me. Look into my eyes and tell me that bastard husband of yours is better than mine, that he’s not off loving another while you rot here”.

Colour bleeds into those lifeless eyes. She feels that same squeeze she felt when she saw Satoru wipe away the rain from Suguru’s skin rather than your tears just a year ago.

Just as quickly as they appear, that dullness returns in your eyes and she reaches to hold your face but you stand.

“Father is cheating on you?”

She’s lost you.

You walk to dip the cloth into the bowl, and your shoulders are too heavy for a 17-year-old boy. Her precious son, so forlorn and withdrawn; humiliated by the society he was in for being inadequate and unworthy.

Perhaps she deserved those titles, sick and bedridden and dying, it was no surprise that her husband is seen courting younger ladies. But not you, not her son.

“He’s no shame, you know your father. His pride comes before all”. It elicits a dry chuckle from you.

Then you suppose Satoru had more in common with your father than you knew.

The Star Plasma vessel incident, you can't believe it's been a year.

A year after that man that killed that Amanai and Kuroi and Satoru.

You remembered dropping to your knees as he admitted it out loud with such an ugly smile, shaking your head in disbelief as anger swelled within you.

Before you could even think, even grieve and rage, Geto had beaten you to it. As you looked at him with his anger so visceral it came off of him in waves you felt your torn heart crumble into pieces. It felt good to dish out that anguish on Fushiguro Toji even if you ended up eating dirt.

“Wasn’t he your husband?” Toji placed his foot on your neck. “Damn, he treats you that badly or something? This freak put up a better fight”, that day you had surprised Toji by smiling with your teeth all bloody.

“He did, didn’t he?” Your laughter bubbles and you choke on your own blood.

Toji knocked you out after a scoff.

That still wouldn’t have killed you as much. The torn pieces of your heart were still salvageable.

But then.

Then.

As Satoru came back. Warm and alive. Bloody but grinning. He did not race to you, he did not even look at you. To his credit, he simply stood there with his arms wide open.

But then.

Then.

Geto’s the one to race into them.

Ah.

Right.

Shoko was shocked to see you in her smoking spot. She hadn’t even seen you as Satoru was whisked away by the Gojo clan, only spotting Suguru following along. None had wondered where Satoru's husband was; Suguru was always next to him, so there was no void that one could spot.

“Are you alright?”

The darkness in your eyes makes her flinch.

You were dead.

She’s been around enough of death and you were dead.

Your once warm, cheerful, eyes now devoid of anything.

She held you as you cried, not knowing what more she could say to help you.

“Leave me alone”, Satoru is under the covers. He has been for days now.

Grieving.

Grieving Geto.

“Husband”, you coax. It was once a funny joke. The laughter you shared as the both of you exchanged formal titles of your marriage. It hurt to know that it truly was a joke for Satoru - not for you.

Satoru grits his teeth. His eyes were rimmed red, he himself was surprised they weren’t swelled up. His throat was scratchy, his skin uncomfortable and untended from his refusal to get up. His hair was tousled, unkept and disarrayed. It's been a week since Geto's betrayal and Satoru had been laid in your bed, burying himself under the blankets and deeper into the mattress; as if determined to be buried with his sadness and anger.

“Husband," he feels your hands on his shoulder. You know him by his shape alone. If you closed your eyes you could trace the curves that made up Satoru; even if it killed you slowly, your love was a loyal curse.

“Don’t call me that!” he raises in a grand move. The covers flew and his voice was in a yell. His glare was spine-chilling but they faltered as he saw the outfit you were.

“What should I call you then, Satoru?”

He takes you in, frowns deepening at the awful way his name sounds as you call for him. Not like his Suguru; his one and only.

“What the hell are you wearing, (Y/N)?”

He feels awful as you answer: “Funeral garbs. My mother has passed”.

There’s some satisfaction that paints your features as he is rendered speechless.

“What? How?”

“She was sick”. As he sits there with nothing to say you move to kneel in front of him. Your touch shocks him to reality. He pulls his shirt down, hoping you haven’t seen the hickeys Suguru had left on him before he decided to massacre that village.

You had. You’ve seen all of it. The lingering scent of Geto on his clothes, the hair ties on his wrist, the love bites that mottle his pale skin. Satoru may have those six heavenly eyes but he seemed so blind when it came to you.

The way he grimaces each time you’ve said his name now.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll help you wash up, Gojo”. He’d be an idiot to have not noticed that switch. Guilt is seeded into him. He stops your hands but you move them with a robotic stubbornness.

“Stop — Wait —”

“I know, Gojo.”

Silence drapes the room.

Your hands carefully thumb into his heart and cover the seed of guilt with such care Satoru’s pulse doubles its speed.

“I know you love him. So very much. I know, because when I go to clan meetings, my cousins whisper behind my back of the two of you holding hands and going on dates. When you come back late after a mission to go to Geto’s room. Or when you suddenly have Geto’s marks on you and yours on him”.

“(Y/N) — ”

“But this is my mother, Gojo”.

Your voice wavers just as he clutches your wrists in his hands. Your head hangs as your shoulders jerk up and down, twisting and squirming so you can help Satoru clean and dressed.

You know he was in pain and your heart feels for him. He needs your help. You were willing to strip down so you could wash him, and get back into this disgustingly heavy robe all over again despite how nauseating it was to do it the first time.

Funny. You can’t recall ever being one with Satoru. Your marriage was never consummated — he told you that there was no rush, you were still kids. What did he tell Geto then? Did he tell him that he had never taken you in bed? Was he fervent in his worship of him? Was their love akin to a religion? Did they worship each others temples like devout monks? How funny. The first time you’d get to see him naked and him you would be the day of your mothers funeral.

“She was my mother, Satoru!”

He has never heard you yell before. Satoru is struck by the that revelation.

It’s been a year since he was officially titled your husband and he knew you longer than that. But this was the first time he’s seen you in despair. Heard your yell.

Seen you cry.

“Please, I know he was your one and only but she was my mother. Please, please, don’t let me face this alone, Gojo”

“(Y/N)...”

“Please, Gojo...”

Your wrists slip away from his loosened grip. Crumpling onto the floor, your forehead meets the floor and his feet as your beg.

"(Y/N)". How long had your mother been sick? Why didn't you tell him — or did you? Why couldn't he remember? As his mind races to collect any memory of this past year, your tears that wet his feet water that guilt.

Satoru says nothing as the both of you appear at the funeral. The haughty eyebrows and curled lips sting more when he's there — was it shame? This burning feeling in your chest? Had you said too much to Satoru? Now he was acutely aware of how others looked at you, at your marriage. How awful.

Satoru is not used to this feeling. As a child, the eyes that lingered on him were hungry for the prize of beheading him. That had been more comfortable than this.

This was scrutinizing. They gazed on you with pity, even with his body attempting to shield you, the whispers reach your ears anyways. Have you been doing this all alone? All those clan meetings that you went to alone, the ones he'd excuse himself from saying he had a mission while he spent the day with Suguru to make him eat more and attempt to nurse him back to his side from the Star Plasma vessel incident.

Suguru had wept to him, telling him how terrified he'd been at the thought of Satoru leaving him. Why didn't you come to him? No. Why hadn't he noticed you?

The ride back home was silent. Satoru couldn't believe your father had brought his bride-to-be to the ceremony, you quelled his anger by muttering that your mother had given her blessing for their marriage.

You're staring out the window. Had those bags always been under your eyes? When did your cheeks get so sunken in? Had you...had you lost weight? He ignores the way your fingers twitch as he places his hand over yours. Your skin feels foreign — so does his. He offers a purse of his lips, sliding his hand up your arm and leaning in to embrace you.

But freezes as you pull your hand away.

"Don't force it upon yourself, Gojo". "Husband —" his smile falls as your shoulders tighten, lower lip quivering. "Please don't make me beg again, Gojo."

"What do you think, beloved?" Gojo grins brightly, bouncing his brow up and down. You were seated across from him in some cafe — he had been telling you all about how good the crepes here was a week before. "About...?" He pouts and places his elbows on the table. "My theory?" He watches as you blink, once, twice, then a faux smile climbs on your face. You turn your attention back to the melting ice cream. "Your theory about Okkotsu cursing Rika because of his love for her?" He nods vigorously. "It makes sense, right? His curse technique activating after seeing that brutal sight, it binding Rika to him". "Afterall, love is the most powerful curse", you said. Gojo's animated hand motions pause. He places his hand back onto the table. He reaches for your hand and you squeeze your eyes shut but allow it. He hates this.

Not you — He doesn't hate you. But he hates this.

After your mothers funeral, he looked through pictures. As first year students, all sunny smiles and bright eyed. The smiles got more tame as the four of you aged. His hands slung around Suguru's more tightly — even after they bared matching rings.

Satoru's never seen you smile like that anymore.

He brushes his thumb over your knuckles. Your jaw clenches.

"I love you, my beloved".

"...Thank you, Gojo".

"It's been awhile, Satoru".

No. No, no, no.

Nononononononnonononononononononononono —

Gojo can't take his eyes away from Suguru.

He tries and tries and tries but he can't. Pinned by his onyx gaze alone.

Satoru's ring burns viciously and he curls his fingers into fists.

Meanwhile, your dead-eyed gaze seemed to intensify. Everything is muffled, it felt like you were underwater. It felt like you were 17 years old again.

Abandoned. Unworthy. Unloveable. In love. Always have been. Always will be. In love with a man that was never yours.

"(Y/N), you look pale", Suguru condenscends. At least, that's what it sounds like.

Hah. Was he envious? Did he think that in the years he's been gone, you've filled the void he left? Or did he know that you never did but he was jealous anyways?

Fuck, Satoru thinks. His temples feel taut as his teeth grit together.

Kento steps infront of you and your eyes widen by an inch.

How pathetic, Gojo (Y/N). An underclassmen protecting you from your husbands ex-lover's gaze.

Why couldn't Geto Suguru just die already.

"What are you doing?" Gojo is grieving again. You should be elated but you're not. It feels too cruel. It wasn't your doing, you hadn't had any hand in killing Geto Suguru but a part of you wondered if your inner thoughts had been a wish you put out to the world. Now, Gojo was without Geto and Geto's daughters were without their father.

So you felt guilt anyways.

It was more feasible competing for Satoru's affections when his lover was simply exiled. How could you compete with a ghost?

"I'm praying for him", you replied. Gojo watches as you prepare to do so, kneeled on the floor. His eyes are rimmed with red again and he knows you've heard his cries; so here you are, sacrificing your happiness again for him.

"You don't have to do that, beloved". You say nothing as your eyes are closed in prayer. Satoru kneels behind you, his guilt had 10 years to grow and now it was a willow tree, with its leaves sweeping the lake of tears it grew from. Your eyes flutter open as you feel his head in the junction of your neck and shoulder; he fit so perfectly there, just like you knew he would. He's crying into your shoulder and your hand reaches back to card through the shaved sides of his hair. Your fingers lightly brushing the shell of his ear makes him shudder and he circles your waist to pull you against him. "Don't pity me, Gojo". He says nothing and neither do you.

"Say my name". His voice so close to your ear has you shivering.

"Gojo".

He shakes his head.

"My name, please, please, just say it".

Your heart clenches and as you close your eyes a tear slips past.

"I can't replace him, Gojo". He squeezes you tighter.

"I'm not asking you to replace him. No one can replace Suguru. I don't want them too, I don't want you too; I want you".

"I don't believe you".

He laughs, the slightest brush of his teeth on your skin has your stomach twisting into knots. Your breath trembles and you squirm in his hold, twisting away and getting onto your feet to get away from him. He doesn't allow you to. He blocks your way, shaking his head as he holds your shoulders next.

"I want you, (Y/N). I love you —"

How long have you wanted to hear those words. Your heart wants nothing more than to soar. But your brain knows better. "No, no, no, let me go". He doesn't let you. Satoru wraps his arms around you and your mouth opens to let out yells, fists pounding onto his chest as you try to get away from him.

"I hate you! You fucking bastard! I hate you, I loathe you!"

Satoru holds you firmly agaisnt him. Holding the back of your head preciously as he finally hears your voice raised above that whispering tone. "I hate you! I hate you so much! Why do you keep doing this to me!? I — I just wanted you, Satoru!" Your voice breaks and your sobbing turns into wailing. His heart squeezes, chest physically hurting as you sob and yell.

"I wanted you, Satoru! I just wanted you!" "Why didn't you love me, Satoru!?" Thunder rumbles and as your yells quiet down into hiccups, rain muffles it.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)". He feels your knees give out and he holds you, making you lean against him for support. "I'm so sorry, my beloved. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, (Y/N)".

When he tucks you in to rest, he isn't surprised Megumi is standing in the doorway with his eyes set into a glare. Satoru wipes your tears away, sweeping some of your hair away before placing a kiss on your forehead. He raises to answer Megumi's burning questions.

"You heard?"

"I'm not deaf".

Megumi has his arms crossed. He was an observant boy. Being raised by both Satoru and you — he notices the overexuberant Satoru's confidence wavering every time you give him smiles that never reach your eyes. Tsumiki even told him once that she finds it sad, how you both seem to be so familiar but foreign to each other.

"But one time I did see (Y/N) get flustered because of Satoru", she told Megumi whilst on their way back from school. He looked ahead, sipping on his drink as a prompt for Tsumiki to continue. "It was during breakfast. (Y/N) woke up a little late because he was traveling around for clan meetings and missions. So he was panicking so much, he burnt our rice and stuff! But then, Satoru walks in and tells him he prepared our bento. He kept it in the fridge. All that was needed to do was heat it up, he helped (Y/N) the entire time and then he just — "

Tsumiki kisses the air with a loud 'mwah!'

"He plants a kiss right on (Y/N)'s forehead. (Y/N) was so flustered he just stared down at the sink. It was cute, he's definitely still in love, they both are!"

Megumi peeks into the room. The sliver of light on your peaceful expression highlights the content curl of your lips despite the swollen eyes you bore.

"...Don't mess up this second chance", Megumi warns. He turns and marches away while Satoru huffs, scratching the back of his head as he sighs. "I wasn't planning to". He really does love you. He does. He loves you, from the ends of your hair to the tip of your fucking toes; he loves —loved, Suguru too. But this is different, you're different. But his love isn't any less or more.

He loves you.

Whatever it takes, he'll make sure you know it until his last breath.

#s3thwrit3sstuff #reader insert #gay reader #male reader #male reader insert #male!reader #satoru gojo angst #satoru gojo x yn #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x male reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x yn #jjk x male reader

[fayes-fics]

Second Son

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: The second son is, for once, the first choice...

Warnings: none really... mild angst, family dynamics, love at first sight.

Word Count: 2.9k

Authors Note: Request fill for anon here, about Benedict being the second choice for everything.... until his love turns up. Thanks for this request; I hope this is angsty enough for you anon. Im not sure about it tbh. Sorry that it's taken more than three months to get to it on my WIP list. Unbetaed. Enjoy <3

Benedict Bridgerton was born into privilege and can have few complaints. Except perhaps that he is always second. The spare. The just-in-case option. Being a familial insurance policy lends one more freedom than the burden of being the titled first son, perhaps, but it also feels like your whole existence, in some respects, can seem like a contingency plan.

____

His stomach swoops with excitement as the arrow pierces the target dead on the bullseye. And on his first ever archery lesson, just after his twelfth birthday.

He turns around to see if anyone is there to witness his triumph, but it goes unmarked. All his young siblings gathered around Anthony, patting him on the back for his achievements in doing the same moments before. Being a good shot is an essential skill for the next Viscount indeed. The fact that he has been receiving instruction for months already and this is Benedict’s first lesson hurts a little.

But he doesn't bother to bring attention to his arguably more impressive feat. It seems pointless now. Wordlessly he shrugs and walks towards the target, plucking out his arrow and starting again. Perhaps next time, they will notice.

____

“Is that the new Viscount Bridgerton?” Benedict hears a young girl murmur as he sweeps into the first societal event of the season, the spring following his father's death. 

“Oh no, my dear, sadly not; I believe that is one of the brothers,” her mother replies, acting as if he has no sense of hearing, even trying to ignore it as he is, surveying the crowd.

“Such a shame,” the young girl huffs, “he is so very handsome.”

“Yes, dear, but sadly not titled. We can do better,” her mother chides, moving them along out of earshot.

He will never get over how cutthroat the Ton can be, a part of his tender seventeen-year-old heart sinking. Not that he had a potential interest in that girl, more the principle that he will somehow be rendered as an also-ran, at best a consolation prize, for the rest of his life.

What is most galling, perhaps, is that, when his mother needs their presence the most on a night like tonight, the new VIscount is nowhere to be seen. Has not even bothered to show his face, running off to some spurious gambling den and brothel, spending the night indulging himself rather than facing society. 

So here Benedict is, stepping up to play the dutiful son that his elder brother should be. Being the support their mother so desperately needs at her first event as a widow, her arm looped heavily through his, her whole bodyweight seeming to use him as her literal pillar of support. As he escorts her around the room, he is filled with admiration at her brave face. He can see the overwhelming sadness in her eyes every time the word dowager is invoked, and his heart cracks a little at the loneliness he can feel emanating from his mother’s very soul. 

“Tis a shame the Viscount did not deign the first event of the season worthy of his patronage,” she states pointedly as she sips champagne.

“I am sure he has very good reasons for his absence,” Benedict replies soothingly, covering for his errant brother, attempting to shield their mother from the truth of his philandering ways. Benedict knows it is Anthony’s way of dealing with the responsibility of the title of Viscount being thrust upon him so young. But sometimes, just sometimes, Benedict wishes he could escape his grief in such a manner, Anthony taking his turn attending a stuffy ball and playing guardian to a grieving woman. Their burdens may be different, but the wish to escape them is often not, Benedict realises.

____

She catches his eye at a garden party at Aubrey Hall. She is a pretty young lady, maybe eighteen to his twenty-three, with bright eyes and a sweet, happy face. She makes his palms slightly sweaty. He watches her from a distance, uncertain how to approach or what to say, feeling a little tongue-tied, even. 

Just then, Anthony materialises at his shoulder.

“Who is that pretty young thing?” Anthony asks, tracing Benedict’s line of sight.

“Miss Bradstreet,” he replies, watching as she turns to face the sun, closing her eyes, basking in its warmth. The light captures her cheekbones perfectly, and he itches to have his sketchbook and capture her likeness. He would very much like to get to know her better.

“Let's go provide a warm welcome,” Anthony smirks, clapping a hand on Benedict’s shoulder and practically dragging him across the lawn.

Benedict reluctantly follows, a flutter of excitement as her eyes land upon them as they approach. 

“Miss Bradstreet,” Anthony swaggers. “Viscount Bridgerton at your service; I am so very pleased to be your host today,” he bows.

Benedict's stomach plunges as he watches her practically melt into the lawn right there, virtually swooning at Anthony’s feet.

“Oh, and this is my brother, Benedict,” Anthony adds, almost as an afterthought. 

She flicks her head to the side briefly to politely acknowledge Benedict before returning to Anthony. All of her undivided adoring attention on him as he regales the story of his latest hunting triumphs upon her insistence. Benedict heaves a sigh and watches as yet another young lady he likes chooses his brother over him. He is almost used to it now, but it doesn't stop the sting every time.

____

Your world grinds to a halt as you see him. He is descending the stairs with what you assume is the rest of his family. He is very much in the middle of a tight circle, walking behind what appears to be his mother and perhaps older brother. Quite the most beautiful man you have ever seen, your heart pounding in your ears, your throat suddenly dry despite the lemonade in your hand. You assume they must be the hosts, seeing as they are the very last to enter the ballroom here at Bridgerton House, and there is no announcement of their name.

“Who is that?” you whisper, leaning towards your elder sister. She has been out among society for a year and knows the Ton better than you.

“That is the Bridgerton family, of course,” she replies. “Illustrious in the extreme. Our hosts for this evening. The Viscount there is the most eligible bachelor of every season… and every season, he has resisted a match. So I wouldn't bother if I were you,” she sniffs.

“Which is the Viscount?” you check, your eyes unable to leave the beautiful man with a cravat tied in the most unconventional fashion.

“The one with his arm looped with their mother, the dowager Viscountess, naturally,” your sister rolls her eyes as if patently obvious.

“And what of the others?” you inquire keenly, realising the man you admire cannot be the one your sister is referring to. “Do you know their names?”

“I do not,” she admits, “such things are not really important when one is looking for a titled husband,” she points out airily. 

You nod, knowing the responsibility your sister must carry as firstborn to find a suitable match that can provide for your widowed mother and, indeed, perhaps yourself and your younger sister should neither of you be able to find a husband. You don’t envy her position one little bit. 

You are, however, desperate to get closer to the most beautiful man you have ever seen. And so you spend your evening working towards them, in as polite of a fashion as you can, your stomach in knots of excitement to know him.

“Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton, it is an honour and a pleasure to meet you,” you curtsy, heart pounding as he now stands a few feet away, unable to look at him so close by.

“Hello, my dear and you are?” she asks politely.

“Miss y/n y/l/n, it is my very first season; I am so honoured to be here,” you explain. “I must provide the apologies of my mother, Mrs y/l/n, who could not attend tonight due to a cold, but she is so very thankful for the invitation.”

“Oh, of course,” the viscountess smiles. “I am so sorry to hear of her illness; please pass on my best regards… Anthony!” she turns to her side to grab the attention of a man. The viscount’s head whips around from where he is in discussion with another. “Come meet Miss y/l/n,” she needles pointedly. “Miss y/l/n, this is the Viscount Anthony Brdgerton, and he is so pleased not only to make your acquaintance but also for your presence here tonight,” she welcomes on his behalf, and you do not miss the subtle nudge in the ribs she gives him.

Then his regard is drawn to you. He is handsome certainly, and you appreciate his polite but absent-minded greeting. His attentions are obviously elsewhere, but then you cannot fault him as yours are the same. Your gaze strays over his shoulder to the man who first captures your attention. And your breath is stolen by how his hazy blue eyes stare intently at you.

____

Benedict is twenty-six years old when he is struck by lightning. Not literally. But that is the sensation that runs through his body when he first lays eyes on you—politely introducing yourself to his mother and thanking her for your invitation to this ball. 

He thought he knew what attraction was until this point. He thought he knew the depths to which one could fall in love in an instant. He was an utter fool. He looks at you, and at once, everything is so quiet and loud all at once. He is desperate to know you in a way he has never felt. To grab your hand, take you somewhere, and ask you a million questions to get to know your soul. He also wants to kiss you so much that his lips tingle. And inside, his lungs want to scream as his mother does the natural thing and introduces the beautiful, polite young lady to her most eligible son… Anthony. 

Then his heart jolts as your eyes stray from Anthony and meets his, your pupils dilating in a way that makes his lungs too small to inhale air. It is the first and only time a young woman has had Anthony’s full attention and has looked away from it. And to him, no less. The tidal flood of chemicals in his system makes it feel like he is vibrating in his very shoes.

____

You try your best to be polite and look at Anthony as he speaks, but your sight is drawn to this other man like a moth to a flame. From appearance, the second son, as you are the second daughter. A flare of understanding and sympathy in your chest as to how that is. You want to grab his hand and run away with him.

“My lord,” you find your voice and snap your eyes back to the Viscount, “would you do me the honour of introducing me to the rest of your wonderful family?” your ask, almost timid.

He looks temporarily taken aback, as if mystified why anyone in the Ton would care about the status of anyone beyond his mother and himself. You smile at him expectantly and do not miss, from the corner of your eye, how the beautiful man’s face is awash with surprise at your request.

“Oh, most certainly,” Anthony seems to snap out of his temporary stupor and turns to introduce his siblings in attendance. A tall, baby-faced young man stands to attention as Anthony moves from left to right. “This is Colin; he has just returned from his travels in Greece,” you nod and smile politely, knowing nothing of the subject. “And this is my sister, Eloise; it is her first season, and she is not in the slightest bit happy about that,” he adds dryly, and you can't help but giggle and feel a kinship with the spirited young lady who returns your wry smile. “My eldest sister, the Duchess of Hastings, who is visiting us,”

You curtsy and bow your head. “It is an honour, your Grace,” you add, and she smiles sweetly at you, her arm looped in her mother's.

“Obviously, you have met my mother,” he continues, and suddenly he is the last in the line. You feel your palms clench, sweaty in anticipation of learning his name “... and this is my brother, Benedict; he hopes to be an artist.”

You are finally brave enough to meet his eyes again. He is so achingly beautiful that the rest of his family, indeed the whole ballroom, melt away from your view—he is all you can see.

“Oh, I adore art,” you stutter, mesmerised, offering your hand to him, the first and only person in the family you do so to. Unseen by you, your gaze only on one man, Anthony’s mouth drops open in surprise.

Nothing can prepare you for when Benedict’s gloved hand gently touches yours, him bowing to kiss the back of your hand. You catch a woody citrus scent that makes your mouth water as he does so. And then you feel the warmth of his lips through your glove, and you are utterly undone.

“Miss y/l/n,” he rumbles quietly, the sound making your insides melt even more; it's deep and resonant and makes every inch of your body tingle.

“Please call me y/n,” you murmur, moving closer, knowing how scandalous that might be, but seemingly unable to stop yourself. He has a hypnotic hold over you that you don't want to fight.

“Only if you shall call me Benedict,” he breathes, and it takes Anthony clearing his throat to make you spring apart, suddenly remembering where you are.

____

His lips touch the silk of your glove, and he is gone. 

Already planning a future, his mind supplying images of you at his cottage out in the country, the lady of the house. Tending to the herb garden, reading happily curled up in front of the fire in the drawing room, fearlessly plucking a bow as you stand in front of joint archery targets gently teasing him for losing to a girl, and finally, the image that truly knocks the wind out of him, you naked under him, desperately moaning his name as you move together, entwined in ecstasy.

He hears your sharp inhale, and his heart skips at the idea you feel it too. That you are the first woman ever that sees him and not Anthony. Really sees him. Not as the second son. Not as a consolation prize. 

And when your body seems to sway towards him, he is already mentally asking his mother for a betrothal ring from her grandmother, which she said she is keeping just for him.

____

“Benedict,” his name feels wonderful in your mouth, like a gift from the heavens. “Please, may we take a turn around the gardens?” you implore, the boldest you have ever been in your whole life. 

“It would be my very greatest pleasure,” he responds.

And you know with absolute certainty you have met your husband, the father of your children, your very future. 

____

“It is not as if this is my show….” he sighs.

“You should not do that, darling,” you say affectionately, ruffling his hair as you move to fix his cravat; it definitely needs to be more jaunty, in your opinion.

“Do what?” he breathes, his wedding ring catching the light as he places his hands gently over yours and stills your motions.

“Think of yourself as second,” you argue, running your hand over his cheek. “This gallery opening may feature others' work too, but you are the star of the exhibit,” you reassure, tilting his forehead down so it rests upon yours.

There it is again. That look that always floors you. Even now, a year later. Like you are the most wondrous creature, and he can scarcely believe you are his.

“Never forget, you will always be first to me,” you utter fiercely, watching his eyes soften with devotion. “And not just me….” you guide his sizeable warm hand onto the swell of your belly, “to us. We love you so much, Benedict,” your tone is ardent, wanting him to believe he deserves this recognition, that he should believe in himself the way that you do.

“I love you, too,” he responds quietly, reverentially. “So very much. Both of you are my whole world,” his voice choked with emotion, and you throw your arms around him and squeeze hard, wanting to telegraph just how much he is the very centre of your universe.

An hour later, you clutch your hands over your chest as you watch him being brought onto the raised stage and introduced to the crowd as they applaud him and his work rapturously, awaiting to hear him talk of his art. As he does so, you stroke your belly unseen under your cloak, beaming with pride for your wonderful husband.

____

He sees your face in the crowd, and as ever, it calms him, especially at this landmark moment. So as he finishes the speech that he has rehearsed for days now, he decides to do something perhaps unconventional but something he seems unable to resist.

“Lastly, before I allow you back to your champagne,” he jests, finally at ease with the attention and recognition. “I want to thank my life’s inspiration, the very reason I stand before you today. My wonderful wife. Thank you, my love, for being the light of my life; for always making this second son your first choice. You will always, always be my first choice. I love you.” 

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep

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