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colonelarr0w · 11 days

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Can you write one where Astarion realizes that Tav is acting strangely because it's actually Orin and the actual Tav is kidnapped by her?? Thank you so much and I love your work!!

A/N - Oh my god I absolutely adore the trope of kidnapped lover being rescued (the parasites in me crave the angst). I hope you like this, I had a lot of fun writing it! So thank you @fanficlov-3-r <3

I Know You

Preview - "And he knew that the others knew that little fact as well, considering that Shadowheart had already whispered to the others something along the lines of, '(Y/N) isn't amongst us.'"

Warning(s) - mature themes, foul language, canon BG3 violence

Word Count - 3.9k

Astarion prided himself on his ability to have memorized everything about you, from how your nose scrunched when you saw something you disliked to how your eyes sparkled when you noticed him staring at you from across the fire. It was those little things that simply made you … well … you.

Which was why he found it very offputting when he noticed your excessive alcohol intake while attending a Tiefling party. Yes, you liked to indulge in a glass of wine or two while you chatted happily with Astarion or any of your other companions – but never had he seen you cradle an entire bottle of wine to yourself and drink it in its entirety.

But that behavior was only one of multiple that he had noticed throughout the night; you were dancing with any Tiefling who offered their hand, you seemed to stray away from him and the others throughout the night, and the smile you wore did not reach your eyes in the slightest. It seemed fake, similar to the smiles that Astarion had once flashed at you to get your clothes off.

“Is it just me or does (Y/N) seem a little … off?” Shadowheart comments, her eyebrow raising as she watches you indulge another Tiefling in a drunken dance. You stumble over both your feet and his own, a detail that both she and Astarion narrow their eyes at.

For an oh-so-grateful leader, you were being careless tonight.

Astarion’s eyes follow those of Shadowheart’s, landing on you just as you are finishing a dance with your fifth Tiefling of the night. He bows to you shakily, and in return, you curtsy – another move that Astarion had never thought he would see you perform.

“I must say that I agree with Shadowheart. Excuse me for a moment,” Astarion abandons his half-empty wine glass, sliding it across the bar. The bartender raises a brow at Astarion, but says nothing.

You chuckle heartily as a Tiefling female approaches you, in her hands a sparkling glass of champagne. You take it from her the moment it’s offered, just about to bring it to your lips before a pale hand clasps over your shoulder.

“Ah-ah darling, I think that’s enough with the drinking for one night,” Astarion says with a fanged smile, angling himself so that he’s able to pluck the champagne glass from your hands quickly. You turn to him, eyebrows pinched together in an expression that mixes frustration and shock – as if you had been caught doing something that you shouldn’t.

“Come off Astarion, I can indulge if I so choose,” you retort quickly, fingers extending towards your glass. Astarion lifts his arm, the glass just barely out of your reach. “You are indulging tonight, are you not?”

He chuckles, his chest rumbling against your shoulder as his scarlet eyes rake over your figure. Something was wrong, it wasn’t just your general composure – it was everything down to the very way that you stood on your own two feet.

“While that is true, I am watching what I indulge in,” Astarion says, already glancing at Shadowheart, who nods knowingly. She mumbles something inaudibly then to Gale, and soon a secret message is relayed over all of your companions.

The Tiefling female had long since left your side, only adding to your annoyance that Astarion had come to your side. You turn sharply to face him, eyes narrowing at him.

“And just explain to me why you thought it necessary to disrupt my fun?” you snap, glaring daggers into the vampire who stands in front of you. Astarion merely sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. His eyes flicker over you again, and it is in that moment that he realizes something … you were most certainly not you.

And he knew that the others knew that little fact as well, considering that Shadowheart had already whispered to the others something along the lines of, “(Y/N) isn’t amongst us.”

“Because I know you (Y/N), and right now,” Astarion pauses only to yank you closer, lowering his lips to your ear. “You are not who you say that you are.”

You freeze in his arms, eyes flickering to look at him. The crease in your eyebrows vanishes, your expression of frustration replaced now by one of shock. “What are you on about?”

“Oh come on now, don’t play dumb with me,” Astarion growls, his grip over your wrist tightening, “I know (Y/N), and she would never indulge in such things of her own accord.”

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, not protesting as a very angered Astarion drags you out of the Tiefling party. He is quickly flanked by Shadowheart and the others, none of whom offer you looks of sympathy – if anything, they look just as angered as the vampire in front of you.

The moment that your feet touch camp, your wrists and ankles are promptly tied by Karlach, who offers you no answers even as you demand to know what in the hells is going on. Astarion stands quietly at her side, his arms folded over his chest whilst his mind promptly races.

Where were you? Who was sitting in your place? Where the hells were you?

With a singular wave of his hand over your body, Gale reveals Orin to the others, then steps back and glares down his nose at her. In response, her lips only turn upward in a grin, one that sends a shiver down the spines of those that surround her.

“Where is–”

“Oh please, save me the dramatics,” Orin says with a roll of her eyes, adjusting herself so that she sits comfortably. Her attention moves to Astarion, her smile widening at the sight of the expression that he wears.

“You have five minutes to answer our questions before–”

Orin’s head tilts in Lae’zel’s direction, her eyes crinkling as her smile widens impossibly further. Her lips part, a delighted chuckle falling from her lips. “Before what? You kill me? If I die, (Y/N)’s location dies with me.”

In a flash of white and silver, the blade of a dagger is pressed against the skin of Orin’s neck, pressed down just hard enough to draw a thin line of blood. Astarion kneels in front of Orin, narrowed eyes glaring daggers into her as his lips pull back in an angered growl.

“You will reveal (Y/N)’s location lest you want to end up a paled mess on the ground.” He was shocked by how much your disappearance had affected him – especially considering that he was supposed to be keeping his affection for you a secret from the others.

There was a reason behind his secrecy, however, a reason that you had agreed with when he had first proposed the idea to you. It was for your safety, for your protection. But it seemed like even with that … he still couldn’t keep the one thing that kept him sane safe.

Orin chuckles, leaning forward so that her nose just barely grazes his own. He can feel her breath as it fans over his face – it disgusts him.

“Is that so?” Her head tilts, another delighted chuckle bubbling up her throat and spilling over her lips. Astarion pushes the blade further against her, ignoring the yells of warning delivered by the other members of the party.

His eyes narrow, his eyebrows pinch together, and his expression hardens. Orin only chuckles again, sighing dreamily in a way that reminds Astarion of a hopelessly lovesick girl. Gods, what he would give to plunge the blade of his dagger into her neck.

“Fine, but I hope you know I’m not yielding because of your … intimidation,” Orin murmurs, pouting childishly as Astarion pulls her to her feet, still glaring at her. He says nothing as he drags her past the others, not checking over his shoulder to see that the others have followed him.

< … >

Another chilled shiver runs up the length of your spine, using your vertebrae as a ladder. You turn uncomfortably onto your side, trying once again to tug your ankles from their shackles. All you’re met with is the sound of rattling metal.

It had been a few hours … or perhaps even a few days since you last saw the others. You didn’t know – perhaps time worked differently when you were captured.

The last you remembered, you were walking silently along a forest pathway with Astarion a few feet behind you. You were engrossed in the beauty of the willow trees that hung silently over you, their branches serving you the beautiful luxury of shade that covered you from the sun’s blaring rays.

Just as you turned a corner in the forest, a cold hand that wasn’t Astarion’s clasped over your own, tugging you away into a forest patch. One good knock to the side of the head … and that was the last that you were able to clearly remember.

When you awoke, your ankles were shackled to a wall and your wrists were bound with rope, rubbing uncomfortably against your skin and leaving behind angry red marks.

Your body had been littered with marks; cuts, bruises, and gashes. At first, they hadn’t hurt you at all – but you blamed that entirely on your adrenaline. Now every cut burned, every bruise ached, and every gash felt as though it would never stop bleeding.

Surely every vampiric creature within a 50-mile radius could smell your blood … especially considering how much of it lay in a disgusting puddle surrounding your body.

A shaky breath escapes you, one that you surely hoped would be your last. Your teary eyes flicker around the cell that you’d been thrown into; the cell that lacked even so much as a window. You were completely disconnected from the outside world, and for a singular moment, you thought that maybe you had died.

And maybe you were okay with that now … with dying.

Even though for so long you had tried your hardest to protect everyone – practically throwing your life down on the line for the lives of your companions – being captured was making you realize something.

Maybe they didn’t care about you nearly as much as you cared about them.

If they cared, they would be searching for you. If they cared, you wouldn’t be bleeding out in some dank old cell with no way to know what time of day it was. If they cared … they would prove it, wouldn’t they?

A choked sob claws its way up your throat, legs curling inward. You wrap your arms around them, hugging them against your chest as your body curls inward into a fetal position.

They didn’t care. Not Gale, not Karlach, not Lae’zel, not Shadowheart.

Not even Astarion.

Astarion …

After everything that you had done for him. You had spared him that morning while walking with Shadowheart. You had let him stay in your camp even though he spat venomous insults each time you interacted politely with him. Hells, you had even let the damn man feed on you.

In exchange for your blood, he was letting you rot alone in a cell.

So much for helping others, you think quietly to yourself, tears slipping down your cheeks as your lashes flutter shut. A gentle numbness spreads over you as if someone had draped a blanket over you. It felt nice. It felt safe.

Your shoulders relax, your lips part.

One gentle breath falls from your lips before all goes silent.

< … >

“Come on now, I’ve led you right to where she is! The least you can do is entertain a conversation,” Orin complains loudly, huffing childishly as Astarion continues shoving her forward.

There was no lie to her words, she had led Astarion and the others to where she had thrown you – a dimly lit dungeon hallway that was only filled with the sounds of low groans and dripping water, but even those had become scarce the longer that they walked.

“The only thing I’ll entertain is your demise,” Astarion bites out, though he desperately wishes that he had kept his mouth shut. Orin doesn’t fail to catch the tremble in his voice – the vulnerability that seeps from his words.

Her lips curl, another delighted chuckle rumbling somewhere deep inside of her chest. Her eyes flicker to catch a glimpse of Astarion’s profile, her chuckle deepening as she notices the emotional turmoil sketched into his features.

“I wonder what you will do to me when you realize that she’s–”

“Hush,” Astarion hisses, reaching down and yanking the bonds around Orin’s wrist. The rub of the rope against her skin is enough to silence her. “Not another word out of you, wench.”

Orin stifles the small whimper of pain that had threatened to fall from her lips, instead turning to the cell that they were nearing; your cell.

At the sight of the metal bars and uneven stones, she giggles. Astarion passes her off to Shadowheart, ignoring the cleric’s protests as he approaches the cell.

“Oh shit.”

The world seems to go completely silent at the sight that lies before Astarion’s eyes, a sight that he immediately wishes that he could forget.

You lay on your side with your back facing the cell’s door, blood – your blood – surrounding you in a crimson puddle. The bits of skin that Astarion can see are littered with cuts and bruises, your legs covered in gashes that continue to drip with fresh blood.

In any other situation, Astarion would have marveled at both the sight and smell of your blood … perhaps even allowed himself to indulge in it.

But now?

Gods, he had never been more disgusted by any one sight or smell.

“Astarion? What’s – oh my Gods,” Karlach raises a hand to her mouth, palm covering her lips as she gazes upon the same sight as Astarion. The others join her, and each of them falls silent. “You take … her … and get out of here.”

Shadowheart nods, shooting Orin a sharpened glare before tugging the shapeshifter back down the way that they had come, ignoring her yells of protests and the way that she struggles against the ropes that bind her wrists together.

With one tug at the already worn-down metal, Karlach disconnects the bars of the cell. She steps inside, carefully approaching you before copying her previous actions and removing the shackles from around your ankles.

“(Y/N)?” she murmurs down to you, lightly shaking your shoulder while simultaneously trying to be sure that she does not burn you – the last she wants is to add to your injuries.

She’s pushed aside by Astarion, who kneels beside you and feels his breath hitch at the sight of your paled face. Your cheeks have lost their usual rosy color, replaced instead by a white that looked as though it could rival the color of his hair.

“Shit,” is the only thing that he’s able to say properly before he scoops you into his arms. He shakes on his feet for a moment, the sudden weight in his arms debilitating his balance. He says nothing as he strides past the others, making a beeline for the exit.

< … >

The first thing that you feel is a dull ache, then followed by a wave of pain that has you shooting upright and promptly vomiting onto whatever surface happens to be beside you. The moment you’ve finished emptying your stomach, a piece of cloth is offered to you by a pale hand – a familiar one this time.

Hesitantly, you take it, dabbing the cloth against your mouth before looking up to who had handed it to you.

“Astarion?”

“That would be my name, yes darling,” Astarion responds, though his tone doesn’t hold his usual flirtatious lilt that you had grown so used to. No, he sounds exhausted … it made you wonder just how long he had sat at your bedside.

Your eyes roam over him, taking note of the tiny, barely-there bags that rest beneath his eyes. For a man who cared so deeply about appearance, he surely looked as though he had let himself go … likely because of you.

As much as you wish to take him into your arms and comfort you, a fleeting thought passes through your mind — he had taken his sweet time in finding you.

If the roles had been reversed, and it had been Astarion who was taken from you, you already knew that you would have searched Heaven and Earth trying to find him. No stone would have been left unturned, no witness left unspoken to … you would have stopped at nothing.

But it felt as though Astarion hadn’t cared enough, if he had, you wouldn’t have been as badly wounded as you were. You wouldn’t have laid in that cell for as long as you have, not that you knew the length of time in which you had been missing anyway.

Astarion’s head lifts at the sound of you rustling, body scooting back from him until your spine rests against the headboard of your bed. You lift your knees to your chest, hugging around them.

“Darling?”

You remain silent, but you allow your eyes to raise to meet his awaiting gaze. He waits patiently, though you can’t help but feel as though he’s analyzing you.

“How long have I been gone?” you ask. Astarion pauses, scarlet eyes flickering away from you. He swallows, you can see the emotional turmoil that swims in his eyes. Answer me, you usher in your mind.

“Orin wouldn’t tell us,” Astarion answers honestly, voice wavering as he recounts his angered questioning of the shapeshifter. She had only giggled in his presence and “answered” his question with another question of her own.

You remain silent, nodding to yourself as you glance down at the bandages that adorn your arms and legs. It makes you wonder if Astarion had patched you himself … or perhaps he had made one of your other companions do it.

You lift your head, noticing now that Astarion’s attention was focused elsewhere. His expression looks identical to your own — caught in his own mind. Guilt.

Did he feel guilty?

“Does anything—“ he pauses to clear his throat, “—anything hurt you?”

”Just my arms and legs,” you answer. Astarion nods, inhaling deeply and shifting in his chair. For some twisted reason, you want him to stand up and leave. Maybe it was to further prove your point, or maybe you just wanted to be alone.

You’d never really know the true answer.

He hums, nodding to himself before he shifts again. For a fleeting moment, he debates on whether or not he should stand and exit — it was clear that you wanted your space anyway.

Astarion knew you … and he knew that right now, you certainly didn’t want him around. Never were you short with him, but your tone insinuated that you wanted nothing to do with him.

Not that he could honestly blame you.

And so, he stands from his chair. You don’t lift your head to look at him again … telling.

“Why did you take so long to come for me?”

He freezes, feeling as though someone had doused him in freezing water. His back stands rigid; you could see the way that his spine visibly tenses the moment that his mind processes what it was that you had asked him.

You snap your jaw shut the moment that the words fall from your lips, regret filling your senses. Sheepishly, you look down, staring at your lap and screwing your eyes shut.

You freeze at the feeling of arms wrapping over your shoulders, tugging you against a chest that you had spent many nights resting against. His skin felt cold against yours, a welcome contrast to the heat that was currently making you very uncomfortable.

Astarion’s cheek rests against the side of your head, his hands squeezing at your waist while also being mindful of the injuries that you had sustained. He sighs shakily into your hair, feeling himself relax as he feels you reciprocate his embrace.

“The moment that I realized that I was not interacting with you, I went out to find you,” Astarion confesses, holding you tighter as he recounts the fear in the moment when he realized that you were not you.

You remain silent, simply soaking up the comfort that Astarion’s arms provides you with. Your head rests comfortably in the junction that connects his neck and his shoulder, nose buried into his neck.

“You have … absolutely no idea how frightened I was,” he whispers, his voice so low that it even the rustle of the blankets overpowered his words. His arms shake where they rest around your waist, his fingernails just barely digging into the exposed skin of your waist. “The prospect of losing you–”

“Astarion.”

He pauses, feeling you shift in his arms. Without any word of protest, he releases you, settling onto his knees on the bed in front of you. You adjust yourself, then reach out to take his hands into your own.

Astarion flinches. You pause, waiting for him to say something to you. He doesn’t, and so you take it as an okay to continue. Your fingers squeeze his own, the action directing his eyes to your own.

You stay silent for a second or two, simply taking in the way that Astarion’s eyes soften at you. His usually sharp scarlet eyes are glazed over now with a new emotion – guilt. Guilt over not being there for you, guilt over not saving you sooner …

… guilt that you had gotten hurt.

“Darling, if I had the chance to save you sooner, know that I would have taken it without a second of hesitation,” Astarion admits, shifting an inch closer to you. You feel the tears building along your waterline, your teeth catching your bottom lip as you attempt to suppress the sobs that begin to bubble up somewhere in your chest.

One of his hands releases yours, hesitantly laying against your face. He thumbs away the tears in your eyes, sighing as you crumple and reach for him again. Astarion doesn’t waste a single second, wrapping you in his arms and resting his chin against the top of your head.

“I thought that,” you hiccup, “you and the others had forgotten about me.”

His arms tighten around you at that declaration, chest promptly collapsing it on itself as he realizes just how scared you had been. He doesn’t want to imagine what you must have been thinking in that cell, likely thinking about if you would ever be saved.

If he would ever come for you.

“Never,” he whispers into your hair, fingers stroking comforting circles into the small of your back. “I would never forget you, ever.”

“You are the first thing in my entire life that makes me feel … feel something. Something other than burning hatred. You make this wretched world worth living in.”

You squeeze at him, hands bunching up his shirt from behind. He doesn’t bring attention to it, letting you cling to him with as much force as you need.

“And I’m not going to let you go. Not now, not ever,” he promises you. You close your eyes, sighing shakily through your nose. He can feel your nod against his chest, his cheek leaning further into your hair.

And that night, when the glistening moon hung over your tent and signaled to your companions that it was time to rest, Astarion remained at your side – fulfilling his promise.

He wasn’t going to let you feel that scared again. Not now, not ever.

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satoruxx · 7 months

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sorry to go feral in your inbox but ghostface!miguel who is crazy about you (in a good way I promise) and does everything in his power to protect you and keep those horrible college guys from your classes away from you but you only know him as the mysterious gravelly voice who calls you every night that you’ve grown fond of as your personal lullaby-

pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader | 1.5k words summary: ghostface!miguel, stalking, possessive miguel, violence, death, killing, obsessive behavior, suggestive, killer miguel ofc, reader is WAY too trusting, miggy just loves you so much !! rheya’s note: NONNIE BABES YOU GENIUS !! he absolutely would oh my fucking god. i am so normal about this (going feral) i was literally squealing while writing this it was rough. why is this concept hot? do i need therapy? probably. anyways he's a creep in this but in a good way? (the way this ask literally got me inspired to draw ghostface!miguel UGH) anyways ENJOY !!

miguel isn't a bad guy. he's not. he's one of the good guys actually, a hero. he's always been a hero.

it's not his fault that there are some assholes in the world that are fucked up, preying on innocent people who just want to live their lives.

sweet, innocent people like you.

how a girl as sweet and precious as you managed to get yourself surrounded by such horrible people is beyond him. and you're so nice too, always assuming that nobody has it out for you or that everyone has some good in them. with that mindset, you were just asking to be put in danger.

so, being the hero that he is, it's his obligation to look out for you, right?

it starts off quietly. he doesn't make an effort to connect with you, choosing to watch you from the shadows as he silently tracks your day. miguel is nothing if not observant, mentally noting every single person you interact with or looks your way. and if they get a little too close, a little too comfortable? well, then he'd just have to take care of that for you, wouldn't he?

he hates that one flirty coworker of yours, always leaning a little too close to you and chatting like he's your fucking boyfriend. miguel can see the little crease of discomfort in your brows whenever that coworker is nearby, and he decides that he hates that expression on you. but you feel fine afterwards, because when your coworker goes missing the next day, you send a quick thank you to the heavens, trying to push down your guilt.

he finds out that you try to make some extra money by tutoring a guy at your school. and when miguel watches the two of you through the windows of the library he feels hatred like no other run through his veins because he doesn't like how this guy looks at you. that asshole probably didn't even need tutoring to begin with, using it as a pathetic excuse to get close to you. what a fucking joke. but you don't have to stress about tutoring anymore because the next day you get a text saying the kid has transferred schools. you never hear from him again.

oh but the worst ones are the ones who ask you out on dates. they don't even know how lucky they are, getting to see you all dolled up and pretty for them, only to absolutely destroy your hopes for a good time. it makes miguel so angry he sees red. every fucking time one of those losers makes a comment that has your shoulders slumping with disappointment, a miserable frown on your pretty lips by the end of the night, he feels sick to his stomach. but he hopes that when you see your date's body on the news the next morning, you won't be so disappointed anymore.

only after watching over you for a while does miguel decide to finally talk to you, finding the perfect hiding spot to watch you through your window as you pick up your ringing phone. he has to stop himself from groaning because your voice sounds so much sweeter when it's in his ear, smooth and precious as you ask who it is. and he can't resist playing with you, dying to hear more as he sighs behind his mask.

"tell me your name and maybe i'll tell you mine." miguel answers, gravelly voice practically purring through the speaker. he can see the confusion on your face as you pace your kitchen, reaching for a bag of chips before walking back to your couch and settling in to watch a movie. he hears the screams from the tv and bites his lip. "what's that noise?"

"a movie." you reply, the expression on your face getting less guarded as you listen to his voice.

"a scary movie?" he asks, leaning against the edge of the roof so that he's got the perfect view of you. you take a chip and pop it in your mouth, chewing quietly, and he follows the movement of your lips with eager eyes.

"mhm," you nod, and miguel thinks it's so fucking cute the way you move your head even though you think he can't see you.

"you like scary movies?" he asks with a hum, and you voice out a yes. his eyes remain hooded and attentive as he effortlessly continues the conversation. "you got a favorite, sweetheart?"

he catches the way you melt under his sweet words, and miguel decides then and there that he's never letting you go. he listens to your answers with a grin, tucking his knife away and watching you animatedly talk to him for the remainder of the night.

and the rest is history.

you tell him about a guy who's bothering you? he'll bury him. someone made you cry? he'll break their legs. your date stood you up? he'll stab them so many times he loses count. and then after all of that, he'll call you like he always does, rumbling honeylike words into his phone as he casually watches you from behind his mask.

"and how was your day today, sweetheart?" he'll drawl out, late at night as he perches on the neighboring roof to your apartment. with the way he's angled he can perfectly see the innocent little smile on your face as you settle in bed, talking on the phone like you're not scared of him at all.

and you shouldn't be, because he'd never hurt you, of course.

some nights you'll giddily tell him about the most exciting parts of your day, smiling and giggling until you fall asleep without a care in the world. but on the nights when you complain or whine about somebody that's made you upset, wronged you, or god forbid, showed interest in you? well, those are the nights miguel has to grit his teeth and clench his fists, trying to control the flare of pure rage that courses through him. he lulls you to sleep with sweet words, trying to keep his cool but still vibrating with anger because who the fuck do they think they are, getting near you like that?

"don't worry, pretty girl," he sighs into the phone, twirling his knife between his fingers. "i'm sure they'll stop bothering you soon enough."

and they do. but you being the precious oblivious little thing you are, assume that you're just lucky. a guardian angel, you had said, was watching over you. miguel had just chuckled into the phone, deep and rich as he smirked at you from the roof once again.

"guardian angel? well lucky you, huh?" he had asked, feeling all too pleased with himself. you agreed with a nod.

well, if that's what you wanted to see him as he had no problem playing guardian angel for you.

and no he doesn't even want you to find out, because the last thing he wants to do is scare you. no no, he'd much rather protect you from the shadows, eliminating every single threat could ever harm a hair on your pretty little head. his reward comes in the form of you living your life, carefree smiles and all.

and granted he feels much more rewarded when he calls you late at night, deep voice teasing with an underlying sense of possessiveness as he speaks to you about anything and everything. he doesn't understand why and how you decided that he was safe to talk to, but you do, laughing and sighing into the phone until you've dozed off.

and if you've accidentally left your windows open, well of course being the gentleman he is, miguel will close them for you. but not before he stands at your bedside, raising his mask to watch you sleep peacefully. such a pretty little thing, so sweet and gentle. and after pulling himself away from your sleeping form, he quietly shuts the window behind him, yanking his mask back down with a smirk because he doesn't want anyone else to see you all vulnerable like that.

you were too trusting to begin with, but you trusting him is alright. after all he's the only one who's been looking out for you. anyone else tries to get near you and he'll have no choice but to tear their limbs off. they could be a threat to you, right?

but that's why he'll never let you out of his sight.

you're his after all.

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rosewine-5 · 5 months

Text

𝑽𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝑨𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 (𝟏)

Billy the Kid x b!woc reader

Being the pastors daughter meant you had to always be on your best behavior, never stepping off the right path, walking the straight & narrow path, and her eyes towards heaven. That was until a certain outlaw rode into your life, and taught you sometimes it okay to have a taste of hell with a little bit of heaven.

AN: readers last name is Bennett.

Word count: 1.3k

Here’s the link to part 2 & part 3

Divider by saradika

It was the same schedule: Wake up, pray, work, eat, give thank, sleep, repeat. It had been the routine for 20 years. Well, maybe just for you. The family consisted of her mother, father, 2 brothers, Michael and John, and then yourself. Father raised the 3 of you to have unwavering faith and trust in a higher power no one would see while you were still alive. In a way, if offered stability to your family, and yourself.

But it also came with rules, which in your case, sucked, especially being the only girl in the house. You weren’t allowed to go out late, while your brothers could come home as late as early morning. Your father wanted his “little girl” to be, as he said “the gem of the Bennett name” , and for the most part, you didn’t know what else to be, other than a farmer.

The town you resided in had enough fertile soil for people to grow their food, there was even a lake not too far from town with a few trees close by. You used to swim there, before some men decided to ransack the town. That night everyone met in the church since the raiders burnt the town hall to the ground. That very night the leaders of the community, including your father, all agreed to hire mercenaries to keep the town safe.

If this wasn’t desperation, you didn’t know what else it could be.

When everyone got back to the farm, you and your brothers questioned your father. His only excuse was “There are some times in which we can’t wait for God to save us”, and there was no further argument. “This is something we can’t pray our way out of, child! Maybe one day you’ll understand.” He shouted, making you shrink.

The next day you woke up early on the property and walked over the kitchen, where Michael was packing up a bag along with your other John. “What’s the occasion?” You asked. “Pa told us we’re going with him to meet the mercenaries the next town over.” Your brother, Michael said in a rushed tone, sitting down to stuff his belonging in a bag. “You never told me that.” You said, walking towards him. “Well you’re not my mother.” He said, not looking up at you. “But I am your sister, and older than you.” You added.

“By 5 minutes.” He said, smiling up at you. Your mother had given birth to you first on a winter day, and then Michael a few minutes later. You didn’t know if it was the fact you two were born on the same day or being twins, but you were closer to Mike then you were John.

“Are you two bickering again?” Your mother said, walking in. “We were just saying our goodbyes, Dove and I.” Mike said, putting on a smile and slinging his arm around your neck.

You had adopted the nickname Dove after your 10th birthday by your father. To him, the name symbolized what he wanted you to be: pure, innocent, peaceful. For the most part, you were pure, you didn’t have a choice to be anything but, being the pastors daughter and all. A part of you didn’t mind being stamped as “Holy” but that also meant you didn’t have the same freedoms or privileges you would’ve loved to have.

You were snapped oh of your train of thought when your father came from outside and called for your brothers. Three horses were already set up, belonging to them. None for you. “We’ll be back by the end of the week.” He said, kissing your mother goodbye, and then waking to you. “Best behavior, my dove, as always.” He said, kissing your forehead before riding away, your brothers behind him.

The next few days were full of chores, errands, and work. And boredom. Then came the day they were expected back, your mother stood next to you. “Penny for your thoughts, honey?” Your mom asked, making you nod. “He means the best for you.” She said, putting her hand on your shoulder, trying to stick her point. “He just doesn’t want to see you-.” “Act out of line? Have fun? Have a real life?” You interrupted, looking at her. “You know that’s not what I meant, love.” She said, putting some of the vegetables that were grown in a basket.

“Here, take this, throw them out, and get some air.” She said, basically leading you out of the room. “And honey?” Your mom called, making you look back, “We only treat you with different rules to keep you safe.” After throwing the vegetables out, you looked towards the town, and sighed. “Safe my god given ass.” You mumbled to yourself, walking towards the lake for the first time in a while.

There was a cool breeze coming from the lake, one that you took in with a content look on your face. You laid down in the grass and took a deep breath in, before closing your eyes. After a few minutes, all you could hear was the breeze blowing and the rustle of the leaves. It almost drowned out the noise from the town, as well as the noise in your head. It even almost drowned out the sound of the twig that snapped behind you. Almost.

Your head snapped behind you to see a tall slender boy leaning on a tree staring at you, a small smirk on his face. From his face alone, you could tell he wasn’t a local, you couldn’t even recognize him. You looked him over, his rough appearance a clear sign he wasn’t one to walk over. But his eyes were the most enchanting part of him. Those blue eyes drew you in like a siren to a sailor. And as much as you wanted to drown in them, you knew shook out of the trance; who is this man?

“You new around here?” You asked, breaking the silence. He looked you up and down, before meeting your eyes with a wolfish grin, chuckling to himself. “You could say that.” He said, looking deep in your eyes. “I’m Billy.” You nodded your head toward him, “Nice to meet you, Billy.” “So what’s your name, honey?” He asked, the smile never leaving his face. “I’m Bennett.” You said, holding out your hand. Billy then took your hand and then kissed it, “You must be the pastors daughter, you and your brothers have the same eyes.”

Here we go again

He then smirked to himself, “If I may, humor me Ms. Bennett.” You immediately turned back around and looked at the water, “I doubt I could make you shut up anyway, so go on ahead.” You said, making him huff out a short laugh.

“What’s a lady like you doing by herself?” Billy asked, looking over you with a curious look in his eyes. “Like myself, huh? What’s that supposed to mean, cowboy?” You asked, not looking away from the water of the lake. You then heard his footsteps get closer, and then he was right behind you.

“I thought the pastor’s girl would know it would be safer to stay close to the house of the lord, than out here with her back turned, vulnerable.” Billy said, and you could see his shadow cover your frame, making you turn around, holding your shawl closer to your body, covering your shoulders.

In the moment you turned around, his eyes didn’t hesitate to look over your face, and then your body. Billy’s eyes went down to your neck and chest, making no effort to avert his gaze. “What a beautiful ring,” He said, getting your attention,” You engaged?” “No, it’s my purity band.” You said, holding it out so he could get a better view, and hoping he would leave you alone.

Instead, you saw a new look in his eyes.

One that let you know he wouldn’t leave you alone.

Interest.

Let me know what you think, feedback is welcome!

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almacambiondaughterofsaleos · 2 months

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The Biggest Problem With Hazbin Hotel's Rehabilitation Mentality Is Trying To Make All Sinners Victims Instead Of Owning Up To Their Own Sins

I think the biggest problem with Hazbin Hotel rehabilitation mentality is that they focus in on how sinners are victim of circumstances rather than owning up to their problems and changing themselves. I think the biggest thing with this series is the fact that they think the problem is society instead of someone's own issues how they got into hell.

One of the first indications of this bs is making it out that Lucifer and Lilith were just misunderstood dreamers were against a strict ignoring that they caused sin in the world and caused help humanity's downfall. But the narrative ignores that fact and tries to treat them as victims of heaven, so we can have Lucifer as a misunderstood sad boy instead of how in the Bible he was jealous of humanity and wanted to bring it down with him due to God's love for them. A misunderstood sad boy wouldn't do this type of shit and Vivziepop selling it a load of it.

I know this is going to be controversial but I think Angel Dust is hindered as a character but not focusing on what got him into hell. And it wasn't just the drugs and sex, because he did kill people and some of them probably didn't end up in hell. So just imagine him being sent to heaven and his former victims recognized him for his crimes and until now showed repentance. However, the narrative even then doesn't focus on that fact but the idea he's a total victim and doesn't show part of his way to redemption is get his life back together and admit he's done shit where he wasn't the victim but the victimizer. One could say he was put through that life, but then again show his sister is in heaven and that she chose a life of virtue and made it. So, he has no excuse of his dad or brother getting himself into hell except himself and he needs to work on it. Even if he's a victim to Valentino, he still is a victimizer in someone else's eyes who recognizes him decades ago.

And I am also going to say this the Extermination is used as a way to have all of hell be turned into pitied victims that you forget a lot of them are in hell for a reason. And even more they are doing antics that got them probably into hell like murder, sex, and other types of depravity. While not all sinners are on the same level, the exterminations as a whole just i used to make you forget that they are there for a reason and erase that there is a reason they weren't given a chance into heaven. Seriously, Emily herself called them innocent souls when in any other scene they are far from innocent and the reason why Adam is depicted as a one note villain is because they can't fathom the idea that maybe the Extermination could be used to cull the worst sinners or something.

I think the biggest problem with Hazbin Hotel's every sinner is really a victim it comes ironically counter to finding redemption. A show which Vivziepop says she inspires from but she completely misses the point is Bojack. She says she's watched it but the biggest point of the show just because you are the victim doesn't give you an excuse to act like a total jackass to others and not own up to your mistakes. The problem is Habzin Hotel never lets anyone own up because they have to play victims, especially any character favored by Vivziepop. Redemption doesn't come from seeing yourself as a victim, but recognizing your own mistakes and how to reform from them. And frankly I didn't see Angel Dust want to reform from his mistakes, but just want a home away from Val. The problem is that Hazbin Hotel is about enforcing victimhood instead of owning up that you did bad things and need to change. An excuse for your behavior is still not fully an excuse and you need to own up to your actions.

#helluva boss #vivziepop critical #helluva boss critical #vivziepop criticism #vivziepop #helluva boss criticism #anti-vivziepop #helluva boss critique #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critical #charlie morningstar #lucifer #angel dust #bojack #todd #bojack horseman #lucifer morngingstar

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silassinclair · 1 month

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Yandere Ghost x Reader

CW// NSFW (MINORS DNI WITH PART OF THIS POST), Dub-Con, Obsessive Behavior, Masturbation, Stalking, Mentions of Murder, Religion, Somnophilia

Introduction here for more context

Masterlist

When you spoke to Dante for the first time he felt more alive than when he was living.

You could see him. For the first time in centuries someone could see him. He could finally interact with somebody.

“Y-You can see me?”

He could never let you go now. No… this must be fate. God brought you to him! The Lord denied him access to the heavens and sent you instead!

Well, now you have a ghost following you around your own home 24/7. Tell him to leave you alone and he’ll just whine and beg for you to let him be in the same vicinity as you.

“Dante please leave me alone. I’m trying to write.”

“Amore mio, my love, please let me stay. I promise I won’t disturb you. Just let me be in your presence.”

The perks of being a ghost means Dante can choose whether to phase through objects or touch them.

Meaning he can touch you.

You’re so warm. It’s been so long since he’s felt such warmth. You’re the sun in his new life. Yes, he sees his death as life now thanks to you.

“Dante your hands are freezing!”

“I’m sorry dearest but I can’t control it. I’m a ghost after all.”

“Could you maybe not touch me then while I’m trying to work then?”

“:,(“

He’s madly in love with you, obsessed with you, and would die again for you. He prays that you feel the same way for him. But you’re just so dense towards his advancements!

“I would die a thousand deaths for you amore.”

“Please don’t do that, dying once should be enough for you.”

He cannot blame you though, no no you’re a doll! Absolutely adorable. Nothing is ever his amore’s fault.

Dante blames himself. When he was alive he could have any woman he wanted. But that was when he could show his gorgeous face. Now, he has a Venetian mask permanently attached to his face because it was what he last wore when he died during the party. If only he could take it off and show you how flawless he is.

“Dante, why do you wear that mask?”

“It was what I wore when I died, along with what I am wearing now. I… cannot take any of it off.”

“How come?”

“I don’t know mi amor but I wish I could show you my face.”

“Are you handsome?”

“Oh I’m absolutely ravishing. You’d fall in love with me immediately.”

Physical affection is his love language and not being able to kiss you is as painful as dying to him.

Your lips are so soft and it breaks his heart being unable to feel them on his.

So instead he’ll trace the lips of his porcelain mask along your neck while you sleep. He’ll touch your body while you’re vulnerable and asleep.

“I wish I could feel you… I want all of you.”

You notice some of your things start to go missing. Your bat necklace, blood red lingerie, and even a pair of your panties. It was weird. It wasn’t like you traveled and lost your things, you were always home after all.

The only room you cannot access is the attic. Dante says that it’s his private area so you respect his privacy. This was his home originally after all.

But you have no clue that he has put together a shrine dedicated to you in the attic. All of your missing things are in their respective spots in the shrine built in your name.

“If I pray hard enough will you give yourself to me as I have given myself to you?”

He’s a religious man. He believes in God and was raised Catholic. Dante prays every night, begging the lord for you to love him back.

Dante can’t stand it when you leave the manor!

He makes up many excuses for you to stay. He needs you! You’re his life! Yes you work from home and are home 90% of the time but he can’t stand seeing you go even for a second!

“Amore mio please don’t go! You have everything you need here. You still have milk in the refrigerator.”

“But I’m running out of eggs..”

“That is no problem my dear. There are many recipes you can make without eggs. I have my Mother’s cookbook somewhere. How about we try and make something together?”

“Oh that sounds cool.”

Adores your aloof personality. You don’t mind it when he cuddles you at all! Plus your smiles are rare so it makes him all the more merrier when he sees you smile. He thinks of your smile like a shooting star. Rare and more beautiful than any other star in the sky.

But he does wonder where your attitude came from. You don’t like to talk about your life before you came to the manor. The ghost wanted to know if there were any previous suitors. He has tried to pry once but you became angry. He never pried again.

“What was your life like before you came here? Any… special someones?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it Dante..”

“So was there someone?”

“Just be quiet about it already! Stop being so damn nosy and mind your own business!”

Cried for the rest of the day after that. He hates seeing you anything other than your neutral or happy self.

His green eyes glisten with tears when you apologize to him. They peer at you from the dark holes of his mask.

“Sorry I snapped at you… Who I was with in my past is a sensitive subject and I don’t like talking about him.”

“Was he a bad man? Did he hurt you amore?”

“Badly…”

He wants to kill him. As soon as he heard you say that one word he had the bloodthirsty urge to kill. It’s a sin but… but whatever. It’s for you.

Anything for you.

NSFW ONWARD, MINORS DO NOT TRESSPASS

Can’t resist you any longer. But… He doesn’t want to scare you off.

Dante wants to fuck you so badly. He’d treat you so so right! He already kisses the ground you walk on.

But he’s afraid of rejection. If you leave then it’s over. Once you’re off The Verona Manor property he cannot chase after you.

Dante may be a depraved animal for you but he’s still a gentleman. He wants you to fall in love with him as all couples in love do.

But you’re taking too long. Would you be mad if he just so happened to slip into you in your sleep? Your s/c thighs are so tempting in those lewd little shorts that hide little to nothing.

“J-Just the tip… Just a little bit.”

Slides your shorts down slowly. He watches your expression carefully, green eyes gaze piercingly at your resting face. If you just so much as whimper he’ll freeze and continue once you’re relaxed again.

Once your shorts are down to your knees he practically drools at the sight of your lace panties.

“Amore mio, did you wear these just for me? You knew I’d do this huh? Such a vixen you are.”

Massages your clothed clit with his leather bound gloved fingertips. Rubs soothing circles into you that make you squirm where you lay helplessly.

Stares at your dripping cunny like a desperate, thirsty animal who has found an oasis in a desert. He wants to lick up your slick so badly. But that damned mask is in his way.

His fingers will have to do.

Your pussy flutters around his fingers as he gently eases your hole. He doesn’t want you waking up with his dick in you after all. He needs you to get used to the feeling. You haven’t had sex in so long, you may was well be a virgin!

Dante’s dick leaks pre at the thought of taking your virginity. He knows you aren’t, you have had past partners. But he wants to imagine.

Just for tonight.

He tugs his pants down, his erect cock slaps against his tummy. The tip is red and angry, begging to be put into your sweet little cunt.

“A-Ah~ Mmggph… W-Wish you were awake s-so I could hear your pretty little moans~ I know they would sound so pretty from your lips m-mi amor-“

Whispers dirty little things into the night as he fucks your tight little hole slowly and gently.

Even when asleep you’re dripping wet for him. Your unconscious arousal turns Dante on like a light switch. But he has to maintain control.

Just the tip after all.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #x reader #yandere imagines #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #obsession #dante verona #yandere ghost #yandere ghost x reader

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lupinscupid · 2 years

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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 , conrad fisher

warnings : slight angst , makeout , fluff , established relationship

summery : on fourth of july you overhear conrad talking to jeremiah and steven about how clingy you are, it makes you distant towards him and he notices obviously.

requested by : @honey-browneyes

conrad masterlist

belly had just told shayla about steven making out with taylor. the girls wanted to leave and you were their ride so you were gonna leave with them. "I'll be right back. I'm just gonna tell conrad we're leaving." the girls nodded and you had walked towards the beach.

you stopped in your tracks when you heard conrad talking to jeremiah about how clingy you were. your heart was pounding in your chest, you never thought he would find it annoying how much time you spent by his side. you had decided to just leave without saying anything, just to give him his space.

when you got in the car with the girls, they all immediately noticed how upset your were and asked. your told them about what you heard and they all comforted you. shayla and you had stayed up watching fireworks on the front porch when steven pulled up in the drive way. you walked back inside to let them talk.

you grabbed your phone and noticed the 2 missed calls and 5 messages from conrad.

"why did you leave?"

"are you okay?"

"do you want me to come over?"

"please pick up!"

"hello?!"

you sighed and called him back. Conrad instantly picked up, "hey, is everything okay? you left without saying goodbye." you closed your eyes and took a deep breath before answering, "yeah... um... everything is fine. don't worry. shayla just wanted to leave and it flew by to tell you."

you heard him sigh in relief, "oh okay. do you want me to come over?" you shook your head although he couldn't see, "no. it's fine. I'll see you tomorrow." conrad let out another sigh, "oh. cool. I'll talk to you tomorrow." you said goodbye before hanging up.

you wanted to tell him but decided not to. instead you were just gonna give him space and you did. the next week you had a ton of excuses to not be able to hang out or to leave early. conrad had been confused to say the least but also annoyed at your behavior.

shayla and you were talking at a party when conrad started to come over but you stood up, "I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick." but before you could run away, conrad grabbed your arm and pulled you outside, "nope, not today." you quickly began protesting but it was no use.

"what is going on? you've been avoiding me like crazy. you either can't hang out or you have to leave early cause of some lame excuse. talk to me." you sighed, "nothing is going on. I've just been busy. I'm not gonna spend every second with you, okay? now stop being clingy."

your hand instantly flew to your mouth as your realized what you said. Conrad's eyes widen, "what? I'm clingy?" you shook your head, "no, that's not what I meant." you let out a load groan as you sat on the cement stairs. he sat next to you and grabbed your hand, "talk to me, please."

"I heard you talking to jere about how clingy I am. so I wanted to give you space. I'm sorry." his eyes softened at your confession, "you are clingy but I don't mind. I love how much time we spend together. sometimes I wish we could spend even more."

you looked up at him, "really?" he smiled as he pulled your face closer to his, "yes, really." he pressed your lips together and you instantly melted into the kiss and wrapped your hands around his neck. all this time you had been wrong, he didn't find you annoying.

"god, will you two get a room?" you both pulled away and looked up at the person in front of you, steven. conrad chuckled, "we don't complain when your with shayla." as if her name summoned her, shayla appeared now standing next to steven and laughed, "I'm so glad you two made up finally."

#the summer i turned pretty #tsitp imagine #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher #cousins beach #tsitp #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher x you #team conrad #tsitp conrad

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runningmunson · 2 years

Text

Start Anew

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 1.1k Summary: After one of the many times Aemond puts you down, you get fed up of his fake apologies and let him know how you feel. Warnings: Swearing, insecure Aemond about being a disappointment, angst to fluff

A/N: Wanted to jump on the bandwagon and stray from my typical Stranger Things fics and take a crack at hotd.

The door to the hall slammed against the wall as you forcibly pushed your way through. The skirt of your dress billowed behind you, and hot tears streamed down your face as you made your way to your chambers. He had done it yet again, never showing any shame nor a shred of decency to not do it in front of his family.

The room was silent; all eyes fell on the man who caused you to abruptly storm out during supper. The Queen looked toward her son, “Aemond! Must you constantly torture the poor girl?”

“How I treat my wife is of none of your concern, Mother,” Aemond replied flatly. He grabbed his cup to take a drink to attempt to avoid her harsh gaze. He wasn’t in the mood for another lecture he was sure about to receive.

“Pardon me? None of my concern? I am your mother, and I did not raise you to treat a lady with such contempt and certainly not your wife. She did not ask for any of this. If you are discontent with your marital arrangement, then take that out on your father and me, but leave her be. Now go and apologize,” Alicent had enough of her son’s behavior. You came from a well-respected and noble house; it was humiliating that her own flesh and blood would treat you that way in front of others. If he wanted to act like a child, then he would be scolded like a child.

Aemond scoffed, his lips turned up into a smirk, “Is that a suggestion or an order?”

“It is an order.”

“Yes, mother,” he excused himself from the table and sulked toward your shared room. Shared is a funny word because he did not spend much time there. He could hear his mother tell his father how much of a disappointment and embarrassment he was to the family. It was something he had become quite used to hearing his whole life.

———

You stood by one of the windows in your room, enjoying the warm breeze and the setting sun, turning the sky hues of orange and pink over Blackwater Bay. It wasn’t your home, but you were quickly learning to love waking up to the beautiful view and perfect weather. However, it was difficult to truly make Kings Landing your new home when your husband made it very clear that you don’t belong.

The sound of the door opening and closing drew you out of your thoughts. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was; anyone else would have knocked before entering. He cleared his throat.

“I have come to apologize for my behavior. It was unbecoming of me as your husband,” Aemond said, arms folded behind his back. You looked over your shoulder but noticed he didn’t even bother to look at you.

“Save your breath, Aemond. I do not wish to hear another one of your insincere apologies that your mother forces you to make, so let us please move on. Once you walk out of this room, I will go back to being your dutiful and obedient wife while you do whatever you wish and continue to make a mockery of me in front of everyone,” you had every intention of accepting his false apology like you usually did, but for some reason, you couldn’t bite your tongue this time. You could tell your response came as a shock to him from his raised eyebrow and wide eye.

“I-I did not know you felt that way, and I do not mean to make a mockery of you. That is not my intention,” he stuttered, his confidence faltering. He was not used to you speaking your mind. However, a bit of pride toward your newfound bluntness stirred in the pit of his stomach.

“What exactly is it then? You insult me every chance you get. I always knew I would never get to marry for love because of my status, but Gods, I never thought I would be made to feel trapped, like a prisoner from my own husband nonetheless. I still try to be a good wife, though. Despite your ever-growing hatred towards me, a small part of me hopes you might change, to learn to love me one day as I have you, but I am sorely disappointed every time,” you said as your chest heaved at the spilled confession you've kept locked deep inside your heart. It was hard to be hurt by the man you call your husband.

There’s that word again, disappointed. Aemond took a deep breath to calm his anger, not toward you but toward himself. “Have you ever thought that I am purposely making it difficult for you to love me? You said it yourself, I disappoint you. And it is not just you. It is my parents, my brother, my sister, the Targaryen name. Hell, even the whole damn entirety of the seven kingdoms. I am a disappointment and embarrassment to everyone I love and care about, even to people who I do not even know. I never wanted to marry or love someone just so they could be added to that long list.”

“I do not understand you. Instead of proving them wrong, you choose to feed into it by treating me this way?” You questioned him.

“Well, I guess when you put it that way, it does sound a bit asinine,” he turned away, ashamed of himself.

“Have I done something to you to make you believe that I think like everyone else in this forsaken place? Because if I have, then I am truly sorry,” you said in a gentle voice. He had a sick way of thinking, and while it didn’t excuse his behavior, you tried to understand where he was coming from.

Aemond shook his head, “No, no you have not. You have been nothing but perfect while I have been a complete fool. I am the one who is sorry; and so ashamed at my unfair treatment towards you.”

You walked over to him and placed a hand on his face. Your thumb traced the scar on his cheek that ran below the patch covering his missing eye. He raised his hand to envelope yours and further nuzzled his head, not used to a gentle and soft touch. “You may be a fool, Aemond, but you are my fool.”

“You’re wrong, you know? I do not hate you, and whoever said I did not love you either?” He broke the silence. His hand moved from yours and placed it on the back of your neck; his other arm pulled you flush against him as he placed his lips on yours. When you finally pulled away, he leaned his forehead down to look at you.

“I vow to be a better man and husband. May we start anew?” He questioned, full of hope.

You smiled, “I would like that very much.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x reader #hotd imagine #hotd #house of the dragon x reader #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen angst #aemond Targaryen

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dior-roses · 5 months

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obsession, auston matthews

ꨄ︎ pairing: stepbro!auston matthews x reader

ꨄ︎ summary: he's a man obsessed, his mind replays any and every interaction he's had the honor to have with you. because let's face it, in his mind, you are more than just his step-sister, you are a goddess in his eyes. and who is he to not steal something for his earnings?

ꨄ︎ requested: yes/no

ꨄ︎ warnings: obsessive behavior, kind of dark(?), mentions of smut (like barely any, in my eyes), stepcest (do not condone, in fact, am highly against it), auston's lowkey got a god complex, a hint of reader being innocent, implied age gap (reader is 18!)

ꨄ︎ author's note: it's been so long since i've written anything and im so insecure in this so please love it! (give me validation). a self indulgent auston blurb (?) that came to mind when i saw this slutty little edit of him. please forgive me for any grammar mistakes to typos, for i wrote this while i was saying hello to my friend mary jane. much love to every one of you who decides to read this mess of a story, and shall we meet again!🤍

he should've felt disgusted with himself. his skin should be crawling with his current demeanor. the hairs in the back of his neck should be standing up straight when the idea briefed over his mind during the excruciating quiet family dinner that your parents force you guys to have nightly.

but he wasn't.

in fact, he was quite proud of himself, with how far he's gotten into this 'plan' of his. here he was, in the midst of the day while you were at school, attending your one out of only three classes you had to attend your senior year, standing in the middle of your bedroom.

he had taken the afternoon off, canceling his strength training, his excuse being that he was sick. along with his place of employment he texted you, the one thing that had been occupying his mind ever since he laid eyes on you. your parents having you guys meet, thus starting his obsession.

to their shock, neither of you were angry when your father announced that they had eloped. both of you sat across from the newly weds in a low light restaurant, with pristine christmas ornaments hanging from the ceiling. a little annoyed, maybe; at least you were. you never got the chance to ask him how he felt about the whole ordeal. but from what you could see, he was perfectly contempt with the major life change.

he shifts in your room, walking backwards until the back of his calfs hit the edge of you bed, causing him to plop down harshly with an anticipated huff. your pure vanilla sent traveled to his nostrils, and himself becoming encapsulated with only you. his hands laid stoic along the tops of his thighs, even though he wanted nothing more than to palm himself through his pants. he was already half hard, just by your scent.

his eyes lingered to your nightstand, a ghost of a smile tugging on his lips at just how perfectly girly it was. a picture of you laughing with your friends in your camp counselor shirt from the past summer, your forgotten airpods, which he thought about how irritated you were when you figured that out, a small pout on your lips. god, he wanted nothing more than to feel yours against his.

he would be happy if it was just on his cheek, as a thankful gesture.

as he admired your dimples through the glass of the picture frame, he could help but let curiosity get the best of him. that's how he got here in the first place, right? his eyes trailed down to the drawer that was painted a darker color than the rest of the dresser, to perfectly match the rest of your room.

he hoped one day he could see if your room truly matched you– light perfectly balanced with dark. he already knew the light part was too good to be true, with your big eyes that light up at the sight of him, but only enough that he would notice. the way you blush if he gets too close to you, not that he creeps you out or anything, but the fact that it was a man besides your dad that was this close to you. even if it was your step brother.

you didn't know why you felt this way around auston, you didn't know what made him different from any other boy you thought was pretty. bust auston was so, so, pretty that you couldn't help but redirect your eyes to your shoes when he caught your burning gaze. your skin burned from what seemed like hour from when he would place his hands on your waist to 'move you out of the way'. and it had only grown with time, with how nice he is to you and the names he calls you that he doesn't seem to do with anyone else. 'princess', 'baby', or even 'doll' when he's showing you how to swing a golf club, on those rare, rare, days when he could finally persuade you to come with him to the country club just down the street. he even bought you your own little golf girl outfit, all baby pink and white, to perfectly match the picture of you he has implemented into his mind.

and you had thought you were going to look ridiculous, and you did, until you saw the way he looked at you as you walked down stairs where he was waiting for you. a certain glint was in his eyes the entire day, and you couldn't help but squirm in the passengers seat as he was driving. trying to descreetly press your thighs together to at least try to ease the pressure and throbbing that was happening down there. you didn't know what caused the throbbing but it was so strange and unfamiliar that you couldn't help but sniffle lightly, suppressing a whine at how uncomfortable you felt. but you didn't completely hate it. especially not when auston was right next to you, his large frame blocking the street lights that passed by through his window, his side profile creating the perfect tattoo of a shadow on your face, one that you didn't want to go away.

of course he had noticed his little girl writhing around in the passenger seat of his car. her soft thighs pressing against each other, all supple and smooth from imperfections. he needed to be suffocated by them, the image he wanted to die from was your shaking body from all the pleasure he was causing you, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as he sucked you clit in between his full lips.

he had completely forgotten he was in heaven, (your room), when he felt the pulse from his balls that he was about the cum, all from the thoughts of your innocence and his hand that found his hard on cock through his sweatpants. he didn't want to do that yet, not without the one thing that caused him to be here in the first place.

the most obvious place would be the dresser, so he head towards that area of your room, placed right next to your closet. and surprise, surprise! the top drawer just happened to be your underwear drawer. all filed with pale colored bras and panties, not that they were old, but because those were the colors you loved; all muted and quiet, instead of vibrant and loud. you was shocked you had some lace and he would've gone for those, but that's not what he was going for.

his mind craved something less out there and more reserved. something that he had seen tossed in the washer with his colored laundry load, a pair of your painted that were red with white little hearts scattered across the cotton material. a throaty groan came from his as he felt his cock twitch, being retrained by the boxers and pants he wore.

he could only imagine your ass being perfect covered in white little hearts, or even getting a glimpse of them as you sit down next to him on the couch in the living room after a long day at school. your school uniform only urging on his obsession– a short little navy blue pleaded skirt with thigh high socks, and the cutest little best he had ever seen. the way the thick knitted wool spread across the curves of your breasts.

god, he was nothing but a man obsessed.

#auston matthews #nhl imagine #nhl smut #hockey #dark aesthetic #stepbro!auston #auston matthews smut #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews fic #fanfic #romance #hockey boys #jack hughes #quinn hughes #trevor zegras #ethan edwards #luke hughes #mark estapa

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ninapi · 5 months

Text

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ Family ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

Premise: Raising someone else's child is one thing, but raising your own while dealing with your insecurities could be quite a task, especially for a man like Satoru, but the moment he saw the baby his life turned upside down.

Word Count: 3104

Note: This is the third installment for a short series of mine, they all have different titles because I'm weird like that lol, but you can read the first part here, and the second one here.

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When Satoru took Megumi in, he didn’t have to do much besides giving him financial support and make sure he had everything he needed as a growing child.

He was already the person he is to this day, and Saturu had very little to add to this. So when he realized what having his own baby was going to be, his already existing demons started to kick in.

While is normally the mother the one who tends to spiral into despair thinking of the future of their newborn and the changes impacting daily life, Satoru had more than one reason to feel uneasy.

He loved his girl and his unborn child, there was no doubt there; but the implications of being a parent were heavy for a man like him.

Dealing with the elders was one thing, but being a good dad was a very different one.

All he was good at was fighting curses, that’s what he came to this world to do, but having to think of how to be a good dad was definitely more scary than a special grade curse.

Megumi was way more ready than he was, in fact, without Megumi your pregnancy would have been quite the nightmare. But he was always checking up on you, helping you with tidying the apartment, even took you to the hospital check ups and went in the doctor’s office with you.

Some even thought he was your son, to Megumi’s displeasure.

Satoru on the other hand tended to flee when things like this came upon, excuses were easy to come by when you’re the strongest sorcerer. But in reality he was beating himself over and over again for his own behavior while sitting on a cliff.

He wanted this, he wanted to be with you, wanted to have a family with you. Or so he thought at first, but what does it even mean to have a family? His was anything but conventional and he had no idea where to start.

You were his life now, he didn’t care about the future of this world if he was being honest, he never did really, all he wanted was to take you to a Polynesian island and live in a fancy luxury tree house with you, the baby and Megumi. But life wasn’t as easy, he had to deal not just with the damn old men hunting his every step, but also his responsibilities in the school, he couldn’t just disappear, not with another teacher and a top tier student tagging along.

He wanted to do better, be a good husband, a good dad, not just to his baby but to Megumi as well, he felt like he’s been failing everyone he truly cares for and that was a feeling like no other, one he could live his entire life without encountering it ever again.

But time for cowarding around ended sooner than he expected as time runs extremely fast when you don’t want to deal with your problems.

He got a call from Megumi, he was at the hospital, water came out of you and you were tugging on his hair while screaming in pain, you were certainly dying so he had to come fast. It all sounded like a nightmare to Satoru, he truly thought you were dying, he’s never seen a pregnant woman on the later stage of pregnancy deal with it, and Megumi either, so they were both panicking on a bench this very same moment.

“I can’t lose her, Megumi…what am I going to do if she dies? What if the baby dies too? What if I have to raise the baby on my own? I can’t do this…I would rather be killed by a curse…maybe I should turn off my infinity…yes, someone would come and kill me as well, then we would all die together…” a loud smack could be heard rumbling over every wall of the hospital. He’s never seen Megumi this angry before, “Can you stop and be a god damn adult for once in your life? (Y/N) needs you. She’s in labor right now, delivering your baby! She’s in so much pain, things are coming out of her, she’s probably so scared right now, and all you’re thinking about are ways of getting yourself killed!”

Satoru’s cheek was quickly getting red and swollen, how did he even manage to touch him that easily?

Zenin’s are truly a terrifying clan.

“Why does nobody care about me being scared? I can be scared too you know? I know I’m the strongest sorcerer, but that doesn’t make me the strongest husband or the strongest dad…”

Megumi was left speechless, he never thought the great Gojo Satoru would admit being scared, “Do you think I’m not scared? I love her ok? She might be your girl, the mother of your child and what not, but she isn’t just a crush to me, she’s also the only mother figure I’ve had, the only person who truly understands me and cares for me. I don’t want her to die!” tears were falling down Megumi’s cheeks as he vented all his worries out of his very constricted chest. He’s the one who’s been by your side during your whole pregnancy, what if this was his fault? What if you were in so much pain because he didn’t take good care of you? Those words kept flooding his head and Satoru was just as lost as he was in that moment, he didn’t know how to reassure his adoptive son and was in need of reassurance himself.

That was until loud cries could be heard coming from the room you were being kept in.

“What was that-“

Megumi’s ears perked, he couldn’t hear you at all, why was it so loud, he needed to confirm you were fine. “I don’t know, who’s crying? That’s not her, I’m sure…”

“Of course is not her, you idiot…” the door opened up to a very tired looking nurse, her gown was covered in what looks like blood wiped out not long ago, Satoru’s face paling the moment he saw her.

“Is…I-Is (Y/N)…” his voice was cracking, all his memories with you going into his brain like a movie.

“She’s fine, she’s currently holding your son, would you like to go in? She’s asking for Megumi, I assume that’s you?”

“No, that’s me! Can I go in too then?” the nurse was very confused but nodded anyways. Megumi ran inside the room, falling down to his knees when he saw you smiling, holding a little bundle to your chest, “Oh thank god….”

“Gumi, my love, come meet your baby brother!” you looked so tired, yet so happy, he thought he’d never get to see your beautiful smile ever again.

“Are you ok? Is the pain gone?”

“She’s fine kid, giving birth is no easy fit, hope this experience helps you respect women for what their worth. Men would never be able to give birth, they’d die within minutes.” the nurse’s words made you chuckle, it was true after all, especially for your spoiled boys.

“Toru? I didn’t know you were here, I thought you were at work! Come meet your son~” Satoru was still by the door, he thought he’d lost you, the very same feeling he felt that one day you almost die in front of his eyes, just that this time felt even more real as he saw the dried blood on the nurse. He didn’t know how to react, relief was present that’s for sure, but he was also terrified, he was happy to hear you were fine, but you were holding his son right this moment. He had a son now, officially, he is a dad now.

“Babe?” the confused look in your face made him move from his spot, he couldn’t put more stress on you, not after you had to deal with all that just to bring his son to this world.

“So a boy, huh? I thought it’d be a girl…” Megumi really wanted the baby to be a girl, to look just like you so he could snuggle the baby’s cute cheeks and spoil her rotten.

“Mhm, I haven’t named him yet, I wanted Toru to see him first…” Satoru was now standing beside you, his eyes not going down just yet, though his range of vision was so wide, he could see a tiny hand moving out and about and it made it so hard for him to keep ignoring him.

Once he finally got the courage to look at his son, his brain released a triple shot of dopamine right to his heart.

How can a newborn be this cute? They’re usually all red and wrinkly, not at all pretty. But his son…he got his blue eyes and silvery hair, but his face, he looked just like you. The cutest thing he’s ever seen. “Is he…” the moment he opened his mouth the baby started wailing loudly, startling his father.

You were rocking the baby from side to side making him know everything was fine, “Sweetie, c’mon hold your son.”

“But he’s crying (Y/N)! How do I make it stop?” you set the child in his arms, once their eyes met the baby stopped crying, a lil yawn leaving his lips, this causing Satoru to smile. “Oh, I think he’s just tired…aren’t you my beautiful son?”

“It’s a combined effort of both sides after all, he did have to help mama a lot during the birthing process.” The nurse was finally ready to leave you to rest and needed to take the child with her. “He needs to come with me, Gojo-san. But I need a name so I can set him in the room with the other newborns.”

“I was thinking of naming him Suguru…you know…to honor your frie-“

“No.”

“But baby…”

“I said no.” his stern tone of voice made your heart sink, you thought he’d be happy about this, it was some sort of a surprise even.

Megumi saw darkness loom over Satoru’s eyes and thought of intervening. “Shion.”

“What was that, love?”

“Shion, my brother’s name I mean..” the fact that he referred to the baby as his brother made you feel so much love, even Satoru’s face softened at his words.

“Gojo Shion it is then.” the nurse took the baby from Satoru’s arm and he’s never felt this empty before. “Do you really need to take him? I mean he’s a newborn, is not like he needs friends right now. Wouldn’t it be better for him to hang out with his family than with other babies?” his reasoning was beyond cute, even to the stoic nurse.

“Look sir, the child isn’t going to a baby party, he needs a check up and that’s the process in general. If everything goes out well you’ll be able to take them home in a couple of days. Now if you excuse me..” The baby was half asleep and his little hand was out of the blanket still and Satoru felt like his life lost all purpose, his son needed him so much right now, he needed to be tucked cozily under his blanket and there was nothing he could do to help him…he felt completely useless…

Megumi was cleaning your face with a wet towel, making sure your pillow was all fluffed properly, while Satoru spiraled into sadness.

“Can you get the blanket in her baby bag? There’s also some warm socks in the front pocket.”

Satoru could feel Megumi’s murderous stare and that made him go back to earth, “Yeah sure. Socks…socks…here.”

Megumi just stared at his hand with so much hate, yet he didn’t know what he did wrong this time. “What?”

“(Y/N)’s socks, not the baby’s socks…”

“Oh! Right…” he needed to get himself together, you needed him just as much as his son did.

“Here, my love.” he got your feet covered with your favorite fluffy socks, then leaned to kiss your head lovingly. Megumi covered you with the blanket he brought for you and went over the snacks he packed to replenish your strength.

“Isn’t he the most beautiful baby you’ve ever seen?” you sounded so tired, exhausted even, but to him you were the most wonderful and beautiful women in this universe. The mother of his son.

“Of course he is, he’s my son~” that made you chuckle.

“We are parents now…how does that make you feel, Toru?” that question hunted him for months, but now he was ready to answer it truthfully. “I’m scared…I don’t know if I can be a good dad…But I’m also the happiest man alive…you’ve given me so much…I want to be the man you and my son need me to be…” his face wasn’t one of happiness, it was more one of realization.

He felt so much…it was overwhelming.

But the moment he locked eyes with his son, he just knew it, this was it, this was the real reason he came to this world, to bring his son to life, to give you and his son a happy life full of beautiful memories.

“Gojo-sensei…I think she needs rest…” you were giving him a soft loving smile, your thumb rubbing the back of his hand while he processed what just happened.

“I’ll stay here, you go back to the school.” he wasn’t there for you when you needed him most, when you were confused and in pain, when you needed his love and care. But he was here now, and he wouldn’t let that happen again.

He grabbed one of the chairs by the wall and brought it next to your bed, his hand reaching for yours once more before dimming the lights, “I’ll stay here with you, baby. Just rest.”

Megumi left after making sure you had everything you needed with the promise of coming back next morning with a fresh change of clothing for his guardian.

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Having a newborn baby in the house was a whole adventure, at least according to Satoru.

He had to learn everything about babies in a couple of days and lets just say books aren’t as reliable in the subject.

Babies cry a lot and figuring out what the problem was isn’t as easy as he had hoped for.

Not only that but your nipples were sore from breastfeeding causing you to frown all day, Megumi was in a bad mood because the baby didn’t let him sleep at night and he ended up stepping on a dirty diaper this morning, twice, barefoot.

While to others this might sound awful, Satoru was living his best life.

His son was just as in love with him as he was and he was livid. Putting him to bed was his self assigned job and his favorite part of the day. He’d go on talking forever explaining how his technique works and all he had to do to perfect it, of course his son didn’t understand a thing, but his voice really soothed the child so they both loved their bonding time.

Megumi would sneak in your room and sleep while hugging one of your legs while Satoru took the child out to get some sunlight in, even if he denied it, he was very much jealous of his baby brother, he just didn’t get as much time with you as before and he had no excuses to be babied like the infant was now. He wanted more and didn’t know how to ask for it, so even if you and Satoru were aware of his sneaky nap times, you both appeared ignorant to the teen.

Being a mother suited you so beautifully though, there was nothing Satoru loved more than seeing you with his son in your arms. The way your loving eyes landed on his little face, the kissy sounds you made at him to make him giggle, it was all just so perfect to him.

And being a father suited him just as much. The baby carrier he had hanging from his chest daily and the way he would always hold one of his tiny feet in one of his hands as he walked by proudly was the cutest thing this world had to offer.

He was a happy man.

Of course, him parading around with his child made the elders realize what was going on pretty fast.

Thankfully the child didn’t display any sign of inheriting infinity, at least not yet, something he had shown almost since birth, which made them back off quite fast with the promise of him trying to conceive further children with you.

Of course, he didn’t want this. Not because he didn’t want more babies, but because it terrified him knowing one of them could very well have it and be taken away from you. The thought of his son being exploited the way he was as a child was a constant nightmare for him.

But reality plays dirty tricks on you when you least expect them..

You being such a cute mama and having those swollen breasts full of milk caused…unexpected results…getting you pregnant once more before Shion even turned four months of age.

For someone who didn’t understand the concept of family, he was quite good at making one.

His first family member being the lovely teenage boy who loved the mother of his children more than anything in this world, more than him to be quite honest. But he regretted nothing, Megumi was as important in this family as little Shion was and the little baby girl inside your growing belly.

The family kept growing at an exponential rate, and this world was anything but safe. But having the strongest sorcerer by your side did help quite a lot, specially now that he’d gotten the titles of strongest dad and strongest husband to the list as he very much wished and thought never would.

His family was not conventional, it was broken even, starting with him.

But it was perfect the way it was.

He chose his own family after all.

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Masterlist

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu fanfic #fluff #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #jjk gojo #jjk #jjk fluff #jujutsu x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #daddy gojo

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sardonic-the-writer · 1 year

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VALENTINES DAY WITH THE SBI <3

• You hadn't been with the Sleepy Boys for too long, being a guest they had taken in until further notice had that affect after all, so when valentines day rolled around, you hardly noticed at first

• The only thing that clued you in at first was the way Wilbur used it as an excuse to share his plethora of sappy love songs

• Not to say he didn't already do that on the regular—he just had an excuse this particular day

• Chances are he ushers you, Phil, Tommy and Techno onto the living couch while he sits opposite all of you, strumming a tune about a mysterious stranger that had stolen his heart (often times maintaining soft eye contact with you all the while)—only pausing at the end to enthusiastically ask your opinions

• "I think it was shit. Where's all the men and the money and the riches Wil."

• "Tommy, I swear to god mate. One of these days, Wil's gonna smack you upside the head and I'm not gonna do anything about it."

• Tommy has spent every valentines day so far pretending to throw up at every romantic gesture he happens to stumble across according to Phil. Even if it's just a pink heart.

• He had been doing this ever since anyone could remember apparently, so it was to be expected at this point

• Secretly, though, he likes to think about everyone's reactions to him giving them a flower. He'd give you a daisy specificly, probably braiding a few stray ones into a flower crown for your hair like Tubbo had taught him. But he eventually decides that would be too babyish, and resorts back parading around the house while whining about love and how stupid it was

• Unlike Tommy's drastic change in behavior however, the only difference between normal Techno and Techno on valentines day, is that if you asked him enough times, he would read some of his greek mythology books out loud to you

• "Heyyyy Techno. Nice weather were having huh?"

• "S litteraly stormin outside (Y/n)."

• "Uh. Well. Rain, er, am I right?"

• "Jus' get in here so I can read to you already."

• Funnily enough, he always chose romance stories. Or at the very least, the few happy ones that existed in mythology, just for you

• The tale of Eros and Psyche happened to be your favorite. And each time you asked, Techno would turn back to the beginning to read it again, a faint smile on his face at your own

• At one point Wilbur had passed by Technos room, momentarily seeing through the cracked door the sight of you laying your head in Technos lap gently as he read to you

• Later when he brought it up to the pinkette, he had gotten a book thrown at his head and was told to never mention that to Phil

• Phil himself spends most of valentines day looking out the window and up into the sky quietly, petting one of his crows slowly. Like he was waiting for something. Someone.

• But in the meantime, while he waited, Phil was perfectly happy with his wild family and the stranger from the woods they had taken in, heart bursting with love for them all

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nkogneatho · 3 days

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okay since you said yes.

toji never failed to charm women with the minimum effort. he would always notice signs of flirtatious behavior and tones that women reciprocated back. that was before me.

after he fell in love with me, he had nothing on his mind except the word "pasi". i am convinced. the smart assassin has actually incorporated himself to being stupid at times. he couldn't notice how people ogled at him when he walked looking so fine. but i did. and i hated every second of it.

look. i get it it's one thing to try and flirt with a handsome man you met at a supermarket. i mean shoot your shot girl. but it is another thing to keep on trying even after noticing the wedding ring on the man's finger. it made my blood boil. and you know the worst part? this 6'2 tall dumbfuck that i was in love with did not even dismiss her. because he is so oblivious now. he doesn't pay much attention to women other than me, let alone their playfully sweet tone. and that is what made me more mad. i scooped closer and overheard him giving stew tips to her. he said something witty along the lines that barely made me chuckle but her grazing her hand over his arm as she laughed too loud and long, made me want to kill her. get your dirty hands off my man.

before i could swoop in, toji had finally caught onto what was happening. he moved his arm away from her and looked at her with an ice cold expression laced with a little bit of disgust. i liked it. "excuse me. i gotta go find my wife." unaware i was just a few meters away from him, faced away but still peeking.

"how about we exchange numbers?" is this bitch for real? i thought. god i was already fantasizing about slamming her head into a wall.

"funny how we just met and yet you disgust me. whore yourself out to another man." he walked away as he saw me. i was a little mad earlier (a little? pfft— sure) but his coldness towards others turned me on even more. knowing he just melts for me fills my panties with wetness and short circuits my brain. fuck. i could be a titanic and he could be an iceberg but i had already melted the heck out of that iceberg before it could drown me. but...i wanted him to drown me in him. i wanted to sink deep into him.

#well would you look at that??? you know i will reblog the hell out of this because i love this sm #°🖇᭡ “ tojisi ”#tojisi on top mfs #toji fushiguro #pasi.txt

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lostfracturess · 4 months

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【 ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ 】 6

x PAIRING gojo satoru x fem!reader (main); megumi fushiguro x fem!reader x WORD COUNT 8.6 k x SUMMARY you never wanted to become part of the world of jujutsu sorcerers, yet fate had other plans when the one and only satoru gojo took you under his wing at jujutsu high. as the lines between student and teacher begin to blur, hidden powers surge to life, and a deadly target is set on your head. x WARNINGS + NOTES this story contains partly abusive and possessive behavior, explicit content, graphic depictions of violence, injury, combat and angst. you can also read it on wattpad or ao3. pls like or repost if you enjoyed ♡

➸ part one; part two; part three; part four; part five

Laughter once again filled the air as you all sat around a high-top table in a bustling bar, the earlier altercation with Satoru pushed to the back of your mind. The dim lighting and the clink of glasses created a cocoon that made the outside world seem distant.

"I'm telling you, the spicier the food, the better the night," Yuji said, slapping Megumi on the back. Yuji took another hearty bite of the burrito, which the bartender had boasted to be the spiciest thing he'd ever tasted.

Megumi shook his head. "Your taste is really awful."

Nobara rolled her eyes, sipping her drink. "Yuji, the only thing you're going to attract with that fiery breath is a dragon looking for its lost sibling."

You chuckled along. "Well, I guess it's time for another round of drinks. Yuji, shall I get you a shot of pure chili with a side of vodka? Or just milk?"

Yuji feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart. "I'll have you know, my palate is refined. I am a connoisseur of all things spicy and adventurous."

"Which is why you cried at the last hot wing challenge?" Nobara teased, her eyebrow arched in amusement.

"Those were tears of joy, a tribute to the spice gods."

Nobara shook her head with a grin. "Sure, Yuji. We'll put that on your tombstone."

The group erupted into laughter, and you took the opportunity to head to the bar for another round of drinks. The lively chatter of the bar guests created a soothing backdrop as you squeezed through the crowd.

Reaching the bar, you signaled the bartender and waited, idly watching the colorful array of bottles lined up. That's when you felt someone sidle up next to you. Too close.

"Hey, can I buy you a drink?" A man with a hopeful smile leaned against the bar, trying to catch your eye.

"No, thank you. I'm with my friends."

He persisted, inching closer. "Come on, what's the harm? One drink."

You shifted uncomfortably. "Really, I'm fine. Please excuse me."

Unfortunately, the man took this as a challenge rather than a dismissal. "Come on, don't be like that—."

Before you could respond, Megumi was standing behind the drunken, tipping on the man's shoulder. The guy turned, meeting Megumi's unyielding gaze. "She's not interested, buddy," Megumi said.

In a flash, Megumi's fist connected with the man's jaw, the sound sharp in the din of the bar, sending him staggering backwards. You hold your breath. Your eyes widening as the man in front of you tumbled from his chair and crashed onto the floor.

The bar erupted into chaos, but Yuji and Nobara were quick to intervene. "We should've stuck to the milk plan," Yuji muttered as he stepped between Megumi and the unfolding scene.

Nobara nodded, pulling Megumi and you back. "Yeah, because apparently, it's the cure for more than just spicy food."

With a mix of urgency and stealth, you all made your way out of the bar. The evening's earlier laughter now replaced by the adrenaline of a quick getaway.

You spilled out of the bar into the neon-lit streets of Tokyo, the cold night air filling your lungs as you sprinted away from the commotion. Laughter and shouts faded into the distance behind you. Your group weaved through the bustling crowds, blending into the sea of people until you were sure you'd put enough space between yourselves and the bar.

Finally, breathless and far enough away to be safe, you all collapsed onto a park bench under a large, sprawling tree just beside the Sumida river. Yuji bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Nobara was the first to break into laughter.

"Well, that certainly took a turn," she gasped between fits of laughter.

Yuji added with a smirk, "That was either the best or the worst post-dinner entertainment I've ever experienced."

You couldn't help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation hitting you all at once.

"And here I thought the evening's highlight was going to be the dessert, not Megumi's right hook," Nobara joked, slapping Megumi's shoulder playfully.

Your eyes landed on Megumi's hand. The knuckles were red. "Your hand," you reached out, taking his hand gently in yours to inspect it. "Does it hurt?"

Megumi flinched at your sudden touch. "It's nothing. Just a bit red," but the grimace that followed told another story.

Nobara, still chuckling, teased, "That's some punch you've got there, champ."

Yuji couldn't resist adding his own commentary, "At least now we have a new story to tell."

Amidst the laughter, your attention remained fixed on Megumi's hand. "Seriously, Megumi, this isn't 'nothing'," you insisted, holding his hand up to the light for a better look. "We need to get this checked out or at least properly iced. It could be worse than it looks."

"Okay, okay," he conceded, "We'll take a look at it later."

Nobara stepped closer. "You'd better follow her orders, Fushiguro, or she'll be the next one to throw a punch," she warned with a grin.

Megumi nodded, accepting the inevitable fuss over his well-being. "Alright, no arguments here."

Your eyes briefly met Megumi's and your lips formed a silent 'thank you'.

Yuji's jesting continued, "Next time you want to show off for her, maybe just try flowers, Fushiguro."

Nobara laughed, and even Megumi cracked a smile. "I'll keep that in mind for next time."

Nobara stood up, clapping her hands together. "Alright, team, where to next?"

Reluctantly, you released Megumi's hand, glancing at his face to ensure he was truly okay. "Perhaps somewhere with fewer jerks, considering the state of Megumi's hand—"

"Gojo's little treasure, so exposed."

A curse.

Before you could react, the curse lunged, its hand outstretched towards your head. Time slowed. Your breath caught in your throat.

In a blur of movement too quick to follow, Satoru appeared from nowhere. His kick slamming the curse into the wall of a nearby building with a crash that echoed through the stillness of the night. The building collapsed, burying the curse beneath the rubble.

Another curse, charging straight at you. But Satoru was faster. His arms wrapping around you, pulling you into the shelter of his protection just as the force of the curse struck both of you, throwing you several metres back into the structure.

The impact reverberated through your body as you slammed into the wall, air forcefully expelled from your lungs. Satoru's embrace barely cushioned the impact. Still, you felt his warmth. His familiar warmth. His cursed energy blazed around you like a shield. Debris rained down, crashing against Satoru's infinity.

"Are you hurt?"

Pain stabbed through your chest, making it hard to breathe. "No, I'm not," you lied, coughing through the dusty haze. Your hand hastily covering your mouth. Your fingers came away bloody. "Oh, fuck."

"Well, I hate to say 'I told you so', but—."

"You actually want to have this conversation right now?"

"You really don't want to learn, do you?" he challenged.

Satoru's hold on you loosened. "Stay down," he commanded, shifting to cover you. In an instant, Megumi's Divine Dog lunged towards another curse that materialized beside you, pinning it down and tearing its head off. Simultaneously, Satoru charged forward, engaging in a fierce hand-to-hand combat with the curse that had targeted you.

Shockwaves rippled through the air. Their movements were a blur. Strikes and parries too fast. Each exchanging multiple blows per second. Dodging and weaving. They moved with such incredible speed and precision that it was nearly impossible to keep up with their fight.

Adrenaline surged through your veins. Nobara and Yuji quickly rushed over to you.

"We should get going," Yuji said, but in that split second, Megumi's Divine Dog lunged at another approaching curse, catching you off guard. The alcohol had dulled your senses, causing you to react a moment too late. However, you weren't the only one struggling—Nobara was barely able to stand herself.

Fuck, at this rate, we're easy prey.

"Retreat!" Megumi shouted over the chaos as he fought another curse. At least he appeared to be somewhat sober and focused. However, in an instant, another curse emerged, splitting your group and forcing all of you to step back. Yuji wasted no time in confronting it, driving it away from Nobara and you.

But these were no ordinary curses. They were so fucking fast. And you too drunk.

Yuji's stamina faltered, his precision waning under the relentless pace. Sweat beaded and flung from his brow as he swung with diminishing accuracy.

Each of Yuji's strikes a beat behind the curse's lithe dodges. Exhaustion clawed at Yuji's stance. With a final surge of energy, Yuji lunged, aiming for the curse's core. But the creature dodged with mocking ease. It bounded against the building's wall, defying gravity, and launched itself in a lethal arc. Its foot struck Yuji on the side of the head, sending him flying backwards. He was knocked unconscious before the curse landed before him.

You sprinted toward him but were halted midway by a sorcerer—an enemy.

How many of them were there? Where was Satoru?

A sudden strike from the sorcerer snapped you back to reality. You barely managed to dodge it, stumbling to the floor before hastily regaining your feet. The persistent alcohol haze continued to pound in your skull, impairing your coordination.

Then, another strike came, and you had to summon all your remaining strength to evade it. The sheer force of his blows that followed stunned you for a moment. You managed to raise your katana just in time, blocking a blow that could have knocked you cold—the impact sending shockwaves through your arms.

Wait a second.

You weren't at school. You weren't on a mission. You didn't have your katana with you.

The realization dawned on you. The effects of the alcohol began to wear off. But it was already too late. Blood trickled down your arm and across your face, leaving a warm, crimson trail.

What the hell am I doing?

Nobara quickly rushed to your side, hurling nails into the sorcerers head and ending his threat. You pulled your arm back, sharp pain ripping through you as you saw the gruesome wound.

"What are you doing?" she asked, panic creeping into her voice.

You did not know either. You did not know anything anymore.

But there was no time to think.

In a split second, you witnessed Satoru's cursed technique painting the sky red, followed by the howling of Megumi's Divine Dog. Your gaze darted from the unconscious Yuji on the ground to Nobara.

Behind her the sorcerer.

Your cry too late.

She crumpled to the ground.

In the very next moment, the sorcerer lunged at you, causing you to stagger backward. The sorcerer's strikes landed with ruthless precision. The first two sending waves of pain through your body. Then came a barrage of blows that left you numb to the pain, a relentless onslaught you could no longer distinguish or feel.

Your vision clouded, making it difficult to see. Your other senses dulled by the alcohol. You knew you couldn't rely on your cursed technique in this state. All that remained was your physical strength, but even that was wearing thin.

Fuck. Think.

With a final, devastating strike, the sorcerer sent you hurtling backward. He seized you by the collar, effortlessly lifting you before flinging you at the remnants of the wall. Your head collided with unforgiving stone. Your vision erupted into darkness. Blinking slowly, you managed to regain some semblance of sight, just in time to witness the sorcerer looming over your limp form.

"You really aren't as special as you think, are you?"

Blood spilled onto the floor as you retorted, "Special enough for you to come all this way, didn't you?"

He chuckled. "And quite the big mouth, too."

Think. Think. Think. Think.

Suddenly you became aware of the river streaming a few metres away. In an instant, driven by adrenaline, you sprang to your feet. With all your strength, you lunged at the sorcerer, forcing him backwards and over the edge. The two of you hurtled headfirst into the river.

Upon impact, your senses abruptly shut down. You were completely engulfed by the biting cold; couldn't breathe, couldn't hear, couldn't see. Attempting to swim proved futile as the powerful current and your aching limbs defied your commands. Involuntarily, you choked as a torrent of water rushed into your mouth.

You didn't know how long you were in the water.

How deep you had sunk.

The neon lights slowly fading on the surface.

This is it. I'm going to die.

But strangely, it didn't feel as bad as you expected. There was no pain—your entire body had gone numb. Your mind blank. It wasn't such a terrible way to go. At least it was peaceful.

Suddenly, someone seized you firmly, and your eyes shot open.

Satoru pulled your head close to his, sealing your lips with a deep, urgent kiss. A small bubble of air passed between you. It wasn't much, but it cleared your vision, eased the burning in your lungs. Adrenaline surged through you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you both towards the surface.

Satoru hoisted you over the edge and out of the water. You collapsed, coughing and choking on the river water. Satoru, too, was trying to catch his breath as he collapsed beside you. You briefly glanced at your right arm. It was a gruesome sight and you couldn't bear to look at it.

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

You didn't respond. You didn't know how to. For a moment, you had considered that maybe dying wouldn't be so terrible—it might solve all your problems and keep the others safe.

Keep Satoru save.

"Hey, look at me," he insisted.

But you couldn't find the energy. You were too drained to feel much of anything. Satoru grasped your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze. He wasn't angry. He was scared.

"Promise me this," he whispered, his thumb tracing the line of your cheek, "—when we make it through this, you'll marry me."

Huh??

You blinked a few times, caught off guard by his words.

His gaze, unwavering, held you captive. "And promise me," he continued, "—that you won't pull any more reckless stunts that might get you killed until then."

You opened your mouth, but your voice betrayed you. Piercing sounds tore through the air. Sirens blared, so loud and close that it felt like they were ringing directly in your ears. The world around you seemed to spin. And then everything went black.

****

Dawn filtered through the windows, casting a soft light across the quiet room where Yuji lay resting. You were slumped in a chair beside him. Your sleep uneasy and shallow. The gentle touch on your shoulder stirred you awake, and you blinked into the morning light, finding Satoru besides you.

"How are you feeling?"

You stretched, feeling the stiffness of your muscles, the ache in your bones. A deep, sharp pain in your arm. "I've been better," you murmured, your fingers tracing the edge of the bandages around your arm. He pulled up a chair and sat down, facing you, his gaze resting heavily on you.

"How's Nobara and Megumi?" You asked.

"They're fine." He tilted his head slightly. "I'm more concerned about you."

You averted your gaze, fingers tugging nervously at the edges of your bandages. "I'm sorry, Satoru," you said after a pause. "I was so fucking stupid."

"You're young. It's ok to make mistakes."

You shot him a narrow-eyed glance. "Don't say that. I put everyone in danger."

How could you have been so foolish? With everything that's been happening, it was only a matter of time before someone seized an opportunity to attack you. Again.

"That's why I'm here," Satoru replied, reaching for your hand. His lips brushed against your knuckles in a tender kiss. "—to protect everyone, and your reckless ass."

It was meant to be light, to draw a smile from you, but the humor fell flat. Your heart felt heavy. You saw the strain behind his eyes, the unspoken fear that he masked with a joke. It was the look of someone who had seen too much, who bore the burden of keeping everyone safe—even from themselves.

You pulled your hand back. "You know, you could stand to be a little stricter with me."

Satoru leaned back. "Stricter, huh? I've tried, you know. But I guess I've accepted the fact that I'll spend my life chasing after you, protecting you from the world."

"Sounds exhausting."

He grinned. "Not if it's for you."

Your gaze drifted to Yuji, whose features were softened in sleep. Soft rays played upon his skin, highlighting the gentle rise and fall of his chest with each steady, rhythmic breath. You leaned forward slightly to take his hand and stroke it gently.

"You know," Satoru's grin disappeared. "I have to apologize as well."

"For what?"

"I may have gone a bit overboard with my protectiveness."

You sighed, the adrenaline from the night still lingering. "Not really. In the end, you were right, and I was wrong. Maybe I am just too naive to handle things on my own."

"Naive? No, I'd say you're just unpredictably spontaneous. It keeps life thrilling."

"Thrilling, huh? Is that what we're calling near-death experiences these days?"

"Absolutely," he retorted with a chuckle. "And as for being too naive to handle things on your own—well, let's just say if being naive means charging headfirst into a river to drown a sorcerer, then I'm not sure 'naive' is the word we're looking for. Maybe 'fearlessly impulsive'?"

"Fearlessly impulsive? Only you would turn my stupidity into a compliment."

"Well, I have to find some way to make sense of your antics. Otherwise, I'm just the crazy guy running around Tokyo trying to save a girl who doesn't seem to want saving."

You met his gaze again. "Maybe that's exactly what you are."

"Ah," he said with a theatrical sigh, "—the crazy guy with the even crazier girl. Sounds like a perfect match to me."

The room settled back into silence, the only sound the rhythmic breathing of Yuji's slumber.

"So, what's your answer?" Satoru asked after a pause.

"To what?"

"My proposal," he said with a dry tone.

A sudden tightness enveloped your chest, making each breath feel shallower. Your gaze shifted to a distant point outside the window, focusing on anything but the seriousness in Satoru's eyes. "You wouldn't want to marry someone like me."

"Because you think you're broken?"

"Because I am a mess," you turned to him. "—and certainly not suited for the Gojo clan."

He leaned in, his eyes never leaving yours. "Do you really think that matters to me?"

Your silence was answer enough.

"I want you," Satoru said. "All I'm waiting for is you to stop fighting it."

Satoru's gaze was patient, unwavering, as if he could afford to wait a lifetime for you to lower the walls you'd so meticulously built.

"You don't know what you're asking," you said finally.

"But I do," Satoru countered firmly. "I want you, with all the chaos and battles you bring into my life. Even though you push me to the brink of madness sometimes. You're the person I love, and I won't hesitate to remind you of that every day."

He reached out, gently sweeping a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I'm asking for you—all of you, for all of time," he continued. "Even if it means facing hell itself, I want to face it with you."

You found yourself leaning into the caress. His hand warm against your skin. His expression held a sincerity that made your heart race, a sincerity that made the idea of a future together seem not just possible, but real.

Yet, you were at a loss for words, unable to answer. The confession he longed to hear remained trapped behind fear. Even though every fiber of your being yearned for him to claim you as his own. Still, the vulnerability of uttering those three little words felt like stepping into the abyss.

"I've never said that I love you," you said quietly.

Satoru smiled faintly. "No need to. I see it in your eyes."

Before you could respond, a groggy voice sliced through the silence.

"Hey, if you guys are getting married, can we have one of those chocolate fountains?" Yuji mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. His eyes blinked open, unfocused, as he tried to sit up, looking from you to Satoru with a dazed expression. "With, like, an infinite supply of strawberries?"

Satoru turned to him, an amused smirk playing on his lips. "Sure, we'll have that. And not just strawberries—let's throw in marshmallows, cookies, everything."

You tried to interject. "Wait, we're not planning the—"

But the conversation was already spiraling out of control. Yuji building on the momentum, sitting up with an excitement that made you question how 'asleep' he had been. "Oh, and we need one of those bouncy castles! No wedding is complete without one. And can I be the best man? I've got some killer moves for the reception!"

Satoru laughed. "You're in, Yuji. But only if you promise to keep your shirt on during those 'killer moves'."

"And don't forget the ice cream truck! Every epic wedding needs an endless supply of ice cream," Yuji declared, sitting up straighter, his energy infectious.

Satoru nodded enthusiastically. "And about the venue—why not the Edo Castle? We need a place that can handle our kind of crowd."

You sighed. "This sounds more like a child's birthday than a wedding."

Yuji's eyes shone with a mischievous glint as he leaned toward you. "Come on, imagine it! The bouncy castle will be the hit of the night, and you, soaring through the air in your wedding dress—it'd be legendary!"

You couldn't suppress the laughter that bubbled up at the image he painted. It was ludicrous, utterly fanciful, and yet—oddly charming in its way. Turning to Satoru with a playful roll of your eyes, you conceded, "Well, it seems you've got everything planned out. You just need a bride then."

Satoru met your gaze, his eyes alight with a challenge. "I'm working on it," he replied, his voice tinged with confidence. "But I've got my sights set on the best one out there. She's a bit stubborn, but she'll come around." He winked, and the promise in his words was clear—he wasn't one to back down.

Pain.

"Fuck," you cursed as you crumpled over, clutching your arm.

The playful banter was abruptly replaced by a merciless, searing agony in your arm—the same arm that had been wounded the previous night. Shoko had tended to it, and it should have been healing, but the pain intensified, surging like wildfire through your veins.

You hastily began to unwrap the bandages, a sense of dread gnawing at the pit of your stomach. As the last layer came off, the room fell into silence. Your arm was an unnatural, disturbing shade of purple and blue, the discoloration spreading ominously from the wound.

"What the—" Yuji gasped, leaning in for a closer look.

Satoru's expression turned grave as he swiftly seized your arm, carefully examining it. His fingers gently probed the discolored skin.

"This doesn't seem like a normal injury," Yuji added. "Could it be some kind of poison or a lingering effect from a cursed technique?"

"Poison??" you echoed.

"Is it spreading?" Yuji continued, his voice rising. "I mean, could it get worse?"

"Worse??"

Satoru remained uncharacteristically silent. He studied your arm with an intensity that was almost unnerving, his brows furrowed. The absence of his usual confident demeanor was more alarming than any of Yuji's anxious questions.

"Satoru?" you asked, your voice trembling. His silence was unlike him, and in that moment, it was the loudest thing in the room.

Satoru finally raised his head. His eyes locking with yours and you saw a flicker of something in his eyes—was it fear? Terror? It was hard to tell, but it was enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"We need to get you to Shoko," he said. "Now."

****

The violet hue had spread further.

The air hung heavy with the scent of antiseptic. Harsh, clinical fluorescent lighting cast stark, sterile shadows across the crisp white walls.

Shoko examined your arm, her gloved hands carefully assessing the discolored and painful area. "It's definitely a cursed technique," she confirmed. "The discoloration and pain are typical of a curse's influence."

"How do we stop it?" Satoru asked.

Removing her gloves, Shoko glanced up, her expression grave. "The only way to reverse this is for the caster to undo it."

Satoru's jaw clenched.

"That's going to be a problem," Yuji remarked. "She... she drowned the sorcerer in the river."

"—along with herself." Satoru added the grim detail as if it was just another piece of information.

You shot Satoru a sharp glance but his expression remained cold.

"Drowned him?" Shoko moved to her desk, her mind working through the implications. "If he were dead, the curse should be gone. He must be alive somewhere."

Yuji chimed in. "But we have no idea where. He could be anywhere by now."

Shoko exhaled heavily. "Then we have a serious issue. Without the caster, this technique will keep spreading. It could be lethal."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Your heart raced, panic setting in at the thought of the cursed technique slowly killing you—a ticking time bomb.

At that moment, Megumi burst into the room. "How bad is it?"

His wide eyes scanned the scene, locking onto your arm, where the unnatural color stood out even more under the harsh, clinical lighting. Megumi crossed the room and took your arm, his fingers carefully exploring the discolored skin.

Satoru, standing just a step away, observed the interaction, a storm brewing beneath his calm exterior. You didn't need to look at him to sense it. His hands tensed at his sides, a clear sign of the effort it took to restrain himself.

"It's spreading," his fingers traced the edges of the discolored skin. "We need to find a cure or a way to extract it."

"We guessed as much," Satoru replied, his voice tinged with a hint of irony. His gaze remained fixed on the spot where Megumi's hands touched your skin.

After a brief silence, Yuji spoke up. "Is there any way we can locate the sorcerer? Or break the technique without him?"

Shoko gently shook her head. "Breaking the technique without the caster's intervention is nearly impossible. Cursed techniques are bound by their users, and only they have the ability to undo them."

Megumi's gaze shifted to Shoko. "So, we're just supposed to wait around while this curse eats her alive?"

Somehow you regretted trying to drown the sorcerer. Or perhaps that you had not drowned yourself successfully.

Shoko empathized with his urgency but remained practical. "I'll do my best to alleviate the symptoms and slow down the progression, but I can't promise a complete cure without the caster's cooperation."

"Wait, she can manipulate cursed energy. Why not this curse?" Yuji asked.

All eyes turned to you, the weight of their expectations heavy in the air. "I don't know if this will work."

"Try it," Satoru commanded.

The room fell silent.

You took a deep breath and focused on the cursed energy coursing through your veins. The ominous colour that had stained your arm seemed to pulse in response, as if mocking your attempts to control it.

Gritting your teeth, you tried to manipulate the curse, to command it to recede, to dissipate like smoke in the wind. But the harder you concentrated, the more the pain intensified, surging through your entire body like a searing fire. Every nerve screamed in protest and your vision blurred from the agony.

"I can't," you gasped, your voice strained as you released your hold on the cursed energy. The violet hue on your arm remained as stubborn and unyielding as ever, if not more pronounced.

Satoru's expression darkened. "I'll start looking immediately for that bastard sorcerer."

"I'm coming with you," Megumi declared firmly, with Yuji nodding in agreement.

"No, wait," you attempted to interject, but Megumi, Yuji, and Satoru were already poised to leave. Megumi turned to you. "We'll fix this. Just hold on."

Panic surged through you as the reality of their departure set in.

No.

This can't be happening.

Your voice cracked as you shouted their names.

"Come back to me, you hear?"

But they left without a second wasted, their steps echoing down the empty corridor, and you remained alone in the now silent room.

So stupid.

Seconds stretched into minutes. Each passing moment added to the growing void that enveloped you. The weight of your choices pressed down, and you wished you could turn back time. But you can't.

So fucking stupid.

Your fists clenched tightly, nails digging into your palms until they started to bleed.

How could you be so fucking stupid.

Shoko unfolded your clenched fists, revealing the crescent marks your nails had left in your skin. "Easy, sweet girl," she soothed.

"It's all my fault," you murmured, barely audible. "I keep putting them in danger."

"They are sorcerers. This is the life they chose. Don't carry the burden of their decisions."

As she spoke, she applied her reverse cursed technique to your hands. The sting of the cuts faded away as swiftly as they had appeared. You clenched your fists a few times to relieve the tension.

"How long do I have left?"

Shoko hesitated, her eyes meeting yours. The pause was enough to tighten the knot of fear in your stomach. "A week, maybe."

The room felt colder—emptier.

A week.

Each tick of the clock felt like a countdown now.

Tick.

A constant reminder that time was slipping away.

Tick.

And you had no idea if you could find a solution before it was too late.

Tick.

****

Christmas at Jujutsu High was far from the festive celebration one might have hoped for, especially under the current circumstances. With Satoru and the others out there, risking their lives to rectify your mistake, the holiday spirit was the last thing on your mind. Instead, you were left in the company of Nobara and Maki, each dealing with the situation in their own unique way.

The school was quieter than usual. You sat in the common room, a half-hearted attempt at celebrating Christmas. Yet, the festive decorations appeared out of context. A small tree stood in the corner, adorned with a mess of decorations—its cheerful sparkle felt cruel.

"Well, at least we've got the place to ourselves. Who needs a bunch of noisy guys around, right?" Nobara tried to sound upbeat, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

Maki chimed in. "Yeah, enjoy the peace and quiet. It's not every Christmas you get a cursed technique as a gift. Talk about unique presents."

You couldn't help but wince at the joke. It was too close to the bone.

Over the past two days, the sinister purple hue of the poison had crept insidiously beyond the confines of your arm, now tracing a chilling path up your neck and across your chest. Each morning revealed a further spread of the discoloration.

The thought that you might still have a week suddenly seemed optimistic—the reality was unfolding much faster and more aggressively.

The conversation drifted to attempts at normalcy, discussing plans for New Year's Eve, but your thoughts kept circling back to Satoru and the others. Were they all right? Had they found any leads? The worry gnawed at you, a constant reminder that time was running out.

"Hey, lavender girl. You're with us, remember? They're strong; they'll be fine."

You ignored the 'lavender girl'.

"Yeah," Maki added. "Besides, if it's anyone's last Christmas, it's probably yours, right?"

You ignored that too.

The afternoon wore on, filled with half-hearted attempts at festivity. Nobara and Maki came up with one bad idea after another. Now you decorated gingerbread cookies. It was Nobara's idea. Fucking gingerbread cookies. Each sugary smile you piped felt like a mockery of the situation.

"Look," Nobara picked up a gingerbread man. "I made a cookie version of you—starts off sweet but ends up cursed!"

A dry chuckle escaped your lips as you inspected the gingerbread man with its half-violet coating and two X's marking its eyes. It was a dark yet fitting joke. "I guess that makes it the most authentic gingerbread man here."

"And here's mine," Maki held up a gingerbread figure that was missing an arm. "It's Gojo after he comes back from saving you."

Nobara laughed. "Oh, we're terrible. This is what happens when you leave three sorcerers alone on Christmas with a bunch of cookies."

Nobara picked up another gingerbread figure, this one decorated with wild icing patterns. "And this one's Yuji, right? Looks just as confused as he does half the time."

"Yeah, but at least the cookie doesn't scream as much," Maki quipped, earning a snort of laughter from Nobara.

What's wrong with them?

Should you be seriously concerned about their mental health?

You continued to pipe icing on the gingerbread figures. But it became increasingly difficult to move your right hand. It was now fully violet, poisoned from the curse, only the fingertips retaining their normal skin color. The discomfort grew more evident with each squeeze of the icing bag. A sharp twinge shot up your arm.

"This all sucks," you slammed your hand down on the counter, the pain momentarily overshadowing. "What are we even doing here?"

Your voice echoed in the room. Maki and Nobara looked at you. In the midst of your frustration, your phone buzzed, breaking the heavy silence that had settled in the room. You glanced at the screen. It was Megumi.

"We're all okay. Might have a lead on the sorcerer. Don't worry too much."

Reading the words, a wave of relief washed over you. They were safe, for now. But at the same time, a surge of frustration and anxiety welled up within you. Why hadn't he said more? Why hadn't Satoru called? Where were they even? Did they sleep enough? Eat enough?

You hated that you couldn't do anything for them. That you were left behind; unable to do anything. The idea of baking gingerbread cookies for their return now felt like a cruel joke. Your arm throbbed heavily. You grabbed it and wished you could rip it off.

"That's it. We're going outside," Nobara announced.

Before you could protest, she was already ushering you and Maki out of the room. The cold air hit you as you stepped outside, the school grounds blanketed in a thick layer of snow. Nobara led you both to the training ground; the snow crunching under your feet.

There, she hastily thrust bows into your hands. "We're going to let it all out," she declared, setting up targets across the field. You looked at the bow in your hands, then at Maki, who seemed equally surprised by Nobara's sudden initiative.

Nobara had quickly sketched out caricatures of curses on pieces of paper. She diligently hung them on the targets, stepping back to admire her handiwork. She turned to you with a mischievous grin. "Should I draw a Gojo target too?"

You had no idea if it was a joke or if she was serious.

"Or maybe Megumi?" she continued.

"Neither," you responded just as your first arrow whistled through the air, narrowly missing Nobara and embedding itself in the target. "Yeah," Maki's bow followed closely. "Let's just focus on these," she urged.

You took your position. Drawing the bowstring back, you felt the tension in your muscles despite the pain, the cold air biting at your cheeks. Releasing the arrow, you watched as it flew across the field, striking the target with a satisfying thud.

That was much better than making fucking gingerbread.

Draw. Aim. Release. Again. Draw. Aim. Release. Again. After several rounds, you all paused, catching your breath in the crisp winter air. Nobara, retrieving her arrows, turned to you with a smirk. "You're pretty good at this. Sure you don't want to put a Gojo target up there? Might be therapeutic."

You couldn't help but smile. "No, thanks. I think I'm good without imagining I'm shooting at him."

Maki chuckled, joining in. "Honestly, I wouldn't mind a few rounds at a Gojo target myself. Just for stress relief, of course."

"You know," Nobara said as she nocked another arrow, "—this could be our new training regimen. Anger management through archery."

"Seems effective," you agreed, feeling a bit more relaxed as you lined up another shot.

Maki nodded, releasing another arrow. "Definitely better than meditation or whatever else they try to make us do. I prefer action."

Arrows flew, one after the other, finding their mark with satisfying thuds. The rhythm of drawing, aiming, and releasing had become almost meditative—a much-needed distraction. In a fleeting moment between one arrow's release and the next, you paused. The bow lowered in your hands. "Satoru asked me to marry him."

The statement hung in the air. Nobara and Maki froze. Their jaws might as well have hit the snow-covered ground.

"What? Fucking Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer on earth, proposed to you?"

Nobara blinked a few times, as if to clear her vision or perhaps to make sure she hadn't misheard. "Wait, wait, wait. Are we talking about the same Satoru? The one with blindfold and white hair? That Satoru Gojo??"

You raised your bow again and aimed. "Yeah, that very Satoru Gojo."

A moment of silence passed before both of them burst out laughing. "Wow," Nobara managed to say between giggles. "This is—I mean, congratulations, but wow!"

Maki shook her head, still chuckling. "I guess this means our little archery session here is technically your bachelorette party, huh?"

"Wait," Nobara halted. "You did say'yes', right?"

You paused, your bow still raised. "I—I didn't get the chance to answer. We were interrupted."

Nobara's eyes widened. "You left Satoru Gojo hanging? Now that's something I'd have paid to see."

Maki cocked her head. "But you're going to say yes, right? I mean, it's Satoru Gojo we're talking about."

"I guess I should," you said, lowering the bow. "Shouldn't I?"

"You'd be stupid not to," Nobara shook her head in disbelief. "He's been mooning over you with those puppy eyes. I swear, I've never seen him like that with anyone else."

"True," Maki agreed. "Even I noticed it, and I usually don't pay attention to these things."

Curiosity gleamed in Nobara's eyes as she leaned in closer. "Okay, but you have to tell us how he did it. Satoru Gojo proposing must have been something out of the ordinary, right?"

You hesitated. Remembering that he had literally asked you to marry him, to stop you doing stupid things. Like trying to kill yourself. "It doesn't really matter how he asked," you said. "At this rate, with the poison spreading, I might not even make it to the end of the week."

Nobara stopped smiling.

A sudden wave of powerful cursed energy sent shivers down your spine. You turned.

"Are you the one afflicted with the curse?"

Yuta Okkotsu approached you, a figure you recognized only from photos and the stories told by others. His presence was commanding, his gaze intense but not unkind.

You nodded.

Yuta's eyes briefly scanned the visible violet hue on your skin. "Gojo-Sensei and the others might have cornered the sorcerer responsible. I'm heading out to back them up," his tone suggesting urgency.

For a moment, the world seemed to pause. "I'm coming with you."

Nobara and Maki immediately tensed. "You should stay here," Maki said firmly, looking at you. "It's safer, and we can't risk the curse getting worse."

But you were resolute. "I can't just sit here and do nothing while they're out there because of me. I need to be there."

Yuta observed you closely. His expression unreadable as he surveyed your exposed, discolored skin, now riddled with pulsing veins. Anticipating his words, you cut in firmly, "Don't pity me. I can still handle myself."

Yuta paused, considering the situation. His gaze met yours. "I'm not in a position to give you orders," he finally said, a subtle nod indicating his acceptance of your decision.

Maki exhaled sharply. "This is insane. You know that, right?" She crossed her arms. "You can barely stand without faltering every few steps."

They were right. The poison coursing through your veins was taking its toll, sapping your strength and clouding your judgement. But the harsh reality was that, with the poison's relentless spread, it might already be too late to make a difference, no matter what actions you took.

At that moment, a sharp, icy sensation shot through your face, as if a cold spear were tracing a slow, deliberate path along the right side of your jaw. The curse crept with an unnerving stealth; silently marking its territory on your skin.

"I know the risks," you replied.

Yuta regarded you for a moment longer before turning towards the exit. "We should move quickly then. Time is of the essence."

As you followed him, Nobara and Maki reluctantly fell into step beside you. "I now know why Gojo always says you're stubborn," Nobara said, a small smile played on her lips. "But I like that about you."

****

You were adrift in a sea of thoughts, unaware of your surroundings or the passage of time. The journey's duration—whether it was an hour or twenty—blurred into a haze. Is Satoru even still alive? Are Megumi and Yuji all right? Are they hurt?

Stepping out of the car, you mechanically followed Yuta. Smoke and ash filled the air.

It was strange.

As you moved closer to the site, the poison within you seemed to spread more rapidly; weaving its way through your veins with a newfound urgency. Each step felt like it stirred the curse to life, hastening its spread. The world around you tilted and swayed, blurring the lines between reality and haze. The surroundings felt surreal, almost detached from reality.

Step.

The curse spread further.

Step.

The pain intensified.

The curse's relentless spread soon reached parts of your face, its insidious presence clouding your vision. It enveloped your body to such an extent that walking became an excruciating effort.

Maki and Nobara were quick to notice. They came to your aid, each taking an arm to support you, to help you—to help you walk. It's pathetic.

No got for anything after all.

So stupid.

Breathing became torturous. Your lungs seared with every breath, as if scorched by the curse itself. How much time remained for you? Hours? Minutes?

Spilled blood traced marble patterns into white snow.

Amidst this turmoil, one hope clung tenaciously to your heart—the desire to see Satoru one last time. To lay eyes on him, if only once more.

"What the hell—" Nobara stopped.

You found yourself on the precipice of what used to be a bustling part of the city, now reduced to a desolate battlefield. Buildings lay in ruins. Debris littered the ground. Smoke curled into the sky. Nothing human moved. The only sounds were the wind rustling through shattered glass and the soft falling of snow.

It smelled like burnt flesh.

For a long time, none of you could speak. You looked at Yuta, but his face was a mask.

"What the fuck did happen?" Maki inquired, her voice edged as she surveyed the destruction.

Yuta remained silent, his expression grave. Somehow, you felt that he knew only too well what had happened. When he turned to you, his gaze confirmed your thoughts without a word.

"Did Gojo do this?" Maki pressed.

"Do you know someone else, able to erase a whole city?" Nobara said dryly. She covered her nose, trying to shield herself from the acrid stench of burnt flesh that permeated the air.

"The civilians were evacuated in time," Yuta remarked, as if he sensed your unspoken fear of seeing corpses.

You remained motionless. It was a long time before you remembered how to breathe. The devastation before you too horrific to fully process. Your eyes watered. The stench was overwhelming.

Maybe it was the poison, maybe it was your mind—clouding your senses—trying to protect you; protect you from the harsh reality of what Satoru Gojo—the man you loved—was capable of.

You always saw it. Always knew that he was ruthless when he had no one holding him back. He loved the fray. Just as much as you did.

Suddenly, cutting through the haze, a familiar voice called out your name.

Then a face.

Then a smile.

Megumi.

The pain seemed to vanish.

You rushed towards him; heart pounding like a wildfire. His eyes widened in shock at your appearance, but you barely registered his reaction. All you wanted in that moment was to feel the warmth of his presence against your increasingly cold skin.

Your nearly caused him to stumble as you desperately clung to him. "Easy," he managed to say, his voice strained with effort. He was wounded, more severely than you had ever seen him. The sight of his injuries almost made you cry.

"Are you okay? Are you fine?" you asked quickly, your words tumbling out in a rush of worry and relief; his presence a painfully missed sense of comfort amidst the chaos.

"I'm fine," he reassured you, pulling you closer, his arms around you. You could feel the steady beat of his heart—feel the warmth of his presence—smell his scent. It felt like home. You wanted to stand forever in his embrace.

"I'm more worried about you," he said. Gently, he pushed you back just enough to take a closer look at your skin. His eyes darkened. "Fuck, why is it spreading so fast?"

"It started accelerating as soon as we got closer," Nobara added, her voice close behind you as she moved nearer.

Megumi's gaze shifted sharply to Yuta, his expression hardening. "We have to finish this now. We need to take him down."

What?

"You haven't killed him yet?" Maki echoed your thoughts.

Megumi averted his gaze. His arm still securely around your waist. You looked up at him. "Gojo has him cornered. He believes this sorcerer knows something crucial, something that could end all of this."

"And that's worth more than her life?" Nobara shouted.

"We didn't realize the poison had progressed this far," Megumi admitted, his tone laced with regret.

"You never thought of asking?" Nobara accused Megumi.

Wait.

If he's still alive, that means—

"I need to see him," you cut Nobara off, addressing Megumi. "Take me to that sorcerer."

"Are you out of your mind? We should just call Gojo and have him take care of it. In your condition, you might not even get there."

"I don't care!"

Megumi shook his head hastily. "We can't take that risk."

"Don't treat me like fragile glass, Megumi. Not now."

"Hard when you look like you're dying."

You paused for a second.

Leaning in closer, you lowered your voice so only Megumi could hear. "Megumi, If you have even the slightest feeling for me, you'll take me to him."

He looked tired. He looked sad. He looked scared. All at once, as he looked down at you. "You're asking too much," he said, his voice hoarse.

"And I know you hate me for it."

It was unfair of you. You knew it. You saw it.

However, the urgency of the situation was clear in your mind. If they killed the sorcerer, you might never get the answers you needed. You weren't stupid enough to think that Satoru would wait a second to kill the sorcerer when they called him—when they told him what state you were in. You had to be there first.

Megumi's eyes searched yours for a moment. "Then let's go."

****

The screaming was the first thing you heard.

Then the sound of punches.

Then blood spitting onto the ground.

It hurt—seeing him like that fucking hurt.

Blood stained his clothes. His white hair tinted red. Scratches across his arms. His frame marred by injuries that seemed impossible.

Amidst the debris and the remains of the battle, Satoru Gojo stood, his presence dominating the space. He was interrogating the sorcerer—no, torturing the sorcerer. His voice cut through the din with a sharp, merciless edge as he landed another bow on the sorcerer's face. Bones gave way to his force.

You, too, had lost yourself in battle. You had gone further than you should have, had hurt others when you should have stopped. But this—

You tried not to cry.

It was odd. It was odd that Satoru did not seem to be aware of your presence as you approached. He always had an uncanny ability to sense you, often joking about being able to detect your 'reckless ass' even if you were on another continent.

The fact that he hadn't noticed you yet was unsettling. He was so lost in madness that it eclipsed everything else—even you.

And then Yuji.

Yuji looked defeated. As if he had seen death himself. He sat on the remains of what looked like a building, his head down, staring into nothingness. It broke your heart to see him like that. He didn't deserve this. Not him. Not Megumi. No one.

It was your fault. Your battle. Not theirs.

"Satoru," you whispered, blood slowly trickling from the corner of your mouth as you spoke. Megumi's hand was still around your waist, supporting you as you felt the last grains of your strength slipping away. Time was running out. You felt it.

In an instant, as if jolted from a trance, Satoru's head snapped in your direction. His eyes wide in terror with a color you'd never seen before. He was by your side in a heartbeat. Swiftly, he took you from Megumi's supportive hold.

"Oh love," he pressed you tightly against his chest, as if he feared you would vanish at any second. It almost hurt. The usual barrier of his infinity seemed to falter, his cursed energy swirling chaotically around him. His fingers trembled as they brushed against your skin, tracing the path of the poison that marred your skin.

"What happened here?" you asked.

"There were so many—too many." His words quivered in the air, a tone of vulnerability you had never heard from him before.

Your heart ached at the sight of him. "I'm sorry, Satoru—," you said gently. In that moment, he seemed more in need of saving than you. You struggled to maintain composure, the pain in his eyes nearly derailing your resolve. "—but you need to help me now."

He looked up, his eyes meeting yours. But your attention was swiftly drawn to something behind him.

Behind Satoru, amidst the wreckage, the bruised sorcerer's gaze lifted to meet yours. He sat propped against the remnants of a building. Nanami beside him, holding him in place. Despite his bruised and bloodied state, the sorcerer's bloodshot eyes gleamed with a disturbing glee. His lips curled into a smile. He smiled. He mocked you.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. You clenched involuntarily.

Satoru's gaze flickered briefly to the sorcerer, then back to you.

"Kill him!" Satoru shouted over his shoulder at Nanami.

Nanami, poised to deliver a fatal blow.

"No!" you screamed, louder than Satoru, pushing yourself out of his grip. You tried to run towards the sorcerer. But Satoru was quick to stop you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back.

Nanami's arm cocked back, ready to strike at any second.

"Don't!"

"What are you saying?" Satoru abruptly swung you around, yanking at your shoulders, nearly making you cry out in pain. "You're dying!" he shouted. Then he turned to Nanami again. "Kill him!!"

You struggled against Satoru's grip. Fingers digging into his skin. "Fuck! Satoru, let me go!"

Nanami's arm snapped forward with blinding speed.

"There's a mole in your school."

Nanami froze. Everyone froze.

The sorcerer spoke. His teeth were stained red.

"There's a mole in your school, leaking every move you make," he rasped.

You tried to push Satoru desperately aside, but it was in vain. "Who is it?" you demanded of the sorcerer.

It was a trap. Of course it was. Every second he gained was a second you lost. But you played along. Either it was the poison that will kill you, or these people who were after your head. It didn't matter.

"Kill him, Nanami!"

Yet, Nanami hesitated.

Satoru moved to end the sorcerer himself. You reached out. Your hands grabbed Satoru's collar. "I swear to God, Satoru, if you won't let me have my way, I'll never marry you!" Your voice cracked, spilling blood as you screamed at him.

Satoru's eyes widened in shock. It was unfair. But right now, you had other worries. He cursed under his breath. His hold on you tightened as you almost fainted in his arms. Yet you persisted. "Who is it?"

The sorcerer coughed. "You're looking in the wrong direction."

He's trying to buy time.

"Nanami!" Satoru yelled again. His gaze sweeping over Yuta, Yuji, Megumi, Nobara, and Maki. They stood motionless. Either terror or tears filled their eyes.

"Who the hell is it?" You shouted as you clung to Satorus' arms, which held you back.

"You should really pay a visit to—" The sorcerer, choking on his own blood, struggled to answer.

The venomous curse within you was killing you. You could feel it. Your lungs burned as if filled with molten lead. Your vision started to dim, the edges darkening, closing in like the final curtain of a tragic play. Still you pushed further.

"Say it, you asshole!"

Then everything went black.

But it wasn't the poison.

Satoru had knocked you out.

The last sound you heard was the slicing of flesh.

➸ continue reading part seven

a/n: thanks for reading and have a lovely day or night! <3

#gojo saturo #saturo gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x female reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru smut #megumi fushiguro x you #megumi fushiguro #jjk fanfic

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