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mo-aiki · 1 day

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I now love you, is it too late? (Yandere Fiancé x F. Reader)

Summary: Heartbreak and romance are two sides of the same coin. They both deal with love between another. Your heart is broken but you are trying to move on, but someone is preventing you from doing so.

Notes: I never thought that the previous story would blow up like it did. You can read the first part here.

Warning: alcohol consumption, drugging someone, forced love, obsession, stalking, mentions of violence, I don't condone it, I just write it.

The days after his conversation with you, he should had been elated. For the first time in his life, he wasn't bothered by you and your antics. He could finally get work done without you bother him at every corner to come visit him or play with him. For the first few days, he was able to finish everything for once in his life instead of having a pile to do the next day. But overtime, somehow he was dreadfully bored.

His office felt quiet. Almost too quiet. The only sounds he could make out were the papers shuffling, the clock ticking, and the the voices that came in and out of his office.

Also, overtime he had completed work for the month. He was used to working more the next day and having work stacked up to the point that he needed to catch up, that now he has no idea what to do once he finished work for a month or two.

Alaric thought he could read. He has always enjoyed reading in his free time. But once he got to reading, he felt bored once again. He never realized that the books he read were nothing but boring. The books were full of political theory, history of the most boring topics, and informative information.

His lunches were quiet, his dinners were quiet, and his stomach often rumbled when he forgot to eat.

Life felt repetitive, boring, and dull. He was stuck in a routine of eat, work, and sleep. Nothing ever happened.

When (y/n) was here, she would always drag him somewhere, she had wanted to go to. To go shopping, a picnic, a play, an opera, to watch duals, or to eat. He always felt tired after those things, but at least it brought him excitment.

(y/n) often made sure he would eat flavorful foods and her favorite foods, to the point that he knows everything she likes.

(y/n) often made a ruckus in his home. Always talking, calling servant’s, squealing at her romance novels, and chatting with everyone.

'At least the manor was never deadly quiet whenever she was around...' he thought of as he smirked.

Wait. Why is he thinking about her?

He should be happy that she is no longer bugging him as often as she did.

He saw you outside. He was shopping for new cufflinks. His were "getting out of style" his secretary had told him. Maybe it was just a ploy to get him out of the manor, but he still went out nevertheless. He was in a jewelry shop. Unconsciously, he went to the one you often visited. The man knew who he was anyways, so might as well cut to the chase.

"Ah?! Your Grace!"

The man seemed to be looking for (y/n). "Where is Lady (l/n)? Doesn't she often accompany you?"

He just stood quiet for a moment before his secretary popped in. "His Grace is here to get cufflinks."

The man's eyes brighten. "Ah. Lady (l/n) has already thought of that for you. Please wait here Your Grace."

He brought out a box that he had gotten from a certain part of the store. He opened it, and there were square shaped, dark blue jewels, bordered with small diamonds, the metal gold. It looked like it suited him. Very well. She knew his taste well. She knew what he liked.

"If Your Grace does not like it, you can commission another..." said the man selling him the product.

Alaric shook his head. "No, it's perfect."

He signaled at his secretary to give him a generous check in his name as he left the shop, only to find you, looking at the ocean view from across the shop.

Why did it look like you were looking for something?

More importantly, why did it look like you were looking for someone?

You wore a bright dress, your favorite lace gloves, your prettiest sunhat and carried your favorite parasol.

He was confident that he was the only man who has ever had a very close relationship with you, other than acquaintanceship.

Wait, why was he thinking this?

Why should he care if you saw another man. This is an engagement of convenience anyways. There is no point in scrutinizing every man that either comes or came in your life.

But if you were going to be talking to men after him, they better be better than him. He was not going to be beaten by some half-rate man, who has never held a sword in his life, who has never had to train often to live up to your a standard(s), who has never had to deal with the responsibilities of being a duke from the moment he was born, who has not needed attention from you, and who has never lived up to your ideas of love.

He wasn't going to lose to a man who never even knew you like he did.

But he saw you were being accompanied by a maid after his thoughts had raged through his head. He walked closer towards you. He saw you.

Your eyes had seemed like the eyes that often looked his way when he greeted someone. Not like their lively selfs that he was so used to from you. Your eyes always shone brightly when he was in your presence.

Your smile, one of formality, not your genuine one. You smiled the brightest whenever he was around. Anyone could tell with that smile that you loved him.

You looked like any other person he had interacted with. Formal and in-line with etiquette.

Even your speech was formal. It was no longer bright and cheerful. It was no longer, "Alaric! What are you doing here?", it was now, "Pleased to see you, Duke Caius."

"It's pleasant to see you too, Lady (y/n)." he responded back.

You nodded you head while a wave of silence came through. He didn't talk, you didn't talk, both of you were looking at the distance of this port.

'She is rather quiet. Too quiet..." he thought in his head. Often she was the one who started up a conversation.

"I'm very sorry Duke Caius, but I must leave. I am shopping with a friend, and I wouldn't want them to keep on waiting for me, so, please excuse me."

You started walking off slowly, but then he spoke. "Would you like for me to escort you?"

You turned your head. He thought you would be smiling and agreeing to his suggestion immediately, holding his arm in a loving manner and chatting with him the entire way, like you used to do whenever he had brought out that idea.

But you had shook your head. "No, but thank you for your suggestion, Duke Caius. My guard is nearby here anyways."

You walked off as he could only look at you and your maid walking. He didn't even realize that his secretary had came back, as he only chased after you in the same direction.

He saw from a distance, you holding the arm of some man. A dull man. He was mad at that moment, but his anger wasn't towards you, it was towards the man you were with.

You had became more distant with him. Avoiding him at every moment, like he was the plague. Every time he noticed her, she had seem to always step away from him, with every step she had taken, walking away from him instead of towards him like they used to do.

At parties, you would often avoid him, while his arm was being stuck onto by Lady Thompson.

Social events had you talking to the ladies, sparring no time for him.

Outings with no small talk.

Every little thing you had done to distance yourself from him, almost drove him insane. His head now full of questions for your sudden change in personality. In the span of a few weeks, you had all of the sudden became the most formal person on earth, to the point people started questioning the legitimacy of the relationship.

"It seems like they will break up soon..."

"Are we sure they are engaged? Lady (l/n)'s sudden change in personality must mean something..."

"How sad this relationship had to come to. It feels like they are in a married’s quarrel!"

"I heard that Marquis (l/n) is planning on annulling their engagement..."

"Really?!"

These nobles and their chatty lips. These rumors meant nothing. (y/n) would never let something like an annulment happen to them.

He was bewildered. Shocked. Almost appalled with this letter.

He thought that she had delivered a letter to write to him once again, but this time, this letter was from Marquis (l/n).

Dear Duke Caius,

I regret to have informed you, that I am making a selfish and personal decision to annul this engagement between you and my daughter. I have came to this decision after her reaction and my bewilderment at the Royal Ball from 4 months ago, after you had escorted Lady Alina Thompson instead of my daughter.

I could see the heartbreak in her eyes, and as a father, it is painful to constantly see your daughter in constant heartbreak from the very boy you had known since he was young.

When your late father and I had planned this engagement for the both of you, I knew I would have to give up my precious daughter to a man I could trust, not a little boy who has yet to grown up.

You have yet to proven to me that you could be a man I could trust you with my only child, my daughter.

I wish you well and hope you will continue to collaborate and see the (l/n) house positively and as allies.

Sincerely,

Marquis (l/n)

The letter came with the annulment papers with it. He quickly looked through the papers too see your signature on them and your thumb print.

He stood quiet for a minute, before chuckling. "(y/n)...oh (y/n)..."

He felt like ripping the papers to shreds in the very moment.

You were happy for once in your life. You had met someone special to you. Arthur Johnson.

A stableman who engaged in conversation with you when he was working for your family. He always had a kind demeanor. soft spoken, and was often willing to hear you. Despite your age gap with him (being 10 years), his status as a commoner, and his rugged appearance, you felt like for the first time in your life, you had actually met your prince charming.

He took on dates to the crowded places like small festivals and the farmer markets. Your first present from him being a cheap pendent necklace from him.

His personality was well liked by everyone as he seemed to have a good relationship with everyone.

His voice was deep and attractive, smothering your ears and causing you to blush around him whenever he talked.

He always called you 'princess' or 'my lady' whenever out and about with you, causing you to be flustered at such comments.

He had introduced you to his ailing mother. You never felt so bad for anyone. You had offered to help him, but instead he rejected such offers from you. "My lady, you really don't need to help us..."

"Nonsense Arthur! Your mother is sick and-"

He always shook his head. "I do not want to rely on my lady to always help us. Thank you for the idea though."

Elliot was boring.

Gregory was pretentious.

Adonis was suspicious.

Adrian was paranoid.

But Arthur, was a gentleman.

Until you never heard back from him one day.

He had holed up in his manor until something had happened. He had gotten news of you being spotted on dates with other men.

Afterwards he had a reason to leave the manor from this point onwards. You were with a man after man often times. Talking, chatting, flirting, and being brought around with. He had his secretary look at the backgrounds of those men.

Low-ranking noblemen, and sometimes even commoners.

The perfect people to direct his anger at. After all, what are those families and people associated with them, are going to do against the wrath of Duke Caius and the Caius Duchy.

All of the sudden, these men had been riddled with debt and their families in financial ruins.

A son of a baron, tricked by a scammer he had paid for. He had fell for it, meaning he was too naive and not needed for (y/n), who was just as equally naive.

A son of a viscount, conned and arrested for the possession and the selling of forged art. The real artwork, costing millions, and in his own manor. He "might" had hired an artist to help him with it, paying off their own debt and giving them money. He was too irresponsible that he didn't even check to see if the artwork was genuine. (y/n) would had lived a life of cleaning up after him.

Another son of a baron, swallowed by loan debt after taking out loans to do his playboy schemes. He often bought expensive stuff in order to impress the women he was trying to bed with. Where did he get the loans from? He sure doesn't know, does he? He had troubles with infidelity. He will he constantly cheating on (y/n) if Alaric didn't catch it early enough.

A son of an earl, swallowed in gambling debt by him. He had seen him in the casino houses, and he thought why not taunt him. Plus, he paid off the casino house to always make him win no matter what. He was a gambling addict, spending his days holed up and gambling his money away. (y/n) would be left to die on the streets with nothing if she had been with him.

A stableman, in loan debt as well, after he had offered to help him with his ailing mother. But now his mother dead, and the loans still needed to be paid off. Otherwise, he could just kill him and sell his organs to the black market to get all the money back from him. Guess what option he did. He was poor, and poor men don't deserve her love if they cannot give her what she wanted. Plus, he might just brag often about his now, new lifestyle if she were to be with him.

The stableman was the most annoying in his eyes. His last words before he had slain him were, "Protect her for me, please, for this old bachelor..."

All of these men strengthen his point overtime. That he was the perfect man for her.

He is skeptical and less naive.

He is responsible.

He has never had issues with infidelity that he has known of.

He has never been financially irresponsible with money, nor has he gambled.

He has always had the ability to give her everything she has ever wanted.

He came to the eventual conclusion.

No man could replace him.

You felt trapped.

A rumor had spread around about Duke Caius's wedding day coming up. You thought he was just going to get married to Alina, but instead you and your father were summoned by His Majesty.

He was congratulating you and your soon to be wedding day. "Congratulations Lady (l/n)! You must be a happy bride. And you too Marquis (l/n)!"

You and your father were confused, but still acted like everything was normal, until you brought it up. "Excuse me Your Majesty, but who has told you about this. I thought I had wanted it to be a smaller event..."

His Majesty let out a gleeful laugh. "Duke Caius came to me last week, talking about how now he had decided to plan his wedding. I thought it was a splendid idea! And thus I had given him permission to use the chapel. He seemed elated at the idea, and thus was willing to plan the wedding himself."

Your eyes widen as you nodded. Your head blanking out the entire time. 'Isn't that impossible, unless...'

You went running out of the palace, finding a carriage to use to get to the Ducal Manor. You needed an explanation of what was going on.

Once you got there, you immediately asked the butler where he was, only to see Alaric, looking happy to see you as he came down the stairs to the front of the manor.

"(y/n), my bride! You are just in time for your dress fitting."

He snapped his fingers to have the servants taking you somewhere as he followed, you resisting. "Wha-? No! Alaric, I have to ask about something!"

He smiled in front of you. The previous you would had elated and been happy at his smile. But now it felt uncanny. Like something was off.

"You have finally called my name..."

You gasped as the servants kept on dragging you to your dress fitting. His hand over his heart as he looked like a sad puppy all of the sudden. "Do you know what it feels like to be called one name for my whole entire life with such endearment, only for it to be taken away?"

"No! That's why I'm not here! LET GO OF ME!"

He snapped his fingers as the servants let go of you. He walked towards you, as he placed his hand on your cheek. All you could feel was how cold it was. Like it was ice. You looked directly at him. "I am here to ask, why are we getting married?!"

His puppy face came back, as both of his hands cupped you face. "(y/n), I thought this is what you had wanted..."

Your eyes widen as he looked directly at you. "A big fairy tale wedding, your dream dress, your knight in shining armor sweeping you off your feet, true love's first kiss...isn't this what you had wanted all your life?"

This is what you had always wanted, but not like this. Not while Alaric had this sudden shift in personality and when he felt completely different form the Alaric you had knew.

But also, when your feelings for him had wavered like tides in an ocean. "But I thought the annulment had gone through..." you had said to him.

He chuckled, soon going onto full blown laughter. "(y/n), I know you still want to get married to me. So let's have the wedding of your dreams." he said while placing a kiss on your forehead, something you would had blush at, if everything about this wasn't sketchy.

"But! But!"

"No buts. We are getting married in 9 days anyways. Now, let's go to your dress fitting!"

Everything was too sketchy these past 7 days. Alaric had a sudden change in personality. An extreme one in fact. He all of the sudden became loving.

Following you everywhere.

Bringing you onto his lap while he works.

Having picnics with you.

Having tea with you.

Being your dance partner for practicing.

Locking you in his manor and giving you a splendid guest room while at it.

Coming into your room and reading you to sleep.

Increasing security around you.

Feeding you himself, personally.

Disciplining the male servants if they had touched you.

And the most weird one, not leaving your room, even while you slept.

He had changed, but for what? Now all you felt was creeped out by his sudden shift in behavior. Every single little thing done by him almost felt suffocating. Like he so desperately needed you to either be beside him or to in this manor.

You wanted to see your friends again. You wanted to talk to people again. You wanted to see your father again. You wanted to go shopping again. You wanted to see Arthur again. You wanted to do the things you did. You wanted to leave this suffocating manor for once and do something other than being restrained by him.

So you snooped. When he left, you went around his office. Previously, you had always barged into his office, always running your mouth in a tasteless way. But this time, you had avoided his office, unless he dragged you to it to be with him.

You looked around with something on your mind. "He must have the annulment papers somewhere..."

There was a family portrait of him and his father in his office. A portrait must mean that there's something behind it. Touching the frame, you opened up a secret compartment that was full of bank statements. "Elliot Lancaster, Gregory McClain, Adonis Lovesett, Adrian Hill, Arthur Johnson..."

All the men you had been with. The bank statements had shown how their wallets had gone empty in the span of a week or two.

Elliot and his family had gone bankrupt and sent to an island in the north.

Gregory had been charged with forgery and sentenced to 3 years in prison.

Adonis had been bankrupt and charged with assault against a Marquis for mingling with his wife.

Adrian had been cut off from his family due to his gambling addiction, and has now gone further in debt.

And Arthur. The nice man Arthur. His body was never founded when his mother reported him as missing.

Your eyes widened in horror as you looked at the other pages. He had planned it. From the financial debt to killing Arthur and selling his body parts on the black market. Each paper described the reports of the deeds he had done.

Especially for Arthur. His was the most gruesome one. Chopping him up into bits and selling his innards to the black market while dumping the rest to the ocean on Beckett's Beach, where you took your first date with him.

You couldn't help but squat out of fear immediately. Were you responsible for all of these mens' demise?

Would Elliot and his family still be living in the capital in peace if he never met you?

Would Gregory go back to being his artistic and art loving self if he didn't buy from that one painter you had told him to buy from?

Adonis was already kinda shitty.

Would Adrian change if you had stayed with him?

Would Arthur still be alive if you never noticed him?

You didn't know, and that's when you started crying. Your tears fell down rapidly like waterfalls. The papers, the bank statements, the pieces of news, the reports, all of them now wet with your tears on the paper. You couldn't help but feel for them, especially Arthur.

Arthur was now dead, and his mother soon meeting him.

And it felt like it was all your fault.

"We'll always be together, my lady, this old stableman promises."

Crying alone in Alaric's study, you thought about the moments you had with Arthur. They were all going to be a faded memory of the past. If only you weren't so naive and if only you knew.

"Why is my bride crying?"

Your head turned to see Alaric at the door of his study. You gulped as you got up, dusting your dress while at it. "I-it's nothing, Alaric..." you stuttered, trying to hold back your tears.

He came close towards you as he looked at all the papers on the ground and the portrait, open. He chuckled for a bit. "Did you read these?"

You shook your your head. "I just...found them, that’s all. I swear I didn't read them!"

He looked at the papers, then at you. You could tell he knew that you were lying. He always said you were an open book and how you wore your heart on your sleeve. "Don't bother lying (y/n)."

He pointed to the part on which you had stained with your tears. The paper transparent as he put the papers down on his desk, walking closer to you. Each step growing closer, each step he took feeling like he was mad. Each step felt like an eventual punishment for your actions. "Why were you snooping around in my office, (y/n)?"

You answered with the first thing on your mind. "B-because! I just...w-wanted to l-look around, Y-your Grace..."

"I told you..." He gently pushed a piece of hair behind your ear. "Call my Alaric once agin, (y/n)."

His words laced with anger. He was speaking almost like he was threatening you. He looked at the pendent around your neck. Almost like he never noticed it before. Taking the pendent in his fingers, he looked at it obsessively. "Who gave you this necklace, (y/n)?"

You gulped instead of speaking. His hands felt cold when he touched your cheek, looking at you with his angry eyes. "I said, who gave you this necklace, (y/n)?"

"A-Arthur..." you mumbled.

"Who?"

"ARTHUR!" you said even louder before he started laughing hysterically.

"That peasant? Why bother keeping something cheap around your neck. I thought you hated these things?"

You used to, but now this necklace represented Arthur. "I-it's none of your b-business, Alaric!" you yelled out.

"It is my business. Considering you are to be my wife soon, something like this is unacceptable for a Duchess..."

He slowly got closer to your ear. "Especially if it came out that a peasant gave you such a thing...I wonder what would happen to your father...for allowing you to be romantically involved with a man of dirty origins..."

Your eyes widen. "Arthur isn't like that! You don't know him!"

You tried to walk out, only for Alaric to hug you from behind, holding you in a tight grip. You felt like you were losing air by the second once he held onto you. "He's never told you? His mother was apart of a brothel..."

You breath stopped as he whispered more into your ear. "He was the illegitimate son of a noble...people like that deserve to be killed for grasping an ounce of your attention..."

You tried to get out of his grip, but instead he had ripped off the necklace on your neck, letting it fall onto the floor and walking off to his desk, letting you go. You cried as you turned back to look at him. "You-you monster!"

He opened a velvet box with a diamond and sapphire necklace, placing it around your neck, smiling. "My beautiful (y/n)..." He gripped you arms tight, dragging you to the mirror in the study while putting the necklace together, smiling.

"We will be together forever and this necklace, is to symbolize your new life as Duchess."

You only looked at yourself wearing the necklace as Alaric's hands kept you still.

"You can never leave me now..." he said, as he kissed your cheek.

You in your wedding dress as he went out into the hall.

Walking down the aisle with your father.

The flower petals dancing around you.

The songbirds singing their songs.

And your once dream husband at the alter.

"Do you take Duke Caius's hand, in sickness and in health, in wealth and or none, in forever lasting love?

"...I do..."

The final words of your previous life.

A/N: A part 3 for married life or not?

Taglist

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#yandere oc x reader #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere x reader #x f reader #yandere childhood friend #yandere duke #yandere duke x reader #yandere #tw yandere

335 notes · View notes

churipu · 3 days

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Hellooo! I saw ur reqs wer open and I wanted to know if its oknif ok if u can write abt the jjk men being their for their gf's performance/exhibit for school or work when their family or friends can't make it?

(I love how how the way you write them as well! I found u through the nanami oneshot and I've just been on ur masterlist reading through all of ur fics and drabbles, esp now with me going through the same thing as above 💛)

𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐓 .ᐟ

❪ jjk men showing up in your art exhibition when nobody did ❫

────── 𝕴 . featuring. gojo satoru, nanami kento, itadori yuuji x fem! reader

────── 𝕴 . warnings. none :)

note. hi nonnie :( thank you so much for the love, i'm so sorry for the delay, i'm so sorry that happened to you. i'm 100% sure whatever you were presenting to everyone was awesome! i love you <33

𝜗𝜚 . GOJO SATORU

gojo has received your heads up regarding an art exhibit a week prior. he'd notice the way you've been very very excited about having your art work presented for people to see. and he's happy to see you happy.

he made it extra clear he wanted nothing with the jujutsu world the day your exhibit was held — all he wanted was a nice and peaceful day to spend with his partner. gojo woke up extra early to send you off, helping you get ready.

the way your smile lit up his morning, he couldn't even get back to sleep right after, seeing how happy you are with today. gojo can't even wait for the time to struck twelve for the exhibition opening, and so he got there an hour early.

he was silent with his movements, a beautiful bouquet of flowers in his grasp as he paced around the crowded area — blue eyes averting everywhere to look for you. with his height, finding you wasn't too hard for him.

pushing through oceans of humans, he stood right in front of you. the solemn look on your face doesn't go unnoticed, "hi, baby."

you look up to see him and crack a smile, "you came."

gojo grins down at you, "of course i did, can't miss my girl's exhibition, can i?" his large hand covered the top of your head, "why the frown? are you not happy to see me?"

chuckling, you shake your head, "no. my parents couldn't make it, they were too busy with work."

and you were so excited to show them your art work too. gojo didn't forget the way you rambled on about how your parents were going to love it — especially when it was dedicated to them. and they butchered it up by choosing work over you.

this time, gojo frowns along with you, "they didn't show up?"

with a shake of your head, gojo pulls you into his embrace, "i'm sorry that happened, show me everything? i arrived here an hour ago to see you, you know?"

"one hour? so early and for what?"

"to see you, silly. i couldn't wait to see all your works," he pressed his lips onto your forehead, "and this is for my beautiful girl."

he handed you the bouquet and laced his fingers with yours, "let's get some food after this? it's a date."

"it's a date!" you smiled, no longer feeling upset.

𝜗𝜚 . NANAMI KENTO

people always tell you to never get excited over small things, but you couldn't help it — the slightest things made you really happy, but at the same time, the slightest things made you sad as well.

i'm sorry, can't come to the exhibit. something came up, i'll try to swing by next time y/n! maybe next year? sorry :(

you read the text over and over again. this should be fine, (friend) was probably just busy with their day so they couldn't drop by — no matter how hard you try to convince yourself that it was fine. you didn't feel like it. they promised.

"i'm sorry i'm late, y/n."

turning around to look at the source of the voice, there stood your boyfriend. sweat dribbling down the side of his face, hair disheveled with shallow and rapid breaths. he looked like he just ran a marathon.

"kento? i thought you couldn't make it—"

nanami shook his head, "i made time for you, i will always make time for you," he gave you a small smile.

"you're not late, just in time actually," you switched your phone off, shoving it inside the back pocket of your jeans, "thank you for coming for me."

he wiped his sweat, standing up straight, stepping towards you, "where are your friends? they should be here now, are they not?"

the corner of your lips tugged downwards. it was embarrassing as it is, and now you had to tell him that they weren't coming. it's like a slap to the face, "um . . . they aren't coming. something came up, and i guess they couldn't come."

nanami's eyebrows twitched slightly, but he said nothing. his hand reached out for yours, giving it a slight squeeze, "spend the rest of your day with me?"

you blinked, "how about work?"

"don't worry about my work, you come first, understood?" he brushed his fingers through your hair, pulling you in for a brief kiss.

𝜗𝜚 . ITADORI YUUJI

maybe the fact that your parents were workaholics made you a better person. maybe the fact that your parents were workaholics pushed you to do better — like a cry for attention. but for some apparent reason, they never seemed to be satisfied with what you're doing.

"art brings you no good, what are you going to be? an artist? do you know how much they earn a year?"

don't be an artist this. don't be an artist that. it was pretty expected that your invitation for them was discarded with no thoughts behind. hell, they didn't even spare it a glance.

and yet, the little girl in you still hoped that they'd show up — even just for a while.

they didn't, it should be obvious. you saw it coming, but it still hurts anyways. however, itadori yuuji showed up; and he was like a ball of sunshine, so you couldn't help but to be happy as well. especially with how packed his schedule is, he still made the time to stop by.

"baby!"

"yuuji!"

he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into a tight hug, carrying you around with ease, "sorry i came a little late, kugisaki needed me to bring her shopping bags back to the cab. where are your parents? they should be here, right?"

right. they should have.

"no, they didn't come," you murmured into the crook of his neck before pulling your head back with a sad smile plastered to your face, "but i'm okay, you're here now!"

yuuji puckered his lips out slightly, "i'm going to pester gojo-sensei to let me off for the rest of the day, i need to be here with you."

you shake your head, "you can't, what if you have a mission?"

"fushiguro can take over, pretty. don't worry about my missions," yuuji replied, nuzzling his nose to the side of your face, "plus, how can i leave you alone here, huh?"

"you're the sweetest, yuuji. but what if it's an important mission?" you pinched his cheeks gently, pulling them.

"fushiguro can take over, he's strong. and there's kugisaki, and the second year students. they'll manage," he retorted, pecking your cheek before letting you down.

"you're too nice, yuuji."

"i love you. and show me your works, i can't wait to see them, you know? kugisaki wanted pictures!"

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #fluff #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #nanami kento #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #itadori yuuji #itadori fluff #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori x reader

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worldofkuro · 3 days

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Painted Smile

Painted Smile VIII

<- Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ->

Pairing: Alastor x Female! Reader

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: Well, well, well. Here another chapter for you my dears ! I hope you'll enjoy it! Reader and Alastor are getting closer and closer it's adorable...For now.

You went back inside with Alastor, his jacket still draped over your shoulder. Alice waved at you before staring at Alastor then at you, with a big smile. What? You sat back down on your chair and listened to the conversation which was now about the war. You didn't really want to talk about that for Christmas but..

You felt Alice nudged you, making you look at her confused, she was observing you with a teasing expression. You raised your eyebrows, before leaning toward her, she immediately whispered in your ear as you took a sip of water.

“ Your lipstick is smudged.”

She leaned back with an amused grin and pointed discreetly toward Alastor. You followed the direction she pointed and almost choked on your water. Alastor had lipstick on his lips ! You blushed furiously, did somebody else notice it ? You looked at everyone around the table but they were way too focused on the conservation, even Alastor was talking with them. You hide your lips behind a napkin , staring at Alice with wide eyes.

She seemed delighted ; hiding her smile behind her gloved hands. Should you go to the bathroom, to wash up? But it wouldn’t clean Alastor’s lips. You touched Alastor’s tights with your palm, which made him take your hand in his, his gaze turning toward you. You tried to point to his lips but he only smiled wider before tilting his head toward you. You leaned toward him and opened your mouth but he cut you off.

“ You already want another one?”

You threw yourself back against your chair as Alastor was laughing, throwing his head back. Everyone stopped talking and looked at the both of you, confused and curious. You took your glass, hiding your face behind it as they tried to coat you to tell them what had happened. It was Alastor who spoke first.

“ I just reminded my dearest friend that being gluttonous was bad,” he said with a cunning smile. Oh, he looked so full of himself ! You wanted him to be flustered as you were! “ You might get addicted!”

“ Unlike you, I don't have food all over my mouth.” You closed one eye, staring at him with the other as you drank from your glass. Take that Alastor! And please read between the lines… “ and as you know my dear Alastor, since our younger age, you always were the glutton one.” you smirked as you remembered how he would eat so much for the tiny body he used to have.

Alastor just smiled with a teasing expression. You stuck discreetly your tongue at him as the guests were laughing with Alastor, saying how a grown man like him needed to eat so he shouldn’t feel bad for eating so much. You’ve never seen Alastor naked but you knew that he was strong. He could easily throw you on his shoulder when he wanted to do something you didn’t want.

“ You know that when I like something, I can’t help but crave more until there is nothing left for others to share.”

You almost spat the water on the table, your eyes wide open. Was he still talking about food ? You felt your body suddenly getting warmer. You didn’t understand why a sentence like this could make you react like this.

“ Ooh Alastor, you have such a way with words. What else can that mouth do?” said a lady, who seemed to have drunk more alcohol than water. You blushed as she leaned toward Alastor making her chest bigger with her arms. What was she doing ? You almost hid your face, feeling so embarrassed but you wanted to see Alastor’s reaction. Did he like this kind of woman?

“ It bites.” He said with a dangerous smile. You could see your lipstick on his lips, making it seemed like it was blood. You didn’t know why you liked it. You shook your head, what were you thinking? A bloody Alastor wasn’t attractive ! The sweet juices must have been alcohol for you to think such a thing about your friend. You finished your glass, you were getting tired now, and frankly you wanted to go home. You were feeling cold even with Alastor’s blazer on your shoulder. You ignored the lady’s giggles as you stood up, Alastor following soon after you.

“ Well, I think we are ready to go back home.” you smiled at Alice and John who seemed sad that you were already leaving. You hugged Alice as you explained that your feet were killing you, you danced all night and you weren’t used to those kinds of heels. Alastor shook hands with some people and you went toward a butler who gave your coat back.

You gave back his blazer to Alastor and then you left the mansion which was still buzzing with energy and music. You looked at the sky and sighed. Come on, only 35 minutes and you would be able to throw off your shoes. You could almost feel your legs trembling because of the pain.

“ Hold onto me.”

You squealed as Alastor crouched before you and lifted you in his arms, just like a bride. He began to walk. You were impressed, he had danced even more than you and yet he could carry you without breaking a sweat. You touched his lips with your cold fingers, making him look at you.

“ You know you have lipstick on your lips?”

“ Well, yes.” You stared at him, eyes wide opened. What did he say? He knew? How? “ Dear, when you kissed me I could see that your lipstick wasn’t as clean as before. And with Alice’s reaction, it just confirmed my thoughts.” he smiled teasingly at you but his eyes were full with warmth.

“ But… Why did you not wipe it?”

He kept walking in silence for a moment, even making you believe that he wouldn’t answer you. Sometimes Alastor would just stare at you and not answer your question and you knew that it meant that he wasn’t ready to share what he thought, so you would just give up and talk about something else. You sighed in relief as you saw your home. Finally.

“ I wanted to feel you a little longer.”

You looked at him as he put you on the stairs in front of the door. You tilted your head, he wanted to feel you a little longer..? You took his hand with yours and smiled softly at him, you knew from his expression that he didn’t want to have that conversation right now, even with his usual smile. You quietly opened the door and realized that nobody was up, you could see bottles of wine on the living room’s table but your mothers were nowhere to be seen. You took off your shoes and almost moaned in bliss. Finally…

You went upstairs and took a peek inside your mother’s bedroom and smiled. Marie and your mother were both asleep on your parent’s bed, you could feel Alastor leaning his chest against your back as he stared at his mother. You guessed he wanted to be sure she was okay.

You went into your bedroom and fell on your bed, you just wanted to sleep..

“ Nu-uh miss, you are going to wash your face and take off your clothes.” you felt Alastor’s hands on your waist as he dragged you toward the bathroom. You groaned, you were so tired… You could wash up tomorrow.. He made you sit on the bathtub’s edge and he kneeled before you. He took a tissue and began to take off your makeup, beginning with your eyes, forcing you to close them.

“ Alastooor…” you moaned, trying to to coat him in letting you go. “ I just want to sleep…”

“ And I want you to go to bed clean, so be quiet and let me work.” he said as he wiped your lips. You nodded while opening your eyes, the faster it was done, the faster you could go to bed. “ Good girl.” he smirked at you with a mocking glint in his eyes.

You bit his finger, the one which was still wiping your mouth. You stared at him, trying to look dangerous. You… didn’t like when he was saying “good girl” in that tone, like you were someone he could easily manipulate, someone that wasn’t special to him. He looked calmly at his finger then at your eyes. You didn't know what he was thinking and it was killing you. Yes, you could read him easier than most people but Alastor stayed a mystery for you sometimes… Like right now.

He leaned toward you, making you lean back, keeping his finger between your teeth, until your back was at the bottom of the bathtub. He climbed above you, his eyes never leaving yours.

“ I recall being the one who said that I bite…” he looked at you calmly as you stared at him with angry eyes. You smirked, keeping his finger against your teeth, you always loved when you succeeded in surprising him. It was such a thrill.. What could you do now.. Oh! You let his finger go and smiled sweetly at him.

“ You wanted me to be clean, right?” He titled his head before you quickly opened the water. You hid underneath his body as the water fell upon his body. You laughed as you saw his face. His eyes were wide open and his smile looked like a grimace, but he was staring at you. He quickly turned off the water and fell on you, his face near your neck. “ Ouch! Alastor, you’re heavy!”

You felt his arms holding you against him, squeezing you so hard that you could feel your chest being crushed against his torso. He was getting your dress wet now! You tried to run away but you couldn't move from his hold and you could feel his smile on his lips against your neck. You sighed, giving up. You took a strand of wet hair, it was beginning to be curly. You smiled, you liked his curly hair, it was cute!

“ I think it’s past midnight , so Merry Christmas.”

“ Merry Christmas, Alastor.” you closed your eyes as you hugged him as hard as he was squeezing you. You felt him gasped against your skin, tickling you. You stayed like this for a moment before you were feeling really cold. Alastor helped you get out of the bathtub, you looked at yourself in the mirror. You were clean! You went into the bathroom and looked at the dress. How were you supposed to take it off without tearing it? Last time, Alice was the one to help you take it off.

“ Alastor, can you help me with my dress?”

“ Of course dear” he approached you and dragged the zip down. You thanked him but didn’t move when you felt his gaze on your back. You turned your head toward him with a curious expression. He was looking at your back with a straining smile. “ I hope nobody will ever backstab you… Can I..?” he whispered as he held his hand toward your back. You nodded and closed your eyes when you felt his other hand covered your eyes. For years, you kept this game you had created, hiding your eyes and telling a secret.. And Alastor loved using this game against you.

You felt the tips of his finger caress your naked back. You shivered, you wondered why? Were you cold? His touch was timid, but when you took a step back to get closer to him you felt his palm against your body. He moved his hand from your spine until he back of your hair. You tilted your head back. You didn’t really know what was happening.. The moment was a little scary, but because it was Alastor, you were feeling safe. He moved your hair from your back, sliding it on your shoulder.

“ Keep your eyes closed…” he took his hand from your eyes and then you felt both of his hands on your back, touching your hot skin.

God…

You sighed as he slid his nails against your epidermis. It felt like he was tracing lines. Was he writing something ?

“ Alastor..” you whispered and he hummed in response. “ Can I… Can I do the same..?” you felt him flinching and you bit your lips. Were you too greedy? Did you break the moment you were having? You knew that Alastor was being vulnerable right now… You knew he had problems with others' touch. Something you had to learn even if it did hurt you when you were younger.

“ If you keep your eyes closed.”

You gasped as his finger dipped softly into your skin.? He said yes? He said yes, he said yes, he said yes.

He took his hand off your back, which you were already missing, and you heard him take off his clothes. You kept your eyes closed, you would never betray his trust. Never. Youknew it was another step in your friendship.. Was it a friendship… Was Alastor just a friend? …

Did you want Alastor to stay as a friend?

“ I will be sitting down, my back toward you.”

You felt his hand take yours and bring it toward him. You didn’t want to touch his skin right now, you could feel his hand shake a little. You put your hand on his curly hair and stroke it. You wouldn’t touch him unless he was relaxed.

“ Tell me if you want me to stop. Tap me somewhere on my body.”

He didn’t answer but you could feel him squeeze your hands. You breathed and began to trail your hand near his shoulder. You caressed them softly, from the tips of your finger, just like Alastor did.

Just like he did, you would make him feel safe.

You slid the tips of your finger on his back and you felt him tensed. You stopped, waiting for him to tell you it was too much. He didn’t speak and you waited for his body to relax once more before touching once again his back. You began to put more pressure on your touch, your fingers were caressing his hot skin. Was he sweating ?

“ You are beautiful, Alastor.”

“ You say that because you keep your eyes closed when you are with me.”

“ Then, let me open them.”

“...No, not yet.”

“ Alright.” you smiled a little, you didn’t want him to feel like you were upset. Right now, he was giving you more than he could imagine. You leaned toward your hands and pecked his skin. You felt him tense immediately. “ I’m sorry–”

“ No.. No, it’s okay.. I.. I was just surprised.”

You leaned your forehead against his back, your eyes still closed. Has Alastor ever been backstabbed ? Was that why he was so protective of you? Was that why he always held distance with others? You remembered him telling you once when you were children :

“ A betrayal always comes from your own house.”

Was he talking about his dad? You only knew that Alastor didn’t like his father but that was it. You didn’t like his father because you felt like Alastor wasn’t safe with him…

You felt Alastor moved and you leaned back. You kept your eyes closed, as long as he didn’t tell you to open them, you would keep them close. You would accept all of Alastor when he was ready. You waited for him to talk but you could only hear your own breathing.

“ Alastor.. Where..?”

“ I’m here, you are caged between my legs right now.”

You scoffed at the choice of his words.

“ I’m caged ?” you teased him, tilting your head against his legs. You were beginning to be very tired…

“ With me.” you felt his lips against your forehead.” Would you like that? Being caged with me?” he whispered, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear him. Was he afraid of your answer? Should you be afraid that you didn’t hesitate ?

“ Yes.”

You gasped as he tugged you against his naked torso, hugging you so hard, you were almost choking but you embraced him even harder. You desperately wanted to see his face but he wasn’t ready right now. So you would wait…

He let you go and you waited a moment before he said you could open your eyes. You turned to look at him, he was wearing a pajama that belonged to your father. He went downstairs and you put on your nightgown.

What had just happened ? You felt like your bond, who was already deep, just deepened once more. You turned your head toward the door as you saw Alastor with your cup, you could already smell the sweet scent of hot chocolate. You smiled at him as he gave you your cup and you drank eagerly.

“ I hope you’ll get warmer with this… disgusting brevage.”

“ Alastor, you have no taste. Who drinks coffee without sugar or with some sweets?”

“ Me.”

You shook your head, laughing quietly. You didn’t want to wake up your mothers. You finished your cup and went under the cover. Alastor joined you; you looked at him. You couldn’t see any trace of fatigue.

“ You think you’ll be able to sleep a little?”

“ Mhn… Who knows.” he closed his eyes with an amused smile. You rolled your eyes at him before falling asleep not even five minutes later.

You woke up hours laters, drooling on your pillow. What time was it..? You looked around, you could hear noises downstairs and Alastor wasn’t next to you anymore. You yawned as you stretched your body just like a cat. Thinking of cats, you’ll have to visit Husker next time.

You took your robe and went downstairs, going straight toward the living room where everyone was. You hugged your mother and Marie wishing them a Merry Christmas. You looked around, Alastor wasn’t there?

“ How was your soirée sweetie?” asked Marie with a soft smile. You told them how big the mansion was, how there were so many guests, how you sang with a band, that you and Alastor danced. It was a really good soirée. You looked at the Christmas’s tree, you didn’t even notice the presents below the tree. When did you mothers put it here, it wasn’t there when you came home last night.

“ Well, it’s time to open the presents!” said your mother with absolute glee! She went toward the tree and gave Marie’s your present. She seemed really touched. You smiled at her, Marie’s was someone important for you now, so of course you would make something for her !

“ You bought my Mother a gift?” you felt Alastor leaned against you with a happy grin.

“ I made it, she is the one who has to support you everyday, she is a real hero!” you kissed both of his cheeks with a teasing grin.

“ Oh dear, did you make it ?” she smiled at you as she showed everyone your handkerchiefs. It wasn’t perfect but you did try your best. You nodded and she stood up before hugging you. You sigh in relief, okay, it went well.

Everyone gave their presents. You were surprised when Alastor gave your mother a gift, thanking her for everything she has done for his mother. Your mother almost cried but she composed herself quickly. It was a perfume! Wasn’t that scarily expensive ?

Marie gifted you a book with all of her recipes. You couldn't wait to try it! Alastor suggested that you should wait for him to be with you if you wanted to try some of them, for security’s purpose.

You took the gift you had for Alastor. Alright, now or never. You walked toward him with, you hoped, a relaxed smile but from his observing eyes, you must have failed. You put the little package in his hand.

“ Merry Christmas Alastor.”

He stared at you but opened his present. His eyes widened as he saw a beautiful watch. You had a hard time buying a watch that looked luxurious but wasn’t too expensive. Thank God Alice had contacts everywhere.

“ Well, dear… I’m flattered.” he said with a genuine smile, already putting the watch around his wrist. You relaxed, every gift was given, you could relax now. You sat on the sofa with a sigh. Who would have thought Christmas could be so stressful?

“ Stand up dear, I still didn’t give you my gift?”

You tilted your head but stood up. Alastor made you turn your back to him after he put his gift in your hand. You looked at him curiously but he just made a movement with his head toward the gift. You opened it carefully and gasped.

Into a beautiful white cloth was a beautiful necklace who looked like gold with a red stone hanging from it. You stared at him, your mouth wide open. How..?

You felt Alastor getting closer, carefully taking the necklace.

“ May I?”

You nodded as he put on the necklace around your neck. You touched the red stone with a moved smile. You would never take it off. You saw from the corner of your eyes your mothers giggling behind their hands as they watched you. You rolled your eyes, amused. Who were the adults here? You felt Alastor hands on your shoulder and he whispered in your ear.

“ Merry Christmas, my dear.”

Tag List: @lukneetoonz @martinys-world @littlepoetnova @sirens-and-moonflowers @eris-norwega @tiredflame132 @mo-0-o @vvollerie @sodavizz@boogiemansbitch @tessemerick @slytherin4ever @kammsinn @alastorssimp @t0xic1vi

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cherry-leclerc · 14 hours

Text

so long, london ☆ ln4

genre: angst, toxic relationship traits, fluff, humor, established relationship, one-sided, smut

word count: 7.3k

You've never been read so easily by someone until he entered your world. All is good, all is true love, but realistically, that all comes crumbling down. Leaving you with a series of doubts. The kind you ignore because why not?

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, m!receiving, f!receiving

inspired by this and this !

To be completely fair, the accent wasn’t all that familiar to you. It’s odd, then alluring, then it makes you curl a brow. Australian? British? Irish—no, that’s too far off, ridiculous, really.

It’s the end of spring, which means it’s also the start of summer, which also means your job is in full force. Which is good if you’re still considering transferring to London to study abroad. You were, thank you very much, which is why you needed a shit load of money.

Being a waitress isn’t all that bad; the view was breathtaking. Laguna Beach has always been and always will be. It’s impossible to take away its charm.

The diner is small, yet crowded, so it’s hard to get through with a stack of breakfast plates atop one another. A piece of bacon slips past you as you let out a curse, mentally noting to clean it up on your way back. “An order of pancakes, french toast, two hashbrowns, bacon, four freshly squeezed orange juice—shit. I forgot, it was grapefruit, wasn’t it?”

Setting down the plates as carefully as you can with their assistance, you let out a sigh. “I’ll be right back—”

“It’s fine, mate. Orange juice is just as good.” His voice is soft and rough, all at once.

You halt, fixing your apron, awkwardly. “No, it was my mistake, I’ll fix it—”

Mmm, delicious, his friends chime in as they take a sip from the fresh beverage. The blue eyed boy signals with his dark brows. “Told you. Don’t worry about it.”

“Cool,” you mumble. “Enjoy. Oh, and let me know if you need anything.”

They don’t, which is quite upsetting since you were slightly curious to find out if you were right. Smoking a joint, you hear a loud cough. The mysterious brunette waves. “Tough shift?”

“Of course not, I love it.”

He nods. “I’m sure you do, but I’m also sure that’s not the complete truth.” He sits. “You’re on your break, I presume, which means you're not on the clock, which means I’m no longer a customer, but rather just a stranger. A stranger whom you will most likely never see again, so…”

A puff expands through the blue sky and yellow sun. You squint. “I’m worn out. Down. Worn down? Both.”

“You’re good at hiding it.”

A chuckle. “But you were able to notice which obviously means I’m not much of an actress.”

He motions over to the cigarette. You hesitantly hand it over to him as he sucks sharply and releases. Bemused, you make a face. “I was because I go through the same thing, oftentimes. More like all the time.” Another hit. “I understand.”

“I’m not sure whether I should feel seen or scared…” Humor laces your soft voice as you quirk a brow. He laughs.

“Seen, definitely.” A beat. “I’m Lando. Foreign visitor.”

Shaking his hand, you ease up, smiling, gently. “Nice to meet you, Lando—foreign visitor.” A pause. “Resident.”

“Really, now?” He plays along, teasing. You can hear it.

“Lucky, I know. Been here my entire life. Can’t complain.”

“I bet.”

“Yourself?”

Lando winces. “England. Bristol, specifically. Ever been?” Nope. A toothy grin. “Don’t—rains all day long, gloomy all year. It’s depressing, but…” He relaxes. “It’s home.”

Staring off into the waves, you cover your face from the strong breeze. Salt air splits your tongue in half as you wipe your mouth. “Your accent. It’s captivating. As soon as I heard it, I grew jealous.”

The Brit frowns. “Your accent is much better. Clean,” he adds and you let out a snort. Accent—what accent? He rolls his blue eyes. “That one. You might not consider it one, but it is. Very…pretty.” A rosy tint flourishes onto his cheeks. Summer heat, summer breeze, perhaps.

Retreating the roll from his hand, you stomp on it, letting the light die. “Thank you, Lando from England. You made my day.”

That’s the end, really. Just a nice encounter that still doesn’t make much sense, but you’re glad it happened. Normally, after a tiring shift, you borrow Benny’s surfboard and rush towards the killer waves. The soothing water releases a lot of the built up tension that lies between your shoulder blades.

Today isn’t much different. After getting yelled at for— “getting the fucking order wrong, bitch” —and— “my toddler just threw up, yes, oh, nevermind, had a…teensy accident” — you don’t second guess it. As soon as your skin connects to the warm temperature, you sigh in sweet relief.

“I need to get out, I need to get out, I need to—”

“You just got here, though. Plus, the water feels nice, don’t you think?”

Startled, you sit up on your board, rocking back and forth. With what looks to be a painful tan, Lando smiles, sheepishly. “Hello…again.”

“Are…” You look around, but the ocean is practically empty. “A-are you stalking me?”

His smile drops. “W-wh—no! Of course not! I saw you from afar, and I just thought…” He grimaces. “I should go.” Except he can’t. Every chance he tries to tread away, the waves only push him back. It’s comedic. “One sec…crap. One more—shit. Okay, two, two sec—”

“Ah, forget it, stay. Land of the free, no?” Rubbing your nose, you pull his paddle closer. “What brought you out here?”

“Heard it was a good day to attempt to surf. Tell you what—it’s not.”

A giggle escapes, then lessens. You furrow your brows. “Hold on a minute; are you teaching yourself? As in, no instructor? Just you? Alone? Solo?”

“Yeah, what about it?” he grumbles. “I can do it.”

You’re wheezing at this point, stomach clenching. “That’s nearly impossible! I’m mean, sort of, sort of not.” When his eyes don’t switch from being offended to getting the joke, you quickly snap your lips shut. “Can I teach you? It’s not that hard.”

He gapes, curls grow more and more. They’re cute, the way they bounce when he shakes his head. “And if it’s so easy then why can’t I just do it myself?”

“How long have you been trying?”

He burns up. “That’s not the point.”

“No, that’s exactly my point. You need a mentor, and lucky for you, I’m a surf instructor on the weekends. Come on.”

The twenty-four year old is not sure he even wants to be here, suffering from an overdose of embarrassment. Every single attempt ends up with him splashing straight into the clear water. He groans for the millionth time, clutching into his board. “I think I’m done for the day.”

You don’t fight him on it. His bruised nose makes you feel bad, and his chipped lip makes you want to giggle, so yeah, that’s enough. He can taste the salt water as he smacks his lips, trying to get rid of it. You click your tongue. “That doesn’t really do anything. Not until you bathe and brush your teeth. Or rinse. Either or.”

He invites you to the mansion he’s rented for him and his friends, declaring that there would be endless amounts of alcohol, but when you decline, he rubs his jaw and grimaces. “Yeah, I’m not in the mood, either. Craving tacos?”

So, that’s what you two do; converse over an amazing meal. You can already note his skin shedding, but for some reason, it’s endearing. You even spot a couple of moles. Chewing rapidly to try and forget about the spice, he pants. “London, eh?”

“England,” you correct. He deadpans you.

“That’s basically the same thing. It’s along the same lines. Just like Monaco and Paris.”

You shrug. “London—yes.”

Sniffling, he reaches for his can of Coke. Gasping left and right, he winks to the best of his ability. “You’re a smart girl…I think. And you’ll get in…I think.”

“Gee, thanks, I think.”

He laughs. “I hope you get in. I really do, Laguna Resident.” You roll your eyes. “You won’t miss all of this, though?” The warmth, the people, everything. A bittersweet feeling runs through your veins, momentarily, before you wave him off.

“Nothing is holding me back, forcing me to stay. I’ll be just fine.”

Finally, he calms down, occasionally sneezing. The way he excuses himself makes him look very polished. Lando licks his lips clean, drumming his long fingers against his lap. Later you would find out this would be his nervous tick. A teller. A good one, at most.

“Call me? When you get there, I mean—if you want to, of course. No pressure.”

And while you may not have a reason to be a part of SoCal anymore, something else seemed to tug you to the other side of the world. “Might have to take your word for it.”

“Good.”

You grin, looking down onto your lap. Later he’d know this was your way of avoiding his stare. Butterflies, for the meantime. “Good.”

“No, no, no! You were supposed to—forget it, nevermind. Did you at least—” The stream flatlines and Lando is left speechless, headset drooping down, inch by inch. The way his eyes furiously twitch is enough for you to peck his cheek.

“It’s late anyways. Come on, let's go to bed.”

There’s utter nonsense, and mumbo-jumbo that he spills as he reluctantly follows. If Max had done this, and if Max had done that. Pouting, you cradle his face, forcing him to look at you. “You’re telling me you wish you would still rather be playing than spend time with me?” You gently slap his face and he smiles, sheepishly. “I’m hurt.”

“No, no, you’re right. Of course I want to spend time with you.” When you peck his nose, he sighs. You can faintly smell the cheap beer, courtesy of said Max, so you let out a screech, creating a distance.

“Never mind. I don’t want to spend time with you, you reek.” His smile drops and you pinch the tip of your nose. “Reek, I tell you. Go brush your teeth!”

The McLaren driver snarls, then makes his way over to your shared bathroom. “I remember when you used to be fun. Seems like a decade ago.”

“And make sure to floss!”

If you’re able to remember, you could openly admit that you did make that call. Actually, text. You got cold feet and sent a text last minute. You met up at the pub just around your dorm, the one that is only busy during the weekends, so is practically empty during the week. Hence, Wednesday night.

Wow. Your tan is gone, is the first thing he says when he sees you. It’s true. Being away from the California sun has completely changed you. A bit, but it did. Giggling, you accept his hug, finding warmth. London weather. “How was the move? I want to hear all about it.”

Oh, the move was as good as it could get. The airport lost two of my luggages, but it’s fine, I didn’t really need many dresses, because yes, you were right, it’s always gloomy. I miss Benny like a baby, but we always keep in touch—I’m actually going to visit him for his birthday. Which is in January? Yes…yes! January third.

“What about you? Work?”

First of all, can’t really consider it work when it’s fucking fun. Second of all, it’s quite swell. I’ve got a new teammate, which sort of sucks, but he’s nice. The car is a bit wonky, but I’m sure that’ll change throughout the course of the year. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

Conversations switched from having them on a steady stool in the pub, to having them in the comfort of his flat. Plus, you two were more open and honest with one another.

Benny, yeah, it’s pancreatic cancer, and no, I’m not okay.

The team is fucking shit. My arm still hurts from last week's crash, but I’ll be fine. Please, don’t you worry, love.

Lando is an absolute angel. He pays for your tickets back home, along with Benny’s treatment. He declines the help at first, but as soon as he meets your smiley boyfriend, he accepts. I’ll pay you back. Once I’m better. Lando laughs with a muppet dive. Of course—of course, Ben.

You take care of him and his injuries. Follow doctors orders. Ice at least twice a day. Don’t forget to take your pain meds. No, for the love of God, they’re not candy, sweetheart.

It’s the best and the worst. And it’s all yours.

He’s very much obsessed with Mila as soon as she’s born. He congratulates his brother and his sister-in-law once, and off he goes, straight to the newborn. It makes you fall in love even more, which you didn’t know was possible, but here you were.

“I say give it a year or two.”

“More like five. Come on, honey, be realistic.”

“I am! Can’t you tell he adores her?” Oliver scoffs. “He’s my brother. I would know.” His wife rolls her eyes, then moves on to snap a few pictures of Lando and Mila, then a thousand videos.

“Crap. I want one,” he mentions on the drive back home. He gently rubs his thumb over your leg; you shudder. “You saw me, you were a witness, I was a good enough babysitter!”

“Babysitter? You’d be a dad, not a babysitter,” you retort, though your wobbly grin is a dead giveaway. A long finger pokes at your ribs as you laugh, scooting as far enough away as the McLaren allows you to get. “One day. Just not now.”

And he knows that’s true. He’s busy with racing, you’re busy with school; it's irresponsible. Your confirmation was sweet though—it was enough. The Brit hums, continuing the drive with a bright smile.

“One day, then.”

Baby talk was a fun thing to dream about. To think, daydream. Marriage talk? Now that’s serious.

It started on a Sunday morning; a non-race week. He’s finally back home and you're ecstatic. He was too, but that slowly goes out the window when you rush him to the room. I like where this is going, he starts when you drag him along. You bite back a smile, waiting for his noise. “What the shit?” he yelps, pulling on his curls. Spinning to face you, your boyfriend groans. “Where’s all my gaming—sweetheart,” he softened his voice, softened his eyes. “Sweetheart…”

“It’s gone! Bye-bye, adios!” You twirl around the empty room. “You don’t need it, Lando. It was rotting your brain.”

The color from his vibrant face fades, leaving him to let out a delirious laugh. “No, no, it wasn’t. Wh-why would you do that?” He doubles over. “I’m going to be sick.”

After a while of letting him drown in a puddle of self-pity, you snicker. Blue eyes look up at you; furrowed thick brows. What? “They’re in the guest room. I just needed us to paint the walls.” Releasing a scream, Lando plunges for you, picking you up and spinning you around until you flop against his arms.

“Asshole!” you yell, smacking his arm. After a series of instructions, you both fall into a pattern. He focuses on the left side of the room and you focus on the left and the right. It just makes sense.

“Stick to your side,” he mumbles, pushing you away. You burn a laser to the back of his head. “I can feel you killing me—stop it.”

“Then quit drawing, you’re ruining it!” There’s a cat, a dog, a house, his racing car, you—you presume— and Mila for good measure, but he serves her no justice as she appears to be more of a blob. Going over it with a thick layer of paint, he curses to himself. As soon as he picks up the thin brush once again, you immediately set your foot down. “No, Lando, think before you commit.”

But he must not hear you—or ignores you—because suddenly he’s drawing something unrecognizable. You almost laugh when you guess it must be a donut, but when he draws the familiar rock, you come to a halt. “Stellar, no?”

“Hardly. Looks like more of a neck guard—next!”

But he pushes you away as soon as you reach over to cover it up. “I’m being serious. I’m mean, not now, but someday. Are you…” His voice drops, slowly, and he drums his fingers onto his thigh. Your lips turn upward. “...open to it? Getting married?”

“Well,” you start and his breath hitches, nervously tapping, awaiting for your response. Pressing your lips against his, you breathe out, and he groans. “I love you, Lando. I’m more than open to it.”

He sighs in relief, kissing you harder this time, with more emotion. “Good.” A beat. “Thank you.”

Slowly, but surely, you’re celebrating your three year anniversary—in Japan, a race week—but still. Yuki specifically gives you two a list of places to visit, so it makes everything a thousand percent easier. Fifth, he grunts, throwing his helmet onto the tiny bed in his motorhome. Screw it, I’m blowing my brains out.

“Hey now, quit talking like that.” A kiss. “I don’t care if you’re upset, I happen to be super duper proud.”

“It’s Super Trouper,” Oscar yells from the other side of the wall. “Don’t disrespect ABBA like that.

“Yeah,” Lando hums, pulling you in. “Don’t.”

“I’ll pull the trigger,” you warn.

He gasps, theatrically. “You wouldn’t dare…”

“Try me.”

“I already have—sweet.” His dirty implications makes you heat up and the Australian groans as he turns up his music. Lando snickers, changing quickly. “Happy Anniversary. It’s not everyday, you know?”

“I know,” you cheer, playing with your promise ring. You beam up at the bubbly Brit. “I just wish we were home. Celebrating in the comfort of our own place.”

He doesn’t mention it, but you considering London your home—despite not growing up there—makes him crush on you harder than ever before; it's sickening. Clapping loudly, he stands up, reaching for your hand. “Then let's go back home. What’s keeping us here?”

“Yuki,” you grunt, taking his open hand. “We’d be breaking his heart, Lan. We need to do these twenty-one things.”

“Ah, he’ll understand.” A pause. “If he doesn’t then we’ll just buy his next meal to make up for it.”

Cackling, you peck his face, over and over until he pushes you away in a jokeful manner. “This is why I love you, Lando Norris!”

And he’s content, admiring the way you pack happily. He’s never seen someone so giddy to spend fourteen hours on a plane just to curl into the comfort of their bed. He’s just never seen or met anyone like you.

It was perfect.

As soon as he picks up his own digital camera, he’s in love. Part of you would be jealous, definitely, if it weren’t for him stopping to take a thousand pictures of you. One in the McLaren garage, next to his car. One where you balance yourself on a swing, eventually falling straight onto your face. One of your newly bruised nose, due to the fall. One where you’re sleeping, drooling like a—

“Delete that, I don’t even want to see it!”

Shaking his head full of curls, he runs away. “No! I happen to love it!”

“Lando!”

“You look adorable.”

“Fuck you, I’m leaving. Spend the night alone, loser.”

You don’t end up keeping your word. You get your revenge, eventually, when you pie him in his sleep. He nearly chokes, but it’s all in good fun, according to you.

But neither of you would have it any other way. You just happen to be his muse.

His greediness starts to show overnight, nearly. It catches you off guard, leaving you like a lost dog. The worst part is that it’s not directed directly at you, per se, but it felt like it. Most of the time, you’d deal with this by talking to him until he calms down, by making him a cup chamomile tea, because—

“It doesn’t help!” He paces the small room, throwing his gloves harshly against the wall.

“Studies prove—”

“Studies my ass.” An angry huff. “I just need to be alone. For a while.”

And it also catches you off guard how you don’t fight him back on it. Instead, you’re glad, fleeing out the door, straight to God knows where. Strolling, you twist and turn the thin band.

Where are you going?

“You said you wanted to be…” Except it’s not Lando. George quirks a dark brow. You gulp, forcing a smile. “I’m sorry. I thought you were…” A painful pause. “I thought you were Lando.”

“Must be the accent.” He laughs. “Don’t worry about it. Carmen actually made me chase you down. Said she wants your opinion with something about the wedding. You know her—perfectionist.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” Throwing your hair over your shoulder, you beam brighter this time, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I have plenty of time.”

He’s rude when he finds you. Well, not really, but even your friends notice it. I’m telling him to wear a simple black and white suit. A bow or a tie, he can decide, but he’s insisting on wearing white and I’m like hello? You giggle, orbs moving to find George with a playful glare.

“Why can you be the only one wearing white? It’s this some kind of rule or?”

“No, but it’s weird!” Carmen turns to face you, desperate eyes begging for backup. “Come on! Tell him it’s weird.”

Plump lips flicker upward. “I don’t know, George, it is a b—”

“Awful. You’re going to steal all the attention away from Caren and you’re going to look horrible. Just go with a traditional suit.”

The Mercedes driver doesn’t pay any attention to what was just said to him, but you and Carmen do, and that’s probably worse. You can tell she’s bothered by your boyfriend's unwanted opinion and for him going after her fiancé, so you briskly stand up. “Sweetheart, are you, um…ready to go?”

The Brit nods, fixing his bag that lays over his shoulder. “That’s why I’m here, no? Could have let me know you were leaving, too.” There’s tension in his voice; annoyance. “Also, I forgot your bag. I’ll wait for you here.”

His implication makes you queasy. You blink hastily. “Of course.” Turning to the older couple, you smile politely. “Um…text me, yeah? Let me know what you two decide on.”

Once you rush off, Carmen narrows her usually kind eyes, hard. George is quick, placing a steady hand onto her lap, and clears his throat. “You know, just because you didn’t place a podium for once doesn’t mean you get to act like a jerk. Seriously.”

Lando chooses to ignore his comment, bidding goodbye, and strolls over to find you, flustered. “Now I’m ready,” you confirm with a weak smile. The Brit laces his fingers through yours and brings it up to his mouth, pressing a warm kiss.

“You know I love you, right?”

“I do. I do know.”

He’s trying to be more gentle, you can tell. With his words, with his actions. It reminds you why you chose him. He had apologized after a quiet night, settling with what he had done. How he had treated you and his friends. George is quick to accept his apology, and you were too.

“I didn’t mean it,” he groans quietly, chest pressed against yours as you ride him. “I s-shouldn’t have—fuck.” The way you clench around him tightly makes his head spin. A whine escapes your swollen lips as you nod, fast, then slow, then staggered. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you pant, finally opening your eyes to find him already looking up at you. He squeezes your hips harder, keeping you firm. “You were upset, that’s all. I get it.”

She gets it, he remembers thinking, considering himself lucky for having a girlfriend who understands. His highs. His lows. His wins. He loses. This—this is why you were the one.

But once again, his lack of display is what reluctantly pushes you away.

Then back in.

It’s been three months of him not even picking up his camera. Maybe he’s just too lazy to develop his pictures, so you do it for him. There’s really no excuse. That’s what you say with light humor when you push it towards his chest, but he only cocks his head to the side. “I never asked for you to do that.”

Your stomach churns. You lick your chapped lips. “You don’t need to. I just…did it. Thought it might help get you out of your slump.”

This pushes something in him as he narrows his brows like a set of sharp knives. “Slump?” A scoff. “What? Because I haven’t been able to get a win?”

“What?” You’re dazed. “No.” You’re confused. “No, why would you say that?”

“I don’t know—why would you?”

“I mean it because you’ve been down, that’s it. Not because…” When his eyes don’t change, and your heart continues to pound, you flip him a smile. “You’re right. My choice of words weren’t the best. I’m sorry.”

The blue eyed boy clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth once, then sets the camera to his side. “Whatever, it’s fine, I guess.” And suddenly he’s making his way to his gaming room, leaving you with wide eyes and a bruised heart.

“Wait!” Carefully, you pick up the small camera, extending it out towards him. “Wh-what do you want me to do? Should I pack it into your suitcase? Or maybe I could—”

“Pack it, yes, but into a box and put it in the attic.” He continues his march. “I lost interest a long time ago, either way.”

You’re not dazed. You’re not confused.

You’re broken hearted.

You would think that you would have learned by now. He loves you, damn it. He’s just having a tough time proving it, but it’s fine, stuff like this happens all the time.

“Hello, darling,” Carmen greets, pulling you away from your trance. The camera pans over to Lance, Carlos, and Lando. She gingerly takes the spot next to you. “Feeling alright? Lost a bit of weight and color.” Her concern can’t be hidden behind even the tallest mountain.

Been working out. London is gloomy all day long. Haven’t gotten proper Vitamin D. Looking down onto your lap, you twirl your fingers. Over and under, over and under, over and un—

Her hands feel warm against yours and you can’t help but flinch, instinctively needing to pull away, but she holds on tighter. Not even your boyfriend's hands have felt as warm as hers; not in a very long time. “You can talk to me. Anytime.” Eyes remain downward, watering, so, like most nights before bed, you blink them away. Hard, fast, and cruel.

“Have you chosen the song you want to be for your guys’ first dance?”

She remains still for a second, focuses directly into your soul and you blink faster before she has a chance to decode you. She always did. “We have. My Funny Valentine. Hear this, Daniel wants to sing it. With a band and the whole thing. Nightmare.”

And you’re glad for having her stories to distract you from your feelings, because silly is what they are. Childish. False. It’s only until the end of the race where you two realize you hadn’t been paying attention. As soon as George walks in through those doors, he jumps up and down. “Hey. Top five!”

“That’s my boy!”

You feel like a creep watching them kiss with sweet emotion you can’t help but miss and crave. Your eyes flicker over to the flat screen T.V. and you’re shooting up from your seat. “Shit! I have to go!”

He’s in the middle of a speech of some sort when you rush in gasping for air. Sheepishly, you wave, then scoot closer to Zak who gives you a quick side hug. Everyone claps and then he’s making his way to—

Not you.

First it’s Zak, then he squeezes by. Then it’s his entire team. Then it’s Oscar. Then it’s Carlos, which is the last straw because he’s not even supposed to be here. “Mind if I squeeze in?” you squeak. The Spaniard shakes his head.

“Be my guest. I should leave anyway.” “Are you sure?” Lando quips. “Why don’t you stay?”

Brown pity eyes dance over to where you look down, then settle with a wobbly smile. “I, um…I actually have a few emails to respond to. Stay, Carlos.” It’s pathetic and embarrassing how he’s the only one who convinces you to stick around. Not even your own boyfriend. Though his hand remains by your side, it feels all for show, which it is because as soon as a few fans take a couple of pictures of you two, he finally retreats his arm.

Once the Ferrari driver finally jogs away, Lando turns to face you. “Where were you?”

“I was watching the race.” Your heart beats faster.

“Liar. Your lips just did the thing.” A halt. “What thing?”

“There! There it is again! You didn’t watch it, did you?”

Taking his palms into your own, you kiss them, feverishly. “I was, but then Carmen came over, and we started to talk, and then one thing led to another and…” Blue eyes stare down, empty. You grimace. “I’m so sorry, Lando. You got second place and I wasn’t there to celebrate. I’m so sorry.”

And perhaps he feels he already made you suffer enough with his ignorance, or maybe he was still high off his accomplishment, but it surprises you when he leans down to peck your forehead. “Just don’t let it happen again, yeah?”

You let out a breath of relief. “Pinky swear.”

He laughs, ruffling your hair. “Ah, see, I don’t believe in pinky promises.”

“Take my word for it then.”

He winks. “Good enough.”

I can’t believe we haven’t had a sunny day in weeks! Flipping over to face him, you pout. Weeks! That’s bonkers.

The Brit hums against his blankets, against you. It’s officially been a year since you two have been dating and it honestly felt surreal. Especially in moments like these. The kind where he was just yours.

I tried to warn you.

You groan, pressing your cheek against his firm chest. His heartbeat is slow and steady, indicating he’s half asleep, indicating you were too awake. Indicating you should probably go to sleep, too.

Guess I’ll just have to learn to live with it.

Guess so.

You know…I sort of love it.

You say so because you haven’t lived here your whole life.

I could easily, you want to confess. If it’s with you, then yes, I can. But it’s too soon and you don’t want to scare him off. Not when things were a dream. Cloudy, sunny, rainy, sunshine—I don’t care. I have a good enough reason to stay.

He vibrates due to his chuckle and you giggle due to his chuckle. Look at you being all cute.

Not trying to be cute, just speaking my truth.

In one motion, he flips over you, hovering. You love it? Like truly?

I love it. I truly love it.

Make me believe it.

Are my words not enough?

He grins, eyes crinkling. I’m more of a pinky promise type of guy.

You lift your small finger and he’s fast to wrap his own around it. Pinky swear. I love you and London.

And it was true. It was true for a while.

It all came crashing down on you, really. It was alarming, yet you had expected it. It was lonely, but survivable. It came in phases. You first noticed the doubt a bit after your third year anniversary, but no, he loves me. I know he does.

But you were good at pushing it all away; far, far, and further. Until you couldn't think about it anymore, even if you tried. His acts were a suck punch, though. Everytime you started to heal and stand up, he only sent a new one. A stronger one. But, hey, no—he loves me. He only says it every night.

Like last Monday night. When he fucked you in his hotel room.

Or last Thursday. When he went down on you under the table.

Or Friday. When you sucked his cock in the shower.

All right before bed.

God, I fucking love you so much. Hot cum shoots down your throat and he groans like a madman. Love you so, so much. You can’t even begin to imagine.

So, when your friends ask and check up on you, that's what you say. Yes, he reminds me everyday. He means it. Don’t worry, we’re doing better than ever.

The second comes in like a slap to the face. He had just done what you consider a low blow, but no—he’ll make up for it. He always does.

“Bullshit.” You blink your hot tears away. Carmen never—ever—curses. She’s too classy for any of that, so it’s almost funny to hear it now. But it’s not, not really. She sighs, rubbing her temples. You and your problems were stressing her out, God, how could you be so selfish?

“Forget I said anything. I’m being a fucking crybaby—”

“No. You’re not.” It seems like she’s choosing her choice of words, delicately. “You have every right to be upset. Every. Single. Right.”

And for the first time in a while, you feel completely seen. Heard. Understood. And that was a lot, but it must have been what you needed, because suddenly, you were spilling the ugly truth. The reason why you didn’t attend the last race. Or the one before that one.

The reason why she and George found you clutching onto your chest that night in Vegas. Forgot my keys, you giggled. You two have fun! Don’t worry about me.

Carmen is older, wiser, and so fucking mature. You love it. But you hate it because now that you sit here with more of an open mind and less defense, you blink like a lost kid at the grocery store. “You love him.”

A whimper. “I adore him.”

“A lot?”

“Infinitely.”

“But?”

Another whimper, louder this time, more wet. “He makes me sad sometimes. Is that normal?” “It is—” And it’s the delusion that always makes you stay. You’re quick to swallow it down, eager and fast. It’s all you need to hear. Carmen shakes her head. “But not to this extent. You get sad over them forgetting your favorite drink order, or when they forget to pack your heels.” An unwanted pause. The kind that gives you the room to overthink. “Not because they locked you out. Or because they forgot your anniversary.”

And she won’t admit—not when you were already so broken—but Lando hadn’t forgotten.

She likes wine, fuck, she’s obsessed with that sparkly shit. Wine testing! We could go wine tasting and I could do it there. He twidles with the ring box. Is that good?

George raises a playful brow before releasing a laugh. It sounds great. As long as you have a nice place to take Instagram pictures, then you’re set to go. Chicks love that. Isn’t that right, love?

But she pinches her lips, forcing a smile to the younger Brit. Lando lets out a shaky breath. It’s about to be our four year anniversary—it’ll be perfect. I’ll make sure.

So, yes, she knows he loves you. But that still doesn’t make the way he treats you right. What kind of love was that? Sobbing loudly, you push your hair back. “But you don’t get it! When he’s good…” Her eyes soften and yours grows more glassy. “...he’s so good.”

“Is it worth the pain, though?”

The third one is the breaking point you had been avoiding for so long. The day started out gray, either way, and not just because of the dark London weather. Dragging your feet to the end of the bed, you tremble. You got the call at four a.m. and those are never good, so why were you shocked to hear from Benny’s son?

“Oh, baby…” He pulls you atop his lap, kissing your temple. “I know how much he meant to you.”

“I still owe him a surfboard. The expensive kind, too.” He quirks a confused brow, but you continue staring off into space. “They stole the last one. The one he always lent to me. His mom had gifted it to him.”

“When did this happen?” he questions, trying to keep you talking because that sounds like a good idea. To get your mind off things.

You hum. “Last January; his birthday weekend.”

“Birthday weekend? I don’t recall—” “You weren’t there.” He doesn’t have to remember to know that’s true. It's become a habit of his nowadays and now he’s feeling guilty. Another hum, this time sadder than the prior. “He was going to teach you how to grill steak, just the way I like it.”

His stomach churns. “And how do you like it?” A beat. “I don’t remember. Ask Benny.” Then you’re crying like a newborn.Worse, actually. But he holds you through it all. So maybe this was do-able. He was nice, after all. You could stick with him forever and you’d be grateful. After what seems like a decade, you finally calm down, though your nose keeps runny. “The funeral is later this week. Are we going?” You were, with no fucking doubt, but you just wanted him to say it. There— on the tip of his tongue. You can spot it and he could taste it.

“Sweetheart…you know I have a race.” You didn’t expect him to drop everything and venture off with you, but this cut deep. Still, you understood. Plus, the proposal was ditched the moment you got the eerie call. So, yes, everything was unbalanced, but it wasn’t your guys’ fault. It was just a twist of fate. Nothing you couldn’t handle; you’ve dealt with worse.

“Right. I can go by myself.” He feels bad—you know he does—but anything, really? “You can write a letter, maybe? Just a couple of words for his family. I know it’ll mean a lot.”

He chuckles. And you should have known at that very moment because it wasn’t one you’ve heard before. “Why would I? I barely even knew the guy.”

“Excuse me?”

The Brit continues tracing shapes onto your thigh. “I’m just saying! It sounds a bit weird coming from someone who spoke to him once. Twice at best.”

And you’re no longer dazed, no longer confused, no longer heartbroken.

You’re just angry.

Pushing yourself off him, you glare coldly. “Barely even knew…the guy? We Skyped with him over dinner! You paid his bills! You fucking attended his sons wedding! How could you be so…fucked.”

“Sure… He was a sweet lad, but do you really think they want to hear from me?”

“Maybe not, maybe they don’t give a flying fuck, but I do. Remind me why I loved you!”

He’s up now. His heart quickens, pierces through his skin. “Loved?”

You sigh, clutching your chest. “Love. I said love.”

A huff. “No, you definitely spoke in past tense—do you not love me anymore?”

“Lando…” “No. Just be upfront with me, I can handle it. Tell me now so I don’t waste my time any longer.”

Every uncertainty you ever had, every word of advice Carmen has given you comes crashing down. She was right. He’s keeping you around for good fun. For his benefit. “Your time? What about mine? You’re the one who’s been blocking me out these past couple months!” “That’s not true—”

“Fuck, you’re right—this past year. God Lando! Haven’t you noticed how good I am at apologizing now? My zombie appearance? You left me out in the hallway! All because of what? Because I didn’t tell you I was going out with the girls?” A sour laugh. “Wake up—it’s 2024. Since when are you a shitty masochist?”

His jaw clenched. “I was worried about you! It was fucking Vegas, what was I supposed to do? And for the love of God, this again. I. Didn’t. Hear. You. Knock.”

A peach seed forms onto your chin. Skin is flushed and tears stream down your face. But he’s fine. He’s tall and firm Hard headed. Without an ounce of regret. And you want to do it. You want to make him feel what you’ve felt.

“I got my degree…”

“Woo-fucking-hoo, we’re not talking about that right now.”

“I lived a few good years, filled with pure happiness.”

He pauses.

“But I see it now. Past all the gray clouds, I see it.” He can feel it coming and he’s desperate for you not to say it aloud, but you shrug it, face downward. “Nothing is holding me back to stay.”

His tone washes away like the Laguna waves as he gets closer to you, cradling your face. “Yes. Yes you do. You have me…”

“Lando, quit lying—I haven’t for a while now. I was just a trophy you didn’t want. One you got bored of.”

“That’s not—” “True?” A beat. “It is. And you know what also is? I don’t love you anymore.” The light in his eyes gave out, pitch black. He feels as if he’s going into cardiac arrest and you…you look at ease. Peaceful. Free. With a soft smile, you push his hands down. “I don’t think you love me anymore, either.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads. “Please, don’t say that. Of course I love you.” Rushing over to his nightstand, he pulls out a box you only ever dreamt of. “You want proof—here! Take it! It’s yours anyways.”

“Where was this a year ago?” Opening the velvet box, you’re left with an inaudible gasp because of course it was gorgeous. And he feels a gist of hope when you place it onto your ring finger, but he slowly pales when it doesn’t fit.

“No. No. That’s your size. I know it is.” He takes it from you, analyzing it in an accusing manner. “I swear it was, I pinky…” The heater kicks on. “I swear.”

“It’s alright. This is the right ring…just not for me.” It shouldn’t affect you to see his cheeks grow splotchy, to hear his voice tremble like a kid who just skinned his knee against the pavement. But he was once your other half, so it does.

“I don’t want you to go…”

“I don’t either. I loved being here.”

“Then stay.” You purse your lips, then scrunch your nose. “It doesn’t love me, though. And I can’t go unwanted.”

If we start saving enough money then we could buy the house—you know—the one close enough to drive to your parents? Sweet, no?

Won’t they hear us fuck?

Ew, gross. No. I’d tape your mouth before I let that happen. You pinch his ear. This is your home.

And SoCal is yours, so why don’t we move there?

Because I don’t want to. I want to be with you and the people you love, in the place you love. Because I love you and I love the people you love, and I love London.

You’re quite literally perfect. I hope you know.

You make it clear everyday.

And I won’t ever stop. Because you deserve to know.

“This place is cold, the way you said it was. This place is gloomy, the way you said it was. But this place isn’t a home to me anymore…the way I once thought it was.”

Should he have been more careful—more caring—then he wouldn’t be here. This wouldn’t be happening, but it is. And it’s no one’s fault but his.

Sniffing, you rub your swollen eyes. “I’m going to pack my things and go to Benny’s funeral.” It's a declaration. He nods, attentively. “And I’m not coming back. Is that okay?”

No. It wasn’t okay. You’re tearing him in half, you’re stabbing his heart over and over again. You’re telling the truth and putting yourself first. Something he was awful at doing. What brought you two to this very moment in time.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I treated you the way I did.” I love you. “But if that’s your decision, then go on. Do what you need to do.” I love you.

“Good.” I love you. But I can’t say it aloud if not I’d stay forever.

You smile and he smiles back.

“Good.”

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dark-and-kawaii · 3 days

Text

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Tease ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

⋆˙⟡♡ Summary: You aren’t sure when teasing your sensei over text became such a ritual, but honestly you wouldn’t want it to be with anyone else. You just never expected him to show up at your door.

⋆˙⟡♡ Notes: (Y/N) is aged up to 18 and is a third year!!! Please enjoy!!

(Y/n): “I just want you to know how disappointed I am in you, Sensei."

You decided to tease him over text.

(Y/n): “Ya know what you did is technically illegal, right?”

Ghoejo Sensei: “~Oh?”

(Y/n): “Mhmm.”

Ghoejo Sensei: “~It’s only illegal if you didn’t like it, but you liked it. Didn’t you?”

With a subtle twitch, you giggle at the memory from earlier…

You and Itadori were training with the others while Gojo Sensei observed everyone from his spot on the school building. Exhausted, you had decided to grace him with your presence, joining him leaned back against the same wall.

“Aren’t you going to get in there and rough us up, Sensei?”

He could feel your beaming warm smile. Just being around you made his day.

Laughing, Gojo’s voice was filled with pure excitement as always when with you, “Nah, i like watching everyone get thrown around…” -his voice was low so only you could hear-, “…(y/n), you really shouldn’t wear such a short skirt during training.”

“Oh?! Why’s tha-“

“Some might try to sneak a peek.”

That damn smirk of his practically had you melting while your face felt like it was about to catch on fire.

“S-Sensei? W-why would you say that!?”

Just as you were about to adjust your skirt, you heard the unmistakable snap of a camera shutter, indicating that a photo was being taken on a phone. Glancing down where the noise had come, you were shocked -not really- to discover your sensei positioning his phone under your skirt at an angle where he could see right between your legs…

Staring at the screen, you could see your black lace panties staring back at you as he tried to get another good shot.

He’s never been so bold like this in front of other students… Let alone out in the open on school property. If one of the others saw anything you- fuck, or the higher ups… you both would be kicked off the grounds and- and- oh god the reputation!

Gojo’s would be tarnished and you- … Okay you didn’t really have a reputation to worry about, but still! You damn well would after everyone finds out you’ve been sleeping with the famous sorcerer, also known as your Sensei!! This was far too risky of him-

Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Gojo never once looked in your direction, “~Shhh… No one saw, (y/n). Go back to training though, before i puni-”

“Hey! (Y/n)! Are you coming back!” Itadori was waving for you to come back over to them, his foot on Megumi’s back.

Now here you are, back in your room, lying on your bed with restless legs as you texted your beloved Sensei.

(Y/N): “I didn’t say I enjoyed it, Sensei 🥺.”

You tried to make the text sound innocent, but you knew how he liked to play games. So, why not play along?

(Y/n): “What did I gain by you snapping a photo? Perhaps I should tell the higher ups?”

GhoeJo Sensei: “~Oh ho, are you threatening me little girl?”

Chuckling to yourself, you could just picture the smug expression on Gojo's face. He wasn't intimidated by you at all, and you were well aware of it. Yet, you found the whole situation amusing.

(Y/n): “Noooo, never! …But… what if I confided in Itadori? Sukuna would hear what happened, and I don’t think he’d like that all too well, now would he?”

Although you couldn't see it, Gojo's playful smile vanished immediately as he read your latest text. He spent several minutes just looking at the screen. It was true, Sukuna had grown quite fond of you- to an extent that was hard to ignore. Sukuna had even managed to gain control over Yuji, solely to rescue you from a special grade curse. On another occasion, Sukuna took control of Itadori's arm, just to drape it around your waist according to what Yuji had told him… And there was that time the notorious king of curses forcibly broke down your room’s door...

Not even realizing how hard he was holding his phone, Gojo’s eyes snapped open fully to the sound of his delicate screen cracking… “tsk..”

Several minutes passed before his phone chimed. It took him a moment to register that you had sent him a photo, a close up shot at that, and it left little to the imagination. You were pulling up your thong so that the contours of your pussy lips could be seen through the thin fabric. Gojo took note of the small little damp spot… It was a simple yet effective tease, but before he could fully appreciate the image, another photo arrived.

In this one, the fabric was pulled taut, accentuating the details even more explicitly. This time, you were pulling up your panties high enough so that they were digging into your crotch, exposing those sweet little pussy lips he could lap at all day long.

(Y/n): “That’s what you wanted, right Sensei? You know if you just wanted photo’s all you had to do was ask 😉.”

After pressing the send button, you swiftly undressed shedding each layer of fabric from your body. As you stripped down the anticipation grew, wondering what your sensei might have in store for you. The silence that followed the Sukuna text left you questioning if it had truly affected him though…

Now completely naked, you position yourself on the bed, ready to capture one final enticing image. On your knees, your tongue playfully extended from your mouth, while your lips form a 'O' shape. With the camera angled just right, it captures the perfect view deep down your throat. Using your free hand, you do your best to mimic the imagery of holding a cock next to your plump lips mouth, your drool cascading down the corners of your lips…

(Y/n): *image*

Ghoejo Sensei: “You’re such a naughty girl for me. ~I’m gonna have to spank you the next time I see you.”

Taking a deep breath you press your face into your bed, raising your ass in the air. Your arm stretched back with your phone, positioning it so that your wet folds could be captured along with your ass.

(Y/n): *image*

Ghoejo Sensei: “Are you touching yourself to my texts, baby girl? Is that tight little pussy craving my attention?"

Your hips moved back and forth as the pad of your middle finger slowly rubbed your clothed clit. It was so sensitive that just the slightest touch would cause a small jolt through your body.

(Y/n): “wouldn’t you like to know.”

Ghoejo Sensei: voice message

Pressing play on the voice message, you can hear the rustling of sheets and clothes being thrown around. Your body shivers when his voice begins.

Ghoejo Sensei: “Don’t worry, daddy will come take care of you.”

A soft whimper leaves your lips. Closing your eyes, you imagine your tall, lean sensei standing in the doorway. His head tilted slightly downward, allowing the shadows to conceal his face except for that damn smug smile…

You could feel your face flush, this was so embarrassing… What if someone barged in your room… Especially Itadori, well Sukuna… Burying the thought deep within your head, you lift your phone above your ass again with the camera pointed down and with your other hand you did your best to spread open your delicate asshole. With a snap and a simple click, you send it…

(Y/n): “I’m ready and waiting.”

Gojo was lying on his bed, his pants undone, hand pumping his cock slowly. With each text he would read, his hand would increase its speed.

(Y/n): *image*

When he saw the last photo, his phone was practically crushed by his tight grip. He could feel his balls tighten as precum began to spill from the tip of his thick cock, the veins swollen around it giving it a nice texture. The sight of your tight hole had him biting his lip as the image replayed in his head, and the fact that you were spreading your asshole to reveal it just for him made him cum instantly.

He could barely breathe, his chest rising and falling as his cum spurted across his chest. His head was thrown back as he released a strangled groan, “such a naughty little tease”.

Of course he wasn’t tired quite yet, he had the stamina of a god and he became rock hard once again. He already looked at you differently from his other students and now after this he really wasn’t going to be able to look at you as just his student he’s having a fling with again. You were a sexual object to be desired now, someone he wished to keep forever, but at this very moment he would give anything to be the reason your asshole was gapping in this picture or why you were drooling in your first photo.

Ghoejoe: “You should come sneak in my room, again.”

You didn’t obliged, instead you sent a string of photos detailing you fingering your ass and probing your slick pussy with two fingers after. Playing with your breasts, rolling your nipples between your fingers, you even captured yourself throwing your head back as you tugged on one of your nipples, as if you were a cow ready to be milked.

You had to admit to yourself that you loved doing this, spreading your legs like some whore for her sensei… The thought alone sent shivers of pleasure throughout your entire body.

Gojo: *image*

It was a photo of his beautiful cock, the head still a deep red and swollen. His thick shaft was covered in his own cum and a bit of precum. You could feel the juices leaking from your pussy as you stared at the photo.

Grabbing your pink vibrator from your dresser you pressed it into your welcoming pussy, your eyes glued to the photo the entire time. Turning the dial to its max setting, the buzzing could be heard as you slid the toy in and out. Pulling the toy out, you quickly placed the head to your sensitive clit, rolling it around your nub. The thought of his large hands on you again was turning you into a moaning mess, you could feel your juices slip past your toy and onto the sheets, could feel yourself cream around the base of it. Fuck, why couldn’t he be here with you now, you needed your sensei, needed your Satoru to come take care of you.

Your hand was trembling making it hard to hold onto your phone yet you still managed to capture a photo of you mid orgasm. There was a stream of clear liquid in the frame, your face full of shock at having squirted was apparent. You couldn’t believe how dirty you felt, it was intoxicating.

“~Oh baby girl, you’re so filthy! Look at you, you’ve gone and made quite the mess.”

Your phone flung across the room while you made the cutest little yip noise, your legs shutting together at the surprise voice. Gojo appeared in your room, his heavenly blue eyes peering at your from behind his sunglasses. His large hands come to your knees and parted your legs so he can rub between your pussy lips with his thumb…

“S-Sensei… I- Why are you h-here…?” Your voice was so cute to him, you could barely even speak as he rubs your slick entrance. “You know why i’m here, (y/n). Now, why don’t you tell me what a dirty little girl you are, and maybe I won't have to punish you so hard this time, hm? Tell your sensei how much you were enjoying yourself and maybe I'll let you suck on this cock.”

He leaned down, his head between your legs. Goosebumps forming whenever his snowy hair tickles your soft thighs. With no hesitation he sticks his tongue out to licks up your folds, lapping up your arousal from before.

“Mmm… Sensei~♡! I-i'm a dirty girl- A dirty little whore for you~!” His tongue was licking all over, teasing your clit with each swipe. He had one hand keeping your legs apart and the other was gripping the sheets.

“Tell me what you're a whore for, baby girl~.” His hot breath against your wet pussy, the way his nose nudges against your sensitive nub.

“I-I'm a dirty- A dirty little cockwhore, S-sensei~. I want you- Need your cock in my- ah~! in my mou-mouth, in my pus- pussy, my ass~~~♡!!”

The way your hips bucked with every swipe of his tongue, the way your breathing was uneven and shaky. Oh the sounds you were making, the moans, the whimpers. His eyes almost rolled back at the feeling of your juices against his tongue, his lips, “That’s my girl.”

Before you could scream his name you bit down on your lip to silence yourself. You can’t afford to have someone hear this… Not when these walls were so thin… You were finally getting what you wanted tonight, attention from your sensei, Gojo Satoru, and you wanted nothing more than to scream his name… But with Sukuna around, quite literally on the other side of these walls, the price you’d pay would be far greater if he heard you and Gojo going at it…

As your back arches, he moves his hand to press it firmly down on your lower abdomen, a way of trying to pin you down as his tongue delves deeper. You were so close to coming undone, your body was trembling.

Gojo knows he’ll drag this out since it was his favorite form of punishment. And he also knows you hold back your noises so that Sukuna wouldn’t hear, and he knows its for your own safety… However, you had him to protect you, he wouldn’t allow anything to happen to you.

Pulling back from between your legs, you both make eye contact, your chest rising with every heavy breath you take…

“(y/n), don’t hold it back… Say my name tonight. Let him hear it, let him know who you belong to tonight.”

A blush forms as you realize what he said.

Gojo wants him to hear you tonight, to hear how good you were for him. To know that he had a claim on his favorite little student…

“B-but…”

“Tut tut, no buts my sweet little cinnamon swirl. The only buts i’m allowing is this one.” He squeezes your ass, earning another cute little noise from you.

“Goj-Satoru… You- I.. We ca-can’t get caught by anyone though.” There’s tears in your eyes, he can see you’re genuinely afraid for him, not for you…

“(y/n). Let me handle the higher ups and everyone else.” Looking down, he watches as your pussy glistens with his saliva… His thumb brushing over your skin, “I’ve always wanted a good excuse to piss off the higher ups,” -His features soft- “You’re a good reason to fight them, so let’s just enjoy ourselves tonight, and don’t worry about Sukuna.”

His lips came down onto yours tenderly, as if you had both been lovers for years. Your eyes shut tight as his tongue glides across your bottom lip, requesting permission to enter. Opening your mouth, his tongue delves into the warm cavern and his cock twitches.

“I’m stronger after all.” He sticks his tongue out at you with a wink before thrusting his cock inside of your waiting pussy. You cry out his name, arching your back so far that it hurt, but the pain was forgotten as soon as you felt his hot cock buried deep within your needy pussy.

“Tonight, let me hear you scream my name.”

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #Gojo #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk satoru #Satoru #sukuna #sukuna x reader

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drafthorsemath · 20 hours

Text

Brotherly Love

Synopsis: Crosshair can't sleep and Tech appears to him as a force ghost. Lots of comfort.

A/N: I need some kind of conclusion for my brain. Whether you accept the finale and that Tech is dead, I think I need to get this out of my system to grieve.

Word Count: 846

It was nearly pitchblack in the bedroom, save for a sliver of a moonbeam shining through the window. Pabu was quiet this time of night and usually Crosshair found comfort in that. Tonight though, he was struck by sadness. He thought of Tech and the nights they'd spend together as cadets. Crosshair's eyes would hurt from the bright lights on Kamino after long days of training. Tech would turn off the lights, get into bed with him, and read to him. Crosshair smiled as he thought about all the different things Tech read. History, science, even the occasional holonovel. He would always find comfort laying next to his brother and hearing his voice. He wished he could hear him again now.

Crosshair sat up in bed and sighed as he looked out the window. He could swear he felt Tech's hand on his shoulder; steady and comforting as it always was. He sniffled and leaned into the sensation, only to realize that it wasn't just a figment of his imagination.

"Tech?!" Crosshair jumped up and turned to see a kind of blue light around what he could have swore was his brother. "What the kriff?!"

"Yes," Tech replied, examining his glowing limbs with curiosity. "I could ask the same thing."

Crosshair reached out to try to touch him. He felt a presence and yet could see through him.

"Is it really you?" Crosshair asked.

"Of course it's really me," Tech replied with an eye roll.

"How are you doing this?" Crosshair asked.

"I am unsure," came the honest answer. "However, matter is never created nor destroyed. It simply changes form. For whatever reason, this is the form I am currently taking."

Crosshair sat back down and without warning, sharply inhaled and let out a sob. Tech put his hand back on his brother's shoulder.

"I've missed you," Crosshair said, trying to compose himself.

"I'm still here," Tech said. "I've always thought of you before I fell and I've been with you since. I cannot fully explain the latter part."

"This is the first time I've seen you like this, though," Crosshair noted.

Tech nodded. They sat in silence for several minutes. Crosshair somehow understood now. All those times he felt like Tech was with him and he tried to suppress the feeling for fear it wasn't true when in reality, his brother had never left him.

"Tech?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry," Crosshair looked into his brother's familiar eyes and couldn't help but let a tear slip despite his best efforts. "I'm sorry I didn't leave the Empire sooner. I missed out on time with you. I should have done better."

Tech shook his head and pulled Crosshair into a hug.

"I am just glad you came home," Tech said. Both men felt relief. Relief that there were no hard feelings between them and that they cared for each other as they always had.

After awhile longer, Tech asked, "Shouldn't you be getting some rest?"

"I don't want to wake up and find you're not here."

"I'll still be here, Crosshair. Even if you can't see me and I promise I'll do my best to show up so you can. There has to be some interesting science behind this and now I have an infinite amount of time to try to figure it out."

Crosshair chuckled. That was so like him. Then, even though Tech had changed form, Crosshair could sense his brother had a question as easily as if they'd both been there in the flesh.

"What is it?" Crosshair asked.

"Are you going to get a prosthetic for your hand?"

"I'm not sure yet. I still have my left hand and Echo's given me some tips on getting by."

"If you do get a prosthesis I would be happy to help you optimize its utility."

"Can you even hold a spanner?" Crosshair asked dryly.

"I'm sitting on your bed and just gave you a hug. If I can do that, I do not see why I cannot use tools to fix something."

"Fair point," Crosshair replied with a grin. "I'll let you know."

Without a word, Crosshair and Tech both laid down as they had done when they were cadets. Instead of reading, they talked about their brothers and Omega. How much time it took them to truly relax on Pabu after the intensity of all that had happened. How Omega was growing, having something of a childhood, and how her piloting skills were improving all the time. They were both filled with pride in her.

It took awhile, but Crosshair finally let himself sleep, still feeling his brother right next to him. When he woke up in the morning, he startled a bit. He couldn't see Tech anymore. His eyes searched his room, but Tech was no where to be found. Had it been a dream? Was his brain taunting him? Just as he wanted to curse these mind games, he felt Tech's hand on his shoulder again and took a deep breath. Tech was still there. Crosshair would never have to be alone again.

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers #crosshair #tech #force ghost tech #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #brotherly love

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strawberrystepmom · 2 days

Text

pairing: Suguru Geto x F!Reader

word count: 9.7k

contents: Canon compliant up to the events of JJK0, cult leader!Suguru, naive reader, slight age difference between reader and Geto (5 years), reader can see curses/has cursed energy but it is kept intentionally vague

cw: dark content | emotional manipulation, dubious consent, voyeurism, oral sex (m!receiving), spit, violence, descriptions of anxiety, mentions of religion and religious imagery, mind fuck-y

notes: so this is a remaster/full repost of unkindness that was on my old blog! i only got up to like the third segment in that post so i figured why not do it all at once. thank you for reading if you do and i hope that you enjoy my little story! ♡ | crossposted to ao3

When you were eight years old, sitting in your mother’s lap as she combed through your wet hair, you remember telling her about a recurring dream you had been having for weeks. You were nervous to tell her, your little hands balled into fists as they rested against your nightgown clad thighs.

“A raven,” you recount to her as she nods and gently uses the bristles of the comb to detangle a knot. “Bigger than any bird I’ve ever seen is in this dream every night, flying around over my head.” Your mother sighs and reassuringly pats your head. You hear the spritz of a spray bottle from behind you, a synthetic green apple scent filling your nostrils.

Telling her filled your stomach with anxiety, an issue you didn’t know you had at the time. You figured the world was just scary back then. You wish you could go back and tell yourself how right you were. About how scary the world is, anyway. To tell yourself about how everything will eventually end up likely wouldn’t change the outcome but at least you could say a few things.

“The raven comes to the ground eventually. He doesn’t fly over your head forever, instead he glides by your side.”

“The visions you’ve seen are real, you aren’t crazy.”

The most unbelievable thing of all?

“You end up in love and you end up losing yourself along the way.”

Back then though, you only had your mom and her words to illuminate the darkness you felt lurked around every corner.

“Have you ever heard of omens?”

Shaking your head, you turn to look at your mom who is tapping the edge of the comb against the heel of her hand. She’s chewing the inside of her cheek and you can tell she’s deciding what to say next to comfort you. Your mom has never been good at this kind of thing, a woman who never envisioned she would have a child with so much angst and fear.

“Sometimes we receive signs that something is going to happen in our lives even if we don’t understand them,” she starts. You hear her mouth open, as if she wants to add something additional, but you hear it snap shut as if she thought better of it. You nod once, signaling your understanding and she gets back to work at the stubborn tangle at the base of your skull without another word shared between the two of you.

You hate that this is the most vivid memory from your childhood.

You hate that you still have the dream.

You wake with a gasp, looking around and blinking as warm morning light filters through the window. Feeling around the bed, you wonder if Suguru is already up and moving for the day as your hands touch the duvet where he should be. It’s cold, as if nobody was there in the first place. Knowing that may have been the case anyway, you sigh and rub your hands over your face.

“Suguru?”

His name leaves your lips in a tentative manner and you look around the room to make sure he isn’t looking at the early morning sun or standing there watching you sleep. No matter how much of your life you spend with him, you’ll never get used to the feeling of those black diamond eyes following you everywhere you go. But finally, you are seen.

Four years spent with him and no one sees you like he does.

You were 18 years old, a few months from graduating high school, when Suguru approached you. The sight of a stranger raised your hackles, scared of the world at large at that point in your life, and you were concerned trouble was coming for you. All of the omens in your dreams would finally come true at the hands of this beautiful man, rising to his full height which is nearly towering over you. His hair was shorter then than it is now, just past his shoulders and tied in a neat half bun off of his face.

He looked like less of a god now than he did then but you knew it. The omnipresent feeling of him sticks in your bones. It’s the confidence that makes you stand with your back straight, that guides you through the worst of the days where he’s nowhere to be found.

Unable to find him, you shuffle back to the futon and lay down amongst blankets that smell like him. You’ve never been able to place the scent but you know it’s his. Wrapping yourself in the duvet, you let your mind wander back to all of those years ago.

“I know this seems sudden but I wanted to ask you about your gift.”

Mention of your gift, not that you’d ever call it that, makes you freeze. He notices your expression, wide eyed and haunted, and he fights the urge to smile at you. Just as he and everyone else suspected, you have no idea what you’re capable of. It would be a failing worthy of death to let Gojo find you first. Suguru couldn’t risk the bird dog finding his canary and dropping her off, bloodied and broken, on the doorstep of the Sorcerer community.

He wouldn’t allow it.

“M..my gift?” You repeat with uncertainty and he nods, bun bobbing against the back of his head as he does so. The situation is withering, a handsome stranger asking you about a secret you’ve kept hidden for your whole life while the sun beats down and makes you sweat. You wonder if you’re about to be killed.

“You are an exceptional young woman, do you know that?”

The background noise of the world fades out, the sound of the spring birds chirping disappearing as you blink once, twice, and you notice those dark eyes fixated on you. You blanch and avert your eyes. Were you even allowed to look at him? Dressed in such nice clothing with such a regal demeanor? Shaking your head, you play off the awkwardness with a humorless chuckle.

“You must be looking for someone else, sir.” Bowing your head as a sign of respect, you turn to walk away. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

Before you can turn on your heel to walk away, you feel a large palm rest on your shoulder. You take note of the weight of it, the feel against your bones, and you wonder why this is happening to you? You are so afraid but you can’t run, you don’t have the guts for it. What do you do now?

Nothing. You do nothing, just as you’ve done your entire life. You let this strange man grab you, hold you, speak to you. Humiliation rises like bile in your throat and you turn to face him, astounded again by his beauty. The sunlight catches his dark eyelashes, warmth emanating from him. How can you walk away? You won’t walk away.

“I don’t want this to be more strange than it already is,” he starts, voice deep and dreamy. You could get lost in the baritone and the way it wraps around you but you choose instead to focus on his words to try and understand what he wants from you. “But I know you have something nobody else has. Abilities.”

He’s correct but you wonder how he could possibly know about your struggles. You have kept them to yourself for years even to the detriment of your own well being. Your mother and father both assume you’re deranged and there are times where you’ve wholeheartedly agreed with them since you began seeing the things that haunt you at every turn when you were 5.

“How do you know about that?”

The man shakes his head and holds his free hand ahead of him. “Why don’t you walk with me and we can talk some more?”

How can you say no with his hand on your shoulder? Turning on your heel to face him, you keep quiet and wait for further instructions. Your naturally submissive tendencies are serving you well in this situation and Geto doesn't hide his smug smile. You are perfect and he knew it.

As the two of you begin to pick up pace walking side by side, you anxiously keep your eyes glued to the ground. Being able to visualize each of your steps is keeping you calm and if you look down, there's less of a chance you'll see whatever is out there to scare you.

"Look at me."

He doesn't ask, he commands, and you listen. For the first time, you notice something perching on his shoulder. It's formless for the most part and less terrifying than what you usually see attached to others as they pass by you but you're intrigued nonetheless.

"Do you know about that....thing?" Pointing to his shoulder, he nods at you and you breathe a sigh of relief. "You see them also?"

A chuckle is his response and you ponder what it means while you wait for him to clear up your confusion. "I don't just see them, I control them."

The figure disappears quickly and you gasp, searching around your own feet and your shoulders to make sure he didn't order it in your direction to harm you.

"How?"

Despite your trepidation, Suguru can see the way that your eyes sparkle at the thought of someone being like you. He knows how it felt for him, too.

"I can show you and so can my friends." He watches your nose scrunch in confusion at his words and he laughs, amused. The sound is musical and uplifting and you feel yourself lightening up for the first time maybe in your entire life. Knowing you aren't alone has shifted your perspective more than you realized it would.

"There are more of you?"

"A couple dozen, yeah."

Nodding, you think for a moment. What if he can actually help you? What if these people are actually like you? What if you can find a place that suits you for the first time in 18 whole years?

"How can you help me?"

The man turns to you, knowing smirk in place across his mouth. “I can show you better than I can tell you.”

You hate her.

Never in your life has such a bitter feeling gathered in the pit of your stomach. Your face flames every time Manami walks by, you can feel it and you know she can see it. Tonight, you are more glad than ever to be on kitchen duty even if it means having to listen to her cackle from the other side of the wall.

“Geto-sama!”

She sing-songs across the tatami with a giggle as Suguru traipses by en-route to have dinner with the group, seating himself at the head of the table as everyone else files in around it. You fight the urge to roll your eyes from where you’re standing next to Mimiko and Nanako, pouring hojicha into tea cups.

“Geto-sama,” you mock under your breath and Nanako giggles, dishing rice into bowls at your side. The two of you giggle together, a secret shared, as she begins to bring the dishes to the table for service. Sorting your tea cups, you count how many more servings you need as you look around the doorframe to see who is waiting.

Your relationship with Geto’s most trusted inner circle has expanded greatly since you first arrived months ago.

They knew better than to be outwardly distrustful of you. Aside from the twins, every one of them had set out to find Suguru and his group on their own. He found you. He brought you. He touted your abilities long before you arrived.

“She’s the perfect blank slate,” he gushed over dinner one night as the other members of the group listened enraptured. “We got to her just in time, too. My source says that Gojo was planning on paying her a visit.”

Your arrival was underwhelming. Greeted at the end of the footpath that leads to the front door by Miguel, Larue, Mimiko, and Nanako while Manami glowered from the porch with folded arms, you weren’t immediately made to feel welcome by anyone except for Suguru who continued to guide you along the property with your arm looped in his. She was scoping you out, taking an assessment. She believed you to be no threat. She believed wrong.

Tinkering with the last cup on the counter, you take one look into the dining room again and the realization that your usual spot is full makes you chuckle humorlessly. Not that you’re surprised, Manami has done all but piss all over Geto to mark her territory but the sight makes a bitter, sour feeling turn in your guts just the same. Your nose scrunches as if you’ve smelled something bad and you don’t immediately hear when someone else enters the kitchen to pick up the tea cups you are still filling.

“About ready?”

The voice you recognize as belonging to Mimiko calms you and you respond with a nod, wrapping your hand around the warmest cup as you take a breath and plaster a smile on. This one goes to the man himself and you feel eyes upon you as you offer it to him with a bow. His hand lingers on top of yours for a moment and you’re glad your face is pointed toward the ground, your flustered look hidden as long as you don’t make eye contact.

“We’re just waiting on you,” he chides lightly, always a stickler for timeliness. You lift your head to his view enough to offer an apologetic half smile. He pats the side of your face with his tea-warmed hand and your smile grows. Your eyes meet his rich, umber colored pair and you feel at peace. “Manami will be out of your spot by the time you get back.”

A small “oooooooh” breaks out around the table but the tension is quickly killed with a sharp look from Suguru. Everyone quietly begins shuffling their utensils and you don’t stick around to watch Manami’s rejection, scurrying back to the kitchen to gather your own rice and tea.

“I want to share a few moments after dinner, if you’d all like to stick around.”

Suguru’s words inspire nods and happy, affirmative hums and you catch the tail end of them as you settle next to him at the table. Your opposition glares icily from the other end of the table, the same look she kept plastered on her face the day you arrived, and you meet her eyes long enough to offer a sweet smile before bowing your head in thanks for the meal you were about to share.

“I’d especially like for you to stay,” he looks across the table at Manami who nods once before turning back to her plate. Her lips are pursed and her eyebrows are knit together in irritation but smugness glimmers in her eyes. “You too,” he says and you turn your head to see him glancing down at you. Fondness crinkles the corners of his eyes slightly and you shrink into yourself with a nod and a shy smile. “Of course.”

The rest of dinner goes as you’ve come to expect. The twins giggle and joke with every other member of the group and you all sit beneath the watchful eyes of your leader who sips at his own tea with a barely visible over the edge of his cup smirk but you can see it from where you sit. You can see the corners of his mouth upturned just enough it makes your heart flutter in your chest.

He looks down at you and thinks about how vulnerable you look. How little you hide, your emotions and yourself alike. Were you like this before he met you or is this his influence? He takes credit. He knows the way you flash fake nice shit eating grins in Manami’s direction is for his sake. His sweet little bird isn’t afraid to fight and he hoped that would be the case.

“Since we’re all here, I wanted to discuss a few things,” Geto clears his throat and sets his cup on the table in front of him. He basks as he feels every eye in the room turn toward him but none make him feel more intoxicated than yours. When he casts you a glance, you smile shyly. He wonders if you’ll do that forever, look at him as if he’s a savior on a big white horse. He hopes so.

“I want to make some changes in what we’ll all be doing around here,” his voice rings proud and clearly and you fight the urge to prop your head up with your hand girlishly to get a better look at him. A few people shift in their seated positions but you don’t glance around to find out who, gaze fixed upon the person you want to witness the most.

“Manami, your duties are changing.” Replacing the sound of shifting clothing is small gasping and murmuring. Manami has been Geto’s assistant for close to two years, a coveted spot amongst anyone in the group. “You will still be my personal assistant but only for off compound events and daytime hours.”

Grateful for your own refusal to look at the rest of the table, you can tune out the uncomfortable chatting. “I know this may be surprising but we have many things ahead of us we need to prepare for,” he starts and the noise quiets. “Manami is one of the brightest among us and she will excel no matter what she’s doing.”

Hearing him praise someone else makes your back stiffen, the urge to pick at the seam of your t-shirt making your fingers twist in the fabric idly. You’re grateful your grip is beneath the table, hidden from view. No one will suspect how you feel as long as you’re careful but you gasp as you feel two large, soft hands untangle your fingers from your shirt and squeeze them between their palms. Looking up you’re greeted by the handsome, vulpine smile of Geto and you feel another gentle squeeze of your hands.

You take a deep breath and ground yourself, focusing on his words as he opens his mouth.

“You will be my new on-premises and evenings assistant.” Despite your shock and the look on your face that shows it clear as day, you nod. “I would love to,” you clarify and he squeezes your hands once more as he rises and drops your clammy fingers back into your lap.

Standing at his full height, Geto smiles as he looks over the faces of everyone sitting around him. Even Manami is working to hide her pout, looking toward the ground but keeping a smile plastered on her face. You sit with your legs tucked beneath you, a shred of hope illuminating parts of you that you once saw as dark and empty.

You get to spend most of your day with Geto, most of your evenings too. Perhaps in that time he will finally have the opportunity to tell you about your gift. In 6 months you’ve learned as much as you knew the day you arrived but that may be soon to change. Giddiness makes you smile slightly, your face beaming as you keep it looking up.

Suguru extends his hand in your direction and your smile grows wider. Gingerly placing your palm in his, he helps you rise as he places his hands on either side of your face. You strain your neck glancing up at him, you’re only chest level or so to his massive form and you can feel him using his grip on your cheeks to lower your head. Once you’re gazing at the floor his lips graze your forehead and you gasp, fire erupting through your limbs.

“I’m going to teach you so much,” he coos as he uses his grip to turn your face back toward him. His eyes drink in the sight of you - the tip of your nose, the shape of your lips, and he smirks so quickly you swear you only imagined it. His thumbs graze your cheeks before he drops his grip and looks over your head at everyone else. That tall, dark shadow rests directly over you, though.

“You’re all dismissed, thank you for a lovely evening.”

Everyone stands and you stay facing Geto until all of the footsteps have filed out, waiting for his permission to leave next. You flinch slightly when his hands grip your face again, a natural reflex to the surprise of his touch, and he gazes at you silently for so long you stop keeping time. It could have been seconds, it could have been days - you will never know but you will accept it nevertheless.

“Come see me tomorrow morning,” he whispers and you nod. You can see his eyes flit from your eyes to your mouth and you wonder what he’s thinking. He dips his head slightly and you can feel his lips brush gently against yours, a kiss almost too small to be qualified as one. You shiver, his thumbs digging into the plump flesh of your cheeks.

“Yes sir.”

“Say that again,” he mutters against your lips. The vibrations of his words are directly on your skin and the heat that erupted in your limbs before has become a full blown fire, your face hot and your palms sticking together. “Yes sir.”

He presses another kiss to your forehead and releases his grip, straightening his back out as he walks toward the door and offers you a bow of his head. “Get some rest.”

You make certain he’s gone before you touch your fingers to your lips, your eyes fluttering shut as you commit the feel of his soft mouth on yours to memory. You won’t be sleeping tonight.

“Geto-sama?”

The sound of your meek voice alerts Suguru to your presence and he looks up from his usual place by the open sliding door between his room and the porch attached to it, a light breeze blowing his hair off of his shoulder. He looks ethereal and resembles a hero from a book you obsessively read as a child. Rescuing a sweet young woman from a life marred by sadness, the hero hauls her off to a place where she can be happy.

The irony isn’t lost on you.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” you start, clasping your hands together in front of you and he rises to standing, elegance exuding from him even in the most mundane of situations. He approaches you and gently rubs the back of your head and you fight the urge to lean into the touch. No amount of him feels like enough.

“You didn’t interrupt anything,” he responds with a serene smile, one you’ve noticed is just for you. He doesn’t smile at anyone else like that, not even Manami, and smugness rises in you for a split second before he speaks again. “What can I do for you?”

Clearing your throat, you look toward the ground and keep your hands linked. Geto recognizes the posture, something you do frequently when you want to speak, and he waits with his own hands joined inside of the sleeves of his yukata robes. He loves how naturally you submit to him, how you won’t even meet his eyes.

“Why am I here?”

If he’s surprised by your question, he doesn’t show it, but he does take a few strides to your side to place a comforting arm around your shoulder. Against your better judgment, you lean against him. Sides pressed together, you’re surprised when you feel the most minuscule squeeze of reassurance. Your heart threatens to burst as he leads you to where he was sitting and invites you to sit across from him, the two of you looking out at the sun setting on the horizon.

“Before I answer,” he adjusts his sitting position and turns to face you. The golden hour warmth hits his face and you swear, not for the first time, you are glancing at a deity. Something, someone, greater than yourself. You shouldn’t be this close to him and you start to spiral but his voice brings you out of your own mind and into reality, your gaze shifting from the ground to him. “Will you tell me why you’re asking?”

Twisting your fingers together and sitting your hands in your lap, you sigh.

You’re uncertain of how much time has passed since you left your old life behind to join him and while you do finally feel at peace with yourself, the natural pull you feel toward the man who brought you here in the first place hasn’t dissipated in the way you expected it to. It feels like an unfulfilled hunger, a need more than a simple want at this point, but how can you begin to tell him that?

“I’m afraid that if I tell you, you’ll see me differently.”

Your words finally get a rise from Suguru and he quirks one of his dark brows. The crack in his cool headed exterior makes you giddy - is that because of you? You’re dumbfounded when his posture changes and he scoots closer to you, your knees nearly touching his. Should you pick yours up and press them against your chest? To quell your own anxiety, you decide to follow his lead. You will only move if he does.

“Nothing you say will change my opinion of you.” He reaches out and touches your knuckles with the tips of his fingers and you feel heat rise through every inch of your body. The touch makes you feel emotional and you break the intense eye contact between the two of you to stare at the ground, hoping it will hide the tears that are threatening to spill down your lash line. “I brought you here.”

Nodding, you lift your still joined fists together and wipe your eyes and down your cheek with the back of one of your hands. Although you are still looking down, you can see Geto moving from your periphery and you wonder what he’s going to do next.

Concerned your display is upsetting him, you sit still and try to regulate your breathing to keep from sobbing but errant tears still flow. You feel Suguru’s finger before you realize what’s happening and you flinch slightly beneath his touch as he wipes the wet tracks off of your skin. He wipes his finger along the fabric of your yukata robe before wrapping both of your fists in one of his much larger hands.

“Please be honest with me.”

Thinking back to what prompted this need for confirmation of what you mean to him, you dig your nails into your palm until you’re certain marks will be left. Manami, someone who spends almost as much time around Geto as you do, comes into your mind and you gnaw on your lower lip as you think about the jealousy churning in your gut. Why does she get to be there to help him make decisions? Why does she get to watch while he’s in meetings? Why did you see her leaving his room last week, hours before dawn?

Knowing it should be you is the emboldening thought you need to open your mouth.

“Do I mean anything to you?”

Feeling him squeeze your fists, the palm of his hand warm and comforting, you release the breath you’ve been holding. For better or worse, you’re about to find out and although your mind is racing, willing yourself to be calm comes easy in his presence. As if you needed further confirmation of everything he has done for you at a moment when you’re demanding something you feel unreasonable for wanting.

“You mean everything to me, you’re our future.”

His confirmation makes you weep. Tears flow freely, dripping down your cheeks and they hit the knuckle of Suguru’s thumb. You should feel guilty, you think, for putting him in a position to have to answer to you but cannot bring yourself to do it. You shouldn’t have had to wait more than a year to know but forgiveness is easy when it comes to him. If anyone should be sorry it’s you for questioning him in the first place and so you begin to ask for forgiveness.

“I’m so sorry for asking, Geto-sama.”

You feel him pulling you into his lap, his strong hands wrapping around your hips and the blood rushes into your face. Perching with uncertainty, your bottom rests against his thigh and it feels natural. All of the yearning couldn’t have prepared you for this feeling and you sigh as he brings one of his large hands to cup the back of your neck, his voice so close to your ear it makes goosebumps erupt across your skin.

“Call me Suguru from now on,” he whispers, a secret for your ears only. You feel his lips press against the space where your jaw and neck meet, another secret for the two of you to keep. Everyone on the compound would view you differently if they knew this was happening but you don’t care. You can’t care, not when he’s running his palms up your waist and unfastening your robe.

The opened door with a view of the outside doesn’t concern you as Suguru’s deft fingers work at the knot keeping you decent, the same breeze that rustles his hair that has always reminded you of feathers blowing across your bare chest as the robe is worked down around your waist. Your nipple stiffens and Geto reaches to pinch it between his thumb and index finger, making you yelp.

“How long have you wanted this, my little bird?” He wonders aloud and you almost feel as if he isn’t speaking to you at all, he merely wants you to listen and to witness. “Since you met me?”

He knows the truth just as he knows the way you’re looking at him. Eyes lidded, cheeks puffed out, lips wet with your own spit. You’re never going to leave his side.

“Tell me the truth,” he pinches your nipple once more and you arch your back, lip jutting out at the roughness of the feeling. Nobody has ever touched you like this before and the feeling is electric. Despite the fuzziness in your brain, the heady arousal clouding your every thought, you wet your lips with your tongue and speak.

“So long, Suguru.”

He smirks knowingly and lowers his head to suck your breast into his mouth, his warm tongue lapping at your skin. It’s nothing short of heaven, you think. This is how it always should have been. His hands travel from the dip of your waist to your hips, pulling the fabric of your robe further down to expose more of you to his hungry eyes. You reach out toward his face, your fingers tentatively brushing against his lower lip and he releases your nipple from his mouth.

“Can I touch you too?”

Another whisper, another secret. A predatory gleam shines in Suguru’s eyes and you wiggle against his lap, keeping your fingertips pressed against his mouth. He puckers and kisses them gently, reaching to grab your wrist. He places your hand against the bulge beneath his robes, covering your delicate fingers with his own.

“You can,” he uses his grip on your hand to press the heel against his hard cock and he hisses through his teeth. You admire the way his throat looks when his head is tipped back in pleasure, his Adam's apple bobbing. How is everything he does so effortlessly beautiful, you wonder. Your attention is recaptured by his voice. “But first, how long?”

Your wide eyed, parted lip expression only serves as further fuel for the blood pumping between his legs. You look so innocent, the same as you did when he felt the first of your defenses crumble, the day he approached you to come with him. It strikes him as funny that both times, your vulnerability is because he has put his hands on you. Nervously, you shift in his lap and he presses you closer to his body to keep you from going any further.

“Since the first day,” you admit, to him and yourself for the first time. He smirks, molding your hand around his bulge and you squeeze. Another hiss from him is all you want, the noise motivating you to offer yourself further. Using your free hand, you slip out of your robe the rest of the way and for the first time, you're bare to his eyes.

"Look at you." Your face heats and you feel your posture collapse in on itself, shoulders slumping after being so seen. "Show me how well you listen."

His command drips with condescension but you’re too awed to notice. When you nod, he gently nudges you off of his lap and you tuck your legs beneath you. Watching as he rises, you stay seated and admire the way those same lithe fingers that were just caressing your overheated skin work at the knot in his own robes.

Those dark eyes glance down at where you kneel on the ground and he gently smooths his hand over the top of your head and slides it into place along your cheek to cup your face. Using his grip to force you to look at him, you do and appear dazed. Transfixed, perhaps, would be better.

“I’ve always known,” Geto unfastens the knot in his robe fully and you gasp at the sight of his nude form backlit by dusk right outside the door. He’s tall and broad and you can’t look away. “That you would realize.”

Pumping his hand along his impressive length, you bite your tongue to keep from eagerly interrupting him. You want to touch him so badly, you have to sit on your hands like a child to keep from approaching sooner than you should. Before you can think any further about his words, he walks a few steps and the sticky head of his cock nearly brushes your soft, swollen mouth.

“I knew it was you from the moment we met.”

He hangs his head just low enough that you feel the words are truly meant just for you and you shiver. As you wait for further instruction, he squeezes your cheek and jaw in the palm of his hand. Your eyes don’t leave him once.

Suguru has always prided himself on his ability to break people down - to their core, their most base selves in every sense of the word. Usually there’s a moment where he can see in their eyes that they have been broken, cloudy and glossy. Yours have looked like that since he met you.

“This is what devotion gets you.” His words make you shiver as he uses his free hand to point the head of his cock at your lips, rubbing the sticky tip along your pouty mouth. Sitting still as stone and waiting for his directions, he gently pulls your face toward his pelvis and his tip pops into your mouth. A long, low moan leaves him and you squirm at the sound. “Just relax for me, okay?”

Suguru releases his grip on your cheek and moves to palm the back of your head, fingers finding an easy and natural grasp on your skull. You take a deep breath and look up at him with watery eyes and he chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re perfect,” he breathes toward the ceiling and you tense slightly as he uses his grip to move more of his cock between your lips. “Stay relaxed, baby. It’s okay.”

Your head bobs slightly and he groans again and you wonder what it will take to get him to make that noise again, the deep guttural moan sending shockwaves to your clit. You want to rut against something, to feel the pressure release in your stomach and between your legs, but Geto is your first priority.

Experimentally, you dip your face toward the dark hair at the base of his thick cock and you gag a bit as more of his length slips down your throat. The grip on the back of your head tightens and he gasps. Lifting your eyes in his direction for just a moment, you whine at the sight of him with his head thrown back in pleasure. Open mouthed, eyes shut tightly, every muscle in his neck bulging - you love it. If you were a more artistic person, you’d find a way to capture this forever but for now you commit the vision to memory and allow him to thrust his hips so that the remaining length of him dips fully between your lips. The tip of your nose brushes his pubic hair and you moan and gag around his length, tears slipping out of the corners of your eyes. Using the thumb of his free hand, Suguru brushes your tears away and it makes you sob and gag.

“Oh, don’t give up on me now,” he comforts from above, brows furrowed as his hips jerk and your nose continually bumps against his pelvis. Finding a rhythm, he listens to the noises coming from between your lips with every stroke and he feels himself getting closer. His balls tense and his cock twitches and he isn’t willing to prolong the wait any longer than it has already been.

“Open up, keep your tongue out, just like that,” he instructs as he releases his cock from between your lips with a sticky and wet pop, jerking his hand along his spit covered shaft right above your lips and chin and nose. “Stay just like ahhh-,” his words are cut short with a pleasured shout as he shoots translucent ropes of cum across your spit soaked face. A splash lands across your tongue and you note the salty taste - something you’ll associate with just Suguru for as long as you live.

Wrist pumping until he feels fully emptied, he takes a deep breath and covers himself halfway. His lean torso is visible and you feel your cunt throb at the sight and part of you wonders if he’s going to do the same for you - if he’ll kneel between your legs and worship your pussy like he hasn’t had a meal in days.

“Miguel, Manami, you can come in now.”

The deep voice filling your ears makes you scramble to cover yourself with your arms, your breasts and back bare to the open sliding door. The pair make their entrance and you keep your face pointed toward the ground, tears spilling hot down your cheeks. Suguru pats the back of your head as he walks back toward the tatami and sits, patting the spot next to him for you.

“Had some other business to take care of, please forgive my rudeness.”

You stay frozen in place but you can feel the eyes of your compatriots on your sticky face, remnants of Geto clinging to your cheeks.

Days spent on the compound are simultaneously mind-numbingly boring and some of the busiest you’ve ever had.

Each morning, you rise with the sun and watch her from the window that is on the wall opposite where you lie. Most of the time you are on your side, arms wrapped around yourself, in your bed or Suguru’s depending on the events of the evening prior. He most often has you visit him in his quarters and you appreciate the near luxurious gift of privacy on those evenings. It’s far less private in your own room, thin walls separating yourself and whoever is in the room next to yours, although everyone seems to know exactly what Geto uses you for and has since your arrival.

He honors you by allowing you to love him, you remind yourself while the dark thoughts swirling in you churn. They’ll be chased away by the sun and by his presence when he returns to his room where you lay. His side of the futon is empty, already made up as if he were never there, so you allow your mind to wander. If he’s feeling generous, maybe today he will have lunch with you or even better, he’ll finally allow you to begin training your cursed energy into something more than a never-ending sinking feeling in your guts.

He promised you a very long time ago he would help you learn about your own abilities. It seems ungrateful to still long for usefulness considering you know exactly what your role is, yet you can’t help but wish to find this key to understand yourself that seems to always be out of reach.

Tracking the time fell away from you long ago, not long after the first time you were intimate with the man you so dutifully serve. Autumn gave way to winter which faded into a difficult to remember spring followed by the once again balmy days of summer. Again and again and again. Cicadas ring out across the secluded surroundings of the compound morning to night. You blink as they instruct you to rise, singing a tune even more rehearsed than the mechanical beeps of the alarms you used to set on your phone. How long has it been since you’ve had a phone?

Does it matter?

Months or years may have passed but you find that you don’t care all that much. Time passes the same without being able to watch it, a voice that sounds a lot like Geto’s reminds you in the back of your head. You are here forever as part of your purpose to serve his goals and time is just a construct.

When’s the last time you felt like yourself?

Last night, when his satisfaction was the only thing you had to be concerned about, you chide yourself silently. You sound ungrateful to your own ears even if you don’t speak, these endlessly appearing questions becoming more aggravating with each second that passes, and you are annoyed and angry when you rise from Suguru’s bed, re-knotting the tie of your yukata. The shoji is open and he stands just outside of it wearing a cotton robe of his own, sunlight silhouetting him.

He’s a God, you remind yourself, though it doesn’t kill the bitter taste in your mouth the way it usually does. Shuffling toward the door, you take a deep breath and call out his name from inside, his face turning toward you. This makes the bitter taste turn into something sweet you wish to taste again, a soft smile replacing your uncertain frown.

“Good morning,” he calls toward you, sweeping his hand out in front of you to indicate where he’d like you to be. You dutifully follow the wordless instructions and arrive at his side with a smile, squinting in the early morning light.

“Good morning, Suguru. How did you sleep?” Smiling down at you, he gently takes your hand. “As well as I always do when you’re in my bed.”

The compliment and his touch make you feel girlish, heat rising in your face. To be a God’s beloved concubine is an honor, one you rarely take for granted even in your weakest moments. He has given you purpose, motivation, and an understanding you would not have found in a world with people who are unlike you.

Yet that same pit in your stomach lingers. He can tell, narrowing his eyes when he glances at you again though you avert your gaze.

“What’s on your mind?”

A tight smile slips across your face, measured and careful; similar to the one you always give Manami when she’s swearing her devotion to him at dinner or after the congregation. You want to tell him the truth, to open up and make him understand your need to be useful, but the words stick inside of you.

“Nothing, I just didn’t sleep very well.”

It isn’t exactly a lie but he knows that it isn’t the entire truth and his blood runs cold wondering what you’re hiding. You are usually so placid around him, glassy eyes and subdued smiles with averted eyes, but he can feel the anxiety flaring from your body. Are you unhappy? Is the spell he has held over you weakening? Does he need to scare you into reminding you of where your place is, the way he has with so many others?

Tutting gently, he wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you to his side.

“Speak freely, I value everything you have to say.”

Lulled into a false sense of security, you look at him out of the corner of your eye.

“May I train with you today?”

Suguru laughs, lifting his hand and gently brushing his thumb against your chin. He’s always touching you when it’s just the two of you, hands rubbing your forearms or fingers pressed against your face. He’s a sculptor and what are you if not simply the clay he’s molding beneath his touch, smoothing out edges and reshaping you from the bottom up into something you aren’t sure you recognize anymore which is how he has always intended things to be. His perfect blank slate, he said so many years ago. There isn’t a time where you haven’t proven it to be true even if you need a reminder.

“Why?”

The tone of his voice makes you feel foolish for asking and your sidelong glance turns to the ground beneath you. Subservience is a practice and one you tend to be good at, evidence provided in the form of your refusal to make eye contact even when he begins speaking again.

“I’ll protect you from anything that could hurt you. You know that, right?” He furrows his brow, one of his hands wrapped around your forearm while the other remains on your chin. “You are safe here. Nothing here can or would hurt you, not while you’re in my care. Isn’t that enough for you? You demand training so you can, what? Fight?” Chuckling and finishing with a haughty sigh, he shakes his head. “You don’t have a fight in you, little girl. You never have.”

Defenses faltering, you laugh to yourself and up at him, sensitive eyes once again squinting when faced with the grace of the higher being in front of you. Of course he’s keeping you from having to enter battles you aren’t equipped for, isn’t that what he has been doing this entire time? Protecting you from those shadows that have lurked over your shoulder and kept you from sleeping since you were a child, comforting you, blessing you.

Your rudderlessness isn’t Suguru’s fault, it’s simply your own for assuming you know more than he does.

Nobody knows you like he does. They never will.

“Please forgive me, Geto-sama.”

You call him Suguru in pleasure and Geto-sama in exaltation, raising it to the heavens that put him on the earth. Moving to fall to your knees before him in apology for making him believe his protection isn’t enough, he stops you with a firm hand on your shoulder. His thumb digs into your collarbone, somewhere between painfully and pleasurably, and you remain standing on wobbly feet with a dumbfounded expression.

“I already have. For everything.”

There is so much you’ve done since you’ve arrived, so much to be forgiven for. Questioning him, doubting your place with him, doubting others, speaking with a jealous tongue and thinking poisonous thoughts. You accept his grace with a smile, tears rimming your eyes. You have always been told that forgiveness grants freedom, the wind at your back and the sun on your face. You feel it on this day, gazing up at a man who has saved you time and time again despite your own folly.

Nodding and sniffling, you shut your eyes to stop yourself from open mouthed sobbing in thanks. You don’t deserve this and never have.

“I’m going to tell you something I’ve told nobody else, okay?”

The assertion that he still trusts you despite your disrespect makes you emotional again, eyes opening and tears falling while you nod.

“I love you.”

I love your devotion to me, he means, though you’ll never read between the lines to consider that the truth is that you are just a pawn to a man you’ve dedicated your existence to pleasing. Your body, your words, even the way you enter a room have all been carefully trained to suit him. You’ve been broken by his hands and he is always in a hurry to remake you, fashioning you into something once again useful.

“That’s why you’re here, little bird. To be safe and loved, not to fight or grow jealous or be angry with me. Are you angry with me?” You shake your head quickly, leaning into his touch with furrowed brows. He drops his hand from your chin and wraps his arm around your waist. “Never, Suguru.”

“Then don’t ask about training again, understood? Trust me to take care of you.”

And trust you do, nodding and finally letting that open mouth sob escape. He does a bit more tutting and his large hands paw at your body, yanking at the knot keeping your robe closed, roughly cupping your breast when the fabric falls open. Tears drip down your cheeks and onto the back of his hand, just how he likes it, and his tongue pokes out from between his teeth as he glances down at you.

“Do you trust me?”

This isn’t even close to the first time that he has asked but he needs to know just how many pieces he has smashed you into. He flexes his hand, squeezing your breast, further punctuating the point he’s trying to make - every little bit of you is his to have, to control, to make, to break, to feel.

“More than anything, Suguru, I swear.” Your legs ache to once again fold and bring you to your knees, the way you best know how to prove your regret, but you remain standing, lower lip quivering. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Your apology is a mantra you repeat as his hand dips lower beneath your robe, grazing the soft skin of your stomach and hip. Roughly wrapping a hand around said hip, he pulls you against his body, cold glance locked on your puffy, wet eyes. Despite himself, he smirks down at you, head tilted to the side. His hair is a black curtain that falls over both of you, soft strands resting against your bare torso and arm.

“Do you love me?”

You do not have to think about your answer though it shakes when it leaves your mouth, your lungs begging you to gulp down enough air to replace what you’ve let escape through sobs.

“I love you so much.” You shake your head and sob again. “Please, please believe me”

You feel like a half-formed thing, ready to be made over however he sees fit.

“I believe you, no need to cry,” he assures you, grip on your hip tightening. You breathe through your open mouth and he takes the opportunity to bring his thumb to your face once again, pulling your jaw down and widening your mouth. You know what’s coming next, heat stirring from deep within you despite your sorrow, before he even commands it.

Your tongue lolls out of your mouth and he spits down onto the muscle.You roll it back into your mouth in an instant, grateful for the opportunity to have even the tiniest piece of him in you, his eyes following your throat as you swallow. Communion, consumption of him to purify yourself from the inside out. The ultimate apology until he can use your cunt to fulfill himself later, although he wants to take you now, right here, inviting everyone out to see the work of a master craftsman.

Sobs gradually give way to less powerful sniffles, you squint up at him with your skin exposed and his touch and his hair and his scent and wonder what you were even wishing would happen in the first place. That he’d train you to do what, exactly? This is what you were meant to do.

“Do you feel better?”

You nod and he smiles down at you, the same measured smirk he always wears. He leans down and kisses your forehead, pulling up the sleeve of your robe to give you some semblance of modesty but leaving it open as he ushers you back inside, sliding the shoji shut behind him. Suguru crowds you into the room, leading his nearly lost lamb toward the futon while untying his own robe.

“Now, apologize like you mean it.”

Now, you fall to your knees, grateful he’s allowed you to show how sorry you are in the shadows of his room instead of by the light of the sun.

“War is on the horizon.”

Sitting with your legs tucked beneath you at Suguru’s side on the elevated platform at the front of the room, you keep your eyes downcast while he addresses his congregation. This is your role, it has been for a very long time now, and you’ve learned to ignore curious onlookers or newcomers who will never be able to fathom such fanatical love.

You love him so much you silence yourself. You sit by his side, so quiet you may as well be nothing but air. You have never learned how to defend yourself or even delved into the curses that used to weigh you down; freedom from these responsibilities came in the form of surrendering yourself fully to him. Body, mind, soul, all tied to his whims. You are a puppet on a string and he is free to move you in whichever way he chooses.

Just the way you like it.

“I’ve officially made the declaration to Satoru Gojo himself.”

For the first time in years, you look up when you are meant to look down, the anxious murmuring of the crowd making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You know what happens when the congregation disagrees or questions their leader and he rises with a flourish, petting the back of your head gently before stepping off of the platform.

“Do I sense disagreement?”

Looking every bit the apex predator that he is, you dare keep your gaze trained on his back rather than the floor. His head swivels from one prostrate form to another, seeking out anyone who dares disagree with his plans. Foreheads touch the ground below them, the ultimate show of devotion, yet one head remains raised and Suguru chuckles as he approaches the newcomer.

You don’t know their name, you realize. You stopped bothering to learn the newcomer’s names given how little interaction you have with them. They’re nothing but faces to be forgotten about after they have spoken out of turn and met their end at the hands of the man standing with his chin held high.

“Is there something you’d like to say?”

Whatever boldness was previously etched into the face of the man kneeling before Suguru has very clearly disappeared but tension flares through the room regardless. You know that whatever choice he makes, however he chooses to deal with this foolish man, is exactly what he deserves. To spit in the face of God is bold and everyone has to learn their place eventually.

You certainly have.

“N-no, no. Please forgive me, Geto-sama.”

Suguru clicks his tongue, turning to face the rest of his family with his arms spread wide, face turned toward the ceiling. Your eyes are to be trained on the ground but you drink in the sight of him standing amongst the mortals who have always believed they know better than he does.

“What do you think I should do to the non-believer today?”

The question is rhetorical. At least, the silent room treats it that way, no one rushing to answer. Everyone knows to only speak when spoken to, even the inner circle who welcomed you years ago keep their foreheads pressed to the ground. He quietly pads through the crowd again, headed back toward you, and your eyes meet the ground swiftly to avoid being punished for looking at him out of turn.

“Look at me.”

Yours are the only pair of eyes he ever truly cares to have on him. Following the command, you glance up at him, remaining with your knees tucked beneath you and your hands folded in your lap. The way he looks down at you is as tender as he will ever get, even his softness is cold and harsh, but he speaks loudly enough that even the room behind him can hear that he values your opinion above the rest of them.

“What do you think I should do with him?”

Smiling back at him, your glassy eyes meet his and you say exactly what you know he wants to hear.

“Kill him, Suguru.”

Smirking, he reaches down to pinch your chin between his index finger and thumb like he always does when you are performing as expected. It isn’t a performance anymore, if it ever was, it’s simply the way you feel when it comes to those who oppose him. He wags your head back and forth before dropping the touch completely, turning around and leaving you facing his back.

Your eyes dart toward the ground once more. You were not instructed to look at him.

Geto walks through the rows of people once more, reaching to touch the backs of each of their heads while he passes, finally stopping in front of his target. His hands rest in the opposite sleeve of each of them and he bends at the waist, offering the same smile he gives to all of his victims.

“Well, unfortunately, your fate has been chosen. You may as well speak now while you still have the chance.”

A curse materializes, brought to this realm by the man in front of you, and you keep your eyes trained on the ground while screams and the sound of the rending of flesh fill the congregation room.

You’ll only look up once you’re instructed, as always.

#geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #kendall writes

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applejuicebegood · 2 days

Note

Hi gorgeous!! I haven’t gotten a chance to respond to your message about jason x booknerd!reader, but I wanted to quickly message and tell you that I’ve read it and I’m absolutely in love! You literally always come up with such good ideas, idk how you do it!! You’re awesome and ily!!

-(@midnightorchids)

Jason with a Bookworm!S/O

A/N: I know school has started back up for you again babe, so I don't blame you :((( I was originally planning to expand this for you, hopefully you can read this during a study break or some down time (i might repeat some stuff - just look away). It's IB exam season where I am so I share in your pain. Hang in there dude!! Summer is almost here!!

Masterlist

He's a vintage paperback and leather-bound kinda guy. Crime, Sci-Fi, historical-fiction/romance, magical-realism, and non-fiction are his go-to genres. Favourite authors include; Margret Atwood, Kurt Vonnegut, Haruki Murakami, Frank Herbert, and probably M.T Anderson. He's only a little pretentious about it.

He can spend hours in used book stores digging through the big plastic bins and stuffed cardboard boxes. You help him find specific authors or titles, your basket heavy with your combined finds. He'll carry the bags back to your apartment, his other hand tucked into yours as you gush about excited you are to sort and organise your new additions to your shared library.

He still has some books that Bruce and Alfred gave hm before his murder. Leather bond additions of the Liliad and rare printings of Dracula and Frankenstein. They have these little notes left in the front pages from Bruce that he couldn't bring himself to tear out or throw away entirely. And if you thought his home library was huge- wait until you see the book shelves in his old room.

Since he doesn't spend that much money on himself, he now has every chance to spoil you with your own special additions of your favourite stand-alone's, expensive book-marks, and lavish coffee dates where both of you enjoy your books over the smoothest of richest of espresso.

In the early months of your relationship, most of your dates were spent at bookstores, thrift-shops, and libraries. Your love quite literally grew from the yellowed, torn pages your would both get lost in.

Once his home library combined with yours, most of your bedroom and living room wall space became covered with his floor to ceiling bookshelves. Your bedside tables would each have a small stack of books that you were currently reading.

He absolutely loves how you look with your reading glasses. He thinks it's too cute when you push them up with the back of your hand, entirely focused on an intense passage. Your eyes going wide or your breath stopping at a beautiful line. Your adorable focused stare and sweet round cheeks are accentuated fully. He should be reading the book in his own lap but he's entirely distracted by you. You shut the book with a thump and immediately turn to him to gush about the chapter you just finished only to have his hands catch your jaw and bring your smiling lips against his. And suddenly, you forgot what you were going to say to him.

Jason finds lines and prose in his books that remind him of you and highlight them. He would keep them in a note stack on his phone, just to read them back to remind himself of your beauty. It's something that he could never put into words himself, hence one of the reasons why he adores reading so much. He can find the right order of words that properly express his infinite adoration and care for you.

I've explored this before but you guys have a set date once a month where you'll sit in each-others arms and just read all day. You'll curl up in one of his sweaters with one of your thick Sanderson novels and he'll tuck a blanket around his lap with his special addition of 'Little Women' open in his lap. He'll refill your tea mug because it's always hard to pull you out of your book during your reading days.

You'll order in some warm comfort food for supper and talk about your books respectively. He'll gush about how Jo March is such a revolutionary character and how Amy is actually a metaphor for the loss of innocence girls experience when attempting to emulate patriarchal standards of womanhood.

All while you gaze lovingly back into his eyes, your chin resting on your palm - wondering if a marriage proposal would be too sudden for your evening conversation.

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hellisharchive · 7 hours

Text

・﹒・ i am a god, now bow

Summary: Adam was an angel that you've come to hate, from his attitude to the fact that you're privy to knowing about the exterminations led by him, you never liked him. He wasn't ignorant to this hatred, and wanted you to know just how much you should be praising him instead.

Warnings: 18+, degradation, blowjob (m receiving), dacryphilia, dub-con, hair pulling

Pairing: Adam x GN!reader

Notes: Again I literally dont know wtf im doing with smut yet i continue to write it. Not beta read as always forgive any mistakes

Heaven was perfect, when was it not? Every second was full of happiness and joy and beauty. Well, it was when Adam wasn't around. He was the bane of your existence and made every second of him being around pure Hell. He was arrogant, cocky, and always liked making an ass out of you. Every interaction with him was insufferable. You don't make your hatred outwardly known to him- but you do act snarky on purpose and deflect his attitude right back. He needs to be put in his place.

He normally talks to you on the promenade since you actively try to avoid him everywhere else, you know he does this on purpose. He just loves talking to you every chance he gets, always here with a Lute usually slurping loudly on whatever drink he has that day. That also pissed you off. You would avoid this part of Heaven if you could, but Saint Peter was your friend so it was easier just to hang around here for when he takes breaks. He knows about your disdain for Adam and usually tries to calm you down. It usually works, but some days it doesn't. Today was that day.

"Peter, I just can't stand him! He's such an ass and I swear he always tries to makes me as pissed off as possible!" You groaned as you felt his hand gently rub your back, being careful to mind your wings, as he knew talking would just interrupt your venting.

"I don't know why he's and asshole! Like sure he's the first man ever created. Cool I guess? No reason to be so arrogant ugh! Yesterday he literally told me that-" before you could tell your friend what bullshit Adam said, the man himself made himself known.

"Told you what? That I got a big dick?" He smirked as he approached, how long was he there for? You froze and stared at him for a second before regaining your composure and taking a deep breath.

"Fuck no, go away asshole before I make you" You scoffed and looked over at Peter who looked so nervous that he wanted to fly away. You felt bad because you didn't want him to be involved with all of this. "Come on Peter, let's-" You aimed to grab his arm to pull him away, but a hand wrapped around yours first, and it wasn't Peter's. Turning, you saw Adam gripping your wirst with a smirk on his face and he started to pull you in his direction.

"Hey! Let go of me asshole!" You struggled against him, but due to his size and strength, he was successfully dragging you before opening up a portal and throwing you in. You had no time to fight back as you hit something soft, looking around in disbelief, you were on a bed. Were you in his bedroom? Looking ahead, you watched as he walked through the yellow portal and closing it once he was fully inside.

"Nah, you need to learn your place, bitch. Now start undressing, or do you want me to do it?" You just stared at him in shock, eyes wide as you quickly shuffled to the other side of the bed, hitting the headboard too soon. He ripped off his mask, revealing short brown hair, and his smirk seemed even more imposing as he snapped off his robes to be only in his underwear. You didn't want to, but if he can do that, then you might as well retain some dignity and do it yourself.

"Fine! Fine! I will" You knew he was going to fuck you, you knew how he was, but for some reason you couldn't say no. Why couldn't you? You hated him, yet you're taking this treatment. Yet you couldn't deny that some weird part of you liked this, why did you like this? Gulping, you watched as he stared at you hungerly while you took your shirt off- being careful to mind your wings- and then your pants. As soon as you were just in your underwear, he pounced on you, caging you in with nowhere to go.

"You know you can always say no, back out now and we can forget all of this, I won't be upset" He leaned close and whispered in your ear before pulling back and hovering just a few inches away from your face. Your heart beat faster and you stared at him with a bated breath. He was giving you an out? He was giving you and out.

"Fuck it" You mumbled before grabbing his neck and pulling him in for a kiss, smashing against his lips, he happily returned the passion. It didn't last last, however, as he pushed off of you and stood up.

"On your knees" Only in your underwear, you obeyed him despite the nagging feeling of embarrassement. Nobody has ever told you to do that much less you complying without argument. But you did anyways, you still hated him, you were sure. Now on your knees on the floor, almost naked, you looked up at the first man who had on his signature smirk.

"Suck my cock, Bitch" You were starting to have doubts now, seeping into your veins. Now you were thinking that this was a really bad idea. When you didn't move, Adam snarled and grabbed your hair, pulling you closer to his clothed cock. The action caused you to yelp and tears to form in your eyes.

"Fucking do it, I am your god and you should treat me like one" Taking deep breaths, you harshly pulled away from his grasp, him letting go of your hair, as you felt the conflicting emotions flicker in your mind- and body. A part of you knows you shouldn't be treated like this by someone who aren't even in a relationship with. But the other part loves the thrill and adrenaline and were getting noticeably wet. Glaring at him, you took your shaky hands and wrapped them around the waistband of his underwear. Taking the plunge- you pulled them down all in one go. It was a little bigger than average, but it was quite girthy. You said nothing as you stared.

"I am your god and this is how you earn my forgiveness. In fact, I want you to beg for my cock" You froze as his words, he wants you to beg now? You should just stand up, grab your clothes, and storm off at his treatment of you. He was disgusting. Yet- here you were, you already were on your knees for him, you already were this far. Well, if he wanted to play that game, you might as well give it your all. Swallowing your pride, you caved.

"Please Adam, let me suck your cock" Your voice was shaky, not firm at all and that caused a huff from him.

"I'm not convinced" Breathing in, you muster up all the confidence you could.

"Please Adam, I want to suck you off until you're dry and your cum is spilling all over me" Your pride completely disappeared as you stared up at him with narrowed eyes, hating the way he made you feel, hating how he could make you do such things that no other man could. But, he bent down and grabbed your face with both of his hands as his lips ghosted yours.

"That's more like it, Slut" He whispered, causing chills to go down your spine as he roughly released you, before shoving your head to his dick again. This time, you felt it rest against the side of your cheek, causing your face to ignite with heat. Pride long gone, you pushed back against his thighs and his cock suddenly became intimidating to you. You were supposed to fit that in your mouth.

"I don't have all day, Bitch" Sighing, you gently grabbed his member and started to rub back and forth lightly, testing the waters. He hitched his breath before he mumbled something you couldn't hear. Leaning closer, you gave a kitten lick to his tip and you could watch his thigh tense up slightly. Deciding to dive in- you swirled around the top of his shaft and sucked just at the head. You felt his hand hold the back of your head and push you in a bit, and you felt the sudden intrusion of his cock in your mouth. Stopping your ministrations, you sent a death glare his way and he just put on a happy innocent smile.

But you continued anyways- going deeper and slowly taking him all in while wrapping your tongue around him. You heard him breath out "fuck" as you started to bob your head back and forth, increasing with speed as you sucked on him, holding onto his thighs tightly. You then felt his hand on your head again as he guided you, wanting you to go faster. Tears brimmed your eyes again as your mouth was completely full and you were going so fast now. Yet, you couldn't help but feel yourself get even wetter, why? He was a terrible person.

"Fuck I'm close... You ready to swallow the first man's seed?" If you were able to roll your eyes, you would, but just as he said that, his cum spilled all in your mouth. It was somewhat salty, milky nonetheless, and thick. His cock was slowly eased out of you as you swallowed and coughed, bracing your hands on the floor as some of your mixed saliva and his cum spilled, making a small puddle. You sat and caught your breath as Adam leaned down, gripping your chin in his hand, he forced you to look up at him with tears growing in your vision, shame washing over you.

"I like it when you cry, Bitch, because you know your place. You are below me and always will be. You are a peasant, and I am your god"

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel adam x reader

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bearw-me · 3 days

Note

This is kinda dark so if you don't wanna do it it's cool. Can I request Carmilla running into a son reader? [Years before she had her daughters she had a son but she was too strict/serious on her boy which led to him...taking his own life. The experience made Carmilla realize she mightve been too hard on him so when hid sisters come around she showers them with love] The reader thinks carmilla is going to scold him, scream at him or anything but she just hugs him hard and tells him she's sorry and that she loves him

i'd like to put my author's note up here before you guys read what i wrote/make a little disclaimer!

TW: mentions of harm

I wouldn't write the act, per-se, but i had absolutely no problem with your request because it doesn't really involve those details (fic wise) this one is mostly about comfort and a nice reunion!

just before you go, know your best-friend mal is always here for you <3 this and every other fic i write is my silent love-letter to you

𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐆𝐨 — 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

𐐒 includes : carmilla carmine x son!reader, odette, clara 𐐒 cw : angst, hugs, kisses, comfort 𐐒 summary : after a few decades in hell, you decide it's time to stop putting it aside and visit your mother for the first time since you've appeared in hell. as anxious as you are, she receives your visit with open arms. 𐐒 word count : 1.1 k

The metal body of the cab rattled against the broken highway, the sights of Pentagon city flashing past you in a pink florescent blur. You sighed, slumping into the leather seats.

Were you really doing this?

The thought made your stomach bubble with new found nerves. Rolling and wrenching the muscles in your stomach so hard you suddenly had to lean forward in your seat. Forced to stare at all the dust and garbage littered about the floor.

"Oh god I'm gonna be sick," you mumbled to yourself.

"Don't throw up in my car kid," the driver growled at you, suddenly adjusting his rearview mirror so that he could keep an eye on you.

You tried not to roll your eyes, taking a quick glance out of the window just in time to witness the change in districts.

"Might wanna keep your head down kid! We're in Carmine's district now," he laughed, a hoarse sound filled with cigarette smoke.

You had never actually been in this part of hell. After all these years you've been here, watching as the districts had shifted between hands in the great soul exchange. . .

All those years until you realized she had fallen here just like you.

And you didn't really know how to process that thought just yet.

The once chaotic district was now more silent.

Shadows skulking between buildings and alleyways, making deals to sell weapons and bartering for money.

You grimaced, opting to let those images blur in your mind and let your head fall against the rattling window.

What possessed you to see your mother after all these year? Who knows. . .

It just felt like it had to be done.

Soon, the tall white building had come into view, a place you heard the overlords of hell met up.

And today, Carmilla would be here, same with your-. . .

Odette and Clara.

You stepped out of the cab, soles hitting the pavement with a tap. You paid what you owed to the driver and waved a quick thanks as he sped off, the devil on his heels.

That left you alone, standing like David against Goliath with the empire she had built.

She's. . . kept herself busy.

It's all you could think about. Staring at the gleaming tiles of the building with hesitance.

What would she say to you? Should you have told her you were coming? That you were here?

The sickness that seemed to be plaguing you had come back in waves.

The last time you had remembered seeing her, you were both alive on Earth, screaming at each others faces.

"One day, mi hijo, you will have to do everything for yourself! You will have to take over the business! YOU have to carry all that burdens us and I NEED you to be ready for that! Why can't you just see that! I won't always be here for you! YOU NEED TO STEP UP TO THIS!"

But. . .

You just couldn't do everything she had wanted of you. The standards, the rules, the burden. . . it was all too heavy for one person to carry.

And now here you were, on the white-waiting room couch unannounced.

To sayy. . . what exactly?

You bit at your nails in thought, leg bouncing up and down as you waited for your name to be called.

It was pretty empty today.

No one was really sitting in here with you.

That was a great thought.

A deep, strung-out exhale shook its way out of your lungs.

Nerves, you figured.

You didn't even know what to do with your hands, running them through your hair and rocking back and forth in your seat, wondering if it was too late to just stand up and leave-

"Um. . ." You stopped completely, turning your head towards the sound of your voice.

Just before the office doors, two small sinners stood side by side, holding a clipboard up to their faces as they eyed you with surprise.

Odette and Clara.

There was no mistaking them.

"That's. . . me?" You rose from your seat like a ghost, not really feeling anything but utter surprise.

It was the first time you've ever seen them. The same cream colored hair, the same eyes, they even stood en pointe like her.

Odette and Clara.

"Come with us," Clara beckoned, her curly hair and grey skin. . . did she look like that too? Now that she was a sinner?

Thank goodness the girls turned away from you quickly, giving you just enough time to wipe a stray tear from your eye. Estranged siblings that you've never even met. . . and you were so full of emotion at just the sight of them.

Did they know who you were?

You watched them wearily, the two exchanging quick glances at each other and occasionally, at you.

"She's right in here," Clara trailed off.

Odette glanced at you through her round glasses, a hint of worry lifting her eyebrows up "She wasn't expecting you today."

"Alright," you shrugged. I mean, it was a fact you already knew, but to hear the two of them say it to you was the final slap of reality you weren't sure you entirely needed.

The two of them opened the doors for you, watching intently as you shuffled into the room, and back at each other incredulously.

"Ay dios mio, I said I didn't have time for meetings. . ." you heard her mumble, face covered by a laptop screen, hunched over and lost in her work.

It was how you remembered her.

"Mamá," you called out, finally taking a seat in front of her desk, unsure of who or what you'd find on the other side of that screen.

With that one word, she froze still, a pair of demonic red eyes peering over the top of that silver screen.

"Mamá," you said again, a choked sound now that you realized it was her.

It was actually her.

A sinner, your mother, an overlord, who was finally before you.

It was like all the things you had planned on telling her had thrown themselves together and crumbled beneath the sight of her.

"Mi hijo."

"Mamá, I know you're mad at me," the tears came without warning, and you shuffled uncomfortably in your seat, unable to keep looking at her as the sobs wracked through your body, pleading for her forgiveness "I tried my best! I tried! I-"

"Mi hijo, I'm so sorry," your mother flew into your arms, the familiarity of her love so striking that you became undone in her arms.

She cried into your neck, a sound you've never heard before "Oh mi hijo, no heavens could ever keep me away from you, never, and I and never letting you go again,"

"I love you mi hijo."

#hazbin hotel #imagines #fic #oneshot #carmilla carmine x son!reader #male reader #hazbin carmilla #hazbin carmilla carmine #tw: dark themes #angst #comfort #hazbin odette #hazbin clara #tw: mentions of harm #hugs #sending hugs anon #accidentally posted this too soon lol #tags

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hypnoneghoul · 3 days

Text

Sundown: Chapter 3

WC: 600

Relationship: SwissAlps

Tags: Transfeminine Mountain, AU; Cowboy!Swiss x Barmaid!Mountain, Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together

She shifts as she slowly wakes, too, nuzzling in closer to him. “Mhm…how’d my girl sleep?” he asks, pulling her impossibly closer.

Notes: This one is just a cute little fill :3

Read chapter 1 here or on AO3.

Read chapter 3 under the cut or on AO3.

Swiss has been in Sundown for two months now and it has been the happiest two months of his entire life. He is a changed man.

His insides twist every time he sees Mounty smile at him, he blushes every time she calls him her boyfriend. He’s never been anyone’s anything, not like that.

Swiss is completely and utterly gone.

He yawns as he slowly comes to, waking in the early morning to sun peeking through the carelessly shut curtains and muffled noises of the town starting yet another day. Swiss takes a deep breath, inhaling the fresh, flowery scent surrounding him. He buries his face in the source of that scent—the soft, dark amber locks of Mounty.

She shifts as she slowly wakes, too, nuzzling in closer to him to get that little bit more comfort before they get up and leave the warm bubble that is their bed.

“G’mornin’,” she mumbles into Swiss’ shoulder and he squeezes her waist in acknowledgement.

“Mhm…how’d my girl sleep?” he asks, pulling her impossibly closer. His morning voice is rumbly and gravelly and it never fails at making Mounty shiver.

“Good,” she replies simply. “You’re comfortable.”

Swiss laughs and the barmaid’s heart throbs. He leans down to press a kiss to her forehead and his stubble scratches her lightly in the best way possible. A forehead kiss isn’t enough, though, and so Mounty tips her head back to demand a real one. Swiss is a weak man; he can’t not oblige.

They get lost in it a bit, as usual, not caring about the work they both have, the outside of their bed in general. They spend the next few minutes—or hours—simply staring at each other with smiles painted on their faces and kissing every five seconds like nothing beside them even exists.

Something beside them does exist, though, and it reminds them of that fact itself. Or rather himself, as Dewdrop comes pounding on their door. “Come on, Rain needs something from yours, Mounty!”

The pair giggles and kisses some more, but soon enough they do emerge from their room and walk down the stairs into the bar area. Dewdrop’s waiting there with a piece of paper—presumably some instructions from Rain—in one hand, and a glass of water in the other.

“Woah, Dew, you alright?” Swiss asks with a smirk.

“Yeah…why?” the other asks, a little confused. Mounty understands, though, and she smiles as she takes the paper from Dewdrop to go fetch what his partner needs.

“Water at nine in the morning? Not beer?” Swiss teases and Dewdrop scoffs, hitting him lightly on the shoulder.

“According to Phantom I should hydrate myself properly in the morning before work,” the man sighs. He’s obviously not happy about that. “Rain agrees and so I’m being blackmailed into it every morning.”

He cringes as he takes another sip and Swiss bursts out laughing at his face—looking like he’s just been poisoned at the very least. Just then Mounty returns and she points at Swiss, “Careful, I should be doing the same to you.”

Swiss stops laughing.

“Uh, anyway,” he clears his throat, “Dew, would you mind taking a look at Monty’s hooves when you’ve got a minute? I think she needs a trim now that we ain't wearing them down on the road.”

“Mhm, sure. I’ll be going now,” Dewdrop nods and leaves his—still half full—glass on the counter completely by accident. Mounty shakes her head and chuckles as she walks over to Swiss. He throws an arm over her shoulder and brings her close to kiss her once again.

“Ready for the day, sweetheart?” he asks.

“As long as you stay with me.”

#hypnone writes #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #swissalps #swissalps' sundown

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wingstobetorn · 10 hours

Text

I'd love to discuss how good Mutant Mayhem Leo's writing is, actually.

While he doesn't hold as much leadership skills as say.... 2003! Leo.... You can clearly see his potential as a leader. The one thing I've always taken note of about his character is how he's never the one running away from any of these dangerous situations, no matter how anxious we know he is. Instead he's the one turning to his brothers and saying “Really? You're just gonna run off?" Whenever they wanna leave when shit hits the fan. This is a great leadership quality and gives us many opportunities for him in Tales of the TMNT!

The scene where he encourages his brothers is also a great scene and one of my favorites, and also displays many of the things that makes this Leo so great as a character. Just before giving his speech, Leo blinks away a tear.

He's visibly saddened by humans hating them, but he still pushes that sadness down and encourages his brothers to save the humans. Again, there's the theme of Leo not running away. Because normally you'd pack it up by then right? Realize “They hate me, so why should I save them?” but Leo chooses to continue saving them all. He chooses kindness instead of allowing Superfly's hatred to destroy the city.

This is a good callback to 1987 actually, when Leo's brothers say (and I'm paraphrasing here) “What have the humans ever done for us? We save them, but they still shun us" And Leo responds “I don't know about you guys, but I'm not doing this to be liked." (I can't find the scene but there isn't a single day it leaves my head)

He's just so kind-hearted and good, it almost makes me wanna cry. What a guy! I have so many thoughts about him but ow my fingers hurt (while writing this I found it insanely funny that in the TOTTMNT trailer we literally see his ass skeddadling from that robot)

Thanks for reading this gang 👍

#mutant mayhem #mm leo #long post

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flightfoot · 2 days

Note

Any feligami fic recommendations?

Felix is Fine by SortaArtsy

Felix wakes up sick, but is determined to keep it under wraps. Kagami refuses to be fooled. Feligami fluff. Implied past trauma/ abuse, though nothing explicit. Set post S5 so there are SOME SPOILERS!

If you want a Felix sick fic, this story’s the fic for you! I like how Felix and Kagami actually talk about why Felix is so determined to keep the extent of his illness hidden, what caused him to feel like he needs to do that, and Kagami’s understanding about it. Colt sucks.

---

to assess the equation of you by ThisKwamiNeeds-aNap

“I’m not a wanted fugitive,” she said, dryly. “You could change that.” She wasn’t sure if he was joking. Wasn’t sure if she wanted him to be joking. She stared for a long second, as if she could read more into his intent in the pupils of his eyes. They stayed there for a long second, unblinking. OR: Félix and Kagami try to talk about that after credits scene in Pretension

---

the awful felix saga by chivalrousamour

It should be noted that Félix was not exactly the most normal of people. He was idolized by others and popular, yet never had many friends. His social skills mostly amounted to knowledge of how to smile and speak politely enough that people let their guard down around him. As a result of his tendency to ignore or hate most people, he only had the few loved ones, and he'd commit murder for them. Like literally commit murder for them. Several murders, even. He did not have good knowledge of boundaries or restraint. So it should really say something that Félix, of all people, looked at Adrien's phone, and immediately said "oh, what's wrong with this guy." Because, like, dude. Why did Adrien have so many pictures of a girl he wasn't even dating? Even Félix knew that cropping group pics to be just the two of them was a weird thing to do.

So this is part of a series. I put that series on my top ten completed fics of 2023 list. I think you can mostly understand what's going on here without reading the other fics in the series, but I highly recommend you do read them, because they're hilarious! But this fic should at least give a taste of the tone of the rest of the series and give an idea whether you'd like to read the rest.

---

The Peacock and the Dragon by TheVioletThread

kagami reflects on love, past and present, lost and won. felix destroys everything he has ever loved.

This is a three-chapter story, with the chapters being mostly independent, rather than naturally leading into each other.

The first chapter is from Kagami's POV, delving into the mindset she's grown up with due to Tomoe's parenting.

The second chapter, on the other hand, is from Felix's POV and mostly follows his horrific backstory, the abuse he suffered at Colt's hands, and his mindset even after Colt died.

The third chapter goes over Amelie's life, how she thinks of being the one left behind to deal with her parents' expectations, how she does, in fact, abide by them, basically being sold away to the highest bidder, and the despair as she's unable to do what she was "purchased" to do: provide an heir to Colt.

There's some beautiful prose here and exploration for Felix, Kagami, and Amelie, I highly recommend giving it a look!

---

one does not love breathing by @wackus-bonkus-maximus

All of Paris watched as Hawkmoth murdered Chat Noir, taking the Black Cat Miraculous for himself. Ladybug swears revenge, but her enemy—and every miraculous in his possession—disappear without a trace.

Six years later, a new team of villains launches an attack for the last remaining Miraculous: Volpina, armed with new powers; Queen Bee, with questionable loyalty; Argos, the new holder of the Peacock Miraculous; and Cat Walker, who Ladybug hates the most.

Takes place after S4 - Strike Back.

So this is mostly a Lovesquare fic, but there's lots of different perspectives here, including Felix's and Kagami's. They may not be the main couple, but they still have more focus and development here than you're likely to find in most other fics.

Which is especially impressive since Feligami was one of the major pairings in this fic even BEFORE the Miraculous season 5 bible got leaked. Wackus was clairvoyant on that front.

#ask #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic rec #felix fathom #kagami tsurugi #feligami

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dinogoofymutated · 23 hours

Note

Okay so like,,,,I usually never make requests (I’m a lurker fr fr) but your writing Is god tier, so I gotta ask:

Could you do a fic for Hank/Beast? He’s my personal fave but I never see any content for him ever, like the fic scene for this man is a ghost town. he’s underrated as hell. My man is ripped, highly intelligent and respectful of the arts! Yet he doesn’t get any attention.

I would love to see some general headcanons (SFW & NSFW) if you’re up to it. no problem if you don’t write for him or something, I just thought i would ask.

Thanks!

SFW!Beast/GN!Reader

To be honest, I actually wasn't really sure about writing for Hank at first because I've never really had a connection to the character, but he grew on me!! Plus, I'm here to serve lolol we've been starved of fics as a Fandom for basically forever and it would be a disservice not to fill the Hank void out there! Hope it's okay that I only wrote Sfw headcannons, I have a separate req for NSFW for him so I decided to split it into two to save my sanity lol. Finals are gonna be hell for me.

-ps- Should I be writing right now? no. Am I doing it anyway? Yurp. Also, I'm basing his history off of the fandom wiki, so I'm sorry if anything is off.

Tws: none that I can think of atm. As always, reader written while picturing fem but no pronouns mentioned.

Hank, despite what some would think, was most definitely a heartthrob, particularly in his college days!! I mean, a man who's confident, smart, respectful, and also an athlete? Who wouldn't swoon? He was 110% the guy that everyone wanted to take home to their parents.

And He's such a sweet, attentive lover too!! Acts of service almost definitely is a love language for him. He cooks for you, fixes the broken things that you didn't even realize were broken, even organizes your notes before a difficult exam.

He loves to surprise you with flowers, even if it isn't any special occasion, and if you ask, he'll help you preserve them as well!

He loves to kiss your forehead, temples, and hands. On top of that, he's very touchy. The two of you were most definitely seen as the parents of any friend group.

Things changed a little after he took the serum that mutated him further. His confidence had taken a blow, and he just didn't quite know how to approach you anymore.

It took a hot minute to reassure him that you didn't really care if he was blue, or furry, or beastly, he was still Hank Mccoy, wasn't he? He was the man you were in love with, and you certainly weren't going to stop now. Besides, you still thought he was handsome. With the kinds of books he's seen you read, you're a bit surprised that he didn't think you would find him attractive.

Things gradually got back to normal, but for a while, he didn't kiss you as often as he used to. Well, he didn't kiss you period. Even though he knew the incredible extent to which you loved him, the shape of his mouth had changed. Hell, he had fangs that he would rather die than mark you with.

You practically had to tie him down into a contract to get him to kiss you again. He was always one to experiment, why not treat this the same? If you kiss, and it goes well, you do it again. If it goes well a second time and a third, you have a pretty reliable test. Validity shouldn't matter when he knew that you loved him to bits already.

He felt like he was falling in love with you all over again, and yet he still hesitated. It wasn't until you had grabbed him by the collar to drag him into a kiss that he actually relaxed, and what do you know, it was a pretty reliable test after all. A predictive one too, with how often you continued to kiss him afterwards.

Domestic was the best way to describe your relationship with Hank.

You yawned as you made your way down to the lab, still in your pajamas and slippers. Just a few hours previously, after a shower and self-care routine, you had settled into bed with an eyebrow-raising book as you waited for your husband to come to bed. This was a normal routine for the two of you, you immersing yourself into a book to stay awake until Hank entered, kissed your temple sweetly, and began his own nightly routine. It was a set of events you were used to.

Today, however, you felt like you had done a lot more reading than usual. When you finally pulled yourself out of your book and checked the time, the clock by your bed read 11 pm. A rather late time for Hank to be out, but you already knew where he would be. The lower levels of the mansion were extra cold at night, and you find yourself rubbing some warmth into your arms as you approach the lab.

The doors open with a swish, the light of the lab having all been darkened exempt for the lamp on Hank’s desk. He’s so immersed in what he’s doing that he doesn’t even realize when you come in. You walk up behind his chair, running your hands through his hair softly when you reach him.

Hank isn’t surprised, sighing at the pleasant sensation as he tips his head back to encourage you. You giggle a little, leaning down to press a kiss to his head as you begin to massage his scalp.

“It’s late.” You say gently. Hank hums in response, eyes closed as he appreciates your touch.

“I’m sorry, my love. Seems I was a little entranced.” He says. You huff at him playfully.

“You say entranced, I say you’re overworking yourself. You’ve been working on this project all week. Don’t let it cut into your rest time.” Your scolding always sounded too nice, but he knows you mean it. Hank sighs again, this time sounding a little more tired, but he doesn't argue. He rolls around to face you, pulling you into a tired hug from his chair.

“Perhaps it is time I go to bed. What time is it, my dear?”

“Eleven.” Hank lets out a quiet chuckle at your quick reply, finally standing up. He doesn’t let go of you however, choosing to rest his head on your shoulder as he sways the two of you back and forth.

“You’re most certainly right, it is late. Much too late for a man to leave his lovely spouse waiting. Oh, whatever shall I do to make it up to you?.” His words come out as a purr, and you let out a curt laugh at him. You pull away a little, taking his large hands in your own as you lead him to the door. He smiles widely when you stop for a moment, remembering his glasses and placing them on his face before starting to drag him to bed.

“I’ll let you decide that, Love. As long as you make it to bed, that’s apology enough for me.”

#x men 97 #x men #x men comics #x men 97 x reader #x men headcannons #beast #x men beast #hank mccoy x reader #hank mccoy #x men hank mccoy #x men beast headcannons #hank mccoy headcannons #x men beast x reader

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f4iry-bell · 2 days

Note

Before I tell you about my request, I have to acknowledge that you are so FREAKING amazing at writing!!

Don't know if you've already done these before, but Jameson's POV of when he first met Avery, during the will reading, when he first snuck into Avery's room, and when Avery was leaving Will Blake's ranch in tfg. It's probably a lot, but I've been wanting to read about these for a while and I also know a good writer who is capable of doing that. Also, just know that I'm probably going to request you many more things to write about.

first of all I'm HONOURED. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR TRUSTING ME. second of all, i really hope this satisfy you and is enough 😭😭I'm no jlb, this is completely of what I think jameson would have thought from my understanding. if you think otherwise please do let me know. again, it's completely from my understanding of jamie's character. also sorry it took so long.

NOTE: all four parts are here. pretty long. some copy pasted dialogues!!!!!! hope you enjoy.

Jameson meeting Avery for the first time.

It was not easy for the Hawthornes, everyone grieved in their own way. But for some reason the grievance was put aside today by everyone, Jameson would like to say he has put it aside as well but the bottle in his hand and the obvious intoxication would say otherwise. It is not a good idea to get drunk during an important time like the reading of the will of the great Tobias Hawthorne, and it's definitely not a good idea to leave your family hanging while one sits at the edge of the balcony, only supported by the railing. But that's exactly what Jameson Hawthorne did.

His mind was all over the place looking for something, something that would give him the thrill more than sitting at the edge of the balcony, drunk. He might have been wrong, but there was a two out of ten chance that he may be right. He refused to look away from the brown haired girl who was standing in the backyard, completely mesmerised by the Hawthorne backyard. As she took in the view he took in her features and movements. He finally decided to interact in the only way he knew to find out what she is.

“If yes is no and once is never , then how many sides does a triangle have?” His words slurred but it got her attention. She looked up to him, bending her neck backwards.

“You’re going to fall.” She told him.

He smirked. “An interesting proposition.”

“That wasn’t a proposition,” She said.

He offered her a lazy grin. “There’s no shame in propositioning a Hawthorne.” Jameson’s smirk grew a bit wider when she noticed that he was shirtless.

“You must be Mystery Girl,” he said.

“I’m Avery,” She corrected.

She looked at him like anyone who knew what recently happened in the Hawthorne family would look at him, wondering why his face was anything but filled with grief. He wouldn't blame her for being a little judgemental. He is very good at grieving in his own way and an expert at hiding it.

“Whatever you say, M.G.,” he retorted. “Can I call you M.G., Mystery Girl?” He was trying to taunt her at this point.

She crossed her arms. “No.”

He brought his feet up to the railing and stood. He wobbled, he could see her thinking about something with worry and panic when he put one foot in front.

“Don't!” But he didn't listen to her. He twisted and grabbed the railing with his hands, holding himself vertical, feet in the air and dropped. He landed right next to her.

“You shouldn’t be out here, M.G.” He told her.

“Neither should you.” He can tell that her heart is beating fast. It was so obvious. Janeson’s heart was racing too, he told himself that it was because of the stunt he just pulled.

“If I do what I should no more often than I say what I shouldn’t”—his lips twisted—“then what does that make me?”

She sighed like she just realised who he is. She was taking in his features to make sure, especially his eyes, and his abs.

“What,” he repeated intently, “does that make me?”

“Drunk,” She said. Jameson was about to say something else, he was ready with a comeback but she added two more words. “And two.”

“What?” Jameson Hawthorne said.

“The answer to your first riddle,” She told him. “If yes is no and once is never , then the number of sides a triangle has… is… two .” She didn't explain her answer, she didn't have to.

“Touché, M.G.” Jameson ambled past her, brushing his bare arm lightly over mine as he did. “Touché.” He was impressed and intrigued.

Two out of ten, this time the odds were in his favour. And now that Jameson Hawthorne got the answer he wanted from this Mystery Girl, he has no plan to leave her alone. That moment he knew she was special. And his grandfather brought her here for a reason. He will find out why.

The Will Read

Jameson made his way to his wing and managed to find himself a shirt and suit jacket. He checked himself in the mirror once before heading to The Great Room. Once he was inside his eyes looked for a specific pair of brown eyes but he realised Avery hadn't arrived yet. He went further inside and stood with the rest of his family. Soon he watched Avery make her way inside and made eye contact with him. He immediately gave her a cheeky smile and a salute, he can also noticed Grayson stiffened at his action through the corner of his eyes.

Once the lawyers made sure everyone who is mentioned in the will was in the room they started. First, they handed an envelope to everyone in the family and to Avery as well. They were asked to open the letters after the will reading. Jameson is already curious about his letter and what the old man has to say to him and to Avery Grambs. His eyes were fixated on her envelope for a whole minute before focusing on the reading prudently.

“Mr. Hawthorne stipulated that all of the following individuals must be physically present for the reading of this will: Skye Hawthorne, Zara Hawthorne-Calligaris, Nash Hawthorne, Grayson Hawthorne, Jameson Hawthorne, Alexander Hawthorne, and Ms. Avery Kylie Grambs of New Castle, Connecticut.”

Everyone's eyes including a pair of green ones were on her. Avery Kylie Grambs.

“...To my daughters, Zara Hawthorne-Calligaris and Skye Hawthorne, I leave the funds necessary to pay off all debts accrued as of the date and time of my death.” Mr. Ortega paused before speaking, he looked directly at Zara and Skye then back to the will.

“Additionally, I leave to Skye my compass, may she always know true north, and to Zara, I leave my wedding ring, may she love as wholly and steadfastly as I loved her mother.” Another pause, more painful than the last.

“Go on.” That came from Zara’s husband.

“To each of my daughters,” Mr. Ortega read slowly, “beyond that already stated, I leave a one-time inheritance of fifty thousand dollars.”

Jameson wanted to smile but he knew better, just like how he knew that his mother and aunt won't be the one holding the old man's entire fortune. It's not a surprise, none of them should be surprised that the person who would be taking the fortune would be the heir apparent, his brother, Grayson Devenport Hawthorne.

There was a mini quarrel between Zara and Skye on how Jameson and his brothers became the old man's favourite, how Skye gave them to him so that her sons would have the inheritance.

“Now, if I may continue…” Mr. Ortega looked back down at the will in his hands. “To my grandsons, Nash Westbrook Hawthorne, Grayson Davenport Hawthorne, Jameson Winchester Hawthorne, and Alexander Blackwood Hawthorne, I leave…”

“Everything,” Zara muttered bitterly.

Mr. Ortega spoke over her. “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars apiece, payable on their twenty-fifth birthdays, until such time to be managed by Alisa Ortega, trustee.”

Everyone heard Alisa’s audible shock. Unlike his brother Grayson who was utterly shocked and threw knives for the word ‘what’ Jameson Hawthorne thought that this is getting interesting.

The old man didn't leave everything to Grayson like everyone thought the old man would because of the way he was groomed. Or to Nash, or to Xander, or to me. There is only one person left in the will. There could be two things happening right here, and if his guess is right…

“The remainder of my estate,” Mr. Ortega read, “including all properties, monetary assets, and worldly possessions not otherwise specified, I leave to Avery Kylie Grambs.”

And it was indeed right, if you're smart you would have seen this coming right after they read that Tobias Hawthorne didn't leave his fortune to his daughters or his grandsons. The only blood related heirs. But now? A new heiress. Not blood related as far as he knows. She is not a random girl. He knew his grandfather too well to know that he wouldn't randomly write his entire fortune to a stranger. This is something. He doesn't know what she is yet. But he will find out.

Everyone's demeanour changed, especially Skye and Gray's. Not surprised. Even Avery’s, she is in utter shock, he can only say that much.

“...I assure you, there is no mistake.” Mr. Ortega met my gaze, then turned his attention to the others. “And I assure the rest of you, Tobias Hawthorne’s last will and testament is utterly unbreakable. Since the majority of the remaining details concern only Avery, we’ll cease with the dramatics. But let me make one thing very clear: Per the terms of the will, any heir who challenges Avery’s inheritance will forfeit their share of the estate entirely.”

“No will is that ironclad,” Constantine said, his voice acidic.

“Not when there’s this kind of money at stake.” “Spoken,” Nash Hawthorne interjected, “like someone who didn’t really know the old man.”

“Traps upon traps,” Jameson murmured. Trying to look into the old man's mind about this context. Trying to look into her mind. “And riddles upon riddles.” He looked right into Avery's eyes looking for something.

“I think you should leave,” Grayson told me curtly. An order. Typical Grayson.

“Technically…” Alisa Ortega sounded like she’d just swallowed arsenic. “It’s her house.”

“I don’t understand,” She said.

“My daughter is correct.” Mr. Ortega kept his tone neutral. “You own it all, Ms. Grambs. Not just the fortune, but all of Mr. Hawthorne’s properties, including Hawthorne House. Per the terms of your inheritance, which I will gladly go over with you, the current occupants have been granted tenancy unless—and until—they give you cause for removal.” He let those words hang in the air. “Under no circumstances,” he continued gravely, his words rife with warning, “can those tenants attempt to remove you.”

Oren stood between us and her.

“Oren!” Zara sounded shocked. “You work for this family.”

“I worked for Mr. Hawthorne.” John Oren paused and held up a piece of paper. It took me a moment to realise that it was his letter.

“It was his last request that I continue in the employment of Ms. Avery Kylie Grambs.” He glanced at her “Security. You’ll need it.”

“And not just to protect you from us!” Xander added to her left.

“Take a step back, please,” Oren ordered.

Xander held his hands up. “Peace,” he declared. “I make dire predictions in peace!”

“Xan’s right.” Jameson smiled, he knew it and he knew that he is not wrong about this. A random girl picked out from a random place far from home to be The Hawthorne Heiress, this isn't something regular, this a game. One of the old man's games. “The entire world’s going to want a piece of you, Mystery Girl. This has story of the century written all over it.” He reminded her about the media and how the world is going to talk about her.

Avery didn't say anything, she walked outside. He wanted to follow her but instead he opened the envelope that was held by him.

Jameson going to Avery’s room through the secret passageway

Avery didn't stay at Hawthorne House that night, he assumed her bodyguard and lawyer took her to one of the hotel's that was owned by Tobias Hawthorne and now hers. He saw her later the next day solving the keys, yet another game that proved that she is special, she solved it faster than any Hawthorne to start with. That night Jameson read his letter again and again, it took him one read to realise it was a clue, he can't help but read it again to see what it says, where it leads. But he also knew this would be nothing without the major clue, a walking brown eyed clue.

If he was a normal person he would have knocked on her door. Jameson Hawthorne is anything but normal. He walked into her wing and moved a picture frame to solve a simple puzzle to release a handle that popped two inches away from the drawer nearby the picture frame, he pulled it and twisted it four times to make the drawer and the wall it was attached to open.

Secret passageway. It was everywhere in Hawthorne House.

He made his way inside and made his way to his grandfather’s room, now owned by Avery. Once he was close to the fireplace he heard nothing, almost thought she wasn't there. But he gave it a shot anyway.

“Pull the candlestick.”

He wasn't sure if she heard because it was dead silent. So he spoke again “Pull the candlestick on the fireplace, Heiress. Unless you want me stuck back here?” His tone was frisky.

“Pretty sure this qualifies as stalking.” His lips curved into a smile once she said that.

He can tell that she was just pulling it. “Don’t just pull forward. Angle it down.”

She did as he asked. Once he heard the click and saw the gap below, Jameson lifted the fireplace up to the mantle to go through the opening. Once he was in the room he positioned the candlestick back to it's original form.

“Secret passage,” he explained to know if it intrigues her. “The house is full of them.”

“Am I supposed to find that comforting?” She asked him. “Or terrifying?”

“You tell me, Mystery Girl. Are you comforted or terrified?” He let me sit with that for a moment. “Or is it possible that you’re intrigued?

She didn't say anything but he knew the answer. She didn't ask him what he expected her to ask.

“You’re not asking about the keys.” Jameson offered her a crooked little smile. “I expected you to ask about the keys.”

She held the keys up. “This was your doing.” Not a question, he noted.

“It’s a little bit of a family tradition.” He said with a motive. He has done nothing but think about the will reading and raise questions to himself, whys and hows.

“I’m not family.” She tried to make a statement but wasn't sure herself.

He tilted his head to one side. “Do you believe that?”

“I don’t know.” She thought before she spoke. Does she know something? That was Janesons first thought.

“It would be a shame,” Jameson commented, “if we were related.” He spared another smile for me, slow and sharp-edged. “Don’t you think?” Jameson is good at a lot of things, flirting is definitely one of them.

“I think that you already have more family than you can deal with.” She crossed my arms. “I also think you’re a lot less smooth than you think are. You want something.”

Points to Heiress. She's quick.

“Everyone is going to want something from you soon, Heiress.” Jameson smiled. “The question is: How many of us want something you’re willing to give?” He spoke in a way that would make her want to give into him. But her resistance was stronger than he thought.

“Stop calling me Heiress,” She shot back. “And if you turn answering my question into some kind of riddle, I’m calling security.”

“That’s the thing, Mystery Girl. I don’t think I’m turning anything into a riddle. I don’t think I have to. You are a riddle, a puzzle, a game—my grandfather’s last.” He spoke and looked at her very intently. He didn't care how it sounded to her, he was sure of what he believed to be true.

“Why do you think this house has so many secret passages? Why are there so many keys that don’t work in any of the locks? Every desk my grandfather ever bought has secret compartments. There’s an organ in the theater, and if you play a specific sequence of notes, it unlocks a hidden drawer. Every Saturday morning, from the time I was a kid until the night my grandfather died, he sat my brothers and me down and gave us a riddle, a puzzle, an impossible challenge—something to solve. And then he died. And then…” Jameson took a step toward her. “There was you.” He tried explaining to her how Hawthorne House is, how his grandmother was. Why his grandfather chose her wasn't random.

“Grayson thinks you’re some master manipulator. My aunt is convinced you must have Hawthorne blood. But I think you’re the old man’s final riddle—one last puzzle to be solved.” He took another step, bringing the two of them much closer. “He chose you for a reason, Avery. You’re special, and I think he wanted us—wanted me —to figure out why.”

This point he was convinced that she was a puzzle to be solved or a clue that would lead him to something. Something his grandfather wanted him to find, to know. Because the old man knew damn well that Jameson Hawthorne could never resist a game.

“I’m not a puzzle.” Her heart was beating faster because of their closeness or because of what he's saying.

“Sure you are,” Jameson said. “We all are. Don’t tell me that some part of you hasn’t been trying to figure us out. Grayson. Me. Maybe even Xander.”

“Is this all just a game to you?” She put her hand out to stop him from advancing farther. He took one last step, forcing her palm to his chest. That touch shouldn't have excited him, even if it did, he didn't concentrate on it.

“Everything’s a game, Avery Grambs. The only thing we get to decide in this life is if we play to win.” He reached up to brush the hair from her face, and she jerked back.

“Get out,” She said lowly. “Use the normal door this time.”

“You’re angry,” Jameson said. Making her angry isn't helpful, if she's angry with him she may not help. Or see that this is a game, and she is a piece of it.

“I told you—if you want something, ask. Don’t come in here talking about how I’m special. Don’t touch my face.”

“You are special.” Jameson kept his hands to himself, but the heady expression in his eyes never shifted.

“And what I want is to figure out why. Why you, Avery?” He took a step back, giving her space. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to know, too.”

She does, she wants to know. She must.

“I’m going to leave this here.” Jameson held up an envelope. He laid it carefully on the mantel. “Read it, and then tell me this isn’t a game to be won. Tell me this isn’t a riddle.” Jameson reached for the candelabra, and as the fireplace passage opened once more, he offered a targeted, parting shot. “He left you the fortune, Avery, and all he left us is you.”

Avery coming out of Vincent Blake’s mansion (tfg)

Jameson wouldn't forgive himself if something happened inside, if someone happened to either of them. Avery and Grayson. Especially Avery because he let her go inside, knowing the kind of man Vincent Blake is. His heart could pop out any second, it was beating that fast. He tried to keep it cool with all the paparazzi outside. He kept looking at the gate, waiting for her. For her to come out alive and bring his brother, maybe Toby even. Whatever is happening inside, he prays that she is winning. Somehow she must.

His heart skipped a beat once he saw Avery come out with Grayson and Toby. He wanted to run and hug her, he didn't care that they'd cause a scene. but he stopped himself because he saw Toby talking to her, he slowly made his way to them and the car. To let her know he was there. He also let her have her moment with Toby.

He didn't know what happened inside, but from the look of it he can tell that Avery won. Whatever game they played, however she played, she won. And she was safe along with Grayson. That's all that mattered to him at that moment.

When she made her way to him, he didn't ask her what happened. “The knight returns with the damsel in distress,” Jameson declared. He glanced toward Grayson. “You’re the damsel.”

“I figured,” Grayson deadpanned.

“What are you doing here?” She asked Jameson. He can see the victory in her eyes, she was more open with him now that the first time they met. It was getting easier to tell what she was thinking.

“I thought you could use a ride home,” Jameson told her. She looked past him, expecting to see a helicopter.

“Pretty sure you aren’t allowed to land a helicopter there,” Grayson told his brother.

“You know what they say about permission and forgiveness,” Jameson replied, then he focused back on her with a familiar look—equal parts I dare you and I’ll never let you go. “Want to learn to fly?”

Avery smiled and took his hand. He still didn't ask her what happened, he just enjoyed her victory in the air. Just Avery and Jameson.

#jameson hawthorne #the inheritance games #the final gambit #jameson hawthorne pov #the brothers hawthorne #grayson hawthorne #xander hawthorne #avery kylie grambs #nash hawthorne #the hawthorne brothers #avery grambs #the grandest game

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