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aliceramblez · 3 months

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Dating The BB League Elite Four + Kieran 💕

Tags: GN! Reader, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Teal Mask & Indigo Disk Spoilers!

A/N: After finally getting dragged into the Pokémon rabbit hole, I honestly couldn't resist in doing one of these for my babies! Scarlet/Violet is my very first Pokémon experience, so hopefully I did these characters justice ^^

Feel free to follow my main @taruchinator & leave a request for future HCs!

Crispin 🔥

He's such a dork and incredibly quirky but don't you worry, he'll definitely be the one to ask you out first, no matter how many attempts it takes. Not like you'd say no to begin with.

As a partner, he's the kind of guy who would always try to cheer you up and have you in a happy mood, because when you're happy, he's happy! Anything from compliments, to jokes, to just giving you lots of affection.

Which brings us to the fact that he's huge on PDA. And the funny thing is he doesn't even realize he's doing it—he'll lean on you when you're showing him something in your Rotom Phone, rubbing circles on your palm when you're talking about your day, placing his chin on your shoulder while talking to the other club members—this man is all over you.

During your stay at Blueberry Academy, don't you dare spend your precious money on the cafeteria, he's got you covered. He'll ask you and learn about your tastes, creating new recipes and concoctions just for you, hoping to surprise you with something better and nutritious every day!

If you had a long day of training and doing BBQs, Crispin always comes by and makes sure you had a meal. And you better not be lying to him.

“Man, you've been out all day! Did you even have lunch?”

“.... I had a granola bar.”

“HOW ARE YOU STILL STANDING?”

It's safe to say that Koraidon/Miraidon adores him, and even makes you question whether it's you or your Pokémon who's dating him.

After you started going out, Crispin now makes sure to carry sandwiches with him at all times. Mostly for your oversized lizard boy, but also for you in case you need a quick snack to recharge. The legendary Pokémon is quick to thank him with licks and constant slobbering which always leaves the red-head a mess, but he tries to not let it bother him for your sake.

Whenever you guys aren't training, you'll be in your dorm rooms cooking and having laughs with your Pokémon over how clumsy they can be in the kitchen.

Overall, a sweet and supportive goofball who'll make sure you're always smiling and never have an empty stomach!

Amarys 👓

Obviously Amarys isn't the best at conveying her emotions. It doesn't mean she doesn't care, she just has a hard time figuring them out sometimes! Which is why it's incredibly strange to her when she starts having these weird sensations whenever she's around you.

She feels happier, her stomach gets all jumbled when you compliment her, and her minds always finds a way to drift back to you no matter what she's doing.

She ends up asking Carmine about it, who immediately gets all giddy and explains to her that she might have a crush. Amarys is surprised, but not against the idea. It makes sense in retrospect—cue bestie Carmine giving her pointers and ideas to try and confess to you.

Unfortunately it's all a bit too convoluted or cheesy for the Steel-Type user's liking, so she ends up doing it her own way.

One day after club activities are over, she asks if you can stay a bit longer to talk. “After much deliberation, it would seem that I have caught romantic feelings for you. I propose a casual outing so we can discuss these in further detail. Do you agree?”

It doesn't take long for you two to start going out.

Amarys shows affection through small gestures that may not seem like a lot to others, but you know they're huge steps for her. Sharing her food when you're hungry, giving you advice on how to raise your Pokémon properly, helping you study subjects you aren't that good at—the list goes on.

PDA isn't her strong suit at all. Physical affection in general isn't something she's used to, and she's forever grateful that you don't push her to do things out of her comfort zone. She tries though, and will do things like brush her hand against yours or even give you a hug whenever she's feeling bold.

To an outsider you're both an unconventional couple, but manage to make it work with trust and constant communication. Give her some time and she'll warm up to you.

Lacey 🧚‍♀️

A sweet cutie who doesn't really change her attitude towards you even after you start dating, since she's always loved having you around. The two of you also confess at the same time, which leaves you as a pair of giggling messes at the irony of it.

Is your number one cheerleader when it comes to school academics. You may not be an official Blueberry student, but that doesn't mean you should be slacking in your classes! If you don't understand the material, don't you worry, she's already prepared a slideshow presentation going over it point by point. Will also reward you with kisses if you pay attention!

Lacey isn't huge on PDA either since she thinks it's unnecessary, but when it's just the two of you, she will never let go. You have successfully replaced Granbull as her favorite pillow of choice, since whenever you two have time off and she's tired, you'll probably take a snooze under a tree in the Coastal Biome.

When you get to meet her father, she's actually a bit nervous since she's never thought of dating before finishing school, but you try and be brave and reassure her that you'll try your best to give a good impression. He thinks you're alright, but gives you the good old father talk to make sure you won't hurt his little girl.

Will find ways to dot your Legendary lizard ride with gifts and affection since she thinks he's just too darn stinking cute, but don't worry, she still thinks you're the cutest!

Since Lacey's constantly worrying about things getting done around the League Club, it's your duty as her partner to get her to relax from time to time. You'll do your best by offering to share responsibilities and reminding her that breaks are very much needed.

“Sweetie it's nighttime, you can finish in the morning. I'm tired and need cuddleeeess.”

“Just one more page and I'll be done—”

“Please Ms. Lacey! I need your cuteness to have a good night's sleep!”

“F-Fine, I'm coming! Flattering me to get what you want is just not right, ya know?”

Truly an iconic duo.

Drayton 🐉

Let's get one thing straight: this man doesn't confess—heck, he doesn't even ask you out! One day he just has his arms around you and plants a kiss on your cheek claiming that he'll follow your every command, all with a cheeky grin on his face. You're more than welcome to punch him for it and he'll still come crawling back.

Like most things in his life, Drayton takes your relationship slow and steady, not really wanting to push your boundaries (unless he wants to tease you) and having no rush to progress things. He's just a chill guy who wants to claim you before anyone else does.

Don't be mistaken though, this doesn't mean he doesn't care. You'd be surprised how much he looks out for you, almost borderline overprotective in some cases. After everything that happened with Terapagos in Area Zero, he's constantly making sure you have strong Pokémon, supplies, and good company to survive the crazy adventures you get mixed up in.

You guys' ideal date is spending time together in the dorms after school hours, kicking back and relaxing with a movie or just talking about stuff that happened during the day. He's surprisingly a very good listener.

It's from these laid back conversations that he gets ideas for random gifts to get you. Did you need a new pair of gloves cause the old ones ripped? Some are waiting in the club room. You're running low on potions? A box full of them appears on your doorstep. Want to visit your friends in Paldea but can't find the time? Turns out Drayton took over your assignments for the day so you're free to go!

You're also the only person he'll allow himself to be tutored by. Will literally not listen to anyone unless it's you. Which is why you try to make sure the material is easy for him to digest + it's not boring typical schoolwork, but something he'll actually enjoy.

“Okay! Today we're going over math! Let's have a battle in the Polar Biome so you can see how probability applies in critical hits and such.”

“Aww, my honey is catering to my needs? Aren't you the sweetest thing?”

“No kisses until we're done, Drayton.”

“Alright, aye aye boss!”

He's an idiot, but he's your idiot.

Kieran 🍎

This boy has had a crush on you ever since you first met in Kitakami, but never had the courage to say anything since he was so shy. Now however, he doesn't say anything because he feels like he doesn't have the right to.

After everything he's put you through—from accusing you of stealing Ogerpon, to fighting you in an all out battle, to straight up putting you and everyone else in danger just because he wanted a chance at getting a Legendary Pokémon—Kieran doesn't think he deserves to be your friend, let alone your partner.

Carmine is there as his wingwoman though, cheering him on and telling him how much you appreciate him and clearly return his feelings.

And so, mustering as much courage as he can, he asks if you'll trade Pokémon with him. When you agree, he brings out an Applin, which immediately leaves you blushing but also spreads a huge smile on your face. The two of you officially start dating.

Kieran does is absolute best to try and be the boyfriend you deserve, even though it's his first relationship and he has no idea what he's doing half the time. The members of the League Club are surprised at first, but ultimately support you guys all the way!

You spend time together sharing battle strategies and having your Pokémon playing to try and get along. Turns out Ogerpon and Hydrapple become fast friends by the end of a particular play date, much to your delight.

He's not good at PDA, like, at all. He's still that shy and timid kid from Kitakami underneath it all, so he struggles with initiating affection even when it's just the two of you. You're the one who has to start the hugs and kisses, leaving him like a puddle of goo under your grasp.

Nightmares still plague him occasionally, mostly revolving the journey to Area Zero and how it all could've turned out for the worst if by some chance Terapagos decided to attack someone else. Maybe even you. If you're with him when they happen, you'll hold him tight and whisper sweet nothings into his ear until he calms down, or if he calls you to make sure you're okay, you'll stay on the phone with him until he falls asleep again.

“I'm sorry... I'm so sorry...”

“It's okay Kieran. We're both okay, and that's all that matters.”

You two are the power couple that Blueberry Academy never expected, but deep down, you're just a pair of dorks who fawn over each other on a daily basis.

#Pokémon #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon scarlet #pokemon violet #the teal mask #the indigo disk #pokemon reader inserts #crispin x reader #amarys x reader #lacey x reader #drayton x reader #kieran x reader #crispin pokemon #amarys pokemon #lacey pokemon #drayton pokemon #kieran pokemon

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everparanoid · 5 months

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Wholesome Delinquent Behaviour┃Wriothesley

pairing: f!reader x wriothesley

genre: fluff , smut, light Angst

rating: 18+

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

tags: consent is hot, it's all good till the backstory, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Reader is Not Traveler, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Squirting, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, biting kink, inappropriate use of cuffs, spoilers for wriothesley story quest, No use of y/n, Past Murder, Minor Original Character(s), Facials, PWP, Blowjobs, handjobs, everything between reader and wriothesley is consensual

wordcount: 9.5K

synopsis: The first time you met Wriothesley was completely by accident. Not that you remembered it too well; if you did, he wouldn’t confirm it without putting you through a gruelling test. No, the first time you remembered meeting Wriothesley was much later.

You are a prisoner at Meropide who meets and falls in love with Wriothesley over the years of knowing him, and he falls harder.

Originally posted: 30.10.23 on AO3

a/n: I am now reposting my AO3 stuff onto tumblr. If you know me....no, you don't. ;) Also check out my AO3 for more wriothesley fics.

Song Inspiration: ''Safeword'' by TV Girl.

I don't own any of the artwork used.

If everything could come to a stop, just for something she says,

The first time you met Wriothesley was completely by accident. Not that you remembered it too well, and if you did, he wouldn’t confirm it without putting you through a gruelling test. No, the first time you remembered meeting Wriothesley was much later.

You wiped away the sweat coating your brow with the back of your dirtied hand, heaving a deep sigh. The production zone, despite being at the bottom of the ocean, was like what you imagined the hot springs of Inazuma to feel like. You wanted to go there one day—to Inazuma. Although the borders were closed to the outside, the stories you heard of the beautiful Sakura blossoms filled you with the determination to get there. One day, you would. You were sure of it. If you didn’t get struck down by their archon first.

“Inmate, stop slacking! Unless you don’t want to eat tonight,” the guard manning the floor yelled at you.

You rolled your eyes and continued hammering at the heated chunks of metal. Your arms were weak, and your palms were sweaty. It was times like this when you wished you had a cryo vision. You wished for many things. You wished you hadn’t been caught. You wished Fontaine were a better place. You wished that Monsieur Neuvillette felt even an ounce of sympathy for your case, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and the court of Fontaine was as ‘fair’ as they came. The sky had down poured the night you were sent to Meropide. It was the worst Fontaine had seen in four hundred years. You hadn’t seen the sky properly since you probably never would. People rotted down here. So, all you could rely on was the glistening memory of bitter water, and your dreams.

It was better, you decided, to be punished here than in Sumeru, Inazuma, or even Monstadt. You’d been to Liyue once, but you weren’t there long enough to have a clear judgement of whether their form of justice would be any better. Then again you had been arrested before you got out of Liyue and they handed you straight back to Fontaine to be judged by your home region’s laws.

“Inmate!” The guard yelled snapping you from your thoughts. “You’re wanted at the administration area.”

You dropped your hammer, relieved for the break, and shoved past the guard on your way to the lift.

I thought the whole point was you were living on the edge,

“It’s your lucky day, kid,” another guard said as you meandered leisurely toward them.

This guard you liked.

Meropide inductions didn’t happen often. Most of the time the convict was thrown into their dorm and made to figure it out themselves. In the instances of special cases, you were brought out like a friendly face before the storm. You had no clue why it was you they chose, but you always got paid handsomely in credit coupons, so the particulars didn’t matter to you. You had long since abandoned the idea of fairness down here where the sun doesn’t shine.

“What have we got this time?” you asked cracking your knuckles.

“A kid, your age.”

You paused. It wasn’t often you met people around your age down here. Everyone was either one foot in the grave or an adult.

What could this kid have done to end up down here with the downs and outs? You looked out the large glass window, it stared out into the deep blue Fontainian waters. The sea was dark, so you guessed it must be night. Time was more of an idea, a concept if you will, down in the depths. So, you enjoyed rare moments like these to re-calibrate yourself. It was a shame. You had hoped to at least feel the sun’s rays through the water’s refraction, but it was like you said beggars couldn’t be choosers.

The lift lowered down behind you, and you turned to greet this so-called new inmate. You were greeted by a tall scrawny boy, probably not even a year older than yourself with dull icy eyes and jet-black hair. He was drenched in that same bitter water.

You put on your brightest smile and offered your hand.

“Welcome to hell,” you said.

Not your best work but it caused a small snicker from the boy, and your favourite guard who stayed close by. Strange. They never stayed around. Were they that concerned about your ability to induct a fellow teenage delinquent?

Wriothesley paused. When he was given his verdict by the Monsieur Neuvillette he didn’t expect such a warm welcome. Well, warm as far as being greeted at its entrance.

He didn’t take your hand, instead opting to stare at you with those haunted eyes. You were disheveled at beast and downright filthy at worst. Nothing to sing or dance about. Nothing to fall head over heels in love with either, but you didn’t care. Who wanted to find happiness in misery anyway?

“Hell?” Wriothesley echoed. His voice was steady and stern like he was aged beyond his years; by the lack of life in his eyes, he probably was. “Is it that bad down here?”

You shrugged one shoulder.

“Depends,” you said.

“On what?” he asked, calculating. You could feel his brain working from where you stood.

Fascinating.

“Depends on how stupid you are,” you looked him up and down, chewing the inside of your cheek absentmindedly. Then, as if a rocket had been shot up your butt, you spun on your heels and gestured for him to follow with a lazy flick of your wrist.

He did so, catching up to you easily with his long legs and just as long stride.

“I didn’t catch your name,” you said as the lift doors closed behind you taking you down to the actual entrance of Meropide not the fancy entrance for visitors too afraid to see the truth. Fontaine was a giant opera, and you lot in Meropide were the hidden stage crew, slaving behind the scenes after losing your spot in the limelight.

“You didn’t ask,” he responded flatly from beside you.

“Clearly that was the hint for you to tell me.”

“It’s Wriothesley,” he said.

It didn’t sound like it was his actual name. Hell, it didn’t sound like a name at all, but who were you to judge? Meropide was a place to start a new; to redeem yourself from your sins, and nearly burn to death in the production zones breaking your back for an administrator who was a tyrant. What was a kid reclaiming their identity going to do to you?

“Nice to meet you, Ricecake.”

“Ricecake?”

“Hey, you give me a name I can’t pronounce you live with the consequences, Ricecake.”

The doors opened and the lift groaned as steam poured out of its pipes and vents. Some unfortunate soul was going to have to clean those later, and you prayed it wasn’t going to be you. You had a burn on the inside of your arm from the last time you cleaned those steaming pipes, it was a jagged ugly thing to look at, so you kept it hidden. Out of sight out of mind, right?

The receptionist sat behind the desk looking as melancholy as everyone else in this place. Wriothesley was going to fit in just fine, you thought, as you remembered that same almost dead look in his eyes.

“You coming?” you asked the boy who stood gawking at you from the lift. “It won’t take you back up you know. I mean you can try. It’s your sentence you’re lengthening.”

“You don’t recognise me?”

“No?” you said. “Should I?”

You tried to recall when you would have seen him before but only drew blanks. You’d seen so many of the same faces and watched so many of them die that telling anyone apart was a pipe dream for you. However, for some reason, you knew that Wriothesley would stick in your head. Not just because the name was so peculiar but because something about him intrigued you. He didn’t seem upset down here yet. No, he looked curious. Curiosity was dangerous. Curiosity got the smartest people in here killed or beaten half to death. No, Wriothesley stuck in your head because he reminded you of hope.

So, when those sounds start to drift down the hall, and stat to freak out the neighbours,

“No coupons, no meal,” the chef said, his voice booming through the place. You wondered over questioning who would be stupid enough to get into conflict with the head chef. He was a burly man, tall with a glassy eye and a wooden spatula the size of a person. The rumour was that he had been a Fatui skirmisher in the overworld. The truth was he was like every other soul in here, beaten and trapped. Upon seeing the familiar woolfy black hair, spiked in random places you inserted yourself into the conversation.

“Sorry about that boss. He’s new,” you said to the chef.

He waved his beefy, greasy hand at you to leave.

“Don’t let your friend come back unless he has coupons. This isn’t charity,” he said with a thick Snezhnayan accent.

“Gotcha,” you said and gave the chef a salute. Hooking your arm under Wriothesleys, you pulled him out of the cue. He nearly tripped over his foot. You dragged him to a secluded table a little away from everyone else, where your singular special box of bread and curry waited for you.

You let him go.

You pointed to the wall where it read, ‘If a man will not work, he shall not eat.’

“Sit,” you commanded pointing to the chair opposite yours.

Wriothesley stared at you like you had grown four heads.

“I have no food,” he said.

“I can see that,” you responded, opening your box and letting the steam waft out. Both of your stomachs groaned at the same time. It had been a while since you had had decent food from the chef, it would be even longer till you had another one; credit coupons weren’t easy to come by and they were better spent on other things like making sure you didn’t get smothered in your sleep.

“How much did that cost?”

“More than you’ll make in your first year,” you said breaking up the bread in your hands.

He gulped dryly.

“How do you know that?”

“You’re a fresher. You’re basically free labour until you have some experience behind you, and some meat on your bones. You’ll be lucky if they pay you a tenth of what you should be getting in your first year. Unless you can fight.”

You let your words settle in the silence between you.

“What did you do?” you ask.

“What?”

“Your crime? What did you do? The guards treat you like a danger to humanity,” you said glancing at the guard who watched you both intently. You could understand them glaring at you but why him?

Wriothesley shifted in his seat, straightening up as if preparing for something.

“I killed my parents,” he said.

He didn’t say anything more than that, he didn’t need to.

You blinked.

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

You let it sink in for a minute and then nodded.

“I will not be offended if you run, after all this is the entire truth,” he said bluntly. His stomach growled again, and he clutched it willing it to silence itself.

“We’re all crooks and criminals down here,” you said. “But that doesn’t mean we are all bad.”

He lifted an eyebrow at you. You supposed it was because he was expecting you to run. Which meant he obviously didn’t know you.

“What if I am just a bad guy?”

You shrugged. It was not like you were the dog’s bollocks yourself.

“I have a good enough instinct to know that you aren’t, Ricecake,” you said and pushed your now broken-up bread and curry meal toward him. You were going to regret it. You hadn’t eaten a full-fledged meal in three months, but still, you gave it anyway. “Eat.”

You would have wanted someone to do the same for you when you got here. Friends weren’t made under the sea. His eyes widened and his pale face brightened for the first time since you had met him.

“This is yours,” he said, sounding flabbergasted.

“Now it’s yours,” you said. “Eat up and get some rest. You need to be strong if you want to survive around here.”

You noticed something in his eyes then, a spark. It was dull but it flickered. Your stomach flipped again.

You took a sip of your water before pushing it over to him. He was going to need it more than you.

“Thank you,” he said.

You shook your head.

“There is no need for thanks between us. See it as me looking out for a fellow delinquent.”

“Delinquent?” he said taking his first bite of the bread drowned in curry sauce and rolling his eyes in bliss at the flavours. He began to hoover up the box like it was running away from him.

You remembered when you were like that with every small crumb of bread you got when you first got here. Your stomach flipped. What kind of hell had Wriothesley come from?

“Slow down buddy meals like this don’t come around every day,” you said. “Take it slow, no one can kick you out of here to work anyway. Seems they’re too afraid of us.”

He did as you said. Licking off his fingers, he looked around the floor at the glaring stationed guards and occasional inmates. He faced you his eyes glimmered with light like a shooting golden star flying across an icy sky.

“So, how do I get them to trust me?” he said leaning in.

You leaned back in your seat, your arms crossed and a smile on your face. You were sure now, that feeling in your stomach was hope.

remember that it's good, clean fun,

“Happy Birthday!” you grinned, setting down a box you had smuggled up from the cafeteria into his room. He raised a brow up at you. It was the 23rd of November, the day he’d decided was his birthday; the same day he was sentenced to Meropide.

“Ah, thank you,” he said politely. His stomach growled at the delicious aroma coming off the box revealing, despite his calm thanks, his eager anticipation for your yearly gift.

Guilt riddled him, as he dropped the gauntlet he had been upgrading, next to the cashflow machine he had found and tinkered back to use. He had wanted to pay you back. Every year, on the day he arrived you came with a box and another ten pieces of meshing gear for his tinkering, and as much as he secretly loved it, he felt like he wasn’t doing enough to pay you back.

It had been six years and yet he hadn’t gotten you a single thing he considered worth the amount of your kindness. Aside from a necklace with a piece of meshing gear that he had forged into a Cerberus insignia. You wore it everywhere. You wore it then, the rustic insignia rested on your chest. He had already put aside the pieces for a matching bracelet, a little trinket from him to you. A subtle hint to show that you were his, even if he hadn’t said it yet.

He unravelled the box and two tea bags fell out of the wrapping.

You picked them up and shook them before him.

“Tea for the occasion,” you said.

He smiled and closed his eyes.

“I fear, you know me too well.”

He shook his head.

“I don’t know your favourite colour,” you said, brewing the tea in the teapot he kept on the wonky table.

“I don’t have one.”

Meaning he couldn’t choose one without them all tying to you. Maybe it was the colour of your hair, or eyes, or even the colour of your lips, he’d stare at those often. Too often lately. He was staring now. He looked away.

“Well, I guess I do know everything about you,” you chirped.

He thanked you as you handed him a cup of tea with two sugars just as he liked it. You knew these things. It wasn’t like you had spoken about them. No, you had been around him so much in the last few years that these things came naturally to you. It was like breathing. You sat beside him on the ground. Your tea warmed your hands.

“What else does the birthday boy want on his birthday?”

He fought back the blush though he was sure the colour still painted his skin.

“Nothing.”

“Come on! There has got to be something?”

Wriothesley shook his head and opened the box.

“Okay then if you insist. Share this box with me?”

“But it’s yours.”

“And I want to share it with you. Are you really going to deny me on my birthday? Remember, you are the one who asked what I want.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Fine.”

He broke up the bread inside one of the compartments in the box, the same way he'd watched you do it countless times. You reached in and dipped a large unbroken piece of bread into the soup before bringing it up to his lips. He stared at your hand.

“Open up. Come on, birthday boy, if we are sharing then you’ve got to have the first bite,” you said.

When it became apparent that you weren’t going to give up any time soon, he opened his mouth enough for you to slip the bread between his teeth. Both of you without the other's knowledge held your breath when he bit down, and his lips brushed the tips of your fingers.

A shiver ran through your body, one you knew would follow you to bed and into your filthiest dreams.

He pulled back and quickly cleared his throat, as he chewed without tasting.

“It’s delicious,” he said.

“It is,” you choked out, though you hadn’t tried it yet.

He didn’t bother to correct you, too lost trying to calm the riot in his chest. When he felt like he had better control of the battle in his chest he picked up a piece of bread, dipped it into the curry sauce and held it toward you. You blinked.

“You should try some too. You know since we are sharing and all.”

You took a bite from the bread letting the flavours wash over you. They too were lost to the way you noticed his eyes watching your lips enclose around the bread. You nodded and covered your mouth as you chewed.

“It is good,” you agreed, with a mouth full of mush.

He nodded and looked away from you, scooping up another piece of bread and popping it into his mouth. You would have thought he was unaffected until you saw his ears were deep shade of crimson.

Just wholesome delinquent behaviour,

“What’s this about?” You asked as he guided you with his large cold, calloused hands over your eyes. You envied his cryo vision, and his ability to stay cool down in that heat pit. He hid it well, but you knew he had one. You’d seen it one day by accident and not breathed a word about it since. Vision holders were targets down here and the last thing you wanted was to put him in any more danger.

“Patience. Don’t you know all good things come to those who know how to wait,” he said.

He had dragged you out of the production zone after finishing his work and disappeared off like he usually did only to reappear an hour later with that confident stride he had. You barely ever saw him these days, but when you did it would be like he was still the fresh-faced delinquent but older. You were both older. He guided you into a seat and then removed his hands. You missed the cool touch on your skin. It took a second for your eyes to adjust to the poor lighting.

“What is this?” you asked, staring at the giant box in front of you.

You looked up at Wriothesley. It had been twelve years since he came to the fortress and the once soft baby face was gone, lost to the grit of Meropide. Wriothesley commanded the trust and respect of everyone around him much to the administrator’s dismay. When you were working away in the production zone, to he would be off swaying the inmates and the guards, working his natural charisma on those around him.

“What happened?” You asked reaching up and grazing his split lip with your finger. He caught your wrist and dipped his head out of the way flashing you a half smile. He had grown even taller over the years and now you had to reach up to touch him. He glanced at the ring on your finger, and you snatched your hand away, your face flushed with embarrassment.

“I won some more coupons,” he said.

In reality, he had scrapped up the coupons that he’d hidden away in the case of a rainy day and used them to buy you the meal. A week earlier he had lost all his accumulated credit coupons in a single night to the Fortress’s administrator.

“You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Is that so?” he sassed. “I suppose I should write a will.”

Your expression darkened.

“Kidding, of course,” he said.

“Of course.”

“I went to Sigewinne,” he assured you. “She said I would be fine as long I rested.”

“Good,” you said.

You turned back to the box.

Metal screeched on the floor as Wriothesley pulled his chair closer directly across from you. The place was unusually empty—only a few guards manned the area, but no other inmates could be spotted on the floor.

“So, what is this?” You could smell the faint fragrance of something familiar. Something you hadn’t smelt in years.

“Open it,” he said and gestured with his chin to the box.

You gave him a cautious look and lifted the lid. Inside sat four rolls of bread and two bowls worth of curry. Your heart fluttered. When you looked up at him, he was already watching you; his icy eyes shining like stars. You didn’t want to think anything of it… to hope. Hope was stolen from you. Hope led to you becoming trapped in a loveless engagement with one of the crooked guards.

“You really did it?” you said and ached a little inside.

This was supposed to be a happy moment but all you wanted to do was weep bitter water.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his toned scarred arms over his chest. He looked so broad and solid; all that boxing had morphed his physique into something godly. “I told you I would pay you back.”

“That was twelve years ago, and this is more than triple what I gave you.”

“I added the interest,” he said.

“Why now?”

He looked down at your ringed finger again and frowned. His brows drew together in the way they did when he was annoyed or thinking more than he was going to let you in on.

“I’m going to fight the administrator,” he said bluntly.

You paused mid-snap of your bread.

“You’re going to fight the administrator?” you repeated, unsure of whether you heard him correctly. “Your sentence is up. Why would you do that? You’re going to die.”

He shrugged.

“I refuse to watch people suffer under the crooked ruling of a tyrant,” he said and eyed your ring again. Your finger felt like it was on fire; you dipped a bit of bread in the curry and handed it to him. He waved it away.

“Why are you like this?” you said, and dropping the piece of bread into the curry, you watched it drown and disappear into the thick liquid. “Is it not enough that you’ll be free?”

You blinked back tears, your hands clenched on your thighs. You had watched nearly all of his fights and every single time your heart was in your throat. Every time he bled, every time he shook hands with his opponent; every time the ringleader held up his beaten-up arm to declare his victory. You hated it. You hated all of it.

He said your name with a tenderness he reserved only for you. A tenderness you didn’t want to hear. A tenderness you blocked out with everything in your soul.

“Is it so strange that I would want to fight for those whom I promised a better life out of genuine care?”

“Why did you do that?” you yelled, your voice came out harsher than you intended but it was too late to take it back. That was the thing about words, they could never be unspoken. He cleared his throat.

“As I recall, I didn’t come here to live under the thumb of another driver, and I thought you would understand that more than anyone else, but I see now that I was wrong and clearly you have been broken down after all.”

You bit down hard on your lips, and your jaw clenched so tight that you were sure you would crunch a tooth.

“Ric—Wriothesley. That’s not fair,” you whispered.

“Indeed, it’s not but it’s the truth.” He glanced away for a second. “Look, I am in love with you, and I have been for the last twelve years. I can’t simply watch you be with someone you hate just to get a sentence lowered that you still won’t tell me about. I could have helped you. I am helping you. I’m helping everyone,” he pushed his chair back and stood.

“…What?”

“I’m fighting tomorrow. Show up, if you have some time, of course; or don’t, but I’ll be looking out for you. You can find me in my dorm before then.”

You fought back the urge to chase after him, to slap him, to kiss him, to hold his hand, to hold him so tightly and cry the way you haven’t been able to since the day you were convicted. Instead, you didn’t. You sat in silence and ate the bread and curry watching your heart walk away from you.

Oh, remember your safe word,

His dorm room was across from yours. It was sparse like everything else in the underwater fortress. A pillow and scatty blanket lay atop a barely functioning mattress in a corner. Wriothesley sat at the small table barely standing on its uneven legs. A tiny pot brewed a herbal smelling tea, and two teacups sat in front of him.

“You came,” he said barely above a whisper. His confidence was a quiet one.

“You love me.”

“Would you like some tea?” he asked, gesticulating to the second cup in front of the spare chair.

You had been in here countless times; shared many cups of tea with him; helped pierce his ears and manage his wounds; watched him shadowbox the air as you sat crossed-legged on his bed; you had wondered what life would be like if Meropide was a better place; you had wondered if the people you left behind missed you as you laid next to each other on his floor staring at the giant fan on the ceiling. Not that either of you had anyone but each other. Wriothesley had said his siblings were strangers to him, and he was probably a ghost they would never want to see again. An unfortunate reminder of something they’d all rather forget, but he never forgot. He refused to. He lived his truth.

Every time he told you about his past you worried about how his view would change if you if knew your truth. However, Wriothesley never pressed too hard, never touched buttons he knew you didn’t want to be touched. Instead, he watched and observed, and took in all that you were willing to give him, just to see a glimmer behind the cracks of your mask.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked.

“Please.” He gestured to the chair. “Sit.” he filled your cup.

You took your seat and shifted around, unable to find comfort despite it being your usual chair. Feelings always made things feel different—uncomfortable. You knew this. Yet you still felt the discomfort, nonetheless.

“How did you know I would come?”

“I didn’t but I hoped and thankfully you didn’t disappoint, but you never do,” he said, filling his cup.

“No need to be modest with me, Wriothesley.”

“I am anything but modest with you,” he said your name softly.

You gulped. Wriothesley wasn’t one to mince his words, though tact was his favourite game.

“You must have heard about it already?” you brought the teacup to your lips taking a sip of the liquid. Credit coupons bought anything in this fortress, even the finest tea. “It’s all people can talk about when it comes to me.”

His expression darkened.

It was only a matter of time.

“You do, and yet you still love me?” you asked.

“I recall someone once telling me that we all are crooks and criminals down here but that didn’t mean we were all bad,” he recounted the words you had said to him when he arrived nearly verbatim. He leaned onto the table, and it shook on its uneven legs from the added weight. “Besides, I like hearing stories from their source.”

“Then ask.”

“What got you incarcerated?”

You took a deep breath. What did you have to lose? He had heard worse rumours.

For some reason, you cared about what he thought of you. You knew that feelings were fickle things, and yet, you cared that he loved you. You loved him too.

“Mariticide,” you said cooly, breaking the ice.

“But you were—“

“A child, I know.”

“I was illegally married off when I was eight years old to a man, twenty years my senior.”

Wriothesley remained neutral, you took it as your sign to keep going.

“He didn’t do anything to me until my twelfth birthday and then it started. At first, it was just touching and then it got worse. He was an influential Fontaine nobleman. One of the maids tried to help me report him but it didn’t work. So, one night when he came to my room, I had hidden a butter knife under my pillow. I castrated him and ran away, fleeing Fontaine. I wandered through Sumeru and then to Monstadt but even the city of freedom couldn’t protect me. So, I kept moving. It was when I was on my way through Liyue that the authorities caught up to me. The maid who had tried to help me was sleeping with the man and hence reported me. The hearing was quick, and I was put away fast. No one wanted to consider the implications of a thirteen-year-old being married to a thirty-three-year-old whom they all dined with. I heard he died a few years ago but my sentence keeps getting extended every time it gets close to the date of my term. I suspect it’s the maid. I was supposed to be here for eight years and well, I am still here. That’s why I must marry that Guard.” You took a long sip from your tea and then placed the cup down. “I’m damaged goods,” you said.

Wriothesley remained silent. He looked to be thinking of something and you had never seen his expression so dark.

“You’re not damaged,” he said, “and he’s lucky he lived after that.”

You smiled. It was a bitter smile; one filled with more exhaustion than remorse.

“Luck favours the rich.”

“If a man will not work, he shall not eat,” Wriothesley said, reciting the famous lines that painted the walls of Meropide.

You raised your teacup at him before taking another sip.

“Jokes aside, thank you for telling me,” he said.

He stood up and you feared he was going to ask you to leave. You wouldn’t be sad, at least that’s what you tried to convince yourself, but the sinking feeling came all the same.

He offered you his hand and you stared at it. Your brows furrowed before you hesitantly took it. He pulled you up to your feet. His cold hand intertwined with yours.

“Can I hug you?” he asked.

He’d never asked this before. Did you look like you needed a hug? Because you wanted one.

“Please,” you choked out.

You would never have described Wriothesley as warm, but when he held you in his arms and you heard his heart racing you couldn’t deny that he was undoubtedly warm. A single tear rolled down your cheek. Then another, and another, and another until you were sobbing into his shabby inmate shirt.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “I know.”

You’d been holding onto these feelings for so long. Letting them fester inside you like a sickness. No one had ever stopped to hear your side of the story and you thought you were okay with that. You thought if they stayed away from you then you could pretend to be like every other inmate brought in for stealing a slice of cake meant for Lady Furina. You thought you could hide your truth, but behind every fake smile, you wore it on yourself like a body of armor.

His shirt crumpled in your hands. He swayed from side to side and traced tiny circles on your back with his thumb.

“You did what you had to do. If he was alive, I’d kill him,” he said.

You wiped your eyes and looked up at him. “Please don’t fight tomorrow.”

He brought a hand up to your cheek and brushed away your tears. He decided then that he hated your tears, and he would do anything to see to it that you didn’t feel that way again.

However, he hated the idea of you living with this pain more. He hated seeing that diamond on the finger where his should be. He hated it even more that you knew that he hated it before he had admitted his feelings for you. If his resolve hadn’t been solidified before now it would be completely. He would free you, and if you decided you wanted to be with him once you sprouted your wings, then he would accept you with open arms. He wouldn’t put you in another cage. He’d hate to see your heart break because to him you were his heart.

Wriothesley’s attention dropped to your lips; they were wet with your tears. He leaned down and brushed his lips to the corner feeling your sadness.

You turned your head at the last moment and captured his lips.

He froze.

You gripped his shirt tighter and reached up on the tips of your toes pressing your mouth further into his; willing him to reciprocate. Your first kiss with Wriothesley tasted like bitter water. It was soft and desperate. It knew what it was without the need for words or discussion.

His chest heaved as he pulled away.

“Don’t leave me,” you whispered.

“I won’t…”

He wouldn’t—at least not tonight. Although, he didn’t know whether it was day or night outside of Meropide. The underworld was a different world entirely. It never truly slept. It didn’t adhere to the rules of the sun or the moon. It was filled with endless possibilities. Possibilities that could alter both of your existences and if he couldn’t free you above ground, he knew sure as hell would free you below. Although, one night of keeping you safe in his arms couldn’t hurt.

You sat down on his mattress. You looked so much smaller than he remembered, then again it had been twelve years.

He recalled your soot-covered face, and dull eyes when you had greeted him, the day he arrived at Meropide. The day he had begun his new life; his birthday. Although the circumstances weren’t great, he knew from the moment you said, ‘Welcome to hell,’ that he would love you.

He sat beside you.

“Tell me what you want?” he said, earnestly.

You leaned into him.

“I want you to be yours.”

It was true. You wanted him. Engagement be damned. Even if it was just one night, you wanted something for you. Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was asking for too much, but you didn’t care. You had spent too long denying yourself the things you want to maintain a peace no one else upheld.

Wriothesley gripped your wrist and groaned what sounded like your name, but you couldn’t be too sure.

“Give me a word,” he said.

“What?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he began.

“I am not fragile.”

Though in front of him, you were.

“I know you are not. Give me a word so I know to stop if it gets too much for you.” He tucked your hair behind your ear and rested his forehead against yours.

“Time,” you breathed.

That’s what you wanted—time. Time to love him, time to live, time to take back all the things you regretted and start again. Time to meet him before you both became who you were.

“Okay,” he said, leaving a kiss behind your ear. “Tonight, you’re mine.”

Only tonight. He reminded himself.

He could promise you that for certain. He couldn’t promise tomorrow, not because he was a pessimist but because he knew tomorrow was never certain. He had you now. He would make sure he had you forever but now would have to be enough. He would make it enough.

“Yours. Completely,” you said.

Another tear rolled down your cheek.

He pulled off his shirt.

Your mouth merged with his, your tongue slipping into his open mouth tangling, exploring searching. He cupped your face in his hands, his eyes closing despite the desire to see every expression on your face.

You broke the kiss and leaned back pulling off your shirt. His eyes dropped to your breasts.

“Just for me,” he whispered, taking them into his hands and kneading them slowly.

He traced kisses down your neck, wishing to mark you, to lay his claim to you. He wouldn’t however, not yet…not tonight.

You fiddled with the string to his bottoms, untangling it and reaching in to feel his erection. He groaned against your neck unafraid to let you know how good it felt. You grasped his cock. It was thick, thicker than you expected, and so hard. You needed both hands to grip him properly.

“Take off that fucking ring,” he hissed upon feeling it on his skin. You did, taking off the ring and dropping it with your shirt on the floor. You gripped his cock again, your hands feeling so much lighter without the mental weight of the ring.

“Harder,” he growled as you stroked him.

You tightened your grip watching as the crease between his brows grew. He rolled his hips into your hand.

“Oh, that’s it,” he panted.

You bit your lip and focused on the reddened tip.

Your thumb brushed the crown wiping away the drops of precum. He jolted, his jaw unhinging, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. You froze and released his cock. He opened his eyes, worried, only to see you on your knees between his legs.

He opened his legs wider and slid closer to the edge of the bed. He brushed your hair out of your face and gripped it in his hand as he used the other to keep him up on the bed.

“Go on,” he said. “Show me how much you want me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

Gripping, his cock you gave the tip a lick listening to his pleased grunts. Slowly you took him into your mouth, enjoying the sensation of his hand gripping your hair.

“Good girl, taking me so well.”

You were soaked just from listening to his praise. You slipped a hand into your underwear and began rubbing your clit.

His breath quickened, and his mouth felt incredibly dry from his inability to close it. His hips jerked, as you took him deeper. He heard you gag as he felt your throat quiver around his cock. He pulled out, letting you catch your breath before he thrust back into your throat. Your eyes rolled and drove a finger into yourself.

You bobbed your head keeping up with the brutal pace he was setting. You loved hearing his grunts and groans; you loved feeling his cock twitch and his pace stagger as he got closer. Despite how hard it was, you looked up at him. His mouth was agape, his eyes barely open. You released him just when you knew he was going to cum.

Wriothesley opened his eyes to see you waiting, mouth open, your mouth and chin dripping with saliva. You looked glorious.

“You’re stunning,” he breathed and released your hair, wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping it until the first spray of cum splattered your lips. “So perfect, with such a pretty mouth.”

You licked your lips and opened your mouth again, leaning closer till the tip rested against your tongue.

Wriothesley felt like he was in a dream or heaven or both.

“Swallow it all,” he panted as he pumped the rest onto your tongue.

You did so, licking your lips and opening your mouth to prove it.

At the sight of your flushed face, your blown lust-filled eyes, and your hand deep in your pants, he found himself hardening again. He had promised tonight, and tonight he was going to have. If he died tomorrow, he’d die a happy man.

“Get on the bed right now, naked and on your back,” he ordered.

You shimmied off your work pants and your underwear, laying on the bed under his hungry gaze. He stood and stripped the rest of his clothes away before joining you on the bed. It was barely big enough for both of you, but he was going to make it work. He kneeled before your closed legs.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Good.”

“Just good?” he teased, a smirk on his lips.

“Mhm just good,” you responded, reciprocating the expression.

“Oh, we’ll have to fix that,” he said, and scooping under your thighs, he opened your legs and pulled you closer to him.

You giggled at the speed at which he had your legs wrapped around his waist and his hard cock pressing against your soaked folds. He caged you between his arms as he rolled his hips slowly.

“I love you,” he said, staring into your eyes.

“I love you too,” you responded.

“I know.”

He kissed you with everything in his soul. At some point, he knew you loved him even if you hadn’t said it till just now. He knew it like how he knew the back of his hand but hearing it made it even better. It made it real.

He rubbed the head of his cock against your soaked hole, pushing in the tip just enough to feel you quiver before pulling out and running it over your pussy again.

“If I fuck you, you’re mine. No one touches what is mine. Do you understand?” He asked

Your heart stuttered.

“I understand.”

“After all, no one will be able to fuck you the way I can. Once I’m inside you unless you tell me otherwise, I’m not stopping until we both see stars,” he said, making sure he looked straight into your eyes as he did.

This wasn’t a game for him, he meant every single word and you knew it.

“Wriothesley, there will never be anyone like you.”

He groaned and slid in. Your back arched at the sheer size of his cock stretching you beyond your limits. You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, grabbing onto the sheets for support.

“Breathe, relax,” he whispered. “Hold onto me.”

He continued to slowly push in bringing his knees closer giving him the right angle to get in as deep as possible. He gasped upon seeing himself completely disappear inside you. You tightened your legs around his waist, and dragged him down gripping his back, locking you into a mating press.

He waited till the need for release subsided before he began to move. The shitty bedframe, not built for the purpose it was being used for, squeaked, and hit against the wall. The sound of skin slapping against skin, and stifled cries joined the air disturbing whatever sorry soul had the misfortune of being on the other side of the wall. Neither of you cared at that moment. Within minutes you had already come twice.

Your chest heaved, and Wriothesley cupped them leaving bites all over your breasts, he avoided any place people would be able to see but needed to mark you somewhere. He moved back up to your ear and nibbled on the lobe.

“Show me how you touch yourself,” he said quietly.

You slipped a hand between your rocking bodies and began to rub your clit. Wriothesley leaned back till he was kneeling. Gripping your waist, he continued to fuck you watching with hawk-like focus the way your fingers played with your clit. It was like you were under display, laid out for him to observe and study, and you were.

“So, that’s how you like it?” he said, feeling your walls clench around him for the third time that night.

You whimpered in response, your words had long since failed you. You began to slow as your hand grew tired and your body became closer to a collection of jolting nerves than functioning limbs.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. You can give me two more, right?” he said.

You moaned as he replaced your hand continuing to rub your clit just as vigorously as you had started.

“Wriothesley,” you cried,

“Ssh, you’ve got this. Let go. Be a good girl and give me two more,” he urged you on.

You bit your lip and threw your head back letting out another cry which he swallowed eagerly. Your walls clenched again, and your body began to show the signs of a squirt. You sprayed, your legs shaking, your toes curling.

“Shit, you’re incredible. One more,” he captured your lips. “You’ve done so good. Just give me one more, my love,” he said against them.

One more and he would be satisfied. One more and he could guarantee that he would have enough resolve to follow through with his plans. Just one more.

You shivered again and bit down on his bottom lip as your final climax washed over you barely a minute later. He growled at the pain, tugging his lip from your mouth, and kissing you properly.

“Well done,” he said but continued thrusting at the same brutal pace. “I’m nearly there.”

You used what little strength you had to keep him inside. He said your name for what was the thousandth time that night.

“Not tonight,” he panted, smiling against your lips. “Trust me, I want to. I do, but not tonight.”

He pulled out and kissed you softly, stroking himself until his release painted your stomach. He kissed your forehead and rolled off you to not squash you under his weight.

You turned onto your side and cuddled into him. He wrapped his arms around you and entangled your limbs. You faced each other on the damp sheets.

It felt like time stopped. Everything melted away, you didn’t know whether it had been forty or four hours, and you didn’t care. You felt sticky and wet, the only thing cooling you down was the natural coolness of his skin on yours. Sleep drifted over you like a blanket not soon after. You tried to fight it off, wishing to talk to him longer; to try and convince him against fighting the administrator; to find a way with you because as long as you had each other you knew everything would be okay…

“Everything is going to be okay,” he said quietly as if he had read your mind, sending you off to sleep. “It’s all going to be okay.”

When you woke the next morning, well when the sound of the guards woke you from your sex-induced coma, Wriothesley was gone.

Remember your safeword.

You woke to cool scarred arms wrapped securely around your waist. Wriothesley’s head rested on your breasts. Flecks of grey mixed seamlessly into the stream of black hair reminded you that you were no longer in the past. You shifted slightly to free an arm. He grumbled something and nuzzled his head further into your breasts, securing his arms tighter around you as if afraid you were going to disappear. It was a habit he had developed over the years, an incessant need to hold onto you when he slept. You didn’t mind it too much, you liked being cold when you went to bed; it helped you sleep better.

“Wriothesley,” you whispered and ran a hand through his hair. You laid a peck on his forehead, and he stirred.

“Is it morning already?” he grumbled, though his eyes remained closed.

He had been awake for as long as you had been lost in your thoughts, silently listening to the sound of your pounding heart. He couldn’t help but wonder what thoughts ailed you on nights like these.

You admired the thick dark lashes casting shadows over his face.

“No, I just can’t sleep,” you said.

You knew his skin like the back of your hand. The scar under his eye, the scar on his neck that led down to the center of his breastplate and stopped on his sternum. The ones wrapped around his arms, the ones that scattered his waist and stomach, the ones on his thighs; even the small faint one on his calf from when he fell over as a kid. He told you that was when he knew his skin was going to be littered with scars. Wriothesley scarred easily and he scarred badly. However, despite their jagged appearances, none of them were too hideous for you to bear. You didn’t like them, but you loved Wriothesley, and as they were as a part of him as any other part of him, you learnt to love them too. They represented how many battles he had won. They represented every promise kept.

You lifted his head up and kissed the scar on his face, the one right under his eye.

You could feel his hardened cock pressing against your thigh. His pupils were blown when he finally opened his eyes.

He loved you so much it hurt. Yes, physically but also mentally. He loved how you accepted him, he loved how you chose him, and he loved how you chose you too. Most of all he loved how you looked when you teased him, so raw, so ripe, so ready to dismantle you completely.

“Oh, I can think of ways to help with that,” he murmured.

“I don’t know if I have the stamina, your grace,” you teased.

He let out a guttural noise.

He nibbled and sucked on your nipple, messaging your other breast in his cold, rough hands. Your breath staggered as you gave in to his touch. The sound went straight to his cock. He had fucked you into the sheets earlier that night, till you were blubbering and couldn’t remember your own name. Still, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough; he would never get enough of you. Despite your fear that one day he would disappear, he never would. It was Wriothesley who worried that one day you would grow tired of his incessant need to be near you; to have you, to consume you. So, he savoured every squirm, every shiver, every breathy gasp of his name that you would spare him, terrified that they’d be his last.

“Ah, well it’s a good thing that I have enough stamina for the both of us,” he said switching his attention from one boob to the other. The earlier hickeys had already darkened on your skin. “Think you can cum again?”

He would kiss each one later wishing for them to last forever.

“You’re insatiable,” you blushed.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I have my favourite meal right where I want her,” he said and began to trail his tongue down your stomach towards your sensitive clit. He wanted you on his tongue, in his senses… everywhere.

“Do you remember your safeword?” he asked. It was what he always did before you both did anything sexual beyond intimate fondling and brisk kisses.

“Time,” you said.

“Good girl.” He half grinned.

He continued teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue, absorbing every twitch and shake of your body.

“Wriothesley,” you spluttered. “I need you.”

“You’ve got me,” he said.

He slipped his tongue into you, circling, lapping, like a man possessed he devoured you. His nose brushed against your skin. It was knowing his eyes were on you the entire time that made everything feel ten times more stimulating. You let out a quiet gasp and gripped his hair.

“You’re so good for me.” He gave you a broad lick. “So perfect.”

He replaced his tongue with his fingers, curling them inside you and scissoring them open to stretch you out not that you needed much with how well he had fucked you before. Still, it was the thought of giving you pleasure that spurred him on.

“Wriothesley,” you said.

He hummed to show you he was listening, the vibration made you quiver.

“I want your cuffs.”

He paused and pulled away, perking up. He secretly loved it when you surprised him.

“Oh? What for?”

You smiled and gestured for his cuffs. He scrambled off the queen-sized bed and walked butt naked to where he left his cuffs. You admired his ass from the bed. He had a great ass, he knew it too, it was why he wore his jacket around Meropide. His nickname Ricecake had gotten around the Fortress years ago and whilst it was okay when he was a convict, he didn’t need that level of familiarity as the Duke. Besides, you were the only one he wanted observing his ass.

He climbed back onto the bed and handed them to you, the spiked metal looked so good in your hands. His eyes flickered to the rings on your ring finger—his rings. The ones he gave you when he officially proposed.

He never ended up fighting that day due to the administrator’s sudden disappearance.

He recalled how you had run around Meropide searching for him, your hair a mess, the beginnings of one of the love bites he had left dauntingly close to view, poking out of one of his shirts that you had thrown on instead of your own. He recalled how you had slammed open the door to the administrator’s office, breathless, beautiful, with your eyes full of tears to him sitting behind the desk organising the abandoned files. He recalled how he claimed you again there, in that office over and over and over again. The other man’s ring was long gone somewhere down the many drains of Meropide, and your sentence cleared not long after. There were perks to becoming the administrator of the fortress of Meropide. Perks that had the maid of that man who hurt you disappear to a place only known by Celestia, the Archons, Navia, and Wriothesley. Neuvillette knew too but unless there was a trial, he would keep his nose out of it.

You knelt on the bed swinging the cuffs on your fingers.

“Where have you gone?” you cooed bringing him back to reality.

“Mm, nowhere, just admiring the view,” he said coolly.

You shook your head and pushed him to lay back against the pillows.

“You’re working too hard, your grace. I can fix that,” you said and straddled him.

Reaching above him, you cuffed his arms to the bed frame.

He cocked a brow and playfully tugged against the restraints.

“Ah, I hope so,” he said.

You kissed the corner of his mouth, smirking.

His cock twitched at the memory of your first time together.

“Remember the safeword?” you asked.

Seeing you sat on him, your eyes filled with life, he couldn’t care less that you didn’t remember your past before Meropide. He didn’t care that you didn’t recall how he was the boy you gave bread to once when you spotted him wandering away from his home. How you had given him, a complete stranger what looked like your last piece of food because he was sitting alone. He didn’t care if all you remembered was your last two and a half decades together… because you were here now with him. You chose him just as he chose you.

“Time," he responded.

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cuffmeinblack · 1 year

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Idk if you’re taking requests but I have one and I’ve loved you’re writing for Ominis so let’s go!!

⚠️spoilers ahead just in case⚠️

I was wondering if you’d be willing to write an Ominis x fem!hufflepuff! Reader where they’ve liked each other but it all comes out before the Scriptorium mission. Like he tells the story on why he won’t use crucio and everything but when Sebastian uses the curse on her Ominis is the one to rush to her and help her. I just want fluff and love for this boy he needs more of it!!

I trust you to write this amazingly and please make whatever changes you’d like I’d just want this boy to be loved ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Hold me close

Ominis Gaunt x gn!reader

Tags: angst | hurt/comfort | torture curse

1k words

A/n: Thank you for the request! This is a short little one shot rewrite of the In the Shadow of the Study quest so ⚠️SPOILER WARNING⚠️. Hope you like!

Quite how you ended up in Salazar Slytherin's secret Scriptorium with a couple of Slytherin boys was a mystery in itself, almost as baffling as the one presented directly in front of you. You'd left the cosy Hufflepuff common room only an hour ago, and now here you were, staring at a huge, ornate door decorated with serpents. Salazar Slytherin really liked snakes.

"That must be the voice I hear," Ominis says beside you. " I don't believe I'm about to do this."

Your heart flutters in your chest as you watch him approach the door and take a deep breath before speaking, if it could be called that—a quiet hiss escapes his lips. You jump back in astonishment as the mechanism on the door jumps to life, the eerie green glow of the serpents' eyes illuminating the dim corridor.

"Ominis, you possess a rare ability indeed," you say, marvelling at him.

"Between the two of you, I'm starting to feel left out," Sebastian says from behind you.

"Between the two of us?" Ominis asks. If it weren't so dark, you'd swear he'd be blushing.

"I…never mind," Sebastian mutters.

You know what your friend means, but you squirm uncomfortably anyway. It's true, you both seem to have rare abilities that others might envy. You make quite the pair, though Sebastian was none the wiser of your mutual affection.

It isn't long before you encounter yet another locked door in this infernal maze. The floor is wet, the room smells dusky and damp, and you quickly notice the reason why. Following the scurrying of a rat in the corner, your illuminated wand shines on a skeleton in the corner of the room. You fight to hold back the bile rising in your throat. A scrap of paper draws your eye, slightly nibbled but still more or less intact, laying next to the long-decayed corpse. You reach down and pick it up with two fingers, your face twisting in disgust as you try to read the scrawled words.

"Ominis...your aunt Noctua…she mentions being trapped here. Blocked by an unforgivable curse," you say shakily.

Your gut twists with guilt, knowing that having agreed to talk to Ominis for Sebastian had doomed you all. You had wanted to help your friend, but you should never have agreed to it, and the pain on Ominis' face is more than you can bear.

"Ominis, I know this is the last thing you want to do…," Sebastian started.

"Yes, it is! I thought you knew me better!" Ominis shouted back.

Your immediate reaction is to go to him. You wish you could hold him, comfort him, instead you move slowly to his side, your hand reaching for his but falling short under Sebastian's watchful eye.

"Ominis," you whisper.

"I won't do it," Ominis says, shaking his head and beginning to pace nervously. "You shouldn't either."

"I understand, but it's our only way out of here. I can take it," you say, trying to keep the quavering from your voice. You muster the courage to reach out and grip his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

"Are you going to use the curse on Sebastian?" he asks in a small voice.

"I don't think I can."

Ominis grimaces as you leave his side, walking over to Sebastian by the door, steeling yourself for what's to come. You trust your friend not to prolong it longer than necessary. Balling up your fists, you nod and Sebastian readies himself, raising his wand and hesitating only for a second before expelling the dreaded incantation.

"Crucio."

A crackle of electricity ripples through your body and you see only a red haze before forcing your eyes shut and falling to the floor, gasping for breath. Your nerves are on fire, your very flesh feels as if it's burning as you try to scream but nothing comes out.

"Please, please," a faint voice enters your ears as the pain subsides and you open your eyes, staring at the floor as your vision readjusts to the assault on your retinas, the stones beneath you swimming back into focus. You take a deep breath and fill your lungs, desperately reaching out in front of you, clutching the first thing you feel.

You look up and Ominis is kneeling in front of you, holding your arm and feeling his way to find where you are. You start breathing shakily, trying desperately to catch your breath and feel wet, hot tears pooling in your eyes. Ominis' hands are shaking as they glide up your arms, over your shoulders and brushing your neck, finding your face. He cups your face in his hands, pausing as the tears roll over his fingers, then wipes them away gently. His face is contorted in pain as he asks, "Are you okay? Please, be okay."

"I'm okay," you manage to stutter.

Sebastian seems to be in shock, standing dumbly by the now open door, watching the interaction between his friends.

"I'm so sorry," he groans, leaning back against the wall.

"It's fine, you did what you had to do," you say weakly, attempting to get up off of the floor.

Ominis clutches your arms again, firmly, standing with you and steadying you as you wobble on your aching legs and stumble into him. He doesn't loosen his grip, only pulls you closer, looping an arm around your back and holding your weight.

"I've got you," the soft voice says in your ear.

You rest your head against his shoulder, his hand finding its way to the nape of your neck and gently stroking your hair.

"I…there's a room here…," Sebastian says feebly before retreating behind the door.

Ominis doesn't let you go, the shaking in his hands subsided, now replaced with a tender and assuredly comforting touch. You look up at him, his hands still tangled in your hair, and watch his closely knitted brows relax.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that," he says.

"I'd do it again, for you."

#ominis gaunt fanfiction #ominis gaunt imagine #ominis gaunt drabble #anon ask #ominis gaunt x reader

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lolitafushiguro · 5 months

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thinking about spending time together for wriothesley's birthday…

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ warnings: a lil bit of angst abt wrio's past as a prisoner, slight wriothesley's story spoilers

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ tags: fluff, wriothesley x gn!reader, i referenced his birthday letter on this one

it's hard to keep track of time when you're underwater. even more so when you're the duke of an underwater fortress handling prisoners and case files on a day-to-day basis. so here you are, bringing a freshly brewed cup of black tea to his office, in an attempt to make wriothesley's day a little better and gauge him to come out of his lair so you can spend time together to stroll the streets of the city of fontaine.

when you opened the door to greet him you were met with his puzzled expression. he was admiring investigating the numerous stickers that found their way on his mechanical gauntlet. smiling to yourself, you figured it was the melusines' work again. not that he already knew.

but still, you figured there was something endearing about it. is it the pastel colors? is it the cute wolf shaped stickers or the heart ones? nevertheless, you thought it would always be a cute occurrence ー how your boyfriend would sigh in exasperation every time he gets pranked by such sweet creatures.

"you think it's sigewinne's doing again?" you laughed, placing the cup of tea on his desk.

"hmph. you bet." he sighed, laughing with you as well.

you made your way towards the back of his chair. leaning down, you pressed a sweet kiss on his cheek, stealing one of his stickers to place on him after.

"you…" he sighed again, melting into your touch in defeat.

"enjoy your tea. i brewed it just the way you like." you kissed him on the lips, your faces flush with the warmth of your shared love.

"let's go out." you suggested, seating yourself on his lap.

"where to, sweetheart?" he replied slyly, taking a sip from his teacup.

"you're the birthday boy, so you decide." you hummed.

you snuggled on the crook of his neck, breathing his scent ー that of mint and musk. he caresses the small of your back. you stayed like that for a while. he enjoyed the tea you made for him. and you enjoyed his gentle, loving touch.

he suggested that you both go to the coupon cafeteria after finishing his tea, maybe you'd find a surprise waiting for you there. as you exchanged idle chatter on the way, you didn't realize that you've arrived when sigewinne popped a confetti canon and the other melusines presented him a buttercream decorated cake with a grey emblem of his wolf sigil.

they happily sang him a birthday song. you watched his expression soften at the sight, which made you happy too.

"ah, i wonder if your siblings remember. i wonder what they-"

"let's not think of the past right now." he smiled at you. for a moment, you swore you caught a tinge of sadness in his gaze. so you didn't speak about it any further.

after the birthday celebration, the two of you went for a group hug with the melusines, and that's the moment you asked him about going to the city of fontaine.

"well, aren't you giddy?" he laughed.

"come on! you haven't been outside of this place for a while."

"are you saying that i'm a recluse?"

"what? no. i know that you're busy. it's just that ー don't you want a change of scenery on your special day?"

wriothesley gave in to your pleas. not that he didn't enjoy being outside. it's more of the fact that he knows it's a time well spent when it's with you.

after all, you're his roman holiday. his sweetheart. his beloved.

the greatest birthday gift he ever received.

ー Lolita

#lolita writes #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x y/n #wriothesley headcanons #wriothesley imagines #genshn impact #genshin impact x reader #happy birthday my tea loving big baby sweetheart wrio (❁´▽`❁)

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utilitycaster · 1 month

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Do you think that Laura and Marisha are deliberately making their relationship somewhat toxic and unsustainable or do you think they see the relationship as healthy? It is just so different from all of the other relationships they have been a part of and not really in a good way. Would love to get your perspective on it if you have one

I am honestly unsure. I would like to say it's deliberate. Prior to it becoming canon, in fact, I, and a lot of other people who were less than enthused by Imogen and Laudna's romance and weren't entirely sold from the start, made the case that we expected they would be talking to each other and would put together a compelling story, not the dull fluff so common in fanon. While whether it's compelling is a subjective judgment, we know for a fact they didn't talk to each other. We know for a fact Marisha was surprised by the question of "Can I kiss you," and Laura was surprised by the answer. We know from a 4SD not long after (4SD #16, Kiss and Tell) that several episodes later they still hadn't talked. We know that Marisha perceives Laudna as holding Imogen back (and that Laudna perceives herself as doing so) from the Rose City Q&A. We know that from 4SD #20 (Episode Twenty) that Laura doesn't like conflict in narrative and Marisha does, and that Laura was thrown by Laudna's regression following Ashton's attempt to absorb the shard (4SD #19, Shard Candy).

I don't know if it's deliberate or not; I don't have any extra insight that isn't public knowledge any fan can easily access. But man, it doesn't feel like these are two actors on the same page about what's going on.

I've touched on this before but mostly in tags or whisper posts but I've always felt ill at ease with a number of for lack of a better term "fandom-approved opinions" and one of the ones that has baffled me the most is this idea that Marisha and Laura have exceptional chemistry. I watched Campaign 1 knowing the endgame ships but deliberately avoiding the fandom, and Vex and Keyleth did not even once occur to me as a thing. I watched the first year of Campaign 2 without a ton of fandom interaction because I was avoiding additional C1 spoilers and it seemed crystal clear that the obvious ship was Beau and Yasha; it felt like Beau and Jester only even had enough potential for me to multiship it as my general "whomever Jester picks" for like, 30 episodes. And yet people - people who didn't even ship either of the above ships and in some cases disliked them- would just say "oh man I can't wait until we get to a campaign where we can finally explore Marisha and Laura's incredible chemistry!" and it's like. I feel like I'm the kid in the Emperor's New Clothes on this! I understand that chemistry is to an extent a matter of taste and subjectivity, but it just increasingly feels like people looked at two campaigns of tables where Ashley was frequently absent and said "well, if I want an F/F ship that's between two of the women in the cast, I guess this is what I have to work with" and repeated to themselves that a flat pamplemousse La Croix was a Piña Colada until they started to believe it. I mean if someone wants to explain it to me in good faith I suppose be my guest and I will try to take it in, but it feels like people just treat this as incontrovertible fact and if you doubt it they're like "don't you have eyes" and it's like, well, pretend I don't. Explain like I'm eyeless and five because I have never understood this. They both have more chemistry with every single other cast member; it's not all romantic but man, I didn't even buy Laudna and Imogen as platonic best friends of two years. I have never had this problem with any other pre-existing character relationships Marisha and Laura have played, platonic or otherwise. It's literally just them. I just never feel like they're quite on the same page.

Back to the relationship between Imogen and Laudna onscreen, this was easily the best conversation since the start of the gnarlrock fight, and it is my hope it doesn't fizzle out the way that did. You can't keep kissing Laudna whenever she fears she's lost forever to Delilah, Imogen. Or you can, but that won't fix the problem. Again: are you disgusted? Do you feel betrayed? If you're not, why did you say that? If you are, how will you move past it? Do you want to be with someone who never feels like they're good enough for you? Laudna, do you want to be with someone who, no matter what they say, you feel you're holding back?

Early in the campaign, my feeling was that of our current situation, switched - Imogen felt her powers were a burden and a curse and Laudna kept referring to them and to her glowingly. It's just...ships passing in the night, no pun intended here. I hope it's on purpose and whatever comes from it is a good story - and either a tragedy or a happy story could be a good one. But I have a nagging sensation that Laudna wants out but is afraid to say no, and Imogen is afraid to let go, and I honestly don't know if the actors have realized this impasse and how the characters might resolve it, one way or another, besides the insufficient bandaid of a kiss whenever the conversation gets too uncomfortable.

#answered #minxie-the-sabertooth-kitty #really the mission statement of this blog is I am the kid in the Emperor's New Clothes #also i know i keep relying on food metaphors sorry i really like food and feel it's fairly universally accessible to understand #anyway. i am sure some will not believe me here but I think I and most people who agree with me desperately wish we liked this ship #i do not think most people who dislike it are actively hoping it crashes and burns it's just #it feels so fundamentally disconnected and lifeless. at least the conflict shocks it into something vaguely animated #the vindication i was right about this lack of chemistry is still ultimately a consolation prize. i promise you i'd rather be proven wrong #i'd rather be wowed by a brilliant dynamic ship i didn't expect to like. but here we are.#cr spoilers #long post

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yawnderu · 6 months

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Stray - Chapter II

Author's note: not a lot happening here, just pushing this chapter out of my drafts before I start writing about the MW3 campaign. Sobbed for 4 hours about the fanfic in my head after seeing spoilers💀 No spoilers in this chapter, future chapters will be tagged accordingly and having a warning so you don't get spoiled either.

''Focus.'' Ghost's British accent rung in your earpiece, his deep voice barely above a whisper as you took overwatch with a sniper rifle. He didn't have the heart to tell you he could hear your fast, hard breathing on the comms, memories of the past flooding all over while your brain is stuck visiting people who are still alive in the graveyard of your heart.

''Enemy down, LT.'' You whispered as you took down an enemy guard, your focus on the scope not faltering until you saw the body dropping, blood quickly pooling up around their body before your attention was taken by movement in the distance, immediately using the scope to see better. You could easily make out the shape of another sniper, the camouflage outdated for the season accompanied by movement, yet it didn't seem they could see you yet.

''Spotted an enemy.'' You mutter in comms, keeping them open in case you had to run or took a shot. Ghost mutters a soft ''roger'' on the line and you line up the scope to take a perfect shot, easily finding the enemy sniper's head, who isn't even looking into their scope. You take a deep breath, relaxing your body before your finger pulls the trigger, the slight recoil hitting your body, yet you're still looking to confirm the kill.

''Moving.'' You don't wait for further comms before grabbing your equipment, tactical camouflage draped over your body as you swiftly run around, laying on your stomach and examining the area. It was an easy mission— gather intel and go, the barely secured safehouse making it easier for Ghost and you to complete this and go home.

You scan the area, eyes fully focused on the surroundings, looking for any possible movement. You saw none, though you were still highly alert, focusing on making sure your Lieutenant makes it out alive. It doesn't take long before he gathers the intel and you rendezvous at the helipad, your gloved fist raised slightly as you both settle in, his bumping yours after a few seconds of staring.

You lean closer to Ghost, speaking loudly over the rumbling sound of the blades."You think we'll take down Makarov?" He gives you a side eye for a second before turning his face towards yours, hesitantly nodding.

"We got plenty of good soldiers on our side, luv. There's always a risk, but..." He seems hesitant to answer, knowing he can lay his emotions bare to you, but refusing to do so.

"'M not sure." He finally replies and you simply nod, leaning back on your seat while you look at the background get smaller the higher you go. You both know Makarov is the ultimate threat. The kingfish. A man so deadly who has no hesitation on killing people, over 30.000 deaths caused by him, and truth to be told, you're all scared you'll join the growing number.

"Bonnie!" Soap says once he's back to base, arms wrapping around your waist as he lifts you up in the air and spins you, a ritual that started out as a joke whenever you both came back from missions without the other. After over a year of knowing these men and being stationed with them for so long, you eventually develop routines together, no matter how extra and annoying they might seem.

"Played rough with the Russians?" He asked with a cheeky smirk, arm wrapped around your shoulder as you walked back to the barracks. Ghost disappeared the moment you got back, likely to unwind and have some time alone before being practically forced by all of you to go to a bar. He knows the invitation is coming.

"Not many around— Ghost did all the dirty work down there." You shrug, arm wrapped around his waist as you walk, trying your best to ignore the way his toned muscles feel over your fingers. No. Soap is like a brother to you. At least, you've been telling yourself that for the past year or so.

"Sounds like him." He seems more relaxed now, the slight nervousness he gets whenever you or Ghost go on missions without him or more reinforcements slowly dissipating, giving him room to simply enjoy himself. And enjoy himself he will, knowing Price, Gaz and him will force Ghost and you to go to a new bar near base in a few hours.

"Ya should go shower." You raise an eyebrow and look up at him, hesitantly smelling your armpit to make sure you don't smell after hours on the field, laying still in dirt and under the sun. You don't even smell that bad.

"Asshole." Soap finally lets go of you with a laugh, narrowly missing a sharp kick thrown his way, running away like the coward he is.

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neonscandal · 4 months

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Manga with Me: Sad SatoSugu Edition (Because That's Literally the Only Flavor There Is)

So I mentioned wanting to list out all the canonically most heartrending things I could think of as it pertains to Satosugu during an Anon Ask sometime ago and since the Christmas holiday is nigh upon us... what better time (because I started this a while ago)? If you would like to wallow in the heartbreak, you can always peruse this tag because this is truly something that rots my brain on the reg. So let's get into it, let's recount all the details that bounce around my head like an old school DVD logo in case anyone else wanted to be miserable too.

Part 1 | Part 2

⚠️ Spoiler Warning: Includes information up to chapter 236. This will be an exhaustive list to include details that haven't been animated. If you want to stay spoiler free, stop reading when you see the ⚠️

A/N: This basically just turned into an overly indulgent retelling of everything that happened because all of it is sad? Read at your own risk.

Let's start with a little bit of autobiography so we're all on the same page.

Gojo Satoru, heir to not only one of the Big Three sorcerer families but inheritor of their two familial cursed techniques. The occurrence of which hadn't been recorded for a century. His birth effectively tilted the scales and, subsequently, is responsible for the stronger breed of curses that sprung up to create balance in the world (in the same way Sukuna's finger woke other curses). We don't know much about his family except that he's been the target of unsuccessful assassination attempts since he was a kid. Subsequently, he's got an untempered ego that's largely unchecked and an unexplored power ceiling.

Why we love him: Real ones recognized a deeply traumatized person who hides it with a smile. ✨ Little did we know, the missing piece to that origin is what lurks in the shadows.

Geto Suguru, strong in his own right and implicitly guided by the belief that the weak should be protected. Leans into this enlightened ideal by also donning iconography that likens him to Buddha well before he considered being a cult leader. In my opinion (since I said this would be canonical, this needs to be called out as a headcanon), I think this was done to kind of cover the spread of his own insecurity coming into Jujutsu High as a society outsider. Especially when you consider Gojo's in his class.

Why we love him: While they appear to not get along, they really look to one another for balance. Ideologically and morally, Gojo will consider his perspective as he's the first person to really call Gojo on his flippancy and yoke him up. We love to see it.

CHRONOLOGICAL and rapid fire

They are two of only three special grade sorcerers at the time, the other being Yuki Tsukumo. It promotes this identity tied to their strength which Gojo is frequently sizing others up (sorry, Utahime) but also undoubtedly inspires a level of comfort Gojo probably hadn't known previously, to know that he had someone he could rely on.

In this, we see that Geto tuts at Gojo, keeping him in line from a social and moral perspective. He also weighs keeping the peace of citizens' minds believing that society should protect the weak and keep the strong in check. He rationalizes that jujutsu exists to protect non-sorcerers as if its their righteous responsibility. Sidebar: I love that the anime shows this convo taking place in a gym to visually use their shots missing vs going in as another way to show how they're at odds.

Subsequently, tasked with increasingly dangerous missions even though they are just kids because there's a shortage of strong sorcerers. There's a shortage of sorcerers at all. Undoubtedly, creates a sense of superiority in both and, likely, a greater sense of responsibility in Geto. As though the stronger he gets, the stakes continue to get higher as well.

Assigned a mission which effectively could impact the fate of the world wherein they have to protect Riko Omanai, another child and the Star Plasma Vessel, who is selected to merge with Tengen. Unbeknownst to us at the time but, even as students, they realized how shitty that was and had agreed unanimously to allow whatever Riko wanted to happen, whether she chose life or merge. Gojo propositioned it first and Geto's half-assed warning was simply that they might have to fight Tengen. Their overconfidence here kills me? But, essentially, protecting the weak and keeping the strong in check also meant enforcing what was right regardless of the mission and, more over, they could likely contextualize how unfair it was that they were child soldiers, as well.

Even with their difference in opinion or ideology, Gojo is reassured by the fact that, regardless of the demands of the mission, "we're the strongest". Which is huge when you consider that, for the longest time, he was always wary of others, likely kept people at arms' length, always had to protect others, etc.

I can only imagine the number of silly goofy selfies these idiots exchanged while on missions together or apart. Again, it just undercuts how, in spite of everything else, they were just goofballs.

This, I think, is important. Geto was the first person to rationalize Riko's desires to still go to school and be amongst her friends to Gojo. Geto had a sense of protecting the youthful life she knew from the start. Letting her enjoy herself was a part of the mission Tengen specified but Geto seemed moved by it without influence. Even if Gojo initially mentioned "calling it off" if the Star Plasma Vessel didn't want to move forward, this indicates the importance of, not just living (which Gojo will defend because he can), but living well which Geto is in support of.

Geto reassures Kuroi that she is Riko's family and, we can extrapolate, that he probably has his own bonds that are not blood but are still beloved like family. Even then.

Something I didn't take into consideration before but... it's Geto's fault/carelessness that gets Kuroi kidnapped. This likely causes a snowball effect of guilt as everything else transpires and ultimately leads him to his breaking point.

The fact that, where Gojo was once really intolerant of frivolity during the Star Plasma Vessel mission, he decided to show compassion by allowing for sightseeing and an extended stay in Okinawa, likely after taking Geto's previous rationale under advisement. Life is more than just surviving, afterall.

Usually when someone is strong, people lack the ability to comprehend or acknowledge their possible vulnerability. But Geto unabashedly expresses concern for Gojo potentially wearing himself out at the expense of extending their stay. It's small but its something expressed amongst equals and is shown to be such as Gojo says, "You're here too." TBH this altered my brain chemistry. Probably altered Geto's brain chemistry too. Can you imagine that reciprocation of trust and safety?? Ego boost.

What's especially funny about the exchange is highlighted by Geto's typical characterization as the fox eyed character or "kitsune no me" (even if its inconsistent). It can imply wisdom or someone who is mischievous. Given his other style choices, I assume its more for the wise aesthetic. But when he checks up on Gojo he gives the classic one-eye-open visual cue of being focused but with an air of confidence in response. Like, just puff out your chest and tell him you love him, already.

Literally, the soft way Geto watches Gojo be an immature little shit. For all the banter at the beginning of their origin story, this panel and, honestly, Okinawa really demonstrated how Gojo was endeared to Geto which hits a climax when they get back to Jujutsu High.

We only see Geto lose his cool when harm comes to Gojo. Toji getting the drop on Gojo was a shock to everyone but Geto sprung into action.

The fact that the first time Geto gives into his confidence and echoes Gojo's belief that "we're the strongest,", believing that, between the two of them, they could protect Riko's future... is precisely when Toji guns her down?? BRO. Irrevocably shattered his whole world view in a moment.

We only see Geto lose his cool when he believes harm has come to Gojo.

The fatal flaw in the Star Plasma Vessel mission was truly their combined hubris from being strong individually and being doubly reassured by their confidence in one another. Combine that with their loftiness of being sorcerers and it exposed them to a predator who doesn't need cursed energy to see footprints. The simplicity of it is aggravating. Toji's whole plan focused on a false sense of security but they were effectively already surrounded by an insulated false sense of security because of their power and standing in jujutsu society.

Moreover, the fact that Toji made such a big to do about how to defeat the Six Eyes but voiced the fact that Geto was negligible so long as he wasn't a shikigami user. Even if they were both strong, it still presents this idea that Gojo was stronger, he was the bigger threat.

Mind you, they were both bested by the same person BUT THE FACT THAT THEY BOTH LATER ESPOUSE SOME ELEMENT OF TOJI'S ESSENCE?? Geto takes on his vernacular (re: monkeys and essentially equates jujutsu as an evolution) and Gojo takes on the fit (which is crazy). More specifically, the fact that down the line, Gojo takes Toji's "Blessing" and Geto inherits his curse[d worm]. Ya know, maybe I was wrong about JJK antagonists because Toji really is the fork in the socket for a lot of what ends up happening.

This, is quite honestly, one of the most disrespectful coincidences of the whole ordeal because, while Geto shares physical characteristics with the Buddha and generally has a more humble and righteous understanding of the world, when Gojo experiences his power up at the beginning of his second fight with Toji, he experiences what we can assume is enlightenment as he boasts "Throughout heaven and earth, I alone am the Honored One,". In many ways, this is just another thing scratching at the foundation of who they are.

Geto and Gojo are constantly set at odds, ideologically is the least of their differences as they learn to take one another's perspectives under consideration. The divide comes from Geto, born of non-sorcerers, who has a cursed technique that forces him to ingest curses which he equates to swallowing a cloth that had been used to wipe up vomit. How can one be clean and pure when forced to regularly imbibe something so disgusting? It makes sense as to how he solemnly would feel this sacrifice to be noble and necessary in practice with the tradeoff of being able to help the weak. Gojo, born into a sorcerer family, has cursed techniques that not only prevent the need to even touch a curse but also allows time and space to think through whatever comes his way as a Six Eyes user. An argument could be made for nurture vs nature respectively but, ultimately, I think the chasm between hard work vs natural talent is what breeds bitter resentment down the line which is further embodied in this moment. Where Geto tries to do right and walk the straight and narrow as best he could, it is still Gojo who is blessed with the enlightenment that should come with such discipline. What I also find interesting about this is the fact that, as someone who chooses to dress and carry themselves as Geto does, his undoing is ultimately tied to other famous Buddhist quotes that speak of finding sanctuary only within oneself and how attachment is the root of all suffering. It feels like in looking to Gojo, relying on Gojo, being attached to Gojo.. it filled a hole that was present within Geto and wasn't sated by his discipline or moral compass.

The above is also shown in how Gojo could immediately find where Toji was with all the hideouts where Geto had to work harder to still show up late. Everything is just so easy with the Six Eyes or I suppose that's how Geto started to feel.

The fact that, knowing they were equals before his power up, Gojo lied about Shoko healing him when Geto asked. Gojo, at the unset, haughtily believed that the strong shouldn't make excuses for their strength, and yet, hid a facet of his strength from Geto, the person who understood the burden of power best.

Gojo accepted blame for messing up during the Star Plasma Vessel when, empirically, Geto lost Kuroi first and failed as the second line of defense against Toji. I wonder how Geto felt hearing that admission when his own guilt was probably swelling within him.

After everything, Gojo still turns to Geto to determine what's right, questioning whether there needs to be a reason to kill the Time Vessel Association followers as they celebrate Riko's death.

Riko's death and their subsequent failure saw Gojo spending the year to optimize his power and prevent being felled by any vulnerability going forward. Geto was effectively sidelined and recognized the disparity between them as Satoru became "the strongest". Even so, with all of Gojo's bells and whistles, with Six Eyes at his disposal, he could not really see Geto's descent or chose not to properly address it because Gojo was never really one with typical emotional responses. It's something he goes into greater depth with Nanami in the light novels, acknowledging his lack of emotional intelligence.

As with his birth, which saw an increase in powerful curses born to keep the balance, his latent power up also had consequences like more frequent curse spawnings. This kept them busy and, as we discover apart. Since he could handle more missions on his own, by default, now Geto had to as well. They were the strongest together but they were together less and less. This effectively sent Geto further down a spiral and moral dilemma.

In spite of not being seen by Gojo during his time of strife, his first impulse when asked what kind of souvenir he'd like is to lean toward something Gojo would want. We don't know much about Geto's preferred tastes (anything is better than vomit rag) but this concession is so touching. Like, previously, we see where Gojo considers Geto time and time again when faced with a moral gray area but the consideration does go both ways.

When assessed to be a good person by Haibara, Geto challenges the idea which we can infer stems from his shift in worldview but, I also question if it is a manifestation of how he may feel about Gojo's power up, too.

The premise of Geto's defection can be broken down if we were to liken non-jujutsu sorcerers to harmless sheep. If curses and cursed users are wolves, then sorcerers are the guard dogs that protect the herd, lucky to have teeth to fight back. Geto believed it to be the duty of the sorcerers to protect the weak but hadn't confronted that even humans are capable of grotesque things, they are just as susceptible to evil. Riko's death illustrated this while also challenging his ability to protect. With the shortage of sorcerers, why must they sacrifice themselves for the good of those who are equally capable of being monsters, regardless of their perceived weakness? Haibara's death reiterated that there was no point for such sacrifice when such a fate can befall someone so good and wholesome. The nail in the coffin was, of course, finding the twins who'd been abused and imprisoned by humans because they could manipulate cursed energy.

We only see Gojo lose his cool when it comes to Geto. The reveal of his crimes, against the villagers and his own parents is outrageous given his rigid stance but that really doesn't have a place in jujutsu society. Those who cannot bend... break. As one of the only other special grade sorcerers, the fact that Gojo must subsequently become Geto's executioner is cruel and unusual punishment.

Again, we don't know much about Geto's tastes but we know that he'll ask for sweets for Gojo and carries a lighter for Shoko and that's really heartbreaking because I think we can infer he considers them family.

We only see Gojo lose his cool when it comes to Geto. Screaming about murder in front of a chicken joint is one thing, but when you find out that KFC is really popular on Christmas, there's an added layer of zest that really just twists the knife.

"Are you the strongest because you're Satoru Gojo? Or are you Satoru Gojo because you're the strongest." This was like... a critical hit when I read it. Up until this point, they were a unit who only had one another to rely on. Geto could recognize Gojo beyond Limitless, beyond Six Eyes as Satoru. There's safety and comfort in feeling understood by someone especially when you've lived a life so isolated. They were on a first name basis. While Geto had been undeniably stewing for months and suffering this turmoil, this moment is what finally pulls the rug from under Gojo. It's the moment that Geto does what everyone else does. Always burdened by his strength and now, the only person who sought to understand him beneath the weight of it all just conflated him with his power. It shakes Gojo's sense of self. Later, I think Geto thought this drove a wedge between them, likely as intended. But we know that, for Gojo, it didn't. Further, it was like an abdication of his place amongst the strongest. He acknowledged that Gojo was capable of forging the world as Geto wanted but never once asks him to join him. This also altered my brain chemistry? Because, as we've seen, Gojo would follow Geto's direction as his moral compass. Down the line, we also know that nothing changed Gojo's perspective on Geto. But Geto never bothered to ask.

Gojo couldn't follow orders and kill Geto. When Geto turns his back to him with a simple "if you want to kill me, kill me. There's meaning in that too," I wonder what went through Gojo's head. But when asked why he let him go, Yaga doesn't need words to understand. We also see that Geto's words, as intended, struck a chord within Gojo. This conversation is especially interesting because we see the flip side of what Geto couldn't consider. With all of Gojo's power, even he knows being strong isn't enough. His technique is famous for what it keeps away which is offset by the fact that Gojo is someone who craves connection.

The fact that cult leader Geto chooses to masquerade as a monk is not surprising, again, he'd been lightly cosplaying all throughout high school. But the fact that Akutami gave him a gojo-gesa? Akutami is a sadist.

The irony of Geto adopting Nanako and Mimiko and Gojo taking in Megumi and Tsumiki is not lost on me. They both tried to protect the youth of Riko and we can see how they understand that they are not allowed protection because they are strong... but then take on children? Geto seems to do so with different intentions, still protecting the weak. Gojo is basically forging his own battle bro and hoping that, by making all subsequent students strong they won't know the loneliness he suffers.

With JJK0, we see that ignoring the orders of elders is actually not at all uncommon for the strongest sorcerer. Whether that be carry out a 10 year death sentence against his bestie or anyone else deemed too powerful to control is really just dependent upon how Gojo feels about it. So he saves those the elders seek to destroy starting with Yuta by finding common ground in their loneliness. He presses forward in the face of the elders because they are "trying to take away the best years of your youth like that. There's no way I'm gonna let them do that. No matter who you are." It's something he knows all too well.

"I've always believed... love manifests the most distorted curses."

Here's what we know of last words and wills in JJK. We can infer that those who receive the last wishes of someone dying are cursed to see them through. We see that with Yuji and his grandfather as pointed out by Yaga. Even Nanami, before passing, worries his last wish would be a curse and a burden to Yuji so he chooses to send him with words of encouragement. Miguel makes a half-assed threat to curse Geto should he die in battle against Gojo. As we see in JJK 0... Yuta, the living, actually cursed the near departed Rika by begging her to stay and it is a manifestation of one of loves most twisted curses.

The fact that, even after 10 years... Geto will arbitrarily change someone's name so it rings a little closer to "Satoru" was one thing. BUT WHEN YOU HEAR THE WAY THE GETO VOICE ACTOR PURRS "SATORU" IN SEASON TWO!? I just- the affection is still there.

THE FACT THAT, EVEN AFTER 10 YEARS, GOJO STILL RECOGNIZES GETO'S RESIDUALS. Let a SatoSugu-anti explain this, please. Heterosexually. Because I've had friends who I've regularly seen over the course of 10 years and I still wouldn't be able to pick the homies out in a scent line up.

Even after 10 years... they still refer to one another on a first name basis. Culturally, it speaks to a comfortable intimacy, wouldn't you think?

As Toge and Panda sprung into action to defend Maki and Yuta, I wonder if it struck a chord of remembrance in Geto. For the times he'd lept to defend Gojo. is that what evoked his tears in that moment?

Their final exchange on paper is bad enough. But the fact that they set it to a musical score called "This Is Pure Love" in the movie?? Get out of my face. Outside of the JJK 0 parameter and nestled within the story around Shibuya, we see that Geto thought that their KFC fight ended their friendship. But we see, through Gojo's trust that Geto wouldn't kill his students and the reciprocation of not killing any of Geto's family members... Gojo's feelings never changed. They still know the inner machinations of one another's minds, even after all this time, but Geto couldn't see that.

Gojo effortlessly makes Geto smile once more with words we still don't know after Geto talks about not being truly happy from the bottom of his heart. Sir, if you don't malewife your way back to Gojo's side and put down the eugenics... SO HELP ME.

In Japan, Christmas Eve is considered one of if not thee most romantic holidays of the year. It's a lover's holiday where Gojo and Geto reunited and Gojo was finally forced to carry out his sentencing. Even so, having been killed with cursed energy, Gojo could not bring himself to destroy the body of his best friend. His one and only. This sentimentality is what leaves Geto's body susceptible to the likes of Kenjaku who works in the shadows and hyper aware of, not only Gojo's affection for Geto as his weakness, but also his ability to intimately recognize his residuals.

The fact that Geto is a recognized weakness for Gojo is known to others at all is what makes me constantly wonder whether Geto was doomed by the narrative.

1. You know people were talking in the TEN YEARS Geto just ran amok. After declaring war, he was so bold as to tell Gojo where he was going and Gojo still couldn't bring himself to follow. I'd be whispering, too. 2. In chapter 79, immediately following the Premature Death/Hidden Inventory arcs, Utahime is with the Tokyo first years following up on Gojo's belief that there's a mole. She specifies two or more people could be a leak and that "one has to be highly ranked, even higher than the principals" 3. Gojo and Geto were essentially the clean up crew for anything other sorcerers couldn't handle, they'd be known to the elders. I wonder if they knew how principled Geto was and exploited that. Lining him up for missions, just so, including the one that caused him to rebuke jujutsu society. Or if, his inflexibility would have always been what got him in the end. Hypothesis: I maintain that Kenjaku and/or someone who was tied to Kenjaku was involved in pulling those strings. Specifically with designs on Geto to get a bead on Gojo. Even if Geto wasn't doomed by the narrative, he was doomed all along by his connection to Gojo.

This isn't expressly a SatoSugu observation but.. the fact that Yuji is concerned about Gojo going into Shibuya alone? It is a SatoSugu observation because it precisely serves Gojo's mission of no one ever having to be alone again. The fact that Yuji still recognizes Gojo as someone who should have back up is so reminiscent of Geto in Okinawa but is also a poignant manifestation of the ideal world Gojo is trying to achieve. Even in this, we see Gojo with his goal in sight long after Geto's will has fizzled away. Imagine what they could have accomplished together.

Specific to the anime, the fact that they animated Gojo akin to the way the devils ran in Devilman Crybaby was both so unserious but also calls upon Akira Fudo's specific experience with power and humanity.

⚠️ Spoiler Warning for plot of Devilman Crybaby.

The imagery evokes the visual of another damned pairing of Akira Fudo and Ryo Asuka (above). Ryo is a white haired prodigy (sound familiar) who, after discovering the existence of devils, tricks Akira (good natured dark haired boy who he met when they were both children) into merging with a devil "to better defend humanity". Akira's purity allows him to maintain his humanity as he subsequently overpowers the devil seeking to possess him but retains his strength and physical prowess (... really familiar). The story devolves into hysteria as humans turn on the Devilman and anyone he's associated with due to fear of the very devils he protects them from. As this happens, the bitter side of humanity rears its ugly head and manifests in torture, paranoia, mob mentality justice and indiscriminate murder, enough that the demons take a break to watch as society crumbles and Akira questions whether humanity is even worth saving. The shit kicker of this whole situation is the fact that Ryo had been in cahoots with the devils all along. In fact, he'd been pulling the strings to eradicate humanity and let devils reign supreme for a very long time as the fallen angel, Satan. His true objective in converting Akira was to thank him for being by his side and because, unbeknownst to him, he was the only person he'd ever loved. He realized this after Akira's death (which he'd caused), of course.

Strongest sorcerer in the world and he is bested by the appearance of the man he shared his youth with. Couldn't have been overpowered by anyone on the board at the time and, with all the information available to him from Six Eyes, the only hope the villains had was to outsmart his heart. Do we realize how insane that is? Mans is a loverboy, for real.

In the anime, the fact that they animated a brief smile as he reconciled that it was actually Geto standing before him before reality hit was just for the sake of emotional damage. PLUS, they somehow made "my Six Eyes tell me you're Suguru Geto. But my soul knows otherwise!" more dramatic by adding "my heart" and that just tells me there are certified SatoSugu shippers on staff.

Kenjaku has been bodyhopping for centuries. But, when confronted with causing Gojo harm, Geto's body is the first to fight against him. Both in his memories entering his mind after changing bodies but also in the way he tried to choke himself. Just as Gojo's soul recognized Geto and not Geto, Geto's soul recognized Gojo's.

Ken!Geto was the last person Gojo saw before being sealed.

As two of the closest people to Geto after his defection, Mimiko and Nanako harbored resentment toward Gojo for killing him but would not seek revenge as even they knew that Gojo was Geto's one and only best friend.

⚠️ Beyond the Animation ⚠️ Spoiler warning for JJK chapters 217-236.

Of Love and Strength

We interrupt this SatoSugu doom scroll to highlight a very pertinent theme that writhes through the cast of the strongest sorcerers. We see it with Kashimo, this restlessness of being the strongest and how others sought him out for his validation because... they admired his strength. Frustrated by the isolation of never finding a worthy fight, he cut them down mercilessly, always seeking a bigger battle. He's not the only reincarnated sorcerer who found second life just to flex on these modern sorcerers (the dude with the pompadour comes to mind right before Yuta called him bitchless). BUT the most interesting comeback is that of Yorozu, possessing Tsumiki, who seeks to prove her love by besting Sukuna in Megumi's meat suit. Through Yorozu's mission, this obsession with strength and equals is contextualized with a romantic undertone. She believes the cure to his loneliness (and I suppose hers) would be forged if she defeated him.

The battle itself even relays their attacks as a form of intimacy. The stakes of the fight are marriage, even though they both intend to kill one another. Yorozu takes offense at being fought with someone else's cursed technique. Even as she use's her Domain Expansion, she is flattered that Sukuna is able to make light work of it saying, "what...? You know all that about me? I'm so happy." It speaks to a familiarity, a consideration that Yorozu seems to be thrilled by. As if, having bared the breadth of their power to one another, that that honesty puts them closer than those who couldn't have made it this far in a fight. Hypothesis: Whoever taught Sukuna about love before and whatever Yorozu gave Sukuna prior to succumbing to the battle is going to raise the stakes down the line because, of course Gege has something else to devastate us after being lulled into a false sense of security. All in all, I think this fight served a larger purpose than burdening Megumi's soul as it showed how pervasive this link between strength and isolation is even back to the Heian period. It's what inspires Gojo's countermission after Geto defects but, prior to their split, we see the express knowledge of one another which implied an earnest connection. What I find funny is the fact that all these other characters assess their equals in these knockdown blow out fights but Gojo and Geto just... existed in harmony, acknowledging one another without all that? Away from Geto, we see Gojo is freest when he can go all out against Toji and Sukuna. Even with Sukuna, he believed his fists and power to be a means to earnestly communicate that he, too, knew that loneliness well. I include all this to say that it had to have been really sad to have finally found your equal, someone you chose to be by your side... only for them to leave and for you to never fill the gap that they left. This isolation was so despairing that he wished to liberate even his foes of it.

To not mention Shoko voicing her annoyance at Gojo's belief system centering not leaving anyone alone while she was beside him the whole time is a necessary trio inclusion. This is not commentary on the official translation that suggests Shoko's in love with one of them. Instead, this is a testament to the fact that, at the end of the day, Gojo felt alone if Geto wasn't beside him. Where one could argue Geto's mission was informed by a number of factors, re: protecting the future of people like Riko, preventing the sacrifice of people like Haibara, negating the abuse/bigotry experienced by Nanako and Himiko and lessening the burden on people like Gojo and himself, Gojo's sole motivation has always had Geto and/or what happened with Geto in mind. Shoko living in the reality of Gojo's vision gives me a bit of the sad, too.

Upon finally being unsealed from the prison realm and with the imposter Ken!Geto being the last face he saw, his first inclination is to track down Geto's body rather than reuniting with everyone else [that's left].

Mourning Geto's body is also imminently on Gojo's to do list pre-Sukuna fight.

When given the opportunity to pick the date of his fight with Sukuna... Gojo picks Christmas Eve, the anniversary of Geto's death. Once more, this is a lovers' holiday that even Kenjaku mocks upon hearing the selection.

"We seek not to be born on the same day, in the same month and in the same year. We merely hope to die on the same day, in the same month and in the same year. May the Gods of Heaven and Earth attest to what is in our hearts. If we should ever do anything to betray our friendship, may heaven and the people of the earth both strike us dead." -Romance of the Three Kingdoms

Let's just let that marinate.

At the end of Gojo's life... Geto's is the first face he sees. Still, in his mind, the cherry atop the satisfying fight with Sukuna would have been Geto being among those congratulating him. Not high school Geto as we see him in this afterlife. But cult leader Geto who Gojo never once lost affection for. Truly maddening.

I was going to include stuff from the light novels and the OP and EP's (since there are so many visual easter eggs in season 2) but this got to be really long and kind of just an obsessive retelling of events so.. if you've made it this far, you are probably crazy like me. In which case, I am sorry.

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