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obsessedwithceleste · 2 months

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Fighting Fate (It’s a losing battle)

Theodore Nott x gn!reader

Inspired by, and dedicated to @musingsofahufflepuff

Summary: soulmate!au in which everyone sees in black and white until they meet their soulmate. Bold of fate to assume it can tell you what to do.

word count: 3.1k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Ever since your first day at Hogwarts, you’d been told that you were lucky. A one in a million chance. Exceptional. Because as soon as you’d been sorted, and the sorting hat had been lifted up off of your head, your eyes had met his, and the world had burst into color.

It had been wildly disorientating at first- you almost fainted from the visual overload as the banners over each section of students burst into bright color. As you went to take your seat, you got strange looks from several students, but you never felt his eyes leave you.

You’d always thought it was rubbish. Even at the ripe old age of eleven. Your mother had first explained the idea of soulmates to you as a bedtime story. You remember her explaining how everything looked bland and colorless now because you hadn’t met your soulmate yet. But once you did, the world would come to life.

“When will I meet my soulmate?” You’d asked.

“Well, that’s the catch isn’t it? It’s different for everyone. Some meet their soulmate very young. At school even. But some, some will never meet their soulmate. They can be anywhere in the world, fate doesn’t discriminate.”

You’d scrunched your little nose up in distaste.

“That’s stupid. Why do I have to listen to fate?”

Your mother had only laughed, tucking you in and kissing your forehead goodnight. But the sentiment had remained as you grew up. How could someone really just be meant for you? Ridiculous.

Theo had known that you were going to be his soulmate before fate did. He’d watched silently from his seat on the train as you boarded, a nervous grin on your face as you waved goodbye to your family. You were perfect, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. At least until Mattheo swatted his arm.

“What’re you staring at, mate?” He’d asked loudly, gaining the attention of the other boys in the carriage.

“See them, there?” Theo asked, pointing to where you were boarding. “That’s going to be my soulmate.” He’d announced proudly.

“Yeah, okay mate,” the other boys had laughed, quickly moving on to the next topic.

But Theo didn’t take his eyes off of you until you disappeared through the train doors and off into some unknown compartment.

The next time he saw you was at the sorting ceremony. He watched as you confidently made your way up to the front, the smile never leaving your face as McGonagall lowered the hat onto your head. It only took a few moments of deliberation before the hat was being lifted off of your head and Theo’s eyes met yours.

It was like the wind was taken out of him as the room sprung to life, colors swirling around his vision as his eyes raced around the room in awe.

By the end of the night, all of Theo’s friends had been sorted into Slytherin with him. Mattheo, Enzo, Draco, Blaise. Even Crabbe and Goyle.

“I was right on the train. About them being my soulmate,” he’d announced proudly, pointing out different objects and describing the different colors to his friends who wondered in amazement.

You on the other hand, didn’t speak a word of it to anyone until you accidentally let it slip to your mother over break that you could see the pretty colored ornaments strung up on the tree.

She’d been thrilled of course, wanting to know every detail about this soulmate of yours. What did he look like? What house was he? Had the two of you spoken.

You answered each question with less enthusiasm than the one prior, and eventually she got the point and stopped asking.

As soon as the news slipped that Theodore Nott, a child of the sacred twenty-eight, and son of Tiberius Nott no less, could see in color however, it didn’t take long for people to start noticing you. Telling you how lucky you were to have found your soulmate. To be able to see color. As if you wanted a soulmate at eleven years old.

The first few years it was easy to avoid. Being only eleven or twelve, Theo was content admiring you from a far. Third year was when the boy finally got the courage to really try and talk to you for the first time. Sure he’d said hi a few times over the past couple years, but nothing you’d found particularly note worthy. Especially not for someone who was supposedly your soulmate.

“Are you any good at charms?” A voice asks, startling you as you look up from the essay you had been finishing up in the court yard. It was a warm, cloudy day, with only a light breeze, so you’d thought it would be the perfect day to take your studies outside.

You stare up in surprise at the brunette boy in front of you, watching silently as he takes a seat across from you.

In the past, you'd played the avoiding game, quickly scurrying off if you saw the boy or his friends approaching. This year, you hadn't been taking the same precautions, and it seemed Theodore was taking full advantage.

“I’m alright,” you reply hesitantly.

That was a lie. Charms was your best subject, but you were hoping the boy might go away. He didn’t.

"I know that you're top of the class," he responds, staring intently at you with a sly smirk.

That afternoon you begrudgingly helped Theodore with his charms homework, and he happily helped you with your DADA essay. There wasn’t a whole lot of interaction between the two of you, but he wasn’t horrible you supposed. At least he had brain cells to rub together.

After that he kept popping up sporadically throughout your third year.

At quidditch tryouts he'd insisted on partnering with you for several of the drills. You both were offered a place on the team. In the Great Hall he'd seek you out to ask about the homework assignment he'd missed after skiving off of class with Mattheo. The fact that you gave him your notes each time meant nothing. Obviously. And every so often, between the shelves of books in the library, you'd see a flash of soft brown hair, and intense eyes gazing at you before they disappeared as if you were imagining it.

With each increasing encounter, the both of you made idle conversation as you kept the boy at an arms length. It was nothing personal really. In fact the more you thought about it, he seemed perfectly alright. But something in your stubborn thirteen year old self just wanted to stick it to fate. So you continued to ice the boy out.

Theodore however, was nothing if not determined. He knew from the moment he saw you that he was meant to be yours, and he’d be damned if he let you slip through his fingers. Thirteen year old Theodore was a stubborn bastard and he knew he was willing to play the long game.

Things grew a bit more complicated in fourth year when you became friends with some of the Slytherin crowd.

It had been an accident really. You’d been reading down by the Black Lake when Daphne Greengrass had stumbled upon you, followed closely by Pansy Parkinson and Lorenzo Berkshire.

“Oh!” she’d said in delight, seeing the book in your hands, “I love that book!”

The two of you ended up talking enthusiastically about the novel for almost an entire hour with Pansy and Enzo butting in every so often to add their thoughts.

“Wait, you’re Theodore’s soulmate aren’t you?” Enzo asks, eventually recognizing you.

You eye the boy cautiously as you nod slowly, suddenly feeling self conscious.

Pansy just wrinkles her nose.

“Sorry you got stuck with such a tosser.” She says.

The four of you are quiet for a moment before your laughter breaks the silence, the other three following shortly after.

After that, you’re integrated into their little group seamlessly. You’d always been a bit of a loner. Sure people would wander up to you often enough to chatter about what it was like to see colors, but that was really all people wanted to know about you. Like it was some trivial party trick.

It was nice having your own friends to study with and wander about Hogsmeade with on the weekends. It was nice to have people who liked being around you simply for being you. Not because some magical force had decided to bind you to a whole other human and grant you the ability to see color.

It didn’t take long for Theo to notice you hanging about more frequently. How could he not? You were so pretty. So smart and witty. So perfect. He was just so happy to have you around more often. Even if it wasn’t to spend time with him specifically.

He reveled in any little morsel of information that he could scrape up from your friends. Your favorite color, your favorite sweets at Honeydukes, your class schedule. Theo was willing to admit the last one was a bit weird, but he was really just hungry to learn anything he could about his elusive soulmate.

Soon enough, it didn’t become unusual for Theodore and Mattheo to join the four of you on your little excursions. Popping up at the Black Lake, or meeting up with you at the Three Broomsticks. He was just always there. As if he was making a point of it. And begrudgingly you began to let him in.

A friend of your friends was okay you thought. Wouldn’t hurt to get to know him a bit. That wasn’t crossing any lines.

For Theo however, this was huge. He was finally getting somewhere. Even if you weren’t ready for any sort of romantic relationship, he was going to be the best damn friend you’d ever had.

By fifth year, there was simply no denying it. Theodore Nott was your best friend. You weren’t really sure how it had happened. The two of you just fit so well together. He had truly wormed his way into your life.

It had started with the study sessions.

"Remember when you helped me with charms in third year?" He'd asked. "I got top marks on that assignment."

As those became more frequent, it had turned into afternoons by the lake with both of you deep in your own novels, but sharing the comfortable silence.

Then it had morphed into weekends at Hogsmeade. Your friends thought they were being subtle when they consistently slipped away, leaving you and Theo to wander about the village. You couldn't find it in yourself to mind though.

You’d tried to keep him at an arms length. You really had. But Enzo couldn’t make you laugh as hard as you did with Theo. And Daphne just wasn’t the intellectual match that Theo was. And Pansy always made sure you let loose sure, but being around Theo was just- freeing.

You still weren’t sold on the whole soulmate thing though. Sure Theo was great. Perfect even. But you just couldn’t shake the icky feeling of blindly trusting fate to decide your life.

Then it happened. No one was expecting it. Especially not Pansy. But you and Pansy and Draco and Theo had all been working late on a potions assignment before dinner, and on your way back up from the dungeons, Pansy ran smack into a certain platinum haired Ravenclaw. You’d later find out that her name was Luna Lovegood. As soon as their eyes met, Pansy stumbled, leaning into you for support. You already knew what was happening as her eyes darted around wildly.

“Oh. I suppose we’re soulmates then aren’t we?” The girl said, a dreamy look overtaking her.

It all seemed too easy for them after that. It was like a flip had switched and the two were just mad for each other. A picture perfect example of what soulmates should be.

You found it to be slightly horrifying how blindly trusting fate could severely change a person and their relationship with an essential stranger.

Theo however, couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy. He had what? Almost five whole years on Pansy, and was lucky to get a friendly hug out of his soulmate. Yet Pansy and Luna were inseparable after only a few short weeks.

Not that Theo thought he was entitled to your affection necessarily. But it would be nice if you’d at least acknowledge the bond you two shared he thought.

“Why don’t you believe in soulmates?” Daphne asks one night.

It was one of those rare nights where it was only you, Daphne, Pansy, and Enzo huddled together wrapped in thick, warm blankets inside Daphne and Pansy’s dorm room. Salazar knows where Millicent was off spending her night. A bottle of shared fire whisky sat between you and packs of chocolate frogs littered the floor.

You blink in surprise at your friend’s question. You didn’t talk about soulmate stuff much.

“I do believe in them,” you say with a simple shrug.

“Yeah but you don’t really believe in them, ya know? Why?” She pushes.

You pause again, glancing at Pansy who was looking back at you intently.

“I don’t know. I guess I just don’t like the idea of someone deciding to be with me, just because they’re supposed to.” You say finally.

“I suppose I know what you mean.” Pansy murmurs after a moment.

You look at the girl in surprise and can tell the other two are shocked as well.

“Don’t get me wrong. I adore Luna. Really. I always tell her that I’m so glad that fate put us together. But then sometimes I wonder. If it weren’t for fate, would I have even given her a second glance that day I bumped into her in the corridor?”

There’s a silent lull as your group mulls over Pansy’s words before slowly drifting off to a new topic.

In another dorm, not so far off, Theo lay on his bed staring blankly up at the ceiling.

“Think they’ll come around soon?” Mattheo asks, sensing his roommate’s building tension.

“I dunno. But I’ll wait,” he replies, closing his eyes and letting images of you flood his mind. “They’re worth it.”

That night as you’re leaving to return to your dorm, Enzo catches your arm, pulling you off to the side.

“You can never tell Theo that I told you this, but the first time I met Theo, we were on the train waiting to leave for Hogwarts and he pointed out the window to a someone and said ‘they’re going to be my soulmate’. Then, at the sorting ceremony he got all dizzy all the sudden, and when we got to the common room, he said that he’d been right about who his soulmate would be. You. Just thought you should know.”

And with that, he’s gone.

It’s after that that you really begin to see Theo. You’d never really given him a fighting chance. But now, you kind of wanted to.

It’s the beginning of sixth year when Theo finally notices the shift. Notices you actually seeking him out on purpose, not flinching away when your hands brush, eyes hovering on his lips a bit too long for it to be accidental. And to say that he is ecstatic.

Meanwhile you were silently kicking yourself for taking so long to get over your petty bullshit with fate. Sure you still didn’t love the idea of it all, but after spending enough time with Theo, you could really, truly see the appeal.

After that night in fifth year, you began noticing how Theodore was one of the only students who could keep up with your academic prowess. He could always sense when you were tired, or stressed, or simply in a mood, and always did his best to subtly cheer you up. He was always there. Even after all the years you had put him through the wringer, he remained by your side. And that’s what really convinced you.

It’s also what landed you here, at the top of the astronomy tower, with your head in Theodore’s lap as his fingers raked gently through your hair.

It had become a usual meeting spot for the both of you. Theo had brought you up here a week into the school year starting. It was his safe place. His getaway when everything got to be too much, or when he just needed space to think. When those words had left his mouth you had melted. He trusted you. You had meant so much to him for so long, and you couldn't be bothered to give him the time of day.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, eyes gazing out at the swirling navy sky that seemed to stretch on forever.

“For what, amore?”

“Dunno. Making you feel like you weren’t good enough, or makin you feel like a bad soulmate.”

Theo looks down at you, and you meet his steady gaze.

“I knew I was good enough, amore. We wouldn’t be soulmates if we weren’t perfect for each other.” He replies.

You perk up at this. “You think I’m perfect?” You ask, a dopey smile appearing on your face.

Theo just rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he laughs. He'd grown used to your antics. Just another piece of you that he'd grown fond of.

“I said that we’re perfect together. But you’re perfect too I suppose.”

It hadn’t taken nearly as long as you had expected to reach this point. It seemed that Theo had just been waiting for the word to switch on boyfriend mode. All it took was one spontaneous, heated make out session in his dorm room, and you had the boy wrapped around your finger. (He already had been for years, but you didn’t need to know that.)

“Alright. Wrap it up love birds. You better be fully clothed,” Pansy calls, head peeping up from the top of the staircase leading up to the tower. “You two have been up here for hours, and you can’t have them all to yourself Theodore. They were our friend first.”

“Yeah! Time’s up lover boy!” You hear Enzo call.

Theo groans, head falling back as he rises lazily, offering you a hand up.

“I waited five years for this, can’t you guys let me have my moment?” He calls back.

“No!” The chorus replies.

With a laugh, you grab onto Theo’s hand, tugging him towards the stairs.

“C’mon. If we get Mattheo and Enzo drunk enough, they won’t notice if I spend the night,” you say with a cheeky wink.

“I heard that!” Enzo’s voice rings out.

“You wouldn’t say no to me anyway,” you shout back.

With a smile, Theo follows you down the stairs after your rowdy friends, hand wrapped tightly around yours. It had taken him five long years, and he certainly wasn’t going to let go anytime soon.

I'm a sucker for soulmate aus

#slytherin boys #theodore nott #harry potter universe #slytherin #lorenzo berkshire #matteo riddle #theo nott #draco malfoy #enzo berkshire #theo nott fanfiction #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #daphne greengrass #theo nott x reader #slytherin boys fanfiction #soulmate au #soulmates

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elvirable · 7 months

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Ambrosia (Act 1)

[ Astarion x f!Reader ] | ao3 link

rating: explicit | word count: 2k | status: ongoing themes/tags: vaginal sex, feelings realization, denial of feelings, light smut.. for now, and a whole lotta angst, will add more smut tho in the next chapters, soulmates, fluff, written as a glimpse into his mind during each act ———–

Astarion would never tell you, though - it was his little secret, one he hid away just for himself.

In other words: A delve into Astarion's thoughts, starting with the day he met you. *will update description at some point. ———– A/N: i wrote this as a peek into Astarion's mind throughout Act 1. plan to continue as i progress throughout the game. lmk what you think and if you like this style!

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Grief had a penchant for wearing different masks.

Phantom faces that slithered through shadows, white-hot wrath that clawed at the throat, an endless gnawing that swallowed one whole: all faces of a primordial monster that had existed before time itself.

Astarion knew all this.

He had met them all – intimate with its simplest form, a cold polarizing solitude; a loyal companion for two centuries, teaching him to lick his wounds with malice. Others had taken everything from him, or they were too weak to lift a meaningful finger. It took several lifetimes to finally mend his precious pride back together. Why should he practice mercy when no one had shown him any?

And by some stroke of luck, he was free – at least for now. Opportunity had fallen before his feet; he could chase after power, clutch revenge in his pale fingers, walk amongst the sun. Red eyes clung to the light glimmering across the water and wavering leaves. A desperate urge pulsed up his spine, insisting he memorize each saturated detail before it faded away like the most ethereal dream. The exhilaration rose wildly before plummeting to the pits of his stomach.

Huh, that was odd. It had never dawned on him that grief could also bloom in the slow, golden sunlight.

Languid beams washed against his flesh and through the faint hem of his shirt. Every fiber of his skin ached, dull and shallow, at the sacred warmth that had been a stranger for so long. He felt this haunted and holy gift – the vigor of life from each ray of light running over his fair face. Reunited once again, like long-lost lovers.

It was the sound of boots thudding against dirt that pulled him back into the world, on the ravaged beachfront.

With straight posture, a hollow smile painted itself across his lips. ==

“You have your mother’s eyes, you know.”

No, he didn’t know.

Quiet was this small voice that, for some odd reason, had grasped onto his conscience the night he died. It had sung loud in the beginning, but now it was just a whisper. Everything else had reduced to dust, long-buried beneath the cold earth.

But if he could conjure the ghost of his mother, he couldn’t be bothered to. Astarion envisioned a sharp tsk , a scowl dripping with disgust if she could see the creature he was today: a thrall to his own hedonistic desires, wielding manipulation and seduction as an instrument. A vampire , taking solace amongst the shadows and draining the life around him.

Maybe he was the same, just calloused and rearranged by the fate spun for him.

However, there was no need to exhume the past. It proved futile anyway; he couldn’t even recall the previous hue of his eyes, much less run his hands over his reflection. The only thing worthy of concern was survival. Memories had been shrouded by the same pivotal virtue, the one that carved the habit to become shapeless – to cater to every impulse and whim of those who could serve useful. Those who could protect him, at least for the time being.

And that was exactly what he tried with you, as his breath was inches from your slender neck and your eyes widened in hazy alarm, catching him by surprise.

“Shit.”

You scuttered to your feet in the frantic silence, dozens of excuses fluttering to Astarion’s tongue. The fatigue of bloodthirst hindered his wit, but he raised his palms in reservation.

He had already taken note of your misleading presence – you were small, but heavens , would you put up a fight. Other companions had already turned towards you for guidance the past few days, and you were carved with a beauty that could intimidate. Though, there were cracks underneath that facade – ones with darkness in between.

Peering into these cracks was his only outlet to earn your trust; after all, it was paramount for survival.

“I – I wasn’t going to hurt you,” exasperated breaths pushed from his throat. “I just needed, well.. blood.”

Basked in the dim firelight, your wary gaze studied him for what he really was: a vampire, a slave to sanguine hunger. He caught the stutter in your furrowed brows before they eased. Smug delight settled in his nerves when you, although with apprehension, allowed him to taste you.

Astarion eagerly obliged, immediately losing himself in the euphoria– the sweet vigor of your blood, how silky and rich. A low hum vibrated in his throat, and he barely registered when your palms pushed his broad weight off of you. Lush satisfaction that quenched his blood-thirst still coursed through him like a stimulant, but he still caught the tail-end of your groan.

“I don’t care that you’re a vampire. Just –,” you paused briefly to reel from your daze. “We’re all a team now, so I have to have some trust in you. Just ask next time.”

He felt happy, more alive – not only from the fresh blood still lingering on his tongue, but that you trusted him. Maybe not entirely, but the anchor had already been dropped; one step closer to wrapping you around his finger, even if you weren’t entirely flexible. He could feel it in your gaze, in the little quivers that rolled through you while his fangs sunk into your soft skin.

Once you had returned to sleep and his frenzied nerves quelled, he mulled over your parting words. You weren’t phased’ that he was a vampire, instead placing emphasis on trust. You were full of surprises – especially when the entire world met him with repulse.

Something that had been fossilized inside him tremored, as if it began to thaw. ==

There was a thin chill in the evening air, in the way nature prepares for a new season. And he hated you.

Well, he didn’t hate you – frankly, he couldn’t get enough of you; that was the issue.

You plagued his thoughts like a helpless addiction, better yet like a mirror; one he had repeatedly peered into, struggling to find the right angle and when he did – he was left staring at you.

Those careful eyes – a mocking reminder of everything he could have been. So different, so resilient, so disgustingly kind.

Since the day he laid eyes on you, he was the first to glimpse at your secret hidden in plain sight. Your habit of hiding yourself from everyone you came across, retreating behind stone-bared walls and tailoring a facade just enough to avoid drawing attention. Reserved lips were a mere confirmation you sealed away a vault of grief that you didn’t want – or need – clumsy, temporary hands to pry open.

That discreet resolve particularly made you the sour dagger twisting between his ribs. Grief had been your companion as well, but its mark never trickled from anywhere else – not a warbled voice or frustrated bout. It was only noticeable through a fleeting glint in your eyes. Meanwhile, he had made this medley of rage and anguish his armor. It had fused to skin, and he no longer knew how to scrape it off. Astarion dedicated decades to cursing the Gods. You ignored them.

He knew he should despise you and eagerly await the day he could shatter this mirror you were – but all bitterness dissolved in your presence. You had become his wonderfully terrible affliction; withdrawals could damn near kill him if they were to happen.

Ribbons unraveled from his chest with each conversation, whether it pertained to the graveness of the journey or a simple ‘good morning’ from your lips. Strange yet blissful, he could feel himself surrendering every bitter pang for the peculiar sensation of… comfort .

Once laced with such harshness, his mind eased with familiarity. An interesting chord of harmony, he thought, the two of you. From the start of the journey until now, you shared an enriching balance. He would encourage you to be more outspoken, while you stirred him to be authentic and soft – even if you weren’t aware.

You were stable like bedrock; never once expecting to be selfless or pious, instead only demanded transparency – at least to the extent he was willing to concede. Aside from the occasional brow-raise or retort, judgment never twisted your face. Respect was a new sensation to him, as you gave him yours.

This dynamic, this balance ; it was irresistibly and invariably warm.

The rendezvous sort of just fell into habit.

Every night he would savor the ambrosia from your neck, and one evening tension gave way to carnal desire. Whether it was a simple cathartic release or not, he didn’t care; tender moments bathed in amber firelight or the hush of the night had always left him craving more.

“You’re such a tease .”

You’d whisper those words every so often those sacred nights, and a rakish grin would slide across his face without fail. Lust gripped him, but never once weaved with routine; the way your legs parted to invite him in left Astarion with an insatiable urge to indulge in everything you were willing to give him. He could spend the entire evening with his head between your thighs, cold hands steadying your quivering legs as his tongue lured you to new heights of pleasure – giving you exactly what you needed.

When he was with you – skin pressed together, desperate hums like honey – he began to relish in taking things slow.

He preferred the nights where your bare body writhed beneath him and melted against his, while he eagerly coaxed wispy whines from your lips. No matter how wet and ready you were, his girth always met resistance as he parted your warm, sensitive walls. Your skin buzzed at the sensation of his cock splitting you open, like every time was the first you’ve been touched.

Desire laced every word he whispered into the curve of your neck, each encouraging and soft. His pace was slow, pushing into the depth of your core, buried deep enough to kiss your cervix with each thrust. Low, guttural grunts left his throat as your body’s natural instinct clenched around his throbbing cock.

Despite his centuries of experience, he found himself struggling to restrain from succumbing to the all-consuming euphoria of it all: your lashes wet from your tears, precious gasps warm against his skin, the desirous ache to fuck you the way that pretty face beckoned to be fucked.

The unbridled intimacy – which felt so real and tender was enough to send him over the edge. His veins hummed with yearning as he drank in the vision beneath him; your skin flushed, shaky whines that sung his name as he pushed you to pleasure. And when you wrapped your legs to press him deeper – he surrendered to the white-hot bliss.

Although Astarion would never tell a soul, his most treasured moments were spent after desperate breaths calmed and the entire world stilled.

It was never long before you lulled into sleep, and your weight slacked against his broad chest. He lingered over each detail with softer eyes; the gentle curl of your lashes, a freckle he had missed the last time. Peace graced such beautiful features, ones that were usually still with resolve. There had never been another face quite like yours in the two centuries he had lurked amongst the earth.

Your chest rose and fell slowly before you would eventually fidget, still deep in slumber, to slink an arm over his waist. His gentle hand grasped the one that rested against his chest, careful not to stir you, as he ran his fingers over your silk skin. Such delicate hands, he mused, that had to grapple their way through life.

He pressed a silent kiss against the back of your palm before laying it back on his chest.

In the silence, something washed over him – that rousing feeling that he never knew quite what to make of.

His eyes swept once more to watch the shuffle of your face, buried now against his side. Your hazy sighs warmed his bare skin. Astarion could almost laugh, imagining your face reddening if he ever shared how affectionate you were in your sleep.

Though he would never tell you – it was his little secret, one he hid away just for himself.

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tteokdoroki · 4 months

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THE PERFECT SHADE OF PURPLE - suguru geto.

✩ — about. “i buy her gifts like i would for my sister and she likes them. we recently fucked at her place of work, i know it’s wrong but i just can’t stop.” suguru geto never thought he’d end up here. in a new city with a new job and a new life. he never wanted to lose his little sister to his best friend. he never wanted to replace her. never wanted to fuck someone who looked exactly like her. but here you are, and geto can’t help but want you the same way he wants her. he just had to get that off his chest… ( 11.4K )

✩ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! dark content, nsfw, smut, hurt-comfot, open ending - video banner ! AITA-verse!au (read part one here !), bakery!au, italics mean the characters are speaking in japanse, situationships, co-dependency ( on suguru geto ), manipulation, gaslighting, praise, use of oni-chan/nii chan/imouto, fingering (f!receiving), public sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f!receiving), overstimulation, orgasm control, multiple orgasms, creampies, bilingual!geto, japanese speaking + fem!reader.

✩ — things to note. hehe hi everyone!!! pls im reposting this again :( it was written as a gift for @todorosie and the very idea spawned from her love for geto in my AITA gojo fic !! it’s sort of a continuation and set in the same universe so you might need to read to understand the plot. special thanks to @antizenin for beta reading n helping me come up with some ideas !! enjoy guys, mwah mwah - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

look, i know it’s bad… but my adopted sister and i were always close. she looked up to me and needed me for everything, up until a month ago when she betrayed my trust and fucked my childhood best friend. i got a therapist, went low contact and moved to a completely different country in order to avoid w everything. but nothing helped, i think of my sister every day and sometimes… i picture bad, dirty things. recently i met this girl, she’s the spitting image of my adoptive little sister. they look the same, act the same — i think i’ve started falling for her. i buy her gifts like i would for my sister and she likes them. we recently fucked at her place of work, i know it’s wrong but i just can’t stop.

TLDR: i’m fucking and have feelings for a girl that’s a carbon copy of my adopted younger sibling.

the city of new york is meant to be the city of dreams.

at any given moment, your fate can change. anything can happen here, you can make it big and live out your life or you can go home and lead one of regret. suguru geto feels like neither are true for him. the bustling city and flashing lights, busy concrete streets and honking taxis bring the dark haired man anything but joy. suguru isn��t happy here, in new york, despite all the wonders that it holds — irregardless of the grand job opportunity he has waiting for him just around the corner.

suguru geto had the chance of a lifetime to develop his career as a criminal defence lawyer in one of the most opportune cities in the world. his dream since he was old enough to understand the wrongs of the world.

but that’s merely not enough to keep him content, to make him want to stay.

he doesn’t want to go home either, he’s sure he would hate himself for thattoo. it would be a waste of suguru’s talents to return to japan prematurely, with its nauseating air and sense of betrayal that follows him everywhere he goes. home is supposed to be where one is happiest and safest — it’s where his family is, where he was raised and first opened his eyes. but for the lawyer, japan no longer serves to comfort him and only constantly reminds the man of his little sister, who’d fucked his best friend just a month prior.

that very instance was enough reason for him to leave the country in the first place — he had to get out, had to escape the very fact that haunted him day and night.

like any other adult with a shit load of trauma, suguru invests in the best therapist his money can buy — especially now that he can’t spoil is younger sister with it. the older woman with her stuffy office, beady eyes and chipped painted nails had prescribed the man with a short break, a change of pace from the life he was used to, to give himself the grace and time to heal from the heartbreak of losing the two most important people in his life. his best friend, satoru gojo, and his adoptive little sister.

he had no idea where gojo was now, thirty days later, and suguru knew his little sister had probably moved out of their hometown by now to kick start her career. so even if all of that meant that suguru geto could go home…he wouldn’t. he would use the vastness of new york to give himself the breathing room he needed to heal, fill his bloodstream with fresh oxygen so that it would clot and cover up his fresh wounds of betrayal, turn scabs into scars and let him slowly recover.

at least that’s what his therapist had told him to do — in the suffocating purple walls of her office.

yet, so far, suguru’s escape to new york hadn’t exactly gone according to plan. every corner of the city painfully reminds him of the hole in his heart, where his innocent little sister should be. after her graduation he’d planned on taking her here as a reward for all of her hard work, but now, suguru faces his own bitter reality — every landmark has her face etched into its side, skyscrapers and their glass windows refract the light of her smile, while famous dinner spots tie to the endless list of reservations she’d reminded suguru to make. hell, even his daily routine of hailing infamous yellow taxi cabs reminds him of her precious excitement to go.

new york was a city big enough for both geto siblings, but too large for just the one.

it’s a wonder that suguru has been able to live without his sister for this long — it’s only been a month but he’s spent his entire life looking out for her. protecting her. he hardly knows what to do with himself now that he has all this extra time.

suguru knew that she was way too dependent on him, it was bad — he was painfully aware of that. but he couldn’t help it, she needed someone to protect her and nurture her, she needed someone to teach her about the dangers of the world. she needed her big brother. perhaps if the dark haired man had been less protective of his sister and given her some sort of independence… then maybe he wouldn’t miss her so much, he wouldn’t have lost his best friend as collateral damage in the process. he would still have the two of them, and she could be happy with gojo.

the guilt of what ifs and what could have beens tirelessly weigh down suguru’s heart at the thought — he caused this. this rift between the soul-bonded pair. if he had raised her better, let her spread her wings like a free bird, then he would still have her in his life.

at this point, he’s realised something dire. suguru can’t live without her, his little sister. her bright eyes in the morning and the sweet tune to her voice when she calls out for him — it’s weird, it’s bad…how much he misses and needs her. borderlining on strange, it’s only now that suguru realises how unhealthy their dynamic as siblings had been. how reliant he was on his baby sister to need him. it should have never been that way, he shouldn’t need her so desperately to function. keeping her under such a close watch was probably what drove her into the arms of satoru in the first place.

the concrete wilderness of suguru’s new home provides no relief from these epiphanies and the chambers of his heart that slowly seem to be dying without his sister. instead he feels trapped in his own addiction, as if he’s going through the withdrawal after dependency on drugs.

whenever suguru feels immense waves of guilt, like a tsunami that might pull him under and replace the clean air in his lungs with the murky water of his own sour thoughts and emotions; whenever he misses home a little too much; whenever he feels like the world his crashing down on him once more — his therapist and her purple nails tapping against her clip board comes to mind. she tells suguru to take a walk, especially when he’s overcome with thoughts of the situation back in december. when his chest feels too tight and feels like picking up the phone and calling his sister before he’s ready to.

so geto does just that, lugging on his winter coat as he prepares to take a walk downtown while the sun sets.

suguru tends to think that his therapist is full of shit.

she believes in the colour purple, she believes that there is purpose and meaning in concepts like colours that are based on fact and science. the light reflects, and people see colour.

as she had explained to the man in an hour long session just two weeks ago, purple is supposed to be the colour of healing; though to suguru, purple makes him feel sick. it’s everywhere, in the lavander-ish off-white walls of his new york-rented apartment, the flowers in the stalls on his way to work, the skies at night. suguru thought he was a rational man, that he was calm and collected — able to see the reasons behind everything he comes across…but he still doesn’t understand the significance of colours like purple and its connection to healing.

all suguru knows is that he did like the pretty hollow shade that formed a ring around satoru’s bright blue eyes. of course, after having the shit beaten out of him for touching what belonged to suguru. for corrupting his innocent baby sister.

aside from that, tonight’s walk is mostly uneventful, full of couples getting ready for date night and business people heading home to their happy families for the night. suguru despises them, strangers on the street minding their own business. he hates these passer-bys for their happiness, a joy he can no longer experience. going home. it leaves a bitter taste on his tongue.

he misses his family. the warmth and love from his mother, the poor jokes from his father… the looks of adoration and hugs from his sister. it’s not fair. he shouldn’t have had to give that up because of the selfish actions of his ex-best friend.

suguru decides to turn back and head for his apartment when the street lamps start to flicker and turn on.

however, on his commute, a familiar scent tickles his senses and brushes over his nose. the man finds himself following, enchanted by rich flavours that he recognises from his youth — sweet red bean and spicy curries overlay the city’s natural smells and suguru makes an attempt to track it down. like a fool, he sprints after the scent like a hound dog tracking a hunt and stops a few strides short of a quaint japanese bakery with a set of deep indigo flowers climbing up it’s worn down exterior.

suguru recognises the flowers to be shobu. irises.

standing before the sliding doors, geto inhales, overwhelmed and overcome with emotion. the sweet smell triggers memories of home and how his parents would take him and his sister out to get treats when they were small. how that became a tradition for the geto siblings when they were old enough to go out on their own.

he remembers how his sister would beg him for a box of sakura mochi every time they went, and how he would so easily relent — even if it meant spending all of that week’s pocket money. suguru is so carried away with his thoughts that he hardly notices himself taking steps into the bakery, or lining up at the counter, or you.

calling him up to the counter.

you’re a pretty girl. that’s the first thing suguru notices. your eyes are beautiful, a deep brown that reminds him of roasted chestnuts and warm chocolates, your face is round with a soft edge of youth. the uniform that you wear hugs every dip and curve of your body and the braids you have are lengthy and black, perfectly framing your face. when you speak, your voice carries gentle dulcet notes that make suguru’s heart flutter — like music to his ears.

you are one thousand percent suguru geto’s type and everything about you, this little bakery attendant, reminds suguru of his younger sister.

right then and there, everything clicks into place for him.

“sir, can i get you anything?” you ask him kindly, not wanting to push or scare away a potential customer. nor pressure the handsome stranger, since he’s holding up your line. “sir?” you repeat, finally garnering his attention after squirming under his intense stare.

not that you mind being stared at by him, for this particular customer is right up your alley.

from his milky skin, desperate to be marked, to his lengthy dark tresses that you’re dying to pull at and tug. his jaw is angular, sharp enough to the point where you fear you would cut yourself should you have the chance to touch it. despite the razor edges to his features, he looks kind…almost wistful, at most. a quality that does nothing to calm the hungry flame catching light in your lower tummy.

the two of you remain admiring one another until a customer in the queue clears their throat impatiently — causing both of you to jump.

“s-sorry,” geto mumbles the apology quickly, his pale cheeks tinged with a subtle pink despite how hot they feel. he’s suddenly become all too aware of the line that he’s holding up. one that he’s not even supposed to be in, since he’d walked in here on instinct anyway. his dark, narrow eyes sweep the counter in search for something, anything to order so that he doesn’t look like a complete idiot in front of you or the rest of the customers.

more specifically, yourself.

“i would recommend the sakura mochi,” then, like an angel sent from the heavens, you try your luck in conversing with suguru in japanese. his nervous and skittish gaze shoots up to your face, shoulders sagging in relief and familiarity. you truly are like a piece of home. like his little sister. suguru likes that more than a normal man should. “they’re popular amongst our customers, it’s taken our owner years to perfect her recipe with the ingredients here. especially since leaving japan.”

suguru grins and nods, spotting the dessert he’s so accustomed to buying in the display cabinet. his heart lurches, yearning for his little sister. “these?” he whispers to you, the syllables of his native language curling around his tongue naturally. “they look just like the ones from home.”

there’s a sparkle in your eyes when he responds, and you continue to speak to him in sugary tones. “they taste just as goodtoo, i promise!”

“then, i’ll take a box.”

“how many? they come in boxes of four, eight and sixteen pieces.”

“just the four, please.”

taking your tongs from the metal counter behind the cabinet, you fish out four of the best pieces of sakura mochi and tentatively place them into a pre-folded cardboard box for the handsome customer. as he dives deep into his pocket for his card to pay, you quickly add an extra piece — uttering something about it being on the house under your breath.

the action leaves both of you bashful and suguru taps his card on the machine you’ve set up for him to pay. “ah, thank you…” suguru searches for your name in the candy scented air and you tap your badge with a cute acrylic nail to draw attention to your name which he breathes out in a husky tone, failing to mask its curious lilt as he returns to english.

“no worries, have a good evening, sir.” you giggle shyly, still managing to bid him farewell.

on his way home, suguru can’t help but to replay the entire interaction in his head over and over again. in his brief three minutes of meeting you, you’d managed to fix the hole in his heart, help it beat properly again. you’re just like her, his little sister, and that is a dangerous fact.

he reaches his apartment with a flushed face, feeling a little flustered, but a lot better than he was before the start of his walk.

after work, a few days later, geto finds himself back in front of the bakery, working up the courage to go inside and see you.

no matter how hard he tried and how much of his work he tried to throw himself into — suguru couldn’t get the vision of you out his head. your saccharine laugh haunted him as he reviewed case files, your timid smile chased him through his lunch break and your small act of kindness (speaking with him in Japanese) has him all worked up and blushing by the time he’s able to clock out for the day.

the dark haired man feels insane, he knows that this is weird — projecting the image of his adoptive sister onto you, but like a man on drugs he can’t seem to quit. he needs to get his fix. he needs to see you again. entering the bakery once again is like stepping into a new domain, and suguru damn near forgets his simple plan to talk to you. order sakura mochi, say thank you, and leave. while he waits in the queue, his courage mounts in slow stacks and anxiety fades, but by the time he’s up front and face to face with you again — suguru’s brain is completely wiped of every word he was going to say.

“ah, it’s you again!” you greet him in japanese once more, instinctively reaching to brush your braids out of your face in order to look more presentable to the handsome stranger who’s been plaguing your thoughts as well. suguru thinks you’re cute, regardless of the rice flour smeared across your cheeks and the various mysterious (though surely tasty) stains that decorate your uniform. he even finds it endearing, the way that you share the same nervous gesture of playing with the ends of your braids like his little sister. “i was just wondering when you were going to come in from the… mmm, cold? you’ve been standing and… uh! staring from out there for a while.” you continue to tease the man warmly in his native tongue, choosing your words carefully and avoiding eye contact with him while you prep the tongs for his order. “what can i get for you today?”

so much for not humiliating himself in front of the pretty girl. “i’m sorry… i’ll just take some sakura mochi again,” suguru begins, this time in english to spare you the trouble of overthinking everything that you say. “i was trying to figure out how to do this,” he places a wad of cash on the counter while you prepare his order. your chocolatey eyes blow wide, sweet glazed lips parting softly at the mere sight. you’re sure there’s enough money in the stack to cover an entire week’s worth of your wages and if a stranger can just give away such a large amount… it makes you wonder what he’s even doing at a humble place like this. “it’s a tip from last time. i never got to thank you.”

“oh… i was just doing my job!” you stammer out politely and prepare to reject the tip, but suguru refuses to let you refuse his gift — forcefully pushing the ‘tip’ over the edge of the glass. he really couldn’t help but to give the money to you, hardly fighting the urge to spoil you with cash like he would with his little sister. besides, the man earned more than enough to drop it on you without putting a dent in his pocket.

“you did more than that… just the simple act of kindness in conversing with me, a stranger, in japanese. that was nice of you.” suguru counters. “thank you. how did you know?”

you work on preparing a thin and white cardboard box for his order before walking along the dessert counter, followed by you. “i had a feeling, a lot of people come in here when they’re missing something,” he frowns and your eyes finally meet his. “someone.” you breathe out, quietly. “i took a guess, figured you might have been from japan.”

“well, you were correct…”

your heart skips a beat at the sound of your name on his tongue as he says it. it’s so gentle it makes you feel faint and you’re absolutely charmed by a man you hardly know. “does that earn me brownie points…?” you trail off, wanting to capture his name.

“suguru.”

“ah, suguru meaning…” giving the man a once over, you drink in his tall frame and dark eyes, the small quirk to his plush lips as he smiles at you… and think. he’s the perfect man in every way, soft spoken and clement, even if he did have flaws or a dark secret — you would definitely choose to ignore it in favour of spending more time with him. once you find the word you’re looking for (and snap out of staring at the poor guy) you speak again. “excellence…it suits you.”

geto chuckles quietly in response, amused by your take away. “your name suits you too, darling. it’s just as beautiful as you.”

when you giggle and grow shy at his compliment — the honeyed melody only serves to remind suguru of his little sister once more. in that moment, he feels something bad and almost wretched stir in his gut just from watching you turn bashful over him. a dark thought in the back of his kind tells him to keep you, so that he can see you like this more often. it urges him to make you need him. like he would have with his little sister.

he’s starting to project, he’s sure, but you make it easy for him, with your puppy dog eyes and tiny little smiles. once geto’s order is packed, four little squares of sakura mochi wrapped in emerald green and brined sakura leaf — smelling of spring and red bean, he pays (with a hefty tip) and inspects the box. “you’ve got to stop giving me things for free, darling. we’ve only just met.” he chides fondly, scolding you like a child as if to make sure you won’t get in trouble with your job. he’s counted five mochi instead of four — just like last time. “won’t this hurt business?” he coos down at you — sending your body into a fit of shivers despite the warmth of your uniform.

“well, i’d consider us friends now that you’ve come specifically to see me. friends can’t give each other gifts?” you quip cheekily — much like suguru’s sister would. “you got to spoil me today, no one is going to notice an extra piece of mochi going missing.”

“friends it is,” surugu purrs right back in satisfaction, preparing to take his leave. cautiously, as though not to spook you like a hunter after a deer in the woods — he reaches over the counter to pat your head affectionately, internally pleased with the way you keen into his touch. “i hope to see my new friend around more often, then.” he hums with pride, and you nod your head eagerly.

like a puppy. like you want to please him.

it reminds geto all too much of his little sister — who only ever wanted to make the dark haired man proud.

over the coming weeks, suguru finds himself at the bakery more often than not. as though it’s a part of his daily routine.

he’ll take his walk after work, stop by and purchase some sakura mochi, before leaving you with another little gift. at first, his gifts started out as wads of cash in place of tips, then slowly turned to more materialistic things, items that you could hood or wear as if they were to geto’s his claim on you. like flowers, jewellery or clothes. things you couldn’t afford on your own, things he’d like to see you in, things his little sister would like to receive if they were still in contact with one another.

suguru knows that you can’t afford these things because you’ve let it slip over coffee and mochi that you rent the apartment above the bakery from the old woman who owns it and can barely afford the new york rent as well. he also learns that you were hired because of your ability to speak, read and write in Japanese.

as much as suguru has spoiled you in the last few weeks, you won’t let him pay your rent though, so tips have sufficed for now.

nowadays, the time spent moping around his apartment while mourning the relationships that he lost are spent growing increasingly obsessive over you. hours upon hours are wasted on thoughts of what gift he might buy you next — like more comfortable work shoes, an umbrella to get you home safe during the rain that just so happens to be designer. suguru spoils you under the guise of just being your friend — at least that’s what it is to you.

to him, he’s spoiling his baby sister. someone who is feeble and needs his help and his protection. he doesn’t tell his therapist any of this, of course, she would deem it unhealthy to see how much of his money and time he’s blown in a little cafe worker.

a cafe worker who’s important to suguru, who haunts his dreams with her perfect curves, and pouty lips whenever he brings you a small gift of his affections. “sugu,” you’ve resorted to calling him, just like his sister would. the nickname was the result of a time where you’d written his name on a coffee order, and customers complained you were taking too long. so geto had told you that you could call him ‘sugu’ instead. however, he would omit details on how badly it affected his brain chemistry …to hear someone he cared for call him that again. “you don’t have to get me an expensive gift just because i make you coffee and get you sweet treats.”

“it’s not just because you get me sweet things or make me coffee,” he had responded, leaning over the counter flirtatiously. “it’s because you do such a good job. you take care of me and my order every evening. make sure i get the best of the best. how could i not thank my sweet little barista.”

you wouldn’t say it, but he knew you liked the praise. he wondered if you felt as dirty and as thrilled as him during these little exchanges between the two of you. on that specific occasion, geto decided to gift you with a pendant, similar to the one he’d gotten his sister — only this time, a purple amethyst sits in its centre rather than the blue gem all too familiar to satoru gojo’s piercing eyes.

maybe this is what his therapist meant by healing. suguru is healing by getting over his sister and replacing her with you.

you are the one that haunts his dreams now, makes his cock stir inappropriately. another thing that suguru woulda never tell his therapist — is that sometimes when he really needed it, he would think of his little sister while fisting his cock into the night air. they weren’t really related, only by adoption so it wasn’t too wrong. sometimes he’d think of her getting railed by satoru, but nowadays he would think of you on his cock instead, calling out for suguru like you need him to function.

‘nii-san!’ - this and ‘please sugu! ’- that, each word uttered in his sister’s voice would quickly morph into yours — the quivering sweet sound always resembling his little sister’s when she cried. suguru, the dark haired man, imagined you would react the same. and more often than not, it was your face that he pictured when he was about to cum.

every single gift suguru got for you were the result of him dreaming about how much he needed you, someone to spoil and protect. someone to need him.

tonight, suguru is a little late for his daily visit to your bakery.

tonight, an important case at his firm had rolled in at the last minute and required attention before a preliminary hearing — but even his job couldn’t keep suguru geto away from you. when he arrives at the bakery, you’re still there, having left the doors unlocked for him to come inside.

tonight, there is no long line of customers out the door to build up the anticipation between you both, the lights have already been deemed and there’s not a trace of life inside of the bakery. aside from yourself, of course.

tonight, you’re on the closing shift instead of the owner’s grandson, choso. who you reassured suguru you weren’t interested in the first time they’d met. with gentle eyes that masked the dark haired man’s fury, geto had told you that he was the only man you’d ever need and you believed him — suguru had a charm for making people dependent on him.

the tiny silver bell stationed at the door jingles and signals geto’s arrival, but you hardly look up from your work — keeping your back to him while you sweep at nothing. you’re hiding the excitement that prickles down your spine, you’ve been waiting to get the man alone for weeks and now that you’re able to… you can hardly contain yourself.

“excuse me, uh…” he says your name so sweetly, as though the words on his tongue are laced with honey. pretending not to know you only makes tonight more thrilling. “are you open? do you have any sakura mochi to spare?” it’s only then that you whirl around to face suguru, your deep brown eyes still bright despite the dimness of the empty bakery — they sparkle with elation, and the plump curve of your lips spike up into an easy smile. you’ve been waiting, suguru notes, like a good little girl.

like a puppy waiting for her owner.

you’ve been waiting to see him.

anticipation claws at the air, sending ripples of kinetic energy into the space between you both — where suguru waits at the door and you stand front and centre in the middle of the room. his murky eyes slink down to your neck where one hand fiddles with the silver chain of your pendant, your nails tapping at the amethyst in its centre. in the same way his sister does when she’s nervous.

neither of you know what’s going to happen tonight, now that you’re finally alone.

“we have some in the back,” you swallow down the heartbeat in your throat you nod shyly when you finally speak. it’s weird how your body has started to react to suguru after weeks of getting to know him, being spoiled by him. the clothes you wear are now covered in traces of him, the jewellery you own is paid for by his dime. this…stranger, who you hardly know yet feel like you know everything about, has invaded every inch of your life… and you’re not even mad about it. you’d rather die than let this go. “i just need to lock up first. if you’ll give me a moment.”

you approach him cautiously, practically pressing your breasts against his chest as you reach behind the man to lock the doors he stands in front of. suguru can already tell that the mood today is different — full of hunger and expectations for something less polite than evening chatter and gift exchanges. his dark eyes follow your every move across the bakery like a wolf tracking the scent of prey.

“why don’t you come with me to the back? and if you don’t mind, could you carry a bag or two of that rice flour? it’s too heavy for me on my own?” you ask him after backing away with a glint in your eye. naughty, naughty. geto likes the fact that you’re asking him, that you need him and he can be your strong suguru.

“sure, anything for you.” he agrees a little bit too quickly, removing his work jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. suguru discards his tie as well — before lifting a sack of rice flower with ease. he pretends not to notice the way you ogle the bulge in his biceps as he does so.

“thanks.” you utter, leading the way to the back of the bakery.

once the two of you arrive in the kitchens at the back, you give suguru some time to set down the sacks of flour and retreat to the many shelves of sweet treats and baked goods that you’d prepared for your shift the next day. you’re sure choso, nor his grandmother, would mind if you stole a plate of mochi for the two of you to share. they trusted you enough, but you decide to forgo telling them for now.

“i was starting to think you weren’t coming.” you say as you set the desserts out on the metal table for him, suguru hates the guilt that he feels for leaving you for so long. “seeing you is the highlight of my week.”

“are you sure it’s not the gifts that i give you?” he teases, rounding the table to take a piece of mochi from the plate at its middle. he practically moans at the flavours of cherry blossom and crystallised sugar bursting across the palette of his tongue. and for a moment, his mind slips to other territories — wandering what you’d taste like as well.

“n-no! sugu!” for the first time that night, you break character, bashfully tucking your pretty face into your shoulder as if to hide it. “i, um… i genuinely like seeing you and when you come to see me. i-it makes me feel better. being around you. i feel safer and happier.”

putting his weight onto the metal surface, suguru leans forward and cocks his head to the side in faux curiosity. your answer is just what he wanted to hear. he finally has you where he wants you, like a sweet deer in a hunter’s trap. “is that so, darling?” you shake your head yes in affirmation. “well then, you’re awfully sweet.” geto takes to praising you, licking the traces of candy from his lips and maintaining eye contact while his hand dips into the pocket of his slacks for something. “i have a gift for you, little one.”

“oh yeah?” youtoo, take a bite out of the treats you’ve laid out, munching on them casually while keeping suguru under your watchful eye.

it’s only then that pulls out a matching item of jewellery, this time, a matching anklet to the item that sits heavy at your neck. the silver chain is dotted with tinier, purple gems. a showcase of suguru’s appreciation for how much you’ve healed him — a nod to how much better he feels around you too.

“you sure do love purple for me, sugu.” you joke, laughing incredulously at the expensive gift. “it’s beautiful, thank you.” you let him circle the table to take hold of your soft hips, lifting you onto the cool surface so that geto has some leverage to put the anklet on you.

after kicking out your left foot — suguru sinks to his knees before you, and something about the way he looks up at you, with his eyebrows drawn to the centre of his forehead and his milky cheeks slightly flushed, has your heart racing and your head all dizzy. “purple is supposed to mean healing. i’ve had a tough time, being away from japan and my family…” he begins quietly, his voice is calming with lilts and drops of hunger that slips through the cracks of suguru’s caring resolve. “but you’ve made it better,” one of his large hands encircles your ankle, lifting your foot higher so that geto is easily able to remove the strap of your mary-jane shoe and replace it with the chains of your new anklet. “ah… a perfect fit.” he announces in japanese, fixing the clasp.

the whole ordeal is intimate, inviting and you feel like you might slip under the surface of dark, dangerous waters if you’re not careful. you don’t know how to swim, but something tells you that suguru will keep you afloat. “anyways, little one…” suguru continues with his monologue, whispering his words against your talus bone at the base of your leg, where it meets your foot. “you wanting me here and needing me… it heals me.”

once he’s checked that the anklet is secure, suguru reaches a hand upwards, and brushes a thumb over the swell of your glossy bottom lip to swipe away a smudge of powdered sugar from the mocha. you will yourself to speak, but you feel as though you can’t even breathe. “i’ve…healed you?”

suguru stands up, towering over you now as he moves to suck the sugar from your lips off of his thumb. “of course, little one. what else do you think you’ve been doing this whole time?” his pupils dilate, obsidian black drowning out any other colour in his eyes while closes the gap between your heated bodies. your thighs instinctively jump apart to make room for him too, allowing him to loom over you even better — following the biological call of your hearts.

the world comes to a standstill when suguru’s lips finally meet yours in a sloppy yet coordinated kiss. while his movements are messy and hungry he remains gentle with you, as though you might break from too much force. the sweltering heat of his tongue swipes eagerly but not aggressively over the seam of your mouth, dying to be let in and taste the sugar that glazes your own pink muscle. his large, unusually soft hands grasp, and squeeze and pinch at your thighs, then the fat at your hips until his thumbs are tucked under your breasts, soothing circles over the point at which the fleshy mounds join up with your rib cage.

goosebumps break out across your skin from underneath your clothes and you feed suguru a needy little squeak when he finally breaks into your mouth, his tongue lapping circles at every crevice. you sound just like her, his angelic little sister, and he treats you so gently because he would never want to hurt her. suguru has always wanted to kiss his sister, but you’ll have to do. he likes you just as much as her.

it’s that sick and twisted desire to devour his younger sibling that fuels his next movements, along with the dulcet and darling sounds you make for him. carefully and between sticky lip locks, suguru pushes you onto your back — humming in amusement when it arches away from the cool metal of the silver counter. “s-sugu,” you whimper wetly, catching your breath while his smooches cascade down to your neck and his fingers work their way through the buttons on your uniform. your own take residence in his firm and broad set shoulders, as if to steady yourself. “i haven’t… i don’t have much experience with these things a-and they’ve not been the best—“

the dark haired man chuckles softly, the sound sending a spark of lust down your spine and causing you to arch up into him as he cages you against the table. “i’ll be gentle,” he tells you firmly, in a tone that smooths over the doubts in your mind and helps you to relax. suguru will take care of everything. “you don’t have to worry. i want this to be all about you feeling good, okay?” you nod in reply and suguru sucks his teeth. “i want a verbal answer, little one.”

“yes, sugu…”

he places a chaste kiss to your collarbones then, a pleased hum vibrating against your temperate skin. “good girl.”

the next few moments are a blur as suguru geto strips you down, kissing every inch of your exposed body with each article of clothing he removes from your shaky frame. all that he leaves you with are your soiled panties after reaching around the curve of your spine to unclip your bra with one hand. it’s all so nerve wracking and invigorating all at once, you can’t help but wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in for more.

between the chaos and rustling of his own clothes coming off, suguru presses two digits to your budding clit and your world tilts on its axis — he’s hardly touching you and yet you feel so good, especially when he rolls the swollen little nub between a thumb and forefinger. your nails form crescent moons against his shoulder in response.

you’re so overwhelmed by the patterns he traces over your clit, his name, his promises to you and your body, as well as the blood rushing to it — that you hardly notice geto’s descent on your body, the hot trail of kisses he leaves between the valley of your breasts and over your soft tummy. you just about manage to feel him over the haze in your brain when his lips hit the scalloped edge of your panties, and you jolt when the tip of his tongue forcefully traces the outline of your un-used, soaked hole from over the gusset of said garment.

the fabric darkens as your juices pool against it, mixed with the wetness of suguru’s tongue.

“will you let me pleasure you, little one?”

it’s not like you can say no (not that you want to), especially with the way geto manoeuvres your thighs to hang over the backs of his strong shoulders as he settles between your trembling legs. while he waits for your reply, he takes your wrist into his grasp and pulls one of your silk scrunchies from it — using it to tie back his luscious black hair.

you look down at him through your lashes with a painted expression of want and worry.

suguru pushes the pads of his thumbs into the globes of your ass against the cold table — massaging the flesh with mischievous eyes as your pussy gushes and leaks a fresh wave of nectar right down to the puckered ring between your ass cheeks. “just tying my hair back as a precaution,” he whispers, voice lowering an octave as his face slowly nears your clenching cunt. “i’m a messy eater…”

“a-ah! sugu!”

at first, suguru delivers a single lick to your awaiting pussy, drawing a stripe with his tongue between the length of your fat and sluice folds. then, when you cry out his name he can’t help but to latch his heated mouth onto your unattended sex, chuckling at the realisation of just how good you taste. it’s a natural flavour, with a twinge of sweetness suguru could have only hoped to imagine. he’s been waiting for this moment and to have you like this for weeks — to replace his prior daydreams of fucking his baby sister with you…and now he finally has the material to do so.

a sinful giddiness infiltrates geto’s bloodstream as he kitten licks at your pulsating mound — feeding in your arousal as it grows before inhaling deeply, nastily taking in your scent so that he can commit it to memory. “how does that feel?” he coos his words out as he hungrily nips at your sopping folds, rolling them raw between rows of perfect white teeth until you’re choking on a breath and your face scrunches adorably. “is that nice, love?”

a wet whimper lies on your kiss-swollen lips, and your hips naturally buck up to follow the warm trace of suguru’s mouth encompassing your sex. “f-feels so good! b-better than i… could have imagined,” you struggle to get out, gargling on each syllable while your chest heaves and arches away from the chilly table — giving suguru the perfect view of your bouncing breasts and only motivating him to pleasure you more. “f-fuck!”

if you were his baby sister, suguru isn’t so sure that you’d curse in front of him. she wouldn’t, she was too docile and sweet to utter a bad thing in his presence. but you, you’re both of those things and more — you lose yourself easily to the ecstasy in your veins; liquid pleasure spewing from your blistering hot cunt like a free-flowing river, painting suguru’s high cheekbones with your body’s riches. he feels blessed to be between your thighs, defiling the blossoming flower of your cunt with his eager mouth.

“you’re so…you’re so pretty when you gush like this for me. i want you to give me more.” his tongue darts along the length of your weeping slit, catching what you leak before it can go to waste on the icy table beneath your hot skin. drunk on your taste, suguru forces his flexible tongue past the tightness of your fluttering entrance. “can you do that for me?” he mouths, though whatever he says is slurred as he slowly begins to tongue fuck you.

“a-anything,” you say, breathing shallow and eyes beginning to grow teary. suguru’s tongue slips in and out of your creaming hole with rhythm, preparing you, using a pseudo sensation, for his fat cock. “anything for you! i wanna feel good for you. wanna please you!” he languidly strokes at your ribbed insides as a reward, chasing your honey nectar taste while your hips canter up and chase bud hismouth.

suguru intends to destroy you, own you and unleash all of his darkest fantasies onto you. he’s dreamed of ruining his adoptive little sister, making her cum all over him — it just so happens that you look and sound like her, you match every single one of his dreams about her, you make them all a reality. it’s only right that he pleases you and makes you see stars for needing him and relying on him so well.

he wonders if his sister would cry like you do, or if she would try to stave off her orgasm like you do. would she scream his name over the saliva pooling on her tongue like you do. eyes in the shade of deep, chocolate brown start to flutter shut at the sound of your desperate pleas as you writhe under suguru’s attention of your swollen pussy. your back sticks to the table and your thighs shake either side of suguru’s head, but he doesn’t relent on sucking the juices that cling to your pussy lips until all he can breathe is you.

his tongue twists happily against your lush walls, grasping at the essence that lines them.

“you’re doing well for me, little one, so well…” he praises you, knowing how close you’re getting. it’s in the way your body twitches with every suck to your hardened clit and the way you try to push him off of you. you need it so bad, you need him to make you cum. suguru thrusts deeper, harder and faster using his tongue — catching what dribbles from your tiny hole after it slips between your ass cheeks and pools in a puddle on the table. “i want to taste it. if you’ll cum for me, that’ll make me happy. so let me…”

suguru can’t even finish, dizzy on the taste of you like the buzz of a high. he could spend an infinite number of days between your legs. no matter how sore his knees get from kneeling between them — all he wants to do is slurp down everything that you give him, focus on making you reach pleasure of only heavenly limits in order to evade the guilt he feels. the one that causes knots to twist in geto’s stomach.

how could he do this?

how could he want this?

to fuck someone so reminiscent of his little sister.

to manipulate them into fucking him?

suguru’s name is hot on your lips, spiralling into the husky evening air. “come on, little one. cum for me,” meanwhile, his breath on your cunt makes your hips wiggle and hole spasm — a new wave of juices staining his face. it’s scent and taste coax the man into diving back into your sopping heat, the point of his nose bumping against your pleasure nub as if peeks out from beneath its hood.

“m-mph… m’kay,” comes your hushed whisper as you thread your fingers through the black roots of geto’s hair, keeping him pinned to your precious creamy core as you rut against his agile tongue. “f-feels funny!” you gasp and warble, filling the man’s mouth with your raw folds and liquid lust.

“hm?” geto hums lazily in acknowledgment, licking up to your clit so that he can replace his tongue with two digits. he works at your dripping hole, stretching it over them through the haze in his mind. he swoons at the thought of replacing those same digits with his cock next — they speed up with excitement, squelching and echoing throughout the room, overlapping with your high pitched breathy moans.

with your heart rattling against your ribcage, you can hardly fight off the urge building within your lower belly — your hips are frantic as they chase after the feeling and the burning high that crackles across your neurons. geto groans wickedly, feeling your sex spasm against his soaked lips and clench down hard on his fingers. it’s not long before he feels you succumb to your first orgasm. it washes over him in heavenly waves — clearing away his guilt and desire for his little sister while simultaneously drowning you under sinful pretences.

your entire body is racked with the case of the shakes, your eyes shooting back into the dark depths of your skull while white noise fills your ears and overlays the sound of suguru lewdly slurping at your release. speaking off, clear streams of your arousal spurt from your quivering cunt…and for the first time ever, you squirt. everywhere, all over the place, making such a mess that suguru is left gargling over everything that you give him and there’s a crude splatter as your juices hit the floor.

he doesn’t stop, however, licking you clean with his fingers continuing to curl languidly against your g-spot — over and over again.

“sugu p-please! s’too much,” you plead in the form of a heavy sob — but only god knows that you don’t want the man to stop.

“just one more for me?” he asks you tentatively, releasing your throbbing clit with a wet pop. suguru stands and you look up at him — noting the way his bangs stick to his cheeks from how wet you’ve gotten him. he doesn’t stop pumping his fingers in and out of you either, dragging the tips of them along your overstimulated and stretched walls. “you can do it, and if you can i’ll reward you. how does that sound, little one?” he slows his pace just enough to only have the seat of his palm salaciously grind against your clit, not wanting to hurt you.

he wouldn’t want to hurt his adoptive sister if he ever had the chance to get her spread open like this.

your face is stained with mascara, your brown eyes big and wobbly and your braids are askew — but still, you’re the most adorable thing he’s ever seen, next to her. your fingers threaten to snap shut around his wrist, but with his free hand he forces the wet and doughy flesh back open, and with a few more thrusts if his fingers, nice and tantalisingly slow, you’re cumming again in another cute, clear stream — dowsing suguru’s hand in another wash of your cum.

leaning down, suguru’s lips tainted with your arousal lean down to meet your own — capturing them in a sweet kiss to help bring you back down to earth. “what’s your colour, darling? red for bad, yellow for okay and green for good. how do you feel?”

“g-green,” you mumble, keening into his touch and craving his affection. “i feel fine, my legs won’t stop shaking. i’ve never cum like that before…”

pride blooms like a wildflower in suguru’s chest.

“well, i don’t intend on stopping, little one,” brushing your braids back into place, suguru carefully pulls his fingers out of your stretched hole and swiftly sucks them clean. “your pretty pussy is so tiny, must not have been used properly,” the vulgarity of his words have you arching for more from suguru, and you’re lucky that he’s not done with you yet. “don’t worry, love. i’ll fix that.”

you’re weak in the knees when suguru manhandles you from the table onto the floor, making sure that you’re comfortable on your tummy — he even goes as far to nestle a bag of rice flour under your hips. you pretend not to notice the way his strength makes you flutter around nothing, smearing your juices onto the bakery floor.

“i’ve been holding back quite a bit,” he murmurs against your naked shoulder blades — the dark tresses of his hair tickling your skin. “so i might not last long.” you hear a belt clink before suguru kicks his slacks off and away, rewarding your patience with a kiss against your spine. “i hope it’s okay if i just give you my all.”

from this position, it’s easy for suguru to picture his younger, adopted sister instead of you — he’s dreamed of having her present for him like this countless times, but it doesn’t compare to the way it feels having your hot body underneath him like this. your ass is so soft and pliant in his hands as he drags your hips up a little higher. another hand grasps at the hardness of his cock that’s been dripping and aching ever since geto first got his mouth on you.

with stuttering hips, he positions himself at your needy entrance, chuckling in approval when you attempt to wiggle back on him — just as hungry for this as your lover is. both of you hiss as his veiny shaft comes into contact with your sticky folds, suguru using the remnants of your orgasms to slick himself up again and make it easier for you take all of him. you can’t see him, but the dark haired man’s cheeks are tinged pink with pure desire — his gaze turning woozy as he looks from your gaping hole to his cockhead, tapping it against your souse entrance a few times for good measure.

fuck a condom, he thinks, if given the opportunity — he would have fucked his sister rawtoo.

“whatever you give me, i-it’ll be enough for me, sugu,” you sniff, fisting the floor in anticipation — laying your hot, tear streaked cheek against its cool surface. “t-thank you for treating me so well.”

“i promise,” geto heaves, words a little too rushed and eager. “i’ll make you feel so good, so fucking…h-hah—“ without warning, he thrusts all the way inside of you with his hips driving all the way forward until his pelvis is flush against the curve of your ass. geto is chubbier than you thought he would be, and just the right length — plugging you full. every vein wrapped around his shaft presses up against your most sensitive pleasure spots, and he’s weighty against your gummy unused walls.

suguru’s breath prickles at shell of your ears as he collapses on top of you, all of his weight keeping you pinned to the cold hard floor. “can i move?” he lets out a wavering gasp, fighting the instinct to fuck down into you. your cunt ripples around him deliciously, the heat from your body making him drowsy. “you need to be fucked, little one. need someone to stretch out your tight pussy… i can do that for you. if you let me…”

he hates the part of his brain that wonders if his baby sister was this tight when gojo fucked her.

“i want you to,” you slur gently, purposely squeezing down on the base of suguru’s cock and practically creaming around it. you wriggle back on him until he’s completely bottomed out inside of you — balls deep while you ooze against his pelvis and heavy balls. “need you to fuck me…”

that’s all it takes for your stranger turned lover to give his all to you. he drops his sweaty chest to your back, pulling his chubby cock from the snugness of your heat as his teeth take purchase in your shoulders — leaving a litter of love bites your uniform will barely cover once the night is over. suguru is possessive of his belongings, like you and his little sister — the bites are his claim on you.

in one powerful move, you’re full to the brim with rock hard cock — deep in your guts, churning them up and spreading lust like a wildfire through your weak body. you feel dwarfed underneath him. despite being pinned to the floor, you still manage to rock your hips back against suguru and suck more of him into your cute, quivering cunt. it just about helps him set a steady stream to his meaningful thrusts.

wet slapping sounds echo throughout the back room of the bakery, accompanied by your meek mewls and gasps for air the faster suguru pounds into your warmth. fat droplets of precum smear along your soaked and ripe insides, ready to be bred by suguru. ready to be marked by him. you feel like you belong to him like a treasured pet and you don’t even mind it. your pussy blossoms for him like that of a japanese cherry blossom in the spring time — or iris flowers, shobu, in their iconic shade of purple. like the bruises he’s left on your back.

oh, you’re just perfect for suguru. you fulfil all of his sister-fucking fantasies, even your moans sound like hers when she would get off in her room — thinking no one could hear her. he loves this, he might even love you — the way you feel wrapped around him, reaching for the stars in your eyes. it feels like you’re made for him, with the way you clamp down on his oozing mushroomed tip and squirm about underneath him.

your pussy barely lets go of geto when he draws his hips back, but every time he fucks down into him — your fluttering hole stretches to accommodate his creamy thickness. it creates the perfect pathway for the dark haired man to bully your g-spot in a way that makes you scream for more. “you’re perfect for me…fuck, you’re so perfect,” suguru intimately whispers into your skin from behind, his hands smoothing over yours as you claw at the floor to ground yourself from the overwhelming ecstasy. he thinks he understands why satoru had fucked his sister now — there’s something so satisfying about corrupting someone. taking their innocence with your dick. “should i keep you like this? on my aching cock forever?”

“y-yes please!” you squeal, succumbing to your body’s biological will, cunt spitting droplets of arousal all over suguru. he’s barely able to pull out of you, his dick on lockdown inside of your core. there’s hardly any space between you both any more, the air vibrating with electrifying lust and the scent of sex.

you coo and cry out for your newfound lover, your ass and the backs of your thighs burning from how hard his skin slaps against your own. you hardly care about the pain for its overlapped with ecstasy like sea water on a sandy shore. “you’re such a good…good fucking girl for me. for your big brother,” suguru loses track of his words, his mind lagging behind his mouth and his hips that relentlessly pound you into the ground. over the sound of sex you think that you’ve misheard him, but then his voice rises an octave and in volume as he continues to moan out your praises — succumbing to your gratifying and ichorous cunt latching onto the veins spiralling around his dick. “oh my precious little sister… taking me so fucking well—!”

in that moment, all of the guilt suguru has ever felt for leaving his sister, for ruining her relationship and fleeing to new york, for thinking of her while fucking you… it all comes rushing back. he stops thrusting, freezing in place above you while his cock twitches along your insides.

“f-fuck i—“ he starts to apologise, but the cry you let out stops him.

“nii-san,” you whine petulantly, fat tears gathering in your lash line. “d-don’t stop! please keep fucking me, fuck me harder. make me cum, make me scream, make me—!” your words are cut off by suguru’s fingers wrapping around your delicate neck from behind, giving it a gentle squeeze. he resumes his thrusts, a little harsher and more carelessly coordinated than before, once he realises that maybe you’re just as sick and twisted as him. calling him big brother while he uses you for a dirty fuck in place of his younger adopted sibling…

you like this just as much as he does.

suguru knows you’re perfect, perhaps even more so than his little sister. he uses his grip on your throat to tug your head back while he fucks you silly, slotting his mouth against yours in a salacious and sinful kiss. “onii-san, hm?” he forces his tongue over yours, moaning into your mouth pathetically as he reverts back to his mother-tongue. “you want your onii-san to fuck you, imouto? make you cum again?”

“please, please, please onii-san! g-gotta cum f’you…g’na cum. c-close!” comes your brainless babble while you fall into a cockdrunk state.

“you beg so pretty for your big brother, sweet little thing. i should fill you up, breed this greedy little cunt for all its worth, right?” suguru’s mind grows as foggy as yours, copious amounts of his precum pouring into you and dripping down your swollen slit. it’s a mess, everything is disgustingly messy — this situation, the fact that you’re so eagerly calling him your big brother, the fact that he’s fucking you because you remind him of his sibling. but neither of you give a shit, not when you feel so fucking good you swear you’re seeing the pearly gates.

“g-god! please sugu, please nii-san, i need it. need you!” the slow roll of your hips contrasts with geto’s ever increasing slap of skin on skin, your mix of arousals crudely seeping down his balls and to the floor below. the point at which your bodies join starts to forth as well.

“is that so…?” suguru hums attentively, grinning ear to ear at how you play into this immoral dynamic. it fuels the fire of lust burning through him, setting his lungs alight and ruining his chances at breathing. his thrusts become erratic, his cockhead married to your g-spot, and he finds himself growing more and more excited about the sight of his cum leaking from your ravaged hole. “you must really like it when your big brother fucks you — hm, lillith baby? do you like how deep i can get, deep in your tummy?” he continues to ramble, grabbing your ass cheeks to peel them apart — letting out a deep and wild gripe from his chest at the sight of strings of your clear arousal glueing the fleshy globes together. “love how you throw it back on me. keep coating your nii-san’s cock in your pretty juices. gush for me, make me shine with your cum.”

you nod and do as geto says, simpering out for even more while you work yourself back on his swelling girth as it shines with milky white. you can no longer keep up with what’s happening, your brain actually lags at the way your faux big brother coos your name while your sexes sing a lewd song of pap, pap, pap. lust courses through your veins and burns at your nerve endings, you should feel disgusted with yourself but nothing makes sense. you feel like you’re high, and you don’t want to come back down. at this point, all you can do is lay down and take it, clenching around suguru’s hard cock where it counts — pulling more precum from his heavy breeder’s balls.

“nii-san…more, ‘m right there—“ you sob, reaching back with bambi eyes that plead for another kiss. you allow suguru to fuck you at his own free will, too weak to keep up.

“right here, imouto? against this sweet spot, baby sis?” you get a little tighter every time he calls you his little sister, creaming around his base and crying out his name as if it’s a fucking prayer. “you want me to breed you that bad, baby sis? want my cum deep in your little sister cunt?”

you beg for it through tears and suguru makes you cum again just like he promised. your third orgasm of the night renders you completely useless, a silent scream tearing in your throat while you seizes up and trap suguru deep inside of your fluttering cunt. it’s so fucking cute to him, how much you gush when you orgasm, like a rushing river that never stops flowing. it’s almost as if the flood gates have opened up or heaven has rained down on geto’s fat cock.

that’s all he needs for his own orgasm to be triggered, he collapses on top of you from behind as he empties his balls inside of your womb with a shout of your name. “‘m sorry little one, ‘m sorry… so fucking sorry.” he says hoarsely, cock pulsing while a wave of his cream lines your pussy from the inside — he doesn’t ever let up, fucking you through it all until both of your sexes are raw and abused beyond repair. “i love you, baby sis… imouto. s-shit, i love you so much.” your hole burns by the time suguru comes down, and you swear he feels bigger now that his dick is swollen with his orgasm.

suguru is still cumming in spurts when he pulls out of you with a hiss, painting your puffy folds white, the rest leaking out of your entrance. “im so sorry… I have no idea where that came from…” he starts to apologise tiredly. “that was…”

you remain silent for a moment, mulling over what to say next as suguru rolls off of you, and lays by your side quietly. you flip onto your back, staring up at the artificial lights hanging from the ceiling. you liked this, whatever the hell it was… even if it meant he was fucking you to fuck his unresolved feelings out for his sister.

“amazing… yeah.” is the response that you settle on.

“that’s…that’s not what i meant.”

“and i know that! you don’t have to apologise,” you cut him off abruptly, keeping your voice softly. “i liked it, whatever weird kink this is, it made me feel good.”

geto flushes hot all over, sheepishly running a hand through his sweaty black locks. “my sister… she’s not seriously my blood sister. she’s adopted and—“ he’s so sheepish and right after ruining you beyond belief that it makes you laugh in pure amusement. “a-and i like you! quite a bit. i know this was… strange… but with your permission. i’d like to keep seeing you.”

“and fucking me?” you tease, tucking yourself into the man’s side while nuzzling your face into his neck. he smells like you, he smells like sex…but you’re satisfied.

his arm loosely wraps around your waist, thumbing over any bruises he might have left there. “that too.”

“what about the gifts?”

“those won’t stop either.”

finally, you sit up, looming over geto as you tuck your braids behind your ear and out of your face. cupping suguru’s jaw, you lean over him and place a somewhat upside down kiss to the man’s lips — then brush over their cherry red bruising. “then you have yourself a deal — now please help me clean up, sugu. i don’t want to get fired.”

it’s his turn to laugh next. “i’ll just take care of all your expenses if you do.”

you roll your eyes.

this new dynamic, this new fling…it’s unhealthy, yeah. but as long as suguru has someone like you to look out for and need him. he thinks he’ll be okay.

getting over his sister was the key to healing. just like his purple nailed therapist had said — so focusing on you was healing him. before either of you can move to help clean up, suguru reaches up slowly and cups your neck tenderly. he brings you down to his level, his fingers wrapping around the silver chain swinging loosely from your neck before pressing a kiss to the amethyst pendant there.

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idksmtms · 3 months

Text

The Only Way... (District Mentor!Aemond Targaryen x Tribute!reader)

(first Aemond pic was found on tumblr and edited by @kyloremus)

AN: Huge shoutout to @valeskafics for inspiring my HoTD x Hunger Games stories. Without her, I would never even have thought to connect the two. Highly HIGHLY recommend her writing! - Also, yes, I did pick a random HoTD name for the male tribute, sue me -

Summary: There were only two past winners from your district, and one of them didn’t even bother with his mentor duties anymore. But this year, for one last time, Aemond decides to attempt to mentor one of the tributes, not expecting how it would change his life.

Word count: 6.5k

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, slight age gap (I made the reader a couple years younger than him for story purposes), vague p in v s*x, oral f receiving, mentions of blood, discussions of death, discussions of trauma, discussions of disfigurement, (please let me know if I missed any)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim to own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so.

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

Aemond Targaryen was reaped for the Hunger Games in his first year of eligibility. At 12 years old he had been shipped into the arena, and he had won. Though he had lost an eye in the process, he deemed it a worthy sacrifice for getting out alive. He had been responsible for half the cannons that sounded in the arena, had gotten his revenge for the eye taken from him, and had emerged the victor. He strongly believed the world was against him at every turn, (how else does one explain getting reaped and losing an eye?) but he knew that he was strong enough to fight back against fate.

The first couple of years after his victory, he had attempted to mentor tributes alongside his own mentor, Rhaenys Velaryon. But each one had met their own gruesome end in the arena and eventually he had given up on his duties altogether, much preferring to stay in his home at the victor’s village with his family.

It’s not that he wasn’t a good mentor, he truly believed he taught them a decent amount in the short time he had with them, and that allowed them to live longer than they would have without him, but they all lacked his ruthlessness. He had a certain cold-hearted quality that allowed him to kill without batting an eye in the arena, and he could happily admit to it. Every single victor had either gone in with that quality already bred in their veins or they had built it in the arena. He wasn’t sure which side he fell on, but he knew he possessed it. After two or three years of watching kids he had gotten to know, most older than him, die at the hands of others who had been just like him, he had gotten tired and decided to step away. He knew Rhaenys could handle it, she had been doing it much longer than him anyway.

But this year, something felt different. Maybe it was the long speech his mother had given him about doing his duty, regardless of his own feelings. Maybe it was the thought that it was the last year of eligibility for his brother Daeron and he wanted to be there to ensure that if he was reaped he would at least have a mentor he knew. Whatever it was, he decided he would attempt mentoring one last time and do his utmost to make his tribute a victor.

A part of him was worried to start showing his face in public again. Though he was used to his eyepatch and he didn’t shy away from venturing out of the house if need be, this would put him directly in the limelight once more after many years. Everyone in Panem knew he wore an eyepatch, everyone in Panem had seen the initial wound he had been dealt, but he had kept away from the scene for so long that he felt self-conscious about his appearance. People would stare, people would be horrified, and- and he would just have to deal with it anyway.

On reaping day he put on his best suit, a beautiful two-piece made of fabrics of black and dark green and ventured into the square with his mother on his right arm and his sister on his left. He didn’t say a word to either as they entered the space and he left them to go stand near the back of the stage. Old memories of his own reaping day were flooding back in. The nervous energy that had thrummed through him, the sudden stillness of his body when they had called his name, his mother screaming and sobbing, pleading for it to be anybody else. Aemond closed his eyes and swallowed, ignoring the sudden pain that throbbed where his eye should be. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked across to where Rhaenys stood on the other side of the stage.

She was staring out at the gathering crowd with a blank face. Her hair was neatly braided at the top then flowed down her back in a white similar to his own. They were relatives, somehow, he could never quite remember the relation. He could see the signs of age on her face now, the wrinkles around her mouth had multiplied since she had last been here with him. Her dress was a deep blue, matching her eyes, and covered her arms until her wrists. He knew she bore scars on those arms from her own fight in the arena, but he felt a bitter pang of jealousy at how easily she was able to hide them. He would never have that luxury.

Aemond waited as the bustling died down and everyone was gathered in the square. He could see the lines of peacekeepers all over, their guns shining in the watery sunlight. He could see his brother standing among the men, a shock of white hair in a sea of brunettes and blondes. He wanted to smile at Daeron, to try and reassure him somehow that everything would be alright, but that was a lie and he would never be able to promise him that. Instead he looked away and began searching for his mother’s and sister’s faces as the anthem played and the formalities ensued. They were harder to find, but eventually he spotted his mother standing next to a girl in an emerald green dress. It was you.

Aemond was shocked for a moment to see that colour in the crowd. Everyone else was dressed in varying shades of grey, with the odd yellow popping out from somewhere in the crowd. Even his mother was more unique than most by wearing a completely black outfit, but you stood out like a flare. The dress was made of some satiny material and shined in the light. It was a relatively modest dress, with a collared neckline and short sleeves, the hem falling below the knee, but it was so… green.

Aemond stared at you, at your pretty hair and apprehensive eyes, posture straight but so tense he was sure your muscles must hurt. This must have been your last year of eligibility as well, he thought, you looked to be about Daeron’s age. Your name was populating that bowl, just as Daeron’s was, and he could understand the dread. You were so close to freedom, but if fate decided to be against you today, there was nothing you could do but face it.

“Alright! It’s now time to pick one young man and woman for the honour of representing this district in the next annual hunger games! Our courageous young man will be…” the brightly dressed capitol man reached his hand into the bowl and began mixing it around. Aemond silently prayed to the seven that he would accept anything, even his name being pulled again, as long as it wasn’t Daeron. He didn’t want to see the pain on his mother’s face if her youngest child was reaped. He didn’t think he could stand idly by if they picked Daeron. “Jasper Wylde! Come on up!” There was a moment of commotion as people looked around to try and find the unfortunate boy and eventually he stepped warily out onto the path made for the tributes. The capitol attendant clapped happily but no one joined in, watching with morose faces as he walked up to the stage and stood beside the bowl full of male names.

First Aemond breathed a sigh of relief. He truly did feel like smiling this time because Daeron was free. His family was finally free. They could live in their house in the victor’s village on his salary and die peacefully, a luxury. Then a wave of solemnity washed over him once more and he bowed his head slightly. He knew what it felt like to be reaped, he knew with what hatred that boy now stared at the bowl full of names, wondering why it was him and not the thousands of other names piled in there. No one should celebrate at this moment, a child was still being sent to his death.

“And now, last but not least, the ladies…” the representative hopped across the stage and shoved his hand into the other bowl. He swirled it around a few more times than he did for the boys, then picked a piece of paper right from the bottom. He slowly peeled it open and you could hear the way the paper stuck together slightly in the silence. “Y/n L/n!” Murmurs again filled the crowd but Aemond knew exactly who it was. You were the only one that didn’t move. People began turning and looking but you stood still. His mother gently rested a hand on your shoulder, whispering something in your ear. You turned to look at Alicent then tipped your head down in a swift nod. Then, back straight and head held high, you stepped through the crowd and onto the path.

You were a sight to behold. A girl in green striding down the path. A bright spot of paint on a white background. Aemond hadn’t realised his breath was held in his chest. Somewhere in the distance he could hear weeping, but you didn’t turn back. You stared at the stage and kept walking until you stood beside the capitol representative. It was only when you had gotten near that Aemond realised he could see your lip wobbling, that your hands shook like trees in a storm and tears made silent, shiny, tracks down your cheeks.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, here are our district’s tributes! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour…”

In the time the tributes were given to say their goodbyes to their families, Aemond took the opportunity to make his own farewells. He had already said goodbye to his father and Aegon who had stayed behind at the house during the reaping ceremony. His father was too ill to leave the house and it was Aegon’s turn to stay behind in case peacekeepers came asking for the health declaration. Though Aemond knew this wouldn’t happen as they were all here, and it gave Aegon a good excuse to laze around the house.

Helaena, Daeron, and his mother had been sad to see him go, though they took comfort in the knowledge that if no one else, at least he would return. Helaena shed a tear as she hugged him, making him promise to eat well and stay strong. Daeron’s goodbye was quicker, and he couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t want Aemond to see him upset or because he wanted to go celebrate his newfound freedom. He hugged Aemond quickly then dragged Helaena off to home, chattering to her about something or other.

Aemond watched his siblings walk away then turned to his mother who watched him with sombre eyes. She was silent for a moment, then reached out and gently folded his hands between hers. She looked down at them then back up at him with a sniff and he wondered if she was about to start crying.

“Take care of her, Aemond,” she finally said, voice quiet but firm. “Until the end, you must take care of her.” Alicent looked him in the eyes until he nodded before squeezing his hands lightly. She pulled him into a hug and gently rubbed his back. “She needs you, Aemond, and if anyone can help her, it will be you. Leave that boy to Rhaenys, hm? She can handle him, and he will do what he will regardless. But Y/n has potential to win. People may not see it, but I believe, and only you can get her there.” Alicent let him go and stepped back, blowing a kiss to her son and beginning to walk away.

“Wait, mother-”

“Time to go,” the capitol representative came up beside him and clasped his shoulder but Aemond was quick to shove him off. He couldn’t threaten a capitol citizen, but gosh was he close.

Aemond still had so many questions for his mother but he was being herded toward the train and she had disappeared among the buildings. He let out a sigh of dejection and allowed himself to be brought onto the train, sitting down in the lavish room and pressing his head into his hands. The eyepatch was digging into his skin and he just wanted to rip it off and itch at his scars. But he couldn’t, because he didn’t want to look at what was underneath, and he didn’t want anyone else to walk in while his face was completely bare. So he pulled the leather away just slightly and scratched at the edges then let it snap back into place. He stared at the floor as he tried to sort out the pieces in his head and come up with a plan. He always had to have a plan. That’s how he survived his first games, and that’s how he would survive his last.

The doors to the compartment opened and Rhaenys walked in, her dress swishing around her ankles. He stood to greet her and she smiled, a small dejected thing that was as pathetic as he felt. She walked over to the bar and poured herself a glass of sweet alcohol. He remembered the taste from his first train ride, sickly sweet to the point of pain then fiery as it slipped down your throat. One taste had been enough for his whole life.

“I see you’ve returned to your duties,” Rhaenys said, voice full of mirth as she sipped from her glass. Aemond nodded, watching as she sat down on a plush velvet chair. He followed suit, sitting opposite her across an ornate glass coffee table.

“Yes, one last time,” Aemond replied simply, turning away from her to stare out the window as the train began to move. “I have a request, concerning the tributes.”

“Oh?” Rhaenys raised an eyebrow, lips pulling up into a smirk as she brought the glass to her lips to drain the rest of her drink. “Do tell.”

“I will solely mentor Y/n, and you can take charge of the boy,” Aemond said, lacing his fingers together in his lap.

“Why?” Rhaenys furrowed her brows and put the glass down on the coffee table.

“It will be easier on everyone, focus all your energy on one tribute and do what you can to get them to win.,” he shrugged, as if the answer had been there all along.

“Yes I know that, but why do you want to mentor her?” Rhaenys asked, and he went quiet, staring at her as he tried to think of his answer. All his mind conjured was the image of you walking to the stage, the green dress and the tear tracks.

“I’m sure you see the potential in the boy. He has muscle, he has experience from the mines which means he already has the brute strength that can be honed with skill, but I see potential in her. I’d like to see what I can do with it.” He stared directly into Rhaenys’ eyes and sat up straight.

Aemond believed what he said. If his mother saw potential in you, then so did he. He would do what he could to get you ready for the games, then he would do whatever he could to help you survive in the arena. The world was always against him, but if there was one thing he knew, it was how to survive. Now, he would make sure you did too.

“Alright, have it your way,” Rhaenys shrugged, and this time Aemond allowed himself to smile.

Aemond and Rhaenys walked through three train compartments before they found the tributes. You were sitting at the right wall on a purple velvet sofa, legs curled up under you, staring out of the window. Jasper was busying himself at the bar and the air was heavy with silence. Both of you refused to acknowledge the other, and Aemond cleared his throat to draw your eyes to him. You merely raised your eyes to them while Jasper made to rush around the bar as if they had caught him doing something he shouldn’t.

“Oh don’t stop on our account, it’s only right you drink what you will before you die,” Rhaenys smiled genially, and Jasper had enough sense to look sheepish. “Alright, you come with me, I’ll be your mentor,” she pointed to Jasper then motioned for him to follow her before walking back out of the room. Jasper hesitated, looking around as if he was unsure what the protocol was, but Aemond just motioned his head to where Rhaenys had disappeared and Jasper jogged after her.

The room was quiet again. You had returned to staring out of the window, and Aemond slowly made his way over to the sofa you were sitting on. He left a seat between you and sat down, only turned slightly toward you. You finally tore your eyes away from the landscape and looked at him and he could see how red and puffy they were. Red veins crawled over the whites of your eyes and your nose was shiny and a pang of something painful hit his chest.

“Did you get to say goodbye?” He asked quietly, lacing his hands together in his lap. You nodded, gulping and opening your mouth once, twice, before a croaking voice spoke.

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat before speaking again, “I only have my parents so… it was a quick goodbye.” Your lower lip began trembling and your whole face crumpled as you began to sob once more.

Aemond had seen tributes cry before, it was normal, but not this much. By the time they got on the train they usually gathered themselves up and began trying to concoct a plan. But you, you seemed to be completely lost to despair. Your face was the picture of pain, and you brought your knees up to your chest and rocked yourself slightly. His mouth turned down in pity.

“My mother bought me this dress,” you finally said through the tears, voice slightly blubbery and high-pitched as you began breathing in to calm yourself. You looked up to meet his eyes and he could barely make out your irises through your crinkled lids and the heaps of water pouring over your lashes. “She wanted to get me something special for my last year in the reaping and she spent a whole salary on the fabric. She toiled night after night, coming home from work to painstakingly stitch every piece together.” You gently caressed the fabric and smiled through the tears and somehow this sight was so much worse than the frown. Aemond’s chest clenched so tight he thought his heart might stop beating altogether. You let out a huff of a chuckle, a watery sound that was quickly followed by a sniffle as you pressed your hands to the fabric before looking up at him and directly into his eyes. Your own were open now, wide as they could go, serious as they could be.

“I know I can’t win. You know I can’t win. Everyone who watched the reaping knows I can’t win. I’m a girl who’s only skill is dressing pretty. So, Aemond Targaryen, tell me what to do?” You looked at him in earnest, as if he held all the answers, and for a moment Aemond began to question what his mother saw in you. What was this potential she spoke of? All he saw was a weak little girl who couldn’t even be bothered to believe in herself. But then he remembered your walk up to the stage, the strength with which you had held yourself even while you had cried. Now he understood what his mother wanted him to do.

“You think you can’t win.” He turned to fully face you and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “There’s more to the games than just surviving the arena. You’re good at looking pretty? Then you’ll survive the parade, you’ll excel at the interview, you’ll get sponsors and I’ll be able to help you for longer in the games with that. Not everything is about brute force and murderous intent. You’ll have some time to train before going into the arena, we can use it to teach you a few things. Don’t think about winning, just try surviving,” he watched you as he spoke, noting the way you seemed to breathe easier and your eyes seemed to lighten slightly. Your hands stopped trembling and you uncurled from around your knees, instead spreading your toes out over the plush fabric.

“Ok,” you breathed out, “I can try,” you affirmed, nodding to yourself, and he allowed you a small smile before becoming sombre again.

“I won’t lie to you, you will have to do things in the arena that will haunt you if you manage to make it out. The games are designed to turn you into an animal. Even if you go in there without the intention of killing, no one comes out unscathed. So, the real question isn’t about if people believe you can win. Are you willing to do what it takes?”

Aemond had thought about all the people he had killed for a long time. He remembered every detail about them, from district and family history to what they had looked like the moment life had finally drained from their eyes. He often thought about his final victim, the only person he had gotten along with before they had entered the arena. He thought of the way she had grabbed his wrist and forced the knife into her own stomach, the way she had smiled as she fell to the floor, the eternal smile as the cannon sounded and her blood warmed his hand. The realisation that he was alone in the arena.

When he saw the smile on your face as you wiped at your tears and brought your feet off the couch, nodding your head and repeating the word yes until you seemed to believe yourself, he thought of the final girl.

When you reached the capitol, you were separated and attendants led you off to… somewhere. You were stripped bare and forced into a roiling bath filled with all sorts of serums and scents and oils. Your scalp was scrubbed until you could feel each individual hair follicle growing and your skin was pink. They cut and polished your fingernails and toenails and waxed you all over until your skin burned. You were moved onto your stylist who greeted you with kisses on your cheeks before whirling you around to scrutinise your body. He had a gentle smile, and conversed with you all the while you stood on a pedestal in the middle of his room. He told you about the dress he had made for you, all the jewellery available to you and how you had the next few hours to prepare yourself for the parade.

You allowed yourself to revel in this one luxury. You loved to dress up, to wear fancy clothes and beautify yourself whenever you could. The opportunities had been few and far between back home, despite your parents doing their best to provide you with them. Even if you were going to die in a few weeks time, at least you could enjoy the luxuries offered until then.

Ursa brought out a garment bag and one of his attendants rolled in three carts covered in jewellery one by one. Ursa hung the bag up right in front of you and zipped it open, to reveal the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. “I watched the reaping and just knew what I would make,” he whispered as both of you stared at it. You brought your hand to your mouth and stepped forward to touch the fabric.

The dress was dark green, like leaves in the deepest, darkest, part of a forest. A sweetheart neckline with off the shoulder straps that led into long swaths of tulle that would flow behind your arms. Rhinestones were sewn into the fabric almost at random to look like sunlight falling onto the fabric. It had a long train that you knew would drag behind you on the ground and force the carriage behind you to keep at a distance. You realised how he wanted to single you out. The organisers would keep everything symmetrical, so the long gap behind you would mean there was a long gap ahead of you too. Spectators would be drawn to the sight of you two taking up so much space. You would be the centre of attention.

Ursa helped you into the dress and set the sleeves for you as you gazed at yourself in the mirror. It truly was made for you, each measurement perfect. All the effort Ursa had put into this… you began to tear up but he just hushed you and began fussing over the jewellery carts. He suggested putting a tiara on you but you were hesitant. It felt presumptuous to already wear a crown at the tribute parade.

“Darling,” he held your chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced you to look into his eyes. “Act like you’ve already won. Nothing else will make it easier, and nothing else will grab their attention more.” He slid the comb of the tiara into your hair and forced you to hold your head up high.

In the next few hours, you were draped with necklaces and bracelets and rings. Just before you were helped up onto the carriage, Aemond appeared at your side. You looked up at him and for a moment he didn’t say a word. He just stared at you, at the dress and the crown and the whole picture of finery. You couldn’t read what was in his eyes and you looked down nervously, trying not to shuffle back out of embarrassment.

“You look like a winner,” he finally said.

When training started, your confidence began to wane. You watched all the other tributes heft axes, shoot arrows, slice swords or destroy dummies with their bare hands. You watched other tributes practice building traps or gain strength in their legs for running. It felt like you were the only one starting from rock bottom. You wanted to yell at Aemond, to say “look! Look at my glaring lack of ability! Whatever belief you had in me must be dead!” But everyday he came back, dressed in black athletic wear ready to teach you something new.

He didn’t bother with any weapon bigger than a dagger, telling you it would only weigh you down. He made you run until you were sick for the first half of every day, then run some more. The second half was spent learning how to use the simplest of supplies to make traps or alarms. He would use rope or wire with a handful of leaves he had gathered from outside the facility. He taught you about plants and water sources and made you list every possible terrain and the best possible strategy to handle it before you could leave for the day.

Despite the intense rigour with which he attacked your training, he was endlessly patient. He listened to every complaint before forcing you back onto the treadmill. He rubbed ointment on your fingertips after you cut them on the wire but made you rebuild the trap. He made sure you ate a full meal but quizzed you about everything he taught you while you sat together. And on the nights when you missed home, when the world felt like it was ending and your mind could only play the sight of your mother’s face crumpled with tears, the sound of your father crying, he held you and whispered stories of history long past into your ears until you slept.

He had so quickly become everything to you. At times you thought about how only a little while ago he had been nothing but an image on a screen, a name whispered around town, and now he was your comfort, your nourishment, your whole life, your very soul. You tried to imagine doing this without him, and you simply couldn’t. You knew you would have given up a long time ago if he had not been there to carry you through.

As the time to enter the arena crept closer and closer, the training got harder and harder. It was on a particularly difficult day that you returned from the facility and began rummaging in your closet for your reaping day dress. You hugged it as you slept sometimes, imagining that you could still smell the faint scent of your mother’s perfume on it. But it wasn’t there. You threw out every scrap of cloth that the capitol had provided for you, opened every drawer and pawed through every nook and cranny like a desperate mouse searching for food. It was nowhere to be found.

Aemond heard all the noise coming from your room and decided to venture in to figure out what was wrong. He found you sitting on the floor in a pile of underwear and training gear, hair still wet from the shower and tears streaming down your face. You were sobbing quietly, shoulders hunched forward and body bobbing slightly with every hiccuped breath. Your hands were clenched in the clothes you were surrounded by and he could see the chaos that had occurred. Aemond knelt down beside you and gently unclasped one of your hands from the clothes.

“What’s happened?” He asked quietly, softly touching each one of your fingertips where they were still red from working with the metal wire.

“My dress is gone,” you whispered hoarsely, looking up at him with big teary eyes. You looked like a child then, the way Daeron had when he used to fall down outside the house and cry until mother soothed his cuts and bruises. Aemond reached up and collected a tear with his thumb.

“They must have taken it for a wash, I’ll call down and find it,” he soothed, wiping the tear on his pants before repeating the gesture on your other cheek.

You continued to stare up into his eyes, and he let go of your hand to cup your cheek. He moved closer until his nose gently touched yours. You closed your eyes and waited, feeling his breaths brush over your lips. You waited and waited but he still didn’t kiss you. You opened your eyes again and he was staring at your face with such pain, such sadness that it crushed something in your chest.

Aemond had never felt such guilt for loving someone. He had happily loved his family and happily loved the one girl who had kissed him while they were still in school (though that had ended quickly). But here, with you, he felt the crushing weight of helplessness as he looked upon your face. He loved you, yet he could do nothing to get you out of this. He loved you, yet all he could give you were a few days, a few kisses, mere moments before everything was thrown into the air.

You leaned forward and slid your hands into Aemond’s hair. You pressed your lips to his mouth and gently kissed him then pulled away. You did it once more, staying just longer than a peck then pulling back. Then he was kissing you, pressing his tongue into your mouth and leaning over you so your neck tilted back. The tip of his nose pressed into your cheek and he kissed your lips like they should be cherished.

You pulled away and caressed his cheek, smiling then gently bumping his nose with yours. He smiled back, huffing out a sad little chuckle. You pressed your nose and mouth to his cheek and kissed him before mumbling against his skin.

“Thank you, for everything.”

It was your final night. Tomorrow you would be tossed in the arena and expected to survive for the entertainment of the capitol citizens. While you had done well with the parade, and people had immensely enjoyed your interview, you had scored appallingly low on your assessment. Aemond told you not to worry, that it was a good thing for people to underestimate you, they wouldn’t worry about killing you first because they believed you would end up dying on your own. You at least had cover for now.

You had eaten in silence, all four of you gathered for your last supper. Jasper had talked and talked, asking last-minute advice and making commentary about the other tributes, but you felt like any energy you might have had before had been completely zapped away. You drank three glasses of water, then walked to your room without a glance back, sitting in your bed to wait for Aemond to come to you.

It was as you began to doze off that he stepped into your room, the lights dimmed and casting shadows over his face. He walked over and sat in front of you on the bed, reaching over and gently caressing your head for a moment. You didn’t speak for the first few moments, what could you really say? Aemond cleared his throat.

“Don’t run for the cornucopia, just run for cove-”

“No advice please,” you interrupted, “not tonight. Tell me everything you can tomorrow morning, speak to me even as I’m being lifted away, but not tonight.” He nodded and shifted closer to you, watching as you reached out to hold his hands. “Will you show me?” You finally asked, and his heart stopped in his chest.

He knew what you were asking for, but somehow this still terrified him. It was… grotesque, horrifying, and a million other gruesome words. What would you say after seeing it? Aemond gulped and turned away from you to sit on the edge of the bed.

“When he slashed my eye, that was the most pain I had ever felt in my eye,” he began, voice rough. “Rhaenys sent me bandages and I was able to keep it wrapped up until the end of the games, but after I was lifted out, they took me straight to the hospital. I was delirious, but I remember the medics said there were a million things that could have gone wrong. I was lucky it wasn’t infected, and I was lucky they could perform surgery quickly.” Aemond closed his eye as he spoke but his fists were clenched on his knees. “When I finally woke up, blind in one eye, they brought me a mirror to show me their work. They said they were so proud, that not only had I been given the best care but they had made me seem truly capitol. You know what they did to my eye?” He snapped in your direction and you jumped. He stared at you with his one blue eye, unforgiving as steel. “They shoved a huge chunk of sapphire into the empty socket. There’s no eye in there, no cavity, not even scarred over skin. Every time I take off this eyepatch, the evidence of the games stares back at me. The thought that I have been forever changed by the capitol, disfigured by them in the name of beauty…” his chest was heaving and he had gone deathly pale. You reached over but he swiftly grabbed your hand, grip tight. He stared at your face, at the look of earnest care and pure love in your eyes, and slowly peeled away his fingers.

You didn’t make a sound as you gripped the strap of his eyepatch and lifted it over his head. You didn’t say a word as you looked upon the rough cut sapphire that sat where his eye should have been. All you did was lean over and kiss him, smiling against his lips and kissing him again. He pushed you onto your back and kissed you until you were breathless. He kissed over your neck, and after removing your nightgown, he kissed down your chest and over your stomach. He pulled down your pants and kissed you between your thighs until you could only call out his name. He kissed your thighs, your stomach, your breasts, and back up to your lips. He pressed into you for the first time, and you whined into his mouth. You dug your nails into his shoulders and he pressed into you once more. He did it again and again and again until you were overcome with pleasure. Then he did it again.

You stood beside the tube that would take you up into the arena. You couldn’t explain how you felt. Your entire body felt like it was thrumming but your mind was quiet. There were a million things you wanted to say, but not one word passed your lips.

Aemond had come down with you even though he wasn’t supposed to. You held tight to his hand and he didn’t say a word. He had spent the morning rapidly telling you things you were sure you would forget the moment the horn went off. He had stopped occasionally to kiss you, to caress your hair and hold you until he started breathing normally again. But he could do no more. The countdown had started, and you had a minute before you had to get into the tube.

“You know what you’re doing, you can survive,” he said simply, holding onto your hands. But you only shook your head and hushed him.

“Aemond, if I don’t make it out-”

“Don’t say that,” he spat out, gripping your face in his hands, but you just shook your head as much as you could in his grip.

“If I don’t make it out, I want you to know how much I love you. I need you to know. It’s the only thing that will let me die peacefully in the arena. I’ll fight, and I’ll try and make my way back to you, but if it should happen that I can’t… I need you to know.” Your lip trembled and you smiled at him, nodding as if everything was fine and you would be back in a minute.

“I know, I know, of course I know,” he whispered, pressing his lips so tightly to yours that when you pulled away they throbbed. “But you…” he gulped and shook his head and you saw the tears begin to collect in his eyes. “You just make it out,” was all he whispered, and kissed you again.

He kissed you until you had to rush to get into the tube. He stood by the glass as the final countdown began, ten seconds ticking by faster than they ever had before. And just as you began to rise, hands slipping against the glass, he mouthed ‘I love you,’ but he didn’t know if you had seen it.

Endnote: I truly believe Rhaenys would win the shit out of the hunger games

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sorrowfulmuse · 7 months

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Would you write a headcanon or even a blurb on mk1 Liu Kang having a crush on reader or falling in love with reader? I need more content with him so badd 😭 Please and thank you love ❤️

♡ headcanon :: how liu kang fell in love with gn!reader and their traits

mentions/warnings: none! just stupid writing errors (will be edited later)

babe pls i've been WAITING for someone to request him!! sorry for any typos or anything, i'm waiting on my laptop for the first time since my phone sucks with having music in the background while i write on here but here you go! hope you enjoy!! MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN YALL! & pls reblog thank you! ☺️💓

liu kang would be conflicted in my opinion, its a new world.. a new era and he is a god compare to you being in his earth realm defense, but nonetheless it did not wary the feelings he had for you.

what was the traits that he favored from you? well, you did easily best kung lao in one of his bets! (lowkey so did the rest favored you cause it shut up kung lao for a bit!)

but mainly, you were ambitious for earth realm's victory when titan!shang tsung had declared war on this timeline.

you had confidence in him despite being told your past lives in different timelines from geras, he had asked why and was met with a answer that tugged at heart in the most blossoming way. "the fates will always find a way and i'm most thankful for this one as i get to be by your side."

was this a confession reader??? 🤓

you would laugh at his jokes even though no one else would get them, (you didn't really find his jokes humorous but you adored enough him enough to put up with it.) he still appreciated it, even if it was the smallest thing from you

in trainings, missions and in other assortments.. being diligent was your main priority. making sure you and your comrades made it back all in one piece, sometimes plans weren't always followed through but you were clever enough to have a backup plan to ensure success.

liu kang would dote on you when both of you are alone, he'll compliment the way you did your hair, how your voice sounded when you sung (lets pretend you know how to sing LOL) this man was down bad i tell ya!!

at madam bo's everything you ate/drink was paid by him, he even would ask madam bo to make you off menu dinings

this made everyone jealous because you were receiving royal treatment on which you would tease them for when his back was turned

"have you tried this tea before? it helps to smooth your throat if you have a cold" "eat this dish, the flavors of the soup can help with the sickness you're going through."

YES liu kang would be that type of person to take care of you even if you show the rarest signs of sickness!

but how did he meet you in this new era? you were trained in combat, martial arts and amongst other things which made you the second best behind raiden to being earth realms champion

although not being chosen not to represent in the tournament, you exceeded his expectations and was humbled enough to not let your pride get the best of you.

to end this, liu kang was in love with you simply because you believed in his vision and strength all those eras ago. you were you, you were his.. in every lifetime.

#mk1 x reader #liu kang #liu kang x reader #liu kang fluff #mortal kombat #mk1 #mk1 scenarios #mk1 headcanons #liu kang headcanon #mk1 fluff #mk1 liu kang #mk1 x gn!reader #liu kang x gn!reader #mk1 hcs #mortal combat 1

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pretzel-box · 2 months

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The scars we share [Leon Kennedy Soulmate AU] [Part 1]

Warnings: Mentions of scars

Tags: Fluff, comfort, Leon as a protective friend!

Words: 1.3k

Summary: You and your soulmate share scars. While you worry about them, the man you met in the supermarket worries about you.

"In this world people find their soulmate through the strangest things. Sharing a red string. Seeing the world in black and white till the right person appear or having a word written on your arm. Every pair of soulmate has an unqiue bonding."

The page ends there. The paragraph in this book alone left you annoyed and you smashed it straight against the wall, hoping it will throw away your negative feelings too. The excitment of having an own soulmate quickly disappeared, when you found out that your supposed partner and you shared scars. Every time when they get hurt, you get the same scar. Same the other way around. First it was nothing to worry about, it was simple things like a cut on the finger. This was the first scar that they gave you. A small white line on your pinky finger, like a pinky promise that your soulmate will forever be a part of you.

Over the time, the scars appeared more frequent. On your chest, shoulder, hips and legs. First it worried you, maybe your fated person was in danger? But time passed and it quickly became a bothersome issue. Yes, you're still worried for them but at the same time people thought you're the one in danger.

Thats how you met Leon, some millitary guy at the store. The man actually had trouble buying groceries, so you kindly helping him out. While taking a pack of dishwasher tabs from the higher asile shelves, the sleeve from your shirt fell down, exposing the rather nasty scars on your arm. The man definitly noticed since he started to ask in a low tone. "Are you okay?" The sudden low-voiced question caught you off guard and it took a moment for you to realize what he was talking about. "Oh, those? It's from my soulmate. Don't worry, I'm absolutely fine!" You forced yourself to laugh and hoped it reassured the worrying man. It was sweet for him to worry about you, despite knowing you for only a short moment.

Leon and you ended up becoming friends and exchanging phone numbers. He is an absolute sweetheart despite his stoic and serious face. And he ended up giving some useful tips for treating scars. Apparently even an military guy like him does a good skincare routine. He would also check up on you a lot, asking for your well-being and if you got more scars. He was like your personal male mom-friend.

Few days passed and you're sitting on the couch, caressing your elbow. Your soulmate actually managed to give you both a scar on the elbow. Exactly when you wanted to groan in frustration, a message popped up on your phone display.

'One new message from Mr.Lele'

Leon was sending you a link for a pricey skin lotion. Quite the sum for your poor budget.

"For your scars, I could give you some to try out." Sweet carrying mom-friend.

This was the reason for your first visit in his minimalistic appartment, and you could swear this man has more dust in his home than furniture at this point. He excused it by explaining that he's usually on business trips or crashing at other places. The whole appartment was just a cheap space to store the things he owned. It was hard to make out what kind of person Leon really was based on his belongings. While he fetched the lotion from the small bathroom, you walked around his bedroom and looked at the different items. Among them was a cute little postcard with a childish drawing, on it were three people presented as stickmans. A brown haired woman in a red jacket, a small blond girl and a blond man in a police uniform. Over their heads was a huge text written in a red crayon. "ThAnK yoU foR sAvIng Me YoUr SherRy." Sweet.

Next to it was a picture, it showed Leon standing in a line with other men who wore military uniform.

That was all. Everything else didn't showed any important items. Just some dusty untouched books in a bookshelf that are serving as decoration, a dead potted plant and a simple selection of clothes thrown lazily over a chair.

"Got it." His smooth voice catched your attention. In an instant you turned around and greeted him with a smile before looking at the small lotion box in his hand. "Mind if I?" He pointed to your arm that he already saw in the supermarket. You didn't turned him down and raised up your sleeve, displaying your arm to him. Leon started to hold your arm gently and traced the lines of the scars with his thumb. It was sending a tingle down the spine. Somehow it felt right to feel his touch just like that. You even missed the worried gaze he held. The man was totally focused on your arm, frowining softly as if he felt guilty for your scars.

"I know. They look bad. But I'm sure my soulmate didn't gave me those on purpose. I'm actually hoping that they are okay." A chuckle escaped your lips as you rambled about your scars and sorrows. The whole moment felt right, as if Leon always has been your friend and you know each other for ages. "Maybe they are clumpsy, or bravely spending their time saving other people." The man seemed less tense and lets out a content sigh. "They are probably sorry for hurting such a stunning person as yourself."

That caught your off guard and heat rushed into your cheeks. Did he just gave you a compliment? His thumb continued to caress the skin and you could feel the care and love he puts into his movements, it felt soothing and relaxing. You could melt right there just from the single touch he gave you. "It will be cold for a moment." He warns as he got some white lotion on his fingertips. He massaged it with care onto the scars. The steel blue eyes watched the movements of his hands closely.

"How come you know so much about scar-treatment? Is military rough to you?" You quickly came up with a topic to speak about before he was able to see the thick blush on your cheeks.

He hesitated, probably thinking about what to say next. Maybe it was embarassing for him to admit that he simply had a thing for skincare? Or he has a deep secret backstory? The thoughts made you smile to yourself. No matter what it was, it was cute that he's sharing his knowledge and experience with you.

"I got a soulmate." He starts. "They seem to live a pretty peaceful life." His eyes looked up to meet yours. The worries and guilt turned into certainty. "Or at least a violent-free one." His grip tightens around your arm, but it didn't hurt. "And they make me feel save. To know that they don't get in danger or have risky military operations like me, makes me feel happy."

The way he spoke was like a personal speech, as if he was sharing something personal and important with you.

"I wanna see them save but at the same time I hurt them."

"I'm sure you don't, Leon." You touch his cheek gently to cheer him up a bit. He sounds genuinely like a good person and there is no way he is capable of hurting someone. Especially someone that he shares a deep bond with.

"I hurt you." Leon pushes on your scar. "Multiple times." Then he lifts his arm and touches your elbow. Your hips, your leg, your shoulder... And thats the moment when the conclusion came into your mind. Your eyes widden and left your mouth agape. There are so many questions. So many words. And yet only one thing left your mouth.

"Are you hurt?"

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil fanfiction #leon kenendy fluff #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #Leon Kennedy AU

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 1 month

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Mini fluffy soulmate au, fates intervening and things like that. Mentions of a toxic relationship (not Eddie and reader) 18+ blog so minors shoo.

✨🫶🪄

Eddie was so late. This was his last chance to get back together with Violet and he was late. He had planned everything to a T, had flowers sent to her but when he called to confirm that she had gotten them it was met with stony silence.

"What flowers? Honestly all you do is fuck up Eddie, why am I surprised this is any different?" Her words cut him deeply, he wasn't the one who cheated, she was.

All because of a stupid tattoo. A tattoo that literally everyone in the world had. It was the mark of a soulmate, when the person met their soulmate the tattoo would burn and then glow.

The person was their other half, the one. Eddie scoffs at this. It sounded like fairytale bullshit and he wouldn't believe it was more than some fake shit. Except he knew that Steve had met his soulmate, Robin had met hers and Gareth had met his.

He was the only one who hadn't. The odd one out as Wheeler had unhelpfully pointed out.

Violet had supposedly met hers but it was a complete mix up, but she still went ahead and went out with the guy, all because of the constant fighting between her and Eddie.

He lashed out and said stupid things, they broke up and got back together to break up again three weeks later. It was toxic as fuck as Steve pointed out.

Eddie knew that but it was taking him a while to accept that. He didn't believe he would ever meet his soulmate so he spent all of his time with different women, relationships that were eventually doomed to go anywhere (ie. Violet)

He was currently tracking the whereabouts of his flowers and had tracked them to an apartment just a little away from his.

He barely had time to pick them up and get to the restaurant to meet Violet but he was going to try, his phone pings with another voicemail from Violet and he growls in frustration.

Honestly was this really fucking worth all the stress? His mood was growing more and more irritated by the minute, when he finally got to the apartment he was silently fuming.

Jesus h Christ, Violet was going to give him hell. His heart sinks, he really doesn't want to fight again. He was sick of it.

He buzzes the doorbell of the person who took in the flowers, sighs as another voicemail comes through from Violet.

"Eddie Munson, we are through. Fuck you! I'm waiting here like a dumbass and you don't even have the decency to show"

He rubs his head, feels the beginnings of a headache forming and groans. Just what he needs, a migraine to make his day even worse.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He opens his eyes and you're standing watching him, curious and smiling. Wow. He blinks rapidly and his cheeks warm. You were...just wow.

"Uh hi, my flowers were sent here by mistake" he suddenly feels tongue tied. Kinda what he was like in highschool when he met people who he found attractive. Except this was ten times worse.

There's a faint pulse that grows stronger and he realises it's his tattoo, it begins to turn golden and flows brightly.

You come back with the flowers. Gasp, then drop them as you clutch at your wrist. It's like something out of a cheesy movie as you pull up your sleeve and your tattoo is glowing as brightly as Eddie.

Well fuck. You look up at Eddie stunned and beam.

"Well hey there soulmate. Thought you'd never show up" you tease. Any thoughts of reconciliation with Violet completely leaves Eddie's mind. All he wanted to do now was get to know you.

He salvages a rose that hasn't been completely ruined and hands it to you, watches the way your eyes light up and he wants to do that all the time. Watch you smile, get to know you and be with you.

"Hey there, I'm Eddie"

❤️

#eddie munson x you #minors dni #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x soulmate!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson

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kenjakusbraincum · 9 months

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Reverence

Sukuna x Reader

Synopsis: Sukuna finds you clinging to life by a thread, trapped underneath the rubble of fallen buildings, after the final showdown. He saves you, deciding you’d make a good pet to keep him company at his lonely mansion. Word count: 8.9k Tags/warnings: Afab reader + gn language but the word ,whore’ is used, true form 2 dicks sukuna, dubcon, masturbation, fingering, penetrative sex, dacryphilia, size difference, biting, bruising, belly bulge, creampie Author’s note: First fic I’ve written in ages!! :> Feedback is very appreciated! This may be a part 1 depending on how inspired I get.

The razed city is quiet around him as he stands and scans the aftermath of his destruction. A moment of calmness after a catastrophe, similar to the rays of sun after a thunderstorm. But when he looks up into the sky, no sun shines down on him. The city is engulfed in dust, and beyond it, dark clouds gather above, weeping over the fate of the world that now lays in his four hands.

Everyone unfortunate enough to be close in the moments the battle went down is gone. Everyone who fought him has either died or escaped. He wasn’t a foolish man. He knew he would win, and once again on top of the world… what awaited him was loneliness and boredom. He let them escape. One day when they think they’ve grown strong enough to face him again, they will entertain him. But for now, they’re gone, and he’s bored.

Then there’s a rustle. Little rocks topple over each other in the ruins. You push them out of your way, crawling out from under blocks of concrete. Bloody, dusted, dirty… and still, he finds you beautiful. He follows you with sharp eyes. Under any other circumstance, you would’ve noticed you were being stared at. But now it’s different. Your vision is blurred by blood dripping from your forehead into your eyes, and every movement of your body hurts. You are dying, you know that. You just don’t want to die under a rock. If you’re going to die, let it at least be in the open. Let it be under the bright blue sky, under the sun, so you’re at peace. But when you turn around to lay a final look at what you wish for, you are met with a heavy gaze of four red eyes.

You’ve sparked his curiosity. A human who survived his divine chaos. A human he’s seen before, in passing, while possessing Yuji. His eyes always did linger on you, but he’s always had something more important to focus on. Now, you’ve fully got his attention.

The warmth of sunshine that you so badly wished for in your last moments welcomes you when you wake up. Reborn. You shuffle around in bed, letting out a strained noise. You look around to find you’re alone in the room. Your memories slowly come back to you as you sit up. Fighting alongside your friends. The falling building. Crawling out of it’s remains. The pain, god the pain. It’s all gone now. You look down on yourself, dressed in sleeping robes. Clean. Not a scar on your body. The light soreness you feel is probably from too much sleep. But despite the fact you’re healed, you feel uneasy. You search through your head for your last memory. The realization comes to you grounds you with it’s heaviness, and you feel like you’re sinking into the depths of the earth.

Your friends didn’t come back for you. They either died, or left you to die. But you ended up here instead. This was Sukuna’s home, unmistakably. Where else could you have ended up, after the last thing you saw was him? Who could’ve possibly rescued you from him? Who could rescue you now? Your fate was sealed the moment you were crushed under debris, but you were supposed to be dead. This was a change in plans. This was an impulsive decision, that someone is yet to see prove it’s worth. Or disappoint.

You understand immediately what position you were in. The situation is very clear. The entrance to the garden from your room is closed, undoubtedly to prevent you from running away. But truly, even if it was open, how far would you get before getting caught and inevitably punished? And where would you run? Where in this world, that now belongs to him, is it safe to hide, and how far away is that place? No, running away is impossible. In a way, the safest place from Sukuna was his home. Surely if he let you reside in it, that meant something. Fighting was another foolish option. You discarded it as soon as it crossed your mind. You don’t even have to instigate to know you’d lose. Everyone lost. You were no different, despite of your strength and potential. Besides, your gut told you that running and fighting wouldn’t end in simple terms such as being killed immediately. No, if he brought you here, there was no way he would just kill you. He likes to watch people suffer after all.

Your only option is to stay. You are grateful he gave you this time alone to come to terms with your fate. You understand that staying here, and staying unharmed, would mean compliance. Obedience. Something that went against your very essence as a person, and as a sorcerer. You laugh with unease. Just as you begin to imagine what your life will entail from now on, the door opens, and you’re met with a short white haired person. Sukuna’s minion. You recognize them from before.

‘’You’re awake.’’, they exclaim with no emotion. They look at you, but it feels like they’re looking straight through you.

,,I am.’’, you say after a moment. An attempt to break the discomfort.

,,I didn’t ask.’’, they shoot you with a stare, a warning.

,,S-sorry…’’, you correct yourself immediately, trying to cause as little problems as possible. It’s merely your first interaction in this estate, and you already find yourself backtracking. Giving in.

They let out a tiny tsk sound. ‘’What do you remember?’’, they ask. They sound completely uninterested, and their eyes are empty.

‘’Everything.’’, you reply sadly. It comes across as a smile.

‘’You don’t need catching up then.’’, they sigh, not considering that maybe you would like to be caught up as to where exactly you are right now, and how long have you been sleeping. ‘’My name is Uraume. I’m assigned to help you transition into this new environment.’’, a moment of silence, and they scan your face for a reaction. ‘’Master will see you. The ladies will come to prepare you and dress you up promptly.’’, another pause. Uraume lets you process the information. ‘’When you are around Master, you should act properly. Do not look up at him without permission. Do not speak unless spoken to. Do everything he says with as little delay as possible. He’s your Master now. Obey him and address him as such.’’

Silence drowns the room. The instructions strike a wave of fear and anxiety in you. What bothers you now is not whether or not you’ll be forced to do things you don’t want to, it’s will you be able to do everything right? Will you slip up, or forget an instruction? Will you embarrass yourself, or more importantly disappoint your master?

‘’Understood?’’, Uraume asks, clearly annoyed judging by their tone. You wonder if they’ve asked this twice but you haven’t heard the first time. You simply nod, and your head droops down. Uraume watches you. ‘’When you’re ready knock on the doors, the ladies will come in. Don’t take too long.’’, they say and turn back to the open door. ‘’I’ll see you later.’’

You sit with yourself and think about your future. Every passing second makes it more imminent and clear. Seeing as there’s no other option, you make peace with your future of servitude. You can only imagine what it entails. You’d be lucky if you were assigned with mopping floors or chopping human meat in the kitchen. Deep down you know that the job you’ll be assigned with is a much less dignifying one. You rationalize things in your head. Since there’s nothing else you can do, you might as well try your best to avoid problems by being good at what you’re tasked with. You sense that it will rid you of all your pride and personhood. Your innocence, that you’ve been saving your whole life for a moment that’s supposed to be special. It will be special, but not in the way you’ve always imagined. It will be ceremonial, a symbol of entering a new chapter in your life. You dread this. But, the alternative is death, or possibly worse. Between those two, you’ve already made your choice. You’re not going to die twice.

You will yourself to stand up and knock on the door. Get it over with as soon as possible, you think. Once the deed is done it will be easier. Two women open the doors and greet you with a deep bow. You’re confused as to what about your presence warrants an extraordinary show of respect. You guess that in the hierarchy of this estate you are above the measly servants. But just by a little bit.

The women guide you down a long hallway, into a bathhouse. They begin to undress you, and there’s not much you can do to protest. Not that you’d say no to a warm bath, but the discomfort is still there. You feel watched, violated, even when their touch is light, even gentle. The women sense this, and they incorporate asking questions into their routine, checking if you’re okay with this, that. It helps you relax, at least a little bit. Over the course of the next few hours you’re thoroughly bathed, shaved, and dried. By the end of it, you don’t mind the little spa treatment you got. It makes the situation seem a little less bad, if you pretend you don’t know why you were taken care of with such precise detail. They dress you up, wrapping you in expensive silk and comment on how beautiful you look.

It’s true, you look mesmerizing. Your skin glows under the dim lights. If it wasn’t for the sadness in your eyes… no one could tell that a day ago you were on the verge of death. Time came to thank your Master for gracefully giving you a second chance.

Uraume waits outside of the bathhouse. They eye you up and down, as if they’re checking if the women did a good job at making you look presentable. They nod and the women are discharged. ‘’Did you enjoy yourself?’’, Uraume makes small talk as they lead you back down the hallway. Nothing in their voice suggests they’re interested in your answer. Everything they do feels like they’re filling out a form.

You don’t know how to answer. ‘’Yes.’’, you answer. It’s not completely truthful, but your emotions are too complicated to explain. Especially since no one here cares about them anyways.

Uraume doesn’t look at you. ‘’Master knows when people lie to him.’’

You’re caught off guard. Are you that bad of a liar? Once again, your impulse to come clean wins over you, and you spew words. ‘’I didn’t mean to come off as ungrateful..’’, you say.

‘’You need to work on it more.’’, they say. You wonder if they could spare you at least one word of encouragement for trying. You wonder if something like that even crosses their mind. If they think about this at all. Or is this a routine they’re used to from before. ,,Master has been busy today. Try not to get on his nerves.’’, they add after a moment.

You stop in front of a huge, monumental door. Uraume faces you. They give you a long stare, fix your collar and tuck your hair behind your ears. Anxiety never left you, but now it’s drumming in your ear, overwhelming you. It feels like static in your whole body, rendering you weak. Your palms sweat and tears begin to pool in your eyes.

Uraume notices. You are their responsibility after all. Master won’t be happy with them if you come in crying and disheveled. They try to come up with something that would console you quickly. ‘’Don’t worry too much. Master wouldn’t go out of his way to heal you from imminent death just to kill you immediately after.’’, even they sound like they’re not sure what they said is completely true. Was Sukuna really above doing such a thing? Somehow the statement has an opposite of the intended effect, and you feel even worse now.

Uraume grabs your shoulders and looks you intently in the eye. What they say sounds like the most sincere thing that’s left their mouth so far during your conversations. ‘’You will be fine.’’. With that, they open the door and enter before you. You try your hardest to stop yourself from crying.

‘’Master, I’ve brought them.’’, they say, bowing deeply. There’s no answer from the inside, but he must’ve approved, since Uraume opens the door fully and lets you in.

You exchange one last stare with them and step into the room. You do as you’ve been told and keep your gaze fixed to your feet. The atmosphere engulfs you instantly. The air is thick and heavy, the room smells like death. You pass by a couple of pools of blood, fresh and dry ones, and you feel your hands start to shake. There are bones piled around his throne. The weight of the air, his four eyes watching your every move, and the aura of evil, pure evil. You feel as though you’re pushed onto your knees. You weren’t instructed to do so, but it comes to you as an impulse. You do it out of reverence, out of instinct. Out of paralyzing fear. You plant your hands in front of you and kiss your forehead against the cold ground.

‘’Master..’’, you say. It comes out shaky and desperate. You get no approval from him either. You feel his stare in your bones.

When he finally speaks, it’s not directed at you. ‘’Leave us.’’, he says, and you hear the doors close a moment after. You feel his stare lift from you for a second, before you’re granted his full attention. He observes you for another moment, that feels like an eternity.

‘’Stand up.’’

You stand up immediately, straightening out your robe with your hands. You stare at the bones before his throne. Some of them human, some animal. Some old and dusted, some fresh with hints of pink flesh and blood on them.

‘’Come to me.’’

You raise your gaze enough to scan where exactly you should come to. You’re disheartened to find that there’s no such thing as stairs to take you to where he’s sitting. You don’t hesitate for too long, suspecting it may anger him. You place your foot on the pile of bones and climb towards him, quite unceremoniously. You come to a stop a couple of steps away from his feet. You needn’t look directly at him to see how huge he is, sprawled in his seat. His head is leaned against his palm. One of his hands taps the armrest impatiently, the other two sit still at his sides.

Your eyes are fixated on the bones, trying your best to maintain balance on the uneven surface. You hear him tap his thigh twice, signaling for you to come closer. You choose your steps carefully as you enter his personal space. There’s nothing but him to hold onto if you fall. You sit on his knee clumsily, keeping your hands in your lap so as not to touch him without permission. One of his hands comes down on your back immediately, and you shiver.

,,Obedient.’’, he notes. ,,But that’s not what I meant.’’

In a moment, his hands are on you, pushing you back up and guiding you into a different position. He grips your hips, and heavy hands settle you in his lap, making you straddle him. Your legs struggle to stretch far apart to accommodate you in this pose. Your heart pounds in your chest, so loud you’re afraid he may hear it.

Once again you fail to control your words. ‘’Master, I’m sorry, I misunderstood...’’, you cut yourself off before you go into babbling. He must have accepted your apology, because his hands pull you closer by the hip, grinding you against his bulge. Your insides throb at the contact, and you don’t know what to do with your hands.

He finds your flustered reactions amusing. ‘’You may look.’’, he says, and meets your eyes with a smile.

You do as you’re told, returning the stare. Your eyes explore his face for a second before settling on his eyes. Everything you do is unsure, even looking at him. You don’t want him to find it offensive. You don’t have any ideas what exactly you’re dealing with. He stares back only for a moment, before he moves on to your body. He feels your cheek, hair, the fabric of your kimono, your hands and nails. You shudder against the gentle touch. You didn’t expect to be handled with such care, even for this short moment. You don’t think for a second that he will stay this gentle. But you want to cherish it while it lasts. You relax into his touch and observe him. Four eyes judge every detail of your presence. Strawberry blond hair slicked back, strands tucked behind his pierced ears. Strong jawline, accentuated by his tattoos. Wide shoulders, bearing four arms. You feel small and weak in his lap, more aware than ever before of just how powerless you are. Just how much your life hangs by a thread that is his good will and mercy.

‘’Beautiful.’’, he observes you, not quite meeting your eyes yet. His gaze lingers on your lips, nose, cheeks. ‘’Well behaved too, it seems.’’. You shudder under his praise, and the hand that trails gently down your back, teasing you. Two hands sit snugly on your hips, holding you in place. The last one travels from your shoulder, to your neck, lingering for a moment as he drags his finger against your throat. It crawls up to your cheek, cupping it, brushing the soft, flushed skin.

‘’Yes.’’, you say, catching yourself spilling words again. Your mind doesn’t quite work in this moment. You’re completely dazed by his energy, his touch, his gaze. You’re helpless as you feel yourself clench around nothing, slick pooling in your most sensitive parts in response to his advances.

‘’Yes what?’’, he asks, thumb hooking under your chin and tipping your face up.

‘’Yes Master.’’, you correct yourself quickly, catching immediately what it is he wanted you to say. In this moment, you think of Maki. You think of how she would have done anything to get herself killed before ever uttering the words of compliance that just escaped your mouth. You have no spine at all. You’re not, and never were nearly as brave as her. You’d always crumble in the face of danger. You imagine the look she’d give you, if she knew what you were doing in this moment.

‘’Good.’’, Sukuna’s low voice snaps you back to the present moment. His thumb finds your lips, swiping over them for a moment before stopping against them. You part your lips in response, and he inserts his thumb into your mouth, pressing against your tongue. You let out a tiny noise in response. You don’t need to be told. You seal your lips around him and start to suck. You close your eyes in focus, feeling the taste of his skin in your mouth. In a moment, there’s a hand on your throat, pressing just lightly enough to warn you. You open your eyes and blink at him, compensating for another mistake by sucking harder. Underneath yourself, you feel his bulge awaken, twitching in response to your efforts. So snugly pressed against him, you wonder if he feels you throb too. Your body works against you. You’re enjoying this.

‘’So willing to please..’’, he says. ‘’As you should be. You have quite a favor to return.’’

You lower your head, his words reminding you why you’re here. He must’ve sensed that you forgot, even for a moment. You pick your words carefully. ‘’It’s true, Master.. you saved my life, and for that I don’t know how to thank you enough...’’, you sound pathetic to yourself. Maki’s eyes loom over you again. She is the devil on your shoulder, whispering to run, kick, scream obscenities. Anything, just not to give in to his command. But you already have.

‘’You needn’t concern yourself with that.’’, he says. The hands on your hips guide you slowly into a grinding motion against his crotch. You sigh at the contact. ‘’You’re here to serve me.’’

‘’Master...’’, your words come out in form of a whine. Your hips move slowly in sync with his hands, your body assumed in complete submission. Pleasure builds inside your core, making you almost forget you stopped mid-sentence. ‘’Whatever you need.’’, you stare into his eyes intently. You’ve truly sunk so low.

Sukuna huffs in amusement, watching you move against him desperately. He’s satisfied that you catch on quickly. But his stare is focused on where your body meets his. He’s leaned against his palm again, pondering what to do, how to test you next.

That’s when the doors open. You freeze in panic, and look back to see Uraume, bowing deeply once again. Next you start to feel shame. You’re straddled snug against the man who razed a city, killed people, innocents, maybe even your friends. And now there’s someone watching you while you’re at it. Uraume pays you no mind, or they pretend not to. They look straight through you, into their master.

‘’Master, I apologize profusely for interrupting. It’s an urgent matter.’’, Uraume says, and looks at the ground.

Sukuna’s finger taps on the armrest in frustration. His demeanor changes, pleased expression exchanged with a frown. You feel the switch in energy in the core of your being, and fear grows in your chest again. He stares at Uraume for a while, then he reverts back to you.

‘’Come back to me tonight.’’, and with that, his hands push you off his lap and you stagger back to your feet. Your body mourns the lack of contact.

‘’Yes master..’’, you mumble and bow, then make your way down the pile of bones again. Sukuna doesn’t react, at least not that you can see or feel, so you guess he doesn’t have a complaint on how you said your goodbyes to him. You walk back to Uraume, swallowing your shame. They wait for you at the doors and lead you outside.

A couple of turns later you’re back in the room you woke up in. Your bed was made in the meantime and a new set of sleeping clothes waited for you nicely folded on top of it. Your eyes linger on the door to the terrace.

‘’Can I see the garden?’’, you ask, and turn back to Uraume.

‘’Master doesn’t allow it yet.’’, they say.

‘’Yet?’’, you narrow your eyes. Uraume starts to get visibly annoyed by your questions. Their voice however remains unchanged.

‘’Good behavior earns privileges.’’

,What a privilege, to go outside.’, you think to yourself, and look back through the window.

‘’You seem to be in Master’s good graces already. I’m sure you’ll be allowed outside in no time.’’, Uraume speaks what sounds like words of comfort for the first time.

Of course you are in his good graces. Because you left all dignity at the doors of his throne room. He stripped you of it, without any effort. His energy alone forced you to your knees, his words struck directly to your core. You wonder how much more you’ll have to endure before being granted the simple mercy of feeling the sun on your skin. ‘’Thank you.’’, you say to Uraume. You appreciate their sentiment.

‘’Are you hungry?’’, they ask. You wonder if anyone in these premises knows, or cares about your name. Or are you that worthless to them.

‘’Yes.’’

Uraume nods and leaves the room to bring you some food. You sit by the terrace door and look outside.

You can’t see the sunset from where your chambers are located. All you’re left with is the little piece of sky, uncovered by the surrounding trees, and the limits that windows impose on your view. The outside of the estate looks weirdly peaceful, like it’s not a home to a monster. All sorts of animals appear in the garden, from bugs to birds. As the night falls, you hear the faint sounds of frogs, and even catch sight of a little hedgehog, trotting from one bush to another. The garden truly seems like a little piece of heaven inside what effectively is your prison. Your heart longs to see it, to spend time in it. To smell the grass and feel the earth, your mother, against your skin.

You’re called to him again when the sun has already set, and the last bits of light leave the night sky. Uraume holds the door open to you without a word. You’re forced to part your eyes from the outside, and look to them instead. Their head is low, their stare adorned with what you recognize as pity. You haven’t felt fear about the imminent encounter until you’ve seen them look at you like this. Now it’s starting to creep up on you all over again. Static. Tingling and restlessness. Maybe they know something you don’t, perhaps about what kind of mood your master is in now. You stand up and follow them out. It’s easier to just get it over with, you think again.

Uraume knocks on the door and opens just a crack. ‘’Master, as per your request.’’, they bow. Once again there is no verbal confirmation. You know he’s reacted when Uraume moves to make space for you to come in. You start to see patterns in their interactions.

His chambers are dimly lit, the interior hard to see. He sits on the edge of his bed and stares your way. You feel it again. A lump in your throat. A force of understanding that has you picking up your robes and falling to your knees. If he wasn’t in the mood before, your willingness to serve now puts a smile on his face. You don’t get to see it though. Your face is touching the ground.

‘’Leave, Uraume.’’, he says. You hear the doors close shut, and note that he sounds a bit more impatient than before.

You feel a bit easier when Uraume isn’t there. Something about another pair of eyes observing your ordeal made it all the more difficult.

‘’Come.’’, he says, and you hear the familiar tap. You look up to see his hand on the spot next to him on the bed. You struggle back to your feet and walk over to him hesitantly. Your hands sweat, and you try to wipe them off of each other. You overthink every little detail. How close to him should you sit? Is it better to sit further away and be lulled closer, or sit closer and be pushed away?

‘’Well?’’, he asks, eagerly watching you debate with yourself. ‘’Or do you prefer my lap?’’

You’re not quite sure what’s the right answer. ‘’Wherever you wish, Master…’’, you reply, reminding yourself to stare at the ground.

He sees every doubtful thought reflect on your face. He knows you’re being diplomatic, neither wanting to refuse him, nor make requests. ,,Pick.’’, he challenges you.

Your mind races as you think through the positives and negatives of either choice.

,,I’m waiting.’’, he follows up with a warning. It sounds sinister. Giving up any further mental efforts, you pick up the fabric of your clothes and climb onto his lap again, dipping your knees into the bed besides him. He hums in response, seemingly satisfied with your choice. A pair of hands quickly finds your hips again, drawing you closer, he seems to like to hold you in place. Once again you’re seated snugly against him, layers of fabric being the only thing parting you from his bulge. ‘’Look at me.’’, he says, tilting your chin up. ‘’Let’s continue where we left off.’’

You do as he says, meeting his eyes. You try to gauge his mood. For now, he seems content with you. You let yourself relax. So far, there’s nothing unenjoyable about your encounter. Other than the nature of being made into a servant, of course.

‘’Do you know why you’re here?’’, he asks, rocking you slowly against him. Your hands sit at his hips, clinging to the scrunched up fabric of his kimono. You’re not quite sure you’re allowed to touch him deliberately. You wish to, though. You yearn for a connection, after all you’ve never been in this position before.

‘’To serve you, Master.’’, you reply, blinking at him with doe eyes. Nothing about this situation should be arousing, yet you find your insides clenching at your own words. Effectively you’re trapped, with no chance of another untimely interruption. You’re going to be made to do things even if you’re unsure of yourself. Even if you don’t want to. But you’re still pushing against him, searching for more of him, on your own accord. He has a power over you.

‘’True.’’, he tucks your hair behind your ear, leaning closer into you. You can feel his breath on your face, hot, dangerous. ,,But you’re not my servant.’’, he thinks out loud. ,,Or a slave, for that matter. Let’s crown you as my pet.’’

Another throb.

,,A source of entertainment. A subject of training. My little human jester.’’

You imagine looking at yourself in the mirror, at what you’ve become within a day of being under threat. A piece of you wants to mourn, a piece of you wants to spit on your reflection. What comforts you is that, even if your friends are alive, they will never know the extent of your compliance. They will never know the words that leave your mouth as you sit upon a monster’s lap, wanting more. ‘’How can I entertain you, Master?’’, you ask.

A reserved, but wicked smile graces his face. ‘’Undress.’’

Your heart sinks. But you move, standing up from his lap and taking a step back. So he has a better view. You hesitate, but eventually undo your obi and unwrap your kimono and undergarments, discarding the clothes on the ground. The cool air touches your skin, making you shiver. Your hands sit at your sides, feeling your goosebumps. He observes you carefully from his seat, his eyes exploring your naked form. When he’s satisfied, he motions for you to come closer with his finger. You follow, drawn in by desire.

He doesn’t let you sit back yet. You stand between his legs, as his cold hands start to feel you up. Plush soft skin, reactive to his every advance. His touch is gentle, but hungry. Impatient. He grasps at your waist and behind, fondles your chest between his fingers. One of his hands teases your thighs, your stomach, before finally dipping between your folds. You whine out loud as his finger brushes against your sensitive bud, and feels up your wet entrance. Pleased with your reaction, he draws his finger back to your bud, spreading your essence to ease friction. Your knees buckle and you gasp again.

‘’So responsive.’’, he comments, as he starts to rub circles around your sensitive spot. ,,Has anyone touched you like this before?’’

‘’N-no, Master, just me..’’, you say, hiding your face in shame.

He likes your response. He likes your shame. He will make you feel so much more of it than just this. You’re all his for the taking. ‘’Lay down.’’, he commands, and withdraws his hand from between your thighs. He stands up, and just for a moment before you climb into the bed, you get to see how tall he is in comparison to you.

‘’Not that far away.’’, he says. You wiggle back so you’re closer to the edge of the bed. You lay on your back, propped up on your elbows, legs spread wide for his viewing. You try to do your best. He looms over you now, fingers finding your private parts again. He rubs you carefully with one hand, the other feels your entrance again, and one finger dips in. You sigh, head leaning back at the foreign feeling. Two fingers and the pain of the stretch already pricks at you. A whimper escapes you, but you lull yourself to be quiet. It’s only his fingers, after all. They’re thick and long, and practiced, as they explore your insides. He’s doing you a favor.

‘’You’ve been such an obedient little human. You deserve a reward.’’, he says, his words making you squeeze his fingers. You moan as sparks of pleasure rattle your body, his fingers effortlessly finding the spot inside you that makes your leg shake. You forget about your manners. He stops, and you look back to him in desperation. ‘’What do you say when I reward you?’’

‘’Thank you Master!’’, you look at him through hazy eyes. Standing above you like this, he looks like a god. In complete ownership of your smaller, sprawled out body. You feel filthy, but his fingers inside you make you see stars, make you completely forget how you got here in the first place. You’re overtaken by a perverted, primal instinct, as you near your orgasm and force your legs open wider. The squelching noises of his fingers working out your hole fill the room.

Sukuna responds to your movements with a devilish grin. ‘’’Close, little pet?’’, he asks you, almost mockingly. His fingers massage your spongy walls, the sensitive spot in the depths of your fragile body.

‘’S-so close… Ahh!’’, you mewl through the moans, squeezing your fingers in a fist.

‘’Don’t hold back.’’, he says, eyes fixated on you, his own erection starting to strain unbearably against the fabric of his clothes. ‘’I may be generous, but that doesn’t mean I’m patient.’’

His words are truly your command. His energy, his presence, it strips you of any agency you have over yourself. Your body shakes to his words and pleasure washes over you, blacking your vision out as your eyes roll back. It rocks you, your hole throbbing, squeezing hard around his fingers. He rubs you through it gently but persistently, until you’re so sensitive you’re closing your legs to make him stop. You don’t have time to be embarrassed, coming down from your orgasm. He is entertained, but his hands are on your knees in no time, spreading them back apart, reminding you you’re far from done. When you look back up at him, his stare spells a warning. You quickly react by symbolically spreading a little wider, and tilting your hips to give him access.

‘’Would you rob me of my turn, pet?’’, he asks, undoing his obi.

‘’No! Never, Master..’’, your eyes travel down his figure as he discards his clothes. Even from this angle, his sculpted body looked massive in comparison to you. You wonder if it would engulf you if he lied over you right then and there, leaving only your clinging arms and legs as evidence that there is someone underneath him at all. Adorned by tattoos and muscles, he looks monstrous, imposing. You look at him with admiration, as your gaze drops to his hips, and the essence of his manhood. The two of them that hang from his crotch, rock hard and throbbing at the sight of you. At first you are taken aback, but after a moment you realize the math is right and it’s weird this hasn’t crossed your mind earlier. He does have a pair of everything else, so it makes sense he’s double gifted down there too. The base of his cocks is crowned with a low hanging set of balls, plump and ready to be drained. Nervousness that paints your face and changes your demeanor. You’re suddenly very aware of just how small your frame is compared to him, and the size of his cocks.

He likes watching people’s reactions. He is a cruel man after all. He likes his subjects nervous, fearful. A little resistance even excites him. But your pale face and tense body almost make him feel sorry for ruining your relaxed composure. Almost. It also happens to make him throb with desire. Underneath him, your face is contorted in fear. You think he might just kill you. What a painful and degrading death it would be, to die split on his cock like at the stake.

‘’Don’t like what you see?’’, he smirks at you, teasing, his demeanor seeming to change in an instant.

‘’Master, it’s not that... it’s just that...’’, you stutter over your words. Embarrassment and horror cojoin in your excuses. ‘’I’ve never done this before. I don’t think I can…’’, your eyes meet his and you trail off, leaving your thoughts unfinished. Sukuna doesn’t consider his subjects. He is a man who takes and takes, without a second thought, or a look at the person he’s taking from. His stare does linger on your fearful eyes though. He notices that in himself, feels himself slipping up from his usual behavior. An impulse comes to him to assert dominance aggressively, but he doesn’t react. He remembers how easily you submitted to him in the first place. He doesn’t need feats of aggression to scare you into compliance. You’re very compliant anyways. It’s just that you make him feel the closest emotion he’s felt to guilt in a very long time.

‘’Scoot back, pet. Hands and knees. Just one will do for tonight.’’, he says. You doubt he tried to comfort you, but thinking of it like that makes it easier to bear.

You obey him and turn around, crawling further onto the bed on all fours. He follows you, knees dipping into the mattress. His words are of little comfort as he crawls over you like a predator over his prey. Fear rises in your chest and you feel your heart start to pound again. He settles over you, heavy hands landing on your hips and pushing your thighs further apart to accommodate him between them. Another hand lands flat on your back, the plane between your shoulder blades, so small against his massive palm. So fragile against his brute strength. He could break you if he wanted to. Yet, he barely even pushes you.

‘’Down.’’, he says, urging you to bend, allow him better access. You follow instructions, letting his hand guide your torso lower until your chest is pressed into the mattress. You feel uncomfortable, bent into this position that is completely new to you. Your slick folds are exposed for his viewing, your opening gaping with a shameless noise. He’s going to take you from behind, like an animal. You won’t even see, or feel your suitor, the man who will claim your innocence.

‘’Master..’’, your voice trembles and you turn your head to the side, searching for his gaze. He looks from your body back to you, listening. ‘’I’m scared..’’

He huffs, his expression not changing to signal he’s unhappy. Rather, he seems amused. Noticing that doesn’t help you feel any less scared. His first reaction is ,you should be.’. But he doesn’t want to send you into hysterics. He likes the peace and quiet. ‘’Relax pet.’’, he says, more of a command than a suggestion. ‘’It’ll hurt less.’’

You will yourself to relax, trying instead to focus on something else. However there’s little else to think of in a position like this, just him, his hands on your hips and back, keeping you snugly in place for him to use and enjoy. Your mind wails in anticipation.

You feel his wet tip grind against you, feeling the familiar need slowly come back to you as it rubs at your clit. His grip is unfaltering on your hips, holding you in place as he starts to enter you. You cry out loud, and your body instinctively tries to wriggle out of his grasp, escape the intrusion.

Sukuna growls, his fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise, and he pushes you back onto him.

‘’Where do you think you’re going?’’, he says, audibly displeased. His rock hard member protrudes deeper into you, and you shut your eyes tight and grip the sheets so hard your knuckles go white. You wanted to be brave and quiet, wanted even to babble an apology, but as he advances, stretching you open painfully, you cannot help but cry out loud. Tears drop from your eyes and you bury your face into the bed.

He grunts as you envelop him, coating him in a mixture of your blood and wetness. He pushes through your resistance, the feeling overwhelming, even for him. Your walls cling to him so tightly he has to put mental effort into not releasing right then and there. He moves slowly, caring just enough to not break you. In no time he’s fully sheathed in, his balls pressed against your clit. You’re so incredibly full, you think you may just pop. Sukuna bends over you, and you feel his hot breath on your back. You turn around to see him through a blur of tears. You’re a sobbing, mewling mess. Filled to the brim with his want for you. It brings a smile to his face.

‘’How does it feel, pet?’’, he asks. He truly doesn’t care for your answer, he’s just entertained by your measly crying voice.

‘’H-hurts..hurts so much, Master!’’, you sob.

‘’Shame.’’, his head leans in closer to yours, and you can see nothing but his glowing red eyes. ,,Because it feels heavenly to me.’’

With that, he starts moving. You gasp, holding onto the sheets as he rocks your body with his thursts. Slow and deep, mercifully you think, his cock heavy inside of you, spreading you thin. His hips meet the soft flesh of your ass with a slap at every stroke. The stretch burns, but the discomfort dissipates slowly, as his fat tip stroking your sensitive walls, sending hints of pleasure through you. You feel him whole, every vein and ridge and curve of his cock.

Slowly your tears begin to dry, and your painful sobs are replaced by lustful gasps and moans. His eyes keep coming back to you from time to time, observing your reactions to his every move. Your head is turned to the side, and at first you avoid his gaze, ashamed of crying like a weakling. You know there’s nothing he despises more than that. Now that you’ve began to accept him, welcome him inside of you, you look back. Eyes blinking back at him idly, innocently, as your mouth drops open. He grunts as he fucks you, the sound low and masculine. He picks up the pace and the room echoes the sounds of your squelching wet cunt and the skin of his hips, thighs and balls meeting yours with every push. His cock rummages through your depths with abandon. Your moans follow his frequency, as you feel pleasure build in your core slowly, each of his movement coaxing you closer to another orgasm.

Your hands ache with the need to touch his body, to feel him close, feel his muscles tense and relax as he breaks you. The pleasure sparks inside you and you’re restless, craving another release so bad. Your legs tremble, toes curl, you start to push back, meeting his hips mid stroke.

‘’Enjoying yourself, pet?’’, Sukuna asks, dipping his head closer to you again, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. Straight to your core. You tighten around him, nearing your release and he growls.

‘’M-m, yes Master! So big... Feels so good!’’, you stutter, reduced to a trembling mess, clinging desperately onto anything you can get a hold of, in hopes of delaying your orgasm. He hasn’t moved a finger to please you this time around and you’re already fluttering around him. ‘’M-master..please.. Wanna touch you, feel you..’’, you open and close your hand in tune with your words.

His hand digs into your hair and tugs, picking the upper half of your body up from the bed. ,,What was that, pet? A demand?’’

‘’No! No Master.. I wouldn’t.. I-I was begging!’’, you backtrack immediately, your neck straining from the force he’s pulling you with.

He relaxes the hold and you fall back into the previous position. He is satisfied with your answer, but he won’t grant your wish. ‘’You may not.’’, he says, and exhales shakily as you tighten at his words again. ‘’But you’re cute when you beg.’’, you do it again, and he knows you’re close. ‘’Such a horny little human. How quickly you’ve changed your mind.’’

‘’A-ah, Master.. Gonna, gonna cum..’’, you whine, his cock hitting your insides perfectly, his pace steady, unfaltering.

‘’I’ll allow it. Whore.’’

With his last word, you’re tipped over the edge and your orgasm drowns you. Your breath hitches, hands grip the sheets, and the whole world stops as pleasure shakes through your body like electricity. You trash against him helplessly, your body not fully under your control. His hands finally release your hips, and your quivering body slumps against the mattress, your cunt fluttering around nothing as you lose contact with your master. You’re left a moaning, sensitive mess, sticking to the sheets in your sweat and juices. Your shaking legs still, and you feel numbness envelop your body

Sukuna gives you a moment to ride out the aftershocks. Then he straddles you and leans his weight against you. His hand crawls under your body, stopping to grip your breast and continues to pick up your cheeks between his fingers, turning your face towards him. His eyes are threatening, and he doesn’t need to tell you anything. You know what he wants.

‘’T-Thank you, Master. S-so good... Thank you! ’’, you say, your hand itching to feel his face. He chuckles, takes both of your hands and traps them underneath his on either of your sides. Tonight, he is adamant on not allowing you to touch him.

Satisfied with your answer, he guides his cock back into you and continues where he left off, chasing his own end. With your legs closed like this, you feel even tighter around him. You’re trapped between his heavy body and the mattress, unable to move a muscle as he picks up the pace, withdrawing and snapping back in with each powerful thurst.

‘’Good pet. You know where you belong.’’, his grip tightens on your wrists as he nears his release, growing weary and relentless. ‘’Under me. Always.’’, he growls into your ear.

You meet his eyes and hold his gaze, enticing his pleasure with your words. ‘’Yes Master! When-whenever you need me!’’, you moan, and let your mouth hang open in an ,o’ shape.

His pace slows, strokes getting sloppy as his orgasm draws close. He breathes hard, face close to yours. You feel him waver, feel him slowly lose his composure. Feel him come apart slowly nestled in the warmth of your insides. His brows are furrowed, eyes tight shut, mouth hanging loose. One of his hands crawls under your belly, propping your ass up just a bit, for a better angle. He feels himself inside you, a bulge protruding in your lower belly as he holds you in place. This is the final push that makes the coil of pleasure inside of him snap. He comes with a guttural, animalistic groan, and comes down biting your shoulder. His cock twitches violently, kissing your womb as he empties his load inside you. He groans through every spurt, hot and sticky as he paints your inner walls. His thighs shake against yours, his whole body rocked by the powerful orgasm. One he hasn’t experienced in what could be hundreds of years.

You feel so completely full of him. As he comes down from his high, he licks up the blood off your shoulder, tongue hot over the place where his teeth punctured your soft skin. He finally lets go of your wrists and sits up, slowly withdrawing his cock. Beads of his cum follow his cock, leaking out of your empty cunt. So much of it, you feel dirty letting it drip out of you like this.

He takes a moment to observe you, laying there fucked out, marked and utterly claimed by him. You let out a helpless noise, feeling your hurting wrists. The bite on your shoulder will leave a bruise, same as the place his finger dug into your hips. Your cunt aches from the assault of his cock inside it. Weakness takes over you, and you feel like you can barely move. He doesn’t consider healing you. He wants you to be reminded of him, constantly. When you stand up on wobbly legs, when you take off your clothes to go the bathroom. When you turn in bed. When you look into the mirror. He won’t let you forget, even for a moment, where you are, and who you belong to.

He stands up from the bed, and you turn your head to search for him. ‘’Master? Have I..’’, you stutter when you meet his eyes. His gaze is attentive as he fixes his ruffled hair, slicking it back. He gives you a moment to finish your sentence, but you don’t. You just sit up in his bed, pulling your knees to your chest. Hiding from him, as if in shame. Your hand searches for covers to pull over yourself. You’d most like to disappear under them. How pathetic you are, you think. Searching for approval, for praise, from a man who took you with no regards to your wishes or feelings. Why would he compliment you? You’ve hardly been anything but a fucktoy for him, not even worthy enough for him to fuck you looking at your face. Tears begin to pool in your eyes, emotions from your first experience overwhelming you. You crave touch, affection, anything to contrast the treatment you’ve received until now. If he would let you, you would cling to him like a newborn would to it’s mother. Like your existence depends solely on him, and he is your entire world. But he is not a man who likes to be touched. Not a man who likes intimacy. You could only dream of a kiss, of tenderness of any kind.

When you look back, Sukuna is standing above you, a piece of clothing already wrapped around his waist. His hand feels your cheek, the expression on his face almost soft, but still dominating. Seeing you cry in doubt you haven’t done a good job truly somehow makes him more satisfied with you. You show a great concern for your master. He likes to be the center of people’s worlds.

‘’Weep not, my pet. Your efforts will not go unnoticed.’’, he says, voice still as stern as ever. ,,I’m happy with your servitude.’’

Your eyes lighten up as you look up to him. His stare is docile, but threatening, as you remember that after all you are supposed to keep your head low. You duck down in apology. ‘’T-Thank you, Master.’’, your voice falters, but Sukuna is still satisfied with how quickly you pick up on your mistakes. He finds you’re quite easy to work with. He turns and leaves you, for only a moment, to sit and reminisce about this whole encounter on his bed.

‘’Uraume.’’, he then says, in a relaxed, almost quiet voice. You don’t think you’ve even heard the doors open, but the white haired monk stands in the corner of the room. Have they been there the whole time? You spiral in shame as they nod and approach you, their hands finding yours. They pull lightly, urging you off the bed. You didn’t think about where you’ll spend the night, but it makes sense it won’t be here. Sukuna wouldn’t let you touch him, see him, he wouldn’t kiss you, much less let you share his bed while he sleeps. You feel used, dehumanized. It hurts, but you stand up. Uraume picks up your clothes from the floor and wraps them around you lazily, doing enough just to cover you up until you’re back in your room.

‘’Rest up, pet. I’ll keep you quite busy during our times together.’’, Sukuna tells you, and gives you one last look, before he disappears in the shadows of his chambers. You bow to him and follow Uraume out.

What follows is a walk of shame. There is no one in the hallway, and Uraume walks in front of you, but you feel the weight of a thousand eyes. You watch each wobbly step with care, so as not to make further cause for embarrassment. Uraume lets you in your room. It is lit by a single candle. You stare at it’s faltering flame as Uraume disappears, leaving you alone for a moment. So this is what your life will look like from now on.

Uraume returns with a warm, wet towel. ,,Clean yourself up. You have a fresh set of clothes on the bed.’’ Their stare, empty as ever, finds your eyes and lingers for one last moment. ‘’Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast.’’

You stare at the towel in your hand, not returning their gaze. They eventually move, closing the door behind them and leaving you alone in the room. You do what you can to clean yourself, wrap yourself in sleeping clothes and lay on the bed. Squeezing your knees to your chest, you long for comfort, for warmth. For any reminiscence of humanity that you’re yet to find in this mansion.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #sukuna smut

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faeryarchives · 3 months

Note

I have no idea if your requests are open or not so I apologize if they're closed 😭🫶

But could I request the octatrio with a fischl reader (female if possible ♡)

I love the octatrio sm rn and I rarely see any works with them so I just had to request

hi hi anon of course! do you think they would accidentally create an elemental reaction whenever floyd pokes oz 🧐

octavinelle with a fischl-like female reader!

a mysterious girl called "prinzessin der verurteilung" travels with oz, a night raven. through her unique abilities, eccentric character, and hard work, she has become a rising star among the guild's investigators, earning all the recognition. and yet she still fares mostly on her own

༉‧₊˚. azul ashengrotto

you were an unpredictable and quite eccentric person! its true that you have a quite different way of talking from others but it made you stand out!

"you dare to call my familiar and grim as monsters?! you must prepare your self, because it is time for retribution!"

"where did you get that bow?!"

"mein fraülein, if i dare to say so - that isn't one of your lines. but thank you for defending me."

your achievements in the school mainly were praiseworthy, azul knew for a fact that you were a strong one that he didn't want to come across with

until you got roped into the octavinelle issue and instead of looking at him with disdain - you were even willing to help him out?! maybe those rumors about you were true at all

as being someone who will willingly go out their way to help others in your own way, even if you come out harsh

what bothered azul most was how you were quick to intervene his plans as well as helping him with his problems

"why are we walking around school? where is oz?" "my dear familiar is taking his good rest. as for the reason of walking around - well i heard from a little bird that you are having a hard time on something. would you like to accept her majesty's help?"

surely and slowly, he was beginning to see right through you, even without oz's interpretation and to be honest? you weren't so difficult to understand at all

the most likely to spoil you rottens by letting you do as you please whenever you went to go visit their dorm

"didn't you mention before that you like reading? you can borrow some of my books here because it just so happens that i am an avid reader myself!" "...! i-i never thought that you were keeping that in mind, thank you azul."

as time goes by, the bad rumors surrounding you gradually dissipative → students will think twice of talking shit about you because this comes as a package deal for being friends with the octavinelle dorm leader.

༉‧₊˚. jade leech

"one is aware that fate has brought me into this path. hm-hm, may the glory of the prinzessin bring light to this wicked world." "oh my, how bold of you to address our world as such!"

true, jade couldn't really understand how you were able to say such things in front of the whole school and shrug it off

he is the type of friend that would take his time to sit down and listen for you for hours and even ask some questions about your previous adventures

"you met your evil twin?" "it was more like a shadow version of me, and oz here decided it was fun to leave me for her." "*gasp* i take full offense to that!" "oh my god, the prinzessin's most beloved familiar is a traitor."

jade knew for a fact that you were entirely different from the octatrio so he tries to steer you away from trouble as much as possible but with your friends and sometimes even floyd, maybe sometimes are not just possible

don't tell the other two but if you would pick someone trust the most to see you behind your act - it would be jade

knowing how observant he is, you wouldn't be surprised if he had seen through you already but you trust him enough and that's all you need

"hmm, this is troubling..."

"what seems to be the problem?"

"it looks like one of the students broke the contract and went hiding among his peers."

"that sounds like a problem, but no worries we can assist you."

color him surprise after seeing your investigation skills 😮 the task that should've took a day to complete got immediately solved less than half a day

and your fighting skills are extraordinary! from that day on, you would get extra allowance every time the octatrio need your help

while you seem capable of yourself, jade took it as his and floyd's responsibility to look after you because you were still kinda an airhead

"(name)..."

"i forgot the stove was still on..."

as you hail into their world as an outsider, he will do his best to provide you the best experience until you bring the glory of the prinzessin among them - after all, that is what friends for

༉‧₊˚. floyd leech

you are such an interesting fishie! or are you a bird? did you just turn into a bird? can you teach him that too?

it was like he finally met someone on the sam wavelength because floyd surprisingly went along with your act - taking the role as your confidant

"ne, ne (name) - can oz talk to other birds?"

"my dear ozzie?"

"'cuz if he can talk in human language can he understand animal language or he is just built different?"

if you think that sometimes you can't understand yourself, you couldn't understand floyd even more!

each of his random question just made you wonder your whole existence because this man will text you at 2 am asking "what would you call a male ladybug?"

"If peanut butter wasn’t called peanut butter, what would it be called?" "for the love of everything, floyd it is 2 am..." "yeah? so what would it be called though?"

being with floyd is like being hit with an uno reverse card and honestly - you were having fun!

it was like you were relieving your childhood with the eel and with his random outburst it motivates you to be more open about yourself

from time to time it was funny to see him trying to chase after oz, trying to ask your familiar over and over again if he could do the same thing

"i am afraid it would not be possible." "but we haven't even tried it out yet?" "why are you wrapping your hands around m- no, no, no we are not going into the water!"

news flash, they did. 😭

anyways! he adores you and oz and never fails to give you your daily hugs

as said before - floyd sometimes gets you in trouble by breaking rules and getting involve in the punishment but hey! some times its okay to let loose but not just too much.

still, you friendship may be a little unexpected to others and floyd knows that you are similar yet also different from each other but he will try to make your stay more bearable than letting you suffer all alone

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the-modern-typewriter · 4 months

Text

And so they all lived happily ever after.[1]

Theodore could finally breathe.

The two of them had bought the quiet, peaceful cottage that they had always talked about[2] and filled it with things[3] because they were allowed to do more than simply need now.[4] They were allowed to want, and build a home because home no longer had to be wherever the resistance had camped up for the night. Honestly, Theo had thought he’d be dead before that ever happened. Being born the chosen one, nobody had ever expected him to survive fate long enough for the aftermath, least of all him. [5]

Didn’t that mean he had the earned the right to be happy, now?[6]

“Theo.” She sat opposite him at the kitchen table, and took his hand, and looked at him like the world still needed saving, like he hadn’t done enough. “This isn’t working,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

It came out of nowhere.[7]

***

“I don’t have nightmares,” he said.[8] “We won. I killed the Shadow King, if anyone should have nightmares-”

He forced his expression to ease. He shouldn’t resent Adina her nightmares, if she had them. He knew the battlefield they had met upon. In a world of blood and conquest and power that made him feel like he was going to sizzle from the inside out, she had been a cooling balm. She had made him a man, instead of something out of legend.

“I know you were there too,” he continued, because she was acting like he’d somehow forgotten that. “But it’s over.” Didn’t she see that it was over? “Whatever nightmares you have, we’ll get through it together, yeah? They’re only dreams.”

“Memories.”

His jaw clenched. “They can’t hurt you unless you let them.”[9]

Her mouth clicked shut and she swallowed hard. At some point, during the argument, they’d both surged to their feet. Her arms were crossed against her chest, defensive, like either of them should have any need for defences anymore. They were safe with each other. She knew that! Before she started this conversation, they had been fine. Hadn’t they been fine?

“If there was a button that could make me feel differently,” she managed. “I would hit it in a heartbeat. God. I’m not – I know this isn’t your fault. I’m not saying that. I know you’ve gone through enough. I know this isn’t fair, but I—”

“You just need time.”[10]

They had time now, didn’t they? Walking through the woods filled him with a calm he’d never known before. The green trees, dappled by sunlight, made it impossible to dwell on the cold feeling of bloodied stone against broken bones. Everything was light, and air, and the freedom to run.

There were no people to be responsible for, no important envoys to encroach upon the time they managed to snatch together, always wrenching them apart. It was him, and her, and they didn’t have to live in a stolen moment anymore. Wasn’t that enough?[11]

“How can you be so okay?” Adina’s voice crumpled on the question, so small, and it felt like a knife between his ribs because it sounded like an honest question too. “After everything…” Her eyes were big and desperate - he recoiled. He could finally breathe, and she would have him drown.

After everything, he was allowed to be okay. Was he supposed to live forever feeling guilty for everything he could have done better? Was he supposed to have died too?[12]

Maybe, yes, in her story he should have.

It was easier to love a legend than a man. It was easy to make promises to someone who wouldn’t live to hold you to them. For a second, he hated her, more than he’d ever hated the Shadow King. He didn’t want to be a thing of hate anymore. He didn’t want to fight anymore.

“Everything?” He repeated, oh so softly. His fists curled, nails digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood and he didn’t want to ever draw blood again either. He stopped. He relearned how to breathe. “You do not get to hold ‘everything’ against me, Adina. I did everything you asked of me. That all of you asked of me. For you. For this.”

“Theo…”

“We love each other.” He turned away because he couldn’t look at her. “That’s all that matters. We’ll get through this. Happily ever after.”

She flinched in the corner of his vision.

“Please.” He closed his eyes. “You want to talk about everything? After everything, let me have this. Give me this. It is the only thing I ever asked of you.”[13]

She exhaled a shaky breath. The silence stretched. Then, she kissed him sweetly, gently, like everything was okay. She whispered the words against his lips:

“I’ll try.”

***

It was better again, after that. Their fight became another battle of the past to be buried with their dead and forgotten.

In the mornings, they would paint the sunrise that they had once spent hours trying to picture, when the endless night of the Shadow King’s reign felt like it never might never break. The first time Theo had seen that the sky could truly be pink he thought maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t made it through after all. But he had. In the afternoons, they would walk hand in hand through the woods and he would tell her about all of the new growth he was learning about. He liked the names. The colours. The hope.

It wasn’t perfect. Now that she’d pointed it out, he stirred sometimes in the night to find her awake still. When he caressed her face in the dark his hand would come away wet with silent tears.[14] On those nights, he would kiss her honeyed and slow because he didn’t have to kiss her like she was oxygen anymore, until she melted in his arms and smiled again. [15]

The weeks turned into months, which turned into years.

She stopped crying, with time. She healed.[16]

The shadows were gone.

And so, they all lived happily ever after.[17]

----

[1] Happily ever after! It was just another bloody thing to fail at, wasn’t it?

[2] He’d always talked about it. He was happy. The cottage was perched in the middle of the woods, far enough away from civilisation that she could pass days without seeing another person. Sometimes, it felt like they must have lost, because the world that she knew wasn’t there anymore.

[3] She shouldn’t resent him his clutter. He deserved clutter. She knew he deserved clutter, his houseful of little wooden figurines he carved, after everything.

[4] She hated the clutter.

[5] It was a terrible thing to want happiness, but not know what to do with peace; she’d learned to love him fighting. But now, he loved gently, sword forgotten, armour laid to rest, and that was not the version of him that she’d fallen love with.

[6] She missed the man she’d fallen for.

[7] She couldn’t do this anymore.

[8] Because he was the only one who had truly suffered.

[9] Was it so simple? Had she got it wrong? Was she merely not trying hard enough to move on? His expression told her that, yes, she needed to try harder. They were supposed to be a team but, to his mind, when it came down to it…he’d been the one alone against the Shadow King, hadn’t he? So, if he could heal then why couldn’t she? She hadn’t been the one buckling under the weight of prophecy. She had no right.

[10] That was the other thing everyone always said, along with happily ever after. Time healed all wounds. She just needed time. But how much time was that? Too much, it seemed. There had been a woman she met in the aftermath of the battle at Sunburst fields. She had lost her lover. Adina couldn’t remember the woman’s name, only what she had confessed when no one else was there to hear her.

[11] The woman said, “I’m not allowed to mourn her. No one knew we were together, you see. She had a husband. But she loved me, and I… no one will ever know now, and I must mourn her like she wasn’t mine to mourn. Like I might mourn a stranger.’ The woman’s voice dropped barely audible. "And I think it might just kill me. How do you heal a hurt when you have to pretend it’s not there? Like it’s a papercut instead of a bullet wound?"

[12] He fought to protect her. To protect all of them. In his story, she was the victory he came home to. She was his happy ending. She was not supposed to be broken.

[13] He had fallen in love with her when she was selfish. A good, selfless girl did not love in a stolen moment, after all. Stolen moments had to be taken from someone. But he didn’t want selfish now. He didn’t want someone who had done battle, who had hurt, and been hurt. He didn’t want a woman with a shadow in her heart.

[14] And, so, he fell out of love with her in the way that a person forgets their wallet on the train – with that stabbing sense of panic, of leaving something vital behind, without yet being able to place what was gone.

[15] Instead, he fumbled and groped for the debris, the receipts, the bits of change and dust at the bottom of the bag of them that had meant something important once. He began to look at her like a stranger when she reminded him that she was sharp. That he had loved something sharp, once.

[16] He looked for clues for what was missing.

[17] He would never find her.

#Not sure the footnotes work for tumblr but here goes #but another story of mine I don't think I've shared on here #happily ever after #short story #writeblr #fiction #creative writing #original fiction #fantasy

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kindasleepywriter · 4 months

Text

Bird of Prey ~ Chapter 8: Forging a Warrior

Bird of Prey masterlist. Azriel x Reader.

Chapter summary: Azriel helps you open up about your past.

Story rating: Mature - Minors DNI

Warnings: Child abuse, neglectful/absent parents, torture (yes again i'm sorry she's been through a lot)

Word count: 2.6k

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“My parents,” you started, “were mates. I know that’s not exciting for the Inner Circle, with your abnormal amount of mating bonds. It’s almost statistically impossible, really.”

Azriel laughed and shook his head softly at the comment.

“For the common people who don’t take baths in mythical objects, you know that’s rare. Very rare. My mother was a respected officer in the Dawn legions, and so was my father in the Illyrian army. They both were powerful enough to gain recognition at the time. When their bond snapped, everyone was uneasy at the thought of a child born of the two courts, but the idea of fated offspring from two powerful magic wielders was enough for them to tolerate their offspring. They kept it all very hush-hush, until they were certain where I’d end up.”

“I say they’re mates but it certainly wasn’t the romantic dream people portray.” you continued. “The hate between Peregryns and the Illyrian… well, I’m sure you’re aware of how deeply entrenched it is. When I was born, I was just a piece of property to be used as a bargaining chip. Dawn and Night battled over me like children, claiming they had the right to claim me. In the end, it was settled that I’d get education in both courts, that negotiations would take place when I’d have my first bleed, and that I’d be married off to someone in whichever court ended up not owning me.” You shuddered slightly at the memory. You’d been made aware of the potential suitors during your teenage years, and you knew a future with the men that each high lord put forward would be misery.

Azriel’s face darkened. He seemed not to be a fan of the arranged marriages that run rampant in Illyria, you thought.

“I’d have expected such a trade from the Illyrians,” he said through gritted teeth, “but for the Dawn court to be involved in such dealings… They must’ve expected a lot from you.”

You let out a snort. That wasn’t even the beginning of it.

“This was Thesan’s doing?” he added, and you could practically see the spymaster master gears start running in his head.

“No, I think Thesan would’ve done things differently.” You had never truly met him, but you’d heard enough from the people through your travels. He was a much kinder man or, at the very least, not someone who’d encourage the treatment you’d received as a mere child. Azriel appeared relieved at your words.

You hadn’t known the Shadowsinger that long, but you’d seen enough to understand he was willing to go to great lengths for the people he… cared about. There was no other way to put it. He’d begun caring for you as you had for him and, even if it scared you to death, it brought you much comfort.

“They expected me to move mountains,” you said, “and stop a thousand-man army without breaking a sweat by the time I was twelve. I was trained in every type of combat they could think of from the moment I could stand and hold a stick. Imagine a 6-year-old being treated like any grown soldier in the camps... I could deal with the physical training, but it was the hate and mockery of both courts that dealt the most damage. I hadn’t even grown my first flight feathers before I had heard every sort of insult possible and faced beatings from soldiers of all ages.”

“My parents…” you added hesitantly as you felt your voice wavering, “They didn’t care. If anything, they encouraged the others, because what worth could I have if I couldn’t protect myself? They berated me whenever I told them, they’d answer that it didn’t matter that the ones dealing the blows were twice my age, as I’d have to face much worse ‘out there in the real world’.

It deteriorated as I got older, without any magic to show for myself. The courts were growing restless, demanding things I couldn’t give them and, when I wasn’t able to do as they asked, they took any means possible to verify I wasn’t lying. During those years, they put me through pain… pain I hadn’t even imagined was possible.”

You blinked and looked up at the light blue morning light, trying and failing to keep your tears from falling. You felt the phantom slice of the blades, the coals, the spears they had used, every time you fell asleep. They’d keep you from unconsciousness each time and healers healed your wound, but you didn’t need the scars they’d erased as a reminder. You still carried your past with you every day.

You felt the subtle touch of Azriel’s shadows, still roaming hesitantly where you were perched on the railing. They slid over your shoulders, a weight to keep you anchored in the present. Azriel approached you silently, conscious of your distress. He looked murderous, but you knew it wasn’t aimed at you. He raised a hand towards you but seemed to think better of it and retreated. You gripped him before he had the chance, uncertainty in his eyes at the contact of your skin against his. You silently ran your thumb over his rigid knuckles, trying to match the rhythm of his respiration as to calm yourself and focusing on the texture beneath the pads of your fingers.

You knew of the burns on his hand, you’d noticed them almost immediately upon meeting him, but they were anything but repulsive, despite what he seemed to think. They were a part of his history, what had made him into the man he is now, and you found that there was a pride to be found in them. It showed he’d survived, that he was stronger than what had happened to him.

He relaxed after a moment and stepped closer to you, hesitantly wiping your tears away with his free hand.

You were too deep in your own mind to think about the intimacy of the situation.

“When they finally realized that I was as good as powerless” you said, “No one wanted me. From that moment, I was just a disgusting half-breed on which they’d wasted their time. It didn’t matter that I could take on their best soldiers from adolescence, my blood was too tainted for them to bother with me. My father turned his back on me and stopped contact entirely. My mother decided to keep me in the end, and I still don’t know if it was a moment of weakness at the thought of leaving her child at the mercy of the world, or if it was just in hopes of me eventually discovering some hidden powers. I never asked her; I was too afraid of the answer. She sent me to some second residence she owned, hidden away from anyone else, where I kept training on my own and worked myself into the ground, still desperately hoping I could be what they all wanted.”

Azriel frowned. “I understand you would be easily recognizable in Illyria, but how could people even tell you weren’t fully Peregryn in Dawn? Surely, they couldn’t notice it at first glance.”

“The knowledge of my existence had traveled too far. Dawn had paraded me like cattle, hoping to lay claim. There’s also… There’s one obvious thing. It’s something I’ve kept hidden for a while now. I think the Vanseras might be the only ones outside of Dawn who even know about it. It’s very visible and it puts a target on my back. I didn’t want my presence tracked across Prythian that easily after I left Autumn.”

It was time for someone to know, you thought. If only to be able to stretch your wings, to finally get rid of the fears that you held for them. You steeled yourself for what you were about to do and looked around towards the house, peering into the balcony doors and to the roof, making sure you weren’t watched. The last thing you wanted was for this to reach Rhysand’s knowledge. His father had done enough damage to you as is, you didn’t need him to try and do the same.

At your hesitance, some of Azriel’s roaming shadows slithered in all surrounding areas, sweeping over windows and doors. “There’s no one here to see.” he reassured you softly after a moment, from where he now stood between your parted legs, your hands still joined together. You felt your anxiety fade a little; you didn’t find any dishonesty in his words.

You hesitated, still. He pointed his chin at his own membranous wings, and they stretched, slightly curved inward towards you, and brushed along each of your shoulders. He was inviting you to follow his movements, you realized.

Slowly, you straightened your spine and used the rarely used muscles that crossed your back to slowly unfold your wings. You kept them at a certain distance from Azriel’s, you weren’t quite ready for that type of contact. You winced at your wings’ stiffness, but shook them out to fully extend them, exposing the inky black dawn feathers that lined their interior surface.

Azriel’s mouth opened slightly in shock as he studied the expanse of plumage, razor focused. You knew they were unusual, the harsh contrast of white and black and sharp corners of them drawing the eye, and you couldn’t help but feel self-conscious at his reaction. While you held no hate towards your own wings, you’d never let someone fully examine them since you were a child and had only ever received insults from others about their appearance.

“They’re beautiful, Dove.” he breathed, following every feather. The tension you held didn’t leave you.

“You might be the first one to say that.” you laughed half-heartedly.

His eyes cut to yours sharply. “They must’ve all been idiots, because those are the most magnificent wings I’ve ever seen.”

You flushed at the praise, barely holding his gaze as you shied at the attention. His hands twitched between yours, no doubt itching to study the feathers closer, and you guided one of his towards the closest ones. You instinctively felt the need to fold your wings away from the touch of another person, but you held a tight lid on your feelings and stayed as still as possible when his fingers brushed against one of the longest flight feathers.

You only twitched at the contact, keeping your focus on Azriel’s expression. He looked mesmerized as he explored the surface under his touch. You had no trouble believing he hadn’t lied about liking them, his childlike wonder blowing away any doubts you may have had earlier.

“You have a bigger wingspan than I do.” he said unexpectedly with narrowed eyes, as if the thought had slipped from him unwillingly. You couldn’t stop the startled laugh that escaped you, amusement flaring through you. He’d just added an onslaught of teasing to his future.

Your fidgeting hands found his wings too as you giggled. You waited for a moment before touching them, and he made no comment on your intentions despite you knowing he was fully aware of your movements. He never missed anything. You barely touched the membrane, but then softly ran your fingers along the base of his talons and you felt him shudder under your hands.

“Don’t- Don’t start something you won’t finish, Dove.” he said hoarsely, lightly gripping the feather he was examining. You laughed again as you remembered the sensitivity of the Illyrian wings. You’d never had the opportunity to study these reactions up close, having never laid with an Illyrian, but you’d heard about the anatomy all the same in the camps.

“I won’t torment you today.” you teased softly, your hands retreating to rest at the nape of his neck.

He tried to imitate the gesture you’d attempted earlier, receiving nothing but another light twitch in response. “Do you not feel that?” he questioned, indignant at your lack of reaction.

“I do and it feels nice, we just have different… different erogenous zones.”

“Of course, you’d be the one person to actually call it an ‘erogenous zone’.” he muttered under his breath as you continued giggling at his display of irritation. You couldn’t help but think that he might get to figure how to make you shiver too… but only if you stayed. The last thought dampened your mood. You shouldn’t be thinking about that now. Trust him, you reminded yourself, Stop thinking about fleeing.

You curled your fingers into his hair and sighed as he continued his ministrations. Despite your thoughts, you were far more relaxed than you’d been in a long time. You didn’t remember ever letting someone touch your wings without you being forced or pressured into it, and the care he put into caressing the soft dawn feathers felt heavenly. You leaned forward and sighed, face dropping to Azriel’s neck and finger still raking through his curls.

“I didn’t tell you everything yet.” you murmured.

Azriel hummed in response, the decision to continue or not remaining yours. You didn’t want to break the moment, but you couldn’t stop halfway through. You didn’t move away from him as you spoke softly against his skin.

“When my mother died, I didn’t inherit anything.” You started. “I don’t know who got her things instead. Some officer from the legion just showed up one day, broke the news, and promptly kicked me out. I barely had time to pack a bag. I didn’t feel like I could stay in Dawn, but I didn’t have anywhere to go either. I tried to send a letter to my father and never got a reply, so I naively assumed he didn’t receive it. I knew he had no interest in me previously, but I thought he’d show some mercy to a child he’d had with his mate. I traveled there and- well, you know the rest.”

Azriel stayed silent for a moment. “Your parents were some right shitheads.”, he finally said, and you didn’t have to see him to guess the frown that adorned his face.

“You’re telling me.” you muttered. “I take special comfort in knowing they both died painfully. Those two assholes both ended up rotting away alone in their courts from infections, not gloriously on the battlefield like they must’ve dreamt.” Fate had gotten that right, at least.

He chuckled and let go of your wings, instead wrapping his arms loosely around you, completely undeterred by the cruelness of your words. You basked in his closeness.

The moment was too short for your liking before his grip on you tightened. A few of his shadows emerged from the balcony doors, and he groaned deeply.

“We have approximately 2 minutes before Rhys and Amren come here to try and convince you to start training your magic.” he said.

You muttered a few choice words that conveyed exactly what you thought of the idea.

“That’s what I thought you’d say, Dove.” You pulled back and glanced at him. He had a mischievous look in his eyes. “You know, there’s a lot to do in the city.”

“I feel like an escape plan might be brewing,” you said with an arched brow. He smiled in response. “Won’t they be mad at you for leaving with me?”

“Not if they don’t catch us.” he laughed.

Rhysand and Amren found nothing but the remnants of your scents, flowing through the breeze.

Finally another soft moment 🙏 be prepared for a LOT of (requited) pining y'all

I've got a couple chapters already written that I'll just need to edit over the next few weeks, so the update will continue like they have so far!

As always, I'd love to hear what you guys think about the story and your theories on what's happening next 💛💛

Banner created by the amazing @saradika!

Taglist: @sapphenaa @minnieoo @weasleyreidstyles

#azriel x reader #azriel #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #azriel fanfic #azriel POV #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #enemies to lovers #bird of prey

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