#should i do this for all of the little raven babies

[bobluvbot]

birthday blues

pairing: sirius black x f!reader  summary: first time godfather sirius goes shopping to find the perfect first birthday gift (jily + baby harry ♥️) wc: 5k a/n: me tryna heal canon trauma ❤️ because in my world everyone lives happily ever after !!! my lil celebration piece for hitting 200 followers! thank u all <3 not proofread, english is not my first language so plz be nice heheh

“What’s the store called again, sweets?”

even as a young kid, one of your biggest pet peeves is repeating yourself for more than four times. three is pushing it. your parents told you its a bad habit to take to adulthood because you’re bound to meet people who just don’t get what you’re saying the first or second time around. But one Wednesday morning, when you asked from upstairs where your favorite periwinkle socks were and your parents downstairs said something that the loud dishwasher and vacuum covered up, you asked them to repeat it again (still can’t hear), and again when you moved closer to the staircase down (barely heard any), then you heard your father’s heavy footsteps up, personally shoving in your waiting hand the said pair of socks.. only damp. “Honey, I said three times already, that they were still in the dryer,” your dad had huffed before heading back downstairs. That’s when you knew it was genetic. 

But, you love Sirius Black. It’s gotten to the point where in the honest, sensitive hours past midnight, while there was nothing much to do as you let sleep creep up from your tired limbs to your fluttering eyelids, but to watch peace settle on the raven-haired boy’s sharp features, ethereal and glowing like an angel even in the dark of the night; that you realize he may be the love of your life. It’s a scary thought, with fears of being too eager, too soon, too much—- so you tuck it in a little pocket and give it a nudge when you need a reminder of how big and true its growing with each second spent together. 

You love him, so you breathe out the snarky irritation away in slow heavy puffs and inhale peace, choosing to exercise patience because you know Sirius is nervous. 

“It’s Spintwitches Sporting Needs, love. ‘s right across Ollivanders if I’m not mistaken,” you say, taking his free hand in yours and rubbing small circles on his knuckles to calm some of his nerves down, while he drives through busy muggle London streets to park by the Leaky Cauldron. He throws you a soft smile and gives your hand a quick squeeze as thanks, grateful to the heavens that you’re here to keep him from going insane.

You know him enough that, while the day in question is not about him, or you, or your relationship, it meant a great deal to Sirius. 

He had one chance (even if you’d argue otherwise) to make things right, do things the right way the first time around with Harry. James knew this fact by heart, which is why he and Lily agreed in a heartbeat that Sirius should be little Harry’s godfather, as it was meant to be. He would do anything, go beyond means, hell, even against Merlin himself just to ensure the safety and happiness of his godson. 

No one, however, was expecting it to backfire and it caught you and Sirius off guard. Once the tears dried and elation diffused, the anxiety kicked in for Sirius, and in turn you. He knew what the opposite was, parents who robbed their own sons of happy childhoods and disowned him when he got brave enough to find happiness and protect it, he had lived it. And now that he has a chance to save an innocent soul from a similar fate, he was determined, but this fact scared him shitless.

He wanted everything to be perfect (who wouldn’t?) and gave everything he physically could to make James and Lily’s Harry’s life easy and happy. Seeing Sirius buy ‘How to Dad?’ books and pour over them at night or on his free time at work was undoubtedly an attractive and loving sight. In a span of a week, he knew which is the best formula to supplement with breastfeeding, toys to pick that stimulate early brain development, even clothes made with hypoallergenic materials that won’t irritate the sensitive newborn skin. It came to a point where James would ask him for advice when Lily’s at work, and Sirius would put on his trusty reading glasses and point at a specific passage of ‘How to Dad?’ that answers James’ question perfectly. 

Eventually, you did have to put your foot down when you found Sirius writing a howler to a baby food company when rumors started going around that their baby snack puffs (which Harry was obsessed with) had harmful chemicals in it. In typical Sirius fashion, he wasn’t convinced that easily. You’d bet that what pushed him off the howler letter route (and in turn protect the statute of wizarding secrecy) was seeing you spend lots of time in the kitchen to perfect making banana and strawberry baby snack puffs from scratch until the recall was over and the food was deemed safe to be consumed again by experts and Sirius himself. 

Hearing many iterations of how the newborn days and months go by so fast was difficult to believe at times, especially when you and Sirius were babysitting to let the exhausted parents get some sort of reprieve multiple times a month. It was almost always the same. Harry would sleep for four hours straight during the night, and almost hourly right after; and while you and sirius had gotten pretty good at dividing up the tasks like bottle feeding and nappy changes equally, the shrill cry of a hungry baby is difficult to ignore and sleep through. 

So despite of Sirius’s best efforts to crawl out of bed and tip-toe to the bassinet quietly not to wake your sleeping form, he gets sad but unsurprised to see you pad towards him and the baby, yawning soundlessly as you squeeze yourself between the soft armrest and Sirius’s side, head resting on his shoulder. It was his idea to get a spacious, soft recliner in the bedroom and it came in handy for situations like these, where getting back to bed once Harry sleeps is too risky as the boy would just wake up with the slightest movement, so the next best option was to try getting rest wherever you ended up in. The cries that once overpowered Sirius’s hushed whispers and cooing finally quiets down. A sigh of relief leaves both your lips, basking in the comfortable silence and bodies finding solace in each other’s warmth. 

You want to say so many things to your lovely boyfriend, things he just has to hear: that he’s doing such a great job, that you see him and all the extra steps he has to take to become and do better than what he was raised for, that you love him for every single bit of it— but the right words don’t come easy when sleep-deprived and exhausted at 4:25am in the morning. So you lift your lips up to meet his temple, the side of his mouth, then his lips; hoping it’d convey what words couldn’t at the moment. 

But time is an experienced thief. It was a Saturday afternoon in the middle of May and it was warm enough for you to whip out the frilly spring dresses that had been pushed to the back of your closet by the thick woolen coats from colder months. The boys had gone on a day trip to help Peter move into his first solo apartment, assembling furniture and stocking up on necessities to ensure he could survive on his own. Without the booming voices and bumbling energy of his father and godfather, little Harry had no choice but to match the calm and peaceful ambiance that you and Lily curated inside the Potter house. While it’s certainly different from what his everyday looks like (living with the likes of James), he seems to enjoy it. Gentle breeze from the windows Lily left open while she baked carry the smell of lemons and vanilla throughout the entire house, making it smell heavenly. You’d been sat on the floor by the dining table, surrounded by toy trains and colorful blocks, watching the ten-month-old munch on a toy graphorn adoringly. Recently, he’s been on a phase where he has to run anything he could get his hands on with his mouth. Some secret test or screening must be up there or something because that’s how Harry decides which toys are deserving of his attention for the day.

You’d picked up a toy set of magical creatures after work yesterday, and it won the almost toddler’s attention for the whole day. James had to snatch the toy niffler away from Harry’s grasp so he could say goodbye to his son and ask for a kiss. Safe to say there were no kisses exchanged because the little boy was too busy wailing and screaming at his father’s face. Lily had to create physical distance between her two boys so the younger one can calm down while the older got mopey. Sirius had to whisk his best friend away from the scene of the crime so that they can get on with the day, but not without leaving you a kiss. 

The said niffler had soon been replaced with the hippogriff, then now the graphorn, and it’s been sitting on your lap since. Harry suddenly pulls the toy graphorn out of his mouth with a resounding pop. You both share a second or two of shocked eye contact and silence, his bright green eyes wide with surprise, before triggering a belly flipping laughing fit. This child could shock himself with a sudden burp or an unexpected sound of hitting random things with a fork, and you’d laugh every single time like its the funniest cutest thing you’ve seen in your life. It’s likewise for the rest of the marauders. Being the first baby of the group had all the adults wrapped in his pudgy fingers and he has no idea. 

Harry’s eyes drop from your smiling face to the Niffler on your lap, and makes grabby hands. You almost, almost give in, but you decide to encourage him to go get it himself. Maybe today’s the day he starts to walk. You move to him a bit closer, probably a good seven baby steps in between. 

“You want the Niffler, bud? You have to go get it from me!” You make a show out of grabbing the toy from your lap multiple times, hoping it’d make sense to the little boy. 

He whines something sounding like your name and does more impatient grabby hands. But you weren’t giving up without a fight. “C’mon, Haz! You can do it,” you say enthusiastically. 

Harry did know how to stand and good thing you were both sat near the dining table chairs, so to alleviate some of your aunt guilt you tuck the niffler away and out of Harry’s reach, before helping him up to his feet and urging him to grab one of the chair legs for support. 

He stays upright, eyes still on the toy that you place again on your lap as you return to your original spot, and you clap with glee. “Great job, buddy! Okay, only a few steps to me and you’ll get the toy!”

Lily, curious to see the commotion happening on her kitchen floor, leans against the counter for a better view. Harry sees this and does the same thing, he looks at her pleadingly while making grabby hands and pointing to the niffler on your lap. You can tell the redhead’s fighting the mom urge to make her child’s life easier, but thank the heavens when she gives your same answer. She even moves to kneel beside you, waving to get her son’s attention and pointing at the niffler on your lap.

“C’mon, my sweet boy,” Lily says. “Mama knows you can do it!”

Motivated by frustration as his aunt and own mother won’t just hand him his goddamn toy, Harry whines angrily but makes a sideways step closer, death grip still on one of the chair legs. You and Lily squeal and clap in delight, urging the boy to do it again.

He makes a move for another step, but realizes that there’s no more legs to grab onto. Reluctantly, his right hand lets go and in turn faces you and Lily. This results in another round of applause, which serves like a drug to these little babies. 

An anxious expression fleetingly appears on his face as he looks to you both, but the encouragement and cooing seemed to scare those big feelings away. Determined, Harry makes an unsure step forward without support, which then makes both yours and Lily’s heartbeat jump. It all happened so quick, the fear of losing balance triggered Harry’s other leg catch him on impulse, then the same on the other leg, then the other. Harry’d made four successful steps on his own before his mom catches him in her embrace before he topples over to the floor.

You and Lily were a sobbing, exultant mess. Harry, clearly confused about the commotion, whines for the niffler while Lily kisses him all over his face. You hand it to his waiting palms like a trophy before ruffling his unruly hair.  An attempt for words has been made, but all that came from your mouth are garbled phrases about the miracle that just happened. Lily nods in agreement and you hug them both back. 

This ten-month old just walked. This is the same baby that kept you and Sirius up at night for his feedings. The same baby responsible for the drool and spit up marks on your shirts. The same baby that  laughs and babbles with you like he understands when you tell him random stories. The same baby that squeals in delight when you blow raspberries on his belly. 

It felt like he had just been born a few days ago, memories of changing hundreds of nappies and preparing bottles of milk still vivid in your mind. But it’s earth shattering to consider that he’s closer to being a one year old than to the little bundle handed to you by James in the hospital room. 

Time is unrelenting, stealing mundane moments behind your back and when you realize the loss, poof! The newborn you held in your arms is now a walking toddler. Soon, he’ll be the one talking your ears off, going to Hogwarts, driving a car.. You shiver at the thought. He was growing up so fast that blinking felt like cheating, afraid that you’ll miss a precious moment that you’ll never get back. 

His first birthday came in the same manner— too fast for both yours and Sirius’s liking, but the wistful feelings came with excitement as Harry being a toddler opened up lots more opportunities to play and discover the world around him. James and Lily had spent the whole month planning a big birthday bash to celebrate the kiddo’s life, inviting all their loved ones to share the special day with them. And with that, the pressure was on for Sirius, as the self-proclaimed best godfather to get the perfect first birthday gift.

It’s like the heavens knew it was a special day for you both that it made sure to put out the best shopping weather one could ever ask for—- not too warm or too cold. It was a Tuesday afternoon, which meant the adults were kept in workplaces and children sent to Hogwarts or in homeschooling, leaving Diagon Alley nearly deserted, minus the occasional stray shoppers entering and leaving shops here and there. Clad in color coordinated couples outfits (that was your thing recently, Sirius more than happy to oblige) and hand in hand, you begin the mission to locate Spintwitches Sporting Needs. 

Nostalgia always finds a way to seep into your bones whenever you find yourself in Diagon Alley. One blink and suddenly you’re ten again, both hands tucked in each parent’s as your mom pours over the list of school supplies you’ll need again for your first year at Hogwarts. You and Sirius see Ollivanders at a short distance and hear the entrance bell chime, the very same sound you heard when entering the shop for the first time, the shopkeeper taking one good look at you before immediately rummaging around the store, grabbing a specific box located on a random shelf four stories up. The look of confidence when he says it’s made just for you, a magical glow enveloping your tiny frame while opening the magenta box. That same magic guided you to a world where you truly belonged in, a castle that felt so much like home, and friends that soon became found family and lifelong partners. The thought of Harry soon experiencing these moments leaves a giddy feeling in your chest. 

The smoky sweet scent of freshly roasted chestnuts catches your attention and you discreetly look for the source of your favorite warm snack. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Sirius (hardly nothing ever does, even the things you wish he’d miss or forget), and he gives your hand a small tug. You try to be aloof as you return his waiting gaze, complete with a quirk of your eyebrow, to which he responds with an impish smirk towards your bad acting.

“You’re not fooling anyone with that look, sweets.” The amusement in his voice is palpable as he steers you away from the main walkway and towards the small chestnut stall tucked in an alleyway, almost hidden by the bigger shops surrounding it.

“But, the store’s right there, Siri,” you try to protest. He had been anxious and stressed out about this day in particular, you knew if you were in his shoes, you’d be beelining to the store as soon as you get off the car. But he just shakes his head like its the obvious choice and nods towards the cart. “Can’t have my girl hungry now.” 

After a failed attempt of trying to pay for the warm brown bag (you were no match for Sirius’s lithe, agile fingers in basically everything), you accept it with a sigh, giving yourself a few seconds to sulk before starting on the chestnuts. You weren’t the best at accepting things from other people just because, it always felt like you had to do something in return for them just to deserve it. Maybe that’s why the universe conspired to have you meet and fall for Sirius, who is a very enthusiastic giver, teaching you hard lessons on the daily.

As you begin the journey back to the shop, you carefully crack open one and hold it up to Sirius’s mouth, to which he happily obliged. “Mm, somehow chestnuts taste better when you handfeed me, dove. Do it again.”

You roll your eyes in response, but you find your fingers starting to peel another. “You’re lucky you’re good looking, Black,” you mutter to save some face, that you weren’t head over heels for this man and he to you. That’s a conversation to be had in another, less stressful day. 

The shop, painted electric blue and orange, wasn’t hard to miss. One step in and the welcoming aroma of broom polish, rubber, and smoky wood brings you right back to the Quidditch locker rooms; memories of frantically lacing up your boots a minute or two after James called you as backup for an injured beater, helping Marlene comb out the tail end to fix the broom alignment after practice, and getting pinned to the cool lockers during post-win celebratory makeout sessions with Sirius, replaying vividly in your head. 

It looked deceivingly small on the outside; aside from the expansive selection of different broomstick models, they had books and magazines about Quidditch strategies and featured famous matches, repair and maintenance kits for maintaining broomstick qualities, complete Quidditch gear for all shapes and sizes, and tiny practice snitches flying around the room. Squint and it’ll just be like how each Hogwarts common room would be decorated when there’s a big Quidditch match between houses or international ones in the world cup: streamers and accessories like horns and banners representing each team, posters of Chudley Cannons and Holyhead Harpies (in opposing corners to prevent unsolicited fights) accompanied by autographs of famous players and collectibles littering almost every surface of the walls. It was Quidditch dreamland. 

Still in awe admiring the displays as you both walk through aisles hand in hand, Sirius breaks the silence first. “What do you think Harry will play as in Quidditch?”

You hum in response and he continues, running his hands through the bat display they had for little kids.  “I bet he’d be a beater like me. You remember how that punk hit me straight on the face last week?” 

You nod in amusement. Sirius had played it cool as he gently laid Harry back in his playpen, still laughing and cooing, then as soon as little Harry turned his back on his uncle, Sirius ran to you for first aid and whined the whole time you were healing the already forming bruise. But not a few hours later, he’s bouncing the baby in his arms again as he gave him a tour of the backyard. 

“Yeah, those little fists definitely pack a punch.”

“How about you, love?”

Sifting through a year’s worth of memories, it was surprisingly easy to find your answer. “I think he’ll follow James’s footsteps and be a seeker.” 

Sirius’s pout becomes evident, making you giggle and tug on his arm in efforts to cheer him up. “Think about it. Ever since prongslet got those glasses, it’s harder to hide anything from him now because his eyes are so quick. Poor Crookshanks too, that cat can’t catch a break now when Haz wants to play because he tracks its movements.” 

Sirius lets out a soft chuckle and slings his arm around your shoulders to hold you closer. “Good point, good point,” he repeats, seemingly deep in thought as his fingers run up and down the small of your arm. “We shall see, whatever he decides to play as, or if he even plays at all, I’ll be proud of him.”

You look up to him as he absentmindedly stares at the Quidditch gear sets for little kids, a light, wistful smile on his handsome features. He might not say it out loud, but the love he has for his godson reverberates through his being, and its a warming sight to see. 

Before you confess your love for your boyfriend in the middle of a Quidditch store, you whisk him away and towards the toy broom display, the only thing you were both here for. Only the big bright signs directed you to the right place, which didn’t prepare you at all for the heart exploding sight.

You’re about to burst into tears seeing how cute and tiny the little toy brooms were, and how they came in complete with tiny versions of the headlights, seats, and bag compartments the usual adult broom comes with. Both you and Sirius stood with mouths agape for a solid minute as you took in the expansive display, before your lovely boyfriend proceeds to pick out the most expensive one with the most features on it from the batch.

Surprisingly, it was you who reminded him to grab a helmet before running off to purchase the toy broom, the giddiness and excitement spreading between the two of you. The cashier gives both of you a knowing look as you and Sirius both mellowed down from full giggles to bashful smiles, examines the broom to be purchased, and asks, “For your little one?”

Now, you were no stranger to conversations like these with former lovers in the past, and you could almost hear the typical response of denial that comes swiftly with the question. It used to hurt, even if you knew by heart that that person didn’t have the fifth date potential or that it just wouldn’t last. It’s that unexplainable feeling of shame and rejection when they’d realize that it won’t work with you before you would, or if they answer with a laugh, as if having a future with you is an appalling thought. You’ve gotten better with it throughout the years, but for some reason your skin crawls with the thought of Sirius saying the same things. Years of desensitization down the drain, you find yourself bearing your entire soul to the man beside you the entire relationship, and he can easily break you into two with his response. You cross your fingers that he won’t.

He was already looking when your gaze met his, a look of softness and tenderness from him so profound you wondered if you were deserving of it. The surge of butterflies in your belly was all consuming. 

Sirius shifts uneasily and shakes his head, you prepare for the worst. “For our nephew, not for our own child..,” he pauses, glancing back at you for a quick second. “Yet. But if all goes according to my sneaky plan, we might be back sooner than she thinks.”

The cashier chuckles at your stunned reaction as you shift your focus between him and your boyfriend who was both furiously blushing and actively avoiding your stare. Did you just get a marriage proposal? 

Taking advantage of your confusion, Sirius pays for everything including the gift wrapping, which you had previously argued about who was responsible paying (you won, not that that matters now). You let him tug your arm and guide you out of the store, saying a quick thank you to the amused cashier. The influx of butterflies were back, tickling your insides and spreading warmth in each crevice. Just seeing Sirius handle the rambunctious mini James with care and glee, makes it so easy for you to imagine a life with him, and eventually have a little bean that’s equal parts of you and him. You hope they’d get the best parts of both.

No one brings it up as you began your journey back to the car and you’re grateful. Gift bag swinging on your arm, you drag Sirius to go get ice cream to which he happily obliges. 

A gentle quiet settles on accomplished shoulders like a warm blanket as you settle in the car. Strawberry and vanilla fudge ice cream sticky sweet on each other’s lips as you exchange cones every once in a while. It would be enough to lull you to sleep, if not for Sirius’s deep breaths and sighs, the thundering of his heart that he tries to quell by discreetly scratching a small part of the steering wheel where his thumb usually lay. 

He breaks the silence first, an uneasy tone making his voice seem small. “Do you think he’ll like it, dove?”

“Yes, Siri. I know he’ll love it.” You try your best to enunciate the right words, but a conflicted expression marrs his handsome features, sending a twinge to your heart. 

It comes to you before he speaks. This was something that had been plaguing Sirius’s mind for a while, occupying his dreams and thoughts, embedding itself to his mind and causing unwarranted amounts of stress. You resist the urge to fill in the blanks for him because it has to come from him and him only. 

But after everything he’s been through, what seems easy for most sometimes is the hardest to muster. “Siri,” you pause, waiting until he looks up at you and you keep his gaze. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

His gray orbs still before the dam breaks. “I’m sorry, love.” He chokes. “If I’m being so difficult, irky, irritated, anxious, everything.”

Hot tears run down his cheeks and it’s a painful watch. wanting nothing but to wipe it off and tuck him in your embrace and promise him he won’t be hurt as long as you’re there, but you can’t. The best thing you could do for him is to let it all out and finally feel.

He stares ahead on the city road with fingers trembling on the wheel. “I’m just so scared. So scared. James and Lily have been amazing parents, I can’t say same thing for myself but I try my best. Sometimes I still feel like he deserves someone better to be his godfather,” he sobs. “I just love him so much. I want only the best for him. I just want him to be happy and healthy all the time.”

After a while, you say with a bittersweet tone. “You know we can’t promise that, Siri,” you sigh. “Storms will come and will do damage and hurt and things that we can’t undo,” you pause, sniffling as you take your right hand to guide him to face you again, vulnerable gray eyes meeting yours. “But you know what?”

You give him an assuring smile, speaking the truth. “He’s gonna be alright because little as he is right now, he is so loved and adored by so many people, so loved by his parents. And so loved by his godfather.”

It wasn’t said aloud, it doesn’t need to. Loud as it could be, Sirius knows what you’re about to say; that his ability to love despite of everything he’s been through, despite of his own family ruthlessly trying to rob him of the ability to do so. That’s the type of love that Sirius gives, a love that withstands rain and abandonment; a love that stays after a rough storm, offering a home always open to go to when times are rough and feelings are still hurt; a love that tells the truth even when its hardest to hear. 

You know all this as an easy fact because you’re at the receiving end. Even if you hadn’t heard it from his lips yet.

“Have I told you I love you?”

A watery smile spreads on your face as you shake your head. “No, but i feel it everyday.”

“I love you, Y/N.” It leaves his lips like breaths, naturally and easily. 

It’s the same thing for you, too. “I love you too, Siri.” 

And it ends with sticky kisses that taste of vanilla fudge and berries.

#siriusblack #sirius black one shot #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black imagine #sirius black blurb #sirius black fluff #sirius black drabble #sirius black fic #sirius black x black!reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black x yn #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius x reader #marauders era #marauders fluff #dad!marauders #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #hp marauders #jily fic #sirius black

[nanaslutt]

gojo & geto fucking their pretty bestfriend (you guessed it, you<3) in the eiffel tower position <333

contains: fem reader, threesome, the boys are gay for each other, choking, hair pulling, dirty talk ofc, kinda rough, gojo is a brat, satosugu are switches, sub reader tho

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

"fucking christ this pussy is killing me," geto has a strong hold on your hips as he pulls you back on his dick, similtaniously knocking gojos cock deeper into your throat, making your eyes water as you gag around him

"hahaha don't tell me ur about to cum already Suguru, we jus started," gojos hand is resting on the underside of your throat, so he can feel his dick every time geto fucks you into him

"shut the fuck up satoru," geto hisses and gojo infuriatingly laughs in response, "how are you doin princess?" gojo directs his attention to you

there is no way you were responding while in the state you were currently in, coughing and sputtering spit around gojos cock while geto expertly fucked straight into your g-spot

"whats that? gotta speak up baby, cant understand you" he coos, whiping the tears and spit off your cheek with his slender fingers

if you had half a mind, you would've slapped gojo for being such a bully, but luckily for him, you didn't have half a mind, geto stuck up for you though; ever the sweetheart he is; "such a fuckin bully satoru, maybe I should fuck you next while they sit on your face, see how you fucking feel then huh?"

you couldnt lie that the thought of suffocating gojo between your thighs and having him suck on your clit while geto fucked high pitched whines out of him didnt sound like the worst idea in the world, but that was for another day

reaching down between your legs you rubbed quick circles on your clit while digging your nails into gojos thigh to stabilize yourself,

"oh, i think someone likes that idea" geto smiled, feeling you squeeze and pulse around him, "you wanna help me fuck the brat outta gojo princess? bet we'd make such a g-good team" he punctuated with a particularly deep thrust, almost making you lose yoru balance, resulting in you digging your nails impossibly deeper into gojos thigh

and gojo fucking moaned like a bitch, tipping his head back, both his hands instinctly gripping your hair as he hunched over you biting his lip, taking a deep breath and slowing his hips down, it took every once of his strength not to fill your mouth with his cum at that second

you choked at the rough treatment but were grateful when gojos hips slowed, the opportunity arose to swallow air into your lungs again and you greedily took it

geto's rough treatment of your poor abused pussy bouncing you a little on gojo's cock still, but the loss of gojo also assisting was a nice change of pace

gojo looked up through his lashes at the raven haired man, he was fucking smirking

this had now become a competition, as most things did between them

abandoning one of the hands he had gripped on your hair and reaching out in front of him instead, his target? geto's hair

gripping suguru's signature bun and pulling his face close to his, lips grazing each other as he smiled against the ravens lips, geto's smile now wiped completely off his face, his jaw now slack as he stared into gojos eyes, knowing exactly what gojo was getting at

"i know kissin gets you all hot huh, you wanna kiss me suguru?" his jaw opening slightly, tipping his head back and forth as he looks between sugurus eyes and his lips

you felt geto's cock twich inside you, his pace stuttering a bit at gojo's words, gripping your hip a little harder, for his own sanity, he would apologize for the bruises later

"what do you think baby, should I let him kiss me, huh? he'll probably fill you up the second I get my tongue in his mouth."

the speed at which the roles between them keep reversing is giving you whiplash, bringing you closer and closer to your own release

you try to speak around him, wanting to tell him 𝒚𝒆𝒔𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒊𝒕, opting to just nod as your mouth was filled to the brim with gojo's thick cock

"yeah, think i will, good call baby," he rubs his thumb on the top of your head soothingly as his attention is now back on geto

"what do you say suguru?" the mans mouth is so close to suguru's own, his eyes now staring at the place theyre about to be connected at

"thank you, thank you princess." he says as gojo finally lets their lips crash together

and its soooo messy, the kiss; if you can even call it that; is all teeth and tongue, both the men moaning into the others mouth, their moans rising in pitch

geto feels like he could cum at any second, but what kind of man would he be if the one who allowed him to cum in the first place didn't get to squirt all over his pretty cock first?

he blindly reaches down between your legs, pushing your own hand out of the way as he quickly finds your clit and rubs is back and forth at a speed that has the coil in your tummy to wind faster than it ever has

"squirt on me baby," he whines into the blondes mouth obscenely "need to feel you cum all over- m-my dick, please baby" he’s whining

suguru's kisses becoming less and less reciprocating as his jaw goes slack and gojo's keeps tongue slides into his mouth

your legs snap together as your cum squirts out all over geto's toned thighs, moans muffles, choking on gojo's cock bordering on blacking out from air deprivation and sheer pleasure as you have the longest and hardest orgasm of your fucking life "m gonna cum, o-oh my god oh my god, fuck gojo fuck, 'm gunna cum, m gonna fill her up" gojo moves his hand to geto's throat, squeezing his throat, hard, tipping his head into sugurus

"m right there with you baby, gunna cum inside her pretty pussy, yeah? gonna cum inside her while I mess up her tight little throat?" hes talking geto through it

and youre trying to keep yourself awake as they fuck you from both ends into overstimulation, squeezing your pussy and swallowing around them both as you try to milk them for all theyre worth

ome of suguru's hands leaving its place on your hip to grab gojos wrist as the white-haired man tightens his grip, knowing just how to bring him to his climax

geto stills before he hunches forward over you and into gojo as he fucks rope after rope of his hot cum into your abused pussy, moans broken up by gasps as gojo tightens and loosens his grip on suguru's throat

quickly pulling out his cock from your mouth gojo pumps his cock at an inhumane pace, your heaving but you still instinctively stick your tonge out, like the good girl you are as his thick cum covers your face, he would feel bad about covering your hair and long pretty eyelashes with his cum but.. who is he kidding, he doesnt feel bad at all, his favorite girl with his seed all over your face, its the prettiest sight hes ever seen

letting your head fall against gojos thigh as your chest rises and falls rapidly, wincing as geto pulls out his softening cock from behind you, biting his lip stairing down at your ruined hole

"heh, i-," "shut the fuck up and come look at at this" suguru cuts off his best friend, gojo pouts but gently slides your head off his thigh to crawl to the other end of the bed and check out the veiw the raven-haired man is so adamant on showing him

your so red and your pussy is so puffy and angry, geto's cum has been steadily dripping out of you and down your thigh

gojo whistles as he pulls your lips apart to get a better look, he swipes his thumb on you, collecting some of your combined cum together, you whine at how sensitive and sore you already are

gojo pushes your shoulder back twords the bed so your chest is facing the ceiling as he leans over you and slips his thumb in your mouth, making you taste you and suguru's combined mess, "what do you say, pretty?" he watches your lips wrap around his finger befoer he pops it out of your mouth

"t-thank you" you say, voice hoarse

gojo giggles, starting to get up from the bed to get some towels to clean the three of you up

"so," you start "when were you guys gonna tell me you’ve fucked before?"

part 2 :p

#this is so self indulgent its insane #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk nanami #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #jjk suguru #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru drabble #jjk geto #satosugu #satosugu x reader #stsg #satusugu #satosugu smut #geto x reader #jujutsu geto #geto smut #jjk gojo #gojo smut

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

the paint doesn't move the way the light reflects ; suguru geto

synopsis; when the king puts you under the supervision of a dashing knight, you promise to make his job as difficult as possible. unfortunately, suguru geto is the patient sort.

word count; 21.1k (this accidentally turned into a novella idk how it happened either nobody look at me 💔)

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, knight!sugu x royalty!reader, royalty au (not accurate to any time period ever), technically a bodyguard au, slowburn, reader is a brat and suguru likes it a little more than he should, reader also has thinly veiled daddy issues, protective sugu :3, he goes feral in one part (descriptions of violence and bloodshed), reader gets briefly kidnapped lol, very fluffy overall though!!, includes shifting povs & time-skips, also lots and lots of devotion, knight!sugu is real & beautiful & loves you specifically <33

a/n; HAPPY late BDAY SUGU MY BABY THE LOVE OF MY LIFE this fic has been in the works for a WHILE now and means a lot to me much like sugu himself :’3 dedicated to my beloved @kissxcore for infecting me w this concept & also my dear @mossmurdock for bringing knight!sugu into my life, both of u have made the brainrot infinitely worse and i will never be free (and ofc @softgirlgonehaywire & @dollsuguru & @jtkys for being the sweetest always) I LOVE U ALL!!!!!!!!

like most things, it begins and ends with a dream.

images form in the depths of your subconscious, wild and vivid, splattering on the canvas of your mind. a dream of cold metal, dark thickets, iron-scented skin — and a knight. 

(or… a wolf?)

before you is a small clearing. trees sprout from the rugged grounds, blooming proudly, clogging up the wool-coated sky. all around you lie empty, discarded suits of armor, dirty with rust and something that smells of death. wilted sunflowers stumble under their own weight, and dragonflies buzz in a frenzy, manic, driven to hysteria. in the distance you think you hear the shrieking of ravens.

and there’s a knight, just ahead, tall and imposing, covered in steel from head to toe. holding a blinding sword, facing the sky, doing nothing to stop the pitter patter of raindrops ricocheting off his burganet. you stand by the entrance of the woods, and watch him in silence. 

he looks a little lonely. 

and in comes the wolf. gracious, growling, big and bad, snarling and showing off the white of its fangs. dragging its claws against the ground, unruly fur ruffled by the harsh breeze; widening its maw, a silent fury on its tongue. from this angle, it looks a little like a grin.

the wolf begins to chase the knight. or maybe it’s the knight chasing the wolf — you can’t really tell. they run in circles around each other, like the sun and the moon, an orbit of violence, matching their steps. almost in harmony — almost, but not quite, because suddenly they’re closing in on you, great and ugly, beasts wearing different hides, and —

and that’s when you wake up.

”your highness!” 

a groan pushes past your lips, groggy with fatigue, and your eyelids flicker open like the drawing of a flimsy curtain. a series of mismatched little blinks, until your vision clears. 

above you waits a familiar face; impatient. one of the maids, your foggy brain tells you. and she isn’t pleased.

but all you do is drag your limbs up to cover your pillow-creased face, sluggishly, muttering beneath your breath. ”a wolf…”

silence. 

the maid tilts her head, with a furrow of her brows. 

”… excuse me?”

”there was a wolf,” you echo, a dreamy exhale muffled against the skin of your palm. stifling a yawn. ”and a guy… he was cool.” 

she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. settling back into her usual rhythm. mildy berating. ”did you have another one of your dreams?” she asks, a little irritated, and for a second you think you hear a tick-tock ticking down. ”at any rate — you need to get up. the king and queen demand your presence.”

ah. of course.

a huff, displeased, even as you force yourself into a sitting position. stretching your limbs like a grumpy feline. ”demands…” you murmur, a click of your tongue. ”they think they can just wake me up whenever they want? at the crack of dawn?”

”it’s 11 a.m, your highness.”

”early as hell,” you rasp, willfully tuning out her murmur of mind your language. letting your legs hang off the bed. ”what do they want, anyway?”

following your silent cue, she hums, walking towards the edge of the room. picking up your discarded blouse, and bringing it to you. ”i was told it was of utmost importance,” is all she says, lifting the fabric as if getting ready to dress you.

”i can do that myself,” you hiss, snatching the white silk from her outstretched hands. as always, she does nothing but sigh, sigh, sigh. it’s all they ever do. ”i’m not a toddler.”

from your position, still cozied up in bed, on messy sheets and fluffy pillows — you can see the view beyond your translucent window’s glass. a sky so gray it’s almost comforting, dark clouds forming in the distance, silently ruminating. when the maid pushes it open, and a cold breeze slips through the gap, you can smell the rain; heavy, earthy, daffodils and oak wood. in the distance, sunflower fields seek shelter from the downpour. 

but your eyes remain glued to the woods. far ahead, but still close enough to see — the woods you long for. the ones you’ll never get to see up close. 

a bitter taste blooms on your tongue. 

(spitefully, your teeth sink into the tender flesh of your bottom lip.)

”fine,” comes a heavy sigh, ruefully resigned. forcing yourself into compliancy. before you can change your mind, you hop off the mattress, running your fingers through tousled strands of hair. ”i’ll go see them.”

and she brightens, visibly, disapproving frown smoothed away with the breeze. for now. ”thank you. they are worried, i’ll have you know.”

a scoff, as you cross the threshold of your private quarters. humorous. ”i bet they are.” 

”your highness,” she calls, following close behind. her tone is reprimanding, now; you will yourself not to shrink. ”we almost lost you.”

”i almost got kidnapped,” you huff. ”not the same thing.”

again, that exasperated sigh. it’s a wonder her lungs haven’t run out of air. ”do you have any idea who that man was?” 

the question makes your mind still. shifting gears, a clockwork coming to life, repeating it inside your head — do you have any idea who that man was? 

”… he was hot.”

sigh. you hear it before it comes, and raise your lips on instinct. 

”no, i mean it!” you ensure her, throwing a fleeting glance behind you. ”he just had that rugged look about him, you know? the scar and everything…” a blissful little exhale, as you gush over your would-be killer. ”what a waste. if only he had gotten away.”

”with you in tow?” the maid quips, raising a brow. her words are steeped in irony.

”of course!” another disapproving glance. ”i mean, did you see those biceps —”

”behave.”

with a flutter of your puffy sleeves, you turn around to face her. and ah — there it is. the hardness of her jaw, those frosty pupils, the impending signs of her dwindling patience. you can see it, hear it, that eerie tick-tock signaling the breaching of her limit. all humans have one; a clockwork heart, of sorts, ticking down to the moment they run out of leftover kindness to give unruly heirs. 

over the years, you’ve gotten expertly good at making the clock tick quicken. a skill you’re very proud of.

”and what if i don’t?” you bite back, just barely restraining your growing grin. delighted at the attention. ”he had nice biceps! what, am i not allowed to tell the truth?”

and the tick-tock quickens. she stills, just behind you, hands on her hips. frustration bubbling beneath her sharp syllables. ”my god, you are impossible today!”

for a moment, you stop to look at her. weighing your options. should you reel it back in, try and appease her? or keep pushing? the answer, as always, is push. it’s all you’ll ever do.

so you turn on your heel, and take a step forward, a spiteful grin curved into your lips. ”deal with it, or leave.” a beat. ”i don’t remember asking you to accompany me.”

before you round the corner, your ears pick up on one final harsh sigh. she makes no move to follow you.

(hmph.)

”where is your maid?”

in front of you stands a throne, proud and luxurious, polished marble, two seats right next to each other. the quarters of the royal pair are the same as always, vivid paintings hanging from every wall in sight, wolf pelts thrown over tables and windowsills. the scent of dried lavender seeps through the air, suffocating you. 

and, of course, the king. speaking to you with the same judgemental voice as always; one you’ve grown painfully accustomed to. 

”i wanted her to get me breakfast,” is the lie you decide on, finely tailored in white. just to make sure she doesn’t get into any actual trouble. ”you didn’t exactly give me time to eat any.”

the king sighs, mild disappointment laced into the breath. nothing new. when he says your name, it comes out sounding like a bad joke. ” — you aren’t a child anymore. one day you’ll be ruling this kingdom; forcing the maids to do your bidding won’t win you any favours.” 

”mhm.” absently, you fidget with the sleeves of your blouse. not quite listening. ”so, what did you want? it’s not often i’m allowed here.”

an evil glint shines in your eyes, for a moment. you cast a meaningful glance at the maid by your father’s side — his personal favorite. 

”don’t you have, ah…” you taste the words on your tongue. ”more pressing matters to attend to?”

he doesn’t flinch. as always, he pretends not to know that you know — that everyone knows. 

yet he still gives you that cold, cold look, colder than the howls of wind beyond the castle walls, cold enough to send a shiver down your spine. it makes you want to push, push, push. break the clockwork in half.

but he’s wise enough to follow your lead. “let me get to the point, then,” he cranes his neck, showing off the fox pelt snug around his shoulders. ”the queen and i thought it best to hire a new knight for you.”

you blink. eyelashes fluttering. all you can hear is the pitter patter of rain against the windowpane. 

then you groan.

”another one?” you whine, barely resisting the urge to stomp your feet on the floor. ”please, no. it’s such a pain getting rid of them. you know they won’t last long!”

”we aren’t talking about any ordinary knight,” he tuts, as monotone as ever. ignoring your little temper tantrum. ”after what happened with toji zenin, we aren’t taking any chances.”

you tilt your head. confused, for a moment. ”toji?” the gears of your mind turn, clicking into place; zenin. a family of assassins, a man with a scar on his bottom lip. ”ohhh — the hottie.”

your father pretends not to hear you. 

”it was a close call,” he hums, and you muster the strength not to crack another joke about his biceps. it takes restraint. ”we need someone who can protect you properly. indefinitely, from even the stealthiest of assassins. so…”

your eyes meet his. gazes overlapping, the same colour, one above and one below. he’s always, always towered over you. for as long as you remember. 

that is what royalty means — absolute dominion. 

(it makes you want to curl into a ball.)

”today, you’ll be meeting with the greatest knight.” he says the words with an odd sense of pride, an inner satisfaction. ”he’ll be here any moment. i thought it best for you to get acquainted as soon as possible.”

a moment passes. you’re broken out of your bout of compliance, like a rubber band snapping. a clock tick quickening. ”wait, what?” you gape. ”father —”

”your majesty.” 

…

the correction is stern. gritting your teeth, you force the words from out your throat. ”… your majesty,” there’s a slight grumble to your voice, ”what the hell? now? i haven’t even —”

”you have no choice in this matter,” he cuts you off. coldly, coldly, coldly. ”behave, and there won’t be any complications.”

behave.

behave, behave, behave. it’s all they ever want from you.

(you might as well be a pet.)

the queen is silent, as always. eerily so, not saying a word, like a puppet on a string. she hasn’t looked you in the eye even once so far, not even a passing glance. not like you’d expect her to. her clockwork heart stopped beating for you a long time ago. 

automatons, the both of them. making decisions for you, like there isn’t a sliver of rational thought in your brain. how irritating.

you’re just about to part your lips, when —

”… am i interrupting?”

you still.

a velvety voice. silky, smooth, tailored by the finest seamstress — tucked between the slightest raspy vowel, a hint of something deeper. it sounds like honey, wine, a molten mass of spring clouds. 

the king ahead of you brightens, suddenly, lips curling up into a smile. it looks almost warm; you didn’t know he was capable of making that kind of expression. ”ah, suguru!” he calls out to the source of the noise. ”no, certainly not. forgive me for the short notice.”

when you turn around, you see a knight.

he’s beautiful. gorgeous, even. fair skin, sharp facial features, no scars to be seen. a sword hangs in a scabbard by his hip, and he’s wearing a set of armor, still glistening with the aftermaths of the rain beating down outside. his hair cascades down the metal like a black river, loose and silky, a single strand obscuring his pretty face. and his eyes are a soothing shade of brown; you’re almost certain they’d look warm, if there was any sunlight to engulf them. as it is, in the shadow of a murky spring morning, they’re a dark cedar, almost obsidian. but they look kind. 

and they’re fixed on the king. he’s smiling, too, a dangerous little tilt. disgustingly charming. he hangs his head in a bow, hand on his heart — reverent.

(ah. he’s one of those knights.)

”my king,” the strange knight greets, tongue wrapping around the vowels like a dragon curling around a pile of gold. ”not at all. i’m always grateful for an opportunity to see you.”

(oh god. it’s even worse than you thought.)

”i should say the same of you,” the king echoes, with a warmth that you’re wholly unaccustomed to. your stomach churns, swirling with discomfort. ”our nation’s pride and joy.”

the knight chuckles; muffled by his closed fist. he’s feigning embarrassment, you can tell. ”you flatter me,” he purrs, words flowing smoothly from his lips. too smoothly. ”i’m simply doing my duty as one of your subjects. but, needless to say — i’m honoured to have earned your respect.”

finally, his gaze shifts to you. and you think he must notice how disgusted you are, the reproach you feel for him, that silent contempt. because you aren’t trying to hide it; it’s there, clear as day, in the crease of your brow, your frosty pupils. lips pursed, like they’re aching to bare and to bite.

but he continues to smile. warm, still, like a mellow summer breeze. a well of pizzicato drops.

you feel a little nauseous.

”ah, and you must be the royal heir?” a tilt of his head, knowing. a shimmer of recognition painted in those ashen eyes. ”or should i say…. my liege.” 

he walks towards you, in long strides, slow and steady, only to get down on one knee. ew. ”forgive me; my name is suguru geto. your knight, from this day forth.” his palm unfurls, cedar eyes crinkling with feigned endearment. holding it out towards the subject of his newfound devotion. ”i’m delighted to finally meet you.”

(suguru geto. you’ve heard of him, of course. who hasn’t?)

his hand stills in the air, waiting patiently for yours; to bring it to his glossy lips. but you don’t do anything. nothing, other than studying his smile, picture perfect, tailor-made, sweet enough to melt on your tongue. so sweet you know it must be at least a little bit fake — the smile of a liar. 

it’s a smile you know well.

so you mimic it, a bitter glint in your eyes, only for your hands to retreat to your pockets. and out comes a purr. ”you’re a bad actor.”

silence. the knight doesn’t flinch, not even close, but he blinks, a flutter of his dark eyelashes. like a raven taking flight. that everlasting smile never falters, but for just a second, a clock-tick or two, you swear you catch the slightest hint of something flickering through his keen iris.

interest?

”forgive them, suguru,” the king is quick to chip in, finally stepping down from his throne to join you on the floor. the queen doesn’t move, but she gives suguru a fond smile, and it makes your grimace deepen. ”they woke up on the wrong side of bed this morning. and they’re a bit of a problem child — i’m sure you’ve heard.”

that makes you snicker, silently. maybe just a little bit smug. you’re sure it must be a headache for him to deal with.

”i can’t say i haven’t,” suguru chuckles, raising himself up from the marble floor. your smile falls. ”but it’s not an issue. i understand.”

he looks at you, really looks at you, and you give him an unimpressed stare. wholly disinterested. trying not to squirm under his scrutiny. 

”i’m sure it must feel suffocating — being under this kind of supervision.” he gives you a tilt of his head, strands of charcoal following the movement. smooth, like a waltz, one you didn’t agree to. ”isn’t it?”

ah. the sympathy card.

before you can answer, he bows; hand on his heart. knights and their rituals. ”i’m at your service, my liege. if i make you uncomfortable, at any point, just tell me.” once more, he meets your gaze, a sincerity in his own — reserved just for you. ”really.”

… ugh.

to your right comes a pleased voice, deep and satisfied, as self-affirming as ever. ”i knew i could entrust them to you,” the king speaks, placing a palm on your shoulder. you try not to flinch. ”aren’t you grateful? this handsome, kind man is all yours.”

a sharp scoff is all you can muster, nails digging into the skin of your palm. but suguru only chuckles, good-natured.

they continue to speak, about this and that. you tune out most of it, caught up in preparing for the long headache ahead. sure, you’re an expert at getting knights to quit, but it takes time. weeks, sometimes, just to make them finally crack, push and push until their patience reaches its limit. and suguru seems resilient. more than anything, he seems thoroughly loyal to the king; that really doesn’t bode well for you.

but before you can formulate a step-by-step guide to making his job a living hell, the sound of your name snaps you out of your trance.

it’s the king, of course, as always. you hate that you still instinctively respond to his call. like an obedient puppy. ”show suguru to your quarters. he’ll be accompanying you indefinitely, from now on. don't give him any trouble.” his voice finally sounds cold again; a warning. ”i’ll hear about it.”

(indefinitely.)

a moment passes. then you sigh, deep and heavy, haphazardly hiding a roll of your eyes. ”yeah, yeah, yeah,” you cross your arms. ”i got it.”

suguru meets your furrowed brows with something gentle, a soothing little smile. offering his arm, for you to hold on to. knights and their rituals. ”shall we?”

but you brush past him. stubborn in your independence, in your desire to make this as discomforting for him as it is for you. ”follow me,” is all you say, a dissatisfied huff. loud enough to pick up on.

to your great displeasure, he matches your hurried pace. side by side, as you walk down the halls, the clicking of his shoes echoing against the marble. a shadow you can’t shine away; one that’ll stay with you indefinitely. you feel his gaze burn into you.

”my lord.”

”don’t talk to me,” you sigh, sharp like the sword by his hip. a low click of your tongue. ”just so you know, i didn’t agree to this.”

”that was my question, actually,” he grins, ever so slightly. fingertips tapping against his scabbard. ”i am sorry, you know. i meant what i said — i’m sure it’s difficult for you.” he casts you another one of those meaningful glances, a meaning you have no intention of discerning. ”but i have my orders.”

you bite back a laugh. ”you guys love those, huh?” when you turn your head to face him, still walking forward, he’s met with a taunting smirk. ”your little orders.”

but his smile doesn’t falter. damn.

”not a fan of knights?” he asks, instead, a playful lilt to his syrupy voice. coaxing, accommodating. infuriating.

”nope.” your footsteps quicken — but he keeps up, effortlessly. curse those abnormally long legs. ”you’re all just bootlickers. especially you.”

”oh?”

”don’t oh? me,” you snap, practically growling, ”like you weren’t seconds away from making out with the king back there. it’s all so fake.” the comment makes the corners of his lip quirk up, but you don’t turn around to see it. ”now that you’re alone with me, you’re already acting way less uptight, see?”

he hums. ”i figured it’d make you feel more at ease.”

”god, will you just cut it out?” a hiss breaks out of your throat, sharp and exasperated. tired, drained. you just want to go back to sleep. ”quit acting like you care about what i think. you’ll do whatever the king asks of you — that’s all you really care about.”

suguru stays silent, this time. matching your steps, observing you silently, out of the corner of his eye. the frown on your lips, the crease between your brows. etching them into his memory. you’re pissed, that much he can tell. and you definitely, definitely don’t like him. 

(”you’re a bad actor.”)

the knight comes to a standstill. parting his lips, enough for his voice to flow through, silken sheets and molten honey. a raspy tilt he tries his best to hide.

but his words carry a sincerity he could never fake. 

”from now on, i serve you.”

when the clicking of his shoes against cold marble flooring fades away, you halt. turning around, hesitantly, quirking a questioning brow. rain beats on beyond the window to your left, flicking against the glass, droplets clinging to the translucent surface. marigold petals kiss the windows in a flurry of cream and orange, fluttering about with the harsh bites of the wind, carried from the castle’s orchard. the endless hallway you find yourselves in smells of rainwater and spring.

suguru looks steadfast, where he’s standing, immovable. a little like a pillar of salt. when he speaks it sounds like he’s reciting a scripture.

”i’m loyal to the king. i have to follow his orders.” 

there’s something about his words that you can’t quite pinpoint. is it guilt or pride? ”but i am at your service. certain things are set in stone, but not others. i’ll let you decide how this goes.”

the hallway goes silent. he smiles, again, smaller this time. somehow more genuine.

”from now on, i’m your knight.” the pitter patter of rain mashes with the steady beating of a clock; rhythmic, soothing, a lullaby of rust and time. ”that’s all. i won’t be anything else.”

you stare. lips pursed, awaiting a clarification, but it doesn’t come. he’s giving you time to respond.

(he’s your knight, now. indefinitely yours.)

an inhale. the clock hands of your heart begin to move. ”in that case,” you exhale, lips curling up into a taunting smile. pleased with yourself. ”i promise to be the most insufferable lord a knight has ever had. i won’t make your job easy for you.”

and suguru only chuckles. raspy, like the bark of a tree, claw marks on the ground. ”good,” he grins, eyes rich with mirth, golden pears hanging off the branches. ”i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

he looks sincere. sounds sincere. all you do is blink, a sense of frustration nibbling at your heart, but the knight before you doesn’t falter. he only offers his arm to you, once more; a silent step towards reconciliation.

you watch him, silently. 

then you’re turning on your heel, swiftly, a low grumble at the base of your throat. ignoring him and his offer, walking towards your room with irritated steps that fade as you turn the corner.

behind you, suguru’s smile only grows.

”good morning, your highness.”

blinking sleepily, still regaining your ability to form coherent thoughts, all you can do is stare. studying the figure above you, towering over your half-asleep form, the deadpan expression on your face.

black hair, and amber eyes. a disgustingly charming smile. 

the gears of your mind finally click into place.

a whine flows from your lips, meek and disapproving, and you roll over to your side. pulling the covers over your head, as if to protect you from the existence of your newly hired knight. so it wasn’t just a bad dream.

but he doesn’t fade away, like an apparition. he stays right by your bed, crouching down next to it. you feel the weight of the mattress shift when he rests his elbow on the cushion. ”still too early?” he asks, soft enough not to grate your sensitive ears. ”i was told you usually get up around this time…”

a muffled groan. ”leave.”

”i’m afraid i can’t,” he hums, but you don’t sense much remorse. ”i’m not supposed to let you out of my sight for more than brief intervals at a time… that’s one thing i can’t compromise on.”

”i don’t care,” you whine, petulant. tightening your grip on the blanket surrounding you, desperate to savour the leftovers of your fuzzy dreams. ”’m not getting up…”

a click of his tongue. quiet, contemplative. until he decides on a course of action.

”would you like me to bring you breakfast, then?”

…

slowly, your eyes flicker open, consciousness beginning to stir. the tasty temptation rouses you from your half-slumber, ever so slightly; because he sounds sincere. he sounds like he really will bring you breakfast, if you just give him the order. 

it’s tempting. dangerously so. 

(how long has it been since one of the maids actually bothered to serve you breakfast?)

”… whatever,” you croak, finally. weighing the value of your own response — putting effort into not sounding too excited. (but you are.) ”sure. do what you want, just let me sleep.”

a relieved little breath slips from suguru’s lips, as he watches the lump under the blanket stir. ”alright,” he breathes. ”what would you like, my lord?”

(suddenly, you get an idea.)

a smug grin crawls up to rest on your lips, fresh mischief on your mind. ”figure it out yourself,” you chirp, awfully pleased with yourself. 

silence. 

then, you hear him hum — rising to his feet with a quiet groan. ”understood,” he quips. ”i’ll be back as soon as possible, your highness.”

when you hear the creaking of the door, as he steps over the threshold, you barely restrain the urge to kick your legs in victory. now he’s sure to get you the wrong breakfast; and then you can be as difficult as you please, demanding something else, over and over. an ungrateful, spoiled little brat. that’ll definitely make him quit. 

— sadly, it seems you were underestimating him. just a tiny, tiny bit.

before you, on a silver tray, lays a wide variety of breakfast foods. everything from syrupy pancakes and buttery croissants to neatly cut sandwiches and porridge, slices of fruit and fresh lemonade, coffee with cream and sugar, tiny jars of marmalade and jam. sparkling, glittering, begging to be devoured. handmade, you can tell, meticulously crafted by someone who knows what they’re doing. with a gulp, you attempt not to openly salivate — you had no clue the kitchen workers were this talented. 

for just a moment, you’re entirely speechless. he really went ahead and got you some of everything.

stumbling for the right words, any words, the only thing that escapes your throat is a meek huff. meant to sound displeased, but coming out just a little awestruck. ”this is… way, way too much. are you insane?”

he only shrugs. a sweet smile on his lips, sharp jaw resting on the heel of his palm. ”well, you wouldn’t give me any specifics,” he reminds you, a bit too smug for your liking. ”just eat what you like. i’ll keep your preferences in mind.”

you want to protest, want to put up a fight. want to resist his charms, his little peace offering.

but your stomach growls, suddenly. loud enough that you’re sure he hears it, but you don’t turn around to see any silent laughter — just picking up the fork, embarrassed, eager to just get rid of the ache in your gut. eager to get a taste of the delicacies in front of you. with hesitance, you cut into one of the fluffy pancakes, slathered with syrup, trying to ignore his expectant gaze. biting into it with your eyes closed.

when the sweet taste curls around your tongue, you physically feel yourself perk up. letting your eyes flutter open, your eyebrows raised, a sweetness that makes you sit up straighter. it practically melts in your mouth, honeyed and buttery, and it takes all your willpower to withhold a blissed out little sigh. 

it must be evident, on your features. because suguru sounds amused when he asks; ”good?”

”... better than usual, i guess.”

despite your half-assed attempt at hiding how pleased you are, his ever-present smile extends. ”oh, really?” he leans back in his chair, right next to the bed. exhaling in relief. ”i’m glad. i was worried my cooking wouldn’t be to your tastes.”

…

you pale.

silently, both awestruck and horrified, you look up to meet his teasing gaze. ”wait. you…” a pause. silent, palpable, dreading his answer. ”… made this?” 

”yes.”

another pause. 

”… like. all of it?”

”mhm.”

your gaze falls down to seek solace in your lap. avoiding his own, biting down on your lip, not quite enough to sting. fuck — you accidentally complimented his handmade breakfast. not off to a great start.

wallowing in your silent loss, you simply dig in; desperate to savour it, despite the lingering taste of failure on your tongue. once you’ve sipped the last of your coffee, foamy and rich, the knight to your right speaks up.

”so, your highness,” he begins. tactful, careful. clearing his throat. ”now that you’ve woken up a bit… and, forgive me if i’m overstepping, but —” he searches for your guarded gaze, playing with the beginnings of a smile. ”i was thinking it’d be good for us to get to know each other better.”

”ugh.”

a chuckle — seriously, does nothing offend this man? — flits past his lips. ”oh, don’t be like that, your highness. don’t you think it —”

”cut it out.” you shoot him a glare, voice set to a shivering tilt. ”stop acting like some perfect servant. it’s so obvious you’re playing it up.” a tiny huff, as you pop an apple slice into your mouth. ”makes me sick.”

”… right. you called my acting bad, before.”

”it is,” you nod, a mocking imitation on your tongue. eyes fluttering shut as you bring a hand to your chest. ”oooh, look at me, i’m so humble and loyal! why, of course i don’t mind being summoned with no prior notice! would you like me to lick your shoes, my sweet king?”

and, honestly, you expect him to get at least a little bit angry. the last guy certainly was.

but suguru laughs, suddenly, from the bottom of his gut — a genuine sound. sunshine spilling from his lips, amusement laced together with the octaves. his eyes are crinkled at the edges, like the leaves of a golden ginkgo tree. ”okay, okay,” he puts his hands up, as if readying for a smooth surrender. still amused. ”i’ll try to be more… unguarded, then. would that satisfy you?”

you give him a look. 

he returns it with a smile. ”i’ll take that as a yes,” is all he croons, reaching a hand out. it hangs still in the air, waiting patiently for a response. a familiar sight.

you blink. looking at it, silently, as if trying to solve a puzzle in the pattern of his fingertips. 

then you sigh. ”for the last time, i’m not letting you kiss my hand, you —”

”a handshake,” he cuts you off. soft, a tilt of his head; awfully charming. reassuring you. ”no kissing involved.”

a handshake.

(come to think of it, you don’t think anyone’s ever tried to shake your hand before. it’s something you see other people do; maids, knights, butlers. people on equal ground with each other.)

after a moment of silence, you avert your gaze. there’s a slight, slight flush to your cheeks, one you hope stays hidden from his keen eyes. you grumble, intent on not appeasing him. ”… i’m not shaking your hand, either.”

suguru quirks a brow, smile yet to fall, waiting a few moments more until he gives in. ”you are difficult,” he chuckles, and it sounds almost pleased. ”kento was right.”

kento? now, why does that sound familiar…? 

”— but that’s okay. i look forward to getting to know you better, either way.” his hand retreats to his lap, pliant. ”eventually.”

”that’s not happening.”

”oh?” you swear that smile of his grows, just a little. a man who enjoys a good challenge. humming, closing his eyes for a brief second, switching tactics as if shifting gears. ”then, tell me — is there anything you’d like to know about me?”

hell no, is what you want to say. and you almost, almost do. eager to move one step ahead of him, stubborn in your desire to scare him off.

but then you remember the tale.

so you still, ever so slightly, and suguru leans forward. by a hair, noticing your expression, maybe, the curiosity simmering in your veins. seeping out, little by little, and even though you know you shouldn’t — you just can’t resist the temptation to ask…

”… is it true?”

he tilts his head.

”the … you know.” you move your hands, a bit, as if hoping they’ll say the words for you. they don’t. ”your sword. did you really…” a pause, as your eager gaze trails down to his hip, the scabbard attached to his belt. and then a gulp. 

”… pull it out of a stone?”

a series of silent blinks. then suguru chuckles — dripping with fresh amusement, a glimmer of teeth behind his lips. ”oh, so you’ve heard?”

and, like a pair of shooting stars, your eyes flicker over to meet his. almost gleaming with newfound excitement, a little erratic. ”is — is it true?”

”it’s an old folktale,” he’s quick to intercept. ”gets said about basically every great knight… or, what the public deems as good, anyhow.”

(ah. the humble facade slipped away.)

in a matter of seconds, you seem to deflate, slumping back until your spine meets the headboard. sulking silently. ”so you didn't pull your sword out of a rock?” you huff, mood souring again, a lemony flavour in your veins. ”lame.”

”stone,” he corrects, unperturbed. ”and i'm afraid not.” he gives you another one of his placating smiles, barely concealed amusement swimming in his amber eyes. ”i pulled mine from an oak tree.”

…

”wait, really?”

the gleam in your eyes is back. suguru almost, almost feels bad.

”depends,” he quips, shooting you a lazy grin. ”how gullible are you, my lord?”

(... oh. he was teasing you.)

an embarrassed heat crawls up your neck, rooting itself into the column of your throat, and all you can do to distract him from it is to scoff. sharply, as if hoping just the sound will be enough to cut into his smooth skin. ”whatever.”

suguru continues to smile, crows’ feet by his eyes, something deliberate in his silent stare. so you stumble for something, anything to say.

”also, can you quit the my lord stuff?” you settle on, taking a shallow sip of the lemonade. sour and sweet, nice and chilled on your tongue. ”it’s creepy.”

he blinks. a flutter of his dark lashes, fingers tapping at his bended knee. he looks contemplative, for a moment. ”does it make you uncomfortable?” he asks, tilting his head. ”i can stick to my liege, if that’s better. just say the word.” 

”god, you’re so annoying,” you groan, licking the lemony residue off your lips. ”just use my name.”

suddenly, suguru stills. fingertips frozen, for a moment, no longer tapping at his thigh. he traps his bottom lip between his teeth, a hesitant hum crawling up the confines of his throat. 

”that….” he trails off, thumb absentmindedly smoothing over the leather of his scabbard. ”seems a little much.”

when you turn to look at him, he seems a little put off. uncomfortable, maybe — or just caught off guard? it’s hard to get a read on him. for someone who smiles so often, his emotions don’t appear very bright.

a pang of something grasps onto your clockwork heart, and a frown pulls at your bottom lip. frustration gnawing at your veins. ”you’re here to service me, aren’t you?” you ask, with a shallow huff. ”just do as i say.”

”well, i still have my boundaries.” suguru leans back, crossing his legs, gazing at you with slightly lidded eyes. ”and, on paper — i’m only here to protect you. the servicing is my own choice.” 

a very, very judgemental look. he returns it with a tug of his lips. 

”… you really do like being ordered around, don’t you?”

suguru shrugs. playful. ”makes me feel needed,” he purrs, watching you wolf down the breakfast he made.

once you’ve had your fill, he’s quick to gather the silver tray in his steady arms, and you do your very best to hold back from thanking him for the meal. it aches a little, but you can’t give in — you don’t have a choice. you can’t allow yourself to be anything other than the most ungrateful, annoying royal in the kingdom.

anything to snap his clockwork heart in half.

— a week passes with no particular developments. you try your damndest to bother him, but suguru is stubborn. stubborn enough that you’re starting to doubt he’ll ever leave you alone, no matter how much you ignore him, or hiss at him, or whine at him to make you an annoyingly specific assortment of breakfast foods.

he never stops smiling, no matter how bothersome you’re being. the tick-tock of his patience remains unbroken. 

(so for now, you figure you’ll just have to adjust.)

a sense of contentment simmers in the open air, when suguru knocks at your door, waiting for a groan and a grouchy come in. it takes you a few moments longer to respond than what he’s used to, and he notes that you sound a little less irritated when you do.

as he steps over the threshold, bowing his head instinctively, he’s met with the sight of you fully immersed. holding a paintbrush between your fingers, lifting it, movements delicate, self-assured. like it comes to you without thinking. you’re seated right by the window, enough for the would-be daylight to flicker in. as it stands, the weather is still sour. 

he walks up to you, as always, never more than a few steps away.

and, for a moment, all he does is watch you. silently, as you dip your brush in smeary cobalt paint, a splatter of colour on the white canvas. melting together with the indigo and obsidian. there’s a certain rhythm to it, a kind of dance between you and your mind and the painting in front of you — not even close to being finished. a dip of your brush blooms into a jaw, a flick of your wrist into a set of fangs. cobalt cream and silvery edges, an imitation of what you saw in your sleep. murky, blurry, a dream-like clearing in the woods. 

as you work, a sense of relaxation smooths along your sinuses. coaxing you into breathing out, into letting your clenched jaw rest for a while. turning all your irritation into brushstrokes. into a hungry, hungry wolf. 

finally, your knight opts to break the silence.

”you’re quite talented.” 

it’s an earnest comment. filled with respect, not the idle flattery you’re so used to. and despite yourself, you can’t help but grin — glowing a little beneath the praise. prideful, smug, almost giddy. he watches intently as your expression shifts, as those fleeting flickers of joy dance along the contours of your cheekbones. as you lap up his praise like the chamomile tea he served you this morning.

suguru smiles. you have a cute side, he thinks. for no more than a mere moment, he finally feels as if he’s getting somewhere; getting closer to breaking that thorny, thorny shell of yours. closer to meeting the little lamb beneath the wolf’s hide.

but your mind quickly catches up to your body, realizing that your lips are curled up into a pleased smile, and you clench your jaw again. mindful not to let him see it. painting makes you far too careless, too unguarded; you have to be mean.

stuck in a bout of frustration, you put a little too much force into the motion of your fingers, a small slip of the hand. but that’s all it takes. suddenly, the smooth, calm sea of fur on the canvas turns violent, a little more unruly, and you withhold a wince. doing your best to mend the damage. flick, flick, across the canvas, as if to appease the hungry wolf. 

from behind you, a tiny exhale. laced with a kind of stifled amusement, one that makes you snap your jaw in his direction. brows knitted in anger.

”what?”

suguru clears his throat. ”nothing, my liege,” he hides a smile behind his knuckle. eyes gliding across the murky smear of fangs and fur, interest piqued. ”i’m just curious… why a wolf?”

a huff. briefly, you consider ignoring him, but….

(something in his tone convinces you not to.)

”… i saw one,” you admit, absently, staring at the blue and gray of the canvas. flick, flick. violet, navy, a little more depth. ”in my dream.”

silence. your knight doesn’t respond. surely, he must think you childish; everyone else does. why would he be the exception? why did you tell him anything at all? a sense of regret mixes with the paint.

the weight of a brush in your hand truly does make you careless, doesn’t it?

”… huh.”

a clenching of teeth. you muster the will to turn your head, just to give him a questioning look, a silent aggression. biting before he can. but he’s not looking at you; he’s looking at the painting, the wolf that isn’t quite a wolf yet, just blue and gray on paper. a blur of messy motions.

then he shakes his head. ”no, nothing.” 

you quirk a brow. 

but you don’t say anything. falling silent, falling back into the rhythm of it all, painting until you grow bored of it. the wolf looks at you both, still thoroughly unfinished, jaw half-painted, no trees or knights to keep it company. solitary, blurry; baring its fangs towards no one at all. a sorry spectacle of teeth.

— a couple days later, as you’re walking through the castle with suguru in tow, still adamantly refusing to curl your fingers around his bicep, a loud crash breaks you out of your hushed banter.

the two of you share a look. it came from farther away, just beyond the next turn, a certain hallway decorated with delicate vases. one the castle maids desperately tried to keep you from, when you were younger, worried about your habit of jumping around while pretending to be some sort of feral animal. worried, of course, about the safety of the porcelain rather than the safety of the child.

it doesn’t take a genius to figure out the source of the sound. and, lo and behold, what waits beyond the turn ahead is a crying boy and a broken vase.

fat tears cascade down his reddened cheeks, silent fear knit into the way his face is scrunched up. he can’t be older than six or seven; one of the maid’s children, you assume, the kind that doesn’t have the luxury of making mistakes. he looks panicked, down on his knees, holding a large piece of porcelain, painted flowers etched into the front.

what a mess.

when the clicking of your shoes reaches his little ears, he looks up at you with wide, shameful eyes. still sitting amongst the littered shards, the spilt water and irises soon to wilt. it reminds you of something, a memory you don’t quite want to recall; a different child, tiny and alone. taught to feel shame at the moment of their birth. 

it makes your pace falter, a bit, but suguru moves without hesitation. long, careful strides, one foot after the other. 

he crouches down in front of the boy, gentle as he takes the shattered piece of porcelain from his tiny palm. so he doesn’t hurt himself. ”hey, hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, speaking even softer than usual, his voice like a flurry of feathers and jasmine petals. ”are you hurt?”

he’s patient. smiling comfortingly, considerate, grounding, a blanket of wool like the one forming on the border of the horizon. but the child continues to sniffle and hiccup, curling into a ball as if readying for a strike. like an abandoned puppy.

you sigh.

after a moment’s hesitation, you’re stepping forward, figure slipping from the shadows and coming into view. joining the miserable pair, the jagged shards on the marble floor. 

there’s a cold, cold look in your eyes when the boy raises his head to meet them.

a flick of your wrist; you wave your hand once, then twice. ”shoo. hurry up.” 

he blinks. tears clumping his lashes together, cheeks flushed from the panic of it all. he stammers when he parts his lips. ”b… but —”

”didn’t you hear me?” comes a scoff, harsh, cutting through the air. right through the fear and panic. ”that was an order. just run back to your mommy already.” you cross your arms, shaking your head in disapproval. mimicking the king, though you think it’s lost on your spectators. ”all that crying is making my head hurt, geez.”

a series of hesitant blinks. crumbling beneath your commanding gaze, the child stumbles to his feet, sparing suguru one last unsure little glance before scurrying off. the sigh that slips from your lips is quiet, barely audible, tinged with relief. 

when you look down to the floor, you find that suguru is already looking at you; a furrow to his brows. angry, for once. just a tiny, tiny flicker of distaste. you reward him with a cold smile. 

(so this is how you get under this skin. cruelty, aimed not towards him, but towards the defenseless. 

what a picture-perfect, self-destructive little knight.)

just as the child turns the corner ahead, you hear the echo of a maid calling out from behind you. her voice is dripping with fatigue, exasperation, a flurry of sighs you’ve grown far too familiar with.

”your highness! what have you done now?”

there it is, you think; the curtain call you’ve been waiting for. with a swift turn of your heel, sheepish expression ready to go, your focus shifts onto one sole objective — act annoying.

”walked into a vase,” you chirp, proudly, just the slightest bit theatrical. gesturing dismissively towards the broken spectacle, as suguru raises himself from the floor. ”my bad. not my fault you make them so easy to break, though.”

she inches closer, with a disapproving stare, and you hear a tick-tock in your ear. sensing the limit of her patience. ”i’ll have you know these vases are expensive,” she clicks her tongue. ”do you truly think you can go around breaking whatever you please?”

”… i mean. i do kind of own this place, don’t i?” you tilt your head, faux contemplation on your features, shifting into a spoiled smile. ”or i will. so — technically — i broke my own vase. no harm done!”

”… my lord —”

”quiet.” suguru stiffens, ever so slightly, following your sharp whisper. ”don’t fuck this up.”

he looks at you, silently. not saying another word.

(there’s a shame in his eyes that you don’t turn your head to see.)

it doesn’t take long for the maid to shoo you away, pinching her brow at your carefree laughter, bitter at the prospect of cleaning up your mess. she makes sure to give suguru a sweet smile, though, and doesn’t bother to hide the sympathy in it. sympathy for him, such a handsome, well-behaved knight, forced to service such a brat.

the smile he gives her in return is a stiff one. almost, almost cold. but he bows, and follows your retreating form, until you’re all alone together.

the walk is silent. maybe just a little heavy, as you try to ignore the stare burning into your skin, trying to swallow your own displeasure. it’s subtle, something you learned to internalize long ago, but it’s there; a slight sadness. you don’t enjoy getting yelled at.

a thick silence stretches on, before crumbling into dust. you aren’t sure how much time has passed when a certain velvety voice curls around your senses.

”your highness.”

he’s come to a standstill, again. you really should just ignore him and keep walking. but you still, anyway, following his cue, turning towards him with a look that says what now? — you aren’t sure what to expect. certainly not the sentence that ends up spilling from his lips, like a spring breeze through an opened window, tinged with something you fear may be close to fondness. 

(in your chest, your heartbeat tick-tocks.)

he smiles, gentle, with eyes that see right through you. and he speaks. 

”you’re actually kind, aren’t you?”

…

”… huh?”

he pays no mind to your stupefied expression. continuing, unperturbed, eyeing you with a look you distinctly dislike — as if he’s trying to glimpse into your mind. ”the vase,” he hums. ”you took the blame, even though you didn’t do it.”

a huff escapes you. face hardening, setting into firm lines. ”that wasn't intentional,” you grumble, defensive. ”i just wanted him to leave.” 

but suguru shakes his head. ”you could’ve left when the maid came. but you stayed, and lied, and got yelled at so he wouldn’t have to.” a second passes, silence thick with meaning. intentional on his part, you’re sure. ”is that not what you’d call kind?”

another moment gone, little tick-tocks of your heartbeat counting down. you part your lips, but no sound comes out, as you stumble for words to say. irritation stirring in your veins. or is it nervosity? you think your skin feels a little hot, suddenly. 

just what the hell is happening?

”i’m… i’m not — ” you bite down on your lip. harshly. stammering, voice cracking a bit, to your great dismay. ”… not kind. i hate all of them.”

”but you protect them,” he whispers, ”look after them.” his smile doesn’t waver, never ever, but you’ve never seen it look quite this knowing. and suddenly, he’s closing in on you, gazing at you with laughter in his eyes. 

you try to stand your ground, wanting nothing more than to flee, curl into yourself, scratch at him until he leaves. but your throat feels so dry, all of a sudden, a sensation that only deepens with the next words he breathes into life. 

”a little sweetheart who pretends to be all big and bad…” he eyes you up and down, a meaningful look, raven locks moving as he tilts his head. towering over you. ”is that what you are?”

nothing. no smart reply comes to you. all you can muster is a harsh glare, a low hiss crawling up your throat, like you’re preparing to lunge at him. it serves as a warning, but the amusement in his eyes doesn’t fluctuate. ”you…”

he chuckles. raspy, breathy, a shiver down your spine. ”your acting is even worse than mine.”

”shut up,” you snap, baring your teeth. it comes out almost like a growl, hot and heavy in your veins, and you don’t understand where all this emotion came from. strangling you, bubbling up within your bobbing throat. ”you don’t — understand me, okay?”

no one does. 

and that’s fine. you don’t want them to. 

(you just want him to stop looking you so fondly.)

”not yet,” he admits, eyes fluttering shut. a thoughtful hum on the tip of his tongue. ”… but i think i’m beginning to.” 

he’s looking at you, again, amber and honey and raven lashes, lapping up every hint of a tell in the way you shift from foot to foot. speaking like he knows you, like he’s known you all his life. ”you act difficult — scare everyone away… but deep down, you love them, don’t you?”

a scoff. desperate. ”no.”

”you want to loved,” he continues, not allowing you to flee. relentless in his pursuit of whatever he imagines must be hidden inside your soul, beneath all those layers of frost. ”understood. everyone does.”

”not me.”

”your highness.”

…

the knight continues to look at you, and you avoid his gaze like it could burn you into cinders — like it could turn you into dust. but he parts his lips, anyway, and speaks. so sincere it makes your chest hurt. words that echo through the endless hallways of the castle, against the surfaces of glass that line the walls. words that make your skin flush under the shadows of rain soon to fall.

he smiles, wide, teeth showing. and he speaks. 

”that was very, very kind of you.”

silence. so thick you wonder if you’re about to faint, or fall to the floor, or something equally embarrassing. a sentence so simple shouldn’t be making you feel this way, this weird. you don’t understand why it makes you feel anything, anything at all, and you don’t understand why your eyes suddenly feel a little glassy.

(someone saw through the act.)

”… whatever,” you squeeze out, at last, but it sounds a little meek. a tiny puff of air. turning around, sharply, blinking rapidly to shoo the tears away. ”i just didn’t want to hear that brat whining. it was hurting my ears.” 

suguru bites back a coo.

as he watches your back retreat, hurrying back to the comfort of your room, he’s almost certain that he’s making progress. that your walls are beginning to crumble, slowly but surely, bit by bit. the path before him clears — a thorny, foggy path through the woods, until a sunsplatter falls on the ground and tells him where to plant his feet. 

it’s not much, barely anything, but suguru’s always liked his hunts blindsighted. 

you turn a corner, and he follows suit. sparing a passing glance at the clouds on the boundary of the horizon, the sole ray of sunlight breaking through. and then he’s catching up to you with long strides.

(it’s his duty, yes, but he doesn’t think he’d mind it so much — getting to know his kind, misunderstood little lord.)

sadly, disappointingly, to your great shame — you begin to grow used to suguru’s presence in your life. constant, always close behind, always ready to be of service. as infuriatingly patient as ever. it’s a stretch, but you may have become just the slightest bit fond of it. 

maybe, possibly, you’ve even silently decided to stop trying to scare him away. stop acting so difficult with him, all the time.

or, well — sometimes.

”take me outside, please?” you whine, bottom lip jutting out into a deep pout, accompanied by a flutter of your lashes. 

the voice that spills from your lips is hopelessly meek, pleading, so sweet you’d get cavities if you didn’t know how fake it was. effortless, perfected, your one god-given talent; an irresistible pair of puppy dog eyes. 

suguru answers with a smile, tight-lipped. ”no.”

a beat.

”aw, come on,” you whine, barely resisting the urge to stomp your feet. frustration bubbles up inside your veins, trickling down to your wrist, nails digging into your palm. ”why not? you’re supposed to listen to my every command!”

”still no, sweetheart.”

a series of grumbles scratch at the base of your throat, but suguru pays them no mind. patient, patient, patient. he’s even kind enough to ignore the way you pointedly avoid his gaze after the term of endearment slips past his lips. ”sorry, but that part is non-negotiable. you know i don’t have a choice.”

you do know. but it still makes your mood sour, pulls a sigh from out of your lips. he moves closer, familiar silver tray in hand, dragging a chair to where you’re seated by the windowsill.

”i did bring you this, though,” he gestures towards a particular glass bowl, filled with red berries. they shine like rubies in the light. ”strawberries, like you asked for. wasn’t easy to get a hold of.”

he places the tray right next to you, smiling as he takes a seat. ”cheer up, hm? don’t be so grumpy.”

your pout remains, but you do settle down a bit. just the teeniest, tiniest bit. definitely not because he was kind enough to indulge your cravings.

”… thanks for breakfast.” 

suguru beams, and you avoid his gaze, like always. biting into one of the rubies, the soft murmur of thanks still burning your tongue, soothed by sweet nectar. he lets you flee, lets you continue on like nothing happened, like it isn’t obvious how much you’ve warmed up to his presence. 

”you’re welcome, my lord.”

…

(even after spending more than a month together, he still won’t call you by name. won’t even entertain the idea. why does that bother you so much?)

peacefully, your morning ritual continues. the same as always; you eat, while suguru watches, a sweet smile on his lips. the silence remains until he opts to break it.

today, he sounds a little hesitant.

”say, your highness…” he picks at a piece of lint on his cloak, absentminded. ”could i ask you for a favour?”

you almost drop your fork. gaze snapping up to meet his own, as a few silent seconds tick on by. tick-tock, tick-tock. then you clear your throat, regaining your composure. trying to sound nonchalant. 

”what is it?” you probe, cutting across the yolk on your fried egg. watching the orange seep out, trickling down, sinking into the crust of your toast. suguru hums. 

”a friend of mine — he’s also a knight…” he wrings his hands together, legs parted. tapping his heel on the floor. ”we’ve been sparring together for a while. once a week, at least. but ever since the king hired me, we haven’t been able to.”

you watch as his gaze flickers down to his lap, then up to you again. it’s smooth, charming, but you still think it seems a little out of place. he must not be used to asking for favours.

”i was wondering if you’d be willing to accompany me? just down to the training fields by the castle.” his fingers tap against his bended knee, slow and methodical, from pointer to pinkie. ”the king gave us permission to spar there, but i’m obviously not allowed to let you out of my sight…”

you bite back a huff. obviously. he waits for a response that doesn’t come.

”… so?”

you meet his gaze, expectant. hopeful, maybe. it’s a nice touch — matches with the amber of his eyes.

”would that be alright with you?” he inquires, again. you think he sounds just a tiny bit unsure of himself.

a moment passes. silently, you look down at your lap. folded hands, itching to do something. something fun, new, exciting. 

your tongue forms around a wish. it spills into the air like a shooting star, a meek little whisper. ”… i wanna swing a sword.”

suguru blinks. once, then twice. ”you…” he tastes the words on his tongue, turning the image of you around in his head. ”want to swing a sword?

you nod. glancing at him, coughing a little under your breath. summoning just a bit of audacity, eyes trailing towards the sword by his hip. longingly. ”… i’ll only watch you spar if you let me try it.” 

a brief pause. he studies you intently, a mystery he’s yet to solve.

then he chuckles, light and airy, full of mirth. a sound you’ve grown fond of. ”well, okay. that’s fair.” he rises to his feet, smiling down at you. ”thank you, my lord.”

you don’t respond. but your eyes glitter with excitement, as you dutifully finish your breakfast, wolfing it down. waiting patiently for him to head down to the kitchen with the tray, for him to change into his training gear. 

when he knocks at your door, he’s wearing a flimsy little blouse. almost see-through, if you squint your eyes enough, exposing his bare skin. you think you see a scar curling up from his chest, reaching for his shoulder, just below it by a hair. and you can see his biceps, the fat, the muscle, practically begging to be bitten.

(tantalizing.)

he’s speaking to you, saying something, but you tune him out. focused on trying to restrain your growing urges. when he reaches up to fix his hair, tied up into a bun, the muscle of his arm twitches.

and, suddenly, you can’t contain yourself. 

giving in to the salivating temptation, you grab hold of his bicep, sinking your teeth into it — gentle, but enough that he feels it, enough to leave a set of teeth marks soon to fade. gnawing at it like a dog with a bone.

suguru blinks. pupils wide, quirking a silent brow, quick to smooth over the surprise in his eyes. 

you don’t move. teeth planted against the fabric, the firm muscle beneath it, surprising even yourself; his arm just looked so biteable. you wonder if he’s put off. upset.

but, as always, he’s eerily placating. like nothing you say or do could rock the ship of his patience, an endless sea. smooth, airy laughter flits past his lips, giving way to an indulgent smile. he studies you with fascination, like you’re a creature he hasn’t encountered before.

ever so gently, he grabs hold of your jaw — and the warmth of his touch shocks you into letting it go slack. before you can say anything, he’s rolling up his sleeve. exposing the tender skin.

”go wild, your highness,” he grins, offering his arm up like a lamb to a hungry fox. a teasing mirth in his eyes, his voice coming out as a low purr. ”i don't mind a mark or two.”

to your horror — it flusters you terribly.

you cough. taking a step back, averting your gaze, suddenly disinterested. feigning indifference, anyhow; that was definitely a scar. and a cool one, too. you think you might even have caught a glimpse of a birthmark or two. 

”i’m… just keeping you on your toes,” you stumble for an excuse, still unable to look at him properly. missing the way he stifles a bout of laughter. ”for your training, y’know? gotta stay on your guard.”

”of course. i appreciate the help,” he quips, fond, as he gestures for you to take the lead. ”he’s waiting for us. are you ready?”

for a second, just a second, you consider grabbing his arm. letting him guide you. but the thought is fleeting, like a bundle of peach blossoms, brushed away by the sunshine seeping in through the window’s glass — illuminating the marble flooring. 

a mellow excitement simmers in your bones. 

you head down to the training grounds with a pep in your step, and your loyal knight follows suit. just behind, always, wearing a smile you can’t see.

”suguru!”

the man that greets you with cheerful fervour, seated cross-legged under a peach tree, isn’t quite what you expected him to be. 

when you heard knight, you imagined someone a bit more… intimidating. but this guy is far from imposing. a little shorter than suguru, brown locks stopping right around his ears, exposing his sunkissed skin. freckles scattered across his nose and cheekbones, a happy little grin curled right around his lips. 

he’s cute. a bit like a puppy. not very knightly, though.

”haibara,” suguru greets, a mellow warmth to his voice. the man in question shoots up from the ground, stumbling towards you both, excitement in his hazel eyes. suguru gestures towards you. ”this is the royal heir. the one who doesn’t like having their hand kissed.”

your head whips towards him, an angered flush to your cheeks — you’re almost sure that he’s smirking, giving you a teasing glance, but haibara’s exclamation prevents you from voicing any protests. 

”hi!” he beams, bowing deeply, so sudden that you jolt a bit. his head whips up instantly, brown locks stirred by the breeze, voice warm and smooth. like honeysuckle nectar. ”thank you so much for letting us spar, your highness! i’ve heard so much about you!”

”… um.” your gaze falls down to a pebble on the ground. unsure of how to act, murmuring under your breath. ”you — it’s… no need to thank me. i wanted to get some air, anyway.”

he continues to look at you, eyes shining with a pure kind of cheer. glittering, honeyed and sweet, too bright to look at directly. you hear suguru exhale amusedly to your left. he’s looking right at you when you glance towards him. 

his hand inches closer to his scabbard, fingertips trailing down the leather. ”should we get started?”

haibara brightens even further, if possible. ”oh, right!” he exclaims. ”you wanted to try swinging a sword, your highness? that’s so exciting! is this your first time?”

a blink. you aren’t really sure how to handle this guy; he’s a bit too sunny to be snarky to. like a fuzzy ball of sunshine given human form, bouncing on the balls of his feet, tail practically wagging behind him. all you can muster is a weak cough. ”uh, yeah.”

”well, you’re here to learn.” suguru speaks up. guiding you both towards the center of the field, hand still at the sword on his hip. ”let me show you.”

in one smooth motion, he’s pulling it out of its sheath, a stripe of silver absorbing the rays of the sun. glimmering, slicing the blue sky in half. 

you’re a little awestruck.

and then he’s facing you. leaning forward, with a familiar tilt of his head, offering the blade with a smile. ”do you want to try swinging it around a bit?”

barely containing your excitement, you nod. making grabby hands at it.

that makes him chuckle. he makes no move to stop you when your fingers curl around the hilt, only parting his lips for a quick warning, a split second too late. you take it into your arms. ”careful, it’s a bit —”

— the sword clatters to the ground with a thud.

silence.

haibara breaks out into laughter, sudden, fond and warm, but enough to have your cheeks burning. fresh with embarrassment, humiliation, before you even hear the breathy chuckle that slips from your knight’s lips.

”… i was gonna say it’s a bit heavy,” he hums, closed knuckle in front of his lips and obscuring his smile. ”i’m sorry, my lord. do you —”

”whatever.” a hiss escapes your throat, and suguru winces. he knows where this is going; knows a bundle of thorns just erupted from the stalk of your spine, knows you're about to get defensive. ”like i’d ever want to touch your dusty sword. get — get real.”

he tries again. patient, patient. the familiar tick-tock of his never-ending kindness. ”hey, we aren’t making fun of you,” he soothes, hoping it’ll make your edges soften. like scratching a feral dog behind its ear. ”it’s understandable. you weren’t expecting it. i’ll let you try again, hm?”

a tiny pause. 

(you’re being childish, again.)

brows furrowed, hanging your head, you kick at a pebble on the ground. having collected yourself a bit. ”… maybe next time,” you finally speak, still grumbling. after you’ve spent some time lifting weights in your room.

suguru tilts his head. speaking softly. ”you sure?”

”yeah.” taking a step back, you raise your head to meet his gaze. ”i’ll just watch you. it’s fine.”

”… okay,” he exhales. leaning forward to pick up his sword from the ground. ”i can spar with you next time, if you want. you’ll be a pro in no time.”

he gives you another sweet smile, bangs fluttering with the breeze; painted in cerulean sunshine. he’s so gorgeous it makes you angry.

a sharp huff. ”don’t patronize me,” is all you can mutter, meeting the eyes of the knight by his side. standing up straighter. ”haibara,” you call. ”knock him around a bit for me, okay?”

from the corner of your eye, suguru pouts.

but the puppy-knight only grins, as bright as the sun in the sky. ”you got it, your highness!” he salutes, cheeks flushing with giddy excitement. 

as you sit on the benches a little farther away, dragonflies buzz in the air. fleeting glimmers of chartreuse and cerulean, chirping happily, keeping you company as you watch the knights spar. the clangs of their blades, the elegance in the way suguru moves. a violent little waltz. he’s sweating, just a bit, but you can see it, droplets glittering in the sun. he looks like he’s having fun. 

he looks like himself. like he isn’t holding back, isn’t acting obedient or well-mannered for the sake of pleasing his superiors. like this, here and now, he looks wild, free, a dog that turns into a wolf under the glow of the sun. 

for a second, your eyes meet — just as he narrowly avoids a slash. 

and he smirks, ever so slightly, suddenly gaining a little more momentum. flashing a brief grin, sunlight reflecting off his white teeth. you huff. heat crawling up your neck. 

show off.

”excuse me, your highness?”

the sudden voice snaps you out of your stupor. mesmerized, by the spectacle before you, the glimmer of their blades and the sight of your knight’s smile. it’s an unfamiliar voice, close, close enough that your head turns to meet the stranger’s ugly grin — inching closer still.

(uh oh.)

— just up ahead, lost in their own worlds, are two knights; huffing and smirking and narrowly dodging each other’s strikes. suguru takes the lead, as always, guiding haibara into improving his swordsmanship. but they both learn from it. and it’s fun, lighthearted, a respite from their more gruesome duties. 

it’s helped suguru more times than he can count; those tiny flickers of normalcy, in a wholly unpredictable profession. a life of bowing and bowing and killing what needs to be killed.

slash, slash, and then two steps back. the same old dance. haibara’s starting to lose momentum, he notices, adam’s apple bobbing with his heavy breaths.

so suguru stills. ”alright, that’s enough for now,” he calls, stretching idly. craning his head, looking around him absently. he wonders if you’re still watching. ”i think i see what the problem is.”

haibara perks up, obeying without a word, wiping the sweat off his forehead and walking towards his friend with a sunny smile. ”okay, great!”

but suguru isn’t looking at him, anymore. 

he’s looking towards the benches, where his little lord is seated, speaking to an unfamiliar man. one who currently has his hand on their forearm, caressing it. you look guarded, irritated, a little like you’re about to bare your teeth. trying to pull away, but he doesn’t let you. and suguru recognizes that look — the one that means you’re about to start biting and hissing, inching your claws into whatever’s within reach.

(not to injure, but to ground yourself, he’s learned. like how you clutch onto the fabric of your clothing when you’re nervous, sink your nails into your palm. not to injure, but to feel safe.)

in the blink of an eye, he’s making his way towards you. beckoned by his duty, his natural instinct, a protective itch that curls around his ribcage and crawls up his throat. large strides, much swifter than usual. he moves without thinking, and he’s there before he has the time to form a coherent thought.

with as much gentleness as he can possibly muster, he grabs hold of the stranger’s arm. smiling, tight-lipped, cold. ”excuse me, sir,” he greets, ”i need to borrow them for a moment.”

the man meets his gaze with a sour look. bitter, ugly, oddly possessive — like he thinks he owns the arm he’s holding. it makes suguru want to teach him a lesson, show off his sword, but he resists the temptation in a way you never could. his expression is a warning, though, enough to scare most rowdy drunkards and snobby royals away.

and it works. the stranger looks to you, briefly, before finally letting go of your poor arm. something rigid in suguru’s jaw finally relaxes. ”who are you?” comes a question, as the man turns to face him with a look full of contempt. ”their knight?”

before suguru can say anything, you’ve hopped off the bench. clinging to him, with a firm nod; your arms around his bicep. ”yeah. he is.”

(suguru fails to stifle a smug smile.)

with a string of bitter mumbles and a silent frustration, the man scurries away. hesitant, only after being met with another warning glance from the knight in front of him. intimidating, far less subtle, towering above him like a predator over their prey.

as soon as he’s out of sight, your knight turns to you, scanning your face for signs of discomfort. loyal, attentive. ”are you okay?” he asks, a silent shame in his voice. if only he had noticed sooner. ”did he do anything to you?”

you shake your head. ”it’s fine. probably one of the king’s friends — stops by every now and then.” a sigh, a little fatigued, following your explanation. ”they’re mostly harmless. just creepy and touchy.”

”that doesn’t sound very harmless…” suguru lets you pull away, quick to hide the disappointment that flashes in his eyes as you do, waving haibara off with a silent gesture of give us a minute. ”don’t worry. i’ll keep an eye out, from now on.”

still a little guarded, you nod. letting suguru guide you by the small of your back, taking a seat on the solid bench once more. together, this time. 

”there are a lot of those types around the town square,” he exhales, weary, stretching out his limbs before leaning forward. elbows resting on his bended knees. ”they’re a pain to deal with. i’m sorry you have to.”

”are there?” you ask, tone laced with curiosity. ”in the town?” 

”well, i’m sure you’ve heard. that place is a bit of a mess, these days…” a click of his tongue. ”more work for the knights.”

a dragonfly settles on the bridge of his nose. suguru blinks, smiling gently, until it flutters away with a raspy squeak. fading away, melting into the blue paint of the sky. you bite down on your lip. 

”… i haven’t.”

he turns to look at you. raising a brow.

”i haven’t heard about it at all. the king told you, right?” you meet his eye with a rueful smile, before leaning back, nose turned up towards the sky. for a second, you think the air smells a bit of rain. ”i’m not allowed to go out into town.”

your knight falls silent.

so you continue. grinning, with no humour to it. maybe a bit eager to overshare, to break the silent rules you’ve been given. the secret tastes like honey on your tongue. ”i’m a bastard child. he probably told you that, too.” you wouldn’t be surprised. ”thinks it's optimal for everyone involved if i just stay cooped up in the castle.” 

closing your eyes, your voice drips with something close to longing. barely above a whisper. ”i haven't been to the town in a couple of years, now.”

…

he only hums. ”i see.”

(there’s sympathy, in his amber eyes, but you don’t turn around to see it. you don’t turn to look at him until he’s finished sparring, and haibara’s about to leave. 

you wonder if he’ll meet your gaze the same way as before.) 

— that evening, suguru knocks at your door right as you're about to fall asleep. three rapid knocks, the same as always, knuckle against wood. rousing you from your rest.

when you open it, he’s holding something out towards you.

”here,” he says, voice set to a mellow tilt. upon closer inspection, he’s holding a bottle. transparent, see-through, stuffed to the brim with sea glass. smooth little colourful pebbles, green and blue and pink and orange, like frozen little camellias. ”for you, my lord.”

blinking sluggishly, you take it into your arms; holding it up in front of your eyes. when the light of the moon flitting in through the curtains hits it just right, it blossoms with colour, sparkling with every shade you’ve ever seen. shining like a heap of jewels, in your hands, like something out of a picture-book. magical.

it’s mesmerizing. 

”i asked haibara to get it from the town,” he explains, drinking in your expression of awe. ”this one lady — she collects them herself. i see her by the beach nearly every time i go there.”

when you look up, his smile is serene. peaceful, if just a little bit tired. but he looks pleased, lips curling around silky syllables. ”i thought of you.”

it’s odd, you think. you aren’t a stranger to gifts; you get most of what you desire if you just say the word, an easy way for the king to keep you compliant. as if to make up for the plethora of experiences you’ve missed out on since your birth. and you’ve had more than a couple suitors, men and women, eager to gain your favour. 

but this — this particular gift…

…

”it’s pretty,” you murmur, finally, unable to voice even a sliver of the emotions clogging up your chest. shying away from his gaze, feeling your heart pulse against your ribcage. ”… i guess.”

suguru just smiles. always, always, always. no matter what you do. ”i’ll get you something else next time,” he promises, ready to go back to standing guard outside the castle. ”get some sleep, okay? be good.”

and you can’t bring yourself to protest. not even a tiny huff of don’t tell me what to do. you can’t bring yourself to do anything but nod, soft and pliant, still gazing at the bottle of sea glass in your hands. like you might turn into one of those transparent pebbles, if you wish for it enough.

that night, you dream of waves crashing against sand, the taste of seafoam on your tongue. every colour in the world. a newfound, reawakened wish — a wish to see more of it.

”are you trying to sneak out again?”

owlishly, all you can do is blink. propped up on the windowsill, immersed in the process of tying pillowcases and bedsheets together to form a rope. caught in the act — by none other than suguru, standing by the threshold, hand on his hip, watching you with silent disapproval. you didn’t think he’d come check on you this late.

a gulp. ”… no?”

and he sighs. walking towards you, brows furrowed, running a hand through his raven locks. you can tell he’s trying to be a little more sympathetic, this time, but it only makes the bitter taste on your tongue thicken. 

”look — i know it’s not fair to you, but the king and queen specifically ordered me —”

”i get it,” you cut him off, with a hiss, a little harsher than you meant to. you soften your voice before continuing. "i know. okay? i know.”

resigned, but frustrated, you clench the silken material of the bedsheets. glaring at them like it’s somehow their fault that the queen couldn’t bear an heir, that your father has a knack for sleeping around. like it’s their fault that he’s so ashamed of your existence that he doesn’t want you integrating into society on anything other than his own terms, until he’s dead and gone and doesn’t have to take accountability anymore. 

like it’s their fault that it’ll always be like this, forever, that it’s better not to hope for more.

(why can’t you just accept that?)

the knight before you exhales. troubled, watching your nails dig into the fabric, watching the way you bite down on your lip and rapidly blink. all signs of your frustration, your sadness, that you always try so hard to hide. 

”hey. how about this?” he tries to get your attention, voice soothing enough to coax you into raising your gaze. ”i’ll tell you a story instead.”

he stifles a chuckle, at the dubious look you send his way, teetering on the edge of a glare. slithering towards you. ”i’ve seen a lot of places. i can tell you about them, if you’d like.” he takes a seat right next to you, on the windowsill, a slice of the moon in bare view. ”what do you want to know?”

you’re silent, for a second. gnawing at your bottom lip, in contemplation, the tiniest bit of nervosity. like you aren’t quite sure if you’re allowed to speak your wishes aloud.

”… the woods.”

suguru blinks. a little caught off guard. 

his silence makes you want to bare your fangs, a bit. misinterpreting it as judgement. your voice comes out cold. ”what?”

but he’s quick to smooth over his features with a smile, as always, cocking his head amusedly. ”sorry — i was expecting you to say the sea, or something,” he stifles a chuckle. “it's the woods that you're so curious about?”

you pout. ”… you can see them from here.”

his head turns towards the window’s glass, squinting his eyes to see the sea of dark green in the distance, a cluster of thick trees. he hums. ”yeah, you can. well… that particular spot isn’t too bad. not many bandits or beasts.” your gaze stays glued onto his lips, every word that spills from them. ”there are wolves, though. this side of the kingdom is crawling with them.”

”they sell their fur,” you state.

(that’s one thing you do know. you spent more of your childhood around wolf pelts than your own parents. they might as well be your legal guardians.)

suguru nods. ”they do. it's a big portion of the kingdom’s exports… general market, as well.”

a frown tugs at your lips. you think of your fluffy childhood guardians, unable to howl or even make a sound; hunters turned decorations.

”isn’t that… kinda fucked up?”

he smiles, revealing no emotion. ”do you think it is?”

you only shrug. ”i’m not surprised that they eat us.” you think of all the stories you’ve heard, the fairy tales you grew up with. ”… if i was a wolf, i’d hate humans too.”

”would you, now?” familiar amusement, seeping from his tongue, soft crows’ feet by his cedar eyes. ”good thing you aren’t a wolf, then. we’re lucky.”

”mhm. you’d be my first target.”

that makes him chuckle, a little deeper this time, and you drink in the glimpse you get of his teeth, the fondness that dances across his face when he looks at you. 

a sudden urge overtakes you. 

”… i wanna know about something else.”

”oh?” he tilts his head, soft locks framing his kind eyes. ”and what would that be, my dear?”

”you.”

… 

for a moment, the mask falls. a silent, subtle kind of surprise, something in the way the tips of his fingers twitch that tells you he’s caught off guard. it coaxes you into continuing, following through with your question. swallowing the embarrassment. ”i wanna know more about you. how you became a knight, and… stuff.”

suguru looks at you with a strange glint in his eyes. undecipherable, unspoken, just watching as moonrays glide across your soft skin. ruffling your hair. 

a hum buzzes in his throat. he scratches at the back of his neck, resisting the urge to dodge your question. clicking his tongue. ”… well.”

anticipation blooms in your eyes, and you cross your legs, waiting patiently to hear him speak. he can’t deny you, when you look at him like that — so suguru simply exhales. a breath of indulgence. 

”it’s not a very interesting story,” he leads, closing his eyes in remembrance. ”they scouted me when i was pretty young…. a bit of a troublemaker, honestly, but i got lucky." memories flash behind his eyelids, fresh bruises, sliced fruit. bittersweet. ”ended up around some powerful people. they liked me. knighthood felt like the right choice.” 

he meets your entranced gaze, speaking with sincerity, devotion dipped in honey and holy water. sinking deeper still. ”it’s my purpose in life,” he breathes, a flurry of whispers on his tongue. heavier than either of you know. ”truly.”

you cock your head. ”being a knight?”

”protecting the weak,” he says. recites. like he’s said it a million times before, in the face of beasts, in the reflection of broken mirrors, a mantra to live and die by. ”protecting those who can’t protect themselves.”

the look in his eyes frightens you. deeper than the deepest lake, dark and murky, dragging him down. a devotion that smells of iron, tastes like steel. mania disguised as loyalty.

(knights love duty. almost as much as they love dying for it. that’s what your father always says.)

”but, honestly — this kind of thing isn’t bad,” he breaks you out of your trance, grinning sheepishly, almost boyishly. ”it’s been a while since i had so much fun on the job… thank you for that.”

he’s looking at you, right at you, into your eyes, an expression reserved for you and you alone. terribly earnest, grateful, a sincerity he wouldn’t show anyone else. ”honestly.”

you can do nothing but avert your gaze. swiftly, meekly, feeling heat crawl up your neck, blooming across your cheeks like the branches of a plum tree. suguru grins, gulping down the slightest coo — but he can’t resist the urge to poke fun at you a bit.

”… you’re a shy one, aren’t you?” he searches for your gaze, chuckling when he doesn’t find it. when you don’t let him. ”can’t even look people in the eye if they’re being nice to you… how precious.”

”oh, shut up,” you groan, glaring out into the night sky. blinking slowly, drowsily, biting back a yawn that your attentive knight still manages to notice. 

(he looks a little enamored.)

”ah… is my sweet little lord getting sleepy?”

”no,” you scoff, far too quick. ”i’m… tired.”

”of course.” he reaches out, carefully, to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. ”tired — not sleepy. that would be outrageous, wouldn’t it?” 

a yawn. ”it would.” 

low laughter bubbles up at the base of his throat, like seafoam, melting roses. deep and summery. ”alright. that’s enough stories for tonight, i think.” and with that, he gets up. ”let’s get you to bed, hm?”

rubbing your eyes, absently kicking your legs, you give him a slow nod of your head. making grabby hands at him that you’re sure you’ll be embarrassed about in the morning — but it feels easy, to be greedy, to know that your wants won’t be ignored when you’re with him. ”carry me, suguru.”

an indulgent smile. he doesn’t say anything, only curling his arms under your thighs, lifting you up and cradling you to his chest. you can feel his firm muscles, like this, trace them with your fingertips, hear the beating of his heart. tick-tock, tick-tock. a lullaby. a sense of safety, when you can’t tell where your heartbeat ends and his begins.

lost in that fuzzy, sleepy feeling, a blink away from falling into dreamland, fatigue washes over you — but you cling to his sleeve, even as he tucks you in, dragging the blanket up to cover you properly. 

”suguru,” you murmur, so quiet you doubt he hears it. ”will you tell me more stories tomorrow?”

”of course.” right before sleep coaxes you into its cradle, you feel the weight of his palm on your head; ruffling your hair. ”as many as you want, your highness.”

he smiles, as your eyes flutter shut, at the soft little breaths that flow from your lips. before he slips out, he blows out the candle on the nightstand, a silent prayer that your dreams will be kinder to you than his. 

— one week of nagging later, suguru’s resolve finally crumbles. it’s progress, at last, a tiny crack in his clockwork heart. 

but for once, it works in your favour.

”do you really want to see the outside world that badly?”

he’s got an arm locked around your waist, stopping you from one of your numerous escape attempts. you’ve gotten bolder, sneaking away the moment he takes his eyes off you, but suguru isn’t easy to fool — catching up to you just as you stepped outside the castle, now stuck in place under the portico. it’s to be expected, with that sixth sense of his, the one that seems to alert him as soon as you think the thought to get him in trouble. 

but you still can’t help but pout, huff and puff, pushing at his chest in a helpless attempt to break free. he’s sweet about it, gentle, but entirely unmoving. like a big, annoyingly handsome rock.

”what do you think?” you scoff, narrowing your eyes at him. ”no, of course not. this whole time, i’ve just been trying to escape for fun. like, as a bit. how could you tell?”

he rolls his eyes, and you break out into a grin. ”mind the sarcasm, please.” he barely resists the urge to pinch your side; letting you loose, instead, trusting you not to scurry away. he’d catch up to you instantly, anyhow. "i’m just saying, it might not be as interesting as you think —“

”what are you, stupid?”

”what did we say about letting people finish their sentences?” he raises a brow, and you try not to cower. rolling your eyes, instead. suguru just sighs. ”i understand why you want to leave. but you have a good life, here. better than most.”

”… i know that,” you grumble, biting down on your lip. a resignation in your eyes that your knight can't protect you from. ”i just —”

you sigh. 

”it’s just so suffocating.”

suguru falls into a contemplative silence. weighing his options, studying the flicker of emotions in your eyes, the tapping of your idle fingers. hands eager to fidget with something. 

moments pass, one at a time, a familiar lullaby of pitter patter ricocheting off the ground just outside your vision. the air smells of marigolds, burning wood, wet concrete. the beginnings of summer.

finally, he makes up his mind. 

”okay, okay.”

when you look up from the ground, what awaits you is an outstretched hand. a familiar palm, and a familiar knight, with a familiar smile on his face. ”but don’t get used to it, alright?”

…

you part your lips, but no sound comes out. gaping like a fish out of water, hunting for the right words. suguru waits. patient.

”w — hold on,” you stutter, eyes blooming with hesitant hope, studying him intently for any signs of trickery. ”you mean — seriously? like, for real?”

he shrugs. ”it’s my duty to keep you happy.” devotion clings to his tongue, sweet indulgence. ”figure i can make an exception this once.”

another moment passes.

(there isn’t a hint of deceit in his features.)

a grin breaks out across your lips, like a joyous bolt of lighting, and you lunge into his chest — throwing your arms over his broad shoulders, jumping up and down, planting a wet kiss against his cheek. bubbly, giddy, heart racing with disbelief. you don’t even have it in you to be bratty. ”thank you, thank you, thank you!”

suguru makes a choked out noise, a little comical, breath hitching in the back of his throat. stabilizing you with a palm on the small of your back, patting it softly, once or twice, before retracting his arm and pulling away. clearing his throat. ”… you’re welcome.”

(his ears burn a cherry red.)

”but this is our little secret,” he reminds you, firmly, collecting himself. or trying to. ”got it?”

”yep.”

”if anyone asks, you —”

”yep, yep, understood.” you brush him off, still grinning brightly. ”don’t worry! i won’t tell a soul, i promise. swear on my mother’s grave!”

your knight exhales. worried, maybe, a little exasperated — mostly just trying to mask how infectious your joy is. how addicted he is to it, now that he’s seen it up close. he’s only caught glimpses in the midst of your painting sessions; to see it directed at him instead of the wolf on your canvas is a treasure he won’t soon forget. 

sneakily, stealthily, like a pair of bad dogs, the two of you begin your journey to the woods on the horizon. wearing cloaks, sticking together, until the sun begins to set and the sky drains of colour. 

and before you know it, it’s right there in front of you. a narrow path into the woods, a cluster of trees, a world you’ve always dreamed of. dark and gritty, beautiful, brimming with bugs and sights yet to be seen. creatures you could only ever see in picture books. a dreamlike world that takes shape before you, like paint splattered on a canvas, as you follow suguru’s lead — right behind him, clinging to the fabric of his cloak, excitement flooding your veins. heart thumping erratically in your chest. 

when you’ve made it to a tiny clearing, you stop in your tracks. suguru’s holding a lantern, a flicker of orange in the dark green world before you, attracting fuzzy moths. proud trees stand tall all around you, keeping guard, mushrooms and forget me nots scattered across the dewy patches of grass. keeping them company. 

everything smells of life, earth, oak wood and thinly veiled secrets. you want to live here forever.

suguru turns to look at you, noticing the way you’ve stilled. completely mesmerized, bewitched, eyes gleaming with childlike happiness. he tuts, doing a bad job at hiding how pleased he is. the sound makes you meet his eye.

”careful,” he croons, inching closer. fingertips ghosting over your wrist, right above your pulsepoint. ”could be wolves around. stay close.”

you tilt your head, feigning confusion. ”i’ve already got one right next to me, though?”

the comment earns you a flat expression, unimpressed, and it pulls a giggle from out your throat. the corners of suguru’s lips curl up, unwillingly, as he shakes his head; exhaling a tired breath. exasperated. 

then he hums. ”well, at least you're aware.”

suddenly, he’s walking forward, slipping away, cold air replacing the buzzing warmth of his skin on yours. hot blood, ever flowing, hidden within his veins — pumped out from his heavy heart. it’s there and then it’s gone. tick, tock, one step after the other, until he’s turning around to face you again. unfurling his outstretched hand, waiting for you to grab hold of it. 

his long hair sways with the breeze, smooth and unburdened, black like the night sky above you. a starry glint in his eyes. his voice comes out deep, a raspy lilt, like the scraping of metal against concrete. 

when he smiles, you think you catch a glimpse of sharp teeth.

”will you trust this wolf to keep you safe?”

under the web of shadows cast by the trees, barely illuminated by the shivering moon, all you can do is watch him. his gleaming eyes, the curl of a toothy grin on his lips. a knight, a wolf, a friend.

your protector. 

finally, finally, you grasp onto his offered hand. his fingers intertwine with your own, a puzzle finally solved, and his palm feels a little calloused. skin littered with tiny scars, years of training and killing, but it’s still somehow so soft. nice and smooth. 

he’s warm. and now he’s smiling at you, like you put all the gold of the world into his palm. 

”yeah,” you grin, a little cheeky. stepping closer, clinging to him without restraint, knowing he’ll indulge you. ”keep me safe, wolfie.”

his laughter rings out into the air like a cicada song, sweet and nostalgic. or a howl, maybe. it makes you want to gnaw at his bones; memorize his taste, so you’ll never quite be without him. it’s not your fault he looks so chewable when he’s smiling like that.

”i will,” he promises, vows, pledges, hand on his heavy heart. knights and their rituals. ”you don’t have to worry about a thing. not while i’m here.”

and you don’t. you know you don’t. because suguru is the greatest knight, the coolest wolf, and his clockwork heart never ceases to tick. it won’t break under pressure, no matter how much you push — so you don’t bother holding back. wrapping both arms around his bicep, cozying up to him, tugging at his cloak with a pep in your step. 

”c’mon, c’mon!" you beckon him forward. "i wanna see how everything looks up close.”

and he just lets you manhandle him, for a bit. following your lead. ”of course,” he croons. ”your wish is my command, your highness.”

the night stretches on, seemingly never-ending, like the branches of the oak tree you find in the heart of the woods. broken, beautiful, stretching out in all directions — as if wishing to engulf the world. a garden of forking paths, covered in jagged bark, but still somehow so warm to the touch. you’re sure there’s a heartbeat in there, somewhere. maybe a couple of swords too.

all good things must come to an end. but you refuse to leave the comfort of your mossy haven until suguru promises to bring you back, someday, maybe, if you play nice. it’s a deal that you’re willing to take.

only then do you begin your journey back towards the castle. having gotten your fill, for now, left to wallow in the newfound sights etched into your memory. still clinging to your knight like a child with their favorite doll, babbling into his ear about something or another. about how you’re almost sure you saw a wolf in the bushes, about how pretty the cicadas’ songs were. how you’re gonna convince him to take you there every single day.

the sun is yawning, stretching its endless limbs out, getting ready to rise and envelop the world. the sky is a calm blue, soon to be painted orange and pink, but you aren’t tired at all. you must sound a little incoherent, but suguru nods along to your every word. listening attentively.

so kind. so patient. sure, he’s a tease, and more than a little patronizing — but you don’t think you’ve ever liked anyone this much before. it’s weird. it’s fun. 

(you wonder if he feels the same.)

”hey, suguru?”

he keeps his eyes locked on the road ahead, but still spares you a brief glance, just to let you know you have his full attention. a second of hesitance is all your sleepy brain allows you, curiosity enveloping most of your functioning thoughts.

”would you… i mean. if i was, like… a different person —” you pause. suguru quirks a brow, and you suddenly feel a little flustered. ”um, what i mean is! like, if the king ordered you to be someone else’s knight… would you protect them like you do with me?”

he blinks. once, then twice, meeting your hopeful gaze. stifling a yawn, and parting his lips. 

”obviously.”

…

your face falls. lips dropping down into a soft pout, rich with disappointment, paired with a barely audible huff. suguru furrows his brows, playfully, smiling in the way he always does when he’s about to tease you.

”ah, my bad,” he croons. ”were you expecting something else? a… forbidden romance, perhaps?”

before you can begin to protest, warmth rushing to your cheeks, he stops walking. dropping down on one knee, dramatically, with a flutter of his cloak. theatrical. 

gently, he grabs hold of your hand, bringing it to his lips as his eyes flutter shut. you bite back a squeak. his voice comes out low, sultry, honeyed — so heavy with emotion that it’s obvious he’s faking it. ”the only person i yearn to protect is you, my liege,” his breath feels hot against your skin. ”i could never love another. i exist for you, and you alone.” 

suddenly, he’s smirking. you feel it against the knots of your knuckle, right before he cracks a single eye open. glimmering with deep amusement. ”… is that better?”

and you huff. sharply, doing all that you can to avoid getting flustered, his heavy gaze burning right into your own. it really, really doesn’t work. ”you’re so mean.”

”not mean,” he chuckles, rising to his feet. dusting off his cloak. ”i’m just… managing your expectations, my lord. they’d have my head on the chopping block if i so much as touched you without their consent — you know that.”

another little huff. ”i never said i wanted you to…” 

(you do, though.)

suguru hums. ”i’m your knight,” he reminds you, as always, until you get tired of hearing it. steadfast, irrefutable. ”that’s all. remember?”

something bitter settles on your tongue. 

but you nod. ”that’s right,” you hum. ”mine.”

a teasing mirth flickers through his eyes, like the first setting sunrays reflecting off cathedral glass. reverent, dyeing the world in all the colour it asks for. and he chuckles, raspy, amused. ”possessive little thing…”

that’s right, you remind yourself. he’s your knight. your lying, teasing, playwright of a knight. always wearing a mask, hiding behind a suit of armor, playing one role or another. only baring himself under the light of the sun, when no one is around to see. he’s infuriatingly patient, endlessly loyal, the greatest bootlicker you’ve encountered in your life. but he’s kind, too. maybe a little too kind. 

and he always, always kneels. 

such a large man, all toned muscle and tall stature, broad shoulders and a firm chest — kneeling at your feet. like a loyal dog. with a rustle of armor, a flutter of fabric, a sigh and a smile. as soon as you ask for it.

”c’mon. let’s hurry back,” you hear him say, biting back another yawn. ”before anyone finds out i kidnapped you. don’t want me to get in trouble, do you?”

”i kinda do.”

a silent look. unimpressed. it’s the most sincere expression he knows how to make, and also the most comical. ”careful,” he looks ahead, hiding his amused smile. ”wolves eat bratty heirs, you know? better stay on my good side, your highness.”

a bout of sleepy giggles. you curl an arm around his bicep, putting your weight onto him, but he doesn’t stumble. ”sorry, mr wolf! please, by all means, eat my dear father instead.”

”don’t be disrespectful.”

”sorry,” you quip, entirely unapologetic. ”i forgot you had a crush on him. that’s my ba — ow!”

suguru brushes by you, walking forward, hiding his growing grin. leaving you with an ache in your hip and two wide eyes. 

”hurry up, my lord. we don’t have all day.”

”wha — you pinched me!�� you stumble after him, barely containing your quiet delight. ”they’ll have your head for this, you know!”

silent laughter. you don’t need to hear it to know that it’s there, just ahead of you, tucked into crows’ feet and a curl of his lips.

suguru always kneels.

but, sometimes, he talks to you as if you’re equals. sometimes he takes the lead, pinches your hip, tells you off a little. teasing, patient, but there’s an edge to him that he doesn’t always hide. sometimes, he lets you see it, and you figure that must make you at least a little bit special.

sometimes, he feels like your best friend.

careless, careless, careless.

how could he ever be so careless?

everything blurs into a puddle of red. murky, sticky, everywhere all at once. all he sees is red, all he feels is burning. his heartbeat pulses at the base of his throat, bottom lip bruised and aching from hours of sinking his teeth into the flesh, over and over — every single nerve of his body running on adrenaline and nothing else.

(adrenaline and fear, maybe, but they’ve always been synonymous. never one without the other.)

the slaughter is mindless. suguru knows that’s how they like it, anyhow — knights aren’t supposed to think. they don’t need to. 

suguru certainly isn’t. cutting his way through the bandit’s den, practically growling, sword painted such a dark shade of red that he doubts he’ll ever be able to wipe it clean. harsh slashes, pure instinct, wildfire inside his veins, iron on his tongue. 

suguru isn’t thinking, he’s hunting. sniffing like a bloodhound. eyes scanning the area before him like a hungry beast.

suguru is hunting — for you.

and when he sees you, at last, tied up and barely conscious, he’s almost certain he’s going to grow claws, fangs, matted fur. that he’s going to turn into a beast beneath the fading moonlight.

but he falls to his knees, instead, like a wounded dog. throwing his burganet off, with a clatter, crawling closer. heaving breaths, untying you with shaky hands, greedy fingertips hunting for a pulsepoint —

and only when he finds it does he allow himself the luxury of breathing again.

when you come to, veins dragged down by a fuzzy sensation, your vision is blurred. foggy, dull colours on the canvas of your mind, gradually washed away as you struggle for control. you stir, and finally see the figure above you. 

what you see is a knight, a wolf, a beast beneath the moonlight. a kind, kind man.

suguru.

bloodied armor. sweaty, messy hair, sticking to his forehead. pure panic in his bloodshot eyes. he cradles your face, cold metal on your cheek, dirty and smelling of iron. he moves his mouth; you delude yourself into thinking that his bottom lip is trembling. forming around familiar vowels.

he’s saying your name.

there must be something wrong with you, you belatedly realize. the last one to do so. because you’re hurt, scared, but you still feel a skip of your heartbeat. 

(he finally said it.)

you muster all the strength at your disposal, eyelids fluttering. and you try to answer, you do, reaching for that thread between your brain and your tongue — but it comes out as a garbled little thing, more air than noise. 

it’s enough. the tense crease between his brows melts away, and he sighs.

”oh, thank the heavens.”

another sensation. he’s touching your hand, now, cold metal on warm skin, bringing it up to his lips; a shaky little exhale brushing against the knots of your knuckle. his lips are chapped. 

then he’s scooping you up, cradling you close, as close as metaphysically possible, as if willing to cut his stomach open to fit you inside. a firm grip, comforting, stable. desperate, a mother wolf carrying her cub to safety, by the skin of her teeth. his hair tickles your skin, but you don’t mind.

only when he brings you back to the castle does everything fall into place. he explains everything, as you sit in bed, still recovering. a sudden attack, from within the castle, a kidnapping. some enemies of the king, a scandal to do with you and your blood. something, something, something. you’ve grown used to not understanding why you keep getting hurt. and you’re too distracted by the sullen face of the knight in front of you to pay attention.

suguru wasn’t there to stop it — wasn’t there to save you, be your knight in dashing armor. the king had invited him to a game of chess, and you had been adamant in your refusal to join them.

so you don’t understand why he’s apologizing.

he’s smiling, but it’s weak, as flimsy as a piece of paper. his lying smile, tight-lipped, betrayed by the redness of his eyes, the puffy skin beneath them. dark crescents. he sits by your bedside and looks a little like he wants to curl into a ball. 

”i’m sorry.”

and ah, you think; there it is. guilt. always, always clinging to him, a ghost haunting him wherever he goes. it’s been there since the beginning, in the scar reaching for his shoulder, the nature of his never-fading smile. guilt, guilt, guilt. you wonder if he's ever gone without it. you wonder if knights begin to crumble when they stop feeling ashamed. 

he looks sad.

with a breathless inhale, you part your lips. you want to tell him that he has nothing to apologize for, that you’re fine now — that you could never be mad at him. not really, never truly, never at him. you want to tell him that he’s your favorite person, not just your favorite knight, that he’s allowed to make mistakes without demanding that he suffer for them. 

you want to tell him that it’s okay, really. seriously.

but all that leaves your lips is a meek little sniffle. as the shock of it all finally settles, sinking deep into your bones, the fear of being captured, the dull ache of your skull meeting the ground. you can’t tell him any of the things you want to, and you feel so awful — 

because suguru’s face falls. like you just thrust a knife into his sternum and twisted it. he looks like he could cry, too.

”i’m sorry,” his voice cracks, right down the middle. like a broken vase. ”i’m so sorry.” it’s not at all what you want to hear, but you can’t tell him that either. he’s bundling you up before you know it, dragging you into the comfort of his chest, one large palm on the back of your head; tugging you closer still. he smells of soap and oak wood and peach blossoms. ”it was scary, wasn’t it?”

and you nod. into his neck, wet tears brushing against his skin. not stable enough to act tough. you don’t think he is, either.

suguru exhales, shaky, clutching you like he could lose you if he lets go. lose himself. he knows you’re scared, but you let him soothe you. it means something, he thinks. it means something that you let him come so close, closer than anyone’s ever been. so he swallows the guilt until it’s no longer clogging up the back of his throat, if only so his voice can flow out through the gap, give you the comfort you need. just rubbing your back until you calm down, apologizing silently — over and over again. manic, like the tick-tock of a clock.

until your voice breaks him out of it.

”it’s not your fault.”

he stiffens. still holding you, feeling your heartbeat settle down, hearing your voice break out of your throat. it comes out as a weak croak, with just the slightest hint of disapproval.

he gulps.

”don’t worry about me, right now,” he hushes you. a silent plea. ”i’m not the one who’s injured.”

”suguru —” you sigh, almost a hiss. ”i hit my head. once. that’s all.” you wipe away the wetness of your cheeks, biting back a sniffle. ”… you’re acting like i’m fucking dying. cut it out.”

(for once, he’s relieved to hear that sharp edge of your voice. it means you’re feeling better.)

a weak inhale. ”… they kidnapped you. it must’ve been terrifying. please, just…” and a tired exhale. ”please just don’t strain yourself.”

”it wasn’t your fault.”

…

”your highne —”

”i’m serious.” you’re pulling away, suddenly, clasping onto his cheeks with your tearstained palms. squishing his face together. ”it wasn’t your fault. it was mine.”

he shakes his head, eager to protest, so you squish his cheeks with more force, and shake his head for him. like a misbehaving dog. ”nope. if you even think about apologizing, i’ll start crying again.”

he lets out a huff. frowning, sadly, a downcast pair of eyes.

”don’t pout. i’ll bite you.”

it’s slight, barely even there at all — but you think the corner of his mouth twitches upwards, just by a hair, exhaling through his nose with just the slightest hint of amusement.

he places his palm over yours. 

a moment passes, slow and steady, both of you catching your breaths. calming down, letting the fear of it all seep out of your aching bones. you hope the warmth of your skin against his soothes him as much as it soothes you. 

”… you know, your highness,” he murmurs, softly. meeting your puffy eyes with his tired pools of amber gold. ”there’s something i never told you.”

you blink. he continues.

”just the night before the king reached out to me… i had a dream.” he musters a weak, exhausted little smile. ”dreams… i don’t have them very often. and when i do, they’re nothing good. but this dream…” 

his eyes flutter shut. a curtain closing, a raven taking flight, the tick-tock of a heartbeat. you can’t look away. ”it stuck out to me.”

silence.

your voice comes out soft, like the bedsheets beneath you, the man before you. a tiny breath of a question. ”… what was it about?”

he smiles. smoothing a thumb over your knuckle, reverent, as if memorizing every ridge and dip.

”a fox.”

…

”it had…” his hand slips from the small of your back, reaching for your cheek, pinching it gently. ”a cheeky smile.”

your skin heats up, beneath his touch. and you blink, not saying a word, because there isn’t any need to. all the words you could ever want have already been painted out.

(well, maybe not quite all.)

”suguru.” you lean close, just a little, drinking him in. and he listens, as always, so you don’t bother beating around the bush. swallowing any embarrassment your tired mind can still feel. because your knight is right in front of you, eyes still red from crying, and you want him to be happy. “i think you’re my favorite person.”

he stills.

then he’s burning up. 

”wha — where did that come from?” he stammers, a strawberry hue to his ears, his neck, the tips of his fingers. enveloping him like a blanket of warmth.

you only shrug. ”you told me the truth. figured i should return the favour, for once.” a giddy, exhausted smile. “we’re both awful liars, huh?”

suguru opens his mouth. then he closes it, again, desperate to collect himself. you think he must be a little too exhausted to, and you wish you could say you felt bad. ”you… you can’t just —”

he squeezes his eyes shut. sighing. giving up, the gears of his mind grinding to a halt. your grin blooms wider.

”hehe.” you poke at his flushed cheek, and he cracks a single eye open. ”you’re blushing.”

he huffs, leaning away from your touch, and you find yourself enjoying the reversal of your usual roles. very much so. he tries to smile, tries to get one up on you, but he only blushes a deeper shade of red once your words reach his ears. 

so he settles for using cheap tricks.

”you’re hallucinating,” he scoffs, shoving your head into the fluffy pillows all around you. ever so gently, listening to your muffled giggles. trying to stifle his own joy. ”go back to sleep.”

”my blushy knight,” you coo, and he drags the blanket over your head. biting down on his lip to stop himself from joining your bubbly laughter, blushing more than ever. 

(the word knight sounds very pretty, when it’s falling from your lips.)

”i swear,” he exhales, heavy and exasperated, but you can hear the smile in his voice. ”just what am i to do with you?”

it’s fond. delicate, even in his bouts of teasing, the light instances of manhandling. and you’re happy, because he’s not apologizing anymore, and he’s happy because you aren’t crying anymore. give and take. there’s a rhythm to it, a point where everything else becomes background noise, whether it’s memories of a kidnapping or a decade-old guilt.

he stays with you all night, even after you’ve fallen asleep. just watching you, safeguarding you, checking your pulse every now and then. content to watch as your chest rises and falls, with the tender ticking of your heartbeat.

that night, you dream of a kind, kind wolf, and a painting yet to be finished. 

before you lies a field of stars.

you’re seated on a blanket, with a pretty knight to your left, up on top of a grassy hill. daffodils bloom around you, sweet nectar hanging in the air, a field of sunflowers waving at you from below. dragonflies greet you with a scratchy song. 

everything is perfect. a midnight rendezvous, a picnic under the stars — suguru’s own idea. to celebrate the time that you’ve spent together.

(well, that part was your idea. but you’re sure he appreciates it, too.)

the basket next to you is filled with fruit and berries, marmalade and jam, bottles of herbal tea. suguru’s delicious sandwiches. you bite into one of them, humming happily, and he’s quick to brush the occasional crumb from the corner of your lip, ghosting over your skin with a smile.

there’s another basket, too, just in front of you, that you brought on your own. hiding a secret; one you're just about to unveil. 

you clear your throat to get his attention.

like clockwork, he’s looking at you. listening, when  you tell him to close his eyes, only giving you a questioning raise of his brow and an amused exhale. 

you’re quick to lean forward, uncovering the basket, revealing the secret you’ve hidden so well. suguru is still waiting, indulgent, patient. you feel a little hesitant, but still part your lips.

“… okay. you can open them, now.”

he does. instantly, two ravens taking flight, and the sight that awaits them is that of a painting; a painting of a wolf, in the middle of the woods, empty armors and wilted sunflowers all around it. dragonflies and dragonflies, a knight just out of view.

he stares, silently, and you do your best to hide your growing nervosity. even as he takes it into his lap, and your gaze falls to the blanket below you. ”it’s… not my best work, but —” his eyes stay glued onto the painting, as you stumble blindly for the right words to say. wringing your hands together, clutching at the fabric of your sleeves. ”i’d… like you to have it. i mean, unless you —”

”thank you.”

you raise your head.

suguru is gazing at the canvas with the softest pair of eyes you’ve ever seen. melting amber, crinkled at the edges, accompanied by a sweet grin. 

”i’ll treasure it,” he vows, meeting your eyes, voice dripping with warmth. hand on his heart, and you can’t even poke fun at it. ”always.”

his earnest acceptance is enough to fluster you, enough to make you feel as it your heart is about to collapse, but he continues to look at the painting with enough awe to fill an empty lake with water, and it makes you terribly shy. 

until his smile drops.

”uh, actually — i…”

now it’s your turn to stare, silently, as he fumbles with something in the basket at his feet. gentle, as he takes out glass jars and wrapped sandwiches. out comes a sheet of paper. 

then he’s clearing his throat. handing it to you, pointedly avoiding your gaze. ”i’m not an artist, so you know. i just…” he coughs, a little out of his element. “well. here.”

with delicate hands, you accept it, bringing it down to your lap. big, curious eyes taking it in.

it’s a sketch — made with coal, a little smudged, but awfully charming. pretty, delicate.

it’s a sketch of a fox.

wide-eyed, all you can do is stare. gaze flitting up to meet his own, his nervous expression, before falling back to the little canine. ”you — this…” back and forth, over and over again. ”for — ?” 

you point to yourself. 

suguru only chuckles. ”yes, it’s for you. who else?” he taps the pads of his fingers against the handle of the basket, watching you silently admire the mischievous fox. not saying anything; so he continues.

”like i said; i’m not an artist. you can always throw it away, if you’d —”

”i’m gonna frame it.”

…

”i'm gonna frame it,” you repeat, eyes shining with sincerity. a little manic. ”i’ll hang it on the wall of the castle hallway so everyone can see it. it’ll be there for centuries to come, passed down —”

”please don't —”

”d’you think a gold frame would fuck up the vibe? maybe a modest silver is best.” you turn to face him, ignoring his blatant embarrassment. ”oooh, hang on! father knows this guy who makes them with real minerals. i’ll just —”

”your highness,” the knight cuts you off, almost with a squeak. ”please. it’s just a dumb drawing. i just… wanted to give it to you. that’s all.”

a pause. you look into his eyes, flickering with hesitance, an earnest desire for your approval only. so you hum, albeit a little hesitant.

”… alright. if you say so. i’ll hang it in my room, then.”

he sighs; relieved. ”that’s better. really, you —”

”thank you.” you whisper, blinking away the wetness at your lash-line. staring at the sketch with a dreamy, dreamy smile. ”i love it.”

you grin, happily, practically beaming. suguru wants to keep it there, always, on those pretty lips; he wants to lay his life on the line to protect it. but something tells him that would just make it fall. 

finally, everything clicks into place. the air fills with the scent of herbal tea, fresh strawberries, acrylic paint and hushed whispers. your own ritual, repeated over and over, like a loving waltz. 

as always, it’s suguru who breaks the silence. shatters it with the tip of his tongue. 

”hey,” he calls, softly. “my lord.”

mouth full of bread, you simply look at him. chewing silently, attention piqued. swallowing with a gulp. he places his folded hands on his lap, exhaling a little breath. ”… i’ve been thinking.”

”uh oh.”

silently, he gives you one of those flat, unimpressed looks of his, and you quiet down with a grin and another mouthful of bread. he quirks a brow, exhaling amusedly, then shakes his head and continues.

”i retract my earlier statement.”

when you glance up again, he’s smiling. showing more teeth than usual, a little wider, a little wolfish. a little more himself. you want to paint it, keep it hidden away somewhere only you can see.

”if it was someone else — anyone else…” he trails off, tasting the words on his tongue. “i doubt i’d feel this way. i doubt i’d want to protect them as fervently.” his voice flows out like a river of gold, just a little scratchy. it always is, when it sounds this sincere. 

he meets your eyes, and everything falls into place. 

”you’ve become precious to me,” he admits. ”i can't remember what it felt like to not be yours.”

his tongue curls around a familiar set of syllables, and your name seeps from his lips like a prayer, a vow, a trickle of honey and wine. devotion sticks to his tongue, to the vowels, a heavy fondness — something devout. something you've only ever heard from the mouths of priests.

and then he’s smiling. 

”i think i’ll be your knight until the day i die,” he breathes, and deep down you know it’s a vow. “even if the king discards me of that title.”

silence. except for an increasingly loud mantra of tick-tocks, from the depths of your own chest, echoing in your ears. your knight is in front of you, and he’s yours, and he’s smiling like he loves you. like he always will.

”… suguru.”

he hums, eyes lidded, blinking slowly. serenely. he lets you cling to him, pull him close, practically dragging him into your lap.

”stay with me,” you plead, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. too desperate to feel embarrassed. ”forever. promise me.”

an exhale, right by your ear. it sounds so fond you could cry. 

“i promise,” he whispers, fingers intertwining with your own. a perfect puzzle piece, a functional clockwork. lifting your hand, bringing his glossy lips to your knuckle; where they belong. ”until death tears me away from you.”

”it won’t,” you deadpan, partly to distract him from the growing heat of your fingertips. mostly because it’s true. ”you won't let it.”

he smiles against your knuckle, breathing out an airy laugh. ”clever little thing…” his free hand goes to rest on your spine, as always, and you lean back to see him properly. knowing he’ll catch you if you fall.

“.. but yeah," he sighs. "i won’t.”

before you know it, you’re leaning back in. because his eyes are the warmest shade of brown you’ve ever seen, and his hair is just a little tousled, and he looks so kissable it aches.

his jaw trembles, a little, when you press your lips against the curve of it. his whole body seems to still, for a moment, and you pull back just to see if he’s blushing. he is. 

but he must have anticipated your teasing, because he’s tucking you under his chin before you can see it through. pressing you close. and he tuts, a click of his silver tongue, a touch of restraint. ”… you little tease,” comes a whisper. ”how am i supposed to hold back now?”

”don’t hold back, dummy,” you grin, muffled against the column of his throat. you just barely resist the urge to sink your teeth into the skin. ”you’re a bad actor, anyway. the worst.”

and he is. he’s been looking at your lips this whole time — he couldn’t be more obvious if he tried.

suguru laughs, breathy, overflowing with fondness. chest rumbling with the noise, blending together with the rhythmic thumping of his clockwork heart. ”okay,” comes a soft lull of his tongue. ”i won’t, then.”

a drowsy feeling overtakes you, just as you feel his lips meet the crown of your head. it’s not much, but it’s a start. and it’s tender, tender enough to get you choked up, to get you to close your eyes to stop any tears from forming. because one person in this kingdom understands you, and he tells you that he’ll never leave. and you think you can actually find it in you to believe him. 

one person’s clockwork heart never breaks for you, and maybe that’s enough to convince you to stop trying to push it there.

”you can sleep, if you’d like,” is whispered against your hair. soft, soothing, his palm on your spine. ”i’ve got you. always.”

(one person in this world can make you feel safe, with just four little words. and isn’t that something?)

so you doze off, on the shoulder of your very own knight. your favorite knight, always and forever, a sword at his hip that was forged to protect you. or so he’ll tell you, years from now, when he’s got you in his lap, when there isn’t any need for him to act anymore.

and you dream a perfect dream. a dream of a wolf, and a fox, and a garden of stars.

#geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #geto suguru x reader #geto fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x y/n #knight!sugu literally means the world to me… this specific version is a lil mischievous <33 and so so protective <333 #most of all he’s very veryyyy wolfy…… this fic is BRIMMING w canine symbolism like i put SO much thought into it 😭😭 #knight!sugu is a wolf pretending to be a dog and royalty!reader is a fox forced to behave as a lamb <33 that’s their dynamic! #and yk…. dogs herd sheep…….. sugu guards reader………. (from wolves & foxes…. dramatic irony…….) #but in reality they both feel most at ease when they’re running around in the woods and baring their fangs :33 #i LOVE this reader btw i really hope they come off as endearing despite their brattiness LOL i think they’re soooo cute 🥺🥺 #sugu and his brat taming tendencies… his ability to seek out the most guarded people and make them feel safe in his presence……. #he means the galaxy to me. king wherever u may be… i hope u are getting the love u deserve

[vivwritesfics]

Best Dad Ever

Lando is the best girl dad. When his little girl wants to ride horses, he makes it happen

For @nurse-buckley for studying

Lando didn't have many regrets in life. He didn't regret karting from a young age, he didn't regret joining McLaren. He didn't regret getting married young or having a child either.

Actually, those last two were the best decisions of his life.

What he did regret was letting his four year old meet his sisters horses.

Lola fell in love. Lando hoped that she'd find Flo's huge horses terrifying and scary. But she loved them. She really really loved them. She giggled as the horse took the treat from her hand. Auntie flow had shown her exactly how to do it

She didn't get to ride Flo's horses. They were top show jumpers, Flo didn't want to put her niece at risk like that. Something Lando was incredibly grateful for.

But soon, Lando was strapping her into her car seat and driving her home. "Papa," she began as she looked out of the window, at the horses in the passing fields. "Can I start riding ponies?"

Lando should have seen it coming. It shouldn't have been a surprise that Lola had found love for those great big beasts in the same way his sister had. "Let me speak to your mother, yeah Lols?"

"Okay daddy."

Her mother didn't need a lot of convincing. "Hell yes she can go riding!" Y/N insisted. "I always wanted to as a girl but I never could," she said as she cuddled up to her husband.

"But, what if she realises she want to do karting like her father?" He pouted.

She held his hand to her lips and kissed the back of it. "I promise, Lan. The next one we have you can introduce to karting."

Lando really liked the sound of that.

***

For Lolas first riding lesson, Lando was there, watching. He arranged it for a date he wasn't at a race and held his wife's hand as he watched. He was so incredibly nervous. Even if all Lola had to do was sit there, he was still terrified.

Soon she was riding every week. Lando desperately wanted to be at every lesson, but, before he knew it, he was at a race.

He wasn't there for the first time she trotted. "Please video it, baby," he said to his wife as they spoke on the phone.

She did just that, recording as she sat tall, the little pony beneath her trotting. Lando watched the video again and again, showing it to anybody that would watch.

He was there for her first lesson off the lead rope. He couldn't stop the smile on his face as she steered the small grey pony over the set of poles.

Lola kept up her riding lessons for a year. Lando attended as many as he could.

When that year of riding lessons was up,y Lando was on a mission to do something big.

It arrived at his location in the mid morning. As soon as it did, Lando put his phone to his ear. "Baby, bring Lola to the yard," he said.

Without questioning him, she got Lola into her riding boots, strapped her into the car and set off for the stables.

"Where's daddy?" Lola asked as they drove.

"He's gonna meet us there, sweety," Y/N said as she drove.

Lola frowned. "Why?"

"I don't know, Lol's."

As soon as Lola was out of the car, she was running towards her father. "What's going on, Daddy?" She asked.

Taking her hand, Lando walked Lola towards the barn. "I got you something, Lol's, " she said.

Lola gasped when Lando pointed to a stable. In that stable was a black pony, wearing a pink headcollar. "Lola, baby, I'd like you to meet Raven," said Lando. "He's your new pony."

Lola let out a little, quiet scream. "Really, daddy?! He's all mine?"

"He is, baby."

Lola through her arms around her father, squeezing him as tight as she could.

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader smut #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine

[dumplingsfordays]

the phone call

pairing - Megumi x fem!reader

genre - smut

summary - you call Megumi one night in hopes of changing your relationship from being best friends to lovers and it ends very unexpectedly.

cw!: nsfw (sexual themes), mutual masturbation, pet names (sweetheart, baby), bffs to lovers, reader has female genitalia, swearing, timeskip to all characters 18+, one (1) mention of voyeurism + hair pulling + tummy bulge

note - back (sorta?) from my hiatus but I won't post content as frequently. sorry to all you beautiful people who submitted asks 😭😭 I'll make sure to do those fics asap b/c y'all are honestly lovely and overall really respectful and I appreciate it! thank you sm for being patient w/ little old me <33

art credit!

and as always, thank you for reading :))

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Quiet sighs escaped Megumi's lips in tandem with the soft breeze outside, whistling against the glass windowpanes. Moonlight drifted across his fair cheek like a silvery veil, making his pale skin glow slightly, and his long eyelashes, a trait that wasn't his favorite but one that almost every girl constantly pointed out with jealousy, fluttered when they met the edge of the light. And then, in the peaceful summer night-

Bzzt. Bzzt.

The raven-haired man sat up in his bed with sudden urgency, hand moving quickly to his phone on the nightstand and picking up.

"Hey, 'Mimi," your sleepy, half-awake voice came from the speaker. "Sorry to bother you but it's kinda important."

Upon hearing your voice, he relaxes - he lays back down and stares at the blank, white ceiling. "Yeah?"

"Uhm, I just wanted to talk to you about something..."

God, your sleep-laced voice was so gentle, sweet, alluring, even. He couldn't help but sneak a hand towards his abdomen to lay it on his stomach.

"Hey, 'Mimi, you there?" You ask all of a sudden.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I'm listening, don't worry."

You must be at your desk working, then, he thought, since you're up this late. Wait, no -- he heard the shuffling of bedsheets or something similar a moment ago. That was you, right? Were you also in bed? Did you also have the ghost of a smile dancing on your lips? Was your hand also laid down on your abdomen? Was it slowly creeping further and further down, until-

He shakes his head, rousing himself from his thoughts.

God, Megumi, what the hell are you thinking? They're your best friend, nobody thinks about their best friend getting off!

...Well, something about that scene was... arousing, almost, to him. The mere thought of you, laying on silk bedsheets and rubbing your clit to his voice, sent a shiver up his spine and he snaked his hand under his boxers. Well, guess he was doing this.

"So, um..." you continued, sighing, "I was thinking. I know that it's probably too late into the night to even be discussing this, but..."

"Yeah?"

He lets out a small grunt afterwards as his fingers come into contact with the sensitive skin of the tip of his semi-erect length.

"...are you okay, 'Mimi? Are you working out or something?"

"Ah, no, I'm just..."

Just, you know, casually touching myself to the sound of your voice. Nothing wrong with that at all. There's definitely nothing wrong with jacking off to your best friend's voice.

"Just, um. Moving my, uh..." His eyes glance around the room and lock onto the bedside table. "My table."

There's a small lilt to your voice as you laugh softly and clear your throat before speaking, and Megumi swears that he just got lightheaded from the rush of blood to his nether region.

"Okay... I was just thinking about, well... this. Our friendship."

He tries not to sound too strained and breathy when he replies, starting to slowly move his fist up and down his leaking cock. "What about it?"

"Well, I think that, um.. you're a really nice person. And I really like you. And recently, I was thinking about what it would be like if we, um..."

You pause, biting your lip. Should you really finish your sentence? What if he takes it the wrong way?

"You can say it. I won't judge, y/n."

"Thank you..." you laugh briefly and breathlessly, fidgeting with the skin on your torso. His words were innocent, but it was the tone in which he was speaking that made your thighs twitch slightly and your mouth dry up. Christ, Megumi always made you feel things that you knew you shouldn't be feeling towards a friend who probably only liked you as one. "I, well... I was thinking that it would be nice if we hung out at some point. Maybe, like... go out on a date, or something... I understand if you don't like me in that way, or if you're too sleepy to decide yet, but I just wanted to put that out there..."

His eyes widen a bit as he hears the word "date", and he subconsciously tightens his grip around himself, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows. So you were interested in him, too.

"I'd... I'd love to."

He forces down a quiet groan as he hears the pitch of your voice rise slightly in excitement. Unbeknownst to him, your hand slides down your lower abdomen, gliding across your upper thigh.

"R-really? You're not kidding or anything, right? I mean, like... please don't worry about making me feel good about myself or anything, just..."

You hear him laugh softly on the other end, which makes that spot between your legs throb even more intensely.

"Of course," Megumi replies, trying to sound as put-together as he can. "I won't lie to you about stuff like that."

Smiling, you sigh in relief and your hand comes into contact with your inner thigh. After a brief pause, he speaks up again, his voice a little deeper.

"So.. anything fun happen recently in your life? Any new books you've read, or interesting gossip you've heard?"

Your head tilts to the side as a scenario pops into your head at his words. Him, laying next to you, whispering into your ear as his fingers caress your--

"Nope..." you laugh, a little shakily due to the intrusive thought. "But there was this one thi--"

He makes a quiet noise of pleasure and you choke, your fingers finally touching your slick cunny and rubbing it gently.

"...M-Mimi, did you... are you...?"

"Christ, I'm sorry, I-- fuck. I'm sorry, y/n, I didn't-- God, I..." he sighs, regret clear in his tone as he apologizes. "You probably think I'm some creep or something now. Feel free to cancel the date, I don't deserve it anyway after all this."

You swallow and you feel your face redden in embarrassment before answering, whispering.

"Actually, I... I, um, I'm not mad. I-I'm doing the same."

"What?"

His reply is instantaneous, his voice a mix of nervousness, shock, surprise, with the undeniable tinge of arousal. You were going to be the death of him someday.

"I-I'm doing the same. I know it's weird, I..." you trail off, sighing. "I'm sorry too."

"Can we..."

Megumi's trembling all over now, his cock unfathomably hard and standing up at attention in his fist, which begins to pump up and down a little more rapidly. You can hear it very faintly from your phone and you practically gush at the sound.

"...can we, um... keep doing this? And talking? I just... I think that since you're interested in me and I in you, we can satisfy our urges, I guess..."

"Please," you shiver, voice getting softer and more desperate as he talks.

"Fu-uck..." he groans out, biting his lip and looking down at himself. He decides to finally remove his boxers and strokes himself under the blanket, leaning into his phone's microphone as he pants softly.

You, in your own bed, whimper at the expletive -- you knew his voice was attractive, but this? Him swearing, and in that rough yet pleading tone, too, made you unimaginably wet.

"Can you... can you describe it? Please?" you choke out, toes curling as your fingers press against your clit slightly.

You hear him groan at your words again before he replies.

"I-It's standing up real tall 'n warm, sweetheart... it's fucking throbbing, all for you... God, I just wanna bend you over and... shit... just shove my cock into your tight pussy..."

You moan quietly as you imagine the absolute filth of the scenario, how deep his thick cock'll reach inside you... he'll probably be thrusting into you so hard that people on the street will hear the rhythmic slaps of skin on skin from the window of your bedroom all the way up on the fifth floor. And, oh, God, what if he grabs your hair and pulls on it, twisting your back and pulling his face closer to yours to meet you in an intense kiss, teeth clacking and tongues intertwining in this passionate dance for control?

"You're gonna feel so good around me, baby... maybe clench as I play with your clit and press my hand to your stomach to feel that little dent of my cock... you're gonna feel so fucking warm and wet around me..." Megumi groans loudly as his hand does a particularly satisfying stroke around his length, smearing slightly sticky precum in his fist. "Christ, I can already imagine it... I'm so fucking close..."

"Me too," you cry out, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive skin and thighs quivering from the electrifying pleasure. "I'll feel so good, 'Mimi, so full..."

His fist travels up to his tip, continuing the up-and-down motion as he moans shakily. "y/n-- I-I'm gonna-- fuck, think I'm gonna come--"

You whimper in reply, toes curling and forearm flexing. At long last, that wave of heat crashes down on you both, him groaning shamelessly as thick cum spurts from the red tip and onto his fist, and you gasping for air, moaning as you reach your respective peaks. Your body trembles as you're thrown around mercilessly by your orgasm and he can tell very clearly by your voice -- it's high-pitched, desperate, and borderline wanton.

As you both calm down from your highs, the movements of your hands and arms gradually slowing down, you giggle breathlessly.

"This was... ah, certainly something..."

You hear his voice, deep and comforting as he chuckles, through your phone speaker.

"Indeed it was."

"...But we're still going on that date, right?"

Megumi laughs. "Obviously."

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi #megumi x reader #megumi smut #megumi x y/n #megumi x you #megumi fushigiro #fushiguro x reader #jjk fushiguro #smut #holy shit I literally did not watch s2 because I'm so busy but god damn I'm still simping #this was a pretty short one but idrc sorry ;-;

[luv4fushi]

omfg i litr read everything uve written off ur masterlist I NEED MOREEEE. i love the way u write megumi especially, i couldn’t get enough of it. i hope you write more of him, my heart aches for more tbh 🥹 tysm for being such a good writer and feeding us starved readers well

tysm! i'm sooo glad i can be a good source of megumi content for you >_< i looove writing megumi so you'll be seeing sooo much more of him, dw! happy holidays!

this december

jjk fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

it’s always colder on your own, especially around this time of year. you should be at home, bundled up with a warm cup of hot chocolate, but here you are in shinjuku, exorcizing curses with your ex boyfriend two weeks after your breakup with him. great.

content: post break up, aged up megumi (19/20), megumi is terrible at feelings, getting back together, fluff if you squint, a bit of angst, miscommunication, one bed (but it isn’t the main plot point sorry), megumi calls you baby like once, gojo is the best wingman, SHIBUYA ARC NEVER HAPPENED AND LIFE IS GOOD, not proofread im very sorry guys pls forgive me, kinda a word dump sry

word count: 5.8k (sigh this was supposed to be 2k words max)

click on my masterlist for more & merry christmas to those who celebrate!

it’s december 19th when satoru gojo tells you that he has a mission just for you. you’re less than ecstatic about it to say the least. the last thing you want to do is be sent to your death just shy of christmas day. you just want to rest your sore muscles and bask in the presence of your best friends. you’re not in the mood to kill any curses, mainly because you’ve just recovered from a previous mission.

“why me?” you groan.

gone are the days where you used to be a goody two shoes for satoru. you’re old enough to talk back now, not like when you had been a shy fifteen-year-old girl. besides, you’ve been around the silver-haired sorcerer long enough to know that he doesn’t mind the bite.

“sorry, kid,” satoru says with a shrug. at least he sounds genuine about it. “the higher ups requested for you specifically. they say you’ll get the job done in the cleanest way. we can’t have things getting messy before the holidays, right?”

“and you wouldn’t be the best choice?” you quip.

satoru only laughs. he ruffles your hair. even with your growth spurt and merciless training, he still towers over you. in a way, he’ll always be your mentor. “hey, i’m going out of town that weekend. give me a break.”

you huff petulantly. something about this mission seems fishy to you. you’re not nearly the strongest sorcerer out of the bunch of kids under satoru’s wings (not that you guys are kids anymore, but sometimes it’s hard to feel otherwise). hell, there’s the kyoto students. it feels like they never have to do anything. you wish that you were rebellious enough to chew utahime out for it.

“why couldn’t they just make yuta or megumi go?” you mutter under your breath. you stammer out megumi’s name and hope satoru doesn’t catch on to the way you can barely say it.

satoru knows about the breakup. why wouldn’t he? he’s basically megumi’s dad, even if the raven haired boy refuses to admit it. satoru’s six eyes mean you can’t hide anything from him (he’d been the first to know that megumi was head over heels for you).

satoru raises a brow. “oh, right. megumi’s coming along too.”

your face twists and you immediately whip around to glare at him. “you’re lying.”

“i wish,” he jokes. “i was really hoping i’d get a wedding invitation one day, you little rascal. i can’t believe you two broke up. maybe this’ll be a good thing!”

“i appreciate your honesty, but—”

“but megumi’s an emotionally constipated kid, yeah, that i know,” satoru laughs. he makes his way to the exit of his office which has you furrowing your brows. is your former teacher actually gonna just leave after making you come all the way here? how rude and so very in character of him.

“please, gojo,” you call out after him, “i don’t wanna go with him.”

“sucks for you,” satoru responds halfheartedly. “merry christmas. try not to take more than a week on this. you’ll have to pay the rest of the fee for accommodations if you do.”

“gojo!” you whine.

“it’s not a hard mission!” satoru insists like it’ll make your life any easier. “y’know, this time of year is when things get ugly. think of it as saving as many people as you can while putting in the least amount of effort!”

and then he teleports. your former teacher teleports away rather than being normal and walking out of the door. you roll your eyes and hope that he can sense it (you know he can’t).

so that’s why you’re here now. with your ex. on the elevator to your assigned room on the tenth floor. you’re so glad that it’s a normal hotel and not a love hotel. lord knows what you’d do if you had checked into a love hotel.

megumi hasn’t spoken a word to you since he broke up with you two weeks ago. it had been in the doorway to your apartment a few days after a particularly rough mission assigned to the both of you—the one you’re still recovering from. he’d pulled you in for a hug, whispering sweet words into your ear. he gave you a look, one of those looks that made him soften his usually sharp eyes.

“i think we should break up.”

and then came the pathetic whimper of yours. he had wiped your tears, even kissed them tenderly, before telling you that it wasn’t your fault—it was his. how cliche.

now as you stand next to him, you want to beat yourself up for not asking for closure. neither of you had explicitly stated that you two were going to be no-contact, but it hurts a lot less to push the idea of forever with megumi away to the back of your mind. besides, you two aren’t confrontational like that. not with each other, anyway.

“need help?” his tone is soft, tender—the tone he reserves specifically for you, the one that tells you he still cares.

you stare down at the luggage at your feet. you’ve always been a chronic overpacker, a habit that megumi knows of by now. he watches you curiously, hands itching at his sides. you can tell that he wants to reach out and grab your suitcase like he always does. he thinks he isn’t obvious, but you can always read through the lines, especially when it’s megumi.

“i’m okay,” you croak out, clearing your throat awkwardly.

the elevator dings and you make your way to your room. as much as you hate to admit it, you’re sort of glad that you and your ex boyfriend are sharing a room. perhaps his’ll be a good way to get closure, though you’re not really sure what closure entails.

what you don’t expect is to unlock the door and be met with a singular bed.

if satoru gojo didn’t have a layer of infinity coating his body (and if he wasn’t the strongest sorcerer alive), you would’ve wrung out his neck.

megumi simply walks into the room, setting his duffel bag down on one of the dressers opposite from the foot of the bed. he doesn’t comment on the lack of double beds, seemingly already aware of the set up.all he does is puff out a weary sigh. you suck in a breath and follow him inside, slipping your shoes off at the entrance.

you lug your suitcase in after you along with your duffel bag and backpack. you stumble forward and megumi’s arm snakes around your waist, steadying you.

“careful,” he mutters, nonchalantly taking your bag off our your shoulders.

it’s a quick series of movements; he swings your bag over his shoulders and places it on the dresser next to the one he’s claimed while guiding you softly to the side of the bed so that you’re not standing in the middle of the doorway.

you scrunch your face, feeling your heart thump against your ribcage. it’s stupid how he still has such a hold on you, even after two weeks of not seeing or talking to him. he’s just so caring, so gentle. it stings, like little the little cuts you get when fighting curses, when you realize that this is something you’ll have to learn how to lose.

“thanks,” you manage to mutter. you don’t trust yourself to say anything else. you know from the way your throat tightens that you’ll be crying soon if you force yourself to talk any more.

“i can take the couch,” megumi says.

it’s that easy with him; he’s a gentleman, so of course he’d take the couch. that’s the way megumi fushiguro is—he offers a solution before you even have the chance to complain. in your year and a half long relationship, that skill of his had been a saving grace.

“no, don’t bother,” you croak. “i’ll book another room.”

“really?” he asks. he stands up a little straighter, awkwardly reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “i mean, i don’t mind sharing a room with you… we’ve..”

we’ve shared a room countless of times before.

megumi doesn’t have to continue his sentence for you to understand what he’s implying. you part your lips to speak, but nothing comes out except for a long, heavy sigh. your shoulders drop as you let the exhaustion seep into your bones. there’s no use arguing about it, not when you don't’ mind sharing a room with megumi, either.

“we’ve broken up,” you remind him in a quiet voice, like you’re afraid saying it out loud will make it truer than it already is.

megumi pauses. you see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly. “i know that, but … it’ll be fine. we’ve shared a room as friends before.”

he’s right, like he usually is. you two have shared a room before as just friends, but that had been as teenagers—back when you both harbored such hardcore crushes on each other that you two somehow didn’t notice.

“right,” you find yourself agreeing with a small nod.

“you should go get ready for bed.” megumi begins grabbing a few or the decorative pillow off of the bed. he places them gingerly on the brown couch tucked in the corner of the hotel room. “we’ll be getting up pretty early to deal with the brunt of the mission.”

to finish this mission as quickly as possible, you think.

and so you oblige and head to the bathroom. it’s december 19th, just a few days shy of christmas day, and you’re in bed with your ex boyfriend on the couch just a few feet away.

december 20th greets you with megumi hovering over you. he peers down at you with his messy bangs covering his eyes. they’re piercingly blue as he blinks. his lashes flutter perfectly, even in the early morning. your eyes meet his and you jolt awake.

“good morning,” he says. “your alarm has been ringing for a bit now, so i turned it off.”

you blink rapidly, getting the tiredness out of your eyes. “oh.”

he chuckles softly, just enough for you to catch it with your ears. he rises from his crouched position and heads to the front door. he spares you a glance over his shoulder before he heads out, presumably giving you the privacy you need. you let out a strangled breath before you swing your legs over the bed and head to the bathroom.

by the time you’re finished putting on your uniform, you swing the door to your hotel room open and see megumi leaned up against the wall, tapping away on his phone. his dark blue eyes flicker up to you and he turns away to head down the hall.

you furrow your brows. you can’t help but think that he’s being a little cold to you. it isn’t like you initiated the breakup. despite your frustration with his behavior, you can sort of understand why he wouldn’t want to be sweet around you; you two aren’t dating anymore and so it makes sense that he’d go back to being aloof in your presence, the usual way he acts around everyone else. losing that position in his life makes your stomach churn for reasons you’re less than willing to uncover.

your mission is a vague one; all you know is that it’s a clean-up mission. rather than a level 1 curse (or even a special grade), the mission consists of an acclimation of weak curses surrounding shinjuku. these missions are normally given to younger, more inexperienced sorcerers with the help of a senior sorcerer, but for an odd reason, it’s been given to you and megumi this year. megumi could’ve probably handled it himself. actually, you could’ve handled it yourself.

you bite your tongue to hold back on your complaints as you walk just a step behind megumi. he pauses regularly, waiting for you to catch up to his side. you roll your eyes in secret. does he not realize that you don’t want to walk next to him?

“it’s all just bars,” you mutter.

with that, you earn a tiny laugh from megumi. “well, yeah. this is the red-light district of shinjuku.”

you pale. “this sucks.”

“why do you think i wanted to come out here in the morning rather than at night?” he says, his tone strangely light.

“to deal with the brunt of the mission,” you repeat his words from last night sarcastically. you’re unsure as to what he’s talking about, so you think that it’s okay to give him a little bit of attitude.

he raises his brow but doesn’t comment on your sarcasm. instead, he says softly, “no, stupid. it’s because this is the red-light district. it’s unsafe for anyone, especially a pretty, young girl alone at night.”

your first thought is to coo and tease him. you think i’m pretty? it takes you half a second to remember that you two are broken up. you scoff, “i’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”

“i never said you weren’t,” megumi shoots back. “it would just be annoying explaining to the higher ups why you were fighting people and not curses.”

“i’m sure they’d understand,” you retort, frowning. you cross your arms.

“don’t be so pouty,” he says in that stupid, gentle tone he uses with you when you’re acting bratty.

you both decide to split up. well, it’s more like you demand the two of you to split up. you say it under the pretense that it’ll get the job done faster. besides, you both want to be home before christmas day, right?

there’s about two curses you cross paths with every hour. you’re starting to lose your mind. shouldn’t the streets be infested with them? you don’t even need a veil! all you have to do is give the weak curses just one punch and they vaporize on the spot. your head is running with hundreds of thoughts.

that’s when it hits you: the first years at the tokyo jujutsu school did come out here a week prior! maybe they did a bad job? but you remember nobara had been the one to lead the group. she may half-ass almost everything in her life, but she wouldn’t jeopardize her underclassmen for the sake of her freetime.

so why on earth are you here? it’s not like there are enough harmful curses for a mission to be assigned to you right before christmas, and to you and megumi of all sorcerers. you’re both strong enough to the point of having some kind of importance in the jujutsu world. the higher ups wouldn’t send the two of you on some stupid mission for the sake of it unless they’re planning some sort of secret execution. but even then, satoru gojo should’ve known through their lies to not send you or megumi. unless…he wants you two dead…?

you shake your head and bite your nails. the sun begins to set and you realize that you’ve been out here for longer than you expected. you’re starting to feel a chill in your bones—you had argued petulantly with megumi earlier about not wanting to wear your jacket despite it being the dead of winter; “it’s gonna get in the way!”

you always seem to forget the the sun sets earlier in the winter. it’s stupid how bright all the lights are in shinjuku. there isn’t a square foot of anything that isn’t lit up with neon signs reading out the names of clubs and bars. you see couples and large groups of people walking along the streets.

it’s lonely, you realize. it would’ve been less lonely with megumi.

you make your way to the meeting spot with megumi. you both share a few small words before retiring for the night. megumi says he wants to go sightseeing, even though there’s really nothing much to see. he doesn’t return to the hotel room until late at night.

when he slips into the only bed that the room offers, you chalk it up to the slight alcohol you smell on his lips. it feels so natural that you don’t push him away even though you should. his body is warm and you fit so perfectly against his broad chest that you think it’ll be okay for you to be a little selfish tonight.

“g’night,” megumi mumbles in his sleep.

you smile and nuzzle closer.

it’s december 21st as you realize how late it is in the day. megumi is back on the couch. you feel a tinge of disappointment in the bottom of your stomach.

to no one’s surprise, the sun is barely peeking over the buildings when you’re finally back in the red-light district. you’re doing the last bit of cleanup, but there’s really nothing much for you to clean.

tomorrow, you’ll be heading to a shopping mall, so you suppose you should do your best to sniff out the rest of the curses littering the place unless you want to stay here an extra day. the day is, yet again, slow.

it’s nearing 8 PM and you're finally sure that you’ve gotten rid of all the curses in the general area. you’ve been done for quite a while now, but you just haven’t found the courage to let megumi know that you’re ready to go back to the hotel room. a little sightseeing on your end wouldn’t hurt, right?

“hi, pretty.” a gravelly voice, battered by cigarettes, whispers in your ear.

you jump in surprise. you need to remember not to get too far into your head. you should’ve felt his presence coming from a mile away. it’s a terrible habit and satoru has scolded you for years about it.

“hi,” you mutter, pushing past his larger frame.

the man isn’t as nicely built as the men you know (but then again, your friends are jujutsu sorcerers, so it’s kind of hard to beat that), but he still towers over you. he’s got a squad of rough-looking guys behind him, smirking down at you.

“why’s someone like you alone?” he says, shoving his arm to loop around your waist.

you roll your eyes, getting ready to punch the man square in the nose. will you get in trouble? probably yes. will it be a funny story to tell? also probably yes.

“don’t touch my wife.”

the group of men turn their heads along with you to see megumi. his expression is shrouded with a mixture of anger and frustration. you blink in confusion—megumi usually looks pretty pissed off, but this is the most angry you’ve seen him in a while. and ‘wife’? what’s up with that?

“oh, my bad,” the man chuckles. “didn’t know this pretty thing was married.”

“this ‘pretty thing’ wants you to let her go,” you say with an overly sweet smile. your teeth clench and you hiss, “right now.”

the guy scurries down the sidewalk with his buddies trailing along, making fun of him for hitting on a married woman. nobody mentions the lack of a ring on your finger. nobody mentions the lack of a relationship, either.

“wife?” you scowl. “we’re broken up.”

“guys tend to back up when they know a woman is married. it’s the only way you can really, uh, get them to go away around here.”

you glare at him. “and how would you know? you come here often with girls?”

���...no?” he blinks, unable to comprehend your sudden burst of jealousy. “i sometimes get missions around here, though. pretending to be married was the easiest way—”

“we aren’t, though. we’re not even in a relationship.” you seem to be throwing that into his face a lot more than you should. you can’t help it, though. you still feel a little bitter about not getting a real reason as to why megumi wanted to break up.

“i was trying to help you.” he’s calm and collected, as heard through his voice. he walks up to you and takes your freezing hand into his much warmer ones. “let’s go home.”

“i don’t want to,” you argue.

“stop being a brat,” he says, but there’s no bite to his words. “you’re cold and you’ve been out here all day. if i hadn’t stopped those guys, you probably would’ve beat them up pretty badly.”

“i’m not a fucking brat!” you try to retract your hand, but megumi’s grip only tightens.

“baby, stop,” the pet name rolls off his tongue with ease. megumi sighs softly and pulls you to his chest. “why are you so worked up, hm?”

from the way he speaks, you can tell that he already has an inkling. the breakup. cuddling last night. hugging you now. everything.

you don’t realize you’re crying until he gently wipes his thumb under your eye. he has the audacity to have an amused grin plastered on his stupidly pretty lips. your vision is blurry but if it hadn’t been, you would’ve thrown a punch.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers into your hair. “it’s all my fault.”

“it is,” you whimper pathetically. all the tears and the emotions you’ve been holding back bubble up to the surface.

“don’t be upset,” he almost pleads. “let’s go back, okay?”

the night ends with megumi on the couch. neither of you bring up the argument or the fact that he had slept in your bed with you last night. you two don’t talk about the usage of pet names, either.

when you open your eyes on december 22nd, you’re surprised to see that megumi has already headed out for the day. you click your tongue in annoyance—he’s always been good at avoiding his problems when it comes to dealing with them, especially problems involving his emotions. you already know where you’re supposed to be headed, so you suppose that it’s for the best that he’d left before you.

the shopping mall is a long line of vendors and stores among other things. the snow on the ground is fresh—it must’ve snowed late last night after you’d fallen asleep. it crunches underneath your beat-up sneakers with each step you take. you’re not shocked when you end up wandering aimlessly, dipping in and out of stores with no real urgency to finish your mission.

there’s nothing to do anyway.

you’ve killed about 3 curses total and it’s really starting to look like you’ve been sent out here for busy work. you really should’ve figured that out the first day of the mission when you had to practically beg the curses to come out and fight you.

you find yourself in the front of a jewelry store, eyeing a pretty bracelet that you know would look stunning around megumi’s wrist. it’s one of those bracelets that clasp tightly. there’s a thicker band in the center with pretty carvings that seem to resemble some sort of swirly heart. it’s pretty, you have to admit.

without much thought, you buy the gift.

the seller has to clear her throat to get your attention when you don’t answer her question. “um, would you like this to be wrapped?”

you nod absentmindedly. “oh, yes. sorry. please wrap it.”

she nods in return and proceeds to wrap the bracelet in a tiny box, adorning it with a festive bow. you ask her to change it out for a different color, explaining that it isn’t a christmas gift and instead, it’s for someone’s birthday. she offers you a warm smile before switching it with a muted blue ribbon.

you return to the hotel, having to take an expensive taxi. you don’t mind—the bracelet has already made a decent-sized dent in your wallet. why not spend an extra amount on getting home? it’s not like jujutsu sorcerers are paid poorly.

reality hits you when you finally get back to the hotel room. you want to punch yourself for being so stupid. did you really just buy a birthday present for your ex-boyfriend?

you’re thankful that megumi hasn’t arrived yet. he seems to be determined to avoid you for as long as he can. you can’t blame him, either. you did give him quite a hard time yesterday.

you toss the box on to the dresser and head to the bathroom to splash some much needed cold water on to your face. maybe that’ll wake you up enough to clear your mind. you’ve acted out once during this trip already and you’re not really looking forward to any other possible outbursts.

you rinse your face and pat yourself dry with one of the face towels provided to you by the hotel staff. you hang it over the rack again and tiredly make your way to your bed. you halt your movements when you see megumi standing by the dresser, admiring your gift.

he looks up at you in surprise with the smallest grin on his face. it’s so subtle that you would’ve missed it had you not been dating him for nearly two years.

“is this for me?”

“no,” you quickly deny. his face falls and you cough out, “um, i mean.. yeah. i-i didn’t… i… happy birthday.”

he brightens, lips pulling up into a real, genuine smile. “you remembered?”

“why wouldn’t i?” you blurt gently. you bite your inner cheek to stop yourself from saying anything more.

“i dunno.” his voice is distant and low, like he’s trying to hold back his tears. “i just…i didn’t think i was deserving of a gift from you. thank you. i like it.”

you stand awkwardly, shifting your weight onto your other foot. “yeah, well…”

“can you help me put it on?” he asks, sitting at the edge of your unmade bed.

you feel your body heat up. part of you screams for you to stop. you shouldn’t do that. it’s far too intimate and you two are broken up. you’ve never been good at making decisions, though, so you sit next to him and feel the mattress dip.

he gives you a grateful look, one that you willfully ignore, and gives you his wrist. you clasp the bracelet on, fingertips just barely grazing his skin. your heart skips a beat and you have to inhale sharply before pulling away.

“thank you,” he whispers.

december 23rd is a sore reminder that life goes on. you had half-expected something to spark between you and megumi. perhaps he’d beg for you back, or maybe with less wishful thinking, he’d give you his real reason as to why he doesn’t want you anymore.

“i don’t think we need to go anymore,” megumi says when you come out of the bathroom after freshening up.

“huh? why not?”

“there’s nothing out there.” megumi’s voice is flat.

“i know, but we’ll get in trouble if we…”

“gojo probably sent us out here for fun.”

your lips part. megumi turns to you with a slight frown.

“don’t you think so too?” he asks, but you know it isn’t a question he’s looking to find an answer to. “why would the higher-ups assign a mission like this to a special grade sorcerer and a grade 1 sorcerer? if they needed that much manpower, this mission would’ve been deadlier. instead, we’re playing cleanup crew.”

“yeah, but..” you trail off, unable to think of a statement to refute his words. “if we go back now, we’ll get chewed out.”

“it’s just a scolding. you’ll be fine.” megumi stands up and stretches his arms.

you watch him cautiously as he begins to fold his clothes and throw them into his duffel bag. he doesn’t say anything else, letting the silence overtake the room.

“...are we leaving, then?” you ask meekly, not bothering to hide the slight quiver in your voice.

he pauses slightly. “do you want to stay here until christmas? this mission is stupid and you know it. there’s no point.”

why is his tone so cold all of the sudden? it’s as if you two hadn’t shared a moment last night before bed. does your gift not mean anything to him now that he’s cleared his mind with a good rest?

your eyes flicker to his wrist. the gold glimmers underneath the light and you realize that megumi doesn’t seem to hate wearing it. so why is he acting so … unpleasant?

you feel a lump in your throat. it’s embarrassing how quickly he’s able to upset you from just the tone of his voice. even his body language, usually fluid and smooth, is rigid with your presence. you want to tell him that you’ve enjoyed your time with him. you want to shake his shoulders and tell him that if you two cut your mission short, you might not get another chance to be near him again.

“do you still care about me?” you whisper instead.

he stills completely. “what?”

“this entire time,” you begin shakily, “you’ve been nice to me. you treat me like you always do. you’re always hovering over me even though you pretend you aren’t! you obviously still care, megumi.”

his adam's apple bobs as swallows. a beat of silence. then two. then three.

“i do care,” he admits sorely.

“then why did you break up with me?” you blurt. there it is, the question you’ve been meaning to ask. you both had seen it coming.

“because…” megumi winces as if he’s the one getting hurt from the ordeal. “because you deserve someone that’s normal. someone that isn’t a sorcerer. i can’t give you that life.”

you feel your chest swarm with anger. why does he always think he needs to sabotage himself to make others happy? this is something you’ve tried working with him on, but it seems like old habits are hard to kill off, just like your habit of loving him.

“why the hell would you decide that for me? when did i ever say i wanted a normal life?” you snap. your hands clench at your sides.

“it’s too early for this,” he says, his voice straining as he finally musters up the strength to look at you in your eyes.

“tell me, megumi. if that’s the real reason, then that is the most pathetic excuse for a breakup i've ever heard.” your voice cracks and you gulp down the oncoming sob that’s threatening to explode from your throat.

he inhales slowly and makes his way to you, holding you close against his chest. you should push him away, but you would rather let him hug you. you know that you can’t fight him, anyway.

“you…once said you wanted a regular relationship. when you got hurt a few weeks ago, i realized i couldn’t be that for you,” he confesses lowly. “i knew that you’d never find it in yourself to leave, so i figured i should just let you go for your sa–”

“are you kidding me?” you shout incredulously. “i said that when i was fifteen, megumi! before i even knew what being in love was like!”

he flinches against you. “but i…”

“you and your damn savior complex! i don’t need to be in a regular, normal relationship! i don’t need any of that, megumi! i’m a sorcerer, I won't ever get to be normal! in fact, it’s even better that i’m with you because you at least know what this life is like, you idiot! you’re always ruining the good things in your life because you—”

he takes his fingers to grab your chin and he pulls you in for a kiss. if the kiss is a ploy to shut you up, you hate to admit that it’s working. his tongue slips into your mouth and you melt against him. your arms loop around his neck as you desperately drag him down closer to your body. his hand grip your waist while the other clings to the small of your back.

you whimper out of instinct and he pulls away, lips bruised and breathless. it’s been so long since you’ve tasted him and you frown, tiptoeing to capture his lips again. you need to savor him, to feel him lips against yours again.

“baby, wait.” his chest heaves as he looks down at you. “don’t…don’t do this to me.”

“do what?” you ask, an edge to your voice. did he just reject you? even after all that?

“w-we gotta report back to—”

“we’re supposed to leave tomorrow,” you interrupt.

the gears shift in his head. “fine, but—”

“i’m still really fucking mad, but i just need you to kiss me right now,” you whine impatiently.

all megumi does is laugh when he swoops down to press his lips against yours.

it’s december 24th when you two find yourselves in satoru’s office. steam is practically rising from your ears as you try to compose yourself in front of your former teacher.

“... i wanted a wedding invitation.” satoru shrugs.

“you set us up!” you whine angrily. “gojo, are you serious?! isn’t this a little immature?”

megumi stays silent, averting his gaze. he suddenly finds the succulents on satoru’s desk very interesting. he’s never noticed that they’re all nearly dead! how cool.

your eyes shoot daggers at megumi's silence.

"we aren't gonna get married any time soon..." megumi mutters when he feels your pointy glare on him.

satoru raises his hands in mock surrender. “you two can’t blame me! it worked out! you two are back together now, right?”

“but did you have to make us look like fools out there?” you groan.

“you should’ve figured it out on the first day that the mission was a sham!” satoru exclaims, offense taking over his features.

“but still!” you’re borderline hysterical at this point, unable to believe that your former teacher of all people had to set up an entire fake mission so that you and your ex could talk your feelings out. “we would’ve figured ourselves out sooner or later!”

megumi nods. he feels like he should at least give you a little support even if he’s embarrassed out of his mind.

“oh really?” satoru’s voice drips with sarcasm. “you guys should be thanking me—”

“you’re so not getting an invitation to our wedding!” you grumble.

“wha—hey! i’m the one that got you two back together! besides, i’m megumi’s guardian! you can’t just not invite me.”

“watch me!”

“megumi, tell her that she can’t do that—hey! where are you guys going? invite me, you rascals—why are you guys leaving? we aren’t done discussing this! megumi, don’t you dare take her side! she isn’t even your wife yet—don’t slam my door!”

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #megumi x you #fushiguro megumi x reader #jjk megumi #megumi fluff #not my best work tbh

[trashogram]

He Chose You (P. 4)

Lucifer/Reader - Lucifer picks you to be his baby mama. Rated E

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

You’re resting against the trunk of a tree at the top of a little hill.

It’s picturesque — the hill is gentle, sloping down to a field of tall yellow-green grass. You can smell it, wafting up with the pollen from golden flowers. The sky above is alive with pinks and oranges bleeding into yellows and whites. A symphony of coos, chirps and pitter-patters of tiny things skittering around have an oddly calming effect as you settle back and allow yourself to exist. 

Eyes closed, you hear the sound of something larger than a mouse rounding the tree trunk. 

“I got it!” A feminine voice breaks the calm.

You don’t have to look to feel the other person at your side. They lower themselves to the ground, knees brushing against yours when they cross their legs to sit next to you. 

You don’t have to look, but you do. 

There’s a woman with you now, with hair so long and blonde it’s almost white. Her chin, lips, nose, and eyes are delicate and soft.

She’s not wearing any clothes, and you can see faint scars and wrinkles against the uninterrupted expanse of her skin. 

“It’s so pretty, I’ve never seen one so red.” The woman is happy to see you, speaking with all the familiarity of a sister. 

She presents an apple to you, taken from behind her back like a surprise. 

It is red. Red like an oversized ruby, or a still-beating heart full of blood. All except for the missing chunk made by delicate teeth, yellow-white meat peeking through.

You accept her offering without a word. Even when it’s imperfect, you’re mesmerized by the fruit.

“I took a bite. I’m sorry.” She gazes at you, eyes flinty. “Does that bother you?”

You shake your head vehemently, holding the apple between your hands as if it’s the most precious thing in the world. “No, of course not.”  

The woman’s lips quirk up into a satisfied smile, growing bigger when you lift the apple to your mouth and bite into it. The taste is extraordinary — sweet juice bursts against your tongue when the crisp flesh gives under your teeth with barely any resistance.

You savor the first bite out of necessity but soon you’re ravenous. You can’t get enough. 

Your companion exhales gently through her nose and looks up at the colorful sky. She seems to relish in the breeze that passes by, making the leaves above you rustle and the tall grass ahead blow back quietly. 

The apple is almost gone when she looks back at you, teeth showing as she grins. “Careful there!”

She giggles, reaching out to tap the hand of your hand in warning. It’s all playful, even when you pout and draw back. 

“You’ll eat the seeds if you keep that up.” She says. “Something might take root and grow if you do.” 

Her words give you pause, but only for the length of four or five heartbeats. The core of the apple is no less refreshing and before you know it, you’re holding the stem. 

“Thank you.” You tell her earnestly. 

The stem rolls in your palm, until it appears to wiggle and your brow furrows. In the back of your mind, you think you should be more startled to see it moving on its own. But when it grows pink-gray and ringed, and you realize it’s a worm, you simply place the flat of your hand on the ground below and watch it find its way into the dirt. 

Sudden warmth against your cheek has you looking back up. The woman is inches from your face. Her eyelashes are dark and long and you could count them if you wanted. 

The woman kisses you without a word, hands coming up to cup the back of your head. Surprise does spark up your spine as her tongue darts behind your lips. It’s as if she’s drinking deeply from you before she lets go. 

“Forgive me. I wanted another taste.” She giggles again. “It’s even sweeter than I remember.” 

Your face burns. You open your mouth, ready to ask the questions burning the tip of your tongue before the thud of footsteps sound from behind you. 

She frowns, light leaving her eyes as she glances behind your shoulder. “Oh I was hoping we’d have more time.” 

Her eyes cut across to yours. “Wake up before he sees you!”

———

A wave of pure, unadulterated nausea swept over you as soon as you opened your eyes. You laid still for a long moment, trying to reign in the urge to vomit before you deemed it safe enough to observe your surroundings. 

A vague sense of confusion surfaced through the malaise when you realized that you were in your living room. There was a carmine blanket tucked around you, and with moderate difficulty you raised your head to see that, yes, a fluffy pillow was resting under your head.

Your reality conflicted with the still-present smell of tall, wet grass and a chill from the summer breeze against your skin.

With ridiculous care, you turned your head back into the pillow and muffled a whine. You couldn’t recall feeling a hangover of this caliber ever before in your life.

‘Wait.’

You weren’t hungover. Well, maybe you were but not from alcohol. 

Your neighbors had invited you to dinner, then drugged you. 

Already sick, you forced yourself to breathe deeply before shifting on the couch and pulling up the blanket. Despite confirming that your body was still clothed, you found yourself shaking. 

It didn’t make sense to you how anyone could do this regardless of their intentions. You could not fathom why two people willing to harm you in one way hadn’t done more than that. 

Your relief was short-lived, as dull and diluted as it was, when you twisted to lay back down and came face-to-face with:

A black glove, some aspirin and a glass of water sat on your coffee table.

You blinked rapidly.

There was a small business card in stark contrast to the otherwise colorless ensemble. It was thick stock, white, and flashing fancy golden script:

Lucifer Morningstar

Your stomach dropped as an unnaturally white face with glowing yellow and red eyes flashed in your mind. 

The hallucination you’d seen last night — his image faded from your mind and you were left drifting in a blank, black void. 

No thoughts. 

———

The headache and nausea were considerably lesser when you woke up again. 

Looking at the items on your coffee table — ‘glove, aspirin, water still there’ — you looked at each one and for one, strangely hopeful moment you didn’t see a card. 

Oh no, it had just fallen on the floor. 

———

Lucifer Morningstar 

It was an odd business card, with its little red, white and gold designs on the edges. Fireworks, you eventually guessed. The ‘i’ in both first and last name were punctuated with them as well. 

As you’d popped the aspirin in your mouth and downed the water, you flipped the card over. You could feel your eyebrows rising to your hairline at the hastily written message on the back:

Proof you weren’t dreaming. 

Please Call Me

1-666-666-6669

Pacing was out of the question. Your limbs were still unsteady no matter how much you willed them to function. 

You were trapped on the couch trying to accept what your brain had been screaming at you since you awoke for the fifth time. 

How much time had passed? 

                                      Heaven and Hell were real, and so were God and the Devil. 

            And the Devil had paid you a visit. 

———

The indent you’d made into your stupid, hand-me-down sofa was probably permanent now that you’d spent who knows how long just rotting there. 

Contemplating, processing, fearing. 

Fleeting memories of tantrums you’d thrown as a child paralyzed you. Moments in your life that you’d already regretted so much they kept you up some nights — randomly, provoked by nothing — piled up in your brain. Each one harshened that sinking feeling inside your body. This kind of horror was the kind a person feels right before they die. 

How long have you been judged from above for your wrongs?

Were you already doomed to Hell? Is that why Lucifer himself wanted ‘to meet’ you? Did he make it a personal habit to visit each lowly sinner and taunt them?

God was real, so did everything actually happen for a reason like so many said? 

Why did bad things happen to good people? 

Was your dog in heaven, waiting for you and you’d already disappointed her by getting a one way ticket in the opposite direction?

———

You figured out that the ringing in your ears was actually your phone’s alarm when the natural lighting in your apartment was almost gone. 

You managed to get to it on the other side of the room half-stumbling from your seat. 

“Hello?” You rasped.

“… So you finally decided to answer your phone.”

———

It took you banging on the door and shouting against its old, glossy surface before Cass Farrow cracked it open. 

A myriad of expressions crossed her painted face before she opened the door fully. When she faced you, she smiled. 

“Honey! It’s been days! We didn’t wanna bother you but we were worried! It’s good to see you up and about!” 

The way she acted, as if nothing was wrong, as if the world had turned upside down, had you balling up your fists. Your ragged nails delved into the skin so deeply you could feel the sting of blood.

“I-I need…” You couldn’t stop the copper taste of saliva filling your mouth. 

You would not throw up. “I need to speak to your boss.”

Cass blinked owlishly at that. “My what?”

‘Why? Why? Why are you shocked?’ You shouted in your mind.

“Oh honey,” The low tone did nothing to soothe you, only raise your ire. “I don’t know what —” 

“The Devil!” Your raised voice made the elderly woman jump. “Or Lucifer, or Baphomet — whatever the fuck you call him! I need to talk to him.” 

You scrambled to grab the business card you’d stashed in your pocket. 

“You had him in your apartment, so I know he’s in there somewhere.” You said while waving it in Cass’s face frantically. 

It was deja vú when Mrs. Farrow eyed the card and her face paled considerably. 

“Oh.” 

———

Lucifer wasn’t ‘home’. At least, he wasn’t in his personal Airbnb via the Farrow residence. 

However, Cass waved it away. “He’ll think it’s you or about you or something to do with you and come running.”

Trying to push yourself and demand she tell you more proved to be too difficult. All you could do is stand with your arms crossed, waiting while the (clearly practiced) worshiper combined a series of dried plants in her hands. 

Cass gathered them up and laid them carefully on a side table before fiddling with the furnace and a long lighted match.  

The fire blazed to life instantly from the little flicker it had begun as when Cass threw the plants in. It rose higher, and higher, until it had disappeared past where you could see behind the lintel. 

You had it in you to be stunned when Lucifer appeared from out of those flames. He was perfectly pristine and intact when he stepped out, hunching slightly to avoid his top hat bumping into the smoke chamber. 

The devil was as you remembered him, but also worse in that you couldn’t reassure yourself that his visage was merely a product of your fucked up, overly-imaginative little brain. 

He was so… white.

His skin was practically blinding as freshly-painted walls hit by a sunbeam. 

Lucifer stepped into the room with a flourish. “I came as soon as I coul-”

‘Fuck.’ You’d been spotted. 

And there went Cass, out of the living room to hide away in her smelly kitchen. 

“You’re here!” Lucifer cajoled, theatrics on full display as he beheld your presence. 

The top hat came off, held in his hands as he graced you with a bashful smile like he was some gentleman caller and not Not-Satan. 

“I-I didn’t expect to see you here waiting! But I’m so glad you are. Did you get my card? I thought about just leaving the glove because the card can seem so impersonal —”

“I just got fired.” You blurted out. 

The unusually flat face contorted into an anguished expression. “You… you lost your job…?”

“Because of you.” 

“B-because of me ?!” His already youthful tenor of a  voice raised some octaves. “What —”

You pointed a finger in his direction. “Yes! You !”

“You appeared out of nowhere and fucked up my entire worldview. I've had existential crisis-es… cris-ies? I don’t fucking — I’ve had life-altering spirals before but that was fucking nothing compared with this!” 

“And now I’m out of a job and I’m alone in a city I don’t fucking know with cult-worshipping neighbors because I can’t go back to where I was and you’re just standing here like you have no idea why I’m upset!” 

You hadn’t expected to get this far. You hadn’t expected to go on a tirade at all, really. Distantly you felt tears sliding down your cheeks and the frantic beat of your heart in your ribcage. 

Shame, guilt and fear began toiling deep inside you. 

Lucifer had been backed against the wall, hands raised placatingly and expression mirroring your own internal panic. It quickly turned into concern as he took in your sorry state of being. 

“Please, no.” He reached out for you and you retaliated by jolting out of reach. “Oh please don’t… I’m sorry. I'm so sorry. I never… if I’d known…”

He was reaching into his coat and pulling something out before your sight cleared. It was a handkerchief with the red moniker L.M. on one corner. 

The King held it out to you like a peace offering. Or a white flag.

The force with which you snatched it out of his hands was unnecessary but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“You said you picked me. What did you mean by that?” You mumbled into the handkerchief. 

Lucifer’s mouth screwed up into a frown, brow creasing. “We don’t have to talk about that —”

“No.” You made eye contact, watching him squirm. “We need to talk about it. Explain it. Now.”

“Ahh… ok, yes, um…” He fiddled with the bow tie at his collar. “Well, like I said before, I wanted to wait until we got to know each other because… because it’s kind of a big deal.” 

Your stern frown implored him to continue.

Lucifer winced. “It’s sort of a-a favor I wanted to ask of you. And I thought that if we talked about it over time maybe it wouldn’t sound so monumental… but actually, now…”

The fidgeting worsened, and his nimble fingers had graduated to fussing with the clasps down his front. Eventually, Lucifer yanked his jacket down to straighten it. 

“So, I’ve been around for a really, really, really, really long time.” The Devil started. “And I’ve kind of been on my own for *like* ever and that’s fine, whatever, can’t complain. Normally it’s all about warding off boredom.

“But! Lately, it’s been harder and harder to just —” He made a fist and punched down onto the palm of his other hand to elucidate. “— Just, ahh, not be bored? I guess?”

“And it’s been interfering with all the shit I gotta do. I mean I have no-oo motivation, none at all, and it’s becoming a big problem. The other Sins have actually noticed. Like Satan? You know, we talked about him when we met — yeah, he came up to me not too long ago, saying —”

Your heart stopped as Lucifer’s eyes went completely red, blazing in his skull like magma and accompanied by long horns protruding from his head. 

His voice took on an unearthly, gravelly quality as he, presumably, mimicked Satan: 

“‘We’re worried for you, man. Ozzie says you haven’t been returning his calls. Levi and Bee miss you on their outings but you always say you’re busy. Whatever’s going on, you know you can talk to us, right?’”

Lucifer was back to normal in a millisecond. “And I do know that. I do! But as much as I wanna take them up on it, I just feel like none of them will really understand what’s wrong. I don’t even understand it. Or at least I didn’t until it came to me out of nowhere, like lightning.” 

He mimed being zapped in the head.

“Visits and parties with my brothers are fun and all, but they end... And I find myself all alone more often than not.”

Lucifer sighed deeply. 

“I don’t really have anything to live for,” He stressed. “Except for myself and…” 

“That’s not much.” He snickered mirthlessly. 

You swallowed. The anger, frustration, exhaustion and still-present fear were blanketed by an uncomfortable bout of sympathy. 

Sympathy for the Devil. 

‘Oh shut the fuck up you.’

“Don’t you live for the suffering of mankind or something?” You sniffled, trying to regain your metaphorical footing in the conversation and, in turn, regenerate that anger you’d been consumed by not a minute ago. 

Lucifer looked from the ground to you, the gleam in his cherry-red eyes fighting to come back to life.

“Aha! No, no. That’s-that’s a Bible thing, right?” He groaned, pulling down the brim of his hat in exasperation. “Ugh, I still don’t know why Heaven insists on that overblown press kit! It’s so fucking old! And inaccurate!” 

Lucifer commiserated with you. “Too much involvement from human hands, too. Ya know? I mean people use it to justify some of the most insane shit I’ve ever seen!”

He cleared his throat at your blank expression. 

“Anywho-oo. What was the question again? Oh! Oh, do I live for the suffering of man — no! No, I don’t. In fact, where I’m from? Being in the middle of that suffering shtick gets old real fast. I’ve stayed away from it for a good while now and really I’ve never been better.”

The blond topped off his statement with a smile, showing those razor teeth while also trying to come across as easy-going and candid. 

A beat passed, in which you felt your lips form a thin line. 

You couldn’t stop yourself. 

You snorted. 

Lucifer looked at you as if you’d lost your head as your snorts turned into full-blown laughter. Until he, of course, wanted to fit in like he knew exactly what was going on. 

“Hahaha, yeah…” Hell’s king chuckled nervously. “I am pretty funny, aren’t I? Ha ha… ha.”

 Shaking your head ‘no’, you tried to reign in the body spasms. 

“So when you say you ‘picked me’, you mean you want me to… what? Be your therapist?” You asked. “The Devil needs a friend’s shoulder to cry on? What?” 

Lucifer fixed you with the first look of genuine annoyance you’d seen (directed at you) from him. 

“No.” He harrumphed. “I need a baby.” 

*

Tag List: @crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch, @charliecharlie65, @sockgoblin, @cocomollo, @caniseethefourthsword, @squeegeeclean, @crow-twink, @an-emovision

I'm so sorry if I missed anyone who asked to be tagged! I'm having a hard time keeping track.

#hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar

[sanjisboyfie]

choso's boyfriend meeting little brother yuji!

requested muahhh

modern au! pairing is obbbvvsss choso x male reader <333

-> i actually also don't care if you think choso is out of character ebcause this is how i perceive him and hwo i perceive him is the actual correct way because i am actually gege <333!! + very much fluffy a lot of fluff, i think this is a very cute thing ive written for the public to read

choso was sweating bullets. the collar of the shirt he was wearing suddenly felt as if it was suffocating him and choking him out. his palms were sweating profusely and the grip he had on the steering wheel was almost slipping beneath him. his usual pale complexion had turned red and it wasn’t clear if it was because he was flustered, nervous, or feeling sickly…maybe it was all three.

now, what would prompt such a reaction from a man like choso? usually calm, collected, and responsible choso. the answer was his boyfriend and little brother were finally going to meet. his baby brother yuji, who meant the absolute world to him, was going to meet the love of his life. okay, granted the two of you had only been dating for seven months, but choso was confident he was the only man for him. he lived and breathed for this man! to think someone as special as his lover is meeting his little brother, who is someone tremendously special to choso…it strikes such an anxiety in him he can’t even explain.

what if the two of you hated each other? what if yuji didn’t approve of him? the boy was still young so what if he didn’t understand why his big brother was dating another boy. god, did choso have to have a really awkward conversation with him?

choso almost pulled over to vomit his nerves out.

but thankfully, he arrived at his beloved’s house and was greeted with his handsome grinning face. the perfect nerve relief for choso. he rushed out of his driver’s side, going over to the passenger side and greeting him with a firm kiss.

instantly, the action was reciprocated and the two were standing there practically making out for a good minute. [name] finally pulled away, softly tapping choso’s cheek and grinning ear to ear, “are you excited? i can’t wait to meet lil yuji, aw, he’s just so cute in all the photos you’ve showed me,”

choso can only weakly chuckle, not wanting to kill [name]’s excitement with his nerves. instead, he just silently opens the passenger door and gently closes it once his boyfriend is secure inside. once they’re both sat down, choso’s hand instinctively reaches for his, squeezing tight as the two begin their drive back to choso’s household.

“he’s just so cute, i can’t wait to pinch his cheeks,” the man beside the brooding choso gushes, looking at photos of yuji on his phone.

“he’s not a baby,” choso weakly laughs, “he’s already five, i don’t think he’d like you pinching his cheeks like some kid,”

“he is a kid, though, an adorable one at that!” the giddy grin on his face eventually infects choso, who can only smile to himself. “what should i talk about with him…i can’t think of much a senior in high school would have in common with a kid that small,”

“just be yourself and he’ll find something to entertain himself and you with, he’s really hyper active like that,” choso advises, shrugging his shoulders to loosen up his nerves, “he really is into his comics nowadays, though,”

[name] hums in interest, scooting over in his seat to be closer to his boyfriend. without warning, he kisses choso’s cheek with a mischievous grin. the reaction is instant, choso’s face bursting red and the car jolting ever so slightly from the pleasant surprise.

“you’re so nervous, baby, everything is going to be fine,” [name] comments, playing with the raven hair at the base of choso’s neck (only making the blush on his face deepen further), “i’m sure me and yuji are going to get along splendidly! don’t think i’m not gonna try impressing him either, i want him to like me.”

“you don’t have to do that…” choso mumbles, feeling incredibly embarrassed and flustered.

“i am going to, though. i know how much he means to you, i won’t mess this up, promise!”

another peck to choso’s cheek has him somewhat relaxing as he holds tightly onto his hand.

“yuji, this is [name], say hello,” choso says, catching his brother that immediately ran to him. he carried him up so that he was resting on his hip, the small child able to see [name] at eye level.

“hi [name]!” yuji excitedly calls out, happy to see a possible friend, “i like your hair!” he confidently compliments, lips stretched in the most adorable grin. it took all of [name]’s self restraint to not pick the kid up and smother him in love and affection.

“thanks, lil man,” [name] grins, “i like yours too, it’s a cool color!”

yuji frowns, shaking his head, “i want my hair to be red, it’d be cooler!!”

“you like red, yuji?”

an adament nod was the only answer he needed. choso breathes a sigh of relief at the fluidity of the conversation, realizing that he probably had nothing to worry about. for the rest of the day, the three never separated. [name] made sure to entertain yuji, exaggerating his reactions to whatever lil yuji said, but it was still endearing and genuine.

“i’ll get us some snacks,” choso says, placing yuji from off his lap and onto the couch cushion near [name]. the older man made sure to watch carefully so yuji didn’t get too close to the edge.

yuji looked at the back of his older brother, waiting until he was out of sight before tugging on the collar of [name]’s shirt. the man was shocked at the sudden action, but before he could say anything a tiny hand covered his mouth.

“shhh!!” yuji loudly shushed, his spit ricocheted onto [name]’s cheek. the man grimaced and wiped it away and made sure to show he was silent when he did. “are you the one aniki has been talking about?” then yuji lowered his voice into a very low whisper, “his booyyfriienndd?”

[name] blinked in surprise, expecting anything but that. before he could deflect the question, knowing choso probably wanted to be the one to formally tell the news to yuji, the pink haired boy placed his hand on his mouth again.

“shhh!! not too loud!” [name] didn’t bother explaining that he didn’t even say anything, only nodded his head, “he’s always talking about a boy, is it you? or no?”

innocent yuji who knew much more than he let on, [name] almost laughed at the revelation.

“aniki thinks i don’t understnad, but since i’m a big boy i’m smart, so i do,” yuji says, a proud grin on his face as he not so subtly complimented himself.

“well, how about this-” yuji loudly shushed [name] again, making the man lower his tone, “sorry. why don’t we ask him when he gets back?”

“hmm, okay,” yuji whispers, looking side to side as if the two were conspiring a big secret plan, “i’ll do the talking,”

“yes, sir,” [name] grinned, saluting yuji, who nodded his head in satisfaction.

“aniki, is [name] your boyfriend?”

the way yuji asked the question made [name] cover his mouth to hold back his laughter, almost keeling over the couch when he saw the look on choso’s face.

“uhm…” choso’s deep voice sounded awkward and uncomfortable, not expecting his little brother to be so aware of something like that. he doubts that his boyfriend would mention it, only because he knows how much he respected his want to tell his own little brother. so to imagine yuji got the idea of what a boyfriend was on his own made choso flustered.

“it’s an easy question,” yuji sighs, looking tired of choso’s hesitance. the kid was not patient by any means and [name] could respect his bluntness.

choso goes to sit next to yuji, making the little kid sit in between the two.

“he is my boyfriend, yuji, and i like him a lot,” choso says slowly, reaching over and grabbing [name]’s hand and offering him a sweet smile. yuji seems unpleased, though, with the way he was now pouting. his chubby arms were crossed over the other.

and he looked like he was very seriously thinking about something.

“but aren’t you supposed to love him?”

now choso was resisting the urge to facepalm and hide his blushing red face. [name] blinked slowly, glancing between choso and yuji with a semi-nervous look on his face. yuji was curiously looking at his older brother, not at all reading the signs that the couple in front of him were very nervous.

“do you not love him, aniki?”

choso sputtered, immediately shouting, “i do love him! i do, yuji,” he tells his brother, then panickily looking at [name]. “i love him a lot…”

yuji clapped, squishing choso’s cheeks together with the pudgy hands and grinning ear to ear, “aniki is in love! he’s gonna get cooties!” he screeches, but there is nothing but excitement and happiness in his voice. choso’s face, that was still squished in between his younger brother’s hands, was burning deep, deep red.

finally deciding to save his boyfriend, [name] picked yuji up by his underarms and placed him on his lap. he scooted into the now empty seat next to choso and covered yuji’s eyes with his hand (almost covering the entire child’s face…).

“i love you, too,” choso flinched at the confession, turning stiff when he felt a pair of lips on top of his own.

yuji began screeching, apparently wanting to see what was behind [name]’s hand and kicking his feet in the air. [name] smiled into the kiss, making choso break out of his stupor and finally kiss back.

“i love you too, choso,” [name] whispered, pecking him on the cheek before pulling away and uncovering his hand from yuji’s face.

choso was unable to converse normally for a couple of minutes, just hiding his face in his hand while the other one was limply holding onto [name]’s under the covers of the blanket.

[name] got them all comfortable for a movie to watch, settling in the middle with yuji cuddling into his side and choso hugging his other.

as yuji began dozing off, feeling tired from doing oh-so much in the day, choso finally turned his body to [name] and sincerely spoke, “i love you so much, thank you for being the best boyfriend ever,”

[name] bit back a grin, pinching choso’s cheek, “oh shut up, i love you more, babe. can’t believe it took your little brother annoying it out of you to finally say it,” he teased, finding the new blush that spread on his face to be adorable.

“i wanted to say it ever since we started dating but didn’t want to scare you,” choso said under his breath, not loud enough for [name] to hear. the h/c haired man turned to him with a pout, tilting his head at what he didn’t hear. but choso just smiled and shook his head, caressing the base of his neck and softly squeezing, “nothing.”

shrugging it off, [name] just snuggled back onto choso’s chest as he continued rubbing up and down yuji’s back.

BONUS : TEEN YUJI INTERACTING WITH CHOSO AND [NAME]

“choso!”

“how dare you call me that?! i am your older brother!”

“cho-so!” yuji emphasized the syllable, putting his hands in the air and waving them around in an exaggerated manner.

“why are you acting like this?!” choso cried out, absolutely infuriated with his little brother’s antics.

“you said i could hang out with [name] after school — guess what, it’s after school! and now what, you suddenly have a date with him?!”

“he’s my boyfriend!?”

“okay, he’s my friend!”

”you didn’t even know him until i started dating him, don’t be a brat, yuji itadori!”

“and now i’m the brat?! what do you think [name] is gonna say when i tell him this?!”

“why are you snitching on me to him?! can’t you be a mature person for once?!”

“you’re the one that’s ignoring me and [name]’s plans! i told you like yesterday!”

“oh my god, i don’t want to hear this right now,” choso said, hans on his hips as he began walking to the front door, “hang out with him another time, yuji, seriously.”

“no way!—”

“why are you guys yelling so loud i can hear you from outside?!”

the door slammed open and choso and yuji stilled in their brawl. yuji was choking out choso from the back while the older brother was desperately trying to smack yuji’s face.

“he’s not letting me hang out with you!”

“he wants to cancel our date!”

[name] blinked, wondering what the hell he just walked into and wondering if he could just walk out and pretend as if he never saw this.

“okay, well…”

“take my side!” the two shouted in unison, making [name] flinch at the sudden yell and rub his forehead in stress.

he began wondering exactly what family did he get himself into.

#jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #x male reader #male reader #choso x male reader #choso x reader #choso imagines #male reader imagines #jjk x male reader #jjk x reader #choso male reader #jujutsu kaisen male reader #jjk male reader

[lueurjun]

“ let’s just get married ” | heeseung and jay.

the boys reaction to you suddenly professing that you would in fact, like to get married.

. . . . . . . ꒰ HEESEUNG ꒱ ,,

give him a sec

he’s rebooting

his mind went through an unplanned update

because clearly there’s something wrong with it since he swears he just heard you tell him you wanna get married

“hUh?”

you don’t seem to catch onto his confusion in the slightest

because you’re just sat cheesin

you after breaking your boyf 😃

“like… in a couple of years?”

you shake your head, still grinning as though you just won the lottery

heeseung gulps so loud you can hear it from half way across the world

it’s true. i heard it from here.

to be honest—bros petrified

not that he doesn’t want to marry you

he has visions of it

breaking news! lee heeseung is really that’s so raven confirmed!

but now it’s perhaps a little too early for him

still the look on your face had his heart shitting itself

because you look so excited

and telling you to wait would probably break your heart

which lee heeseung would never do

cos then he’d have to go through me. and i have watched kung fu panda. i know my shit.

so he wraps his arms around your waist and draws you in until your foreheads are touching.

cant see his panicked expression if he connects foreheads

and with a thudding heart, he manages to choke out a reply

“then let’s get married.”

imagine i wrote ‘then marry someone else’. oof the drama would be out of this world

now it’s your turn to be panicked

because the reality of it all comes crashing down on you like a thundering avalanche

and suddenly you’re pushing him away

“i don’t want to.”

hA NOT YOU REJECTING HIM AFTER SENDING HIM THROUGH EMOTIONAL TURMOIL

heeseung just blinks at you

because weren’t you the one who proposed this idea?

what do you mean ‘you don’t want to?’

now he’s hurt

because why don’t you want to marry him?

“is it something i said?”

he’s frowning now, resembling a puppy that just got kicked

“no! no! it was just in the moment-you know? you just looked perfect and i felt perfect with you and i got carried away. that doesn’t mean i don’t want to marry you in the future! i think we should just wait.”

heeseung breathes a sigh of relief and pulls you back into his arms

“i’m so glad you think so because i am not ready for marriage yet—but with that being said, i will stick the biggest diamond on your finger when i am.”

compensation for making you wait—heeseung is in fact a sugar daddy 💸

he holds you tighter, and your gaze shifts to his ring finger, a fleeting moment of daydreaming how handsome he'd look with a wedding ring on

your mind is suddenly alive with visions of what married life with heeseung would be like, a flurry of images quickly cascading through your imagination

and suddenly, a familiar feeling tugs in your heart

cheekily, you grin up at him

“i’ve changed my mind. i wanna get married again.”

lord help him

. . . . . . . ꒰ JAY ꒱ ,,

did somebody say something?

no really…did they? he had earphones in and heard absolutely none of what you said

me every minute of everyday

he’s bobbing his head to his music without a care in the world

thriving in — unmarried — life, unburdened by any adult responsibilities or worries

he’s truly blissful

until you yank those earphones out of his ears and peer down at him with a scornful gaze

you could’ve sworn he had paused his music when you entered the room

“hey baby.”

i have been watching a lot of drew starkey edits and his ‘hey baby’ is imprinted in my mind so it must be applied to jay. i do not make the rules.

his face is lit up with an endearing smile, his eyes full of affection as he looks lovingly at you

which makes you smile and gaze back at him with the same expression

“i said, would you marry me?”

naturally, jay assumes that you’re just thinking about the future

which is totally natural in a relationship

so he doesn’t think anything of it when he shrugs his shoulders

“i’d marry you tomorrow.”

same. i’d marry you better than him tbh

now jay loves you

his love for you is as constant and timeless as the sun's relationship with the sky

but he wasn’t being literal. marriage is a huge step and as much as he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you

he felt he was still too young

you didn’t seem to realize that it was just an expression because you started beaming

and jay, not realizing you had taken this literally and assumed you just liked the idea of marrying him in the future, beamed back at you

“great! we should look into venues—no! why don’t we fly to vegas? how does one elope? jay! we should look into eloping.”

at first, he's simply enthralled by the sound of your voice

but then the words register and suddenly he’s hyperventilating

he’s so real for that

“wha- el-eloping? like-in the future…possibly in like five years? maybe seven—”

“no? now! you said you wanted to get married tomorrow and i’ve been thinking that maybe we should? i mean, i don��t want anyone else and imagine married life jay! it would be perfect!"

married life with you would be perfect

jay would love nothing more than to wake up beside you every morning, a wedding band adorning your finger and sharing the same last name

he’d love to introduce you as his spouse, the idea of it alone gives him butterflies

but marriage is a huge commitment

“i mean it would but right now?”

hearing the panic in exchange for excitement, the bubble surrounding you pops

and suddenly, you’re no longer the embodiment of happiness

but disappointment

forget ksi and tommy fury, im gonna be in the ring with jay if he doesn’t marry the life out of you

his heart shatters at the look on your face and that alone has him reconsidering

he plans to marry you in the future, might as well keep that gorgeous smile on your face and push the date forward

“you don’t wanna marry me?”

he reaches out to you, taking your hands in his and guiding you to sit next to him. the closeness is almost overwhelming, and you can feel the warmth of his body as he pulls you onto his lap

bro i’m blushin rn!! look away. i don’t want you to see me like this

jay wastes no time showering your face with passionate kisses, eliciting an gradually forming smile from you

“no. no-i do wanna marry you, more than anything! but it’s just a little early, we can wait a few more years. time with you flies anyway so it won’t even be that long of a wait technically, we’re just… a bit too young yet.”

he’s right, and you hate admitting it

nah don’t fold bae. get that ring 💍

slumping your shoulders, you nod your head with a sigh

“i guess you’re right. i got a little too carried away. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to pressure you…”

jay shakes his head, planting a kiss on both of your cheeks, then your nose and then finally, your lips, though he lets that one linger

that alone manages to lift your mood drastically

“how about, we settle for a promise ring?”

your heart swells with emotion at the sweet sentiment and you find yourself unable to resist leaning in and gently pressing your lips to his once more

after a moment — or several — he finally pulls away and laughs

“i take it you like that idea?”

“i do”

#enhypen #lee heeseung #park jongseong #park jay #kpop #enha #enhypen reaction headcanons #enhypen reactions #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen drabble #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #lee heesung x reader #lee heeseung fluff #heeseung reactions #heeseung x reader #heeseung headcanons #heeseung imagines #park jeongseong x reader #jay fluff #jay x reader #jay park headcannons #jay scenarios #jay imagines #kpop headcanons #kpop reactions #kpop x reader #kpop fluff #kpop imagines

[seventeenytiny]

♡ Stray Kids as Dads ♡

Word Count: 637 Author's Note: As always this is just for funsies, feel free to add on your own ideas ♡

Bang Chan

He's such a girl dad and I don't think anyone will disagree with this. His daughter is the apple of his eye, the most precious thing he has ever seen. Everything he does in life is for his daughter and family. He will always do his best to take time off work to not miss big milestones and events. I can imagine him smiling ear to ear watching his child's first choir concert, even if it sounds bad he is still so proud of his baby girl.

Lee Know

I can't quite explain why I view him as a father of twins but I just do, it'll be one boy and one girl. When the two of you found out you were having twins his immediate excitement for it took away all your anxiety. If you choose to breast feed he will do everything he can to help you such as cleaning your pumps and changing diapers so you can rest. When the kids get older he will take great pride in making them healthy and yummy homecooked meals.

Changbin

Girl dad 100%, you can't convince me otherwise. He became very protective of his baby girl the second he saw the ultrasound. He does as much as he can while the baby is a newborn to help develop a bond. This includes things like skin-to-skin cuddles, diaper changes, and baths. When his daughter gets older he will always be picking out the cutest outfits for her.

Hyunjin

Honestly, I could see him as both a girl and boy dad but I think his first might be a girl. I can see him as the dad who plays dress-up with his daughter. He'd let his girl paint his nails, do his hair, and put makeup on him and he'd do the same to her. They'd also do crafts together, once his daughter develops better motor skills he will definitely teach her how to paint.

Han

Baby girl is the father of a baby girl. He loves spending one-on-one time with his daughter. He will take her to the park to play while also allowing his partner to have some quiet time to themselves. When his daughter is a little bit older he will take her on "dates" so she can learn how a man should treat her. By dates, I mean things like daddy-daughter dances where he will bring her flowers, open car doors for her, and treat her to dinner.

Felix

I have a feeling if he decides to have kids he would like to settle back down in Australia. He would love to take his son to all of the places he has fond memories of in his hometown. I'm sure he would be thrilled if his child showed interest in doing taekwondo as well. Everyone will be wondering if his son will have that same signature deep voice he has.

Seungmin

I think he would really like having a child he can play sports with and roughhouse with. Obviously, he can do that with either a girl or a boy but I think he ultimately would like a mini him to play with. He'd love playing catch with his boy and taking him out to sports games. They'd probably play outside all day, rain or sunshine, and always come back in covered in mud and ravenously hungry.

I.N

Like Seungmin, he also can't wait to have a mini him. He and his child will be so mischievous together, they will always be doing stuff like playing pranks on each other. Jeongin also has two brothers so I could see him and his bros taking his son on a classic boy's trip. He will also teach his son how to be the perfect gentleman, the two of them will always come back with flowers for mom.

#stray kids #skz #lee felix #skz imagines #skz scenarios #bang chan #lee know #stray kids smut #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines

[fettuccin-e]

It's About Power, Baby

Kinktober Day 26: Face Sitting

Tags: Marc Spector x Reader, afab!fem!reader, cunnilingus, face riding, subby!Marc because he needs to be dominated because I said so (w/c: 903)

A/N: A short lil drabble for some of my late Kinktober stuff. I am a firm believer in switch!Marc okay. He likes when a woman takes control because no one marries Layla El-Faouly without being a little bit of a sub okay, I'm right and you know it!! (For Kinktober I've been using these prompts from flightlessangelwings!)

There’s just something about it that drives Marc fucking wild.

It’s something about the way you grind onto his face, gripping hard into his hair as you chase his tongue and dig your clit into his nose.

It’s in the way you taste, warm and musky and so fucking good on his tongue. He aches to have you like this, begs you for it, even though he never really has to beg for anything.

You can't say you understand it, but you certainly can’t complain when he pulls you down to his mouth, licking into you like he wants to drown in your wetness.

The first time you did this, you’d been so nervous, hovering lightly over his face and refusing to let your weight rest on him.

“Marc, I’ll crush you,” you’d said, swaying slightly on your knees as Marc grazed his hands up your thighs.

“You won’t, baby, promise,” he’d murmured. “C’mon, just relax. I’ll make you feel so good.” He’d nipped lightly at your inner thigh, and you’d moaned softly.

“I have no doubts about that, I just don’t want to kill you with my pussy, Marc.”

“But what a way to go,” he’d breathed, almost dreamily,  and you’d wanted to smack him. But you couldn’t, you’d barely had a chance to breathe before he was using his strength to pull you down to his mouth.

And fuck, if you had known how good it would feel, you would have smothered him with your pussy without a second thought. It’s so different like this, the way you just let gravity do the work for you, spearing yourself deep on Marc’s ravenous tongue.

He moans loud when you rest your weight on him, the folds of your cunt spreading apart on his face and making a fucking mess, dripping down his cheeks, down his chin.

His nose digs into your clit so perfect, so right from this angle, and you can’t help it when your hips twitch forward, grinding into it. His thick fingers dig into your thighs hard enough that the tips of them turn white, and you’ll probably find dark bruises later from the strength of his grip.

But it doesn’t matter, not at all. Not when Marc groans into you and sends vibrations reverberating up your spine, and your hips twitch forward again, dragging your slick pussy across his face.

“Fuck, oh my God, Marc,” you whimper, and Marc only answers with a moan, his tongue working against your dripping entrance, drinking you in. A sharp grind of your hips into his face makes you cry out, your hands snapping forward to grip onto the headboard.

There’s a heady sense of control that flows through your blood, making your mind hazy and the feeling of his mouth against your cunt so much more electric.

“It’s so fucking good like this,” you whimper, your hips twitching instinctually to rub Marc’s nose back and forth against your throbbing clit. You should let him breathe, lift off of him so he can suck a substantial breath into his lungs, but you can’t fucking stop. You can hear movement behind you through the rush of blood in your ears, and glance behind you. The sight nearly makes you black out.

Marc’s hips undulate into the air, an obscene tent in his boxers as he humps into nothing. He licks into your pussy as his cock searches for friction, desperate and needy and so fucking hot you could cry.

Marc is a man who doesn’t like to show weakness, but this? This is clear as crystal, the way his eyes flutter shut as he savors the taste of you on his tongue, the way he needs you so badly he fucks into empty air as you sit on his face like a queen. Marc Spector is not a weak man, but God, he is weak to you.

The knowledge that you are the only one who knows him like this, to have this kind of power over him, makes your head spin.

“You’re so fucking hard, Marc,” you whisper, and Marc grips onto your thighs like a fucking lifeline, whining beneath you. You reach a hand down to curl your fingers back into his hair, rocking your hips into his searching tongue. “Make me cum and I’ll ride you so hard you’ll see stars, baby.” You feel him nod between your thighs, moaning softly. 

Marc tilts his head up beneath you to suck your aching clit into his mouth, and you nearly scream as he throws you over that edge, soaking his face as you tremble and clench above him. 

You practically stumble away from his face as he continues to lick at your overstimulated entrance, pulling back to sit on his stomach. You watch with wide eyes at the way his chest heaves, how he licks at his lips and tastes the cum you left behind.

He lifts his head to look at you, a blush high on his face and his mouth shiny with your slick. He looks fucking ruined and oh so gorgeous.

He sits up on his elbows, wordlessly asking for a kiss, which you gladly give him, even though his lips taste like you. 

“My turn,” you murmur, grinning against his mouth, and Marc’s chuckle quickly morphs into a moan as you squeeze his neglected cock. You smile.

He looks pretty damn good at your mercy like this.

#marc needs a woman to dominate him #do not argue with me #i am right #marc spector x reader #marc spector smut #marc spector x you #marc spector x y/n #moon knight x you #moon knight smut #moon knight x reader

[muddyorbsblr]

what makes a princess

See my full list of works here!

Summary: Morgan asks a question about Jane's royalty status that leads to her revealing one of Loki's secrets

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warning/s: potentially inaccurate depictions of how to become royalty in Asgard; other than that, none, this is just fluff [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: Morgan being an adorable lil beb; Nat doling out some tickle torture; teammates/coworkers to lovers

"Is Auntie Jane a princess?" 

You looked up from your laptop, taking a break from typing out your latest set of reports to wrap up your most recent mission with Nat to look at little Morgan Stark, who was sitting across you at the dining table. She looked the spitting image of her father as she anticipated your answer. 

"I don't…think so…?" you trailed off, trying to remember if Thor had even mentioned anything recently about plans to marry the mystical hammer wielding scientist. "Maybe one day soon, baby. When they get married."

"Who's getting married?" The velvety low timbre of Loki's voice nearly made you jump out of your seat, his fingers briefly ghosting over the skin of your shoulder not helping in the slightest. A small squeak of protest slipped from your mouth when he picked up your coffee mug. "Ease your worry, darling. I'm simply refilling your cup. Black with a teaspoon of sugar, or would you prefer something sweeter?" 

Morgan's little laugh began to echo throughout the common area. "You have confuzzled brows again, Auntie Y/N." 

The image of the raven-haired god looking up at you through his lashes from where he stood behind the kitchen island may very well haunt your dreams tonight in the best possible way. "You know what…surprise me, Mischief." The smirk he sent your way should have had you worried with what he had in mind, and yet the only thing you felt was the violent fluttering in your stomach that had nothing to do with your prolonged fasting. "As for your first question…we were talking about Thor and Jane." 

"Ah, well my oaf of a brother may think he's been keeping relatively quiet about the matter, but that day will most definitely be coming sooner rather than later," he spoke over the clinking of a metal spoon stirring around in your cup. 

"So it's like in the cartoons?" Morgan directed her question at him. "The prince has to marry the woman he loves so that she becomes a princess?" 

"Not quite, little Stark." Your brows knit together again at the sound of whipped cream coming out of a can coming from his direction. "There are no strict marital customs in Asgard, and as such if a member of the royal court were to publicly commit themself to another, then in turn that individual would become royalty as well. Thor has publicly committed himself to Doctor Foster, and despite having abdicated the throne to the Valkyrie, he is still a Prince of Asgard." 

"So Auntie Jane is a princess?" 

"Don't arm us with this info, Laufeyson. I might just call her Princess Foster for the rest of time," Nat's voice sounded through the common area, her usually lethal hands wielding a more delicate touch when she ruffled the hair on your and Morgan's heads before occupying the seat beside you. 

"By Asgardian customs, yes. You can consider Doctor Foster a princess." 

The assassin eyed Loki's approaching form with a knowing smirk on her face, tilting her head to look at the mug he placed on the table a few inches from your hand. "Hold on, are you telling us that all that's needed for someone to be considered royalty in Asgard is if a member of the royal family is in love with them? That's it?" 

"If it's as widely known as how my brother loves his mortal," he confirmed. "And while I surmise that she will not appreciate being addressed as such, you would not be incorrect in calling her Princess or Your Highness." You were acutely aware of the god's proximity to you from the slight movement in the corner of your eye of his fingers at the back of your chair. And the slight heat coming from his body literally inches from your side.

"Her Royal Highness, Princess Jane Foster," you mused, blowing lightly on the hot beverage in your mug and holding back the slightest thrill as the taste of your favorite little indulgence, a white chocolate mocha with a cold vanilla flavored whipped cream on top, flooded your tastebuds and blanketed you in an instant comfort. "She's definitely gonna hate that. Thank you, Mischief." 

Your heart caught in your throat when he tucked a hand under your chin, keeping you looking up at him as his free hand straightened out the ruffled locks of your hair, putting them neatly back into place. "My pleasure, little mortal," he murmured, swiping his thumb briefly at the corner of your mouth before walking back to the kitchen, starting on his own drink.

"You wanna fill me in on this domestic bliss vibe I'm picking up from Horns over there?" Nat whispered, leaning in so close she was practically draped on your lap trying to sneak the cup of coffee away from you to take a quick sniff. "He knows your 'treat yourself coffee'? Alright how long have you two been doing the horizontal tango, spill the hardware details, I'm texting Wanda and Jane. Toot suite. You've been holding out on us, you absolute slut--Ow." 

You rolled your eyes at her reaction to you elbowing her in the side. "Please, we both know that barely tickled. Now stand down, Romanoff, I haven't been holding back on anything and you know it--"

"That means you're a princess, too, Auntie Y/N!"

The Russian spy chuckled at Morgan's excitement, resting her chin on your shoulder like a child awaiting a bedtime story. "Uhm…no, sweetie. It doesn't work like that," you tried explaining to the little girl. "See there's more than one kind of love. There's the romantic love like you see in your princess movies, and that's the type that your Dad has for your Mom, the type Thor has for Jane. And that's what makes your Auntie Jane a princess."

"Then there's the love for family and friends," Nat continued for you, motioning between the three of you. "The way I love you, Uncle Clint, Auntie Y/N, and the rest of the team--well, most of them." She elbowed you before you could let out the teasing words dancing at the tip of your tongue. The name of the one that Nat loved in the romantic sense. "Not a single word, Williams."

"I wasn't gonna say anything," you deflected coyly, batting your eyes to feign innocence. "It's not like when you said 'most' my mind immediately went to a certain Serge--NAT!!" You busted out into giggles as nimble fingers found every single ticklish spot by your ribs and showed you no mercy. "I'll get--hahahahaha--I'll get you back for thihihihis, Romanoff, I promise you."

You made a quick note to slip some hot pink hair dye into her shampoo bottle on your next sleepover. The tickling onslaught had taken up all your attention that you didn't even notice that the dark-haired Asgardian leaning back against the kitchen counter was watching the scene before him, a fond smile slowly stretching across his face the longer he watched you.

Nat eventually let up once you started clutching your stomach from laughing too hard, continuing her explanation to little baby Morgan, who was currently the picture of angelic patience. And now looking not a thing like her father.

"Anyway, that kind of love is the kind that Thor has for us. That means that while there is love there, it doesn't make the entire team princes and princesses. You get me, baby?" 

"I get you, Auntie Nat. But you don't get me. Auntie Y/N is a princess, too." 

You took a breath before closing your laptop, promising yourself that you'd finish the reports later tonight. "Last I checked, sweetheart, Asgardian Barbie doesn't like me like that." 

She rolled her eyes at you. "I know that! But Prince Loki does, and that's why you're a princess, too!" 

The amused smile on your face immediately dropped at her words, your neck twitching from the sound of a spoon clattering against the sink and the sound of hurried footsteps walking out of the kitchen causing your skin to prickle. "Morgan…sweetie, you know it's not nice to say things that aren't true," you said softly, not bothering to mask the wavering tone of your voice. 

"But it is!" she insisted, pointing her little hand towards the door. "Princess Auntie Jane, tell her!" 

"Princess--? Oh…I'm guessing you all know about those customs in Asgard that technically make me a princess now?" You nodded your answer at her, not trusting yourself to say anything while you were still struggling to wrap your head around that bombshell that Morgan dropped on you. Wondering if it even was a bombshell to begin with or just the child's overactive imagination. "So I'm also guessing that now you all know that Y/N's a princess, too?" 

"She most definitely is not," you protested, briefly poking at her ribs to drive your point home. "Jane. Babes, this isn't funny." You motioned a pointed finger between her and Nat. "You both know how I feel about him, so baiting me with this kind of hope is just cruel and unusual punishment, especially when I know I haven't done anything wrong to either of--"

"You kind of really are, though," the scientist kept on, giving you a look as if she was amused by how this was completely new information to you. "You really didn't know that Mr 'You are all beneath me' wants you literally beneath him?" 

"Foster, I am two seconds away from kicking your ass over that line. Mostly because I didn't think of it myself." You elbowed Nat in the side again. "Harder. I could almost feel that." 

"Can you two just be serious for two seconds and tell the baby that she's wrong about Loki?" 

You were about to face Morgan again to advise her to find the god and apologize for saying something so outlandish, when Nat and Jane moved in unison, a hand placed on each of your shoulder, leaning in a way that you were now face to face with both of them.

"Okay, little baby," Jane started with a mock serious look. "You're wrong about Loki." 

"Unbelievably wrong," Nat capped off. "Fine. If you don't believe us, then let's start with how he saved you from that building in Belarus." 

"He has saved each of our asses at least once in the last few years," you argued.

"Yeah, but he doesn't heal us with his magic and then stays with us in the medical wing waiting for us to wake up. And I should know because that entire night Thor gave me a laundry list of the times that he got injured from battle and Loki would tell him, and I quote, that 'he shouldn't expend his energy on healing magic when it could have been better utilized for fortifying defenses'." 

"That's--That can't--That doesn't sound right," you muttered, trying to remember anything from Belarus other than being trapped under a collapsed column, convinced that your legs were done for and you'd never walk again, assuming that anyone would even find you in the wreckage. And then next thing you knew you were in the medical wing, with the god only briefly touching your head and telling you that he was glad you were alright before running off to call for Bruce to check on you.

"You make him smile," Morgan spoke up, her face lit up the same way it did when you sat with her on Princess Movie Nights. 

"He smiles around everyone as long as they're not your father or your Uncle Steve." 

"No, Auntie Y/N." She flopped herself onto the table, arms outstretched towards you, like she was trying to quite literally grab your attention and hold on to it. "With us, Prince Loki smiles with his face. When you're around, he smiles with his heart." 

Her words had you stunned silent, frozen in your seat as your friends let you go to walk over to the other side of the table and lift Stark's daughter up in the air to wrap her in a warm embrace and nuzzle her cheeks, earning them several little echoing giggles from her. 

"I uhm…I should go," you mumbled, standing from the table and giving your laptop a small tap. "I'll finish my reports tonight." 

"Tomorrow," Nat corrected you. "I have a feeling you're gonna be a bit busy tonight, Princess." 

Your pulse was drumming loudly in your ears with every step you took towards Loki's apartment, every single nerve on your body on high alert as if readying you to run at a moment's notice. Whether that was away from his place and back to the compound to tell everyone they were wrong, or into his arms, was yet to be seen.

When you reached his door, you could hear voices coming from the other side. One more hushed and panicked, the other jovial and boisterous. Thor.

"You should have stayed, Brother! You finally need not hide your affections for her, and might I say. 'Tis about time because your skirting around her was getting more than tiresome, Jane and I have been considering locking you two in a tiny room together so you could just tell her." 

You couldn't hear what Loki said in response other than something about 'being exposed by Stark's offspring', but that was more than enough to convince you that maybe this wouldn't end in you feeling like a total clown. That maybe there was more credit to the words of Morgan and your friends than you first believed. 

Just three seconds of bravery, that's all you need, you told yourself, raising your hand to rap on the door before you could talk yourself out of it. 

"It seems that in matters of the heart, your little mortal is braver than you, Brother," you heard the blond Asgardian comment before the door opened to reveal the towering bulging god, giving you a knowing look before shuffling out of your way. "I will gladly answer any question he leaves unanswered by the end of the week, my friend." 

"I'm holding you to that, Blondie," you waved him off with a playful smile before turning to face Loki. "Can we talk?" 

He looked at you with a hint of caution, almost as if he was on the same level of anxiety that you were, before giving you a small nod and motioning toward the door. "Come in, darling." 

The words tumbled out of you as soon as you closed the door. "They told me about Belarus." The caution in his eyes turned into panic. "But I need to hear it from you. Because I have…gaps? In my memory. Things I can't reconcile." 

He closed the distance separating you two, taking your hands in his. "Ask me." 

"The last thing I remember from that building was that I couldn't feel my legs. And I know that even with all the tech Stark has at his disposal, I shouldn't be up on my feet right now. Not like this. Rhodey is still in crutches despite all the efforts of Stark and Banner combined, and yet somehow…I'm not. So please. Tell me. Did you--" 

"I healed you," he cut you off, finishing your inquiry. "I could not bear the thought of you waking up distraught. Adjusting to a new reality where you had to rely on any form of machinery to help you function. Not when I knew that I could cure those ails." 

The air left your lungs at his admission, leaving you struggling to even form your next words. "What happened to energy better expended fortifying defenses?" 

His mouth turned up slightly in a knowing smirk. "I see my brother told Doctor Foster of our days in the battlefield." 

"And he's a touch wounded about it." You gave him a playful squint of your eyes, trying your damnedest to keep the mood light despite how closely he was standing, so close you could feel the slight heat radiating off of him, thinning the air to the point that you found it hard to take in your next breaths. "Why did you do it? You were in the clear, everyone else was in the clear, we finished the mission--"

"I didn't give a damn about the mission," he hissed, stepping even closer to you and effectively trapping you between him and the solid door behind you. His breath came out in shuddering exhales, bottom lip quivering ever so slightly as he rested his forehead against yours. "The only objective that held any weight with me was keeping you safe." His hand rested lightly on your waist, thumb softly stroking your ribcage. "I have braved far worse things than a burning building and I will face even more dire perils if it means your safety. If it means I do not have to witness your light fading away. And as for why…"

He brought his hand up to cup the side of your face, pressing a light kiss to the tip of your nose before his lips ghosted a path to your forehead. If it hadn't been for the god wrapping his arm around you and securing you against him, you would have sunk to the ground from his attentions. 

"It is because Stark's daughter speaks the truth," he whispered into your skin, pressing a kiss between your brows. "Because I love you, precious mortal. I never intended for you to know this, to be burdened with the knowledge of my affections, but seeing as I cannot unring this bell, I only wish for you to know that I hold you under no obligation to say anything. All I ask is for to not detest me for my--"

"Are you sure you don't want me to say anything?" you choked out, your heart at your throat from attempting to come to terms with this reality. That these words were actually coming from the god you'd silently pledged your heart to so long ago. That not only did he feel the same, but he was on the exact same page that you were on, believing that the love was unrequited.

"I have long ago resigned to the certainty that my affections for you are--"

"Requited," you breathed, raising shaking hands to rest on his chest, tears welling in your eyes as you felt his erratic heartbeat against your palm. "Don't you dare even try to unring this bell because I don't detest you, Mischief." You braced yourself on his shoulders, rising to the tips of your toes to press a soft, fleeting kiss to his lips. "I love you, too." 

You felt your feet leave the ground as his arm tightened around you and lifted you up, bringing your faces level to one another, his fingers weaving through your hair in a firm yet gentle hold. "Are you sure, darling? You wish to be mine?" 

"Yes!" you blurted out, your face breaking out into a grin that instantly made your cheeks ache. You could feel the tension that flooded you just moments ago slowly melting away at the sight of him mirroring your joy over the turn of events. Any words you wished to say fell silent with a small squeak at the back of your throat when he leaned in again and captured your lips in a more heated kiss, sighing into each others mouths as he lifted you away from the wall, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist. 

When Loki held you up by one arm, opening his apartment door with the other and proceeding to walk back out into the hallway, you let out a little squeak against his lips. "Where--"

"You'll see, my love," he said with a chuckle, pressing one more kiss to your lips before shifting his hold on you, swinging your whole body until he carried you bridal style. "I believe I owe someone a small debt of gratitude for telling you what I had insisted I keep to myself for fear of your abhorrence." 

He leaned down and touched his forehead to yours, lightly rubbing the tips of your noses together and making you giggle at the tender gesture. "I could never--"

"I told you he smiles with his heart!" Morgan's little voice pierced the silence of the hall. "And now you do, too, Princess Auntie Y/N!" 

A/N: For some reason this has been microwaving in my head for weeks before I even began writing it, so now y'all have it, too 👀🫡

‘everything’ taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @unlucky-number-13 @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @sarahscribbles @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @dangertoozmanykids101 @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fluff #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki laufeyson fluff #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #muddyorbs writes

[getodrools]

Your hand plowed through thick raven hair – the ends detangling at the sharp tug. Suguru kept his breath steady and gave you that level, dark-eyed gaze defensive players all over the league had learned to dread, “You just can't stay mad at me for too long huh.” His teeth are pearly white, and that lady killer grin irked the hell out of you.

“Oh shut up…” You giggle at the truth.

Tossing your head back as he nips along your collarbone, you whisper, “Y’know… you seriously didn't need to tackle Gojo so hard—you broke his nose and damn near fractured your skull!”

Getou shakes his head.

“He should keep his head in the game then. That sonavabitch’ had his nose all up in your skirt baby.” Your boyfriend grunted with that long drawl you always seem to shiver at.

Sighing, he hooks a finger around that very pitch black and purple sparkled skirt that had his team's logo shimmering on it. You nibble at your bottom lip, his touch was warm but…,

“Maybe ‘cause… I wasn't wearing any—!”, Should've known a linebacker like him was strong, “You what?!” Giggling and begging for his hands to give your hips freedom from their teasing pinches, Getou just needed to see this with his very own eyes.

You had to be teasing him.

Gojo was gazing in pure awe…

Though it was dark in the field, you could swear those hues held galaxies as they trekked down an expedition between your bodies. Shivering, his free hand flips the thin fabric over in certain desire. Free from a soft barrier, he catches sappy slick webbing lewdly between the heat of your legs.

His jaw tightens.

With the situation entirely worse now! It itched something in him fully knowing why Gojo was annoyingly closer to your squad than usual… your dirty little secret was more on his mind than Suguru coming at him full force—for something he thought else of—‘til he knocked them both breathless! Though the bones Getou got to crush ‘fairly’ during the match, it bugged at him—still and again, even now worse.

Getou’s nose curls up, you're so damn foolish sometimes! And he just can't seem to stay mad at you for too long either… you do feel warm against the pads of his hooking hands—!… All you knew was cheer! Kicking a leg up with a hoot and a holler made you smile. But damn you could still be so clueless even in that! Even wondering now if that cheap play to tackle him with a few strands of hair being pulled out after a dog pile was rubbing salt on the wound — as if Gojo knew he scored some way or the other, regardless of losing the game...

Sonavabitch’. Catching the glisten, he certainly would have to worry about that golden boy's pretty blue eyes rather than just a nosey snout now since you're cursed with the brain of a thoughtless puppy…

<– BACK: PINNED ౨ৎ NEXT: MORE GETOU –>

#bimbo reader in mind tbh 😞 #🌐 𝐿𝒜𝒱𝐼𝐼 𝒲𝑅𝐼𝒯𝐸𝒮! #ᝰ suguru geto! #yandere geto #jjk smut #geto smut #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk geto #jjk gojo #gojo smut #suguru geto #geto x reader #geto suguru #yandere #jjk yandere

[sarawritestories]

Love Story (All To Well Chapter 1 Part 1)

Cassian X OC (Rhys' Sister), Eris VanserraX OC Rhys' Sister (Eventually)

Summary: Under the Mountain, Estella, have flash backs to her 50 years in captivity, and losing hope she will ever see her lover. That is until a human girl shows up and give her and her brother Rhysand something they lost decades ago...Hope and in a matter of mere months she is reunited with the love of her life. The General of the Night Court Armies.

Content Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+, dub con, whipping, poisoning, murder (I think this covers it if I missed something please let me know). Longing for loved ones, while in captivity.

A/N: This was going to be extremely long if I didn't break this up in two parts and I really wanted to get something out to you since I had been teasing this so much!

Word Count: 4.1K

All Too Well Masterlist ACOTAR MasterList

Romeo Save Me

“Hello Beautiful,” Amarantha cooed, circling around Rhysand's baby sister, Estella. The raven haired female held her chin high. “Rhysand, you didn't tell me you had a sister.” Estella's eyes glanced over to her brother. If he was panicked he didn't show it.  Amarantha tsked, “Naughty boy, no matter she'll make a fine addition to the court.” Amarantha purred as her eyes grazed the black gown the Princess of the Night Court wore. The silver chains connected the two pieces of fabric at her hips revealing her toned, tanned legs, the neckline dipping to expose her stomach. A tiara of black and purple gems placed upon her head. An outfit she wore in the Court of Nightmares.

Did you know about this? Estella questioned her brother in the part of his mind he kept open for her.

If I did do you think I would have brought you here. Cassian begged me not to. I should have listened.

Amarantha snapped her fingers and the young princess felt hands grip her arms tightly, as fear flooded her system as the dreaded footfalls of the attor came into her line of sight.

Rhys…

I'm here, Little Star.

Estella glanced at the Attor's talon like hand. Faebane. Estella pressed her lips in a tight line, Rhys I'm scared.

She glanced over at his face and found no emotion there, the tick of his jaw the only indication that he was worried. Stay calm. I'm here, Stella. Just breathe.

Before Estella could take in a breath the Attor pinched her nose and instantly she began to struggle in the guards arms. The Attor's smile was sinister and would be the center of the young heir’s nightmare's to come. “Come now, Princess, open for me.

Estella, refused to open her mouth, her piercing blue eyes met the Attor's in pure defiance. Breaking eye contact she looked back to her brother to find Amarantha had wrapped her arms around Rhys pressing his back to her front as if it were a lover's embrace. “Come dear, don't be stubborn, or I may have to punish my new treat here.” She dragged a manicured finger down her brother's exposed chest and Estella maintained eye contact with the self proclaimed High Queen, as she nibbled his ear. To Rhysand's credit he didn't react to her advances he just stared at his Little Star.

Estella's lungs began to burn and her vision began to blacken around the edges and she opened her mouth to take her breath. Wasting no time the Attor poured the liquid down her throat, still pinching her nose as she had no choice but to swallow.

“Wonderful, guards take her away.” Estella watched as she planted a kiss on his cheek another tick in his jaw as they began to haul her away. “Don't worry Rhysand, We'll make sure she is comfortable and well taken care of.”

Before she let the panic settle in her bones she reached out to Rhysand once more; Rhys we need to put up the wards. Keep Velaris safe. Keep him safe. We have to do it before the faebane takes effect.

On my count Rhys voice echoed through there she could feel the beginning of the Faebane taking effect.

1…2…3…

Estella threw out her power to siphon the wards, draining to the dregs and she could hear the pounding of her shields. A familiar presence in the back of her mind.

Cassian she spoke in his mind.

Stella sweetheart, what's going on? His voice sounded distant in her mind as the poison was taking hold and she was being hoisted away.

It'll be okay. I'll be okay. Watch over Velaris for me won't you, General?”  The young heir could feel her power suppressing itself. As if her power was trying to combat the drug coursing through her veins.

No I'm coming to get you his voice roared through Estella's mind though it sounded as though he was talking to her underwater. She fought back tears that were stinging in her eyes.

I love you, Cassie. Then she felt the connection being severed and she allowed herself a few tears escape her eyes as she was ripped away from her home, her family, her lover.

We Were Both Young When I First Saw You

“I don’t want to train.” Estella whined dragging her feet as Rhys held a firm grip on her hand as they approached the camp.

Frustration bubbling over Rhys turned around and gently cupped her cheeks. “My Little Star, I love you, I promised Father, Mother, and Astrea that I would protect you.” Estella fought her flinch at the mentioned, of their dead family members. Rhys tenderly brushed a strand of hair that fell loos from her plait and tucked it behind her pointed ear. “I almost lost you once. I won't let it happen again. Could you please try training with my friends? If you don't like it, then I'll leave it alone. I just need you to try.”

Estella quirked a brow as she stared into his pleading violet eyes. With a roll of her eyes and dramatic sigh she replied, “Promise?”

Rhys smiled and kissed her forehead, “Promise.”

With a slight tilt of her head, Rhys led her to the two Illyrian warriors that were standing at the center of the fighting ring. The young heir had yet to meet her brother's friends but had heard stories about his “brothers.” The two were giants compared to her, both warriors wore seven siphons a piece. The shorthaired one with blue siphons, Estella had seen in passing in Velaris before her brother became High Lord, his shadows were hard to ignore. She had never uttered a word to the Shadowsinger but heard his name whispered by the maids in their home: Azriel.

The warrior with the red siphons had his hair up in a bun, his wings rustled as the wind kissed them. His hazel eyes met her pale blue eyes and gave her a toothy grin that caused her heart to quicken. “Finally nice to formally meet the Princess of Velaris.” His deep voice seeped into her bones and warmth pooled in her belly.

Estella then scrunched her nose, “Don't call me that.”

The long-haired Illyrian smirked stalking forward, causing Estella to crane her neck to hold his pointed gaze. “What would you have me call you, Sweetheart.” Heat warmed her cheeks at the pet name.

“I'll call you a dead male, if you keep staring at my sister like that, you prick.” Azriel snorted at Rhys' response. “Stella, the shameless flirt in front of you is Cassian. The stoic one fighting his laughter is Azriel. I'm sure you've seen him around. Gentlemen, this is Stella.”

Cassian's leather clad hand picked up Estella’s and brought her knuckles to his lips, “A pleasure, Sweetheart, if you're ever tired of big brother Rhysie, come find me and we can play.” Rhys growled, as Cassian gave the young female a wink. She gave him a smile in return, then averted her gaze to focus on anything else.

Maybe training wouldn't be so bad after all.

I Got Tired of Waiting

A hand grazed Estella's waist. Sipping from her goblet staring at the High Queen, wearing the Night Court tiara that she ripped from the Princess' head when they first arrived 49 years ago. A male from the summer court pulled her close and whispered in her ear, “Warm my bed tonight, Angelfish.” His breath was sour, and Estella took a sharp breath as his hand gripped her barely covered ass.

She turned into his touch, breaking her gaze from the queen who was kissing her brother's neck. Placing her hand on the male's bare tanned chest, “It would be my honor.” She gave her best seductive grin as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. Bile rose in her throat, a feeling she had grown accustomed to since being there.

The male gripped her ass tighter, “I will retrieve you from your cell when I'm ready for you.” He whispered on her lips as if he was her lover. Another wave of nausea burned her esophagus as he pressed his lips to hers once more. A warm memory of kind Hazel eyes, calloused hands with red siphons atop them, and soft plush lips caressing hers bubbled to the surface. Estella forced the memory back down as the male swatted her bare flesh and walked away.

“Stella dear,” Amarantha's drawl felt like a snake slithering up Estella's spine. The young female met the Queen's gaze, her brother by her side his face a mask of cool indifference. “Come here.” Gritting her teeth the heir of the Night Court approached the dais her chin jutted out, the tiara on her head gleaming with the colors of her court. Trying to keep a semblance of dignity, though Amarantha's insistence that the top that only covered her breast and the gossamer skirt that barely covered her ass made her feel less than.

With the snap of the queen's fingers a male approached with a female their hands linked. Estella bowed, aware that her skirt was revealing more than she wished to the fae behind her. “Yes, your majesty.”

“Rise, dear, I have a gift for you.” Estella rose and the couple with their hands linked together smiled in her direction.

Breathe, Little Star Rhys' voice filler her head, Inhale she breathed in, Exhale she released the breath.

“This couple,” Amarantha's voice bellowed out, “Wishes for someone to join them in their bed this evening. You will go and they will do as they please with you.”

Shock flooded her system, so that was what her role was to be concubine…Cassian's face came to the surface and guilt laced her whole body. He will understand, Stella. We are not in a position to fight this.

Bullshit. The princess shook her head, “I will not, your majesty.” She held her head high. I cannot betray him like this, I will not. I'm sorry, Rhys.

Estella! Rhys scolded

Amarantha sneered, “I don't recall it being a request.”

Estella straightened her spine, “I don't care,” she retorted defiantly. “I will not lay down in someone's bed for their amusement.”

Amarantha rose from her throne her dark crimson skirts draping to the floor similar to blood dripping down a body. The Queen approached and Estella refused to cower. Amarantha approached her mouth upturned into a saccharine grin that appeared the most sinister. “Are you defying my direct orders, Princess?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Very Well, Rhysand, bring me the Ash whip.” Color drained from Estella’s face. Her brother approached whip in hand and his mouth formed into a tight line. “Thank you, now you will give her 10 lashes for her disobedience.” The siblings heads whipped to the evil witch next to them. “Is that going to be a problem, Rhysand. I figured she would learn her lesson best if it was given to her by someone she cares for. Wouldn't you agree?”

Estella then met Rhysand's eyes, “I do, Your Majesty.” Turn around and close your eyes, Little Star. She did as Rhys told her and the crack of the whip wrung out in the entire hall. With each sting of whip against her skin, and whimper that slipped from her mouth, Rhys’ voice rang in her mind.

I'm Sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm so fucking sorry.

By the end Amarantha had ripped the crown from atop of her head, and the couple had carried her to their room and in spite of her bleeding back, had taken her, over and over again, until she passed out from the pain, where hazel eyes and dark long hair greeted her.

Romeo Take Me Somewhere We Can Be Alone

Estella sat up as the male swiped lazy circles around her stomach, “Would you like some tea?” She asked placing her hand on top of his stalling the movements.

The male hummed his eyes glazed from his orgasm. “That would be wonderful, Angelfish.” He gave a lazy smile that the young female returned and rose to gather her clothes and began preparing him a cup of tea. “Amarantha is generous to share you.” He praddled on as Estella placed the kettle over the flame, grabbing her tea mixture she made a few weeks prior. “I know she has her own whore that warms her bed.” Estella clenched her teeth as he kept talking, “Only to give the court his sister. Truly a gift.”

Estella closed her eyes as she schooled her voice in a calm manor, “I am happy to serve  my queen and my court in whatever way is needed.” The words fell to ash on her tongue and tears burned her eyes as the kettle sung to life.  Grabbing the kettle she brought it over to the cup with the tea mixture in it. Pouring the hot water and letting the tea steep for 2 minutes, Estella brought the tea to the male, “Here you go, Darling,” She purred. She slipped into his mind easily his mental shield down, Drink all of it for me. The male did as he was told and she cooed in his ear, “Good boy.” She ran her fingers through his light brown curls as his eyes began to droop.

A half hour went by, and Estella leaned over the male’s face, and found that his breathing had ceased and she could no longer hear his heartbeat. She patted his cheek, “This has been fun, Angelfish.” She got dressed and snuck out of his room and ran right into a finely dressed chest. She looked up and inwardly groaned, “Eris.” Estella tried to step around the Heir of the Autumn court when he stepped in front of her.

He smirked his russet eyes that glimmered with mischief, “Hello, Estella. Tell me how my Little Viper is, today?”

She glared at him, “I thought I told you not to call me that, Princeling.”

Eris grinned, “Well I can’t help myself. Tell me who was your victim today.”

Estella sighed, “No one of importance.”

Eris eyes darkened his fist clenched for a moment, “I highly doubt that.”  

The princess of Night lowered her head slightly, “If I’m not back in my cell, I could be subject to a lashing so if you don’t mind, your highness.”

Eris slid out of her way, “Have a good night, My little Viper.” Estella shivered but moved past the red-haired Prince, without another word. winding the halls to her cell. Not noticing the Autumn prince sneaking into the room she came out of.

She arrived in her cell, and she found Rhysand standing in the middle of it. “Hey, you.” she said as she stepped onto the threshold of her prison.

“Hey, Little Star. How are you faring?” Rhys looked her up and down, assessing for injuries.

“Fine as always brother,” She got jittery and despite needing to put on appearances she hugged him. He wrapped her arms around her tightly. “I’m exhausted Rhys.” She whispered into his chest.

He pressed his hand to the back of her head and rocked her, “I know. I’m so sorry. Not a day goes by where I don’t regret trying to get you home. Or never bringing you to the Hewn City that day.” He whispered into her hair.

I miss them, Rhys. I miss him.

I know you do. I miss them too. “Tomorrow is Calanmai. Amarantha has granted me to leave.” Estella pulled away from her brother to stare at him and he read her face and shook his head speaking into her own, I can’t risk you being hurt because I attempted to escape. I won’t do it. It’s bad enough I have had to hurt you.

I don’t blame you; you know. She whispered in her mind.

I do…She makes me fuck her with your crown on...

Estella stilled at the brashness of his words, “Rhys...”

He hushed her as he kept her in his arms, “It’s okay.”

Will you stay with me tonight?

I’m not sure that’s a good idea.

Rhysie, please. Estella smiled slightly as he sighed.

I can’t deny you anything. Brat.

Rhys led her to the pile of hay in the corner of the cell and laid her down. The princess pressed her cheek against his heartbeat and Rhys began to rub her back. The two siblings sat in silence for a few moments. “Can you play the music for me, Rhys?”

Rhys smiled and kissed her forehead, “Sure thing. Close your eyes.”

Estella closed her eyes, “I love you.”  Music began to play inside her mind, the musicians at the rainbow began to build their symphony and tears welled in her eyes.

Rhys’ voice was strained as he responded, “I love you too. Sleep. I will be here in the morning.”

Estella was beginning to be pulled into slumber when she mumbled, “No one likes a liar, Rhys.” And she fell unconscious to the sounds of her brother chuckling.

Beggin You Please Don’t Go

“You are not leaving this bed!” Cassian pulled her waist dragging her back closer to him the warmth of his bare tattooed chest seeping into her bones. “I don’t need to leave for Windhaven until tomorrow. It’s cruel that Rhys would prevent you from spending the rest of today with me.” He kissed her cheek hips moving down the slope of her neck. “I want to be with my girl.”

Estella giggled as he nibbled her neck, his hands clinging to her waist tightly as if the General of the Night Court Armies were afraid, she would slip from his fingers. “Cass, I need to make an appearance in Hewn City. Apparently, Rhys has been getting shit for it from Keir.”

Cassian turned her to face him. He caressed her cheek gently, “I could care less about Keir. I hate it when you’re there when I can’t be.”

“Because you’re an overprotective bat?” Estella quirked a brow and smirked that the general pushing a strand of hair behind his ear.

He chuckled and kissed her nose, “No, you brat. I just don’t want to be separated from you. Especially when you’re in a place with cruel males that look at you like you’re their next meal.”

She looked laughed, “So an overprotective bat.”

Cassian’s grin was laced with mischief, “Overprotective bat?” He began to tickle the young raven-haired female. Her laughs filled their shared space, “I’ll show you an overprotective bat.” He pinned her back to the mattress and continued her assault on her waist, his fingers tickling her to the point of tears sliding down her eyes. He began pepper kisses over her face picking up her tears.

“Cassian, I yield.” Estella panted and she tapped her hand on his forearm. He stopped and leaned down pressing his forehead to hers. “I yield.” She whispered.

“I can’t help being protective you know.” He whispered in return. There was a long-delayed pause, his eyes growing distant.

Estella growled, “Had I known you wanted Rhys’ attention so bad I would have shifted into him.” Cassian shook his head and flicked her nose and she smiled, “What did he say?”

Cassian sighed as he pressed his lips to hers, “That I can beat the shit out of him when you both come home.”

Estella’s brow furrowed, “I never wanted you two to be at odds, Cass.”

Cassian smiled and interlaced his large hand over hers, “Sweetheart, we have been friends for centuries, he’s stuck with me.” He kissed her nose once more, “Just like you are.” He grinned and she found herself smiling too. “I love that smile of yours.”

She tilted her head, “What else do you love about me?”

Cassian kissed her forehead, “I love your eyes,” He kissed her cheek and Estella closed her eyes. “Your lips.” He pressed his lips to hers. “Your kindness,” He pecked her jaw line, “Your compassion.” His lips moved to her neck, “Your bravery,” moved to the collarbone. “You, Sweetheart. I love you.”

The princess opened her eyes, “I love you too, Cassian.”

And I love you two, as well, but Cassian please get off my sister we must leave soon. Rhys’s voice filled our minds and the two of us laughed as Cassian placed another kiss to her lips.

“I’ll be home before you’re able to miss me, General.” Estella whispered.

Cassian sighed and placed his head in the crook of her neck. “I always miss you, Stella.”

You Were Everything to Me

The human girl was hanging against the wall, her fear flooding her scent. This was the human girl that Rhys had found in Tamlin’s court. Estella had a hard time breathing. As the Attor unleashed another attack on the girl. Rhysand was standing by Amarantha, his face emotionless, and Estella wanted to scream to lash out, to save this girl from the torment. She wrapped her arms around herself, as the screams of the human girl rang out.

Estella released a whimper when a smooth warm hand gripped the female’s hip. The scent of Autumn leaves and cinnamon overtook her senses. His thumb rubbed a circle around her bare hip. “Come to my chambers tonight, Little Viper.” Eris breath grazed her pointed ear.

Estella gritted her teeth, fighting away the tears as the sound of the broken screams rang in her ears while the Attor continued his torment, “Why? Why do you insist on tormenting me, Eris? Mor wasn’t enough for you?”

Eris’ hand stilled, his nose grazed her skin, and her heart raced. “What do you know about that day, really, My Little Viper?” He held her close to him, “I expect you in my chambers when this is done, Estella. I mean, immediately after, no getting those cute little concoctions from your cell first. Or I may let our High Queen know about what you like to do to the males who request your services.” He gripped her hip tighter than her and smirked as a spark of arousal flooded her.  The feeling singed away when he removed his hand, and Estella reluctantly missed the comfort of his touch, as the human girl gave out a gurgled scream, causing the young female’s blood to run cold.

Hours of torment and Estella knew that those screams would haunt her forever. Her bare feet padded through the halls as an Autumn court sentinel led her to the Heir of Autumn’s chambers. When they reached the door Estella bowed her head, “Thank you.” She whispered and knocked on the door.

“Enter,” Eris’s voice muffled. The raven-haired beauty stepped inside, the red gown with a blunging neckline swished at her feet. “Hello, Viper.”

“Prick.” She retorted; her sharp blue eyes met his copper liked ones. “Let’s get this over with.” She began to pull the straps of her gown down when Eris raised his hand.

“I have no interest in sleeping with you Viper.” Eris rose from his chair; his orange vest lay over top his white tunic hugging his frame. His tanned pants tucked into his brown boots that looked as though they were recently shined. His red hair pulled halfway, and Estella couldn’t deny that he was the most beautiful man she had ever encountered, but he was a wild card and lethal and made Estella’s heartbeat erratically when he closed the distance between them. “I would like to keep my life intact thank you.”

Estella swallowed and her voice low, “Then what do you want with me, Princeling?”

Eris didn’t answer, instead his hands gripped hers and he pulled her into an embrace. The female blinked as Eris gripped her tightly. The kind gesture so foreign to her from anyone other than her brother in 50 years and the emotions erupted in her. She gripped the back of his vest and buried her face in his chest and erupted into sobs. Estella had no idea why he was doing this, or how he knew she needed this, but for this moment she allowed herself the comfort of letting out a half a century worth of feelings into his chest. As Eris rested his head atop hers, hand stroking her dark hair. His other hand rubbing her back almost soothingly.

After a few moments Eris picked her upholding her knees and her back and walked her over to the bed and he leaned against the headboard as the Princess of the Night Court sobbed into the chest of the Prince of the Autumn Court. The latter whispered soothing words in her ear and warmed his hands as an extra comfort for the Princess until exhaustion took over and the viper fell asleep in the arms of the fox.

Part 2

Story Tags: @milswrites @eve175 @melsunshine @believinghurts @awkardnerd @historygeekqueen @mischiefmanagers @mybestfriendmademe @cauldronboilmetakemetovelaris @glitterypirateduck @littlestw01f @mal-adaptive-dreams @lilah-asteria @hellodarling1357

#cassian x reader #cassian acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #cassian imagine #cassian fanfic #cassian x oc #rhysand sister #eris vanserra #eris acosf #eris x oc #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris vanserra acotar #Spotify

[imawholeassmood]

What's in a Name

"Oh rao, I can't believe it." Kara works to contain her excitement as she nears the tiny shadowy figure stalking her in the unkempt grass outside her apartment. "This is really happening," she squeaks, "the cat distribution system has finally picked me."

The little void peers up at her with mischievous green eyes, it's backside wriggling with anticipation. Kara crouches and waits for the impending attack.

It comes with a burst of energy that burns hot and fast, then fizzles just as quickly as the black cat halts it's attack and stares at Kara with all the regret and panic of a teenage girl who just told her best friend she's in love with her. Not wanting to scare the cat, Kara hesitates, but the thought of this little cutie spending another minute on the streets compels her to scoop it into her arms and promptly rub her nose into its face.

"Right," she says and holds the cat at arms length, a quizzical gaze on its face. "Bath first."

***

Kara takes care to get the water temperature just right. Scratchy does not appreciate the effort. Claws scrape against her skin as Shadow fights against her, desperate to escape the soapy water. Kara hadn't actually found any fleas on Toothless during her physical exam to evaluate the cat's condition, and for that, she was grateful. She couldn't stand the idea of this baby being in any worse condition. A little prick digs into her finger and she mumbles, "ok, not Toothless."

She rinses the last of the suds and begins to wipe Bones with a towel. While the fight may have ended, Kara can't help but think it's a temporary reprieve, if the look on Merlin's face tells her anything. Those green eyes bite through her, clearly plotting revenge. Kara thinks it might be a good night for an all night movie marathon.

She wraps a dry towel around the still scowling cat and a tiny paw pokes out of the opening near its head, trapped like it got stuck mid escape. A disappointed huff let's out from the wet nose and Kara giggles at the adorableness.

"Here," she says," let me help you with that." She works to tuck the paw in the towel but not before dropping a kiss on the pink toe beans. "Beans," she tests the name. The cat throws a scowl at her. "Well if you have a name you prefer, feel free to share it."

The cat meows at her, and it draws a laugh from Kara whose whole body relaxes and swells with love. She drops a kiss on the furry forehead.

"I'll work on my pronunciation."

***

With Noodle cleaned and dried and now hiding under Kara's bed, licking herself to perfection, Kara works on preparing what amounts to a small buffet for each of them. She sets the takeout boxes on the table for herself and a plate of various wet and dry cat foods on the floor for Zephyr.

"Dinner's ready," she calls out, then wonders if she should take the plate to the bedroom instead. Building trust with cats sent by the universe can take time, and Kara's mind spirals with thoughts of what horrors Anubis might have endured while living on the streets. She's halfway to planning Calypso's catio to ease the transition from rugged outdoor cat to spoiled house cat when she spots the dark figure lurking along the wall. Kara freezes.

She debates her best course of action - does she offer her hand with a pspsps or do nothing? They stare at each other. After a moment where nothing happens, Kara averts her eyes, sending her gaze to the ceiling where she spots a spider in the corner. Great she thinks, let's hope Raven doesn't have an appetite for arachnids.

Kara's pulled from her thoughts by crunching near her feet. She sneaks a peak and sees Shuri ferociously air chomping a mouthful of dry food. A face-splitting grin splashes across her face.

After watching Potsticker test each of the offerings, finishing all but two samples, Kara once again attempts to build rapport.

"You don't have any allergies do you?"

Xena cocks her head and looks at her. Kara swears if this cat were human, there'd be a quirked brow to go along with that look.

"You're very expressive," she muses. "I wonder what you're thinking."

Unice meows at her, and Kara wishes she spoke cat.

***

She's struggling to stay focused on the movie with Ripley hiding away somewhere in her apartment. Kara hasn't seen the cat for hours and worries the progress she thought she made at dinner might have just been her hopeful imagination.

By the time breakfast rolls around, Kara's convinced Peony is plotting to kill her. Neither of them slept. Kara kept an eye out with her x-ray vision and noticed Nala spent the entire night exploring, poking and prodding with her pink-toed mitts at every window, door, latch, hatch, or moving part that might lead to a way out of the apartment. Every few hours, Jynx would check on Kara, looking almost annoyed to find her awake and looking back.

Kahlua's nowhere to be found when Kara's ready to head out to CatCo. She unlocks the door and calls out, "I'll be back soon, Calliope."

A flash of black streaks across the room and knocks into Kara's legs as soon as the door cracks open. Kara catches herself and stumbles into the hallway. Mittens is running around the hall, knocking into door after door. At the end of the hall, she stops in front of the elevator, looks it up and down, then turns back to Kara.

Little Yoda's ribs vibrate with heavy puffs and her eyes are wide. Kara approaches her slowly.

"It's ok, Izzy," she purrs. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Green eyes dart around. As if realizing there's nowhere to go, the fight leaves her.

"I know you're scared," Kara says, "this is a new place and we're still getting to know each other. But, if you'll give me a chance," she swallows, "I promise you will never again know a day without love."

The look on Dotty's face softens and it melts Kara's heart. The cat looks back at the elevator one more time before walking towards Kara. Grace, with all her regal elegance, brushes against Kara's ankle. It's the greatest moment of Kara's life.

***

"What is that?" Alex asks when Kara arrives at the DEO.

"This," Kara says, straightening herself and hooking her thumbs behind the shoulder straps at her chest, "is Griffin." The name is met with an immediate meow of objection. Kara looks down at the cat strapped to her chest then looks back up to Alex. "We're still deciding on a name."

***

It goes like that for a week with Kara toting the cat around with her. Bumblebee tries to run away at least once a day and continues to deny Kara's ideas for names. The day Dino curls up with Kara while an episode of Golden Girls plays on television is the day Kara thinks her heart might explode out of her chest.

With Athena's head buried in the crook of her neck, Kara strokes gently along her side.

"I love you, Tess," she breathes into black fur. A soft thrum purrs against her.

***

Kara enters the DEO panicked and sick with fear.

"She's gone, Alex," she manages to say through garbled, teary heaves. "I have to find her."

"Who?" Alex says and squeezes Kara's arms both to steady her and calm her.

"Ma'am's," Vasquez interrupts, "you might want to see this." She holds out a remote and turns on a television.

A news report shows an aerial view of a glass skyscraper with a large "L" emblazoned on the face. The ticker reads "Missing CEO found safe."

Before Alex or Kara can ask, a commotion stirs near the door. Agents scurry and someone yells, "you can't go in there."

Alex straightens herself to face the approaching party and sets a hand on her hip holster.

Kara wipes tears from her soaked cheeks.

A woman with alabaster skin, jet black hair, and deep red lips marches straight towards her. The tailored black suit commands the attention of every pair of eyes. Pale pink heels clack against the linoleum. Kara swallows the lump in her throat.

The woman stops inches before Kara, uncaring of the weapons pointed at her. Green eyes bore into Kara.

At long last, red lips curl into a smirk and a strong eyebrow quirks. She moves her head next to Kara's, so close Kara can feel the warmth of her breath against her ear when she purrs the words, "my name is Lena."

#supercorp #supercorp fic #supergirl #kara danvers and lena luthor #kara x lena

[glitchtricks94]

TWST Guys Bringing You Home!: Heartslabyul Edition

Welcome to part one, I'm planning on writing all the dorms + Idia. Ortho will just be included with him, personally, since Ortho is too adorable to ever defile in any manner outside of being a cute little brother. Headcannons, headcannons, headcannons! Let's start this off with some cottoncandy fluff, shall we? Not gonna lie, I felt like a mom gushing about all her chaos children over tea writing this. I hope you enjoy these headcannons, and let me know your thoughts. I love interaction and would love to hold a conversation with you guys. Anyways, sit back, relax and have fun. -Glitchtricks Word count: 4k

Ace Trappola

Oh, this is such a delight to see. Little Ace is in love! Ace is super awkward and very defensive, and yet somehow little ol' you broke down all those walls of arrogance and faux confidence, such a special darling you are. So, how would he be if he decided to bring you home to meet his family?

Two words: Nervous. Wreck. Ace is a disaster before bringing you home to meet his brother and father; he's sweating, internally screaming, his anxiety is spiked, and you have to handle everything with your usual grace. Ace has some bad anxiety, which he confided that he coped with it by being all snarky with everyone, i.e. being a dick way too often. You didn't mind though, but you did gently encourage him to come to you if he felt too overwhelmed by everything, just in case he needed to vent. How sweet! There was a lot of texting back and forth, nights cuddling on your near dinosaur era furnishings of Ramshackle, and plenty of kisses on his temples, Ace had calmed down enough to not feel like an anchor was being dropped on his chest at the thought of bringing you home. He was ready to announce you as his to his family!

Oh dear, sweet Seven, he couldn't have predicted any of what happened... First, his brother decided to do the worst thing ever and brought up Ace's old view on dating and how his first girlfriend got ghosted. Ace wanted to die then and there, even being collared by Riddle was more tolerable than this hell... "Hey, (Y/N), you know my baby bro here had a gal before you, right?" "Oh? He did?" You said, your pretty eyes widening. "He's never mentioned her before..." "Dude, please, don't...!" Ace quietly pleaded, humiliation seeping in like a cold rain. "Yeah, he went out a few times with this one girl in middle school. She'd always go to amusement parks with him and stuff, topping it off with a Ferris wheel, but he ghosted her." Ace's brother continued, sipping on his tea. "And why's that?" You prodded, sipping your own tea as you shot a small glare at your boyfriend. You shared stories of your exes, but why didn't he? Did he not trust you? You didn't know whether you should feel hurt, or pissed. You chose to feel pissed. "Got bored, 'cording to him, she was just bland beyond her coffee tastes and liked a lot of stuff that just didn't click with him. She was pretty, but had as much depth as a piece of paper." The elder Trappola explained. "Her friends called him out for his shit, and he swore off dating, too much of a hassle in his opinion, so I'm surprised he decided to go out with you, much less bring you home." "I see." You hummed. Ace knew he was in the dog house and was now preparing to ask Sam if he sold flowers and romance stuff to try and make it up to you when you both got back to Night Raven.

Well, at least pop likes you! Can't wait to have you as an in-law! During dinner, Ace's dad smiled and chatted all about his boys, saying how proud he was of Ace for bringing home such a sweetheart like you! You ended up forgetting the upsetting conversation from earlier given how jovial Mr. Trappola was, he was like that one cool uncle that was trusted with looking after the baby, or that one cool barbeque dad your friends might have. Card tricks were shared, food was eaten and conversation was exchanged, if at a little of your boyfriend's expense. Funny stories were shared, like that one time he accidentally hit his brother in the groin with a bat as a kid when he came home for the holidays, or that time Ace got pranked by his dad with a classic; pouring soap on his head while he was rinsing out his own lather. "My hair was never as silky as it was after that." Ace laughed, starting to loosen up as he threw his arm around your shoulder. You leaned over and pecked his cheek, making both your faces bloom red as you both grinned happily. Overall, you're basically already known as the best in-law ever even before Ace put a ring on it. He's already planning how to ask a few years down the line, though~!

Deuce Spade

Another cute boy, who's mildly awkward when in love. Oh, how sweet! He took a lot of time learning how to properly approach you. didn't he? Deuce is beaming with pride having you on his arm, smiling that cute little boy smile he shows off when he's excited. He loves holding your hand in his as you stroll about the rose gardens of Heartslabyul. You knew he was close to his mom, having ditched his old delinquent days after hearing her crying on the phone to his grandmother, and he often talked about you to her, sometimes while you were sitting right there! Oh, how your cheeks reddened hearing him spout compliments about you to his mother. Both you and Deuce were arranging to meet his mom and grandma, in fact Deuce wanted to introduce you as soon as possible! You're one of the most important people in his life, so he wanted to share you with his familial circle asap. So, how does this all go?

Oh, honey, grandma practically fell in love with you on first sight. You met Deuce's grandma and mom at the same time, the two sitting at the dining room table in Ms. Spade's home, sipping away on their tea. It was a little awkward with Ms. Spade, but granny practically pounced on you when Deuce said you were his significant other. She was just smiling up at you, going on about how much of a cutie you were the whole while. It was quite nice, talking over tea, Deuce smiling happily as he had an arm respectfully wrapped around your waist. Needless to say, mom relaxed a bit seeing how her mother was reacting alongside her baby boy.

Deuce didn't know why he didn't expect the baby pictures to be brought out... Baby books, baby books and more baby books. You were surprised by the sheer amount that Deuce's mother loved to do scrapbooking, it was like there was a mountain of baby books from when your sweet card soldier was growing up! There had to be about six books sitting on the coffee table. Everyone had gathered into the living room after tea, Ms. Spade excitedly flitting about the place like a child on sugar, gathering all these books to stack, Deuce slowly turning red seeing his old baby books being yanked out again. You sat next to Deuce, holding his hand with your fingers interlaced. "Here's when Deuce was two, he always played with his food, he was such a messy baby!" Ms. Spade gushed, showing off a picture of baby Deuce smiling up at the camera; baby food was smeared all over his smiling face, his hands caked in the stuff and the bowl on his little head, his pretty jade colored orbs shimmering with joy. "His little smile is infectious!" You chirped, smiling warmly at the picture of your darling boyfriend. Deuce buried his head in your hair, hiding from his embarrassment.

Deuce felt like melting into your embrace at this point. You made his night. After a fun dinner filled with embarrassing stories from when Deuce was young, warm hearty laughter and sweet gazes exchanged with your boyfriend, the two of you settled into bed, you sneaking out of the guest room grandma insisted you stay in to steal some kisses and snuggles. You settled into Deuce's arms as he kissed your rosy cheeks, tangling your legs with his under the covers. Looking into his eyes, you've never seen him look so happy since he got an 86 on his history exam. "I love you so much, baby." Deuce whispered sweetly, your heart fluttering in your chest. "I love you too, honey." You replied, your own voice laced with the sugar of your love for the jade eyed boy. "I wanna say thanks for coming with me to meet my mom and grandmother, it meant a lot to me." "Deucey, it's no trouble!" You chirped softly, smiling up at your lover. "I'm just happy they like me." "They love you, you fit perfectly into the family!" Deuce laughed, his shoulders shaking. "It's honestly a relief that you get along, I was scared things would go wrong. But, I guess I panicked for nothing." The navy haired first year continued, turning to gaze at you with so, so much love. "You're perfect after all." Deuce was gonna be the death of you, he was always so sweet. You could mark this day as a sweet, sweet success: Your boyfriend was happy, grandma loves you, mom thinks you're perfect for her son, and everything felt like utter bliss. So, without saying another word, you sealed your night with Deuce with a kiss...~

Cater Diamond

Cater being in love honestly isn't surprising; being in love is such brand booster! Cute Magicam couples? Yes please! Being real though, Cater's honestly a major handful for you, because under that cheery "Caycay is gonna slayslay" vibe that the 3rd year carries, he's honestly a complete wreck and is terrified that you'll get tired of his anticks. Shocking how he and Azul aren't besties in that regard. However, he had no need to fear! The marvelous S/O was here to save the day: Cuddles, kisses, spicy ramen and at home spa treatments were being rapid fired from your heart to claim Cater's love and destroy his anxiety! So, with the day saved, you and your lovely boyfriend could be free to talk about a tough topic; when are you gonna meet his family? Cater ended up laughing at your question and told you to start packing your bag, he's going to talk Crowley into letting you have a weekend getaway! Even if he disliked his sisters!

Already he was regretting life... Cater's sisters immediately burst out to greet their baby brother after his mom called, and the first thing they do? Tell you that your shirt is super not cute and Cater should go buy you another one. "It's what a good boyfriend would do!" The eldest sister said, folding her arms over her chest. "Yeah! It's what our boyfriends did!" His other sister chimed in. Cater was here less than five seconds and already he felt like blowing a gasket... "But this is my favorite shirt. That I bought myself." You said, crossing your arms over your chest. "You don't get to tell me what to wear, so shush." "Way to stand up for yourself, honey bunny~!" Cater chirped, smiling at you as he led you inside with an arm around your waist. The ginger boy swore he fell even harder than when he first started dating you in that moment.

Cater was internally screaming at how his sisters acted and just wanted to go home. Oh, and mom didn't really like you, so there's that. The room was a bit tense as you sat and shared tea and some lightly burned pastries made by Cater's sisters. Cater himself was suffering the overly sweet baked goods and planned to just spend the after noon there. "So, how did you and my son meet?" Mrs. Diamond asked, eying you with a sharpened gaze. "Oh, I met him at Night Raven. My friend had gotten into a predicament and I ran into him while he was painting his dorm's roses!" You explained, a warm smile coming to your face as your boyfriend started to blush softly. "He was so cute and charming, still is, honestly." "Awww, babes, stop!" Cater giggled, nuzzling your cheek against his, making you laugh in turn. "I see." His mother huffed. The rest of the time was awkward to say the least.

You could tell your boyfriend could finally breathe after you left the house. Dad wasn't around that day, bit too busy with his banking job, so you didn't get to meet him; not that you really cared, Cater's sisters ruined a good chunk of the afternoon and made your poor honey work himself to the bone! Cater dropped the cheap, fake smile on his face when you both made it out of the house, his anger flaring up as he started muttering various rants under his breath. "Caycay, do you wanna get some lunch? There's a nice ramen place we could go to." You gently suggested, wanting to make your sweetheart feel better and ease his stresses. "It's that reaaally nice one you saw on Magicam the other day. The one that Vil praised" "That...That sounds wonderful honey bunny." Cater sighed, looking at you with a tired grin. Without much thought, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, making his heart flutter. So over lunch, you both came to terms that the fam might not dig on you, but that didn't matter to you or Cater. You had each other, and that's what mattered most to you two lovebirds.

Trey Clover

You have such a good man on your hands, even if he's a touch shy with his affections. When you first broached the topic of meeting his family, Trey was taken aback. He adored you to no end, and he could see a future with you, even if it'd be long distance for a few years, why hadn't he thought of showing you off to his family? "Of course I'll introduce you, darling." He said with a warm smile, leaning down to press a peck on your cheek, "How about we visit this upcoming weekend? I'm sure Riddle can hold it together long enough."

It was a really sweet reception when you showed up. Trey's parents were told about you ahead of time by their eldest, given how he's the responsible boy he is, so you were greeted by a small banner and a custom cupcake in your favorite flavors. The banner that was hung read "welcome home!" in bold, glittering rainbow letters; it tickled you pink! You felt at home already when Trey walked you up to the bakery, and the feeling intensified when his little siblings ran over, cheering over their big brother being home and asking if you were the person mom and dad talked about on the phone with Trey. Already you loved Trey's family, they were adorable in your eyes! "I hope you're ready for the insanity that's my family." Trey playfully remarked, pulling laughter from everyone around him. You hugged your boyfriend with a smile on your face. "I look forward to every minute we stay here."

Trey loved baking alongside you, but you and his family? Talk about heaven! Trey had to help out in the family business still, given his parents ran a bakery that had opened for lunch, so alongside the sweet smells of cake, the occasional smell of crisping pepperonis and melting cheese filled your senses. You found it odd at first, but your boyfriend's father swiftly explained that a demand for some more dinner and lunch friendly goods should be offered and they complied, if only a touch. You were surprised by how willing Trey's parents were when offering your help to ease the rush, helping your darling make and top some sugar cookies with oversized chocolate chips. You ended up swiping kisses from your boyfriend while his mom worked the front of house and his dad prepared the pizzas to be sent out. It seemed the more homely setting brought out the more affectionate side of your lover; small coos of adoration left his lips, tiny kisses peppered your cheeks, and skin to skin contact was through the roof as he guided you by taking your hands into his. It was all so romantic and sweet.

It had to be a bittersweet departure after your little weekend of fun was over, but everyone loved you. You had your bags packed back up with Trey, the luggage sitting in the foyer as you ate a delightful breakfast, feeling right at home as you sat next to your beloved. Trey was holding your hand under the table as you two dug into the fluffy blueberry pancakes his mom and dad had made for everyone, one of his little brothers quickly getting your attention. "(Y/N)?" The little boy called out quietly. "Yes, little one?" You asked, your voice a soft coo. The 3rd year glanced over at you as you interacted with his baby brother, watching carefully. "Will you come back with our big brother again soon?" "Well, that depends on both me and your big brother, dear. I'd love to, though!" You replied, flashing a smile to the little guy, who hugged you. "I'm gonna miss you..." He whined. "Me two!" Trey's sister piped up. "Me thwee!" The youngest chimed in, Trey and his parents chuckling at your interactions. "You have quite the partner here, Trey." His father spoke, looking at his son in pride. "You really do, sweetie, you better try and hold onto them!" Trey's mother spoke, smiling warmly. "They're a keeper!" "I know." Trey replied, looking at you now hugging his younger siblings, warmth bubbling in his chest. "I plan to treat them right." Overall, you had a new home in the Clover family, and your boyfriend's thinking of ways to properly propose to you after the trip. Never hurts to plan it out!

Riddle Rosehearts

Oh god, oh no, this one hurts. This will never ever end well if he picks the S/O... You knew Riddle had some problems he was trying to work through, you understood, truly! And Riddle was eternally grateful for your presence and influence in his life, you had to be the best thing to ever happen to him! You were his angel sent from the stars. Which is why he dreaded introducing you to his mother. He knew his father would've been okay, and he honestly has zero issues showing you off to him! If he was actually at home that is...He was currently abroad when Riddle accidentally let it slip that he was dating. So, in came the demands to meet you to make sure you were good enough for her baby, and the news that you two were going to his house for dinner.

You both had pits in your stomachs when you showed up to the Rosehearts household... You were greeted by the intimidating visage of Riddle's mother, who was standing in the yard with her arms folded tightly over her chest, her eyes boring into you. "Hello, mother." Riddled greeted, closing himself off to your presence and tensing up, his shoulders stiff; a telltale sign that he was stressed. You had to bite back the urge to coo and coddle him like you normally did when he was upset. "Riddle." His mother hummed looking at you with disdain. "Why is your...companion here dressed like that?" She asked sharply, making you feel embarrassed. You had asked Rook of all people to style you, but it appears it's simply not up to par with the impossible standard's Mrs. Rosehearts held. "We had asked one of our fellow classmates to dress them in the finest clothes they had available." Riddle spoke. Riddle's mother tsked. "I thought that I raised you better than this, they look terribly tacky, and I thought you would've had better tastes. Come. Dinner is waiting now." Riddle clenched his fists, feeling sorrow well up in his chest as he looked at you apologetically. You rushed forward, hugging Riddle from behind and kissing his cheek to reassure him. It was still quite the sting hearing his mother act so harsh, though.

Dinner wasn't much better either... You made sure to study proper etiquette with Riddle before you came here, but none of that seemed to matter as you choked down the bland food. Seriously, who doesn't bother to season meet and just serve nothing but tomatoes, onions and iceberg lettuce for a salad...? You tried your best, but Mrs. Rosehearts just eyed you in disgust, biting her tongue but looking at Riddle with a disappointed gaze. Riddle himself couldn't tell if sorrow or anger was bubbling up in his chest. You explained you were from another world when she asked where you were from and she looked at you like you just spat on her when you told her you were magicless; despite her already knowing that. She made Riddle tell her about you after making him nearly break down in tears over the phone last night. "Pathetic! I raised my son better than this, and yet you're barely passing, have no magic, and carry no knowledge of anything worthwhile! You're nothing but a waste of his time and my own!" The harpy of a woman shrieked. Oh, that was it, he picked his side of the fence...

Riddle felt a cord finally snap as all of his years of strict, lonely suffering drove him forward. "Why can't you just be happy that I finally found someone, mother?" Riddle hissed, catching the attention of his present parent. "Because, your selection was terrible! I could pick you a much better partner." Mrs. Rosehearts said, you feeling like you could start crying. "No! I-I don't want anyone else, much less an arrangement where I'll feel nothing for the other party!" Riddle barked angrily, slamming his fist on the table as he stood up. "I want who I fell in love with! I want my rose! I want to stay with (Y/N)!" "When will you see that you're worth more than them?!" "They've been nothing short of an angel to me, fixing the damage you caused!" Riddle yelled, his face bright red from anger. "They're worth far more than me from where I stand!" "Then you can just take that garbage and get them out of this house, you and I will start studying to find you a suitable-" "If they leave, I'm leaving with them, in fact, that's a wonderful idea!" Riddle bellowed, you looking up at him and rising from your seat. Rushing to his side, you tugged him out of the house as Riddle's mother screamed at you two from the kitchen and out the door, Riddle yelling that she won't take you away; he's had so much stripped from him, he refuses to lose you. This entire situation was a disaster, but you knew your precious prince loved you so dearly. Once you two made it back to his dorm, Riddle looked exhausted. You asked him what you could do to ease his struggles after he changed into his pajamas. "My rose, tonight, I just want to forget everything, rules and all..." Riddle whined, looking at you with tired slate grey orbs. "I just want to hold you in my arms and wake up to your face..." "Of course, my love." You cooed softly, kissing his cheeks as you both crawled under the covers of his bed, Riddle curling into your form instantly. Under the warmth of the duvet, everything felt right; you were his and he was yours, and no tyrant was ever going to rip you apart. Riddle had proven his iron clad love belonged to you and you alone.

#twisted wonderland x reader #heartslabyul #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #trey clover x reader #cater diamond x reader #heartslaybul x reader #ace trappola #deuce spade #cater diamond #trey clover #riddle rosehearts #twst headcanons