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satocidal · 3 days ago

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𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ 𓂂 ˚ ☆"Foreigner's God" - Geto Suguru

Synopsis: For money and power, Suguru would do a lot, but for a love he didn’t want? Somehow, he finds himself bending even the strongest of ideals. Five years ago he’d saved a monkey—not actually processing the estranged entanglement that would lead him to.

— word count: 10k 💀

— A/n: so i slightly re-did my old fic - "angel of small death and codeine scene", because it felt horrendous lol. the reader might a little ...ooc? if that is a thing? also, it may seem confusing so - the reader is daughter of suguru's loyal hitsman but that man is a horrendous father so...yes. it might be unclear so reader is 22+ and suguru is around 28-29.

— Warnings: smut!!MDNI!!Afab! Reader x Suguru; use of religious themes; minor death(S); power play; gore(straight up murder); sub-dom dynamics; degradation; humiliation; impact play (fem receiving); oral (m! And f! Receiving); reader is mostly referred to as a female; complicated storyline; mentions of blood; emotionally abusive father+family; reader is a hitsman; traditional marriage roles ig

The first bell.

The second bell.

Then the third.

Married.

~5 years ago~

The words echoed in your head, over and over and over and over—it hurt.

His hands were soft as they held yours, he led you slow, your father’s did.

The white veil that you’d spent hours to decide upon, the one you would never care about—it swept beside you, gasps escaping the lips of many as you walked out. And there, there your eyes met his.

Poised he stood, white hair slicked back—nothing like those superficial memories his Servants had sung to you about, nothing like the glimpses you’d caught of him. This man, the one on your altar—that was Suguru Geto.

Not the Geto-Sama you’d heard of, the ones who was a deity to all- a pretty hand fared upon those who sought him blindly; not the Curse user Geto, the fugitive you recognised him to be, the one you hated—no.

None of that.

This was Suguru Geto—your husband to be.

You hadn’t assumed your wedding to be a fairytale—in all honesty, you hadn’t assumed anything at all. But the heart of the little girl in you wept, openly so, when the worn upon thin line of a supposed smile didn’t do so much as even cast a shadow upon you. Not to be perceived wrong, however—Suguru certainly had grinned and smirked, laughed and tickled himself senseless—perhaps so to forget this ordeal—to forget you.

Eyes moist, a tear he did let go off—superficial it was, you knew it, but a saint Suguru Geto would be deemed the next day in the whispers of his followers, especially the ones who envied to be you.

Don’t get me wrong, congratulated by everyone—he did show joy, in some meaning of the word, just not the way you hoped—or even supposed for that matter.

Yours was never meant to be that perfect wedding, not at the core of it—you knew that from day one of the sequenced wedding but then—just something, a little dream and heart crushed grudgingly when you realized it wouldn’t be your husband who cried the moment he set his eyes on his bride—it wouldn’t be you telling those cute stories about your wedding day.

It wouldn’t be you—it was normal you’d heard, for grooms to be overwhelmed in their weddings- the thought of spending a forever with his bride, the supposed memories flooding their mind—but it wouldn’t be for you. He stood there with hands behind him, eyes awaiting your presence still.

A smile he held—empty as you joined him—eyes were very telling your father had preached, never once had you found him to be wrong.

His hands felt cold as you held them—cold like the storm his warm hands had saved your family from, colder still somehow was his presence, then and now. And you realized, your heart — to what you had thought to be a void, trained so — breaking as you realized that the marriage was a cage to him as much as you. Neither happy—he wasn’t happy within your presence, or anyone else’s.

Pathetic. But again, did it truly matter?

The wedding had begun— officiated, soon your “I do”s would slip, the wedding couldn’t be stopped now, not ever.

And in that moment your eyes flickered to your own mother—she stood regal.

Embroidery she’d fought into you, cooking and baking, sewing a skill she’d made you own too—pity she couldn’t teach you controlling your emotions—pity you despised all that was your influence.

Your eyes managed to flicker onto him—saintly, your brain

mused—your heart couldn’t help but agree. And those saintly

features held an ugly heart you told yourself, solace to a lonesome mind.

“Suguru, do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect Y/N, forsaking all others, and holding only unto her forevermore?”

When he took a moment to answer with a blank gaze, you could feel tiny pricks being sent straight to your heart. Just a mere glance at his stolid mien was enough for you to believe that he was going to call off the wedding and run away—mayhaps you wanted that, mayhaps, you didn’t.

What else could you expect?

He clearly didn’t want this, understandable was the fact. It wouldn’t surprise you if he took a step back and announced that he couldn’t go on in making an oath to offer the rest of his life with you. That he would rather get out of this hell hole and be somewhere else than to proclaim a love that was being forced out of him.

But it was his choosing, was it not? And mayhaps, yours.

The cult leader had chosen you, and in the process, you—him.

He’d watched you a while, days, you knew of his lingering gaze—respectful then, disgusting now.

“I do,” he professed, despite the inner turmoil that plagued his head.

You sighed—soft.

“Y/n, do you promise to love, honor and cherish and protect Suguru, forsaking all others, and holding only unto him forevermore?”

You remembered the day clearly—father had knocked once on your once—a new found privacy in your sheltered house was the first sign.

A wide smile—“He’s chosen you.”

Your heart sank.

He’d chosen you.

Your eyes were quick—a glance here and there and everywhere—the pause was heavy; you watched your father’s nod of encouragement—your mother’s sharp eyes—his daughters’ smile, innocent - his followers’ sip of champagne—your sister’s eyes were hazy; his best man’s tipsy.

You couldn’t say no—“I do,”

“Bride and Groom, you have heard the words of love and marriage, have exchanged your vows and made your promises, and celebrated your union with the giving and receiving of rings. It is at this time that I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant declared, “you may now kiss the bride.”

Your eyes widened behind your veil- not your first- the breath hitched as Suguru removed your veil—crystal seemed his eyes, crystal clear was his distaste. He was tall—comical in fact—you tip toed slight, he leaned in a bit—the kiss was warm, chill, foreign. His hand rested upon your cheek, a stroke—a pull, brief.

Your eyes watched as he pulled away, a new smile on his lips—an actor he would have proven to be—or, as you knew, he was.

A million thoughts clouded you and him—known to only the two of you—marriage worked quick in that sense you supposed, your mother and sister were perhaps right. But when all was said and done—the marriage was officiated.

And your eyes met then—a thought passed between you and your husband—stuck together—sincerely, fuck you.

The ride back ‘home’ was tedious, it burnt, it burnt all too much.

“Geto-Sama will prove to be amazing,” the driver spoke alone, yet, all too soon—as he had been for the past anxious hours—time moved slow, slower than the gaze you didn’t dare hold against him.

A soft smile he held, serene as if - “I’m sure he will be,”you mumbled back, just as fake a smile you held too—husband and wife—equal footing, equal qualms at the truth you didn’t accept and lies you foretold.

‘Geto-sama’ this and a ‘Geto-sama’ that— the entire reception had been torturous, you hated it—hated the man they chose not to acknowledge—hated the murderer, hated him, your husband.

All to your liking though, the car finally came to a stop, at your residence—your new home.

“You may sleep here,” soft a voice, too cold a tone – however, compared to the gaze he held—it felt welcoming.

You nodded just as quietly, a good wife would never fight, they’d taught you—more important than ever for your life now depended upon so.

“Geto-Sama,” you hated the way it rolled off your tongue so smooth—meant to be, “where will you sleep?” Innocent enough a question and yet the scoff he passed under his breath was all well noticed by you.

“Not to worry you darling,” he smiled softly still, “I wouldn’t ever imagine sleeping with you,” and wrapped in his words lay the tone of condescension—hidden all so beautifully, a small round of hide-and-seek in itself.

Lips pursed, you stared at him—“you can… drop the act, we’re alone,” the tone itself surprised you—the confidence all the more so, as you bore deep into his eyes, unwavering.

A brow cocked, he passed a smirk well of his own, “So the monkey is capable of thinking, hm? Where was this tongue all this while?”

“To call the future bearer of your children a monkey, your own wife - you should remember you are also a part of me now,” it was desperate really, bringing in the prospect of a future you never wanted for the sake of some respect.

A deep rumble emerged within his chest—chaos, “You think you’ll have such rights? What are you if not worth less than your father’s money?” Your face burnt at his words—hot, embarrassed, it was true.

“A reminder perhaps,” you spoke through clenched teeth—“you were the man who came begging to my father for-”

“-for money, not a whore to be passed around,” his words lay sharp, all so much so that the hilt of his words was enough to penetrate too mayhaps.

��Could have called yourself a celibate, Geto-Sama,”

his words sharp- yours blunt, impact lay the same with both—regret caused to the other.

“Are you so desperate that you are willing to fight to sleep with a strange man, all so alien to you?” There it lay, that constant lazy smile—the one he never shied to portray to his desperate followers—now, to you.

“A husband,” gritted teeth, you bared, “you are a husband now, my husband, accept the fate,” sharp inhale—sharper exhale, you simply despised him.

Annoyance hung loose in the air, an open wound to you both.

“The only fate,” he paused—ears ringing unto the sound of footsteps—his daughters’, “is the one where you’re no more but a mere shadow in my life, monkey,” disgust all so prevalent on a pretty face as his—pity, really.

“So be it,” you nodded, a lick of your lips and a deal on the tongue, “no more a legal wife am i to you,”

“Be glad you could achieve that at all,” and just as quickly the somber mood had shifted to annoyance, it was back too—as the door clasped open, the twins rushing in to meet their new found mother.

Mother—oh just how hilarious the fate’s jokes lay.

A mother—a wife—a woman for his needs.

A week.

A week spent in solitude, the white ceiling, a new friendship you’d found, the dark wood flooring your vice as you suffered.

Day in and day out—seconds ticked by, slowly churning out the hours and eyes that lay moist

forever remained so.

You despised it all.

His expanse and his family, his charm and his style, his maids and his followers — his daughters, ah.

Something, perhaps you didn’t hate, that belonged to Geto, did exist.

Innocent smiles, the kind you’d never worn—hefty laughter he provided them with, his pride and his joy—now yours too, mutual a partnership the marriage was.

“Y/n,” they’d murmured excitedly, Nanako had— Mimiko's shy glances and little smiles, just as endearing.

A mother you’d become, how complicated.

But fickle was your happiness, just there and often never at all.

Your heart raced, ears perked up at the voice of approaching footsteps—the daughter of Suguru Geto’s best hitman, a little too many tricks lay up your sleeves themselves.

Quick, soft, padded—your servants.

Loud, racy and sudden? His daughters.

Soundless? Suguru.

Thoughts proven none but correct, Suguru did stand bearer of your observation—a frown as always on the beautiful face.

And you wondered just how prettier it could be, if only he were gagged and stuffed aside.

“Get up, you have to move” words shuffled fast—frenzied, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead.

“Why?” Defiance, slight defiance in the form of annoyance presented to him you displayed, little impact but just enough—especially when he would let out a ragged sigh, holding himself back.

“Don't question me, now is not the time.”

Your heart soared giddily at that too—“What? Your blind followers realized your reality?”

Your words were sarcastic, the situation? Not so much.

A sharp gaze, piercing, bore into you.

Dead, at a finger’s flick if he wanted—but then again, he didn’t, he couldn’t.

So he did the next best thing that he’d realized in a week’s worth of time- the little smirk was wiped off quick as he kneeled close to you, so close.

“It is for your protection,” a whisper, all too serious, curious, you looked down at him - he was playing his cards right, giving you leverage.

You breathed in a sharp intake, protection? Whatever for?

Suguru Geto - a special grade, you stood as one of the finest hitmen too - what protection?

And then in the flicker of a gaze you’d think and consider it all, his lies, his treachery - moving you was new, different. It meant shift of powers - it meant he held the course of action - you simply couldn’t digest that, right?

“Get up,” he repeated.

“No.”

Your head turned to the right sharp, a swift slap he’d landed on your cheek—it didn’t hurt,

you’d faced worse after all—but oh how it hurt you.

Apathetic, he stared.

Blankly, you stared back.

A moment of silence, heavy.

“Are you really so imbecilic?”

Silence again—you wanted to rip his hair out—“Get up,”

“Why?”

His voice, almost panicked now, it was uncanny.

You had seen, known Suguru Geto, even if from the periphery of your father’s existence, for at least a decade now.

All smiles and polite words he’d been, all calculated and stiff - never….this.

A clench of his jaw and a brush of fingers through the hair—“Monkeys like you aren’t safe here, you do not understand the gravity of this.”

And somehow, it warmed your heart.

“I can fight-”

“-yes and I am well aware of that, as well the skill passed down your lineage but now is the not the time to be difficult,”

Dumbly, you looked—“what is it? Some…” your mouth ran dry, “some attack?”

An unamused chuckle he was quick to let go—“something of the sort,” he paused, face reigning back to all his seriousness—“the marriage was sure to develop tension, me and you…” a frown etched on his face, the way his face shifted through emotions at the reminder of his new life, “i am surprised it took an entire week for the disturbance,”

You sat there still, disturbance?

Many thoughts ran wild, his and yours.

You wanted to ask a many hundred questions - who, why, was it all so revolting to have an uprise against you?

“Don’t worry then-” he scoffed, still in front of you, on his knees, “wouldn’t want my pretty little wife to suffer,” his words felt fake, maybe they were.

You swallowed hard—“where to?”

“My chambers,”

Your heart sunk and yet you felt a rush of serotonin.

~3 years ago~

“Y/n,” Nanako’s voice dragged, “c’mon we’ll be late!” The constant sound of typing annoyed you—squinting eyes stared at her from a distance.

“Remind me why such enthusiasm again?”

“Papa’s dealing with non-sorcerers today,”

Again-as he had been, always.

“Mama,” the word rang in your mind—Mimiko’s voice was soft in contrast — Mama, a certain ring to it, familiarized and yet so antagonized in your head.

You hummed in response simply—“Papa requests you to be there tonight…” her words trailed away, the convocation all too loud, the impact all so evident.

“Right…” you let your words hang open as well—he wanted you present, in day and light, flesh and sight—his wife to be shown off.

Every once a while, you were his proven lucky charm after all, his priestess.

Crowded, nauseating, full of idiots.

You sat right beside your husband, high and aloft - dressed in a kimono, perhaps more dramatic than his clothes in such ceremonies - after all, you were the head-priestess.

You remembered the day well, when he’d announced you so.

A month within the marriage, the night after a group of rogues had attacked your car.

He wasn't afraid - but infuriated, yes.

For you? You’d wondered, when he slept that night beside you - anger blanketed him, his form, and then you’d scoffed to yourself.

Of course, not.

It was all for the fact that they dared to attack what was his - dared to question him, his decisions.

A dagger rested at your side now, gift from no other than your Geto-Sama, two years ago—a

wedding gift.

You hated the fact that it was the best you could’ve managed to find.

Slow, the proceedings were, lazy his smirks as the likes of you begged.

As the monkeys begged to him.

“Headaches, nauseating? Hmm,” he smiled, pensive, reflective—“sounds to me like you’re troubled,” and just so, it amused you—to how dumb non-sorcerers truly were.

Fickle-minded.

“Geto-Sama,” eyes squinted at the tone of the woman, a whimper—a common whore—begging for his touch in broad sunlight, for your husband’s touch.

Sure, you hated him—but oh how you hated the fact that he touched so many other women whilst being married to you.

And somehow, you always became the other woman.

“Yes darling?” He called back coolly, your blood boiled, he’d never called you that.

Only insults.

“I think…think you need to…” her words trailed away, a satisfied murmur erupting through the crowd—they remembered, remembered it well.

Engraved in the memory of most what you’d only caught the gist if, even as a rumour.

Suguru had fucked her—in front of them all.

As treatment, as help.

In the name of all that was holy, all that was religious—he’d sworn it would help her—it made her addicted. One drug to another, Suguru did nothing, he would do nothing today

either perhaps.

Was this why he called you?

To humiliate you such?

“Ah ah ah,” click on of his tongue, sharp—“hold yourself - is your goddess not present here for you to spout such non-sense?,”

Your heart burned.

Goddess, their goddess—you were their goddess—his goddess.

Jaw clenched, you stared from the side, distaste evident upon you and her—adorable, he deemed it.

“She’s nothing-”

-silence, as quick as she’d begun to stare at you in disgust, just as quickly she retreated.

Beyond livid he seemed, an amazing actor surely, never one to hear words against his precious wife, only he could dole it out - in his chambers.

An actor you hated before the marriage, an actor you continued to hate now.

A chuckle interrupted his thoughts and yours—“Geto…,” the investor—the one Suguru’d been trying to impress.

So was the reason you’d been called, ever since you’d been named his head-priestess, the devotee’s goddess, you served one faction. To bring in those who Suguru couldn’t buy with money.

A continuity of a deep rumble lay bared throughout the assembly — relevance all so long as Geto would decide.

“You act like she matters at all,” your stomachs dropped, he was right, was he not?

But how dare he spoke of you - your blood boiled as your eyes fixated upon him.

“What is she? A hunter?” Another prolonged chuckle—electing those from beside you as well, your ears hurt from how hot they were.

Hunter? You had been your father’s greatest possession, with skills that surpassed his own - you had trained all your life as a hitsman, and now brought down to what?

A laughing stock in your husband’s cult, in his sphere of lies.

“Just a trophy wife for you, isn’t she?” Unwantedly, even in moments such—of your disrespect, your eyes gazed onto him -at suguru, you hated yourself for these moments.

You hated the helplessness - you hated the need for him to take a stand for you.

And yet, Something about the thin smile he held every time you were disrespected reassured you, it wasn’t much—not an ounce of anger reflected upon his face, if he felt any, that is.

You could feel the eyes of all, not the first time you’d been presented to the assembly, the first time the ruse you played was out.

“She’s my wife,” his voice was calm, “trophy or no is none of your business—she’s priced if anything—far more than you could ever afford, so think with that thick head of yours, at least once if you can manage, before you dare to look at her.”

Definite—his words were fast, surprising all the more.

The laughter halted, silence was all so deafening, “You’re defending that slut before me Geto?” Shaky, the man’s voice was held, anger evident—your grip tightened on your dagger.

Suguru’s smile only ever grew right beside you, “Do you want the honors darling?” You froze on the spot.

You carried that dagger everyday, you hadn’t killed a soul since the marriage three years ago, he’d demanded you stop this practice.

Face whipped to face him, he could see the way your face shone, your eyes hesitant—

“Talk to me you fucker! That bloody bitch and your cult won’t manage without me,” His words rang through the hall as he did so—your feet worked upon its own, you stood on your feet, crisp steps taken towards him.

“Just give me those whores beside you then, this one seems a bit used” he grinned further, directing his gaze onto Nanako and Mimiko and then back at you as you walked to him.

A nodding smile from your husband being all that you need—swift you came, swift the man fell, mere seconds.

Bloods oozed, some rested upon your cheek just as much, three stab wounds—a drowning business deal of Geto—a sailing heart of yours and his smile.

The body twitched in dismay, adrenaline coursed through you—three years since you’d last killed something living, you couldn’t feel it.

“Dismissed,” Suguru spoke aloud, basking in the shock of his followers and alike—however, yours too.

A hitman you were, sure, but so far you’d only done what your father directed.

Not Suguru, not up till now.

A sinner—his sinner.

Your body shook, the dagger fell quick, the moment the Hall was empty, just you and Suguru inside.

“What did you have them prepare for lunch today?” Domestic as if, normal, if he’d name it—acting as if a murder did not just happen—the man’s body was still warm.

You’d done this plenty of times and yet this felt new, this felt like a shift.

And then, you were afraid he’d make this your purpose.

You offered none but a soft silence—“y/n?”

You hated him.

You hated everything.

You hated how he pretended to be confused by your dilemma.

“Can you stop?” A hiss of a voice—“you just- I- stop!”

Small an outburst, tears trickled the verge of falling apart.

“It’s fine,” he mused, “you can let go,”

“shut up,” you whispered fast- “don’t talk to me like that- like- like you’re superior. You just usedme- fuck- I- your cult…”

A step all too close he took, “come here,” softly he spoke—uncharacteristic, why now?

After three years of an empty marriage—had he found your use? A skill he’d thrown away when undesired and now back to square 1?

Not the first time you’d cried in front of him, many a confrontations had come and gone—many a times you’d thrown empty insults at him—many times he’d threatened you, all in vain.

So why now?

Empathetic all over a night? Couldn’t be.

Empathetic over your transition? Shouldn’t be.

Your heart paced, mind hurdled- hands held onto his form tightly as he did yours, body convulsing in his embrace, your kill lay astray, forgotten.

“You’re fine,” he murmured against your head—all so close, first time.

And a thought you couldn’t help but withdraw—is this how those women felt? When he held them so close to where you’d never been?

“You did as you should’ve, a great priest - hitsman,”

Sheer shambles your heart lay in—you wanted to hate him, perhaps you did—most probably, not.

“Why?” You whispered, pressed deep into his chest—an almost soothing hand upon your back rubbed, all so confused—both him and you.

“Figured you’d like it, but you seem confused now” he smiled, “you’re not a pawn y/n,” a fumbling kiss pressed on your forehead, the spot was now sacred.

This, you reminded yourself, is how he manipulated his followers.

You let it happen just as easily.

“I realise you feel used,” he muttered, “don’t. You have served me, my purpose.”

“Why all this? Why now?” you spoke against his form - “how long had you planned that man’s death?”

He looked down at you now, his eyes in yours, “ever since the first meeting he saw you in and asked of you,” you tried your best to figure how much of a lie lay in that statement, you weren’t sure.

An urge to pull away, an urge to ingrain yourself in him.

An empty marriage—all too loud your desires.

“You’re their goddess aren’t you? They needed all but a reminder,” He didn’t sound sweet anymore, it was all real—you knew so.

Two months since your outburst, two months since he’d held you for the first time—two weeks, you’d suffered all so much.

Mentally, emotionally—physically.

It was absurd, you’d spent three years still, yearning just some touch—but now more so than ever, you would perhaps beg for him.

A shared bed you lay in, the heat in your heart was scorching—nothing close however to the desire between your legs.

You craved him.

“You’ll accompany me tomorrow?” fingers clasped right around the book he was reading, he didn’t do so much as glance at you—yet, it was somehow endearing.

Gradual was the display from being ordered by his servants to show up when he pleases you to, to his daughters requesting you—to him, personally asking for it, it was bitter-sweet.

There were other small changes, changes he hadn’t bothered with for the first 2 years of your marriage - slided in now so easily - it hurt.

It was so easy for him to accept you, he chose not to.

But now that he did, it felt - you felt, just something.

You knew you were grasping on broken ends—but just something to the fallen was miraculous enough.

You poised to think, “WAR AND PEACE”- Leo Tolstoy, hefty the handler, heftier its state, creased in the middle—whitening, pages browned years ago and a certain scent you couldn’t place.

Golden were the words still, it shone.

A simple “well?” From him broke your trance, a nod you passed.

Second time in the past fortnight, perplexed you lay by, watching moments tick by, unsure.

“Should I carry the dagger?” Same question as you’d asked last week—same reply awaited you, the same cunning smile, “Just your presence is enough,”

“23, 594 of you, you pay handsome sums all for this movement - for those in need…last week we were obliged with 3 million yen for our services and then 7 million, all by our business partners,” Suguru spoke in the same sweet tone of his—a mistake his words held.

A tilt to the right, to correct him or no—you sucked in any air, perhaps your last.

“Not a simple feat it-”

“-25, 394 are present, and we didn’t get 10 million…it was 8- they didn’t pay all of it…” your voice was low, had the crowd been that of a murmuring one, it would have gone unheard—not from him perhaps, but in general.

Not a glance spared, just a single smirk, “Ah, of course.” A lick of his lips and a look downturned, “I apologise—how sweet of my wife to remind me and correct me,”

My wife - not priestess suddenly, no.

A reminder, not to anyone else but you.

Amusing how you still shivered at the thought of it.

The rest of his words were a blur, his tone was hollow right after the apology—the same as you’d heard when he was upset— not mad.

Because you remembered well how Suguru was when he was mad - you’d seen it once and the consequences of that, you repented stil.

“Leave,” the words seemed final, a tear rolled down your eyes.

“Geto-Sama,” your father panted, pathetic—simply so, no denial to it.

“Please,” three days you’d been begging, three days that Geto Suguru had stripped you all of any and every sense of dignity, of some thought of self preservation.

A scoff you heard, heart shattering—as eyes gazed onto the sight of your crawling father- a hitched breath, Suguru’s eyes lay stuck on you.

“The debt,” Suguru mused quietly, “you want it forgiven?”

Your father nodded at his feet—broken sobs your mother flushed, sister’s nimble fingers upon yours—you hated Geto Suguru.

Perhaps that was exactly why you found yourself such.

Hating his woes, his breaths and his ideology—perhaps because you say it all lay a lie - the man was not forgiving, no, quite the opposite.

Perhaps you hated him for the humiliation he granted that day, 6 years ago.

“You’re nothing but a monkey, you know that,” Suguru mused simply, “But you are one of my best,” a hum he passed to second himself.

Which was why this treatment seemed worse than it would have. Your father had served him so long, always there, everyday - by his side - the dirty work all carried out.

So what if a small debt remained unpaid? It could be forgotten - but no, Suguru Geto, as you stared at him while your father was stripped of his respect in that assembly hall, was no less a beast and beasts barely showed mercy.

Eyes, purple - sharp - as they bore into yours—“What’s your name?”

Quick, you almost didn’t catch his words, “y/n,” your father weakly muttered before letting out a pained cry—result of none but a kick from Suguru.

“I was talking to her,” a lazy smirk he adorned, “you’ve trained?” He inquired, a nod you passed.

“Skilled?” And that you were, having served so many over the years—skilled you simply were.

“You can have her,” your father’s words lay rushed—heart seizing up deep.

He couldn’t- wouldn’t- your mother wouldn’t.

You eyes suddenly dropped to his form - somehow now, it didn’t feel so bad that he lay there.

“Virgin?”

“We can offer a fine dowry lord, for that issue,” groans, his—gasps, yours—“You'll be doing us a favour, in fact two.”

The man’s face flits curiously between the two of you. You wonder if he can see the embarrassed tears threatening the corners of your eyes, the set of your lips, the way your fingers are clenching and shaking.

Your heart raced, face flushed—your parents eyes’, your sister’s, all trained upon you.

What a pity—a shake of your head, Suguru’s smirk widened as he knelt onto your level.

“Whoever would marry a used whore hm?” It was the exact smooth voice that you hated—the exact low grumble you feared.

“Fuck off,” the words were quick to slip out—perhaps, not appropriate but you regretted not a single moment.

Not your mother’s gasps or your father’s tremble or Suguru and his furrowed brows.

“You’re talking to a god,” he whispered—

“I won’t worship a fraud.”

Your reply was defiant—the situation was bared.

A made up god among men and a woman who would never worship him—and hence came about the dilemma when the god simply found his religion in the woman.

“Interesting,” he’d hummed then, the same smile that he wore then in the assembly, three years after your marriage.

A padded thumb reached into your cheek—wiping your tears away roughly—“I think you’ll be just as useful as your father,” he grinned, and something told you he’d use you in ways more than just a hitsman.

“You’ll be a better pet, right?”

Before you could gasp, before you could cry—before any sense of grief had caught you, fate had tied its strings with a man you deemed a monster—and the monster to his angel.

The assembly took a good while to finish, 2 hours you sat, anticipating everything.

It clicked very quickly that you’d upset him by speaking over - by trying to correct him - something he never appreciated.

Something told you Suguru wouldn’t go tough on you—usually, he’d have someone humiliated to no extent but…you were his better half—not you, right?

“Dismissed,” he muttered as always, you couldn’t help the squirming anymore.

The last two hours you’d suffered, the wetness in you edging onto itself at the worst time possible—every time he’d make eye contact, every time he’d glare.

“Not you,” your heart dropped, you stood as a deer in headlight then — just about to step out of the room as everyone else had.

“Come here,”

You swallowed hard—“I- I am sorry my lord I didn’t-”

“I didn’t ask you to talk monkey,” a slight pang to the heart—two months of overthinking was all down the drain, it didn’t mean anything perhaps.

Slowly, you trudged over, near to his feet—as close as he’d let you for the last time.

Cold eyes met you, blank a face and hair brushed open—“kneel,” he simply commanded, most days you’d have fought back- earned yourself a reprimand but not that day.

What you had was enough already.

From your position, you stared up at him—lips parted as small breaths you let out.

A moment of silence while you watched him take off the yukata robes, slender a form inside—the one you’d watched simply all too many times.

“You think you’re smart hm?” Your body shook, blame put on the coldness, you let yourself shiver—passing him a shake of the head.

“Geto-Sama I-”

“-is it that difficult an instruction?” Sharp a voice, it pierced through you, “don’t talk unless I fucking tell you to.”

A frenzied nod, any denial to be passed onto him leaving your body as you gazed upon him, ethereal—and maybe, just maybe, the fraud of a god you hated was not all so bad to adore.

“Thought you looked cute correcting me, hm?” Ever so serene a voice, one couldn’t almost differentiate whether he truly was upset or not.

Another shake of your head, another tug at his lips.

“No?” Squinted eyes stared at you, “then attention? You wanted attention?” Your ears felt hot, maybe you did.

“I wouldn’t be shocked honestly,” he paused, squatting down to your level, “your father did offer me a whore,” bottom lip clasped between your teeth, you dared not to look up at him—afraid simply of the hot tears spilling.

“What is it, hm?” A large hand raised to flick the hair of your forehead—“Jealous, are we?”

Clenched jaw, you stared at the ground—audacious he was to even question it—“but that shouldn’t be it right? A legal marriage is what you promised eh?”

Too smug his voice lay, you hated him.

He used all your cards against you so easily.

His hand rested at your cheek, hot to the touch—searing cold to the testament—“what was it then? An attention seeker? Or a whore?”

A ragged breath you let out—“You think it’s hilarious?” Your eyes stared down into his, “to make a fool out of me?”

The hurt in your voice was no less than prevalent, it echoed still.

“I - would never…” you couldn’t understand where or how this sheepish nature struck you, you clenched your jaw at the mere realisation, “but talking of making fools…You fuck women left and right like it’s nobody’s business-”

“-oh it is about that hm?” A short chuckle he passed, euphoric to the ear, “you are a jealous bitch after all,”

“Cut it out Suguru,”

His brows raised too, and internally—yours, at the courage of calling him such, “You don’t respect me but at least respect the marriage,”

“With a monkey?”

It angered you as to how deep just a couple of his words could cut—‘a monkey’ you’d never be his equal.

“Yes, with a monkey—with your wife—with the woman your daughters seek a mother in,” quick you spoke—desperate to get it all out—“The woman you’ve simply used for business and now, a murder,”

Another short laugh.

“And now it’s about that is it?”

Your blood boiled—to see him treating it all so insignificantly, “you made me-”

“-made you kill him? You killed a monkey darling, an animal of incoherent thinking. You should be glad. If anything I did you favors by granting you the opportunity to regain your skills, which are impeccable if I may - as is, it really isn’t the first time is it? You’ve killed before - this time, just an animal,”

A tug here, a tug there— your heart was torn at his words.

“Further, you liked it—you like everything I do,”

A desperate ‘no’ spilled off your lips—meaningless.

Maybe you did like it—maybe you did like the way he took you away from that monster of a father, maybe you did like the way he isolated you, gave you all to hone your skills and what not, maybe you did like the little shows of affection because you were starved.

Maybe you were simply naive.

A series of clicking sounds of his tongue entered your ears—“you create ruckus over such thing, hm, darling?” He got up again, “calls for a punishment doesn’t it?”

A final plea you passed—broken.

“Suguru please,” shaky, “I just- you can’t fuck women like that, the servants spread rumours and- and- its all so-”

“Strip and get on all fours,” lower an octave, his voice was serious, you bit your lips and complied, whatever else was there to do.

No other choice- you wanted it maybe.

His touch, even if punishing, he would embrace right after, right?

Slow, your fingers moved to take off all that was left of your decency—not the first time that you’d stripped for a man, hell, even geto had in these two and a half years of marriage seen you naked– but the first time you felt the lingering gaze.

All down to the matching set of lingerie that he’d gifted you—every once in a while as he did, a sought compensation for his actions mayhaps, it did make you daydream anyways.

“Faster lest you wish to lengthen your punishment?” A quick shake of your head, your face felt hot, fingers twisted into the waistband of your panties —silk and lacy, almost As if innocent—as you slowly pulled them your lower half, feet tugging them off.

Your bra was forced away the same, shame enveloped you—not strong enough for all of you stood exposed, a cry of mercy to the god all in vain—for all too apparent,since your supposed god was a fraud.

A step taken slow towards Suguru, you were interrupted with a cough—“You’re a what, y/n?”

Mind blank, you stared dumbly—and exasperated sigh he let out until you finally responded, “A monkey,”

A nod of encouragement, he smirked, “and monkeys don’t walk right?”

Heights of your shame were peaking with every second passed, no other option to substitute, you nodded back—down on all fours as you crawled over to him.

The carpet was coarse underneath your knees, it hurt—not more so than your mind.

“Already so pliant sweetheart,” too giddy a voice, you wanted to punch him—but perhaps this was far better than what that would entail.

You reached over to him shortly, “only had you been all so quiet from the very beginning…but oh how does it matter now,” a grin sounded to your ears—you wanted to cry.

“All so naked,” he was walking about you now—all so exposed you stood, “so vulnerable—is this what you wanted?”

Your ears burned.

“Jealous of the women I fuck in front of my followers, right? Would you want to be fucked the same? I could summon them now—” another short chuckle, “their god with their goddess.”

You swallowed hard, lips licked as you awaited—unsure of what he could do.

“Tell me, does the thought make you wet?”

“No,” lies—you knew it, and you hated yourself at that.

A hum sincere, was all he passed—“alright then. Since you do love running your mouth all so much, your tongue and hands—”

Your ears ringed as the sight of the crowd that was typically present here flashed in your head—“25 strokes.”

Eyes wide you stared at the ground.

A silence awaited his words and he sighed loudly.

“Say yes or does my whore want more?”

Another silence—soon he was right ahead of you—a sharp slap soon adding to the sting on your face.

Tears took no time, resting at the verge—you stared up at him, broken a voice meeting him, this was humiliating.

“I'm sorry,” you muttered softly—trembling at the look of it—not even sure what the apology was for.

“Please i’ve never…” and somewhere along your blurred sight, his eyes softened all too little—“15, it's merely a spanking.” He decided silently.

You nodded, knowing the bargain had gone deep— lowering your head, unsure of the entirety.

“Spread your legs, arch your back” he murmured, you winced slightly as you did so—the texture of the carpet felt rough—your predicament all the more.

You felt his hands then, all over your back, calloused, you realised - smooth, they were relaxing you.

You felt him knead the flesh of your ass, then your thighs, treading as far as the flesh of your inner thighs - you wanted to whine at the teasing.

“Count and thank me after each,” and all before you could agree— smack! The first smack struck hard.

Your eyes widened and a sharp inhale—“One—thank you Geto-Sama,” he nodded in confinement, satisfied Mayhaps, to your words.

His hand rested along the roundness of your ass—squeezing it, feeling it around—another smack alternated on the other cheek—“Two! Thank you Geto-Sama,”

Another squeeze—another exhale, you could feel your wetness spread - shameful.

The third strike was on the same spot as before—a pink tint added already to your ass, he adored the way you felt in his hand—“Three— thank you Geto-sa-! Ah!” You bit hard onto your lip as in the midst of your count he landed another strike at the same spot and another.

“F-four and five! Thank you Geto-Sama,” a ‘good girl’ he murmured right after, and even such—humiliated to all accords, his praise did none but cause you to feel butterflies right there.

And just there you also hated how his slaps could provide you the pleasure you hadn’t been able to.

The same cycle went on, remaining 9 spanks hit hard as before— a grab and squeeze offered in the midst of each, a smooth hand too - as he touched you everywhere - everywhere except where you wanted him most.

“So fucking pretty,” he muttered, leaning down to kiss one of your reddened cheeks—warm to his lips as his other hand smacked onto the other cheek.

“Spread your legs further,” and you did, afraid to upset him anymore.

And all to your surprise, suddenly you felt a finger probe your pussy lips—beyond ashamed you could help the weak whimper and desperate cry from escaping.

“Tch tch tch,” another sharp smack on your ass, “So wet? From a spanking?”

Another whimper as your head only ever lowered in response—“or was it thought of getting off in public, huh?” You could feel his tough hands tease you, he wouldn’t enter, no—just tease your slit for the hell of it.

“So pathetically turned on f’me,” he groaned—face up right against your gaping hole, inhaling sharply and taking in your scent.

“N-no,” you protested, halted only by another mean slap on your ass—“Don’t lie to the man you worship,” another nod, he’d already broken you.

The pretend disappointment was sheerly evident in his voice—his expressions, “Well I cannot really move further until you’re punished thoroughly darling,” his words sounded almost calming, even when you knew they were all so not.

The tip of his fingers were slow, slowly gliding across your glistening pussy—your inner thigh—squelch!

Eyes wide, a gasp erupted from your mouth as his large palm landed flat against your folds.

“I don’t think it’s your fault however, it’s her issue isn’t it?” Words so sweet, you only ever could think of succumbing to him—finally passing a weak nod.

“Ah ha,” he smiled to himself—impressed perhaps—“That’s a smart girl, now how many do you think are appropriate for her hm?” As he spoke, his fingers wouldn’t be called shy in the way they inspected you—gathering your slick from your hole, never entering enough to please, and leading it up to your asshole—dirty.

A sense of dread coursed through you, involuntarily you tried to turn around to beg him not to—another sharp slap, a sob from you.

“5?” Your voice was soft—and somehow, even in his moments of pure power Suguru couldn’t help but want to be kind to you.

And this time, he hated it.

“5 it is,” he murmured, pressing his fingers upright to your pussy lips—“Count, no need to thank this time,”

Slowly his hands already your thighs further apart—shame no more a blanket, you could only moan at the shy touches to your core.

His hands stroked your inner thighs slowly—easing you out, you knew the trick of course, and “sh-it,” you spoke as his hand Landed on your pussy.

“One,” you called out meekly, and unlike the slaps he used to redden your ass, these weren’t all so pleasurable.

Without a word he landed another—your body lurched forward just the slightest—“Two!” Your voice trembled at his touch, especially in the way he dragged his fingers all so close to your clit and then landed the third spank.

“You’re taking it so good sweetheart,” a mess, a sincere mess is all you were—breaking apart at his touch and words- all so unsure of how you felt.

The last two Spanks were a blur, broken sobs eliciting your throat at them too as finally Suguru caressed your hips— held it soft, smothered it with slight kisses—as if he cared.

He graciously didn’t mention the way his fingers were so covered in slick, didn’t mention how he wasted not a single second before licking each one clean - not wanting to let go a single drop. He also didn’t mention the way you gasped as he pressed his lips to your pussy - your folds, kissing them so softly you shuddered.

“Think you deserve a reward now, monkey?” A whine escaped you at the reference to the animal he deemed everyone else as—and yet another “Yes please,”

You knew better than to hope he’d have pleased you but all how it went, you could help the slight disappointment in you when he sat across you—spreading his legs.

An amused chuckle he let out at your expressions—“You really didn’t think I’d touch a used up pussy as yours eh?”

He would—oh how he desperately wanted to—your eyes remained down cast in your obliviousness.

“C’mere be a good slut and get me off,” hesitant was the way you crawled over to him nestling yourself between his legs—hesitant, yes but eager all the more.

And just the same his other followers felt engulfed by the need to please him.

Fingers fumbled with his belt for a second before a raised brow from him stopped you—“did I tell you to take it off?”

Your breath hitched- confused you gazed up to meet an annoyed expression, “Do only as much as you’re told to, don’t true that pretty mind of yours.”

All the encouragement you needed as you slowly raised your face up to his crotch—“Go on,” he murmured, placing his hand at the back of your head—and just so you found your face pressed hard against his crotch, taking in the musky smell— your eyes watered with the pressure he held you with, your pussy grew wetter with the avoidance he lay.

Soft whines you let out against the thin fabric of his underpants as your fingers gripped onto his toned thighs.

You could feel the thick outline of his dick—not that you lay experienced much but that would certainly be big as it went.

His hand stroked your hair softly and pulled you away too—“pull them down,” he ordered and fervently your fingers pulled the waist of the only fabric covering him down—his hardened dick spring out at once.

You fought all urges to touch it at once—looking right into his eyes, awaiting any command.

“Good girl,” he groaned as he shifted his hips to angle himself better—“Tongue out,” he muttered softly, staring at your face.

Adorable to him.

On your knees you sat, tongue out and mouth wide as you watched him drag the tip of his cock and slap it against your cheeks twice—demeaning you usually would’ve found it—now you craved it dearly.

Three slaps he lay on your tongue from his tip still—plap! Plap! Plap!— salty it tasted, his Precum.

“Take it all in,” none to your surprise, you were quick to try your best—you know you couldn’t, but to try was the way to go.

“Don’t suck just yet,” he commanded, as his dick lay inside the warmth of your mouth—you wanted to gag immediately, pull away.

“Keep it there,” he whispered, the large hand grabbed at the back of your throat, keeping you from pulling away.

Tears were quick to rush down your cheeks as you struggled to gag—the slight pull and an annoyed glare from him.

All too quick he pulled out of your mouth.

“Don’t fucking pull away,” a warning, “cry all you want—fucking throw up from gagging I don’t care, but don’t pull away,” you nodded through your tears as you took a second to catch your breath.

“Again,” he said and again, you began.

It was tough to breathe, yes, and hard not to pull away but a look at his blissful face and you couldn’t help it—“start sucking, slow,”

And that you did, tears dried as more came a afresh, you sucked slowly onto his tip and length—weak whimpers seemed guttural as you rocked your face back and forth onto his length.

“You know why- ha- ah,” he paused, moaning, as you teased him slight, “I let you do this?”

His eyes scanned your pretty face, sucking him all so good—trying your best to please him.

“So you remember that mine is the hand that feeds you,” just then his hands balled up your hair into a fist, rough, he pulled you.

“So you- shit…Suckin’ me like the slut you are doll?” Broken gasps he let out as well as he pushed his length down your throat.

As much as you hated him having the reigns, to see him lose composure was a beautiful process.

“That feels so fucking good — ah-! ah — I'm not pleased with you fuck j-just can't believe how good it feels to — fuck — ahhhuh — yeah that's a perfect little slut, just take your god’s cock like you're meant to."

You couldn’t see from down there, his eyes rolling back but you knew it was tough for him to sit still—god how you loved it.

“Listen darling,” he began yet again—his fist was quick to pull your face away from his cock, all to yours and his displeasure.

He held you by the hair—a string of spit connecting your lips to his cock hung loosely.

“Always fucking remember that you’re the one begging to be fed by me—not the other fucking way around,” you wanted to nod but all that let out was small whines - no longer caring about feeding his ego.

The cards were dealt perfectly - you just had to play them right.

“Geto-Sama, please,” you cried, “pleasepleaseplease let me- fuck- let me help. Want you to- to mark me? Please, will you?”

Suguru fought hard to suppress the moan he wanted out—he hated that he loved seeing you this way—he hated how he wanted to see you such everyday.

He hated how for the past almost three years he’d wanted this, how he wanted to loved you.

Oh how he loved being so silly.

And just as that his length was shoved deep into your mouth again—and internal conflict in his mind as he face fucked you —he just wanted you carnally and you, him.

Not long did it take before you knew he was close.

“Stay right there, fuck — oh my god I'm close. I'm so fucking close. Gonna fill up that mouth, stuff it so good not a drop spills out.”

And at that, without another word he came inside—a warm gush in your mouth as you struggled to keep it all in—to please him—hot and sticky as he slowly pulled out of your mouth.

“So pretty,” he murmured as his fingers tapped your cheek—hinting at you to swallow it all.

Suguru watched as your tired body panted and lay still on his form—head resting against his thigh.

A soft hand brushed through your hair, a gentle smile as he wrapped the Yakuta around your naked body.

In hindsight, maybe he would regret it—but in the present of this entirely, he loved it.

He loved you.

Two months, suguru’s heart had churned—perhaps more than yours—to have you lay against him for the past two years was no issue, not until he knew your heart was opening up to him.

And something in him fought him to have you now that, that was a bad idea.

He realized now that, that something was all too stupid a thought—especially when he could now carry your body softly, pressed up against his chest as he Carried you to the shared chambers, his chambers.

Oh how he loved you being his - without complaint now.

A monkey—his mind called out, the woman I will love, his heart snapped back.

It had to be a promise - it didn’t flow out so easy, that love - as compared to his disdain for non-sorcerers, his disdain for your disgusting father even more.

He hated how he saw profit within you he hated how his heart sought a shrine within too, he wanted you but only if you wanted him.

It was confusing, to him and you and everyone around—that he was all so enamored by you—nothing more of than the daughter of his hitsman you were, skilled to fill that spot yourself, but it wouldn’t add up.

He couldn’t possibly have you work so much - but then, he just didn’t know how else to make you happy.

And even that, sadly only made you breakdown further.

But now, as he’d look at the serene expression on your face as you slept -everything senseless would fall back—as he fell in love a little more when your fingers clasped onto his when he was pulling away.

~now~

Day and night.

Slowly they passed.

The first year, then the second and then third—all the way to five years and there you sat, right beside him, regal.

Don’t get me wrong, you perhaps still hate him and he despises you too—but it is in the certain way, that every third night you’re clamping down on his form and he holds you softly right after—“I love you” muttered by neither.

He wasn’t sure on to why it was the way it was.

He hated monkeys, you were one—so equally, he must also hate you—and yet, his heart ached the day your father thrust your hand into his.

He’d seen you before that day still, running about, aloof—you enjoyed your craft—he’d enjoyed seeing you do so. Marriage to him was simply a barrier to your skills—he knew that, and yet not being married to him was a barrier to mayhaps a comfortable life.

Never before Had Suguru pitied monkeys such—and yet, to see the tears roll down your eyes, he felt captivated.

In the way the silence of his halls was dimmed when his daughters would call for you—in the way you unnecessarily commanded his house—as if you held that power.

But then, mostly you did.

In the way you held pillows all too close to yourself to feel some warmth—in the way you used the pillows as a means of a boundary between the two.

In the way you forced yourself to hate him, in the way you whimpered against his touch.

Everything.

And anything.

All he knew deep down was he wanted you happy, with him and often, without him.

“Do you know this man?” The words rolled off his tongue smooth, you stared intently at the man bowing at your feet.

“No,” words were often simple lies when you stood beside him in that assembly, the man, once referred to as your father, inhaled sharp at your words.

Suguru’s smirk only widened—your mother and sister long gone perhaps, you didn’t know, you didn’t care.

Suguru never let you care.

“He’s committed a crime,” Suguru motioned to the crowd awaiting—“A dire crime,” his eyes now trained upon you—“And as always, our goddess here will help us get rid of it, yes?”

Not the first time you’d been asked—three years ago, the first time you’d killed in that assembly, you’d committed and since then, that’s how Suguru used you - made his promises of love to you.

The best hitsman he had, his prized one.

His hand wound around you softly, a creep to your abdomen—“wanna play a game?”

The blood inside you rushed—it didn’t matter.

None of it.

You’d killed plenty of monkeys now - under his command, your morality had shifted.

What had seemed criminal then…now just a command, now just a shrug.

Suguru adored you simply as you did and you did too—but today was different.

Today, stood in front of you, a true criminal.

Blood of monkeys never bothered you—you were their deity, Suguru had reminded you every time you cried, you told him of your dilemma—they were honored to die at your hands, he’d remind you.

In the 5 years, things had changed drastically indeed - Suguru was still a fraud, you no longer cared, you were still a monkey, he no longer cared.

Especially not when he held you at night - reminding you that he did love you, sometimes through whispered words that made you giggle, and sometimes through undulating sex - something both of you had sought undesirable in the beginning.

The wood that surrounded you was thick—beautiful really, especially for a game of hide-and-seek.

A shove he passed to your father, rough—“Run,” he ordered, dark eyes softening as they landed upon you.

“Kill him in 2 hours and I’ll let you take over tonight,” a smile sketched onto your lips—“and if not…” a similar smile etched onto his.

And then this was all, a man so irrelevant as your father, he ran as you toyed with him, brought down to a reward from Suguru for you.

“Suguru?” you often called out now, pressed to his side - a hum he’d pass - annoyed slightly, you talked much now, often when he tried to sleep.

You don’t ask him silly things now - you used to when the new shift had come - when he began holding you, when he’d begun showing care - “do you love me now?” was one of the first few ones.

You’d laid in his side - another first, he’d scoffed momentarily, “you think i would feed you soup if i didn’t?”

You’d giggled then, his heart melted as he held out another spoonful, “maybe you just want your hitsman all healthy and fine, since i’m such huge entertainment, before and after..”

He laughed along then, slight concern when your laugh turned to a cough - a huge way you’d come together, “shut up and heal,”

“Answer me,” you pressed, another shift was your tone - no longer subdued when nervous, often times teasing and sarcastic - he loved it.

“I do love you,” he’d mumbled for the first time - you’d only giggled, “i knew it.”

You had found, you loved proving yourself right to him, regardless of much he did hate being corrected and proven wrong.

And he loved it too.

(this is...not smn i'm sure of, it's just how their sex dynamics are now lol)

Another hunt took place - some woman who’d promised him thousands of money and then tried sabotaging his business - she had been quick, a good hunt indeed.

But now you lay all spent yourself.

Legs sprawled beside his head—your fingers clutched hard onto the sheet beneath.

“Suguru,” your voice drew out—a whine, “Please…” you cried out softly as his tongue lapped onto your clit.

“Please what darling?” A sharp slap landed on your inner thigh—another whine.

“I was just 7 minutes late,” your dirtied clothes lay away forgotten—the neat white towels he’d used to wipe the blood off of you—used to cleanse and purify you again lay just beside his head as you tugged on hair harshly.

A soft giggle he let out—“7 minutes too late doll- you knew the punishment right? Let me edge you thrice more now, be a good pet.”

And another giggle he passed, eliciting a sharp cry of his name when he pressed his tongue flat on your clit.

And Suguru loved this, so Did you.

Your god and his goddess.

All of this work is original and entirely my own please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

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ladykailitha · 20 hours ago

Text

You're a Dream to Me Part 3

Whoohoo! And we're back with this lovely story! This will be its forever home until it's completed. So every Sunday you will a new chapter of this wonderfully fun soulmate fic!

In this one we have Chrissy making it up to the band and Steve getting his first hint of who his soulmate is (denial is a river in Egypt Steve!)

Part 1 Part 2

Steve was on top of an old van, a blanket laid out under them, watching the sun set. He was sitting with his back pressed to his soulmate’s chest as he ran his fingers through the riot of curls. The man’s hair was soft and silky, like he knew how to take care of it.

“You can’t resist my hair, can you, baby?” his soulmate rumbled. His arms wrapped tighter around Steve’s waist.

Steve sighed happily. “I can’t resist you.”

His soulmate nuzzled his neck and then his hands started to wander. Steve’s body arched into the touch. He looked down at the hands and saw rings on almost every finger. All except the ring finger on the left hand. Steve laced their fingers together and then pulled the man down for a kiss. It was searing and sensual, leaving Steve feeling warm all over.

His soulmate’s hands began to drift toward his belt and lower–

BEEEEP! BEEEP! BEEP!

Steve jolted awake, sitting straight up in his bed, disorientated. He panted for breath. He looked around to see that he was in his bedroom and it was still dark outside. He picked up his phone, silencing the alarm.

“Fuck!”

Steve ran his hands over his face. He had forgotten to turn off his alarm. He wasn’t meant to be into the bookstore until the afternoon. He flopped his head back onto the pillows, staring up at the ceiling.

That soulmate dream had started toward the steamy. While he had heard of them happening to other people, he had always assumed that they were when they were about to meet, not the second clear dream ever.

But like all the other dreams he had of his soulmate it was very tender and intimate. He knew that once he met his soulmate that they would be perfect for each other. He knew that sounded bit like hyperbole, but he could feel it with every new dream he had about his soulmate.

He curled up into a ball and tried to drift back to sleep, all the while in the back of his mind it fused the memory of the rings on his soulmate’s long fingers.

Fuck!

Eddie hated having to wake up early on performance days because it meant that he would be running on empty from the get go. But there was some major sporting event in town where everyone had come from far away to watch this game. And even though Chrissy had gotten them hotel rooms before the game was announced in the city, they had been bumped to make room.

Chrissy had spent hours screaming at the poor guy who did reservations to no avail. There were no rooms in the whole fucking town to be had. So they had to get a hotel in a city about an hour away and then wake up early to drive into the city so that they could get everything set up.

He rubbed his eyes and then pressed the heels of his palms into them. That dream last night was so fucking domestic that it made his teeth ache. The way Steve murmured that he couldn’t resist all of Eddie? God that was like fucking catnip to him. The casual affection was addictive as hell.

He crawled out of bed and started making the coffee as he padded into the bathroom for a shower. He hoped the combination of the two would make him less of a zombie and more of person by the time he got down to the lobby to meet with Chrissy and the rest of the band.

He scrubbed his hair and had to stop for a moment to catch his breath. The feeling of Steve’s hand in his hair had decided to make an indelible mark on his psyche today. The way that it feel was tender and possessing all at once. Like Steve had laid claim to him to care for him.

Eddie pressed his hand to his chest were the tattoo of the black, thorny crown was etched into his skin. He had gotten after their first song had gone platinum. ‘King of My Heart’ was a song off their third album. They had had songs go gold and whole albums go platinum, but that was the first time a song theirs had done so.

The guys knew it was about Steve, but everyone else thought it had been about Eddie’s then boyfriend, Ferdie Olivier. Ferdie’s parents were big Shakespeare fans and that’s how he got the name Ferdinand. Dude was hot, but wasn’t meant for the life under the bright lights. He loved being a small character actor, not the boyfriend of megastar Eddie Munson.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there taking in the memories of his dreams, but not long enough that the water went cold before he got out. The coffee was still hot and he put it in a little to-go cup, adding enough cream and sugar to kill a horse. He finished getting dressed and then grabbed his stuff and coffee on the way out the door.

He was the first down in the lobby and sat down in a nearby chair as he eyed a croissant hungrily. Jeff came down and swiped two croissants, tossing him one.

“Jesus fuck,” Jeff huffed as he sat down next to him, “just fucking eat if you’re hungry. You don’t need to go looking like fucking Oliver Twist, dude.”

Eddie blushed as he bit down on his buttery croissant. “Thanks.”

After he munched on the pastry he stood up and got a couple of bagels and some cream cheese spread. By the time Chrissy arrived, the band had eaten and were fully caffeinated.

She raised an eyebrow, but wisely said nothing. Their PA took their luggage and packed up the car they had rent for the day. Once they were on the road Chrissy spoke up.

“I’ve got a treat for the whole band really,” she said, “though it started as a way to make up for being a bitch the other morning.”

“Wha’cha got?” Gareth asked, leaning forward and propping himself up with his elbow to the seat.

“You know how we have three days between Indy and Bloomington?” she asked with a huge grin on her face.

Brian rolled his eyes and huffed. “Don’t we know it. We were going to spend it with our families, maybe get the cops to chase us for old time’s sake.”

“Well...” Chrissy said, “what would be another thing you’d like to do for old time’s sake?”

Eddie blinked for a moment. “There is no fucking way. They’d never agree to it, they’re like a country western bar now or some shit.”

Chrissy turned around and smirked. “Not anymore. It’s not even a dive bar anymore. It’s a full on metal and leather bar now.”

They all stared at her in shock and suddenly they were all talking at once over top of each other as they expressed their excitement and in Gareth’s case incredulity. Eddie put his fingers to his lips and let out a loud, piercing whistle.

Everyone went stock still.

“Thank you,” Eddie murmured. “So you are telling us that not only is The Hideout a metal and leather bar, but that you got us a gig there during our three day layover in Hawkins?”

“Yup!” Chrissy said brightly. “So I couldn’t decide which say you guys would have wanted; day one, two, or three. So I figured, I’d let you decide and then call them with the exact day.”

All at once everyone was talking over each other again, this time Eddie joining with them, while Chrissy settled in her seat with delighted giggle.

In the end they chose the last day. That way they had plenty of time to spend with their families, and a chance to bow out of town on one hell of a high.

Chrissy called The Hideout and made sure they had the date set. She might have fucked up but she was pretty sure this more than made up for it.

Steve went through the day in a haze. He had spent some time in the health section of the bookstore looking at the books on soulmate dreams. Especially the ones on sex and found out that the sooner those types of dreams started between soulmates the tighter the bond was between the two.

So the fact that they had almost had sex or at least almost made out like horny teenagers in the the second dream meant that they were destined for a bond that would last their entire lives. Soulmates came in all sorts of flavors from good friends to a love that would last the ages. And according to the seven books he looked at, that’s what he was headed for.

On the one hand, it was heartwarming to know that having waited a long time he was about to meet the other half of his soul, the person that would complete him in ways he couldn’t even imagine. But on the other hand, that pressure was immense. How was he supposed to live up that kind of fairy tale romance?

He was absently drawing one of the rings that he saw on his soulmate’s hands when Dustin came in with his mom to look for a new knitting book she had heard of that had patterns from ancient times.

When Dustin came up to the cash register, he spotted the drawing.

“Hey, I didn’t know you drew,” he said cocking his head to the side. “Wha’cha drawing?”

Steve sighed but handed the drawing over to him. “My soulmate likes lots of chunky rings, I guess.”

Claudia leaned over Dustin’s shoulder to look at the picture. “Oh my heavens! Is that a pig?!”

“Yeah,” he replied with a shrug. “The one of the others was a skull ring and the last one was like a coffin or something because it had a cross and skulls on it.”

Dustin frowned at the description of the rings.

“What’s up, Dusty?” he asked.

Dustin pulled out his phone and began searching. When Steve opened his mouth to ask again, Dustin held up his finger.

“Dusty,” Claudia admonished, “don’t be rude and answer Steve.”

“Ah ha!” he cried. “I thought that sounded familiar!” He turned the phone over for Steve to see.

Steve took it from him to look at the picture more closely. It showed the close up of a man playing guitar and all three of the rings looked about right and even on the same fingers.

“Yeah,” Steve said with a nod. “That’s what they looked like.”

“Those are Eddie Munson’s rings,” Dustin cried. “Like could he be your soulmate?”

Steve frowned for a moment as he tried to place the name. “He’s that guy from Hawkins who made it big with that rock band right?”

“Metal band,” Dustin said rolling his eyes. “But yes. Corroded Coffin. You know, the music you said plays in your soulmate dreams.”

“Yes, okay,” Steve side biting his lip. “But I’m not really Eddie’s type. Or at least I wouldn’t have been in high school. He prefers the dudes that look like him.”

“It’s more likely,” Claudia said gently trying to not get Dustin’s hopes up, “that the rings in Steve’s dreams aren’t exactly the same ones that Eddie Munson wears.”

Dustin looked at the phone in Steve’s hand. “Maybe your soulmate is an uber fan or something if he got replicas of Eddie’s rings.” He looked up at Steve.

Steve handed the phone back to Dustin. “That’s probably it. Plus, Eddie’s a metal star now and what would he want with a mousy bookstore owner, anyway?”

“Well,” Dustin said with a grimace, “when you do meet your soulmate, ask him where he got his rings because they look so spot on for Eddie’s and I’d like to buy some too.”

Steve huffed out a small breathy laugh. “Sure thing, bud. I’ll be sure and ask.”

Dustin grinned and finally allowed Steve to ring them up.

Steve mouthed the name ‘Eddie Munson’ and then shook his head.

Nah. It couldn’t be.

Could it?

Tag List: FOUR SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @themoonagainstmers @eyehartart @tartarusknight @chaotic-waffle @dotdot-wierdlife

10- @stedestielfrattficlover

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #rockstar eddie munson #bookstore owner steve harrington #soulmate au

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hug-me-hard-so-i-dont-forget-you · 1 day ago

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Can we talk about Buck's abandonment issues for a minute? You're probably thinking "Yeah his parents were neglectful and Maddie keeps running away." But there's so much more:

First and foremost we see two scenes where his parents are giving him attention but only in a negative light. All the while they're not telling him WHY they're upset/disappointed in him.

Then of course, there's the many times he's lost/had to say goodbye to Maddie. (Not pictured: when she ran away to Boston)

Then we've got any and all friends/relationships he had when travelling from Pennsylvania to LA.

Then we've got Abby leaving, without telling him beforehand, for an indeterminate amount of time. Leaving him to haunt her apartment and then forcing him to rescue her fiancé that she somehow acquired while never actually out right breaking up with Buck.

Next is Redmond 'Red' Walker. The man Buck warms up to very quickly and whom he sees as his future self: a man who's truly, completely alone in the world.

THEN his friends who only show up to ask for his sperm, make him be the go-between when they have a fight, and then make him deliver the baby and ruin his couch. And he held his biological child in his arms with tears in his eyes and just never saw him again. They never even mention it again.

GIVE THIS MAN A BABY

Then, of course we have his older brother, Daniel. Basically the only reason Buck was even born. The person his family kept from him for nearly 30 years. And no, he didn't particularly abandon him but he was given all of this information in one afternoon and that's a lot to process.

And we can't not mention Chris. He lost him once before, blaming himself the whole time. He wasn't even the one to find him in the end so he never really got that closure.

And we talk about how heartbroken Eddie was about Chris leaving but what about Buck?? He was basically a second father for him. Not only that, but he was the last one to speak to him before he walked out. Eddie threw a Hail Mary by calling Buck, asking him to do "what you always do." Only this time it didn't work and he 'failed.'

We get another instance of Buck learning way too much information in one night: not only discovering that he likes Tommy, but the fact that he likes guys AT ALL. He goes through an identity crisis and has a bit of a panic attack. And what does Tommy do in response? Leaves him outside of the restaurant on their first date. Then, 6 months in, Buck thinks he's in love and asks him to move in, complete with heart eyes and oblivion. And instead of going their date that night Tommy decides to break up with him. I understand his reasoning: knowing Buck is just a baby gay and needs to find himself a bit more before settling down. But Buck is also a 3-braincelled puppydog when he's infatuated and he needs to be handled gently or else he's gonna use up the city's flour supply, baking away his temptations.

And now he's losing his absolute best friend. The one he works with, eats dinner with, co-parents a child with, facetimes/texts/calls during the rare times they're NOT together. The one who restarted his heart after getting struck by the same bolt of lightning. The one who wasn't in his coma dream because without Buck his life went to shit. The one who immediately accepted him when he came out, encouraged him to give it a try with Tommy, and then supported him after the breakup when he was going through withdrawals. The one that he can't imagine his life without because he has become such an integral part of every aspect of his life.

I'm surprised this man has kept it together this long and hasn't shut everyone out completely. My heart hurts just thinking about it.

#911 #911 abc #911 show #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #christopher diaz #maddie buckley #maddie han #tommy kinard

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ohburgee · 2 days ago

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𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝

betrayed!1x1x1x1 x gn-survivor!reader

tw: violence, massacre, blood, capturing an: another 1x1x1x1 I swear I loved this man, like he put you in a poisoned to make you want him more. Imagine playing Forsaken, then got captured by this beautiful specimen,n bloodthirsty killer :3 summary: being a helper and protector for your friends is very risky, but you're willing to save them and defend them, Elliot was your top priority, such an innocent teenager being on this game. when you're both running from this bloodthirsty killer but something was not right when the killer looked at you not in wanting to kill you but something wanted you for another reason.

After surviving a brutal game, you and the other players finally got a chance to rest inside a large cabin. You sat near the fireplace, trying to warm up from the cold that lingered outside. The flickering flames cast a soft glow on the room, offering a rare sense of comfort.

One of the players, Elliot, approached you with a wide smile, holding out a plate of pizza.

"For my savior," he said cheerfully, handing you a slice. You accepted it with a grateful smile.

"I'm so glad you were there... You saved me," Elliot added, sinking into the seat beside you with a relieved sigh.

"It's my mission to help others," you replied, your voice calm but laced with exhaustion.

The two of you enjoyed the warmth of the fire as you talked about the game how close you all came to losing, and the terrifying moments you barely escaped. But just as the tension started to fade, the speakers crackled to life.

"Another round of the game has begun. Prepare for survival."

The announcement echoed through the cabin, cutting the peaceful atmosphere short. Everyone began to gear up, mentally preparing themselves for another brutal match.

Once the game started, players scattered across the map, working to fix the generators. You and Elliot stuck together, cautiously repairing one on the far side of the area.

"I swear some generators take forever to fix," Elliot grumbled, anxiously glancing around.

You scanned the area for any sign of the killer, your heart pounding in your chest. The announcer hadn’t revealed who the killer was this round they just threw you all into the chaos.

Then you heard it. A loud, echoing *thud* growing closer. You and Elliot barely finished fixing the generator when the sound became deafening. Without thinking, you grabbed Elliot and pulled him behind a tree.

He followed your gaze, eyes widening in horror. A green smoke seeped through the cracks in a nearby wall, and out of the mist stepped a figure with long white hair and a cold, menacing aura.

It was 1x1x1x1. Death himself.

Players feared him more than any other killer. He was ruthless, brutal, and relentless. Facing him felt like facing the death.

"It’s him... Why does it have to be him?" Elliot whispered, trembling.

You stayed alert, barely breathing, watching as another player accidentally revealed themselves. 1x immediately locked onto them, sprinting after them with terrifying speed.

"Now’s our chance. Run!" you hissed, grabbing Elliot again. You both bolted toward a nearby structure where a few survivors were fixing another generator. Without a word, you jumped in to help.

The sound of a gunshot echoed through the map someone must have stunned the killer. But you knew it wouldn’t last long. The round dragged on, the tension unbearable.

When the generator was finally fixed, you all decided to stay in the structure, hoping to outlast the killer. Elliot stuck to your side like a lost puppy, as he look around like scared for anything.

"Don’t worry, El. I’m here. I’ll protect you," you whispered, rubbing his back to comfort him.

But the brief peace shattered when a chilling scream pierced the air, followed by the wet, sickening sound of a blade slicing through flesh. You all looked down from the structure to see 1x standing over a lifeless survivor, their body limp in his grasp.

Then he looked up.

His crimson eyes locked onto yours only yours. A slow, wicked smile spread across his face before he bolted toward the structure.

You immediately grabbed Elliot as the other survivors scattered in panic. 1x climbed up the structure with unnatural speed, cutting players down mercilessly. It was a massacre.

You and Elliot ran as fast as you could, desperately searching for a hiding spot. Eventually, you found a secluded area with crumbling walls and a small hole to crawl through.

"Go inside, now," you urged, helping Elliot through the gap before slipping in yourself.

You both crouched in silence, hearts pounding, waiting for the chaos to pass. Then an announcement blared through the speakers:

"One generator remaining."

Peeking through a crack, you spotted the final generator untouched. You bit your lip, heart racing.

"I need to fix that generator," you whispered, turning to Elliot.

"What? No! What if he catches you?" Elliot's voice shook with panic.

"It’s okay. As long as you’re safe, I’ll come back for you. I promise," you reassured him, pulling him into a tight hug before slipping out of the hiding spot.

Carefully, you crept toward the generator and began fixing it, your fingers trembling with urgency. But before you could finish, heavy footsteps echoed nearby.

It was him.

You quickly ducked behind the generator, frantically searching for a distraction. Spotting a small stone you knew it's stupid but it's only thing you can make a distraction, you threw it across the area.

To your shock, it worked. 1x turned and followed the noise. Wasting no time, you went back to fixing the generator, adrenaline surging through you. But just as you were about to finish.

A cold hand wrapped around your arm. You gasped, looking up to see those same blood-red eyes.

It was over.

You closed your eyes, bracing for the inevitable facing your fate. At least Elliot could escape now...

But nothing happened.

Cautiously, you opened your eyes to see 1x studying you, his head tilted in amusement. Then, to your horror, he smiled and that made you feel scared.

"You look adorable when you’re scared... It makes me like you even more," he whispered, voice laced with sinister affection.

Before you could react, he effortlessly lifted you onto his shoulder, black smoke curling around your vision.

"You belong to me now... little survivor," he chuckled, his voice echoing in your head as the darkness consumed you.

From a distance, Elliot peeked out from the hiding spot, eyes wide with terror. He watched helplessly as 1x carried you away, when 1x saw Elliot, 1x finger pressed to his lips in a chilling *shh* gesture.

Elliot wanted to run after you. He wanted to fight. But he was paralyzed by fear.

And so, he stayed hidden watching as 1x disappeared into the shadows, taking you with him.

n: so some of you wondering about mafioso, don't worry I'm still writing for him just want to finish 1x and after this I'll be going to write for mafioso so a fanfic of him coming soon :>

#1x1x1x1 #1x1x1x1 forsaken #forsaken 1x4 #betrayed 1x1x1x1 #forsaken x reader #forsaken #1x1x1x1 x reader #elliot forsaken

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numenoria · 1 day ago

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The Rings of Power Season 1 Ep 1-4 thoughts/observations/commentary ✨

EP1:

RIP Finrod 😥

Galadriel is a badass consumed by vengeance. I'm sure this WILL NOT come back to bite her.

Galadriel girl you're on your own!!

Young Elrond's hair is quite interesting...

Your honor, I'm convinced this Gil-Galad person wants to fuck Elrond

Evidence:

Arondir the beautiful elf that you are!

Bronwyn is gorgeous and level-headed.

Lil boy put that evil trinket back where it came from oh so help me!!!

These proto-hobbits are adorable and scruffy. I like Nori, she's spunky. I wasn't feeling the Hartfoots hair choices at first but it grew on me.

Galadriel being literally shipped off. Yeah this is def a coverup for something

The blond masc elf REALLY wants Galadriel to stay on the boat

Galadriel: 🤸🏻‍♀️🌊

Who the fuck just fell from the sky?? Naked??

EP2:

Nori is definitely a "run towards the danger" kind of gal

Is that GANDALF?? It's Gandalf right?

Feanor mention!! Simarils?? 👀

"True creation requires sacrifice" Yeah that's not the last time we're going to hear that phrase.

I've been saying Celebrimbor's name wrong this entire time. 😶

YAY Dwarves!!

Elrond is besties with a Dwarf! Durin IV?

Durin why are you showing out!? Elrond just wants to say hi :(

Oh...

20 years!!? Elrond you missed his wedding and the birth of his babies?? I'd show out too!! Trash friend behavior!

Disa! The dwarf queen that you are! She's so inviting and warm. OMG her hair is gorgeous! Durin IV I will fight you for her hand in marriage!

I haaateeee Durin's Hair/Beard combo. They lowkey did him dirty imo.

Why are these people on this raft?? Galadriel do not trust that man!

I'm not sold on the Halbrand thirst yet..

ORCS UNDER THE HOUSE??

I bet yall believe Bronwyn now!

Bro killed the Fireflies oop :(

EP3:

The Elves are slaves?? prisoners?? I don't like this

Who is Adar??

Galadriel and Halbrand are on a bigger boat.

Elendir you ruggedly handsome man. The genes are strong in that bloodline.

Numenor is breathtaking.

These people do not like elves

Galadriel does not know how to talk to people

Queen Tar-Miriel *I AM LOOKING RESPECFULLY*

I thought Pharazon was being played by Jack Black. Like a cleaned up Jack Black. I'm Sorry to both actors.

The Numenorians are very stylish.

Isildur??

Oh no he's dissociating at sea (trauma perhaps?)

I prefer look of these orcs over PJ's orcs.

Some losers are interrogating Halbrand.

Oh shit these guys are about to get curbed stomped to hell!

Halbrand's locked up

OH NO HE'S HOT!!

Evidence:

Why did he look at her like that??? . They def have some simmering sexual tension

"I am not the hero you seek." FORESHADOWING!! Galadriel do not trust this man!

An unsuccessful Elf rebellion. Arondir was giving action hero vibes

Wtf is that?? A warg? An orc dog??

Blurry Adar

EP4:

Miriel holding a baby. She loves her people

It was all a dream

Pharazar is plotting something!! He's very much a Brutus type.

Arondir meets Adar

I am slightly turned on and disgusted

Theo is attached to the evil trinket almost bound to it...

Arondir saves the Theo (I think that's his son?? But they don't know it yet)

Disa is a bad liar ��

MIthril???

Galadriel locked up.

Halbrand teaching Galadriel about playing mind games. Yeah girl don't trust him!

Galadriel is free

Miriel and Galadriel bond. Do people ship them? Should I ship them? 🤔

The King's health is failing. Poor Miriel.

A Palantir? That's not good. Six more? Like dragon balls?

The crystal nerd in me thinks the Palantir is composed of lapis lazuli (the stone of visions/psychic powers)

Galadriel's getting the boot from Numenor

Arondir to Theo's rescue!

The orcs are ashy and they hate the sun

Disa you better sang to those rocks!!

This scene was very touching.

I love Dwarves!

Durin/Disa/Elrond warms my heart

The Dwarf King knows something is up

Theo do not trust that creepy old man.

Sir unhand that boy! 🔪

The darkness has consumed this old man

Galadriel is shipped off again!

The petals of the White Tree fall.

Galadriel is back w/Queen Miriel's support

Me thinks the people will not take this well

Overall the show is visually pleasing (aside from some styling choices). The cast is strong and very talented. The music is excellent. There's a lot of characters being introduced but that's typical of anything Tolkien related. Thanks for getting this far! I'll continue episodes 5-8 in a separate post ✨🩷

-Davi ☽︎♡︎☾︎

Edit: Not sure what happened, but NONE of the pics/memes I put in the post saved on tumblr mobile! I edited it on desktop so they should show up now. ^^

#the rings of power #rings of power #Trop #Tolkien #trop season 1 #Mtj #Davi watches things #Dwt #Davi speaks #Dspks

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spidercatweb · 12 hours ago

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Book Return ★ Spencer Reid x reader

Warnings: none! fem!reader, r wears glasses, r is wearing a skirt, no y/n, fluff!! GLASSES REID!!! Great Gatsby mention because it was the first book I could think of...

Request: "Hello, can I request spencer reid x nerdy-girly reader whos work in museum or library and they are smitten with each other? thanks x"

Description: r works at a library, Spencer comes to get his usual absurd amount of books, they have some very cute interactions, Spencer gathers the courage to ask r out on a date :)

Word Count: 1393

A/n: had a sudden burst of inspiration and wrote this all in one night! I hope you enjoy!! Thank you for the request! <3

It’s a lovely Tuesday morning, and you’re working at your local library. It’s been a quiet, peaceful morning. You’d just handed a pile of picture books to the mother of a cheery little girl.

“Enjoy your books!” You wave goodbye to the little girl, who excitedly waves back. Her mother gives you a warm smile. The girl is already reaching for the stack of books in her mother's hands as she walks, asking for a specific one, eager to read it. You smile to yourself. She'll definitely grow up to be an avid reader, she reminds me of myself.

As you sit back down in your chair behind the checkout desk, you spot your favourite visitor entering through the glass doors of the library. Your heart flutters at the sight of him, you hadn’t seen him in nearly two weeks.

You watch the tall, brown haired man painstakingly slot an obnoxiously tall stack of books into the book return. You grin when you notice how your outfit almost matches his, a dark brown cardigan with an off-white top underneath, and a long brown skirt, which matches the cardigan. He wears a checkered brown sweater vest with a white button up underneath. His pants are a shade of dark brown, almost the same as your skirt. Maybe you should stop staring and go help him, that pile of books doesn't seem to be getting any smaller.

“I haven't seen you in a while, where have you been? And would you like some help with those?”

“Oh! Hi! Um- yes I'd like some help please, that would be great.” He nods and smiles at you, he must be embarrassed by the amount of books he's returning because his face gains a slight red tint.

You take half of his pile of books into your hands and begin slotting them into the return one by one. “So.. why haven't I seen you in like, two weeks?” You repeat your first question, stealing a glance at his focused expression. He's wearing his glasses… He looks so pretty with his glasses.

“Um- I've been- I was away for work, we had a case in Oregon that went on for way longer than expected.” He had told you previously about his tiring work at the BAU, and how he and his team would go away for days at a time to catch serial killers. You thought it was impressive that he had the time to read so many books while still keeping up with his job.

“Well, I- we missed you here-” I missed him? Why did I say that? I barely know the man. “You're much more entertaining than the crabby students who study here for hours.” This was true, just last week you'd had to ask a group of students to leave for being too disruptive. They certainly did not appreciate that.

Spencer huffs out a laugh at your remark, “I’d hope so.”

You both finish putting the last of the books into the slot, then turn to face each other,. Sstanding there awkwardly for a moment. “Are you just here to return books today, or will you be checking out some more?” You tilt your head at him with a smile, waiting for a response.

“I was wondering if the copy of The Great Gatsby had been returned? I couldn't find it last time, I've been wanting to re-read it for a while.”

“Yes! I actually saved it for you, it's at my desk!” You grin as you step happily to your desk, pleased with yourself that you had remembered to save the book for him. He follows, fidgeting with his hands and mirroring your grin. She remembered to save the book just for me. Does she do that for anyone else?

“Here you go!” You hand him the book and hope your cheeks don't look as warm as they feel. Maybe that doesn't matter though, because his seem much pinker than usual. He gently takes the book from you, then quickly inspects it, flipping through a few pages and looking at the cover.

“Thank you.” He smiles. For some reason, he seems more nervous than usual today. He's more fidgety, and can't seem to form a sentence without stumbling through it. Interesting. It's not like you're any better, though. You've been avoiding eye contact with him as much as possible since you'd developed your little crush on him about five months ago. Every time you were around him, your hands felt clammy and your heart felt like it was racing. Maybe the crush wasn't so little.

★ ★ ★

You leave him alone to gather his comically large pile of books. It takes him about half an hour to finally finish. He's clearly carefully selected each one and taken his time to decide.

You're doodling mindlessly on a sticky note when he comes up to the checkout counter, setting the heavy pile in front of you. He grabs your attention with a meek “Hi”.

“Sorry! Got distracted!” A nervous laugh escapes you as you adjust your glasses. Grabbing the book scanner, you wait for him to place his library card on your desk. Clearly distracted by something - you - his mind goes blank for a moment.

“Oh, card, yeah, sorry.” He searches his pockets and eventually finds it, placing it in front of you.

“No need to be sorry.” You shake your head, disregarding his apology.

As you scan his books, he waits patiently, tapping his fingers on your desk in a quiet rhythm. Usually, he would talk to you. He'd even stay for a while if the library wasn't too busy. But clearly, there was something on his mind. He looks around at the various items on your desk. Many sticky notes filled with reminders and quotes, a small pile of books that you read while you aren't busy, a hand painted mug that holds bright colored pens. All of it was just so you. Or at least, what he perceived you to be. And he would be lying to himself if he said he didn't love the idea of you, if he said he didn't want to get to know you more.

“Alright, enjoy your reading!” You nudge the pile of books towards him and set his library card on top. He slides the card off of the pile and puts it back into his pocket, then carefully takes the towering pile of books.

“Thank you! Have a nice day!” He turns to leave.

“You too!” You wave, even though his back is facing you.

Just before he reaches the doors, he spins on his heel and walks right back over to you, a nervous look on his face. He bites the inside of his lip, like he's hesitating to say something. You quirk an eyebrow at him.

“Forget something?”

“No, actually. Well- yes, but.” He stammers, books still in hand. “I was wondering if you'd maybe like to go out for coffee sometime? With me?” He squints his eyes slightly, mentally preparing himself for rejection.

You smile, feeling your face heat up once again.

“Like, on a date?” You hold back a stupid grin.

“Well- only- only if that's what you'd like. Yeah.” He nods, his face turning a deep shade of pink.

“I'd love that, yeah.” You nod back.

“Really?” He smiles wider.

“Mhm”

He huffs out a nervous laugh, “Okay, how does Saturday sound?”

“Saturday is perfect, just tell me the time and place and I'll be there.” Do I sound too eager? I don't care.

“9:30am? At the café just across the street?” This was clearly what he'd been thinking about all morning.

“That sounds wonderful, I'll see you there.” You nod excitedly, failing to suppress a giddy smile.

“Great.”

“Great.” He stands there for a moment, beaming at the thought of getting to spend more time with you. “So… I'll see you then?” Just one more confirmation to prove it was real.

“See you then.” You nod, he nods back.

He turns to exit once again, making his way out of the building. Once he's no longer in sight, you look around the empty library before giggling to yourself and spinning around in your chair.

You have a big, dorky grin on your face for the rest of the day. You can't wait for your date with Spencer.

Thank you for reading! Feedback is very much appreciated! <3 Perhaps I'll write a part 2 of their date if that's what people would like?

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #catnipp writes #catnipps requests

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leezlelatch · 1 day ago

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A small thing, 658 words, Secondo x F! Reader.

Mornings came different now. The sheets are always warm, waking brings a sense of peace. If he were to reach, his hand would not stretch across a bed too big for one person. His hand would find her. She kept not only his once lonely bed warm, but also his heart. It is a jarring experience for a man his age to suddenly find himself eager to greet the daylight. He was a creature of darkness, a fate he accepted long ago. Fate came in the hands of men who pulled him away from his mother. Fate came in the way his father’s eyes passed over him without recognition. Fate came in the parties, in the alcohol, in trying to feel something other than this loathing. For himself. For them. For the mornings that stretched too long, a coffee too bitter.

“Where did your mind go, my love?” She asks, her voice thick with sleep. Fingers pass over his cheek in a gentle caress and he grabs her hand, pressing a lingering kiss to the inside of her wrist. “Bad thoughts aren’t for the morning.”

“I am a bad man,” he murmurs, nuzzling into her palm. He keeps her skin touching his, caged against his face. Secondo’s eyers flutter shut. He could be something better when she touches him.

She shifts, rising onto her elbow, and she takes back her hand. He growls, low in his throat, but she only smiles, rising above him. “You’re right,” she muses, throwing a leg over his waist and settling on his lips. Satan below, the way his body reacts. It’s immediate, desire coiling in his belly that stopped feeling like a transaction when she entered his life. “You’re very bad. You haven’t given me my morning kiss.”

His large hands settle at her waist, and he chuckles, eyes softening as he gazes up at the woman who saved his soul. “Perdonami, my dove,” he says, his tongue rolling the R slowly, with intention. Ah, there it is. The blush on her cheeks. “I am neglecting my duties as your lover.”

“Lover?” Her expression is playfully aghast, and she leans over him, her bare chest pressing against his. He hisses out a breath and she shivers. “Mm, I think the word you’re looking for is fiancée.”

Secondo’s hands tighten on her hips, and he flips them in one smooth movement. His knee settles between the apex of her thighs, and he nudges just a little, his gaze intense as it watches her face with rapt attention. “My fidanzata,” he says darkly, lowering his head to press his lips against the sensitive skin of her neck. “Sì, you are mine, my dove.” His breath is hot against her ear, and he smiles just so when she whimpers. “Tell me what I must do to sup at your table, or will you take pity on this poor Papa?”

“You could start with not thinking so terribly about yourself,” she says, her breath catching as a single digit draws a line between her breasts and down her soft belly. “Secondo…” His name, whispered so reverently, makes him tremble.

“My thoughts are clear when I am in your arms, amore mio,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against hers. He inhales as she exhales, taking her in. The breath of life. “But old habits are hard to break.”

She kisses him then, or he kisses her. It doesn’t matter when their tongues are tangling, and she responds to him like a beautiful melody delicately plucked from an instrument. The sheets rustle as he settles his hips against hers. “Love does not rule: but it trains, and that is more,” she quotes when they part, her breath heavy. Goethe. Secondo closes his eyes, hands dipping beneath her body to cradle her against him.

Yes, she’s right. It isn’t an instant fix, but her love is a salve over his deepest wounds. And in time, together, they will heal.

#the band ghost #secondo emeritus #papa emeritus ii fanfiction #papa emeritus ii x reader #Secondo x female reader #Papa emeritus ii

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stereopticons · 3 days ago

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On this Day in Schitt's Creek: February 28

2018

i'll tell you how (you're the one for me) [david/patrick, T, 813] by bytheseas

He’s broken from a cloud of thoughts by Stevie cracking the door open, and slipping into the room. She’s wearing makeup and her hair is all done up and he wants so badly to give her shit for it, but her face is serious, so he holds back. “So I didn’t want to do this, but you need to go talk to David.” Patrick raises his eyebrows. “He’s panicking.” “He’s panicking.”

2019

Buttons Can Be Sexy [david/patrick, T, 2,016] by Obsessivecompulsivereadr

Patrick’s excitement about Cabaret was just too adorable for words, and David couldn’t help but smile every time he caught Patrick rehearsing. He’d asked David about his own past experiences with acting, and David had been honest, telling him that it hadn’t been for him. He’d left out the details. While he was willing to share a lot of himself, which was totally against David’s character to begin with, he still drew a line at sharing too many details that would make Patrick question his life choices.

Hearts on Fire [david/patrick, M, 13,044] by LaReineDuLune

In which David learns how far Patrick will go to prove his love for him.

in need of a generator [david/patrick, E, 1,946] by iamtheenemy

Bear-hugging a tree trunk and dangling twenty feet above his boyfriend didn’t exactly put his body on best display. There’s a reason why red carpet photo shoots weren’t done suspended in midair. He was never going to forgive Alexis for roping him into this indignity.

squared off at the toe [david/patrick, T, 755] by @startswithhope

just a little fluffy coda to "Rock On"... (an excuse to dive into David x Patrick fic with some kissing)

2020

compromise... [david/patrick, T, 1,374] by @startswithhope

This is a little coda to “The Presidential Suite”. Conversations need to be had. And there’s one thing Patrick needs.

Fast Crash... Slow Burn [david/patrick, M, 22,091] by @ineveryuniverse-sc

“Are you okay, though? I could call for help. You hit the tree really hard, and…” “No! No, no, no. I don’t do hospitals. I’m fine… it’s just, my car. My car is not fine.” And it wasn’t fine. It definitely wasn’t drivable. “No, yeah... How about I call you a tow truck?” Just then the wind picked up and almost blew them over sideways. Patrick’s face stung from the bitter cold wind. He swore he could feel ice pellets hitting him on the cheeks, and the other man seemed to be just as pained. He had a better idea. “Actually, uh, I live five minutes from here. Why don’t you come back with me and we can call a tow from there. I’m Patrick, by the way. Patrick Brewer.” He extended his icy cold hand, and the other man reciprocated with his gloved one. “David Rose.”

Not with Haste [david/patrick, G, 1,835] by @holmesapothecary

Patrick opened the door quietly, noticing all the curtains were drawn and only the light above the sink was on in the apartment. Setting down his keys and shrugging out of his coat, the quiet remained. He sighed, hoping this wasn’t how his whole evening was going to go—silence. David and Patrick decide on their future.

Take Me Home [david/patrick, T, 15,523] by DavidRoseBrewer

David was supposed to be in New York in his warm and cosy-yet-very-tastefully-decorated apartment getting ready for the usual extravagant (but unbearable) Christmas art gallery parties but now he was standing in some crappy backwater town in god-knows-where, locked out of his Airbnb in a snowstorm, all because of his sister. -x- Schitts Creek AU - the Roses never lost their money but Alexis still ends up in Schitts Creek anyway. David comes looking for her as the holidays approach.

Tangerine Skin [david/patrick, M, 2,939] by barelypink

“Can we just agree to stop making this wedding a bigger deal than it needs to be? We are not these people.” Or David and Patrick have a conversation about their engagement photos after a spray tan derails them. A coda set after s06e08 "The Presidential Suite."

2021

[Podfic] Beneath the Winter Snow [david/patrick, E, podfic] by @petrodobreva

David can’t keep from smiling at the look on his sister’s face, radiant and beaming through what is sure to be the best day of her life so far. Even if the man who is partially responsible for this day is a show-off. And insufferably smug. And unassumingly sexy. And unbearably gorgeous. And David hates him. Or he hates that he loves him. He’s never known for sure. David Rose, former figure skater turned coach wrestles with the realization that he still carries a torch for his ex-boyfriend, former hockey player Patrick Brewer, during the Olympic Winter Games. Spoiler alert, he's not the only one who isn't over it. A Schitt's Creek Winter Olympics AU. [Podfic of Beneath the Winter Snow by Distractivate]

[podfic] standing in the sunlight in the middle of the street [david/patrick, M, podfic] by fairmanor

David is done with New York, until he isn't, has dealt with it, until he hasn't. A podfic of "standing in the sunlight in the middle of the street".

A glimpse of relief [david/patrick, T, 1,300] by petrichor_apothecary

Patrick has surgery after he experiences a major hiking accident but David is by his side the entire time.

a romantic entanglement... [david/patrick, E, 2,408] by @startswithhope

Set at the end of "Dead Guy in Room 4", David has to escape the one room his family is now forced to share after they catch him text flirting with Patrick. Now, out on the street in the middle of the night, he's prepared to wait alone until they all fall asleep. Patrick, thankfully, has other plans.

Be your remedy [david/patrick, G, 2,048] by JessX2231

Patrick closes his eyes and brings to mind all the times David has put on music while Patrick is engrossed in a book or his phone or even the occasional weekend work task. Eventually, David will slink into his space, just enough to rest his head in Patrick’s lap. He doesn’t always do so with the intent to fall asleep, but it’s usually not long before Patrick’s fingers involuntarily find their way into David’s hair — much like they are now — and David’s breath will even out for a while. He can definitely make an abridged version of that happen. Or, David can't sleep and Patrick helps.

Denmark [gen, G, 300] by Rosey_Peach

if i lay here [david/patrick, G, 2,201] by alldaydream

David accidentally falls asleep in Patrick's bed for the first time and does not panic about it. Much.

light up my world [david/patrick, T, 2,269] by @dessertwaffles

David is always met with a wave of anxiety right before a performance. He’ll be fine once he sings his first note, but right now his heart is pounding, threatening to beat right out of his chest. The cheers from the crowd are ringing in his ears as he looks out at the sea of glowing cell phones, their light penetrating the darkness like constellations of stars. A video screen starts a countdown in huge luminous numbers. He glances over at Patrick; he’s staring into the arena in awe, his smile more radiant than the stage lights will be when they whir to life in thirty seconds. He turns his smile on David and David feels time freeze, his world narrowing to Patrick as an answering smile forms on his face. “Let’s do this,” Patrick mouths. Or, David and Patrick are in a boyband and it's their biggest concert yet.

love is like a butterfly [stevie/twyla, M, 2,800] by @samwhambam

A drabble for each day in February for femslashfebruary2021. "Love is like a butterflyThe multicolored moods of love are like its satin wingsLove makes your heart feel strange insideIt flutters like soft wings in flightLove is like a butterfly, a rare and gentle thing." Love is Like a Butterfly by Dolly Parton

Ten Tender Kisses [david/patrick, G, 1,010] by @cheesecurdsgravyandfries

Ten drabbles featuring ten tender kisses.

Thanks, Twy: A Twylexis Femslash February 2021 Drabble Collection [alexis/twyla, E, 2,816] by @danieljradcliffe @sarahlevys @roguebebe @schittposting singsongsung @landofsonlali and @turningtimeinthetardis

28 drabbles to celebrate Femslash February, written by an assortment of Twylexis authors! These drabbles are all stand-alone, and are not necessarily intended to be continuations of each other. We'll add tags and adjust the rating as needed, and we'll also state each drabble's author and specific rating at the top of each chapter. Hope you enjoy them!

2022

[podfic] a simple complication [david/patrick, T, podfic] by @sunlightsymphony

If Patrick had spoken up right away, he might’ve been able to get himself out of this mess. He could’ve told Ray that David wasn’t his date, could’ve explained the chance meeting at the bar and cleared up any misunderstandings before they’d had the chance to spread like wildfire. He’s in far too deep for any of that now. Podfic of a simple complication by LFTPD.

[podfic] Click Bait [david/patrick, M, podfic] by @thesleepyskipper

David surprises Patrick with a boudoir photo shoot. [a podfic of Click Bait by petrodobreva]

[podfic] Hold You In My Arms All Night [david/patrick, G, podfic] by AlexisSomethingRose

Even behind closed eyelids Patrick can tell the bedroom is dark, save for the desk lamp David informed him was on in case he needed to get up for anything. “The last thing we need is for you to get disoriented and sprain your ankle or something.” Podfic of Hold you in my arms all night by maxbegone.

[podfic] I Put a Spell On You [david/patrick, G, podfic] by cottagepodfics

David is a witch who spends his days baking cupcakes and uses his magic to to help people find happiness until his life is turned upside down by the arrival of a very cute and very unhappy Patrick Brewer. [Podfic of I Put A Spell On You by houdini74]

[podfic] i'm a hieroglyphic, i'm an open book [alexis/twyla, G, podfic] by @sarahlevys

Alexis is leaving in a week. She’s moving to New York to be a girl boss and everything she’s ever wanted. But she told Twyla that she loves music. Post-Canon. Twyla gives Alexis a going away present of sorts. (Podfic of I'm a hieroglyphic, I'm an open book by lilythesilly.)

[podfic] Linger Like a Tattoo Kiss [david/patrick, T, podfic] by @n0connections

One thing Patrick Brewer prides himself on is his ability to stay calm in any given situation. He doesn't panic, as a rule. He never shows his hand, his poker face an immaculate mask, even if inside, he's screaming. He just keeps a gentle smirk on his face and his arms folded. Cool. Calm. Collected. Except that today, there's an absolutely fucking gorgeous guy standing in the line, his thick eyebrows knit in concentration as he stares at the phone in his hand, shuffling forward with every person Patrick serves. And with every cup Patrick hands over, he sweats just a little more, his breathing becomes just a little shallower. If only this guy had shown up an hour ago, before the lunch rush, his insane legs would've been hidden by the counter, out of Patrick's view. Instead, Patrick didn't even look at his last customer, or what he wrote on their cup, his eyes glued to the bare calves, the skirt swishing at the knees above them.

[podfic] Mixtape [david/patrick, T, podfic] by @rhetoricalk

For their second monthiversary, Patrick gives David a mix CD. Podfic of 'Mixtape' by sunlightsymphony

[podfic] not much, but all i would ask for [david/patrick, T, podfic] by @petrodobreva

Patrick knows he’s staring a little, watching the glint of the light on David’s rings as he moves, the four flashes of gold spread across his right hand and the smaller, duller, infinitely more heartstopping band on his left. It’s been four days and Patrick still can’t quite believe it. **** or: brand new husbands and some soft as shit making out ****Podfic of not much, but all i would ask for by foxtails

[podfic] would you be mine? could you be mine? by dinnfameron [david/patrick, T, podfic] by RattleAndHum

David had been content to ogle Patrick’s various parts from afar while resenting himself for thirsting after a smug, snippy guy with terrible fashion sense. It'd been comfortable, because David knew it would never go anywhere. Patrick wasn’t into him, and David didn’t even want Patrick to be into him. They had an ideal relationship. Except now Patrick was, like, a real person. One who wanted to be friends and hang out. And David didn't know what to do with that. A neighbors-to-idiots-to-idiot-boyfriends au

[podfic] your body's poetry (speak to me) [alexis/twyla, NR, podfic] by @hullomoon

Ballet has been at the center of Alexis’ life since she was three years old, the first time she saw New York City Ballet perform The Nutcracker. She pulled on her mother’s sleeve, much to Moira’s displeasure, pointed at the stage, and said, “Me!” It was the very first time she felt like her mother saw her. That feeling was intoxicating enough that she couldn’t help but chase it. She’s seen some of the world's most celebrated ballerinas perform. But she’s never seen anyone dance like this girl, whose name she doesn’t know. The stage lights turn her auburn hair burning red. Her pirouettes are perfectly landed; there’s no struggle at all in the way her leg lifts behind her in attitude to tap against the tambourine she holds above her head. As she flits across the stage, her tambourine extended toward the judges like an irresistible invitation, there is something real in her smile, something seductive in her eyes. Alexis forgets to breathe. Ballet AU.[podfic of your body's poetry (speak to me)]

Femslash February 2022 [alexis/twyla, T, 2,800] by @landofsonlali

a collection of f/f drabbles inspired by this Femslash February prompt list. tags, rating, and pairings will be updated throughout the month.

got no sway on my destiny [david/patrick, T, 4,300] by @5ambreakdown

All he knows is that he woke up in his old New York apartment alone with his phone claiming it was 2014, and his next thoughts were a flurry of “what the actual fuck” and “I need to find Patrick.”

2023

[podfic] You Told Your Daughter She Was Ordinary [gen, G, podfic] by Amanita_Fierce @b13-maybethistime @doublel27 HowOldAreWe MadAlien @petrodobreva @sunlightsymphony @landofsonlali

At the end of Cabaret, Stevie continues to face the idea that she might be more than someone just watching the world pass her by. Podfic of You Told Your Daughter She Was Ordinary by DoubleL27.

28 Days, 28 Shorts [david/patrick, M, 15,060] by @tyfinn

Daily ficlets for the month of February based off of prompts given to me by friends and tumblr mutuals and anons. Tags will be updated as needed.

Month of Love [stevie & david, NR, 11,689] by @jesuisici33

My attempt at doing 28 drabbles in 28 days! These prompts were too good to pass up.

undeserved [david/patrick, G, poem] by elifisher96

i know i should’ve told my parents about us and there really is no excuse

2024

i think i'm the problem with you [david/patrick, G, 17,886] by unrealcityunrealheart

Every couple fights; Patrick is fine with fighting. It's the not-fighting, lately, that scares him.

Stats:

No fanworks for 2017 2018: 1 fic/813 words 2019: 4 fics/17,761 words 2020: 5 fics/43,762 words 2021: 11 fanworks (9 fics, 2 podfics)/17,152 words 2022: 12 fanworks (2 fics, 10! podfics)/7,100 words 2023: 4 fanworks (2 fics, 1 podfic, 1 poem)/27,114 words 2024: 1 fic/17,886 words Total: 36 fanworks (24 fics, 11 podfics, 1 poem)/131,588 words

#on this day in sc #schitt's creek #sc fanfic #sc fanworks #david rose #patrick brewer #david x patrick #patrick x david #alexis rose #twyla sands #stevie budd

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