#GET OUT OF MY INBOX BEAUTIFUL WOMAN

[certifiedtrashmouth]

DID A PORN BOT JUST MESSAGE ME

[harknessxo]

Prompt to a request (if it is okay) 🫶

Agatha and innocent fem reader+ corruption kink

Reader hasn't even had her first kiss and Agatha teaches her how to tongue kiss and so much more(fingering and magic strap)

Breeding kink as well plsss

Neighborly Desires

Paring: Dark!Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: You had recently moved into Westview. Your mother had passed away and you wanted a new start in a small town. Agatha was your neighbor there and she didn’t waste any time welcoming you into town. She thought you were so adorable and so innocent…she wanted to be the one to corrupt you. She needed to be patient, careful, and precise.

Warnings; dubcon, corruption kink, enchanted strap, fingering, mommy kink, cunnilingus (r receiving), breeding kink, dummification.

Word Count: 3.7k

A/n: This request has been sitting in my inbox since DECEMBER of 2023…I am extremely sorry but I hope this makes up for it. 😅

You had recently moved into Westview. Your mother had passed away and you wanted a new start in a small town. Agatha was your neighbor there and she didn’t waste any time welcoming you into town. She watched you struggle to carry the boxes back and forth from your car to your living room and grinned. You were wearing a cute little pink dress and she couldn’t help herself.

“Hiya hon! Do you need some help with that?” You heard a friendly voice from behind you. You swiftly turned around to look at the woman, almost dropping the boxes.

“Careful, there, sweetheart. We don’t want you hurting yourself,” Agatha chuckled, taking a box from you.

“T-thank you,” you blushed, slightly embarrassed at your clumsiness. She helped you put the boxes inside your house before turning towards you.

“I’m Agatha, your neighbor to the right,” she smiled at you kindly, stretching her hand out for you to shake.

“I’m Y/n,” you shook her hand, longer than intended, “And thank you so much for helping me with those boxes. Would you like something to drink?” You offered not knowing what else to say, fidgeting with your hands.

“Y/n...” she tasted your name on her tongue, “What a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Tea would be wonderful.”

“Alright, just give me a second until I find my cups,” you chuckled nervously and disappeared into your kitchen. Agatha walked to your living room and sat down. She thought you were so adorable and so innocent…she wanted to be the one to corrupt you. She waited patiently for you to finish up, thinking of all the things she had planned for you.

“I’m so sorry! I completely forgot where I packed everything. I would forget my head if it wasn’t attached to my body,” you joked as you handed Agatha her tea.

“Thank you, hon,” she took a sip, “So, what brings you here?” She asked, curious on how a girl like you ended up in this shitty town.

“Well this was my mother’s home and she passed away a few weeks ago so decided to move in.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she held your hand, gently running her thumb over your knuckles.

“No, it’s okay. We weren’t really close and I wanted a new start.”

“Well if you ever need anything don’t hesitate to knock on my door, alright sweetheart?”

“Y-yeah,” you blushed at the nickname and she grinned. You two talked for a little while longer before you bid her goodbye and continued unpacking your things. Agatha walked home with a smirk on her face. You were too cute for your own good and she knew she was going to have fun with you. The fact that you were alone in this town was a bonus.

Days passed, and her visits became more frequent, her presence becoming very comforting. Somehow many things started to break inside your home and Agatha always seemed to be there to help. She was slowly gaining your trust and finding how truly innocent you were. You hadn’t even had a boyfriend before, how adorable could you possibly get? Yet beneath her warmth and sweet reassurances, a cunning plan took shape. She needed to be patient, careful, and precise.

Agatha now stood next to you in your kitchen. She had offered to help you cook dinner with the excuse she didn’t want you to eat all alone. She made sure to put her hands on your waist and press her front against your ass every time she walked past you. You, of course, didn’t think anything of this, too oblivious to think badly of Agatha’s touchy behavior. She couldn’t help but tease you a little more. She leaned in close to your ear and whispered.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart.”

“T-thank you…” you tried to hide your flushed face and she chuckled.

“Why don’t you go clean up while I make the table?” Agatha said as you were finishing up.

“Okay!” You obediently took your apron off and started walking to your bathroom to clean up.

“Good girl~,” she said under her breath but just loud enough for you to hear, making you flush once again.

You quickly went in, washed your hands, and fixed your hair. While you were in the bathroom, Agatha debated whether or not she should put a spell on you so she could take you right then and there but she wanted to take her time with you. By the time you walked out, Agatha had the table set up beautifully. There were candles and rose petals on the table. It was almost like a romantic dinner. How did she do this so quickly?

“Agatha, this looks beautiful.”

“Just like you,” she complimented you, booping your nose.

“Thank you, Aggie.” You recently started calling her that. Agatha didn’t seem to mind the newfound nickname, in fact, she loved it.

“Of course, darling.” She pulled out your chair and gestured for you to sit down. She was such a gentleman. You were completely oblivious to her true intentions.

You both sat down and ate dinner. Agatha asked you all kinds of questions, she wanted to know every little detail about you. What made you blush, what made you upset, what made you cry, what made you break. You answered all the questions, not thinking anything of it, and asked some yourself. You liked Agatha, more than you actually thought. God, you were so naive.

Eventually, you both finished eating dinner and she helped you clean the dishes. She always found a way to touch you even if it was just touching your hand when you passed her a plate or spoon to dry off. She saw the slight tint on your cheeks when she did.

"We should do this more often, don’t you think?” Agatha asked, her voice carrying a hint of something you couldn't quite place.

“I would love that!” You said happily. Agatha smiled, her eyes seemed to glint in the candlelight. After you were done doing the dishes Agatha started gathering her things to go home but you stopped her.

“Can you stay and watch a movie with me?” You asked, not wanting for her to leave yet.

“I think it’s a bit late, sweetheart,” she said, wanting to hear you beg for her to stay.

“Pretty please?” You grabbed her hands in your, caressing her knuckles with your thumbs, giving her your best puppy eyes. Agatha pretended to think about it, a sly smirk on her face. You were just so cute, how could she possibly say no to you?

“…fine, I’ll stay, but not too late. You need to go to bed soon, deal?”

“Deal!” you said, excitedly, pulling her towards your couch. She sat back while you picked the movie, settling for Tangled, it was your favorite comfort movie. After you started playing the movie, you sat next to Agatha, subconsciously snuggling to her side. She smiled as you snuggled against her. Her arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you closer to her.

“Is this your favorite movie, sweetheart?”

“Mhm!”

“Who’s your favorite character?” Agatha asked, combing through your hair.

“Mother Gothel,” you mumbled.

“Mother Gothel, huh?” she raised an eyebrow, “Why her? She’s the villain of the story.”

“I don’t know…” you frowned slightly, “I just like her character I guess…”

“Hmm. If I were Mother Gothel and I kidnapped you into my tower, what would you do?” she half joked.

“I would never leave.” You smiled at her. Agatha was very pleased with your answer and pulled you closer.

The movie went on and by the time it was over, you were fast asleep on Agatha’s shoulder. You looked so peaceful, so vulnerable, Agatha wanted to take you right then and there but no, she had to hold herself back. She picked you up and carried you to your bedroom, gently placing you on your bed. She tucked you in before leaning into your ear.

“You will be mine.” Was all she said before leaving to go back home.

—

Over the passing weeks you had gotten attached to Agatha, almost obsessively. Maybe it was her caring nature or your mommy issues coming to bite you in the ass. You were sitting on your couch with Agatha once again. She had picked the movie this time, telling you it was a surprise. She started playing the movie and you soon found out it was titled Carol. You had never seen it before but curled into Agatha’s side, wanting to feel her warmth.

The movie was good and all until the motel scene. Watching as Carol and Therese started kissing and touching each other made your core feel warm. Agatha noticed the way you were trying to hide your flushed face and how your thighs clenched together and smirked. She had you exactly where she wanted you.

“What’s wrong, baby? Are you cold?” she asked, pulling you closer, placing her hand on your thigh.

“I’m f-fine,” you stuttered out, unconvincing. She chuckled and gently started rubbing your thigh. Her touch was so warm and comforting, it made you want to melt against her. She moved even closer, cupping your face to make you look at her.

“You’re trembling, sweetheart. Are you sure you’re fine?”

“I-” you realized how close your faces were, noses almost touching, “Aggie-” she finally crashed her lips against yours. You closed your eyes, savoring how soft her lips were until you pulled away, looking away from her. She smirked at your reaction, enjoying how flustered you were. She gently turned your face to look at her again.

“Sweetheart? Did you not like it?”

“No! I loved it, it's just that…I don’t know how to…” you trailed off, embarrassed.

“Aw, such a dumb baby,” she cupped your face, “You’re so naive and innocent you don’t even know how to kiss. How cute.”

“Wha-” She pressed her finger against your lips, shutting you up and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Just follow my lead. I promise you will love it,” you hesitantly nodded and she kissed you again, this time moving her lips against yours and you did the same. She poked her tongue between your lips and you opened your mouth to let her in. You did your best, following her lead and moving your lips and tongue like her. Agatha moved her hand to squeeze your thighs, sliding them closer to your soaked core making you squeal and pull away.

“Agatha I don’t think-”

“Shh,” she pulled you into her lap, your thighs on either side of her legs, “Let mommy do the thinking.” You frowned slightly at her comment but then she pressed her fingers against the wet patch on your panties, making you lose any train of thought you had.

“You’re so wet baby,” she started rubbing her fingers over your clothed clit, “Is that all for me?” she asked, her other hand gripping onto your hip.

“Hmph…” You unconsciously moved your hips against her hand.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” she commanded, pressing harder against your clit, the pressure sending a wave of pleasure through your body.

“Yes…”

“That’s a good girl.” She growled, moving your panties aside to touch your bare core directly, her fingers sliding between your folds. You gasped at the new feeling. You had never felt like this before. You’ve never touched yourself let alone have sex.

“So innocent…” She said before shoving two fingers inside of you. You were so tight, so warm, so wet for her. She pumped her fingers in and out of you, rubbing your clit with her thumb.

“Such a good girl for mommy.” She praised you.

“Aggie-” you clung to her, wrapping your arms around her neck while she worked on fucking your with her fingers. Her other hand started to sneak under the thin dress you were wearing, finding that you weren’t wearing a bra at all.

“Not wearing a bra?” she pinched your nipple, “What a naughty girl…” You whimpered in response, making her chuckle. She pinched your nipple again, she started biting your neck leaving a trail of marks on your skin. She added a third finger, her thumb circling your clit faster than before and then suddenly stopped.

“Why’d you stop?” You whined desperately.

“Such a needy girl,” she picked you up like you weighed nothing and carried you upstairs like she had done before. She took you to your bedroom and sat you on your bed.

She took your dress off, throwing it elsewhere and started undressing as well. She took off her pants to reveal the enchanted strap she had been wearing. She smirked as she looked at your surprised expression.

“Like what you see, darling?” She pushed you back against the bed and climbed on top of you, your legs wrapped around her waist.

“W-wait-” You started to hesitate.

“Shh, it’s okay baby.” She gently caressed your cheek, looking into your eyes with a soft expression. Her strap was pressing against your core and she started rubbing it against you.

“It’s going to feel so good,” she pressed the tip of the strap into your entrance, “I’ll be gentle, okay?” You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded your head.

She slowly pushed the strap further inside your warm wall, watching as your mouth made an ‘o’ shape and your brows frowned in pleasure. She let out a low groan as the strap went further inside, your pussy greedily clenching around it. Her eyes roaming over your body, watching every little expression you made.

“That’s it, baby… you’re doing so good. You’re taking me so well,” she said most out of breath.

“M-mommy-” She almost lost the little control she had left when you finally called her mommy, feeling a rush of pleasure run through her body. God she was going to finally make you hers. Agatha’s grip on your hips tightened as she began to thrust into you, slowly at first, making sure you were comfortable and enjoying it.

“Oh, you like calling me that don’t you, darling?” She grunted.

“Mhm!” You nodded your head. She smirked and began to pick up the pace, thrusting faster and harder into you. She leaned down and began kissing your neck, leaving more marks as she went. Her hands roamed over your body, squeezing and pinching every inch of your skin.

“Such a good girl, taking mommy’s strap so well…you’re mine.” Agatha finally said out loud. She continued to ramble on, as she thrusted into you. She grabbed your hands and pinned them above your head, making you completely helpless beneath her.

“No one else gets to see you like this. You’re all mine. Fuck- I’m never letting you go.” Your brain had turned to mush and all you could do was chant a bunch of yeses as she snapped her hips at a brutal pace. Agatha loved how incoherent you were becoming. She loved how easily she could reduce you to a moaning mess. She began to talk to you in a soft voice, praising and mocking you at the same time.

“Look at you. Such a babbling mess. Mommy’s little dumb slut. Isn’t that right? All mine?”

“Yes! All yours!” Your voice trembled as you got closer to the edge, your orgasm building up.

“That’s right,” she moved one of her hands from your wrists to your clit, rubbing it in fast circles, “You’re all mine, and you’re going to cum for me, aren’t you?”

You tried to reply but instead let out a loud sob, tears running down your rosy cheeks from the pleasure you felt. Agatha leaned down and kissed your tears away, her movements becoming more frantic as she chased your release.

“Come on, baby. Cum for me. Be a good little slut and cum for mommy.”

Your eyes rolled back and your mouth opened in a silent scream as you fell apart. Agatha moaned as she felt your walls clench around her, sloppily helping you ride out your orgasm as best as she could as she held onto your trembling legs.

“Fuck- I’m going to fill you up nice and full of my cum, baby, you’re going to be all mine.” She came, moaning loudly as she spilled her hot seed deep inside you. She gave you a few more thrust before pulling out, making you whine in protest at how empty you felt. Her hand on your wrists loosened and she looked down at you with a satisfied smirk on her face.

“There we go…Good girl. You did so well for me, baby. So perfect,” she started kissing down your body, “Now mommy’s gonna clean you up…” She finally let go of your wrist, putting your legs together and bending them against your chest, your pussy now completely exposed to her. She used her fingers to spread your pussy lips apart. She watched as her cum leaked out of you and almost moaned at the sight.

“God look at how messy you are…” she leaned down and ran her tongue over your entrance, licking up her own cum. She lapped at your sensitive core, moaning at the taste of the two of you combined, “You taste so good, baby.”

You squirmed against her mouth, your pussy already too sensitive. Agatha chuckled and wrapped her arms around your thighs, holding you in place as she continued to eat you out. She was going to make sure you were completely clean.

“Stay still, honey. Mommy’s not done with you yet.”

“But it h-hurts-” She looked up at you with a mocking expression.

“I know it hurts, baby. That’s why you’re going to be a good girl and take it, isn’t that right?”

She nipped at your inner thigh before diving back down between your legs. You reluctantly nodded, letting her lap over your puffy folds and sucking on your clit. She moaned against your clit, enjoying the taste of your juices. She swirled her tongue around it before sucking on it again, pulling it into her mouth and teasing it with her teeth.

“Mmmm…there we go,” she kissed your clit before letting go of your legs, “All done.” She pulled you into a kiss, shoving her tongue in your mouth, making you taste yourself. You whined against her lips, finding it hard to keep up. She just chuckled and pulled away.

“Come on, baby. Let’s give you a bath.” She started picking and you absolutely melted into her. She set you on the bathroom counter while she filled the bath. You simply watched her as she put bubbles in the bath and made sure the water was at a good temperature.

Once the bath was ready, she gently picked you up and lowered you into the warm water. She sat behind you, letting you lean against her chest. She began washing your body with a soft washcloth, making sure to be extra gentle with you. When she got close to your core, you stiffened slightly, still sensitive from your orgasm and her tongue. She chuckled softly, noticing your reaction.

“Aww, is my baby still sensitive?” She pressed her fingers against your clit. You tried to swat her hand away and clench your thighs together but she took your wrist and held them against your chest while using her own legs to keep yours open.

“Just give mommy one more orgasm and we’ll be all done, okay?” She said, already playing with your clit, rubbing it in small circles.

“It hurts mommy…” you mumbled, hiding your face in the crook of her neck.

“I know it hurts, baby. But you can do it,” she continued to tease your clit, rubbing it faster and harder, “Don’t you want to make mommy proud?”

“Y-yes-” she smiled and rewarded you by letting go of your wrist and wrapping her free hand around your throat, gently squeezing it.

“That’s my good girl. Keep being good for mommy and I’ll make you feel so good, okay?” The pain finally turned into pleasure and your body pathetically melted to Agatha’s once again. Her grip on your throat tightened slightly making you light headed.

“You’re so cute when you’re like this, darling. All weak and pathetic. You’re mine to use however I want, aren’t you?” She slipped two fingers inside you, making you mewl like a dog in heat.

“I’m close!” You moaned as she nibbled on your earlobe before whispering in your ear.

“Good. Come for me, baby. Come for mommy one more time and I’ll let you rest.” Your hands clung to the hand that was still tightly wrapped around your neck for dear life as you came again. Agatha grinned, loving the way you clung to her like she was the only thing keeping you alive. How pathetic and adorable.

She kept her hand around your neck, slowly applying pressure as you came. Once you came down from your high, she loosened her grip and rubbed your neck softly, admiring the redness she left behind.

“That’s my girl. I’m so proud of you,” she soothed you, combing through your wet hair until the water in the bath became cold. She got out first, getting a towel for you before helping you out.

She gently wrapped you the towel, setting you down on the counter once again to brush the knots out of your hair. Once she was done, she wrapped the towel around you tighter and lifted you, cradling you in her arms like a small child.

“It’s time to go to sleep, my sweet girl. You must be so tired huh?” she sat you down in the bed while she went to get you some pj. She made sure to be quick noticing how droopy your eyes looked. She came back a moment later with some soft, silk pajamas for you. She gently dressed you in them before tucking you into bed, pulling the blankets up to your chin.

“Comfortable, Angel?”

“Aren’t you going to stay, Aggie?” Agatha smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

“Of course, I am, darling. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“You promise?” She leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I promise, sweetheart. You’re mine, I’m not going anywhere. Now get some sleep.”

[xazse]

hiii pookie I LOVED your hybrid post like it got me foaming from the mouth ngl 🫶 you're so talented!!

If you're into it, can we get cowhybrid! reader and Farmer!Gojo specifically please and thank you? I need to see the reader all needy and desperate and Gojo being the only one who can truly give her release and and what she truly needs (feel free to remix or add anyone/anything that you please)

If you're not into it, please ignore this ask instead of refusing because I get embarrassed hihi🎀🫶 anyways mwah mwah love u take care pookie

ANOTHER TRY?

Notes: THANK YOU FOR THE COMPLIMENTS IM GLAD YOU ENJOYED MY WORK!!! and to the second ask I’m very happy you requested that bull!hybrid work lLOVEDDD WORKING ON IT!! You guys are so creative I need to eat ur brain!!! THIS IS FOR ALL THE OTHER PEOPLE WHO HAVE BEEN ASKING FOR A PT2 I SEE YOU GUYS!!! (IF UR READING THIS TO MY OTHER INBOX OFC YOU CAN BE 🪬 ANON!!)

Pairings: CowHybrid!Reader x Farmer!Gojo

Warnings: Lactation + big!boobedReader + implied chubby!reader + nipplesucking + grinding + mean!Satoru + pussy!slapping + teasing.

Gojo has spoiled you for far too long it makes his blood boil and temples wrinkle when you continue to go see Toji and Suguru, it becomes a habit for you to come back in the early mornings after having a night of “fun.”

Confronting said men proved to be so fucking useless, they just laughed in his face when he said he’d kick both of them to the curb should they continue to corrupt you.

“You need us Satoru, why are you allowed to have your nightly routines but she cant? It was gonna happen eventually.” Tojis face was decorated with a fat sneer, all those times he tried to make sure you stayed as far as possible were all for naught, it’s hilarious seeing him seething behind a cool facade.

“Never knew what Toji seen in the woman but now I completely understand his point.” Suguru yelled from where he was transporting some wood.

Talking to them proved to be useless, as a little payback he made them clean the shed from top to bottom.

Trudging back to the main house in his thick boots Satoru comes to face you relaxing on the couch without a damn care in the world.

Why is he trying to get them to be on his level when he should be punishing you, you’re the one who didn’t listen, you’re the one sneaking out every night. He doesn’t know why he feels this hold on you, you’re such a beautiful girl that he can’t help but keep you in this small bubble.

When your eyes land on him you don’t say any kind of greeting, simply ignoring his presence for the movie on the huge ass tv he bought for you and eating the expensive food he bought for you.

You look extremely good right now, your fat boobs not swollen, but your pretty lips are. Satoru won’t say it but his pants tighten at the thought of what they do to you.

He needs you right now, he’ll make it up to you as much as he can.

He approaches you calmly and collected, sitting down at the edge of the couch where your legs are propped up, you still don’t acknowledge him. His trained hands start circling on your soft supple skin, you surprisingly don’t push him away. You give Satoru an inch he’ll take a mile.

He starts groping your thighs, the pudgy things hold within the creases of his hand. He pushes your thighs apart and gets a good look at your panties: you always choose to walk around the house like this.

They’re extra tight the way they emphasize your fat pussy, the groan that slips from his lips aren’t-something he tries to hold back, he needs you to know how much he wants you, especially wants you all to himself.

The rise and fall of your chest makes you look so cute, why are you so shy all of a sudden? You’re averting your eyes as well.

Satoru starts teasing your clothed folds, dragging his thick finger up and down, he pushes extra hard on your clit eliciting a small moan from you. He continues this for a little, he needs you wet to take him properly.

He peels off your soddened panties and positions himself above you, finally face to face with you. Your boobs are the first thing he attacks, pulling on your shirt and letting them spill out, the little droplets of milk call to him. He’s grabbing one and putting it into his mouth: he loves your taste so sweet like honey as it cascades down his throat so smoothly.

“Nghm… Toru..” finally you’ve decided to grace him with your sultry voice.

He bites down a little on your nipple making you jump away. He reels you right back in and sucks even harsher, there’s barely any milk left but he’s going to make sure he gets his full.

“Toru.” You call his name so panicked and yet you’re grinding against his fully hard cock. He’s so desperate in the moment that he unbuckles his belt and lets his cock bob free.

His fat tip prods agaisnt your folds, messing with your sticky wetness, he smears it on his tip even grinding down on your clit, but he doesn’t put it in, you don’t deserve that.

He teases you, pretending he’s going to give you what you want just to take it all away.

“Please…” a harsh and loud smack is delivered straight to your clit, you yelp and buckle your legs closed.

“Shirt, take your shirt off.” He commands, of course you’re gonna listen, Satoru has never taken that tone with you.

Your boobs now freely spill for him to gaze at. He spreads your legs back open.

“I’m gonna give you ten slaps, close your legs for even one I’m restarting. Understood?” You nod and your ears move along with it. He likes this look on your face: confusion, arousal and a little bit of fear.

On the first slap you make the mistake of shutting your legs closed: completely an accident but he’s having none of it, he hits your little clit again and again.

“Ahn..” you’re still so fucking wet by the sixth slap, creating a nasty mess that drips to your ass. Gojo’s cock is still throbbing, he jerks himself off, smearing his pre all over.

By the tenth slap you’re gone, completely dazed and only able to whine outloud, he decides that you’ve had enough with the tears that sit on your eye line. He pushes your legs back and lines his weeping tip. The feeling of sliding into your sopping wet cunt is better than any pussy he’s ever had.

His strokes against you are fast even though he should be letting you adjust, the sounds of skin against skin meeting each other is downright lewd.

He tells you to rub your nipples, it adds so much more stimulation that you can’t find it in you to hate it.

His cock drags agaisnt your walls over and over, till you can’t feel anything but the sensitivity of your nipples and the twitching of his fat cock.

He fucks you like that all night, even when you’re meant to meet Toji and Suguru, you can’t stop creaming around farmer Gojos length and nor do you want to.

[mononijikayu]

to you 2,000... or... 20,000 years from now… — ryomen sukuna.

As they stand to leave, his gaze drifts to one of his portraits—a work that captures a moment from another time, another life. In it, the King of Curses sits beside his beloved concubine, her expression full of light and laughter, radiant in a way that suggests an unbreakable bond. Ryomen Sukuna pauses, his hand still entwined with hers, and a rare, gentle smile crosses his face. Looking at the painting, he lets himself hope, just a little. Perhaps, even in a world he once saw as cold and unyielding, there are threads of something beautiful woven into his story. Perhaps, even for someone like him, there could be a happy ending, one he’d never dared to imagine. He leans down and whispers softly, almost as if confessing a secret. “I like to think they found each other again, you know? That somehow… this time, they got to be happy.”

GENRE: alternate universe - reincarnation;

WARNING/S: post canon, future timeline, fluff, possible romance, getting together, mild angst, reincarnation, conflicted feelings, hurt/comfort, dreams and nightmares, distress, grief, feelings, physical touch, character death, moving on, flashback, humor, no curse future au, pining, light-hearted, happy ending, depiction of the future, depiction of reincarnation, depiction of letting go, depiction of flashback, depiction of getting together, depiction of depiction of character death, depiction of distress, depiction of grief, mention of character death, mention of the past, mention of letting go, mention of grief, reincarnated! sukuna, reincarnated concubine! reader;

WORDS: 15k words.

NOTE: this concludes the final part of the main story of the other woman. i'm genuinely grateful for you love and attention towards my story. this was never supposed to be a series, it was supposed to be a one off fic. but because of your love for concubine reader, i was inspired to bring more to her life.

as i promised, this is a happy ending. well, the happy end that i think would suit the story. of course, this is not the end of concubine reader's story. there will be drabbles of sukuna and concubine reader's life that i never managed to put out.

if you have any suggestion or questions about the story, you can drop some words down in the inbox!!! i'm very happy when you ask questions about the story or have suggestions of what you wanna see next!!! please do so everyone!!!

i hope you look forward to them!!! thank you for reading, thank you for your support and love. i'll continue to write for you all!!! i love you <3

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HE DOESN’T KNOW HOW HE’LL GET THROUGH THIS. He’d never felt like this before. What do his other artist friends call it? Oh, that’s right. A slump. An artist’s slump. Yeah, that’s what it’s called. He’s never had that before.

But why should he? Ryomen Sukuna was a protege. He was a stellar artist with a golden hand, one who never stops. The one who works as though he’s running out of time. It’s him. 

And yet, at that moment, he wasn’t.

Ryomen Sukuna had a problem.

He was stumped from hell and back.

And he doesn’t understand why.

A loud exhale releases from his mouth as he looks up at all the drying canvas in front of him in the various easels. They’re all beautiful, don’t get him wrong. But they’re all the same.

And that bothers Ryomen Sukuna as he purses his lips in a flat line. His own studio has become a homage to these paintings and sketches as of late. There was nothing else coming out of him. Nothing else was occupying his mind.

In the maze of half-finished canvases and dried paint of his studio, there were only those same eyes staring at him. He could feel it even now under the dim lighting casting long, wavering shadows across each and every tender gaze.

He couldn’t stand up anymore. He’s exhausted. He’s been up since god knows when. Everywhere there was paint. His hands are stained, his shirt splattered with colors that have long since dulled. It’s been weeks.

He doesn't know how to deal with this. How could he, when she finds him in every moment? How easy it was to be that way. He’s stopped keeping track of time, because time means nothing when all he can see, all he can paint, is her.

As of late, it was this that haunted him. It was the same as always. It was this woman with those kind eyes looking back at him. That same tender smile greeting him. That same beauty yearning towards him. Everything about the woman’s face consumes him. Everything that she is continues to follow him like a ghost, over and over. 

He can’t even pinpoint when it started. It just started happening out of nowhere. At one point there were normal dreams and soon enough, there were something else.

And as time passed by, there was nothing else left but her. Her beautiful smiling face looking at him. Every single time, she never fails to be warm towards him. As though she could feel him, as though she could see him.

She’s become more than a fixation; she’s an infection, seeping into every corner of his mind, haunting the hours he’s awake as much as those precious few where he drifts into a broken sleep.

She first appeared in his dreams like a fleeting whisper, but her image has grown, intensifying with each passing night, filling his dreams with a crescendo of color and dread. And over and over, it was repeating.

Like a piano key stuck on the board, playing over and over that same repetitive note. And yet, it was still lovely. It was still tender. And then suddenly, it wasn’t. That was the worst part of it all, he thinks. He captures the beauty of her and then suddenly, it just disappears. It goes. Almost like smoke. 

The dream is always the same every night. At first it was terrifying to him. He’d never seen anything like her before. He’d never seen what happened to her before, not to anyone. Not ever. But with her, it repeats.

That nightmare continues over and over again. And he hated it. He hated how he has memorized it. He has hated how it was all he could see over and over again. He hated how this was the fate that such a beautiful, kind woman had to meet.

That beautiful lady, she would stand there and smile at him. Often, she stands at the edge of a crumbling cliff, the ocean roiling and dark beneath her, waves crashing against jagged rocks far below.

She turns, her eyes fixed on him, lips curling into a smile that might be tender, might be mocking, it shifts each time, eluding any attempt to decipher it.

She extends a hand, beckoning, imploring him to come closer. His heart races, his feet propel him forward, but just as he reaches for her, she slips, and he’s left grasping at nothing but empty air.

Again and again, he tries to save her. Again and again, she falls.

The dream wakes him in a cold sweat, heart pounding, breath shallow. He stumbles to his studio, and without thinking, he begins to paint. Her face materializes with each stroke, her eyes holding secrets he can’t unlock.

Her smile flickering with a mystery that tightens his chest. He paints her until his fingers go numb, until his eyes blur from exhaustion. He paints her even when he’s on the verge of madness. And he hates it—hates her—but he’s powerless to stop.

The people around him have noticed the shift, though they don’t understand it. They speak of his new works with reverence, captivated by the haunting beauty of the unknown woman he’s made famous.

But they don’t see the toll she takes on him. They don’t see the shadow of sleeplessness etched into his face, the dark circles under his eyes, the wild desperation lurking just beneath his cool exterior.

Every time he tries to paint something else. Absolutely anything else, it does not work. Not anymore. He would feel his hands freeze, his mind goes blank, and all he can see is her smile.

She’s everywhere, a ghost in his waking hours, her gaze piercing through every wall he builds to keep her out. The thrill of creation is gone; all that remains is the raw compulsion to recreate her face, an act that feels more like exorcism than art.

Ryomen Sukuna slumps back into his chair, eyes trained on the painting before him, hands limp and smeared with shades of red and soft violet. Her face, the delicate arch of her brows, the smirk teasing at her lips. All of it stares back at him, alive, taunting. 

It’s as though she’s watching him, laughing softly at his obsession, fully aware of the hold she has over him. The painted eyes seem to flicker, and in his exhaustion, Sukuna wonders if he’s the one painting her, or if she’s the one reaching through the canvas, carving her image into his mind with a precision that leaves him helpless.

“Damn it. This is so annoying.” he mutters, his voice echoing hollowly in the quiet room. He reaches for his brush, the movement automatic, but his hand falters, dropping it back onto the table as he releases a frustrated sigh. 

The curse feels weak, a pitiful attempt to regain some control, but he knows it’s useless. She’s an endless riddle, one he’s compelled to solve yet doomed to never fully understand.

No matter how many times he paints her, he can’t capture her—not completely. The harder he tries, the more elusive she becomes, as though she’s slipping through his fingers, mocking his every attempt.

He sits there, shoulders slouched, the steady tick of the clock filling the empty space around him. Hours blur into each other, and yet he can’t bring himself to look away, his gaze locked on her face, that faint smile hinting at secrets she will never share.

And then, just as the clock strikes midnight, he hears it. That tender voice giving him grief. That warm voice turning him cold. That voice echoed that whisper, soft as a breeze, calling his name.

“My lord…..my lord Sukuna.”

He closes his eyes, the sound reverberating through him, familiar and yet so distant. She’s there, in his mind, like an echo carried across lifetimes, the warmth of her voice stirring something deep inside.

He knows it’s a dream, an illusion conjured by his own obsession, but he doesn’t care. For a brief moment, he lets himself lean into it, lets her voice wash over him like a balm.

“My lord, my beloved lord Sukuna…” Her voice is softer this time, coaxing, filled with a strange tenderness that he’s certain only exists in his imagination. He can almost feel her fingers trailing along his cheek, the faintest touch, leaving warmth in their wake.

“What do you want from me?” he murmurs, his voice a weary plea, barely audible, as if afraid to break the fragile spell she’s cast over him. “You’re there every night, haunting me, making me see you even when I close my eyes. But what do you want?”

In his mind, her laughter echoes, soft and familiar, as if she’s toying with him. “You know what I want, my lord Sukuna. You’ve always known.”

He clenches his fists, frustration simmering beneath his skin. “Then tell me, damn it. Tell me what I need to do to set you free.”

“Set me free?” she repeats, and there’s a hint of amusement in her voice, as if the very idea amuses her. “Oh, my lord Sukuna… it’s not me who needs freeing.”

His breath hitches, her words cutting through him like a blade. The realization settles over him like a heavy weight, and he knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that she’s right.

She isn’t the one trapped here—he is. Bound by his own memories, his own regrets, unable to let go of the past that has woven her image into every part of him.

He opens his eyes, staring at the canvas again, her face seeming to shift. It was almost ever so easy for her to taunt him like that, to tease him. Everything about her gave him that feeling that overwhelms him. Feelings that he's never felt in his entire life.

He could feel her eyes glinting with a knowing look that sends a shiver down his spine. He reaches for the brush, hand trembling as he adds another stroke, trying to bring her into focus, to finally capture the essence of her that has haunted him. But no matter what he does, he can’t reach her, can’t grasp the fleeting vision that seems to dance just beyond his reach.

“I’ll keep painting you. I swear.” he whispers, his voice raw, laced with something close to desperation. “Every night, every dream, until you’re satisfied. Until you let me go.”

But he knows, even as the words leave his lips, that she won’t; she’ll never truly leave. She’ll linger there, a silent muse, a relentless force guiding his hand, embedding herself deeper with every brushstroke.

And he, trapped in this beautiful, maddening cycle, will keep painting her face, night after night, each canvas only revealing a fragment of her and yet never enough.

The clock ticks on, marking the hours that slip away in her wake, but he’s long since stopped noticing. She’s there, in every line, every shadow, every flicker of light on the canvas.

She’s his prison, his muse, his madness—and he knows, even as he tries to break free, that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

══════════════════

BY THIS POINT, HE WOULD HAVE BEEN FINISHED WITH HIS COLLECTION. Usually, Ryomen Sukuna finishes his pieces weeks ahead, leaving everyone else; especially Gojo Satoru—scrambling to catch up. Well, perhaps because he usually doesn’t work until he stops messing about. 

Still, the rivalry is a running joke among their peers. Gojo Satoru  would tease him endlessly, his voice loud and mocking. “The world might as well end if you didn’t finish first, Ryomen Sukuna. I’d have to check if hell froze over.”

Gojo Satoru would say with that infuriating grin, and Sukuna would just roll his scarlet eyes, barely dignifying it with a response. He didn’t need to—he’d simply outdo him, his work claiming the prime spot at the National Gallery, cycle after cycle. That’s just how it works for them.

But now, as the days tick by and his canvas remains trapped in this maddening loop, the weight of that old joke feels heavier. Maybe it would be better if the world did end, he muses grimly, his frustration boiling under the surface. Each day that he fails to paint anything else, fails to break free from this woman’s image—drains him. 

Every line, every shadow, every detail is etched with painstaking care, and yet each piece feels incomplete. He lets out a heavy sigh, his eyes narrowing as he looks once more at the canvas, the same haunting face staring back.

Another artist would leave the piece for a day, perhaps even a week, and come back with fresh eyes. But not Sukuna. He’s stubborn, relentless. Yet this time, it feels as though he’s been bested, and that thought is infuriating.

A soft knock sounds at the studio door, but he doesn’t respond. The door creaks open, and he doesn’t need to look up to know who it is—he can practically feel Gojo Satoru’s grin from across the room. This was a rare visit from his rival and somewhat friend. But, he already regrets giving him his address.

“Not done yet?” Gojo drawls, strolling in with a lazy confidence, hands shoved into his pockets. “Well, this must be it—the end of the world. Should I start making apocalypse preparations?”

“Leave, Satoru.” Sukuna mutters, his voice a low growl. But Gojo just chuckles, unperturbed.

“Can’t. I live wayyyyyy tooo far. Besides, I came all this way to see the fall of the great Ryomen Sukuna. And boy, is it a sight.” Gojo steps closer, his gaze shifting to the canvas. “Her again, huh? Your mystery woman? I thought you were done with her!”

Sukuna’s jaw tightens. “Say another word, and you’ll be painting with your own blood.”

Gojo just laughs, crossing his arms as he leans back against the wall. “Fine, fine. But it’s… interesting, don’t you think? You, stuck on the same image, over and over. And all of this because of one woman.”

Sukuna can feel his patience fraying, each word from Gojo Satoru like sandpaper on a wound that refuses to heal. But Gojo doesn’t stop, his tone shifting from mocking to genuinely curious. It’s already giving him a headache.

“So, bestie……” he says, a glint in his bright blue eyes. “Who is she? A muse? Some long-lost love? Because whatever it is, you’re about to drive yourself mad over her.”

“She’s nothing.” Sukuna says sharply, but the words lack conviction. He doesn’t want to dive into it. Especially for Gojo Satoru. He’d only try to make it all a joke and laugh about it. “Just a woman. Just a damn face that refuses to disappear.”

Gojo Satoru couldn’t help but arch an eyebrow. “Nothing? Could’ve fooled me, seeing as she’s all you’ve painted for weeks. Either she’s ‘just a woman,’ or she’s haunting you.”

Sukuna clenches his fists, his voice dropping to a murmur. “I can’t… get her out of my head, no matter how many times I try. It’s like she’s taunting me. Every stroke feels like a chase, and I can’t catch her.”

For once, Gojo’s grin fades, a shadow of understanding passing over his face. “So that’s it, huh? You’ve finally found a challenge you can’t conquer. Even after all these years.”

Sukuna scowls, eyes narrowing. “It’s not a challenge. It’s… more than that.” His voice trails off as he glances at the painting, his expression a mixture of longing and frustration.

“Then stop,” Gojo says bluntly. “If she’s driving you insane, stop trying to capture her. Paint something else. Anything else. Get back to your work, to the craft that’s kept you sane all this time.”

But Sukuna only shakes his head, his gaze fixed on the canvas. “It’s not that simple, Satoru. I can’t stop. I need to understand… Why is she here? Why does she keep coming back to me?”

Gojo sighs, running a hand through his bright snow colored hair, clearly torn between amusement and pity. “Well, I can’t say I envy you. But maybe you should try looking beyond the canvas, for once.”

Sukuna scoffs, though a hint of doubt creeps into his expression. “You think there’s anything outside this room that could give me answers?”

Gojo shrugs. “Who knows? Sometimes the answers we need are the ones we’re not looking for. But if this is what’s keeping you chained…” he nods towards the door, his voice lowering, “then maybe it’s time to find out why.”

Ryomen Sukuna says nothing, his gaze flicking between Gojo and the woman’s face on the canvas. And as Gojo slips out the door with a knowing smile, Sukuna feels the weight of his words lingering, as if daring him to break free of the chains he’s crafted for himself.

Gojo Satoru stayed in his studio for a while; the entire time his head hurt. But he couldn’t help admitting that his frustration was put on hold and that he was grateful for it. Annoying as he was, it was better than suffering what he had been suffering with the woman that haunts him.

But when Gojo Satoru leaves, he finds himself unable to leave either. From the night before, he hadn’t really found himself to sleep. But if he was still being honest, he really doesn’t think he made any progress from the ones he had already made  that he feels happy about.

Well, except perhaps three more additions to his deluded dreams of this woman. He couldn’t stop with that. That was not something he could enjoy. It didn’t look good. He didn’t think it was the best he had ever done. He looks at his canvas again and squints his eyes. It was as though he was hoping that he had painted something else. But he knew he hadn’t. There was no need to double check. 

Okay, well, he should be more honest — it’s four now. This is the fourth one. The fourth one for a while and it’s only past lunch time the next day.  Wait, is it really lunch time? He looked around again and saw his clock. His mouth agape in shock. It’s already been a whole day? It’s already the blue hour? What the actual fuck is going on?

He groans as he puts down his paintbrush and covers his face with his hands. A loud groan echoes against his skin, reflecting that bitterness he feels. He was going mad, he’s genuinely sure that he’s really going mad. This time for real. The world is ending and he’s going mad.

Once more, Ryomen Sukuna sits slumped in his studio chair, the dim, cold light from the nearby cityscape casting a pallor over his face. How can this be possible? He's rubbing his temples, staring at yet another drying and yet truly unfinished portrait of her when a familiar voice cuts through his brooding. Ryomen Sukuna turned his back and turned it back once more, just as quickly.

Fuck, its Uraume.

Shit, shit. Is it already that time?

He hasn’t messaged them for two days.

How the fuck is he going to survive—

“Sukuna–san, you have the exhibition in two weeks, you know that!” Uraume reminds him, waking over with their tone both gentle and insistent. They’re standing at the edge of the cluttered studio, arms crossed, their eyes flicking between Sukuna and the growing stack of canvases lining the walls. “Everyone’s expecting new work, Sukuna–san. You can’t just say you aren’t producing anything when this is—”

He cuts them off with a frustrated wave of his hand, as if trying to dismiss both them and the exhibition out of his mind. “I know, I know, Uraume–san. You already know that I know. Don’t you think I know? I just…… What’s the point of even going here? It’s not…it’s not finished—nothing is complete.” 

“That’s not what you’re supposed to be telling me—”

“I know, I know.” His voice trails off, heavy with exhaustion. He looks at the half-finished canvas before him, her familiar eyes staring back, mocking him. “Look, I need time. Okay? Just a little more time to get over it. I promise. It will be done soon.”

Uraume steps carefully, sidestepping the mess of brushes, scattered paint, and half-finished canvases that litter the studio floor. Their usual calm is tinged with a hint of bewilderment, their brows furrowing as they glance over at Ryomen Sukuna, who sits slouched in his chair, staring blankly at the portrait before him. 

This is the first time they’ve seen him like this—so unfocused, so… lost. It’s unnerving. For as long as they’ve known him, Sukuna was always in control, his power and his confidence absolute. Nothing stumped him; nothing could shake him from his single-minded determination.

And yet, here he is, surrounded by portraits of a woman they’ve never met, trapped in a spiral of obsession that they don’t understand.

“Get over what, exactly?” Uraume asks, a soft but firm edge to their voice, breaking the silence that has grown heavy in the room. “The exhibition is practically sold out already. You are the star of this show—you know that.” 

They hesitate, crossing their arms as they study his profile. “If you let yourself slip now, you’re going to lose everything. They expect something… groundbreaking, something other than…”

Their voice trails off as they catch sight of another painting, and then another; all of them of her. Each one shows a different expression, a different tilt of her head, a different light in her eyes, but always the same haunting face. Uraume’s gaze lingers on the latest painting, her smirk, subtle yet all-consuming, as if she’s daring anyone who looks at her to understand.

They shake their heads slowly, exhaling in frustration. “This obsession of yours…” They struggle for the right words, their gaze hardening as they glance back at him. “I don’t understand it. Who is she? And why are you letting her control you like this?”

Sukuna looks up, his expression weary, but there’s a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes, a glint that only appears when he’s truly challenged. “You wouldn’t understand, Uraume–san.” he mutters, his voice low, almost as if he’s talking to himself. “No one would. Not unless you felt what she did to me.”

Uraume raises a brow, taken aback. This isn’t like him—this vulnerability, this almost painful honesty. They’ve seen Sukuna bring cities to their knees, watched him command fear and respect with the simplest look, but now? Now, he looks more like a man haunted than a man in control. 

“Then tell me, Sukuna–san.” Uraume says, their voice softening slightly, more curious than before. “What is it about her? Why does she matter so much?”

He leans back, a bitter smile crossing his lips. “It’s like… no matter how many times I paint her, she’s always out of reach, Uraume–san.” he says, his eyes flicking to the painting in front of him, the smirk that never changes. “Every stroke, every color—it’s as if she’s taunting me, daring me to try again, knowing I’ll never capture her.”

There’s a pause, the weight of his words settling between them, thick and tangible. Uraume takes a step back, their expression wavering. They’re used to seeing Sukuna drive toward a goal with relentless force, breaking anything that stands in his way. But this? This is something else. Something they can’t touch.

“Is she worth all this?” Uraume asks, more gently than they intended. “Worth losing your edge, your control?” They gesture to the canvases around them. “If she’s haunting you this much, perhaps it’s time to let her go.”

A dark laugh escapes Sukuna, low and humorless. “Let her go?” he repeats, his gaze still fixed on the painting. “I’ve tried, Uraume–san. But she’s there, every time I close my eyes. And I can’t…” He stops himself, the words caught in his throat. “She won’t let me go.”

Uraume watches him, feeling a pang of something they can’t quite name—pity, perhaps, or fear for what this fixation could mean for him. They take a step forward, daring to place a hand on his shoulder. 

“You’re stronger than this, Sukuna–san.” they say softly, but firmly. “Whatever hold she has over you, it doesn’t control you. You’re the one in charge here, remember?”

For a moment, Sukuna seems to consider their words, a flicker of clarity in his eyes. But then he glances back at the canvas, at her knowing smile, and his face hardens, as if he’s resigned to the fact that he’s already lost.

“I thought so too, Uraume–san.” he murmurs, barely loud enough for Uraume to hear. “But I’m beginning to wonder… maybe she’s the one painting me.”

Uraume watches him in silence, feeling the cold truth of his words settle between them. They realize, in that moment, that they may be witnessing the unraveling of the man they thought was unbreakable. And for the first time, they wonder if he can even escape from the shadows of his own creation.

Sukuna follows their gaze, feeling a surge of irritation and helplessness. “It’s not that simple, Uraume–san. God, it’s just….” he mutters, running a hand through his messy fuschia hair, which is starting to look as unruly as he feels.

“She’s—she’s everywhere to me. And maybe that’s why she’s always here. Every time I try to start something else, there she is. Like a bad dream I can’t wake up from.” 

He glances at Uraume, searching their face for some flicker of understanding. “Don’t you get it? I need to work through this. You can’t just snap your fingers and make it go away. If I had magic, it would have been fine, but I just….”

“Then maybe make her part of it.” Uraume replies, unphased by his frustration. “People will want to see this obsession—whatever it is. But they won’t be satisfied with half-finished canvases of the same face over and over.”

He stands up abruptly, pacing, as if movement will shake off the weight pressing down on him. “It’s not an obsession,” he says, though the words sound hollow, even to him. “I just need… time. To figure this out. To move past her.”

Uraume watches him with a calm patience that only irritates him further. “You’ve had time, Sukuna-san. And every day, I’ve watched you do nothing but chase shadows.” They gesture to the rows of unfinished canvases, the dozens of faces that all share her haunting expression.

“Maybe you don’t need to get past her. Maybe you need to go deeper, to figure out what she’s trying to tell you.”

Sukuna clenches his jaw, feeling the heat rise in his chest. He hates that Uraume, of all people, might be right. But how could he go deeper when she’s already consuming him? They should know that this is not what he needs right now. He needs support about this trying situation. He needs kindness about this. He needs—

He turns his eyes slightly and soon enough, they land on the first portrait he’s drawn of her. It was rough around the edges, it was true. But he was trying really hard to capture what he had found in her. He thought he would never see her again. That first time, it was all too interesting. Because he thought he would never see her again. And her smile would have been everything even that one time. 

That once would have been enough, it would have fulfilled him whole enough. That one portrait, that first one — it would have been enough for Ryomen Sukuna to feel like someone was always going to look at him kindly. 

That someone would always look at him with such tender eyes. He purses his lips in a line. Here she was. Once again, staring into his soul. Frozen in time. Looking towards him as though he was the world. As though life can only be known through looking at him. He gulped.

“I’ll figure it out, don’t worry.” he says finally, forcing his voice to steady. “Just… let me handle it my way.”

Uraume sighs, a long, exasperated sound. “Fine. But remember, Sukuna–san, time waits for no one. Especially not for you.” 

And with that, they turn, leaving him alone once more in his dimly lit prison, with nothing but her face and the ticking of the clock to keep him company. Ryomen Sukuna could not move anymore for a while. He couldn’t. Not when you were looking at him like that.

The echoes of the night pangs into the slumber of the bright starry sky, and the silence in Ryomen Sukuna’s studio is absolute, broken only by the occasional soft creak of his chair or the quiet scratch of his brush against the canvas. And he despises it. Usually, he would be happy about that. It helps him focus on his work. 

Yet, he’s almost afraid to move or make more noise or appease the silence with his enjoyment. Ryomen Sukuna was afraid that if he does, he’ll break the spell that’s settled over him, the fragile connection that’s come alive between him and her.

This ghostly woman, this chasing woman who has rooted herself so deeply in his psyche. He knows she’s not real, and yet every inch of him feels as if she’s in the room with him, closer than a shadow, more vivid than any memory.

The woman on the canvas feels different this time. He’s pushed past the limits of his frustration and reached a depth of expression that feels raw, unnerving. Her face, no longer a series of lifeless shapes and colors, seems to breathe on the canvas. 

Her smile is softer now, her eyes almost… knowing. But the knowing isn’t comforting; it unsettles him, strikes some primal nerve deep inside. He steps back, shaking his head as if to clear it, to dispel the irrational thought that she’s looking back at him with intent, with purpose.

But even standing back, even half-closing his eyes, he can’t unsee her. She seems more real than ever before, like he’s peeled away another layer, only to find her hiding deeper within. He feels his heart beat faster, a slow wave of dread creeping into his veins. How can a face he created himself feel so alive? So sentient?

He backs away from the canvas, his hands covered in paint, feeling a chill settle over him. He’s been pushing himself to exhaustion these past few weeks, painting her in every possible way, but this—this feels different, like he’s crossed an invisible line. For the first time, the compulsion to paint her is laced with fear.

Still, he can’t look away. Her presence fills the room, and he feels the weight of it like a physical force. His eyes roam over her face: the faint shadows around her eyes, the suggestion of pain hidden in the tilt of her lips, the look of sorrow mingling with defiance. Each detail tells a story he’s not sure he wants to know, yet he’s desperate to understand it.

Uraume’s words echo in his mind again: Maybe you don’t need to get past her. Maybe you need to go deeper, to figure out what she’s trying to tell you.

He shudders, the thought reverberating through him. What if this woman, this apparition, isn’t just an accident of his imagination? What if she’s here for a reason, some purpose he’s been too afraid to uncover?

He recalls the dreams—the cliff, the ocean raging below, the way she extends her hand to him with that haunting smile, beckoning him forward only to disappear again and again. It’s always the same. He can’t save her, but he can’t let her go.

He’s always believed that his art comes from somewhere deep within him, from emotions he doesn’t fully understand, from memories he can’t articulate. But this feels different to him. He had never dealt with this before. 

It was almost as if it’s coming from outside of him, as though she’s reaching through the boundary of his mind, using his hands as a conduit. He lets out a shaky breath, clutching the paint-stained edge of his workbench. Is this woman, this image, an echo from his past? A ghost? Or something darker, something he’s unlocked without meaning to?

The thought stirs something in him, a strange, unexplainable pull to keep going, to lose himself in this process of bringing her fully to life. He walks back to the canvas, hand trembling as he picks up his brush once more.

This time, he paints her hand, reaching out, as if extending toward him. The fingers are delicate, almost ghostly, and he layers shadows beneath them, giving them depth, weight. He works until the details blur, until his vision is smeared with exhaustion.

He steps back again, chest tight. Her hand stretches toward him now, inviting him, her fingers just a breath away. The air in the room feels thick, electric, as if she’s drawing him closer, beckoning him to cross some unseen line. He reaches out instinctively, the tips of his fingers barely brushing the canvas.

In that instant, a shiver courses through him, the chill going bone-deep. He feels his hand pull back, but it’s as if something is holding it there, holding him in place. His heart races. He hears the ticking of the clock, each tick louder, more insistent. The woman on the canvas seems closer now, her eyes sharper, more alive, her expression shifting as though she’s on the edge of speaking.

He tears his hand away, stumbling backward, the sudden movement jarring him back to himself. His studio comes into focus, the familiar mess of paint and brushes scattered around, the quiet hum of the city outside. But she’s still there, her face on the canvas, watching him with that faint, knowing smile.

His heart still pounding, he grabs his coat and stumbles out of the studio, leaving her behind, feeling her gaze burning into his back even as he shuts the door. The air outside is cold, crisp, and he gulps it down, trying to shake off the feeling that he’s walked out of a nightmare he can’t wake from.

But even as he steps into the city streets, even as the lights and the noise surround him, he can still see her in his mind, as clearly as if she were standing beside him.

And he knows, with a strange certainty, that no matter how far he runs, she’ll be waiting for him, waiting in the studio, in his dreams, until he finally dares to confront whatever truth she holds.

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HE REALLY CAN’T HELP IT. Ryomen Sukuna’s heart hammers in his chest, louder than the muffled hum of voices in the museum, louder than the memories raging through his mind. He stands frozen, his scarlet eyes locked onto her.

This was the woman from his dreams, the face he painted until his hands went numb, until his sanity frayed. The woman he has known is like the back of his hand. She’s here, in the flesh, not on a canvas or a hazy memory, but real, close enough to reach out and touch. And yet, at this moment, she feels farther away than ever.

The woman doesn’t notice him. Of course she wouldn’t have. Why would she? He doesn’t expect her to know what he’s feeling now. She’s oblivious to the storm her presence has unleashed in his chest, the way his pulse spikes as he watches her, every nerve in his body caught between reaching for her and running away. 

She’s gazing intently at the displays, her head tilting thoughtfully as she studies each artifact, and with each subtle movement, she reminds him achingly of her—of the woman he’d known in that past life, his concubine, the one he’d lost so long ago. She has that same air of quiet intensity, that gentle focus, the same soft curiosity he remembers.

And then she steps closer to the display holding the hairpin. That hairpin—the one he’d given to his concubine as a symbol of the promise he couldn’t keep, the one she had treasured even on the darkest nights, when the weight of their hidden love had pressed heavy upon them both. The hairpin he’d clasped in her hair before she was taken from him.

The sight of it had been a punch to the gut even before he saw her. But now, watching this woman—a stranger, yet painfully familiar—reach out as though to touch the glass, Sukuna feels something crack open inside him, a wound he’d buried lifetimes ago tearing fresh and raw.

She lifts her hand, her fingers hovering near the glass, her eyes lingering on the hairpin with a look he recognizes—sadness, longing, nostalgia she can’t possibly understand.

Her face is calm, her expression serene, but he knows that look, knows that feeling. Does she feel it too? Does she feel the echo of something lost, something distant yet so deeply embedded in her soul?

His own hand trembles at his side. He wants to go to her, to pull her aside, to demand to know if she remembers, if somewhere in her heart she feels that same aching void he’s carried for centuries. But the reality sinks in, cold and unyielding: to her, he’s a stranger. 

She has no idea who he is. She doesn’t remember their stolen moments under moonlight, their whispered vows, the quiet, forbidden love that had bound them tighter than any promise. She doesn’t remember his face, doesn’t know the agony he’s endured, living each lifetime haunted by her ghost, painting her face in the desperate hope it might bring her back.

And yet, the hairpin calls to her. He watches her, rooted to the spot, as she studies it with a reverence she can’t name, can’t explain, an inexplicable connection to something lost to time. He can almost see the weight of her past life hovering over her like a shadow she doesn’t even know is there.

Sukuna’s fingers twitch, aching to touch her, to break this unbearable silence and tell her everything: that he’s waited lifetimes for her, that he’s dreamed of her every night, that every stroke of his brush was a desperate attempt to remember her, to reach her, to feel even an echo of what they once had. But how could he explain that? How could he unload centuries of grief, of longing, on her shoulders, when she doesn’t even know his name?

She turns, moving slowly to the next display. But for a single heartbeat, her gaze drifts in his direction. Their eyes meet, and in that split second, the air thickens, everything around him falling away. Her eyes—those same eyes, dark and deep, full of questions and secrets—fix on him, and he feels the weight of their shared history settle like a heavy cloak over them both.

He watches as something flickers in her gaze, an almost imperceptible flash of recognition. She blinks, and it’s gone, but he clings to it, desperate. Did she feel it, even if only for a moment? Did she feel the weight of a life before, a life they shared, a love they lost?

But she turns away, her brows furrowing slightly, as if shaking off a strange thought, and the moment shatters, leaving him stranded in a sea of regret and unspoken words. She disappears around the corner, her silhouette swallowed by the shadows of the exhibit.

A bitter pang cuts through him, deeper than anything he’s felt in centuries. She’s here, alive, within his reach, and yet she’s still lost to him. He’s still haunted by the echo of her smile, the shadow of her memory, the woman he could never save.

Slowly, Ryomen Sukuna forces himself to step away, his gaze lingering on the hairpin. He clenches his fists, feeling the familiar sting of regret, of promises broken, of lives tangled and torn apart.

He’d thought he was prepared to face her, though he could handle the pain that would come with seeing her again. But the reality is raw and relentless, tearing open old wounds he thought were healed.

In that moment, he was the only one who knew the truth: he’ll always be trapped in this cycle, drawn to her only to watch her slip away. No matter how many times he finds her, she’ll always be just out of reach, a dream he can never wake from.

Ryomen Sukuna’s heart nearly stops when he feels a soft hand on his arm, drawing him back to the present. His present. In front of this woman, this woman who haunted him with everything and anything in him.

“Are you… okay?” the woman asks, her voice gentle, her eyes warm with concern.

He’s stunned, his breath catching as he looks down at her, the stranger with the face he’s known all too well, the stranger who feels like a ghost comes to life. But he forces himself to gather his thoughts, to act like this is a normal interaction with a stranger, even though every nerve in his body feels charged with recognition.

“Ah… yes, I’m….I’m good.” he finally says, his voice rough but steady. “I just find the gallery… interesting.” The words feel absurdly inadequate, but it’s the only thing he can manage.

A small smile breaks over her lips, and the sight of it sends a sharp pang through him. It’s so familiar, so achingly familiar, that he has to clench his fists to keep himself grounded. She glances around the exhibit, her expression softening with a hint of pride.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, stranger.” she says. “It was… hard to tell the story. To do it justice, I mean.” Her gaze returns to his, warm and inviting. “I’m a Mikoto, by the way. A descendant of Hiromi.”

He feels his heart stop at the name, and it takes him a beat to respond. “Ryomen… Ryomen Sukuna, that’s my name.” he says, his voice catching slightly as he introduces himself. 

He could only watch as her eyes widened in surprise, and she studied him, the weight of recognition glinting faintly in her gaze, though she didn't seem to realize its true depth. She probably did not expect him to have that name, that exact name, also.

“A descendant of Hiromi, too?” she asks with a soft laugh, her expression open, friendly. When he doesn’t answer, she shakes her head with a lighthearted smile. “It’s okay. The family’s too big for everyone to know where they come from anyway.”

He nods stiffly, a bit overwhelmed, struggling to keep his composure as memories flicker before him. There’s so much he wants to say, so much he aches to tell her, but he swallows it all down, letting the silence sit between them, as heavy as it is fragile.

Then, gathering his nerve, he glances at her. “Can I… can I ask you something about the exhibit? About Ryomen Sukuna?”

She tilts her head, curious. “Of course, you can.” she says. “But fair warning—it’s going to be a long story. A sad story.”

He meets her gaze, and in that moment, he sees a flicker of recognition in her eyes, something deep and familiar that calls to him. He nods. “That’s okay.” he says softly. “I think I need to hear it.”

She studies him a moment, as if trying to understand his need to know. Judging from her own reaction, it's a difficult story to even try and tell. But he was curious. Perhaps for the first time in his life, he wanted to know so badly.

He wanted to know more than anything how these two people lived. How she lived, that woman in his dreams — the woman right in front of him. He looks at her tenderly, curiously. And she nods, a quiet understanding in her expression. 

“Ryomen Sukuna… and his concubine. Their stories are really not easy. Nor is her own. His concubine’s story is difficult. She led a long, sad life. They were together for a long time, longer than Sukuna and Hiromi were wed.” Her eyes lowered, the sight gleaming with sorrow as she touched the glass, trying to reach for the hairpin. 

“She was devoted to him, in all the ways that one could describe devotion. And yet….she suffered under him… Quite a lot, if we’re to be honest. She gave him a son and she lost him and his indifference at times, it broke her.” She hesitates, glancing at him before continuing. “Though in his own way, he loved her. But well, was it enough? We cannot truly tell. From what we know from Ryomen Chiharu, she died without knowing. But perhaps, those are claims.”

The words pierce him like a knife. Hearing it from her lips, from her gentle voice, makes it all feel too real. The bitterness, the heartbreak, the weight of it all surges within him, yet he can’t look away from her. Is that what she has had to live through all that time? Was it only the heartbreak she had lived through? In that past life, in her past life — was it just grief born out of more, one after the other? Is that why she kept falling to her death? Suffering in all that pain? 

“If he had loved her then….” Sukuna could feel some sense of anger bubble through him. “Why is it not ever clear, his feelings? If you love someone, you….you tell them! You make them know when they’re alive. Not when they’re gone! What kind of man is he? Is he even a man at that point? That’s cruel….That’s…..”

In that moment, her eyes turned wide as she gazed at him. She had seen people get angry on behalf of the long suffering concubine of the King of Curses. That was normal, to feel anguish on her behalf. And yet, this mayhaps is the first time he’s ever seen someone so infuriated. And aggrieved. And bitter. Truly, in the sense of the word. Her heart felt warm about that. 

She smiles softly at him and places her hand on his own. “You know….he still did care. Even if he was a terrible man. In some ways.”

“Even then—”

“Come with me, stranger!” she says, her voice soft as she takes his hand, her touch sending an electric shock through him. She leads him to a long table draped in dark fabric, a single scroll lying open at the center. It was a magnificent piece of work.

In the middle was her, that concubine. With her elegant features and her bright eyed gaze, her tender smile that could bring life to a mundane world. The colors illuminated her with such ethereality that one couldn’t even understand. It would have taken much too much time to do this in their lifetime, during the Heian Era.

 And yet, it was so carefully made, carefully thought of. So full of devotion to her, details that one couldn’t even find in any other portraiture in that time. Sukuna could only watch as her fingers glide along its edge with a reverence that pulls him in, as though she’s sharing a secret between them. Her smile grows wider.

“This is painted and written by Sukuna himself, mayhaps, a few years before she passed.” she whispers, her eyes shining as she looks at him. “We don’t know, if he had painted and made this in secret. Or if she had known and seen it.  But….it was to her… a message. From him to her.”

The scroll is faded, ink blurred by age but unmistakable. And as Sukuna reads it, he feels his breath leave him, his pulse racing as he takes in the words he never thought he’d see again. In ancient script, barely visible, are the words he remembers writing so many lifetimes ago, a promise that felt foolish and desperate even as he wrote it:

“To you, my little one, from a thousand years to another twenty thousand years from now, you who will continue to be dear to me.”

His vision blurs, and he forces himself to swallow down the ache rising in his chest. How is that man ever so contradictory? How could he cause her hurt and then do…do something like this? How can one ever make amends, or show love, knowing they had caused grief and pain and suffering? 

He purses his lips, his face echoing in conflict. He could feel his hand tighten in a fist. The woman he saw in his dreams, and the woman he sees before him now. How they both suffered to get to this point. 

That smile a thousand years ago, so gentle and yet….so pained. And now, so beautiful and serene, happy. Truly so happy. He couldn’t help but be so overwhelmed by emotion. By all of this. She looks up at him, her face soft with empathy and warmth, her hand still resting lightly on his arm.

“What kind of person do you think could write something like that?” she asks gently, studying his reaction.

He swallows, searching for the right words, his voice barely a whisper. “Someone who knew… he’d never find peace without her.” he says, almost to himself, his gaze lingering on the scroll. “Someone… who wanted more time.”

Her eyes meet his, something unspoken passing between them, a quiet understanding that hangs thick in the air. She doesn’t say anything, but her expression shifts, her gaze softening, as if she’s sensing something she can’t quite place, something from another life pressing against the present.

In that moment, he knows he can’t tell her, can’t burden her with the weight of it all. This life may not hold the memory, the pain, the love he’d lost, but here she stands, still at his side. The universe, fate, something unknown has brought them here, and for now, in this fragile moment, it’s enough.

Sukuna’s mind swirls, each beat of his heart drumming louder against the silence that now surrounds them. The faint traces of this man’s ancient words—his promise, his plea—are scrawled on the scroll, untouched by time. 

The weight of it feels unbearable, as if this fragile piece of paper holds not just a message from the past but the entirety of his soul. He risks a glance at her, the woman with his concubine’s face, her warmth, her spirit.

She’s watching him with an intensity that pulls him back from his reverie. “I wonder if he ever found her, if he was ever reborn and given new life.” she murmurs, more to herself than to him. “If… across all that time, they somehow managed to find each other again. And are more truthful to each other. I always thought that, even when I was a child. I hoped and prayed that they found happiness together in a new life.”

Her words send a chill down his spine. He wants to tell her they did, that he’s standing here, right now, because of her. But he knows he can’t—no matter how much his heart aches to reach out, to let her in on the truth he’s carried alone for so long. The curse of knowing, of remembering, is his burden alone.

Instead, he lets his fingers drift across the edge of the scroll, keeping his gaze lowered. “Maybe he never stopped searching. Even if he is reborn. Maybe if he doesn’t remember it all. He should find her and make amends.” he says softly. “Maybe that’s why his name and his memory linger even now. So that she’ll notice. And…maybe they’ll live the way you want them to.”

She tilts her head, considering him, her smile touched with the slightest hint of sadness. “That’s a beautiful thought. Almost… almost as if he’s still out there, waiting. Even if he had to endure every lifetime alone.”

Sukuna swallows, struggling to keep his composure. “Sometimes, we don’t have a choice, about it all.” he says, his voice low. “We’re bound by memories we can’t remember, by the promises our futures will have to remake, even if we have to carry them alone.”

She studies him for a moment, her expression thoughtful, as if she’s trying to glimpse the truth beneath his words. “That sounds like something he would have said, perhaps….perhaps to her.” she murmurs, almost to herself.

The weight of her gaze feels like a hand pressing against his heart, pulling him toward her, tethering him in a way that feels more ancient than memory. But she turns her attention back to the scroll, breaking the spell, and a soft smile touches her lips as she reads the words he once wrote.

“You know,” she says after a pause, “my family used to tell stories about Sukuna. He’s more of a legend now than a real person, but there are so many conflicting tales. Some say he was ruthless, others say he was capable of great kindness. I’ve always been fascinated by that contradiction.” She glances up at him, eyes alight with curiosity. “What do you think? Was he a monster… or was he something more?”

Sukuna’s breath catches at the question, the answer sitting like a stone in his throat. How can he possibly explain that the truth was more complicated than either legend or history could capture? That he was both and neither, a man torn by his own humanity and haunted by a love he couldn’t protect?

“It’s hard to say what he was.” he answers carefully. “Maybe he was both. A monster to some, but to others… he was someone who gave everything he had. No one is….no one is truly a villain, after all.”

She nods slowly, seemingly satisfied with his answer. “I like that answer.” she says quietly. “I think we all have pieces of light and shadow inside us. Maybe he was just… someone trying to find a balance, even if he had caused so much hurt. Even if he had failed.”

The irony cuts deep, the tragic poetry of her words like salt in an old wound. Her voice is gentle, but there’s a conviction in her tone that makes his chest tighten. If she knew the truth—if she knew what he’d lost, the sacrifices he’d made—would she still look at him this way, with this soft reverence and understanding?

Lost in thought, he hardly notices her reaching for his hand. Her fingers wrap around his, warm and grounding, and he’s stunned by the simple, natural ease of her touch, as though they’ve done this a thousand times before. Her hand fits perfectly in his, and for the first time in centuries, a glimmer of hope stirs within him.

“Come with me again, stranger.” she says, leading him past the scroll and into a smaller room at the end of the hall. “There’s something else I want you to see.”

They walk in silence, and he lets her guide him, his heart racing, wondering if perhaps, just maybe, she’s starting to feel the pull too—the invisible thread binding them across lifetimes. She stops in front of a display case holding a small, intricately carved pendant, its silver chain gleaming under the soft lights.

“This pendant, it was passed down to Ryomen Chiharu, after a few years.” she says, gazing at it with a fondness that surprises him. “It belonged to her. His concubine. One of the only things she kept close to her heart.”

Sukuna stares at it, his mind reeling. The pendant was once his gift to her, that King of Curses—a token, a promise of protection. Seeing it now, preserved and cared for, feels surreal, a whisper of the life they once shared. He doesn’t trust himself to speak, his voice thick with emotion he’s barely keeping in check.

He wondered, maybe if it was the right time, the right place. If he hadn’t been so enthralled with another — maybe it would have been a match that would have ended with less pain and more joy. Perhaps if the King of Curses had found himself able to move forward, he would have been happier. Maybe his concubine would have been happier. 

But that was a thousand years ago. And humanity keeps making that same mistake. Little by little, you could find people repeating it over and over again. That makes Sukuna so bitter and sad, grievous and angry all at once. How could fate be so twisted? How could fate seem so indifferent to it all? How could…how could fate not stop such suffering of people who wish to be happy? 

“I always thought it was sad, you know?” she continued, her tone soft. “She must have known he’d never be hers completely. But she still kept this close to her heart.  Thinking of him. It’s like she never stopped hoping.”

Sukuna’s throat tightens, the weight of her words pressing into the raw ache within him. “Hope….hope is fragile.” he echoes, his voice hollow. “It can be a painful thing to carry, especially when there’s no chance of seeing it fulfilled.”

Her gaze turns up to him, searching, as though she can sense the depth of his grief but can’t name its source. “Maybe.” she says, her voice a whisper. “But sometimes… hope is all we have.”

He looks away, afraid she’ll see the truth in his eyes. He wonders if she understands, if somewhere deep down, a part of her remembers. But even if she doesn’t, he can feel her empathy, her gentle warmth reaching out to him, soothing his restless spirit.

She squeezes his hand, her touch gentle and grounding. “Thank you,” she says, smiling softly. “For listening to her story with me. I know it’s heavy, but… it’s part of our legacy, isn’t it?”

He nods, his heart raw and open, feeling the weight of the centuries fall away, even if just for this fleeting moment. It’s not enough—not enough to heal the wounds, to bring back what they’d lost—but for the first time, he feels something close to peace.

And in that silence, in her quiet smile, he dares to hope that maybe, just maybe, there will be a way to find and know each other again. She was right there. He likes to think she is. Right in front of him. There was hope, somehow. 

That she would be happy. That maybe, just maybe – he could see her smile so beautifully again. A smile that would reach all the way to her eyes and warm her face and towards the reach of all the heavens.

Sukuna stands there, his fingers still brushing the edge of the glass case, the pendant gleaming faintly beneath his touch. He feels an unfamiliar warmth stirring within him, a strange, hesitant urge for something… more, something real and tangible. He looks down at her, her expression still soft with that quiet empathy that unsettles him as much as it comforts him.

Before he can second-guess himself, he clears his throat, casting a sidelong glance her way. “Would you, uh… would you like to grab a coffee sometime?” he asks, a bit gruffly, as if trying to sound casual. “Maybe you could help me with some ideas for my art. I’m….an artist by the way. ”

The question hangs in the air between them, and for a moment, he feels exposed in a way he hasn’t in centuries, like he’s offering a piece of himself he’s long since hidden. He braces himself for rejection, for her to smile politely and turn him down.

Sukuna watches her smile, a genuine, radiant expression that spreads across her face like dawn breaking over a darkened sky. It’s infectious, igniting something deep within him, as though it was a feeling that has lain dormant for centuries beneath layers of pain and regret. 

Everything in him felt warm inside. Everything in him grasped to life, hoping that she could nourish it to last forever. Her acceptance feels like a lifeline thrown into the stormy sea of his existence, and he clings to it with a desperation he can’t quite articulate.

“Tomorrow sounds perfect, stranger.” she says, her voice a gentle balm against the jagged edges of his heart. “Oh, I should stop calling you that, shouldn’t I? My apologies, Sukuna–san. I wanted to tease you for a little more time.”

As she writes her number on a slip of paper, the world around them fades into a blur. The museum, the exhibits, the weight of history—all of it dissolves until it’s just the two of them, suspended in this fragile moment of connection.

He takes the paper from her, fingers brushing against hers for the briefest second. It sends an unexpected spark through him, and he’s momentarily lost in the warmth of her skin, the softness of her touch. He forces himself to pull away, catching her gaze again, wanting to savor the moment a little longer.

“What do you like to drink?” he asks, trying to keep the conversation going, to stretch this fleeting connection into something more tangible.

“Coffee, mostly. I love a good espresso.” she replies, her eyes shining with enthusiasm. “But I’m always open to trying new things. I’m sure the cafe will have new wonders. How about you?”

He nods, remembering the countless cups of coffee he’d consumed over the years, each one a bitter reminder of the countless sleepless nights spent alone. “I’m more of a dark roast person myself. Stronger the better.”

“Then I’ll make sure to introduce you to the best place in town. They have the most incredible brews, fit for a long suffering artist.” she says with a playful grin, and for the first time, he can’t help but smile back. It’s a small, simple thing, but it feels monumental, like a bridge forming over a chasm he thought would always divide him.

“Great….I uh….” he replies, his voice a little steadier. “I look forward to it.”

They linger for a moment, both seeming to hesitate, caught in a bubble of anticipation and something deeper that he can’t quite name. He’s never been one for lighthearted interactions, especially when it comes to connections. Yet here he is, standing before a woman who feels like a piece of his lost history, someone he feels inexplicably drawn to.

With one last lingering look, she steps back, her smile still warming the air between them. “See you soon, then, Sukuna–san.” she says, her voice light yet meaningful.

“Yeah….. I’ll see you soon.” he echoes, his heart pounding in his chest as he watches her walk away, the soft sway of her figure leaving him breathless.

As he turns to leave the gallery, the weight of the memories of a thousand years presses less heavily on him. He had left behind Sukuna's world, and birthed a new. He hopes he can. He wants to. He wants to make that woman happy. She deserves to. She deserves to be happy, in the way he couldn’t do it. He promises himself that.

For the first time, he feels a flicker of inspiration reigniting in his chest, like a spark that’s been waiting for just the right moment to burst into flame. The idea of coffee, of sharing thoughts and laughter, of discussing art with someone who understands the nuances of his legacy—it excites him in a way he hadn’t felt in what seems like an eternity. It excites him to burn with joy.

The streets outside are bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, the colors alive and vibrant, reminding him of the canvases he has yet to fill. He can almost picture it now, a new piece forming in his mind—a swirling mix of shadows and light, of loss and hope, reflecting everything that has led him to this moment.

In the days and nights that follow, he begins to sketch again. The woman’s face, a beautiful blend of familiarity and freshness, dominates the canvas, layered with strokes of longing and the bittersweet pang of memory. He paints her laughter, the way her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, and the gentle warmth that radiated from her smile.

Every brushstroke feels like a conversation, a way to weave their stories together—a blend of art, history, and the unspoken connection that binds them. The artist’s block that had once felt insurmountable begins to crumble, each session at the easel pulling him deeper into his thoughts and feelings, and farther from the suffocating grasp of despair.

He dreams of their meeting, the way her presence felt like coming home, and as their coffee date approaches, he finds himself wrapped in a mix of excitement and nerves. What would they talk about? What would she think of his art?

That evening, as he stands in front of the mirror, he catches a glimpse of himself—disheveled fuschia colored hair, weary bright scarlet eyes; but beneath it all, there’s a glimmer of something he hasn’t seen in ages: hope. A hope for the future. A hope for a new world, a new life. One that will echo years and years from now about joy.

Tomorrow, he tells himself as he brushes down his shirt, it will be different. 

Tomorrow, he’ll make her the happiest person in the world.

Tomorrow, he’ll hope that she will never have any more days to frown.

When the sun rises, he feels it all too well. There was a flutter of anticipation in his chest as he prepared to meet her. Each step feels lighter, each moment filled with possibility. The thought of sharing coffee and stories—his past entwined with hers—ignites a spark of creativity he hadn’t realized he’d been missing.

As he enters the café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee envelops him, and he scans the room, searching for her familiar face. When he spots her, seated at a cozy corner table, her hair cascading softly around her shoulders, he feels a rush of warmth.

Her smile brightens the space around them, and as their eyes meet, he knows he’s ready to embrace whatever this connection holds. It’s a chance to delve deeper into their stories, to explore the tangled threads of fate that brought them together.

“Hey!” she says, her voice lighting up the air between them as he approaches. “I’m so glad you made it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” he replies, the weight of the past lifting as he takes a seat across from her. “So, what’s first on the menu?”

As you sit together, enveloped in the warmth of shared memories and laughter, Sukuna leans forward, his gaze both intense and gentle. The edges of his usually guarded expression soften, and the small lines near his eyes deepen with a smile that’s almost boyish.

“You know," Sukuna says, his voice low and thoughtful, “I have to say this to you… but… I never thought I’d find someone who could understand me like this. The things I’ve seen—it’s hard to explain to people who haven’t lived through the same nightmares."

He glances down at his coffee, a faint smirk on his lips. “But with you, it doesn’t feel like explaining. It’s like I’m just… remembering with someone else who was there too. This feels so natural. Between you and I.”

She smiles, feeling a warmth blossom within her. “It’s strange, isn’t it? I mean, if someone had told me even a month ago that I’d be here with you, talking like this…” She trails off, laughing softly, feeling a little lost for words. “I would’ve thought they were crazy. But here we are.”

Sukuna chuckles, the sound surprisingly warm, free of his usual biting edge. “Crazy doesn’t even begin to cover it.” He pauses, his gaze meeting hers, searching as if he’s trying to decipher something hidden. “It feels like I know you… not just from now, but from a long time ago. Almost like I was meant to find you.”

His words send a shiver through her, a feeling both comforting and unsettling in its intensity. She nods slowly, letting the feeling settle within her. “I know what you mean,” she whispers, her voice barely above a breath. “It’s like we’re picking up where we left off… wherever that was.”

He takes a sip of his coffee, his gaze never leaving hers. “Every lifetime,” he murmurs, as if saying it to himself. “Every single one, I think I’d find you.” His hand drifts across the table, his fingers brushing hers in a tentative, almost reverent way. “And every time, I’d be the luckiest man alive.”

She looks down at his hand, his touch grounding her. “Do you believe in that, then? In soulmates? Lifetimes together?”

He smiles, almost a little sadly, as if unsure of his own answer. “Maybe I never did before… but with you, I can’t help but think maybe I was wrong.”

A comfortable silence settles between them, the words hanging like a delicate thread binding them together. After a while, he speaks again, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You… you make me see things differently, you know that? I just met you, but I just… I think it’s meant to be.”

There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, one she’d never expected to see. “Like maybe life doesn’t have to be as lonely as I thought it was. Or maybe, it just doesn’t matter, as long as I’m here… with you.”

Her heart aches at his words, sensing the pain he’s carried and the hope he’s now daring to hold onto. She laces her fingers with his, giving a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to do it alone anymore, Sukuna-san,” she says softly. “Not as long as we have this. As long as we have each other. Maybe… maybe we’ll find something more to life together.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, exhaling a breath he didn’t know he was holding. When he opens them again, there’s something raw, something almost fragile in his gaze. “I’m… I’m honored,” he whispers gently, a small smile forming on his face. “If that means I’ll be able to live by your side in this life.”

She blushes, feeling the depth of his sincerity. “I’m just as grateful, you know?”

“Thank you.” he says, the words rough, yet sincere. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“You never have to say thank you to me.” She whispered back to him, smiling even wider. “Or say sorry. Okay?”

“Okay.” He smiles back at her, almost contagiously. 

“So, do you….do you wanna watch a movie with me?”

“I’d be honored.”

In that moment, it feels as though nothing else exists—just her and him, caught in the quiet gravity of each other’s presence. 

As the sun sets outside, casting a warm glow over their table, Ryomen Sukuna feels a flicker of something he thought long extinguished. 

And as long as she’s beside him, he knows he’ll be right there with her, finding a new meaning to every breath and every heartbeat, perhaps better than he’d ever dreamed. 

After that day, Ryomen Sukuna stopped having those nightmares about that long suffering concubine.

Instead, he started to dream of a tall man and that long suffering concubine, walking away from him — smiling. Together.

══════════════════

HE WAS LUCKY HE MADE IT. He hadn’t slept much, but it was all worth it. He liked to think that he made his best gallery presentation yet. He knew she liked it just as much as he did. And that had made him even more happy. 

He wasn’t the best of storytellers, he knew that much. Writing was more or less something else to him. But, art like this? He could do it. And so, as he promised, he would make happiness appear on his canvas. He would make that concubine happy again. 

 As the evening progresses, the atmosphere in the gallery transforms, infused with a blend of excitement and reverence. Guests drift in and out, their whispers and laughter weaving a tapestry of shared appreciation for Sukuna's work. 

The vibrant energy of the space pulses with life, but at its core lies a poignant sense of introspection; a collective acknowledgment of the stories each painting holds.

Sukuna stands near the centerpiece, his gaze lingering on the depiction of himself and his concubine, locked in an eternal moment of tenderness. The hues swirl together, capturing not just their faces but the very essence of their souls; a connection that feels almost palpable. Each brushstroke is infused with the weight of longing and regret, but now, standing beside his companion, he recognizes a glimmer of hope amid the sorrow.

As the crowd ebbs and flows, Sukuna finds solace in watching her interact with the guests, her warmth radiating in waves. She engages effortlessly, sharing her thoughts on the art, her enthusiasm infectious.

He catches snippets of their conversations, her laughter ringing out like music, and he can’t help but smile at the ease with which she navigates the social landscape. It’s a stark contrast to his own guarded demeanor, and yet, her presence encourages him to lower his defenses, to engage in this world he once viewed from the shadows.

With each passing moment, Sukuna feels a shift within himself. The uncertainty that had plagued him for so long begins to dissolve, replaced by an exhilarating sense of possibility. As the crowd gradually dwindles, he glances at the painting again, his heart swelling with emotion. It’s more than just an image; it’s a testament to love that transcends time, a narrative that binds past and present.

Suddenly, he turns to find her standing close, her expression reflecting a mixture of admiration and something deeper. “You’ve poured so much of yourself into this, Sukuna.” she says softly, her eyes shimmering with sincerity. “It’s not just about the concubine; it’s about you, too. You’ve laid bare your soul.”

The intensity of her gaze sends a shiver down his spine, and he swallows hard, feeling exposed yet liberated. “I wanted to capture the essence of what we had… to honor her, in my own little ways.” he replies, his voice low and steady. “But I realize now it’s also about my journey. This is as much about my pain as it is about her love.”

She nods, her understanding palpable, and in that moment, he feels a deep connection; there was an unspoken bond that links them through shared experiences and emotions.

The weight of his past no longer feels like a burden; instead, it becomes a source of strength, a wellspring of creativity he can draw from as he embraces this new chapter in his life.

“I think you’ve done an incredible job of that, you know?” she says, her voice softening. “You’ve shown that even in our darkest moments, love remains a guiding light. It’s beautiful.”

Sukuna’s heart races at her words, and he feels a warmth blooming in his chest—a mixture of gratitude and affection. “Thank you, really.” he replies, his voice sincere. “It means a lot to hear that from you. You’ve been… a source of inspiration for me.”

Her smile deepens, and there’s a spark of something electric in the air, a subtle shift that sends his pulse racing. “I’m glad I could be here for you, you know?” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s a privilege to witness your journey, to see you reclaim a sad story to a happy one.”

He looks at her, the soft glow of the gallery lights illuminating her features, and he feels a wave of emotion wash over him. For so long, he had been shackled by the weight of his past, haunted by the ghost of his concubine and the mistakes that had led to their separation. But here, in this moment, standing with her amidst the beauty of his creations, he feels the chains loosening.

“Will you stay a little longer?” he asks, almost hesitantly, fearing her response. “I’d like to talk more… about the paintings, about everything.”

Her eyes light up, and the warmth in her smile reassures him. “I’d love that.” she replies, and they find a quieter corner of the gallery, away from the remnants of the evening’s festivities.

As they settle into a cozy nook, surrounded by the lingering essence of art and history, Sukuna feels a sense of calm wash over him. The world outside fades, leaving only the two of them and the unspoken connection that has blossomed between them. 

“What do you see in these paintings?” he asks, eager to hear her perspective.

She leans forward, her gaze thoughtful. “I see love, loss, and resilience. Each piece speaks of a journey, a struggle to find beauty amidst pain. But what resonates most is the longing—the desire to reconnect with something that was lost. It’s powerful.”

He nods, her words echoing his own feelings, and as they discuss each painting in turn, he feels an exhilarating rush of creativity and clarity. The art becomes a conduit for their emotions, a way to explore the complexities of their shared experiences.

They dive deep into conversation, their voices low and intimate, each word exchanged drawing them closer together. She shares her own stories of loss and heartache, of moments when she thought she’d never find her way again. It’s a cathartic exchange, and he listens intently, captivated by her honesty and the strength she exudes.

With each revelation, Sukuna feels the walls that the King of Curses had built around himself begin to crumble. He shares his own struggles, the weight of his legacy, and the guilt that had shadowed him for centuries.

And perhaps, redemption may soon come for him in love.  In this safe space, he finds himself opening up that man, that myth, that curse,  in ways he never thought possible, unearthing emotions he had long buried. 

The night wears on, and as the last of the guests trickle out, the gallery transforms into a cocoon of intimacy. It’s just him and her, surrounded by the echoes of their stories, and for the first time in ages, he feels a sense of belonging—a connection that transcends time and pain.

“I never thought I could feel this way again.” he admits, his voice thick with emotion. “After everything I’ve lived through… I thought I’d lost the ability to truly connect with anyone.”

She reaches out, her hand brushing against his in a gentle, reassuring gesture. “You haven’t lost that ability, Sukuna. You’ve just been waiting for the right moment, the right person….the right time.” she says, her gaze steady and filled with warmth. “I’m here now, and I want to be part of your journey.”

The sincerity in her words washes over him, and in that moment, he knows he’s found something rare—a connection that has the potential to redefine his understanding of love, art, and the future. The vulnerability he feels is both terrifying and exhilarating, but he knows he’s ready to embrace it.

As the last notes of music drift into silence and the soft, warm lights dim, the two of them sit close, hands intertwined, surrounded by the vibrant, intimate world he has created.

Each painting on the wall, each sculpture in the dim light feels like a memory brought to life, and she feels him relax beside her, the weight of his past somehow easing with each quiet heartbeat.

His thumb gently strokes her hand, and in that small, tender motion, she feels him say more than words ever could. With her here, in this sanctuary he’s built out of his own creativity and passion, he’s no longer the solitary figure haunted by shadows. He’s simply a man who has finally, against all odds, found someone who can see past his darkness and anchor him in light.

As they stand to leave, his gaze drifts to one of his portraits—a work that captures a moment from another time, another life. In it, the King of Curses sits beside his beloved concubine, her expression full of light and laughter, radiant in a way that suggests an unbreakable bond. 

Ryomen Sukuna pauses, his hand still entwined with hers, and a rare, gentle smile crosses his face.

Looking at the painting, he lets himself hope, just a little. Perhaps, even in a world he once saw as cold and unyielding, there are threads of something beautiful woven into his story. Perhaps, even for someone like him, there could be a happy ending, one he’d never dared to imagine.

He leans down and whispers softly, almost as if confessing a secret. “I like to think they found each other again, you know? That somehow… this time, they got to be happy.”

She squeezes his hand, her eyes shining with warmth and understanding. “I like to think that too.” she replies gently, her voice full of affection.

They walk out together, the cool night air surrounding them as they leave his art behind. And as he catches her smile, he feels his heart swell with gratitude and a strange sense of peace.

For once, he isn’t looking back, haunted by the ghosts of what once was. Instead, he’s looking forward—toward a future that, with her beside him, feels so much brighter than he ever thought possible.

In his heart, he offers a silent prayer, hoping that they’ll continue to find each other, in this life and in all the ones to come. And as they disappear into the night, hands intertwined, this Ryomen Sukuna hopes that the King of Curses finally allows himself to believe that, this time, happiness might be his after all.

══════════════════

THERE WOULD BE NO MEMORY OF THIS WHEN HE’S REBORN. Ryomen Sukuna knows that much. That is the will of the unknown, of the gods unseen and unheard. He does not care much about the propriety of the accuracy. Why should it matter what their name is? He was dead, why should he care?  

In the stillness of the afterlife, everything feels suspended, timeless. Everything was not what he had expected. Long ago, he had resigned himself to the thought that a final death would lead to the depths of burning inferno. And yet, it was not. He was stuck in a journey, a journey that continuously repeats over and over again. 

He does not know what those gods intended with that. What was the purpose designed by the gods? What was the purpose of this journey? He had asked himself that for hundreds of years, walking and walking like the pilgrim he was and yet without end in sight. There was no road that was left to find a stop.

Perhaps, that is until now.

Ryomen Sukuna was the first to notice.

There was a wide shoji that appeared before them.

Ryomen Hiromi was quite unsure about what that was all about. But when she stepped right in front of it, the field protecting it had barred her from even touching it. She pursed her lips in a flat line. This door was not one for her to enter. 

And she probably had already known that. Looking at him with those knowing purple eyes, she knew that it was not for her. It was for him. The gods had sent him a path, and it was not to be with her. It was a road for him to take, a road that was for him. Only him.

He took a short step towards it and allowed his hands to feel the space occupied by the massive wooden shoji. His touch could pierce its space. It was truly for him. There was no mistake in that. Uraume looked at him with a tense uncertainty. His most loyal Uraume is quite that timid  child, still. Just as when Sukuna had met them years and years ago. 

For a moment, it reminded him of Chizuru. That gentleness of that youth, that tenderness of youth. He could only see his little one. The little one that he misses most. His soul is already at peace, and perhaps Sukuna would never see him again. 

He doesn’t deserve to. He wasn’t a good father to him. But moments like this, it gives him relief. Even if Chizuru didn’t need him anymore, then someone else did. And that someone still needed him. Even if he wasn’t the person suited to be needed.

Sukuna looked down at them, and then nodded reassuringly. Uraume reached forward and gasped. Their touch too pierced through its barrier. Of course, Sukuna thought to himself. Uraume tied their entire life to him.

They were one in the same. The loyal servant cannot live without the master. No, no. Sukuna corrects himself. There was always a need for someone. People will always need people.

He stands there idly as Ryomen Hiromi stood beside him, though keeping a distance. Everything around them had grown brighter. Brighter than before. All that surrounded them had been bathed in a soft, eternal light that neither burns nor fades. 

This place, this moment, is for closure—a place where the bonds of the past can either linger or be released. A purgatory for souls, sinner or not. All souls look the same to the gods. Well, that’s what Hiromi had told him.

Sukuna’s gaze rests on Hiromi, taking in the warmth in her expression, the calmness in her presence. Even here, she glows with an inner light that he has always cherished. Serene as the moonlight, as mellow as the clouds. 

There had always been a quiet grace that no one could replicate. He had known that in his long lifetime. And for as long as he had lived, he thought that his job had been to protect it. To protect her. No matter what, with everything in him —  even if it often meant tearing down the world around him.

For a long while, they simply stand together, the weight of their shared history resting between them. A thousand years, feeling even more than that, reflected in the understanding that came in the silence. He had known her too well, she had known him too well.

There was nothing left between them. Only knowing. And perhaps, that’s why it wouldn’t have ever worked. He thinks about that. Knowing someone, even too well, will never truly be living a life with them. 

There was too much he did not know about her life. There was much she did not know about his own. They had lived lives that grew out of their tender love. People who loved each other so much, that they risked everything in the world — finally became two boats in the night waiting for each other to pass. 

Perhaps that’s all that there could be, he thinks about it now. No matter how much he loved her, no matter how much he still does love  her — they were parallel lines. Right people, wrong place. Right place, wrong time. 

That in itself was hard to admit, he knows that. He always has. But it was hard to say. It was hard to accept. Perhaps it always will be. Yet there is so much more beyond that grief of something already lost. Of life already lived and passed by. No matter how much he wants to follow Ryomen Hiromi with all the love in his heart, with all the devotion given from all his life, there will always be fate. And fate knows better than he. 

As much as he tries, he was not a god.

He will never be one, he has tried to be.

He was just a sinner, a cruel cursed sinner.

Taking a deep breath, Sukuna speaks, his voice soft, yet resolute. "I can feel it, Hiromi." he says, looking down at his feet. “Somewhere out there……..I am soon to be reborn. Soon….I must enter this door.”

Ryomen Hiromi’s face softens, and a knowing smile tugs at her lips. She tilts her head, teasing, but with a hint of sadness that she can’t entirely hide. How could she? Ryomen Sukuna was her person. He was her family. Her dearest friend, her confidant.  The man she loved, still does love. The love of her life. 

But she knew that he was not yet ready. Perhaps he will never be ready to move forward like this. There was much tying him to the world of the living. To the earthly life. And she knew it wouldn't be her. It will never be her. 

She could see it in the corner of his scarlet eyes. He too had lived a life. He had moved on. And he wants to see that loved one again. He wants to return. Even if he does not know it. He wants to see that smile on her face again.

"So, you’ll stop following me now, huh?"

He chuckles, the sound quiet, almost reverent, as he brings her hand to his chest. "I’ll love you most in the world, you know that.” he murmurs, each word weighed with truth. “You were the part of me that was good, Hiromi. Everything I am….was because of you.”

She looks at him, shaking her head. She remains smiling. “Endless flattery is not your style.”

His eyes warmed towards her. “It is not flattery if it's true. You know that most. I do not lie, not easily. Not without reason.”

“I know.” She huffs back in response, her eyes lowered to the floor. “I know you too well.”

“I need to go. You know that. There are still…..too much left undone. I have a lot to make amends for, things I must repair.” His voice grows steady, almost solemn. “I need to start with someone else I love. Someone who’s waiting, on the other side of the shore.”

Hiromi’s gaze flickers, her surprise shifting to understanding. There’s a light in her bright purple eyes, a pride that only deepens as she studies his face. For a moment, she wondered when he had grown up. When had he aged this well, lived this well. A part of her mourns the things they never saw. But she knew it was too late. He had someone else waiting to see those sides of him now. 

“I always hoped you’d find something worth living for, beyond me. Beyond our clan. Beyond Jujutsu.” she says, her words carrying an emotion he hadn’t expected. She laughs. “You’ve done well, Sukuna. I know you would. And now you’re better at admitting your faults. You’ve….you’ve truly grown up! Father and uncle would be so glad to see it, don’t you think?”

The weight of her words settles deeply into him, her silent devotion across lifetimes coming into sharp focus. Ryomen Sukuna closes his eyes, feeling the immensity of all that they’ve shared, all that he’s never truly expressed. 

“There’s still much for me to set right, Hiromi.” He looks at her, his expression softening as he finally speaks the words he’s never quite managed to say before. “But the love we shared… It's the best part of me. It’s the part of me I want to carry into the next life. Everything you taught me, it will be for the better.”

A soft laugh escapes her once more, and she shakes her head as if she’s hearing a promise she’s waited lifetimes for him to make. Her hand reaches up, gentle, almost motherly, as she brushes a stray hair back from his face. Leaning in, she presses a delicate kiss to his cheek. 

“You don’t have to say anything else. I’ve always known you loved me.” She pulls back slightly, her hand lingering against his face. “I’ll always love you too, Sukuna. But we have different lives now. Paths that aren’t tied together anymore. No paths are bound, after all. Isn’t that what was taught?” 

Her words are tender but firm, and he nods, finally accepting what she’s known all along. “I know.” he whispers, the smile on his face tinged with the bittersweet ache of goodbye. “But I think I’ll be alright, night flower. I’ve found something, someone… who I believe can make me better. She’s out there, waiting.”

For a moment, she could feel her heart shatter. In that moment, to remember what he had called her. With those words, with that tone of finality. With that tone of farewell. She could feel the warmth of water echo through her eyes. But she tries to make sure they do not pour. Those tears shouldn’t be poured. Not for him. He does not need it. She must send him happily. She must send him off with a smile. A good farewell.

Hiromi pulls away, her hand slipping from his, though her gaze remains fixed on him with a profound love and pride. Her bright eyes gleamed at him, even brighter than before. She smiles at him, though he could notice how tight it was. No matter how happy she is for him — she will mourn. She can’t help it. 

“Then, I want you to find her, hm?” she says softly, the conviction in her voice like a benediction. “Find her and find your happiness, the kind that lasts. The kind that you finally deserve.”

He nods, and there’s a rare, open softness in his expression, a gratitude as deep as the ages they’ve spent together. He takes a good look at her, as though he was memorizing this moment. For as long as it still lasts, he wants to remember it. He wants to remember her, giving her blessing. 

“Then, I’ll go, nightflower.” he says, his voice low and filled with purpose. “I’ll find her… and try to live the life I dreamed of with you.”

Hiromi smiles gently, and with one last lingering look, she turns to leave, pausing only to say. “Someday, I hope to meet her too—the one who brought you peace. Bring her back with you. So that I may thank her for taking care of you.”

He nodded at her. He takes a deep breath as he lowers his gaze and sees Uraume looking at him, as though asking for courage. Sukuna takes Uraume’s hand and tightly grips it, but is careful not to hurt them. A ghostly smile appears on his face, beaming it towards them. 

Uraume could feel their eyes glisten as they felt the warmth of that smile. Uraume could feel warmth in them, tenderness — tenderness that molds their will to live with courage. Sukuna turns his head slightly, looking at Hiromi. His smile gets wider, and becomes more honest than before. She smiled at him, waving him off. 

As he and Uraume walked towards the shoji, Ryomen Hiromi knew that she too has to move away. Ryomen Sukuna slowly watches her walk away into the path of light, alone, feeling the weight of a thousand lifetimes lifting from his shoulders. He could feel his breath hitch as he watches her walk away, perhaps for the final time, perhaps until they get reborn again. 

If you were not waiting for him, if he had not met you, if he had not loved you — perhaps he would have turned away from these doors and moved towards the path of life and rejected rebirth. He would have let his soul rest in peace for all of time. But he knows that he was no longer that person anymore. He wanted to move forward. He wanted to break the cycle. He wanted to be with you.

Ryomen Sukuna is ready to face the world again, this time with a purpose that is as clear as the love he feels for the woman he will now seek.  He must atone. He must live a new life. He must make you happy. 

Both of you will be happy, he knows that. And as he steps forward, towards his own rebirth, he carries her blessings, his heart finally open to the happiness he had once believed was out of reach. He will live it now. He will atone, he will find redemption. He will make you happy.

[desireangel]

Dark Cherry [4] | Aemond Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: MDNI 18+!! canon divergence!!! I fucked the timeline and nigly bits bc this was an impulse fic ok soooo it was mostly unplanned, almost smut, angst, let the grovelling happen babyyy, unedited, mention of alys x aemond but not in a good way :((, infidelity, talk of sex, guilt, mentions of Aegon x reader, hmmm I ramble, little vulnerable Aemond, bad language, let me know if I've missed anything!

Author's note: y'all I was never done with that man like there's no easy out for him :llll. Anyways I wrote most of this instead of studying which I needed to do. Perhaps I'll have my hand at another idea I'm cooking before part 5 but I'm alsoooo unsure about how keen we are to keep this one going - like is it getting too much??? either way, I enjoy writing this. and idk how to shut up, clearly, because I love that internal mind talk shit. Drop your thoughts in my inbox or PM me because I love to yap!!! xoxo, kisses!!! <3

Masterlist

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He was a fool. A spoiled, arrogant and entitled fool. You often thought about whether Aemond actually recognised the effect of his actions on anyone else. It was always ‘I did it for us’ or ‘I did it because I had to do it’.

So after your confrontation the day before, it had surprised you that Aemond had truly believed he was forgiven. Maybe it shouldn’t have. You had, after all, sat beside him and laughed with him. Shared a moment as if things were better. But it was nothing more than a lighthearted acknowledgement that whatever game was being played was entirely ridiculous yet you could feel how something had changed. There was a newfound intensity between the two of you and Aemond had clearly understood that he had made a mistake

But that wouldn't be enough for forgiveness. Things would never really be the same. You will never forget. The nameless woman had made a home in your unconscious mind and everything would remind you of the woman your husband had chosen to take to bed over you. She was beautiful, she was experienced and free of burden. Based on that alone a part of you could see why she could have been a better choice–a part of you that ached and pained ceaselessly. 

And you weren’t sure you could carry on as if Aemond hadn’t thrown your entire world into the pits of ruin. Because that is exactly what he may as well have done. All you had was your marriage to him–a fact that was as painful as it was true. If it all fell apart because of him only you would suffer from it. 

Your name, your family’s name. A Lady born to a house of remarkably lowly nobility with little more than your marriage to the prince. A charity case marriage to tell the realm’s people that the Crown was not so prejudiced as to be above uniting with the likes of your house. That the Lannisters and Baratheons were important but they were not everything. A fabrication only made necessary to cover up the fact that it was a lie–the Targaryens (and even the Hightowers as you had come to realise) really did believe they were of better blood. 

A failure to fulfil your duty to the Targaryen crown as Prince Aemond’s wife would destroy your family name. And you would have no prospect of happiness after it. What else did you have aside from this?

Aemond would never understand that. Because not only was he a man but he was a prince. A privilege, a safety and a security he had inherited through birth. 

Aside from the pressures of society, he had hurt you. Badly. 

Despite your own confliction about it, you did have love for Aemond–how could you not? Love came from many things and while yours may have come from your dependance on his word, on the duty he performed to be your protector as he was to the Crown and its subjects, on his polite affections as limited as they were, it still found its way into your heart. Perhaps it was foolish to allow it entry into your existence when you had already known that there was no love to come from Aemond. 

It didn’t change anything. Betrayed your trust, taken you for granted and destroyed the sanctity of a husband’s loyalty as if he were as dishonourable as any other Lord. 

You would never say it out loud but it had broken your heart. And heartache is a consuming, suffocating and painful thing to feel. A constant lump in your throat, something always weighing your chest down, a disastrous, aching discomfort in your belly. Tears had stained your pillow at night and dried by the morning, the fabric of the linen acquiring the same unphased facade that you would wear as you plastered on a mask of ignorance so that you could continue to live through your day. 

All because you had wanted him. Aemond, who was doomed to disappoint and destroy merely because that is all that princes do. 

For him to have mistaken your truce–the end to the back and forth game that had been wreaking havoc in its wake-as forgiveness was infuriating. He had no idea. 

Well, maybe he did. Now that he had seen you with another just as you had seen him. And you recognised your own experience in the moment he had realised what was happening. 

Aemond’s call to breakfast made you want to laugh. But you had turned him down for afternoon tea just the day before only to be found swallowing his brother’s seed. You winced at the shamefulness of your thought, muttering a quick prayer for the sake of your piety whether it was genuine or not. 

He was seated lazily in the chair he favoured, an array of food spread across the table. There was a book in his hand. The same one he had taken from you the last time you had shared your morning meal together. Aemond had a smirk playing on his lips. 

You cleared your throat, curtsying before sitting down at the other end of the table to him and with as much distance between you as you could muster. “Good morrow, my Prince,”

“Formalities, I see,” He looked at you through his lashes. It was odd seeing him so relaxed, the tension that was always in his shoulders had been lost and there was a playful glint to his eye. You wanted to smack it out. “I believed we were past titles and distance for the sake of propriety, my sweet. As well as rigid greetings.”

All you responded with was a stare. 

Dropping the book to his side, Aemond sighed and leaned forward, pouring tea into a cup. He stood, taking a couple steps forward to hand it to you. “We have fixed-”

“We have fixed nothing.”

“I am trying to turn a new leaf,” he commanded. You took the cup and saucer from his hand, the warm waft of vanilla and rose giving you a slight reprieve from the threat that rolled off his tongue. “If you do not recall, dear wife, I as well have every reason to resent you. The image of you sucking on my useless brother’s cock is not one I can easily bare. Yet I have chosen to let it be. I could have easily decided otherwise.”

“That would make you a hypocrite.” You glanced at him over the rim of your teacup. 

“It does not matter much if I am a hypocrite, does it?” Aemond sat, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He wasn’t bothered with the food in front of him, focused solely on you. “I hardly see how that would change anything.”

You squirmed under the intensity of his stare, picking up a cherry from the bowl of fruits and rolling the stem between your fingers. “It matters to me. Certainly, it matters for your reputation among the smallfolk. Nobody cares for a selfish prince, my dear.”

Aemond hummed, smirking at the venom you spat at him. You noticed the coin that he rolled between his fingers, nimble and thoughtless as if it were like breathing. Not so much a nervous habit but a thoughtful one. 

He couldn’t lie and say that he didn’t enjoy your confidence. It was refreshing. But there was a dip in his gut at the thought that there was no hope for the two of you. Aemond, ever logical, knew he had no one else to blame but himself with his lack of foresight and failure to see beyond the now and here. 

Because Aemond had not even considered how things would go on should you not forgive him. He had assumed that you would if not merely on the basis that there was little lost from a relationship that hardly existed in the first place. You had love for him and he was so convinced that such a thing would be impossible that he didn’t consider that it would cause you heartache beyond slighted offence and jealousy. 

A violet eye lingered on the cherry that remained between your fingers. Aemond was good at putting on an act. He thought for a moment that he would rather take lashes to his back than have you know that he had no idea how to love someone properly. A part of him was persuaded that he was incapable of being a good lover. The lashes seemed like a blissful gift compared to the self-loathing that simmered in his belly at the probability that he had ruined any chance your marriage had of recovery.  

It crossed his mind that it was his ignorance towards you right from the beginning that had damned your relationship. 

Either way, it did not help that you had turned to his brother for intimacy. Aemond felt his blood scorch whenever that invaded his mind. He wanted to crumble the walls of this fortress when he wondered if Aegon had enjoyed your womanhood. Jealousy did motivate him well, he realised, and Aemond had the murderous urge to feed Aegon to Vhagar. 

Nonetheless, he feigned amusement. “It seems as if you care for one.”

You ate the cherry. It was sweet and rich. All you replied with was an upturn of your chin as you gracefully held a small embroidered towel to your lips.

“So I am not forgiven?” Aemond had to break the silence before it cut him open. “Are we not even?”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you held back a surprised laugh. “You never apologised. Not that it would make any difference.”

“That does not answer my question.”

“Of course you are not forgiven,” you sighed. The tea cup hit the table with a clang. Your disdain for his actions and his ignorance gave you an unfettered confidence around him which you weren’t accustomed to. It made it very difficult to control yourself. “And no, we are not even, my Prince. And since you have brought it to my attention, I am of half a mind to find Aegon and offer him a meal between my thighs. You see, I have often wondered how it would feel and I expect that our King would be happy to indulge my… curiosities.”

Aemond sneered, a silent one that was more visible in his intake of a breath, the curl of his lips and the hardening of his eye. Bullseye. 

It took him less than a couple seconds to be on his knees in front of where you sat, a strong hand tightly gripping each side of your thighs over the thick fabrics of your dress. He had shoved the table aside, unphased as tea spilled and fruits and cheeses toppled to the floor. Something in the look of bewilderment on your face had Aemond ready to both grin at your clueless innocence and frown at your shock.

Aemond didn’t let himself dwell on the fact that you had given up on expecting such pleasures from him. He was your husband; nothing about what he was clearly intending on doing to you should surprise you. Cursing himself to perdition would not be enough for how he has failed you. 

“I feel obliged to remind you that we had agreed,” he grazed his nose across your knees, looking up at you through his eyelashes, jaw clenched tight as he all but growled his words. “That there will be no more of this foolishness. Not from you and not from me.”

It was an onslaught of different things that had rendered you still and silent. The way Aemond looked at you like you were the only satiating force for his eternal hunger, the wordless mixture of desire and anger in how his fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, the desperation in his voice, strained by the fear that you would. Or was it the overwhelming feeling that Aemond was finally taking some accountability and that maybe he recognised not what his actions were but the meaning that they carried?

For a moment Aemond just looked at you, conflicted and fragmented and unguarded. The sight of him like this reminded you of a vulnerable child. But it didn’t last long before the menacing, cautionary glint was back in his eye, his posture becoming rigid as shuffled the fabrics of your skirts. 

A new kind of anxiety overcame you. Not like the insignificant nervousness you had felt that night when you had wandered into his chambers or used his leg to make yourself peak and not like the clueless apprehension with Aegon. It formed a ball in your chest and made it hard to breathe. 

There was no chance he would ever admit it but you could see Aemond’s vulnerability and desperation within the hardened facade he had perfected. He wanted nothing more than to seem strong and powerful at all times, worthy of acclaim and reverence. But here he was, willing to stay on his knees and worship you forever, all under the pretence of rageful infatuation. 

It was too hot. Even with the cool of the shadows cast by the dark net curtains that only let in enough daylight to see clearly and not enough to cause Aemond irritation from sensitivity in his eye, it was so warm you worried you would have to rip the sleeves off of your dress.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Aemond let out a soft, dark groan, running his fingers across the expanse of your legs over your stockings, your skirts already bunched at your hips. Skin burning at his touch, you couldn’t help the way you whined and squeezed your thighs together, squirming under the intensity of his gaze. 

His voice was heavy with the burden of lust and regret. “I will be better. In all the ways that I have failed you and more. Your forgiveness, I realise, is not as easily granted as I presumed but I will show you that I am worthy of it.” 

There was a moment of weakness in your mind before you caught yourself. You didn’t quite believe him. It had clearly been too easy for him to give you empty promises and there was no reason why things would be different now. 

It was odd. Seeing Aemond weak like this. 

What would it mean if you let him continue? It was clearly different this time. You couldn’t put it into words exactly but there was a rawness, a blitz of different emotions that set things ablaze and made you want to both weep and mewl for him. 

You couldn’t spare a thought about why it was different. Aemond was right there, a weaponised Prince on his knees for you, a lowly Lady with nothing more to offer him than yourself. Since when did you hold all this power over him? 

That night in his bedchambers and last night when you had shared a laugh despite everything that had unfolded felt detached in a way. When you had allowed yourself release over his leg it was simply that. A way to ease the tension he had put in your body and a way to leave him wanting.

Aemond’s eye swam with a tenderness you had not seen from him. He continued to look up at you waiting to gauge your response. It was a slight nod of your head which had his hands tearing at the soft fabric of your stockings, his lips instantly meeting the skin of your knees before you had the chance to even gasp. All the while, he kept his eye on you as if his heart would cease to beat if he could not watch the way you reacted to him. 

It became increasingly harder to breathe. There were so many thoughts, so many sensations that you struggled to put it all together. Your flushed with anticipation, your cunt throbbed at the wet plushness of his lips on your hot skin and your hips squirmed at what was to come. 

Your mind, however, flashed with the image of Aemond, exactly as he was now, between another woman’s thighs. A woman who didn’t flinch at the unfamiliar touch, who didn’t jerk away at the foreign feeling of being pleasured. You wondered if he would be so angered at the prospect of another man’s mouth on her womanhood, if her skin felt softer or more rough on his lips and if he looked at her with the same heated need.

It made you feel sick. 

Aemond let himself enjoy the way your thighs tensed, pulling your smallclothes off of you as much as carefully as he could under the restriction of your skirts. There was an urge to rip the entire dress off but he knew it would be a step too far. He couldn’t help the low sounds that left him, sounds he couldn’t recognise. The expanse of your thighs and the sight of your flushed, hot cunt in front of him made his mouth water with a hunger that would have shocked him had he not been so distracted by your scent. 

Without complete vision, Aemond had learned to train his sense of touch, taste, smell and hearing to make up for the disadvantage he was stuck with. They were always slightly heightened compared to those who never needed the compensation of senses but in the cloud of desire and lust, he was sensitive. 

You whined at the way his tongue glided over your skin, biting down hard but not hard enough to be painful on the flesh of your upper thigh so close to where you needed to feel him. But Aemond was always remarkably patient and he merely made way to your other leg, repeating his ministrations and licking you from your knee to where he bit you at your thigh. 

The haze that had possessed you made you lose track of your thoughts so easily. Still, they fought their way to the forefront of your mind at every chance they could and you were reminded of her. 

Aemond’s mind was overwhelmed by you. There was no power in the realm that could make him think of anything else, not with the way you were trembling under his feathered touch and making such beautiful sounds for him, and not when he desired for anyone else apart from you. 

A heavy breath of shame and excitement tumbled out of you at how lewdly he dragged the tip of his nose across your thigh, pressing it into the flesh that sat above your slick, aching cunt and inhaling. You clenched around nothing, your clit twitching at the sound of Aemond’s unabashed groan. 

He grasped at your hips and your legs, his fingers burying into your flesh and tugging as if there would never be enough of you in his hands. It would have driven you into a similarly desperate state had things been different. 

The prince between your thighs was a sight to behold. Aemond’s skin was flushed pink, his eyepatch slightly out of place and his hair tousled from the way your legs clenched and unclenched against his head. He was almost drooling, mumbling about how good you smelled and how perfect and pretty your cunt was for him. His cock had never been so hard, constricted by the stiff leather of his training attires. 

Aemond enjoyed being a tease but there was only so much he could handle himself. While he wanted you to crave for him the way he was craving you so unbearably, Aemond needed to taste you. He needed to make you feel the blinding pleasure he should have been giving you at every chance he had since the night you were married. He needed to show you the ways of unbridled human desire and to show you all the ways your body could come undone and fall apart only to feel completely whole and fulfilled. 

There was no changing the past but Aemond would make up for how completely inattentive he had been. He would show you all the more fervently. When Aemond placed an open mouthed kiss just above your slit, letting a string of his spit glide off of his tongue onto your sensitive pussy, you shuddered.

All at once your mind was once again taken over by unsavoury thoughts. It had your eyes welling with tears, a familiar lump lodging in your throat, threatening to come out in a devastated sob. There was a ringing in your ears and you were back at Aemond’s door, peeking in only to see him giving that woman the same touch he was giving you right now. He had seemed so enthralled by her and the way she must have tasted. It was as if he’d been there before, indulging in her with so much passion it rivalled how eagerly touched you in this moment. 

Did her smell fill his veins with fire as yours was? Did her scent alone make his cock as painfully hard as yours did? Did her cunt drip for him the way yours did? Was the hunger in his eye shining for her too?

It was terrifying to consider. 

Aemond would spend hours here, he had decided. His duties for the day could be damned to the hells for all he cared. There was a rumbling in his chest for what he saw in front of him, inviting him to indulge and filling his mind with senseless ardour. Aemond let himself enjoy just the scent of you, his eye fluttering shut and his nose gently resting above your folds as he breathed you in, caressing your thighs softly with his hands. As if he were starved for years, Aemond salivated and with no patience left within him, he brought his lips downwards to meet the precious cunt he had been dreaming of. 

With a whimper that you couldn’t hold back, you jerked away from him. Aemond pulled away in surprise, his gaze full of confusion and lust and insecurity. “Wait, my love—“

You had slipped free of his grasp, a strangled cry escaping no matter how hard you tried to keep it in. There was one tear that slipped free, followed by countless more and you couldn’t look at him anymore, couldn’t bear to see that he was hurt before scrambling away from him. 

She was stuck in your mind. The memory of Aemond’s little trysts with her replaying behind your eyes no matter how hard you tried to shut it out. It was clear that there was nothing you could do to get ahold of yourself because everytime you looked at him, so enthralled in you and your sex, she was there. 

Laughing at you in the back of your mind, as if she had taken residence in a permanent place in your head, enjoying the state of despair and madness she and Aemond had led you to. 

But she couldn’t be in your head. Not really. Not in the way it felt she was. 

You barely glanced back at Aemond through your tears, struggling to even your breathing and calm the rapid beating of your heart. He hadn’t moved much; just simply stayed there frowning at the space that you had once occupied on the chair. 

There was nothing he could do to change things. Aemond knew that as well as you did. But there was a pain in your heart at the way he looked so defeated, so guilty that it almost seemed like he would melt into a puddle of remorse. A far stretch from the usual stoic warrior that you had known him as.

“My prince, I–” you swallowed, your voice catching when he looked up at you with a wide eye and furrowed eyebrows. For a moment you remembered that he had no right - but he was trying, was he not? “I cannot continue with this knowing that you had touched her like this. It angers me and it upsets me and it pains me to think of it but ‘tis beyond my control.”

He stayed silent, observing the way you hid yourself from him and struggled to meet his gaze. There was a sullen look to you, one you had not entered with and it stuck needles in his flesh to think that he had been the cause of it. Aemond’s entire body felt hot and he was itching to tear off his leathers. He wished the gods would strike him down as he was for hurting you so.

You had turned away, disappearing from his quarters swiftly. You would never forget the image of how you had left him there–it was both satisfying and devastating. 

Aemond, still on his knees for the ghost of you, his expression tortured and his shoulders tensed. It was a pathetic sight, should anyone stumble upon it, but you considered it beautiful. Beautiful in a lethal, catastrophic manner. Not unlike himself; a weaponised source of destruction who had a tendency to bring torment upon those he loved. 

The rest of your day had been spent alone in your chambers. You hadn’t cried so much over any of it until now. The tears and sobs that you had held inside of yourself for weeks had forced themselves out, along with the emotions you had pushed down until you could no longer. 

Aemond had a certain control while you were sitting in that seat, skirts bunched to your stomach and quivering for him to have his way. Regardless, the power was still yours and you knew that it was Aemond who was wrapped tightly around your finger at that moment. He would have listened to anything you had said–done anything you had told him to do. 

Perhaps you had become too stubborn in your anger to have let yourself feel anything else. A retributive anger; one that sprouted from the lack of love that existed in your marriage and reached a climax at Aemond’s brazen adultery. And it only grew stronger in whatever back and forth Aemond had encouraged by dangling his whore in front of your face. 

Whatever it was, you were feeling so much more now than you had before. 

Or perhaps it was because you could see that Aemond was remorseful. He would never yet admit it but you knew from the way he had behaved since you had visited him in his bed. It was no act of redemption and definitely no apology but it was impossible to ignore the change in him. You had never seen Aemond the way you had seen him this morning. 

Vulnerable, gentle, tormented. 

A knock on your door had you sniffling and wiping away any tear stains that may have lingered on your cheeks. You had stopped crying for some time but the need to wallow and lament had stayed. When you called out to ask, the guard at your door notified you of the Dowager Queen’s presence. 

Oh, seven hells. 

There was really no chance you could refuse her so you merely let her in and called a servant to bring some refreshments. Queen Alicent sat herself down but remained tense, carefully watching you as you took a place beside her. 

“Have you been crying?” Her concern was comforting. “I believe I know why.”

You straightened, not meeting the eye of the woman who reached a tender hand to your knee. Hiding behind a forced smile, you let out a breathy laugh. “I am certain the entirety of the Red Keep knows, Your Grace.”

“It has been known for some time,” Alicent was gentle, her cautionary gaze telling you that she was apprehensive about bringing her son’s misadventures up. You held your breath. “Since the first time he had summoned that Alys woman-”

“Alys? Is that her name?”

“You do not know?” There was a tense silence. Alicent couldn’t meet your gaze, pity swimming across her features. Aemond was her son and there were many things that she had let her sons get away with but her heart pained at the broken quiver in your voice. 

Alicent had noticed the change in Aemond since the night that you had found him with Alys. The second time. He had never paid much attention to you aside from what appearances required yet Alicent knew her son far more than he would be willing to accept. She had known that there was something in his heart for you, no matter how small and no matter how it dwindled until set alight. 

Aemond had done the wrong thing. She had no doubts about that. Alicent would have words with him once she figured out what to say to him. But he was her son and there were certain misdoings that she knew she had to defend them through. To protect his marriage, his image and his happiness. The Queen Dowager cleared her throat and reached for your hand, eyebrows furrowing at the way you stared down at your lap, the anguish you felt in your heart written clearly across your face. 

“I understand that you are hurting, my dear. Although my husband remained faithful to me until his death and I cannot quite imagine the pain in your heart–I see how you have love for my son, even if you nor him have known it, I do understand,” Alicent took a breath, closing her eyes. “This is the way of men. And princes–”

“Please, Your Grace, I mean this with utmost respect for you but I do not wish to hear your excuses,” you whispered. There was a prickly, breathless worry that had settled in your gut. What did you not know? Was this Alys someone who mattered? “But I would like to know what you are withholding from me about this woman. I believe I deserve that at the very least.”

Alicent stared at you for a moment, examining you. She could drive her son further into the ground with what she was about to say. “Aemond had a paramour–at least it was rumoured, he never spoke of such things with me. Alys Rivers, a wetnurse and servant woman from Harrenhal.”

“A paramour?”

“It was before you were married,” Alicent was quick to clarify. “I had assumed that Aemond wanted nothing more to do with her when she left–at his order, I believe. Some say she was a witch. Perhaps she enchanted him.” 

You couldn’t look at her. She was more than just a whore? Had he lied to you right from the beginning? Bile rose up in your throat. There was a thrum in your ears, the sound of your own heartbeat and you feared that you would be sick from the drop in your gut. 

“Did he love her? Could he still?”

Alicent sucked in a breath. “I do not know, my child.”

All you could do was nod pathetically. Alicent was a woman of great strength and dedication; you had once wished to be much like her one day. But as you sat beside her now, you wished she had been a liar and a cheat and a meddling gossip. That you could find a way to fault her words but you could tell it caused her great difficulty to speak of Aemond’s actions honestly. 

Ever poised and elegant, Alicent only leaned forward to you, her posture straight as a needle and her touch soft as linen. “I did not mean to upset you further. I only meant to speak with you about returning to Courtly activities, with the other Ladies and Helaena has been asking for you. And the Ladies speak–”

“They speak terribly of me,” you scoffed, allowing a humourless laugh. “I understand, Your Grace. I will return to spending my days in company other than my own.”

Alicent hated to pry but she felt that she must, now that she had dealt her cards against Aemond’s fate. “Perhaps you should speak with Aemond. He cares for you deeply. It would be a shame for your union to fall apart over such misunderstandings.”

If not for formality, you would have rolled your eyes. Again, you simply nodded, your mind reeling back to the woman that Alicent had given a name to. You would ask Aemond about her. It would be the less damning option rather than turning to Aegon once more but the idea of speaking to Aemond about a woman he may once have loved still made you want to crawl underneath the sheets of your bed and disappear. 

You thought of the woman who you had seen through the crack in the door and wished you had taken extra care in looking at her. There was little you could recall other than the darkness and length of her hair, the paleness of her skin and the perfection in her curves as she pleasured Aemond and as he did the same for her. 

As if she was familiar with all the things that made him weak. All the things that made Aemond weak. How she had touched him like she was an expert in his body. And you thought of Aemond, bare and comfortable with her. Aemond with his sapphire glimmering under the lamplight instead of an eye, a rawness and trust that you had never seen of him until that night. 

He trusted her.

Alys Rivers. 

.....................................................

Tagging: @padfooteyes @thedyingwriter @mamawiggers1980 @queenofshinigamis @ewanmitchellfanatic @nurtargaryen

[bunnys-kisses]

hi bunny! i was wondering if you got an order for sourdough bread and blueberry muffins with a side of hard lemonade for toto? i think tumblr has been eating my asks! but if you did already get it ignore this!! love the writing and i loved the past two toto works 🫶🏻🫶🏻🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

bakery menu

want to submit your own orders? then check out the menu! there are tons of things to order and various wonderful servers. i do fandoms beyond f1 if something else strikes your fancy! as for this one, i see what your brain is cooking and i'm so sorry that your original order got eaten by the monster in my inbox! but thankfully this got through and i love the combination! i have grown a fondness for toto as i am part of a discord with other amazing people that's focused on him <3

sourdough bread ("i'm going to breed you.") + blueberry muffins ("i don't think it'll fit.") + hard lemonade (possessive behaviour) served by toto wolff (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, age gap (20/50), wife!reader, breeding kink, size kink (duh), pregnancy, missionary position

toto found your antics amusing. he knew it was just the kind of person you were. you were raised in a household where hugging and kissing on the cheek were normal! toto wasn't going to get mad at you because you were more touch-y feel-y than most.

he found it cute, because you were always so affectionate towards him. you constantly wanted kiss and toto's arm around you. you want to bury into his chest and make a home out of there. you wanted to be close to him.

it wasn't you he didn't trust. it was men.

it was a hands-y mechanic at a party. he was closer to your age and made you laugh, which only left a surge of jealousy in your husband's chest. the mechanic seemed new. so he probably didn't know that you were toto's wife.

you chatted with him happily and toto felt the jealousy surge up further. he finished the drink in his hand before he put the glass down and went to 'rescue' his wife.

"schatzi." toto said, putting on his best smile. he didn't want to scare off the mechanic. he came up to you and placed his hand on your lower back. the size difference was noticable.

you were toto's little wife, you looked up at him and smiled, "ah, honey! this is the new mechanic!"

toto smiled back at you, "i know, my love." he looked at the mechanic and raised his eyebrows, "i know you'll be a great addition to the team this season. it is lovely to finally meet you. this is my wife." he said bluntly, "mrs. wolff."

you perked up, "oh my god, i'm so sorry! i only introduced myself as my first name. this is my husband!"

the new guy's eyes went wide for a moment before he said, "oh... i see." he then cleared his throat, "um, i'll be right back then!" then swiftly left the situation.

you frowned a little and said, "i wonder what that was about." you looked up at your husband, "he seemed scared."

he rubbed the top of your head before he leaned in and kissed you on the apple of your cheek, "mm, i don't think so, schatzi. why don't we go find george and lily?" two people that toto could trust.

-

that evening, toto made sure to show his wife how much he loved you. those large hands on your behind as he got you up onto the shared bed you have. he watched you get out of the dress, exposing your body to him.

your nude form was for his eyes only.

the glittery gold ring on your left hand was evidence of that. your pretty signature with the last name 'wolff' was another. he could get lost in your beauty as he yearned for you. it was a deep throb in his chest at the sight of you.

the pretty nude colour bra and the bright yellow panties you wore. both looked perfect on your skin. and only made toto undress faster, he didn't want to keep mrs. wolff waiting.

he got his button-up onto the floor, and the undershirt. you rubbed your soft thighs together and he drank in the sight of you.

"a woman like you should be illegal. i'm worried if you get more beautiful, my love." he got onto the bed and took off the undershirt, "i'd have to lock you away."

he said it almost jokingly. he trusted you of course, it was other men that couldn't be trusted.

you giggled and took his belt off. the leather felt expensive in your hands. it soon was on the bed and toto quickly got undressed as well before he was on top of you. his hands on your panties before he showed them down your thighs.

"i'm going to breed you." he said softly, "i want to see you with my child. a proper mother." his nose was up against your jaw, he could feel your pulse as it quickened.

your core got hotter as you struggled to get your bra off. you replied, "then come on now, my dear husband." you took him by the face to meet your gaze, "let's make a baby."

he thought the wind was knocked out of him for a moment before he grabbed a hold of your bra and got it off your body, leaving you fully naked to him. he got on his knees with your legs wrapped around his waist.

a heated part of him wanted to fuck you the old fashioned way. on your back so he could admire every inch of your skin.

"but, i don't think it'll fit." you remarked with a slight giggle.

he replied with a smile, he looked handsome as always. "oh don't worry, schatzi. it'll fit." toto was a big man all over. big hands meant two things, one of those things was that his the tip of his cock was familiar with the beginning of your cervix.

and that he easily bruised your poor sweet hole.

but, since you two got married. it had been easier for him to fuck you, to sink inside of you. to feel you inside and out. but now with you under him, he slowly got his cock into you. one hand on your hip and one around his cock.

he got it all the way to the root and then had both hands on your soft hips. you were beautiful under him, your breath hitched and it made toto's cock twitched.

the beautiful, amazing mrs. toto wolff.

he started to move against you. his hands felt so large on your hips as he moved against you. he hunched over you to admire every inch of your heated skin. he could feel the praise bubble up in his throat.

no mechanic, no driver, no man was going to take you from him. he made a promise to love you for all of your days. and he was expecting for that to last for many years.

you held onto the covers under you and let him move your body back and forth. the stretch felt good. you remembered the days when you'd be bruised for a few days afterwards.

"i want you to have my children, schatzi." he said with a softness in his voice. the pleasure raced up his spine as he continued to move against you. you felt perfect to him, like a dream come true.

you moaned a little louder, in the comfort of your shared bedroom. husband and wife tangled up in one another. you placed your hands onto his chest as he continued to rut against you.

his cock hit all the right areas, it made you feel flushed at it all. it was a heated feeling throughout your body.

you tried to meet his pace, but everything felt so much. your heart was racing and you could feel it in your gut. you moaned a little louder, "please honey."

he continued to work your pussy, making sure that you felt good. how could he not want that? you were his wife. not that little mechanic's wife. you were his.

"i know, angel." he said softly, "i'll make you feel good." he leaned in to kiss you on the lips. such a delicate thing under his touch, he could feel the fire in his stomach as he moved against you.

the most perfect living thing. to have sex with you was a feeling that excited toto. to have you anyway he could. he pleasure you as much as you pleasured him.

you were his heart, the thing that kept it beating. to keep going, to keep winning.

you whimpers were cute, you were close. and toto continued to make love to you.

"toto."

"i have you, my love."

you clutched onto the covers under you. your back arched at the intensity as you came around his cock. you whined a little bit and tensed up. toto took this as a chance to pick up the pace and really work his dick into you. he came soon after and made sure to get himself in as deep as it would go.

he was trying to get his wife pregnant after all. a few hard thrusts and his cum drooled into the back of your womb. a good sign if all goes well. toto felt flushed, the sweat down his back as he eyed his beautiful wife.

no mechanic cane get too hands-y if there was a proper baby bump in the way. a sign that toto had staked claim of you as if the ring he bought you wasn't enough. plus, you'd make a beautiful mother.

he pulled out of you and curled up against your stomach. he rubbed soft circles and stayed close to you. he was breathing heavily as were you.

"my beautiful wife." he said as he kissed your stomach.

-

you were all smiles at the party toto threw months later as a way to socialize for the upcoming crew of mercedes. to start out on the right foot. a promise of a good season.

even now, six months pregnant with your first child. you were still all smiles and laughter. instead of a glass of wine, you had been pouring yourself sparkling water to still be part of the celebrations. the dress you wore highlighted your rounded middle.

but now that you were pregnant, toto had to keep a close eye on you. your center of gravity had been all screwed up since your belly sprouted. he didn't need his wife taking a tumble.

he easily caught the sight of you waving hello to the mechanic from last year and giving him a big hug. he also noticed that the mechanic's hand was a little to close to your behind for toto's liking.

if it wasn't glaringly obvious that you were taken already, give the ring, the house and now the baby. he knew he was going to have to talk to the other man before the season started.

toto didn't mind that you were the type of person who loved a good hub, it was who you were! but, it was toto's job as your husband to make sure that you remained safe. <3

[balteredsworld]

turning point. gregory house

🥼🩺 | you and house despise each other. today's supposed to be any other night, but house kisses you.

warnings/tags! light enemies-to-lovers, angst if you squint your eyes, younger woman x older man, emotional revelations, no dialogue, and they kiss!

masterlist : greg house n all

a/n: i can't believe people are sending in things in my inbox wow if you have any requests/ideas or little topics of conversations don't shy away and send them my way! enjoy ducklings <3

house reaches for your wrist, taking you into his grasp, and pulling you flush against his body. you jolt at the sudden motion, left hand landing and pressing on his chest. sure eyes linger on your face for a fraction of a second. beauty eclipsing any and all thought working the cogs in his busy mind. all he thinks to himself is how breathtaking you are in this moment.

many a time the two of you would rather bicker, almost estranged in your sidings with cuddy. but you were legally bound by contract to side with her, serving as a board member this year.

tonight’s no different, you’re here because of house’s opposition to a hospital policy you and the board proposed. he’s been on a childish campaign to get you to concede to his wishes, after all he does whatever he wants in the hospital. but he makes a deductive confession that changes the tune of your usual argument. and tonight’s a little different, with it being the annual gala.

you wear this burgundy dress off some runway that he makes note of, and he’s in his well-pressed, well-tailored suit. you came here to declare a truce, but instead you let house press your buttons, somehow finding yourself ending the argument against his chest.

house’s hand snakes its way to the nook of your back. then, his lips were latched onto yours. he's kissing you.

gregory house is kissing you.

your tense body melts into his touch, reciprocating the kiss despite your initial surprise. you loop an arm around his neck, pushing him closer to you, causing the two of you to wobble, but he steadies your weight and deepens the kiss.

it’s sweet, passionate, and almost desparate, as if this was years of yearning. but you’re not so illusioned that you mistake this as something other than all your anger and hostility towards each other finally being squeeze out by the force of your locked lips—into this kiss.

it’s a kiss the two of you unknowingly wanted, hidden underneath the veneer of your harsh and clashing words. you’re not afraid to argue with house, equally venomous with your tongue during your time as a defence lawyer. and house is the same, sharpened tongue to prove his correctness in principle.

but you two fear that you’ve exposed yourselves to the possibility of tragedy. maybe it's because you two have been really eyeing each other all along, testing how you could handle each other. never once have you failed, nor has house. that scared you shitless, but the moment’s well worth it. house makes good work with his lips, and you float in some sort of heaven, feeling the frustration finally rupture. and he feels the same.

slowly, you both pull away from each other, breathless and flushed. you don’t pull away immediately, staying interlocked in his grasp. your eyes are both down cast, not quite refusing to look at the other, but rather frozen and unsure where to look. despite it, house’s eyes radiate blue.

it’s too intimate for you and house, and yet you keep still. he’s kept to himself all these years, only to have you cut into his bubble between the hookers he distracts himself with. he thinks that’s where his resentment of you stems from, but it’s never really been quite hatred, he realizes. you’re the same, lonelier than you would like to admit. no one, so it seemed, could tug on your heartstrings except this man you found nothing but annoyance for.

house is perplexed. his mouth is agape, nothing quite registering to allow his neurons to fire and form words. something of his old self manifests, and a warm feeling feathers his heart. a touch like this was no stranger to that ghost, but all the other flirtations he makes falls in comparison. there’s only you and him

his sense are faint yet heightened, just from his proximity to you. biologically speaking, he’s doing really well, and he can hear his pulse pounding, and feel yours mirror his. he’s forgotten what this feels like, but sure it was this, and that makes his heart race faster. it’s almost dizzying.

house continues to direct his eyes on your curled hair, unsure of how to look at you. he considers leaving without another word, but he feels stuck to you.

you mirror house, too dazed to do anything. an overwhelming euphoria shoots through you, the sort of nervous excitement that makes you feel like a teenager. you’re younger than house, and you bite your cheek like you were 17 with your crush. you’re all too aware of your inexperience now, unsure with your wild heart. nevertheless, you muster the courage to finally break your trance. so you push on his chest lightly, finally meeting his eyes.

you blink. he’s tall.

the realization makes you swallow nervously. you open your mouth, but like house, nothing quite comes out. your hand still rests on his chest, feeling the rhythm of his pulsing heart. you try again, this time with house. both of your lips fall open, tongue failing again. but his eyes are enough. all you want to do is kiss him, so you lean in and kiss him again.

luckily for you, house always wants to kiss you.

[hysteria-things]

can you do a nate fluff w/ some smut where it's him and the triplets little sister and theyre dating and he keeps wanting to be close to her in but they're in a video so he has to wait and the fans notice when the video comes out? this wasn't specific at all so sorry 😭

SNEAK AWAY (part one)

read part two here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: soft dom!nate x sls!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: six of you are on a trip in hawaii! the only downside is that your triplet brothers don’t know you’re dating their best friend.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, FLUFF, swearing, praising

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,208

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i need this man (biblically)

ALSO i have not forgotten about promise it’ll be continued i just want to get through some of my inbox first!

hawaii is a beautiful place. you truly never want to leave.

this trip is for madi’s eighteenth birthday, and you were practically begged to come. not only you, but nate came along, too.

the thing about nate is that you’re in love with him. literally.

you guys have been dating for roughly seven months, and nobody knows about it. it’s only a thing between you and him.

it genuinely feels nice for it to be you and his thing, but it does get annoying because you have to sneak around.

personally, you wouldn’t mind if your brothers never found out. they can’t kill you, but they will hawk nate and kill him.

glancing around the store, you fidget with the straps of your tank top. “nate, come on.”

he glances at you and then back at the condom boxes. the triplets are vlogging the trip thus far, and you guys walked away to come over to this section.

“nathan.”

he sighs, grabbing a box. “you worry about them too much, baby. we’re fine.”

“they can turn down one of these aisles any second and we’ll be busted.” you whisper-yell, pointing around the store.

he chuckles, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “they’re loud. i’m sure we’ll hear them coming before something bad happens.”

he continues to look at you and smiles.

you cross your arms, bumping a hip out. “what?”

“you’re cute when you’re mad.” he takes his finger and flicks it under your chin before the two of you walk over to the counter and place the condoms on it. you’re still looking around, but there are no same-faced people in sight.

the woman working eyes the both of you, a subtle smirk on her face before scanning the box and putting it in a bag.

he pays for it, and just as you guys turn around you hear voices. “hey guys.” nick greets, looking down at the bag. “what’d you get?”

“some deodorant. i forgot mine at home.” nate answers, nudging your arm softly.

the man-children are recording themselves playing with a ball in an open grass area by the hotel, you and madi watching them from afar. you sigh annoyingly, looking down at your watch.

“i’m going to go up to the room,” you yell, cupping your hands around your mouth so they can hear. they stop playing, focusing now on you. “need to go to the bathroom.”

they give you the okay, and before you know it you’re walking into the hotel suite.

you scroll on your phone, a few minutes passing by before the door opens. you grin widely, nate shutting the door behind him.

he comes over to you and snakes his arms around your waist to pull you close. “i missed you.”

you giggle. “you just saw me.”

sighing, he pulls you into a kiss. the way your mouths move in sync has you craving more. this is the first time you guys are alone, let alone a kiss that’s not a millisecond long.

he pulls away and lifts you, your legs dangling on his sides so he can take you to the bed he’s sharing with chris.

sorry in advance, chris.

he lays you down, kissing your jaw before taking off your shorts. “how much time do you think we have?” you ask.

he shrugs. “like i said before, they’re loud. we’ll hear them coming.”

you blush at his boston accent, one much stronger than yours and your brother’s. even though you’ve heard him talk a hundred times, it’ll always make your heart flutter.

he leaves wet kisses up your chest and neck while he pulls down his bottoms. his kisses finalize on your lips. “i love you a lot.”

you bite your lip, smiling. “i love you too.”

he reaches into the plastic bag he put on the nightstand and grabs the condom box. he rips off one of them and opens it, putting it on when he throws the wrapper somewhere on the ground.

your hands run along his back as he starts to thrust into you, low moans leaving your body.

nate’s thrusts are soft and slow, but it feels more intimate and comforting. you hate the phrase ‘making love’, but it seems like you’re doing just that.

he leans down to kiss you passionately again, his hands flat next to your head. he pulls away, his nose rubbing against yours.

breathing heavily, he moves his hips at a medium pace, going deeper inside of you and just about hitting your g-spot.

your sounds are more high-pitched now, with some profanities flowing through the air as well.

“na—” you begin but get cut off by a gasp once that spot is hit. you throw your head back and arch, balling your hands up to fists. “oh my god.”

“wait just a second, okay?” he rasps out, followed by a groan of his own. “you’re so fucking pretty.”

he hits inside you harder since he’s close to his orgasm and you whimper at how good it feels.

“i’m cumming, baby,” he says before jutting his hips one last time and releasing into the condom.

one last moan and you’re spilling around him. he pulls out, laying on top of your chest as you guys breathe in sync. “imagine they walk in right now?” he jokes.

you slap him on the chest. “better knock on wood, nathan, or we’re going to have some serious issues.”

madi’s birthday rolls around the next day, and it’s the late morning as you guys sit on the couch. your legs are crisscrossed as madi is on her knees.

the four boys are doing some activities outside before all of you go out later for birthday dinner, but you girls want to stay inside in the cool air.

face masks are on your faces, still dressed in pajamas as you guys also paint your nails. “i’m so happy to have another girl around. growing up with four older brothers was not easy.”

she looks up from her painting and gives you a toothy smile before she clears her throat. “can i ask you something?”

“sure.”

“are you sleeping with nate?”

you pause mid-stroke, now looking at the girl across from you.

you chuckle nervously, putting the brush back into the polish. “why do you ask?”

“by the way he ran after you yesterday when you were going back to the room, i knew something was up.”

you hesitate, but you have to tell at least one person. madi you can trust with anything. “not… entirely.”

“what?” her eyes bulge out of her sockets, not expecting you to admit it. “are you like in love with him or something?”

you try to hide your smile, but your face turning beat red gives you away.

her mouth hangs open. “no. way.”

“we’re dating.” you start. “we have been for about seven months. we started talking on my birthday last year, and it escalated from there.”

“omg!” she squeals. “this is the best birthday gift i’ve ever received and it doesn’t even involve me.”

you laugh. “please don’t tell my brothers. they’ll have a heart attack if they find out.”

she zips her lips and throws the key. “my lips are sealed, unlike your le—”

“quit it.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @r4iyaa @sturniolotriplettoplover @mattybswife @freshsturns @loverrsposts @saturncanyon

[takamiwife]

more hawks x elementary teacher?

maybe like.. pre-relationship where he sees the reader with the kids and it pushes him to support the class for the kids and to get closer to you?

your wish is my command 🧞‍♀️✨ this one is in more fanfic-format. i hope this lives up to what you hoped!! if you want, i can totally write more hc’s for it. i just had a fic in mind for this particular request

part two of keigo x elementary teacher y/n <3

(also, part two of first time w keigo coming soon! but i saw this in my inbox and didn’t want to forget about it <3)

keigo never believed in that “love at first sight” bullshit. really, he didn’t believe in love in general. at this point, he had accepted that he was destined to live alone, for better or for worse

on his short break, as he drank his ice cold canned coffee while perched on a rooftop, his eyes drifted to the elementary school across the street

it was a beautiful, warm spring day, the cherry blossoms that lined the streets had just bloomed and it promised a beautiful summer to follow

just as he was about to look away, his eyes landed on a young woman standing on the blacktop, the wind causing her red floral skirt to ruffle and flitter, her top half clad in a white short sleeve shirt with a black corduroy vest over it. her hair sat perfectly, and as she looked at the kids on the playground and smiled, keigo suddenly wondered if he was having a heart attack

his face was flushed and his heart started beating out of his chest he could barely hear his own thoughts over the sound of the blood pumping

shit

shit

shit

she was gorgeous

and just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse for him, a girl fell on the blacktop, scraping her knee. as the girl began to cry, this angel of a woman who he cursed himself for not having the pleasure of laying his eyes on sooner instantly rushed over, sitting on her knees as she scooped the girl into her arms, comforting her and patting her hair

fuck, he had to meet her

would it be creepy to just.. fly over and say hi?

yes? no? maybe?

fuck, he couldn’t think straight, this was driving him insane

luckily for keigo, an answer from the gods was provided. he noticed a little boy began to climb a particularly high tree, reaching for a flower on a branch he could barely reach

as soon as his foot slipped, keigo was already rushing into action, catching the boy mid-air before a single tear could fall

“hey there, you alright buddy?” keigo asked with a charming smile

the young boy immediately nodded, smiling

“you’re the best hawks!” he grinned ear to ear as he brought the both of them to the ground

“sota!” the angel woman called, running over, a few other kids in tow. “what have i told you about climbing that tree? it’s dangerous!” she scolded the young boy, more out of fear than anger

“no, it’s okay miss l/n! mr. hawks was here to catch me!” he pointed to the man that stood behind him, all but dumbstruck at being able to see this woman up close

“well,” she rose up, smiling kindly at keigo (something that almost sent him into cardiac arrest, might i add) “that was very nice of mr. hawks, but he’s not always going to be there to save you, you have to be more careful. did you say thank you?”

keigo was able to snap out of it, keeping his cool demeanor

“ah, there’s no need to thank me,” keigo said nonchalantly. “just doin’ my job is all.”

oh god, he was cute up close

like, really cute

you couldn’t help but fix your hair in some way, clearing your throat

“and i believe this is what he was trying to grab for you.” keigo pulled out the small pink flower he had held behind his back; something he grabbed in a split second whilst grabbing the boy

you reached out, taking the flower from his gloved hand, the both of you leaving your hands out for just a little longer than you should

“well.. thank you, this was very sweet. but sota, you have to know better,” you picked the small boy up, holding him on your hip. “and hawks.. thank you, again. it would’ve been a lot of paperwork.” you joke, squeezing sota’s cheek, still holding the flower in your other hand

keigo, never having been in this situation before, rolled on his heels for a moment. though he didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want to overstay his welcome either, but it’s not like he could just ask you out in front of all these kids-

“mr. hawks?” a girl tugged on his pants. “can you stay and play for a while?”

“yui,” you look down at the girl. “mr. hawks is a busy man, he can’t just-“

“of course i can!” he quickly replied, taking you a bit by surprise

“well.. alright, but don’t make him feel bad if he has to leave! he has lots of other kids to save from falling out of trees.” you joke, glancing at him

and believe me when i say that he played with those kids until they were absolutely tuckered out. like, walking back inside for nap time, they looked like zombies. but it’s not their fault they were going toe to toe with the fastest hero in japan. but despite his competitive nature, he let them win every single game

as your coworker filed them inside, you stood beside him, laughing softly

“thank you for playing with them, really. it meant a lot to them.”

“well, i couldn’t say no to those little faces. you’ve got some good kids. what’s your secret? most kids their age i see don’t listen to anyone.”

he looked at you as you tilted your head, thinking about it for a moment, biting your bottom lip in thought

“you have to listen to them first. they’re a lot smarter than we think, y’know? you have to give them as much care and understanding as you would an adult.”

as you explained, keigo began to wonder if this whole “love at first sight” thing really wasn’t a scam after all. well, okay, it wasn’t necessarily at “first sight” anymore, but he had known you for less than an hour, so it had to have counted

“yea, i understand,” keigo breathed out. “…the world needs more people like you.” truth be told, he wished that he had known you when you two were kids. you must have always been this kind.

“no, the world needs more people like you,” you corrected him. “not enough people are willing to just… let themselves be kids again and have fun for a while. i think there’d be a lot less problems in the world if that were true.”

before keigo could speak, he realized that his phone was buzzing in his pocket, and as he answered, he got an earful about how he didn’t answer his phone and missed someone getting robbed. he of course had to lie and say he was caught up with another problem, but he was needed back at the agency immediately. so you two bid goodbye, and you expected never to see him again

keigo, on the other hand, wouldn’t let that happen. part of him expected his feelings to be a fluke or to go away, but it was quite the opposite. they only grew stronger everyday. and so he kept coming back day after day, playing with the kids during recess, and while he did enjoy playing with them, he always looked forward to talking to you. it was his favorite part of the day, but it made him dread the weekends since he wouldn’t get to see you. as spring moved on, the two of you grew closer, just as keigo had done with your whole class

“look what mio made during art today,” you pull out a picture from your pocket, a crude crayon drawing of the two of you holding hands with a heart above your heads. “isn’t it adorable?”

you two couldn’t help but laugh, because honestly, it looked just like you guys.

“that’s so adorable.” keigo said as he took a picture on his phone. “i’ve never had fanart this flattering.”

“they ask about you everyday, to make sure you’re coming to recess,” you say as you fold the picture back up. “why do you care about them so much anyways?” as soon as the words come out of your mouth, you immediately backtrack. “shit, that came out so, so wrong,” you can’t help but laugh. “i didn’t mean it like that, just-“

“no, no, i completely get it,” keigo assures you. “truth be told, it’s just.. nice. i see things that most people wouldn’t be able to handle on the daily, and everyone’s always talking my ear off about how i should do something better or faster, so it’s just nice to get a break, see the world through a different lens,” the words caught in keigos throat, and as he debated if he should say it, they just spilled out. “and i like talking to you.”

“i like talking to you too, hawks.” you tried to keep your usual demeanor, but on the inside, you swore your brain and heart just simultaneously exploded. what, did you think this was some one sided thing? i hate to break this to you, but you had fallen for him just as hard as he did for you. admittedly you stepped up your outfit game, always making sure your hair was done in the morning now. you loved the way he was with the kids, but you loved the talks the two of you shared even more

keigo had been thinking about how he would ask you out for- well, since the day he first saw you, but he could never find the proper time or the courage to do it. yea, yea, make fun of him all you want. the man has no game with women, despite what every piece of media has you believe. but he couldn’t handle it anymore. gazing at you from across the playground, seeing you in every beautiful thing he found, thinking of you at night so he couldn’t fall asleep or thinking of you to fall asleep, it was driving him insane

at least if you rejected him now he could learn to get over it, one way or another

“could we… talk more over.. over dinner, or something? anything, anything at all.” he sputtered out. ouch, rough one buddy.

“hawks?” you asked, leaning toward him. “are you asking me on a date?” you tried to keep your smile at a normal level, but it was admittedly hard.

“yes, i am. if you’d like to, of course.”

“yes! yes, i-i would,” you let your excitement get the better of you for a moment as you tried to regain your composure. ah, nothing better than two idiots in love. “can i um- get your phone so i can-“

“phone.. phone! yes, phone, right, i have one of those,” he fished into his pocket, grabbing his phone to unlock it and hand it to you to put your number in. you handed it back to him, this time the both of you letting your hands linger longer than they should without worry. “well, i should get going. might be missing another robbery. i’ll call you- text you, i’ll text you, and we’ll um, we’ll figure something out, okay?”

“uh-huh..” you nodded, watching breathlessly as always as his wings spread and he gave them a few beats as he rose into the air. “see you soon, hawks.”

“see you soon, y/n.”

as you watched him fly away, you couldn’t help but have a good feeling about your upcoming date. it would be different than all of the others, you could feel it. but when you turned to go back into the school, you saw your entire class with their tiny faces pressed against the windows, assumingely having watched the entire exchange. even knowing that now it would be impossible to get them to nap or really do anything for the rest of the day, you couldn’t help but feel like you were on cloud nine

[leqonsluv3r]

picnic date with Leon 🥺

love

re2!leon kennedy x f!reader

— a oneshot (request)

warnings: so much fluff it’s kinda gross, a little touching, mentions of sex, reader is female and uses (she/her) pronouns, leon is the best boyfriend ever and we love him for that, no physical description of reader except that she has hair, pet names (baby, sweet girl, etc.) based heavily on love by lana del rey (leon is lana coded bc i say so).

“she didn’t know what else to expect to her already worse work week, besides the papers that always seemed to pile up on her desk and swarm her like a colony of hungry bees. she hated her job, wanted to slap her boss and her co-workers. so how could this week get any worse? she thinks it will when her phone buzzes with a text from leon, only to find out if she wants to go on a picnic date this weekend. suddenly, her week just got better by a thousand percent.”

— or reader is having a terrible week and leon decides to spoil his favorite girl

an: thank you for the request, i loved writing something that wasn’t pure smut for once. did include a little seggsy tho (i can’t resist). gave my overworked brain a little vacation lol. i took your idea and ran with it, hope you enjoy <3

masterlist taglist

she actually hated her boss. hated him.

aside from spilling coffee on herself this morning before she left for the office, she had a thousand reports on her desks and emails flooding her work inbox. her boss went on a rant about her work performance and the fact that he was almost using his superiority as a manager to make her feel belittled was enough to send her blood pumping through her veins.

but mindlessly, she tried to get through her day. taking deep breaths and trying not to freak out on her boss. only did her day get worse when she overheard gossip in the break room.

“i hear she’s like some prude. her boyfriend only touches her when he’s drunk.”

she listens in on the gossip, pouring herself some coffee that hopefully won’t make its way onto her pencil skirt again. she wondered who they could possibly be talking about so openly in the middle of the day in the break room.

the other voice goes on, one of her coworkers that she knew from working here so many years, “that’s not true. i know her personally. she told me she’s waiting for marriage.”

her ears perk up at this, all the blood draining from her face, she knew they were talking about her now. her worst fears have been confirmed. she should’ve never stupidly trusted someone she worked with to keep such information about her relationship with leon, private.

she felt so stupid. but they kept going and she kept listening. the other women who she didn’t know opened her mouth again, “still, how much of a prude do you have to be to wait until marriage? like just fuck and get it over with already. unless he’s ugly…”

she feels anger rise in her like tsunami. leon? ugly? he could never be ugly. he was so fucking beautiful. how could this random woman even say that about her and her relationship without even knowing her? she kept her back turned and waited for the coworker she was more familiar with to say something.

“he’s actually quite a looker. shame she got her hands on him, if i had a man like that. i would fuck him until he couldn’t see straight.” she fisted her porcelain coffee cup with white knuckles, almost fuming and waiting for steam to pour out of her ears. jesus, she wanted to smack this woman silly, she considered them friends and now she was just so openly bragging to another woman of the company…that she wanted to fuck her boyfriend of two years.

she fumed and briskly left the break room with her coffee, slamming the door to the room shut behind her as she briskly walked back to her office, trying to keep up a demeanor that was professional and meanwhile she was seething on the inside.

she finally reached her office and went inside, slamming the door as she rounded her desk and sat her cup of coffee down on it. she leaned her elbows on her desk, burying her hands into her hands.

she wanted to cry, this week had been terrible and today was one of the worst out of all of them. and she needed to manage to get through it until after tomorrow.

thanking god it was thursday, one more day and she wouldn’t have to think of this place for a solid 48 hours. she took shaky breaths, trying to calm herself so she didn’t cry at her desk at work. she was still fuming from hearing that conversation in the break room about her personal life.

eventually, her phone buzzed on her desk and she looked down at her phone. she sighs and shakes her head, praying it’s not another report or upset client. she can’t handle anymore of that today, or this week for that matter.

she grabs her phone and looks at the contact, it was leon, she sighs in relief and smiles as she opens the text thread, looking at the screen.

LEON <3 : hey baby, just wanted to check in on my break. hope your doing okay, know it’s been a rough one for u.

besides wanting to cry at my desk all morning. first my boss says my reports are useless and utter shit. then i hear two of my coworkers gossiping in the break room about me like it’s no big deal. i hate this place, this week has sucked :(

LEON <3 : whoa, what? oh my god. are you okay? i know that’s so stupid to ask considering everything u just told me but…god. i’m so sorry.

no, i’m humiliated. i feel like stabbing my eyes out with my pencils at my desk. i hate this place, i hate everyone. minus u ofc <3

but seriously, i can’t wait to get through tomorrow and just be done with this place. even if it’s for two days.

LEON <3 : hmmm, that reminds me. do you still plan on coming over on friday night?

uhhh, yeah. considering i haven’t seen you all week. unless your canceling on me. which just makes me wanna cry more :,)

LEON <3 : oh god no, fuck that. i would never cancel on you baby. i just have an idea. and i was wondering if you would like it, considering how stressful and overwhelming your week has been.

i’m listening….

LEON <3 : you still come over on friday night, you pack a change of clothes and we go for a picnic on saturday. i know a good spot. and plus, im a good cook.

you don’t have to…

LEON <3 : but i WANT too. i wanna make my girl happy after having such an awful week. you need this baby. don’t bother arguing with me >:)

fineeee i suppose i could pack an overnight bag, stay the whole weekend at your place. go on a little picnic and ACTUALLY enjoy myself for once.

LEON <3 : that’s the spirit my love :). don’t worry, i’ll take care of you this weekend. don’t stress and don’t worry. trust in your amazing boyfriend ;)

you are an amazing boyfriend. don’t let that boost your already enormous ego though lol. god, i miss you so much. i can’t wait to see you. :,)

LEON <3 : you only have a little less then 48 hours to go before you see my handsome face again. don’t worry your pretty head baby, i’ll make you forget all about this week. spoil the absolute shit out of you. <3

okay, i gotta get back to work before my boss comes in to belittle me some more about phone usage at work :,). i’ll see you soon babe, i love you.

LEON <3 : see you soon beautiful girl, i love you too. gotta go bust some criminals lol. ttyl :)

she sighs in content, a lovesick grin on her features. she felt so much better, just talking to him through text even. it was enough to make her heart swell with love and forget all about the incidents this week.

she couldn’t wait to see him on friday night, then go on a picnic on saturday like he promised. she needed him like air sometimes. and he had been pulling shifts so frequently at the station that she barely ever saw him.

it sucked, yes. but when they did get to see each other it was absolutely worth it. she knew that he was gonna stay true to his word like he always did. make her happy, spoil her and make her forget all about her sucky week at work.

she loved him so much, it was almost consuming sometimes. overwhelming to think that before she met him two years ago, she had never known love or that men like him could even exist.

god, she was praying for this weekend to come sooner. and hopefully, it would.

eventually she made it to friday, she managed to get through the day, working as hard as she could. she dealt with clients, dodged the lecturing of her boss and the gossiping of her coworkers.

she slipped out early, not really giving a fuck because all her work was finished as far as she was concerned. she had better places to be. like leon’s apartment for example.

she had packed an overnight bag that morning, watered her plants and made sure she had everything. she had kept her overnight bag stored in her car just so when she got off work, she could head straight over.

she sent him a text that she was off and she was heading over early, putting the car in reverse and leaving her works parking lot.

she drove down the familiar streets and roads until she made it to leon’s apartment, parking her car in the guest parking spot. she got out, grabbing her overnight bag and everything else she needed as she locked the car behind her.

she walked over to the gate to enter the complex, typing in the numbers and once it buzzed, she opened it and let herself in. she made her way up to the second floor, walking over to where his apartment was. she slipped her key to his apartment, unlocking the door and slipping off her shoes.

“baby? you home?” she calls out as she drops her overnight bag by her shoes, dropping her keys on the coffee table. she looks around, she feels a buzzing in her hand where her phone is. she looks at the text from leon saying he was on his way home from his shift.

she sighed and looked around his apartment, looking down at the coffee table where she sat her keys in front of his couch. she saw something sticking out from in between the pages of a book he was reading. “what the…?” she opened the book and looked in the book.

a piece of paper with scribbled writing over it, leon’s from what she recognized. she started to read the crumpled up piece of paper.

[READER],

ever since i’ve known you, i’ve loved you. i’ve never wanted anyone more then i’ve wanted you. i’m not just doing this in the hopes you’ll say yes, i’m doing this with the intention that you’ll let me love you for as long as we’re both alive.

i’m not doing it like this to be cliche, i know how much you think im corny. how hard i try to make sure you’re not laughing at me (even though i love your laugh more than anything.) i want you to know that i love you. i always have, i always will.

with that, will you please do me the honor of being my wife?

it would be my greatest achievement as man, as your boyfriend and future husband if you’ll let me.

she feels her eyes well up with subtle tears, wiping at her eyes as she looked down at the crumpled up notebook paper with a small smile, even though the letter didn’t say much, it said enough.

this was just more then a simple picnic, she knew now. why he was so keen on taking care of her this weekend. taking her out for a picnic tomorrow. she can’t believe he wanted to marry her, she wasn’t shocked but she was…she wanted to cry. it was almost like a dream come true.

she was about to re-read the note to make sure she wasn’t dreaming until she heard the lock on his front door click. she scrambled to put the crumpled up piece of paper back into the book where she found it, effectively slipping it in and standing up straight just in time as he entered the door.

“hey, honey.” he says with a small smile, kicking off his shoes. he wore his police uniform still, all pristine in pale blue and navy. she swallowed and wiped at her eyes, “hey.” she shuffles towards him and wraps her arms tightly around him.

he noticed the sniffling and the watery eyes, he craned his neck down to look at her face that was pressed into his chest, rubbing his hands up and down her back in a soothing gesture.

“are you okay? your eyes are red.” he says softly, his voice dripping with such concern it just almost made her heart melt in her chest. she nods and squeezes her arms tighter around him, “i’m okay. i just missed you.” she lies a little, she did miss him, but that wasn’t the true reason for the red eyes.

“okay, baby. it’s okay though, we’re gonna have a good weekend and your not even gonna think about work.” he says softly as he continues to rub her back up and down in a gentle gesture, smiling down at her with a soft grin. she nods, “okay, i’d like that.” she says with her cheek pressed against his chest, sniffling.

she knew she wouldn’t think about work, work was the furthest thing from her mind right now. the only thing on her mind was the picnic tomorrow and the note she had found.

she knew he was going to purpose, she wasn’t even trying to snoop, but now she knew. she loved him even more for it. if that was even possible.

the next day, the morning light would peak through the curtains of leon’s bedroom window. it casted both of them in a glow that was more then just a simple glow of the morning but a new day.

she loves waking up beside him, especially today when the promises of their future hang right over her head. a promise that he’s intending to keep.

she rolls over onto him as he lays on his back, giggling as she does. she presses a small kiss to his chest and then makes a path up to his collarbone, pressing a kiss to his neck. she felt herself growing more aroused by the minute.

she wasn’t a virgin, she had dated plenty of shitty guys before leon. and it isn’t like she didn’t not want to have sex with him, they just decided to wait until marriage. but now that she knew he was going to purpose today, she forgot all about that little promise she made with him.

she presses her lips to his jaw, hearing him mumble something sleepily as she grins against his skin. she leans towards his ear, “wake up.” she mumbles as she moves her hips to sit on his covered dick in his boxers beneath the sheets. her panty clad frame gently moving her hips lightly against his as she adjusts.

she feels him slightly move again, moving in his sleep so she moves her hips more firmly on him again, feeling him grow harder against the fabric that separated them. he mumbles something and she pulls her face out of his neck, bracing her palms flat on his chest.

he slowly opens his blue eyes to meet hers, his dirty blonde hair messily on the pillow. she smiles down at him with a small grin, “morning sleeping beauty.” she chuckles as she leans down to his face and presses a kiss to his lips.

his half-asleep frame is still waking up and trying to wrap his mind around everything. “what are you doing?” he chuckles with a lazy opening and closing of his blue eyes.

“what does it look like im doing?” she says with a small smirk, moving her hips again. he had no idea where this was coming from, they had agreed to wait until marriage and now…

she was straddling his waist, her wet core on top of his morning wood, there were the barriers between them but still, he could feel everything. she tilts her head innocently at him, his blue eyes looking up at her, “why are you so…? what’s gotten into you?” he says with a small furrow of his brows as he leans up on the bed, his elbows propped up behind him.

she bites her lip and looks at him, “why am i what?” she says as she bats her eyelashes at him, feigning innocence. he struggles and takes a shaky breath, “why are you like…all over me? like, we didn’t…i thought you wanted to wait.” he manages to get out with another shaky inhale.

she sighs and rubs her palms over his chest, “i want you, i’ve waited long enough. married or not, i want you.” she says with a small look, letting his blue eyes latch onto hers. she needed him to know she was serious, that this mattered.

she knew he was going to purpose soon anyways, so what was the big deal? that’s what she thought anyways. she didn’t see it as this huge thing, it would be their first time together. but…she was ready.

“unless…your not?” she says with a small sigh as she looks down at him, her palms pressed flat on his bare chest as she looked down at him. he shook his head so fast, his hair flopping as he did, “no, i want it.” he replies as he looks up into her eyes.

“anything that you want from me, i wanna be able to give it to you. even this.” she hears him say as his blue eyes never stray from his gaze on her. she smiles widely and sniffles, “god, i love you.” she whispers as she leans down and presses a kiss to his lips.

it starts slow, his hands holding onto her waist as the kiss grows more intense and passionate. her hips moving against his erection. she doesn’t fear it now, not when she knows what will happen.

not when she can trust him. she knows he’s different, he’s not like the others. she wants to give him all of her, every single part. she wants to give him marriage, her soul, her body. she wants him to have it all.

so as the kisses and the touches escalate, she feels herself trusting in him, letting his love consume her body and mind in a way she had never known before. his kisses were like rain, falling on her skin and soaking there. his touch was like fire, spreading over her body.

it was beautiful, she couldn’t wait to have him with her forever.

the picnic was beautiful.

leon, really knew how to make her forget about her shitty work week. whether it be a picnic, their first time having sex together earlier that morning, or the proposal that has yet to happen.

he really outdid himself. just like he promised, he had cooked and packed a lunch for them by a small pond in a park. it was about a 20 minute drive from his place, how she never knew it was there, she had no idea.

it was beautiful, some swans were in the pond swimming around with their babies, made her smile and think of how leon had made this so perfect without even trying. he spread out a blanket for them, sitting the food down in the picnic basket.

she brushes her hands over her purple sundress, looking at him as he sat down and began to spread out the food for them. “wow, baby. you really thought of everything didn’t you?” she chuckles as she sits down next to him on the picnic blanket.

“of course, anything for my girl.” he says with a sweet smile in her direction as he gets wine out of the basket and two glasses. my girl…jesus, if he’s trying to make me melt, it’s working. she thinks as she watches him uncork the wine bottle, and pour them both red wine into the glasses.

“i know, you spoil me, leon. but still…” she trails off as she looks over at him, she reaches over the blanket and grabs onto his hand. she watches as the subtle breeze blows his dirty blonde hair over his blue eyes and his forehead.

he rolls his eyes playfully and scoots closer to her on the blanket, squeezing her hand back. “don’t argue with me. it’s in your best interest.” he says with a small lopsided smirk as he hands her one of the glasses of wine. she accepts and smiles back at him, sipping on the wine in her free hand.

“fine. i won’t.” she says with a small roll of her eyes, grinning at him as she swallowed the wine. letting it slide down her throat. they stayed in silence for a while, just enjoying the sounds of nature, the breeze that blowed softly and made the leaves rustle in the trees above them.

she let him dote on her a little more, still feeling that anxious bubbling in her stomach that had been occurring since last night. the note, the proposal that had yet to happen. she felt her body get amped up and she was trying not to give her hopes up.

she sipped on her wine, looking over at him as he stared off into the pond a little ways in front of them. she admired him like this, when he wasn’t looking at her. he was deep in thought, in his head and she could almost see the gears turning in his mind.

“thank you, leon.” she says as she snaps out of her daze of staring at him. she didn’t think she could ever not want to stare, admire him like a piece of art in a museum. he lets his head turn her way, looking directly at her, a gentle smile on his boyish features.

“no need to thank me. i wanted to do something special for you.” he says as he reaches across the blanket and rubs his hand over her bare knee. she nods and swallows more nerves, “i don’t need to thank you, but im going to anyways.” she giggles.

he just shakes his head with a teasing grin on his face, he doesn’t mind this. sitting here with her and knowing where it’s going. he almost feels like this can’t be real, sitting here with her. the weather’s perfect and this day is even better.

they continue to just sit together on the picnic blanket, eating and sipping on their wine. they just talk and snuggle up next to each other on the blanket.

eventually the sun starts to set, painting the sky in a beautiful pink and red hue. it almost looks like a painting and she watches it with almost admiration. he knows this is the time, the ring in his pocket burning a hole through his jeans.

she keeps her gaze trained on the sky, not even noticing that he’s staring at her with admiration. he swallows his fears, his nerves and everything that could potentially stop him from doing this.

“your so beautiful, you know that?” he starts as he looks over her features. her gaze only temporarily looking over at him, a blush coating her cheeks. this isn’t how he had planned it, but he’s gonna do this differently.

“of course you know that, i tell you all the time how amazing, beautiful and sweet you are. even to people who don’t deserve your kindness.” he says as his blue eyes stay trained on her, she smiles and bites her lip in bashfulness.

she knows something is happening, but she lets it happen. she doesn’t care…not if it’s a promise to make her happy for the rest of their lives.

“your the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he continues as he looks at her, turning his body a little towards her on the picnic blanket. the ring feels like an anchor in his pocket, keeping him tethered to the moment here with her.

“and i don’t think i’ll ever find anyone better then you, that’s honesty. your the best that’s ever going to happen to me.” he says as he looks deep into her eyes, her eyes blinking back at him as she feels her heart start to pound in her ribcage.

“and i would be a fucking fool if i went on another two years and didn’t show you how much you mean to me.” he says as he fists the ring in his pocket. she feels her heart swell and her eyes water. the smile spreading on her face is the rare kind.

“what are you…?” she says with a small look of disbelief on her face, her smile widening and the crystal of her eyes staring back at him.

he smiles with a small blink of his blue eyes that are now crystallizing over as well, he pulls his palm out of his pocket, opening it up between them to brandish a engagement ring.

she blinks her tears away, raising a hand over her mouth, trying to somewhat hide her shock. “leon…” she looks between the ring in his palm and then his eyes. this was much better then what was written on that crumpled sheet of paper.

“i love you so fucking much, i would do anything for you, to you and with you. only if you’ll let me, forever. please marry me. let me love you forever, let me wake up to you every morning. it would be the greatest honor i could ever have.” he says as he gestures the ring in his outstretched palm.

he looks at her with hopeful and love filled eyes as he does this. she doesn’t even have words, she expected it. but not like this…

this was definitely better.

and he was the love of her life, she couldn’t say no to him, not in a million years. she couldn’t dream of turning him down. of declining his proposal because he’s her happiness. even from two years ago when they met to now…

her body and mind want him the same, love him the same. she knows it will never change. not when it comes to him and just everything he does for her.

“yes…” she says as she sniffles away tears, feeling the breeze in the park billow her hair. the swans swimming idly in the pond in front of them. the sun setting in a beautiful sunset that paints the sky. he blinks at her, he doesn’t think he heard her right for a second.

“did you say…?” she laughs and looks at him, “i said yes. i’ll marry you.” she says as she feels more tears leak down her flushed cheeks. he smiles widely and grabs her hand shakily, his face coated in tears of happiness too.

he slips the ring onto her ring finger and strokes his thumb over her knuckles. he slides his free hand up to cup her jaw, rubbing the tears that slid from her eyes. “oh god, i love you.” he says in a trance as he looks at her.

“i love you too.” she says back to him, catching him in his trance of looking at her. she feels the ring on her ring finger, making its home there. she feels like she’s on cloud nine right now. he pulls her face towards him and presses a kiss to her lips.

she returns it and kisses him back, her hand, now ring clad, holds onto his face as she deepens the kiss. she doesn’t think she could ever be happier then she was right now.

in this moment with him. not a thing matters and her mind and body are full of him. she feels so consumed by him and his love that she can’t even explain it.

she’ll be wrapped in him forever and she can’t bring herself to care if she is. because at least she’s happy, happy and in love.

forever.

leons letter:

taglist: @heartsforvin

(go to this post to join the taglist, pls reblog and follow for more, my asks are open in my bio. i love you all <3)

[darby-rowe]

in a weird way sad that dbf!logan is not a mutant 😩 like dont get me wrong still LOVE LOVE LOOOOOVE him and everything you write and i kind of already assumed he was an average joe

but like ever since i read the like “bub having to stay at logan’s after getting locked out” blurb my mind immediately was like oh god he would literally SMELL her on his bedsheets afterwards

but okay even as regular smegular logan- maybe bub wears a really distinct perfume and after’s she’s left (after sitting through a probably awkward breakfast, this is bub.) he goes to his room and just like fucking smells that perfume on his bed. Like he’s being taunted by the knowledge that she was in his bed all night and now all he’s got is the lingering smell of his best friend’s smoking hot daughter (probably jacks off while smelling his pillow but YOU DIDNT HEAR THAT FROM ME)

Don’t even get me STARTED on the possibility of her having to wear one of his shirts as jammies or just something clean to walk home in- she returns it a week later and it smells like her detergent and that damn perfume

i feel like this is such an absurdly long anon 😭 forgive me, you are making my brain absolutely run rampant

-🪱 (thought i’d name myself this incase i make you a victim to my thoughts again)

the cheshire cat grin that was plastered on my face when i woke up to this in my inbox……….. bless you.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

logan, mutant or not, will always have a strong sense of smell, just not when it comes to him and how he constantly REEKS of cigarettes and alcohol. after bub gets in her car and leaves for home, logan is literally taken aback by the pure sweet smell of perfume that penetrates his nose and brain. it’s strong enough to make this man’s eyes water. it immediately intoxicates him, to the point where if he focused long enough, he could pick up notes of bub’s shampoo.

watching her go in one of his old shirts was one thing, but having her smell lingering in his bed was a whole other ballgame. it was fucking creepy, and he knew it, but he walked over to the more disheveled side of the bed (assuming that’s where she slept), and took a deep, long sniff of where she was previously sound asleep. floral, girly, young. it permeates the air around him, unable to escape her presence. it makes him hard. disgustingly hard. a physiological reaction to his own imagination of a younger woman in her most vulnerable state.

sitting on his bed, nose pressed deep into the pillow where bub’s head once laid, fisting his shameful, dirty cock to his own perverted mind. he feels a deep sense of betrayal to his best friend, lusting after his awkward daughter. his weird, beautiful, sexy, young daughter. in the thick of his own strokes, he thinks about how if he could just get bub alone, make her feel not as weird around him, then she could so easily fall for him. letting him take her virginity, feel her cunt tighten around his huge cock, tell her it’s gonna be okay and he was there to only make her feel good. he finally spills into his hand when he imagines cumming inside her, marking her, filling her up with his seed and making her feel special.

she’s untouchable, a precious gem locked away for eternity. logan just has to come up with the perfect heist to steal her away.

[aryana-thefairy]

🦋Astrology indicators of beauty 🦋

(Who am I ? I am Aryana and I like to post about astrology , divine feminine , law of attraction , connect with me 💌✨)

Libra Sun / Rising ♎️

You are undeniably beautiful. You have people falling all over you. This is the most common placements for beauty in models and world wide famous actors / actress . Venus in its rightful place 💗 too many secret admirers to count 💌 most people with this placements have beautiful glowing skin unless aspected by harsh Saturn placements. What is there not to love about you ? You are so attractive , everyone wants you desperately. The personification of goddess Aphrodite in human form 🐚

Lilith in first house / twelve house 🫦

Everyone’s secret fantasy. Men desire you and the girls dislike you. Don’t take it in a bad way , most women are threatened by your beauty and sexuality. You are the definition of sexy and with this placement , it can get scary sometimes, be wary of people trying to use you. Unfortunately , these people tend to get sexualised from a young age and are punished for who they are. As you grow older , harness your power of wisdom , there is more to you than what meets the eye. Don’t feel guilty about other people’s judgements about you. You are sexy , they want you and those who can’t have you , they can only talk about you. This placement reminds me of the movie Malena.

Sun conjunct Venus 🔮

Everyone likes you , you are adorable and popular. You have guys lined up for you. Not only that , people want to be around you all the time. Everyone wants to be your friend. One thing I have noticed about this placement is that , people think you are shallow because you are too beautiful but that is not the case. Don’t let their comments define you. You are charismatic and interesting too , your beauty is a bonus 😉 big kisses , let’s be friends 🥺💗

Sun conjunct mercury 😉

You charm people’s pants off , that is a bit of understatement. There is something about you beyond just looks. You are one smooth talker , people constantly think you are flirting. This placement gives a sensual voice. I want to hear you talk all day. Your voice is like a siren. Don’t misuse your power. Do good 💗 spread love like you always do. Yes , you are aware of it. People always think that Venus signs determine who is popular , but it is always mercury girls for the win👯‍♀️

Neptune in first house / Neptune rising 🪐

There is something otherworldly and ethereal about this placement. You are so unique and you stand out . You are like an alien , do you know who has this aspect ? Marilyn Monroe , one of the most beautiful and popular woman of all times. You set trends , people copy you. You might feel like an alien at times , but you are the star ⭐️ and spotlight is always on you. This placement also indicates fame , I won’t be surprised if you have a large social media following.

First astrological post but definitely not the last 😉

If you like astrology, law of attraction , feminine tips , or any advice , definitely follow for more

I am utterly grateful to you , my inbox is always open for suggestions 💌

[sinful-lanterns]

I've been having thoughts about the fox women, specifically Du Ruo since she's had my pussy in a chokehold since her event came out and I went through the entirety of her interrogation. 🥵🥵 Anyway, let's say it's getting close to breeding season for the fox women, but Du Ruo's rut just happened to hit early. The presence of the other foxes has her feeling territorial, so she secludes herself deeper into the forest to ride out the rest of her rut, but it's obviously a miserable experience. Of course, Researcher notices her absence almost immediately and goes in search of her. She finds Du Ruo slumped against a tree with the fox woman's rut already in full force. Her normally immaculate robes are in disarray and her dick's already hard and leaking. Researcher offers to help, but Du Ruo hesitates since she's almost gone completely feral with need, warning her that she might not be gentle... After some convincing, Du Ruo has Researcher naked and plopped on her lap as she thrusts up into her from behind. The fox woman's many tails are at work with some winding around Researcher's thighs to keep her legs open as she grinds her swollen knot up against her lover's folds. The tips of her other tails swirl around Researcher's nipples for added pleasure but another tip circles around her lover's clit too. With how wet Researcher is down there, the feathery touch of the tail tip becomes more solid with each pass, and it almost becomes another finger to tease Researcher. Du Ruo can get Researcher to tighten around her dick with just the right touch... 😏 All the while, Du Ruo has her fangs pressed against the back of Researcher's neck, instinctively holding her mate in place as she breeds her. Du Ruo can't help her groans of need as she keeps thrusting, determined to sink her knot inside and assert her claim before the other fox women come searching for Researcher. She's not resting until her lover's full of her seed... 😌 - 🌙 anon

I’m so wet for this ask, it’s why I’ve kept it in my inbox for so long bc I’m greedy 😖

But hnnnnn, helping Du Ruo with her rut 🥺🥺 the normally elegant and pristine Huli Jing looking all sweaty and disheveled with her robes open and her cock out in full view. Du Ruo wouldn’t even think about fucking you in the woods (she much prefer to fuck you in a bed or your sleeping bag) but her rut was driving her crazy and at this point, she wouldn’t mind fucking you against a tree. She just needed your cunt wrapped around her so badly…

‘It’ll be quick’ her foggy mind tries to tell her, but it slowly delves into almost an hour of breeding as Du Ruo just cannot stop herself from thrusting into you. You felt so good. She’s mated with you before, but when she’s in a rut it just feels 10x better than normal with her swollen cock plunging in and out of your warm, wet walls. The other monsters back at the camp are definitely suspicious as to why you and Du Ruo have been gone for a long time, but who cares? Du Ruo has her beautiful mate taking her knot and seed, and that’s all she’s ever needed right now 💕

P.S: Due to Du Ruo knotting you, you’d have to stay in the woods with her for about an extra ten to twenty minutes. If the other monsters find you, it’d surely be a fascinating sight with you on Du Ruo’s lap, completely naked and unable to leave because of her fat knot. Some of them might even be jealous (namely the canine monsters)

[gamarancianne]

Azriel x reader - In Between part 2

Part 1

Summary: trying to regain your confidence after your broken heart, you met someone in the same position as you and developped one of the best friendships you had ever had. A genuine and sincere friendship. But this person may be closer by other ways to you than you thought.

Warnings: still angst, alcohol in a not healthy way, heartbreak again, hypocrite Elain (kinda slander ig), Lucien being the best.

Note: well maybe a part 3 ig 😅, I was really inspired tbh. Thank you all for having loved the part 1 and shared it with me ! Ily 💗💗 and don't hesitate to ask me something or chat with me in my inbox or dm, or in the comments !

You had been a crying mess for two weeks now, sometimes you went out in a bar to drink so much you would forget even your name. That was the point, forget the constant sting in your heart and you head. Forget him, his beautiful Hazel eyes and inked tattoos on his broad and golden chest. And here we go again: the tears flooded themselves on your face. It was a day to drink today, or tonight, you didn't really have a time notion for the past two weeks: waking up at dawn or dusk, eating, crying and sleeping. You had to forget about all those beautiful things about him, you had to empty your brain and heart. You didn't want to feel something again.

As you were walking to the nearest bar, you thought about those letters elain had sent you, saying you were her dearest friend and asking if your confession went well. You knew she knew that it was you in her apartment that cursed day, but she still pretended and even was saying the complete opposite of what she had said to azriel, falsely comforting you. Was she ever was your friend at this point ? Or has she always criticised and stabbed you behind you back ? Anyway you had decided that it was way better for you to ignore her and keep living your life, if you could still call what you were living a life, without her.

You didn't even noticed when you had arrived in front the door of the bar, but you did and entered, going directly to your now favorite spit in front of the barman : the alcohol was there easier to get. You didn't see then, the redhead man who was at the exact place you had been the few days prior. How dare he steal your chair like that ? Approaching slowly you stilled and you understood that this man was surely in the same situation as you, a heartbreak, seeing his bent frame and the many empty glasses in front of him. They could only have been his because no one was seated near him, and everyone was judging him. They were all avoiding the poor man whose name you didn't know.

"I was almost mad at you for stealing my favourite seat" you stated, seating next to him as his head shot to your side wondering if you were really talking to him.

"Yes I'm talking to you"

"Ah, I'm sorry for your seat do you want it back ?" He asked, genuinely embarrassed, his cheeks flushed.

"No I'm fine here, I can speak with you ...?" You asked ?

"Lucien".

"I'm yn, and as I was saying, I can speak with you here Lucien" he nodded.

"Nice to meet you yn, but you don't wanna talk to me, don't you see all the glares everyone sends me here ?" He drank in a one shot what seemed to be whisky and stared again at his now empty glass.

"Oh gods you men !" He looked at you confused "I know what I'm doing fuck ! I'm a grown up woman and I can make my own choices ! You re the second on in two weeks who tells me what I want or not." You snapped.

"Oh I'm sorry, then stay if you want." He apologized quickly.

You asked shots to the barman and stayed silent a bit nefore you both asked in one voice "what are you here for ?". You two chuckled a bit before you said "you first".

"Well I've kinda learnt that my mate, who knows that she is my mate is dating someone else. And I feel like I'm not allowed to have just once an ounce of happiness." You were hurt for him as you heard his story that he told you with a careless demeanor. He must really be at his lowest.

"Ouch that hurts, I'm sorry man. She's a fool if you want my opinion." He smiled sadly at your answer and pointed you from his chin asking you silently your story.

"Well im heartbroken as well, my best friend encouraged me confessing to the man I love, but he rejected me, and not in a nice way. But as lucky as I am, I learnt that he is dating my best friend who is a back stabber." I emptied my glass in one drink.

"Ouch that hurts too, I'm sorry." He said echoing my words.

We spent the night drinking, and drowning ourselves in alcohol but in a more joyful way than usually.

I then went more and more at the bar to see him, but we drank less and less, leaving place to real conversations between us. It became quickly a routine, and Lucien became one of my best friends, well my only friend of the time actually. And I was one of his only friend as well. Two broken hearts healing parts of eachothzr then didn't even break. Lucien had explained to me his family problem, and how his former male best friend was a toxic man in relationships, how he had been poorly treated in his biological family, and how his actual best friend was his mate's sister so he didn't know how to approach her anymore. He came a lot in my appartment to spend time with me, he even slept in sometimes, because he couldn't face his current family. He practically had his room in your home, some of his stuff never really left.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

After 2 knocks on your door you unwillingly got off your couch and opened it letting a wild and out of breath Lucien appear in front of it.

"Lu ? Are you okay ?" That was his new nickname, he loved it, because he felt like he was loved for once in his life.

"Yes.. no ? I need you to come with me like right now ! "

"Oh okay let me get me keys and I'm coming" you trusted Lucien too much to ever doubt about him, if he needed you then you were there for him.

You left your apartment and went to the direction he indicated. After a while you panicked a little, seeing that you were going to the high lord's house.

"Lucien you know I love you but where are we going?"

"To a family dinner, I can't go alone. See, my mate's relationship got complicated and she always complains to me when I'm alone, which is all the time. So I feel like I'm just a plan b and I'm really uncomfortable when she does it. Don't worry I've told them that someone was going with me."

"I understand Lu, but at the high lord's ?" You asked sceptical.

"Well yes, because my best friend I told you about is Feyre."

"What ?" Lucien, had never told the names of his family members, and you neither, so discovering that his friend was you high lady so that you were going to see Azriel made you weak to the bones.

"Lucien ? Your mate is Elain ??"

"What, yes ? How do you know ??" He exclaimed as he stopped on his tracks.

"She is the fake friend I told you about !" You answered on the same tone.

"So it means that.."

"I am in love with Azriel... yes."

"Oh gods" you both sighed.

"Hum yn ?" He asked unsure of what to say.

"Mmh"

"Have I told you that Cassian and him were the ones to get us to the house?"

"No, no, no. Please no ! But what would we even need to be picked up ?"

"We can't winnow so it's either that or climb 10 000 stairs".

Both fearing the fast approaching dinner, the last part of the walk was silent and the air heavy with tension. You held your breath when you saw two winged big figures, Cassian and Azriel. The first one shot his head in your direction and smiled confused.

"Yn ?" Azriel stiffened as he heard your name. "What does owe us the pleasure to see you ?"

"I'm the one to go with Lu today but I didn't know it was with you...". Azriel froze completely still turning his back to you. He wasn't sure it was you but now it was certain and he couldn't face you after the mean things he had said to your face. He hadn't talked about it to anyone except Elain and he kinda regretted it now. Things had got complicated between them because after your love confession she had grown so much jealous! He couldn't bear it anymore, he was a free man, he hadn't wings for nothing! They would argue a lot more and he hated that because it triggered bad memories in him. Plus he felt a bit bad about you. You hadn't done anything to him to deserve to be treated that way, he was ashamed of his actions because he knew that, as insecure as you seemed to be, you might have been spiralling since. That wasn't him, that wasn't how he was supposed to be. When he got Elain, she changed him a lot, and he wasn't sure anymore that it was for the good. She crushed all of his efforts to keep the bad parts of him inside. He was meaner, colder, he wasn't himself. Rhys have scolded him a little about that and he had really reacted in a bad way. An evidence of what Rhys had advanced. Azriel was sure he had made you feel bad, and he didn't want it : you were a nice and smart female, a little clumsy but still beautiful and lovely. As he finally turned to you, all of his regret splashed on him when crossing your look and seeing you pained eyes. You quickly put your head down and he felt even more bad to have made lose enough confidence for you to fear to hold his gaze. Thinking about it, he didn't understand you insecurity of the beginning, before the altercation. How could you, a very beautiful female, ever doubt about yourself ?

Realisation hit him, that he would have to take you flying because it would be awkward if he took Lucien, his girlfriend's mate. He knew she was complaining to him, and he felt even sorry for the poor Lucien. But a question lingered in his mind: how did you two know eachother ? And why the fuck would Lucien bring you to a family dinner ? Were you dating ? Fear crossed his eyes for a second before regaining his composure. You couldn't be dating Lucien, it was impossible, you had just said two weeks ago that you loved him. Could you have moved that fast ? It frightened him, knowing that he had grown to like you when thinking of your shared moments at training, where you two had laughed, sometimes until crying joy tears, and regretting the mean rejection he had given you in return of something so intimate and innocent as your love and devotion for him. Damn him he had even insulted you ! He cursed himself more and more until he got out of his head when Cassian called him.

"Azriel wake up ! You take yn." He said when shooting in the sky Lucien in his arms.

You both stayed in an awkward bubble, without moving an inch, avoiding the gaze of one another, for 30 long seconds that felt like hours.

"I'm sorry" and "so how are you doing" came at the same time from him side you. You awkwardly chuckled but he stayed still so you stopped finally having the guts to look at him in the eye for more than a millisecond.

"I'm sorry." He repeated, louder this time. You froze. You didn't want that to happen. You didn't want him to face you abut what happened. It would made it real, and you still hadn't enough courage for that.

"What for ?" You asked, your voice breaking.

"You what for".

You hesitated a lot before responding. "No actually I don't. Was it for mean rejecting me without an ounce of regret or nicenessin your words ? Or maybe the fact that you destroyed my confidence? Oh no ! I know, it was for the time you mocked me in front of my friend, who is in fact your girlfriend, and a fake friend!"

"You weren't supposed to be there that time." He said, suddenly finding the floor really interesting.

"Maybe but I was, so it's the same result and the same mean words that came out of your mouth."

He knew you were right. You were completely allowed to be mad at him for the way he treated you. But it was still hard. Azriel had never been in proper relationships nor had he ever been confessed to. It wasn't a proper excuse but it still made it hard to accommodate to those things for a boy deprived of love for all his life. He didn't know how to react, so to him, the better solution was to stay silent. You sighed, disappointed and he came awkwardly closer to you to hold you and shoot in the sky, following Cassian and Lucien, long arrived and waiting for you worried (especially Lucien).

Elain was waiting for Azriel, or Lucien, no one knew, on the balcony of the House of Wind and almost fell when she saw you. You in Azriel's arms, accompanying Lucien. Azriel struggled to let you go, especially after your conversation, but the second you were out of his hold, Elain held you in a crushing hug. You rapidly got out as well, feeling uncomfortable after her hypocrisy. You gave her a sad smile and Lucien introduced you to Feyre and Rhysand who had already told you to call them by their name, and to Mor and Amren. They all welcomed you warmly except Elain and Azriel of course who both looked like ashamed puppies with their tails between their legs.

After dinner, everyone went out in the garden for a tea and you found yourself on a couch behind Lucien sat on the floor. Automatically, because it was something you were now used to do, your hands found his head and started playing with his hair. Everyone had their eyes on you, confused on your proximity but you didn't notice and kept going on braiding his hair.

"I'll do yours later I promise" Lucien said, looking at you from above.

"I hope so !". Leaving everyone even more confused now.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

When you were ready to left with Lucien, Elain caught you and asked you to have a word with her.

Lucien gave you a worried look and you nodded making him understand you were okay for now.

She led you to a private room and paced in it awkwardly. She opened her mouth twice and closed it almost instantly like she wanted to say something but didn't know where to start.

"So, you ans Azriel ? Huh"

"You have actually no right to be mad at me." She cut you off.

"Excuse me ? But I have every right to be mad at you right now ! You have treated me poorly faking to be my friend and laughing at me when you should have been comforting me !" You snapped, angry.

"Well, it's not like someone could ever treat you well."

"What, what do you mean ?"

"Look at you yn, nobody would ever really be with you. You're not ugly but you're not beautifu, you're not dumb but you're not smart, you're just.. Well you. And that's clearly not enough." She looked at you disgustingly.

"But Lucien is treating me well.." You said tears welling in your eyes.

"Don't be blind, yn, he's a man, and like Azriel he will ran to me when he'll see that you're no longer interesting. You were nice and all, you listened to me but I guess I just got bored of you, anyone would." And with that she left the room, leaving 8 pairs of eyes on you as she opened the door. They instantly approached you, Feyre apologising a thousand time for the mean behaviour of her sister and Azriel staying in the back, his eyes full of worry and apology. He was trying to make you feel like everything she had said was false, that you were so much more than that, worthy of the stars,of two shining stars. Because yes they had heard everything. Lucien made his way to the crowd of his family surrounding you and hesitated before he hugged you out of nowhere. Azriel clenched his jaw and his hands turned into fists. When Lucien released you of his grasp, your expression hadn't changed, its like you were empty, just one single tears had escaped your eye. Cassian and Azriel flew you to the ground of Velaris and the last one had kept his hand on yours to make you look at him.

"I'm sorry, for what she said. It's not one bit true."

"Don't worry, she's surely right..." You had answered your gaze falling on his hand. You had never noticed the scars an them, they were so beautiful, so textured, so unique. You eyes widened at the sight and Azriel quickly hid them behind back before keeping going.

"No she wasn't, please don't doubt yourself because of what came out of her mouth because of jealousy. Because that's what she was and still is, jealous."

"Thank you Az really." You sadly smiled at him before joining Lucien who was waiting for you.

He didn't know why, but something clicked in him seeing you walk away under the arm of Lucien and hearing again his nickname from your mouth. He thought it rolled well on your tongue and really wanted to hear it again, as soon as possible. And it tensed him a lot to know that this man who touched you, was probably sleeping at yours tonight, maybe in your bed to comfort you after this emotionally hard day. It puzzled him a lot and didn't even know why, until his shadows came to his ears and murmured repeatedly "want to be him".

Tag list:

@kalulakunundrum

[alisonwritesimagines]

I Just Wanna Know You Better Now ~LA! Mihawk Imagine~

Summary: You meet Mihawk for the first time and he is not what you expect.

Author’s Note: I was gonna upload this yesterday but my boyfriend's alarm woke me up and put me in a bad mood.

Based in my Enchanted series

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: mentions of killing, fluff

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

The village was small. Not what Mihawk was expecting to find the quarry that Vice Admiral Garp told him to kill. He walked around the village before settling to find information about you at a bar.

“What can I get you?” The lady working the bar asked as she approached him.

“Red wine if you have it,” he tells her.

“One glass coming up,” she tells him before pouring a drink for him.

“Do you know anywhere I can find someone named Y/n L/n?” Mihawk asked.

“Don’t know who you’re talking about. Never heard anyone by that name here.”

Mihawk could tell that she was lying. But she seemed calm about it so he wouldn’t press onto it.

“Alright. No worries. I just had a message to deliver to her from someone,” Mihawk said. The woman nodded before walking away to clean the bar more.

Mihawk paid for his drink before walking out of the bar. He headed to the outer part of the village where he saw a small house and a woman in the garden. He got closer and saw that it was you based on the description Vice Admiral Garp gave to him. Though he was a little surprise with your aura.

“You don’t seem like someone who can harm a fly."

He watched as you turned around to look at him. Mihawk couldn’t deny that you were beautiful.

“I can hurt a fly. Don’t think I’m good at harming anyone else,” you tell him as you stood up. Your arms are crossed defensively but Mihawk had no intention of hurting you anymore.

“I see.”

“I know who you are so what do you want?” You asked him. A bold one, Mihawk thought to himself.

“I was sent to kill you but in all honesty, I don’t think I can kill you. You’re too beautiful to be killed,” Mihawk tells you.

“Who sent you to kill me?” You asked worriedly as you took a step back.

“Not to worry now. I don't have any intentions to kill you anymore," he tells you. Truthfully, Mihawk would be more upset if anyone hurt you. Even if he did meet you just now.

“Then why are you still here?” You questioned.

“I'm curious to see why someone would send me to go after you,” Mihawk tells you as he took a step forward.

“Feel free to stay. Just to tell you, it's going to be quite boring,” you tell him before picking up your basket.

“Allow me,” Mihawk said as he walked over and grabbed the basket from your hands.

“It’s not that heavy,” you pointed out.

“No. But how else am I to make you to start trusting me?” Mihawk asked.

“By not killing me.”

“I will do no honor in killing you,” Mihawk said.

Mihawk sat on a chair as he watched you sort out your fruits and vegetables in your kitchen. It felt awkward knowing a famous warlord was watching you sort out the food you picked from your garden.

“How long do you plan on staying?” You asked.

“Until I’m needed elsewhere,” Mihawk answered truthfully.

“Do you have a place to stay?” You asked him.

“Don’t worry about me darling. Just continue what you’re doing,” Mihawk tells you. You nodded before picking up the basket with the food you were going to sell.

“I’m heading to the market now. I don’t know if you want to join me or if you want to stay here,” you tell him.

“I’ll join you,” Mihawk tells you before joining you in the market.

You traded some fruits and vegetables for some meat before selling off the rest. Mihawk watched a close eye on you as he followed you around. Everyone was too scared to question the warlord behind you but he didn’t care. His main focus was you.

The next day, he showed up at your front door.

“Did you eat breakfast yet?” You asked him.

“Yes.”

“Okay. I need to go to my job and I don’t think a warlord is going to be comforting to the kids,” you tell him before grabbing your things to head into town.

Before, you would just only teach Luffy. But since the school needed a new teacher, you became the village’s teacher.

“I’ll walk with you then,” Mihawk offered.

“Okay.”

Mihawk took your bag in his hands before following you to the school.

“You don’t have to wait for me you know. I’ll be at the school for a while,” you tell him.

“Who’ll carry your bag then?” Mihawk asked.

“I’m not some helpless woman you know. I can carry my own bag,” you tell him. Mihawk just stared at you as you walked inside the school.

Mihawk didn’t do much as he waited for you. He did grab you some pastries from the bakery before heading back to the school to wait for you again.he could hear the people talk about seeing the warlord waiting by the school for the teacher. He didn’t mind for once.

“Did you wait the entire time?” You asked Mihawk after you finished saying bye to your last student.

“I wasn’t doing much anyway,” Mihawk tells you as he handed you the box of pastries. He took your bag again in exchange.

“Thank you,” you said as you looked up at him.

Mihawk gave you a nod before the two of you walked back to your home.

“No tending to the garden today?” Mihawk asked you.

“I will. I just need to prep for dinner tonight,” you tell him.

“Why don’t I tend to your garden?” Mihawk offered.

“You know how to garden?”

“I know my way around. Where’s your basket?”

“Um by the door.”

“Won’t be long,” Mihawk tells you before walking out.

As you cooked dinner, you accidentally touched the hot pan making you hiss in pain.

“Ow!”

You didn’t think Mihawk heard you until he rushed through the door with a full basket. He placed the basket on the table before he checked on you.

“What happened? What’s wrong?”

“Just burned myself.”

Mihawk quickly grabbed your bucket of water before gently putting your finger in the cool liquid.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

"I made extras if you'd like. I got used to cooking for two," you tell him as you took your hand out and dry it with a towel.

“Was it for you and your past lover?” Mihawk asked. He noticed the ring dangling from a chain on your neck the moment he met you. But there were no signs of him anywhere in your home.

“Not really surprisingly. I used to take care of a little boy who used to live with me who had a bottomless stomach. He wanted to become a pirate so he set sail a year ago," you tell him.

“I see.”

“So, dinner?” You asked.

“Why not,” Mihawk said as he put his sword away.

Mihawk cleaned up before sitting with you at the table.

“I hope you like it,” you tell him. Mihawk took a bite of the food, nodding in approval afterwards.

“It’s good.”

“Thank you!”

“You should let me cook for you sometime,” Mihawk tells you.

“What kind of food do you cook?”

“Anything that can go well with red wine.”

“You like red wine?”

“I do. It’s a classical drink.”

“Maybe I’ll buy us a bottle and we can have a drink together,” you tell him.

“Or I can get it along with some other supplies for when I cook.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please. Let me cook for you next time.”

“Alright. Deal.”

[lostdreamr-blog1]

Beautiful Stranger

Summary: Jake was talked into picking up the coffee order for the group, but little did he know he would be leaving with more than that.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Wow friends…it has been a hot minute since I have posted. Life got crazy and my motivation to write had lessened. But I am back and slowly going through my inbox requests! Thank you all for the constant love and support. Excited to put out more writing for you!

Jake had no idea how he was the one picking up coffee for the group, but here he was standing in line at an overly crowded coffee shop, twenty minutes out of the way of base.

It was obvious that he didn’t fit in with this crowd. Hipster was the word that came to mind seeing the strange outfits and unruly haircuts. Someone wearing a crisp uniform and hair with every strand in perfect place screamed odd man out. He was uncomfortable to say the least and swore up and down he would never be doing this again.

Bradley told him they ordered ahead so he wouldn’t have to worry about going through the order of nearly ten coffees, but scanning the pick-up counter told him he would have to wait some.

He found a small corner out of the way of traffic and took in his surroundings. One of the benefits of a place like this meant people watching would entertain him until the order was ready.

There was a couple splitting a bagel not too far from him. It looked like something out of a cheesy movie, with the whispering and lovey smiles. He had to bite his tongue to keep from snorting out loud.

The next group he saw looked to be college students strung out on entirely way too much caffeine with the way they were frantically typing. He didn’t miss those days of cramming for exams and writing pointless papers at the last minute. But he did think he at least looked a bit more put together when he was their age. Or that’s what he told himself.

Jakes eyes nearly passed over the young woman in the opposite corner from him, quietly writing in a notebook. She was locked into whatever she was working on, despite all the noise around her. Between the music playing throughout the store, expresso machines going off, and countless conversations being had, Jake had no idea how the woman could get any work done. But here she was, chewing on the end of her pen lost in thought, not giving anything around her an ounce of attention.

He found himself starting to really look at her. She was dressed casually but somehow managed to make it look almost professional. Her hair was pulled back into one of those giant clips that he never understood how it stayed in place all day. The makeup was minimal, but she didn’t need it in his opinion.

“Hangman?” Jake nearly jumped when he heard his order called out, breaking him away from the thoughts of the random stranger across the way. He politely nodded thanks to the barista and took the two drink carriers from her. But before he walked out, he threw a quick glance over his shoulder nearly tripping over himself when he saw the woman looking up at him. He recovered as quickly as possible, making it through the door without dropping anything.

It was on the way to base that the thoughts starting spiraling out of control. Was it a coincidence that she looked up as he was leaving? Was it his call sign that pulled her attention? And if so, why? Jake shook his head, stopping himself from continuing down the rabbit hole. He had zero interaction with this woman and yet his mind wouldn’t get off her. It was early in the morning, and he wasn’t fully awake to be making rational decisions. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

Bradley and Natasha met him outside the locker room, thanking him for grabbing the coffee. He grumbled a response and went to his locker to put his things up. Bradley didn’t give much thought to the minimal interaction with the pilot, but Natasha did. “Everything go okay with the order?”

Jake nodded his head and shut his locker. “Just don’t see why you need something that expensive and out of the way when we have a perfectly good coffee machine here.” Natasha shook her head with a smirk, realizing just how out of his element he must have been.

“It’s good coffee. Can’t help that I have expensive taste.” Jake huffed out a breath, “Lord help your future husband.”

It was a week later when he got a text from Natasha begging him to grab her a coffee from the same damn place. He went to reply no, when another text popped up saying she was running late and would buy lunch to make up for it. Rolling his eyes, he replied back saying he was feeling something expensive for lunch to match his taste. An emoji with a lovely hand gesture was sent back with the word “fine”, making him chuckle. At least it was one coffee this time.

Jake took a deep breath as he walked into the coffee shop, mentally preparing himself for what seemed like unorganized chaos. The place was packed with nearly ten people in line waiting to order. He looked down at his watch and saw that he was here around the same time as last week, but for some reason today was busier than before.

The counter was filled with drink orders, taking him a minute to read through all the names. His friends’ wasn’t there yet and he turned to find refuge in his corner while he waited. He looked around at the people and while they weren’t the same as before, the types of groups remained the same.

“For someone who looked like he’d rather gouge his eyes out than be here last week, you came back.” A soft voice pulled his attention down to a woman sitting at a table close to him, revealing the beautiful stranger he had just managed to stop thinking about.

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but for some reason words wouldn’t form. He could slap himself for looking like an idiot in front of her. He had never once been at a loss for words with a woman, but something about her made himself conscious of everything he did.

“I didn’t mean to call you out like that. I just didn’t expect to see you back so soon.” She was smiling up at him, making the tops of his ears burn.

“A friend was running late and asked if I could pick up her order.” It was a short statement, but the smile on the woman’s face dimmed a bit. “Must be some girl for you to put yourself through this first thing in the morning.”

Jake quickly shook his head trying to back track, “She’s my teammate and promised me lunch if I did this. Nothing more.” The woman hummed and looked back down at her notebook.

“Well, if you make this a regular thing, I am good friends with the staff and might be able to get your order out a bit quicker. Wouldn’t want you to go into crisis mode over a coffee shop.” She was biting back a smile as she poked fun at his clear discomfort of the place, but Jake couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Darlin’, you have no idea how much that would mean to me.” Why he just committed to this being a regular thing, he had no idea. But he did know he wanted to see the beautiful stranger again.

“Hangman, right?” His eyebrows shot up at the remembrance of his call sign. “Hangman is my call sign. You can call me Jake.” Her eyes sparkled in what he thought was amusement.

“Well Jake, my name is Y/N, and I would be happy to help you out. I am here most days working on things. Why don’t you give me your number so you can text me when you plan on stopping by. That way I can let my friends know to look out for your order.” This girl was nothing but confident. Jake didn’t think he had ever had a woman ask for his number before and he couldn’t get enough of it.

“Hangman?” His name was called out like last time, but instead of feeling relieved to get out of the overcrowded shop, he wanted to stay as long as possible. “Better get going, pilot. Wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.” She gave him a wink, something that he normally did with women, and knew he was already in trouble.

He chuckled and shook his head, grabbing the coffee and headed out to work. He hadn’t made it out of the parking lot before his phone vibrated with a text. “Make sure it’s not another week before you come back in. I might forget all about you.” Jake smiled and drove to base, texting her back when he pulled in.

“Wouldn’t want to keep a beautiful woman waiting.” The smile never once left his face as he walked in. Natasha thanked him over and over again for the coffee but stopped when he saw the difference in his demeanor this time. “What’s gotten into you?” He shrugged his shoulders, “You were right. The coffee there is worth the drive.”

She gave him a skeptical look but didn’t push him any further. She would rather have a happy Jake than one who was ready to pick you apart at a moment’s notice.

And that’s how it was for the next month. Jake volunteered to get the coffee, finding any excuse to talk to his beautiful stranger. But the visits became longer, and the texting became more regular to the point where every free moment he had was spent getting to know her. It wasn’t long before Jake asked Y/N on a date, and he quickly found that this girl was the one for him.

Everyone knew something was up with their teammate. He had become less selfish and more of a team player. A feat no one thought was possible but didn’t want to push their luck. It wasn’t until Natasha said she would get her own coffee that the truth came out.

“Jake, you have been getting my order for me for nearly a month now. I can get it this once and give you a break from the drive. Just let me know your order.” Jake shook his head at her and said he had no issues getting it.

Natasha kept pushing until Jake blurted out, “I see someone every time I go there. It is one of the few times the two of us get to spend time with each other because of our schedules.” She stopped and thought about what he had said. Who there would he see every single time?

And then it clicked.

“Oh god. Tell me you aren’t seeing Y/N.” Jake tilted his head in confusion. “How the hell do you know her?”

Natasha looked at him in shock. “Because she owns the coffee shop. And her dad is our boss.”

Jake froze as he took in her words. Owning the coffee shop made sense. She was there all the time and said she knew the staff well, because it was her staff. That didn’t bother him. What did was not knowing who her dad was.

“I didn’t know Maverick had a daughter.” Natasha shook her head.

“Not Maverick you idiot. Admiral Simpson.”

And that was when certain things clicked into place. She looked up at him the first day because she knew the call sign. Her dad had to of talked about them a time or two, especially with this new assignment. The amusement she had when he told her his name was for the same reason. She knew who he was, but he didn’t have the slightest clue who he had been talking to. This girl was okay with the last-minute changes in plans or the late replies due to his schedule because she had grown up with it. The group insisted on getting coffee there because they were supporting someone in the TopGun family.

He was head over heels for the Admirals daughter and was royally screwed when he found out.

A/N: Thoughts? Likes or dislikes? I always love hearing back from you all! Thank you so much for reading!

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