#are they part of the family now too? who knows

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 ❞

❝ SATORU GOJO HAS LOVED YOU SINCE YOU WERE KIDS - HE’S GONNA MAKE YOU HIS ! ❞

✧ series: call it what you want (part one)

✧ pairing: younger!satoru gojo x reader

✧ summary: satoru gojo fell in love with you from the moment he met you at eight years old. and now, in his twenties, when he sees you again after you move back to be closer to your aunt and your cousin, suguru, he knows — he has to make you his by the end of the summer.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, eventual smut, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, fake dating, gojo is four years younger than you, rich boy!gojo, suguru is your little cousin, very fluffy, slow burn, like they don't even kiss, but they will :), love at first sight for gojo, naoya is your ex,

✧ w/c: 15,285

“Never thought we’d be doing this, did you?” Satoru muttered in your ear, breath fanning hot against your neck, “be a little quieter, sweetheart, otherwise Suguru might hear us,” 

You whine, but his fingers drag against your kiss bitten lips, until the digits slide into your mouth, as his hips rut against yours. And you didn’t think you’d ever be in position with your cousin’s best friend — pressed to the doorway of your apartment where Suguru could walk in at anytime. 

This isn't what you thought would happen when you invited him over to talk. This isn't what you thought would happen when you agreed to pretend to date him. This isn't what you thought about -- but how could you think about anything with the way his breath felt against your skin?

He loved you -- loved you since you were kids, and he couldn't let you go, not like this. Not when he had you.

Not that you even wanted him to.

You didn’t think you’d shiver as he pressed open mouthed kisses down your neck, tongue flicking against your burning skin. You never thought you’d want to moan his name, like you had, far too many times. 

“You may have never thought about this, Princess, but I sure have,” he presses a kiss to your jaw, the wet sounds your skin slapping together, as he reaches around your body, pinned on your stomach to the mattress, to rub at your swollen clit, drawing a muffled cry from your lips, “far too many times,” 

In fact, Satoru Gojo knew exactly the first time he fell for you. It was the day he first met you. 

“Be my girlfriend!” 

It was less of a question and more of a statement.  

One declared in the doorway of your room, with flushed cheeks and flowers in hand. And they weren’t your cheeks or hands, but your baby cousin’s best friend. 

The first time Satoru Gojo asked you out was at the ripe old age of eleven, but truth be told he had held this crush since the moment he saw you when he had come over to Suguru’s house for the first time, almost three years ago now.

Your fingers brushed his as you gently took the flowers, “Satoru, you know I care about you, but not like that. You’re better off seeing other people your own age, ok?” You smiled at him, the same way you always did, a slight pout on his lips as he nodded, saying nothing more. 

And you knew you were right — there was no fucking question that you were right. He was eleven and you were fifteen — an age gap untenable and unreachable.

But now—

“Long time no see,” Satoru said, lips curled in an all too cocky smile that you couldn’t believe belonged to the same blushing kid who confessed so earnestly back then, “it’s been too long,” your name rolled off his tongue with a familiarity that was the same but all too different. 

But he wasn’t a kid anymore — far from it. It had been over a decade since you had seen him, as the summer he confessed was the last one you had spent at your aunt and uncle’s home. And you and your family moved overseas shortly after that, and you didn’t return until now, four years after you graduated college, for a job offer you couldn’t pass up. 

And you didn’t realize that so much time had passed. 

But he did. 

“Eh? What do you mean you can’t help me unpack today, Sugu?” you hold the phone between your ear and shoulder, as you rip open the tape on yet another box you had hauled into the proper room to unpack, “you told me—“ 

“I told you I’d help you unpack if I had time. But now, I’m stuck at work until the evening,” you heard your cousin sigh over the phone, “But don’t worry — you’ll have help—“ 

You’re too busy trying to rip the tape off as you rip into Suguru to notice the door creaking open behind you, “Suguru, I swear to god if you’re sending a total random stranger to help me—“ 

“Not a total stranger,” a voice says behind you, and your head whips around so quick, you nearly drop your phone, gripping it, “unless not seeing me for years makes me one,” 

A mess of white locks and sunglasses tilted downward to reveal a hint of his cerulean eyes that you could never forget — but still, you barely recognize the man that has them. Even if the grin on his lips with the lilting sound of his voice told you that he very much recognized you. 

“Satoru?” Suguru’s explanation falls on deaf ears, as Satoru’s eyes don’t bother to take in your new place, all too focused on you, hands slipping into his pockets, “you—“ 

He steps forward and plucks the phone from your fingers, “Yo Suguru, I told you it’d be better as a surprise,” and you gape at him, as his grin curls wider, “yeah, yeah, I didn’t take the phone to have you lecturing me — I get enough of that from my dad,” and Suguru says something that makes Satoru’s cheeks flush, and he hangs up, before his attention returns to you, “so, shall we unpack?” 

A few minutes turns into hours of hauling boxes inside and then unpacking them. It’s relatively silent, surprisingly for Satoru. The silence was a far cry from the boy who couldn’t shut up for two seconds, telling you about the test he aced or something stupid that one of his classmates said or asking you about your day. 

Instead you watch him haul boxes like they were filled with styrofoam and air from the truck outside, and then lift his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, a flash of his abs shiny with perspiration. Your eyes dart away, suddenly incredibly fascinated with the contents of this box of kitchenware you opened up, cheeks burning, wondering when did the little boy you looked after become a man? 

“Princess, where do you want this?” Satoru lifts a box, and you can’t see the writing on it from the angle he picks it up. 

“Do you still have to call me Princess?” The embarrassing nickname your aunt had given you still stuck — the one that Suguru would always tease you with, while Satoru’s decidedly lacked any malice, “my aunt only called me that because she wanted a girl so bad,” 

“Is that why Suguru is growing out his hair now? Trying to fulfill her dreams?” You snort, as you walk over to him, “it still fits you regardless of the reason Princess,” 

You’re close, even with the box providing glancing around the box until you find it scrawled on the box underneath his arm — his very…muscular arm, veins bulging and muscles tense underneath the weight of the box—

“So this is stuff for my bedroom, you can just leave it on the floor, it’s right over here,” you lead him over and he places down the box, “I think that’s mostly it, I’m sorry Suguru made you come down here to help,” 

“You don’t need to apologize, I wanted to see you,” and you smile softly, “it’s been too long,” 

“It really has,” and your neck strains a little with how he towered over you, “can't believe you’re the same little boy I used to babysit,” 

And he rolls his eyes, “Suguru would say it’s arguable I could still use a babysitter,” and you chuckle, “I’m not so little anymore, but I wouldn’t mind if you were my babysitter,” 

Was he? No. No, he wasn’t. 

Right? 

“Stop fucking around,” you shake your head, as you head into the kitchen, “do you want to wash up, and then maybe I’ll order take out to thank you?” You’re turning on the faucet. 

You don’t notice the slight pout on his lips, one he schools into a smile as you glance back at him, blinking as you find him shirtless. 

Fuck. How was it possible for a person to be this gorgeous? Sweat slid down his body, slipping between the dips of his chest and ridges of his abs until disappearing into the fabric of his pants, or somewhere hidden— 

You look away — “I’d rather take a shower. Do you mind?” And you force your voice not to come out a squeak, busying yourself with washing your hands, just so you don’t have to look. 

“Yeah, of course, the bathroom is just around the corner. There should already be fresh towels inside,” and yet his steps grow closer, as you glance back, “uh—“ 

He’s still fucking shirtless. 

“Instead of take out, can we grab dinner somewhere? You haven’t been back to the area recently so it’s a good chance to show you around,” 

“You really don’t have to—“ 

“I want to, Princess,” he cuts you off, reaching around you to grab a water bottle off the counter, “get ready while I clean up?” 

And you bite your lip, “Okay, okay,” and he grins back, a glimpse of the little boy that beams at you when you’d praise him for a high mark on a test. 

“It’s a date!” And he’s off, disappearing into the bathroom, and you’re left there, wondering — what had you gotten yourself into? 

~~~

“So,” Satoru lifts a spoonful of his dessert — a fruit parfait with a sugar coma inducing amount of whipped cream — and you were almost relieved to see some things about him hadn’t changed. How many times had you scolded him as a kid not to eat so much sugar — and he still hasn’t kicked the habit. You bit back your chuckle, as he spoke, “did you get dumped?” 

You almost choke on your drink, as you splutter for a moment, before glaring at him. 

And yet the more they stayed the same. 

“I see you’re as subtle as you were when you were 11,” you mutter, setting your drink down, as you wipe your mouth with a napkin. Satoru tilts his head, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. 

“So you dumped him?” He leans back, “I didn’t know you had such high standards,” your cheeks burn, distracting yourself with becoming enthralled in the menu — Satoru had dragged you to a hole in the wall barbecue place (after your insistence that you didn’t want anything fancy after unpacking for hours). 

“How did you know I broke—“ and you cut yourself off at the obviousness of the answer, slapping another piece of meat on the grill, the sizzle punctuated by your words, “I’m going to murder him,” 

“Well, you’re in the right place to dispose of his body,” Satoru licks the spoon clean, before sticking it back in the whipped cream, “why did you break up with him?” 

You shrugged, “I realized he was a narcissistic prick who only wanted me as a trophy,” and Satoru whistled lowly,  “I’m done with dating losers. And dating in general,” 

“I don’t think you should give up on dating just because you had a few bad experiences,” his voice grows soft, “you deserve to be happy and taken care of, even if you have bad taste,” 

And you pout, “I don’t have-“ and he tilts his head, and you lift a few pieces of meat from the grill onto your plate, tongs clattering slightly as you set it down, “fuck, I do,” you groan, shaking your head, “that’s why I had to get out of there. Just needed a fresh start you know?” 

“Sometimes that’s just what you need,” and your lips curl. 

“Sounds like you speak from experience,” and his eyes flit up to yours, gleaming in the low light of the restaurant, cerulean irises catching the drops of light like comets across his gaze. 

“Don’t know what you mean, Princess,” he busies himself with his parfait, and you scoff. 

“Come on, half the girls in this place are glaring at me while I sit here, the waitress has been flirting with you, and now they had brought you out the biggest dessert that I’m starting to wonder if they even serve it here,” he spares a glance around, several gasps from giggling girls who avert their gazes, before his eyes are back on you. 

“Jealous?” You roll your eyes — he wasn’t lacking for ego at least. 

“More like wondering what a guy like you is still doing single,” and he sighs, leaning back, with a tilt of his head. 

“You sure are curious about me,” and his gaze softens for a moment, while he picks at his dessert, scooping the strawberry off the top, “there’s only really been one person that I really wanted,” his tone grew more serious, lips in a bittersweet smile, “but she’s never really looked me like that,” 

“Don’t tell me it’s one of those things where she rejected you and you have to have her now,” and he chuckles, shaking his head, gaze far too wistful. 

His words are slow, as slow as the ice melting in your glass, “It’s more of if I don’t have her, I don’t want anyone else,” and your heart squeezed — would you ever have someone care so deeply for you? 

“Then why haven’t you said anything?” you picked up another piece of meat off the grill, “anyone would be lucky to be with you,” and you meant it — he was blunt, but also kind, sweet, not to mention rich and you flushed as you thought back to his hiked up shirt — good looking. 

But he only stares back at you, tilting his head — expression unreadable, an emotion you can’t grasp before it’s hidden under his gaze’s tempered waters, “Are you included, Princess?” 

There’s a pause, as you almost chuckle, but your laugh dying in your throat at his expression — that same smirk, but the way he looks at you stops your mind in its tracks — only one word rolling around in your head: what? 

And your brow furrows, your lips parting in a response you don’t have — only questions, ones you don’t get to ask as Suguru slides in beside you. 

“Sorry, I’m late,” Suguru sighs, the moment broken, and you don’t catch Satoru’s expression, too distracted by your cousin, “got stuck in a staff meeting,” 

“I told you academia is hell,” you elbow him, and Suguru rolls his eyes, as he shrugs off his suit coat, “were these meetings the reasons you got held up or are they just an excuse so you didn’t have to help me?” 

“Who said it can’t be both?” And he earns a smack to his shoulder, your attention turning back to Satoru, his gaze fixed outside. 

“You’re unusually quiet, Satoru” Suguru kicks him lightly under the table, “not like you,” 

He looks at you first — and you grasp the emotion he had hid before — what was it? Sadness? Longing? — right before it’s gone again as he slides his mask back on, grinning as he always does. 

“What can I say? The view outside is much better than your ugly mug,” and the two of them begin to bicker, and you lean back in your seat, a smile pulling at your lips, even as you glanced back at Satoru. 

And now you wondered if you would ever get an answer to your questions. Or maybe, you sipped your drink, it was better not to have it answered at all. 

~~~

Satoru Gojo was eleven years old when he fell in love with you. It was from the moment he met you. 

And there hasn’t been anyone else since. 

He supposed it was inevitable in a way — since Suguru was his best friend, and his first, and when his family finally decided to enroll him in school, instead opting for private tutors, for the social aspect of making connections, of course. Because what else was your eleven year old son good for then helping to make future business deals easier? 

But Satoru made friends with the one person who couldn’t help their deals — Suguru Geto, one of the only scholarship students in the entire school. And Satoru’s want to avoid spending his days with servants or on the rare occasion, dealing with his dad’s lecture for getting in another ‘disagreement’ with one of his classmates (that ended with that classmate crying after Satoru evaded his punch and kicked him in the shin), ended up with him at Suguru’s place. A lot. 

Then soon enough, he was spending most of his summers there too. And that’s when he saw you. 

“You said your cousin’s here? Is she nice?” Satoru asked, taking off his shoes, as Suguru shut the door behind them. 

“She is, except when she’s being a pain about homework. And when she gets mad, she reminds me of my mom,” Suguru grimaced, as he walked past him, calling out for you. You rounded the corner, book in hand, and Satoru’s eyes grew wide. 

“Hey Sugu, you brought a friend?” You walked over, still clad in your high school uniform, before introducing yourself, and offering him a warm smile, “it’s nice to meet you. I’m Suguru’s cousin,” 

Satoru didn’t know what this feeling was — and he wouldn’t until a few more summers passed, and his hormones kicked in — but all he knew was that he would do anything to see you smile like that at him again. And he did — he would spend as much time as he could with you — talking to you about a test he aced, about something funny that happened at school, or even ratting on Suguru about what he was up to (earning him many knocks to the head by his best friend). But every time you smiled or laughed, it was worth it — worth every second he spent counting down the time to summer break so he could see you again. 

But he didn’t know his seconds would run out so soon — and he only learned one random day going home with Suguru, from a snippet of a conversation he had with his mom. 

“I know, I know she’s coming next week,” Satoru’s interest hadn’t been peaked by Suguru’s conversation until then, because he knew exactly who they were talking about. After all, you always came right at the start of break, and finally he could see you again — and maybe this time, he could tell you how he felt. 

“I know, I know it’s her last time here so it has to be perfect,” and Satoru’s head snapped back to Suguru, last time? “I will,” and Suguru hangs up, a sigh on his lips, “my mom is being so annoying about my cousin. So what it’s her last time staying with us? It doesn’t mean we have to—“ 

“What do you mean it’s her last time?” Satoru kept his tone steady and slow, even as his heart thrummed against his ribs as if it was a xylophone, “she always comes every summer—“ 

“Of high school,” Suguru corrected him, “she is applying to university this year — most of them are abroad, and it seems likely she won’t be back in Japan, not for a while,” Suguru continued to complain on their way back to his place, but all Satoru could do was think about you. 

It was your last summer with him. His last chance to make a move, to be something more than your younger cousin’s friend. His last chance to make you see him as a man, not a kid. 

He had to confess, his fingers curled into fists, before the end of the summer. He would make you his girlfriend — one way or another. 

And he did confess back then, Satoru thought, as he picked up a photo, wrinkled and yellowed at the corners, a picture that Suguru’s mom had taken of you and him the summer you had left. A candid of him and you looking at each other — one that Suguru’s mom had slipped to him with a knowing smile and a wink (one that had mortified him as a teenager). 

He was always looking at you — no matter where he was, his eyes always found your form, a magnet to its opposite pole, and he didn’t know how to stop you from drawing him in. It had been over a decade and he still couldn’t. 

He stared at your smiling face, the very same face that had looked at you with a smile fading to confusion this evening. He had gotten so close to asking you — to telling you how he felt — and he flips to the next picture, a scowl on his face as a picture of him and Suguru with his smug smile stared back at him. If only fucking Suguru hadn’t interrupted. 

He shook his head, flipping back to his picture of you. This wasn’t the summer and he wasn’t a kid anymore. And you weren’t out of his reach, bound for another country across the ocean. No, you were here — only a short drive away. 

And he made a promise to himself — he would get you to fall in love with him, before the end of this summer. 

~~~

You hate first days. 

“Did you see the guy waiting outside?” one woman whispered not so softly as you passed by. 

“Yeah looks like he’s waiting for her,” the other’s lips formed a frown but only to hide her smirk. 

From the time you were a kid, your first day of school was something you had all the time from your family moving around. You were always the new kid — the one who would be met with wide eyes and curiosity, only to be tossed aside a few days later. 

But this was a fresh start that you had wanted — a new job far away from where you had started, with new responsibilities — a first day you had looked forward to, until it went so downhill. 

And it was all your ex’s fault. 

You texted Suguru — is it too early to quit on the first day? 

He replies, well it’s been four hours, think you’ve lasted through one of my dad’s long winded stories longer than that. What happened? 

You glanced outside towards the front of the building. It was more like ‘who happened?’ 

It was an innocuous enough morning, of introductions, trainings, orientation, and finally computer set up. You were rifling through your paperwork, trying to figure out what sheet looked the least daunting when someone called for you. 

“There’s someone looking for you outside the lobby,” you saw a flurry of looks shared and smirks shot in your direction, and when you arrived downstairs you knew why. 

What. The. Fuck. 

You couldn’t help it. You bursted outside, “what are you doing here?” It was your ex — the very same ex who had started at the same overseas company after you both graduated and the one you had. And again, had chosen to follow you here. 

“Waiting for you to change yer mind,” Naoya tilts his head, hands in his pocket, “and I know you will, because you love me,” he raises his voice to catch the eye of several passerby, and you grab his wrist, dragging him away. 

“Fuck off,” you hiss under your breath, “I told you it’s over, and don’t you have a fucking job?” 

“Did you forget? I’m rich, another reason ya can’t do better than me,” Naoya’s lips curl into that same grin, one you knew as charming once, until you saw past his pretty pink lips and glimpsed the sharp fangs behind them, “I took time off. Did ya think it was a coincidence we ended up at the same company?” 

You gritted your teeth, “Naoya—“ and he breaks from your grip, instead his fingers dig into your wrist. 

“All ya are is me. All that you have is me. And all you will have is me,” he dared closer, breath warming your lips, as he took hold of your other wrist and tugged you close, “the sooner you accept that, the better, doll,” 

‘Doll.’ The term of endearment you had seen as precious to you. Something you always loved to hear roll off his tongue, the word you had learned to learned to reply to, even more than your own name. The one you regarded with such love had burned, burned until the flames licked your skin and knew what it really meant — a doll with strings, one he was meant to be the master of. 

“Don’t call me that,” you rip your hands away, “leave. You’re embarrassing yourself,” 

“Am I?” He tilts his head, jerking his head in the direction of your building where your offices had a clear view of this, “or am I just embarrassing you?” 

You stared out the window for a moment and you knew he was still out there — judging but the way your phone was on the verge of suicide by notification, he was still very much there. And now, all people would know of you is the new worker with a crazy stalker ex. 

I’m calling the police, Suguru’s text popped up, what’s your workplace’s address? 

You think I hadn’t thought of that, Sugu? You sigh, he’s not doing anything. He’s on a public sidewalk. They can’t do anything to him. 

Another text: when do you get out? You glance at the time, seeing another two coworkers whisper to each other, stealing looks. 

An eternity — In another two hours. 

I’ll handle it. Just wait in the lobby after work. And you frown. 

Sugu, I can handle it. I don’t need you to come down here. 

You always fought your battles. You didn’t need anything else to — or anyone else to pick them for you. Not even your baby cousin — no matter how sweet his intentions were. 

Don’t worry. I’m not coming down. And you frown, staring at the text, before your phone rings, and you groan as ‘Assistant Director’ flashes on the screen.  

You were so fired. 

You weren’t — as you shut the door of his office behind you. However, he did advise you that this company had a strict no nonsense policy and did want personal drama to be dredged up in the office. And you were given the day to sort out your “mess.” 

You scrub a hand down your face, but it wasn’t even your mess, and how would you fix it? He wasn’t going to listen to you. You sit at your desk, packing up your bag for the day. And your phone vibrates. 

Come down. 

You hesitate, But he’s still downstairs. 

Just go. 

Fuck. You sling your bag over your shoulder, piercing eyes digging into your back, vultures circling an already dead carcass, whispering still even as the elevators doors shut. 

And you almost wish they never opened when you see what’s waiting for you outside. 

Fuck. 

You grit your teeth, stomach in absolute knots as if to brace yourself for the complete shitstorm you’re about to deal with. 

“Satoru?” 

Satoru Gojo leaned back against his expensive (likely imported) car, shiny as it was new, sunglasses glinting in the light, but not brighter than the grin he gives you. He holds out your favorite drink, a tilt of his head. 

“Are you ready to go?” 

You glance around, as he places the drink in your hand, “But what about—“

“Let go of me!” 

Satoru’s lips curl, sliding his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, “Oh, I’ve gotten him handled,” 

Naoya stood between two men restraining him, both in suits, as his face contorted in anger, veins bulging, eyes darting between the two of you, “Do you know who I am? I’m the heir to the Zenin Corporation — you cannot treat me like this. I’ll have you—“ 

“Heir? Really?” Satoru stepped forward, blocking him from your view, “is that right? I thought the Zenin hadn’t decided announced a successor yet,” 

You furrow your brow — how does Satoru— but then you’re being put into a car with Satoru’s arm curled around your waist, as he opens the door and tucks you into the passenger seat. 

And now you won’t know. At least not now. 

Naoya scoffed, “And who are you to know anything about—“ 

“Have you heard of the Six Eyes Corp,” and Naoya’s eyes narrow, “you should have because we account for a large chunk of your business. And if that support were to disappear,” he flashes his blue eyes at him over the rim of his sunglasses, “I’d hate to tell them it’s because of this,” 

“You fucking liar, like you could tell anyone anything—“ 

Satoru chuckles, “You’re right, I am a liar,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I don’t need to tell anyone. Except my father,” 

Naoya’s sneer fades into confusion, his eyes narrowed, “Don’t fucking tell me—” 

“Then I won’t,” he steps forward, hands slipping into his pockets, “but if you ever step in her presence again,” he jerks his head towards you in his car, “then I will, and you don’t wanna know what happens if I do,” he steps in front of Naoya, back blocking your view so you don’t see him grab Naoya’s wrist, blue eyes aflame with something far deeper than anger, “because it will much worse,” he squeezes Naoya’s wrist hard making him flinch as he grits his teeth at Satoru’s smiling face, “who knows? Maybe I’ll break your wrist next time.” 

He turns around, waving off the guards, as he makes his way back to his car, sliding into the driver’s seat, smile fading to concern. 

“Are you alright, Princess?” You’re watching those people drag Naoya away, his hateful gaze trying and failing to get a last look at you as the guard takes a hand to the back of his head to force his gaze forward. 

“Where are they taking him?” 

Satoru starts the car, the quiet rumble of the engine filling the silence of his pause, “just to the proper authorities. He won’t bother you again,” 

You bit your bottom lip, eyes burning with tears — and you don’t know whether if it’s embarrassment or relief, “I’m sorry—“ 

“Don’t finish that sentence,” and your eyes slide to his, a soft smile on his lips, “you don’t have anything to be sorry about. Or to thank me for,” he cuts you off as your lips part, “is your wrist okay?” 

You glance down and see the slight redness still lingered, a final parting gift, and your other hand closes over the wrist, “it hurts a little, but I’ll ice it when I get home,” 

“We’ll go to a hospital to have it looked at,” and you’re shaking your head. 

“I don’t want to sit—“ 

“Then I’ll hire a doctor to come see you,” and you stare at him, as he rolls to a stop at a red light…is that a pout? “I just want you to be ok, Princess, please,” 

You bite back a small smile, and ignore the flutter in your heart, “Fine, you win, let’s go to a walk-in clinic,” and you spot his shoulders relax, “but it’s not really fair when you give me your infamous pout,” 

He raises an eyebrow, “‘Infamous?’” 

“You used to whip that out all the time on me and on my aunt when you were a kid — it did always work,” 

“Not always,” he replies, as he turns into the parking for the walk-in clinic, “in fact, I remember a time that it specifically did not work,” 

“And when was that?” You tilt your head. 

And he smiles, “When I asked you to be my girlfriend,” and you furrow your brow, nearly forgetting the memory, until it hits you. 

“Oh my god, the last summer I spent here,” you covered your mouth with the tips of your fingers, a chuckle on your lips, “you were very direct,” 

“I could say the same about you,” and you roll your eyes. 

“You were a kid. You were way too young for me, you know that,” you unbuckle your seatbelt, “plus now I bet you could get any person you want. That’s why I was surprised why you didn’t have a girlfriend,”

“Like I said, there’s only one woman in the world for me,” his eyes find yours, cerulean bathed in sunlight, light catching across his irises, “and only one woman I ever wanted to be with,”

Oh. 

Oh. 

No, no, that couldn’t be it — you couldn’t be her, not after all this time—

You blink, “Satoru, you don’t—“ 

“Well our age difference isn’t a problem anymore is it?” Your brain is struggling to process, lips parting with no words, “Princess,” his fingers brush yours, gently grazing your hand, as your gaze finds his again, “when are you going to take me seriously?” 

“Satoru—“ 

“Just don’t say no,” Satoru cuts you off, pulling his hand away, “don’t say no and think about it,” you open your mouth only to waver at the sight of the pout on his lips and you sigh.��

It was hard to say no, especially right now. 

“Okay I won’t say no,” you slip from the car, lips breaking into a wide grin, before sticking your head inside, “don’t smile like that. It’s not a yes,” you huff, cheeks burning and stomach erupting in butterflies. 

“Not yet,” Satoru says as you shut the door, “not yet, Princess.” 

~~~

“Huh? You did what?” 

You loved your aunt. You really did. She and her husband had taken you in when your parents were too busy working to properly take care of you during the summers. But times like this reminded you—

—-she truly was her mother’s sister. 

“Well your mother was telling me that you haven’t dated anyone since you’ve been back—“ 

“It's only been a month!” You had barely finished getting unpacked, and in fact, you still had at least five boxes still stacked up in the closet, “I’m not interested in dating, I’m trying to focus on work,” you rubbed the back of your head, “new topic, please,” as you sip on your drink. 

And after the debacle Naoya had caused, you needed to — you had put up with the whispers and stares for a few days, but since Naoya had stayed away, the rumors faded with time. Now things had died down for the most part. Except for—

“Has Satoru still been picking you up?” You nearly do a spit take, but instead you choke down the water, coughing, “eh? Are you okay, honey?” 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” your cheeks burn at the thought of Satoru — he was always a bold kid, but you didn’t think he’d confess to being in love with you all this time. Especially now as a man — and not a kid, “yeah he’s still picking me up,” 

When he had confessed to you all those years ago as a young teenager, you had thought nothing of it. Except that it was a crush on his best friend’s older cousin — something that would pass easily with time. You hadn’t even thought of it in all these years. 

But now, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

Especially when he kept showing up to pick you up from work. And now you were stirring other sorts of rumors. 

After he had taken you to the walk-in clinic, he had driven you home, making sure to check if your place was secure enough, and that you weren’t too shaken up. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off to Suguru’s?” he had asked, crossing his arms, “I could also drag his ass here, he owes me anyway,” 

“No, no I’m really fine,” you chewed your lip, looking down, “you sure he’s not going to come back?” and he leans down, forcing you to meet his gaze, as he tilts his head. 

“Sweetheart, you think I’d even leave your place if I thought there was a chance of him coming back?” he offers you a smile, and you scoff softly, shaking your head, “trust me, he won’t be bothering you again, not while I’m around,” and he added, “and I’m not going anywhere.” 

And you didn’t know what to do with the promise in his words. Because you knew he meant that — in more than one way. 

But even so, he hadn’t brought up his confession — not once. 

“He’s so sweet isn’t he? Suguru is always so busy but Satoru’s making time to pick you instead,” your aunt gushes, and you shake your head, your aunt did have a habit of being a little hard on her son, “by the way, would you mind stopping by the house today?” 

“Why’s that?” 

And well, how did you end up here? 

You stood in front of the entrance to a very expensive looking building with a very intimidating doorman, with a large tote bag full of food that your aunt had insisted you drop off. She had given you his address, but by the time you arrived, you realized that you didn’t even have his number. And now Suguru or your aunt weren’t picking up their phones. 

Fuck. 

You were internally debating whether to talk to the doorman or to just go home and deal with this another time, when you heard someone speak behind you. 

“Looking for someone?” You jump slightly, whirling when you see Satoru, hands in his pockets, a smile on his lips, as he lifts his sunglasses to meet your gaze, “didn’t think I’d find you hanging outside my apartment building, princess,” 

“Well, you show up outside my workplace and I’ll be showing up outside your apartment building,” the words leave your mouth without much thought, as your cheeks burn at the implication, “I mean—” 

“Is that supposed to discourage me from picking you up?” he grins, “Doesn’t sound like a bad deal to me,” 

You roll your eyes, before holding up the bag, “My aunt asked me to drop off some dishes for you. She’s worried you’re eating too many sweets,” 

He takes the bag from your hand, fingers brushing, as he shakes his head, “I shouldn’t have ever told her that I had cake for dinner,” and you snort, unable to hide your giggles, “what’s so funny?” 

“I can see a lot about you has changed, but your sweet tooth is just as bad as when you were a kid,” and you see him scratch the back of his head, “is your favorite dessert still mochi?” 

“You still remember that about me?” A smile pulling at his lips, and your cheeks burn, but you refuse to waver. 

“Well, it’s hard to forget you threw up all over the rug when you ate too many,” You bite back a smile when you spot the tips of his ears burn red, as he gapes at you. 

“Did you have to bring that up?” He mutters, a small pout on his lips, and you snort, as he can’t help the curl of his lips, “now, c’mon,” his fingers brush the small of your back. 

“Satoru, where—“ but his hand is firm as he guides you towards his building. 

He flashes you a grin as he signs you in with the doorman, “Do you think I’d let you come all this way without staying for dinner?” 

~~~

“Do you want anything to drink?” Satoru’s penthouse was nothing less than immaculate — high ceilings, pristine floors, and an interior designed living space. You swore in some places it was still shiny — and you felt very out of place in your casual wear for the weekend. 

“Just a water,” you reply, as he opens his refrigerator and you raise an eyebrow at the fully stocked compartments, “wow,” you murmur, and he’s pulling a water and a fancy looking juice out of it. 

“What was that?” He raises a brow, and you stammer a moment, “c’mon princess, share with the class,” 

“Just surprised your refrigerator isn’t just stuffed with just desserts, sweets, and ice cream,” and he hands you your water, before sitting beside you, spread out on the couch, as he always was. 

“Oh it is, it’s just very well hidden,” and you snort, as he throws his arm over the back of the couch, “I may be an adult but I’m not going to be a boring old geezer like my father,” 

“I don’t think I could ever see you becoming boring, Satoru,” you chuckle, and he tilts his head. 

“Is that a rare compliment from you, princess?” And his grin only makes your cheeks warm, as you roll your eyes.

“More like an observation,” you reply, as your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you pull it out to check — who would be messaging you now? 

Oh fuck. 

“You ok there?” 

No, no you weren’t. Because your lovely aunt had given your number to a prospective match, and now he was texting you. A lot. 

“It’s nothing,” you sigh, shaking your head, putting your phone on ‘do not disturb.” You would have dinner first, and then you’d murder your aunt after dessert, “do you want me to help take out dinner?” 

“You expect me to believe you don’t hire a chef to make these sides?” The food was spread out across the table, many of the dishes your aunt had made plated and presented, but along with sides that Satoru had made, “Suguru had made it seem as if the only thing you ever made was microwave ramen,” 

“Well jokes on him, I burned it the one time I tried,” he grinned, “but I did learn to cook, I just never bothered to cook for Suguru,” 

“And why’s that?” You take a bite of the pickled radish he had prepared. 

“Because I’m not trying to impress him, am I?” And you nearly choke slightly, as you manage to swallow, “you should know I’m so much more than a pretty face, Princess,” 

You sigh, “Satoru—“

“Have you thought about what I said at all?” 

And you had. A lot more than you cared to admit. Especially after all he had done. Everything he had to Naoya to defend you. And just about him — how sweet he’s been, how protective, how kind, and how you’d like nothing more than to do the same for him—

But…

“I have, but Satoru, our ages—“ 

“We’re both adults. We both graduated. We haven’t seen each other in over a decade,” his leg brushes yours as he shifts closer, “are you telling me you don’t feel anything?” 

You didn’t know how to answer that — not when you didn’t really know yourself. And you always knew the answer — you knew you wanted to study abroad, you knew you had to leave Naoya’s company, and you knew you wanted to live here — so why was this the one time you didn’t? And why was he the one thing you were unsure of? 

You bite your bottom lip, “But, Suguru—“ and he scoffs softly. 

“Are you really thinking about Suguru right now?” he asks, “or would you rather date the guy blowing up your phone earlier?” 

Your eyebrows knit together, “How did you know—“ 

“Well I know it’s not Naoya, and I heard from Suguru that your aunt wanted to set you up,” fucking Suguru—and your lips twist into a pout, he tilts his head, not bothering to hide his smile, “if you dated me, you could get your aunt off your back,” he muses, leaning against his elbow, “she always did say I was family, and I’m not looking to be your brother,” 

Your cheeks burn at his words, “Satoru,”

“Think about it, Princess, you don’t have to give me an answer now,” but his eyes flicker to your phone, “but I know you’ll find me once you meet any one of these guys your aunt sets you up with,” 

You grimace at your phone, picking it up to see the messages from the guy your aunt had given your number to, “fuck,” you murmur, locking your phone before tossing it away, an image of you trapped at a dinner across the most boring man alive. And then you glance up at Satoru, still a smug smile on his lips, and then back to your phone. 

“What’s your plan?” 

~~~

“So, I heard you turned down the boy I gave your number to,” 

Your aunt hardly pulled punches. 

She never did when you and Suguru were growing up — she always knew what the two of you got up to, even if you were both sure she could never find out — she always did. Even the one time that the two of you had snuck out to get ramen on a late night, Suguru’s parents were in a dead sleep — but by the time you both snuck back in, she was waiting for both of you in the hallway. But this time, she wasn’t even leading with a wind-up before swinging. 

And then she adds, eyes narrowing, “He said you declined because you’re dating someone,” 

She was going for the kill. 

She turns to grab the whistling tea kettle, turning it off, before pouring the hot water into two cups. You force yourself not to bite your bottom lip, the smallest tell was dangerous, even with her back turned, “Is there anything he didn’t tell you?” She’s placing the tea cups one by one on the tray, as if laying out her pieces on a board only to corner you. 

Your aunt frowns, “His mother told me,” great, even better — he was a momma’s boy, and now you were starting to wonder just how many bullets did you dodge,  “are you seeing someone?” 

You were beginning to regret this plan — and you don’t know why you let Satoru talk you into it. 

“You want me to do what?” You stared at Satoru as if he had suggested going diving with sharks, which is not far from what he was suggesting, “tell my aunt that we’re together. No way,” 

“Aw, am I that embarrassing to date, Princess?” And you roll your eyes. 

“Yes, for me,” and he’s tilting his head, “my aunt will immediately tell my uncle and Suguru — and I don’t know which one of them would kill you first,” your uncle wasn’t one for words or conflict, but he had a soft spot for you — and a fist for anyone that tried to come date you without his approval. 

“Eh? Doesn’t Uncle like me?” And you snort, the one sided conversations that Satoru had with your uncle that usually ended with your uncle excusing himself to get away from that “annoying moron.” 

“He doesn’t hate you but,” you choose your words carefully, “he doesn’t prefer you,” 

Satoru scoffs, crossing his arms, “Well Auntie loves me, and I had a plan for this,” and she did, she had quite the soft spot for Satoru, ever since he was a kid. You couldn’t exactly blame her — he looked like an angel, even if the words that left his mouth made it seem like the contrary, his fingers brushing against a strand of your hair, “and soon I’ll make you love me too,” 

Fucking cocky bastard, you thought to yourself, cheeks burning at the thought of the smirk on his lips, but you’re jarred back to reality as you hear the clattering of cups and spoons.  

“I am,” you reply, and your aunt’s head whips around, the clinking of the glasses cutting through the pause, “it’s new,” you add, as she sets down the tea cups, placing the tea dispensers in each one, “I wasn’t sure if I should say anything,” 

“Why wouldn’t you? This is wonderful,” she blinked, and her brow wrinkles, “unless it’s that Naoya—“ you flinch at the thought of him. 

“No, I’m done with him,” you wave her off quickly, wrinkling your nose at the thought of that bastard, grabbing the tea cup, the scent of green tea wafting from the steam that warmed your face, as you blew air to cool it off, “it’s someone I reconnected with here,” 

Your aunt raises an eyebrow, “So soon? Is it someone from work?” Again, is the word she implies with the sentence, a sharp tone that nicked your armor. 

“No, it isn’t,” and she’s sipping her tea, and you take a sip only to burn your tongue, “but he is younger,” 

“That’s not a problem if he’s not too much younger — how old is he?” and this was exactly why you hadn’t wanted to tell your aunt, it was more of an interrogation than a conversation. 

“He’s about Suguru’s age,” and she’s tilting her head, “Suguru introduced us,” and that wasn’t a lie — it was true — both in the past and now. 

“Really? And Sugu is okay with you dating his friend?” Your aunt may be gossip and a meddler, but she wasn’t a fool, your hesitation is your end, “and I assume you’re telling me all this to get me off your case and to ask not to tell Suguru,” she sighs. 

“Auntie—“ 

“You know I don’t like lying for either of you—“ 

“But—“ 

“No, I can’t—“ 

“How about lying for me?” Satoru stands in the doorway, head tilted, a smile on his lips. And your aunt blinks before she slowly puts the puzzle pieces together, a mix of emotions crossing her expression — confusion, disbelief, and maybe a hint of joy, before she settled on a neutral 

“Satoru—“ 

He frowns, “Auntie, you know Suguru will kill me for dating his cousin, please,” and then he does what he does best — pouting. 

And your aunt breaks — with a one hit-KO. 

“You must have been blessed by some needlessly annoying god,” you murmur as he walks you back to your place, sun gleaming as it gave off its last rays of light before setting for the night,  “because I don’t know how you still get her to fall for that,” 

“I was born blessed,” and you snort, as you catch sight of his smile out of the corner of your eye, “and speaking of which, when’s our first date?” 

“Straight to the point, huh?” You stop walking, hands in your pockets, “Satoru—“ 

“Don’t tell me you’re about to launch into another speech about how you can’t date me,” he gives an exaggerated sigh, “I could go back to your aunt and tell her how you broke my heart and let her pull out list of aunties who have sons who are excited to meet you—“ 

“Alright, fine, a date, but one thing first,” you step close to him, making his breath catch, pretty blues finding your gaze, the very same he would love to get lost in, before they flicker down to your lips. And he swears you can probably hear his heart beating out of his chest, thumping at the bony bars of his ribcage, and he hates it, hates how you have him twisted around your finger without trying, “Princess—“ 

You reach for him, fingers nearly about to brush his cheek, his eyes fluttering, before you flick his forehead, “ow!” 

“I was just going to ask when our first date is going to be, but if you rather I go on a bunch of blind dates—“ and he’s shaking his head, rubbing his forehead all the same, “then do you have any ideas?” 

He grins, “Plenty, but there’s one in particular.” 

~~~~

“An amusement park?” 

He sat next to you, driving, hand on the console and you couldn’t help but brush your arm against his each time you moved — and you felt as if he did it on purpose. 

He raises an eyebrow, stealing a glance out of the corner of his eye, “Uh-huh, got a problem, Princess?” 

“No I’m just surprised, we went to plenty of these as kids,” you glanced at him, his eyes concentrated on the road, fingers curling a little tighter around the steering wheel. 

You had raised an eyebrow at his choice, but now that you were here…it wasn’t a bad pick. 

You hadn’t been to one in years — not since your summers with Suguru. The screams in the distance told you there was a rollercoaster not far off, the syrupy sweetness of sugar somehow emanated from every inch of air, and the park was filled to the brim with families and couples. 

You glance at Satoru, a plain t-shirt and shorts, and somehow he still looked as if he stepped off a page of a men’s style magazine. He looked around, his eyes landing on a vendor selling cotton candy, and you hid your chuckle. 

“C’mon,” you took his hand, leading him over without a second thought, and you’re grabbing a giant cotton candy for him, made into a flower by the vendor. Satoru’s practically vibrating with excitement, slinking his hand around to sneak the vendor money before you even had a chance, “I wanted to pay—“ 

“You think I’d make my date pay?” He takes a bite out of his cotton candy, sugar sticking to his lips even as he nearly inhales a petal, “even the arranged set ups should do that much,” but it’s hard to take him seriously with blue sugar all over his mouth, “what?” 

You snort, grabbing a wet nap from your purse,“Well, you’d be surprised,” and you wipe his face, fingers cupping his chin, “some guys are a little immature,” and he stares back, and you swear you see a flush settle over his cheeks, before he turns away to wipe his lips. 

“Not me,” he mumbles, tips of his ears burning red, and you bite your bottom lip, cute. 

“Should we find a ride to go on?” he immediately grins at that, offering his arm this time, and you take it, a smile tugging at your lips. 

Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. 

~~~

Oh you were wrong. 

So wrong. 

“I changed my mind, I don’t want to get on,” and before you can leave a hand catches you by the wrist gently, blue eyes judging over his rimless sunglasses, “Satoru—“ 

“It’s just a rollercoaster,” just a rollercoaster? No, it was literally your death. You stared up at the contraption above you, the echoing screams growing louder as the line crept forward — akin to a rickety boat that Charon would wade you across into hell itself. 

“No, I can’t—“ you shake your head. 

“C’mon it won’t be that bad—“ 

“So you admit it’s going to be bad,” and he’s biting back a smile, “what?” 

“I just never really saw you being scared of anything, Princess,” he sighed loudly, “I guess I’ll have to ride it all alone,” but that only serves to make many women (and men) stare at him as if to offer him their company. 

“You have options,” and he shakes his head, his hand outstretched as the two of you enter the final stretch of the line. 

“Like I said, sweetheart, there’s only ever been one option for me,” and your fingers graze his with several second thoughts, but when his fingers laced with yours, you knew there was no turning back. 

“I didn’t know you could scream that loud,” 

You grinned at a shaken up Satoru, throat probably raw and aching as he frowns, face turned away, “I’m not used to the speed, unlike you, from how I heard you drive,” and you bite back a laugh, as he fails to hide his flush from you, his ears burning red. 

Your chuckle is a badly disguised cough, “Are you pretending to be this way to make me feel better?” You tease, and he’s crossing his arms. 

“No way I’d let myself look so lame in front of you, I’m no better than Ijichi,” and you raise an eyebrow. Ijichi was a boy in Suguru and Satoru’s class when they were kids — one that Satoru loved to complain about being slow. 

“You still think about him?”

“He’s my assistant,” and you snort at the thought of Satoru still hassling that poor guy. 

“I hope you pay him well,” he’s officially pouting again.

“I didn’t know it would be that intense!” you tilt your head, as the two of you find a corner of the park that’s not so crowded and riddled with children running amok, and you watch him down a sugary soda drink he had bought from one of the food stalls. 

“You act as if you’ve never been to an amusement park,” he’s quiet for a second too long, and your eyebrows knit together, “but Suguru—” 

“You guys would go every summer, but it was when I had my prep classes on the weekends,” he runs his fingers through his white locks, “I would have skipped when I was older, but by the time I had stopped caring what my father thought of me, you had already gone to college and Suguru’s family stopped going,” 

You frown — you knew Satoru didn’t have the best upbringing — yes he had every opportunity at his fingertips, all the money in the world that you couldn’t even fathom, but you could count the number of times he’s mentioned his parents on one hand. 

“I was always so jealous when you guys would go,” he sighed, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips, “it seems silly now—” 

“No, it’s not,” you cut him off, shaking your head, “you should have been allowed to be a kid,” 

He chuckles, a noise that sticks in your chest, “Well, more than anything, I wanted to go with you,” his cerulean eyes find yours, a soft smile on his lips, “thank you for indulging me, princess,” 

“Well, you’re the one doing me a favor, right?” you tease, getting to your feet, “c’mon we have plenty of other things to do — I saw a booth with candy apples not too far over there—” you point, and his fingers are already finding yours as he nearly drags you along, a laugh caught in your throat as you can’t help but smile at his excitement. 

It’s infectious, you thought as the two of you got in line, Satoru nearly vibrating with need for his sugar fix, and you shook your head, biting back a laugh, just like him. 

~~~

“You don’t have to walk me home,” the sun had long sunk by the time you both had left, staying to catch a glimpse of the fireworks before heading back, “it’s not that far from here,” 

The two of you had opted to take public transport to the amusement park, knowing there would be next to nowhere to park or rather only the middle of nowhere to park. The cicadas were already beginning their symphony, filling the relative silence of the neighborhood now, except for the chatter heard from inside houses or outside in gardens. 

“Who would carry your loot home?” and he tilts the giant plushie to show his unimpressed face, “you barely wanted to carry this at the park, even after you begged me to win it, and I did, in one shot,” 

And he did, he had won you a giant polar bear plushie nearly as tall as you were in his hands, along with several bags of sweets he had bought on the way out, just to snack on tonight (and you seriously wondered if he ate anything that was not coated in mochi, chocolate, or sugar). 

“I don’t remember begging you — I asked you,” you cross your arms, and you know he’s smiling behind the bear, using the plushie to hide his goddamn smirk, “i did! I just asked if we could try to win it—” 

“And I remember the phrases ‘please’ and ‘i need it’ being involved in the conversation,” you felt your cheeks burn, “you still like these things, huh?” 

“What do you mean?” and he moves the polar bear under one arm, the bags in the other so you could actually see his face. 

“You always loved plushies, you had that one from your parents that you kept in your room with you all the time—” 

“Panda, I was very original with that name,” you shake your head, before your gaze turns to him, his sunglasses gleaming on his head in the low light of the streetlamps, “I can’t believe you remembered that,” 

“There’s barely a thing I’d forget when it comes to you,” and you bite your lip, heart squeezing at his words, “you look like you wanna say something, princess?” 

You reached the outside of your apartment building just as night fell, humidity still clinging to the thick summer air. The light of the lobby spilling out into the sidewalk through the glass doors, just as the streets grew quieter. 

And you do — you’re not sure if you should ask it — a question posed on a precipice of uncertainty that you didn’t know if you wanted to step off of. But you know you had to, at one point or another. 

You could just go inside, brush off his question, and leave the day at that. But a nagging question had wriggled it’s way to the forefront of your mind, and you knew it wouldn’t leave your mind until it left your tongue. 

You chew on your lip, “You say these things so easily when it comes to me, but how are you so sure?” 

And he shrugs, his eyes not leaving yours for even a second, “I just know,” 

“But how?” He’s shaking his head, stepping forward, until he’s a breath away, your eyes flickering from his gaze to his lips for a split second, your own air caught in your traitorous throat. 

“Instead of wondering why I feel why I do, I think you should wonder why you’re so unsure,” and his fingers graze your cheek, tilting your chin upwards, his touch sending heat to the far reaches of your body, and he’s leaning forward. Your eyes nearly flutter shut, as his words nearly warm your lips, but no, instead they brush against your ear, “because if I was still just that kid to you that I was all those years ago, then why aren’t you pulling away?” 

Your eyes blink open, as he pulls away, grin on his lips, as he hands you your polar bear plushie, “Satoru—“ and you don’t even know what you want to say — you want to argue, you want to say something, anything, but nothing comes out but his name. 

“You shouldn’t let a guy get that close, Princess, especially not twice,” he sighs, lips still curled, “because if you let me that close again, I won’t be leaving without a kiss,” 

And you could only stare after him as he left — fingers touching your ear he had whispered against, lips pursing, as you huff, cheeks burning as you step inside your building, burying your face in white fluff of the polar bear that looked a little too much like someone’s hair. 

“Idiot.” 

~~~~

You’re avoiding me. 

Satoru wasn’t wrong. You were — but not exactly on purpose. Or at least you didn’t think so. It had been the third time you had turned him down in the last week. Although, today’s wasn’t intentionally so. You stewed in a corner of the bar, eyes glancing at your phone — what was really an appropriate time to leave a work-sanctioned event without looking completely anti-social? 

It was never really fun coming to these events alone — but you knew if Satoru was here, you’d actually have a good time. You were almost surprised he hadn’t shown up at your place or your work to see you — all he had done is text you. And why did that almost disappoint you?

You checked the time again, met with the notification of Satoru’s message again before you swiped it away out of sight. But he wasn’t out of mind. He hadn’t been for days. You rubbed at your temples — you hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep since your day at the amusement park, thoughts spinning in circles and it was all his fault. You had done everything to get him out of your head — minimize contact, not see him, even drag yourself to an event like this — but still, you stared at your phone screen again, the ghost of his words still warming your ear. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

Fuck. What were you doing? You took a long swig of your drink, hoping the alcohol could erase some of that night out of your mind. The last thing you needed to be thinking about was Satoru Gojo. 

“So who’s the guy who has been picking you up after work?” 

You nearly choked on your drink. Really? You downed your drink, hoping you can ignore the question if you take long enough downing the searing concoction that the bartender had handed you, maybe they would let you off the hook. But as you finish the drink, you only find your coworkers staring back at you still. The hush that fell over this group of women was far too reverent for a conversation about a man. 

“He’s my little cousin’s best friend,” you reply, ordering another drink — you were going to need it, and the women exchange glances, fake smiles plastered on their lips. 

“He’s not your boyfriend?” and a strange twinge settles in your chest at the question, poking and prodding your tongue to say no, no he wasn’t, but you almost didn’t want to. 

“No, he isn’t,” and the women grin amongst each other, “if you would excuse me—” 

“Wait, wait, we just started talking, come on now,” you sigh internally, as they order another round of drinks as they corral you to their table, maybe after this you could finally leave. 

~~~

“What’s got you so down?” Suguru slides into a seat across from Satoru — Satoru who couldn’t stop checking his phone to see if you had replied. 

“What do you mean?” he sighs, he shouldn’t have sent that text earlier. He shouldn’t push so much, he’s already pushed enough with his comment. God, why the fuck did he say that? What if you thought he was a creep—what if you thought he was disgusting? What if— 

“You look pathetic,” Suguru sips his coffee in his hand, scrolling through his phone, “who is it?” 

Satoru sits up, locking his phone, tucking it away as if it would incriminate him — flashing your name across the screen like it was plastered over his mind, “what do you mean?” 

“I’ve never seen you like this, you keep checking your phone — you barely can keep track of it most of the time,” he shrugs his shoulders, “I figured you must have grew a dick and started liking someone,” 

“Look who’s talking — when’s the last time you dated someone again?” And Satoru catches the crumpled up paper Suguru tosses, “don’t get on your high horse if you don’t want the same thing back,” 

“At least I’m not waiting like a lovesick puppy over my phone,” Suguru mutters, taking another sip of his drink, and that’s when a phone ringing cuts through the silence — that was your ringtone, the very one he set to know when you’d call — just so he wouldn’t miss it, “looks like your waiting by the door paid off,” 

“Fuck off,” Satoru mumbled, walking off with his phone as he picked up, “hello?” 

“Suguru!” Satoru’s brow furrowed at the sound of your cousin’s name leaving your lips, “can you pick me up plz—“ your words were slurred, sounds of chatter cutting through the background. 

“Princ—“ you hiccuped, a small groan leaving your lips. 

“You can’t tell Satoru, he’ll come here and my coworkers won’t stop asking me about him,” you sigh again, mumbling, “why does he have to be so—ugh, it’s not fair for someone to be that pretty—“ 

Pretty? 

His cheeks burned, as he covered his mouth with his hand, trying and failing to bite back a stupid smile on his lips — it’s not fair for you to be this cute. He would have preferred ‘handsome’ or ‘perfect’ or ‘your boyfriend’ — but he could settle for pretty. 

“Anyway!” You cut his thoughts off, “could you come get me?” And Satoru bit his lip, glancing at Suguru — he could tell Suguru to get you, he could, but the odds of you letting something slip to Suguru—- “remember you can’t tell Satoru—“ 

—was really high. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right there, and I won’t tell him,” he adds, because you already had. 

~~~

“How did you find out where I work?” Satoru didn’t know after so many years that there were still new things to learn about you still — and one thing he had learned tonight was that —- you pouted at him, stumbling slightly as he came to a stop in front of your building — you were really whiny when drunk. 

“I picked you up there, remember?” he lightly flicked your forehead that only made you huff, “now do you have your keys?” 

“Do you know how annoying you are?” And he has to bite back a laugh at your scrunched up face. 

“I do, sweetheart, but I’d love to hear you tell me,” you scoff, crossing your arms only to immediately uncross to dig through your purse for your keys, tossing out several things that Satoru catches or picks up. 

“You come to my work and pick me up, and act all swoon worthy, and perfect, and you look like that—“ 

“Like what?” he can’t hide his smile this time, and your brow furrows as you pull out your keys, lips opening and closing, until you purse them. 

“Like that,” you grumble as you teeter on your feet again, before he supports you, and he swore he heard you mumble, “so disgustingly handsome,” 

And he’s glad your eyes are half closed and focused ahead, otherwise he knew you’d smack him for the grin on his face. 

“Oi, don’t—“ and you don’t listen, nearly falling over as you unlock your door, whole body weight leaned against it, but his arm slips around you, holding you up from face planting into your floor, “you’re gonna break your neck, Princess,” 

“You wouldn’t let that happen,” You break from his grip and lean up close, your breath warming his lips, your gaze half lidded, “not when you love me,” and his heart thuds against his ribs, rattling his lungs and bones alike, “that’s what you said, right?” 

You weren’t making this easy, not with your fingers now sliding up his chest, toying with the top button of his shirt, “I did—“ 

“So are you going to prove it?” And the floor feels as if it slips out from underneath him, and all he feels is you, only you — the brush of your fingers against his chest, the faint scent of lavender from your perfume that your aunt had gifted you, and the caress of your gaze against his lips, the same eyes he could easily lose himself in — if he wasn’t careful. 

But he had to be careful — because it was you. 

“But—“

“But what?” it would be so easy to kiss you, when you were only half a breath away, lips parted and gaze asking him to do so, to just lean in—but he can’t.

Not like this. 

His thumb runs down your lips, your eyes fluttering shut, fingers sliding to cup your jaw, and he leans in — feeling your breath catch—

But he only flicks your forehead, drawing a soft yelp from you. 

“I’d like you to remember our first kiss,” and he’s corralling you into bed after that, your body keeling over into the soft mattress, as he’s able to wriggle you under the comforter. Your body relaxes into the plush bed, eyes shut, as your muscles loosen and unwind, while Satoru stands over you, the exact opposite — muscles taut and mind whirring. 

Fuck.

“You never make it easy, do you, Princess?” he mutters under his breath, swallowing thickly as he scrubs a hand down his face, “good night,” his fingers ghost over the swell of your cheek, before turning to leave—

And your fingers caught him around the wrist, eyes half open as you stared up at him, a pout on your lips but now for an entirely different, but somehow the same reason—

“Stay,” one word nearly had him crumble right there — and how pathetic was that? Maybe Suguru was right — he was no better than a puppy at your beck and call — waiting by the door for his master to return. And he almost didn’t mind — if you always came home to him.  

“Princess, you have to go to sleep—“ he could easily break from your grip, fingers wrapped loosely around his wrist, but your grasp may have been very well made of iron with how you had pinned him into place — an entomologist pinning their butterfly in their display. 

“Don’t wanna sleep alone,” a slight whine in your voice makes him waver again, but he had a problem with sleeping beside you—

He shifted in place, adjusting himself, a somewhat big problem thst wouldn’t go away — no matter how many times he thought about Gakuganji in his underwear — especially when you were looking at him like that, half dressed in bed with a pout on your lips and want in your gaze—want that he never thought would be for him. 

“Please?” And that’s all it takes, his thumb rubbing against your fingers — because he could never say no to you. 

~~~~

“Are you okay?” 

Satoru was never left alone — not since he had managed to wander off alone when he was five. It took several hours and a dozen security guards to find him at a bakery, having his third piece of cake. And when he was brought home, he was told just how many ways that could have went wrong — what could have happened to him, and most of all — how badly it could have made his parents look. 

After that, he couldn’t remember a time that his hand wasn’t clutched by a caretaker or escort — from school to home to anywhere else he wished to go. But he never wished to go anywhere, not with a stranger at his side. 

It was only when he met Suguru that he was allowed to go out without someone hovering over his shoulder. But without warning — warning that if any incident would mean he would be stuck back in his daily life. But that meant when he got distracted in the pastry section of the supermarket — looking for the exclusive mochi he desperately wanted — he found himself alone, with you and Suguru nowhere in sight. 

“Suguru?” Satoru called, head whipping around, chest thudding as the white noise of the market grew louder. His gaze falls, ears ringing with all that could go wrong, back to the life with no one at his side, only strangers— 

“Toru?” Satoru’s gaze snaps up, your hands on your hips, your head tilted, “you okay?” And he’s quickly wiping away his tears, sniffling softly, your hand finding the top of his head, “i got you something,” and you hold out a mochi in front of him, and he blinks. 

“You found it?” He’s blinking and your lips curve into a pretty smile. 

“Anything for you, Satoru,” your fingers run through his hair, “Satoru? Satoru—“ 

His eyes flutter open, finding you leaning over him, your tousled hair in messy tangles, “finally awake?” And a soft chuckle on your lips as you speak, rubbing your eye, flinching as you rub your temples, “what exactly happened last night?” 

“You mean besides you calling me pretty?” And your jaw drops, biting your lip, “and begging me to stay? Didn’t know you liked my company that much, Princess,” 

You glare at him, “well with charm like that—“ you mutter, when it occurs to you, “why did you sleep on the floor? And with that?” You point to the polar bear plushie he used as a pillow last night. 

Not his most preferred bedfellow. 

Always full of surprises, his cheeks burn, and he only can hope it doesn’t show on his face, hidden behind a cheeky smile, “Didn’t know you were so eager to share a bed with me, sweetheart,” and you roll your eyes, “I have to warn you, I have a tendency to cuddle—“ and you smack him with a pillow, he sighs, “someone wasn’t too keen on sharing her pillows with me, so this was the best I could do,”

You snort, as you take the offending plushie from him, “Did you do something to him?”

He tilts his head, “Eh?” And you hold up the polar bear plush, “what could I do to him?”  

“Someone did threaten to toss him out into the ocean so he could join his family,” 

“I can do a lot of things, but I can’t solve global warming, Princess,” and you bite back a laugh, “I was on my best behavior with him last night, even though he’s a shitty pillow,” and you didn’t have to know how he had slapped him a couple times. 

But even so, you bite your lip, looking down as you toy with your comforter, “why did you come?” 

He blinks, “what do you mean?” 

“You could have sent Suguru, but you came, and you stayed, on the floor,” and he curls his lips. 

“Well what kind of fake boyfriend would I be?” And you roll your eyes, still waiting for an answer, and his voice grows soft, “you know why, Princess,” 

“I do, but I don’t,” you murmur, fidgeting with your blanket as you chewed on your bottom lip, “my coworkers couldn’t stop talking about you last night, they kept saying how handsome you are, how wonderful, how perfect—“ 

“Should I be less handsome or perfect? Because don’t know if that’s possible—“ and it earns him another whack with the pillow, but he only catches it, “you say that like it’s a bad thing,” 

“It’s not, but I don’t know why after all these years, you still want me,” you sigh, words pushing past your lips,  “you could have anyone, Satoru,” 

“If I just wanted anyone, I wouldn’t have fell in love with you,” and you bury your face in your pillow, gaze peeking down at him. 

“You say that with such ease, how do you know what love even is? I don’t know if I know what it is,” you add, mumbling under your breath, and his eyes can’t help but follow the way your fingers run through your hair. 

“I don’t think I need to know when I feel it,” Satoru sat up, dangerously close to you, within reach yet so far out of it, “do you need to know to see the sky is blue? Do you need to know to feel pain when you burn yourself?” 

“Didn’t know you were taking philosophy classes with Suguru,” and he snorts, shaking his head, “Satoru—“ 

“Like I said before, Princess, just give me some time,” his fingers reach for you, and your breath catches, before he slowly smoothed your hair out, “and I’ll win you over,” 

Your eyes flicker to his, and god, he wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss you, but he couldn’t. He had to be patient. He couldn’t push you — he wanted you to want him just as much. He would make you fall into his arms willingly, and you’d kiss him — not the other way around. 

“Want some breakfast?” your lips curl into a soft smile, the very same smile that he had fallen for time and time again. 

“You offering to cook me breakfast?” 

“Just wondering what would shut you up the quickest,” and he has half a mind to reply with ‘your lips,’ but he decides against it, “pancakes?” 

~~~

“I can feel you staring,” 

Even with your back turned to the stove, bowl in hand as you whipped the batter with the whisk, hoping your laser focus on the pancakes would help you distract yourself. But it did little when you could feel his gaze sticking in your back, spotlights on every little movement — something that wouldn’t have bothered you before — but after last night—

This was why you never drank. 

You covered your face with the back of your hand, cheeks burning, as you placed the bowl down, what had your life become? 

“C’mon you can’t just let a guy like that go,” one of the women from work nudged you — you couldn’t remember if her name was Kanae or Kanao — handing you a refill of the drink you had gotten, “he certainly seems into you from the way he looks at you,” 

“If he isn’t, I’d take him off your hands,” Saki slurred, nearly spilling her drink, “he seems to like you. Is there really nothing between you two?” 

“Not really,” you sipped your drink, if confessing to you after over a decade was nothing, “he’s just a friend,” and he was — a friend who was your fake boyfriend. 

“You know with how you started, I thought your love life would be a lot more interesting,” Kanae sighed far too loudly, as she took another long swig of her cocktail. 

“Well we’ve talked a lot about what you guys are but we haven’t asked how you feel,” Saki grinned, sloppily drunk yet somehow masterful with her questions, “how do you feel about him?” 

And how did you? If someone asked you a few weeks ago, you would said he was just your little cousin’s best friend, a childhood friend — and you wouldn’t have thought twice. But now, he has given you so much to think about. Would you be this hesitant if you two haven’t met as kids? If he wasn’t Suguru’s best friend? If he didn’t seem so far out of your league? 

Maybe. But you were never good at going for things you wanted — or accepting things as they were. Even with Naoya, you knew you should have broken up with him — you knew he was toxic, and yet you stayed — because it was easier. 

And maybe it was easier to push Satoru away than to face how you felt.

Fuck, you were too drunk for this — you needed to get out of here, “excuse me,” you manage to slip away into the bathroom, washing your face, leaning over the sink. 

You held your forehead, steadying yourself against the cold porcelain, fingers digging into the rim of the sink — eyes burning as your head throbs, a wave of nausea pulsing through your stomach. Fuck, there was no way that you could get home alone. 

You pulled out your phone and scrolled — who the fuck would you call? The only people you knew were your family and…

Nope. No. Not an option. 

You found Suguru’s number and tried to text, only to find your eyes blurring, and you knew if you sent a message he would be holding over any typos or fuck ups over your head forever. 

You found his name, your head spinning as you clicked and called. 

He didn’t pick up.

“Fucker,” you mumble, trying to hit his name again, your head spinning, and finally someone picked up—

And then you woke up in bed. A soft groan fell from your lips, knives prodding at every inch of your brain, memory blended and choppy as you drew into consciousness. You were home, your eyes fluttering open to sunlight illuminating your bedroom, a dull stiffness in your muscles that makes you stretch, turning on your side only to be met with a sight. 

Satoru Gojo. Asleep on your floor, cuddling the plush polar bear he won for you. You stared, blinking, wondering if blinking away the sleep would somehow blink away Satoru too (it did not unfortunately). So you did the only other thing you could think of — take a picture. 

As you glanced from the image to him, bits and pieces came back — from your drunken ramblings on the phone to the ones in person, your cheeks burning as you buried your face in your comforter before staring down at him. Was it possible to die of embarrassment? You were really testing those limits. 

But even so, as you watched him sleep on top of the plushie, the only thing you could wonder was why had he stayed? He could have left after you fell asleep, or even before that, there wasn’t much you could have done to stop him. But he stayed, even on the floor, rather than anywhere else. 

“So?” you didn’t need to turn from the stove to know he was grinning, “can’t I enjoy the show, Princess?” 

“If you’re enjoying it so much, how about you become part of it and help?” you offer him a spatula, as he makes his way over, leaning over you, his body brushing against yours, but you ignore it all the same, eyes focused on the task instead on the warmth blooming from his touch, “I’ll spoon and you flip,” 

The two of you work in silence, as you spoon batter onto the griddle and he flips the pancakes — and it’s only when you’re both just about done that you glance over, and his lips are curled, “What are you smiling about?” and he shakes his head, as he flips the last of the pancakes onto the stack, “Satoru—“ 

“I just never really have made breakfast like this before, or had someone make it for me,” he scratches the back of his head, “my parents always had chefs or maids or someone make me all my meals, and even when I moved out, I always cooked alone or bought my meals out,” he shrugs, as he turned the stove off, “it reminds me when you’d make me and Suguru instant ramen after we came in from playing outside,” 

You snort, “You remember that?” You would get stuck making ramen for the two of them, tossing some seasoning and sauces into the mixture along with an egg, “I always put too much black pepper. I thought you hated it,” 

“But I always finished,” he added, and he did, even if his cheeks were burning red and eyes watering by the end of the bowl. Your lips curl at the memory of him at the age of twelve downing an entire glass of water and spilling it all over the front of himself. 

“Well I can make a lot more than instant noodles now,” you have Satoru set the table while you start to clean up, turning on the sink. You hear the clink of plates and utensils behind you, as he sets them down on the table, but you can feel his gaze fall over you even as your back is turned. 

“I’m going to need some proof — there were a few times you almost burned those noodles,” and you pout, turning with your hands on your hips. 

“Oh you want me to prove it now?” You turn, running your finger discreetly up the side of the used mixing bowl, finger full of batter as you walk up to him, hands behind your back. 

“And how’re you gonna do that, Princess?” the corner of his lip quirks upwards, as you step close up to him, and god, he’s fucking tall — and it kind of pissed you off — all these boys shoot up like fucking weeds, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t knock him down a bit. 

“Close your eyes, and find out,” he raises an eyebrow, suspicious, but still he obeys — good boy, the praise runs through your head to the tip of your tongue, but you bite it and the words back alike. And you’re so close, you can see his snow white eyelashes fan out against his cheeks, and he’s so unfairly pretty, 

For now. 

You’re so close, you nearly feel his body warmth radiate your skin — and you swear you hear his breath hitch — and it would be so easy to lean forward— “Princess — what—” 

And then he gasps when you smear pancake batter down his cheek, a snort leaving your lips as he gapes at you, mouth ajar. He blinks, his hand reaching for his cheek, before he stops when his eyes flit to your batter caked finger, “You—” 

You’re giggling, trying to stop yourself from doubling over at his expression, “What? I just wanted to give you a taste of my cooking before you tried it,” and he frowns at you for a moment, before his lips curl deviously, tilting his head. 

“Is that right?” and his fingers run through the smeared batter, caking his finger tips before he’s stepping towards you, “then it’s fair, if I make you taste it too—“ and you’re trying to back up, giggles leaving your lips,  but he catches you by the wrist. 

“Satoru—“ you whine as you’re trying to squirm away, “let go!” but he only pulls you close, your body nearly bumping against his — and it was your turn for your breath to catch, cerulean irises stealing the air from your lungs as you drowned in them, “hey—“ 

“Just how much are you gonna tempt me, Princess?” and you should step away, but his fingers around your wrist send warmth blooming down your arm, straight to your chest, and you can’t bring yourself to step away. 

“And how am I doing that?” His fingers tug you closer, thumb brushing against the inside of your wrist, before he leans close. 

“You know exactly how,” and your glance flickers from his gaze to his lips, and back again, resisting the urge to shut your eyes — but you don’t have to, when he smears the batter all over your cheek. 

“Toru!” You stare at him, and he’s laughing, as you grab at him, only for him to slip away, “I’m gonna kill you—“ and you move towards the sink, batter covered bowl still inside, “oh just you wait—“ 

But your beeline is cut short by his grip, arm darting around your middle, as he pulls you back. You gasp, struggling in his arms in vain — fuck his stupidly toned arms,  “you shouldn’t start something you’re not ready to finish,” his words are said against your ear, but they rush down your body in almost a shudder. 

His lips are an inch or two from yours, you would barely need to lean to reach them — the words of your coworkers ring in your ears 

“Who said I wasn’t?” His eyes find yours, his fingers tilting your chin ever so slightly, when your phone rings. 

You jerk slightly at the sound, your eyes flickering to the name across the screen and see Suguru’s name flashing on the screen. 

“It’s Suguru,” and Satoru lets go of you, as you make your way to the phone, and you swear you hear him mutter something under his breath, “what did you say?” you don’t pick up the phone but a few texts come through anyway. 

“Nothing,” he scratched the back of his head, “what did he say?” 

“He’s asking if I wanna come over for dinner tonight, said you’re gonna be there too?” And you raise an eyebrow, as Satoru fishes his phone out of his pocket and glances at it. 

“Apparently I am,” you turn on the faucet, cleaning your face off, offering Satoru a damp tissue. “Guess this won’t be the last meal we’re sharing today,” 

“Guess not,” his fingers brush yours when taking the tissue, trying to clean the batter off his cheek but only spreads the mess. You snort, as you take the napkin from him holding his face by the chin, “so how’re we gonna play it?” 

“Play what?” You toss the napkin away, both of you taking a seat at the table. 

“Did you forget?” He stabs a pancake and places it in his plate, “we told your aunt we’re dating — and that we’re hiding it from Suguru, and you just agreed to dinner with both of them,” 

Fuck. 

✧ a/n: hi it's been quite a while T_T. sorry work has been so busy. i haven't had a moment to post, and now i had to split this up because it just got too long lmao. part two will come later, i'm going to be prioritizing my kinktober fics. thank you to @coffee-and-geto for betaing :)

✧ taglist: @satorusmochis , @celestialgojo , @sugurubabe , @being-me-is-not-a-sin , @strawberryfanatic01 , @cira273 , @sobbangchan , @hiraethwrote , @peppertoastuniverse , @dreamtardisspace , @redmangotango , @h4ru-h4ruu , @anpacax0 , @theshylittleelfgirl , @hyori2 , @elliesndg , @maddietries , @roses-can-be-deadly-too, @vernasce-blogs , @mrsoikawa17 , @spider-fan72 , @haoxiaoxi , @horchatacow , @lovemoreworrylessv, @maybe-a-bi-witch , @missroki , @rubyarerosies ,, @ranatherealestsigma , @svt-backup , @catsgomurp , @sakurastorm , @forest-fruits-jam , @lemonpoppy-seed , @goddess-ofthe-godless , @notgoodforlife , @johannakhalafalla , @fushitoru , @kentosbutterfly , @augustwinesworld

[suiana]

yandere! cheater and gn! reader who's in their villain arc...

you've suspected that something was up when your boyfriend started to get busy with his work, coming home late, hiding his phone from you...

of course you just wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt that he really was just stressed from his work. he was yourboyfriend after all. you had to trust him, didn't you?

well everything was shattered when you found one of his side chicks under your shared bed. she was naked, only wearing a pair of undies while holding in her pee.

"wtf why are you hiding under here?"

"your bf doesn't want u to know that he's cheating. told me that he'd kill me if i came out."

yeah, so the girl was an asshole to get with your man when she knew that he was in a relationship but at least she told it to your face straight up. also she pissed herself while getting out from the bed so there's that.

meanwhile, your boyfriend was sobbing and crying when he came home. you had found out of his side affairs, a side he never wanted you to find out about. to be honest, your boyfriend didn't know why he he got with others in the first place. he had everything he could ever want in you. you made him feel alive, all the good things you know. being with you was like a dream come true and he constantly felt like tearing out his skin from how happy you made him.

you were his god.

oh, yeah, thinking about it now that's probably it. he felt that you were too good for him and didn't want to taint you. which... was why he resorted to sleeping with others.

shitty move, yeah he knows. don't need to repeat it.

but you... why were you so forgiving? you welcomed him back with open arms, sobbed a little and told him how hurt you were! he thought you'd have up and left by now!

but you didn't.

he knew you were too good for him, he had to treat you better now. he just had to, this was obviously you giving him a second chance, right? oh he just loves you so much!

unfortunately for him, it wasn't a second chance. no, you were about to absolutely ruin this man.

it started with the small things. small rumours about him ranging from how he had a small dick to how he's a pushover... you needed to start your plan slow, you know. tear his reputation of a good and sensible man bit by bit. gotta build up that tension teehee >w<

then from the rumours, you started manipulating the people close to him. crocodile tears, white lies, and a whole pity party for yourself... telling his friends and family members how your boyfriend was an absolute shit of a boyfriend, how he didn't treat you right and how he was the worst an alive... well, it wasn't much of a lie. he did spoil you and treat you like a deity but if he really treasured you why would he cheat in the first place? there's no space left in your life to pity him.

the most important part was to constantly reassure him that you loved him and to make sure that he never finds out that you were the one ruining his life from behind the scenes. can't let him find out that his angel lover is the one that's bringing him to social death now!

by this stage, your boyfriend was completely dependent on you. everyone around him was looking at him like he was the absolute scum of the earth. where did the rumours come from? why was everyone avoiding him? he couldn't even go to work without his coworkers side-eyeing him like he grew an extra head! he's just lucky he didn't get fired-

oh and what do you know. he got fired.

he comes home crying, an absolute mess and a shell of the man that he used to be. what was once a confident and charming man is now a desperate and pathetic boyfailure.

"baby i got fired, i'm so sorry. i don't deserve to be with you."

his arms wrap aorund your legs, tears staining your pants as he seeks comfort from the only person still left by his side. yes, you're the only person left dying for. even his own parents desserted him, yet you stayed. he's so thankful-

"yeah, you're right. you don't deserve me."

it's like time stops the second the words fall from your lips. he slowly looks up at you, eyes widening in horror as his tears dry up. what? was he growing delusional? he must've heard you wrong. no way his beloved god just said that!

"haha... you're so sweet baby. joking around in a time like this-"

"i'm not joking. you don't deserve someone like me."

you slap his hands away, looking down at him as he remains on his knees on the floor. you had a smug smile, expression all cocky as you even started to laugh.

"haha! did you really think i wanted to stay with you? fuck no! i have standards okay? i really didn't want to stay with a cheater!"

your boyfriend didn't know what to think. what were you saying? he doesn't understand. is this a late april fools prank? the way his heart was clenching and the way he felt his face paled shows just how much he doesn't like your words.

"babe stop-"

"i hate you god damnit. i really thought you'd be the one for me but no! you just had to go ahead and cheat!"

but you didn't listen to him.

"let's break up."

oh yeah, you hear that? that's the sound of his heart shattering.

he quickly crawls over to you, face pale as he grips onto your pants tightly. his hands shook with each word he uttered, tone desperate as tears streamed down his cheeks once more.

he never thought he'd start begging for someone to stay when it was usually the opposite but... you were his god. the one he's devoted his entire life too.

so he'll gladly get on his hands and knees for you if he has too. you can't leave him. he doesn't want to be alone.

"please! forgive me! i know i did something wrong but i'm trying! you can't leave me too!"

he looks up at you, face completely flushed as he continues to turn himself into an even bigger pathetic mess. he doesn't care what he looks like now. he's practically lost everything. he has nothing left to lose.

"i promise i'll be better! i haven't cheated since you found out last time! d-doesn't that count for something?"

he gives you a shaky smile, as though that would convince you.

it wasn't.

in response to his words, you could only give a disgusted expression, kicking him away before walking past him to the front door. what a pathetic man he was.

"you know, you look best when you're like this."

you state, glancing at him with a smile before turning to leave his house. well, there's that. your plan was complete and your now-ex boyfriend was absolutely destroyed.

so why did it feel like... something bad was about to happen?

you quickly look back at him, keeping your cool and remaining nonchalant before you feel the blood drain from your face. your best friend?! where did they come from?! and the fact that your crazy ex was holding a knife to their neck-

"no... don't leave me... you can't leave... i have no one else but you..."

what were you supposed to do now that he was holding your best friend hostage?

[simpingforheros]

Jason’s Wife?!

Pairing: Jason Todd X Female! Reader

Summary: Meet Mrs. Todd?! Jason got eloped and he doesn’t intend on sharing his blushing bride just yet.

Warnings: SMUT, Fluff, Established Relationship, Eloping, Jason being an ass to his family (for good reason), Jason calling Reader Ma (can’t remember who wrote about that, please tag them because I love this headcanon), P in V, unprotected sex (don’t advertise for the unsafe sex, put some breading on yalls chicken before dumping it in oil) , Oral (m receiving), Body Worship, Phone/Facetime during the deed, Exhibition Kink, Mating Press, Slight Breeding Kink, Degradation, Praise, crying kink??,TOXIC-ish And POSSESSIVE! Jason Todd is back, Traumatizing Dick again.

Author’s Note: Thank you guys so much for the praise I got on my last Jason Todd Fanfic! I didn’t know you guys would like my first smut that much so I made a part 2. Enjoy your next fix you horny bastards (jk I love you guys )

AN: This is Part 2 to Jason’s Girl??, so go read that for some context. Also a quick shout out to the mutual who started my spiraling decent into his madness, @jjenthusee , who was the main inspiration because of their amazing artwork! Also I’m sorry this was late and I don’t update as often, I’m in my second semester in a health major and I’m stumped man. I’ll update when I can I promise.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Jason Todd is a lot of things. He’s known for bad things and good things. It depends on who you ask.

A menace, a murderer, a zombie, an asshole, etc.

A son, a brother, a hero….

But there’s two things everyone can agree on.

1). He’s a good boyfriend.

For the last 6 months since Jason finally revealed his secret girlfriend of two years, the Bat Family learned just how much of a better person Jason was when (Y/N) was around.

His voice was softer and kinder to others. His temperament was more patient and his fists stayed loose. Her presence acting like a balm to sooth his soul as soon as he feels her comforting hand on his skin.

There were obvious moments of trouble, such as little squabbles or one gets snappy at the other, but normally they sort it out. Even if Bruce and the rest of the family didn’t know her for long, they knew that she had the backbone to handle Jason and give him what he needed without babying him.

Jason even shows his love for her in goofy ways, such as wearing matching shirts or color coordinated outfits. The two are now known for their Friday date nights and lazy Saturdays where they don’t wanna be disturbed. Their late night rides or their silent evenings where either a book or controller is in hand.

Red Hood is known for lingering around certain streets where she would be at when she had to work late, and he always had a bottle of water or granola bar he ‘mysteriously appeared’ out of thin air.

Jason was known for being proud of building the healthiest relationship he’s ever had with someone who didn’t fall in love with him because he was Bruce Wayne’s son, or Batman’s protege. She fell in love with Jason Peter Todd and all he was.

Which leads to the one thing that the family also knew him for.

2) Jason Todd would not tell anyone when he dropped down on one knee and asked (Y/N) to be his wife.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The proposal was a spontaneous to say the least.

Their usual Saturday routine of laying on the couch, too exhausted from the week to move. Jason laid on the opposite side as his beloved, her feet dangling off to the side of his hips as his own rested behind her shoulders. They both had a book in as they enjoyed their silence. The only noise coming from the soft patter of Frank coming over to lay on his adopted father.

The tabby cat that Jason claimed to not like despite the male cat clinging to him like glue. The cat jumped onto his stomach with a deep groan emitting from him. A soft giggle filled the room as she sets her book down and pulls the feline to her.

“I still don’t understand why my cat likes you more than me.” She comments as she strokes the tabby’s fur.

Jason scoffs as he carefully rolls off the couch and onto his feet. “Probably to spite me.”

He heads to the kitchen to grab them a drink as he hears one comment that seemed to change everything in one second.

“What’s gonna happen when we have a kid? Would you think they would prefer you over me or would we have another Frank?…”

The question was a hypothetical one, a normal one couples would ask just to make sound in the air. Jason would have probably answered light heartedly with a kiss or a smart ass comment to make her laugh, but it felt different. He felt different.

There wasn’t a ‘if’ in the question like it would or wouldn’t happen, but a definite of ‘when’ it would happen. Jason knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Hell, he managed to not fuck up a relationship he kept hidden for 2 years. He knew he wanted to marry her the moment he decided to open up and let her into his life by moving her in and introducing her to his family.

So, even if it was on an impulse, Jason returns back into the living room and as he placed their drinks on the coffee table as he kneels on the floor beside the couch. (Y/N) sits up as she smiles at him, unaware of the decision he made.

“Penny for your thoughts, Todd?” She asked playfully as she offers him an imaginary penny in between her pinched fingers.

Jason smiles as he takes her out stretched hand before kissing the back of it.

“Marry me.”

The seriousness in his eyes made her playful attitude dissolve to disbelief.

“What?…”

“I wanna marry you, (Y/N)…You are the everything I could ever want and don’t deserve. But I can’t imagine building a life like the one we have with anyone else. You are one of the few lights this dark world has and I wanna love and protect you for the rest of our lives.” Jason explains as he nervously massages her hand as his eyes shined with deep love and affection. “Even if I don’t have a ring yet and we are in our pajamas, will you accept me and let me become yours forever?”

Tears streamed down her face as she nods frantically. Her arms quickly wrapping around Jason’s neck and pulling him into a kiss.

Jason melts into her and begins to move to be on top of her on the couch until a sharp hiss makes him stop.

“Quiet, Frank…” Jason grumbles at the cat.

“Daddy is trying get some sugar from Mama~”

+++++++++++++++++

A week later, Alfred appeared extra peppy for the day. His duties were quickly done before the family was awake and his fidgeting gotten everyone concerned. Alfred was the normally level-headed gentle hand of the house, so seeing him so giddy made everyone nervous.

It wasn’t until he surprisingly left in one of his better suits and a gift bag that the rest of the Wayne Family just decided that he may be going to an event or some kind.

“Where do you think he’s going?” Tim asks his younger brother from behind a book.

Damian shrugs as he says, “How should I know?”

The answer wouldn’t come until later that evening. Alfred came back with both the brightest smile and red swollen eyes. In his hands were a single pale pink rose and a camera as he scurries to the study.

Tim, Dick, and Damian, who were scattered around the living room, followed out of curiosity. What’s gotten Alfred this way? An old flame? The thought of Alfred getting down and dirty made the boys shudder before they continue to the study and ultimately down to the Batcave.

“Yo, Alfred.” Dick calls out as he exits the elevator.

Alfred stood by the large chair over looking the Batcomputer as Bruce’s hulking form peaked over the leather. The clicking of the mouse playing in the background as Alfred turns his head to address Dick.

“Yes, Master Richard?” He says. In his hand was the camera with cables connecting it to the computer.

“Where have you been? You kinda left in a hurry…”

Tim jumps in as he says, “I mean, we aren’t trying to be rude, but you did seem kinda jumpy this morning.”

Damian’s words cut through the other two like ice as his eyes look at the monitor.

“Did Todd and his woman get married?”

Dick and Tim look back at Damian before their shocked expressions look up to the monitor. Their eyes widen in disbelief at the image before them.

Standing in a suit was a an absolutely beeming smile was Jason Todd with his hands interlocked with (Y/N), who was wearing a white dress. The dress didn’t look like the traditional floor length gown. Instead it was a backless chic dress with a bow on the back. Her hair was down and decorated with pearl ornaments as a matching ribbon choker was around her neck with a single aged pearl on it.

In their interlocked finders, a familiar set of rings shined . Martha Wayne’s sparkling diamond engagement ring and her wedding band was on (Y/N)’s finger as a matching wedding band was on Jason’s finger.

The surroundings didn’t look like a typical wedding venue with flowers and ribbons with a crowd of people. It was a courthouse, Gotham City Courthouse. On (Y/N)’s side stood Alfred holding a pale pink bouquet that was most likely the bride’s. What surprised them the most was a smiling Bruce on Jason’s side, a look of pride on his face that he rarely shown.

The boys break out of their shell as Dick complains.

“This can’t be real… Jason and (Y/N) got married without telling any of us….AND YOU LET JASON HAVE MARTHA’S RING!!” Dick snaps as his irritation grew. “You said I was gonna have it.”

Bruce sighs as he says, “I said that before you cheated on both of your girlfriends with each other.”

Alfred chuckles as he says, “And Master Jason specifically stated that he only wanted me and Master Bruce there.”

Tim frowns as he asks, “Why weren’t we invited?”

Alfred gives the boy a sympathetic look before reciting, “Miss (Y/N) and Jason only wanted a small ceremony and off what he said, ‘Damian makes (Y/N) uncomfortable when he calls her Jason’s woman and a distraction. Dick is plain out not invited because of reasons he knows why. And Tim can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life, so he’s not invited.’”

Damian tsks as he says, “I wouldn’t have wanted to go anyways.”

Dick was flustered as the images of the incident Alfred was referring to. He still can’t get her moans out of his head…

Tim pouts and says, “I’m gonna remember this…But why was Bruce invited then?”

Bruce responds with a smirk , “Because I was asked to give away the bride.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

As soon as the newly weds returned their apartment, the lust sprinkled down like hale. Her well manicured hair was now messy as his hands held her head. His mouth devouring her moans as her own lips kept up with his pace.

Her fingers desperately removing his tie as the shrilling ring of Jason’s cell phone fills the air. He ignores it in favor of trailing tongue against his bride’s as she slings off the tie.

“Gonna answer that?” She mumbles as his mouth begins to trail down her jawline. Jason doesn’t answer as his hands scoop up under her thighs to pick her up. Her giggles were music in his ears as he says,

“It’s probably just Tim or Dick. Probably bitching about the wedding…”

Jason carries his wife through the threshold of their apartment hallway as his lips remained on hers. Their vows sealed in teeth and tongues as he expertly guided them into the bedroom.

His phone finally stopped ringing as he places her on the bed. Hands groping and pulling off of clothing as he unwraps her down to her underwear and stockings. His mouth hot against her breast as she pushes his now unbuttoned shirt down his shoulders.

His other hand dipping into her underwear as he flicks her erected nipples like a guitar. Her sweet music filling the room as he’s met with a creamy cunt under her white thong.

“Fuccck, ma..” He moans against her breast. Jason pulls away with a devilish smirk as he runs his finger over her sopping folds, carefully avoiding her hole and clit. “I can’t tell what I like more…your pretty tits or your sloppy cunt…”

(Y/N) feels the wave of shameful arousal fill her stomach as she whines out, “Stop teasing me, baby. It’s our wedding day and you’re acting like a jackass…”

Her body jolts as he pinches her clit. Her hips jerking as she moans at the sensation. Jason had a look of faux sympathy before mumbling against the valley of her breasts.

“Oh, you’re right…” His voice barely audible to her as he begins to rub heart shaped patterns on her clit, making sure to dip down to her gasping pussy as he dips down. “I’m not acting like a good husband, ain’t I? Let me make it up to you, Mrs. Todd.”

His lips attached to her unabused nipple before his middle finger finally dips into her pulsing hole. His groan accentuated by the scraping of his teeth against her sensitive flesh. The feeling of her cunt sucking his one finger in making him light headed as her moans ringed out.

“Jason…stop teasing me…I want you…” She begs as her hips try to meet the thrust of his finger. He growls at her bossiness before yanking his finger out of her pulling her panties down her thighs.

Her eyes glared at him for the loss of stimulation before he quickly pops her pussy lightly. The wet slap of skin making her cringe in embarrassment before Jason begins to leave a trail of open kisses and bites down her body. Making sure to pay special attention to the matching tattoo on her hip before he mumbles to her with a lazy smile.

“Your wish is my command.”

Before he could dig into his meal, the shrill ring of his phone invades the space. He yanks his phone out of his pocket and looks at the screen before declining the call. He tosses the phone onto the bed as he glares at the offending device.

“Stupid Dick..” He groans before a soft hand on his face draws him back to her. Her gentle touch bringing peace to his mind as she pulls him up to press a soft peck to his lips.

His mind goes blank as she gently lures him to stand before she kneels down, trailing kisses down his exposed chest and his scars. Her love poured into his body as her lips traced his autopsy scars. Her eyes shining so pretty as she presses an extra long kiss to his matching tattoo on his Adonis belt.

The silent vow that was made a year and a half into dating on a drunk night out with Roy.

‘I am hers and she is mine’

“Let me be a good wife to you, Mr. Todd.” She whispers against his skin. Her breath like hot fire before her hands snake off his belt and trousers. Her mischievous eyes gleaming in lustful delight as Jason’s lip curls in between his teeth. His eyes almost glowing as she presses her warm lips against his clothed tip. His hand fisting into her hair as he hisses at her.

“Don’t you fucking tease me…”

*RING* *RING*

Jason glares at the phone before he snatches it up. He sees the familiar notification as his own image shown on the phone. FaceTime.

“Answer it.”

“What?” Jason asks in confusion before looking down to her. His surprise was suppressed with a hiss as she pulls his hard cock out of his underwear. Her hand lazyily stroking him as she gives him a look of faux innocence.

“Answer it. It’s rude to ignore family..”

Jason feels a smirk curled onto his face as he realizes what she wanted. His dick hardened to iron as he remembers why he fell for her.

She was just as fucked as he was.

With that, Jason schools his face as he answers the phone with an annoyed expression.

“What?” He says as the image of his brother appears on his phone screen.

Dick glares at Jason before snapping at him. “You got fucking married?! Without inviting any of us?!”

“Didn’t Alfred tell you why we didn’t want you guys there?” Jason asked in as much annoyance as he can muster as he felt the wet pull of lips around his cock.

His hand gripping her hair kept her from getting more than his tip in as he hides his reaction. Her tongue licking his tip like a kitten wanting milk.

“But we are family for fucks sake.”

Jason’s actual annoyance getting the best of him as he hisses,

“I’m sorry, but I recall you trying to fuck my wife.”

“THAT WAS BEFORE I KNEW YOU WERE DATING HER!!”

Jason becomes distracted as (Y/N) starts sucking him off. Her drool and his precum slowly beginning to coat her mouth and hand as it strokes what she can’t fit into her pretty mouth.

His brow furrowed as his pleasure and annoyance started to mix on his face. Jason decides to get some payback on both his wife and brother as he slyly mentions.

“Oh but you had no problem rubbing one out when I sent those videos.”

He pulls her closer to his pelvis to muffle her surprised moan. If he wasn’t on the phone, he would degrade her like a slut with how she acts when she remembers being recorded. Her cheeks hollow as Dick’s jaw drops as Jason mentions the videos.

“I-I..”

“Admit it.” Jason says, his voice grew more taunting. “You probably still jack off to the videos because you’re nothing but a loser who cheats on any good woman he gets because you’re scared of attaching to someone.”

Jason can feel her eagerness grow as she sucks harder, actually pulling him as deep into her throat as she can. He almost wanted to both laugh at how cute she was as she gagged around him and coo at how proud he was of her. Her jaw was gonna be hurting like a bitch either way.

Dick’s baffled expression almost made it better as his eyes shined with shame over what Jason knew to be true.

“That’s why Bruce gave me Martha’s ring.” Jason says as he forces (Y/N) to take him all the way down her throat. Her nose pressing into his light patch of black hair as Jason says. “fuck…I can fuck (Y/N) like I fucking hate her guts and she would take it because she knows I would rather swallow glass than fuck anyone else like I do her. To even love anyone halfway as I do her would be a sin…”

The fluttering feeling of her throat as her nails digged into his thigh affirming his conviction.

“I’m not afraid to get attached… As long as she lives, I’ll never let her go…”

He hangs up before Dick can respond as he yanks her back by her hair. Her coughing and gasping for air as she whine painfully at both the lost of his cock in her mouth and the painful grip on her scalp.

Jason releases her hair before kneeling beside her on the floor. His expression tender as he cups her face. Her light makeup look from the wedding was now smudged off with her mascara flowing down her face with her tears. Her lips puffy and wet from his assault on her mouth. Her body littered in forming bruises from his teeth. Her cunt sloppy and leaking a clear sheen down her thighs. Her cheek leaning into his palm as her eyes shined at him with nothing but love and desire.

“Fuck…” He groans before crawling inbetween her legs as he pushes her to lay down on the floor. His mouth back on hers as his throbbing erection lightly dragged against her fluttering pussy. The head catching her clit despite the watery resistance as she whimpers into his mouth.

“You look so pretty like this…” Jason says before sticking his tongue down her throats. Their tongues tangling for a moment before his hands cup her face and pull her away. “You feel it, don’t you?”

She whines as his hips rolled against hers. Her cunt angry as it fluttered around nothing. His nearly red dick twitching as it desires salvation in her temple as Jason breathlessly whimpers.

“Feel how bad I need you baby? Fuck I can’t stand it. I wanna fuck you every day so I can see you look like this.” He says as he wraps his hand his member. He slaps her pussy with it twice before dragging his head over her entrance, the heavy appendage dipping in slightly as he says.

“I wanna ruin you so good. You’re such a good pretty girl that I want to ruin and make as fucked up as me…”

Her gasps fill the room as he starts to bully his tip into her. Even though they were both well experienced with each other, every time she takes him feels like the first time with that delicious stretch.

His unusually talkative mood doesn’t let up as he pushes his hips into her, forcing her to take him.

“You’re so gorgeous…” He whispers as he pulls her legs over his shoulders as he grasps her hips, forcing them up as he starts to fill her to the hilt. “God, this pussy is unbelievable…gonna fill her up everyday and eat her out every night…”

His thrusts start off slow but hard as her hands desperately held onto what bit of Jason she could as he fucked her like a doll. Her whimpers and moans filling the air as the sticky sound of his balls smacking her ass.

His hot breath tickles her ears as his hips develop the torturous pattern of pistoling into her like a hard buck before rolling in a deep and filling thrust. Her eyes filling with tears and brain fog as he filled her lust sick brain with praise.

“Such a good little wife…a sweet little thing with a nice soft body for me…” He groans as his pace becomes brutal. His precision and memory impeccably beats anything he learned as a vigilante as he assaults her G-spot. Her eyes rolling back as lighting strikes her the brain as she begins to cry.

“Fuck. Fuck. fuck…” she sobs incoherently as Jason licks the tears off her face.

“You look so hot when your cry…” Jason moans as his thrusts start to become more sloppy. His reaches between them as he rubs tight circles on her clit as he thrusts harder into her soft cunt.

“Will you cry some more please?” He’s asked in a cruel tone. His eyes blown out with desire as he lets his full weight pin her down under him. His added weight making her pinned as she cries. Her stomach tightening at the overwhelming presence of him and his cock destroying her insides.

“I’m gonna fuck a baby into you, Ma…” He says as his own whimpers fall through. “Gonna watch you get swollen and carry a little perfect baby and know that you’re mine…that no one can love you like me… ain’t that right?”

Her impending orgasm blocking off all rational thoughts as her mouth hangs open. His hand pulls from her clit to her frustration and grabs a hold of her jaw. Forcing her to look at him as he says harshly.

“Who do you belong to ,Pretty Girl?”

Her eyes widen as she says, “You…I belong to you baby…”

Jason smirks as he starts thrusting faster. Her shrieks just music in his ears as she falls off the edge. Her vision clouded as white flashes in her vision. Her body nearly convulsing as her cunt squeezes Jason into his own orgasm. His warm seed flooding her quivering womb as he presses a kiss into her neck.

The pair remained still for a moment as they gasped for air. The natural chill of the room causing them to tremble at the stimulation. Her small hand moving first as she grabs his hand, her fingers playing with the gold band on his finger as she whispers.

“My husband…” A soft satisfied smile on her lips as Jason grins widely into her neck as he mumbles.

“All yours, Mrs. Todd.”

**********************

AN: Yea I didn’t know how to end this. 😭 I hope you guys like it because I’m not too sure if the smut is good or not. Let me know what you think as I’m trying to clear out the drafts. Again, Thank you @jjenthusee for inspiring these two fanfics and for being a great mutual.

*******************

@simpingforheros fanfic. I DO NOT CONDONE THE THEFT, COPYING, REPOSTING, AND PLAGIARISM OF MY WORK ON THIS SITE OR OTHER SITES WITHOUT CREDIT OR PERMISSION.

[moonlitstoriess]

Bound in Silence- Rhysand x fem!Reader part 2

A/n: 8.7k words! Phew! This was definitely a rollercoaster of emotions but, I hope you guys enjoy it!💕

Part 1 here

After surviving her fall, Y/n embarks on a path of healing while Rhysand begins to realize the truth about their bond. As Rhys grapples with guilt and confusion, Y/n must learn to rebuild her life. But when their paths cross again, Rhys will need to fight for her forgiveness, hoping to mend what was once broken.

She shouldn’t have survived.

The wind had howled in her ears as she plummeted from the cliff’s edge, the ground rushing up to meet her, a cold, hard end she had welcomed. The pain, the heartbreak—it had been too much, too consuming. But as the world around her blurred, she felt a sudden, violent impact, not against solid ground, but against something softer—brush and sand.

When she opened her eyes, it was not death that greeted her but the harsh light of dawn streaming through the trees above, the sound of waves crashing against the shore in the distance. She lay in a thicket, a tangled mess of branches and brambles that had broken her fall, offering her an unexpected refuge.

Her body ached with bruises from the impact, sharp pain flaring in her ribs and a throbbing headache pulsing at her temples. She felt the grit of sand embedded in her skin and the taste of salt on her lips. But she was alive.

Y/n struggled to sit up, her hands trembling as she pressed against the ground for support. Panic surged through her. The memories of the cliff, of the choice she had made, washed over her like a tide pulling her under. Had she really leapt to escape the torment of her heart? The betrayal she felt was still fresh, the sting of Rhysand’s indifference cutting deeper than any physical wound.

As she surveyed her surroundings, a dense forest framed her, the trees standing tall like silent sentinels. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground, and the distant sound of waves served as a haunting reminder of the world she had tried to leave behind. But where was she? She had no idea how far she had fallen or where this path might lead.

Y/n took a moment to catch her breath, the air crisp and sharp in her lungs. She was alone, utterly alone, with no family to return to, no familiar faces to seek comfort from. The weight of that truth settled deep in her chest. She had thought—foolishly—that Rhysand had been her salvation, her anchor in that hellish place. But in the end, she had meant nothing to him.

Pushing herself to her feet, she wobbled unsteadily, pain radiating through her ribs. The instinct to survive propelled her forward, one shaky step at a time. She didn’t know where she was going. The road ahead seemed just as empty as the one behind her.

But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

Each step felt heavier, and with every movement, she fought against the urge to collapse back to the ground. The memories of Rhysand—their stolen moments, their laughter, and the warmth of his presence—crashed over her like the waves she could hear in the distance. He had made her feel seen in a way she had never experienced before, and now that light was extinguished.

As she wandered deeper into the forest, the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows among the trees. Y/n found a small clearing where she sank to the ground, her body protesting at the sudden relief. She closed her eyes, letting the sounds of nature surround her, searching for solace in the rustling leaves and chirping birds.

What she realized, in that moment of stillness, was that surviving wasn’t enough. She needed to reclaim herself, to remember who she had been before the darkness took hold. The journey ahead would be long and fraught with challenges, but the thought of facing them alone no longer filled her with dread. Instead, it ignited a flicker of determination.

“Whatever lies ahead,” she whispered to the trees, “I will find my way.”

With that resolve, Y/n pushed herself back up, brushing the leaves from her clothes and glancing around. The forest was alive with the sound of chirping birds and rustling leaves, and she couldn’t help but feel that life, despite its challenges, was still worth fighting for.

She pressed on, each step feeling heavier than the last. The forest wrapped around her like a shroud, the branches swaying gently as if whispering secrets she couldn’t quite grasp. She staggered through the underbrush, branches snagging her clothes and tearing at her skin, but she hardly noticed. The pain in her ribs was a constant reminder of her fall, pulsing with each movement, and fatigue settled in her bones like a thick fog.

She tried to focus on the path ahead, but her vision began to blur, the edges of her surroundings fading in and out. She needed to find shelter, a place to rest and gather her strength. The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows that seemed to dance mockingly around her, urging her to give in to the darkness that threatened to swallow her whole.

With every step, Y/n felt herself growing weaker. Her legs trembled, and the world spun slightly around her. She stumbled, hitting the ground hard, the breath leaving her lungs in a gasp. Panic surged through her as she fought to regain her breath, but the pain from her injuries was overwhelming. She lay there for a moment, staring up at the canopy of leaves above, feeling utterly defeated.

Then, as she struggled to push herself back up, she heard voices in the distance, their laughter ringing through the trees. At first, she thought it might be a cruel trick of her mind, a hallucination born from the exhaustion and pain. But as the laughter grew closer, a flicker of hope ignited within her.

“Did you hear that?” one voice said, clear and bright. “I think someone’s out there!”

Y/n’s heart raced, a mix of fear and hope flooding her veins. She wanted to call out, to let them know she was here, but the words caught in her throat. She could only lie there, trying to steady her breathing as the voices approached.

Moments later, a group of travelers emerged from the trees, their expressions shifting from joviality to concern as they spotted her on the ground. They were a motley crew—rough and worn but with a kindness that seemed to radiate from them. The tallest among them, a woman with long, dark hair and bright blue eyes, rushed forward.

“Oh, gods! What happened?” she exclaimed, kneeling beside Y/n. “Can you hear me? Are you hurt?”

Y/n tried to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she looked up at the woman, her vision swimming as darkness crept at the edges of her sight.

“We need to get her out of here,” another voice said, a man with a thick beard who stepped forward. “She looks injured. We can’t leave her like this.”

The group quickly moved around her, their chatter fading into a distant hum as Y/n felt herself drifting. Hands gently lifted her, and though every movement sent jolts of pain through her body, the warmth of their concern began to wrap around her like a comforting blanket.

“Stay with us, okay?” the woman said, her voice soothing. “We’re going to help you.”

Y/n wanted to cling to those words, to believe that perhaps this was her chance to find solace. But the world began to fade, the faces of her rescuers becoming blurry as she lost her grip on consciousness. Just before the darkness took her, she felt a warm hand clasp her own, a connection that anchored her for one fleeting moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Velaris was a sanctuary, hidden from the world and its chaos, but even its beauty couldn’t soothe the turmoil within him. Rhysand leaned against the balcony railing of the townhouse, staring out at the starry sky, yet his thoughts were far from peaceful. Feyre was with Tamlin in the Spring Court, and every moment spent thinking about their time together made his chest tighten with frustration.

He had felt so powerless during her trials, watching from afar as she struggled, battling her fears and doubts. His heart had raced as he witnessed her strength, yet it ignited a fury within him that simmered just below the surface. Tamlin didn’t deserve her. He was blinded by his love for Feyre, unable to see the darkness creeping into their lives, a darkness that Rhysand feared would swallow her whole.

“Damn it, Feyre,” he muttered under his breath, clenching his fists. “You don’t belong there.”

The weight of the Night Court’s responsibilities pressed heavily on him, and he found himself retreating deeper into his thoughts. The war with Amarantha had left scars that would take time to heal. But all he could think about was Feyre’s laughter, the way her eyes lit up in defiance, and the warmth that enveloped him when she was near.

Suddenly, he felt a pang of icy cold hit his chest, a feeling of.....nothing overtaking him. Rhysands body shuddered. He could now feel a string of sorts a....a bond. A bond with her, with y/n. But why was it so empty?

A shiver ran down his spine, and he closed his eyes, reaching out instinctively through the bond he shared with Y/n. Instead of comforting warmth, there was nothing but an oppressive silence. It was as if she had vanished, leaving a void that echoed with despair.

Since when did I have a bond with her? The thought sliced through his mind like a blade. He had dismissed their connection, buried it under layers of his feelings for Feyre. But now, the absence of Y/n felt like a cruel twist of fate, a reminder of what he had ignored for too long.

Panic surged through him as he searched for any hint of her presence, any sign that she was safe. But all he felt was the chilling silence, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy that had once flowed between them.

“Y/n,” he breathed, the name feeling foreign on his tongue. “Where are you?”

He pushed himself away from the balcony railing, his heart pounding in his chest. He needed to know what was happening, to understand why the bond felt so strained, so distant. A part of him clung to the hope that she was simply out of reach, that she was safe and sound somewhere beyond his grasp.

But the gnawing sense of dread would not let him rest. He was tied to her in a way he had never fully understood, and now that connection was fraying at the edges, unraveling into something that filled him with an ache he couldn’t quite place.

It hit him then, like a thunderclap in the stillness of his thoughts: Y/n was his mate. The realization sent shockwaves through him, unraveling the tension in his chest and filling him with a potent mixture of dread and yearning.

She mattered. She had always mattered, perhaps more than he had ever let himself admit.

As he stood there, the weight of his decisions began to settle upon him. He had taken her for granted, focused solely on his feelings for Feyre while ignoring the depth of his connection with Y/n.

He had to find her. He had to understand what was happening.

~~~~~~~~~

Y/n awoke in a small, dimly lit room, the soft murmur of voices and the sound of footsteps moving outside the door barely reaching her ears. Her body ached, every movement sending sharp reminders of her injuries. She tried to sit up, but a firm hand gently pressed her back down.

“Easy,” a woman’s voice murmured. Y/n blinked, her vision clearing enough to see the woman from before—the one with long, dark hair and kind, blue eyes—sitting beside her. “You’re still hurt. Your ribs were bruised, and you were half-frozen when we found you. You need rest.”

Y/n grimaced, ignoring the throbbing pain as she forced herself into a sitting position. She wasn’t used to lying still. “I’m fine,” she muttered, but her body betrayed her words, her legs too weak to support her even if she tried to stand.

The woman, who had introduced herself as Lira, smiled gently. “Stubborn, aren’t you? It’s alright to let someone help you.”

Y/n’s eyes flicked to the door. The laughter of children and the hum of distant conversations filtered in from outside. She frowned. “Where am I?”

“A village,” Lira said, watching her carefully. “Small, but we’re a close-knit community. Everyone knows everyone here. We help each other, share what we have.”

Jealousy flared in Y/n’s chest, sharp and uninvited. A place where people lived in peace, helping one another without a second thought. It was so different from the life she knew—so far from the chaos and heartbreak that had led her here.

Y/n’s voice was rough as she asked, “How long was I out?”

“A few days. We did what we could to help you recover. But you’ve still got some healing to do.”

Silence fell between them. Y/n’s gaze remained on the door, but her thoughts were far from the village. Her mind returned to the cliff, to the crushing despair that had driven her to jump. She had wanted the pain to end—had thought it would, but here she was, still breathing, still hurting.

Lira’s voice broke through her thoughts. “How did you end up in that forest? You were in pretty bad shape when we found you.”

Y/n hesitated. She didn’t owe this woman her story—didn’t owe anyone anything anymore—but the weight of it pressed down on her, and maybe, just maybe, telling a small part of it would help ease the burden.

“I had a mate,” Y/n said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. Lira’s brow furrowed in sympathy, waiting for more. “He chose someone else.”

The words tasted bitter on her tongue, but they were the truth. Rhysand had never even known. Never knew that she had felt the bond snap into place, that the invisible thread between them had formed. It didn’t matter now—he had chosen Feyre, and that choice had shattered her.

Lira’s eyes were filled with gentle curiosity. “Why didn’t you tell him?”

Y/n shook her head, her throat tight. “It’s… complicated. He never knew, and by the time I realized, it was already too late. He… he was in love with her.”

Lira was quiet for a moment, processing Y/n’s words. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “That sounds… painful.”

Y/n didn’t respond, her gaze distant, as if she could still see the edges of Amarantha's court from where she sat. The love she’d seen in Rhysand’s eyes when he looked at Feyre had been undeniable. He had never looked at her that way, not even close.

“Maybe we can contact your family?” Lira suggested, trying to be helpful.

Y/n’s jaw tightened, her eyes flickering to Lira’s kind face. “I don’t have anyone.”

“No one at all?”

Y/n shook her head, a cold emptiness settling in her chest. She had no family left—no home, no place to return to. “It’s just me.”

Lira sighed softly, her brow creasing in thought. “Then stay here with us,” she offered, her voice warm. “At least until you’re healed, and after that… you can decide where you want to go.”

Y/n’s instinct was to refuse immediately. She had seen too much, been through too much, to believe in the kindness of strangers anymore. She didn’t trust it—not after what she had lost. And yet… this woman, this village… they didn’t know her, didn’t know what she carried, and still, they had taken her in.

“I don’t know if I can,” Y/n said, her voice barely audible.

“Why not?” Lira asked gently. “You’ve been through something terrible, that much is clear. But there’s no need to face it alone.”

Y/n glanced at her, doubt gnawing at her insides. Could she trust these people? Could she allow herself even a moment of peace in this quiet village after everything?

Lira smiled again, softer this time. “Just think about it. We’re not going anywhere.”

Y/n gave a small nod, her mind already spinning with the enormity of her situation. She had nowhere to go, no plan for what came next. Maybe, for now, she could stay here—just until she figured out what to do.

~~~~~~~~

Rhysand’s mind raced, the weight of realization crashing over him like a tidal wave. Y/n was his mate. It wasn’t something he could dismiss anymore, not after the sudden void he felt through the bond. For so long, he had tried to push aside the connection, telling himself that Feyre was his priority. And yet, here he stood, drowning in guilt and confusion as the truth settled in.

She had always been there, a steady presence in his life—loyal, fierce, and strong. He had admired her, even cared for her, but it wasn’t until now that he understood the depth of that connection. And now, she was gone. Or worse—hurt.

“Mother above,” Rhys muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. He had been so blinded by Feyre, so consumed by his need to protect her, that he had failed to notice what had always been right in front of him.

The bond had been subtle at first, an almost imperceptible tether that he had never fully explored. But now? Now it was like a raw wound, aching in a way that made his chest tighten. He couldn’t feel her—couldn’t sense her. She was gone from his awareness, and that terrified him more than anything else.

Rhysand clenched his jaw, his thoughts spiraling into a panic. What if something had happened to her? The Night Court had always been a place of sanctuary, but the world beyond Velaris was filled with dangers—dangers that Y/n, in her current state, might not be able to fend off.

“I’ve been a fool,” he whispered, the words bitter on his tongue.

Turning away from the balcony, Rhys stormed back inside the palace, his steps quick and determined. He couldn’t just stand here and do nothing. He needed to find her, to reach her through the bond, to bring her back if she was in danger.

But how? He had never explored this connection before, had never let himself dwell on what it meant. And now, with Y/n’s presence completely cut off, he wasn’t sure where to begin.

His heart pounded, and the gnawing fear clawed at his insides. He didn’t know if she was safe. Didn’t know where she was. But he would find her, no matter what it took.

Rhysand closed his eyes and reached deep into himself, seeking out the bond, trying to find any flicker of her. He focused on that missing warmth, on the piece of him that felt like it had been torn away. And in the quiet of his mind, a whisper—barely there—flickered. A spark of something. Pain. Despair.

He gasped, the sensation hitting him hard, and for the briefest of moments, he felt her—felt the depth of her agony, the exhaustion, the loss.

“Y/n…” he breathed, his voice low, anguished. Wherever she was, she was suffering.

Rhysand knew he had to act quickly. There was no time to waste. He had to find her before it was too late.

With a sharp breath, he called for his wings, already preparing to leave. He will explain everything to his family later. Y/n—his mate—needed him now more than ever.

Rhysand landed softly in the clearing where he had last seen Y/n, his heart pounding in his chest. The forest loomed around him, dark and quiet, the air heavy with the scent of earth and damp leaves. Shadows stretched long in the fading light of the moon, casting an eerie stillness over the scene. His wings rustled as they folded behind him, but his mind was already racing, already searching.

This was where he had last seen her—right here, among the trees and the underbrush. She had watched him and Feyre have their conversation after Amaranthas death. Y/n thought she was hidden within the trees but he felt her, he always felt her presence, one would always feel the presence of one's mate. But he was too much of a fool to realize it sooner.

He moved through the clearing, his eyes scanning the ground, searching for any sign of her. A broken branch, a trace of her scent—anything. But the air was thick with silence, and the bond between them was weak, almost nonexistent now.

"Y/n!" Rhysand’s voice echoed through the trees, but no answer came. His shadows spread out, feeling through the dark, desperate to find any trace of her. But there was nothing.

He pressed forward, moving deeper into the forest, the trees closing in around him. The memories of their time together—of her strength, her resilience—pushed him on, even as doubt gnawed at the edges of his mind. What if she was gone? What if she was hurt, or worse?

He couldn’t think like that. Not yet. He had to find her.

"Y/n!" he called again, his voice strained, raw with desperation. He stumbled through the undergrowth, his boots sinking into the damp earth, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of his failure bearing down on him.

But the forest remained silent.

Rhysand reached the edge of a small stream, the water trickling softly over the rocks. He crouched down, running his fingers through the mud, searching for any sign that she had been here. Nothing. His chest tightened, his heart hammering against his ribs as the realization began to settle in.

She wasn’t here.

His hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms as he rose to his feet. The bond was slipping away, unraveling like a thread being pulled loose. He had never let it guide him before, never truly acknowledged its presence, but now, as it faded, the loss felt like a wound he couldn’t heal.

He had to keep searching.

Rhysand pushed further into the forest, his movements frantic now, his wings twitching with the urge to take flight again, to cover more ground. The trees blurred around him, the shadows twisting and bending as his magic flared, but there was no trace of her.

No warmth. No bond. Nothing.

Hours passed in a haze of desperation and despair. The moon climbed higher in the sky, casting pale light through the canopy, but it did little to ease the gnawing fear growing inside him. By the time he reached the edge of the forest, Rhysand felt hollow, the weight of his failure pressing down on him with every step.

He was running out of time. Out of hope.

When he finally made the decision to return to Velaris, his wings were heavy, his body exhausted, but his mind couldn’t rest. The flight back felt longer than it should have, his thoughts spiraling into darker and darker places. What if she was gone for good? What if he had missed his chance—missed her?

The moment he landed on the balcony of the House of Wind, the emptiness hit him like a tidal wave. He dropped to his knees, his fingers curling against the cold stone as he tried to catch his breath, tried to steady himself.

But the bond was still faint. Almost gone.

He stood slowly, his mind racing. He had searched where he last saw her. He had searched the forest. But there was one more place she could be—her home. The Dawn Court. She was from there, had roots there. Maybe she had returned, seeking refuge among her people.

It was a slim hope, but it was all he had.

Rhysand straightened, determination burning in his veins. He would contact Thesan, the High Lord of the Dawn Court. He had to know if Y/n was there, if she was safe. But for now, all he could do was wait—and that waiting felt like a slow, torturous pull on his very soul.

She was his mate. And she was gone.

The thought settled into his chest like a cold, hard stone, and Rhysand knew that until he found her—until he brought her back—there would be no peace. He would flip this world upside down to find her.

~~~~~~~

Y/n lay back down, her body sinking into the soft mattress as she stared at the flickering flames in the hearth. Lira’s offer lingered in her mind, but doubt gnawed at her. It wasn’t just the village’s kindness that unsettled her—it was the thought of staying, of settling, when her entire world had crumbled around her.

Her heart felt heavy, weighed down by the memories of Rhysand and everything she had lost. How could she heal in a place like this, where people lived in peace and harmony? She wasn’t like them—she carried too much darkness, too much pain.

Still, there was something about this village, something about Lira’s gentle demeanor that made Y/n want to believe, if only for a moment, that maybe she could find some peace here. Just for a while.

The thought was almost laughable. She had no right to peace.

Lira stood up from her chair, sensing Y/n's internal battle. “I’ll let you rest,” she said, her voice soft. “But if you need anything, just call for me.”

Y/n nodded but didn’t respond as Lira slipped quietly out of the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts. The sounds of the village continued to drift through the window—the laughter, the conversations, the gentle hum of a life Y/n had never known.

Her hand unconsciously drifted to her chest, to where the bond with Rhysand had once tugged at her heart. Now, there was only a hollow ache, a reminder of what had been and what could never be. She had loved him—fiercely, silently, and without hope.

And he had never known.

The thought made her chest tighten again, that familiar grief washing over her. She had been nothing to him, just another face from Dawn, another puppet to use and discard. And now… she was nothing at all.

The hours passed slowly. Y/n found herself drifting in and out of sleep, her body still weak from the injuries. In her dreams, she saw flashes of her past—Her life in Dawn, her little trinkets that she would create to make some living, Rhysand. And then, always, Feyre. Her face haunted Y/n, the reminder of who Rhysand had truly chosen.

When she awoke again, it was darker outside, the village sounds quieter now. Lira hadn’t returned, and Y/n was grateful for the space. She needed time to think, to decide what her next move would be.

But even as she lay there, trying to come up with a plan, her mind kept returning to Lira’s offer. A part of her wanted to accept it, to stay here and heal. But another part, the part that had seen too much betrayal, too much loss, didn’t trust it.

Would they still welcome her if they knew who she really was? What she had done?

Y/n sighed, turning onto her side as the fire crackled softly beside her. She wasn’t sure what her next step would be, but for now, all she could do was rest.

She closed her eyes, forcing herself to take a deep breath. The pain was still there—deep and unyielding—but for the first time in a long while, Y/n allowed herself to hope that maybe, just maybe, she could find some kind of solace here.

Even if it was only temporary.

In the days that followed, Y/n grew stronger. Lira visited her often, bringing food and checking on her injuries, but never pressing too much. The village’s quiet kindness was unsettling at first, but slowly, Y/n began to let herself relax, just a little.

She spent most of her time in bed, staring out the window at the bustling village below. Children ran through the streets, and neighbors helped one another with chores and daily tasks. It was a world so far removed from the one she had known that it almost felt like a dream.

And yet, despite everything, Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t belong here.

Each time she looked out that window, she was reminded of what she had lost, of the bond she had ignored for too long. The thought of Rhysand, out there somewhere, filled her with both longing and anger. She didn’t know if she’d ever see him again, but the silence between them weighed heavily on her.

Still, for now, all she could do was wait. Healing, Lira had said. Y/n wasn’t sure if that was possible, but maybe, just maybe, she could try.

Weeks turned into months.

What Y/n had initially believed would be a short stay to recover gradually became something more. She healed, both in body and in spirit, under the quiet care of Lira and the village’s close-knit community. Slowly, the bruises on her ribs faded, the aches in her muscles eased, and her strength returned.

At first, Y/n had kept to herself, only interacting with Lira when necessary. But as time passed, she began to open up, if only slightly. Lira’s patience had been remarkable, never pushing, always offering a hand when Y/n needed it. The woman’s kindness was a balm to wounds Y/n hadn’t realized still bled.

As she regained her strength, she was introduced to more of the villagers. There was Tamir, a kind-hearted farmer who often brought her fresh produce, and Ayla, a weaver who sat with Y/n by the fire on particularly cold evenings, sharing stories about her family and life in the village. They accepted Y/n without question, never asking too much, never prying into her past.

For the first time in years, Y/n found herself in a place that felt almost like home.

It wasn’t easy, of course. The memories of Rhysand still haunted her in quiet moments—his smile, his laughter, the bond she had felt snap into place and left unacknowledged. But in time, those memories dulled, becoming less sharp, less painful.

She had spent so long thinking about him, about what could have been. But now, as the months slipped by, she began to accept the truth. Rhysand had made his choice, and it hadn’t been her. Feyre was his love. And Y/n… she was learning to be alright with that.

It wasn’t that the pain disappeared—it would always be there, in the corners of her heart—but it no longer consumed her. She found herself laughing with the villagers, working alongside them, and even joining in the village’s small celebrations. She was happy, or at least as close to happiness as she’d felt in a long time.

There were nights when the weight of her past pressed down on her, but those moments grew fewer and farther between. The village, with its simple, peaceful life, had given her space to breathe, to heal.

Lira, especially, had become a close friend. They spent many evenings talking, sometimes about nothing at all, and other times about everything. Y/n found herself confiding in Lira, telling her small pieces of her past—the loss, the heartbreak, the weight of being forgotten. Lira never judged, only listened, offering comfort in the form of quiet understanding.

Y/n no longer felt the crushing loneliness that had driven her to that cliffside. She wasn’t sure what the future held for her, but for now, she was content to stay in this village, to continue healing, and to figure out who she was without the shadow of Rhysand hanging over her.

She still didn’t know what would come next, but for the first time in a long while, she wasn’t running from the uncertainty.

~~~~~~~~

Velaris — One year, three months, fifteen days, six hours, twenty-two minutes, and forty-five seconds since Y/n disappeared.

Rhysand had counted every second. Every agonizing, suffocating second since he had realized she was gone. He stood on the balcony of the River House, staring out over the Sidra, his eyes dark with the weight of his obsession. A full year, and he was no closer to finding her.

He had sent his forces, his shadows, his spies, to every corner of Prythian and beyond. The High Lords had been contacted—every last one of them, including Thesan, the High Lord of the Dawn Court, where Y/n had once called home. His meetings with Thesan had been civil, yet tense.

“She hasn’t returned,” Thesan had said in one of their many conversations, his voice steady but laced with concern. “If she were here, I would have told you, Rhys.”

But that hadn’t stopped Rhysand from ordering Azriel to watch the borders of the Dawn Court, to scour its lands for any sign of her. He had sent out scouts across Prythian—Illyrian patrols sweeping the mountains, Velaris soldiers keeping their eyes open in the cities, and spies dispatched to the human lands. Nothing.

Nothing for over a year. And it was driving him mad.

Rhysand hadn’t rested in months, not truly. His nights were spent pouring over maps, tracing routes, re-reading reports. He had memorized every possible lead, every whispered rumor of a lone female seen wandering the wilderness. But none of them had led to her.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to be found,” Cassian had said one night, his voice gentle but firm, as he sat with Rhysand in the war room.

Rhysand had glared at him, his jaw clenched, his hands tightening into fists. “That’s not an option. She’s my—” He had stopped himself before finishing that sentence. She wasn’t his mate, not officially. The bond possibly had never snapped for her, but for Rhys, it might as well have. His heart knew it, even if the Cauldron had not sealed the bond. She was his.

Cassian had only sighed, shaking his head. “Rhys, I’m worried about you. We all are.”

And they were. Amren had pulled him aside more than once, telling him to stop his frantic searching, to focus on the things he could control. But she didn’t understand. None of them did. Y/n had been his anchor in ways he hadn’t even realized until she was gone.

Azriel had been his silent shadow through all of it. The spymaster had spent countless nights by his side, searching with him, strategizing, offering the quiet kind of support that only Azriel could. They didn’t need words. Rhys knew Azriel understood what it felt like to long for someone you couldn’t have.

But there were moments—moments when the weight of his failure pressed down on him so heavily that he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He had taken to disappearing from the River House, vanishing into the forests outside Velaris, retracing the steps to where he had last seen her.

And then, there was the cliff. Rhys still remembers how when he smelled the faintest remnants of her scent, right there, right at the edge of the cliff, his chest flared with panic as he frantically searched for her but found no trace. Given how faint the scent was, Rhys knew that she wasn’t here recently. But did she kill herself? Did she end up throwing herself off this cliff? Even the mere thought of that made his gut twist, his hands shake. No. She couldn’t have died. No body, no proof. But…..

He stood there, letting the cold wind of the mountains blow past him. The silence that had followed her disappearance.

“Rhys, you need to stop this,” Mor had told him after he’d returned from one such trip, disheveled and exhausted. “You’re tearing yourself apart.”

He had only shaken his head. “I can’t, Mor. I have to find her. I need to.”

Mor had looked at him with sadness in her eyes. “What if she doesn’t want to be found?”

It was the same question Cassian had asked, and Rhys had no answer for it. What if Y/n didn’t want to be found? What if she had left because she wanted to stay hidden from him?

But he refused to believe it. He couldn’t believe it. There had to be another reason—something he hadn’t uncovered yet.

And so, Rhysand kept searching. He kept sending his forces out, kept interrogating every lead, every sighting, every whisper of a female matching her description. He visited the forests, the places they had once been together, hoping for some sign, some shred of her presence.

But there was nothing.

Every day that passed without her only deepened his despair. He had lost weight, his face drawn with exhaustion, his eyes dull with sleepless nights.

But how could he let go of Y/n? How could he forget her, when every part of him screamed that she was out there, somewhere, waiting for him?

His conversations with the inner circle had grown colder, more strained. They were concerned, but they didn’t understand. Not really. How could they, when none of them had lost someone the way he had lost Y/n?

Rhysand stared out over Velaris, the city lights reflecting off the river below. One year, three months, fifteen days, six hours, twenty-seven minutes, and thirty-one seconds.

And still, she was gone.

~~~~~~~~~

Y/n sat on a wooden bench outside the small cottage, her eyes watching the children play in the distance. The crisp evening air brushed against her skin, a reminder of how peaceful life had become in the village. Her heart, though, still felt heavy with memories of another life—one she had tried to leave behind.

The soft shuffle of feet approached, and Y/n turned to see Elder Miriam, one of the village’s wisest, sitting down beside her. The old woman’s face was lined with age, her eyes sharp but kind. She had been the one to welcome Y/n when she first arrived, offering a place to stay and a quiet understanding.

“You’ve been here for some time now,” Miriam began, her voice gentle but firm. “Longer than most who come seeking refuge.”

Y/n nodded, her gaze dropping to her hands. “I didn’t expect to stay this long.”

“And yet, here you are,” Miriam continued, her hands resting on her lap. “There’s peace in this village, but I see it hasn’t reached your heart yet.”

Y/n swallowed, feeling the truth of the words settle inside her. “I’m… trying.”

Miriam studied her, the silence between them filled with the soft sounds of the village. “You’ve been through much. That much is clear. But what are you still holding onto, child?”

Y/n hesitated, unsure how to voice the conflict inside her. “There are people I left behind,” she finally said. “A life I thought I could escape from. But it follows me, no matter how far I run.”

Miriam nodded, her expression thoughtful. “The past has a way of lingering. It’s not something you can outrun. Healing doesn’t mean forgetting, Y/n. It means learning to live with what’s happened, not burying it.”

Y/n bit her lip, fighting back the emotions that threatened to surface. “I thought if I stayed here long enough, I could… rebuild myself. Become someone new.”

“And have you?” Miriam asked, her tone still gentle.

“I don’t know,” Y/n whispered. “Some days, it feels like I’m better. I’m learning to be happy again. But then, there are days where… I feel like I’m right back where I started.”

Miriam placed a hand on Y/n’s shoulder, her touch warm and comforting. “You’ve come far, more than you realize. But you must ask yourself—what is it you’re truly afraid of? Is it the life you left behind, or is it facing the feelings you’ve kept locked away?”

Y/n looked away, the truth painful to admit. “I’m afraid of going back,” she said quietly. “Afraid of what it would mean to confront everything I left behind.”

Miriam nodded again, her eyes full of understanding. “The village has been a place of healing for you, and it’s given you time. But time, Y/n, doesn’t erase the things we carry. It only gives us space to understand them. You cannot live in fear of what’s behind you. It will find its way to the surface, one way or another.”

Y/n felt the weight of the words settle in her chest. For the first time in a long while, she realized how much she had been avoiding—not just Rhysand, but the truth of her own feelings.

“You’re stronger than you think,” Miriam said softly. “You’ve survived, you’ve healed. But true peace will only come when you allow yourself to face what’s still left unresolved.”

Y/n took a deep breath, the knot in her chest loosening just a little. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“No one ever is,” Miriam replied with a small smile. “But readiness isn’t the same as willingness. And you, child, have always been willing to face whatever comes. I’ve seen it in you since the day you arrived.”

Y/n glanced at Miriam, the warmth in the elder’s words easing some of the fear that had gripped her for so long. Maybe she wasn’t ready to confront everything waiting for her outside the village, but maybe that wasn’t the point. Maybe all she needed was the courage to try.

“Thank you,” Y/n said quietly, her voice steadier now.

Miriam smiled, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Take your time, but don’t wait too long. The world won’t wait forever, and neither will you.”

With that, the elder rose from the bench, leaving Y/n alone with her thoughts, the peaceful hum of the village life surrounding her. For the first time in months, Y/n felt the pull of something beyond this quiet haven—something she had tried to ignore, but that was always there, waiting.

Maybe it was time to stop running.

A week had passed since Y/n had left the village. The cool morning air nipped at her skin as she stood at the edge of the forest, the place that had been her refuge for over a year. The memory of her time there was fresh—both a blessing and a burden—but she had made her peace with it. She had healed, not just physically, but in the deeper places that had been broken for so long.

Her heart was lighter now, no longer weighed down by the constant ache of loss. She was ready to move on, to return to the Dawn Court and begin her new life. A part of her would always belong to the village, to the people she had come to love during her stay, but it was time to face the world again.

The day she left had been filled with quiet goodbyes, but the most difficult one had been with Lira. They had shared a bond—a deep understanding that went beyond words.

“You’ll come visit us, right?” Lira’s voice had been soft, but there was a seriousness in her eyes. She stood in front of Y/n, her hands gripping hers tightly.

Y/n smiled, a bittersweet warmth in her chest. “I promise,” she said. “I’ll come back when I can. This place will always be special to me.”

Lira’s lips curved into a smile, though her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Don’t forget us. And don’t forget yourself, either. You’ve grown so much, Y/n. Don’t let that go.”

Y/n shook her head, her voice thick. “I won’t.”

Another villager, an elder Y/n had come to cherish, patted her on the back. “You’ll always have a home here,” he said warmly. “No matter where you go.”

She nodded, grateful beyond words. “Thank you. All of you.”

They stood in a quiet circle, the weight of the farewell settling in the cool air around them. The children she had watched over waved from behind the elder, their faces glowing with sadness and hope.

“Take care of yourself,” Lira said softly, pulling Y/n into a tight embrace. “You deserve to be happy.”

Y/n held her close, taking in the familiar scent of the village—the woods, the earth, and the faint traces of fire. “I’ll try.”

With one last lingering glance, Y/n turned toward the path that led out of the village, the weight of their love and friendship carrying her forward. She didn’t look back. She couldn’t. Not this time.

Now, she stood at the gates of the Dawn Court, her heart thudding in her chest. The sprawling palace beyond the gates shimmered under the morning light, and the familiar sight tugged at her—both comforting and foreign after so much time away.

She was different now, she knew that. The woman who had once been so broken, so consumed by heartache, no longer existed. In her place stood someone stronger—someone who had faced the darkest parts of herself and come out on the other side.

Y/n stepped forward, her boots crunching softly against the gravel path. A new life awaited her here. She had accepted that Rhysand was not hers, and with that acceptance came freedom—freedom to create something new, something that was hers alone.

As she approached the entrance, she took a deep breath, steadying herself. This was home, after all. And no matter how far she had run, she was always meant to return.

The guards at the gate gave her surprised looks, but they bowed respectfully, recognizing her. They knew her face, even if they couldn’t comprehend the transformation she had undergone in her time away.

Home. It sounded strange, but as she stepped through the gates and into the Dawn Court’s embrace, she realized how true it was.

She had come full circle.

With each step, the memories of her old life resurfaced, but they didn’t crush her as they once had. Instead, they reminded her of the strength she had gained, the scars she had earned, and the peace she had finally found.

This was a new beginning, and Y/n was ready for whatever came next.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was another miserable day.

He had counted every single second of her absence, the guilt festering in his chest like a poison he couldn’t escape. No matter how much time passed, the ache didn’t ease. The weight of what he had done—or rather, what he hadn’t done—crushed him.

He had searched everywhere, sent emissaries to the furthest reaches of Prythian and beyond. He’d begged, bribed, and even threatened other courts for information. Thesan had been his most trusted ally in the search, offering resources and keeping an eye out. Rhysand had sent his Inner Circle across borders to find her, but it had all led to nothing. Y/n was gone, and the only thing he had left was his regret.

He hadn’t been there for her when she needed him most. Not during Amarantha’s reign. Not when she had withered under his very nose, and certainly not when she left. His thoughts always returned to those last months. The months he had spent prioritizing Feyre’s safety and neglecting Y/n’s slow unraveling. He had failed her.

He was sitting at his desk, head in his hands, feeling the familiar hollow ache settle deep in his bones, when the door to his study opened.

Azriel stepped in, his shadows swirling around him like an ever-present cloak of darkness. The spymaster’s face was unreadable, but Rhysand knew him well enough to see the urgency in his posture.

“Rhys,” Azriel said, his voice calm, but there was something behind it. Something that made Rhysand sit up straight, a flicker of hope—a feeling he hadn’t allowed himself in months—stirring in his chest.

“What is it?” Rhysand asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Hope had become a dangerous thing for him, always leading to disappointment.

Azriel paused, letting the weight of the moment sink in. “Thesan contacted me. His guards… they’ve seen her.”

Rhysand’s heart stopped. For a long, agonizing second, he couldn’t breathe. “Seen… her?” he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel nodded. “Y/n. She’s back at the Dawn Court. She returned a week ago. Thesan’s guards have been keeping an eye on her from a distance, but she’s home. Alive.”

Rhysand felt the floor tilt beneath him. She was back. After all this time, after every failed attempt to find her, every sleepless night spent tormented by guilt, Y/n had returned. The relief that flooded him was overwhelming, but it was swiftly followed by a wave of doubt so strong it made him dizzy.

“I should… I should go to her,” Rhysand said, standing abruptly. His mind raced, his heart pounding in his chest. He had to see her, had to know if she was okay. But then he paused, his hand falling away from the desk. His thoughts crashed into one another, the doubt settling in.

Would she want to see him?

“Wait,” Rhysand murmured, his voice barely audible. “Should I even go?” He turned to Azriel, his brows furrowing in confusion. “I… I wasn’t there for her, Az. Not when she needed me most. What if she doesn’t want to see me? What if she’s better off without me?”

Azriel’s dark eyes flickered with something like exasperation, but it was laced with sympathy. “Rhys, are you serious right now?”

Rhysand dragged a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his guilt crushing him again. “I ignored her. After Amarantha, after Feyre… I neglected her. The last months she was with us, I wasn’t there for her. What if she’s moved on? What if she’s better now without me?”

Azriel stepped closer, his shadows swirling around his shoulders. “You’ve been searching for her for over a year. You’ve nearly destroyed yourself trying to find her. And now that she’s back, you’re doubting whether to go to her?”

Rhysand clenched his fists, his jaw tight. “I hurt her, Az. I let her slip away. What if she hates me for it?”

Azriel let out a breath, his eyes softening. “Then you go to her and you tell her that. You tell her how much she means to you, and you beg for her forgiveness if that’s what it takes.” His voice lowered, more gentle than Rhysand had ever heard it. “You’ve been waiting for this moment, Rhys. Don’t let your guilt stop you from fixing what was broken.”

Rhysand stared at his brother, the weight of his words sinking in. He had been waiting—praying—for this moment, for the chance to make things right. But now that it was here, all he could feel was fear. Fear that Y/n wouldn’t forgive him, that the damage he had caused was too great to repair.

“I will kneel if I have to,” Rhysand said quietly, the words heavy with desperation. “I’ll beg her to forgive me, to let me back into her life.”

Azriel’s lips curved into the barest hint of a smile. “Then go. Don’t waste any more time.”

Rhysand nodded, though the fear still gnawed at him. But beneath that fear, a flicker of hope remained. He would see Y/n again. He would kneel, beg, do whatever it took to fix the mistakes of the past.

And maybe—just maybe—he could find a way back to her.

Rhysand stood in silence for a moment, letting the realization sink in. He wasn’t sure what he would find when he saw Y/n, or if she would even want to speak to him. But there was no turning back now.

With a deep breath, he turned to Azriel. “I’m going to Dawn,” he said, his voice steady, though his heart trembled. “I have to see her.”

Azriel nodded once. “Good luck, Rhys.”

Rhysand didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. He simply disappeared, winnowing into the wind, his heart pounding as he made his way to the one person who mattered most.

~~~~~~~~

Y/n sat at the small table in her home, the afternoon light filtering through the curtains. The room was modest but comfortable, much different than it had been a year ago. Before she left, she had been barely getting by, working tirelessly just to make ends meet. She had spent her days repairing small items, doing odd jobs, always tired, always worn down. Back then, the work had been a necessity—a way to survive, not something she took pride in.

Now, it was different.

Y/n’s fingers moved over the smooth wood of the small jewelry box she had just crafted. She had taken up woodworking after returning from the village, and while it wasn’t glamorous, she found peace in the craft. People in the Dawn Court had taken notice of her work, and word had spread. Slowly but surely, she started receiving more commissions, her skills improving with every piece she made.

She wasn’t rich—not by a long shot—but she was comfortable. She didn’t have to worry as much about her next meal or paying for firewood. Her house, which had once felt so empty and cold, now felt like a home again. The work wasn’t just about money anymore. It was about creating something with her own hands—something that others appreciated.

Y/n leaned back, wiping the sawdust from her hands, and looked around her small space. It felt like she had finally found a balance. She was content. It wasn’t the life she had imagined for herself all those years ago, but it was a good life. She was healing, slowly but surely, and for the first time in a long time, she felt hopeful about the future.

There were moments when her mind drifted to the past—when memories of Rhysand surfaced, and the pain of what could have been tugged at her. But it didn’t consume her anymore. She had made peace with it, in her own way, and she knew she had to keep moving forward. This was her life now, and she was determined to make it her own.

Y/n wiped her brow, the scent of fresh wood filling the air as she placed the finished box onto the shelf beside a few others she had completed earlier that week. A soft smile tugged at her lips. It was a simple life—one she hadn’t expected to love—but there was a calmness in it that soothed her in ways she hadn’t realized she needed.

Her hands were no longer idle, no longer weighed down by the burden of survival. Now, when she worked, it was with purpose, and each completed piece felt like a small victory—a testament to her growth, her healing. The dark days when she could barely muster the energy to get out of bed felt distant now, like a different life entirely.

She stepped back from her workbench, glancing around her small home. It was far from luxurious, but it was hers. She had made it feel like home again after being away for so long. She had become part of the local community again, and though life wasn’t easy, it was manageable—and even enjoyable at times.

Y/n sighed, letting the moment settle over her. She was content. She hadn’t thought it possible after everything she had been through, but somehow, she had found peace.

She walked to the window, looking out at the familiar streets. The weight of the past year didn’t feel as heavy as it used to. Dawn had changed for her. Before, it was a place where she had simply existed—barely making it through each day. Now, it felt like a fresh start, a place where she could rebuild herself without the shadows of her past constantly looming over her.

Her thoughts drifted to the village she had left behind just a week ago. It had been hard to say goodbye, but she knew it was time. They had become like a family to her, and the promise to visit would be kept. But she needed to come home—to her own space, her own life.

The memory of her farewell lingered, the promises exchanged that they would stay in touch, that they wouldn’t forget each other. She smiled at the thought. She wouldn’t forget them either. They had been the ones who had helped her when she didn’t know how to help herself, and that was something she would always carry with her.

But here, now, she was finally ready to move forward. Ready to build something new for herself.

Y/n was walking through the busy streets of the Dawn, enjoying the calm, steady pace of life here. She had just visited the market, her basket filled with items for her latest craft project. The sun was warm on her face, and for the first time in a long while, she felt truly at peace.

As she turned the corner, two figures in armor approached her. They wore the unmistakable insignia of the Dawn Court—palace soldiers. Their faces were unreadable, and as they came closer, she felt an uneasy flutter in her stomach.

“Y/n,” one of them said, his voice firm yet not unkind. “You are required at the palace.”

Her heart skipped a beat, confusion surging through her. “The palace? Why? Did I do something wrong?”

The second soldier didn’t meet her gaze, only repeating the first soldier’s words. “We need to escort you to the High Lord. Please come with us.”

Fear and confusion knotted in her chest, but the soldiers gave her no further explanation. They began to walk, clearly expecting her to follow. Y/n’s mind raced with questions. Why would High Lord Thesan summon her? What had she done? She couldn’t think of any reason she’d be needed at the palace.

As they passed through the grand gates and into the opulent halls, her nerves only grew. The palace was more beautiful than she remembered, but she was too anxious to appreciate the elegance of her surroundings. The guards led her through winding corridors until they reached a large, ornate door.

One of the soldiers knocked, and the door was opened from within. They motioned for her to step inside.

She hesitated for only a moment before walking in.

The room was grand, with tall windows casting golden light over the finely furnished space. But it wasn’t the luxury of the room that caught her off guard.

It was the two men standing inside.

One was High Lord Thesan, smiling warmly, his demeanor calm and welcoming. The other was Rhysand.

Her breath caught in her throat. Rhysand? Her legs nearly gave out beneath her at the sight of him standing there, looking tense, his usual smug expression replaced with something far more serious. His violet eyes found hers the moment she entered the room, and she felt every nerve in her body light up with an old, painful familiarity.

Thesan stepped forward first, his kind smile not wavering. “Y/n,” he greeted, his voice smooth. “I apologize for the sudden summons. I imagine this is not what you were expecting today.”

She blinked, still too shocked to speak, her gaze flickering from Thesan to Rhysand and back again.

The High Lord chuckled softly, clearly sensing her confusion. “You are not in trouble, I assure you,” Thesan said gently. “I wanted to make sure you had a chance to… speak with Rhysand. I believe there are things that need to be said.” He glanced between them before adding, “I’ll leave you two to talk.”

Y/n’s throat tightened as Thesan gave her one last smile and exited the room, closing the door behind him.

And then it was just her and Rhysand.

The silence was suffocating. Rhysand stood a few feet away, his gaze locked on her, an uncharacteristic tension lining his features. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and filled with a vulnerability she hadn’t expected.

“Y/n… I’m sorry.”

She didn’t respond at first, still trying to piece together how this moment had come to pass. “Sorry for what?” she finally asked, her voice sharper than she intended.

“For everything,” Rhysand said, stepping closer, though he still maintained a respectful distance. “For how I treated you before… for abandoning you. I spent the past year searching for you, desperate to make things right. I—” He paused, swallowing hard. “I should have told you sooner. You are my mate.”

Her chest tightened, a sharp laugh escaping her lips before she could stop it. “I know.”

Rhys’s eyes widened in surprise. “You knew? Since when?”

“Since long before you disappeared into Feyre’s shadow,” she replied bitterly. The anger, the hurt, it all came rushing back in full force. “Why didn’t I tell you? Why should I have? Would it have made a difference when you were so focused on her that I may as well have been invisible?”

Rhys flinched at her words, guilt etched deeply into his face. “It would have mattered,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You mattered.”

“Then why didn’t you act like it?” Y/n’s voice trembled with emotion, her hands clenching at her sides. “Why was I nothing more than a tool to you when Feyre came along? I watched you—watched as you ignored me, as you barely looked at me. And now, after a year of running and hiding, now you come to apologize? You expect me to just forgive you because you finally decided I was worth something?”

Rhysand’s eyes were filled with sorrow and regret, his normally proud and arrogant demeanor shattered. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I came to beg for it, if that’s what it takes. I was wrong, Y/n, in so many ways. But you have to know, you are my mate, and I will do anything to make this right. I will kneel, I will grovel, I will—”

But she shook her head, cutting him off. “It’s too late, Rhysand. You’ve already made your choice.”

Rhys took another step toward her, desperation in his eyes. “Please, Y/n. I never stopped caring. I was a fool. But we can start again, we—”

“No,” she interrupted, her voice firm, though it cracked with emotion. “You don’t get to come back into my life now and demand forgiveness. I’ve rebuilt myself. I’ve moved on. You should have done the same.”

And with that, she turned on her heel and walked out, leaving Rhysand standing alone, the weight of his mistakes heavy in the air.

But Rhysand didn’t stop. Determined to win her back, he threw himself into a relentless pursuit of her forgiveness. Every day, he tried to reach her in some way, even if she wouldn’t let him in.

He sent her gifts—delicate, handcrafted items from the finest artisans in the Dawn Court, things that would have brought a smile to her face just months ago. Each time, he watched from a distance as she took them from her doorstep, only to leave them discarded by the door, untouched and unacknowledged.

Rhysand poured his heart into letters, filled with apologies and promises, penned with the kind of vulnerability he had rarely shown anyone before. He would slip them under her door, hoping that maybe one would catch her attention. But each time he checked, the letters remained sealed, never to be opened, reminders of his failure piling up like stones in his chest.

He would linger in the shadows, just outside her home, drawn by the pull of her presence. He watched her move about her day—working on her crafts, laughing with neighbors, sharing stories. His heart ached at how vibrant she seemed, yet he felt like a ghost haunting the edges of her life. Each smile she shared with others was a dagger, a reminder of what he had lost.

In moments of bravery, he approached the marketplace, hoping for a chance encounter. He would linger near the stalls, pretending to browse as she passed by, but she never looked his way. It was as if he were invisible, a figment of her past she refused to acknowledge.

He even tried to connect with the villagers, asking about her and expressing his desire to help her, but they were loyal to her. They would only nod politely, never divulging her whereabouts or responding to his inquiries. They could sense the pain behind his facade, and their protectiveness toward Y/n was fierce.

Days turned into weeks, and Rhysand’s resolve only strengthened. He would find small ways to make his presence known. Sometimes, he would send the occasional flower with a note saying, “I miss you.” Other times, he enlisted Azrael to check in on her, to gauge how she was doing. Each report from his friend was a bittersweet reminder of how far he had fallen from her good graces.

Yet despite all his efforts, Y/n remained steadfastly indifferent. She had rebuilt her life without him, and the fortress she had built around her heart was impenetrable. No amount of gifts or letters could pierce it.

As the seasons changed, Rhysand continued his quiet vigil, each day filled with longing and regret, praying that one day, she would see him not as a shadow of her past but as a man who desperately wanted to be part of her future.

Y/n was kneeling in her garden, the vibrant flowers blooming around her, but her heart felt anything but bright. She was lost in thought, trying to focus on her plants when she suddenly sensed a presence behind her. Her instincts kicked in, and she turned quickly, catching sight of a tall figure with dark wings.

“Who are you?” she demanded, standing defensively, her heart racing.

“Y/n,” he replied, his voice calm yet intense. “My name is Azriel, I’m a friend of Rhysand’s. I’ve been… watching over you.”

“Watching over me?” she echoed, confusion and anger flaring up inside her. “Why? What do you want?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” Azriel said, stepping forward slightly but keeping his distance, as if respecting her space. “About Rhysand. He’s been… suffering since you left.”

Y/n crossed her arms, her expression hardening. “I don’t want to talk about him. He made his choice.”

“He didn’t know what he was doing, Y/n,” Azriel pressed, his tone earnest. “He’s been lost without you. The gifts he sent, the letters—those were all from a place of regret. He didn’t realize how much you meant to him until it was too late.”

“Regret?” she scoffed, shaking her head. “It’s easy to feel regret when you’ve moved on with someone else, isn’t it? I was nothing more than a passing thought to him while he chased after Feyre.”

Azriel frowned, sensing the pain in her words. “I can’t deny that Rhysand made mistakes, but he has changed. He’s been searching for you for a year. He’s been—”

“Searching?” she interrupted, her voice rising. “How much of a fool do you think I am to believe that? I don’t want to be another one of his burdens or a way to soothe his guilt.”

Azriel took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I understand your anger, but you deserve to know the truth. You deserve to hear him out.”

Y/n’s heart raced with conflicting emotions. She was furious with Rhysand, yet there was a flicker of curiosity buried deep inside her. “And what makes you think I want to hear anything from him? What if he’s just going to hurt me again?”

Azriel stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Because you deserve closure. You deserve to understand why he acted the way he did. If you don’t give him a chance, you might carry this pain forever. You may think you’ve moved on, but deep down, you’re still holding onto that hurt.”

Y/n’s expression softened slightly, but she quickly masked it with defiance. “It’s easier to keep it all buried, Azriel. I don’t need him in my life. I’ve built something here, a life I’m proud of.”

“I see that,” he said, nodding. “But are you truly happy? Or is there still a part of you that wonders what could have been?”

She hesitated, the truth clawing at her heart. “Maybe I could talk to him again,” she admitted reluctantly, the words spilling out before she could stop herself. “But it doesn’t mean I want to forgive him. It doesn’t mean I’m ready to open that door again.”

“Just consider it,” Azriel urged gently. “You don’t have to decide everything right now. But Rhysand is here, waiting for you. He won’t stop until he gets the chance to explain himself. And when you’re ready, you can choose how to respond.”

Y/n turned back to her flowers, avoiding Azriel’s gaze, trying to gather her thoughts. “And what if I don’t want to respond? What if I just want to forget?”

“Then you’ll have that choice too,” Azriel said, his tone calm and understanding. “But know that you can’t run from your feelings forever. If you want to heal, you have to face them.”

After a long silence, Y/n sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I’ll think about it,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

As Azriel nodded, she could feel the weight of his presence, a reminder that her past was still very much alive, no matter how hard she tried to bury it. She knew that eventually, she would have to confront the truth about Rhysand—and about herself.

The sky was painted in soft shades of dusk, the sun casting its final golden rays over the pristine lake. The place Rhysand had chosen was breathtaking—a secluded spot nestled between the hills, where the water sparkled like diamonds under the fading light. Wildflowers swayed gently in the breeze, their vibrant colors contrasting with the deep green of the surrounding trees. It was peaceful, a place that felt almost sacred in its stillness.

Y/n approached the shore, her footsteps slow and hesitant. She had agreed to meet him, but every step felt heavier than the last, like she was walking toward something she wasn’t ready to face. Her heart thudded in her chest, her mind filled with doubts, fears, and anger she hadn’t yet let go of.

And then she saw him.

Rhysand stood by the edge of the lake, his back to her, his wings tucked tightly against him. The sight of him stirred something deep within her—a pang of old pain, old longing, and something new, something she couldn’t yet name. He seemed so out of place here, in this tranquil setting, with the weight of his own emotions heavy on his shoulders.

He turned as she neared, his violet eyes locking onto hers, a myriad of emotions swirling in their depths—regret, hope, desperation. He took a step toward her, but stopped himself, as if afraid that one wrong move might send her running.

“Y/n,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for coming.”

She didn’t respond immediately, crossing her arms over her chest, her posture guarded. “You wanted to talk. So, talk.”

He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the ground for a moment before he looked back at her. “I don’t even know where to begin. I… I made so many mistakes.”

“You can say that again,” she muttered, her voice colder than she had intended.

He nodded, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I didn’t realize… how much I hurt you. I didn’t realize how blind I had been to everything you were going through.”

“I was right there, Rhys,” she said, her voice rising with frustration. “Right in front of you, and you didn’t see me. Not once. Not until it was too late.”

“I know,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I know, and I hate myself for it. I was so consumed by everything happening with Amarantha, with Feyre… I thought I was doing what was best, that I was protecting you by keeping you at a distance.”

Y/n scoffed, shaking her head. “Protecting me? By ignoring me? By treating me like I didn’t exist?”

Rhysand flinched at her words, guilt flooding his features. “I thought… I thought that if I distanced myself, if I kept you away, you wouldn’t be hurt. That you’d be safer if you weren’t involved in everything that was happening. But I see now that I was wrong. So, so wrong.”

She bit her lip, the anger still simmering just beneath the surface, but there was something else there too—a crack in her armor, however small. “Why didn’t you just tell me? Why didn’t you talk to me?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his expression pained. “I was a coward. I didn’t know how to face you, how to admit that I had failed you. And by the time I realized… it felt like I had already lost you.”

“You had,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You did.”

Rhysand stepped closer, his eyes pleading. “But I don’t want to lose you forever, Y/n. I can’t. I came here to beg for your forgiveness, to do whatever it takes to make things right. I know I don’t deserve it. I know I’ve done nothing but hurt you, but I’m asking—no, I’m begging you to give me a chance to prove that I’ve changed.”

Y/n’s breath hitched, her heart torn between the lingering hurt and the raw sincerity in his voice. “And what if I can’t forgive you? What if it’s too late for that?”

He stared at her for a long moment, his expression solemn. “Then I’ll accept that. I’ll accept whatever decision you make. But please, just give me the chance to try. Let me show you that I’m not the same man who pushed you away. Let me prove that I can be the person you deserve.”

Y/n’s eyes filled with unshed tears, her emotions threatening to spill over. “You hurt me, Rhys. You made me feel like I was nothing.”

“I know,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “And I will regret that for the rest of my life. But you are not nothing. You never were. You are everything.”

She turned away, her hands trembling as she tried to hold herself together. “This… this is all too much. I don’t know if I can trust you again.”

Rhysand closed the distance between them, his voice soft but urgent. “I won’t rush you. I won’t push you. But if there’s even a part of you that thinks we could find a way forward, I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

She wiped at her eyes, refusing to let the tears fall. “And what about the mate bond? You didn’t even acknowledge it, didn’t tell me—”

“I didn’t know,” he said quickly, his eyes wide with desperation. “I didn’t know until you were gone, until it was too late. I felt it after you left, like a piece of my soul was ripped away.”

Y/n stared at him, her heart pounding. “I knew,” she admitted quietly. “I’ve known for a while.”

His eyes widened, shock and confusion written on his face. “You knew? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t think you’d care,” she said, her voice wavering. “Because you were so focused on Feyre, on everything else. I didn’t want to be another burden for you to carry.”

Rhysand shook his head, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “You were never a burden, Y/n. Never. I was just too blind to see what was right in front of me. And I hate myself for that.”

Y/n turned back to him, her gaze softening ever so slightly. “I’m not ready to accept the bond yet, Rhys. I’m not ready to just… let everything go.”

He nodded, his expression pained but understanding. “I understand. I’ll wait. I’ll wait for as long as it takes, and I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust back.”

She swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. “Maybe… maybe if we spent more time together, if you showed me that you’ve really changed… maybe then I could consider it.”

Rhysand’s eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope, and he nodded eagerly. “Anything. I’ll do anything you ask.”

Y/n sighed, the heaviness in her chest lifting just slightly. “This doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you, Rhys. I’m not there yet. But… I’m willing to see if you can prove yourself.”

He stepped closer, his voice low and filled with determination. “I will. I swear I will.”

She nodded slowly, a small, tentative step toward the possibility of healing. “We’ll see.”

As Y/n spoke those final words, a calm silence settled between them. The tension that had been weighing the air down began to ease, and the light from the setting sun cast a warm glow over the lake, reflecting in soft ripples on the water. Rhysand, still standing close but not too close, let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his shoulders finally relaxing.

He gave her a tentative smile, one that was full of relief and gratitude. “Thank you… for giving me this chance,” he murmured softly. “It means more than you know.”

Y/n glanced at him, her expression unreadable for a moment before a small smile ghosted her lips. “Don’t thank me yet. You’ve got a lot of proving to do, Rhys.”

His eyes sparkled with a mixture of affection and determination, and for the first time in a long time, a bit of the old, charming Rhys peeked through. “I plan to, darling. You’ll see.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no malice behind it, just a faint glimmer of amusement. “Don’t get cocky. This isn’t a victory.”

“Not yet,” he agreed, a teasing lilt in his voice. “But it’s a start.”

They both stood there for a while longer, just watching the lake, the breeze gentle against their skin. Y/n didn’t pull away when Rhysand took a small step closer, their arms nearly brushing. The proximity felt different now—less suffocating, more… reassuring. As if, for the first time in ages, she wasn’t standing completely alone.

Rhysand didn’t make any bold moves; he didn’t reach out to touch her, respecting the distance she still held. But there was a warmth in the silence, an unspoken understanding that they were no longer quite as far apart as before.

Finally, after a few moments of peaceful quiet, Y/n turned to leave, the conversation having drained her emotionally. She needed time—time to process everything he’d said, everything she’d felt.

As she walked past him, Rhysand called after her gently, “Can I at least walk you back?”

Y/n paused, glancing over her shoulder. For a heartbeat, she considered saying no, but then, with a soft sigh, she nodded. “Alright. But just this once.”

Rhysand smiled—genuinely, this time—and caught up to her, falling into step beside her as they began to walk down the path back toward the city. They didn’t speak much, the silence between them comfortable now, and Y/n found herself not minding his presence the way she once had.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @willowpains @theravenphoenix26 @mother-above @bookwormysblog @strawberriesandstories @12idk1234

[homoquartz]

hi!! if you would like to join me in being angry, please consider this new gem of journalism bestowed upon us peasants today:

(Article link is here)

In case you doubt it, yes, that is correct. Major studios will now assemble panels of racists, homophobes, transphobes, and misogynists to dictate how much us squirming pathetic little brown queers get to be represented on screen.

They were already doing this, but now they're comfortable saying it outright. As I have said before, THIS SHOULD ALARM YOU.

This post is long so the rest is below, backed up with data:

Disney is tacitly admitting that they canceled The Acolyte because they would rather alienate their marginalized fanbase than their rabid, genocidal straight white male one. And you can be damn sure this is also why the likes of Netflix and HBO Max are so comfortable discarding highly acclaimed queer shows like Warrior Nun, Our Flag Means Death, the Owl House, and Dead Boy Detectives.

The only shows about marginalized people allowed to go on are the ones that, against all odds, become hit successes (eg Heartstopper), at which point their earning potential outweighs their sin of being brown or gay. I want to emphasize that these shows must be breakout hits - shows that perform on par with straighter, whiter releases aren't given this grace.

These companies are going to obscure the reality of their actions by talking about profits and public image, but rest assured they would find a way to justify this even if the vast majority of viewers were brown and queer. Because it's about maintaining power. It's part of a nationwide surge against inclusion.

Do you remember the IGN article that just came out that revealed Disney's insistence that Riley be made to look "less gay" in Inside Out 2?

Do you remember the Autostraddle article which crunched the numbers to show that queer shows are cancelled more often and earlier than others?

How about GLAAD's breakdown of queer shows cancelled last year? Here's a snippet of the data:

❗️Both Autostraddle and GLAAD have found that 1 in 4 queer shows are axed. This is DOUBLE the rate for streaming shows overall, which is just at 12%.

Variety has a data breakdown here. What's interesting is that Netflix is actually pretty moderate with its cancellations, yet the majority of cancelled queer shows belong to Netflix.

I had a harder time finding data for shows featuring leads of color. If anyone has links, I'll add them here.

In conclusion:

They are banning our books. They are cancelling our shows. They are silencing our stories. You know why.

You can help in a few ways. One is to stream as many cancelled shows centering POC and/or queer people as you can. You will need to keep the volume on, but you can stream at 1.5x speed. Another option is to cancel your streaming subscriptions and vote with your wallet (this is what I have done).

There's also a bunch of petitions for cancelled shows I strongly recommend signing. Pick a show and google it plus "petition" and it will turn up.

You can go to Rotten Tomatoes and IMDB and 5-star your chosen shows, as well as each episode. You can message the streaming services on social media requesting renewal.

Finally and most importantly, start leaning on friends and family. Ask them to do something. Ask them to tell people. The more people who stand against a hateful status quo, the less powerful it becomes.

I believe this can be turned around if we make it unpleasant enough for these people. Make the cost of sidelining us too high to ignore.

I sound silly now, but watch this space in two years.

[falesten-iw]

Warning: Long Post No one reads long texts anymore, but despite everything I've been through with my country, my family, and recently my son, I need to get this off my chest. It's completely unbelievable to me that so many people still don't understand the background of the genocide in Palestine. What kind of journalists or influencers do we have today? Are they too afraid to report and remind their audiences about the real story behind what's happening now? No, it's not just one year of suffering! It's outrageous how the media consistently ignores what Palestinians have been enduring for decades. Have they, or you, even bothered to look at the statistics of how many Palestinians have been killed by Israel since 1948? How many children have been killed? Who holds the responsibility for what's happening now? I often wonder: what if the situation Palestinians face was applied somewhere else? For example, what if, after World War II, the West had decided that all Jews should have a state in the USA—let’s say Chicago—how would the people of Chicago have reacted? Imagine the people there being driven off the land their families had worked for generations, stripped of their rights, and harassed or persecuted if they resisted. Do international laws simply not apply when ### is involved? Do you know that people in Gaza are killed simply for fun? Yes, for fun! Israeli soldiers have been known to shoot women, children, and even animals on the spot, then walk away. Did you feel the wind when those shots were fired? Or was it too far away for you? Do you understand what death means? Good. Do you know why there are so many Palestinians living in different countries, or maybe even right next door to you, even though they smell like hummus, garlic, za'atar, and other traditional foods? Do you know why your neighbors are Palestinian and not Israeli? It's because we've been forced to flee since 1948. Our cities were erased then, and more are still being erased—through violence, through apartheid laws, through genocide, through different methods. Ilan Pappe, an Israeli historian, wrote a book about hundreds of Palestinian cities that were erased to create the Israel you know today. This isn't a war that started a few days ago or even a year ago—this has been going on since at least 1948. More than 45,000 have been killed in Gaza just in the past year alone. 17 000 of them are children, and 13 000 are women. Do you even know what that means? How it feels to lose your children or part of your family? Are you going to tell us how it feels? Do you have no empathy? Is your heart so closed that you can't see the pain around you? Are you really so blind to the suffering of others? How can you ignore these realities? Do you know that the Israeli military has cut off all electricity and completely halted the import of food, water, fuel, and other necessities? There are no hospitals and no medicines left, and 85% of people in Gaza are living in makeshift tents. Yes, tents—but not like the ones you see in movies. These are handmade from plastic scraps. Do you know that my family is suffering from all of this, and I will lose them in this cold weather if you don't act now? Please help us and donate now!

Vetted and shared by @90-ghost: Link.

Verified and shared by @el-shab-hussein: Link

Listed as number 282 in "The Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser Spreadsheet" compiled by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi : Link

Listed on the Butterfly Effect Project, number 957: Link

Additionally, Al Jazeera News has documented apart of my family's case: Link

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@dailyquests

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

I love Sabo as a character so much! However something about his introduction into the story has bothered me for a while. Oda is a master story teller but it truly feels a bit like Sabo whole existence was dropped into our laps out of nowhere. What's your opinion on his introduction? And if you could, what would you change?

Thank you so much for all your amazing art! Always sparks joy.

Hello hello! I also love Sabo a lot and as such theres a lot that I’ve had to come to terms with and work out with myself. I’ll let you in on my brain worms and what they’ve concluded with this subject though so hopefully some kind of weight is lifted off your shoulders, cuz right now, i think his introduction was done really well.

So first off, All Of Luffy’s family members’s whole existences were dropped into our laps out of nowhere, to be fair.

Luffy is not one to talk about his family or his past at all. So i dont blame him for not telling us directly about sabo when he barely told us about ace as he stood in front of us in Alabasta. But even if he doesnt talk about his family, for me, it’s very easy to see what Sabo’s influence on and especially what the loss of him taught Luffy before we even officially see him. We see it especially in water 7/enis lobby/sabaody arcs. During the course of the story up to that point, we don’t really see the world government, but even so, we see Luffy’s complete understanding of the cruelty and heartache it creates. We see his utter determination to not let a single other person he loves be taken away by the world government, too.

Also in Arlong Park! We see him understand what someone’s sacrifice on his behalf looks like. He knows how it ended last time. He’s not going to let it happen again and seeing it happen again in arlong park and water 7 and sabaody and Marineford absolutely kills him. Omg not even to mention Shanks losing his arm, too. This man is completely surrounded by people sacrificing themselves for him wtf. But like Shanks’ situation didnt give him that patented World Government Hatred, babeyyyyyy

And with how he was reintroduced officially in dressrosa, i think it was very artistically done. Like having all those themes and parallels to Luffy’s childhood, even going so far as him pointing them out, himself. That, and the Mera Mera No Mi coming back into the story, it gets you thinking back on Luffy’s backstory and what his brotherhood meant to him. So like Sabo’s already in the back of your mind from that and then youre also thinking “well who the hell is gonna get this fruit once Luffy wins it??” So when Sabo comes back i just feel like “of course. Of course it could be no one else but you.”

Also E S P E C I A L L Y with introducing Sabo, famous Amnesia Patient, back into the story during an arc that explores the absolute horrors of being forgotten and being the one forgetting???? Like truly the most opportune moment to get him back in there. I really love the Dressrosa arc, i think it’s all done very well.

I feel like if it was just Ace and Luffy, it would feel incomplete. Like Sabo’s part in their backstories just adds such a delicious spice to the age old dynamic of “older brother who dies for younger brother who he loves a lot.”

Like tell me Ace’s Death would hit the same if Ace didnt already know what it felt like to lose a brother.

His passing is already beyond tragic but like Sabo’s whole part in it just makes it so much more tragic in a way thats just 😚🤌 mwah~❤️ 𝕷𝖎𝖋𝖊 𝕽𝖚𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌.

Sabo’s presence also adds a very personal level to Luffy’s understanding of the world he lived in. Like the big picture. I really think that if sabo wasnt occupying that space, Luffy wouldnt try to even know about the WG or class warfare or bother with any of that shit. Sabo is Luffy’s draw to the world around him me thinks. Like of course he would have to face that stuff when he went pirating, but those lessons would not have been taught to him before he got out there without Sabo.

This is the same in present day, like why would Luffy care at all about the Rev Army if Sabo wasnt in it? He’d be very thankful that they took Robin in, but like he wouldnt be actively asking about how the Rev Army was doing if his big bro wasnt a big part of it.

Also on that note of Sabo being in the Rev Army, I think that before Ace’s death and Sabo regaining his memory, Sabo wouldve been sneaky and largely unseen. Like yeah he barges into marine fortresses to take them down, but usually there isnt any survivors to tell the tales of him doing so. So before the timeskip, Sabo is out of the public eye. Out of any eye, really. But in my mind, when he regains his memory, i think he would do his level best to get his name out there. Thats why we see all those people in the colosseum/dressrosa be like “:O!!!! ITS THE CHIEF OF STAFF OF THE REV ARMY NOOOO” its cuz all his inhibitions left him. So like his face would be in news papers but luffy doesnt read news papers to find that Sabo’s alive and doing shit.

I think that Sabo took so long to let luffy know he was alive because he was scared luffy would hate him. I think he was scared of the potential scorn from his little brother he feels he wouldve been justified in getting. I think that if luffy was not put in a position where he wouldnt be able to fight in the colosseum anymore due to Law Getting Shot And Taken Off circumstances, Sabo wouldve let Luff keep going all the way to the end. But in that moment, Sabo knew that the fruit was no longer in his little brother’s capable hands and had to take matters into his own. Like we see him thinking about this in the episode of Sabo. We see him slowly following luffy around, listening, waiting, understanding the complexities of his situation, and ultimately making the decision to swap places with him.

I could literally talk about this forever i love talking about this forever and ever theres so much to discuss.

I’ve heard criticisms that Sabo’s amnesia story feels like fanfiction, but like,,, I just cant stop thinking about the hilarity of it all. Like why do you care that all this is all convenient, when it’s kinda funny. Like image you’re explaining your tragic backstory to someone and like you have to be like “now i know this sounds really. Really. Convenient. And ironic. But it’s My Life and I’ve had to Live Through It so please dont laugh.” Like idk!! ITS KINDA FUNNY!!!!!!!!!

I dont think i would be able to change anything about Sabo’s presence in the story without someone being out of character if im being honest. Like Luffy doesnt bring up his past, Ace doesnt like bringing up things that cause him pain, and we dont meet anyone else who knew he even existed until we see Luff’s backstory.

There’s a panel in the logue town arc though, that kinda looks like Sabo standing in the crowd. I think that maybe in the reanimated show or even the life action, if we could get a closer visual on him, just to see that he exists there, i think that would be neat.

Thanks for the question and kind words! Hope you enjoyed the long rant, i could rant for 2000000 more paragraphs but I’ll cut it there for now.

[ohbueckers]

TWO CAN PLAY THAT GAME. i’m only trying to get inside of your brain to see if you can work me the way you say.

THIS IS PART FIVE! pairing, paige bueckers x teammate!oc. notes, they make me sick, that’s it. also would you guys wanna see sana’s faceclaim for visuals?? i’ll proofread this a little later whooooops. warnings, a glimpse into sana’s dirty mind.. & paige just wanting that cookie real bad.

october, 2022

“we got a birthday!”

i was halfway across the dining hall, grinning as i stalked over. it was early, but you wouldn’t be able to tell with the way everyone was moving around, grabbing plates, loading up on eggs, bacon, waffles, the whole deal. i always liked this part of the day—when the team wasn’t just teammates, but more like a family.

family to an extent.

i was half-asleep, barely dressed in a nike crewneck and some joggers that had been getting a little too small for my height, glasses on, hair pulled back in a messy bun. it didn’t help that my knee’d been killing me, and i was just trying to make it through the morning without anyone bugging me too much. but as soon as i found our table, i could already tell today wasn’t gonna be one of those days. when was it ever?

and then there was also her. sana, sitting right there, already halfway through her breakfast like she wasn’t the main reason i was feeling all outta sorts this morning. she looked stupid good for someone who probably just rolled out of bed, wearing a black tube top and some uconn sweats that probably weren’t hers based on the way they fit around her waist. her hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, a few curl strands falling loose around her face, and her earrings caught the light every time she moved.

i turned before i could get caught looking. still, as i slid into my seat between ice and yana, i caught her glancing at me with that smirk. she knew exactly what she was doing.

i moved my gaze to aaliyah. “my birthday isn’t for another week,” i emphasized, dropping my plate on the table before sitting down.

“exactly a week today,” aaliyah corrected, pointing her fork at me before stabbing into her eggs. “so, what’s the plan?”

i huffed like i actually had to contemplate it. “it’s on a thursday. we have practice the next day.”

“so?” amari furrowed her eyebrows at the end of the table.

i shook my head, chuckling as i grabbed a piece of bacon to shove in my mouth. “y’all know cd don’t play around like that. i’m not about to catch heat over this.” i wasn’t the one practicing, obviously, but i could already see the blame coming my way. my birthday and all that. geno was more lenient, but with official practices just beginning to start i was sure that was out the window for now.

“how would she even know?” ice asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“she always knows,” half the table responded in unison, like they’d been through it enough times to know better.

i grinned. “exactly, like she got eyes everywhere or something.” i could feel sana looking at me from across the table, and i’d realized she was awfully quiet this morning. i didn’t look back.

nika pouted. “so, no ted’s? you’re telling me we’re not hitting the bar for your birthday?”

i chewed on my lip, slumping back in my chair. “nah, we can just do something chill at the apartments. prolly just drink, have some fun,” i stated simply. “then our freshie’s won’t get carded.” i slung my arm over ice’s shoulder, smiling smugly as she rolled her eyes.

“okay, but what about their first ted’s experience?” aaliyah cut in, raising an eyebrow at me. “you’re really gonna deprive them of that?”

i shrugged, groaning internally, though. ted’s is not that special. i could see where this was headed.

nika leaned in from across the table, a smirk playing on her lips. “yeah, p, how’s sana supposed to fully adjust to uconn if she doesn’t get the ted’s initiation? you know that’s part of the culture.”

i felt my eyes shift toward sana almost instinctively, catching her gaze as she gave me this half-smile. the kind that was all knowing. she leaned back in her seat, pushing her tray aside as she stretched, looking way too comfortable. “yeah, paige. don’t you want me to have the full experience?” she teased, voice dropping just low enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

i shoved two cut-up waffles into my mouth, and naturally, my mouth ran before my brain could stop it. “i could give you another experience, too.” it was a mumble, muffled by the food, but she heard it.

i knew not to look at her, and the second the words left my lips, i regretted it. but then again… not really. her eyes narrowed slightly, and she leaned back, crossing her arms like she wasn’t impressed. then, without warning, bam—her foot connected with my shin under the table.

“yo!” i hunched over, yelping and grabbing at my leg as i glared at her. “what was that for?”

sana barely blinked, her smirk still intact. “oh, did i kick the good one?” she asked innocently, but i could see the way her eyes were gleaming.

i narrowed my eyes, trying to bite back a smile as i nodded, but it wasn’t working. “real funny, sana,” i muttered, rubbing my leg like it actually hurt. “you tryna take me out before i’m even back on the court?”

she raised an eyebrow, leaning in a little, her voice dropping just enough to where only i could hear. it felt intimate. too intimate for who we were surrounded by. “maybe. if you keep running your mouth.”

i blinked, caught off guard for a second. but before i could come up with anything remotely witty, ice nudged me, pulling me back into the moment. when i turned to look at her, she was already giving me a look—like she’d heard every word of that exchange and was silently demanding an explanation. her eyebrows were practically up in her hairline, and her eyes moved between me and sana.

i cleared my throat, sitting up straighter as my eyes darted around the table. “aight, aight,” i said, louder now, trying to drown out the tension. “we’ll head to ted’s. celebrate proper. y’all happy now?”

the reaction was immediate. a mix of cheers and clapping came from everyone—except sana. she was still leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, watching me with that look. the kind that made me feel like i was the only one in the room, like this whole thing was a game to her, and she was already ten steps ahead.

she knew she had the upper hand. and the worst part? i didn’t even hate it.

october, 2022

i stretched out on nika’s couch, phone in hand, scrolling through my texts. i’d walked up to her apartment a little before our last-minute plan to attend the homecoming football game after practice, leaving her to finish tidying herself up. uconn’s football team hadn’t been doing very well this season, but it sounded a little fun, and it gave us something to do.

my conversation with paige had been sitting there for a while, her last message unread, just sitting at the top of the screen. it was the kind of message you see and purposely ignore for a bit—not because you didn’t want to respond, but because you wanted them to feel the wait.

my thumb hovered over the message, and i sighed, opening it.

So we not gonna talk about the other night?

You left me hangin bro.

…sana

Yo fr tho wyd tonight?

i couldn’t help the little smile that tugged at the corner of my lips. she’d been atleast a little bit more cordial than this at breakfast earlier, but the desperation in these texts? different story. she was like a dog with a bone when she wanted something, and right now, i knew exactly what she wanted, oddly enough. it’s wrong. i know we’re teammates. but i couldn’t help but feel like i was already in too deep now. there’s no harm in a little fun.

especially if no one knows, and even more when there’s no way she’s being serious.

i typed back, keeping it short.

other night? what happened again?

the dots popped up immediately, and i could already picture the look on her face—probably half annoyed, half plotting her next move.

Stop playing

You know I wasn’t tryna let you leave like that

Wanted to get you right

before i could even process how far she was gonna take it, i heard the door creak open, and nika strolled in fully dressed and ready to go, her phone in hand, completely oblivious to the fact that she was about to walk right into paige’s thirst trap. she plopped down on the other end of the couch, and her face lit up with whatever the other person was saying on speaker.

but as she talked more, it registered.

paige.

whatever paige was saying on speaker. of course she was on the phone.

i slouched further into the couch, tilting my phone away from nika a bit as my fingers hovered over the keyboard. i then typed up another response.

sure you could’ve handled it?

another immediate reply. oh, she’s milking this.

Sana

You don’t even know

Lemme come thru & I’ll show you how much I can handle

tough talk, i thought.

“just come!” nika’s voice cut through the room, snapping me out of my phone screen. i blinked, my head shooting up to actually pay attention to the conversation. i couldn’t even fathom how she was multi-tasking right now.

“why do you want me to come so bad!?” paige’s voice was defensive and laced with just enough irritation to make me smirk, like she’d been putting up a fight all evening, and it finally registered in my brain that the brunette had probably been trying to convince paige to tag along with us, while she was too busy thinking she’d actually be getting into my bed tonight. “amari’s going, yana, aubrey. you have plenty company, nik.”

“and i guess sana, too,” nika added, a little too casually like she didn’t just drop a bomb. i almost cursed at her, holding a tight-lipped grin as i shut my eyes for a moment. “just missing my twin…” nika crossed her legs, sighing dramatically as she stared at the ceiling, fluttering her eyes and really playing into this hurt act.

there was a brief pause, and i could practically feel paige’s attention shift. “wait, sana’s going?”

nika shot me a glance, completely oblivious. “yeah, she’s right next to me.”

i bit my lip to hold back a laugh, but paige wasn’t even trying to hide hers. the sound of her laughter rang out through the phone, and nika furrowed her brows in confusion. “what’s so funny?”

“aight, i’ll go,” paige finally said, and i could hear the smile in her voice, which was either genuine or just from laughing.

my eyes widened. that was telling. real telling.

“really?” nika’s eyes went just as wide, turning to me with a ‘i-think-i-know’ look, before a pleased one. “should’ve started with that, huh?”

october, 2022

the stadium lights were bright, too bright over the packed bleachers, the crowd a sea of navy and white. i shifted in my seat, adjusting my hoodie and pulling it tighter around myself. it was getting colder by the minute, but honestly, the chill wasn’t really the problem. not when paige was sitting to my right, just a row below me. maybe i’d purposefully made sure we weren’t next to each other. close enough to be in each other’s eyeline, but far enough that she couldn’t whisper any snarky remarks in my ear.

she was stretched out like she owned the place, leaning against the bleachers with her arms casually draped over the backrest, legs kicked out in front of her. she’d looked a little pissed, too—although she wouldn’t say it to anyone. and i had a feeling it was about me volunteering to switch seats with ines before the game started.

her crewneck had changed, not the same one she’d been wearing this morning. it had risen just a little, showing a sliver of skin at her waist that i tried not to stare at, but it was hard to ignore. paige was always like this—comfortable, confident. i suppose that’s what made her so despicable. everything suited her too well. meanwhile, i was just here trying to keep my thoughts straight.

the halftime whistle blew, and i shot up from my seat a little too quickly. “i’m heading to concessions,” i announced, mostly to myself, already heading down the steps.

paige shot her head up. “lemme come with you,” she said immediately, her voice cutting through the chatter of our teammates like it was meant just for me. i’m sure she could see a middle finger reflecting from my eyeballs.

i knew it was too late to refuse without making things awkward, so i silently accepted it, asking if anyone wanted anything.

“a pretzel,” ines replied.

“a coke pretty please, honey,” nika smiled sweetly at me, the nickname a funny tease into when amari had said we argue like a married couple.

paige, who had been sitting almost lazily just a moment ago, stood up and stretched, her shirt rising just enough for me to catch another glimpse of her stomach. she pulled her crewneck down, fingers brushing the hem, scrunching her face up slightly as she arched her back, her body extending to stretch her limbs out. every movement was slow—or maybe that was just how it felt in my head, because i almost didn’t forgot what anyone had said. my eyes moved down to her abs, and before i could stop myself, i licked my lips.

she was doing this on purpose. she had to be.

i cleared my throat, forcing myself to break my gaze and turn, heading down the bleachers almost in a rush. our stalling had beat the rush of people, but i knew the concessions line wouldn’t be much better.

the blonde was hot on my tail, picking up her pace to keep up with me. our stalling had beaten the crowd, but i knew the concessions line wouldn’t be much better. i could hear paige’s steps behind me, a little too quick, like she was making sure i wouldn’t slip away again.

“you tryna lose me already?” she chuckled.

i looked over my shoulder, slowing down just a little. “i didn’t realize you needed a babysitter.”

she scoffed, running a hand through down her ponytail. “nah, i just figured you might need some help carrying all that stuff. y’know, since you’re too proud to ask for it.”

i squinted at her as she slid up next to me. i shouldve known her longer legs had more of a chance. “i’m not some damsel.” my eyes flickered to the corner of her mouth, watching the way her lips tugged up into that infuriating half-smile. i rolled my eyes, looking in front of me again. “you offering to be useful for once?”

“oh, i’m useful, trust me,” paige muttered, her voice dropping a notch as she stepped even closer. “but you already know that.”

it was quiet. i didn’t want to respond, but paige would make sure she got something out of me. “we gonna talk?” she threw out.

i smirked. i couldn’t help it. “what’s there to talk about?”

paige stepped a little closer, trying to catch my eyes, but it didn’t quite work. “i told you i wanted to get you alone, sana. i meant it.” she paused. “don’t tell me you’re back to hating me.” her tone only sounded half-serious.

i really hated it when she said my name.

i stopped walking for a second, turning to face her. “stop that.”

her eyes met mine, the faintest hint of a smile still playing on her lips. “stop what?”

i scoffed, brushing past her to keep moving. “you’re not that special.”

“riiiiiight,” paige replied, sounding far from offended. if anything, she was more amused, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, i fucking liked it.

it was always way more complicated with girls, you can easily learn that in questioning. but paige? she wasn’t just a girl. she was paige. she was intense and frustrating and too confident for her own good, and i just wasn’t sure if i wanted to let her in. because once i did, i knew it wouldn’t be casual. she’d make me care.

but God, did i want it. God, did i want her. we’d just have to enough emotional distance. that could be easy. only if we made it so.

paige fell into step beside me again, her voice dropping just a bit. “you’re thinking too hard.”

i raised an eyebrow. “and you know what i’m thinking?”

“I don’t need to know,” she said, her voice softening in a way that made my heart beat a little faster. all of our exchanges felt like this. like the first day of practice when i told her she was pressing, playing like she had something to prove. it wasn’t just about her movements then, i could see it in her eyes, the way she wasn’t at ease. i don’t know how i knew, but i did. “i just know you’re holding back.”

we reached the concession stand, and i exhaled, relieved for the distraction. the distraction from my supposed distraction. funny.

paige’s voice pulled me back, soft but unrelenting. “you’ont have to decide anything tonight, you know. but you can’t act like you’re not thinking about it.”

i glanced at her, seeing the seriousness behind the playful front for once. she wasn’t just messing with me. she was offering something real, something i wasn’t sure i was ready for. but damn if i didn’t want to find out.

“imma let you decide, and i’ll be here with open arms,” she added, smiling way too wide for someone who didn’t have something else up her sleeve. i crossed my arms over my chest, squinting at her.

“and open legs,” she whispered.

there it was. i gasped almost dramatically, pushing at her abdomen harshly to make her stumble as she laughed, clearly getting a kick out of her behavior.

might i add that her request didn’t sound half bad?

[thatnonameuser]

A Wonderland Of Yanderes

World Building is here Part 2

It all started with that class.

The final class for the first week of the first semester. After all the chaos of coming to Twisted Wonderland, of being thrown into a world you don’t understand, a quiet weekend to start finding a way back is something you’ve been awaiting.

The classes here were chaotic but fun, and even interesting as a human from a world without any magic. 

Making potions that could do so many different things in Alchemy. Speaking with animals or a cat that can't talk like Grim in Animal Languages. Riding broomsticks in Phys Ed. Even the boring classes like Magical History, learning of this world full of wonder and mystery, and Arithmancy, math was boring, but it was fun to learn that it’s the same in this world. 

But out of all the classes this was the weirdest one of all. 

It was called The Art of Ensnaring Hearts. About ‘darling control and protection’. It’s a weird sounding class, but even weirder, it’s a mandatory subject for all first years, which seems weird for what sounds like an elective. Still it’s just odd, not anything too weird.

The name is nothing that you’ve seen in any fantasy book or tv show in your world. But by now, you knew weird being dropped head first into an unknown world. By now anything new and weird should have been expected, understood, brushed aside as something to accept and move on.

So here you were sitting between Ace and Deuce in the lecture, Grim fast asleep on your lap, waiting for class you knew nothing about.

“I can’t believe they’re making us take this class.” Ace complains.

“Stop complaining Ace. It’s a really important class!” Deuce objects.

Ace whined his butt off the whole way here, complaining about how stupid it was that they had to attend it. Deuce on the other hand, was incredibly enthusiastic and you are completely in the dark for what this class is even about.

Ace shrugs, “Still, my folks and brother taught me all about this stuff. It’s a waste of time.”

“Not everyone has parents or siblings who can teach them about darlings, Ace.”

“Nothing personal Juice, but this class is going to be as boring as Magical History.”

“Well, if you know so much, what exactly is this class about?” You joke and they both look at you like you’ve grown a second head. "What?" you say, now uneasy.

 “You don’t know?” Ace asks.

“What part about ‘I’m from another world’ keeps slipping your minds?” Your attempt at a joke falls flat, as they look at you in incredulity.

Deuce practically reels back in surprise, “N-No it’s just that it's so normal here. You don’t know what darlings are?”

You shake your head, “No, not really.”

A crack of a whip onto the blackboard calls your attention to Professor Crewel, "Alright pups, I have to do this every year so let's get this out of the way now. This class will provide you with any and every method, skill and technique to find, capture and control your future darlings, including evading the law in your respective homelands." Now, you're confused, why exactly is a school teaching students how to break the law?

"As you know Sage Island makes special accommodations for NRC and RSA students, all acts that may be forbidden in any of your hometowns, with the exception of Darling murder, will be pardoned and forgiven. In the case of a family investigation, the school will stage an accident so please do not butcher them beyond repair." No words or sounds slip from your lips, with you stunned silent in pure horror.

What pools in your stomach is hot dread mixed with cold fear. Just what exactly is this world? Murder can be excused here? It can be covered up, with only a slap on the wrist. You need some explanations and you need them now.

A student raises a hand, "Professor?"

"Yes, pup?"

"Why are there no darlings enrolled in Night Raven?"

"One too many murders on campus. A few too many mutts ran around unneutered and decided to draw blood." You smother your gasp a few seconds too late, as more than a third of the room turn to you, confused.

"Something wrong, pup?" Crewel raises an eyebrow at you. His eyes drill into your soul, inspecting, calculating.

"N-Nothing! I'm fine. Perfectly fine." Crewel doesn't push you on the subject, returning to his lecture.

You lean back in your seat, and the cold sweat on your body makes you shiver. Right now, you'll bite your tongue and hold back your horror.

You need to see Crowley, as soon as possible.

[si11yw0rm]

depraved little wolf.

pairing: simon 'ghost' riley x gn reader

blurb: you had heard of the elusive aloof pack alpha known as Ghost, but ever since your step mother sold you to his pack for a new shipment of food and weapons, you never thought your heat would bring the both of you closer. and you definitely didn't plan for how much your wolves would like each other.

tags: cream-pie & unprotected sex (wrap it up. kids are bloodsucking demonic little entities), dirty talk, brief mentions of breeding, throat holding, hair pulling, Simon growls (i warned you quite early), use of pet, baby, and love.

word count: 4k+ (no beta reading. it can be considered a mess.)

a/n: guess who is back from the dead and ready to rumble? (that's right, you little paladins. me!)

FIC BELOW CUT. MINORS DNI.

The first day of heat is always the worst. You heard from your close friend, Naima, that it got better with an alpha by your side, but you were the illegitimate child of the pack alpha, so your chances of finding a mate was next to zero.

Literally.

It was so bad that when your step mother, The Luna, had offered you up to Ghost for sale, your father had no objections. An unmated omega was a disgrace to the pack, especially when they weren't of use for the breeding stations or anything else.

It was crude, and your heart still tore in two from remembering the cold stare of your father as one of Ghost's betas started taking you away. He had looked at you like he was staring at a stranger. The same man who was your only rock at the pack that seemed to want to bring you down.

You sighed, scrubbing your face. You just had to get through the first two days. It was going to get easier after that. You had been learning it for a long time now.

Your eyes drifted to the a cup of water near the bed, and you immediately knew it had to be one of the housekeepers to place it there. Unlike your father's pack, Ghost's pack was so tight knit that it truly felt like family, and you hadn't even being here long.

The housekeepers were kind enough to show you a stocked up nest when you explained your situation, and they hadn't pried too much, for which you were grateful.

Your head was pounding and your vision was swimming, but you sat up anyways, ignoring the way the pounding in your head moved like a blanket that settled over your chest.

Fuck.

Holding a palm against your head, you shifted on the bed, swinging your legs out from under you, the movement immediately causing a burning sensation to start licking up your spine. You held your breath, crossing your legs, cursing when it spiked downwards and burst like fireworks between your legs.

You didn't need to look to know that you were already wet. You could feel it between your thighs, and every part of you was starting to get so sensitive that it was impossible to ignore.

Ignoring it, you swung your legs over the bed and the door opened, and Ghost's scent had everything in you suddenly standing at attention.

You hadn't seen him since that night at your parent's over three weeks ago, but his scent was already burnt into the fabric of your veins, as was his features.

It was almost obscene how tall he was, and how big. He filled every room he walked into, until all you had to do was pay attention and let yourself slip into the bubble he drew everyone into.

The air between the both of you was so still that you hadn't realized how much you were staring till his head tilted, those thick brows lifting and his eyes dipped to your nipples, but he averted his eyes almost just as quickly.

The door slammed shut behind him, and you would be stupid not to notice how his scent almost disappeared as he shut the door behind him. Why would he do that?

He had something in his hand, and when he stepped closer you saw what it was and you couldn't stop how deep your cheeks flushed.

It was a vibrator.

"If you need relief, you can use this. Soap told me that you looked like you would be having a hard time, and I came to prevent that. We take care of our own here."

Ghost stepped closer, almost suffocating you with his scent and you bit your lips to stop the moan from slipping out of your mouth when he placed the carton in your hands.

You processed what he said, remembering the bulky buff Omega that clearly had an Alpha's mark on his neck. Your first night had been a blur, but his warm comforting scent of hot chocolate and cinnamon remained imprinted on your mind, as did his smile.

Ghost tilted his head and the way he angled his body immediately let you know that he deliberately made sure not to touch you, and while you appreciated it because you knew it would trigger a reaction, it made your wolf whine.

Alpha.

It surprised you as much as it surprised Ghost because he suddenly went very still, and his eyes glazed over as they coasted over your head, dropping to your thighs before they came back to meet your gaze.

"I can't touch you, pet." His voice was devoid of emotion, but his eyes were anything but, and his scent of sharp sandalwood with a hint of vanilla was making your head swim and your grip on your wolf start to slip drastically, especially when you could smell the musk of sweat underneath everything.

He needed to leave. Now.

Ghost's eyes went even darker, as if he could read your thoughts off your face and he tugged on the simple mask that covered the bottom of his face, as if he didn't realize he was even doing it.

His face was so stunning your breath caught in your throat. "Ghost..."

He shook his head as he bent lower, crouching in front of you, and a moan slipped past your lips, his scent suddenly surrounding you like a blanket.

He smelt so good you could feel your mouth water, and you were dimly aware of how the last thread of your control over your wolf snap.

You opened your mouth to warn him, but what left was a growl, and Ghost's eyes shifted before widening, but before he could step back, you grabbed his collar and yanked him forward, burying your nose in his neck.

The reaction was instantaneous. Everything in you flickered to life and lit up, and nothing in the world could have stopped the whine that left your throat.

Ghost's shoulders shuddered and his hands brushed your hair, before slowing sliding down your spine. "Pet."

"Hurt me. Please. I need you." You whispered, crawling into his lap. He groaned and moved, pushing you flat on your back against the bed. You couldn't tell if it was his scent or presence that was making your wolf act so strongly in his presence, but there was an ache in your core you desperately needed him to fix.

Ghost tsked and his hand stopped beside your head and the second one grabbed your waist so hard I knew there would be bruises. "Someone's a little eager."

The smooth and yet deliciously husky baritone of his voice nearly made you mewl, and you bit on your lip as you cleared your throat, your eyes sliding across his chest.

"Please. You are my alpha, right? Alphas are supposed to give their Omegas anything they want. You are supposed to fix my ache. You can give me what I want, right? I want you. I need you." You didn't even know what you were saying, nor did you want to take time out to process it.

All you wanted was his hands on you, and you were about to move his hands between your legs when he sighed and bent down, capturing your lips with his.

If his scent was like a blanket before, it was now pouring and sliding its way through every pore in your body, making you almost drunk.

His hand slid up to cup your jaw and a satisfied shudder shook your body, causing a growl to slip through his lips and they traced over yours, his tongue sliding past your teeth to press gently against yours and to sample your mouth.

You were no longer here nor there as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down until you felt his full weight press into you. His growl set off a burning smoking tendrils to lick its way up your core and you moaned against his lips.

Like reflex, the hand on your jaw tightened and you couldn't tell how he managed to tease the edges of your desire with just his lips and tongue, and he kept exploring your reactions to every brush of his lips, lick of his tongue.

As if you were a map he wanted to memorize.

You were too far gone to try to stop the small whimpers leaving your mouth and when his teeth nipped your lower lip, you sighed into his grip, your shoulders melting.

If you had felt exposed before, under the steely unflinching gaze of his warm eyes, the feeling increased tenfold as he learned all your secrets, drawing them out of you with his kiss.

It was like he was forcing you to reveal yourself, and then he took his newfound knowledge and used it against you.

You weren't complaining, and neither was your wolf, whose presence you could feel loudly in your ears.

Ghost pulled away, ignoring your slow whimper of protest as his hands shifted, and he lifted off you, placing his knees back on the bed. The absence of his lips was causing a chasm to blow open inside you, and you reached for him, making him tsk.

"Ghost…"

"Shh, love. Trust me."

His hands slid under your hips, yanking you up until you fell against his chest and you became all too aware of how his thigh wedged itself between your legs. You could feel his eyes burning a hole through your head and you felt the subtle flex of his thighs beneath you, putting pressure on your core that made your head swim.

You grabbed his shoulders, biting into your lips hard enough to hold back the moan, and Ghost chuckled, his hand lifting to your lips as he tugged it out, his eyes burning. "I want to hear you."

Your eyes dropped to his lips, and Ghost laughed, sliding his hand down to your throat. "You want my lips back on yours, love?"

You couldn't tell if he didn't expect you to answer but when you nodded, his hands slid down to your waist and tugged

He smirked, but he lowered himself and smiled against your lips. "As the lady wishes."

His mouth took complete ownership of yours, and despite the brutality behind it, I felt worshipped. He kissed you as if his pleasure far exceeded your own, which had to be impossible. Nobody had ever kissed you like that.

You slid your hands into his hair and pulled him closer, silently begging him to deepen the kiss further. You didn't trust yourself to speak, and you could swear your soul left your body as you felt him smile against your lips as he obliged and he sank his tongue into your mouth with a growl.

The growl lit you up from the inside out and the pressure of his thighs between your legs coupled with the way his hands cupped your throat as he kissed you had you soaring closer to the edge.

It was so close, you could taste it on your tongue.

As you parted for breath, his voice grated against your lips. “If you keep working that hot little tongue against me, I’ll have no choice but to fuck you.” He said it so crudely and simply that your wolf moan out loud, and Ghost's hands finally dropped between your thighs, adding more pressure.

That was the thing that pushed me over, and Ghost kept kissing you as every part of you shook with the force of the orgasm.

His hands left your legs and he gently moved up off his thigh, your back landing on the bed as his hands came up to brush hair out of your face, and the smirk he gave me had your body humming.

“Would you like to come again, love?”

You were still catching your breath, and the thought sounded foreign to you. He couldn't be serious, could he?

"Again?"

One of his hands slid up your bare thigh, higher and higher until it slid under you to cup your ass. You felt him gather the backside of your underwear in his fist, and he twisted the fabric until it wrapped around his fingers once.

It made the material pulled taut, and it slid over the most sensitive part of you, making your head spin. It had to be the heat. That had to explain why everything was burning up everywhere.

He bent down to scrape his teeth against your neck, sending a thrill of sensation shuddering through your body.

"Ghost…"

“Simon.” His voice was deeper and more husky and I felt it vibrate through you.

“Si-Simon. Please.” You moaned, and you felt his lips lift up in a smile against your neck.

"Good pet." His voice was like honey, sliding through your veins and reaching places you didn't even know existed. You whimpered, grabbing his arm and then he tugged on the underwear and your mind went blank, oblivious to everything but the pleasure coursing through you.

He bit your ear again and coasted a breath against it, his voice coming out in a dangerously soft whisper. "Come for your Alpha."

Your wolf immediately obeyed, and you couldn't stop the wave crashing over you. You shook against him as your second orgasm battered its way through your system and his mouth latched onto yours, effectively swallowing the noises you were making.

When you stopped shaking, Ghost...Simon released your mouth, and this time, his panting breaths matched your own. He dropped his head back in your neck, and you knew he was scenting you.

"You smell perfect. God, I want to bury myself in it." You were a stranger to what an other person's wolf sounded like, but you knew it was his wolf speaking.

"Mine. Do you understand that, little Omega?" His voice was almost gravel now, and you snapped your eyes open and threaded your fingers through his hair, tugging on it until his mouth left your neck.

Simon raised his brows and looked at you questioningly, and his eyes were dark and heavy. It felt like someone was running their hands across your skin with fire. He looked at you like he could tell.

Your eyes dropped to his mouth which was damp from kissing you, and he appeared drugged in his arousal.

For you.

You couldn't deny that it made you feel some what powerful.

“You okay, baby?” He murmured, and he ducked his head to scrape his stubbled chin across your cleavage. He was still scenting you, but you loved it just as much as your wolf did, so you arched your back, giving him more access.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you fought the urge to tug his head lower. “I am fine. I…Aren't you going to get inside me?"

Simon's big body shuddered against you in response, and he dropped his free hand to caress the sides of your thighs, sliding them up and around to palm your ass again. He kept himself hovering with one hand beside your head, and he squeezed your ass.

“Still eager, I see. Two orgasms weren't enough for you?" Before you can respond, his lips moved against the top of your breasts and his hand lifted to palm it. "Can I ask you something, baby?”

It immediately sent your head spinning, and you tried to form words and couldn't leave your throat, because you couldn't focus on anything but the way he kept kneading your flesh.

“I…Yes.”

"How do you want me to fuck you for the first time?"

He didn't let you answer and he ignored your sharp whimper, nuzzling your neck before he kept talking. “Do you want me under you so I can watch your cute little tits bounce as you buck those hips on me? Or do you want me on top of you?"

A sharp groan left his mouth, and his grip on your chest turned painful that you could see stars burst at the edge of your vision. "You know what I would do? I would force those thighs wide and bury yourself deep in between them, baby. And you would love every second of it.”

He leaned forward to lick the curve of your ear, and his voice shifted to something more wolf and less human. “Maybe I’m behind you. Fuck, I could get in so deep that way, pet. Tell me what you want. I’ll make it happen.”

His words caused a hot and desperate yearning to pulse between your legs and you pushed up against his hips, making him laugh.

"Don't rush me, love. This exquisite body of yours needs a lot of care and attention, and I am not going to do anything less than to worship you."

His nose went back to nuzzle your neck, and he laughed as you shivered. “You came so quickly for me, baby. You have no idea what a vision you make when you come."

The way he so easily commanded your body’s response left you dizzy, and a fierce ache moved through me, spreading and honing between your legs before moving up to wrap itself around your throat.

Maybe this was how you were going to die.

Simon dipped his head and bit the flesh just beneath your ear, then licked it to soothe the sting of his teeth. “I am going to stretch you now, love."

You knew he was asking for your permission so you nodded, and he slid his teeth up and down the column of your neck, his hand dipping under you to pull your underwear down your legs.

You held your breath and your belly tightened in response, dampness and slick spreading between your legs.

His fingers came up and brushed the juncture of your thighs and you whimpered at the simple contact.

"Shhh." He whispered against your neck, teasing you with soft brushes of his fingertips against the front of you while continuing to torture your neck.

You grabbed onto his shoulders for balance, and Simon used the heel of his hand to massage your core with slow circles of his wrist. You felt your head swim and you cried out at the perfect pressure, but Simon just hummed as his fingers slid into you.

The sudden fullness made you moan and you dug your nails into his shoulders, making him growl again.

He bit your ear hard, pulling it with his teeth. It should have hurt, but instead it felt like an attack on every erogenous zone in your body.

You couldn't stop the full body shudder and Simon laughed darkly, palming you roughly once before removing his hand from between your legs.

"Let me make something clear, pet. When I finally get inside you, I’m going to fuck you until your voice is hoarse from screaming your name. And you are going to scream my name.”

Simon lifted himself and pulled his shirt over his head, and pushed away from you to move off the bed, taking off his jeans and boxers in one movement and when you saw him naked, your jaw dropped.

Until now, his sheer size and strength hadn’t fully registered, but now?

Seeing him like this had you so aware of your smaller, more delicate frame, and it occurred to you just how much control he had of the situation. You had put yourself completely at his mercy, and instead of fear, it thrilled and excited you.

His cock was huge, and you suddenly wondered how he would fit inside you. Simon must have seen the worry on your face, because he crawled over me and his mouth trailed across your heated skin to your breast, and he gently bit the underside.

He lifted his head and blew against your nipple, and the hunger in his eyes as he watched it pucker for his attention made your thighs slick with wetness.

He rewarded you by flicking his tongue against it in short little stabs until you dug your hands into his hair, whimpers and pleading leaving your throat as you demand he cease his torture and finally fuck you.

Simon complied by drawing the sensitive bud into his mouth and his hands skimmed down over your belly to cup you in his palm. You let your thighs fall open in wordless invitation and he sunk two fingers inside you.

Arching your hips to meet his fingers, a moan left your lips. It made you all the more desperate to have him inside me and you pulled yourself on your elbows to whisper in his ear. "Just fuck me, Alpha."

He grinned and slid his fingers back inside you and rotated, finding a spot you hadn’t even known existed and started stroking it with his middle finger.

Your hips came off the bed and you cried out, muscles tightening around his fingers and it didn't take a genius to know that a few more seconds of his expert touch and you would orgasm again.

But then he stopped stroking the spot just before you peaked, laughing under his breath as you let out a whine of frustration. "Not so fast, pet. You come with your dick inside you. Nothing else."

His hands slid out of you and he lifted himself up, sliding into you slowly and you immediately wrapped your legs around his waist.

He was so full and so deep that you could feel him everywhere, and you immediately felt that insistent ache start to build up within you. "You feel so good, love." He whispered, sliding in another inch further.

A whimper left your throat once he finally bottomed out, and it made him still.

"Move. You need to move, Simon." You said when he still held himself still, his breaths ghosting your forehead.

"I just felt your walls clench around me and I don't want to hurt you." His voice was strained, and his eyes were closed, the muscles of his neck tightening.

You groaned and lifted your hips, trying to urge him on. "I don't care, Simon. Just move!"

With another loud growl, his hand came up to squeeze your waist and then he spoke directly against your ear. “Are you ready to scream, baby?”

Without waiting for your answer, his hips angled upward and started pounding into you with a demanding rhythm, sliding against you exactly where you didn't even know you had needed it.

Simon's fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, squeezing, kneading it without a hint of gentleness.

And then his hand reached around to massage your swollen slit with perfect accuracy, building the pressure so quickly your mind could barely keep up with your body.

You had died and gone to heaven.

He groaned and grabbed your hips. "I am going to fill you up, love. You know that, right?"

You nodded and he started moving faster until you could swear he was fucking your brain out of your body, and the very breath from your lungs.

Your thighs began to shake as the orgasm closed in on you, and all your limbs turned into liquid. You were no longer lifting up your hips to match his thrusts, and Simon yanked your hips up to meet him, not pausing in his thrusts.

And his head came off your neck to kiss you, whispering fevered statement against your lips. “Holy Fucking Luna, this is all there is. This is everything.”

The kiss and his next thrust finally triggered your orgasm, and in turn his. His teeth bit into your shoulder with a growl as he came and you felt everything inside you melt as you felt him spill inside you.

It took a moment for you to recover, and when you eventually returned to reality, he slid his arms around you and slid out of you, reaching over the bedside to pull out napkins.

He stared at your slit, his eyes flickered as he spoke. "Clench and unclench."

He wasn't using his alpha voice, but you obeyed immediately, feeling him leak out of you. The flush climbed up your neck and Simon smiled. "You look fucking gorgeous like this, pet. Saited and filled with my cum. Next time, I am fucking you like this until you carry my pups."

You nodded and stayed still while he cleaned you up and when he was done, he pulled you upright and back against his chest.

Softly, Simon kissed your shoulder where his teeth had been moments before and pulled you closer. He exhaled on a shaky breath and kissed your cheeks. "Sleep."

"Don't you have work?" You said, your voice already drowsy.

"I have a very needy omega to take care of. That's my work. The rest of the pack can wait. I wouldn't ask again, pet. Sleep."

You were going to argue, but he slid his hand down your spine and you felt your eyes flutter close.

(end notes)

wow, that was a lot. i was generally genuinely going to start with my kinktober list before this, but i just thought "hey, why not write ghost big dick alpha smut" and i decided to write it. i am kind of excited to get back into writing & posting again, and i am happy to have you here with me.

welcome to the ride! please be sure to hit that like button and tell me what you think! any feedback is highly appreciated.

[malavera]

The Babysitter, pt. 2 (18+) — Logan Howlett

summary: When Logan says he doesn't want you with anyone else, he really doesn't want you to be with anyone else, but him. After a failed attempt to unwrapped yourself around his fingers, you thought the situation would change, but you thought wrong, it's still the same. At night, he'd want you around, but at noon, it would feel like he doesn't know you at all. Too drown in his own work, but what happens when you're off the clock, and Logan catches you on a date with a boy your age?

an: can be read as a standalone!

pairing: origins!logan x female reader

warnings: 18+ Content, MDNI. Set in alternative universe where logan isn't a mutant, angst, no use of y/n, jealous logan, dark logan, naive reader, logan loves to call her with "dollface" legal age gap (logan is around 30 while reader is 22 pursuing a bachelor degree), SMUT; fingering, slight choking, dirty talking, daddykink, foul language

previous part here | logan masterlist here | support me here 🤍

♡ divider creds, cafekitsune

♡ tags: @velvrei @bpmiranda @joelsgoldrush @kholdkill @fictionalmen-dilflover @marellabyr @superhoeva @yawnetu @thefreakcliche @rottenbabyfawn @milesjeon11 @bobateababe @wildlyobsessive @looking1016

The memory was vague in your head, it's like you were already born into this. It's like you're not someone who moved out of her family's home, in search for something promising out there to give food and shelter for the people back home while fighting for a much higher education, a bachelor's degree, in a foreign city. Your parents had sent you off with hopes bundled tightly into the folds of your suitcase—dreams of a bachelor's degree that would one day deliver you into the hands of a secure, well-paying future. They believed in that dream for you, and so you believed in it too. But reality never plays out as neatly as the promises whispered before you left.

You've caught yourself short on money, in a city full of strangers. The part-time jobs are scattered, inconsistent, fleeting. And just when you think the struggle might drown you, there’s a whisper. A friend of a friend of a friend, the kind of connection that feels like it’s made of smoke, tells you about a job. It pays well, they say. But there’s a catch. It always comes with a catch.

The catch is the little boy's 30 something year old father, who's gotten you dazed from the moment he opens the door to greet you and welcomed you inside his humble abode. The whiff of his body odor let alone could send you in a trance. But when the sun shone down, your eyes narrowed to where it's shooting, a flash of his gold wedding ring that's hugging around his ring finger. And of course, he is married.

And it was most likely started around three months ago. Now you're here, still trying to catch your breath as your chest heaves up and down, your back leaning against the wooden door of your apartment. As you brought your head up, you're instantly greeted with a girl that has her hair disheveled, her shirt slightly ruffled, and although she still looks pretty as ever, you always came home frowning.

And you wondered why you frowned, once you unlocked your door, got yourself in, and be greeted by the reflection of your disheveled looking. Weren't you smiling, three months ago since you started? The smile always faded once you stepped foot in the hallway and inching closer to your room at the end of the hall.

A ping from your laptop drew your attention, snapping your head in its direction. Pushing yourself off from the door now, you walked towards your desk and noticed that the sound was to notify a new email just came. It's from a guy you knew, he wasn't a friend, but he wasn't new. He'd asks if you could help him with a subject that he's struggling in and apparently the professor has recommend him to reach for you as you were his star student.

Adjusting your posture before typing your reply, and from that point on, the conversation transitioned to text messages. The two of you agreed to meet at the park after class tomorrow for a study session. It was your day off, so it wouldn’t conflict with your babysitting schedule.

A burst of giggles escaped the little boy’s lips as he chased after the butterfly, his tiny hands reaching for its delicate wings. The old man followed behind with a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he watched the boy’s excitement. He kept a slow, steady pace, but when he saw his son suddenly come to a halt, he quickened his steps, ready to ask what had caught the boy’s attention. Before he could speak, the boy eagerly pointed ahead and shouted,

“Papa, look! It’s Missy Sitter!”

His voice was filled with delight as his small finger directed the man’s gaze toward you, seated at a picnic bench with a laptop open, surrounded by scattered books. The man’s eyes followed the boy’s gesture, taking in the sight of your petite frame, your long hair cascading down your back. For a brief moment, he admired the scene—until he noticed you weren’t alone.

You were sitting too close to someone, closer than he liked.

“C’mere, son,” he called, his voice soft yet firm, a subtle tension creeping into his posture.

“Come on, let’s say hello, Papa!” The boy’s voice bubbled with excitement as he broke into a sprint toward you. His eager footsteps caught you off guard, and you quickly stood up, a warm smile spreading across your face as you bent down to wrap him in a hug.

“James…” The old man’s voice followed, rough and low, his son’s name slipping from his throat like gravel. There was a tension in the way he muttered it, though he stood just a few steps behind, watching the two of you with unreadable eyes.

“Mister Howlett,” you greeted nervously, giving him a small nod as Logan approached. “I didn’t know you liked taking James out to this park,” you added, your voice trailing off, unsure of how to continue.

Logan’s lips twitched into a faint smile at the sound of your soft voice, momentarily pushing aside the simmering annoyance that had clouded his mind. For a moment, he almost forgot what had irked him in the first place. Then again, why was he upset?

Ignoring your comment, he glanced toward the bench where your friend sat, observing the scene with an amused smile, clearly charmed by James. “Who’s your friend?” Logan asked, his voice steady, but his eyes narrowing slightly, betraying a hint of curiosity—or perhaps something more.

“Oh, this is Micah, my friend,” you said as you stepped back, gesturing toward your companion. “I’m helping him study for our major’s subject.”

Micah, ever the gentleman, rose from the bench with a polite smile, extending his hand toward Logan. For a brief moment, Logan’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, a hesitation that almost made him dismiss the gesture. But with James watching curiously from beside you, he grudgingly took Micah’s hand, giving it a firm shake. His grip was strong, maybe a touch too strong, as if silently reminding Micah who he was dealing with.

Logan’s lips curved slightly in acknowledgment, though his eyes remained guarded. “Good to meet you,” he muttered, his voice cool and measured. Then, without missing a beat, he shifted his attention back to you and James, his posture still protective, as if assessing the situation.

“So, when are you coming back home?” Logan’s voice cut through the moment, leaving you blinking in confusion. Your eyebrows knit together as you quickly reached into your purse, pulling out your phone. You swiped through your calendar, certain today was your day off.

“Um, but it’s—”

“Yeah,” Logan interrupted, his tone flat and matter-of-fact. “I meant to text you. Got an emergency errand to run. James needed sitting.”

The way he said it was direct, almost too casual for the sudden shift in responsibility, and it left a strange tension in the air. Logan’s gaze never wavered as he spoke, but there was a certain weight to his words, like he expected you to just step in without hesitation.

"Oh, uh— we could wrap this up in maybe 30 minutes, if that’s okay with you, Micah?" you asked, turning to your friend, trying to navigate the sudden shift.

Micah nodded, offering an understanding smile. "Oh yeah, that’d be fine. Actually, I wasn’t planning to stay much longer anyway. There’s a family issue back home I need to take care of. We can always set up another study session later."

Logan’s lips twitched into a subtle, victorious smile at the turn of events, clearly pleased that things were aligning in his favor. But you noticed it—his barely contained satisfaction—and couldn’t help but frown slightly as you glanced at him. There was something in the way he silently claimed this small win that rubbed you the wrong way.

“Great, I’ll see you back home, Doll,” Logan said, his voice casual but laced with something more. The nickname caught you completely off-guard, leaving you momentarily speechless as you watched him reach for James’s small hand.

Your eyes followed them, still processing the unexpected term of endearment. Logan’s smirk didn’t escape your notice, a hint of smugness flashing across his face as he glanced back at you briefly. Then, just as quickly, he looked down at James, his expression softening before they walked away, leaving you standing there, the weight of that single word lingering in the air between you.

The Howlett residence wasn’t far from the park, so after finishing up with Micah, you felt relieved knowing you could make it back easily. Just as you were about to leave, Micah caught you off guard with a question.

“Hey, before you go, how about another study session sometime? And maybe… dinner afterward?” His tone was casual, but there was a hint of nervousness beneath his words.

You blinked, surprised by the invitation. It wasn’t that Micah wasn’t attractive—he was perfectly decent, even charming in his own quiet way. But it wasn’t just about looks. He was the kind of guy who checked all the right boxes: kind, respectful, smart. Maybe too decent, you thought. Yet the surprise wasn’t in him asking, but in him choosing you.

You were always the quiet one in class, keeping to yourself, never standing out or being vocal like some of the other girls. Popularity wasn’t something you chased, and yet, here he was, showing interest. It left you momentarily stunned, unsure how to respond to the idea that someone like Micah would actually want to take you out.

Which you politely accepted, his invitation.

Was the smile on your face too obvious? You hadn’t realized it until you stepped into the Howlett household and heard Logan’s voice cut through the air.

“What’s got you all smiling, Dollface?” he asked, catching you completely off guard. You gasped, stopping dead in your tracks as your eyes found him standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his hands gripping the edges, his gaze steady on you.

You quickly gathered yourself, fixing your composure as you made your way toward him, hugging your laptop bag and books tightly to your chest. "N-nothing, Lo—"

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted, his head tilting slightly to the side as his eyes bore into you, his expression unreadable. His voice was flat, but the way he watched you made it clear he wasn’t buying your excuse.

You frowned, setting your things down on the small dining table across from him, keeping a couple of steps between you, an invisible barrier. His presence was palpable, and you weren’t sure if it was the tension or something else that kept you from moving closer.

“C’mere.” His voice dropped an octave, carrying that quiet intensity that only surfaced when he felt the need to assert control. It wasn’t a request—it never was when he used that tone. He knew how to use it to keep you just within his reach, and somehow, you always felt compelled to follow.

You forced down a swallow before cautiously making your way toward him. The moment you were within reach, Logan’s hand shot out, gripping your hips with an iron-like hold. In one swift motion, he turned you around, pressing you firmly against the counter. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as your back met the hard edge, the cool surface biting into your skin. The sudden closeness left you breathless, his presence overwhelming as his body crowded yours, trapping you between him and the counter.

“I want you to stop seeing him,” Logan said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Logan—I can’t. He needs me, and I need the bonus for—”

“What, more money? Doll, I could get you however much you need. Just tell me, and stop seeing him.” He cut you off, and your eyes shot up to glare at him.

“It’s not about the money; it’s for my grades! And not everything is about money, Logan!” you shot back, frustration boiling beneath the surface. You gasped as you feel his hand flew to grab you by the throat, slightly squeezing it.

"Don't ever use that tone with me, Doll. Remember who you belong to." Logan hissed, glaring at you. He thought with him showing authority might bring your anger boil down, be he thought wrong, instead you shot back again.

"Who? You? As far as I know, after I attempted to tap out, you wouldn't let me and you promised me more. But what, Logan? You still treated me like no one during the day, but a whore at your mercy at night?" The end of your empowering statement came out more like a question. In which you continued, "You knew how I felt about you," Emotion welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over like a dam about to break.

Logan's expression softened, his grip on you loosen as he watched your lips tremble. "I only want you, Logan. But you treated me like trash, I—I tried to get out, you wouldn't let me. And now, you finding me out with a boy that didn't mean no harm to me, all of a sudden I'm somewhat precious to you? Too precious to be seen with anyone but you?" Each word felt heavy in the air, laced with frustration and hurt, as you confronted him with the tangled mess of emotions that had been building between you.

Logan sighed, shushing you gently as you began to sob, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. As your body collided with his warmth, a wave of instinctual comfort washed over you, causing your entire demeanor to melt into his arms. The anger that had been simmering within you, ready to boil over, gradually cooled, leaving you feeling vulnerable and frustrated.

You hated this feeling, this surrender. You hated that you couldn’t fight him, that the fierce resolve you’d built up seemed to dissolve the moment he held you close. It was infuriating how easily he could draw you in, making it hard to remember why you were so upset in the first place. The warmth of his body against yours brought a conflicting sense of safety that only deepened your inner turmoil.

“I—I love you… Logan,” you whispered against his chest, the confession escaping your lips like a fragile secret. He shushed you gently, rocking the two of you side to side, creating a cocoon of warmth and comfort. The weight of your words hung in the air, and you realized what you had just spilled; you had poured your heart out to him, and now you were finally ready to confront the truth.

You didn’t care that he was married, that he had a son. All that mattered was the undeniable pull you felt toward him. You pulled away slightly, searching his eyes as you repeated, “I love you, Logan. I really do. I really, really love you.” The urgency in your voice was palpable, and you needed him to understand the depth of your feelings.

But Logan didn’t say anything in response, and his expression was unreadable. Confusion and uncertainty flickered across his features, making your heart race. Instead of answering, he cupped your face in his hands, his touch both tender and commanding. Then, without warning, he connected his lips to yours.

The kiss was indescribable—electric and intoxicating. It sent a rush through your entire being, leaving you breathless and momentarily lost in the moment. You couldn’t tell if he was kissing you to acknowledge your confession or if he simply wanted to silence you, to avoid confronting the strange reality that a young girl had fallen for his old-married-ass.

In that heartbeat, everything else faded away. The doubts, the complications, and the chaos of your emotions blended into the background, leaving only the taste of him lingering on your lips and the warmth of his body pressing against yours.

"You belong to me," Logan murmured in between the kiss as you softly moan with your eyes closed. His thumb softly caressing your cheeks while both of your lips are fighting in the battle. "No one else, but me," His words sounded like a vow.

His hands found their way to your waist as he lifted you up to set you down on the kitchen counter. Your legs spread open automatically to welcome him in between them before you both proceeded to tangled each other's lips.

You whimpered when his teeth slightly nib on your bottom lip, as Logan smirked before forcing his tongue down your throat. His right hand comfortably wrapped around your throat, the cold sensation of his wedding finger kept you from melting furthermore into his touch. Logan sensed you're not fully enjoying this as he convinced you to fully succumbed to him by wrapping his hand tighter around your throat earning a moan from your lips.

His right hand then slowly unwrapped as it goes down, lingering freely across your body, caressing your chest down to the hem of your sundress. Logan broke the kiss to move down connecting his lips to your neck as you tossed your head back, rolling your eyes shut moaning his name. His left hand placed comfortable behind your back, as his right hand travels down caressing your soft skin of your thighs.

"Please, please, please..." You whimpered, chills ran down your spine when you felt his warm tongue gliding against the skin of your neck.

"Please what, Dollface?"

"Please touch me."

"I am touching you aren't I?" Logan pulls his face away from your neck to fixated his gaze upon your eyes, darkened by needs and raw, aching longing. A smirked appears on his face, "What are you talking about, doll? Aren't I touching you?" Logan teased, as his right hand caress your thigh up and down, his thumb slipping towards your inner thigh, almost reaching your heat.

"Not there." You murmured with your lips trembling, your head feels heavy as Logan kept on teasing you with his touch.

"Where, doll?" Logan scrunched his eyebrows together, pretending to not understand what you're saying as his right hand finally goes to reach your throbbing heat, clothed with your white laced panties. "Here?" Logan inched his face closer to you as he nudged his nose against yours, his hot breath fanned against your lips.

"Use your words, Dollface." He commanded, as you whimpered while you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Yes,"

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, daddy." You whispered.

Logan's laugh erupted, cold and mocking, like a predator toying with its prey, "Good girl." And with that, by ease, he ripped your panties off as you automatically leaned back, spreading your legs wider. Logan's hands went underneath both of your thighs to pull you closer to the edge of the kitchen counter.

His left hand went to your back, snaking its way up to nestle at your nape to push your body upwards, connecting your forehead against his. "Open up," He demanded, and by default, you opened your mouth to welcome his two fingers inside. Your tongue swirling and coating his fingers with your saliva, a faint, salty tang lingers on your tongue, mixed with the warmth of his skin and Logan watched you being a good girl, sucking on his two digits. He gently pulls away once he's satisfied and went down to reach your heat.

He gently plays with your clit as you tossed your head back, letting out a moan. "Angh..." When his fingers slowly go down to reach your tiny hole. He teased your hole a little, collecting your moist, before pushing two fingers inside your needy cunt. Another loud moan earned from you, as Logan kept pushing his two digits inside.

"This what you want?" Logan mumbled, glancing down to his fingers inside your pussy before glancing back up to watch your face contorted into pleasure. He rolled his fingers slowly, feeling the spongey walls of your cunt against his pad. "I don't think that boy's fingers can get you this desperate, right?" You only moaned out loud for him, opening your eyes watching his sharp ones.

"Come on, Doll. Y'know who you belong to." Logan smirked and with that he started to flick his fingers inside your cunt, increasing his pace.

"Ah, shit! Daddy!" You shrieked, throwing your head back, your hands resting back to support your weight.

"I know, doll. So good, huh?" Logan mumbled, watching his fingers doing his work. "It's just my fingers inside your cunt, you forgot how it feels when it's my cock?" Logan breathed, his heartbeat increasing from excitement watching you vulnerable on his fingers. He started to thrust his fingers in and out of you, without hurting you, whilst flicking here and there.

"Come on, doll. Cum for me," His left hand went to your back, pushing your body upwards with force. "Open your eyes, I wanna see you shatter." Logan growled, connecting his forehead with yours.

You whimpered, tears stream down your cheeks as you slowly opened your eyes. "There we go, come on, baby, cum for me. Cum for daddy, I know you want to."

"D-daddy..." You whimpered and with that, you reached your high, gushing down his fingers while he kept working it inside you, emptying your fluid.

"Thaaaat's ittt... Good girl, good girl, baby." He whispered as he gently pulls out his fingers. You small smiled, your chest heaves up and down trying to catch your breath.

"About what you said before," He started, you forced down your saliva, mentally embracing yourself to receive his answer. Your once calmed heartbeat now raced back. as his mouth went agape to say something, you both jumped in surprised when the front door sounded open and closed.

"Momma's home boys!"

[sluts4stsg]

𑁍 KINKTOBER DAY 3: PET PLAY + PUBLIC 𑁍

ft. getō suguru, gender neutral reader

contains: attempted noncon (not by suguru), forced petplay, pseudocest kinda, buttplugs, forced public nudity, non graphic murder, and emotional manipulation.

word count: ~2.2k

sorry for the delay <3

“i can’t believe master getō let you into his family!”

“you don’t know how lucky you are to get master getō’s acknowledgement.”

“oh, i wish i could be you right now; i would give anything to just stand by master getō’s side…”

how naive they all are, but you can’t be mad at them; they’re just like you when suguru took you in, except you were never a member of his cult like them. the moment he had rescued you from some sort of attack you don’t remember the details of, suguru had adopted you into his ‘family,’ but even when he insisted you were a family member, you couldn’t help revering him like all his worshipers.

i mean, how could you not? he’s kind, handsome, powerful, and that’s not even to mention he literally saved your life! he was perfect in your eyes.

but how naive you were.

even though you were a part of the ‘family,’ you were treated differently. whenever suguru was away, you were left to be watched by another family member, and you were ostracized, treated like a waste of space by either his daughters or his secretary. child you were at the time, you cried about it to him whenever he returned, wanting to know why they didn’t like you, and he would always give you a sweet smile, petting your head as he explained, “you’ll understand when you’re older.”

and you thought you had reached the age where you would understand everything when suguru explained to you just what a ‘monkey’ was. it was a term he threw around often, but you never knew it referred to someone like you, someone who couldn’t see the supernatural. someone beneath him and the rest of the family.

“but you’re special.”

so why did the rest of them still dislike you? 

you didn’t understand, and you continued to not do so until a month. maybe there were signs you didn’t see, warnings you chose to ignore, but when suguru beckoned you over and donned you with a pretty pink collar that had your name on it, everything finally clicked—you were his pet. an honored member of the family, yet still an animal in their eyes.

and since the moment his ownership of you was fastened around your neck, you’ve got treated worse and worse. the members of the cult envied you as he paraded you around, his daughters treated you like their personal whipping boy, and the rest of the family would turn a blind eye whenever suguru did something to you.

and suguru. oh, your beloved, revered suguru showed you what hell truly was.

the collar was only the start, and before you knew it, a leash was attached to the collar too. whenever you wanted to go out, he would have to walk you around, and he would never allow you stray too far away from him either, yanking the chain to pull you back towards him when you wanted to hide and keep your dignity. it was like he was on a mission to get you to abandon all your self-respect, and once you got used to the leash, he presented you with ears and a tail.

the ears you could swallow your pride for—it was just a headband after all, but the tail was the first time you ever even thought about putting your foot down against him. if it was a belt, you could probably suck it up and wear it, but no. he wanted you to wear a tail plug.

“no.” one of his eyebrows shot up, smile falling as he glared at your refusal. “i-i mean… i’ve never even… y-you know… had sex before, and you want me to wear… this? i’m sorry, i-i can’t just—”

before you could even get the words out, a smack echoed off the walls, a rush of pain flooding your cheek, and the taste of iron permeated your mouth. your hand was shaking as you brought it to the faceache, and your eyes widened with tears as you looked to him, your heart dropping when his smile reappeared at the sight of your horror.

“sweetheart, let me make this very, very clear to you; either you die like a monkey, or obey me like a dog. you’re the only person i’ve ever given this option to, so choose wisely—what will it be?”

and that choice has led you to where you are today: walking around the ginza shopping district on your leash, ears on and tail in, as suguru takes his daughters out shopping. they had begged him not to take you, wanting to spend their precious quality time alone with their dad, but he insisted on taking you with them. “you girls are terrible at taking care of pets; you do know you have to let them out every once in a while, yes?” he playfully chastises them, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s doing this on purpose to make them hate you more.

but whatever. mimiko and nanako are the least of your concerns right now, especially since they ran off to a lingerie store with suguru’s credit card. your focus is solely on trying to ignore passerbys gawking at you, though you seem to have a talent at looking unbothered in the face of all this humiliation you’re being put through.

and suguru dislikes that.

“you know, i’ve been thinking,” he hums while stopping in his tracks, causing you to run into his back. you fall to the ground, biting back a moan as the tail plug gets pushed deeper when you land on your ass, and suguru turns around to look down at you, that sickening grin on his face. “you’ve been playing your part just… excellently so far, sweetheart, but there’s one glaring issue in your attire: dogs don’t wear clothes.”

his implication was obvious, and you could feel your heart drumming in your chest, a look of desperation finally forming on that unbothered face. “m-master getō… no, p-please… i—”

he doesn’t even let you get the plea out as his hand tenses at his side, a dark aura surrounding it, and even if you don’t know what it is exactly, you know to be scared of it. so swallowing the bitter last bits of your pride, you begin to unbutton your shirt in the middle of the street.

that cruel smile on his face grows ever wider as you strip yourself down to your socks, and he even makes you take those off too. “aww, there we go,” he praises, his voice so sweet it makes you ill, before reaching his hand out to you, and as you reach out to take it and stand up, he smacks your hand away. “your clothes. i’ve been nice to you, but dogs don’t stand, sweetheart. i think i need to be more strict.” the coldness in his voice as he says that almost makes you miss his saccharine tone.

almost.

because once you hand him your clothes, he goes back to it, and you remember why it makes you sick to begin with. “but you know, the more strict i am, the better your rewards will be.” the fact he can so casually talk down to someone he’s raised since you were a child without any remorse just makes you nauseous, like he has no care for the kid he damn near raised.

no—it’s not even ‘like’ he doesn’t care. as he tucks your clothes under his arms, suguru tugs you along behind him by your leash, and he ties you to a streetlight, telling you, “now, wait here while i go get a pet carrier to put your stuff in, and then we’ll go get you a treat for being such a good pup, okay?” it becomes clear to you that he has no care for you whatsoever.

i mean, leaving you tied up and naked in the middle of a busy shopping district—is he insane??

and it would be one thing to leave you out like this during the day, letting your nude body be on display under the broad sunlight for who knows how many people to laugh at and take pictures of, but it’s night. who knows the amount of creeps lurking in the dark are ready to pounce on the first piece of ass they can find? and it’s not like they’ll even need to search hard for you; you’re naked and illuminated by the street lamp, completely vulnerable and ready for the slaughter.

even if suguru instilled a fear into you that you cannot name, you’re not taking any chances tonight. it doesn’t matter if suguru is only going to be shopping for five minutes—that’s five minutes of stress and worry you’re not willing to risk.

you unclip the leash from your collar, and bolt off to the alleyway next to the store suguru entered, hoping to hide your nudity in the darkness until you see him come back out.

oh, how naive you still are.

it barely took even a minute for you to feel hands on your bare hips, the stench of liquor creeping into your nose. “heyyy, look what we got here, man… pretty little thing…” a raspy voice slurs, and another one follows suit, “ain’t this a lucky find? all dolled up for us…”

you stare straight ahead at the opening of the alleyway, petrified and praying that someone on the street will turn and see, but you are not given such grace as one of the men snake around in front of you, a musty finger coming to hook your collar. “aw, you got an owner, puppy? that’s too bad because i don’t think we wanna give ya back now,” he muses as his free hand moves towards your face, his thumb ghosting your lip, and as if on instinct, you bite down on his thumb hard, not letting go until he has to pry you off of him.

once he frees himself of your bite, he staggers back, holding his now bleeding thumb, while his friend behind you laughs. “oh, bad dog,” he scolds you with a flirtatious lilt in his tone as his hand wraps around your tail, and before you could even notice, he yanks the plug out of your ass, making you let out a choked scream. your knees buckle, and unable to hold up your weight, the man behind you pushes you up against the brick wall. 

“don’t you know bad dogs get punished? it’s like your owner didn’t even train you,” he snickers, and you hear the clank of a belt buckle behind you, “we’re gonna ruin your ass, baby… and since you bit him, i’m gonna let my buddy take a whack at you first. you’re lucky that plug already stretched you out for us.”

and there was nothing you could do but bite your bottom lip and close your eyes, praying that you wouldn’t cry and waiting with bated breath for what was to come. 

you hear footsteps approaching. you feel your asscheeks being spread. you hear pants being dropped to the floor. you feel the heat of some fluid being splattered on your skin. you hear a scream.

you feel a dark aura flooding the alleyway, and you finally open your eyes, turning to the mouth to see suguru with his hand outstretched. “filthy monkeys touching my property,” he spits out before impaling your assailant through the chest with an invisible force, and when you turn around, you see that the other had already been decapitated, his blood being what had splattered on you. the darkness vanishes as suguru seems to call back whatever he did, and he looks at you, his eyebrows furrowed with a mix of disappointment and frustration. “didn’t i tell you—” 

but before he could scold you for running off, you rush towards suguru, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face into his chest as you cried, “i-i’m sorry, master getō! i’m sorry, i-i should’ve listened…! i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m… s-so sorry…”

he looks almost astonished at how quickly you apologized, but he can’t blame you, giving you a gentle laugh, “there, there…” he sinks to the ground, taking a seat so that you can cry into his lap while he pets your hair, “it’s okay, sweetheart, it’s okay… i’m not mad…”

the softness of his tone has you regretting every little thing you've ever done in defiance against him. if you just listened, if you were just a good dog for him, he would be like this with you all the time, and you would never have to know fear again.

“hey, you know what?” he reaches into his newly bought pet carrier and pulls your clothes out, presenting them to you, “how about you get dressed, and we’ll go meet up with the girls so i can go buy you that treat, okay? does that sound good?”

your eyes widen at the gesture, a smile forming on your lips as the tears continue to stream down your cheeks, and you nod your head excitedly. the fact he’s actually letting you put your clothes back on after what happened is a sign that he does truly care about you as a person, making you feel terrible about all this time you thought the opposite.

how naive.

now that suguru knows what will have you crawling back and crying into his lap, he is sure that he’s found his perfect, obedient pet for life.

[amirasainz]

Hi!! I love your blog. You'd writing is always so amazing and beautiful. Could you maybe update your "sunshine behind the camera" story again. It is one of my favourite stories here on tummlr and you haven't updated it in a really long time.

I don't want to pressure you or be rude, I just really like the idea of it. Pretty please💖💖

All relationships are platonic!!!!

(This is a short chapter)

Part 1 Part 3

Testing

The 2024 Formula 1 pre-season testing was a whirlwind of excitement as teams gathered to fine-tune their cars. Amid the hustle and bustle of the paddock, a fresh face drew the attention of the entire grid: Isabela Ferreira, McLaren’s new photographer. At just 18, Isabela was known for her extraordinary talent behind the camera, but her shyness made it difficult to connect with anyone outside her team. She stuck close to Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri, her primary subjects and now close friends.

“She’s incredible, isn’t she?” Charles remarked after seeing one of her shots.

Lando grinned. “You have no idea.”

“She’s pretty shy though, always with you two,” added Pierre. The group had seen Isabela lurking near the McLaren garage, camera in hand, her eyes wide but her interactions minimal.

Oscar chimed in, “Yeah, she’s shy, but once you get to know her, she’s awesome.”

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

The next morning, the drivers gathered in the paddock for a private conversation. Lando and Oscar felt it was time to share a little more about their new friend.

“She doesn’t talk about it much,” Lando began hesitantly, “but Isabela’s been through a lot. Her mom left when she was young, and her grandma basically raised her.”

“Yeah,” Oscar continued, “she’s kind of become part of our team, and honestly, we can’t imagine things without her. She’s more than just a photographer—she’s family.”

Lewis, always a voice of calm, nodded thoughtfully. “She’s lucky to have you two looking out for her. She’s clearly talented, but it sounds like she needs that sense of belonging.”

Max, who rarely let down his competitive edge, softened at the story. “That’s pretty heavy. No wonder she sticks to you guys.”

Charles smiled. “We’ll take care of her too.”

From that point on, the entire grid took it upon themselves to make Isabela feel welcome.

Charles and Pierre took the first step. They found her near the garage later that day, fiddling with her camera settings. “Hey, Isabela!” Pierre called out, causing her to look up, startled. “We were just talking about you.”

“About me?” she replied nervously, adjusting her camera strap.

“Yeah! You seem to know everything that happens, but we’re the ones with the gossip,” Charles added with a wink. “Want to hear what we’ve been hearing?”

Isabela blushed, unsure of how to react, but she smiled. “Sure, why not.”

Later, Carlos and Yuki joined in, making it their mission to introduce her to the best food stalls around the paddock. “No offense, but paddock food can be a bit boring if you don’t know where to look,” Carlos said, offering her a small plate of something delicious.

“Trust me,” Yuki added with a grin, “I know where to get the best stuff. Just follow me.”

Lewis, meanwhile, approached her quietly one afternoon. “If you ever need someone to talk to,” he said gently, “I’m around. It can be overwhelming here, but you’ve got friends now.”

Max, determined to see her laugh, often sneaked up on her with jokes and exaggerated impressions of the other drivers. One day, after a particularly bad joke, Isabela burst out laughing, and Max threw his arms up. “Finally!”

Even the notoriously serious Fernando found a way to connect with her. “So, I’ve seen this TikTok thing, but I don’t understand it. You’re young. Show me how to do it?”

Isabela giggled. “Are you serious?”

“Completely,” Alonso deadpanned. The two of them ended up creating a couple of videos together, which went viral.

George, always the gentleman, invited her for tea sessions between photo shoots. “You’ve got to slow down sometimes,” he said one afternoon. “Let’s have a chat over tea. It’s a tradition.”

Meanwhile, Alex, ever the animal lover, took every chance he had to show her pictures of his pets. “Here’s my dog, and my cat... oh, wait, this one’s my girlfriend’s favorite.”

Isabela found herself slowly opening up, feeling truly at home with the entire Formula 1 family. Each driver, in their own way, made an effort to welcome her into the fold. But none were happier about it than Lando and Oscar, who could see her slowly becoming more confident and comfortable in this new world.

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

One evening, as the sun set over the track, the three of them sat down on some empty tires, exhausted but happy. “You guys have no idea how much this means to me,” Isabela whispered.

“We do,” Oscar said, giving her a gentle nudge. “That’s why we wanted everyone to know how important you are.”

“Yeah,” Lando added with a smile. “You’re part of this team. Part of this family.”

Isabela smiled, her heart full for the first time in a long time. She had finally found her place in the world, behind the camera, but surrounded by people who truly cared for her.

[murdrdocs]

INTERVIEW 019. ETHAN LANDRY murdrtober oct 4th. free use + stalking

You're broken up but Ethan has always had trouble understanding boundaries. 900+ words DARK CONTENT AHEAD. MDNI 18+

At first, you didn’t know if Ethan purposefully misinterprets the things you say to him, or if it simply happens naturally. There have been far too many times when you told him one thing, only for him to come to the opposite conclusion. One too many times when you told him left, and he got right. It was bearable in the beginning when everything about him was cute during the honeymoon phase. But when his density began to appear as yet another tactic and Ethan Landry became less and less of the boy you thought he was, you became irritable. 

A breakup and pleas of distance later, and misinterpretation is still stuck to Ethan as if it were woven into his DNA. 

Maybe it was simply a part of him, something he got from his father’s side of the family maybe, because that was the only explanation for why you’re staring at Ethan in your dorm room. You’re sitting on your bed, wracking your brain and trying to figure out exactly how he got in here. But before you can come to a conclusion, Ethan is already stalking towards you, heavy boots thudding against the hardwood floors until he reaches your rug. The muffled sounds do little to qualm your fear.

Is that what you feel? Fear? You’ve never been scared of Ethan before, the feeling feels foreign directed towards him. Even your body is confused, adrenaline becoming mixed up for endorphins. Why is the fear tickling in your lower belly? Urging you to push your legs apart for him?

You ignore whatever bodily malfunction that is happening currently. “How’d you get in here, Ethan?”

Ethan shrugs. “You left your door unlocked. That’s the sign you usually give, right?”

It was an old habit. Leaving your door unlocked before you sent Ethan some sort of message, telling him in your own convoluted way that you wanted him, and he was free to come in here and take you however he pleased. 

It’s not what you intended to happen tonight. You try to tell Ethan that, assuring him that it was nothing but a habit that would die harder than you thought. 

Ethan snorts. Disbelief drips from his pores. 

You feel like you’re pleading with him. “Really, Ethan. I didn’t even text you, did I?”

He shakes his head and folds his arms over his chest. “You never text me on odd days. It’s when your classes are harder. You get stressed easily. ‘S when I would come over to help you out, right?”

He is right. The two of you weren’t together for too long, but you were together long enough to have created a routine. It worked well, too well for both of you. 

“That doesn’t mean anything anymore. We’re broken up.”

Ethan stopped for a second. His features fall for only a moment, cat-like eyes narrowing into a look you’ve only ever seen directed at people who weren’t you. It doesn’t scare you. It excites you. 

The look disappears before you can consider it for longer. 

“You’re telling me you don’t want this?” He takes the final step needed to be at the edge of your bed. He presses his knee into the mattress, starting his climb towards you, but he doesn’t continue. He hesitates and hovers, so close but so far away. 

You can smell him from here, a scent you haven’t been able to smell in this proximity in weeks. You miss it. 

But you won’t tell him that. Not easily, at least. You won’t lie to Ethan, you never had before and you won’t start now. So instead, you don’t say anything. 

Ethan lets a smile tug at the corner of his lips. “C’mon. Silence doesn’t work on me, you know that. I’ll just keep pushing, and pushing, and pushing until you answer me.”

His hand circles your ankle, the rough pad of his thumb rubbing circles onto your skin. The touch shouldn’t be as soothing as it is. You blame it on familiarity. In the same way, you blame your compliance on familiarity, too. 

Why else would you let Ethan lay you flat on your stomach, your shorts and panties yanked off and your legs spread, giving him access to your cunt just how he liked it. 

He thrusts into you slowly, almost meticulously, each drag of his cock in your walls achingly slow. He’s prolonging this, making it last for his own pleasure. You’re getting almost no stimulation from this, but there’s still something so appetizing about having Ethan on your back like this, pinning you down and taking you how he wanted. 

“I missed you so much, d’you know that?” he tells you while he drags his cock out of you, leaving just the tip in. He hesitates for a moment, and then he slides back in, slower than he pulled out.  

He swears under his breath, burying his head in the crook of your neck. “You can probably tell, can’t you? I’ve been fucking jerking off like crazy. ‘S not as good as you, though, babe. I needed this—” he punctuates his claim with a thrust up into you. He hits a spot during it, your back curling towards him on pure instinct.  

“Ethan,” you croon, the cry of his name muffled by the sheets. You’ve made a mess of them, drool and saliva have created a wet spot under your mouth. You try to move away from it, keep yourself away from the discomfort, but you’re stuck like this. There’s nowhere else for you to go. 

You never ask for anything from Ethan after you say his name, but he tuts anyway. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t need to. You’ll accept what he gives you. It’s always how this has worked.

[coldfanbou]

TM IS Side Story: New Toy

Little side story for you all, @twice-inamillion looks like Somi is getting some training.

Some weeks before your birthday, Jihyo had gone out to meet with someone. In the middle of the conversation, she brought up the real reason she wanted to meet Somi and mentioned her family. “I need you to understand that it’s dangerous for you to know,” Jihyo said, leaning back against her chair. “So I want you to sleep with him. Chaeyoung mentioned that you wanted to get your cherry popped by him. I know that you can Chaeyoung mess around with each other, so letting him fuck you should be fine, right?” Jihyo leans forward onto the table, giving Somi a smirk and showing her command over the situation. Somi looked around nervously; it was true since that day with Chaeyoung, she had thought about you a lot, masturbating to thoughts of you taking her more than once. “I need to protect my family, so I need some dirt on you, and this is just the way to do it.” She said in a stern voice.

“I understand, but-”

“I’ll get you ready for him; you’re going to be a birthday surprise.” Jihyo interrupts, handing her a slip of paper telling Somi where to meet her. Somi nods along, some of her worries disappearing because of Jihyo’s comforting words. Still, Somi knew this was to protect everyone’s careers with a type of mutually assured destruction in case something went wrong.

A week went by and Somi met Jihyo at the place she had written on the slip of paper, walking inside with the older woman as they got themselves a room in a hotel. Once inside Jihyo put down the briefcase she had bought and told Somi to strip and lay down on the bed. “Take this too; it’ll get you in the mood.” Deciding not to question it, Somi took the pills offered to her and stripped down, standing naked in front of Jihyo as the older woman got out of her clothes, too. Somi crawled onto the bed, lying down as Jihyo looked through her briefcase and laid out toys. Somi felt her body grow hotter as she watched the older woman check through the toys. 

Somi pursed her lips as the older woman set out many toys, looking at them individually before turning to her. Jihyo crawled over the younger woman, “This is how it’s going to go, Somi. I’m going to make sure your body is ready for him.” Jihyo lays herself on top of Somi, reaching down and groping her ass. “This is going to be the first place we train.” 

Somi shut her eyes, moaning as she felt Jihyo kiss her neck, “It’s going to take a while to get you ready,” Jihyo left a trail of kisses down, stopping as she reached Somi’s breasts. She stuck her tongue out, circling the hard nub before biting it gently. Jihyo pulled back, still biting Somi’s nipple. The pain and pleasure mixed; it was a whole new world for Somi, who felt a tightness in her core. Somi’s other breast wasn’t left alone; Jihyo squeezed it, pinching and pulling on the younger woman’s nipple. Somi’s moans grew louder, and the urge to finger herself grew stronger as Jihyo switched tits. “Shh, we haven’t even gotten to the good part,” Jihyo whispers. 

Somi, struggling to contain herself, moved her hand down her body and attempted to finger herself but was stopped by Jihyo. “From now until then, you're not allowed to touch yourself, understand? Mommy is going to take care of you.” Jihyo said, staring into Somi’s eyes. The younger woman gulped and nodded her head, pulling her hand away from her slit. Jihyo smiled and returned to pleasuring the younger woman, focusing solely on her tits for what seemed like forever. Somi was on the verge of cumming from that alone, but Jihyo pulled away.

“It’s time for you to turn around,” the older woman ordered. Somi did as she was told and waited, feeling Jihyo's weight move off the bed. She looked over her shoulder and watched the Twice leader put on a strap-on. It was about five inches as far as Somi could tell. Jihyo rubbed the cock, coating it in lube as she prepared to move on to the next step. As she climbed back onto the bed, Jihyo whispered to Somi, “We need to make sure your ass is going to be able to take his cock just as well as Chaeyoung’s. I hope you’re fine with not sitting right for a few weeks.” Jihyo spread the younger woman’s cheeks apart and pushed a single finger inside, testing the tightness of her asshole. Somi cooed as she felt the older woman curl her finger inside her. Her body shuddered as she came from that alone. Jihyo spanked the younger woman, “Who told you you can cum?” Jihyo asked, her voice laced with disappointment.

“Sorry, Mommy.” Somi groaned as she felt Jihyo add another finger to her ass. 

“Mommy is going to teach you a lot, but you have to get better at holding on,” Jihyo said, plunging her fingers into the younger woman. Somi moaned again, the tightness in her core coming back quickly. “I haven’t even put it in, and you're going to cum twice,” she complained, her fingers continuing to lube Somi’s walls. Jihyo positioned herself behind Somi, holding onto her waist as she pushed the head of her strap-on against the puckered hole. Somi buried her face in one of the pillows, groaning as she felt the head push inside, stretching her previously virgin ass. Jihyo continued to push in slowly, making sure every inch was inside and letting Somi become accustomed to it before beginning her thrusts. The older woman pressed down on Somi’s head with one hand as she used the other to keep the younger woman’s lower body arched as Jihyo thrust. 

The pleasure Somi felt outweighed the pain, and with every thrust, she was cumming, her body twitching as Jihyo took her from behind. Somi moans filled the room, and she begged for her mommy to fuck her. 

Jihyo smiled as she listened to the younger woman beg for more. Her plan to turn Somi into the perfect plaything was going to be a lot easier than she thought. The pair continued to fuck her hours, with Jihyo breaking Somi’s mind and making her pass out. This process continued for weeks leading up to your birthday, with Jihyo training Somi on how to give good blowjobs and what you liked. In each lesson, Somi became more and more submissive, focused on her goal of being the perfect toy. The pills she was given helped her by flooding her body with more pleasure. Somi followed every order during and after training, making it weeks since she touched herself. The only time she released all her tension was when Jihyo was training her. 

[inkspiredwriting]

The Perfect Birthday

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: This little one shot is for @craftyangelpainter. I hope you had a great birthday, and I hope this puts a little smile on your face

Warnings: none

It was a warm afternoon at Five and Y/n’s house, the living room festooned with balloons and streamers. Y/n’s birthday cake stood proudly on the table, a beautiful creation with intricate frosting, baked by Y/n herself because, as usual, she didn't want to burden anyone. Five had worked tirelessly to pull this day together, ensuring everything was perfect for his wife. But as the hours ticked by, the cracks in the celebration started to show.

The whole family had gathered at Five’s insistence, which had been no small feat. As much as they had been through together, getting all the Hargreeves siblings in the same room often felt like trying to contain a tornado in a jar. But for Y/n, Five was determined to make it happen. She deserved it.

Lila and Diego arrived with their three kids in tow, looking tired but managing some smiles for Y/n. However, it wasn’t long before Lila started mentioning their need to head home early. “We’ll have to leave soon,” she said, half-heartedly stirring her drink. “The kids have school tomorrow, and Diego and I are running on fumes.”

Five clenched his jaw. He understood, of course, but this was Y/n’s birthday—one day for his wife to feel celebrated by the people she had grown to care about.

Across the room, Klaus sat huddled on the couch, looking anxious. Without his powers, he had been jittery, afraid of everything from the weather to his own shadow. “I’ll be honest,” he said, his voice shaky as he glanced around nervously, “I’m just trying to keep my anxiety at bay. All this... mortality stuff is really getting to me.”

Ben sat at the far end of the table, scowling at nothing in particular. He poked at his food, clearly uninterested in engaging with anyone. “Can we get this over with?” he muttered. “I don’t even know why I bothered coming. I don’t like any of you.”

Allison, who had been on her phone for most of the gathering, finally piped up. “I really need to get back to Claire,” she said, glancing at the clock. “I promised her I wouldn’t be gone too long.”

Luther, ever the optimist, was the only one genuinely thrilled to be there. “Come on, guys, it’s Y/n’s birthday!” he exclaimed, trying to rally some enthusiasm. “Let’s at least try to make it a good time.”

Y/n, for her part, was putting on a brave face. She moved around the room, smiling, offering food, making sure everyone was comfortable. But Five could see the disappointment in her eyes. She had spent so much time thinking of others, doing everything she could to make his dysfunctional family feel welcome. And what did she get in return? Barely any effort.

As the evening wore on, Viktor stood up, slipping his jacket on quietly. “I need to head back to Canada,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “The bar isn’t going to run itself.”

That was the final straw for Five.

He slammed his drink down on the table, the sudden noise silencing the room. Everyone turned to look at him, surprised by the outburst. Five rarely lost his temper now, but when he did, it was impossible to ignore.

“Are you kidding me?” Five snapped, his voice sharp and filled with barely-contained fury. “You ungrateful assholes.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, and she instinctively reached out to touch his arm, but Five wasn’t done.

“Except Luther,” he added quickly, pointing at his taller brother, who looked caught between relief and awkwardness. “At least he’s trying. But the rest of you? Seriously? Do you even hear yourselves?”

Diego frowned, stepping forward. “What’s your problem, Five? We’re here, aren’t we?”

“Oh, you’re here, alright,” Five retorted. “Physically, maybe. But mentally? Emotionally? You couldn’t care less. Lila and Diego can’t stop talking about leaving, Allison’s glued to her phone like she has something better to do, and Klaus is too busy wallowing in his fear of death to even be present.”

“I have reasons for that!” Klaus interjected weakly, but Five ignored him.

“And Ben?” Five’s voice rose. “Ben can’t even pretend to care. He’s sitting there like we dragged him here against his will.”

Ben crossed his arms, glaring at Five. “I don’t need this,” he muttered, but even he didn’t try to walk away.

Five took a deep breath, trying to rein in his anger but failing miserably. “You know who’s done everything for you? Y/n. She’s always gone out of her way to help you, to make you feel like part of this family. She’s been more of a sibling to you than most of you have been to each other. And now, on her birthday, you can’t even pretend to celebrate her?”

The room was dead silent, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating.

“She bakes for you, she listens to your problems, she does everything she can to make this dysfunctional mess of a family feel like home. And what do you give her in return? Excuses. Half-assed effort. This?” Five gestured around the room, his frustration boiling over.

Y/n looked mortified, trying to tug at Five’s sleeve, her voice a soft plea. “Five, it’s fine—"

“It’s not fine, Y/n!” Five cut her off, his voice softer but no less intense. “It’s not fine. You deserve so much better than this.”

He turned back to his siblings, his green eyes blazing. “You know what? If you can’t even give her a few hours of your time to show her how much she means, then you can leave. Go back to whatever it is you think is more important than being here for her.”

There was a long pause. Lila and Diego exchanged guilty looks, while Klaus shuffled uncomfortably. Even Ben seemed to shrink a little under Five’s fierce gaze. Allison put her phone down, looking at Y/n with something close to shame in her eyes.

“I…” Viktor began, but then he sighed, taking off his jacket. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Y/n.”

Luther, ever the peacemaker, stepped forward, a warm smile on his face. “Let’s start over. We’ll stay as long as you want. It’s your day, Y/n.”

The others slowly nodded in agreement, clearly shaken by Five’s outburst. Lila gave Diego a small nudge, and he sighed, nodding. “Yeah, we’ll stay. Sorry, Y/n.”

Klaus, looking awkward but sincere, added, “I’ll, uh… try to be less scared of everything.”

Ben grumbled something under his breath but didn’t move to leave. Even Allison offered a small smile. “I’ll stay. For you, Y/n.”

Y/n, who had been standing quietly beside Five, finally spoke. “You really didn’t have to do that,” she said, looking at her husband with a mix of affection and exasperation. “But thank you.”

Five pulled her into a gentle embrace, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You deserve it. You always do.”

And for the rest of the evening, the Hargreeves siblings did their best to make up for their earlier behavior. Laughter filled the room, stories were shared, and for the first time in a long while, it felt like a real family gathering. Five kept a protective arm around Y/n, making sure she knew just how much she meant to him.

As the night wound down, Y/n looked around at the scene and smiled. “You know,” she said quietly to Five, “it wasn’t the perfect birthday… but it’s pretty close.”

Five smirked, kissing her cheek. “I told you I’d make it happen.”

And in that moment, Y/n knew just how lucky she was to have Five, even in the chaos that surrounded their lives.