#but I lost time but when I was are again I was still kneeling and usually I’d be on my side after fully losing consciousness

[bad268]

heyy, i was wondering if u could do a kimi fic even tho u r getting unnecessary backlash for it ( sorry babes ) maybe with an italian reader that reacts badly to kimi getting into a f2 crash bc a family memeber passed from a car accident and after hes i nthe hospital the ready gets clingy with him?

I'm Not Going Anywhere (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Hubert! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (I changed it to French, hope you don't mind <3)

Warnings: Imola crash, heavy mentions of Belgium 2019 (Hubert reader i mean-)

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1887

Summary: Kimi's crash brings the reader back to the darkest time of their life

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^@/kimi.4ever on Insta from 7/25/2024)

You had finally let Kimi convince you to come to one of his races. It was one of his home races, Imola specifically, and you had never gone to a race with him. You had some deeply buried trauma with races, so you were more comfortable supporting from afar. Well, when Kimi came up to you and practically begged you to join him, you couldn’t say no. The weekend was fine. You and Kimi were doing track walks, you got to sit in his car, you got to meet some of the grid, and it all helped to ease your nerves. George and Carmen were amazing, it was fun catching up with Ollie on track, and all was well.

Qualifying went well, with Kimi ending up in the top 10, and the race was going to be a piece of cake, he said. Why was it a piece of cake? Because it was projected to rain. Why would this make it a piece of cake? Oh, because Kimi was more comfortable with driving on the wet track. You knew this as he always took you on late-night drives whenever it rained. It was just more calming to him, so you took his word as you stood beside Toto in the Mercedes garage.

Then, it was like everything was in slow motion. One second, you were listening to Toto praising Kimi’s skills, but the next, everything was silent. You had looked over at Mick as he tapped your shoulder, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw a silver car lose control. Your ears were ringing, and you couldn't focus on anything. Suddenly, you felt like you were back in Belgium 2019. The worst day of your life, the day you tried your hardest to forget, the day you lost your older brother, Anthoine. The flashbacks you tried so hard to bury were coming back in full force.

You didn’t register your legs giving out, but you felt someone’s arms wrap around you. Was it Fred? Mick? Carmen? Toto? Susie? You don’t know. The view of Kimi’s Mercedes hitting the wall replayed over and over and over again in your head. You couldn’t feel anything, and it was just like back then. Your brain was glitching, mixing up the two accidents. With that, your anxiety ran wild.

Your breathing became unsteady, you felt your heart beating at your fingertips, and your hands and forehead became clammy. You felt like you were going to throw up or pass out as you brought a shaking hand up to your chest. There was nothing you could do. There was nothing you could do to save Kimi and nothing you could say to help the situation. You were helpless.

You vaguely remembered someone lifting you to stand and help you into Kimi’s driver’s room, but you couldn’t recall who. You felt like you had no control over your body. It was almost like you were watching everything from the outside. It was the same as Belgium 2019, and there was nothing you could do.

You briefly registered a blob of someone kneeling before you. They grabbed your hands and ran their hands across your knuckles. Then, up your forearms to your shoulders. They drew shape around your legs and shoulders, coaxing you back into your body. You blinked rapidly as they did so, and after a few moments, you felt like the bricks on your chest lessened. You saw Mick kneeling in front of you. You let out a huge breath as you collapsed into his chest. 

Everything was still a little hazy, but you were able to semi-follow along with what Mick was explaining. Something something breaks failed. Something hospital. Something something get in there. Mick helped you into the back of an ambulance, helping you sit next to Kimi before he said something to the medics. 

No one looked at you twice as you reached out to grab Kimi’s hand, but you stopped in the air just before you could. If this was it, you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold it together if you held his hand. Your mind still replayed the ambulance ride with Anthoine, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of deja vu as you looked at Kimi.

He was unconscious, but he looked peaceful. Then again, so did Anthoine. You dropped your head for the entire ride, not wanting to face what you believed to be inevitable.

When you arrived at the hospital, a nurse directed you to a waiting room while they attended to Kimi, giving you the chance to come back to the present on your own. You clenched your fists a few times and walked around the room. You just couldn’t sit still. It felt like hours, and maybe it was until a nurse came in to update you on Kimi’s condition. Part of you had convinced yourself that he was gone, but that changed when the nurse walked in with a comforting smile.

“He’s alright,” She said as she led you through the halls to his room, “He’s a little out of it, but he should be just fine. He hit the wall pretty hard, so he has a concussion and broke his wrist. He should be back in the car in a few weeks, depending on his progress.”

“He’s alive?” You asked hopefully as your voice cracked. “Will he be okay?”

“We’re projecting a full recovery,” She comforted as you threw your arms around her and cried. The biggest weight was lifted off your shoulders after hearing this situation was different from before. Different from Anthoine. You still had Kimi, and that’s what you needed to focus on. You finally regained your senses before pulling back and wrapping your arms around yourself with a sheepish smile. “I can take you back to see him now.”

With a nod, you followed behind her silently through the halls. There was nothing you could think to say at that moment, and you didn’t want to disturb anyone you walked passed. Eventually, you both got into the lift, and she pressed the button for the fourth floor.

“Just so you know, he was asking for you,” She added just before stepping off the lift and walking towards a room to the right. It was the first door, but before she could open the door, you gently grabbed her wrist.

“What do you mean? I thought he was unconscious since the crash?” You questioned, dropping her wrist when she turned to you. 

“He woke up momentarily when we were transporting him to get a CT scan,” She replied quietly. “He just whispered your name a couple of times and asked us to tell you he was alright, but he went back under almost immediately. It was very helpful actually because it showed us that he still had some memory, so we didn’t need to worry too much about amnesia. Here, head in, and I’ll send someone by to get you dinner.”

You nodded in response as she continued walking down the corridor, but you took a deep breath before walking into the room. It was just as bland as you remembered- no. You were not thinking like that. He’s fine! The nurse said so herself! 

There was no color, no sounds other than the heartbeat monitor, and no movement. You would change that whenever he woke up, or you would text someone to bring flowers or something. You pulled the chair closer to his bed. He didn’t look bad for someone who just got in a life-threatening crash. He had some bruises around his temple, his left arm was wrapped, and you could see some bandages around his chest. Honestly, you were scared to touch him. 

You finally got the courage to link your pinky with his. It was minimal contact, but it made you feel so much better. It also accidentally opened the floodgates. You barely registered the tears that fell from your eyes as your eyes zoned in on his hand. You analyzed the amount of wires that came out of it, the slight bruises on his wrist and fingers, and you noticed how bare his wrist was. He always had a watch or fan bracelets on, and seeing neither didn’t help the onset of tears. 

You pulled one of your charm bracelets off and gently slid it on over the wires. It was one he made for you, saying “Tesoro” with a (color) heart. You made him an identical one with a red heart, but it was with the rest of his things back at the track. Just seeing one semblance of normalcy helped calm your nerves as you fiddled with the bracelet. Eventually, the day caught up to you, and you laid your head next to Kimi’s hand. You briefly looked up at him before exhaustion hit you full force.

It felt like you were asleep for hours, and maybe you were. You felt something gently running through your hair, across your cheekbones, down your arm, and eventually stopping at your hand. You registered that it was someone’s hand, and when you finally connected the dots, your eyes snapped open to see Kimi’s half-lidded eyes looking back at you.

“I’m sorry, did I scare you, Tesoro (sweetheart)?” His groggy voice asked quietly as his hand moved back up to cup your cheek. He gently wiped away the stray tears that had collected on your lashline as you struggled to form words. “You don’t have to say anything. We can talk later. All you need to know is I’m okay, I’m here, and I���m not going anywhere.”

“Can I lay with you?” It came out before you registered it. Was it against hospital policy? Could be, but it didn’t stop Kimi from shifting over in the bed to make space for you. It also didn’t stop you from immediately climbing on next to him, being careful of the wires and injuries he had. You gently laid your head on his chest and wrapped an arm loosely around his stomach before looking up at him, “Is this okay?”

“If you’re comfortable, it’s perfect,” He replied in a soft tone with a smile as he placed a kiss on the top of your head. He adjusted his arm around you so the wires hung off the side of the bed, and he could still hold you. “Anything to make you feel better.”

“You just got in the accident, not me,” You chuckled halfheartedly. “I should be working around what you’re comfortable with.”

“You are,” He pointed out, “I’m comfortable when you’re comfortable. And it’s not like you're pulling on my IV or anything. We’re both comfy now, so why don’t you try to get some more sleep?”

“What about you?” You asked sleepily. The now-comfortable position made it a lot harder to stay awake, especially now that you were able to talk to Kimi and give yourself peace of mind.

“They should be in here shortly to check in,” Kimi answered before kissing the tip of your nose. “Get some sleep. I feel like it was a hard day for you. I’ll be here when you wake up, don’t worry, Tesoro.”

“Ti amo, Tesoro (I love you, sweetheart),” You whispered against Kimi’s lips as you placed one last kiss before falling asleep.

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[p0orbaby]

If your still doing blurbs, could I request something with Leah x Reader, Leah being drunk, like smashed, could literally be anything.

-

It starts with “just a couple of drinks” at some fancy bar Leah swears up and down she won’t enjoy. She’s not even supposed to be drinking—training starts Monday—but someone ordered tequila shots, and Leah has the willpower of a toddler in a sweet shop.

By the time you show up to collect her, she’s perched on a stool, gesturing wildly about something to Katie, who’s cackling like a banshee. Leah spots you instantly.

“Baaabe!” she slurs, nearly toppling off the stool in her enthusiasm.

Katie snorts. “She’s all yours”

You sigh, already sensing this is going to be a long night. “Leah, what did we say about tequila?”

“That it’s the devil’s drink,” she says solemnly, like she’s reciting scripture. Then she grins. “But I tamed the devil!”

She has not tamed the devil. She’s lost a very public battle with it.

You take her arm, but she’s too busy rummaging in her pocket. “Wait, wait, I got something for you”

“Oh, God”

She produces a crumpled napkin with what looks like someone’s phone number scribbled on it. “This guy tried to chat me up,” she says proudly. “I told him I had a girlfriend who could bench-press him”

“Romantic,” you deadpan, shoving the napkin back in her pocket.

Leah grins. “You’re welcome”

The walk home is even worse. She insists on stopping every five minutes to either a) pet a dog, b) tell a stranger they have “great vibes,” or c) try to climb something.

“Babe, get down,” you hiss as she attempts to scale a lamppost.

“I’m reclaiming my childhood!”

“You’re going to reclaim a concussion”

Eventually, you manage to bundle her into a taxi, where she spends the entire ride insisting the driver “looks just like Pep Guardiola” and trying to play footsie with you despite the fact that you’re sitting next to each other.

When you finally get her home, she collapses onto the sofa dramatically. “I’m starving,” she announces.

“You’ve had chips and a kebab,” you point out.

“I could eat again”

You leave her to wrestle with her hunger demons while you grab a glass of water and some paracetamol. When you return, she’s lying flat on the carpet like a starfish, mumbling about how the ceiling is “so big.”

“Alright, lightweight,” you say, kneeling beside her. “Time for bed”

“Can’t move,” she moans. “Floor’s my home now”

You roll your eyes but eventually manage to coax her into the bedroom. She flops onto the mattress with all the grace of a bag of wet cement, immediately trying to pull you down with her.

“Leah, you smell like a distillery”

“But I love you,” she says, her voice muffled by your shirt.

You can’t help but laugh. “I love you too, but you’re sleeping on your side. I am not cleaning up after you if you puke”

She grumbles something unintelligible but lets you tuck her in. By the time you turn off the light, she’s already snoring softly, one arm flung over your waist.

[nausicaaandhermouth]

A Kiss For Loyalty

masterlist

young!silco x gn!reader [1.2k][AO3]

summary: You find him after the attack on the bridge, and you're left to figure out how to tread the fragile state of him.

tags: young silco, a few hours after vander tries to drown him, angst, established relationship, hurt silco, not betad

a/n: mid-lecture we were looking at photos of gash wounds and i couldn't help but think of young silco's face fresh after the drowning, so ofc i had to write a comfort fic for him. kinda comfort. it's mostly angst.

Vander couldn’t look you in the eye, couldn’t form a single word. And at first, worry was what overtook you—Silco hadn’t survived, lost in the fight. But the more you looked at the larger man who had returned, the more you recognised something else: the aftereffect when he’d had too much to drink, had raised his voice, had felt guilty. Regret.

You find Silco in your bedroom, curled up on the worn mattress that had held you both some countless nights. It had overheard the visions for your new nation, the sloppy passion of drunken evenings, the quiet rise and fall of breaths during winter. Now it’s witnessing something new.

You’ve never heard Silco cry. Your bedroom shrinks at the sound of it, as if the corners darken and round themselves to hold and hush him. It’s a sharp sting, an undeniably pained cry bleeding into his palm, cupped around his mouth.

When you approach, you’re silent—assessing, investigating, worrying if this isn’t something you can fix. He’s never been so evidently broken. You’re not sure whether it’s about Vander or at the failure of their uprising, both of which had taken a large portion of his heart.

“Silco?” you whisper, taking another step forward.

“Don’t,” he manages, his sobs becoming quieter, but affecting his breath, bubbling out of him in squeaks and chokes. “Please,”

You shake your head, keeping your ground but keeping your eyes on him. He’s refusing to remove his reddened hands from his face, his hair curtaining over his left side, black, wet strings.

“You’re hurt,” you furrow, focusing on the blood down his hand. You rush forward, chest attempting to wrangle in a frenzied heart. “Show me, hey, S—”

“Stop!” he inches away from you, a childlike recoil that makes you freeze.

It’s a foreign behaviour, a desperation he’s never worn, never come close to mimicking. As far as you’ve known him he’s been the opposite. Even in pain, he stitched together a composure so convincing it made others doubt he could ever truly feel the hurt he was raised around.

You suppose that it’s something he’s worked on, refined throughout the years after taking on the responsibility of becoming Zaun’s face, alongside Vander. His ideologies had spilled straight from his heart into your ear. You understood why he worked so hard to maintain a strong face.

That man was gone; he hadn't entered the room this time.

He’s hiding, you see, shielding his face from you. This, you understand, is something he thinks may spare you from even a fraction of the pain he must be feeling. He’s always been so. To hoard the suffering and smile.

“You don’t want me to see you?” you ask, kneeling by the bed and retracting your hands.

Silco doesn’t answer, the chokes of suppressed sobs the only sound from him.

“It’s alright,” with a shake of your head, you turn around, facing the other way and leaning against the bed. “I don’t have to see you. Just… just talk to me,”

You wait a beat, then another, waiting for his voice, willing his voice to regard you again. Anything with a meaning that you could warp into a sign of hope.

“Please,” you add. It’s unintentionally desperate, pleading, giving him the power of controlling where the conversation goes. Something he needs, you suppose, something he’s certain is still predictable.

You hear a sharp breath behind you, then the shuffle of your bedsheets. Your eyes slide the farthest they can without turning your head, attempting to see any glimpse of him.

Then his hand enters your periphery, pale skin against scarlet, fingers twitching and shaking as his forearm rests on your shoulder.

You take gentle hold of his hand, turning it this way and that in search for wounds. But nothing. “Who…” your breath escapes, “Is this your blood?”

“Yes,” he responds, a word that pricks at your lungs sharply.

You see the moment clearer now. A wound so deep that to reveal it is its own pain.

You recall Vander’s face. The shame that distorted his features, how ugly it becomes as you try to piece together the fragmented pieces. 

“Vander did something,” you surmise. Your breath quickens, a sneer creating brackets around your flared nostrils. “Did Vander do something?”

You feel Silco’s breath near the top of your head, but before you’re able to turn, a weight settles over you. Momentarily, you hold, letting the firmness of his muscles process on your body, around your shoulders, his other arm snaking over your bones and holding you backwards to him.

You hear his soft sniffs over your head and slightly to one side, the bone of his cheek pressing against your crown.

There it is again. It’s a spear through your body, the sound of him. It strikes a fissure along your lungs, each sudden inhale a crack veining in your airways, each tremoring breath he takes an earthquake on your skull. Vander, what have you done?

You take his hand and hold it to your cheek, the cool back of his hand against the warm apple of your face. You interlace your fingers, a familiar practice, just as fluid as the locking of legs in the night, or the pressing of palms for a prayer.

Next was the chaste kiss on his index knuckle, for loyalty. Then on the middle knuckle, for liberty. Another on the ring knuckle, for luck. And lastly, a kiss on the pinky knuckle, for love.

It was a silent conversation he and you had made, meeting mouth to bone always easier than devoting a voice to each word.

His other hand wrapped around your wrist, bringing your arm upwards and over your head, your own knuckles meeting his familiar lips. But they tremble.

He breathes a kiss, gentle, on your index knuckle, starting, then failing. His breath falls jagged on your skin.

For a moment he restarts, the warmth of his air hovering over your knuckle. But again he fails.

Your frown deepens. Even more so when he moves your hand and skips to your pinky knuckle, the only promise fulfilled.

“How bad is it?” your voice slightly muffles against his hand near your mouth.

He swallows, clearing his throat. “At the… we were at the river, he—” he grips your hand slightly tighter.

“It’s still hurting?”

His clothes shuffle. “Yeah,”

“Let me look?”

Silence.

You start to think he’ll reject you again, not yet prepared to face you in whatever shape Vander had left him. But he loosens his arm around your shoulders and moves away, his presence at your back fading.

Your other hand remains in his, the anchor, as you shift on the floor and turn.

You look up and your eyes meet. No. One eye meets yours.

You sense his panic by how the one remaining blue jumps between your eyes, tips of his mouth downwards. He brushes aside his wet hair.

The left side of his face had been marred, a trench of exposed muscle, skin, and blood bared at you. The blackened sclera is haunting, a flame moving in tandem with the watery blue of his other eye.

You’re more than certain there’s nothing but indignation gushing through your veins. Yet, Silco remains beautiful. You realised a long time ago it was difficult for him to not be, no matter the state of him. And still now, left eye diseased with the molten of betrayal, mouth frowned by grief, fear in his good eye.

“It’s not over,” he whispers, leaning forward as you reach up and cup the unmarred side of him. “We’ll take back Zaun,”

There he is. No man, no river, could ever kill him. “You’ll show them,” you press a kiss to his index knuckle.

[lyrefromthesea]

Please can I request pre-relationship hashira x hashira!reader, where they are sparing together and it becomes a bit suggestive 💙💙

Male pillars x reader - Sparing with benefits

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu , reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: suggestiveness

Tengen:

"you could just give up, there's no chance you could win against my flamboyant self!" he taunted, running around the courtyard with you.

you had been fighting for ten minutes and there was still no end in sight. you weren't a bad fighter, you've been promoted as a hashira some time ago, but Tengen was at advantage right now.

he was faster than you. he had been saving himself from your attacks by avoiding them every time. the smirk on his face only spurred you on more, wanting to win this fight and show him that you were a good fighter.

however, when you raised your bamboo sword for an attack and he turned around to dodge it, you felt yourself trip on a root. it had been sticking out of the ground, making you fall over.

surprised by what has happened, Tengen lost his own halt and fell backwards, landing in a sitting position. you felt yourself fall onto him, at least partly.

when you checked your surroundings, you found your head on his lap. your cheek pressed against his groin. meeting his gaze, you could see his cocky smirk.

"it was an accident! i didn't mean to.." you said, wanting to stand up instantly. this would definitely look wrong from an outsider's perspective.

when you tried to stand up, you felt his hand tangle in your hair, pressing your cheek a bit more against his groin, only satisfied when you felt the bulge against your skin.

"just so you know, my wives had always found you cute enough for this.." he teased, his eyes staying on your widened eyes.

you pushed away, running away from his grip and off the training field.

Obanai:

he was proud of you for becoming a hashira. when he took you in as his tsuguko, he wasn't sure if he made the right decision, but he was sure now.

you were able to follow his movements, dodge his attacks and even make some of your own. your elegance captivated him and he found himself admiring your fighting style.

perhaps he had been diving in his thoughts too much, because when his attention was finally back on you, he was already on the ground.

your legs were on either side of him, straddling his body. heterochromic eyes were staring deeply into yours, surprised by the sudden turn of events.

"i win, Obanai." you said, looking down at the man. your hands were resting on his chest, leaning forward slightly.

his heartbeat was increasing under your hands, cheeks flushing. it wasn't the first time he noticed how beautiful you were, but your allure only increased like this.

"you.. you do.." he muttered, not being able to turn his eyes away from you. yet again, neither were you. you leaned down further, remaining with your faces only a few inches apart.

it would've been so easy to kiss him right now. however, feeling your hips rub against his groin, he couldn't stop his body from reacting, his hands gripping your waist.

"[name], g- get down.."

Rengoku:

"flame breathing. third form: blazing universe!" he called out, his bamboo sword coming at you with immense speed. you barely managed to block his attack - meaning you didn't do it.

your body flew a few feet away, landing on the ground. with a quiet grunt, you turned onto your back. "i give up.." you sighed.

however, there was no audible reaction from Rengoku. turning your head towards him, you wanted to know what's wrong, only to see his wide eyes staring.

he shook his head, running towards you and kneeling down. "are.. are you okay?" he asked, seeing you nod. he didn't respond, as if he knew something you didn't.

"just tell me, Rengoku!" you pleaded, feeling yourself enter a state of panic. did you lose a leg? it wasn't like him to behave this way.

he moved his hand closer, placing his hand against the side of your stomach. your eyes widened, looking down at yourself, staring at your torn uniform.

not only the right side of your shirt, but also the entirety of your right pant leg was missing. you instantly sat up, trying to cover up.

"i didn't know, i will-" you tried excusing yourself, but fell silent when he squeezed your waist slightly, attention moving back to him.

"i'll bring you back." he answered, taking off his haori and pulling it over your form. it didn't help covering your leg, but at least your upper body looked a bit more presentable.

he scooped you into his arms, both your legs around his waist. you rested your chin on his shoulder, wishing to disappear. the whole situation was embarrassing, and even worse, you had felt warm when he touched your skin unhindered.

his hand held you up by your thighs, his grip on your right thigh a bit stronger. you could feel his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your leg, glancing up at him.

"you.. you're really soft." he quietly said, not able to hide his red face from you.

perhaps the whole situations had it's advantages.

Sanemi:

"stop running! just admit defeat!" he shouted after you, determined to get this fight over with. the only problem: you were extremely fast. you managed to dodge his attacks every time.

"never!" you answered, seeing him try to attack again. you were ready to dodge his bamboo sword, but were shocked to see him drop it mid-attack.

his hand shot towards you instead, quite literally knocking you down with his harsh hit. your back made contact with the ground, Sanemi tackling you down immediately.

"i win." he said, smirking at your defeated form. you tried freeing yourself, not able to push up with his hand on your neck.

"i didn't give up yet." you huffed out, feeling him squeezing your throat lightly - he was warning you. only that his warning didn't work as intended.

a quiet whimper escaped your lips, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment. he had heard the sound, you knew it.

"oh? didn't know you were into the rough treatment." he smirked - teased. your reaction was immediate, pressing your knee up and right against his crotch.

he groaned, letting go of you. he clearly hadn't expected you to do that, especially not after you pushed him away and freed yourself.

"didn't know you were into that, Shinazugawa."

"you-"

naturally, another fight started right after.

Giyuu:

how did this happen? thirty minutes of fighting just for your bamboo sword to be kicked to the side by him. he had been too fast for you, leaving you unable to react.

your back was pressed against the wall, wide eyes staring into his. he had caged you between the wall and his body, his form towering over you.

ocean eyes were deeply staring into yours, his hand pressing against the wall behind you. he couldn't tear his gaze away from your body, not when you were presented right in front of him.

"you lost." he stated, as if it wasn't obvious to the both of you. his eyes narrowed, his other hand moving towards you.

"if this had been a fight with a demon, you would've died." he said, making you feel like prey under his eyes. he placed his hand on your chin, thumb nearly grazing your lips.

"don't lose focus." he uttered, but his eyes had long broken their contact with yours. he was watching your lips instead, as if he was debating on a kiss.

"i wont." you answered breathlessly, getting his attention back on you. he let go of your chin, stepping away and picking up your sword.

"let's try it out." he taunted, neither of you really focusing on winning or losing now.

Gyomei:

this fight was unfair to begin with. without a doubt, you were one of the strongest swordsman in the corps. you've served as a hashira for three years now, but no one could win against Gyomei.

naturally, you admitted defeat when he threw you over half the lake, immediately asking whether you're fine or not.

your head broke through the water, gasping for air. the water was freezing cold, but you told him you're fine.

he still made the effort to help you out of the water, drenching his own clothes in the freezing liquid.

"are you sure you're okay?" he asked, big tears already rolling down his face again. you avoided your eyes from his form, not trying to appear inappropriate.

"i'm fine." you answered, looking at your own body. both of your clothes were quite see-through, giving you a greedy sight of his muscles and abs.

looking down at yourself, your clothes weren't any better. you thought of yourself as lucky, not wanting to live with the shame of letting him see so much of your body.

"come, it's freezing in here." he told you, pulling you into his arms and out of the water as he made his way out of it.

what you didn't know, was how his fingers could feel everything that you were seeing. your clothes stuck to your skin, not leaving much room for imagination.

he stepped out of the water, but instead of letting you down, his head tilted towards yours, foreheads nearly touching.

his hands squeezed your body, millions of thoughts running through his head. "you're.." he said, but he stopped, not wanting to do something he might regret later.

"you're still wet, we should get some dry clothes.." he told you instead, putting you down again, his hand sliding against your curves for a moment.

you watched him walk forward, your lips parted. was it wrong that you had hoped for him to continue?

[hoshigray]

𝐂𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | s. gojō + s. ryōmen

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Three powerful empires, two childhood companions, and one you. What is supposed to be a peaceful alliance is slowly turning into a rocky relationship between royal friends...Is there any way you can save it?

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo + true form! Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - royal-like + fantasy AU! - porn with plot - Gojo + reader is age 28 + Sukuna is older; mid-30s - mutual pining + confessions - size differences - threesome - double penetration; anal & vaginal - virginity loss - fingering (f! receiving) - back-to-chest + cowgirl dp positions - clitoral play - cerfix-fucking - overstimulation - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, dove, human, little one, pet, sweetie) - marriage proposals - cameos: Utahime and Miwa - Gojo and Sukuna can't stand each other, obvi - humor + drama - mention of drool, blood, spit and tears - will be proofread later.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 15.4k words (BRUH, i hate it here.)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: aight, after 10 whole months, it's FINALLY dropped! this took foreverrrr, ughhhh. anyways, sorry for the long wait, hope you enjoy this one, and thanks again for 11.2k starlings, ilysmmm!! ☆☆

“…”

“—y Lady…My Lady!”

“Huh?” You blink and face the door where the voice is coming from. “Oh, I’m sorry, Utahime. You can come in.”

“Jeez, I was knocking for a whole minute.” Your lady-in-waiting, Utahime, closes the door behind her when entering your chambers, walking up to where you were sitting by the mirror. “And I thought I told you to refer to me by my last name, my Lady.”

You smile at the reflection of the other coming behind you, kneeling and readying the iron basin filled with warm water and rose petals. Her hand and the washcloth swish the surface for the floral scents to enter your nostrils. “Well, we’ve been friends for how long? I’ve referred to you by your first name for all my life, even before you became my handmaiden.”

“Hmph, even then,” Utahime scoffs before taking your feet and dipping them in the warm water. “You don’t see me dare call the sole, precious child of this empire’s greatest warrior by their given name.”

“No, but I always tell you I don’t mind. Besides, you usually do it when we’re alone, and that’s enough for me.”

“If that’s what makes my Lady hap—“

“It does.” You look at her with a pleasant aura, and the dark-haired one snickers before straining the washcloth. 

“As you wish…Y/n.” You puff your chest with satisfaction; however, your handmaiden isn’t done talking, “But I know the matter of my name isn’t something that’s having you lost in your thoughts.” Her observation takes you slightly aback, and her brown orbs peer up to capture your attention. “Would you like to tell me what’s corrupting your mind?”

With a heavy sigh, your back touches the chair as you slouch. Your eyes glance to the open window as the blinds drift gently with the calm wind. The swaying motions of the curtains almost convince your stress to wither away along with the quietness. Almost.

“Utahime,” you begin with her name, still facing the window. “…What do you think about Lord Satoru Gojo?”

“Tch,” you didn’t have to turn to know that the woman had the most disgusted expression, the click of her teeth was telling. “What is there to think?”

“Hehe, well, we’ve known each other since we could walk—“

“Yeah, and — pardon me, my Lady — but that bastard is such a nuisance, even if he just became the crowned heir of the Gojo bloodline and the holder of the Six Eyes.” The dark-haired woman scrubs your feet with vigor, but you don’t say anything, containing your laughter. “That man–ugh! Every time he visits the palace, he will never stop teasing me for deciding to leave my family and become your lady-in-waiting. Who does he think he is!”

The laugh you try to hinder seeps out in hushed giggles. “Well—ahem—what about Lord Ryomen?”

Utagime stops her hand and washcloth between your toes, her face in your direction. Both brows trenched with a thin line of her mouth. “……As of recent…Scary–no, intimidating would be an understatement...my Lady, perhaps the visit and stay of the two lords is what have you down?”

Another heavy sigh, “I guess that would be the case…”

You reside in the founding empire of the great continent. In the ancient past, it is said that the Great Saint Tengen came from the heavens and blessed this world with miracles, living in the country that you’re standing in right now. It was said that Tengen was the benevolent child of Gods and the Parent of Beings who graced everyone – both human and non – with compassion, kindness, and love through their sorcery. When they disappeared, the world fell into a divide, their people sticking amongst themselves while following the teachings and words of Saint Tengen.

As the centuries came following this tale, the countries of this world have maintained a relatively peaceful union. However, the main continent – your continent – is home to three major empires: the North, the East, and the West. As mentioned before, you live in the founding Western nation, also known as the homeland of Tengen. 

You are a royal of this land and the sole heir to the throne right after your father, a mighty war soldier and sorcerer respected by his people and allies. As the crowned king of the Western capital, your father has done his job in using his strong leadership to maintain a functional structure for the people, using his wisdom to tread on matters with a tranquil mind, and making decisions that would not only benefit his own people but also his allies. Sometimes, you forget that such a great man could be your father. Yet his undying love for you, his sole child and princess, proves how lucky you are.

In the Northern Lands above are known as the land of Sorcery. Your father may be a powerful sorcerer, but the empire he rules does not harbor the majority of the population who practice sorcery (or lack thereof). That would go to the snowy Northern Empire, a land where many of Tengen’s scholars and practitioners have come from and implemented their teachings. The current head of this nation is bestowed to the affluent House Gojo, who recently crowned their heir after the death of its late king. Satoru Gojo, the first royal after a century gifted with two of the most intense abilities made by Saint Tengen – the Six Eyes and Limitless – sits on the Northern throne. And is also a dear family friend.

To the East lies a country mostly comprised of harsh deserts and dangerous forests, filled with creatures that aren’t of the human imagination. Once referred to as the land of “Tengen’s True Children,” the eastern empire is known worldwide as the Demon Country. Creatures reside in this part, beings that can easily overpower the average human – or worse, kill. They are ruled by the King of Demons, Sukuna Ryomen. As the scariest, cold-hearted, and violent beast of the empire, Sukuna is regarded as Tengen’s “Fallen Star,” a soul that embodies the precise opposite nature of the saint. And yet, this brutal master is also a cherished companion in the company of you and your father.

“What about their visits seems to make you upset?” Utahime lifts the bottom of your nightgown to scrub further up, the warm, damp towel scraping the skin of your left femur. 

“I don’t know…I suppose it’s because things are different than a decade and a half ago.” It was one way of speaking the truth.

“Why, of course, things would be different now. You expect I’d be looking after a tiny heir all my life?” She giggles. “Although, that would be quite nice.”

“Oh, to be young forever would be a treat, wouldn’t it?” You add on to her humor. “Yet, that’s not what I meant. It’s been so long since the three of us been in this palace together – let alone in any space together. The War of the Blood and Magic has been ongoing for years now. Whenever my father wishes to speak with them about an issue, one must be here while the other is in their respective territory.“ 

“Mmm, I have observed that…But still, even with this war going on, it shouldn’t negate the fact that you three have been friends for so long. I still remember the day young Gojo came to the garden where you and I were making flower crowns.“

You smile at the memory. “I remember how upset you were when he grabbed my hand one day and took us to his guest room to show his Limitless.”

You try your hardest to keep in your laughter when she glares up at you – not at you, but at the recollection instead. “That fool, even as a child, knows nothing of boundaries. He was a bright boy — still is, I’ll give him that. But my Gods, the way he would do everything in his power to impress you was so cocky of a young lord, especially in the presence of the next heir to the continent. The nerve of him…And then! The time he had the nerve to question me when I told you I wanted to be your handmaiden. That little blue-eyed weasel said, ‘You? The daughter of a mediocre house, as the princess’ personal maid? You should try and aim lower or marry someone who’d tolerate your un-ladylike attitude.’ I was too stunned to speak…I should’ve choked his ass out!” 

“—Pfffthahaha, stop, you’re scrubbing too hard!” You halt your lady-in-waiting with stiffened giggles, the poor woman sighing for displaying such aggression unbefitting for her title. “You could never stand him, and to think I thought you had a crush on him.” 

“Please, my Lady, never say that aloud, or else my father would try to make my worst nightmare become reality.” She shakes her head, putting your left leg into the basin and switching to the right. 

“And the day I introduced you as my maid to him, you had the smugest smirk that couldn’t be wiped off that night.”

“You’re goddamn right, my Lady!” That coarse remark had the both of you in a fit of cackles, water damn near splashing out as you wiggle your legs. “Ahhhh, but those were the days. I believe Lord Ryomen came into the picture after that. I remember the first day your father accepted the young demon king’s wish to seek an audience; he was a bit shorter than his current eight-foot-tall stature. Four arms were tiny like a teenager, and his,” she waves a hand up and down over the left side of her face. “This was distinguishable.”

You hum along with the description of the once young teenage demon king. “His human mother died during childbirth, and his father a demon who was exorcised for impregnating the poor woman. He was the first hybrid sorcerer of his time to utilize sorcery with the dark techniques of demon arts, becoming the most powerful and making a name for himself in the Eastern empire. He was alongside my father during the Great Demon War, using his powers to take down opposing cursed forces from outside nations. The two earned each other’s respect – more on my father’s part.”

“That, he was…truly a hard one to read, outside of always looking like he’d cut something out of boredom. I worried for the day he’d catch sight of me looking at him the wrong way and slice my throat,” the mere thought of the deadly being’s scowl was enough to send goosebumps up Utahime’s way. “Even the spars he had with your father and Gojo, I’m amazed to see this palace still standing in one piece.”

“Hehe, imagine how I felt when he’d catch me watching and then pull me aside to train with him — not asking, demanding that he teaches me how to wield a weapon.”

“Ohhh, my Lady, my nerves were never calm whenever he instructed you. Fearing for your life was my biggest sport. He couldn’t stand the fact that the sole heir of the greatest warrior didn’t have the drive to wield and charge.” She places your other leg down, rinsing the washcloth with more water before asking for your right arm. “It’s not like your father ever dared to entertain the thought of you entering battle anyway! That man, truly a scary thing…”

You throw your head back, resting it on the rail of the chair. “For my eighteenth year, he gifted me my own sword — handmade and light for my hands.”

“Men.” Utahime shakes her head once again. “Yet, despite how odd he and Gojo are, they seemed at ease whenever you were around. Whether it be visits from them to discuss with the King or attending events here at the palace, those two acted a lot more…calm.” 

Her observations stuck with you, closing your eyes to think more. “I only wonder if we could revert to those days when we were close. Unfortunately, with this current war between the two, this vision is impossible to imagine….”

You and the two lords have been friends for years – decades, even. And you were no fool; it was apparent that this relationship would dwell into something less familiar once the two become distant. And the war between the two empires proves this statement true…

It was your twenty-fourth year when you heard the news of the War of Blood and Magic. A year prior, an incident in the northern empire occurred where a sorcerer and his company were butchered by invading demons. Enraged, many men would go down to the demon continent to pillage and exorcise demon villages and towns as a form of justice. However, it only sparked the increasing tension between the factions into a conflict past the phase of talk and civilized words. 

Taking matters into his own hands, Sukuna found the men responsible for the rampage and had their bodies sliced within seconds, sending their bloody, severed heads back to the North as his declaration of war. In the coming years after that, there was nothing but ongoing bloodshed between the two; every battle and atrocity shared with your father made you squeamish – not just because of the brutality, but also the loss of Sukuna and Gojo’s relationship with every passing day.  

It made you feel sick — powerless in wanting the two to remember their merciful ways and talk like men. But you knew that was child's play — the time for miracles and fairy tales vanished with Tengen. And now, as the fourth year of this constant battle between humans and demons of this continent shows no signs of stopping, your worrying nature is on edge more than ever. 

“It may seem impossible to imagine, but it doesn’t mean it’s not worth the execution,” Utahime’s voice rings you back to the present, alternating to your left arm to wipe before dismissing herself from the night. “I’m sure your father believes that as well; otherwise, he wouldn’t have invited the two here for the first time in four years. I think he and all the people of this empire grow worrisome for the fate of this continent if all that’ll be left is a clash between two factions.”

“That may be true,” yet your tone was somber. “But if he can’t convince his two trusted allies to cease this fight, then I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do but see who comes out victorious. And I’d hate to see one stand and the other down in a pool of their blood…”

Utahime hums and lets the silence take over for a few seconds. And then she speaks again, “….Maybe, if not your father, then you should be the one to bring the two together.”  

Me? “Me?”

“Yes, my Lady. You may be the princess of the greatest warrior, but you are also the dear friend of his allies. Your word means law to them — they trust your input when asked and see you as a perfect successor in line.”  

“But that’s just based on titles and old conversations that don’t hold up to the now…Out of the three of us, I was the one who stayed put in this castle while the others played dirty, severing limbs and creating craters on this sacred continent. We are not children anymore, yet I feel like the one who’s still a naive babe with hands clean.” 

“Now that is not true, my Lady!” Fierce brown eyes bore to you. “Just because you don’t have blood on your hands doesn’t make you unfit as a leader. You are the sole child of the King of the Western Empire, the land that Tengen once slept and walked on. That makes you the one next in line after your father.”

“That is my stated birthright—“

“And so!” You held your tongue; she was not done yet. “You have proven that birthright true from what you’ve done so far. I can count on my hands and toes all the times your father came to you for advice on a matter that didn’t sit right with him, knowing that your wisdom and compassion aid your judgment. And let’s not forget how you’ve kept a neutral stance on this issue thus far, knowing it’s the best and safest option for your father and his people. You are his child, after all…What I’m saying is that people change. And that goes the same for you; you’ve become a face I can trust and depend on, and I’m glad to have the right to watch over you until you see fit.” 

You knew she meant every word, so you kept silent for her to finish.

“So, I say this with all the genuineness in my heart. I believe you can smack some sense up those two’s minds. You are the princess, but you are a friend above all else. Lord Gojo had just arrived today, leaving Lord Ryomen on his way in three days' time. Express to them how you feel, that you wish for nothing but an end to this bloodshed and to restore whatever’s left to rebuild their past alliance.”

There was nothing wrong with her words; everything was well-spoken with a perspicuous style and valid points. She was your closest friend – no one knew you better than she did. So, there’s no reason to try and find whatever flawed construct that was in her argument. 

Finally, after she was done dapping your arm with the washcloth and drying your feet after taking them out of the metal basin, you smiled. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“Of course, I’m right; I’m your best friend!” Utahime stands with a puffed chest filled with pride, picking up the basin by the handles. “And as the right one, I reckon you should turn in for the night. Leave this matter for tomorrow so the solution you’re looking for will be easier to find.”

“Mmm, your advice is well-received like always.” You stand from the chair, stretching your limbs. When she approaches your door, you bid your handmaiden farewell for the night, “See you in the morning, Utahime.” 

With a wink, she parts before shutting the door, “Sleep well and tight, my Lady.”

The warm presence of your friend is missed now that you’re alone in your room. The candles around your chambers exhibit a warm glow that should make you feel safe, but that wasn’t the case today. Even after your night routine, the cold still resided in your skin. You sigh again through your nostrils; the invisible weight on your shoulders makes it impossible to lift them.

You turn back to your mirror – your reflection brings up the conversation with your best friend minutes ago. Examining your features, placing your hand on your cheek to sense your skin, alone with your thoughts. Did I really change that much? Your face tilts to the side, but the different angle doesn’t seem to help give a proper answer. Hmm…Perhaps it’s something I’m not supposed to see. 

With a yawn, you stand straight again, deciding to take up Utahime’s advice and retire for the night. You face your queen-sized bed, anticipating your figure sinking into the soft, comfortable mattress. 

What you didn’t anticipate was releasing a big gasp when turning to your bedding, your body going rigid, and your blood stopping circulation. 

“Hey.”

Something was sitting on your bed. No, someone was on your bed. And judging by the deep, guttural timbre of their voice, you are familiar with this person. 

You turned to your left once you heard a word. A figure was coming into the lighted room from the dark of the balcony – a giant, no, ginormous figure. Based on the height, he was inches from touching the entrance frame, way taller than any royal you’ve ever met — or, at least, any human royal you’ve ever seen.  

The body was broad and could engulf you even from ten steps away. Four burly arms protrude from the torso, and black nails that resemble claws match the black tattoos painted on his shoulders, biceps and triceps, wrists, back, and chest. The markings also reside on the right of his face that’s morphed with another, which holds four red eyes instead of two, along with earrings that stretch his big earlobes. Aside from his bloody orbs, one thing that contrasts his appearance is the rusty salmon color of his hair. And that was the first thing you saw — the first thing that had your mind recollect him.

“Lord Ryomen.” His name didn’t feel proper to say. It’s been almost a year since you last saw him, but he was still the same brutal man you’ve heard about all this time…yet a companion of yours nonetheless. “Father told me you would be here in two days. How did you—“

“You know I’m not one to wait.” He crossed his lower arms, the upper ones covered by a black robe that matched the black hakama pants he wore. “Especially when it comes to visiting this place.”

“And of Uraume?” The mention of the demon king’s trusted adviser quirks his brow. “Is it okay to leave them alone without you to watch over?”

“You think I’m weak on my own?”

“N–No, of course not!” You were quick to refute — you had to be when it came to him. “It’s just that I would feel bad; they’d worry about where you are.”

“And here you are worrying about them worrying about me. Hmph, humans,” he scoffs, and the mouth on his stomach grins. “Uraume knows to look after the ship when I’m gone or be my eyes when I’m not around. I’m not a child that needs protecting.”

You bow to him. “Of course you aren’t, my Lord. Forgive me for having you think as such.”

He hums, tilting his head while examining you. “Good. Lift your head.” You do as you’re told, watching him take a few steps closer to you. “It’s cold; why is your fire not set?”

You look at what he’s referring to, seeing that your fireplace harbored no flame. “I told my maids that I would be fine tonight without it, the heavy blankets will do—“

Your eyes travel back to Sukuna, only to see he isn’t where he stood. He vanished, nowhere in your room to be found. You turned behind, but he wasn’t there either. But once you heard heavy feet thunder on your floor again, you spun around to see the beast carrying four logs, one in each hand. You were marveled; you only heard talk of his speed, now it was a little scary seeing the real deal.

Sukuna bends down in front of your fireplace, setting the logs down perfectly. “Ignoring the cold’s existence is an ignorant game. A princess should be warm during this time of night.” Once the logs are set, he makes a sign with his upper right hand, bringing his thumb and forefinger together to his mouth. He blows, and a string of fire spits out to the logs. The sound of crackling bark from the flames confirms his work. “You are not me; you should fear the cold.”

You nod to his lesson. “Thank you, Lord Ryomen.” 

“There’s no one here. You have the right to refer to me by my first name.” Sukuna straightens himself up. The light from the fire has his face aglow, and the crimson in his eyes flicker while they hook onto you.

You don’t know why — maybe it was because of the instant heat touching your neck instead of the sudden allurement you’ve noted from the demon king. Regardless, you avert your gaze downward. “Yes, Lord Sukuna.”

“Hmm.” He croons, walking towards you to prompt your chin up with a hand. Your eyes widen at his action; this is the first time in forever since he’s laid a hand on you. Talks of those he touches die shortly after spark in your mind. “You still have the sword.”

It wasn’t a question – an observation. He noticed the weapon lodged above the fireplace, like a memento meant to be honored rather than used. You smile, “Yes, I make sure it’s nice and clean from dust.” 

Sukuna scoffs. “I give you a present, and you treat it like a trophy.” 

“It would be wise to treat a gift from the demon king like a treasure. It wouldn’t sit right with me knowing I used or damaged a present given to me by someone I care about.” 

He tilted his head again. “And when I give a weapon to someone I wish to protect,” The word caught you off guard. Protect? “I expect them to use it as it’s intended. I will allow it this time, but I won’t be too forgiving the second. Understood?”

You heard him, but your mind was still wrapped around the word. Protect? Lord Sukuna wants to protect me? What for?? You didn’t mean to say it aloud; it just slipped. “Protect?”

His mood shifts into neutral. A subtle softness is displayed in that inhuman structure of a face — or maybe you imagined it because of the late hour. Your breath hitches when you feel his lower hands pull and wrap around your right hand; the way your palm dwarfs in his hold is appalling. And then he kneels. Sukuna, the eight-foot-tall demon king, kneeling before you. This was a bizarre night, candidly. 

“Princess,” he starts with your name. It was the perfect method as he fully has your undivided attention. “You know why the King has wished to see me despite what’s occurring outside these chambers. He believes there is still room to talk, and I believe he's wasting his time because I'm close to setting the entire Northern front ablaze and nailing this score for good.” 

You knew he meant that, and it scared you because if he really could, he would. He actually possesses the mentality and the drive to do it. And yet, all three parts of the continent continue to stand. Why?

“But that would result in more problems for me. I’d have the entire world after my head for terrorism. All the leaders will not rest until I’m gone — your father would have to come put me down. And I would kill him, all of them.” His eyes were on you, dead serious. “…But that would make you upset, and it pisses me off that you'd hate me for my drive for survival.” 

“My Lord,” it was your turn to speak. “I wouldn’t hate you. Being upset would be justified. But when it comes to war, survival is the paramount destination. I only wish to avoid such significant losses – both for the people of our nations and the people I hold dear.” 

“Mmm.” He took your words. There’s no need to say anything, knowing Sukuna heard your piece is good enough. “I can see where you stand in this, stubborn and naive like your father. So, I come to you with a proposition. Something I need for you to listen before I consider seizing this battle.”

The way he spoke had you on edge, truthfully. Yet, if he’s coming to you in the middle of the night to hear your piece, who are you as a friend to push him aside? You give him a nod, “Yes, my Lord?” 

“Princess, I want to—“ he stops mid-sentence, his pink-slitted brow suddenly drew up before it furrowed at the next second. He lets go of your hand in a hurry, standing up in a flash. It had you squeak. “He’s here.”

The sudden change in tone had you blink up at the giant, startled. “Wh–Who?”

“….No, they will not be seeing you. The hour is late; they are heading for bed!”

“Oh, c’mon Utahime — an hour, give me one hour!”

“Don’t you DARE open that door—HEY!” 

You and Sukuna’s eyes dart to your chamber door, which opens with an abrupt vigor as if it was kicked open — it was kicked. The foot that was prominent at the front goes down and swings in a figure that brightens the area. Baggy white paints contrast with a black dress shirt mixed with white, intricate, and alluring designs. Subtle blue patterns map around the black collar and cuffs, dancing down the white material behind gold buttons. It’s covered by an ocean-blue shawl that drapes the figure’s left side. But the most significant detail that gave away who the person was – outside of their voice alone – was the snow-shite hair that decorated the top of his head. 

Your wide eyes take in the person before you, and a dainty smile comes to your lips when you say his name. Unlike Sukuna, who sucks his teeth with a deep scowl. “Lord Gojo, it’s—“

“PRINCESS~~!” Chipper as ever, Gojo greets you with a happy tune that is so familiar to the ears. His sky-blue eyes gleam and narrow whenever he’s in your presence, just like he’d do during your childhood years. “Glad to see that I’ll be able to see your beautiful face tonight, after all. And I thought I told you to call me by my first name, like when we were kids!”

His jest has you giggle, “And I thought I’d told you from the last visit to knock on my door before entering. You have my poor handmaiden chasing after you at this hour.” 

“I second that notion wholeheartedly, my Lady.” Utahime comes into view, approaching from Gojo’s shadow. If looks could kill, she’d stab Gojo’s throat with dual-wielding daggers. Not that the white-haired man was paying her glare any mind. She sighs heavily before bowing to you, “My apologies, my Lady. Lord Gojo caught me leaving the stairs towards your hall, figuring he’d come to speak a word with—Holy Tengen!” Your lady-in-waiting gasps when she lifts her head to see that you aren’t alone in the first place. “L-Lord Ryomen!? F-F-Forgive me for not noticing your grace before.” She quickly returns her head for a bow, hoping the trusty, short right-hand retainer and advisor, Uraume, wasn’t here to lecture her. 

But thankfully to her anxious stars, the demon king grunts, “You’ve been forgiven, human. I came here not too long ago to discuss matters with the heir.” His red eyes leave the bowing woman to look at Gojo, whose lighthearted cadence is stilled. “Alone.” The final word was all for the white-haired lord’s watch to switch to a silent, menacing tone, shaded by his bangs but perfectly seen by Sukuna. 

“Yes, my Lord, I shall leave you two to yourselves then,” Utahime replies to the salmon-haired creature, lifting her upper body ready for dismissal. But she then grabs for Gojo’s arm and tugs. “That includes you as well, Lord Gojo.” 

“Ehhhh, me? What about the giant freak across from me?” Gojo questions the woman who pulls him to the doorway. “I also have things to discuss with the princess I’ve expressed earlier for when I have the time, which is now. At least I made my appointment known. Unlike him, who came into their quarters unannounced.” 

“And here you are, barging into their room!” she almost popped a vein; you worry for the poor woman dragging the tall figure out of your room. “Kicking their door and making yourself known doesn’t modify the definition of being unannounced. Come back tomorrow – I’m sure my Lady will be available to listen to your quarrels then.” 

It was now that you finally decided to interject. “It’s all right, Utahime. Sleep still evades me for me to rest.” You look to Sukuna, his gaze already on your figure, and then to Gojo, who awaits your assertion. “…I will listen to both Lords and have them dismissed before I retire for the night. You may let Lord Gojo go now and get sleep yourself.” 

Utahime gives you a concerned look, yet she silently lets go of the man when you give her a tiny nod. “As you wish. Have a good night, my princess. Lord Sukuna. Gojo.” She slams the door at the last name she says, her stomping footsteps and grumbling curses fading into the night. 

And now here you were, alone in your room, with the two lords of two superpower empires – two childhood friends. Nevertheless, it’s back. The suffocating tension you’ve mentioned before returns and drapes over the three of you that the word “friend” feels teeny within it. You can’t lie to yourself; you’re weary to have either of them in your chambers, let alone be in the same space as you. You knew there would be a day when the two would come together; however, you were far from being prepared for said event. 

Then again, it’s better now than never, right? You three used to be the best of friends – close companions that you could depend on and trust. Close companions that you desperately wish to continue trusting and having an unbreakable bond with. If not for you, then for your father’s and respective empires’ sake. So, with a deep breath, you exhale and think of how to go about this predicament. Be the heir that your father raised you to be.

“So,” You turn to Gojo to start with. “Lord Gojo—“

“Oh, c’mooon, what did I say about using my last name?” Gojo flashes a quick smile at you. “We’re friends, no? It’s not fair you refer to Maiden Iori by her first name; you should know mine like the back of your hand!”

His little pester does help swade a bit of stress off your shoulders. “My apologies, Satoru. It’s just that I must be respectful to my royals, even if we are long-time friends.”

The white-haired man chuckles, taking steps to be closer to you. “Even so, I want my princess to call me by my name, for you are the one I trust and hold dear the most. And I don’t want our familiarity to be tarnished by titles.” 

“…If that’s what will make you happy, Satoru.” The address to the northern prince made you avert your gaze to the ground, and your cheeks dial in warmth. Who knew that he thought so deeply about a little gesture? And then there’s what he referred to you as—

“Your princess?” Sukuna’s voice snaps you back to the present situation: you and Gojo are not the only ones in your room.  

Gojo takes his eyes off you and places them on the giant behind your shape. He taunts, “Yes, my princess, as they are the fair heir of this great empire who will rule after their great father. I’d say they are as much my princess to me as the other Lords and Maidens. But I’d be lying since I see them as more than that.”

Sukuna’s quadruple eyes darken as they narrow at the man before him. “Every time I see your scrawny self, you prove you’re the biggest fool than all the other senile jokes of Lords I’ve ever dealt with.” Two steps is all he takes to be right behind you. You can practically feel his shadow on you. “The person before us is indeed a royal above many – above you. So, I find it amusing that you would be dumb enough to emphasize such a ludicrous claim. You fail to know your place when in their presence. And in mine.”

Oh, that ticked something inside Gojo. Because the prince was no longer smiling, his attention was wholly on Sukuna. Many wouldn’t dare to glower at the giant creature the way Gojo was — let alone look at him. “Hah, you sure know how to make unfunny jokes, Sukuna. Because I’d rather eat demon shit than have you think for a moment that you are above me.”

“Hmph, I’m surprised your childish behavior has gotten you this far,” you can see from the shadow on the floor that Sukuna folds his lower arms. “Don’t think that you’ll be lucky with me.”

“Oh, believe me, my childish manner has gotten its fair share of tongue lashings and trouble, but I’ve been able to talk my ass out of shit ever since I was a kid. But I guess talk is too cheap for an oversized brute like you, huh?”

“Very. I’m a being of action—“

“Action? Or destruction?” The light blue of Gojo’s eyes shifts to that of a deep, cold shade under his bangs, with no sign of backing down. “Because from all I’ve heard about you, everything can crumble beneath you with just a swipe of the fingers. Outside of your lands, who’s to say you’re worthy of ruling when your methods and policy are more forbidding than mine? Or better yet, who gave you the gall to think that such a monster like you has a right to even be amongst civil people like me and the princess? Hell, the fact that you snuck in their room as you please sickens me to the core.”

“I can say the same for you, Satoru Gojo. Your entire occupancy does worse than bore me. Standing here with the man governing the family who’s killed many of my kin and demons fills me with inextinguishable anger. You have no idea how much excitement I’ll have for the day I cut that head of yours clean off, but because of my business with the princess, your death will be pending.” 

“Not if my business is taken care of first.”

The demon growls. “Like hell, it will.” 

“My Lords, please!”

The tense atmosphere is relieved by the abruption of your voice, bringing the lords’ quarrel to a standstill to face you. You squeak when their eyes land on you, forcing yourself to turn to the fireplace and deal with the growing storm of anxiousness inside you. 

Gods, I should’ve had Utahime here with me! You curse yourself for being in this situation. Why tonight of all nights must you deal with this? It was as if your lady-in-waiting had this all planned — or worse, your father, having you treat the matter of your allies. You groan internally to your hands, letting your frustration be released.

You twirl back to face the two men before you, a deep inhale before saying, “Lord Satoru, what would you like to discuss with me at this hour?”

“Hah?” The disapproving mood of the demon king had your heart sink to the floor. “I was here first.”

“Yes, you came to my room first tonight. But Gojo was here first at the palace. He told me earlier that he wanted to speak, so I should hear him.” You could only hope your reasoning satisfied the tall being, who puffs his tattooed chest. And Gojo quickly flashed the other a vexatious look at Sukuna before you pivoted to him. “Now, Lord Go—“

“Aht aht!”

“…Lord Satoru,” He beams a big grin. “What do you wish to speak with me?”

“Well, although this is something meant for the two of us,” meant to be a stab to the other person in the room, who couldn’t care less about his presence being unwanted. “But this’ll suffice; it doesn’t hurt to have an audience.” You watch the silver-haired man take your left hand, the rough pad of his thumb rubbing on your knuckles. 

“My Lady,” he looks at you with delicate azure eyes, his gaze so captivating that it locks you in position. “I’ve known you for quite a long time. Before I met you, my life as a royal was barren. Nothing sparked joy in me. The mundane tasks to uphold as the next heir, being pampered and sheltered as the gifted member of the Gojo House. I felt trapped in a mold — a mold that I resented having as my birthright, so much so that I wished to claw my eyes out at the age of five.” 

You could tell he was speaking from the heart, his hands gripping yours tighter.

“But then, three years later, my father took me to meet the King of the western lands; at the time, it sounded like such a chore having to meet all these old, disgusting guys that I had to ‘maintain a good relationship’ with. And then, like the sun peeking through dark clouds, I saw you. I’ve met many royal kids before me, most snobby or kissing up to me for my good graces. Yet, none of them have been as alluring and breathtaking as you have been.” He pauses for a light chuckle. “I can still remember how your sweet voice addressed me when our fathers introduced us together. You stood tight to his leg, but your grace was ever present.”

“Mhmm, and I recall how angry your father was when you didn’t take a knee and instead greeted me with a handshake.” The two of you share a laugh, unaware of the disdained aura of Sukuna right next to you for a moment. “There are many things I hold close to my heart — you and our friendship being part of them.”

“I agree. I mean it when I regard you as one of my greatest treasures. This friendship we’ve had these years – decades, even – has been a blessing that I do not want to take for granted. Even with this war on my shoulders, I wish for it to be put to rest so I can finally have you by my side again. And that’s why…” 

Gojo lifts your hand to his face; the soft feeling of his pillowy lips on your fingers has you holding your breath. Just like Sukuna…

“Princess, merciful child of Tengen’s Blessed Ground, I ask for your hand in marriage.” 

It all took one second — one mere second. 

One second for your world to come to a complete standstill, the cracking of the firewood no longer poking your eardrums and the breeze from the outside no longer grazing your skin. Your body instinctively refuses to move so much as a toe to disrupt your processing.

One second for your thoughts to absolutely vanish. No words of your own occupying your brain, no guesses on where this conversation was going. There was nothing. Nothing except the last seven words Gojo said that replay in your head. Over and over and over again.

One second for you to be in a perfect state of perplexity. Right before Sukuna grabs your free hand and yanks you to his side the next. Three giant hands wrap around you while one grips your wrist tightly. 

He snarls, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Gojo sucks his teeth before straightening yourself. “Ehhhh, is your demon brain screwed on right? You don’t know what a marriage proposal is?” His question struck you more than it did the beast. Huh? A marriage proposal? Marriage!?

The fingers of Sukuna’s upper left-hand grips your shoulder, claw-like nails poking your skin as if to draw blood. “Hmph, the nerve of you humans never fails to disappoint me. Especially you, Satoru Gojo, who remains a thorn in my foot. Must I kill more of your men to keep you at your place as you did to my demonfolk?”

“Khh, don’t act like you ever cared about the lives sacrificed on your behalf. It’s gross.” Gojo takes one step, and Sukuna swiftly lifts his upper right hand at him, his fingers positioned at the same sign when he made flames for your fireplace. Your eyes widen, please, not in my room! Gojo takes a stance for battle. “Acting human doesn’t suit you at all, fuckface.” 

The roar of laughter that the demon bellows out was chilling to hear. The vibrations coursing from his body to yours rocked you to your core. “Hah! Me, human!? There’s a reason I let go of that part of myself a long time ago. It made me weak – held me back from my full potential. You are right, though; it’s beneath me to care for those below me. However, I don’t tolerate those that mess with what’s mine.” 

The word had Gojo’s eyes taper. “Let them go.”

“No. If anything, I should skin you here and now for even laying a finger on them in front of me.” You peered up at Sukuna, your anxiousness refusing to settle down during this high-stakes scenario. “Because any man that dares touch my wedded deserves to be torn and shredded by my hands alone.” 

You couldn’t hide your gasp. It snuck past you – the perfect reaction to what you heard. H–His wedded? Me? Lord Sukuna’s wedded-to-be!? No wonder he was acting like that…!

“Your wedded?” Gojo was just as taken aback as you were. “You’ve got some huge balls to declare that right after bearing witness to me proclaiming my request for their hand.” 

“Tch, bastard, why do you think I was here before you?” Sukuna flashes his big teeth, pride exuding from his form. “Did you honestly think I’d allow the princess to end up with the likes of you? Now, aren’t you too old for fairy tales?” You’re still in shock of this madness. Two marriage proposals within the same hour? Both from your childhood friends who unequivocally despise each other’s existence? Any regular person would feel as if they’re experiencing a whirlwind right now. 

Wait a minute…

“Oh, we’re talking fairy tales, you repugnant jackass.” It’s Gojo’s turn to get a kick out of this. “From what I can tell, the princess is meant to spend the rest of their life in comfort with a handsome human prince who swears to protect them and those they care for. Not a creature whose source of joy comes from killing and mayhem. You? Capable of love? Heh, be real. Not even your own dead mother was able to show you real love for her abomination of a—“

He stopped talking when he felt something warm roll down his cheek, a red fluid streaking to drop from his chin. You see a cut and blood, and a wave of dread hits you like a wall. It was Sukuna’s doing, no doubt. Your best friends were fighting in front of you, in your safe space. Your nerves have long forgotten what it meant to be in a state of calm. 

Please, wait, stop—

“I already told you your death has been postponed, you northern shit,” red eyes darken, Sukuna's tone and aura unveiling a sense of brutality that shadowed your very being. It had you trembling. “But I don’t mind severing your tongue to make a point.”

The skin around the cut on Gojo’s skin begins to morph to find each other, seaming itself back to mint condition with a blue glow. Healing magic fixed his cut and cleared his blood, but the anger boiling inside him was prevalent in those striking eyes. Wanting nothing more than a bleeding head between his hands. “I’d like to see you try, you ugly prune.” 

NO, STOP IT!!

This was all too much for a single night. This whole ordeal was far from your expectations. It was already stressful enough thinking about what would happen when the two lords were in this palace together. Now, in your quarters, you’ve never experienced a more life-and-death crisis having your friends — companions you used to laugh and engage with together — wanting to rip each other’s throats, especially for your hand in marriage. And, Tengen forbid, if you were to accept one’s proposal over the other…that would ignite a war above all wars. The bodies that fall on this mainland would all be in your undoing. The thought enough was too much to bear! 

“I accept both!!”

The hostile complexion of the room vanished into the air in the blink of an eye. The sound of burning logs and dancing flames filled the space like before; the crashing ocean waves could be heard from your balcony. Nature was speaking without noises to interrupt it. It was quiet, too quiet. 

You didn’t know what you just said until the last morphemes left your tongue. You silently remove your figure from Sukuna, covering your mouth in disbelief. And without having to see for yourself, you could tell that the two lords were just as flummoxed from your sudden sentence. What…What did I say just now?

“What did you just say?” As if he could read your mind, Sukuna relays your inner turmoil to be addressed. 

Your heart was beating at an unbearable rate, your ears ringing like they’d soon set off and bleed. The trembles get worse with every second, and wiping your face off this Earth at this exact moment is all you wish for. You were so nervous that you were mere seconds away from the brink of tears. Oh, Tengen, why did I say that? What was I thinking?!? What am I to do? What do I—

“…Express to them how you feel, that you wish for nothing but an end to this bloodshed and to restore whatever’s left to rebuild their past alliance…” 

And then, like a strange flash of an angelic tune, the words of your lady-in-waiting come back to you, instantly calming you down and reminding you who you are. You are the princess of the Western Front, the next heir after your father. This matter was bound to fall onto your lap one way or another — preferably less drastically and excitingly like this.

I am the princess, but their friend above all else…You remove your hands from your face, exhaling a shaky breath before standing tall. “….I accept both marriage proposals of my Lords.”

The men’s bewildered expressions were expected, just like the dismay in their voices. “Both of our—…! Surely you don’t mean that—” Gojo was the first to speak, silver brows screwed with confusion. 

“I do.” A deep breath before you answered him. “I will only accept the proposals of both you and Lord Sukuna.”

The demon took one thunderous step, the vibrations crawling up your bones. “And just why is that?”

You exhale through your nostrils, chewing on your bottom lip. “Understand that I am humbly flattered by your perspectives — it fills me with gladness to know I can be hospitable to my dear friends again…As you both mentioned, I, too, cherish the two of you profoundly, and my trust for you two will never be extinguished. To be asked for my hand by either of you is an honor I’ll forever appreciate….But I cannot choose one over the other.”

“Bullshit,” Sukuna folds his upper arms, the lower resting on his hips. “You can; you just choose not to.”

“No, I care for you both, and choosing one alone would have people hurt. Both between us three and the people of this continent…” You maintain eye contact with both lords while your hands fidget with your nightgown to ease yourself. “A rivalry is happening between the Eastern and Northern fronts; blood’s already been spilled and soaking Tengen’s soil. If I were to choose one proposal, I can’t be guaranteed that this onslaught of violence will cease. Or, would either of you guarantee that you wouldn’t take the life of the other?”

That question had the two royals look at each other briefly, followed by their scowls and groans. Gojo is the next to speak, “What happens between us shouldn’t concern you, my princess.”

“You’re wrong; it concerns me tremendously. It is a concern that’s been eating me alive, watching my allies – my friends – fight each other on the sidelines, refusing to pick a side with my father. Now, you two come here, bend your knees, hold my hands, and ask for my hand, silently requesting my involvement for more bodies to drop like flies under my reign?… No, I would not find rest from this night forward, knowing that more innocent lives plummet from my answer.”

“It wouldn’t be blood on your hands.”

“…But it would be blood that I paint with my very shadow.”

The response sounded foreign to him, yet you stood tall, making sure your heart didn’t falter with your stance. Silence welcomes the three figures again, an old friend that goes well with the tense atmosphere. Two pairs of red observe you, like cerulean orbs that stay on your appearance.

A few seconds go by, and Gojo screws his eyes shut. “So, that’s it, you accept both proposals.”

A curt nod. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Your final decision?”

“Correct.”

The snow-haired man nodded aimlessly, slouched with a large sigh, turned, and headed for your bed to flop face down — like it was his bed. “Haaaaaah, you are your father’s kid, all right,” you could make out his words even with his face in your sheets. “A pacifist heart.”

“Hmph, such a dumbass reason,” Sukuna huffs with absolute annoyance, and you’re amazed he hasn’t already skinned you and Gojo. “You are not a child anymore. You can’t possibly be serious about taking up two husbands for the sake of peace.”

“You’re right: I am no child, for I’ve never been as serious as I am now.” Look at you, sticking up for yourself in the presence of the demon king. Although, you know he can hear the quiver in your voice trying to crawl out. You swallow, “It’s either both of you or nothing at all.”

His left eyes squint as they examine your features, the mouth on his belly gritting its teeth. “Tsk, both or nothing…Meanwhile, you know I can’t be in the same room with him. Not even Tengen could command me to share you with this brat.”

Gojo swifts on the covers to lie on his back. “Finally, something I can agree with the devil himself. He’s right, though; there are many things in my life I would rather not share with anyone — you being the top of my list.”

You take their concerns with patience and a lifted chin. “I understand you both, but if you two can’t let the fog clear and talk with each other, how can I see myself—“

“Let the fog clear?” Sukuna repeats with furrowed eyebrows. “Sorcerers came into my land and ransacked my villages — sorcerers from this bastard’s empire!” 

“An action that validates your anger and course of action,” you remind yourself to take tiny breaths. “…However, Satoru didn’t order the attack himself; they went against procedure and stormed your country with poor judgment.”

The tall demon rolls all of his eyes and clicks his teeth. “Ridiculous.”

“No, what’s ‘ridiculous’ is how you fail to acknowledge why those sorcerers went to your zone.” Gojo’s turn to interpolate. “One of the noble sorcerers and his company died because of your demon folk invading my country without permitted passage. That noble had a family, students that followed his footsteps—“

“Are you saying my people didn’t have kin of their own to return to, Gojo Satoru?”

“Your people sure kill like they don’t—“ Another swipe of Sukuna’s fingers glid the air; this time, Gojo’s Infinity was on guard, ricocheting the cleave to mark a scratch on one of the curtains. “Hah, just like their leader.”

Sukuna flexes his knuckles to crack, black fingernails appearing sharper. “The demons who killed that sorcerer acted on their own accord. Just like the many men of your land who came to mine, whom I corrected for your lack of oversight.”

“Then allow me to fulfill my mistake,” the silver-haired man’s eyes glow. “And let me kill the demons responsible — just like you did to my men, fucking cretin.”

“Over my dead body, human trash.”

“My Lords!” The men concurrently exchange their gazes back to you. “This is why I will not be accepting either proposal solely. You come to my home to ask for my hand because you see me as of value, correct? Well, you both are people I care deeply for, and the thought of walking beside either of you for eternity is something I’d accept unmistakably under different circumstances…But, please acknowledge my position in all of this: I am the princess of an extraordinary continent and heir to the throne after my father, a man who has maintained peace and harmony all these years. Now, that peace is hanging on the brink of death and will soon be a matter I should issue alone, and the men who’ve grown with me and cherish me combating each other until one stands tall….or none stand at all.”

Word spilled after another as if a dam had broken down — fingers jitter even when clasped together. Your throat dries up after every sentence, yet your unwavering resilience pushes you to keep going.

“I’m sorry if what I’m saying or doing is selfish, and…you may be right that I’m going at it with the whims of a child. But, please,” Do not cry, do NOT cry. “Standing idly every passing day watching the men I’ve grown to—“ Love? Isn’t that too intimate of a word to assume? “…treasure kill themselves and others without doing anything wounds me enough. And if you think I can sit here in this palace and watch my intended go far and yonder to kill another person whom I cherish with no guarantee that they will return to me wholly, think twice.”

Your shoulders threaten to tremble; of course, you’re frightened beyond belief by what you’re saying. But you’re sure if she was here, Utahime would pull you in for a hug and acclaim how well you’re following her counsel.

“Please, I just…can’t bear it.��

Uncomfortable muteness gnaws you alive within the muteness of your room. You’re bound to draw blood on your bottom lip with how much you’re chewing it. If only your father were awake in this hour, his guidance at a moment like this would be beneficial, or merely observing from afar how you’re managing would give you some hope. Alas, you know he’s in deep sleep halls away. It’s just the three of you in this space — or just you versus the huge opposing auras thick enough to be slit by Sukuna’s cleaves. 

Speaking of whom, the demon king watches you the entire speech. Same with Gojo, whose blue eyes dwindle back to their typical hue. The two men don’t dare break the silence as you stand before them, mentally swimming in thoughts alone to yourself….Well, at least the northern prince wouldn’t dare to do so first because Sukuna initially ripped the stillness to shreds. He says, “And how would your father respond to this feckless plan of accepting two marriage proposals?”

A worthy question to ponder. “…I’m sure he’d come to an understanding once I explain my reasoning,” the belly of the eastern king grumbles. “I’m sure he’d be contended at the fact that his two trusted allies would want to join houses.”

Gojo sits up straight atop your bed. “Well, that sounds all nice and dandy on that front. But, the problem still lies in us acting like…a ‘real couple.’ Face it, princess; you may seem okay with being with us both, but that doesn’t mean we’d be on the same page.”

Sukuna nods curtly. “I’d rather eat every human alive than entertain the thought of someone other than me touching you.” 

The other shrugs. “Even if the world’s fate depends on it.”

The men’s grievances are valid arguments for why your plan can backfire, particularly when suggesting a relationship where two people can’t stand each other. What you’re posing is an action that has been practiced before yet isn’t entirely favored in the public eye. Nevertheless, your stance doesn’t change; you refuse to go back on your word, believing that it’s a better alternative to condone than the others. The only tricky part is convincing your childhood friends…

…Which is why what you’re about to do is indubitably unlike you. 

“…What are you doing?"

But despite that, it’s a course of action that highlights your determination.

“—Woah!! Princess?! Why are you undressing??!”

Even if it’ll go down as the most downright humiliating thing you’ve done to yourself.

Your nightgown meets the ground of your feet, the cool air wrapping your nude frame with the heat of the fireplace hovering on one side. Arms free of sleeves, nipples easily spotted now with the dismissal of clothing, the region between your lower thighs bare, and delicate skin exposed for only the men in the room to see. And even then, your face doesn’t decline the miserable hotness. Embarrassed? No doubt about it.

“My Lords,” you croak, balled fists muster to contain whatever left of dignity you can. “This form…isn’t meant for any regular eyes to see — an offering only a slim few I’d trust to witness. Tonight, I want you two to see me like this.” You slowly step forward, gradually getting closer to Sukuna’s giant size. “As your princess, I offer my whole to you both, as you are mine…and I am yours.”

Sukuna blinks at your small figure close to his; the intensity of his stare is enough to have your heart sink into a pool of regret. Until he bends to scoop you with his lower arms, you yelp at the sudden action with hands finding his sturdy shoulders to grab. Now, he is way closer than you anticipated, his very chin inches away from brushing your naked chest. Holy shit.

“You are mine, and I am yours?” he lifts his eyebrow. “Was that not true already?” You gulp thickly before answering, daring to cup his cheek with a hesitant hand. Again, you’re surprised to see it still attached, let alone see him lean to your palm. 

“You’d have to prove it true — here and now, make this ceaseless battle end by claiming me as yours…You too, Gojo.” You and the demon holding you turn to the man sitting on your bed. The pale skin of his face now harbors shades of pink that cascade across his cheeks and the dip of his ears, expression dumbfounded to what he witnessed. “Demonstrate how serious you are for my hand, or you and Sukuna can leave my room.”

Sky-blue eyes blink absentmindedly, words hard to pick and choose for the human prince in this bizarre minute. Sukuna then speaks with a huff.

“Well, are you going to start moving or what? Because whether you stay or not, your princess will become mine tonight.” He grins before leaning in to lick your skin, and you hold a whine when the mouth of his navel lightly chews on your tummy. “And on the many nights coming after.”

The beast’s words flip a switch, causing Gojo to chuckle and shake his head while unbuttoning his shirt. “Not if I have something to do about it, four-eyes…”

You drew in breath while watching Gojo undress, more of his milky skin stripped out of his clothing, revealing parts of the prince that you could only imagine in your fantasies. Heat flourishes to your ears, and another gasp is pulled out when Sukuna sneaks his free lower hand to cusp your buttcheek. He then brings an upper hand to your chin to face him and his sneer. 

“You’ve made this night a whole lot more interesting.”

And that was the last time the sound of the fire cracking caught your attention.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Mmmm…Ahh—Ahhh!!”

“Keh, sure are tight as hell; definitely a virgin.”

“Fuck, I can hear the sounds from here…Oh, fuuck…!”

The sea breeze climbs up to your terrace, crawling into your room to swing the curtains of your canopy. The candles around your room continue to flame and provide light for the room to glow. The scent of lavender and rose from your bath and lotion an hour earlier remains in the air and sticks to your skin. The midnight hour isn’t yet, but the sky is dark enough past the twilight hues. 

Expected as the former home of the Great Saint Tengen, the palace is as enormous. Harboring many rooms, halls, and floors for the company of the royal family and their subjects, the castle is unchallenging for a newcomer to get lost inside without a proper guide. Every room is catered to a specific event, person, meeting, or occasion in this place. On top of that, multiple guest chambers are meant for the guests invited under the King’s audience to rest.

…But it seems that Gojo and Sukuna are not retiring for the night anytime soon.

How could they sleep when you’re being a courteous host, letting your childhood friends spend the late hours in your room? Just like when you were young and playmates or learning to master a weapon. The only thing is that these two aren’t the same as two decades ago; they are men, branded with titles and responsibilities, blood already stained their knuckles, and duties hold them to a high expectation that you know all too well. 

And, like all men, they have a salacious curiosity only appropriate for the bedroom. An interest you knew would one day be prevalent in your life if you agreed to take either as a husband…Yet, you’re not as prepared on the chance you’d face both realities simultaneously. 

All three of you are stationed in your bed, clothes decorating your floor to leave you all bare for each other to see and marvel at — more so on your part. You lie on your back to a giant broad chest and stomach, Sukuna right behind you with his lower arms holding your feet by the back of your knees. Knees spread apart, your naked lower half is out, free for the monster to insert a single thick digit of his left upper hand into your wet chasm while the right fondles your left tit.

Never in your life did you think you were capable of producing such indecent noises. Low whimpers are embarrassing to recollect as the demon king plays with your most tender parts. His big fingers tweak your nipple, and the digit – way thicker than yours – inside your cunt is enough to stretch your opening, wiggling and scratching the inside. Fingering yourself never felt like this, your body experiencing a refreshing sensation you hadn’t known of. And to have the eastern king of all people to bestow this feeling on you brings just as much awe as humiliation.

Nonetheless, that indignity doesn’t cease. Gojo stands on his knees before you, propped between your sunder legs, while his hand strokes an erect limb. Yes, as a virgin maiden, tonight would be the very first time you ever see a living, breathing member, and the northern lord takes that honor with a lustful smile. His solid cock gets stiffer with every jerk, a left curve protruding the more your appearance excites him. To be observed and used as material as your slit is fingered? How lewd!

“Nnnn, ahaahn…” Sukuna’s finger rubs on your velvety surface, your legs wanting to squirm despite the monster’s hold. “Oh Gods…Ohhh!!”

“Damn, you look so good,” Gojo mutters under his breath, precum drizzling his fingertips. “Looks like it feels good, huh, princess?”

“Sure feels like it,” every word that Sukuna utters causes tremors to pass down his abdomen to your back, the very vibrations crawling on your skin like the tongue that licks your back to make you arch. “Hm? Tell us how you really feel, little one.”

The usage of that name causes your vaginal walls to twitch; he has never called you as such, and picking such an intimate time to do so makes your frame feel awkward and warm. “…I-I—fffmm!—don’t know…”

“Hmph, you dare lie to me,” he bends to your ear, and his deep chuckle ignites your stomach to knot itself. “Like your body doesn’t speak for itself, clenching on my finger like you want to snap it off.”

“Th-that’s not—“The graze of your upper wall cuts you off, and your hands struggle to find places to grab, gripping the skin of Sukuna’s thigh and grabbing tuffs of his apricot hair. 

The demon king snickers more when his middle finger teases your taint, pressing a kiss on your cheek before a quick bite. “Only one finger in, and you’re already wailing like a common whore; be lucky that I haven’t added another, then you’d really be prepared for me…” You feel something brush up against your back, the tips of Sukuna’s cocks reminding you of his eventual promise.

“Wooow, calling the future heir a whore; must’ve forgotten whose room we’re in.” The white-headed man had something to say about that, satisfyingly ruining the mood for the demonic being. 

“They don’t seem to mind, at least their cunt doesn’t,” uncouth cords that speak truth, your vulva squeezing his finger constantly. “Who would’ve thought the beautiful, refined, and compassionate princess,” each enunciated word has consequences that are a lick and bite to your helix. “Was, in fact, a dirty, nasty girl?”

“Holy shit,” Gojo’s hand goes faster, his dick ready with stiffness. The image of you melting under the Fallen Star’s hold is too hot for the young man to witness. “God, I wanna fuck you so bad, baby…”

Sukuna clicks his teeth. “Well, hurry the hell up and do it before I change my mind and fuck them myself.”

“And have them bleeding to death because of your giant dicks on their first time? Fuck that,” He ignores the four rolled eyes as he maneuvers closer to you, Sukuna pulling his finger out of your wet slit and slithering further down to your anus. He coaxes you to relax your tense muscles, pushing his digit into your puckered hole second by second. The gasp you release once it’s added sends shivers up Gojo’s shoulders. “A princess should be treated like a pearl – tended to with the utmost care.”

“Go–jooo…” You whine as the human heir cups your cheeks to squeeze.

“What did I say about using my family name?” He scolds with a cheeky tune, gauging your reaction as he disposes his cockhead to the folds of your vagina. 

“…S-Sa—Mmmph!” The push of his pink tip is a new sensation.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” He coos, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Relax, just focus on me.” Your eyes lock with his, distracted by the twinkle and swirl of his azure irises, like a whirlpool sinking into the darkness of his dilated pupil. “What’s my name, cutie?”

“Saaa…Sato—Ohhh!!” And just like that, the tip of his limb enters inside, bypassing your knowledge until the wince of pain snaps you out of your distraction. “…to’ruu…”

His teeth glisten under her grin. “That’s my good girl.”

Gojo keeps propelling himself inside you, gradually shoving every inch of his lengthy girth. You bite your quivering lip at the stretch of your opening, accommodating the foreign body part burrowing inside your inner channel. The left curve of his has his penis rubbing on parts of yourself you hadn’t thought possible; a graze of your G-spot causes your legs to quirk and toes to curl. 

But then, once his silverish pubes meet your outer labia, he reaches the depth of your cervix and gives it a chaste kiss. And your frame suddenly shuts down briefly, your senses running cold before you cry aloud without knowing. Your hands rush to cover your mouth, but the damage is too late.

Sukuna raises a brow. “What a shout.” He then uses your reaction to add another digit into your ass.

“Ahhhh, there it is,” Gojo swallows thickly, hips speaking for themselves as they sway. “That was cute as hell–the way you twitch feels so good…” Another poke to your cervix, and your legs can’t help but wrap around Gojo’s waist.

“Satoru, please…!” You plead with knitted eyebrows. “Pleasee, be gentle with me…”

Blue eyes narrow. “God, who told you to be so adorable?” Gojo angles down to your face, his nose mere centimeters to yours. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll treat you right tonight…Hmmm.”

The man leans in to place his lips on your forehead before his own, and the pace of his thrusts quickens to mediocrity. The rubs on your silky texture become frequent, lightly pounding his shaft into your to till his testes knock your chasm, the whimpers you try to repress boost to a louder volume. His left curve spikes up your nerves with every push and pull, easing the itching heat that permeates around your lower half. 

Hands writhe around to calm around Gojo’s cold back; you say his name in prayers. You can feel something coming, and if he keeps rutting to you like this, it’s bound to come earlier than expected. “—Nnaaa, Sat’ruuu, w-wait!! I can’t—Ahaann!!”

“—Mmmm! Yeah, just like that, princess, keep gripping on me like that…” He doesn’t listen, too lost in your warmth and wetness that he can’t stop. The flex of his abs increases, plunging into your pussylips desperately as if he can sense the eventual you fear. 

“T-Toruu, wait, go slooww!!” Words mean nothing, hips not declining in their needing cadence. Oh Gods, I can feel it; it’s coming! Nerves climb to a peak way too fast for your comprehension, nails digging into Gojo’s skin before your orgasm hits you, choked squeaks leaving puffy lips as your cunt contracts around the prince’s girth and your asshole clamping around Sukuna’s fingers.

And Gojo is right there experiencing your climax with you, moaning under his breath and pressing his forehead to yours before he completely melts under the fluttering motions of your genitalia. “—Mmfff, ffffshit, so tight…!” He can’t stop thrusting into you, moving his pelvis slowly to draw out the sensation before he sinks into a crescendo of his own. “Fuuck! Yeah, cutie, that’s right; ride it out,” he snaps an abrupt drill to your aching entrance. “Ride it out…”

Sukuna scoffs lightly before whispering in your ear. “Done already, human?” Patronizing attitude to make you fidget. “Better be ready for me still.”

“Ehhh, but I’m not done here.” The snow-haired man retorts, massaging your waist out of the quakes. 

A thread snaps in the wake of the other’s words, and Sukuna’s lack of patience drives him to push you and Gojo off of him. The two of you roughly position to where you are essentially straddling Gojo, his erection still inside your slick-coated cavern. The devilish man swiftly ends up on his knees before contorting his massive figure to dwarf both humans beneath him.

“Gahhh!! Sukuna, what the fuck w—Mmmph?!?” With the spawn of a mouth, the eastern king shuts the northern man up by slamming his upper left hand onto his mouth for an unexpected kiss. Gojo muffles under the other’s palm, the tongue shoving itself inside.

“Shut up,” Sukuna orders with annoyance. “So damn chatty…And you,” he uses his lower hands to steady your ass, and you stifle a yelp at the contact of something pressing up against the opening of your butt. “Stay still, or I can make it hurt real bad.”

His warning is enough to keep you immobile, following his instructions and stationing your breathing to a steady rhythm. Your hands-on Gojo’s chest ball to fists once Sukuna pushes his tip to your asshole, your mouth forming a permanent ‘o’ shape once he eventually gets the cockhead inside. Just when you thought this night couldn’t get any more extreme, you had forgotten about the taller individual’s well-endowed self: two hefty, girthy limbs that you NEVER, in your wildest dreams, imagine would put inside your body — not even one!

However, tonight was the night that would be put to the test, and at the very least, Sukuna compromised, using one of his members to ravage your interior while the other skims the crevice of your asscheecks. He goes excruciatingly slow; rather than just ramming the entire thing in one go, it’s better. Gods, no, you’d be shedding more tears than you already are. Every inch that’s plunged inside you pushes out shaky breaths, sobbing from the intrusion and bits of drool slowly escaping you.

“Daahhnn, ohmyG—Nnnm!!” It’s finally all in, all swallowed up by the ridge of your bottom. You call to him, “S-Sukunaa…fuull, so fuulll…”

“I bet you are.” He adds more weight, scrunching down, making it worse by caging you under his bow. Sukuna grinds his hips, which evoke sharp cries, “Hmmm, fuck, so tight…”

The salmon-haired behemoth rocks his enormous hips, the propulsion strong enough to rock you and Gojo concurrently. This time, unlike the northern man under you, Sukuna’s movements exude dominance; from his firm grip on your waist to the confident pull of his hips, everything he does is marked with a purpose. You can tell by how his big, weighty balls smack on your sexed union with Gojo.

Speaking of whom, the polar royal subsists in the kiss with Sukuna’s hand. Yet as the seconds turn to a minute, his expression morphs into a less perturbed display. Instead of fighting it, he kisses back with the palm and bucks his hips into you. The action of his cock rubbing on the sweet spots of your vagina while the one carves and churns your butthole and the other glides on your crack grinds your brain to turn into mush. Your nerves have yet to calm down from the prior orgasm, senses overloaded with constant commotion going on in your private parts.

Sukuna’s pushes become quicker and mightier, and the more he ruts, the more your clit grinds onto Gojo’s pelvis, sending shocks straight to your head. There’s no room for rest…! “—Ohhh, hooooh’Kunaaa, Kunaa, pleaseee…!”

“‘Please, please,’ please what?” He mocks you, knowing you’re powerless to reprimand him in this predicament. “Just whining and whining like a bitch in heat; have you no shame, princess?”

“Ohhh, I’m gonna—shtoooop!!” He licks your ear as you moan aloud, steamy tears striking down your hot cheeks. The pace increases, and so does the swipe of your clit and the bump of your womb. “Ohhhfuck, fuck, fuckfuuuuck…!!”

“Kehaha, look at you; the poor princess finally breaks their poised picture,” dark, pleased chuckles seep out of the demon king’s lips, biting onto your shoulder harshly to make you scream. And judging by him licking your added wound, you’re sure he drew blood. 

“Ahhsshh—ohmyGod, ohmyGod!! S’kuna, don’t!!” Desperate pleads slur out. “I’m gonna break; y’re gonna break meee…!!!”

“Good, I want you to be broken,” he sneers as his upper right arm pushes you to face him. “Break for me; think of nothing else other than being mine. Right now, your mind, body, and soul are mine to torment and tear apart. You are my little dove, small and easy to break from now till your dying breath. Am I clear, pet?”

Scared? Of course. The way his scarlet orbs bore holes into your very being had you petrified; he doesn’t need his hellish aura and brawny hands that can snap a tree in half to assimilate fear into your heart. Witnessing the true power of the King of Demons with just his stare, nothing scarier than that…And yet, your anus and chasm can’t stop squeezing like crazy.

“…Yess, my Lord,” you croak, his finger wiping the saliva on his fingertip. “I am your pet from this—nnmm!!—this moment until the…very last.”

Anxiety doesn’t diminish when he broadens a devilish smile, but it transforms into perplexity once he slams his lips onto yours—your first kiss, taken by the eastern King, along with the chastity of your rear hole. And there’s Gojo, who is the very man who has taken claim of your virginity. Two men, your childhood companions, taking your firsts! Tonight, indeed, is marked down as an eventful occasion for you. 

You sink into the passionate kiss, your tiny tongue swirling around with Sukuna’s, his fangs grazing the muscle teasingly before he nibbles on it to hear you shrill for him. All the while, his hips go erratic, motivating Gojo to increase his tempo. The feverish rhythm leaves you breathless, crying in the company of lust and rapture to the point that you’ve become numb. Your vision becomes blurry, your head foggy, and the air between you three misty. Noises of skin smacking onto each is all you hear, drowning you further into another spazz you couldn’t adequately foretell.

Gojo and Sukuna chase their climaxes together after your walls quirk and spasm uncontrollably, letting their fluids burst inside to fill your holes to the very brim. You howl in Sukuna’s mouth, who chews on your bottom lip roughly, same with Gojo’s with the palm before snatching his hand away. The snowy-headed man huffs and pants, nearly choking on spit as his midsection flexes with every jerk of his ejaculation. And the giant above you groans while rutting into your ass, not stopping until his high passes through, the free girth ejecting semen to paint across your sweaty back.

For a few seconds, it’s utterly hot and cold at the same time, your figure trembling with the acute shocks coursing through your bones. Eyes roll to the roof of your canopy, and limbs wobble and give way for you to slump after Sukuna releases you from his breathtaking kiss. Luckily, Gojo is there to catch you, the comely noble attending to you with kisses to your temple.

“Look what you did,” he spits to his left, wanting to rid his mouth of whatever remnants Sukuna left with that disgusting kiss. “You weren’t kiddin’ when you said you wanted to break them.”

“Hmph, don’t ever take me for a liar,” the demonic man stretches after withdrawing his length out of your butt, chortling at the sight of his essence sticking to you. “Oi, dove, you hear me?”

“Princess, you all right…?”

Whatever words the two were saying to you had begun to fade away despite their proximity. Your eyelids refuse to fight the urge to close, and your skin allows the cold breeze to blanket you. Everything goes black, your breathing returns to balance, and the sound of the fire cracking comes back to sing you to sleep.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“My Lady, are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

“Huh?” You snap out of being zoned out for the sixth time today. Your vision is now present with the gazebo view, the ocean glistening from the morning sun in the distance, contrasting with the beautiful greenery of your garden. Many flowers of different shapes and sizes, various colors painted on top of the veins and roots separated from the yellow brick road coursing around it.  

You sit at the gazebo for your morning tea; it’s part of your morning routine after a nice bath and Utahime helping you pick what to wear for the day. Usually, when you sit here, you admire the tranquil sounds of the outside space and the sweet taste of your hot beverage.

“—Mmmm! Yeah, just like that, princess, keep gripping on me like that…”

“Stay still, or I can make it hurt real bad…Hmmm, fuck, so tight…”

Memories from last night flash one after the other, ringing your ears with nothing but the erotic noises and voices from the night before. Your cheeks dial in warmth, recollecting the senses of having both men — your childhood friends — so intimately close to you. The hotness of their breath touching your skin, the wet, teasing licks of the tongue from Sukuna’s stomach, Gojo’s slender fingers swiping and pinching your clitoris as he sucks on your nipple, and Sukuna using one of his arms to restrain your hands behind your back as he uses two others to keep your hips still to hammer your holes with his girth. 

“Princess…” the way Gojo says your name, your stomach flips to the smooth tone of his voice. His striking blue eyes survey your expression like you’re his lost treasure. His hard body meshing together with your sweaty, soft figure is a sensation you’ll probably never forget…

“Princess…” Sukuna, with his red eyes and demonic face structure, put you in a paralysis spell, and his intimidating aura suffocates you to submit to his gaze and hold. Under his bow, you felt as though you were nothing but his and his alone. And you can’t tell if that is scary or intriguing…

“…—dy Lady….MY LADY!!”

“Y–Yes!?” Your attention swerves to reality, Utahime’s face mere inches from yours. Her brown eyes filled with worrisome confusion, scanning your expression. 

“What on Tengen’s Earth is going on with you?” She says with a sigh, “Are you sick? Did you not get enough rest last night? Tsk, it must’ve been Lord Sukuna and that blue-eyed jerk. My apologies, my Lady. I hope their intrusion didn’t keep you awake for too long.” 

You shake your head to your best friend. “No need to apologize, Utahime. And it’s all right; the Lords didn’t give me too much trouble.”

She gives a nod to your response, observing you picking up your teacup and taking a sip before setting it back down gently. “Still, I find it odd that both lords wished to see you so late at night. At the same time, too…If you don’t mind me asking, my Lady, what did they wish to speak with you?”

Again, she is your best friend, so you can trust her with the information you’re about to give. “…Apparently, both Lord Sukuna and Lord Gojo wish to have my hand in marriage—“

“MARRIAGE!!??”

“Shhhh!!” With haste, you stand from the table to cover your lady-in-waiting’s mouth from uttering another word. You swiftly survey the entire garden to see if anyone from the castle heard the shout. Luckily, it was just the two of you. “Please, Utahime, not so loud.”

The woman with her mouth covered blinks once, twice, before giving an assured mod for you to release her lips. She now speaks in whispers with you, “My apologies. But…marriage??”

“I know, it surprised me, too. It seems my father gave them his blessings to ask for my hand. It could be for the sake of our families and  relations or to strengthen the bond of our empires to maintain the powerhouse that is our continent.” 

“Mmm, those are valid reasons to consider, especially after the Great War, and that the bond of the three empires would give a good message…Or perhaps, did the Lords wish to wed you for more personal reasons?”

They did. That’s what you wanted to say. But instead, all you could do was think about their proposals from last night. The way they both stood on one knee and took two hands. Gojo’s eyes never looked so sincere and soft when looking at you, placing his soft lips on your left ring finger to gently kiss it. He looked like his princely self. But that night, he showed the caring and soothing cadence you had fallen in love with all these years. And Sukuna, oh Lord. Never did you think you’d live to witness the day this giant being before you took a knee for anyone – especially for you. Your right hand easily dwarfed in his grasp, brought to his lips that you’d only ever dream to have touch you. And those piercing eyes of his, red like blood, examining every single feature of yours as if you were the thing that made him strong yet weak. It was subtle, something only meant for your eyes to see. But most of all, it was genuine. 

“…That might be it, as well.” You mutter under your breath, your cheeks becoming warm while reminiscing the scenes to yourself. 

However, your chambermaiden was no fool at all. She could tell from your wandering gaze that something, in fact, did happen between the three royals that night. She lifted a brow at your response, “I think that is the case, seeing as though you’re trying to hide the smile from me.”

You squeak, immediately facing in her direction, seeing the foxy grin on her beautiful, scarred face. “I’m smiling?”

“Aha!” Oh no, I fell for it. “Gotcha! Oh my, it seems my Lady is having troubles with the heart. Could it be you are considering the marriage proposals?”

“W–Well…I don’t know myself,” it was an honest answer; you didn’t know the answer yourself. “The matter caught me off guard; I wasn’t expecting either of them to come to my quarters, let alone propose to me on the night of their arrival—“

“That’s not my question, my princess.” You gulp when she cuts you off, Utahime narrowing her feline eyes as she speaks. “It made you incredibly nervous that the three of you would be here at the same place, thinking those two would go at each other’s throats. Now, two Lords still stand, asking for you to be by their side, and you can barely keep a straight face. If you ask for my piece, I’m relieved they came here with the thoughts of marriage rather than spark up talk of another war in this continent.” 

You hum along to your maiden's words, taking in her reasoning. Yet she continues, “And judging by how fidgety you appear to be on this fine morning, something tells me you’re on the fence of accepting. Who will take my Lady’s hand? Lord Ryomen? Gojo? Ugh. If it’s the latter, I’ll only deal with him for your happiness. And Lord Ryomen, oh my. Being the spouse to the most powerful beast of Holy Tengen's continent , it’s something out of a fairy—“

“Utahime, calm down!” You stop the lady from her excitement bubbling into something substantial. You can tell she’s itching to plan your wedding – whenever that be – once your tea time is finished. “I…I didn’t accept their proposals, not yet.”

The dark-haired woman drops her jaw; how unfortunate it is for you to lie to your best friend. “What do you mean!? You didn’t? Then how come you three were discussing for such a long time? I saw Lord Gojo return to his quarters in the middle of the night, and I figured it was because you all had an in-depth discussion.” You open your mouth, but your words are caught on the back of your tongue. You couldn’t formulate a proper excuse or lie in time. Because of that hesitation, Utahime’s brows draw upward with wide eyes, her mouth changing into a small “o” shape. It was at that moment that you realized you dug yourself a grave.

“Princess,” her voice was still hushed, speaking slowly as if not to jump so hard to her assumptions. “…What exactly were you doing with Lord Satoru and Ryomen?”

“PRINCESS! PRINCESS!!”

Saved by another voice entering the fray, you and your lady-in-waiting turn around to see another person coming to the garden, running down the brick road to your destination. As they came closer, you could tell from the bright blue hair and uneven bangs that it was Utahime’s apprentice, the lower-status handmaiden Kasumi Miwa. Your lady-in-waiting was the first to correct her before getting closer, “Maiden Miwa! I’ve told you about running so freely around the castle. What if you were to bump into someone?” When Miwa is in the presence of the two of you, she’s huffing and puffing. “And stand up straight!”

“Eek! Sorry, Lady Iori, but I come bearing news for the princess!” Miwa fixes her posture and messy blue hair while trying to situate her breaths steadily. “Princess, I’m here to tell you that Lords Sukuna Ryomen and Satoru Gojo wish to speak with you!”

Huh??!! “Pardon??”

“Yes, they wish to discuss their proposals with you from last night. At least, that’s what they told me…Oh, there they are!” 

“Miwa, shhhh, don’t point!” 

You pay no mind to your chambermaid lecturing her young student because your eyes follow the brick pathway up to the castle steps where two figures stand. Sukuna and Gojo stand at the entranceway to the garden, both wearing their respective clothing. Not that it matters, though, because the memories from last night with your nude bodies being connected still haunt your senses. And now they’re here, big grins on their faces that share the same reason. They know, and they know that you know. Who knew that such a night full of unexpected passion and heat would happen to you and with your closest friends since your little years, who have grown to become such strong, handsome, and powerful men. 

Perhaps this was the union you’ve wished for — the union that could finally bring you three back together…Perhaps.

“…Tell them that I’m available to speak.”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header art by rororogi mogera + dividers by @cafekitsune.

[littlelamy]

random times when rafe wanted to please you

⭐️The First Time: It was a warm summer night, and the stars twinkled brightly over the Outer Banks. You and Rafe were at a bonfire, the sound of laughter and music echoing around you. As the night wore on and the crowd thinned, you found yourselves nestled together on a blanket, the heat of the fire illuminating his sharp features.

“Hey,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Can I show you something?”

Intrigued, you followed him a little ways away from the fire. Rafe pulled you into a secluded spot, his breath warm against your ear. “I want to taste you.”

Before you could process the words, he sank to his knees, his hands gripping your thighs. The excitement and anticipation shot through you as he leaned in, his mouth brushing against you. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, igniting something primal inside you. He teased you with his tongue, exploring with an eagerness that made you gasp. It was the first of many times, and you both knew it wouldn’t be the last.

⭐️After His Confession: It was a quiet night after a long day, the kind where you and Rafe were just lounging on the couch, a blanket thrown over your legs. The flickering light from the TV cast a warm glow around the room. Rafe turned to you, his gaze heavy with something unspoken.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked, a seriousness in his tone.

“Of course,” you replied, curious.

“I think about your clit a lot. Like…a lot,” he admitted, his cheeks slightly flushed.

You could feel heat creeping up your own neck as he continued, “It drives me crazy how much I want to taste you.”

Without waiting for a response, he slipped down to the floor in front of you. His fingers grazed your thighs, and with a soft gasp, you let him pull you closer. He pressed his mouth against you, the need evident in every movement. The way he worshipped your clit made you forget everything else, lost in the pleasure he gave.

⭐️After a Fight: You and Rafe had a heated argument earlier that day. The tension between you was thick, lingering like an unwelcome fog. But as night fell, something shifted. Rafe, his frustration still evident, pulled you into his arms, his lips crashing against yours.

“Damn it, I’m sorry,” he breathed between kisses, his hands moving down your body.

“Let me show you how sorry I am,” he whispered, lowering himself to his knees once more.

With an urgency that took your breath away, Rafe dove into your core, his mouth working you like it was the only thing that mattered. Each flick of his tongue melted away the earlier tension, replacing it with an overwhelming need. He lost himself in you, sucking on your pussy as if he were trying to make up for every harsh word exchanged earlier.

⭐️After an Impromptu Swim: You had gone for a late-night swim, the ocean waves crashing around you. Rafe had followed you, a playful gleam in his eyes. As you splashed around, the thrill of the night led to a sudden, passionate kiss.

“Let’s take this back to my place,” he suggested, a smirk on his lips.

Once you were in his room, Rafe wasted no time. He pushed you onto the bed, his eyes dark with desire. “I can’t wait any longer,” he murmured, kneeling between your legs.

The way he savored you that night was unlike any other, his mouth sucking on your bud as if he were starved. You writhed beneath him, lost in the sensations as he brought you to the brink of ecstasy time and time again.

⭐️ The Morning: After a night filled with passion, you woke up wrapped in Rafe’s arms, sunlight streaming through the window. He stirred beside you, a sleepy smile spreading across his face. “Good morning,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Good morning,” you replied, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

As the morning sun bathed the room in golden light, Rafe’s hand slipped down your body. “I was thinking…” he trailed off, a teasing smirk forming on his lips.

“Thinking about what?” you asked, your heart racing.

“About making you feel good,” he said, his voice low and sultry.

With that, he moved down your body, his mouth finding your clit. The gentle morning light made everything feel dreamlike as he worked you with a slow, deliberate intensity, drawing out every moment of pleasure. You couldn’t help but surrender to him, the world outside forgotten.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafecameroninterlude @sstargirln

[mephisto-reporting]

Princess Treatment - LADS HCs

Premise: You spoil him rotten, giving him the true princess treatment whenever he least expects it. Based on this request. Pairing: reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. This is pure fluff and I wrote these as headcanons on how the MC would spoil the lads men.

XAVIER

Tying His Shoelaces: Xavier, perpetually lost in thought or too sleepy to notice, never realizes his shoelaces have come undone. You’ve taken it upon yourself to stop him mid-step, kneeling down without hesitation to tie them up for him. "Y-you don’t have to do that,” he murmurs, his ears tinged red as other hunters in the UNICORNS squad snicker or raise eyebrows. Despite his protests, he secretly loves the care and attention you give him. Sometimes, he’ll glance down at his laces before heading out, secretly hoping you’ll stop him again.

The Crumb Crisis: You’ve come to notice that Xavier is always getting crumbs on his face—whether it’s from a snack he didn’t realize he’d left out or a meal he’s rushed through. You’ve made it a habit to carry a handkerchief with you, and whenever you see those crumbs stuck to his cheek, you gently take the cloth and wipe them off. He’s always caught off guard, sometimes even stammering, "I'm fine, really!" but the quiet appreciation in his eyes is unmistakable.

Homecooked Comfort: After grueling missions, Xavier is too drained to do much beyond collapsing on his couch. And given his well-documented kitchen disasters—he once managed to burn soup—you’ve made it a point to spoil him with hearty, homecooked meals. From comforting stews to his favorite snacks, you make sure he’s well-fed and taken care of. The first time you did it, his sleepy eyes widened in surprise. “You… made this for me?” “Of course. You deserve it.” He savors every bite, and though he’s not great with words, the way he quietly finishes everything on his plate is thanks enough.

Fuck the machines: Claw machines are Xavier’s mortal enemy. You’ve watched him struggle time and again, his focus no match for the slippery claws, even when he uses his Evol. So, you’ve taken over as his claw machine champion. "Which one do you want this time?” you ask, cracking your knuckles as he hesitates before shyly pointing to a particularly adorable plush. You win it with ease, handing it to him with a triumphant grin. “For you, Your Highness.” He laughs softly, his rare smile lighting up his face. “You’re too good at this.”

Bedhead Boy: Xavier’s perpetually messy bedhead is endearing, but sometimes it’s just too much for you to resist smoothing down. With a quiet hum, you gently comb your fingers through his hair, fixing it without a second thought. “Hey…” he starts to protest, but he always lets you finish, his ears pink as you pat his head affectionately.

ZAYNE

Door Dash: Zayne’s disdain for hospital canteen food is no secret, and you’ve made it your mission to ensure he eats something wholesome during his grueling shifts. You send him meals carefully packed in insulated containers, often including his favorite dishes. Occasionally, you’ll slip in a small dessert, knowing his secret sweet tooth. He doesn’t say much when he gets them, but you’ve caught a glimpse of the faint smirk he wears when he opens the package. “You know I can survive on vending machine snacks, right?” he’d quip over the phone later, but the fact he finishes every bite says otherwise.

Sticky notes: Zayne isn’t the type to expect grand gestures, so you leave small, thoughtful surprises instead. A note tucked into his hospital coat pocket with a cheeky, “Don’t overwork yourself. I still need my heart surgeon around.” Or a sticky note on his dashboard that reads, “Drive safe, handsome.” Once, he found one in his mail that simply said, “Stop glaring at everyone, I know you’re secretly nice.” He pretends to be unfazed, rolling his eyes or muttering something sarcastic like, “Am I being stalked?” but he keeps every single one in a drawer at home.

Spoil me, rotten: Zayne’s wardrobe is filled with impeccably tailored long coats, a staple of his polished appearance. You’ve taken to buying him accessories like elegant brooches, leather gloves, or even scarves that perfectly complement his collection. He always protests when you present them, narrowing his eyes and saying, “You do know I can buy these myself, right?” But the next time you see him, he’s wearing the latest item with an almost imperceptible look of pride. You tease him about it, and he deadpans, “It’s just practical. Don’t overthink it.”

Doctor's Day Out: Knowing how chaotic Zayne’s schedule as a top surgeon can be, you take charge of planning the weekends so he doesn’t have to lift a finger. Whether it’s booking a cozy dinner reservation, arranging a quiet getaway, or even planning an at-home movie night, you ensure everything is set. “All you need to do is show up and look stunning,” you joke, and he raises an eyebrow. “Well, I’m halfway there already,” he retorts dryly, but the way he leans back and relaxes during those weekends tells you he’s more grateful than he lets on.

Massage therapist: Zayne’s hands are his lifeline, and after long, intricate surgeries, they’re often sore and strained. You’ve made it a habit to take his hands in yours and gently massage them, working out the tension in his fingers and wrists. He pretends to be indifferent at first but notices that your skills have improved. After all, you’d put in the effort to learn different techniques to aid him and his skilled hands. “I hope you’re not charging me for this.” He jokes. But as your thumbs press into the tight knots, his usual stoic demeanor falters. The sharp lines of stress around his eyes soften, and his shoulders, once hunched from exhaustion, slowly unwind.

RAFAYEL

After you: It’s no secret Rafayel enjoys being the center of your attention, and you’re more than happy to oblige. Wherever you are—be it a café, an art gallery, or even your own home—you always make it a point to open the door for him. Without fail, he pauses, waiting for you to complete the gesture. It’s not that he can’t do it himself, but he loves seeing that soft, proud smile on your face when you hold the door just for him. Of course, he’d never outright admit it. Instead, he’ll quip something bratty, like, “Took you long enough, Cutie” but the faint curve of his lips tells you he secretly adores it.

Color Splash: Rafayel’s world revolves around his art, and you’ve made it your mission to fuel his creativity. Whether it’s hunting down rare pigments, finding unconventional materials to create new textures, or gifting him innovative tools, you never miss an opportunity to surprise him. When he first discovers your thoughtful additions to his collection, he’s practically radiant, eyes gleaming with inspiration as he eagerly experiments. Of course, he’ll nonchalantly mutter, “I could’ve found this myself, you know,” but his excitement is undeniable, and you know you’ve made his day.

Cheater, Cheater: You pride yourself on your competitive streak, but when it comes to Kitty Cards with Rafayel, you can’t help but let him bend the rules. He catches on every time, glancing at you with a knowing smirk as he casually switches out cards while you pretend not to notice. He knows exactly what you’re doing but plays along with a sly grin. Winning always means he gets to name his prize, and without fail, it’s more time with you. “Your competitive streak is slipping, cutie,” he teases, already pulling you closer. “Guess you’ll just have to pay for it with another evening by my side.”

Passenger Princess: Whether it’s the car or your motorbike, Rafayel is always the passenger princess with you. He’s perfectly content letting you take the wheel, whether it’s navigating through traffic or cruising down open roads. He’ll sit back, casually tossing a playful comment your way, his relaxed demeanor making it clear he has no interest in taking control. But even more than that, he loves the attention you give him. He’ll rest his hand on your shoulder or his head against the seat, basking in the comfort of being close to you. It’s his way of enjoying the ride—and you—without the fuss.

Creative Clean up: Rafayel’s studio is a whirlwind of creativity, but it’s also a constant mess. Brushes, paints, papers, clothes—everything’s scattered around like a storm wrecked his living space. Coffee cups would double as pen holders, and brushes would be left lying around like they were an afterthought. But no matter how chaotic it became, you never complained. You’d roll up your sleeves and clean up every single time you visited him. He’d give you a cheeky grin, the same one he wore whenever he was being a brat, and say, “You know you don’t have to do this, right? I like my space just the way it is.” But he never stopped you, and in the moments when he didn’t look, his eyes would soften, and a hint of appreciation would slip through his normally playful mask. He knew you cared for him in a way that no one else did.

SYLUS

Product Placement: Sylus was used to getting what he wanted, whether it was luxury items or rare finds. He had his preferences, and he wasn’t one to settle for less. But when you made it your mission to keep his favorite, expensive brands stocked in your home—whether it was gourmet food, skincare products, or niche equipment—it didn’t go unnoticed. The first time you did this, Sylus had been caught off guard. He’d teased you, of course. “I don’t need you to be my personal store, kitten. I’ve got everything I need.” But when he came over and found everything perfectly laid out just the way he liked it, the teasing turned into a more meaningful smile. He would let you spoil him just enough to acknowledge your effort, but never enough to let you feel like you were getting the upper hand. That was the Sylus way.

Rare Rhythms:  Sylus’ love for rare records was well-known, and so was the fact that he had an extensive collection of limited-edition vinyl. But you didn’t mind diving into the world of obscure, indie artists just to get him something new for his collection. It wasn’t easy, though. It took long hours of scouring flea markets, searching online auction houses, and talking to music enthusiasts who knew more than a thing or two about underground talent. It was often a challenge, but for you, it was worth every second. Sylus didn’t say much, but you could tell by the way he listened to every single one of them, that he was genuinely impressed. "They’ve got potential," he'd said, before you knew it, that same artist was suspiciously rising in popularity, and you’d smile every time Sylus mentioned them. “You really know how to find a diamond in the rough, don’t you, sweetie?”

Spoiled Stubborn: Sylus was always the one taking the lead, always the one orchestrating the grand gestures. Spoiling him? Not so easy. He didn’t make it easy for anyone to do that. He would never outright refuse, but it was clear that when you tried, he preferred to return the favor rather than let you take charge. But you were stubborn—probably even more so than he was. You wanted him to be spoiled just as much. You wanted him to experience the kind of care he gave to everyone else, and you had just the way to do it: Planning dates where he couldn’t take over. Once it was picnic in the woods. You went all out—your best blankets, his favorite snacks, wine you knew he’d like—and most importantly, you took care of every detail so that he couldn’t take charge. The other time, it was a movie night at your place where everything was set: Popcorn, soda, the projector and candy. “You’re stubborn, you know that?” he remarked softly, but there was affection behind his words. "I want spoil you... but you’ve managed to spoil me instead." You smiled, the warmth in your chest spreading, knowing that in these small moment, you had made him feel cared for—something he usually avoided letting others do.

Sylus’ Salon: Sylus had always been a little gruff, his rugged demeanor giving off the impression of someone who was clinical and composed. But you knew him better than that. One of those moments was when you washed and dried his hair. He’d never asked for it, but you’d begun doing it without thinking. Maybe it was the way his silver hair shimmered under the water, or maybe it was the way he looked so disarmed when he let his guard down, letting you comb through his hair with graceful  fingers. You’d always notice how his breath would deepen, how his eyes would close just a little longer than necessary. "I know you like doing this," he’d say, the faintest hint of a grin playing on his lips. "But you’re making it hard for me to act all tough with you fussing over me like this." You’d laugh softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead before continuing to dry his hair. It was an act of tenderness, a side of him that no one got to see.

Touch Starved: Sometimes, it wasn’t the grand gestures that mattered. It was the little touches. —a soft brush of your hand against his cheek or the fleeting warmth of your fingers tracing his jaw—he couldn’t help but pause. He’d find himself rewinding moments of you brushing his hair out of his face, or simply wrapping your arms around him when he least expected it. He’d tense, but only for a moment, before letting the warmth of your embrace dissolve his guarded exterior. “It seems like a certain kitten cannot keep her hands to herself.” Sylus would tease, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as you snuck in another kiss, letting him know that you’d spoil him with your touches and kisses, even if he won’t admit it loudly.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[chestersturniolo]

“Tell me where it hurts”

Matt Sturniolo x fem!reader - oneshot

🩹

You stand in the kitchen, staring up at the top shelf of the cupboard. The item you need is just out of reach, mocking you as you stretch on your tippy toes. No amount of straining will make you any taller. With a sigh, you glance over your shoulder at Matt, who’s lounging on the couch across the room, his fingers moving swiftly over the controller as he focuses intently on the game on the screen.

“Matt?-” you call

“What’s up” he calls back

“-can you help me with something? I can’t reach”

“yeah In a minute,i’m almost done with this round” he says, without tearing his eyes away from the screen.

You huff softly, crossing your arms. You wait, and wait , tapping your fingers against the counter, but it doesn’t take long before your patience wears thin. You glance back up at the shelf, narrowing your eyes. I can do this myself. You find a nearby stool, the kind that’s a bit wobbly on its legs but has gotten you through other moments like this. You set it beneath the shelf and carefully climb on, the edges creaking under your weight. With one more stretch, you just barely brush the item with your fingertips. Just a little farther…

Suddenly, the stool slips from beneath you, and you feel the rush of panic before you fall, crashing to the ground with a loud thud. Pain flares up in your ankle as you land awkwardly, a gasp escaping your lips.

Matt is on his feet in an instant, chucking his controller aside as he runs over. He’s at your side in a heartbeat, kneeling next to you with wide, panicked eyes. “Oh my god baby are you okay?” His hands hover over you, unsure where to touch, where it might hurt. You groan quietly in response.

“Tell me where it hurts” he says urgently, his voice strained with worry.

You shift slightly to ease the pressure off your leg. “I think I hurt my ankle” you mumble, wincing as you try to move it. his eyes dart to your leg. He gently reaches for your ankle, his hands trembling slightly as he carefully examines it.

You point to the spot, and when his fingers brush over the tender area, you wince again. His face falls, and you can see the guilt wash over him in an instant. “Oh no, baby, I’m so sorry-“ he says, his voice cracking with regret. “-this is all my fault. I should’ve helped you. I shouldn’t have waited” His hands move carefully as he assesses the injury. “I’m so stupid, I should’ve just gotten up-“

“Matt-“ you interrupt softly, your tone gentle despite the pain. “-it’s okay, I’ll be fine”

But he shakes his head, his expression tortured as he continues, “No, it’s not okay. I should’ve been there. This wouldn’t have happened if I’d just helped you right away. God, I’m so sorry, sweetheart”

He rushes to grab ice, his movements quick and frantic as though making up for the time he lost earlier. He returns, placing the ice pack against your ankle gently, afraid to hurt you any more than he already feels he has. You smile weakly at him, touched by how frantic he is to make it right. “It’s fine Matt. Really..”

But he isn’t convinced. For the rest of the night, he refuses to leave your side. Switching out the ice pack, carrying you to and from the toilet when you need it, bringing you snacks, soda, anything you might want. He helps you shift positions on the couch, constantly checking in to make sure you’re comfortable. His brow remains furrowed with guilt every time he looks at your ankle, and even as you try to reassure him, he’s too caught up in his own self-blame.

As the evening wears on and you settle under a blanket, he sits beside you, his arm around your shoulders protectively, his fingers absently stroking your arm. “I’m really really sorry” he whispers again, his voice still laced with regret. You lean into him, resting your head against his chest. “it’s not your fault, i should have been patient and just waited a few more minutes” you reassure.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, still not entirely forgiving himself but grateful for your understanding. “No more stool climbing okay? i’ll do anything you need-just please stay on the floor” he begs

You can’t help but laugh at his serious request, before giving him a peck on the cheek “Deal”

🩹

MASTERLIST HERE

taglist; @sturnobsessedwh0re @nayveetbhh

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@monroesturnns @mattsbitchh @pvssychicken @tsturniolo4 @brianna-grace12

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@bbybloop @sturnn372 @chrissturnsss @slut4m4tt @izzylovesmatt @spideylovin

@sturniolossss @sturniolofannnforevver @zariyam @r0s3luvr

@sturniolosluttt @matts1freak @conspiracy-ash

[startears0153]

☾ Seeing you cry in your sleep

How they react to finding you crying silently in your sleep.

☾ Characters: Argenti, Blade, Dan Heng, Dr. Ratio

☾ Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, GN Reader, StellaronHunter!Reader in Blade's, Ratio (affectionately) calling you fool in his part

Might write a 2nd part with Gepard, Jing Yuan, Welt and Luocha (and maybe Sampo) in the future :)

Argenti

Upon entering your shared cottage, Argenti finds you sleeping on the chair by the window. They must’ve fallen asleep while admiring the scenery of the falling snow outside, Argenti thought with a fond smile. 

For a moment, Argenti found himself unable to move, for his emerald colored eyes were transfixed upon the serene beauty of the scene before him. The falling snow, the white winter wonderland serving as the perfect backdrop to accentuate the beauty of your resting figure.

Still, he realized it probably wouldn’t do well if you were to fall sick from the cold. So, he quietly made his way through the room and draped a blanket over your figure. 

That was when he noticed the presence of tears on the corners of your eyes. 

For a while, Argenti thought his eyes were deceiving him. It wasn’t until he saw a lone tear fall from your eye that he was finally hit by the fact that you were, indeed, crying in your sleep. 

His heart ached upon the sight and he instinctively reached to cup your cheek; his thumb gently caressing the corner of your eye, wiping away the stream of tears that began to fall like tender snow. 

After some deliberation on how to proceed, Argenti would kneel before your sleeping figure before carefully stirring you awake with a gentle squeeze to your hand and softly calling out your name. 

“Good morning my dear,” He would greet you with a tender smile, though you could easily sense the twinge of sadness and melancholia lingering in his voice. “I apologize if this may sound unpleasant to you but … you were crying in your sleep. Is … Is everything alright?” 

He would fret over you, but he would try to keep it to a minimum lest he were to accidentally do more harm than good. He was obviously worried about what ailed you, but again, what mattered most to him was your comfort. 

Regardless of whether you choose to speak of the reason for your tears, Argenti would remain by your side, kneeling before you as he held your hand in his. 

If he could, he would do anything in his power to vanquish the reason behind your tears. He never wants you to shed tears, neither in sleep or wake, ever again.

Blade

It was almost time for the opening act of Elio’s Script. Blade comes to searches for you in the meeting spot, and finds you asleep above one of the many wooden crates of the abandoned factory. 

How carefree, Blade thought with a scoff. Even so, Blade’s heart blossoms with warmth, that very same warmth that is born from his affection and adoration for you and all your silly antics. 

If he could, he would let you rest for longer and perhaps even join you in your restful slumber, resting your head on his shoulder. But alas, the Script takes priority and it was almost time to begin. 

So he reaches to shake your shoulder … but then froze upon the sight of tears falling from your eyes. 

Blade has never been one for tears. In a different life, perhaps, he would have been. But tears have no meaning for Blade. Crying does not provide one with salvation, no matter how much one cries, what was lost could never return. 

And yet, the sight of your tears shook him to his core. 

Blade didn’t know what to do. What could he do anyway? Reach for your face and wipe away your tears with his thumb? Lean towards you and kiss the corners of your eyes, all in hopes for your tears to stop cascading from your eyes? How ridiculous. As though that would solve any of your problems. 

So, he does what he is supposed to. Grab your shoulder and gently shake you awake. 

“Wake up. It’s almost time to begin.” He says brusquely, already turning around for his back to face you. “Wipe your tears. Don’t let the enemy see even a single hint of weakness.” 

You would be shocked upon realizing you were crying in your sleep and hurriedly wiped away the remains of your tears. Not soon after, you join him by the ledge of the building, watching over the city with puffy eyes. Blade would steal a glance at you and then he would say, 

“Do not be hasty. I am with you.”

You didn’t need to try hard to know that he wasn’t just talking about the battle ahead.

Dan Heng

The hour was late when Den Heng jolted awake from his sleep. He dreamt of a vague memory of his past incarnation and saw a nightmare where his friends were swept away by the waves; of you disappearing in the dark sea of clouds. 

Inhaling and exhaling slowly, Dan Heng takes a moment to recompose himself before shifting to rest on his side, thus meeting the familiar sight of your back. They’re here, Dan Heng thought to himself, breathing a quiet sigh of relief. It’s all just a dream. 

Not wanting to wake you, Dan Heng simply stares at your back. The steadiness of your breathing, a reminder that you are alive. Gingerly, Dan Heng reaches to subtly trace soothing lines on your back. Truth be told, it was probably more soothing for him than you. 

Then suddenly, there was a slight change in the pattern of your breathing. More feeble and erratic. Concerned that he might have woken you up, Dan Heng pushed himself up to check on your condition … 

… Only to find you crying in your sleep. 

Upon the sight of your tears, falling so steadily onto the fabric of your already damp pillow, Dan Heng’s breath hitches. He shakes your shoulders, calling your name again and again until your eyes open and meet his pairs of jaded blue. 

“You’re crying.” He said bluntly, his brows furrowed as a tell-tale sign of his bleeding concern for you. “What? No, I’m fine. Yes, I woke up because of a nightmare but I’m more concerned for you.” 

The two of you would both end up sitting on the bed, both fretting over each other’s condition. You asked Dan Heng about his nightmare and he would reply that it was the usual. He asked you about your tears, and you replied you didn’t even know you were crying until Dan Heng pointed it out. 

In the end, the both of you would end up embracing each other tightly, providing both comfort and strength to one another. You both wind up laying on the bed in each other’s arms. 

Dan Heng would stay awake for a while after you’ve fallen asleep, gazing at your resting figure in hopes that he would never have to see you cry in your sleep once more.  

Dr. Ratio

After a long day full of shameful displays of stupidity from the people around him, Dr. Veritas Ratio was done for the day and is free to visit his beloved. I cannot wait to see them, Ratio thought as he made large strides towards your office. It has been far too long since I’ve had an intellectually stimulating conversation!

He thinks of all the topics he could talk with you, ranging from the most mundane things such as how each other’s days went and the more complex like the discourse regarding a recent hot theory. 

Imagine his disappointment when he enters your office and finds you dead asleep on your desk. 

Frowning, Ratio rationalizes that you were probably just as exhausted as he was and that there were plenty of chances for conversation when the two of you have rested up. Still. He was disappointed. 

He walked towards your desk and took a moment to observe your resting figure. You were sleeping above your paper reports. Now that’s a lark. But then, he noticed something else. 

Your papers were soaked, all from the tears that were still cascading from your eyes. 

Upon the sight of your tears, Ratio’s heart seemingly ceased to beat. There was shock, confusion, concern and all these strong emotions that meld with one another. In a rare moment of panic, Ratio shook you awake, forcing you away from your stained papers. 

“You fool, just what do you think you’re doing?!” He shouts, worry bleeding through his tone. “Don’t ‘What the hell, Veritas’ me! You’re the one crying on your reports and making them unreadable!” 

You would be confused until you realize that you were crying in your sleep. You touched the lingering wetness on your cheeks and laughed feebly. It was probably the pent up stress, you offered weakly, annoying Ratio once more. 

You expect a lecture, but unexpectedly, Ratio places hand behind your head, brings you to rest against his broad shoulder. 

“You are a fool for ruining those reports. If you must cry … cry on my shoulder instead.” 

It was a silly attempt at cheering you up, but you appreciated it all the same. 

Hehe this was a super fun prompt to write! Might write a second part with Gepard, Jing Yuan, Welt and Luocha when I feel the inspiration hitting me 👀

Also still semi-working on banners ... sigh, lets hope I find a good theme soon enough.

Thank you for reading 💖

[fastandcarlos]

"Brake! Brake! Brake!" : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: putting you in the simulator was supposed to be a bit of fun for charles, but not even he could prepare himself for the terror of being spectator to this

“My love, you need two hands on the wheel,” Charles told you, standing just beside you as you tried your best to figure out what all the buttons meant, “just drive, I’ll help you with all of those and tell you when you need them.”

“Which one is the brake? I’m gonna crash!” You cried out, entering the first corner on the simulator, your heart was racing, feet tapping around as you tried to find what you were looking for.

“The wall!” Charles yelled, hiding behind his hands as he watched your car veer towards the side as you lost control, unable to concentrate too much.

The sudden feeling of a hand wrapping around your ankle showed you where the brake was as Charles moved your foot onto it. Your mind was racing as you tried to do a million and one things. Behind you, Charles tried his best to help you, but you were far too out of your depth to listen.

It was almost funny for him as he watched you, taking for granted how hard his job was.

“I give up with this, it’s stupid,” you huffed as you almost went into the gravel again, desperately trying to save your car. “I’m not built for all of this driving, can’t I quit?”

“Come on, you’re still only learning,” Charles reminded you, kneeling down so he was by your side. His smile was warm, as funny as he found it watching you, he also knew just how much you wanted to learn more about what he does, giving it a go for yourself.

You carried on battling for a few more moments, luck far from on your side, until a pair of hands hovered over yours against the steering wheel.

“We’ve got this, we’re a team,” Charles whispered as he felt you turn to face him, leaning across and helping you steer the vehicle.

As soon as Charles took a hold the whole thing felt easier, whilst he focused on navigating, you were able to accelerate and brake at just the right moment.

Somehow a few moments later you found yourself crossing the line, surprising yourself that you hadn’t forced your car into the pits to retire.

“That was amazing for a first attempt,” Charles chimed, trying his best to reassure you, “you’ll be a natural soon enough,” he added, kissing the side of your head.

With a bit of persuasion, you decided to give another track a go, reluctantly agreeing when Charles suggested giving Monaco a try. It was your home after all, surely you could remember the roads, but behind the wheel of the simulator, you confidently forgot everything.

“This time just try and worry about one thing at a time, don’t stress too much,” Charles instructed, kneeling back where he was before by your side.

You nodded as you made yourself comfortable, watching for the lights to go out to signal for you to start your race. As soon as they did you slammed your foot down, taking yourself by surprise with how quickly the car shot forwards.

A squeal came from you, a snigger coming from Charles, knowing that you were far from prepared. Your surprise left you struggling for control once again, almost forgetting that the entire track wasn’t straight.

“Brake! Brake! Brake!” A voice cried out from beside you.

Just in time your foot hit the brake, turning the car before you flew off the track. Like before, you barely made it around the track in one piece, glancing at your suffering boyfriend as soon as the race finished.

“You’re amazing at a lot of things, but I don’t think racing is one of them,” Charles joked, reaching across and taking a hold of your hand as he took it off of the steering wheel. Your head immediately nodded in agreement with Charles, it was fun to support him, but you were much better off doing that in the comfort of the paddock.

Charles loved you for trying, he loved how hard you worked to enjoy the things he loved, but even he couldn’t lie and say you were a good driver.

“I’ll leave the grand prix to you,” you laughed, stepping out of the simulator, “I think my strengths lie elsewhere.”

“I can think of a few strengths,” Charles whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly.

Your eyes rolled at the knowing expression that was on his face, but you allowed your arms to wrap around his neck anyway.

Charles closed the distance between you both, pressing a kiss against your lips. “Why do you always assume the worst of me?” Charles innocently asked, chuckling to himself as you continued to stare at him, knowing Charles all too well, knowing exactly what he was hinting at too.

“You’re impossible sometimes, you know?”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[angelsandstxrs]

the high lord keeps interrupting azriel and his mate, until she finally has enough

warnings: 18+, achingly inaccurate to anything acotar, badly written brainstorming as usual, no usage of Y/N so probs a bit confusing at times, smut, azriel wanting employee of the month, (let me know if there’s anything else) words: ~4.2k

It wasn’t uncommon for Azriel to be called by the High Lord at ungodly hours. His work was needed more than often at night, or over a multitude of days or weeks. Her mate's lack of a schedule meant that he’d been called from her more than once when they had been together, and she’d been understanding, until Rhysand seemed to have taken it upon himself to interrupt all her alone time with her mate.

-

“Right there, Az-,” she gasped, fingers tightening in the silky hair under her hand and forcing a growl from the male between her legs. “Oh, gods—“

Her head tipped back against the cold marble wall, eyes closed and face turned towards the high curved ceiling above her. The vacant hallway they had found themselves in was bathing in darkness, both from the usual depressing state of the Court of Nightmares, but also from Azriel’s shadows covering them both and hiding them from the potential threat of any straggling visitors. One of said shadows slid up her leg, under the opening of her dress messily pushed over her hips, passing over the big palm sprawled firmly over the entirety of her lower back, before teasingly drawing around to her front and caressing her cleavage heaving in the neckline of her dress.

A second growl vibrated against her pulsating heat, this time sounding less pleasured and more agitated. The difference was not lost on her, even with her hips desperately grinding down on his tongue, searching for a release from the pleasure coursing through her. The hand on her lower back pulled lower, and for a blissful second she thought his irritation was sourced from her squirming, that she’d receive a sharp slap on the flesh he was digging his fingers into and perhaps a growled warning to Stay still. 

The thought alone had her core curling tight, breaths shortening in preparation for an orgasm — that faded away to dust when her mate pulled away with an even angrier sound she knew wasn’t aimed at her.

“It’s Rhys.” 

The panted exclamation had her tilting her head forward with a quiet groan, eyes sliding open to find Azriel peering up at her from where he was kneeling at her feet, hazel eyes glassed over and jaw clenched tight as he communicated with the High Lord. 

“He’s asking for us.” His voice came from the back of his throat, thick and strained.

She licked her lips, heart pounding in her chest and thighs still tensed in the promise of the shattering orgasm she had been seconds away from.

“Right now?” She pointlessly asked, already knowing the answer.

“Right now.” Azriel confirmed as he eased her leg off his shoulder, careful of her sharp heels near his wings. 

Another quiet groan slipped past her lips, and this time she tilted her head back in exasperation, making no move to help the warm calloused hands tugging her dress down into place again.

“I hate him.” She grumbled and watched Azriel stand, straightening in front of her.

“Don’t pout, angel,” He tilted her chin up with a finger, giving her a soft peck before pulling away with a quietly amused expression. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

She gave him a glare without any real malice behind it, mostly to wind him up a little for later.

“You better.” 

-

He didn’t make it up to her that night. As usual, their visit in the Court of Nightmares didn’t end without trouble, and Rhysand had sent his Spymaster out on a mission before they’d even returned to Velaris. She didn’t know the specifics of the mission, most of the time she didn’t want to know beforehand. It saved her the sleepless nights and worries about if this would be the time he didn’t make it back. With only her imagination she could pretend he was safe and sound, that Rhysand had sent him to check the water levels in the ocean or anything else without any dangers.

The only sign of his distance was the mating bond growing restless, perhaps it had also been fueled by the way he’d been taken from her, but when Azriel returned after a week, she was starving for him.

She was cleaning up in the kitchen after dinner when the mating bond tightened at the same time something familiar brushed against her leg. Looking down, she found a stray shadow coiling around her ankle, eagerly swirling up the expanse of her calf.

Dishes long forgotten, she quickly wiped her hands and hurried out to the foyer, smile widening as the sound of the door opening reached her ears. More shadows flocked her, she payed them no mind as threw herself into their master’s awaiting arms. Azriel lifted her easily off the ground, winding her legs around his hips. His wings, as always, wrapped around them as if shielding them from the world.

She hugged him tighter and buried her face into his neck, drowning herself in his scent.

“Welcome home, my love.” Her words were muffled against the warm skin of his neck.

His smile widened enough for her to feel it against her shoulder before he quietly breathed out, “I missed you so much, angel.”

The plans to have him take a seat at the dining table and feed him the plate of leftovers she’d spared for him just in case, flew out of her head the second his hand tangled in her hair and guided her mouth to his. Kissing Azriel was always mind-numbing and consuming, especially when she hadn’t seen him in a week. It left her desperately holding onto him, fingers pulling through his messily tousled hair as if she could force him even closer. She barely registered him winnowing, only the sudden tilt of her world when he fell back on their bed with her still on top of him.

Planting her knees on the mattress, she straddled his lap as her fingers danced over his leathers, unbuckling and unlacing the sleek buckles and laces. She’d done it countless times, could probably do it blindfolded with her hands tied if she really needed to.

Azriel sighed happily against her lips when she shedded the jacket and undershirt off him, discarding it to the bedroom floor. Her palms greedily slid over his abdomen, taking in the toned muscles honed from centuries of hard training. Another breathy sound emitted from him, this time caused by her hips circling over his lap, grinding down on the hard bulge underneath her.

“Gods-, I missed you.” He repeated as his hands palmed up her thighs, sliding under the oversized shirt that was probably one of his old ones.

“Missed you too.” She panted, pulling back and reaching for the edge of the shirt to lift it over her head. He stopped her, hazel eyes burning wildly and lips swollen as he blinked up at her.

“Leave it on.” 

Giving a half-minded nod, she leaned forward to continue when he suddenly stilled underneath her. 

“Rhys wants my mission report.” He pulled away to talk, words halfway muffled into the kiss.

“Mhm.” She kissed him again, reveling in the taste of him after a long week without him. This time he reciprocated fully, slow and indulging, fueled by the same longing she was feeling.

“I have to go, angel.” He protested half-heartedly against her lips, filling his palms with handfuls of her backside.

“Tell him he can wait.” She tried to persuade him, trailing her kisses lower, down over his collarbones and to the muscular planes of his chest.

Azriel sighed wearily, hands falling from her body to the mattress with a dull thump. Pulling back, she sat up in his lap and stubbornly crossed her arms.

“You know I can’t do that.” He said, the smooth drawl of his voice even softer than usual, hazel eyes round and pleading.

“How long will it take?” She asked, having a bad feeling it wasn’t going to be a quick affair.

“A few hours.” Azriel confirmed her suspicions, giving her an apologetic look.

With a reluctant sigh, she slid off his lap and settled into bed.

“Tell Rhys I hate him.” She drawled sarcastically when he reached for his undershirt from the floor, swiftly pulling it over his head.

“He already knows.” He teased, eyes glinting with quiet amusement when she rolled her eyes. 

“Go now, shadowsinger. I’ll wait up for you.” She hurriedly waved him off, wanting him to return quicker. Azriel chuckled, shaking his head with a smile before he left.

She tried to wait up for him, but eventually fell asleep. Half-expecting the bed to be empty she was more than happy when she woke up in the comforting warmth of her mate’s arms, his snores low against the top of her head.

The first tired rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, bathing the bedroom in a warm glow and forcing her to blink a few times to adjust her eyes to the light. Azriel’s deep breaths over her head kept steady, the sound alone made her smile. She could spend hours like this, there was nowhere she felt more safe or comfortable than in his embrace, but the nagging reminder that he hadn’t eaten anything yesterday made her mind restless.

Lifting his arm slowly, she tried to slide out of his grasp without waking him. As if wanting her to fail, the shadows that had been idly dispersed around the room took notice of her, and before she could dismiss them, dark tendrils were leisurely crawling up on the bed and reaching out to affectionately stroke her cheek.

She knew from experience it was no use to ask them to leave now, and relaxed back against their master right before his arms tightened and forced her to him again.  

“Stay.” The blunt order sounded less commanding with his sleep-coated voice, barely more than a low rumble from the back of his throat.

“I was going to make you breakfast.” She said, softly tracing her fingers over his arm firmly secured around her waist. His face buried in her shoulder, soft black hair tickling her cheek when he simply shook his head.

“Later.” He gruffly replied, hand dipping under her camisole before his warm palm sprawled over her stomach.

“But you must be hungry. You’ve probably barely eaten, and you didn’t have dinner yesterday-,” Her worried rant was interrupted by a bite to the curve of her shoulder, words disappearing from her when his soft lips replaced his teeth and left a trail of soothing kisses over her bare skin.

“I’m fine, angel. Let me hold you for a second.” He murmured and buried his face in her neck, hand on her stomach pulling her closer.

With her backside flush to his hips, a new sort of heat spread across her body, flaring outwards from the depths of her core. He shifted behind her, as if to get comfortable, and the heavy, hot length of him ended up nestled against her backside. Suddenly the big palm on her stomach, pinky finger casually slipped underneath the waistband of her panties, didn’t feel so casual anymore. Neither did the arm secured under her chest, warm hand firmly planted on one of her covered breasts. 

Her body seemed to have been reminded of the pleasure it had been denied, not once but twice, in a short amount of time, nerves coming to life under his touch. But it was too selfish to shove his hand down her panties and arch her back in offering. He had been working. He needed sleep. 

She repeated those sentences as she tried to will her burning body to calm down and keep her self-control in check to not let the overwhelming desire control her. 

The pattern of his breaths suddenly changed.

Her brows furrowed in confusion before she realized what was happening. She tried to turn her head to glare at him, but his face firmly buried in her shoulder stopped her.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Azriel.” She hissed when his chest shook with another round of silent laughter.

“I’m sorry,” Azriel chuckled, not sounding apologetic at all. His hand on her stomach slid slightly lower, ring finger dragging along the edge of her panties. “You’re too sweet.”

Whatever insult that had been spewing on her tongue was forgotten when he tilted his head, pressing a slow kiss to the side of her neck as one of his wings folded over them.

“Will you ever forgive me?” He murmured, still a teasing edge to his voice even as he snuck a leg between her own, hoisting her thigh to rest on his and leaving her spread open for him.

“I’ll have to-,” Her words caught in her throat when his fingers slid her panties to the side, softly grazing her folds. She swallowed thickly to clear her throat. “Think about it.”

Curling his fingers up to her swollen clit and rubbing lazy circles over the sensitive nub aching for attention, he hummed in acknowledgement, “Mhm.”

The circles on her clit tightened, grew slightly rougher, and she had no hope of holding back the gasped moan coming from her chest. His other hand slipped beneath the top of her camisole, rolling her perked nipple between skillful fingers. The pleasured pain shot like lightning down her spine, leaving her cunt clenching around nothing and eyes falling shut. Another open-mouthed messy kiss was placed on the side of her throat, surely leaving marks she’d have to cover today.

“Did you touch this pretty little cunt for me while I was gone?” Azriel husked against her skin, sounding like he already knew the answer. Which he probably did, considering he somehow always knew exactly what she had been up to when he was gone.

She shook her head, mouth parting around a soft gasp when two of the long thick digits slowly pressed inside her.

“No?” The pleased smirk on his face was so big it could be heard in his voice, making her body flush with warmth. “Such a good girl, aren’t you? Waiting for me to take care of you.”

His fingers thrusted into her in a steady pace, not with the purpose to make her come, but to ready her for something else. However with her body so high-strung, the friction of his fingers along her tightened walls had stars dancing across her eye-lids. And when they curled, pressing against that soft spot she couldn’t reach herself, a sharp gasp tumbled out of her as her body tensed, prepared to unfurl at the next touch.

“Not yet, angel,” Azriel reprimanded, hand pulling away from between her legs and forcing a pitiful whimper from her at the loss. “You’ll only come on my cock.” 

That promise had her mind reeling and hips instinctually arching back towards him.

“Please, Az-, I want it so bad-,” She sounded like a wanton whore, and she felt like one too when he shifted behind her, one arm still wound tight around her frame as he pushed his underwear down his legs.

A shadow wrapped itself around her upper thigh, suspending her leg higher over his muscular thigh and exposing her fully to the otherwise empty bedroom. She reached a hand back to curl around the back of his neck as his breaths grew labored beside her ear, giving himself a few careless tugs before his cock nudged at her pulsating heat.

Right when relief was in her grasp, he suddenly stilled, forehead coming to rest heavily against her shoulder as he let out a heavy sigh.

“No.” The dreadful exclamation flew out of her, sensing where her mate’s attention had gone when the shadows around them hesitantly drew away, somehow taking with them all the boiling tension that had been simmering around them.

“He has another mission for me.” Azriel’s exhale was low.

“But you just came back,” she found herself complaining, even if she knew it meant absolutely nothing. Turning in his hold to slide her palms over his chest and the Illyrian markings sweeping up his neck, she filled her eyes with as much pleading as she could. “Please, Az.”

He sighed again, hazel eyes full of warmth as he peered down at her pouting face.

“I’ll only be a few days. It’s a follow-up from this past week.” He explained, gently caressing her cheek with his knuckles.

“He can’t send you away when you’ve barely been home twelve hours! You need to eat too!” She argued, voice raising when she once again remembered that he hadn’t had dinner last night.

He visibly tried to fight it, but one corner of his mouth tilted in a slanted grin. The sight of the dimple in his cheek brightened the turmoil in her head slightly.

“I promise to eat.” He cooed, clearly amused at her worried state.

The pout on her face deepened, both at the implication that he was leaving and the sparkling mirth in her mate’s eyes.

“I’ll know if you lie.” She threatened, intertwining their hands and pressing them over her heart.

Azriel’s expression softened as he leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

“I’d never lie to you, angel.” 

She was still pouting as she watched him dress, the leathered uniform black as night even in the rising sun, siphons glowing brightly when he braced a hand on the bed and leaned over to give her a sweet kiss.

“Three days.” Azriel reminded as he pulled away.

“I love you. Be careful.” Her heart squeezed in her chest when he gave her another one of those dimpled grins that were reserved only for her.

“I love you more.” And with that he was gone, leaving her to plot her revenge for herself.

-

It was a carefully crafted plan. It had to be, with both Feyre and Rhysand’s ability to thread into her mind and see exactly what she had up her sleeve. 

She proposed some girl time to Feyre, and they made plans to go around town for an afternoon. During their stroll and mindless window shopping, she guided Feyre into the boutique at the end of the promenade, the one with lush velvet curtains and sparkling chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The one with one-of-a-kind handcrafted lingerie. 

Under the guise that she had to pick up an ordered set, she pointed Feyre to the selective pieces of soft lace and shiny silk hanging along the walls. It was an easy feat to get her into the dressing room, even easier to plant the idea in her head.

“You know, Azriel goes crazy for these,” She toyed with the lace colored in a particular shade of blue in her hands, watching Feyre twirl in the dressing room. The High Lady peered at her through the mirror, curiosity shining in her blue eyes. “I like to make it into a game. To tease him. Whenever I buy anything new I put on a revealing dress over, just barely showing off the edges of the bra, or the outline of the garter-belt. It usually has him on his knees in no time.” 

Curiosity morphed into something else, something rather dark and wicked. And when the corner of Feyre’s mouth itched upwards before she asked the clerk, Do you have this in any other colors? — it was abundantly clear her plan had worked.

She smiled all the way home. Throughout her lonely dinner. When she pulled forth the ingredients to bake. As she packed the baked goods in a basket, draping the sweetness in a soft cloth.

When Feyre opened the door, cheeks slightly flushed and a silk robe carelessly tugged around her lithe body, flashes of black lace peeking out from the opening, she had to tune down the victorious grin wanting to carve her face. She’d timed it perfectly.

“Do you have a moment?” She innocently inquired, raising the basket with warm pastries to bring the younger fae’s attention to it.

Perhaps it was cruel to use Feyre’s kindness like this, but she reminded herself that the High Lord the kind girl had the displeasure of being mated to was far more evil. 

“Of course.” Feyre smiled, a forced and rushed expression, as she opened the front door wider. 

The High Lady and Lord’s house was as warm and inviting as always, especially with the candles lit around the living and dining room, clear evidence of a romantic evening.

Feyre walked her towards the sitting area, gesturing for her to have a seat in one of the couches as she did the same. Taking her time to place the basket on the table and make herself comfortable in the plush leather couch, she almost missed when the High Lady gracefully hid a piece of fabric that looked suspiciously close to a dress behind the decorative pillows.

“These are my favorites.” Feyre politely remarked, leaning forward and reaching for one of the freshly baked pastries in the basket.

“I’m glad you like them-,” She was interrupted by a presence that seemed to be vibrating with powerful darkness.

“What are you doing here?” Rhysand’s tone offered no politeness, unlike his graceful wife. His eyes narrowed in accusation when she innocently smiled up at his rigid form stood rooted in the doorway to their open living room.

“I made cardamom buns, and I remembered how much Feyre liked them last time-,”

“You came over now, with pastries?” His accusatory gaze pointedly glanced out the windows, to the pitch black darkness outside.

“Rhys.” Feyre hissed quietly, catching onto the unfamiliar irritation clouding the High Lord.

“I had no one else at home to share them with.” She answered, tilting her head to the side when Rhysand merely stared at her as if trying to force her out of his house without speaking. Centuries of friendship with the male had her knowing exactly what he was asking of her.

What do you want? His voice flooded her mind the second the dropped a portion of her mental shields.

Call Azriel back and give him a month off work.

He huffed out an unamused scoff, You had three months when you mated. You can have a day.

She fought back the urge to roll her eyes. That was centuries ago. A week without any disturbance. That’s my last offer.

His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing into slits.

Don’t test me, Rhys. I can show her the recipe. She threatened, filling her tone with as much conviction as she could.

Fine. One week. If he’s not back well-rested I’m blaming you.

“Well, I should head home.” She cleared her throat and offered Feyre a smile as the presence in her mind retreated.

The younger fae’s eyes widened, almost apologetically. “Oh, you don’t have-,”

“Sounds like a great idea,” Rhysand interrupted his wife, turning to almost point towards the front door. “It is awfully late.”

“I’ll leave these for you two,” She gestured to the basket of freshly baked pastries on the table as she headed out of the room, shooting Rhysand a quick smirk. “Trust me, you’ll need them after you’ve seen her in the red set.”

After winnowing home, she headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed. It only took a few minutes before the door to the ensuite creaked open, Azriel’s tall statue filling the doorframe.

“Welcome home, my love.” She smiled, running the brush in her hand over her hair.

It took him less than two strides to cross the distance between them, arms winding around her from behind before his head tilted down to press a sweet kiss to her cheek.

“What did you do?” His eyes met hers through the mirror as he straightened again.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She feigned innocence, leaning back into his embrace.

“You had nothing to do with Rhysand telling me he won’t be contacting me for a week?” He tilted his head down again, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Or that he called me back and told me to go home to my freakishly stubborn mate?”

“He said that?” A smile lifted her lips, growing further when her mate breathed out a low chuckle.

“I think he wanted to say even more. He sounded a little agitated.” 

“You know how he is. Always in a mood.” She teased, breaking their eye-contact to place the hairbrush in her hand back on the counter. With the movement, the opening of her robe widened and bared more of her chest. 

The grip on her hips tightened, fingers digging into the silk of her robe as the siphons on the back of his hands flared with the same color as the lace of her lingerie now deliberately on show.

“I was thinking we could go up to the cabin, or I could ask Helion if we could spend a few days-,” The rest of her sentence dissolved into a cut-off gasp when she was abruptly bent over at the waist, shadows quickly dampening her fall to the granite counter. 

“Or I’ll have you right here for the rest of the week.” Azriel stated, bluntly pushing the bottom of the robe over her arched hips. 

“How unexciting.” She countered, albeit a bit breathlessly when the expensive lace adoring her backside was roughly ripped down to pool at her ankles.

Azriel laughed, a foot nudging between her own and forcing her legs apart. “Good thing we have plenty of time to make it exciting.”

(thank you so much for the support on my first post. much love xx)

[ilylovelyz]

⍣ ೋ the times they cried because of you

☆ includes ushijima, iwaizumi, atsumu, kageyama, bokuto

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI — he never cries. you met this guy when the two of you were young freshman in high-school, and you quickly became a good friend of his. that being said, you never saw him cry. even when the two of you began dating in your senior year, you still never did. years passed, and it was the same as the previous years. sure, he occasionally got upset, but even then, he still put on a stoic display, never really letting you in on that side of him. even at your wedding, he sure showed some emotion but he didn't cry. then came the birth of your first child.

"she's so cute, isn't she 'toshi..?" you said weakly, forehead still damp with sweat, bodu trembling with the aftershocks of your hard, long labor. your eyes fluttered open, focusing on the sight of your dear wakatoshi holding your newborn baby.

your heart fluttered at the soft image of your husband holding the tiny baby closely again his chest, his forehead mere inches away from the baby's forehead. it was barely there, barely noticeable. if it weren't for the reflection of light, then you wouldn't have been able to see the way his eyes were glazed over, corners red, tears brimming at the borderlines of his eyes.

he was so memorized, so in love with this product of you, this product of his and your love. god, you just make him the happiest guy on earth.

with a grunt, he sniffled lightly, trying to mask his emotions. "yeah.."

IWAIZUMI HAJIME — he hates crying. but being the responsible and knowing person he is, he knows that crying is inevitable. but the "strong", reliable guy in him wants to punch himself every-time he feels his eyes sting at the feel of salty tears brimming at his waterline. unbeknownst to you, he would avoid you every-time he felt like he was going to cry, usually hiding in the locked confides of the bathroom. he thought he was hiding it well, until one fateful day where it all came crashing down..

"haji?" you said on the other side of the door. he immediately shot up, his eyes darting to the doorknob. he always made sure to lock it, but today, he was just so exhausted and down that the idea of a lock was forgotten. crap, "hey wait-," before he could even rise up from his slouched kneeling position on the bathtub's side, you opened the door unknowingly. "i just need my–hajime?"

there he was, in all of his fucking glory, hunched over, his face long and clearly expressing his hurt feelings. his heart fell to his stomach, his vision going cloudy as his day just kept getting worse. "hajime?" you called out once more, only your tone had softened, more light and tender. you reached a hand out to him, eyes full of concern. he couldn't help but jolt away from your hand, eyebrows furrowing at your softness.

he didn't like your tone. why are you looking at him like that? like some sad kicked puppy lost in the middle of nowhere? it made him feel so small, so weak. "haji.. are you okay?" you whispered, crouching down to his level outside of the bathtub. you attempted yet again to touch the side of his face, lightly pressing your fingertips against his cheekbone before fully pressing your palm against the side of his face.

his lips trembled as he was just a second away from breaking down, his eyes locked on a single object as to hold on to the last of his will. you sighed softly at his resistance, of course he wouldn't want to cry in front of you, but you don't understand why, afterall, what makes a person weak for crying? "it's okay, hajime."

with that, fat tears finally ran down his cheeks, his eyes shutting close as he finally broke at your words. he could only grab onto your hand as you climbed into the tub, his head going straight into your chest as he sobbed and wailed.

MIYA ATSUMU — surprisingly, you've seen this guy cry many of times before. he cried when getting accepted into nationals, winning nationals, just crying at things any normal person would do. but he never cried for you. no, he held himself to higher standards. he'd never cry for someone, not even for you. yeah, he loved you, but he wasn't about to cry for someone like a little child. all high and mighty, he never thought you would actually have an affect on him like you do now. him being someone who wears his heart proudly on his sleeve, he found himself getting into an argument late at night with you, too prideful to back down.

"are you serious atsumu?! you know i'd never do that!" you yelled, voice hoarse and scratchy due to the ongoing screaming match between you and your boyfriend. "oh really?! then why were ya' 'll over that fucker earlier? huh?!" he yelled back, pointing out the way you were seemingly flirting with a guy at the club earlier.

but you weren't? you would never do that, you're not a scum. "what?! we were just talking?! am i not allowed to TALK to people atsumu?" you scoffed, arms crossing defensively. "if you wanna consider talking as flirting, then let's talk about that girl you were laughing with the other day? huh? let's talk about that!"

his eyebrow raised at your counter, fumbling nervously as he wondered what to say. "w-wh- you know what?! fuck you! i don't know why i'm even dating a bitch like you!" he said, almost immediately regretting his words when he saw the way your eye's widened at his harsh words. the apartment was finally silent as you registered his words, he wishes you had any sort of expression on your face, but you had nothing but a stoic and emotionless face.

"okay then," you finally said, arching your eyebrow in a taunting way, resting your hand down on your hip. "bye." you followed, grabbing your bag and your keys, turning your back on him.

he watched, frozen in his spot as you exited out the apartment with your composure. his body jolted when he heard the slam of the front door, finally letting out that breath he was unknowingly holding. he scoffed at what you said, clenching his jaw tightly as he tried to hold onto his pride. "damn it." he said.

he felt the tear roll down his cheek before he could even register that he was crying. "..damn it!"

KAGEYAMA TOBIO — to him, life is volleyball. his childhood consisted nothing of volleyball, and so will his adulthood. maybe his obsession with volleyball was a little extreme, but you never really minded. he respected you greatly for your patience, he wasn't dumb, he knew that his priority of volleyball was evident, so he always tried to make it up to you by spending time with you whenever you wanted. but it seemed like after awhile, he began to take your patience for granted. it wasn't until the nth time when he didn't show up for the nth date was when he realized.

kageyama was careful to shut the front door as quiet as he could, tiptoeing as he took off his shoes and walked throughout the dark hallways and into the master-bedroom. he jolted like a cat when he sat you sitting up on the side of the bed, back facing the doorway.

"y-you scared me. what are you doing up at this time? it's nearly 10PM." he stuttered obliviously. it was silent for a few seconds before you sighed, slowly turning your head to face him. "you forgot." you muttered before turning back to look at the wall. forgot? forgot what? it was then he noticed the way your hair was done, still clad in a pretty dress.

"o-oh.. the date! i-i'm sorry y/n, i promise i can make it up to you"— "don't bother." you interrupted, voice stern yet monotonous. what do you mean 'don't bother?' you love going on dates don't you? his lips pursed into a straight line, chewing on his bottom lips nervously. "w-what do you mean? i really promise, this thursday i have a free day.." he trailed off when you suddenly stood up from the bed.

"i mean that i think we should break up." his heart dropped at your words, eyes widening. break up? his mouth was agape, mind spinning with different solutions and apologies. before he could detest, you walked over to the corner of the room, pulling up a suitcase that he didn't even notice.

"b-but why? you said yourself that me and you are meant to be together?" he cried out, quickly rushing over to your side and grabbing onto your wrist. he watched your face closely, eyes taking note of every single feature of yours. you inhaled deeply, still refusing to look at him.

"i said that when we were in high-school and didn't have any major responsibilities. things have changed, we aren't in high-school any more. you're now a pro-volleyball player with big responsibilities, and i'm.. someone who clearly has too much time on their hands, wasting it on someone who can't give me any of theirs. it's not your fault, kageyama, but we just don't align anymore."

you finally said, tugging your hand away from his grasp. before you could take a step, his hands were once again on you, gripped onto your shoulders, forcing you to look at him. "but.. you said you would be there for my game at nationals.." he whimpered out, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

it was then, when you were finally walking out of his apartment, out of his life, was when he finally did realize, that maybe, he did take your patience for granted..

BOKUTO KOUTARO — this guy cries a lot. he's cried so many times you might have to start writing it down somewhere. he rarely masks his emotions, he's an open book. thats what you love so much about him, that he's so open and honest. you love the way he's so eager and sweet, you love the way he's always willing to talk to you and so damn clingy it's like you have your own personal koala. aside from the times he's happy, he's sad, sad because he didn't perform well, or because you didn't kiss him. but you never really made him cry, you'd never do that. or so you thought.

"y/n!! i missed you!" you hear a booming voice yell, his footsteps speeding up at the sight you. he paid no mind when you didn't respond to him, as you were currently hunched over the your work desk, laptop gleaming at you brightly. your back was turned to him, so you were basically calling him for a back hug.

"y/n!" — "not now koutaro." you interrupted, tone serious and stern. he raised his eyebrows at you with surprise, his arms a few inches away from your shoulders as they stilled in their preparation to hug you. "babe? is something wrong?" he asked curiously, lips pouting at your stern denial. you never decline a hug. you love them. right?

"i'm working. can't you see that?" you spit out, sighing deeply. you pull away your cramping fingers away from your keyboard, rubbing them over your sore eyes. "my gosh." you mumble under your breath, eyebrows intensely furrowed with stress. you had been working for a few hours straight, staring at nothing but a bright screen with words that were becoming incoherent to you.

you yelp out when you're suddenly pulled from your chair, being lifted up into bokuto's strong arms as he spins you around. "don't be so sad!" he says cheerfully, hoping to cheer you up with a big warm hug. only— this seems to make you mad. "put me down, koutaro!" you yell, pushing his chest away and forcing him to practically drop you.

"don't you see i'm working?! why are you so damn clingy? you're so annoying, god, why don't you just leave me alone?" you spit out. your words are like venom, stinging his heart greatly as his hair is quickly deflating once your words reach his ears. you simply return to your laptop once you've finished, typing mindlessly once more.

him? annoying? he didn't mean to annoy you..

he couldn't help but softly whimper, left standing in shock. he opened his mouth to say something before your previous words were reminding him to stay silent—leave me alone. he clutched his palms, looking at your turned back with teary eyes. he hopes you don't find him annoying for long..

[lemonlover1110]

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Sukuna

[Chapter 1] Offerings

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Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

*Just want to preface that this is a historical AU but there will be some historical inaccuracies so if you see something odd, don't point it out. Also this is still a curse AU! if that isn't clear with four-armed Sukuna. Anyway I hope you enjoy!! Any general story warnings can be found in the masterlist!

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Sukuna is missing something, he’s not sure what it is but he knows that he’s bored. He’s bored of everything that once thrilled him, tired of the same routine. But no matter what he does, he feels empty. 

He’s done everything possible to soothe that boredom, which has come to the expense of many lives. It entertained him until it didn’t. Occasionally he does find joy in the horrors that he causes but it doesn’t feel like that’s enough anymore. There’s something that he’s missing, but he’s not quite sure what it is. 

He has everything a man could possibly want– Although he isn’t exactly a man so his wants and needs are obviously different. He isn’t going to be fulfilled by the foolish ideals of happiness that men have. He doesn’t have much of a guide though, therefore he’s lost in how to fix his problem. 

“Uraume.” Sukuna’s voice isn’t all that loud, yet Uraume nearly comes running to fulfill his request. The temple is uncomfortably quiet; everyone is ready to fulfill Sukuna’s every request, and their king does not raise his voice unless adrenaline rushes through him, or he’s upset. No one knows which is the worst of the two. 

“My king.” Uraume kneels down before him. He’s quiet, too embarrassed to even bring up this question. It’s unlike him. Uraume is truly the only person that he respects which is why asking the question is hard for him to actually say. He wouldn’t trust anyone else with it though.

“What do men usually do?” He asks, which is odd for Uraume to hear. Sukuna was a man too, once upon a time. But he doesn’t remember that stage of his life, and he’s sure he wasn’t happy either which is the reason why he’s the monster he is now.

“I’m not sure.” They sound reluctant. “If you could be more clear, I can search for an answer.”

“Get out.” He orders, and they bow again before exiting the room. He wants to be left alone to gather his thoughts. He has all the time in the world to figure himself out, but he wants even more time. He doesn’t want to be bothered now of all times at the very least.

“There’s a woman with an offering.” A servant tells him from the other side of the tatami doors, followed by a shrill cry that makes a smirk come to his lips. That’s his answer.

Sukuna wants a successor. 

“Take it to the servants, answer to her needs.” Sukuna answers, not really caring to listen to any requests. His mind is now preoccupied, detailing his next course of action. He needs to find the perfect woman to carry his heir, which he knows will be a hard task– Perhaps the hardest challenge that Sukuna has come by in all of his years of living.

“Please eat, Haru.” You put the bowl beside the young boy’s mat. You’ve been slowly watching your brother’s health deteriorate, slowly watching his death near. Worst of all, you have been looking for a cure that seems impossible to find because it’s not something that’s affecting anyone important. 

It’s not a disease that’s affecting anybody else, really. It’s not infectious, you quickly found that out. You were glad about it at first, but then you realized that there’s no cure yet. Days pass by, and he gets worse. He refuses to eat anything, and when he does, he can’t keep it down for more than a few hours. His death is imminent.

“I did everything I could to get the right ingredients for your favorite food. Auntie made it extra special for you.” You make sure to tell him, but he can barely move. You kneel down beside him, grabbing his utensils and preparing a bite. “Just one bite, Haru.”

“I’m sleepy.” Is all he manages to mutter, and you feel a pull on your heartstrings. Your hand caresses his arm.

“Just one bite, okay? Then you can sleep all day.” You try your best to convince him. All he does is sleep, and no matter how many hours he sleeps, he wakes up tired. He prompts himself up, and you’re fighting back a smile– It’s barely any progress, if you can even call it that. “Open up.”

There’s a smile on your lips as you bring the food to his mouth, and he begins to chew. He takes the utensils from your hand, grabbing the bowl of food and putting it on his lap. You stand up and tell him, “I’ll get you some water.”

“He’s finally eating something.” You share with your aunt, making sure your voice is low since there isn’t all that much space. Her eyes go to him, and she really wants to say that it’s a sign of him getting better but it really doesn’t mean anything. Sometimes he eats everything that’s made for him, but he throws it back up. 

“I really wish this meant he was getting better… But we both know that he’ll get worse tomorrow.” She responds, and you want to curse her for even mentioning it but you know she’s right. You don’t like hearing it though, you’re helpless. There’s nothing more you can do for Haru, you’re just waiting for the day to come. 

“I really think he can get better.” Your eyes begin to feel with tears, knowing that you don’t even believe yourself. You’ve tried everything you possibly can, but you know that his time nears. You can’t just accept that fact though, he’s your baby brother, you can’t let him go. “Let me get his water.”

“I’ll get it… Think about what the medic said.” Your aunt reminds you of the visit from the physician. One that you’ve forgotten because you refuse to consider his one and only suggestion a possibility. The words flow back to your head,

“Your best bet is the deity up north. You have to bring him an offering, and if he deems it worthy enough, he will cure him.” “But if he thinks it’s beneath him, he’ll kill you.”

You don’t want to risk anything, but lately that seems like your only option. He’s not getting any better, even though you so badly want to say that he is. Throwing up everything he eats is not much improvement than not eating at all. You just have to figure out what is considered an offering worthy for the deity to save him, and to save yourself. 

“I’ll be back, I have to figure something out.” You say, smiling back at your aunt and your little brother. They barely acknowledge you before you leave the house, which you’re thankful for. You just need a moment to gather your thoughts, decide what you’ll do next. 

You need to sort out your offering for the deity, an offering that will hopefully sort out all of your problems.

“My king, there’s a woman with an offering.” It feels like the hundredth time that week in which Sukuna hears that sentence. Humans are greedy beings, and they all fucking need something. It’s unnecessary, purely materialistic– It’s a side of humanity that he appreciates though. How much a human is willing to sacrifice for wealth or the promise of good fortune. Sukuna can’t judge, he's the sole winner in the end.

“Let her in.” He says, and the tatami door slides open. A poor maiden with a pale yellow kimono, and a woven basket in hand. You walk in with your head down, following the strict instructions that were given to you. 

You’re trembling as you kneel down in front of the deity, bowing down to him. You remain bowing for however long he pleases, keeping your eyes shut because there’s tears building up. You have never been this terrified. Willingly putting yourself at death’s door is no easy feat.

“Rise.” He orders, and you straighten your upper body, remaining on your knees. You don’t dare look anywhere past his feet, keeping your eyes low and steady. You know that he’s staring you down, studying you. A smirk on his lips, thinking about how he’s found her. “What do you want?”

“My brother…” Your voice is shaky, and you try your best to compose yourself. You can’t start crying in the middle of it, you’ve gotten this far, he’ll surely kill you if you begin to sob at his feet. “He’s sick. The medic can’t cure him, and he told us you were our only choice.”

He’s not really listening. Something about a brother is all he grasped. He’s more into the way your lips move, and the tears of pure fear that well up in your eyes. He can tell that you really made an effort into your look today, even though you don’t look extravagant. Which for some reason he likes, he doesn’t want an arrogant woman in his chambers, he already has enough of them. He especially doesn’t want one of them carrying his heir.

What really draws him in is that certain look in your eyes. The clear innocence that’s written all over your face. You’re the perfect lily that he can’t wait to tear apart, petal by petal. That finalizes his decision.

“What do you have for me? Open the basket.” He orders, and you do as he says. Regret washes over you as you open it, immediately knowing that it’s not enough. You don’t know what came over you when you had the bright idea of picking it. You unfold the cloth with shaky hands, revealing the gift for him. He’s usually furious with these types of gifts, since they hold no value to him but he wants to hear your reasoning since he has other plans with you, “Why do you come to me with this?”

“Pomegranates aren’t native to the land, and they’re scarce this time of season. I found some while searching for an offering and thought it was a sign.” You explain, and he scoffs. A stupid reason, one that should get you killed. If he wanted fruit, he would send Uraume to get it for him. He guesses it’s creative though, especially when almost every person that walks through the temple is willing to sacrifice a life. But you don’t gain points for creativity, no one ever has.

“Pomegranates? What am I supposed to do with that?” He’s mocking you, and you swallow the lump in your throat. He’s right, what is he supposed to do with a pomegranate? He’s not like you, he’s not just going to eat it. You’re usually smart about this type of thing, but you guess desperation got the best of you this time around, and now you have to pay for the consequences. As to be expected, there’s no answer from you, and he orders, “Look up at me.”

Your eyes slowly move up his body to his face, and you’re in awe at the sight. A mix of emotions flow through your body. He really isn’t a human. You were terrified earlier, but now you’re simply astonished. You never really believed the tales that were told about him since you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that a being like him could exist. But now he stands before you.

“Do you really think I’ll do anything with the fruit?” His voice sounds serious, but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. You shake your head which irks him. “You have a voice don’t you? Use it.”

“No, my king. My apologies.” It’s strange, but you sound more confident as you look at him compared to before. It brings some sort of satisfaction to Sukuna since usually people that are allowed to look directly at him can barely communicate.  

“I’ll give you a chance to redeem yourself.” He’s thinking about how merciful he is– Which isn’t entirely a lie since Sukuna never gives a second chance. Except you have no idea how you can redeem yourself unless he dismisses you. Little do you know what he’s thinking for you. “I have a proposal for you.”

“A what…?” Your eyebrows perk up as curiosity takes over you. A proposal from a deity, it’ll surely be something that you have yet to hear. 

“Bear my child, and I’ll forgive you.” He says, and you almost fall back. Your ears must be deceiving you, there’s no way that the proposal that you just heard is real. Your eyes are wide open, and you hear him laugh. It must be a joke then. 

“Uraume!” Sukuna yells, wanting it to be clear that he doesn’t want to waste a single second. Not even a second later, and they’re in the room, waiting for their king’s command. “Take the maiden and prepare her for me tonight.”

“Wait– You’re serious?” You dare to ask. You haven’t even agreed, yet he’s getting you ready for tonight, to have a baby with him of all things. “You don’t even know my name, why would you want me to carry your baby?”

“What’s your name then?” He asks, clearly irritated by the question, and you have no choice but to answer. If you don’t, you’re screwed. “There we have it. Take her, Uraume.”

“Wait!” You shout, but Sukuna isn’t going to listen to more of it. Uraume guides you outside, a task that they usually do harsher. At any other time, they’d be dragging you outside but you’re not just anybody. 

You’re the woman that will carry King Sukuna’s heir.

[temis-de-leon]

He has a nightmare where he rejected you

Characters: Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Belphegor (x reader, separately)

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 4 , Part 5

Main Masterlist

CW: Asmo's having a bit of a mental breakdown, Beel literally has a fever dream and there's a brief description of lesson 16 in Belphie's part

.

Asmodeus – He didn’t want to play favourites

There’s an endless line of demons and witches alike willing to kill and die for him.

He can’t live without their adoration, their desire and their support.

While he knows you are not like everybody else, he can’t help but compare you to the rest of his fans.

Where’s the difference between your love and theirs? Can you give more than what they’ve already given him?

He can’t help but feel honoured by your confession, being chosen by their beloved human, but the idea of accepting your advances makes him feel ungrateful to his loyal fans.

The rejection comes out easily, just like many times before, and your reaction makes him sigh and almost offer his shoulder to cry on.

That would’ve been too cruel, wouldn’t it?

The uniqueness of your feelings doesn’t stand out until time passes.

It’s not just your attention that he misses, but also the tenderness in your eyes and the shy hint of your smile whenever he looks at you.

It became apparent that you cared not only for what he showed but also for what he hid about himself.

He tried searching for that same shade of love in your expression, but it faded quickly as weeks passed.

It all reached an end where, in a turn of events that made him sweat in fear and disgust, you started to look instead for his eldest brother.

He starts to work, desperately thinking that, maybe, if he made himself more beautiful or popular, you would change your mind and return to trying to be with him.

However, judging by the way you looked at Lucifer, he knew his reciprocation came a little bit too late.

You woke up to the sounds of sobbing, an animalistic yearning for comfort that pulled you out of your slumber. Hands grabbed the blankets covering you and a voice kept bubbling nonsense, an entire monologue full of sorrow that you couldn’t understand. In the end, it was the familiarity of the demon in front of you what fully brought you to the living world.

Asmo, kneeling beside your bed, cried even louder when he saw you opening your eyes. By the desperate moves of his hands you knew he wanted to hug you and that, mixed with the despair in his expression, tugged your heartstrings with painful force and made you open your arms.

He threw himself at you, burying you both in the cocoon of bedsheets and blankets and wept as you smoothed his hair and murmured words of consolation in his ear.

Almost half an hour passed until he could breathe with ease, but he wouldn’t look at you. Not like you were counting on it.

“You love me, don’t you? Do you still love me? Please, tell me you do. I love you, I truly do. I’d never reject you…”

“Reject me…?”

“I love you, I love you…”

Asmo hid his face in the crook of your neck, rocking the both of you back and forth in search of calmness. He ignored your questions and shaking hands, although you quickly realised he wasn’t entirely conscious about it. He seemed completely lost, repeating the confessions of his affections for you until he finally fell asleep from exhaustion.

You laid under him for the remainder of the night, too scared and shaken to rest again and hoping with all your strength that whatever put him in this state would disappear forever.

Beelzebub – He didn’t feel the same

It is indifference. From the moment you stepped into the house, what he felt for you was nothing more than indifference.

His room is empty and his twin’s absence occupies his mind more than it should, but he can’t do anything about it besides dealing with the loneliness.

Living with his older brothers simply isn’t enough anymore.

His family isn’t complete and the presence of a human in their home isn’t going to change that.

The first time he truly interacts with you is in the kitchen, in the middle of the night, willing to murder you over custard. The only reason you aren’t harmed is his brother’s fondness for you.

As a consequence, his room is no longer empty and he finds that quite enjoyable. Without any reason to be rude or mean to you, your short time spent together passes too quickly for his liking and, afterwards, he finds himself visiting you whenever he has the chance.

Beel values your friendship and he believes the feeling is mutual, even when you blush, smile with excitement and stare with bright eyes whenever he enters the room.

He is incapable of seeing how unbalanced your affections compared to his are.

His heart doesn’t stutter at your existence and neither do his words. You are his friend, a dear one, but nothing more; that’s what he tells you in response to your confession.

He pities your heartbreak and assures you your platonic relationship will remain the same, but his promises fall on deaf ears. The friendship is left hollow and unnatural and he briefly wonders if accepting your pouring heart would’ve been the better option.

Would have he fallen for you over time? If that were the case, although initially forced, would the love blossom into something strong and worth fighting for?

He hopes he will, too, go back to normal as weeks pass and you painfully overcome your crush, but when you’re finally able to look at him with non-romantic warmth, half of his face is red, his eyes twitch in adoration at each one of your smiles and his throat hurts from self-caused frustration.

Now it’s his turn to suffer the heartbreak.

There was a deep pressure on his chest when he woke up and as bad as Beel wanted it to be the comforting weight of your body, he knew that couldn’t be true. He didn’t feel the top of your head under his chin or your quiet breath against his skin. Had you actually been there, he would’ve never let you go.

His eyes were tired, itchy under heavy eyelids, and a pounding headache begged him not to move an inch, although he wasn’t sure he would be able to anyway; his muscles were glued to the bedsheets with sweat.

Groaning in exhaustion, he slowly turned his head sideways, staring at his twin’s sleeping form with deep-rooted fondness. Belphie was frowning, probably feeling part of Beel’s discomfort, and was twitching in his sleep, murmuring words he couldn’t decipher and lashing the tuft of his tail with weak movements.

An empty chair was also there, slightly facing his direction.

Quietly, the door opened and the dim glow of the hallway’s candles briefly lighted the entry, distracting him from the ache. A figure stepped in, tip-toeing while closing the door again and making its way to his bed.

MC…?

Was he hallucinating?

“Did I wake you up?” you asked in worry, unfazed by his silence.

He watched as you ignored the chair and sat beside him at the edge of the mattress, unsure of what to say or do. He wanted to touch you, take your face in his hand and make sure you weren’t a manifestation of his desires, but he wasn’t sure he was allowed to. In addition to that, his head felt full of cotton and completely detached from the rest of his body; he didn’t want to strike you by accident.

“My DDD ran out of battery, but I didn’t know where your charger was and I didn’t want to make noise. I just came back from my room”

You lifted your hand and he gasped in expectation, sighing with relief when you pushed away his wet hair and placed a kiss on his forehead. If he could return the gesture, he would, but he was barely able to keep his eyes focused on you, let alone talk or move.

“You’re still too warm” you informed with a frown, preparing yourself to leave his side. “I’m going to get a wet tow-… Honey?”

Beel sighed again, this time shuddering, exhausted at the effort of grabbing your arm and pulling you back to him.

Honey.

Your lips turned down in a sad smile, still coming down to kiss him again for a little longer.

“You’ll feel better tomorrow, I promise”

Honey.

“…ve you…”

You hummed a question against his skin, unsure of what he’d said, but he suddenly felt too weak to repeat himself.

“Go to sleep, okay? I’ll be here, Beel”

Honey.

Belphegor – He hated you

Your free will and your refusal to give up, going up the stairs despite Lucifer’s threats and helping the mysterious man imprisoned in the attic; stupidity and no sense of self-preservation trapped behind a weak shield of kindness and compassion.

Seeing you strive to help him is amusing; like a candle hoping to light the vastness of the night.

That you think he is a human is just an advantage to his plan, but how can you, such an insignificant creature, aid in his escape?

The mere sight of you sends bile to his mouth, but he can’t do anything besides entertain you whenever your human need of connection forces you to search for him.

You talk incessantly and he listens, albeit with no interest and borderline rude behaviour. He scoffs, shoots sarcastic remarks and brings you down whenever he has the chance, calling you stupid and naïve.

That’s why your feelings for him are so surprising.

You… like him? Do you like being lied to and degraded?

Okay.

He’s not going to complain.

It’s just another reason for you to help him without thinking twice.

And that you do.

A laugh blurts out of his throat when he finally closes his arms around your excited figure. You’re blushing and smiling like a fool and when you try to step away to ask if he’s okay, there’s nothing in your existence but pain.

Your desperate scratches are nothing for him and neither is the heartbreak of betrayal in your eyes. If anything, they make him want to hurt you even further, pushing your neck against the floor with inhumane strength and letting your body fall down the stairs like a child dropping a ragdoll would.

He comes to his senses no long after that; less than an hour. Your heritage is explained and his prejudices are proven to be incorrect, vanishing like dust at the prospect of sharing a friendship with you like his brothers do.

You were nice to him then, back when you didn’t know who he was, so why wouldn’t you be nice to him again now that there are no secrets between you? His actions were wrong, yes, but also justified.

Wouldn’t you agree, MC? He deserves the benefit of the doubt.

But why aren’t you looking at him anymore? Why do you hide? Don’t you trust him?

He said he was sorry! Isn’t that enough?

The door opened with a loud noise, then closed almost without notice. Something dragged across the floor until reaching your bed, a blanket, and if the soft hint of lavender didn’t let you know who just disturbed your sleep, then his words would make it obvious.

“You’re not in my bed” Belphie stated. You turned, confused at the abrupt interruption and the tone of his voice, which made it clear he was trying to hide something. His figure was indistinguishable amidst the dark, but his purple eyes stood out like stars. Before you could say anything, he talked again. “Why?”

He watched in silence as you looked around, trying to find a clue to understand what was happening. Still waiting for a response, he huffed as he climbed over you and settled on the other side of the bed.

“Like a cryptid, Belphie” you mustered in annoyance while letting him cling to your side. “You’re just like a cryptid”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’re testing my patience”

“Why aren’t you in my bed?”

“I swear to God…”

You stared at him in disbelief, but something in his expression subdued your irritation. Now that he was closer you could see his glossy eyes, a frown twisting his whole face as his hands held on to you with more force than necessary. Although you had suspicions about what he wanted to hear, a sincere I love you, you still took the longer route and calmly answered his question.

“You kicked me out…”

“I never would” he quickly retaliated, sitting straight like a spring and hovering over you with determined and unblinking eyes.

“…because I had an accident in Solomon’s laboratory and my skin and clothes smelt like chemicals”

There was silence in the room for a few seconds and, after pushing him softly, Belphie finally laid down again, his features slowly relaxing until only a bitter expression remained. Your fingers carefully detangled his hair, but not even that seemed enough to fully calm him down.

“I’m sorry”, he said against your shoulder, delicately hugging your waist like you were made of porcelain.

“It’s okay, we can just go back to sleep…”

“I’m sorry, MC”

Your confusion was obvious, but he didn’t say anything and, by the time you gathered enough courage to ask, he was already deeply unconscious.

.

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Taglist: @ilovecandys2010  @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[erwinsvow]

i want rafe and reader at midsummers 😩😩

i did with shy reader being nervous before! hope this is okay ♡

a big public event—and that too on rafe's arm for the first time in front of his family and all of his friends, along with everyone you seemed to know too. it was enough to have you in hysterics, but you kept all the turmoil in your brain inside, not wanting rafe to think you couldn't handle this.

rafe had invited you for a reason. the last thing you wanted to do was disappoint him, but your own nerves were taking over.

what if you did something wrong? like embarrassing yourself and rafe in front of everyone. or worse, if you said the wrong thing or froze up in an important moment? the thoughts clouded your mind, made everything seem hazy in the days leading up to the party.

you'd been to midsummers only once before—forgoing the other years since going out to a big party with the entire town didn't seem appealing at all, only going if your parents dragged you.

but this year was special—your first with rafe, and he had cared enough to ask you along, as his date. you'd gone to the shops and picked out a pretty white dress and blue shoes to match him, nails painted and hair done.

even now, all dressed up and waiting in your bedroom for rafe to come get you, you debated if you could really do this. so lost in your thoughts, applying layers of lip gloss and staring in the mirror to catch any last minute imperfection, you don't even hear rafe come in.

"c'mon, kid. ready? car's runnin'."

you turn to look—like always, rafe looks so handsome your heart hurts. he gets closer, and you want to shy away, maybe crawl under the sheets with him and wake up tomorrow morning after this whole thing is over, but you refrain. rafe kneels down next to where you're seated on the vanity, a hand on your knee.

"you look beautiful."

the way he says it, you believe him.

"thanks," you breathe out, still staring down at him.

"c'mon. don't wanna be late, right?" nodding, you follow him downstairs. when the two of you arrive at the party, your heart is thudding in your chest. you grip his arm tight before he can lead you in, moving to the side of the entrance.

"i-i just need a minute, please. i-"

"s'okay. something wrong?" rafe leans in to ask, and you feel flushed all over again. he cares, and all you want is to please him, make him feel like he doesn't have to worry about you tonight. you swallow uncomfortabtly.

"yes. i just-i'm.. being me. sorry."

"don't say sorry." rafe does the thing, the thing that always makes you melt, taking your chin into his hand and tilting your head up so he can look at you. "you wanna leave?"

"no, no, i- we just got here. i can do it. this is important to you."

"you're important to me. not this crap. you wanna go home? i'll take you now."

when he says it, you feel like you're floating. you shake your head, following rafe in, and though for the last week you'd been scared about this very moment, it doesn't feel so bad now that rafe's reassured you. he's good like that, good for you, calming you down instantly.

you sip on a drink and stay attached to rafe's arm—briefly wondering if he wants you to go mingle alone. but when you try to pull away, he doesn't let you go, hand wandering to your waist and holding you there firmly.

you smile up at him while he's in conversation with someone, and though he's still talking, rafe takes the minute to look down and smile at you.

[literaryavenger]

Obsessed

Summary: Your crush on Bucky may be getting out of control.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Warnings: Dramatic Reader. Language. Angst. Fluff. My poor attempts at being Funny.

Word Count: 1.4K I'm physically incapable of making anything short.

A/N: I wrote this in like 2 hours and I don't even know what this is, just... Yeah.

Masterlist

This is terrible.

This is the worst thing that's ever happened to you.

This is the worst thing that's ever happened to anyone. It's just the most horrible, dreadful, awful thing that could’ve ever happen to yo-

“Would you stop staring at him for fuck's sakes!” Natasha's hissed words make your eyes snap to her and finally away from the metal armed Supersoldier lifting weights. Shirtless.

You don't know when Bucky stopped feeling self-conscious enough to allow him to workout in nothing but a pair of gym shorts, but it has become literal torture for you.

Needless to say, Bucky's current level of undress is making it impossible for you to concentrate on the stretching you're supposed to be doing before your sparring match with Natasha.

But your very thoughtful and not at all exasperated friend makes sure to keep your attention on her during the entirety of our match by thoroughly kicking your ass.

What a lovely best friend you have.

Anyways.

Your entire mood shifts with one not intentionally overheard conversation. Steve enters the gym and goes straight to Bucky, who was putting his weight set down.

“She’s here!” Is all the blonde says to his friend and your heart stops at the way Bucky’s face lights up with a smile, not needing any more information before following Steve out of the gym.

She’s here? Who the fuck is she? Does Bucky have a girlfriend? And most importantly, she’s here? In the Compound?

Natasha can almost see the gears turning in your brain as you make no attempts to move from the mat after she knocked you on your ass for the hundredth time today. You didn’t even seem to notice her hand offering you help to get up, your eyes still looking where Bucky was just a moment ago, staring at nothing in particular while your brain drowns in your overthinking.

Natasha sighs and decides to end the match here, kneeling down in front of you and placing her hands on your shoulders, shaking you gently to snap you out of it.

“Don’t overthink this.” She tells you when she’s sure she has your attention. “It’s probably just a friend visiting.” She tries to comfort you, but you both know that’s highly unlikely. 

Bucky has no other friends outside the team. He doesn’t know how to talk to civilians anymore after everything he’s been through, and gave up trying to after the hundredth time he saw fear in a person’s eyes just by recognizing him. So his friend circle now includes the team and the agents of SHIELD that are not intimidated by him. Point is, every friend he has already lives in the Compound.

So who the fuck is here just to see him? 

Natasha can see that this is a lost battle, your eyes barely concentrating on her as you start drowning in your mind again. All she can do when you’re like this is try to distract you and keep you out of your head. So she takes your hand and helps you up, leading the way to the common room to watch one of your beloved romcoms together, because that’s how much she loves you.

Big mistake.

“Y/N! Y/N!” The excited high-pitched voice came just seconds after you set foot in the common room. And that’s about the only warning you got before the excited 5-year-old jumped on you, your reflexes thankfully quick enough to catch her.

“Hi, Maguna!” You say while chuckling as the little girl hugs you. “You seem excited today. Did you get into the sugar cabinet again?”

Morgan giggles at your joke and shakes her hand before taking your face in her little hands and dramatically saying, “No! A princess came to visit uncle Bucky! A real princess.”

You frown, confused at what she’s talking about, before you look around the room and finally notice everyone else in it. Pepper and Tony are on the couch, looking at you lovingly as you interact with their daughter.

You love Morgan, she’s like a little sister. You never miss an opportunity to babysit her and you spend as much time with her as you can. She also loves you, out of all the Avengers you’re her favorite, much to everyone’s dismay. She calls them all ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’, but you’re just Y/N. You’re her big sister, you don’t need a title. Which is why you're the only one other than Tony allowed to call her 'Maguna'.

Then you notice the other people in the room: Steve, Bucky and… Shuri. The fucking Princess of Wakanda, standing in the common room of the Avengers Compound and just smiling at you as you carry Morgan.

You’ve never met Shuri, but you know she played an important part in deprogramming the Winter Soldier out of Bucky, and you’re grateful to her for it. She’s important to Bucky, and you can’t believe you forgot Bucky has Wakandan friends.

You put Morgan down on the ground again and the little girl takes your hand and aggressively steers you towards where Steve, Bucky and Shuri are standing, clearly thrilled to be in the presence of a real life princess.

“Hi, I’m Shuri.” She offers you her hand when you get close enough and you shake it with your free hand while introducing yourself.

There’s a bit of an awkward pause and you’re about to say the first thing that pops into your head when Morgan thankfully saves you by pulling on your hand, making you look at her. She tells you to come close and, chuckling, you kneel beside her so she can whisper conspiratorially in your ear.

“She’s a princess and she’s really pretty, but I still like you better.” She whispers and you can’t help but laugh.

God, you love this little girl.

You smile brightly at her and launch a tickle attack, her adorable giggles filling the room as everyone looks at you two with warm smiles.

Your attention is solely on Morgan, until you unintentionally hear the whispered conversation between Shuri and Bucky.

“So, this is the girl, huh? She’s pretty.” Shuri says and your heart skips a beat. 

You glance at them as discreetly as you can while still tickling Morgan, only to find Bucky looking at someone behind you. You turn around less carefully and see Sharon just entered the room, and she's also looking at Bucky with a smirk. You quickly return your attention to Morgan, but your mind is going a thousand miles a minute.

Of course he’d like someone more like Sharon. She’s pretty, she’s talented, she’s a total badass and she’s not afraid to go after what she wants.

She’s not a mass of anxiety in the shape of a woman that overthinks everything and becomes a flustered mess every time she’s even near Bucky.

It’s time to admit it to yourself: Bucky just doesn’t see you like that and you need to move on. 

Natasha is right, your obsession with Bucky needs to end.

What you don’t see is Bucky almost glaring at Sharon because he knows damn well why she’s smirking. She came in just before Shuri whispered to Bucky, when he was very intent on looking at you with heart eyes as you played with Morgan.

Just before you looked at him, Bucky noticed Sharon and he had to hold in a groan at her because he knows that she’s never gonna let him live this down.

Both Sharon and Steve have tried really hard to convince Bucky that you like him back and he should make a move on you. But Bucky, being as stubborn as they come, never believes them.

He obviously makes you uncomfortable, you’re always stuttering when he’s around and you avoid eye contact whenever possible. He’s just glad that you can stand his presence enough for the two of you to work together when necessary and to hang out with the rest of the team without problems.

So he just enjoys looking at you from a distance. He loves watching you play with Morgan and his thoughts always run wild with images of you playing like that with kids that are yours and his.

But he knows that’s never going to happen. Why would you like a damaged, PTSD ridden soldier that can’t even make it through the night without waking up from a nightmare? No, that’s definitely not your type.

Bucky accepts the truth: He doesn’t deserve you and you don’t see him like that anyways. 

It doesn’t matter that Sam thinks he’s obsessed, that won’t stop him from looking at you whenever he’s lucky enough to get a glimpse of his little ray of sunshine.

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