#she keeps using ALL of them and leaving them like that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

madamechrissy · 3 days ago

Text

♔ Silent Serenades ♔

♔ An arranged Marriage with Duke Gojo ♔

♔ Pairings: Duke Satoru Gojo x Duchess Reader

♔ Content/Warnings: Explicit sexual content, dirty talk, breeding kink, spitting, Satoru calls reader 'slut during sex, some nipple biting, cum play, mostly cute and fluffy (believe it or NOT) Oral (f recieving) mentions of jealousy and past angst

♔ Word count: this chap: 11.2k

♔ Summary: you are the diamond of the season, he is the charming Duke, it’s the marriage of the decade. Prominent families joining, and it so happens that Duke Gojo is gorgeous. But, he doesn't want you at all, leaving you a crying mess on your wedding night, alone. Now you're trapped in a loveless arranged marriage that destroys you from within. Royal AU, Cruel Duke Gojo x reader. OOC Set in 1800s England. Gojo is awful in this. You'll hate Satoru, warning you now. HEAVY angst Basically- Gojo is a royal dick and doesn't wanna marry you

A/N- I go into Gojo's pov but don't divide them! I hope the style if that is okay. <3 Comments and Reblogs vert=y appreciated if you enjoy

Part Thirteen ♔ Masterlist ♔ Playlist

Part Fourteen - The King's Ball

“Fuck this.” Satoru grumbles, you’re arm in arm with him as you both are descending the grand steps down into the opulent ballroom. You giggle a bit behind your white silk glove, he smirks at you.

“Fuck this indeed.” You agree softly, he leans down then, lips just a breath from yours.

“I love that dirty mouth of yours.”

“Mmm, do you now?” Your eyes meet.

“Should I show you how much?” He whispers, and for a moment it’s as if everything in the grand room fades but him.

It’s just you and your Duke, cussing about the party ahead of you, his gaze and words making you flush under the glimmering chandeliers above, highlighting the silver glint of your dress, and the bright white suit Satoru wears tonight. He takes one of your gloved hands, pressing a kiss to the back of it, you exhale when his lips are hovering just above yours.

“You’d kiss me on the lips, in front of all these people?” You tease, he chuckles then, cupping your face.

“I’d do a lot more than that, bury my face under your skirts. Ah, look at you, thoughts driving you to blush?” You take a breath and look around, seeing hundreds of eyes on both of you.

“They’re talking about us, Toru.” He peeks and waves a hand dismissively, setting to walk with you again.

“Saying how beautiful you are.”

“How handsome you are.”

“We’ve gotten sappy, haven’t we?” You grin.

“Positively smushy.” Now Satoru grins.

“Smushy!? Is that a word?”

“It is indeed! Oh Satoru I just want to keep this happiness, not…” You trail off as you both start to greet people now, and you see her, Adelia.

Many people look back and forth from you to her, and now you know a lot more, more than you ever wished to. Satoru feels you tense next to him, a calming hand on the small of your back, fingers brushing up and down. He’s disgusted seeing her, how one person can look like you but be fucking horrible is still unknown to him, but now you have figured it out.

Adelia is your cousin, thank god she’s not a sister, Satoru had a panic attack when you had done some digging. She is your mother’s little sister’s child, one that they had sent off to Scotland, and no one heard of again essentially. Adelia making her own way here is through her own feats, it seemed she did not even come to England until she was an adult.

So you are… related.

You had a feeling of course, it was too uncanny not to, but hearing it from your staff, a staff that basically raised you, cinched it all in. Of course they had been sworn to secrecy, but they had no problem telling you once you explained your situation. It is better than what you thought, what if she was a sister, you felt sick just thinking of that, this was quite tangled enough.

“I still can’t believe it all.” Satoru says, shaking his head. “Oh if I just met you first, you know it would have saved many, many problems.”

“I was rather young then, hmm? How long ago was it?”

“It was a good six years ago when I met her. I suppose you are a little younger than me, am I an old lecher to you!?” He teases, acting affronted.

“Shut it, you're twenty seven, you’re not much older. You still look like a college boy in leading strings.”

“Take that back, insolent little brat.”

“Make me.” You stick your tongue out at him, making his blue eyes glitter, when he looks over your shoulder now and pauses, scowling, his entire mood shifts then as you feel a gaze burning your back. “On no, what is it?”

You look behind you then, to see the King headed straight towards you, him and Adelia challenging the fresh new bliss Satoru and you have is brutal to handle. Every time you think that Satoru and you are so happy finally, there is Nanami in the street seeing you both, there’s one of Satoru’s exes, but now it’s a King, who oddly has his sights on you.

And your…. cousin… ugh.

“Look at you.” King Sukuna’s husky voice says your name softly over the music floating around you all, a cacophony of whispers, giggles, music and heels on the floor. And not only that, but he says your first name, making Satoru positively seethe behind you.

“Your Majesty.” You greet cooly.

“Aren’t you the prettiest thing here.” He murmurs, eyes raking and taking far too many liberties. He then takes your gloved hand and kisses it.

“Certainly not, your Majesty. But thank you.” You politely curtsey, people onlook with little smiles, at the diamond of the season and the King with his attentions on her, you hear their whispers and feel their gazes.

Even married women could not necessarily turn a King down, it was notoriously known, many Kings could have whomever they wanted, and the men had to handle it, even a powerful man such as Duke Gojo. However, you still cannot fathom why he wants to go so far, he is certainly attractive, and a King.

What is he playing at?

“May I have the honor of a dance, Duchess?” He murmurs, eyes glinting a crimson as he smirks on his tanned face, wearing an opulent velvet brocade tonight, he certainly was swooned over.

You look at Satoru, there’s nothing you both can do outwardly, he gives you a little nod, hands clenched into fists at his sides, as he watches the King of England take his wife onto the dance floor. He snatches up two glasses of champagne from a butler walking, downing them in two gulps, looking at his surprised face, his mouth dropped open to Satoru’s amusement.

“Fuck something stronger, please. I know the King has to have some good whiskey” Satoru then hands him several notes, and the butler nods eagerly.

“Right away, your Grace!” He runs off, and soon Satoru is given a glass of whiskey, he sighs, sipping it and watching you over the crystal glass.

“Keep em coming.” The butler bobs his head eagerly.

Satoru is watching you twirl in King Sukuna’s arms, Sukuna’s big hand taking over your little back, pressing you far too close, his other hand encapsulating yours, he’s grinning lewdly down at you, you’re maintaining a smile for appearances. Satoru can tell, it’s not a true smile, something he sees so much more these days, something that captures his heart and soul.

Seeing you smile so sleepy at him in the morning, when you’re in his arms. It’s the sweetest thing in the world, your little giggles when he kisses on your neck, your sassy grin when you find some new ticklish spot of his, and torture him then with your discovery. You are so very beautiful when you truly smile, how it brightens the entire room.

This is that ‘perfect Duchess smile’ of yours.

Satoru falls deeper every fucking day for you, so deep it aches, gnawing at his stomach at the thought of ever losing you, he feels he does not even deserve you, and that at any point you’ll come to your senses. He has just started to get comfortable with the thought that you chose him, when the King and Adelia have come to fuck with both of you.

“Speak of the witch.” He grumbles, when she steps up to him, hand on his shoulder, he shrugs it off.

“Care for a dance, your Grace?” She rolls the words off her tongue, shifting her hips from side to side and batting her lashes.

Satoru scoffs. “Oh, fuck no.”

She glares up at him, it’s nothing like your glare, that feisty little way you set your chin, purse your lips, how your pretty eyes narrow and you decimate him the way only you can. No, this is just her… being Adelia, being the woman who destroyed him, made him so afraid to be vulnerable with you, so sure you’d rip his heart out, especially once he started feeling so much.

He knew it that night of the masquerade, seeing you with your baker… or as his still sore ribs remind him… boxer boyfriend you had. Seeing him touch you, it had awakened something insane in him that night, when he’d been with you in the hallway, when he’d pressed against you, held you and fucking cried, and you had cried right with him, hadn’t you?

You both knew then, that there was something there with you both, something he was destroying completely before it could even begin, and pushing you to help him destroy it. When he’d begged to taste you again, fuck he was pathetic for you, but you’d let him. Though when he’d truly drunk you up in that carriage, after that night at your parents?

You ended him.

He’s so enamored with you dancing, with aching to punch a damn King in the face, he can blissfully ignore this pest of a woman next to him. Satoru sees him dip you over his arm, watches the hair you have coiled in those pretty little ringlets fall over his arm, he swoops you low and then picks you back up in his arms, spinning you slowly to the awws of the room.

Satoru wants to rip his fucking hands off.

“You’re still here?” Satoru finally acknowledges the annoying pest next to him, she pouts up at him, batting long lashes.

“You do know he can have her if he wants?”

“What do you care? And she doesn’t want to.”

“You’ve always been foolish, Satoru. But you know, sometimes I think to myself, I should have only been with you.” Satoru glares down at her now, raising a thing white brow, looking at the spitting image of you trying to fuck with him.

“Shouldn’t have fucked my dad, or all the other men?” She has enough grace to look down for a moment, before stepping closer.

“I’ll explain more if we were to have a moment alone, about your father, about everything.”

“I have no desire to be near you. Go find some dick to hop on, you were quite good at that I suppose. She is much better though.”

“You’re petty and lying, as if her prissy ass is some wild thing in the bedroom, can she even handle how freaky you are?”

Satoru snorts. “I’m exceedingly pleased with her. You’re mad you did not get any of that wealth from your mother, a noble, aren’t you?” She gasps, and he chuckles. “Yes we know, you’re her cousin.”

“How on-”

“Will you go?” Satoru watches as the dance ends, and the King is leading you away from the crowd, his eyes narrow as you look back over your shoulders at them both.

“Oh look, a private moment with the King. And… well Satoru, he is quite skilled in the bed, not as eager as you though, something to be said for that.” Satoru grips her wrist now, as she has a hand on his arm, she gasps just a bit.

“I assure you I’m no virgin any longer, as you enjoyed bragging to my wife, as if she cares.”

“Odd one cousin took your virginity, and you took hers.” Satoru tenses then, and Adelia laughs, a nasty little laugh. “Oh you didn’t! Oh poor Satoru, you’re just not her first pick are you?”

“You have no idea of what you fucking speak of.” Satoru lets her wrist go, wondering where you are, he starts walking through the crowds of people, wishing he could shove everyone out of his way and not have to make stupid polite fucking conversation.

He trusts you, he does, but he doesn’t trust that King, you’re still young and sweet, and he does not want him manipulating you, pressuring you. Adelia trails behind him, he contemplates knocking her out, he’s not above it truly, but he holds himself in, walking by the crowned jewel room, seeing Sukuna behind you, his hands on your waist.

Adelia yanks him into the next room, shutting the door, and he finally snaps, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. “What the fuck is your end game here? How do you get a King to go along with it?”

“I love this rough side of you, Satoru.” She cooes, fingers trailing down his chest, he smacks them off, backing away, fury rising in his chest.

“I swear to god if you touch me once more, I am not yours to touch, or to manipulate anymore.” She shakes her head at him, sighing and slipping down her sleeves, then more, he stops her. “I have no interest in you.”

“None at all? Seems like you needed my copy to be satisfied.”

“She is everything you could never be.”

“And what is she doing in that room, Satoru, is he touching her?” She whispers, taking his hand as she slips her bodice so low her breasts are revealed, her nipples taut, he looks away at the ceiling, rage making him sick. “What would you do, if he fucked her, hmm?”

“I’d be fucking sick and furious, but I sure won’t be doing a goddamn thing with you, nor any woman.” He yanks his hand back, turning away. “Cover yourself up, stop embarrassing yourself, dear god.”

“Would you let her have her way with anyone?”

“She will not.”

“So explain the virginity?”

“As if it’s your business. Dear god you make a man want to slap you across a room, I hope you know I’m no gentleman.” He turns back, thankfully she’s covered up, her arms crossed. “Give it, what is your game?”

“Ever think I want you back, Satoru? Ever think that I regret everything?” She blinks back tears, he rolls his eyes, they’re unmoving and unbelievable.

“What do you suddenly wish to be my wife? You can never be, fuck you had your stupid chance then, I would have moved mountains for you.” The pain sets in, the torture she put him through. He’s just finally starting to feel like him again, like Satoru Gojo, after years and goddamn years of being a whore, a cruel man.

“Perhaps a mistress, anything to have you back Satoru.” He shoves her off him again, as she steps closer, putting her hands on his chest, looking at him with eyes that he thought he loved, but he feels nothing but contempt. “I miss you, truly miss you, miss everything you did to me, how I felt.”

She’s brushing her fingers across his cheek, making his skin crawl. “I’ll never have a mistress, and I’ll never leave her.”

“For what, what is so special about her? I expected you to jump on this, do you know how in love with me you were? I’ve never felt it since, and I never will again.” She’s crying now, and he cares not, he just wants to get you before Sukuna has hands on you, he does not know his motivations still.

“You will not feel love because you’re a horrible person. And guess what, Adelia?”

“Wh-what?”

“You made me just like you.” He whispers, hands in his pockets, bending down so that they are just an inch apart. “I was a horrible man, I was fucking women right in front of her, I was shit to her. Fuck I was perhaps worse than you, took all my anger out from being with you on her. She shouldn’t even talk to me, yet she chose me, and you nor anyone will ever make me fuck up again.”

She blinks a bit, taking a breath, looking away then. “Satoru I am sorry for what I did, your father promised me a place in society, it was something even you could not offer truly.”

Satoru laughs without humor. “Expect me to feel sorry for you?”

She gasps. “I was from no wealth like you, like your Duchess, despite being from nobility. I had nothing, I earned my place.”

“By sleeping with men? You did not earn a goddamn thing. She earns her place when she is by my side, helping villages, when she listens to me, when she was honest with me, when she gave me a chance I did not deserve. You have not earned anything you have, including whatever you’re doing with the King. You’re nothing Adelia, worse than nothing actually.”

She smacks him hard across the cheek then, the sound echoes in the room, Satoru does not flinch. “You’ve become so cruel, where is the sweet Satoru that I once knew!?”

Meanwhile

“This is the crown and scepter, go on, touch it.” Sukuna says, hard body behind yours, taking one of your hands and putting it on the shimmering gold crown, you hesitate, hating the nearness, hating that sad look you saw on Satoru’s face, making you worry for him and what Adelia would say.

Would she get to him again? Would he be able to stand firm and ignore the lies she spins? Those are your true worries, not if Satoru would stray, in your heart you know he would not, in your heart you know you are his, and he is yours. But you do know the effect and change she had on him in such a short time, and worry her poison will seep into his brain.

“These look heavy, your Majesty.” You manage to say, some small talk to perhaps ease the tension.

“Sukuna.” His voice is deep, his hands slipping against you.

“Your Majesty.” You turn and look up at him, he’s grinning looking wicked, fingers brushing up and down your bare arm. “You are too bold, even for a King.”

“I simply do not mince words, write stupid fucking poems, I say what I want, and I get everything I want.”

“Not me.”

“No?” You shake your head.

“I mean no disrespect, but my heart is spoken for.” He hums quietly, hands trailing up to your shoulders, the backs of his fingers against your collarbone, watching goosebumps rise at the contact.

“Your body is spoken for as well?” He asks huskily, eyeing your decolletage hungrily, your fists clench, breasts rising and falling as you struggle to maintain your composure.

“My body is indeed spoken for, your Majesty.” He smirks just a bit, another hand pressing against your waist, pulling you gently to him.

“Have a night with me, let me show you things your pretty boy Duke could never, I see it in you, the desire to be filled everywhere, hmm? Desire to have your pretty neck choked, have these bitten and bruised.” He dares to brush his fingers against your breasts. “Oh if you were mine you’d have so many marks you wouldn’t wear this, so sore you wouldn’t walk.”

He leans so close, his lips a breath from yours, you pull your head back, jaw setting. “Your Majesty, I’m afraid I have marks all over, just not where you can see. And the ones you could? I cover up.” You say with a pretty smile, he chuckles, tilting your chin up to look into his eyes.

“I see I read you well then, that fire in your eyes, bet you’re fucking insatiable.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes, his thumb brushes over your lower lip, making you want to recoil.

“I am indeed with my husband. Sukuna, can I be frank with you?”

“Ah, you say my name?”

“Listen, I get it, you’re handsome, you get what you want, you’re a King… hard to resist.”

He grins. “You think I’m handsome, huh?” He has a self satisfied smirk you try to not roll your eyes at.

“Oh god. Yes, of course you are, thus, you can have anyone you wish, including my cousin.”

“Ah, figured that out?”

“I did. And I know this is some game between you both, what has she done to make you try this hard at me? What agreement do you have?” You cross your arms, stepping back, and Sukuna laughs then, throwing his head back, booming laughter reigning in the empty room.

“She simply expressed wanting to try with your Duke again, I figured fuck it, some amusement because god the life of a King is so boring now. Oh to be a king in the war of the roses, or something better than this. Stupid balls and operas, and idle fucking gossip. I found the idea entertaining, so I brought her.”

You blink in confusion, it’s all for fun!? “So why me? Am I just some distraction so she can get Satoru?”

“No, actually. This is where you’re confused, Duchess.” He grabs you by your waist now, pulling you against him. “I am not trying to have you for some game with her, I saw you and just fucking wanted you. Badly, too.”

“Not for a game? I do not believe you.”

He shakes his head, gaze dropping you your lips, your hands go to his chest, pressing for him to back away, but he does not budge. “Do you really not know the effect you have? Did he do that much damage?”

You blink back tears then, looking away, Sukuna takes the opportunity to kiss down the side of your neck, hot messy kisses, you’re pushing at him but the man is made of brick it seems, casually holding you too close. His lips go up to your ear, hot breath tickling it, making you shiver.

“I heard the rumors, I must wonder how or why he wouldn’t want you, even if you look like her. Did he make you think so little of yourself?” You hate it, the memories he is stirring, the feelings he’s making you feel, when he takes your face so possessive in his big hand, while the other presses into your lower back.

“It is none of your business, Sukuna. None. What me and my husband went through is our business.” You hear your voice breaking, feeling such anger at how he can so easily bring those memories back.

Sukuna clicks his tongue, thumb brushing over your fluttering pulse, you can feel your chest tightening under the stress of it, of being against him, when all you want is Satoru, all you need is Satoru. You do not want to think of how cruel he was at the beginning, because those memories take you to a dark, dark place, one you never wish to visit again.

“I could make you feel so good, like you deserve. It’s not just your gorgeous little body or pretty face…” His hands trail lewdly down your curves, thumb brushing over your nipple, your hands clenched into fists, breath coming quicker. “It’s your fire, burning so hot, fuck I’d love to feel it.”

“Watch that you do not get burned by it.” You whisper in response, he smirks, so cocky and arrogant, you itch to smack him.

“I’d get burned if it meant a moment with you, and no I do not do this, and I do not do it as a game. Do you not wish to feel like a Queen?” He murmurs, you shake your head. “Oh no? Well, do you think he’ll resist her charms, stay so loyal?”

“If he does not I… I cannot think of that.” He’s playing you, making you think of things you want to shove down, you refuse to do so, shaking your head more firmly now. “I will not think of it.”

“Ah, so let me show you what you’re missing, then Duchess, so you know what you turn down.” He slams his lips against yours, you shove at him again, but he drags you against him, mouth hot and open, tongue trying to get past your sealed lips, pressing deeper until he’s reached his goal, moaning.

Sukuna’s kiss is brutal, passionate and fervent, his hands gripping your ass, dragging you against him. You take a breath, turning your head, for him to turn it back, eyes glinting in the dark, brows raised, his lips parted. You try to step back, but he’s kissing you again, hands sliding up your skirts, up your thighs, and you bite his lower lip then, shoving him.

He chuckles, looking at how hard you bit, lip bleeding just a drop, which he licks. “You are fiery, fuck do you not know what I’d do with you?” He cups your face again, you glare up at him, fucking furious.

“You won’t ever have me. Guess what, even a King does not get whatever he wants, hmm?” You say now, shoving at the brick wall of a man again, he shakes his head with a smirk.

“I can tell you’re excited, I can feel it, see it written all over you.”

“I am furious, is what I am. You will not touch me again.”

“Oh?” He brushes your hair back, and you do it then, you haul off and smack the king of fucking england right in his arrogant face.

Shit.

Meanwhile.

“You changed me with your games.” Satoru retorts to Adelia, just moments before. “Now go fuck off to France, or anywhere, as long as I don’t have to see you again.” Satoru hears a smack echo in the next room, smirking and wondering if his wife just hit the King of England. “That’s my girl.”

“Your girl!?”

Satoru strides past her, as you stride out on the King that you just slapped, and both of you see each other then, in the hall. His cheek reddened from Adelia, your hand stinging from smacking Sukuna, and you damn near burst into tears as you both look at each other. He’s breathing heavily, you’re breathing in short little pants, striding to each other then.

Satoru picks you up in his arms, hugging you so tightly, putting you down and cupping your face, studying you carefully, you feel so good in his arms. “Are you all right, baby?”

You nod quickly. “I may have smacked the King.”

He grins, melting you, but you see it too, the glimmer in his baby blues. “I heard, fuck that turned me on.”

You giggle, insanely, as King Sukuna and bitch A0delia watch you both. “You’re fucking insane, you know that?”

“You fucking love how insane I am, hmm?” You nod, and he’s looking at Sukuna now behind you, before seeing your lips, slightly swollen and reddened, then you see Adelia, her bodice slightly askew, sleeve completely down.

“Did she try to…”

“Did he kiss you!?”

You both nod at your simultaneous questions, then Satoru glares at King Sukuna, and you glare at Adelia, then you both look back at each other in a silent agreement, before you step over to Adelia, who surprisingly has dried tears on her cheeks as she looks at you. You cross your arms, shaking your head as you near her, and as Satoru nears the King.

“Leave him out of your games, he doesn't want you anymore.” Your words just anger her, she steps up to you, shoving at you, you laugh then, back-handing her right in the face as if on instinct.

“You bitch!”

Sukuna and Satoru grin at you, before Satoru scowls at him, and Adelia cups her face in shock. “Do not touch my husband again, is it clear, cousin?”

“You two psychos deserve each other.” She grumbles then, as Satoru shoves the King against a wall, hands on either side of him, Sukuna just smirks.

“Going to hit a King, pretty boy?”

“Pretty boy here would love to break every one of your fingers, one by one for touching her. You do not come near her again, I don’t care who you are. She is my wife. Mine.” Sukuna sighs, patting Satoru on the shoulder then, surprising all three of you in the empty hall.

“A hell of a wife you have. Don’t fuck that one up, because I think she kind of likes me.” You snort, shaking your head as Satoru steps back, glaring.

“I gave you no such impression.” He walks to you then, tilting up your chin and sighing.

“What a shame. These lips… ah well.” He saunters off, with Adelia shouting at him, waving her arms around.

“Her lips are better than mine!? Excuse me!” You and Satoru snort and shake your heads, he comes to hold you from behind, pressing you against him, kissing your cheek. You lean back against him.

“You think they are done?” You ask softly, he exhales, pulling you even closer, before turning you to him, walking forward until you’re pressed against the wall, hands pressing against your waist, hands you crave, hands you love.

“They better be. I’ll kiss every fucking memory of him out of your head.” You whine out softly, and Satoru kisses you boldly, right against that wall, cupping your face, kissing you over and over and over.

You get dizzy from it, from his nipping at your lips, from his tongue delving in your mouth, drinking your soft cries, your body reacts quickly, you feel that heat pool in your tummy, spreading between your thighs. Your own hands slide up to wrap around his neck, fingers interlocking as you tiptoe.

“I love you so much.” He whispers, desperately, you gulp, nodding quickly, uncaring if anyone saw you both.

You’re married, let them see.

“I love you, Satoru. Are you all right? Was she…”

“She means nothing. No one means fucking anything but you.” You’re melting now, as he’s shaking while he holds you, hand enwrapping in the back of your hair at the nape of your neck.

You drown in him, as your breaths mingle, as his forehead rests on yours, your eyes shut as you feel him, as the love hums through you, your entire being. “Satoru, I need you.” You whisper.

“I need you.” He hums softly. “I need out of this damned palace.”

“Let us leave.” Satoru and you rush through the ball, you’re both breathless by the time you await outside for your carriage, in the dark, chilly night you shiver just a bit, Satoru pulls you against him, warming you. “I’ll never let someone touch you.”

“I don’t want anyone to. I totally smacked him hard.”

“And you backhanded her.” You both laugh, you’re certainly both insane, aren’t you? But none of that matters, not when you have this, when you know you both can get through it all.

“My hand hurts.” He takes off your gloves then, kissing the back of your hands gently, smirking as he runs a thumb over the back of your knuckles.

“I bet it does. Tell me this wasn’t learned from the baker.”

“No! Self taught.” He snorts, and soon you’re both nestled against the carriage, and you’re pulled onto his lap, moaning as your lips meet again and again, he pulls back for a breath, as do you. “I’m so glad she did not get to you.”

“She tried her best. And you?” He asks, fingertips brushing up the line of your jaw delicately.

“He tried his best as well. Apparently, he was not part of her scheme truly? He just desired me and also wanted amusement.”

“Of course he desires you. Who doesn’t? Have to fight off a King, my best friend and a goddamn baker.” You giggle, shaking your head at him, smacking kisses along his flushed cheeks.

“Not your friend truly!”

“Mmm, debatable. Everyone wants you, but I have you.”

“Everyone wants you, Satoru. And yet I have you.”

He cups your face. “All I even fucking see is you.”

“Satoru…” You’re kissing him again, desperately, he kisses you senseless, you feel it, the desire spreading even more, wanting to be claimed by him, as he desires to mark you his.

“You’re all mine, Princess, hmm?” Satoru murmurs, slipping up your skirts, fingers darting across your garters delicately, you cry out softly, head falling back, hair falling as he starts pressing his lips against your throat.

“All yours- mmm!” Your hands enwrap in his silky hair as the carriage gently rocks you both, you feel his hard length pressing against your heat. His tongue trailing a line up a vein he sees on your throat, all the way up to your ear, his breath tickling you as you roll your hips.

His hands press into your hips, thumbs against your pelvis, pulling you even harder on him, you feel your cunt soaking his trousers, bare under your skirts, he feels himself stiffening painfully, straining against them. His tongue darts to trace your earlobe, he makes that little whimper sound as you roll on him, feeling your cunt soaking through.

“No one can ever have you, no one can take you from me.” Duke Gojo’s words are husky, desperate, one finger finding your clit and rolling in circles, your eyelashes flutter as your hips arch, his other hand cups your face. “No one.”

You’re looking at his glittering blue eyes in the dark carriage, hands slipping across his broad shoulders over his tail coat, staring into eyes you love, you adore. “No one can ever have me. It’s only you, Satoru.”

He moans now, slamming his lips on yours, the kiss is desperate and messy, much like the two of you together. You’re not perfect, far from it, you’re both a mess, you’re both as insane as this desire that pulls you, that irrevocably ties you together, as insane as the hungry kiss is. Your tongues are dripping saliva, your lips are bruising, your hands are everywhere.

You can never get enough of him.

He can never get enough of you.

“That’s it, Princess, cum for me.” He orders softly, in that husky fucking voice, and he drinks your cries when you start gushing where he’s flicking your clit faster and faster, shaking your head. He scowls. “You disobey me, hmm brat?”

“Wanna cum with you in me.” You murmur, he groans then, hastily pulling back, you eagerly help him undo his belt, unbutton his trousers, his cock springing free, you press your thumb against the slit that’s oozing pretty pearls of precum. “You’re so pretty Satoru.”

“You’re pretty, Duchess. Especially riding my cock.” He slides his tip against you while you brace yourself on his shoulders, he watches your brows go together, your mouth open in a little O, watches your eyes dilate. “Fuck you’re so pretty when you’re cock thirsty.”

“Cock thirsty!? You… know… I… please!” He smirks now, the little shithead you’re more used to, but there is something so different now.

You both are so in love you cannot see or think of anything but being together, and fuck if tonight hadn’t made you both crave it more. You, craving him to fill you up, and him, craving to pump himself in you, to leave you so full of him there’s nothing but him. But there is nothing but Satoru to you, his eyes hungrily watching you, while he’s pecking kisses on your breasts.

You’re sinking down on him, the stretch burning so delicious, the carriage jostles you just a bit, and you sink further than you intended, earning your gasp and his groan, he bites at your breasts, hands sinking you fully now. You don’t ever take this much so quickly, your velvety walls are spasming around his cock as you try to loosen up, he can’t take how tight you are.

“Can’t hold back, Princess, you feel too good.” He murmurs, apologetically, you just roll your hips, eating up those snowy lashes fluttering.

“Then don’t hold back, Duke.” He moans at that, lifting your hips and pounding up into your cunt now, you’re crying out so loud in the dark night, while you all head home slowly over cobblestone streets, and he’s pumping you so full. “Toru!”

“Pussy is fuckin made for me, hmm?” He’s mumbling, nonsensical, fucking up into you so hard, you’re trembling as you take him, feeling his tip bruise your cervix, and you’re close, so close.

You just nod weakly as he watches you, his eyes dark and hungry, as he guides your hips to move in time with his thrusts. The slap of skin on skin echoes in the enclosed space, mixed with your soft cries and his deep moans. One of Satoru’s hands moves to your neck, his thumb resting gently on your pulse point, feeling the rapid beat as he squeezes gently.

“Look at me when you cum for me, Duchess. I want to see those beautiful eyes roll back in pleasure, just for me.” His voice is a low growl, a quiet demand, you struggle to focus, feeling the pressure coil in your tummy.

You lock eyes with him, feeling the connection between you grow stronger with each passing second, the passion and the love that abounds and grows every day, somehow even the dirtiest words that spill from his mouth are sweet. Pretty little slut is sweet to your ears, the squishing of your wetness on his cock is beautiful especially when your husband looks at you like this.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave then, spreading all over your body, your cries echoing loudly while one of his hands squeezes your throat, watching you fall apart all over him. Your walls are convulsing around his cock, you’re barely able to hold yourself up anymore.

“Mine, mine, mine.” He grunts with every thrust, releasing your throat now, you nod quickly, gasping for a greedy breath.

“Y-yours.” You whisper, he needs it, and you need this, after everything to know who you belong to, and who he belongs to.

The grip on your hips tightening, his beautiful eyes never leaving yours, when you feel him thickening, hear the catch in his breath, the crease between his brows, you know he’s close. You press his back against the velvet carriage seat, taking a breath and rocking up and down his length again, he lets you take control, watching you hungrily.

“God, fucking look at you.” You feel your cheeks heat up at his praise, as his hands press against your stays, the fabric marking your skin, as he watches you with a lidded gaze.

“W-want you to cum for me, Toru. Please.” Your plea earns his lips slamming on yours, and he pins you down fully on his entire length, groaning into your mouth as he finds his release.

His hot spurts of cum fill you, and his throbbing cock edges you again, you’re falling with him, hopelessly into him in the little carriage, arms wrapping around your waist as he keeps pumping his cum deeper. You feel tears falling on your cheeks, legs shaking as you ride him slower and slower, as he fucks you both through the aftershocks and you’re both trembling messes.

“How are you so sexy? What you do to me?” He murmurs now, you giggle a bit, breathless, he eases out of your sore cunt, your cum and his dripping out of your little hole and onto him.

“What you do to me. Having me act so wanton and scandalous.” You tease, he chuckles a bit, sighing and cupping your face with two hands.

“Do you know what I wish, Duchess?”

“What is it, Satoru?” You both adjust yourselves somewhat, he turns you so you are sideways in his lap, pressing kisses all over your face.

“That we could redo our wedding. That I could… fix it.” You hear the emotions in his throat, you sigh, nodding then. “That you didn’t hate that night, that you weren’t crying on the fucking floor.”

“Satoru we are so far past it-”

“It does not matter, I will hate myself for it forever.”

You take his hand, pressing a kiss on the back of his knuckles, feeling emotions capture your heart. “We need not think on it, I do not hold any resentment any longer in my heart.”

“I want to do it over. I want a true wedding, I want a honeymoon… I want so much more for you than I gave.” You feel his heart racing under your palm as it rests on his chest over his dress shirt. You watch the man you adore have to handle what he has done, and all you can do is try to reassure him you do not hold anything against him, but he has to live with it.

“Do not endlessly punish yourself, I want us to be happy.” He exhales, shaking his head, hand stroking your back gently.

“This will help me, please agree to it.”

“Agree to what exactly, Satoru? What do you need?”

“I want to marry you because we want to, not because we were forced to, even though lord knows I couldn’t be happier I am with you. I want it for us, and us only. I want to carry you over that threshold, in my fucking arms. I want to make love to you on our wedding night, and have you fall asleep in my bed, and wake you up licking and kissing every inch.” His voice gets more hoarse with every word, and your heart is racing, your chest rising and falling with each breath.

“Satoru…”

“No, Princess, I need this. I need you to feel desired and loved like you were supposed to, like I should have.” He swipes tears that fall down your cheeks, you feel like you’re spinning, like you’re dizzy, like you’re in a dream.

“We have it now, I feel your love now. I feel it burning for me, as I burn for you, I feel you everywhere.” He gulps, adam’s apple bobbing.

“I know you do, but I need to show you what I should have given you, fuck what you deserve. You deserved to be happy that night, looking so beautiful, so hopeful just for me to crush you.” You’re sobbing now, as the pain sinks in, it’s almost as if you cannot imagine Satoru did it.

“I want to pretend it did not happen.” He shakes his head.

“It did happen, I did those things. I need to right them, to do it all over, to take you far the fuck away from here, somewhere beautiful, fuck you on every surface and feed you and pamper you. Like the Princess you are to me.” His words make you dizzy, images flitting your mind.

“You already make me feel that way, I swear you do.” You murmur, he takes your hand then, thumbing the pearls of the ring on your delicate finger.

“I want to marry you again, it can be just us two. But I want it, and I need it, to take you away and give you everything, to make it special for you. You deserve that and more. Let me show you my love, please, marry me because you want to, because I want you to. Because I love you so deeply it kills me, because I cannot imagine a life without you.”

“Oh, Satoru!” You are a sobbing mess now, kissing him over and over, nodding and sniffling as he holds you to him, so tightly you cannot breathe, you’re nodding weakly, and he’s smiling against your lips then.

“Will you marry me, Duchess? Truly marry me this time?” He whispers, you feel it, the love and devotion humming through every inch of your body.

“I will marry you, Duke Gojo.” He kisses you deeply, and soon the carriage comes to a halt, but you all stay there, laughing through your tears, he’s brushing your hair back, sighing and shaking his head.

“I do not deserve you.” You shake your head.

“You do deserve me, you deserve love, you deserve it all. You are not who you were, and you know I loved you even then.” You say, his full lips turn up at the corners as he gazes at you lovingly.

“I was an ass.” You giggle a bit, breathless.

“You still are a bit.”

“Excuse me?” He raises a brow, you keep giggle. “I’ll have to punish you for that. Oh, you’re far too excited.”

You bite your lip, hugging him and burying your face against his neck. “When is this wedding, hmm?”

“I will set to plan something very soon, I also will have us go to my estate in Scotland.”

“I’ve never been!”

“No? It’s beautiful. I’ll make everything right this time, I swear it.” You lean back, looking into his glistening eyes, feeling his breaths against your lips.

“We do not have to do this, but I also would love to. I have wondered, how would a true wedding night have been? If you were… my first. I wish so badly that things did not happen as they did, but then… were they meant to?”

“I was never meant to be so cruel.” He says, and you feel his anguish.

“I say let us not look upon the past, perhaps a new wedding would be a way for a fresh start. I daresay I’m rather excited.”

“God I love you.” You’re soon in his arms, he’s carrying you inside, kissing you over and over, the staff including Nan is smiling at you all as he carries you up the winding stairs. “I could hold you forever.”

“I could stay in your arms forever.” Satoru soon has you in a bath, he’s gently washing your hair, fingers pressing against your scalp, earning your sigh of happiness as he does. “Satoru…”

“Hmm?”

“I never want this to end. Us, together, so happy. Promise me, promise me nothing will tear us apart again.” You whisper, emotions making you choke up, he frowns then, cupping your face, seeing the tears glimmering as the hot water gently runs over your skin.

“Why are you saying this? Are you… do you doubt me because…” You hear the worry in his voice.

“No, no. I do not doubt you but I fear things. I fear it will all be over, and I love you so much I’ll be left with nothing.” His sweet touches and kisses melt you, you feel the anxiety lessen bit by bit.

“Breathe, please.” He orders softly, you take a breath, nodding carefully. “I will never leave you, I will never make such foolish mistakes again, I will be with you until I take my last breath, do you understand?”

You sob softly as you both kiss, as you turn and straddle him, and the water is sloshing around you both, your hands dripping down as you cup his face, as you slide your fingers through his wet, silky locks. Staring into a face that you adore, his intense gaze and tight grip reassuring you as his words sink in.

Until your last breath.

“I will be with you until then, I will be with you after, there is no me without you anymore.” He places his hand on your beating heart, feeling it flutter just for him, looking at your perfect breasts rising and falling, glistening from the water, making him so hungry again for you.

When isn’t he?

Your words of love melt him, but he’s also a man, and a man that is helpless and hopelessly turned on by his pretty wife. “Keep looking at me like that and I’m putting more cum in you.” You gasp, earning his chuckle. “You like that idea, hmm?”

“I’m sore, you fiend.”

“Your stamina…”

“Oh fuck you!” He sighs, tilting his head back as you study his perfect features, so happy for once everything else is just a whisper. “I love you.”

“And I, you.”

One Week Later

The rays of sunlight flit in, you feel it, Satoru’s firm lips on your neck, his hand splaying your tummy, you whine out and arch your back, earning his groan. He presses you on your back then, kissing across your chest, down to your breasts, shifting your thin silk chemise down to lap at one of your sensitive nipples. You cry out at it, hands entwining in his hair.

“Oh, Satoru… mmm! They hurt.” He chuckles, nipping one, it hurts so much it feels good, then he’s turned his attention to the other, and you wince in slight pain again, they’re aching. “Ah!”

“Do they really hurt that badly? You’re not due for monthlies are you.” He keeps kissing down your body, slipping the chemise to reveal every little inch of you, as you gasp and arch your back.

“No, not for a week or so. It’s so strange… oh that feels so good, though, please…” You’re whining as he plays with them more, you could almost orgasm from just his touch on your nipples, cunt dripping wet. The silk moves gently across your skin, a whisper in the quiet morning.

The lights play on the planes of his face, the way his hair falls just so, the way his eyes lock on yours as he laps at your nipple again, in slow circles, one hand bracing himself as the other squishes a breast in his grip. It hurts again, you’re jerking just a bit at it, nipples pronounced and ready for him.

“Well I like this, you all sensitive.” He teases, grinning so sexy, you feel your cheeks heat up at it.

“You like to hurt me a bit, hmm?” You challenge, whispering, Satoru leans back down, sucking a peak into his mouth, harder, his cheeks hollowing as he does, you scream out at the sensation now, when his teeth press against your areola, and the sensations spread everywhere. “F-fuck, it h-hurts…”

“Good or bad, slutty Duchess?” He asks, going to your other peak, repeating the bite of his sharp teeth, making your tummy clench, you grind on his thigh eagerly. “Fuck feel how wet you are.”

You can’t speak, the pain and pleasure so blinding, he removes his mouth from where he’s sucked your nipple until it’s all puffy and glistening from his saliva, pressing his bare thigh up against you more. You’re dripping down his leg, clit so sensitive it rivals your nipples, he starts kissing lower now, your tummy, soft kisses at first then he’s biting you.

Across your ribs, the underside of your breasts, sucking and biting and lapping you up everywhere, making you a pathetic writhing mess for him. You’re so beautiful in the soft light of the morning, in his bed, covered in his marks, your eyes dilated in pleasure, lashes casting shadows on your precious face, a face he sees every time he shuts his eyes.

God he can’t wait to marry you, truly marry you.

He’s picturing doing this in Scotland now, perhaps on some rolling green hill, your legs spread and hair splayed on some plaid, fuck he’s so ready for it, he’s mostly got it planned out, he only hopes you’ll enjoy it, he hopes it’s something beautiful, like you deserve. He’s looking up at you as he glides your chemise down your body completely, leaving you bare for his eyes to feast on.

He drinks in every line and curve of your perfect body, your smooth skin that he presses his lips against, feeling every muscle tense as he kisses even lower, as his hands press into your hips. He inhales your sweet scent, teeth nibbling your inner thighs, enjoying the glittery bite marks he’s leaving like a trail.

Satoru gets down to your dripping wet lips of your pretty pussy, he teases his finger tip at your entrance, earning your little hole drooling all down his hand, he exhales at it. “I’ve barely touched her and she’s this wet?”

“Sensitive too.” You breathe out, every little breath of his makes you jerk, even his smirk against your thighs have you pouring out, honeyed arousal making your cunt glisten. “S-Satoru…”

“Need something, Princess?” He teases, smirking up at you, his blue eyes darkening when he presses a kiss against your clit, your body jerks as desire floods through you.

“Need you.” He moans, swiping his tongue up your slit, string of saliva and your slick dripping from his tongue, your hands enwrap in his silken white hair, crying out at the sensation. “Toru, need you in me.”

“In a minute, you taste so good. Fuck you’re dripping.” He huffs in wonder, looking at his fingers coated in you, rolling them together and then slipping two fingers in your soppy little cunt, the stretch and pressure so much you’re screaming now, as his fingers press on your spot. “That’s it, fucking feel you, s’wet for me, f-fuck.”

You hear it, his fingers playing you, you’re stupid wet it’s ridiculous, his free hand slips up to grip one of your breasts again, you’re arching up off the bed, whining out at how good it feels, his tongue swirling right along with his fingers pumping. It’s too much, you fall apart so easily for him, completely unraveling, as he drinks you up, slipping his fingers out.

You pulse around nothing when he sucks you off his fingers, white lashes fluttering, then he’s kissing you, you’re lapping your sweetness off him. In the quiet morning it’s you whining into his lips, when he flips you over, laying you on your tummy, prone over you now. You’re trembling as he wraps one hand around your throat, your eyes rolling back in your skull.

“S’good, T-Toru, ah!” Your head falls back, exposing more of your throat when his leaky tip is running his precum up and down your clit, you’re trembling as he holds you, his long fingers wrap around your throat fully.

“You love it, don’t you? Me choking your pretty neck.” He murmurs, you weakly nod, ass arching up enough to allow his tip to enter your cunt, bit by bit, sinking into your eager hole.

“I love it.” You whisper, he squeezes your throat tighter, breathy moan in your ear, fucking you so deep you feel him everywhere. “Ngh!”

You’re crying out as he begins fucking into you, one hand brutally squeezing your hip, the other, squeezing your throat, you’re fading so dizzy and weak for him, velvety walls fluttering around his length. Satoru feels you squeezing him like a fucking vise, you feel him so deep, in your tummy, everywhere. Satoru’s tip hits your cervix then, he rolls his hips, and you fall apart under him.

“Fucking feel you, god you’re so tight Princess.” Your answer is a whimper, cumming all over his length, dripping down on the sheets below. “So wet feel that cunt gripping me, f-fuck.”

Satoru’s voice is desperate, his hand squeezing even harder, your vision blackening and glitter sparkling your vision when he lets you go, turning your chin to him, lips slamming on yours. Your moans are drunk by him, he wraps an arm around your waist, dragging your hips back on his length again.

“Satoru!” You’re crying out his name, voice hoarse, he rolls his hips again, the ridge of his tip brushing on your spot, sending you fucking reeling again. Your cunt is so loud with how wet she is, skin smacking in the quiet of the morning.

“That’s it, lemme feel you, gonna fuck you s’good baby.” Satoru’s nipping on your ear, then your neck, bending over you, taking over your every sense. You gasp and cry out, while he picks up your hips, finger finding your clit and rolling. “There you go, slutty cunt pouring all over the bed, huh?”

“F-fuck you, Toru.” He chuckles before crying out, as you tighten your cunt up around him, laughing breathless when he whimpers. “Too tight?”

“Slutty brat.” He huffs, the words just urging you, when he’s flipped you to your back again, cock lining up with your entrance, shoving deep inside you again, you feel your body tingling fucking everywhere when you clamp down on him again, and he scowls at you. “Loosen up, fuck.”

“Hmm? Wh-what do you mean- ah!” Satoru sinks fully in, stuffing you so full, stretching you out while he squishes your breasts in his hand again, smiling fucking devious at you. “Ah! Fucking hurts!”

“Aw poor baby can’t take it?” He huffs, challenging you, your hips lift, and he uses the movement to pull almost all the way out.

“N-no!”

He grins, then thrusts inside to the hilt, your eyes roll back, and he’s grinning now, so smug. “So much for your talk, huh?”

You just whine, biting down on your lip, your body so sensitive now, the pleasure so intense you’re shaking, your nails digging into his shoulders, he snaps those slender hips forward, slapping his pelvis against yours, you feel it in your stomach, he’s fucking you so deep, feel him everywhere, inside you, around you. He moans and cups your face, bracing himself on his elbows.

“Gonna fuck your mind up, Duchess.” He huffs, eyes bright as his grin is psychotic, but it just makes you wetter, weaker for him. “All mine, every fucking bit of you, isn’t it?” You nod weakly, pussy aching already, but he’s clearly not done, not even close, fucking you into another orgasm that has you a mess.

“Y-yes, Toru. S’all yours.” Your words are slurred, when he’s easing back, tilting your mouth open, his saliva dripping in it. Your eyes cross as your tongue hangs out, opening for his spit, his drool, and you gasp when he slams his cock so deep, big hands pressing your thighs so far apart they ache.

Satoru wants to own you, every bit of you, looking down at the fucked out mess you are under him.

His perfect Duchess, his little princess has his spit in her open mouth, her dilated eyes keep crossing and rolling. He feels those walls clutching his cock, trying to milk him for everything he’s god, he has to pull back, gasping, he doesn’t want it to end yet, he needs his Princess a fucking mess.

Satoru pulls back, up on his knees, lifting your ass up to sink deep, your head pressing back into the pillows as you swallow his spit. “Can your pretty tits handle anything right now?”

“Th-they’re so s-sensitive- ah! B-but…. yes please.” He’s bent over you, his back arching up, tongue back on them, sucking them rough. Your hands sink into his skin on his back, nails pressing in, leaving marks while he slowly pumps into your cunt again and again.

“Perfect tits, fuckin perfect body.” You melt, blinking back tears, usually in the mornings it’s some lazy sex, him cuddling you, this is insane, this is after a fight sex, it’s after a night at the ball sex, that consuming mind fucking he’s doing, along with praising every bit of you. “Those eyes, fuck.”

“You’re t-too much.” You manage, he chuckles, breathless, stroking a tear from your cheek, easing his pace finally.

“Sore, baby?” He’s smirking, teasing you.

“It’s so much. So big.” He moans at that. “Too deep, so full.”

“Yeah so full of me?” You nod weakly, his hand presses on the bulge he’s making in your tummy, fucking slower and slower, it’s so intimate and feels so good, you feel your skin slick with sweat now, feel yourself falling off the edge of the earth, clinging to the man that makes you descend into madness.

“Full, so full. You’re everywhere Toru.” Your eyes both lock then, you stare into those blue swirling storms, his pupils blown out, as he hovers over you, your leg over his arm now, leaky tip prodding your cervix. Your sensitive breasts are heaving with every breath you take, small and shaky.

“You’re everywhere, every time I close my eyes, or open them, I want to fucking see your pretty face, pretty body.” You do cry then, it’s too much. You feel so emotional lately, especially when the man you love is working you, is cupping your face, at one moment rough and brutal, at another so slow and sweet.

“Cum in me, please, Toru.” You beg, your voice a breathy cry.

His brows furrow together, his snowy lashes lowering, he moans then, capturing your lips in another breathtaking kiss. “Only if you cum first, want your slutty cunt to milk me dry.”

You whine out, when he slips his hand down, your foot is pressed against his shoulder, his strong muscles rolling when he fucks you hard now, and just like that, you’re coming again, your cunt tightening around his cock, your body writhing underneath him as you let out strangled cries. You feel the tears pouring from pleasure and the overwhelming person that is Satoru Gojo.

“There she is, fuck. Good little Princess.” He cooes, but you hear it, his hitch in his breath, the catch in his voice, he pumps quickly then, chasing his release, and then practically cries out in his own whimper when he starts cumming, kissing your neck then biting you as he rolls his hips.

“Toru- f-fuck!” You whine out, in between sobs, when his cum is pumping up into your pussy, filling you so fucking full.

“Gonna put so many babies in you, huh?” You weakly nod, tears sticky and hot on your cheeks, when he cups your face, his cock throbbing. “You’ll look so fucking beautiful full with me.”

“Toru you’re fucking my head up and it’s the morning.” You whisper, he chuckles then, swiping tears from your cheeks. “Psychotic Duke.”

“Slutty Duchess. Mmm.” You’re pulsing around him, you’re both so sensitive, when he eases out you tremble at it, your cunt dripping his cum out, so deliciously fucking sore. He shoves two fingers in your sloppy cunt then, and watches you writhe and your eyes flutter shut.

“Sadistic ass Duke.” You whine out, he laughs softly, kissing your forehead sweetly like he’s not fingering his cum back inside you.

“No, I just want you to be full of cum for tonight. Think I’ll need to put a few more in before this dance we’re going to.” You exhale, shaking your head, when he pumps again, the squishy mess of your cunt utterly lewd.

“A few more!?” You demand, narrowing your eyes, he grins.

“There she is, my mean little Duchess. Fucking love that look.”

“The ‘I’ll kill you’ look?”

“Oh yes. Mmm, don’t you want a baby anyway? How will you have one if you waste all my seed like this? Tsk tsk.” Satoru shoves his fingers so deep, you’re pulsing around his fingers again, feeling him harden against your inner thigh, cock sticky and hot.

“S’not how it works, you just love torturing me. Ngh!” He smiles against your lips, kissing you over and over.

“I do love to abuse your pretty cunt, watch that gorgeous face as I drive you fucking crazy.”

“Sadistic.”

“You’re masochistic.”

“To be with you? Yes.”

He glares now, and you’re giggling. “You little fucking brat.”

“What- ah!” Satoru’s smacked your pussy now, your thighs tremble.

“And you like it, don’t you?”

“Fuck you. Yes.” He snorts once more, kissing you as he hits your spot again, when suddenly your tummy tenses too much, and you wince a bit at it. “Satoru… it really is too much.”

“Are you too weak?” He taunts, but your tummy really hurts suddenly, you shake your head and he pulls back. “Too much, Princess?”

“N-no. Something… I feel…” You exhale, trying to breathe.

“Is it your asthma? I’ll fetch a doctor.” He says softly, the concern clear in his voice and on his features.

“No, Toru not at all. It’s… my tummy.” You wince again, turning away from him and exhaling. “It’s so tense and I feel almost sick.”

“Did I do too much?” You shake your head again, he kisses your bare shoulders, hands gently running along your back. “I don’t want you sick for the wedding.”

“I won’t be, promise. We have a week. Um, could you tell Nan to make me something to eat maybe? I feel hungry and sick?” He frowns, then nods, pecking a kiss on your forehead.

“I’ll go have her make something for you.” You smile gratefully, you both clean up, then you sit up in the bed, as the wave of nausea passes, you shake your hands and try to exhale, to focus.

Soon Nan is in your room, with your coffee and some delectable muffins, they look mouth watering then. She looks at you with a small smile. “Is everything alright Duchess?”

“I believe so. I got a little queasy, oh these look so delectable!” You inhale the muffin and smell the sugar and blueberry.

“Your favorite, Duchess. Now, take a bite.” You are starving, and nauseous, it’s an odd combination, but the food is helping somehow, coating your tummy as you nibble more and more.

“Nan, could I ask you something personal?” You murmur, as you practically devour the muffin and reach for another.

“Of course, my love. You have quite an appetite, it’s so nice to see.” You flush a bit.

“I do seem to be ravenous, hmm?” You lick sugar off a finger, sipping on the coffee now.

“It’s part of being a newlywed. Which… you will be again I see.”

Marrying Satoru.

Truly marrying him.

Yes, you all are together, but this? You cannot wait.

“Indeed, I agree. But Nan… it’s personal.” You whisper, leaning close, Nan bobs her head, leaning in. “My nipples hurt so bad, my breasts ache. I am a little worried because I’m not due for monthlies. Have you ever felt this?”

She pauses then, smiling, shaking her head. “I should have guessed.”

“Guessed what, Nan?” You tilt your head curiously, and she shocks you then, touching your tummy over your blue silk wrapper you’re wearing.

“You’re glowing, you have an appetite, your… ahem…” She eyes your bosoms, fuller than usual you notice. “They hurt. That’s all signs of being with child.”

You falter then, gasping, putting your hand on hers over your tummy. “W-with child? I… are you sure?”

Satoru walks in then, grinning at you both, before he sees her hand on your tummy, his eyes dart back and forth, where Nan is touching you. He gulps then, shaking his head, lips opening then closing, just to repeat the action, lashes blinking rapidly, as if he’s putting it all together.

You turn to him, taking his hand now. “Satoru, it's just a guess, we do not surely know yet… but…”

His mouth opens and closes once more, his eyelids lowered as they stare at where your tummy is, reaching out and touching it now, placing a hand over you. “Are you…”

You nod just a bit, feeling the swelling of happiness, along with some apprehension for how Satoru would feel. Was it just talk? Would this be too much for him? You all are just starting to have this uninterrupted bliss, this perfect morning, and though you want this so badly, you want him ready.

“Are you…” He keeps trailing off, stepping closer now, Nan watches you both with a little smile. “Pregnant?”

A/N- This is very smushy and happy, yes I know this was angst but I write Happy Ever After stories only. I am working on Nanami's side story if you wish to be tagged in that plz lmk! Tysm for those who still read this, I know it's going LONG and it's a lot. I love you all bc this has become my favorite project I've written so far!

TagList: @kalopsia-flaneur @bunheadusa @7thsthings @disilluzions @antisocialinlw @Sukunassfinger @lelsforlino @heeknow @muvasuperior @prince-wyiilder @lavender-hvze @ssetsuka @labelt-san @sadmonke @philiatothephobia @ambiguouslady42 @stromynight @dreamygirli3 @jjknanamin @jazlenekasi @victoriaaaa00 @wuvnada @nanasukii28 @sw3etnena @dark-agate @tamaki-simp @yuuuumii @givluv2tyy @airandyeah @sw3etnena @webshooterrr9 @miizuzu @thikcems @erensblackwife @murayamayoshiki-lovergurl @blue-musingss @huuuhwhaat @valleydoli @makingtimemine @saccharinesatoru @sunnyviewsblog @nanananananaiknow

#duke gojo #gojo x reader #jjk smut #gojo smut #gojo angst #jjk angst #jjk x reader #satoru x reader #jujustu kaisen #jjk gojo #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #arranged marriage #royalty au #gojo x reader smut #gojo x you #gojo x y/n

247 notes · View notes

rosemariiaa · 2 days ago

Text

00 ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ

𐙚—pairing: Paige x Azzi

𐙚—rosie’s note: merry xmas my lovelies, this is my gift to you! happy reading lovelies 💌

𐙚—links: rosie’s bookshelf, rewind my heart masterlist

𐙚—themes: time travel, angst (kinda)

𐙚— taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @juspeaks @sierrale8ne @bueckersbitch @pboogerswbb @lupinqs @makethemhoesmad @imaginespazzi @d3arapril @guesswhoitsn @xxloveralways14 @ashortyluvsports

enjoy!!!

The apartment is too quiet without her.

It’s been hours since Azzi left, her pink bonnet stuffed into her purse, the overnight bag she’d packed slung over her shoulder. She didn’t look back when she closed the door behind her, and Paige didn’t stop her.

Not this time.

Paige leans against the kitchen counter, staring blankly at the half-empty bottle of water in her hand. The sun is setting, painting the skyline outside her window in muted oranges and purples, but she barely notices. The air in the apartment feels heavy, suffocating in its silence.

Her knee aches from today’s workout—a reminder of the game she has in two days. She should be focused on that, but her mind is miles away.

Back to Azzi. Back to their argument.

The fight wasn’t about anything major. None of them ever were. But it was loud. Ugly. The kind of argument that feels like it’s about everything and nothing all at once.

“You don’t even try anymore, Paige!” Azzi’s voice had cracked with frustration, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “You’re so scared of—of whatever this is that you’re ruining it before it can even work.”

“And you’re not?” Paige had snapped back, her voice sharp and cutting. “You’re the one with one foot out the door every time things get hard.”

Azzi had gone quiet then, her lips pressing into a thin line. It was the kind of silence that made Paige want to take it all back, but she didn’t. She couldn’t.

Instead, Azzi had turned on her heel, grabbed her things, and left.

That was three hours ago.

Paige swallows hard, setting the water bottle down on the counter. Her phone buzzes on the island, but she doesn’t check it. It’s probably her coach or a teammate, someone reminding her of the life she’s supposed to be living.

But all Paige can think about is the pink bonnet Azzi left behind. The one she’s worn every night since they were 19 and sharing cramped student apartments in Connecticut.

How did it get to this? How did they go from late-night talks in Paige’s dorm room to this endless cycle of arguing and leaving?

Paige sighs, running a hand through her hair as she drags herself toward the bedroom. Maybe Azzi just needs time to cool off. Maybe this is one of those fights they’ll laugh about later, the way they always used to.

She doesn’t even bother turning on the lights as she collapses onto the bed, burying her face in the purple blanket Azzi gave her their first Christmas together.

It still smells like her.

Paige closes her eyes, exhaustion pulling her under.

—

When I wake up, something feels… wrong.

It’s the light that hits my face first, warm and bright and all wrong for my LA apartment. Then it’s the smell—not Azzi’s perfume or the lavender candle that I keep on the dresser, but something familiar and distant.

My eyes blink open, and for a moment, I can’t seem to breathe.

This can’t be happening.

I blink again, but nothing changes. I stare at the spinning bookshelf, the neatly stacked trophies, the PS5 humming quietly on the dresser—it’s all there. The TV mounted on the wall shows the home screen I haven’t seen in years. My purple sheets are a little wrinkled, the fluffy blanket half spilling onto the floor, but it still smells like fabric softener and familiarity.

My eyes catch on the vanity across the room, where Azzi’s pink bonnet and my Bible sit side by side. My heart clenches. She always left them there.

My fingers dig into the mattress as I sit up, my knee protesting the sudden movement. This isn’t my apartment in Los Angeles. This isn’t my life now. This is… this is my senior-year room at UConn.

The student apartment. The one I shared with Azzi, Nika, Jana, and Ice.

I force myself to stand, even as my chest feels like it’s caving in. The layout of the room is burned into my memory, down to the picture frame sitting on Azzi’s side of the vanity. The photo is of the two of us, taken back when things between us were still too undefined to explain.

The blanket she likes to steal is still folded at the foot of my bed. Her favorite UConn hoodie is draped over my beanbag. A pair of her sneakers sits in the corner, her name written in small letters on the tongue.

Her stuff is scattered everywhere, like it always was, because we spent most nights sleeping in my room instead of hers.

I look around, desperate for an answer. For anything that will tell me this isn’t real.

But it is.

It’s all exactly as I left it in 2025. My senior year.

The year I ruined everything.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I grab it like it might give me an explanation.

October 12, 2024.

I nearly drop it. My hands are shaking as I swipe to my texts.

azzi: workout in 20 paigey, be ready when i get there

nika: tell Ice if she clogs the sink again with her hair, I’m moving out.

My breath catches in my throat. I read the texts again, trying to make sense of it, but they feel too familiar. Too real. My hands drop to my sides as the phone slips from my grasp.

This doesn’t make sense.

I glance toward Azzi’s bed. I was always glad my room was the only one with a spare bed, her bed was perfectly made like always. Her per led lights cast a soft glow over the walls, and the scent of her body lotion lingers in the air.

Memories rush back like a punch to the gut. The year we tried to be “just friends.” The year we failed. The year I let fear ruin everything we had.

I drag myself into the kitchen, needing space to think. The student apartment is quiet, but it feels like a time capsule. Jana’s mismatched sneakers are by the door. Nika’s pink Hydro Flask sits on the counter. Ice’s protein shake blender is still sitting in the sink.

Everything is exactly as it was.

But why? Why now? Why this year?

I stare out the window, the view of campus just as I remember. The ache in my knee pulls me back to reality. I know this feeling. I know this time.

I press my hands against the counter, gripping it tightly as the realization sinks in.

I’m back. Back in my senior year. Back in the year Azzi and I were finally supposed to get it right.

And I have no idea why.

My phone buzzes again on the counter.

azzi: coffee or no? answer my texts don’t be weird

Her name on my screen feels like a lifeline and a weight all at once.

This was the year it all fell apart.

But maybe, just maybe, it’s also the year I can put it back together.

———

𐙚— rosie’s note: okay psa, the chapters for this series should take too long to post, as i mentioned before i really do like this plot and it’s good for me to work with so you should’ve have to wait too long :) also hope u enjoyed muah!

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #rewind my heart fic #rosie’s works 🎧��｡ °⋆

203 notes · View notes

covenofagatha · 2 days ago

Text

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 5)

Agatha takes you back to her house after the realization that you may have been responsible for the recent murders

Word count: 5200

Warnings: murder, purposeful thumb dislocation, violence

A/N: this got so long so fast so I had to split this chapter into 2 parts so as of right now I'm planning for 3 more parts

You can’t stop your teeth from chattering as you slide into the passenger seat of Agatha’s car. She followed you back to the motel so you could leave yours there, her headlights shining onto you the entire time, reminding you that she was right behind you.

Her lingering presence is ominous, rather than comforting. You just can’t put your finger on why.

You’re not cold. The opposite, really. Your body is running hot, perspiration gathering on your forehead, but you’re shaking like a leaf. She turns up the heat, but you immediately reach over and turn it off.

“I didn’t do it,” you say, but you’re not even sure if you believe it yourself.

Agatha snorts. “Still think you’re being framed by The Witch and Lady Death?” She asks, and your heart spikes. Rio and her have been talking. Perhaps this whole time. Does she also know her wife drugged you?

“Maybe,” you try to argue, but you know it’s just false hope at this point. How would they have gotten his blood under your nails?

But how could you have killed him? You were completely unconscious the whole time.

The knife from your motel found at the crime scene. Rio washing your clothes and being secretive about what was on them. And now this.

You know you used to sleep-walk, but is sleep-murder a possibility?

“Why did you want me to see it first?” You question, now latching onto something else. Agatha is a detective, she should’ve called the rest of the squad as well as you.

Does she know more than she’s letting on?

I’m just curious about something is what Rio said as she watched you succumb to sleep.

What is going on?

Agatha’s knuckles tighten on the steering wheel and you’re momentarily distracted by remembering what they felt like inside you. Her fingers, Rio’s mouth, together? “Just wanted to see how you’d react,” she finally says, and it snaps you out of your fantasy about them.

“Rio drugged me earlier,” you tell her, watching her face closely for any sign of recognition or confusion.

She remains neutral. “Oh?”

You grit your teeth. They are both so good at keeping their cards to their chests. “Neither of you think I’m being framed. You seemed pretty certain that the body from yesterday wasn’t from them, that it was someone new.” Your voice drops to a whisper. “Do you think I killed both of them?”

You’re not capable of that. There’s no possible way you did. But you want to hear what she thinks.

“I think,” she pauses to choose her words carefully. “I think that I believe you when you say you think you didn’t do it.”

“I couldn’t have,” you say weakly, needing more than anything for it to be true.

She glances at you with pity. “We all think we couldn’t. People can surprise you.” The look on her face matches the darkness outside. Is she speaking from experience?

The drawer opens and your fingers wrap around the handle of one of the knives.

“I didn’t do it,” you insist.

You park by the woods and ask the first man you see for help finding your dog who ran into the trees. He’s wearing a flannel and pants, and has the most brilliant blue eyes.

Agatha reaches over to pat your leg.

The kitchen knife cuts his legs surprisingly well and he slumps back against the trees, blood rushing from his wounds. You get immense pleasure in watching the cerulean in his eyes fade. But it’s not enough. You want to send a message: a heart on his chest. A nod to the shape drawn on the sticky note from The Witch and Lady Death, and to their calling card.

A whimper tears its way out of your throat and you clamp a hand over your mouth. Agatha hears it and looks over, raising an eyebrow. “You okay, superstar?”

Your head is spinning. Are these memories real, or not real? Is your mind playing tricks on you?

The femoral arteries were too quick, too easy. You need something more. It’s only too easy to lure this man into the woods.

“I don’t know,” you gasp out. You’re hyperventilating now. You were supposed to protect this town, stop the killers, but instead, you became one.

Plunging the knife into his throat sent a thrill like you’ve never felt before tingling down your spine. You drag it down, grunting with the effort, but the blood pours out and you’re breathless. The red on the white snow is almost angelic.

What have you done?

Memories, dreams, images, whatever they are, come rushing into your brain, almost completely overwhelming you.

You killed them.

Were you really unconscious, or were you just erasing the memories to protect yourself?

But you were asleep, at least at first. Did you wake up and decide to go on a murder spree? How does that even happen?

“Pull over,” you demand. Agatha scoffs but you say it again, more sternly. Your entire body feels awful and you know what’s about to come.

Thankfully she obeys, and the second her car screeches to a halt, you’re throwing open the door and barely making it two steps away before you double-over and retch, puking your guts out. It burns your throat and your lungs ache, but it feels like you’re cleansing your body.

Agatha quickly runs over to you and holds back your hair while you continue to vomit. She rubs gentle circles on your back and then you’re finally able to stand up and breathe normally.

“Did you know after the first one?” You say, wiping your mouth and turning to face her.

She shrugs, but there’s an affirmative glint in her eyes. “Figured you were bound to snap eventually. Didn’t realize how drastic it would be until Rio told me about the bloody clothes you had her wash.”

You’d throw up again if there was anything left in your stomach. She

But she’s not done yet.

“And then we got the call about the body with all the blood and I had a hunch. But you not knowing anything gave me a bit of pause,” she admits, swiping her thumb on your lip affectionately. “Thought you were just a really good actor. But then you said you’d been sleeping for the past few hours, so I wondered.”

You cough, still tasting acid. Things still aren’t adding up. She fucked you after thinking you murdered someone? “Why didn’t you turn me in?” Not complaining exactly, but why have they been holding onto this? “Is that why Rio drugged me? She wanted to see if…I’d what? Murder someone else?”

Agatha tilts her head back and forth, like she’s partly agreeing, and you back up from her, the gears in your brain turning. She gives you a look as if to say Really? and starts advancing towards you. You put your hands out to stop her and flinch, and she freezes.

“If you’re feeling better, get back in the car,” she orders, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand. She takes one more step and stops an inch away from you, eyebrow raised like she’s anticipating your next move, and you gulp before obeying. “Good girl,” she says in a low voice, closing the door on you, and you hate the way your body betrays you.

She gets into the driver’s seat and locks the doors and it makes your heart lurch. Why do you feel so unsafe right now?

The key gets turned in the ignition but the car won’t start. “Fuck,” Agatha swears, turning it again and again. Panic starts to climb and settle into every crack and crevice in your body; what if you have to spend the night with Agatha on the side of the road?

What if you fall asleep and accidentally kill her?

Is that something you do now? Can you just never sleep for the rest of your life?

The engine finally clicks and turns on, just taking a bit longer in the snow. But Agatha is almost out of gas, so she pulls into the next gas station she finds on the way to her house.

“Have you eaten?” She asks gruffly, something seemingly changed in the air between you.

The moment she brings up food, your stomach grumbles. You can’t remember the last time you ate. Tony would kill you, if you had heard from him at all. It’s weird he hasn’t called you back yet. Unfortunately, you have been sleeping though. You’re not sure if he would be proud.

Agatha gets out of the car and slams the door and you quickly scramble out too. “We’ll go get you something to eat after I’m done filling up.”

“I can just run in now,” you offer, desperately needing a moment to yourself. You can’t breathe next to Agatha right now.

She scoffs and presses the pump into her car. “You’re a mess, superstar. I can’t risk you confessing to her about what you’ve done, or worse.”

You bite back a sarcastic comment, still weary of her mood shift, and you tap your foot until the pump stops. She follows you into the station, watching carefully as you pick up a slice of pizza from the hot food area. You snag a drink and walk to the cash register, where a woman is snapping her gum.

“Hi,” you say politely, putting your stuff down. Agatha’s hot breath is on your neck. “Oh, and can I get these too?” You quickly slap down a container of cinnamon mints.

She looks you up and down, and winks. “On the house,” she says and Agatha steps even closer to you. The cashier’s eyes flicker to her. “Anything for your mom?”

Agatha practically growls behind you and yanks your head back by your hair so she’s able to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. You try to pull away in shock, but she holds you there and slides her tongue into your mouth. You can still taste the little flap of skin from where you bit her when she fucked you.

After she’s sufficiently stolen all the air from your lungs, she stops and grabs your pizza and drink from the counter. “Come, pet,” she says in a low voice that makes you hotly tingle all over and you make brief eye contact with the cashier, who looks severely taken aback. You wonder if you look as flushed as you feel.

“Sorry about that,” you say sheepishly, face hot, and slap a ten dollar bill on the counter, scampering after Agatha. “What the fuck was that?” You call after her, and she whirls around, face contorted into something scary.

“Get. In. The. Car,” she demands, seething, anger radiating off her in waves and almost knocking you back.

There’s silence the rest of the way to her house as you eat your pizza. It’s a cute two-story house, hedges trimmed neatly out front, and another car in the driveway.

Your heart begins to race at the thought of seeing Rio again, at the thought of dealing with them together.

What are you doing here? Are they going to blackmail you? What could they want from you?

You trail Agatha to the front door and then into the kitchen, where Rio is trimming a bouquet of flowers in a vase. Yellow, blue, red, and a flash of purple.

Brows furrowing, you try to get a closer look but Rio steps to the side, unknowingly blocking your view.

“Hey, Aggie,” she says, her back still to you. The glimpse into domesticity and the nicknames makes you feel a longing pang inside you.

In the past, girls had been too put off by your line of work, by your fascination with female serial killers, even by the scar on your stomach. You just wanted someone that could accept every part of you.

Agatha walks over, leaving you standing awkwardly in the entrance, and presses a kiss to Rio’s cheek, murmuring something in her ear. Rio’s body stiffens and she turns around, a wide grin stretching over her face when she sees you.

“Welcome, doll,” she says and you fight the urge to run away. She motions to a fresh batch of cookies cooling on the stove. “Want one?”

You don’t budge. “Did you poison them too?”

Rio’s head tosses back with a laugh and Agatha smirks bemusedly. “Touché,” Rio says, grabs one, and chomps on it. She brushes her hands free on the crumbs once she’s done and holds them up to show you that she didn’t lace them.

“What am I doing here?” You ask, wanting to cut to the chase. There’s some ulterior motive, one you just don’t know of yet.

Both of them beckon you to follow them into the living room. They sit on the couch and you sit in the chair facing them.

“‘What am I doing here?’” Agatha mocks in a deep voice and you roll your eyes.

Rio takes all of you in, eyes flicking up and down your body several times. “Such a trivial question. Why don’t you ask something better than that?”

You think about it for a moment. What do you really want to know? “Did I kill those men?”

“Boring. Ask something you don’t already know the answer to,” Rio criticizes and your cheeks burn.

“Why did I?” It comes out quieter than you intended, your voice breaking.

The two of them finally look interested. “Why do you think?” Rio asks, ever the therapist.

“I…don’t know,” you say lamely.

Agatha snorts. “Come on, superstar, we know you’re smarter than that. Use that brilliant brain of yours.”

Knife from the drawer. Slicing through fabric to cut the arteries. Hearing a squelching sound when you plunge it into the chin.

Blood.

More blood.

A brilliant blaze of fire erupts.

You jolt. Fire? “I think…” You trail off, feeling shaken by the new revelation. Is the fire something that happened in the past, or something that’s about to come?

“Yeah?” Agatha whispers, leaning forward.

You try to search your head for the answer. “I think I wanted to know what it felt like,” you say slowly, testing the words on your tongue, still not completely sure if they’re right.

You’re remembering more of the murders, remembering being in a trance-like haze when you woke up, getting into your car, coming back to the room after, stripping naked from the bloodstained clothes and scrubbing your skin in the shower until it stung. And then laying back down.

Some sort of psychosis? Or just your unconscious mind fulfilling one of your darkest fantasies?

Rio’s breath hitches. “And? How did it feel?”

“It felt…powerful,” you say, and you know what the feeling in the woods with Agatha was now. It was the feeling of taking in your own work, seeing what you had done, somehow remembering the feeling even when you didn’t remember doing it.

Agatha licks her lips, her eyes dark. “Holding their life in your hands, it’s a sensation like no other. That control makes you feel like a god, doesn’t it?”

The way she phrases it sounds like she knows how it feels. How could she?

Can you brush it off to her being a detective? Surely she’s had to make a decision like that once in her career, but there’s a nagging in the back of your mind that is sounding alarm bells.

You cautiously look back and forth between them, between their faces with an indescribable hunger, and things start to come together.

The Witch and Lady Death.

Lovers, two brunettes, one thinner and taller, the other shorter and fuller. Just like Rio and Agatha.

Both Agatha and Rio were so convinced that there was a different killer.

Both Agatha and Rio knew that you killed someone, even before you did, yet neither of them made any effort to get you in trouble.

If anything, they pushed you to do it again.

Rio said she wasn’t The Witch, but you hadn’t asked if she was Lady Death.

Which means…

Agatha is The Witch. Rio is Lady Death. And you’re in their home, with both of them.

It’s ingenious though, really. Being the lead detective on a case trying to catch yourself, able to throw a wrench into any leads that the squad may happen to get.

That must be why she was so nitpicky with all your theories. She knew all the right details the entire time.

Although, it never really seemed like she was shooting you down, it was almost like she was guiding you.

Did she want you to catch them?

And Rio, being your therapist to find out more about you, get inside your head and understand how the profiler on their case thinks.

You’d almost be impressed if you weren’t scared for your life right now.

The only question is: why?

Why murder all those people? Why break into your motel room and leave you all that stuff? Why help you in catching them, if that’s truly what they’ve been doing?

Why not just kill you already? Unless that’s what they’re planning on doing tonight.

“Can I, uh, use your bathroom?” You ask, praying they can’t hear how fast your heart is beating.

They’re both regarding you with careful looks. “Second door on the left,” Agatha says, pointing down a hallway. You nervously smile and try to walk normally out of sight.

Just make it to the bathroom, you chant. Then you can text Tony, text the police chief, text anybody. If you can keep up the pretenses, you might be able to hang on until reinforcements come.

But as you’re walking by the first room on the left, you see that the door is ajar ever the slightest.

You shouldn’t. You should go to the bathroom and get help. You absolutely should not open this door.

It creaks as you push it open and you stop breathing, waiting to hear footsteps or one of them asking if you’re okay.

Nothing.

The door is open just wide enough for you to slip in now, and you can’t help the loud gasp that escapes your mouth.

Purple azaleas are in a vase on the table, along with vials upon vials. Information about every single person in Westview on one wall, red circles highlighting either victims or a list.

But what’s most startling is the shrine they have for you on the big wall. Pictures of you, case files, every piece of information accessible that concerns you is plastered there.

They know exactly who you are. They’ve known.

Fighting the nausea that climbs into your throat, you step closer. There’s something that draws your attention in the bottom left area, a medical record with your name on it from Salem, Massachusetts almost fifteen years ago. You don’t remember ever being in the hospital when you lived there.

You bend down to see what it says and

Snow.

The frozen creek.

Laughter and red birds when you step on a stick.

The person whirls around, long dark hair flipping with the momentum, blue eyes cutting through the darkness.

Fire. Sparks fly and land at your feet, hissing in the snow.

“Well, well, well,” a voice says behind you and you spin so fast you almost fall over. Agatha and Rio are standing in the doorway, arms crossed. “Guess the secret’s out.”

But you don’t care about that.

Because the woman from your memory has a name now.

“It was you,” you accuse, jabbing a finger towards Agatha. The face in the flashes was a bit younger, but you’d know her anywhere now.

A cold feeling sinks into you when she bares her teeth in a smile. “I see my wife’s techniques have been efficient.”

Your head starts to pound. “How…?”

“Why don’t we go back into the living room and we can talk about this?” Rio suggests gently.

“So you can kill me?” You spit, completely disoriented. How did you know Agatha fifteen years ago? Why didn’t you remember?

What did she do to you?

Agatha scoffs. “Really, you think if we wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t be dead already? Honey, we could’ve had your heart the instant you stepped into town.”

Your hand grabbles at your belt, trying to grab onto the gun that isn’t there.

Fuck.

You ran out of your room in such a hurry earlier that you forgot to grab it.

“So what do you want from me?” You ask, trying to sound even the slightest bit braver than you feel. You fail.

“We want you to join us,” Rio says, being uncharacteristically straight forward. “We see you and what you’re capable of. We’ve known it. We want you, all of you.”

You shake your head. “No, absolutely fucking not. You two are crazy. I don’t know how you know me, or what happened in the woods all those years ago, but I would rather die than kill more people with you.”

They both sigh like they were afraid you’d say that. They start to walk over to you and you feel prey being stalked, being hunted.

“What are you–”

Agatha shushes you. “You’re just confused, superstar. But don’t worry. We’ll give you some time to think about it.”

And then they grab you and drag you kicking and screaming upstairs into their bedroom.

This is it. This is how you’re going to die.

“Wait, wait!” You scream as they throw you onto their bed. “I’ll do it.” You can pretend, you can make them think you want it until you can get out.

Rio bends over and grabs your chin, scanning your teary eyes. “Oh, doll, you’re an FBI profiler and you’re still such a bad liar,” she tuts, roughly pushing your face away.

Your body goes numb while they stretch your arms out and pull handcuffs – real handcuffs – from the nightstands and cuff you to the bedposts.

Agatha smirks and waves the key in front of your face and you snap at it with your teeth. She chuckles darkly and puts it on the nightstand, just out of reach.

“We’ll be back later, pet,” she says. “We have to go teach someone a lesson about taking things that don’t belong to them, and then The Witch and Lady Death are going to strike again.”

Rio cackles and then picks up the bottom half of her skeleton mask and holds it to her face, widening her eyes at you. You strain against the handcuffs until they sting your wrist but you don’t stop struggling as they walk out of the room and close the door behind them.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You are absolutely reeling. You met Agatha when you were ten years old. Something happened, something with fire? And the medical file from then, is that related?

It can’t be a coincidence that you’re here now, working on a case in which she’s a killer.

What happened that made you want to think like a killer? It’s the question that Rio asked when you first met her, that she swore she didn’t but now you think she was just fucking with you.

You didn’t know the reason, couldn’t remember it at the time, but that was what made you start having these flashes of repressed memories.

Is Agatha the reason?

Did you see her kill someone at ten years old, but then your brain blocked it out because it was too traumatic? And then you spent the rest of your life determined to figure out what made her do that?

It seems to make sense.

It still doesn’t answer the real question as to what they want with you, and why they went through all this trouble.

But you’re not going to find anything else tied up in their bed.

The Basic Field Training Course at Quantico taught you several important things, like how to fire a gun and how to read a person’s posture and how to solve a case. But perhaps the most valuable lesson to you now was learned from a classmate, who taught you how to dislocate your thumb.

Jimmy Woo had dislocated his thumb twice during lacrosse in high school so he could now do it whenever he wanted. It still hurt obviously, but the damage was less serious, it was easier to dislocate, and it was much easier to pop back in.

All it took for him to teach you was a six pack of beer. You didn’t know exactly why you were so set on being able to, but you couldn’t be happier now.

You remember the first time you did it. It had taken four shots of vodka to get your courage up before bending it back on a table. The ligaments had strained, not wanting to give, but through sweat and tears, you had persisted.

Jimmy immediately took you to the clinic to get it wrapped up and you told them you had done it while throwing a ball with Jimmy.

You’d only done it a few more times, but it got to the point where you could do it with minimal crying and could relocate it by yourself.

Taking a deep breath to prepare yourself, you duck your chin down to grab ahold of your sweater between your teeth to have something to bite down before positioning your left thumb against the bedpost. Better to do it with your non-dominant hand, Jimmy always said.

You can almost hear him encouraging you as tears spill down your cheeks and your whimpers are muffled.

Pressing harder, a slight sheen of perspiration breaks out on your head. Fuck, you’d forgotten how much it hurts.

Finally, finally, there’s the desired pop and pain floods up your hand. It almost entirely overwhelms you and

Snow.

Frozen creek.

The woman turns toward you and looks surprised to see someone else in the woods with her.

She waves to you and you’re pulled forward by an invisible string. When you get closer to where she’s partially hidden by shadows, you see she’s not alone.

A younger woman with pale skin, dark hair, and wide hazel eyes.

But there’s another woman too.

The throbbing in your thumb pulls you out of the flashback.

Rio.

Rio was there, too. You’ve met both Agatha and Rio before.

But you don’t know who the other woman is; you didn’t even get a good look at her.

Focus on that later, you tell yourself, whining as you gingerly pull your hand out of the cuff. You lean over and snatch the key off the nightstand and quickly unlock the other cuff. It hurts like hell to use your dislocated thumb to turn the key, but you don’t know how else you’d use it. You take another slow, deep breath before popping that thumb back in.

After moving it around and massaging it to get the blood flowing back in, you scramble off the bed and run downstairs.

You need to go back to your motel room and get your gun, not even bothering to look and see if they have any, but first you need to go back into their room downstairs and see if there’s any hints about where they might be going.

It appears that all the photos that have red circles on them are past victims, so you have absolutely no idea where they might be.

You’re about to leave the room and go back to the motel when you remember the medical file from Massachusetts. It looks like they have pictures of a copy; how would they even get that?

But you bend down to read it and a searing pain splits through your forehead. It hurts so bad it forces your eyes shut and you’re only able to comprehend a few words and phrases.

Hypothermia…18 hours in the snow.

Pneumonia.

Head-induced trauma caused retrograde/post-traumatic amnesia.

The pain in your head brings you to your knees as you try to make sense of the record. You remember learning about types of amnesia in your psych classes, and retrograde means you can’t remember things that happened before the accident.

Is that why there’s a block? Or is it because of something you saw in the woods?

Nothing is adding up.

Why didn’t your parents ever tell you about this? Is this the reason you left Salem so quickly?

The throbbing in your head has leveled down to a dull ache and you’re able to stand up. This is all connected somehow, you just don’t know how.

What you do know is that you need to find them and stop them.

You dig around the drawers in the kitchen to find a set of keys to Rio’s car, you’re guessing, and you’re peeling out of their driveway, not even caring about the speed limits. You blow through stop signs and red lights, but it’s late enough that no one else is on the road.

Throwing the car into park once you get back to the motel, you shoulder open the door to your room and come to a halt.

It’s the smell that hits you first.

A sickly sweet honeysuckle scent wafts into your nose and you almost retch. Purple azaleas litter the floor in a path from the front door to the bedroom door, candles lit on both sides like a romantic rendezvous.

They were already here. How could they have known you’d come back? Are they in the other room?

Heart pounding, you gulp before reaching for your gun on the table and cautiously stepping toward the bedroom. You close your eyes and say a little prayer that you’re not about to be killed, and you kick it open.

There’s more azaleas, and enough candles to perform a ritual. Your gaze scans the room, breaths getting shorter and shallower.

And then you see the bed and your hands clamp over your mouth in order to smother the cry that comes out involuntarily.

It’s the woman from the gas station, sprawled out like a starfish, completely naked from the waist up. There’s a lace from one of your pairs of shoes wrapped tightly around her neck, face tinted blue.

Your body violently shakes as you walk over to her and you see her chest.

The letter “O” is carved around her right breast. The letter “U” around her left. “R” is carved into the right side of her stomach, and “S” into the left.

OURS.

We have to go teach someone a lesson about taking things that don’t belong to them.

Ignoring the heat running through your body, you spot a notecard clenched in her hand and you wrench it out.

On one side, it says: Sorry, baby. Xoxo. On the other side, there’s an address.

You know it’s a trap, like this right here was, and like everything else may have been, but what choice do you have?

Your fingers tighten on your gun and you get back into Rio’s car, punching the location into your phone.

This ends tonight.

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #agatha all along #agatha x rio #agathario x reader #agathario #rio vidal x agatha harkness #rio vidal x reader #rio x reader #rio vidal x you

243 notes · View notes

specialgradefckr · 2 days ago

Text

tw: explicit content, incest, satoru/reader, satoru/suguru, shoko/reader, codependency, very twisted relationship dynamics, implied abusive/neglectful childhood

suguru had never known what to make of the two of you.

satoru the six eyes and his twin sister. satoru who was his best friend, and you, the girl who looks just like him.

satoru who let suguru bend him over and fuck him until he cried, only to roll off the bed, pulling out his phone.

god. he knew satoru was a dick, but this?

it hurts more than it should. they'd never talked about it, never even called each other friends. he should have figured this wasn't anything special.

but what the fuck is satoru doing on his phone?

"satoru?" he says, trying to sound casual.

everything has to be casual with satoru. low-key. being with him feels like he's coaxing a wild animal. get too close, and he might just bolt.

bolt, only to hit him out of the blue days later with a picture of a candy and a smarmy comment about suguru's taste in food. or his hair. or his power as a sorcerer, or whatever was going through that malfunctioning brain of his.

god, why the fuck does he even like him again?

satoru turns back so suguru can see his smirking face.

god. that was why. the face of a fucking angel, a smile that made his heart skip. why did it have to be on this asshole?

"what, suguru? you feelin' lonely?" satoru drawls.

it's a question he knows the answer to. keep it chill. don't show your hand. don't get too close or he'll get scared.

it aches. "shut up," he says, "i'm just curious who you're texting right after i pulled my dick out of you."

he smirks back when satoru pauses, hesitates.

"who's this person you're thinking about right after you cum?" suguru drawls. he's proud of how distant he manages to sound.

satoru's eyes dart towards him, all ice blue and piercing.

"nobody," he says, setting his phone face down while he pulls on his pants.

he blinks. "what are you..."

satoru ignores his question, strolling out towards the door while waving goodbye. "later, su-gu-ru~"

"but this is -"

before his eyes can furrow, satoru closes the door behind him.

"...your room."

he'd thought that it meant something different this time. satoru always left right after they fucked, he never stayed.

but this is satoru's room. so he'd either kick suguru out, or let him stay.

he hadn't been prepared for him to just... leave. his own room.

what's wrong with him? seriously.

suguru glances at the downturned phone. flips it over.

nee-chan~ (2)

his sister? it beeps.

nee-chan~ (3)

no, don't. i'll ask shoko

you'll ask shoko to do what? satoru has a lock, so he can't see.

seriously, i mean it

after a moment, there's another message.

are you ignoring me, or just busy with him?

don't come over. slut

...what?

the message notification disappears along with the message.

suguru gets a strange feeling.

he looks around satoru's room. he finds some girl's clothes.

does satoru even like girls? they could be yours. he's seen you in his room before.

the strange feeling starts to get. stranger.

there's condoms in here, too, which is weird because satoru has never asked him to use them. or used them himself. he whined when suguru suggested it, actually. asked if he was scared of getting knocked up.

ugh. stupid, insufferable, endearing little shit. he wants to have him in his arms right now.

but it doesn't mater what suguru wants. satoru just left. like he always does, sooner or later.

picking up the phone, he makes his way out. down the hall, towards the girls' dorm.

shoko is already there when he gets there. holding out an arm to stop him.

he raises a brow.

"she's sleeping."

"how do you know i'm here for her?"

shoko shrugs. "why else would you be? saw gojo go in there. anyways, they're asleep now."

"can't be. i was with him just a few minutes ago."

the look she gives him is... strange. everything about this situation feels... off.

he pushes past her, and she sighs.

there's no noise inside, at least. he looses a curse to twist the lock on the door, turn it form the inside.

and it's surprising because - god, what was he expecting?

you're there, curled up beneath the blanket with satoru laying behind you, arms wrapped around you and holding you close.

it's romantic, sure. intimate.

but nothing weird. well, nothing too weird. satoru's always been weird, and you're just like him, so of course you're both weird together. you've always been close. you're his twin sister. what is he thinking?

with a toss, he lets satoru's phone fall onto the floor.

he avoids shoko's gaze as he closes the door and stalks off.

(he doesn't see her anxious glance at the door.)

"he's gone," satoru whispers to you, brushing his thumb over your nipple as you bite your lip.

"shut up," you hiss, putting a hand over his. "i can't believe you did that. why did he follow you? what did you say to him?"

his other hand, threaded beneath your panties, wriggles playfully.

"whaaat? you said you wanted to go to bed. i didn't want to make you wait." he sighs dramatically, "i'm the strongest sorcerer, you know. i need my rest~"

and without you, there is no rest.

as soon as your body is against his, it's like all the tension leaves him. you're there, with him, and everything is all right.

all his worries fade away when he can wrap his arms around you and feel you embrace him in return. mind blank at the soothing sound of your voice. never mind the words you're saying.

"yeah, but do you need to do... this." you say fruitlessly. "you could have come later."

"didn't wanna come later," he kisses your shoulder, "wanted to see you now."

you wriggle in his arms, too wide and too strong to escape, even if you wanted to.

it's enraging. it's gratifying. you don't know what it is, and never have.

he must have been fucking suguru. and after he got his, he came to you.

should you laugh, or cry?

"i could have asked shoko." you mumble almost miserably.

but a sigh escapes you as he fondles your breast. satoru always knows how to make you feel good.

maybe not as good as shoko does, but you're still nice enough not to say that to his face.

"what? to sleep with you?" satoru scoffs, "you can't sleep without me, either."

neither of you have ever slept alone, not a single night in your life.

not even when you were deathly ill and the clan begged the precious six eyes to stay away and not catch your sickness.

satoru had stayed by your side the entire while. held your hand while your head pounded and your body ached. wiped your tears when you cried.

because you were very young, and very sick, in more pain than you'd ever felt before. you had honestly thought you were going to die.

there had been no servants, no mother or father or caretaker. only satoru holding you close, lifting you to drink some water and medicine. telling you that you couldn't die. he wouldn't allow it.

and to your child's mind, that had been reassuring. your brother never left you. your fever broke and you were okay, just like he said you would be.

now, you know better. now you know satoru would lay in bed with people who weren't you, even if he always came back (for now).

now you knew what it was like to have someone else by your side.

(but was it enough? could it ever be enough? could it ever be what you have with him?)

"i'll never know until i try." you turn in his arms to face him, and he allows it.

blue eyes. beautiful, beautiful blue. a pretty face. almost as pretty as shoko's.

you've been learning, lately. you used to think of the mole on her cheek as an imperfection, the cigarette smoke a bad habit.

now? you still think it's a bad habit, but the mole is charming. and you don't hate the smell as much because shoko took you out shopping for perfume.

she asked you which one you liked the most, and bought it for herself. she wears it every friday when you have your girls night out with utahime.

where you get drunk enough to make out with her until she brings you back to the dorm, kissing and fondling and touching.

she asks you if it's okay. asks you how you like it best. asks you to touch her this way, that way.

it's not like how it is with satoru. but she makes you feel good, makes you happy. she wants you to feel good. when you cry she kisses your tears away, like she knows better than to ask but wants to comfort you anyways.

when was the last time satoru tried to comfort you?

"hey," satoru breathes into your ear, pulling your panties down, "c'mon."

when you think of her, your heart flutters. when you think of satoru, your stomach flips, and your whole body aches.

you don't know what love is. you don't think satoru does, either.

otherwise, why would he ever leave geto's arms? when he's so obviously head over heels for him?

you clasp one arm against his chest as you reach down, stroking his cock to hardness. geto must have made him cum (satoru has never made you cum). must have fucked him.

satoru rolls you so you're on top of him.

his shirt is off, baring his lean, muscled chest. your brother, your strong, handsome, beautiful brother, looking up at you with wandering eyes and greedy hands.

your hands are equally greedy. running over his chest, ghosting over his nipples until he shivers. oversensitive. he always is after he's been with geto.

satoru's got a condom out already. he slips it on, leaning forward and pinning you down beneath him.

he doesn't have to use condoms with geto. he doesn't have to be the one on top all the time, either. geto can fuck him. he must like that.

geto's a special grade sorcerer. geto's a man. he's not his sister.

his cock is sliding up and down against your entrance, wetting the condom as he nips at your breast.

he always leaves marks like this, but never where anyone can see.

does he leave marks on geto?

"do you like him more?" you mumble, anxiety swirling in your gut. your lower half is a hot swirling pool of need, leaking for him.

and he inches in, making you whine, making you claw marks into his shoulder. you hope geto sees them.

satoru groans, low and throaty. it always feels like coming home when he's inside you. a perfectly matched lock and key.

his hand threads through your hair. you're so beautiful, so fucking beautiful. he'll admit he's a vain bitch, but who wouldn't be? looking like the two of you do.

maybe one day he should get you to dress up like him. wear a strap and fuck him, that'd be fun.

for now, you're warm and soft and perfect for him. so comfortable. and you're rambling about stuff that isn't important.

"what," he murmurs, breathy from the warmth of you around him, "who?"

if the frustration shows on your face, he can just fuck it away.

"geto." the name is swallowed by a swift thrust, hands planted on your hips.

you wish he'd touch your clit more (you never ask). you wish he'd answer your question (you're afraid to push). but your brother just doesn't think about other people.

"c'mon," he whines, "don't talk about some other dude. you're with me."

"you were with him."

"so?" he thrusts in harder, stealing your breath, like that'll win him the argument, "you're fucking shoko."

satoru fucks you breathless, then. pumping in and out so quickly that the friction has you shuddering, shivering, close enough that you finally start to squeeze around him.

it's always like this with him. you feel like you're drowning, helpless. all you can do is cling to him.

"satoru," you hate how pitiful your voice sounds, "satoruuuu...."

he's hitting you, so deep and so hard it hurts, pierces through the breathless haze and leaves you clenching around him.

"please," your breath escapes you with his next thrust.

please don't leave me. don't abandon me for him. don't discard me now that you have someone better. don't leave me all by myself...

tears dot at your eyes, squeezing around him. satoru's own eyes are wide and wild, his hips shoving into you staggeringly fast.

"i got you," he says, close, so close, "i've got you."

another deep thrust, painful as it is pleasurable, bruising and fast like his fingertips on your hips. he swallows your moans with a kiss.

he thinks he can eat up all your complaints, all your anxiety. hide away from his own by nestling himself in your body.

you don't want anyone but him, right? he's the only one who touches you like this.

the way you squeeze around him, the way your body feels against his, no one else gets that from you. shoko couldn't do this for you. no one could.

you say his name again and he's ready to burst. you love him always. you're so good for him. you make him feel good just by being there.

a part of his life. a missing limb. his precious sister, his beating heart, right there against his chest.

"there," satoru pants, "fuck, there, cum for me, baby..."

it's tears you blink away when he gasps and cums, burying himself inside you with a wounded sort of whimper.

you never do, when it's him. to be fair, you've never done it to yourself, either.

you only ever came when shoko fucked you. but fucked is such an ugly word for how gently she touched you, how soft she smiled.

"satoru," you whine again, "do you like him more than me? i like you more than shoko..."

satoru doesn't answer you. his hands move from your bruised hips to wrap around you, pull you close, plant kisses on your head.

"you know," he mumbles out your name. "you know."

there's a flash of rage. irrational.

he won't say it. he won't even say it. satoru will fuck you, his own sister. cling to you like he needs you to survive, sleep with you every night of his life.

but he won't say he loves you more than geto. he won't even say he likes you.

and you know - because you know him like the back of your hand, you were born with him, you spent every waking moment of your life with him until you came to the school - you know satoru loves you.

but he loves you like he loves air. it's always there. always accessible. it's not like the air will suddenly leave.

you curl into satoru's muscled chest, let him embrace you closer, sink into the silence that's only comfortable for him.

maybe there's something you can do about this.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk #jjk x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo smut #gojo x reader #suguru geto #suguru geto smut #satosugu #satoru x suguru #shoko ieiri #shoko ieri smut #shoko x reader #female!reader #gojo!reader #tw: incest (siblings)#gojo twincest

244 notes · View notes

dixons-sunshine · 2 days ago

Text

The Hottest Santa | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Day Twenty Five: Christmas Morning

A/N: Merry Christmas/Happy holidays my loves!

You awoke to the feeling of tiny fingers grasping and poking at your face. Opening your eyes, you were nearly nose to nose with your daughter, her toothy smile widening as she came to realize that she had successfully woken her mother from her slumber.

“Hi, Mama,” she whispered softly, her voice as sweet as honey.

You laughed lightly. You could not be angry when you were woken up by such an adorable little bean. “Hi, Baby,” you greeted Hazel in a voice just as quiet, slightly hoisting yourself up to rest your weight on one of your elbows and reached out to cup her cheek in your hand. “What are you doing up so early?”

She giggled and looked over your shoulder, before shifting her attention back to you. “Gifts,” was all she offered up for an explanation, and that was all you needed to hear to know why she was up barely at the crack of dawn.

From behind you, you could feel two arms encircle you, pulling you flush against the chest of your partner. He rested his chin on top of your shoulder, his tired cerulean eyes meeting those of your daughter. Despite not being able to see his face, you could tell that he was smiling. That beautiful smile of his was always present when your daughter was involved.

“Gifts, huh?” he inquired in a ‘surprised’ voice, feigning ignorance. His voice was gruff and clearly still laced with sleep. It sounded downright sexy, although you had to remind yourself that it was definitely not the time to let your mind indulge in not so innocent fantasies.

Hazel nodded and eagerly pointed towards the door. “Gifts! Out there!”

“Can’t be,” you said with a playfully surprised gasp, your eyes widened for a dramatic flare.

“It is!” Hazel giggled, her earlier quiet demeanour gone and long forgotten. “Under the tree. So many gifts!”

“Santa must have come, then,” you whispered softly, as if revealing a secret you had sworn to take to the grave.

Hazel did not share in the sentiment of keeping quiet. She squealed happily and bounded on her toes, a mere two seconds away from losing her cool and racing to the living room to open all of the gifts. Her excitement elicited chuckles from both you and Daryl, and you had to admit, your daughter’s happiness was contagious.

“Okay, okay. Here’s what we’ll do since I can tell you really wanna see what Santa got you,” you began with a big smile on your face. “How about you go get dressed and Daddy and I will meet you downstairs. We’ll eat a very speedy breakfast, and then we’ll see what Santa brought us during the night.”

“Okay!”

That was all it took for Hazel to go running from the room, leaving you and Daryl alone. You turned over to finally face him, smiling up at him and taking in his handsome features as his body slightly hovered over you. God, how did I manage to get so lucky? you thought to yourself.

“Thanks for the gifts, Santa,” you joked with a light laugh.

Daryl rolled his eyes and let out an amused scoff. “Don’t start. S’too early for the teasin’.”

“What? I’m just trying to thank you,” you laughed, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. “Did you see how happy she was, Dar?”

Daryl nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I did. Ain’t never seen her that excited ‘bout anythin’. Was definitely worth it, them days spent lookin’ for toys and shit like that.”

“I appreciate it,” you began in a sincere tone of voice. “And I know Hazel appreciates it, too, even if she doesn’t know that her daddy is Santa.”

“You ain’t gonna stop callin’ me that the whole day, are ya?”

“Nope,” you confirmed with a smile. You leaned up and gave him a soft, tender kiss, one that spoke volumes of the love you both had for one another. “Merry Christmas, Dar. You’re definitely the hottest Santa I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks.” Daryl huffed a breathy laugh at that and simply shook his head. “Coffee first, then you can continue with your relentless teasin’. Deal?”

“Deal.”

And to seal the deal, you pressed your lips against his for one final kiss.

174 notes · View notes

theonottsbxtch · 1 day ago

Text

GIVEN ENOUGH | LN4

an: nessa barrett's new album has been pure inspiration i swear to god, listen to given enough while reading this because LORD, i fully felt bad for this version of lando even though i wrote him

wc: 2.8k

LANDO EXHALED, HIS JAW TIGHTENING as he glanced at her from across the room. She was draped in a crimson dress that clung to her like a second skin, every inch of her perfect for the cameras that flashed relentlessly. The evening air was heavy with champagne and ego, the kind of event he loathed, but his manager had insisted. "Keep the image alive," they’d said. The golden couple, the picture of perfection. But the truth of it all lingered like poison in his throat.

She caught his gaze and smiled—small, distant, rehearsed. He knew the curve of her lips too well to be fooled. That wasn’t a smile for him. That was for the photographers. For the sponsors. For the endless charade they’d both been roped into.

Lando took a sip of his drink, amber liquid burning his throat. The taste was bitter, but not nearly as bitter as the memory of last night. Or the night before that. The endless cycle of her tears, his apologies, the shouting, the silences. She always cried so beautifully, like it was an art form, and he hated how it disarmed him every time. How it left him apologising for sins he didn’t remember committing.

Haven’t I given enough? The thought tore through him like a cold wind. He clenched the glass tighter, ignoring the laughter that rippled around the room. She always needed more—more attention, more promises, more of him. And he’d given it. Again and again, until he didn’t know what he had left.

And yet, she stood there, radiant and hollow. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to hold her or disappear entirely.

“You’re staring,” her voice came, soft yet sharp, as she stepped beside him. The closeness was suffocating, the scent of her perfume almost too much.

“Am I?” His tone was flat. Detached.

“Yes.” Her smile didn’t waver, even as her words dropped lower, meant only for him. “You should try looking at me like you actually care.”

He laughed, quiet and humourless. “Funny. I was just thinking the same about you.”

The corner of her mouth twitched, a warning, but she didn’t say anything else. She turned back to the crowd, her hand brushing his arm in a way that seemed deliberate, calculated. It was always like this—a performance. For everyone else, they were untouchable. Together. But behind closed doors, there was nothing left to save.

For a brief moment, Lando wondered if she knew how much she’d drained him, how much she’d taken. Probably not. She’d smile, shed a few tears, and take more. Because that was what she did best.

And he’d let her. Every single time.

Lando adjusted his tie, trying to loosen the invisible grip around his throat. The gala was a success, he supposed—if success was measured in hollow conversations and counterfeit smiles. The air hummed with whispers of power, of wealth, of people pretending to matter more than they did. She thrived in it. He endured it.

As she floated away to join another circle of admirers, he downed the rest of his drink. It was always like this: her holding court while he played the silent shadow. To the outside world, they were the perfect pair. To him, it felt like being dragged across broken glass.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, the vibration pulling him back to reality. He fished it out, hoping for an excuse to leave, but the screen only held a reminder of tomorrow’s schedule. Another meeting, another event, another night like this.

He sighed, setting the glass down with more force than intended. The sound drew a few glances, but he ignored them. Instead, his eyes found her again, across the room. She was laughing now, the soft, melodic sound he used to adore. Now it only made him tired.

“Rough night?” The voice came from behind him, low and sardonic. Lando turned to see a man, older, sharp-suited, with the kind of smirk that made you want to punch him.

“Just another one,” Lando replied, his tone clipped. He didn’t know this man, didn’t care to.

The man nodded, his gaze sliding to where she stood, radiant under the chandeliers. “She’s something, isn’t she? Always knows how to light up a room.”

Lando didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.

The man chuckled, a knowing sound that grated on Lando’s nerves. “But I suppose that’s the thing about women like her. They take everything you’ve got and leave you wondering if it was ever enough.”

Lando’s jaw tightened. The words cut too close, too deep. He turned back to the bar, signalling for another drink. The man didn’t push further, just gave a slight nod before disappearing into the crowd.

When the bartender slid the glass toward him, Lando stared at it for a moment, the amber liquid catching the light. How many of these nights had he survived? How many more could he endure?

“Lando.” Her voice was soft, cutting through the noise.

He turned to see her standing there, her smile as flawless as ever, though her eyes held that familiar edge. The one that always seemed to ask, Are you going to fight me, or are you going to give in?

“We should leave soon,” she said, brushing a hand over her necklace. “People will start to talk if we stay too long.”

He almost laughed at that. People always talked. It was the only constant in their world.

“Right,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. He grabbed his jacket, the movement sharp, deliberate.

As they walked toward the exit, arm in arm for the sake of appearances, Lando felt the weight of her against him. To the onlookers, they were untouchable, unstoppable. But he knew better. She wasn’t leaning on him. She was pulling him down, piece by piece.

And no matter how much he gave, it was never enough.

The ride back to the hotel was suffocating in its silence. Lando stared out the window, watching the city blur into streaks of light and shadow. She sat beside him, her fingers scrolling idly on her phone, her face unreadable. They didn’t speak. They rarely did anymore unless it was for show.

When the car finally pulled up to the grand hotel, she stepped out first, the driver opening the door for her as though she were royalty. Lando followed, loosening his tie as they made their way through the lobby.

They looked like a power couple—walking in step, polished and composed. Heads turned as they passed, whispers trailing behind them like a faint echo. It was always the same. People admired what they thought they saw.

When they reached their floor, the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. She stepped out first, her heels clicking against the marble. Lando followed a step behind, his feet heavier with each stride.

She stopped in front of her door, the number gleaming under the dim hallway lights. “Goodnight, Lando,” she said, her voice smooth, pleasant. Polished for the cameras that weren’t even there.

He nodded, already turning to head to his room further down the hall. But then her voice stopped him.

“Lando.”

He turned back, his hand still on the keycard in his pocket. She stood there, her hand on the doorframe, her head tilted slightly as she studied him.

“You’re in a mood tonight,” she said, her tone light, teasing, but there was something else in her eyes. Something sharp.

“Am I?” he replied flatly, his exhaustion bleeding through.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she took a step toward him, closing the distance between them. Her perfume reached him first, soft and heady, the kind he used to find intoxicating. Now it just felt cloying.

Her hands slid up his chest, her touch feather-light, deliberate. “You don’t have to sulk,” she murmured, her voice dropping lower, almost a purr. “You could come in. Stay with me tonight.”

He stiffened, his eyes searching hers. “I thought you said goodnight.”

She smiled, that perfect curve of her lips that had fooled so many. “I changed my mind.”

Before he could respond, she leaned in, her mouth brushing his. It wasn’t gentle. It never was with her. Her lips moved against his with a hunger that felt practiced, calculated. Her hands slid to the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

He didn’t move at first. He didn’t want to. But then her tongue traced his bottom lip, and he gave in—not because he wanted to, but because it was easier. Because blowing off steam with her was less complicated than the alternative. Because if he left her standing in that hallway and found someone else, people would notice. They’d talk. They always did.

His hands found her waist, gripping tighter than he intended. She moaned softly against his lips, her body pressing into his as if she could melt into him entirely. It was almost enough to make him forget the hollowness behind it all.

Almost.

He broke the kiss first, his breath uneven. She leaned back just enough to meet his gaze, her lips slightly swollen, her expression unreadable.

“Come on,” she whispered, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “No one has to know.”

The irony of her words wasn’t lost on him. No one has to know. As if they weren’t already a living spectacle. As if their lives weren’t dissected and discussed by strangers every day.

He nodded, wordlessly, and followed her into the room. Because it was easier. Because it was expected. Because it was all he had left to give.

The door shut softly behind them, the click of the lock cutting off the world outside. Her heels echoed against the hardwood floor as she stepped into the room, shedding her wrap and tossing it onto a nearby chair. The suite was immaculate—too pristine, too perfect, just like everything else in their lives.

Lando stood by the door for a moment, watching her. She didn’t glance back, already unfastening the clasp of her necklace and setting it on the dresser. The silence between them was thick, stretching taut like a thread ready to snap.

She turned, her eyes locking onto his. “Well?” she asked, her voice soft but challenging. “Are you just going to stand there?”

He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if he were stalling for time. He didn’t know why—he already knew how the night would go.

She closed the distance between them in two strides, her fingers hooking into his shirt and pulling him closer. Her lips found his again, more insistent this time, and he let her. His hands settled on her hips, his grip firm but distant. She pressed her body against his, the warmth of her skin bleeding through the thin fabric of her dress.

“You’re so tense,” she murmured against his lips, her hands sliding up to his shoulders. “You need to relax.”

He almost laughed at that. Relax. As if he could. As if this—they—weren’t part of the reason he felt like he was drowning. But he didn’t say it. He just let her guide him, her movements fluid and precise, like a dance she’d perfected over time.

Her hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, her fingers deftly working them open. She kissed along his jaw, down his neck, her breath warm against his skin. He closed his eyes, trying to will himself to feel something. Desire, anger, anything. But all he felt was the gnawing emptiness that had been with him for months.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes searching his. “You’re quiet tonight.”

“Just tired,” he said, the words coming out flat.

Her brow furrowed slightly, but she didn’t press. Instead, she reached for his hand, guiding him toward the bed. “Come here.”

He followed, his steps heavy, his mind already elsewhere. She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands trailing up his arms as she pulled him closer. Her lips found his again, her kiss slow, sensual, calculated.

For a moment, he let himself get lost in it. In the warmth of her skin, the softness of her lips, the way her body moved against his. It was easier than thinking, easier than feeling.

But even as he sank into the motions, a voice in the back of his mind whispered the truth: this wasn’t love. This wasn’t even connection. This was survival. For both of them.

Her hands slid lower, tugging at his belt, and he let her. Because if he stopped now—if he pulled away, if he walked out—he didn’t know where he’d go. Or what he’d do.

And so, he stayed. Not because he wanted to, but because it was what was expected. Because it was what he’d been trained to do. Give enough to keep the peace. Enough to make it through the night.

But even as he moved with her, his body going through the motions, his mind drifted. And he couldn’t help but wonder how much longer he could keep giving before there was nothing left of him at all.

A little while later the room was dark except for the faint glow of the bathroom light spilling into the corner. She’d slipped out of bed without a word, the soft click of the door barely registering in the haze of his thoughts. Lando lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. The sheets were tangled around his waist, their warmth suffocating despite the cold air in the suite.

He ran a hand through his hair, his chest rising and falling with measured breaths. His body felt heavy, his mind heavier. The act itself had been mechanical—motions he’d gone through so many times before, with her, with others. It should’ve been release, a momentary reprieve from the weight he carried. But instead, it only added to the weight.

In the bathroom, water ran softly from the tap, and he could hear the faint shuffle of her movements. She was thorough, always. Her routine was perfect, every step deliberate. He imagined her wiping off her makeup, smoothing out the lines that cracked her carefully crafted image. She’d come out in a silk robe, her hair pinned back, her expression serene, as if none of it ever touched her.

But him? He was cracked straight through, and no amount of polishing would make him whole again.

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, exhaling sharply. His mind churned, fragments of thoughts colliding like shards of broken glass. He could end this. He could say the words, let it unravel, walk away. She’d be fine. She always landed on her feet. And him? He’d finally be free.

But what then?

Lando swallowed hard, his hand falling back to the mattress. The truth of it burned in his chest, heavy and bitter: he wouldn’t end it. He couldn’t.

Because this—this mess of a relationship, this performance they lived—was the most stability he’d ever had. It was the closest he’d come to something resembling a home. And even though it was killing him, it was better than the void that waited outside of it.

He clenched his jaw, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers. There were none, of course. Just the same gnawing emptiness that followed him everywhere.

The bathroom door opened, and she stepped out, exactly as he’d imagined: her robe cinched at the waist, her hair swept back, her face bare but flawless. She glanced at him briefly, her expression neutral, then moved to the other side of the bed.

“Goodnight,” she said softly, slipping under the covers.

“Goodnight,” he replied, though the word felt hollow.

He lay there for a moment longer, the silence pressing down on him. Then, with a sigh, he pushed back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“Leaving?” she asked, her voice calm, almost indifferent.

“Yeah,” he said, reaching for his shirt on the floor. “I’ve got an early morning.”

She didn’t respond, simply turning onto her side and closing her eyes. It was the same every time. No argument, no questions. Just this unspoken understanding that this was how it worked.

He dressed quickly, buttoning his shirt with practiced efficiency. His tie was a crumpled mess in his hand, but he didn’t bother fixing it. As he grabbed his jacket and shoes, he cast one last glance at her. She looked peaceful, like a portrait in a gallery—beautiful, untouchable, and completely detached.

He stepped out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind him. The silence out here was colder, emptier, but he welcomed it.

As he walked toward his room, his shoes dangling from his hand, he felt the familiar weight settle on his shoulders again. The routine was almost comforting in its predictability. Wake up. Smile for the cameras. Go through the motions. Give enough to keep the world spinning.

Because if he didn’t, he wasn’t sure what would happen.

And that terrified him more than anything else.

the end.

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby @iamred-iamyellow

168 notes · View notes

feministfang · 2 days ago

Text

I am not even anti-billionaire when it comes to rich women. Women deserve to be ultra rich and live however we want; having financial freedom, real independence, enjoying luxury, not owing our time and energy to anybody, and being impossible for men to exploit us cause we don’t need them for anything. I myself am working hard to be rich enough that i don’t have to work hard anymore and so i can enjoy my life while fulfilling my desires that are far beyond my basic needs. If i ever become as rich as Taylor Swift, i'd love to have my own private jet as well and use it to travel everywhere while leaving the carbon emissions on every jealous hater’s face to make them feel suffocated so they can shut their mouths for once!

These low-life, chronically online, judgmental freaks who talk about caring about humanity or the environment only do their judgmental shit talk when they have to target or blame a woman. Meet them irl and you’ll see they are just jobless, miserable nobodies sitting behind their phones all day scrolling and pointing fingers at other women thinking they can bring them down to their level. Sigh!😮‍💨 And they fail every time. You will never find these people actually doing something nice for the world themselves because they think hating and blaming women automatically puts them in the "good people" category and gives them the validation of everyone else pretending to be a good person on the internet! They are so horrible they even defend cyberbullying rich successful women with comments like:

“but she’s a billionaire she deserves backlash”

“oh she’s so rude and obsessed with herself she deserves all the hate”

“oh but she has never donated her money to charity she’s so selfish”

The so called angry liberal activists, including some of the radfems, go in all their way to pass such stupid ridiculous comments; no wonder so many women are leaving feminism because what we want is freedom, rest and to own our lives. We are not here to carry the burden of everything y'all like to put on our shoulders. Feminism is only about our liberation from men and patriarchy so put your focus on that, whatever we do other than that is none of anyone’s damn business. Stop expecting feminists to solve every humanitarian crisis as we are not here for that! Stop asking women to cut off our expenses and make sacrifices for the sake of others. No we won’t do that! Cope and cry! And do it yourself if you care!

And to the women who often get guilt-tripped by these miserable insecure losers for wanting a rich luxurious lifestyle, ignore them all! They are not at your level for you to be wasting your energy on them. You are the only one working hard for yourself to gain these privileges, money, and freedom. You deserve to cherish it however YOU want, and not according to these low-value people who didn’t put an ounce of effort in your life but have the audacity to tell you what to do with your blessings. They all didn’t support Taylor Swift in 2016 when she was cancelled, didn’t care about how she was feeling, refused to acknowledge her existence like cowards to be on the safe side of the internet, and also participated in cyber bullying her all over the internet just for fun. Now when she’s a self-made prospering billionaire, all of a sudden she exists in everyone’s mind as a horrible person because she is not living her life the same miserable way as theirs.

Always keep in mind that they don’t even hate you, they hate themselves, they hate their lives, they hate everything about themselves so what they direct at you is just the projection of their own insecurities and they always do it in the form of gaslighting. If Taylor Swift did it while enduring the entire world hating on her, so can you! Stay evil and selfish while sipping on your fav wine in your private jet and let them cry about it because nobody is important when you’re lost in having fun, let alone their opinions. I am proud of you for choosing to upgrade your life, instead of suffering in the same shit! Cheers! 🥂

i will always be anti-billionaire, but it pisses me off when people talk about Taylor swift likes shes the literal spawn of Satan. sure, she does have a very big impact on the environment, but I see males harassing her about her carbon footprint but don't bat an eye at elon musk or any other male billionaire. if you're going to target a billionaire for their impact on the environment maybe focus on all billionaires, not just a woman lmao. don't claim to be doing this to "help bring awareness for the earth" when you literally only talk about taylor

#taylor swift #swifties #i support rich women #rich woman #rich life #billionaire #feminism #radical feminism #radblr #radical feminist community #radical feminist safe #radical feminist #women

535 notes · View notes

literaryvein-reblogs · 1 day ago

Text

Writing Notes: Contronyms

Contronym

A word that has two meanings that are opposite or nearly opposite.

Example: Left means both “leave” (two people had left) and “remain” (How many people are left?), which are antonyms.

An antonym is a word that is opposite in meaning to another.

Contronyms are also known as Janus words.

Janus was an ancient Roman god with two faces that looked in opposite directions.

Another term for these words is auto-antonym, or a word that means the opposite of itself.

Technical terms for this phenomenon are enantiosemy, enantionymy, or antilogy.

Examples of Contronyms

Cleave

Comes from two different Old English words, clēofan and cleofian, which is how it got these two opposite meanings.

Cleave: to split, to separate (Owen swung the axe down hard in order to cleave the log into two even pieces.)

Cleave: to adhere closely, to stick (Young beaver pups cleave to their mother in the water until they are strong enough to swim on their own.)

Dust

When used as a verb, is a contronym.

Dust: to wipe the dust from (Every Saturday, he would dust the nicknacks on the bookshelves to keep them clean.)

Dust: to sprinkle with a powder or dust (The baker liked to dust their pumpkin bread with just a sprinkle of cinnamon.)

Overlook

Overlook: to fail to notice, perceive, or consider (I hadn’t finished the last two homework questions, but I hoped my teacher would overlook it and give me full marks anyway.)

Overlook: to look after, oversee, or supervise (The manager was required to personally overlook the transfer of valuable materials every evening.)

Sanction

Sanction: to authorize, approve, or allow (My parents wouldn’t sanction video games in our home because they thought they were too violent.)

Sanction: to penalize (The school said they were going to sanction the students for arriving late to class.)

Weather

The word weather is a contronym, but only when used as a verb.

Weather: to expose to the weather, to disintegrate (The paint on the house was chipped and weathered from the decades of rain and snow.)

Weather: to endure (We weren’t sure that we would be able to weather the storm if we didn’t find shelter.)

Back Up

Back up: to support (Ultimately, the scientists were unable to back up their claims with hard evidence.)

Back up: to retreat (The zebras backed up when they spotted the alligators in the water.)

Fine

The adjective fine has the potential to lead to some real misunderstandings about just how excellent (or not) something is.

Fine: of superior or best quality (To prepare for the Queen’s visit, the household staff cleaned the fine linens and polished the best silver.)

Fine (informal): satisfactorily, acceptably (Sandra thought her performance was fine, but nothing special, so she was surprised when she won second place.)

Original

The adjective original is an example of a contronym.

Original: belonging to the beginning of something (Despite being hundreds of years old, the painting was still in its original frame.)

Original: new, fresh, inventive (While sitting in the bathtub, the inventor was struck with an original idea.)

Pitted

The contronym pitted often causes confusion at the grocery store.

Pitted: having pits; in the sense of “mark or indent” (The sailor’s face was pitted and craggy from the wind and salt water.)

Pitted: having the pit removed; in the sense of “stone of a fruit” (My mom reminded me to buy the pitted cherries, because she didn’t want to take out the stones herself.)

Bound

Bound is an example of a contronym that has two different meanings because it actually has two different etymologies. The first meaning comes from the Old English bindan. The second meaning comes from the Old Norse būinn, “to get ready.”

Bound: tied, fastened or secured with a band or bond (The Mountie rushed to save the woman who was bound to the railroad tracks.)

Bound: going or intending to go, destined [for] (With all of their talents, the band was bound to be a success.)

Source ⚜ More: Basics & Refreshers ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

139 notes · View notes

neptilius · 2 days ago

Text

pre-dating gojo—him not giving up on her once his eyes are set on her. commenting on most of her pictures, following her on all her socials, having her and megumi pinned on his imessage , sending her flowers and little trinkets, him being the definition of “i see it, i like it, i want it, i got it.” wc; around 800

being a new teacher at jujutsu tech was overwhelming enough without the world’s most insistent sorcerer making you his personal project. from the moment you stepped foot onto the campus, satoru gojo had his sights set on you, and he wasn’t subtle about it. not even a little.

it started small at first, just lingering glances that made you wonder if you had something on your face. then came the compliments, always with that playful grin of his.

“looking sharp today,” he’d say casually, leaning against your classroom door. “you sure you’re not trying to impress someone?”

“just trying to look professional, gojo,” you’d reply, your tone firm even though his attention made your stomach flip.

but satoru gojo wasn’t one to give up when something, or someone, caught his interest.

within days, you noticed him popping up in your social media notifications. he’d followed you on everything, from instagram to twitter, even a random account you barely used. every post you made earned a comment, ranging from witty remarks to downright flirty observations.

“you really have an eye for photography,” he’d write under a scenic picture, only to follow it up with, “but the view isn’t as good as you.”

you weren’t sure if you wanted to scream or laugh, but the attention didn’t stop there.

flowers began appearing on your desk, beautiful arrangements with little notes scrawled in his messy handwriting. chocolates followed, and once, even your favorite coffee order appeared like magic during a particularly grueling morning. you tried asking who was leaving them, but every time, his students would either look away awkwardly or mutter something vague.

megumi, however, had no patience for it. “it’s obviously gojo-sensei,” he said flatly one afternoon when you found yet another bouquet. “he’s been insufferable lately.”

“fushiguro!” nobara scolded, but the slight eye roll she gave made it clear she agreed.

satoru’s antics didn’t stop there. he began finding excuses to help you with your students, offering “expert training tips” that often turned into elaborate demonstrations meant more to impress you than anyone else.

“see that?” he’d say after a particularly flashy display of cursed technique, turning to you with a cocky grin. “bet you can’t teach them that.”

“because it’s not practical,” you’d retort, ignoring the heat rising in your cheeks.

dont get me started on the memes chile... once you finally relented and gave him your number, your phone became a constant source of laughter; random memes, ridiculous videos, and occasionally, surprisingly thoughtful messages about your day.

“saw this and thought of you,” one text read, attached to a picture of a female cat on top of a male cat nuzzling noses.

it was impossible not to crack a smile, even if you tried to keep your responses measured.

but the cherry on top of gojo’s relentless pursuit? he’d even roped his students into it.

“you should just say yes already,” nobara said bluntly one day, crossing her arms as you prepared for a joint training session. “he’s annoying, but he’s also kind of great when you get past the… everything.”

megumi groaned. “don’t encourage her. he’s unbearable enough as it is.”

“he’s determined,” nobara corrected, smirking. “there’s a difference.”

you shook your head, trying to ignore how warm their words made you feel. it was hard to admit, even to yourself, that satoru’s persistence was starting to grow on you.

he was annoying, yes. overthetop? absolutely. but beneath the theatrics, there was a sincerity to his actions that you couldn’t ignore. he studied you, not in a creepy way. but in a way that made it clear he genuinely wanted to understand you.

the small things he did like— remembering your favorite snacks, asking about your hobbies, or noticing when you seemed stressed. spoke volumes about the kind of person he was beneath the surface.

one afternoon, after yet another “accidental” run in, you finally confronted him.

“what do you even want, gojo?” you asked, crossing your arms as you faced him in the courtyard.

he didn’t even flinch at your tone. instead, he smiled, that confident, playful grin softening ever so slightly.

“you,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

your breath hitched, and for once, you didn’t have a quick retort. maybe, just maybe, gojo’s persistence wasn’t as annoying as you thought.

#gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojo fluff #jjk fluff

107 notes · View notes

caspiansinclair · 3 days ago

Text

TRK KANDREW QUOTES:

- "Andrew twisted and punched the wall hard enough to split the skin along his knuckles. Kevin took a quick step forward, hand out like he could stop Andrew from landing a second blow"

- "You shouldn't be outside if you're coming down with something," Kevin said. "Such concern." Andrew grinned at Kevin's cool tone. "Don't cry, Kevin. It's nothing a nap and some vitamin C can't fix."

- Kevin had a knee hugged to his chest and his face hidden in the fold of his arm. His knuckles were white where his hand was clenched into a fist. Neil didn't think it was the bus that was making Kevin shake like that. "Look at me," Andrew said. "It'll be fine. You believe me, yes?" "I believe you," Kevin said, muffled but noticeably strained.

- "Andrew has neither purpose nor ambition," Kevin said. "I was the first person who ever looked at Andrew and told him he was worth something. When he comes off these drugs and has nothing else to hold him up I will give him something to build his life around." (my fav quote)

- Kevin had eyes only for Andrew as he crouched in front of the downed goalkeeper. "So," Kevin said, "did you have fun?" Andrew was too tired to put any heat in his words. "You are despicable, Kevin Day. I don't know why I keep you around."

- Kevin only smiled, slow and sure and pleased, and offered Andrew a hand. Andrew looked at it, then at Kevin, and let Kevin haul him to his feet.

- "Why do you have his drugs?" "I hold onto them when he's adjusting his schedule," Kevin answered. "Game nights or nights like tonight when he wants to go into withdrawal, it's better if someone else keeps the bottle. If he has his pills he'll take them. He won't be able to help himself."

- "When I said I wasn't Andrew's type, I meant it. It's not about my looks or faith. It's that I'm a woman." Neil heard her words but was slow to understand them. He blinked at her in confusion, blinked again when it clicked, and said a little too loudly, "Oh. Then Andrew and Kevin—"

- "Andrew won't agree to this," Abby said, a last-ditch effort to change their minds. "Going means leaving Kevin behind. They haven't had more than a campus between them since Andrew took Kevin under his wing."

- "Kevin," Andrew called from out of sight. Kevin nearly knocked the chair over in his hurry to answer. Neil watched from the doorway as Andrew stopped almost right up against Kevin. Andrew pat Kevin down for imaginary injuries and Kevin stood motionless until he was done."

- "Look at that face, Bee. He wants me sober more than almost anyone does, but only if the timing's right. I warned you, didn't I? Who will take care of Kevin if I'm gone? I can't trust him wandering around here by himself, and Coach can't be with him all the time. Kevin's kind of a full-time job."

- "I can't believe you're sending Andrew away," Kevin said, a little sharply.

- "She shouldn't have taken Andrew away," Kevin said in a low voice.

- Kevin is not like us; he is valuable but he is not property in the same sense. He escaped because he had family to run to." "Andrew?" Neil guessed.

- “Kevin had spent the better part of a year trying to get through to Andrew. He wanted Exy to mean something; he wanted Andrew’s best preformance like a dying man wanted one last breath of air. Andrew knew it, and he refused to play along.”

- (this one’s long:) "So you'll try," Kevin said through gritted teeth, "because Coach asked you to."

Andrew folded his arms across his knees, tilted his head back, and smiled up at Kevin.

"Careful, Kevin. Your jealous streak is showing."

"For eight months you've told me no. In eight seconds you told him yes. Why?"

"Oh, that's easy." Andrew stuffed the last of his gear into his bag and zipped it shut. He slung the bag over his shoulders and got to his feet, standing up so close to Kevin he almost knocked Kevin back a step.

"It's just more fun to tell you no. That's what you wanted, right? You wanted me to have fun. I am. Aren't you?"

For someone so small, Andrew made a lot of noise when shoved into the lockers. Andrew was laughing as he crashed into the orange metal. Neil didn't know what amused Andrew more: Kevin's violence or the splash of blood that now stained the front of Kevin's shirt. Neil hadn't even seen Andrew take a knife out, but it was in his hand in the air between them. Kevin retreated from Andrew with a sharp curse.

"Jesus, Andrew!" Matt said. "Kevin, are you all right?"

"I'm fine." Kevin put a hand to his chest as if checking the truth of his words. Neil was at the far end of the lockers from them, so he couldn't see very well, but the relative lack of blood made him think the cut was shallow. It was long, but it wasn't serious. It was going to sting when Kevin put heavy armor overtop it tonight, though.

Andrew stepped away from the lockers and got in Kevin's space again. He put the edge of the blade against Kevin's chest over his heart and peered up into Kevin's face. Kevin looked more angry than intimidated as he stared back. Matt started toward them, maybe thinking he had to break up round two of their fight. Kevin didn't look away from Andrew when he motioned at Matt to back off.”

#kandreil #kandrew #kevin day #all for the game #aftg #andrew minyard

106 notes · View notes

changingthingslikeleaves · 3 days ago

Text

Buck keeps busy. He helps Eddie pack the house. The landlord in El Paso covers utilities, but he changes the billing address on Eddie’s NFL+ and MLB.TV subscriptions, reminds Eddie that the password to Buck’s Disney Plus account is in the email that Buck sent him the day after he signed up for it. He calls movers and gets quotes, finds Eddie a place to do the 60,000-mile service on his truck, maps the three closest grocery stores to his new house like Eddie didn’t spend the first eighteen years of his life in El Paso and is incapable of feeding himself.

It's what Buck does. He has to be useful, anticipate what Eddie needs, because that’s all he can do right now. Of course Eddie has to go, no matter what, because of course Christopher is the most important thing.

Keeping busy gets him through it all, from that first house viewing on Eddie’s couch to the last piece of tape on the last box. He doesn’t see Eddie off when he hits the road at 10 A.M. on a Saturday, because it’s hard enough saying goodbye at 8 A.M, when Eddie leaves after spending the night at Buck’s loft, his own bed packed into a U-Haul trailer attached to his truck’s towing hitch. Eddie’s got a couple final errands in town and then he’s getting on the 10 headed east.

And when Eddie’s gone, he finds stuff to do around his loft. He could go over to Maddie’s and help her sort through Jee’s old clothes and toys to figure out what she can use for the new baby, but it’s a better idea to stay home, at least this first day, to hide his red eyes. He rearranges his pantry, goes through his spices and throws out anything over two years old, moves his bed and nightstand to dust behind them.

Somehow he finds enough to occupy him the whole day, with occasional breaks to watch the most brainless documentaries he can find on Netflix. At midnight he falls into bed, hoping he’s done enough manual labor to exhaust himself and quickly drop off to sleep. At 12:03, his phone pings with a text.

9342

He stares at it a second, trying to parse why Eddie is sending him a random string of numbers.

everything ok????

this house has an electronic door lock that’s the code to get in. i guess it saves me from having to mail you a key

Buck’s surprised how much it hurts, the pain of Eddie being eight hundred miles away and yet right next to him, connected by cell phone towers and a bond that won’t break, no matter how much it’s stretched.

Eddie can’t be late on his second day of work. He should have had plenty of time, but when Christopher had called—actually called, on his phone—he’d dropped everything to have a conversation with his kid before his school day. By the time they’d made plans to meet up on Eddie’s next day off, his cereal had gone soggy and his coffee had cooled. He hasn’t stocked up on protein bars or shakes yet, so he’ll have to wait for whatever is available at the station.

As soon as he pulls the front door shut behind him, patting his pockets to make sure he has everything, he realizes that his phone is still in the house. The house, protected by the electronic lock, with the code carefully saved on his phone.

“Shit, code, what’s the goddamn code,” Eddie mutters. Four digits, can’t be that hard. After a few more days it will be worked into his muscle memory, but he’s only used it three times so far. 9234? No luck. 9423? Still no. At this rate he really is going to be late for work, and he reaches for his phone to call his captain, but the phone is still inside the house and the door is still locked.

“9342.”

Eddie starts in surprise. It’s not the voice of a helpful neighbor, or his landlord arriving in the nick of time, or even a divine intervention to help him get to work on time. He knows that voice, even before he turns around to see Buck, leaning against the side of his Jeep, legs outstretched and arms folded like the hero of a teenage rom-com. The captain of the football team, waiting outside the auditorium to surprise the gawky girl with the lead in the school play.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Buck unfolds his arms and walks toward him, his long legs closing the distance in five quick strides. “You sent me the code. I had to make sure it worked.”

He leans past Eddie and punches the numbers in the lock, which clunks satisfyingly open. Buck doesn’t move, his chest brushing against Eddie’s, his mouth a breath away.

“Good thing you did,” Eddie says, not even listening to the words as they come out. How can he pay attention to anything else when Buck is here, right in front of him, right where he’s supposed to be?

“You should probably write it down.” Buck moves somehow closer, and his hands settle on Eddie’s hips. “In case you ever lock your phone inside again.”

“I don’t think I’m gonna be here very long,” Eddie says, closing that final inch between them in a kiss that’s sweet for a second before Buck sighs and opens his mouth, and Eddie is officially late to work, and he doesn’t care.

and well in a world where eddie does end up getting a rental in el paso for a little bit; buck is receiving a text from eddie the first night he’s gone that just inexplicably contains 4 random digits and nothing else. he is instantly replying: everything ok???? to which eddie responds with: this house has an electronic door lock 😐 that’s the code to get in. oh well. i guess it saves me from having to mail you a key. and buck has to actively rub at his chest to comfort himself over the fact that the only person he has ever felt so emotionally and intimately close to is now so physically far away.

#911 #buddie #my fic

466 notes · View notes

moody-alcoholic · 1 day ago

Text

On a Wing and a Prayer

Part 7 - Well This Is Awkward

CW: Angst, mention's of alcohol, mentions of panic attack's, mental health, mentions of injuries, mentions of death.

Did I mention I like medical dramas?

Previous parts - masterlist - next

Your therapist is nice. You’ve been going to her for the past 3 months, you were only supposed to go for a single session. Then the army insisted on more. Johnny was sent home on medical leave a few days after you left. He came to see you and stayed the night.

The next morning you had to tell him to leave, it just wasn’t the same.

‘I’ll be staying at the house if you want to visit?’

Shit, you forgot about the house. The place you all pitched in to buy, so you all had somewhere to stay when you were on leave. Everyone’s flats are too small to accommodate all 5 of you. Besides, flat hopping everyday across London was expensive.

‘I’ll talk to John when he’s back.’ All you want back is the deposit.

“Do you feel guilty?” She asks you. It snaps you out of your thoughts and you turn to look at her.

“No.” You say, she hums. You hate it when she does that. You don’t know why it is a particularly tough session. You just want to go home. “They hurt me. I don't feel guilty about that.”

“You left the unit though.” Bitch. “It’s okay to feel guilty about that.”

“Okay fine. I feel guilty about leaving Johnny and Kyle.” You snap back. Anything to get her to sign you off so you can go. You look up at the clock, you still have at least 40 minutes left in this season.

“Have you got your letter from the university yet?” She asks changing the subject. You nod. After a few weeks of crying on the bathroom floor and drowning yourself in bottles of vodka you decided to get your shit together.

“That’s good, what's the plan going forward?”

“I’ll be posted on a base somewhere where I can get hands-on experience in trauma care. With studying on the side.” You say without going too much into the complications.

“So the army is actively helping you, that's good.”

“Yeah I think they’re willing to do anything so long as I don’t sue them.” You scoff under your breath. She hums.

You don’t know how true that is, maybe it’s just something you tell yourself so you don’t feel so conflicted over how accommodating they’ve been. They’re paying your uni bills and even got you one some army teaching program aimed to fast track you through the ranks.

“What about Kyle and Johnny? Have you heard from them since you spoke to them last?” Fucking bitch. You sigh, turning away from her. The last time you spoke to them was almost a month ago. They text you from time to time, try to call you.

You’ve ignored them, so much that you feel like anything you say to them will just be meaningless.

“Yeah, they’re deployed.” You lie. She smiles. You look back up at the clock.

30 minutes to go.

______________________

Iraq is hot. That you expected but the hospital’s electricity is sketchy at best. You have to keep the air-con off to make sure the ventilators don’t cut out. The US built this place, you’re only supposed to be here for another week at least before you’ll move again.

As soon as the electric is fixed it will be handed over to the UN to run, until then it was getting a dry run as a combat hospital. Lots of blown off limbs and bullets to pull out people. Lots of death.

You told Johnny and Kyle where you were going when you got your placement. You’re trying to patch things up with them after basically leaving them on read for almost 3 months. Your therapist said it would be a good thing to do.

The sun is setting, you're sitting outside watching as it touches the top of the distant mountains. The place is busy, friendly forces are still pretty much living here. It’s the only safe zone in this part of the desert, why the UN wanted a hospital out here you’ll never know.

Something about re-urbanisation of previously controlled territories. You don’t care, you're here to pull bullets out of people and save lives. Other than your mentor-Dr. Sands-you’re the only other doctor on the base. Doctor is a loose term, you’re technically still a student, but you ace all your skills labs, and the army is begging for help apparently.

You let out a breath, finishing the rest of your drink and getting up and pulling your white lab coat on.

“Well, fancy seeing you ‘ere.” You hear a familiar thick accent behind you. You turn to see Johnny standing behind you.

What the fuck.

You’re hugging him before you can stop yourself. You see Kyle, John and Simon stood behind him. They’re all geared up, weapons slung over their chest or back.

You thought you would feel something when you saw them. Maybe you'd want to run, scream, cry, anything. You feel nothing, just numbness.

“What are you doing here?” You ask.

“Oh you know, Shepherd says jump, we say how high.” he says nudging you, it makes you smile and you shake your head.

“Finally going for the MD?” He asks, pointing at the student doctor tag on your coat.

“Yeah well, you like putting bullets in people. I like pulling them out.”

“Oh yeah not even the occasional love tap?” He jokes, throwing his arm around your shoulders.

“Only the bad guys.” You reply. You look up at Kyle who’s smiling. Then John and Simon.

“You look good.” John says.

“Yeah well that’s what 6 months of therapy will do to you.” It’s bitter, harsher than you expected it to be. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him in 6 maybe 7 months. He hasn’t changed a bit. He still smiles at you, his body language open, his hands on his hips.

Simon stands with his arms crossed, his presence is looming, making hairs stand up on the back of your neck.

“It’s good to see you again.” Kyle says, you nod at him.

“Oh when we’re back we should catch a bite to eat.” Johnny says enthusiastically, moving away over to Kyle.

“You can tell us what to avoid in the mess.” Kyle adds. You smile again. You go to open your mouth but your pager beeps. You look down at it. It’s the doctor.

“Yeah, when you’re back, come find me.” You say turning into the building.

“Stay safe!” Johnny calls.

“Yeah you too!” You call back pulling your radio off your hip. When you make it through the door you squeeze your eyes closed for a second and let out a long breath.

Now you hate this hospital even more.

______________________

It’s dark out now. You look over at the clock and it's almost midnight. You’re sat at the nurses station listening to them talk about whatever drama is going on in the next base. You still can’t believe you ended up in the same base as 141.

They’ll be gone soon, even Johnny seemed surprised, maybe he thought you’d be gone by now. Now you have to eat with them at some point. Johnny and Kyle at least.

The doctor left an hour ago to go to another base for a surgery. You’re used to this taking the night shifts. Normally you just sleep and get woken up a few times for the nurses to ask for medication changes. You’ve only ever had one trauma come in at night and the doctor was there to help you with the limited night time staff.

You tried to sleep but you couldn’t, you were restless trying to think about what they were doing here? Who were they after? How long would they be here? At least at the nurses station you can listen to the nurses and let their gossip distract you.

The red trauma phone rings. For a second you think it’s a joke, it’s the normal phone. Nope, the red light is flashing on it. You stand up picking it up.

“Trauma.” You say.

“Got one incoming, ETA 15 minutes. GSW to the chest, breathing unconscious. 30 year old male.” You hear an American voice say as you write it down. You don’t have time to worry or be nervous. This is what you live for, you let the adrenaline pump through you. It clears your mind as you take down the information.

“Copy, what’s the name?”

“Riley.” Your heart stops.

“Say again?”

“Riley, Simon Riley.”

It feels like all the air has been sucked out of your lungs. You’re squeezing the phone in your hand, the pen has fallen to the floor. You look over at the nurses already pulling gowns on and getting into position in the resus bay.

You don’t even register saying copy and putting the phone back. You turn away from the nurses braising yourself on a filing cabernet.

Simon’s shot. All you can see is his face, his body covered in blood. He’s always so careful, he’s always the one dragging people out the field not getting shot. Something must have gone horribly wrong.

You weren't there. He’s shot and you weren't there to save him.

You suck in breaths of air, the adrenaline isn’t helping now.

“Doctor?” You hear one of the nurses call. You turn to look at them, you have to keep it together.

“Page the doctor.”

Banners by firefly-graphics

142 notes · View notes

nmakii · 2 days ago

Text

christmas kids

about him, who was also born on december 25th. i used to spot your face in every crowd, now i can’t even remember your smile.

— kaiser hates celebrating his birthday. no exceptions; not even for you.

cw: mentions of kaiser’s backstory, gesner being vulgar (im his biggest fan), kaiser is a meany pants, self deprecation

parties like these were a pain. kaiser stood beside his drunken teammates, while ‘all i want for christmas is you’ by mariah carey blasted for the 6th time on loop. it was disgustingly corny how he’d have to act as if he gives a damn to celebrate christmas with his co-workers. if the club owner for bastard münchen hadn’t required attendance for this party, he would’ve definitely skipped it.

to be entirely honest, he never even saw the point of celebrating december 25th. every year, the streets of berlin would be glowing with festive lights, and the halls of cathedrals would loudly ring their church bells.

but in kaiser’s dark corner of hell, his father would beat the life out of him. more so than usual— his eyes would bruise purple for weeks, and his nose wouldn’t stop the stream of red that would bleed all over his ragged clothes.

kaiser had learned from a young age, his birthday wasn’t something that should be celebrated, or even acknowledged. it was the day his scummy mother abandoned his even scummier father; it was the day trash was born. how could such an occasion even be celebrated?

with his birthday being public knowledge though, he doesn’t exactly have a choice on if he wants to celebrate it or not.

as clock struck midnight, everyone yelled out christmas greetings and wishes of good will, as well as greetings for kaiser, now a year older.

“woo! happy birthday, asshat! you’re 19!” gesner, incredibly drunk, slurs to kaiser. “a year closer to your death… in the end, we’re all just waiting for the day we never open our eyes again… oh, this is just too sad…” grim shudders, falling to the ground.

birkenstock pulls grim off the floor, and the team gathers around and very off tunely sings happy birthday to kaiser, while ness struggles to light the candle placed on top of the leftover pizza, yet to be finished.

“…happy birthday to you!” they cheer. “make a wish, kaiser.” ness smiles, holding the box.

‘what do i want..?’ he asks himself. he already has a lot more than he’s ever wanted; a comfortable home, decent company— asking for anything else would just seem… wrong.

the candle gleamed a burning red, its’ shine reflecting on kaiser’s face. the hot flames on his face, and he suddenly realizes what he wants— to be human.

that’s all he’s wanted for the longest time, why should he wish for anything else?

he blows out the candle, and they clap. “you guys didn’t need to do anything, i didn’t want to celebrate my birthday.” he lightly reprimanded. ness frowns, he was the one who had wanted surprise kaiser in the first place.

but, gesner boos at his pessimism. “don’t be a jerk, dick cheese! just accept it!” he roughly slaps kaiser on his back, kicking all the air out of his lungs. “oof..!” he coughs. “g..guh… are you sure you’re a football player? you slap so hard, you’re better suited to volleyball.”

gesner scoffs, and goes off on his rant about kaiser’s narcissism.

‘this environment… it’s hostile but, i’m still in control. this… isn’t that bad.’ kaiser thinks to himself. he doesn’t receive their goodwill; he forces it out of them, and they respond with their own form of resistance. yet, they still pass to him, no matter what. because, he’s the one in charge of this team.

“…and, you keep showing off that pretty thing you’re leaving on the hook. she could totally do better than that ‘will they, won’t they?’ situationship of your’s! seriously makes me feel bad for her…”

…kaiser wasn’t exactly sure what brought gesner to bring you up. but, bringing up your… relationship, was a bit of a sour spot for him.

he wanted to love you, you were someone he wanted to stick around for a while. you were kind, almost heaven-sent. something about you that would make him keep coming back. maybe it was the way you’d wake up early with him and make breakfast together, or the way you’d sass him and put him in his place when he was being an asshole. but, he couldn’t make up his mind on whether or not he should tear down those walls he’s built, and start over for you.

kaiser was used to restrictive environments, he thrived in discomfort. but, being vulnerable simply made his skin crawl with disgust. if it was for someone for you though… maybe he could try it. were you really worth it?

…he thinks you could be.

“it’s not a situationship, we’re just hanging out.” kaiser rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his mocktail. “plus, don’t you already have a girl you’re torturing?” he condescends.

thankfully, the party goes on without a fight starting, or kaiser’s birthday being mentioned anymore further.

and by the time kaiser arrives home, it’s already 2:30. he opens the door into his penthouse apartment.

the light is on.

he’s sure he didn’t leave the light on when he had left, there’s only one other explanation.

“s/o?” he called out.

you probably used the spare key for his apartment he gave you after much more frequent visits. did you think he was home?

“ah, hey!” you finally noticed his presence, waving hello. kaiser still had a suspicious glare on his face, his malice evident simply by his tone. “what are you doing here?”

“it’s your birthday!”

“so?”

“so, it has to be celebrated..! it was the day you were born after all.” you brainlessly informed him.

“i don’t celebrate it.” he sighs as he finally shuts the front door, dropping all his belongings on the console table.

“it’s the same day as christmas. it’s a hassle to celebrate two things.” he says the same excuse he’s used millions of times before but today, his act was getting sloppy. it’s clear by his sullen eyes that it’s more than just because it’s a hassle.

“uhuh… well, i made you a cake!”you urge him to come over. of course, it was a box set cake, but you still put tons of effort into decorating it!

what does he do? he wasn’t exactly sure on how to accept gifts in general. he passed through the narrow hall, and into the dining area.

he stared at the cake— it’s frosted in white french buttercream and its’ edges are piped blue with a french star tip. ‘happy birthday mikka’, it reads.

mikka… that isn’t a nickname that you’ve called him before. but, it’s cute. fuck, did he actually like this gift..?

‘…how sweet.’ he thinks. kaiser picked up the box with both his hands, his touch was so delicate. he carried the cake over to the kitchen counter,

…and opened the trash.

“hey! what are you doing..?!” you run to stop him from dumping your hard work into the garbage.

it doesn’t stop him though, it doesn’t even make him struggle. “i told you i don’t celebrate it.” he huffs as some of the cake crumbles and stains his hands.

he takes a frosting-covered finger to his lips, indulging in his salty sweet taste. “ah… it’s good.” he compliments. something that only happens to make you angrier.

“then why did you throw it in the garbage, asshole?!” you yell out. how insensitive could a person get?!

“i already told you, or are those ears of your’s just for decoration?” he scoffs, the air is heavy.

and at that moment, he knew it.

michael kaiser is not meant to love, or be loved.

…

“get out.” he commands. his cold eyes hit you like a dagger. “h..huh..?” you ask, indignant at how you were being treated.

you knew kaiser would be hard to unravel but, why is he acting so different so suddenly?

“i said get out. i already decided…”

“…we’re over, s/o” he decreed. “whatever romance you and i might have had is gone. go find someone else to care about you. i’m not gonna fit your romantic fantasy.”

“i— wait, mikka, we can work this out, okay..?!” you ask, a panicked expression decorating your face. “goddamnit, fine— i’m sorry for calling you an asshole, okay?!”

you sound almost desperate in your tone. but, it still doesn’t shake his decision. “no… get out. find someone who can fulfill that fantasy of your’s, i’m never gonna be the perfect boyfriend that you’re dreaming about. understand?”

and, the cold reality faces you. a look of despair on your face, it’s incredibly pathetic to be in this low of a position right now.

ah, that look on your face… he’ll miss that look of terror and desperation, on your face especially. the way your pretty eyes gleam with tears, and the way your nose scrunches, trying to hold back your snot.

“…fine. i hope you’re happy with your life, kaiser.” you spitefully spit out. his chest hurts when he hears you call him by his last name. did that hurt him..? just a little bit…

…and, that’s when kaiser asks himself the same question.

were you really worth tearing down everything he’s known just to build it all up again?

the answer was yes. you’re worth everything money could afford; you’re as priceless as every star in the sky.

it was kaiser who wasn’t worth it. you deserved more than a scummy asshole who’s too scared love.

but, that’s just the problem with kaiser, isn’t it?

the closer he wants you, the more he pushes you away.

#this is so bad ngl…#blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock angst #bllk angst #bllk manga #bllk x you #bllk x reader #bllk #bllk kaiser #bllk season 2 #michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser #kaiser x you #blue lock kaiser #kaiser x reader #kaiser x y/n #bastard munchen

116 notes · View notes

greenwitchfromthewoods · 1 day ago

Text

nymph. [part 4] l General Marcus Acacius

Summary: you have been with him for a long time, but he has never seen you. but everything has changed.

Warnings: +18, smut, fluff, maybe a little bit of angst, gods and mythology are treated in a simple way

A/N: part 4. I secretly hope you'll be gentle with me. I'm very curious about what your thoughts will be after this chapter. Please remember that I'd love to hear your comments and ideas. And especially when it comes to the ending of this part… I'll leave you alone now. I send you all my love.

I hope you will be gentle with me. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

nymph [masterlist]

"She's not from here."

Marcus raised his eyes and followed his old friend's gaze. They could see your silhouette between the trees. It was a beautiful, sunny day and you and Melitta were spending it in the garden.

The young girl had become your companion, although Marcus had often noticed the embarrassment and delight in her eyes almost simultaneously when she looked at you.

"No, she's not," he confirmed. "But would you believe me if I told you?"

Brutus smiled, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening. "I'm old enough to believe anything." he said. "But please, Marcus. Don't tell me things you should keep to yourself. Here," he pointed to the General's broad chest. "Everything is safer here."

Brutus' gray eyes wandered back to the garden. He had known Marcus when he was a child, his father had been Brutus' friend, and after his death he had surrounded the young man with care. He had never seen a woman in his house before, and he certainly didn't know of any that Acacius would look at in such a way.

"You love her." He said.

He didn't have to ask. He was at an age where certain things were simply obvious to him. Like this.

"I do." Marcus sighed. "More than anything."

"That's good. You can't fight the whole world without someone close to you. But she's not from here. Is she free?"

Marcus's eyebrows drew together. "I didn't take her as a concubine or a slave. She's free, more than any of us."

"Her family?" he saw a shadow in Acacius's gaze. "I see. Don't explain it, Marcus. She shouldn't appear among people without a background. Let's think..."

A warm wind blew through the window, playing with the delicate curtains, carrying with it the sweet scent of flowers. Brutus took a sip of wine and cleared his throat.

"You should say that her parents died when she was still a child. It would be safest." he said, and Marcus fixed his gaze on him, listening carefully. "Later, some distant family member took care of her. It wasn't a significant family. You met and fell in love, simply. Don't mention her origins, don't pay attention to her. Some may gossip about you, but it will quickly die down."

"I'm not afraid of gossip, only of her safety." Acacius replied. "I am the General, and I'm afraid that I won't be able to ensure the safety of the one I love."

Brutus nodded his gray head in understanding. "The gods must be favorable to you if you found each other in this vast world. It's a good sign."

And he really hoped that his friend was right.

A dozen or so days at Marcus' house passed quickly. You didn't find boredom there. Melitta accompanied you every day, slowly becoming a close friend.

Antigonus, on the other hand, strived to ensure that all your requests, or at least those that General Acacius agreed to, were fulfilled. So although he sometimes grumbled something under his breath, he let you sit for hours in a room full of maps and writings, which you looked through, and then in the evenings you asked Marcus about them.

His duties to the Emperor and Rome didn't allow him to spend as much time with you as he would have liked, but the thought that he was coming back to you was something that kept him sane.

Never before had this house been filled with such conversations and feelings. Never before had he felt as if he was hiding the most precious treasure. You.

"If you knew the true faces of the gods, your eyes would turn white." You said one evening, turning in the sheets. The glow of the candles danced on your bare back, and your hair was in a sweet mess. "All those carvings in the temples, the paintings - poof! - nonsense. None of you have seen the true wrath of Mars or Jupiter. You have not experienced the grace of Venus."

"So what lies next to me if not a gift from Venus?" Marcus asked, leaning down and placing a kiss somewhere between your shoulder blades. "Or Mars? I thought I was the favorite of the gods?"

"Sometimes you are too sure of yourself, General." You replied sarcastically, but you sighed quietly when his hand tightened on your buttock. "The gods have their favorites, but that doesn't mean they can't get bored with them."

"I don't care." His hands grabbed your hips and quickly turned you around, your laughter filling the darkened chamber. "As long as I have you in my hands, I am not afraid of the wrath of the gods. You are my redemption."

A hand tenderly stroked his cheek, fingers slipping into the curly hair among which you could see silver threads. "Don't treat me like one of them, my beloved... I'm not worthy of this."

The brown eyes that were staring at you, however, said something else. Adoration and delight radiated from his insides.

"To me, you are above them all." he replied, spreading your thighs with his hand and placing himself between them. "I want to adore you every day. Praise the day when my eyes saw you for the first time. Fight for you, conquer for you, live for you."

"Marcus..."

His hard cock slid into you without a problem, all the way to the base. Still slippery, full of his seed. You had made love just a moment earlier, like almost every night. Almost, because you also appreciated those moments when you could just fall asleep in each other's arms, feeling the closeness of your bodies, feeling the steady beating of your hearts.

"I will adore and worship you." his voice was low, he whispered to you as if he was praying "Your body is a temple, your sweet moans are songs of praise..." you sighed feeling him move inside you, you tightened your fingers on his strong shoulders "I was a mere mortal when your grace fell upon me. You were the one who decided to stay with me, now I will give you all of myself."

Hot lips kissed your neck as Marcus thrust into you with increasing force. You already knew perfectly well his endless hunger for you, so you gave him what he needed.

Acacius was a generous lover. He gave you pleasure in every way he knew, and you fell apart in his hands, intoxicated by this feeling.

You never thought before that bodies could fit together so well, complement each other so much and give each other small deaths, while feeling that they were more alive than ever before.

"I love you..." his hot whisper reached your ears, you wrapped your arms around his neck, slid your hands into his soft hair "More than life, more than anything I know."

He hit exactly that spot, you couldn't say a word, catching your breath. His hot, sweaty body was pressing down on you lightly, but it didn't matter. Soon the pleasure spread through your body, all your senses and heart froze.

Marcus felt your delicate walls squeeze his cock, but he didn't stop. His prayers had to be finished. He lifted himself on his shoulders, eyes swept over your sweaty cleavage and breasts, wandering to the place where you were connected. He disappeared inside you a few more times, and then a deep moan escaped his throat as his seed spurted into you, filling you up again.

Tender hands touched his face again, pulling him into a kiss. Soft lips that he never wanted to leave, arms that were supposed to embrace him forever. The woman who was supposed to love him for eternity.

When Marcus told you that morning that you could go out with him and see Rome, your eyes widened with delight. You had been begging him to let you see the city for a long time, although you understood perfectly well why he refused to do so. Every decision had to be thought out, every move planned.

"We'll visit Brutus, it's nothing interesting." he said, but the smile didn't leave his lips when he saw the glint in your eyes.

Melitta had been trying to help you dress for several minutes, but you were so excited that you couldn't stand still.

"My lady." she sighed. "The sun will set before you cross the threshold. Please..."

"I know, I know..." you repeated once again "It's just so, so exciting."

"Rome is beautiful." Melitta draped the material over your shoulder "You'll like it. Although I prefer forests and meadows... Bathed in the morning light, with the grass still covered in dew."

You tightened your fingers lightly on her arm. "I'll take you there, I promise." you said quietly "Soon."

The door creaked and you both jumped as General Acacius appeared before you. Even though he wasn't wearing armor, he still looked dignified. He smiled at the sight of you and nodded towards Melitta.

"Is everything ready?"

"Yes, my lord." she said curtsying.

"You did well." he praised her "You look wonderful, my love. I have something for you."

He took your hand and carefully slid a gold ring with an emerald stone onto your finger. He pressed his lips to your knuckles.

"It's for your safety." He explained seeing your questioning look. "Anyone who sees this ring will know who you..."

"...belong to." You finished for him.

He kissed your hand again and covered it with his. He wanted to avoid saying those words, but at the same time he wanted them. He wanted to know that you were only his.

Your eyes darted from one face to another, from one fruit stand to the beautifully dressed people you saw leaving the building. Conversations, laughter, the sound of horses' hooves, children running around. You had never been in a place like this before.

Marcus was close to you the whole time, observing your every move and gesture, noticing every smile and delight in your eyes. For a moment he regretted that he didn't see it all the same way you did.

Years of fighting wars, talking to politicians, worrying about the fate of the country, had made him feel tired and numb. To everything, except you.

"Thank you, beautiful lady! May the gods bless you!" a hoarse voice rang out behind him.

It was only then that he noticed that you had escaped his eyes. Something or someone caught your attention. An older man, in a tattered robe, who was sitting against the wall begging for alms. The closer to the gladiator fights, the more of them appeared in the city, of all ages, sexes, and in various states of health.

Something flashed in the man's dirty hand and Acacius realized that you had given him one of your rings. Not the one he had given you that morning, some other one. He felt a warm surge of affection for you, because he had already forgotten what or who you were before, that you thought differently than those he knew.

A strong hand gently grabbed your arm. "We should go."

You nodded and obediently followed Marcus.

"The Emperor expects your presence during the fights. You should be there." Brutus sat comfortably on a bench under a spreading tree and nodded to the young girl who handed him wine. "There will be no better opportunity for her to go there with you."

"I'm not so sure about that." Marcus replied. "The Emperor, these people..."

"You can't keep her at home forever, Marcus!" the man snorted "I know you want her safety, but someone will notice her soon. Besides, I heard that a few people would be interested in you finally getting married."

Acacius frowned and snorted at the very statement. This topic always appeared when he returned to Rome, that's why he preferred barracks and battlefields, soldiers didn't care about marital status.

Besides, marriage for people of his position was rarely connected with deeper feelings. It was about the arrangement, about position, about wealth, about creating a strong family.

Somewhere nearby he heard a familiar quiet laugh and noticed you with Aurelia, Brutus' wife, who was showing you around their house. His friend noticed how the General's face brightened at the sight of you.

"It gives me great joy to see you like this." he said warmly "I don't know what spell this girl has cast on you, but the gods are kind to you, since they allowed your paths to cross."

"I will be grateful to them for the rest of my life." Marcus said. "I feel like I knew her before my eyes first met her."

"Is that possible?"

"I don't know... Maybe it was just a dream." He raised his glass to his lips and took a sip of sweet wine. "So be it. She will accompany me there." Brutus patted him on the shoulder happily. "You're right. There will be no better time, and I don't want to risk it."

"We will be there too. But warn her, Marcus. A viper's nest is a terrible place for beautiful creatures like her."

Acacius nodded. A strange fear filled his heart, but when he heard your footsteps, when he felt a familiar hand on his shoulder, it all flew away with the wind.

Something strange woke you up at night. For a moment you tried to understand what it was. Marcus was sleeping quietly next to you, his arm around your waist, his body as hot as the sun close to yours.

You felt it again. The scent that woke you up, so familiar.

Sage and other herbs, burning somewhere outside the window, in a garden immersed in darkness. You quietly and carefully got out of bed and threw thin robes over your naked body. The window was open and the gentle wind must have unconsciously brought the delicate smoke into the room.

You strained your eyes to see in the darkness the person who was not only burning herbs, but also...

Yes, you knew the words to this prayer. You had heard it several times in one of the temples, but not in the temple dedicated to Minerva. These were words addressed to Venus, and they were whispered quietly by someone you knew so well.

A prayer filled with regret, interwoven with quiet sobbing…

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

@ashleyfilm @gothcsz @littlenicpascal @missladym1981 @axshadows @psychoenergy @sabsunflowergirl @pedrofan @heckzprince @hard-candy-writing @mynameisbaby9 @94namkooksworld @bbyanarchist @picketniffler @tranquilty @psyched2b @jeewrites @tuquoquebrute @aotfantasmagorias

#pedro pascal #marcus acacius #gladiator 2 #general acacius #marcus acacius x reader #general marcus acacius #general marcus acacius x reader #gladiator ii #nymph series

107 notes · View notes