#you can also be a man <3 and still have long hair <3 who the fuck cares its literally 2024 <3

[floralovebot]

why do people think he was meant to be a woman? helia’s design was very clearly based off shojo anime love interests à la tuxedo mask (although i strongly believe the main inspiration for his design was actually goemon ishikawa from lupin iii lol)

exactly!!! the entire "mysterious pretty long haired boy who is gentle but can still fight for you" is lifted directly from shojo anime like ajdkajdg personally, i think he was inspired by hotohori from fushigi yuugi !! (at least in terms of visuals,, ajhgl) (it's extra funny to me cause there's an entire joke about hotohori being so beautiful that everyone thinks he's a woman aldjhg) (also helia's initial design being red instead like... bro.....)

look at this bitch!!! they stole his hair!!!

anyway this rumor is so dumb too like it's been around for Years (i remember being ten looking at forum posts about this) but no one has ever found proof or even implications. no one from rainbow has ever confirmed this. years ago, someone probably said something along the lines of "helia is so feminine i wonder if he was meant to be a girl at first" and everyone else just fucking ran with it.

i know at one point the popular rumor was that rainbow wanted to introduce two new winx members (aka aisha and helia) but decided that would be too much and just went with aisha instead and made helia a boy. which like. cmon aldhg

but it's just SO so bad like it's literally just white people going "oh wow long hair into art And poetry??? WOMAN" it's like ?? the fans who think they're being progressive for this too like ajdhglda you are Literally just doing gender stereotypes. that's what you're doing here. you saw a man with long hair and a quiet personality and went "aha! i have discovered that you are secretly a woman!" like. buddy. you sound like a right wing lugnut yelling about "we can always tell" like BOOOOOO

again i really do think a good test is if you can't see any of the other specialists (especially brandon and sky) as women or as trans men then you shouldn't headcanon helia like that. if you can't see white muscular men as "feminine" in any way, then you shouldn't be doing that to helia. (anyway woman!sky my beloved) (someone ask me about sky secretly being a girl au NOW) (LESBIAN SKOOM LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOO)

anyway i'm starting a new rumor: tecna was actually supposed to be a boy specialist but they didn't want two nerds in the group so they made him a girl and put her in the winx instead. you can still see clear masculine elements in her design like her short hair, brutish personality, and interest in technology. things we all know women would never have. follow for more fun winx club facts!!!!

(that's how stupid ignorant and frankly misogynistic you all sound when making your helia was clearly a woman posts fuck you fuck you fuck you)

[milkwands]

why did i think having a crush again would be fun

[dollgxtz]

Ok a fic where reader and sylus are at a business meeting, she “offers” herself as payment (maybe as a joke or just to rile sylus idk) and he makes sure to remind her who she belongs to? Please???

Kindred Spirits

Word Count: 5.1k

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, possessiveness, ownership, spanking, hitting, slight blood mention, pet names like kitten & sweetie, creampie, rough sex, crying, slight fluff at the end :3

AN: Anon ur a literal genius. This has Sylus written all over it. Im so happy to be back posting another story for you all! Also happy to announce my masterlist is now complete and can be found in my pinned! Ty all! Enjoy and remember, my asks are open for any character, Sylus is just my husband LOL. Remember to read my pinned before requesting please! This is a bit tamer than my other stories but trust I am cooking up some deviant content as soon as I publish this one :33

“Finally…”

You nearly collapse near your front door. A whole week of your life. Gone. To what you ask? Dealing with wanderers on a special aid mission. Sure sure, the job paid well but it had been weeks since your last off day. Every time it seemed like one was around the corner here they go with some emergency call and a spill about how some rich politician needed help or something.

You were starting to get tired of cleaning up other people’s mistakes.

You fumbled with your keys, fingers numb from the biting cold. The wind whipped around you, making you shiver as you tried to fit the right key into the lock. Your breath came out in visible puffs, and you could feel the frustration building with each failed attempt. Finally, with a relieved sigh, you heard the click of the lock turning.

The still warm air is such a welcoming contrast to the wind and biting cold outside. You quickly shut your door and melt to the floor, your feet aching with relief as the pressure you had been putting on them subsided. Peace at last. Time for a hot shower an-

Your peace was cut short with the distinct tone of your phone ringing. And not just any ring tone. The one you had set specifically for a certain white haired man that only ever brought trouble. Wondering if you should even pick up, you bring the phone to your face, knowing that you were going to answer regardless.

“Sylus…I’m really tired. Can we talk lat-"

“Long time no see kitten. You should stop by for a bit, hm?”

You roll your eyes, suppressing the urge to scoff out loud. Arrogant prick, you think, irritated by his inability to let you finish a sentence without interrupting. How did he even know you were home now?

You sigh deeply, feeling the tension building, and rub your temples to alleviate the mounting frustration. No, you tell yourself firmly. You wouldn’t put up with this today. Maybe another day, but definitely not today.

"Actually, no. I just returned from a week-long aid mission. Not today," you say firmly, aiming to be clear and resolute in your decision to stay put. Sylus however, seems to sense the cracks in your resolve and only responds with a chuckle.

“I want to see you. I’ll have Luke and Kieran come get you since you’re so tired”.

“Hu-”

“See you soon. They’re en route. Ciao”

The phone clicks, signaling the end of the call. For whatever reason, your ever growing frustration simply dissipates, defeat taking its place. You should be used to this by now. Sylus always gets what he wants. And you always let him. It goes without saying that it’s the same way for you as well. At least, Sylus always gives you what you want if it doesn’t interfere with his need to lay his eyes on you at least once in awhile. He knew that you wouldn’t push this though. You both knew.

Deep down, you wanted to see him too.

You asked Luke and Kieran to wait outside for a bit while you took a brisk shower and freshened up. Those two had always been very patient and understanding. You felt bad “bossing” them around, and yet they always insisted that you could. Though Luke had admitted on one occasion that he never expected to be helping a girl find hair ties or carrying shopping bags while working for Onychinus.

The statement had made you laugh a bit. You finally finish dressing in some plain sweats and rush to the car. Luke and Kieran are waiting outside of a dark colored jeep. Not too flashy as to not draw attention, but it was still clearly very expensive.

“Actually miss, Boss wanted you to wear these” Luke says, holding out an expensive looking dress. Clearly designed by hand and tailored to your measurements. Kieran follows his lead, holding out a box containing a pair of earrings and a lavish looking necklace.

“Huh? What’s this for? A date?”

“Business. That’s all he said” Kieran chimed in. Although you couldn’t see their faces, you knew they had no reason to lie to you about this.

“Ah. Dragging me into more trouble. Got it”.

When the three of you finally arrived to the location, the sun had already set for the day. You darted your eyes back and forth, squinting above at the bright neon sign of the establishment.

“We’re not going to the N109 Zone? This is a nightclub…” you mutter, taken aback by the unfamiliar surroundings. When did this even get here? There were plenty of clubs in Linkon of course, but you never seemed to notice this one. Not that you knew much about the night life to begin with. People were lined up at the entrance, chatting, fixing makeup, or texting.

“Boss wants you here. He’s waiting inside. Enjoy your time miss” Luke said, amusement written all over his tone. He gets out of the passenger seat to open the door and lend you a hand. You rolled your eyes, not wanting to appear shaken up by the situation. Sylus was always full of surprises. This was no different, act confident.

At least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself. After getting almost immediate entrance into the club with just a simple nod from the guard, you enter. As you walk inside the club, Luke and Kieran not far behind you, you can tell this was no ordinary night club. Everyone here was dressed lavishly and sharp, clearly possessing power and ulterior motives. A few eyes lay on you as you walk in, and you feel your hands start to sweat.

Keep cool. This isn’t the first time you’ve been around high ranking individuals. This is probably some test he set up…right? Or some kind of joke to get a laugh?

Clenching your fists, your eyes dart and search for a tall figure with white hair, feeling more nervous by the second that you don’t see him. You’re about to turn around and ask one of the twins, but at last your gaze settles on him, sipping on a glass of Gin Fizz. He’s sitting in a velvety booth by himself, people watching. He’s wearing his black button up with red streaks across it, coat hanging on his shoulders per usual. As if he felt you staring, his eyes shift to meet yours. He sets down his glass, giving you you a small smirk. His eyes narrow, sending a very clear message.

Come here.

As if you were suddenly possessed, your feet seem to start moving on their own. You weren’t sure if you were relieved to see him or if it was just the relief of seeing a familiar face in an unfamiliar place. You take a few deep breaths as you approach, readying your witful replies to any of his attempts to make fun of you. Without making any sound or looking at him, you quietly slide in next to him.

“You look nice. Seems I was right about this look on you” Sylus says, taking another sip of his drink. His eyes wander up and down behind the glass, seemingly devouring you. You squirm under his gaze.

“Hm. Thanks. This gift is the least you can do after dragging me to do whatever you want on a whim once again” you scoff, eyeing the full glass that sits on the table. It’s another glass of Gin Fizz, probably for Sylus. There’s three other very empty glasses on the table.

This man can definitely hold his alcohol.

He chuckles, taking a finger and pushing the glass of Gin closer to you.

“Don’t be like that sweetie. Loosen up a bit, you’ll need it”

“For what exactly? Business?” you mock, picking up the Gin. You didn’t exactly like the taste of this particular alcohol of choice but Sylus was right about one thing. Some liquid courage was definitely needed for whatever shenanigans he was dragging you into tonight.

“Yeah. Figured I could use Linkon’s darling Miss Hunter as backup” Sylus chuckles, watching you nearly choke as you take three big gulps of the drink. You squeeze your eyes in disgust as you finish the rest of the glass, shooting a death glare in his direction as you set it down.

“You’re perfectly capable. Don’t mock me Sylus”. You grit your teeth in irritation, almost ready to rip him to shreds with your words. Clearly your tone has no effect on him though, as all you get in return is a soft smile. Sylus places a hand on your upper leg, slowing sliding his fingers under your dress. You gasp, the coldness of his fingers making you twitch a bit. The warmness of your skin mixed with his cold touch makes the sensation feel like icy fire.

“Or what? You’ll use this on me?” he smirks, tugging on the concealed gun strapped under your dress. “I’m all for it honestly”

You slap his hand away, the woozy feeling from the Gin Fizz starting to kick in. What was in this drink? It was strong. Too strong.

“Pervert. Always touching me, making fun of me. Maybe I will shoot you. Again.” you growl, turning your head away from him. You attempt to scoot away as well, but are met with a strong grip around your waist as you’re pulled into closer proximity with him. Sylus grabs your chin and lifts it towards his face. He leans down a bit, the smell of alcohol and his bourbon vanilla cologne making you feel even more dizzy.

“You can put your claws away now kitten. Don’t make me have to melt your little tantrum away” he coos, gently caressing your face with his thumb.

You stare at him, dumbfounded, desperately searching your sluggish brain for a comeback but finding yourself too flustered to form any words. The look in Sylus’s eyes shifts from a smug expression to a much softer, almost tender gaze, and you wonder what his next move will be. Your face starts to burn as you feel heat rising in your core, your heart pounding in your chest. Panic sets in as you consider the possibilities, your mind racing with the fear of what might come next.

Don’t tell me he’s going to…?!

"You're so...confusing" you mutter.

You’re just about to try and squirm from his grip, when Luke and Kieran tap on the table, catching yalls attention.

“Boss man, Val says he’s ready for ya” Luke says, nonchalantly ignoring the scene that’s displayed in front of him. Sylus releases your face, his face going serious again. He gets up, reaching out a hand to help you out of the booth.

“Time for business, sweetie”

You’re guided by the twins and Sylus past the sweaty bodies on the dance floor to a somewhat hidden room located downstairs. The area the stairs led to was blocked off by a singular rope, clearly only meant for a select crowd.

In the room there’s a long black table, cards and chips all over it. There’s a few prominent figures already seated, along with a few bodyguards standing near the door. Sylus pulls a seat out for you, before taking his own. You study the figure that’s sitting at the head of the table as you sit. He’s short, a bit chubby, dark hair, smoking a cigar. A scar sits angrily on his forehead and you wonder what kinda grudges led to such an injury. He notices you looking at him, and gives you a devilish grin. Some of his teeth are crooked or missing.

All that money and he can't fix his smile?

You shudder. Sylus looks over at you, and back to the man at the head of the table. He’s reading you, clearly sensing your nervousness. He says nothing, simply reaching a hand over to rest on your thigh.

“Was starting to think you were going to keep me waiting Sylus. Seems you didn’t run after all” he laughs, wheezing a bit as he takes another puff of his cigar. You wrinkle your nose a bit as the potent smell hits your senses.

“I couldn’t turn down a game of cards with my dear old friend” Sylus says, irritation coating the last word. “Let’s keep things civil this time, hm Valentino?”

Valentino bursts into laughter, clearly amused. Despite his laughter, you couldn’t ignore the murderous tension in the air. Something tells you this isn’t any regular game of cards. You gulp, trying to force yourself to look at everyone at the table and smile.

“Well hello little lady. Sylus, you didn’t tell me you kept such gorgeous company…” Val says, his eyes snaking all over your body. You feel Sylus squeeze your thigh, clearly irritated. He pulls out a coin from his coat pocket, seemingly trying to channel his frustrations into something else.

“You know I’m not really the type to share, Val. She’s all mine. Down to every single strand of hair”. Sylus ends, catching the coin and shooting a glare in the man’s direction. It was plain, but conveyed a message very well.

You feel your palms start to sweat. Was he being serious right now?? You side eye him, trying to piece out whether or not this was some kind of facade you’re supposed to play into. Valentino clearly takes Sylus’s words as a challenge.

“I’ll give you twenty million for her. Maybe fifty million if you make her give us a little strip show. What do ya say? She looks so soft. Probably makes cute noises too…~” he chuckles, likely enjoying the look of surprise that washes across your face.

Sylus remains quiet, his face unmoving, frozen in a pissed glare. You don’t know if it was the alcohol you drank earlier, or if it was some inkling of an attempt to dissipate the tension, but you clear your throat and begin to speak.

“Well Sylus? You can share can’t you? It’s quite the generous offer Mr. Valentino. I’m quite flattered actually.” you express, putting on your best smug look. Sylus stiffens, a somewhat shocked expression washing over him. Valentino erupts into yet another fit of laughter, seemingly unable to contain himself. Turning to look back at Sylus, you see it in his face briefly. An uncaged look of rage before it quickly dissipates.

Shit. Shouldn’t have said that.

Far too late to stop now though.

“You heard the lady Sylus. Why don’t you try sharing just this once? What I would give to taste that sweet little body of he-”

Sylus slams a revolver on the table, then calmly starts picking up cards from the deck.

"I'd suggest you stop talking and start playing the game, Mr. Valentino," Sylus snarls, his words dripping with venom. The fury in his voice is palpable, and it's clear he's reached the end of his patience.

You give Val a sly look, feigning pity. “Ah, sorry Valentino. Seems this one can’t quite let me go yet”. You don’t know what you were trying to achieve, but it’s certainly not working to dissipate any tension. Val doesn’t respond to you though, all his focus on Sylus now.

“My dear friend. You should know me by now. There’s something I’m much more interested in now than some money. Now I want the girl, or nothing”.

Valentino wears a shit eating grin on his face, soaking in the fact that he thinks he’s gained some control of the situation, unaffected by the gun on the table. Sylus simply sighs, rubbing his fingers against the temple of his forehead.

“I see where this is going then”.

You barely process what’s happening before everything and everyone starts moving. As soon as Sylus begins to stand, Valentinos guards start shooting. Sylus wastes no time flipping the large table, sending the cards and game chips flying everywhere. You yelp as he yanks you towards him using his body and the table to shield the oncoming attack of bullets. You hear Luke and Kieran joining in the frenzy, yelling obscenities as they begin shooting their own hidden weapons.

You swiftly reach for the weapon concealed beneath your dress, your fingers brushing against the cool metal as you draw it out. Turning to face Sylus, you ready yourself for his instructions, your body tense with anticipation. Instead of giving you orders, he locks eyes with you, his gaze piercing through you with an intensity that feels like it's reaching into your very soul. The silence is heavy, charged with unspoken tension as bullets whip past the both of you, and you can feel your heartbeat quicken in response.

“I need you alive for what’s coming sweetie. Pay attention, stay close”

You blink. Twice. Unable to process his words before he yanks you both up, one hand using his evol to send the table crashing into several bodyguards. The four of you fight your way through the onslaught of people coming into the door, before eventually dashing up the stairs. People are running in all directions, seemingly caught up in the chaos of everything. You all manage to make it out the door and into the brisk cold air, the twins quickly hopping into the car to whisk you away.

“Go on, I’ll catch up soon” Sylus states, hurriedly pushing you into the car and slamming the door before you could protest. He signals Kieran to drive off, and that he does.

“He’s…going to level the building. Isn’t he?” you sigh, sighing at the fact that Sylus seemed to conveniently forget that this was in fact not the lawless land of the N109 Zone. No doubt the Hunter’s Association would have to investigate for potential wanderer activity, and that would be a lot of paperwork.

"It's fine. He owned that place anyway. He'll just build another," Luke says, his voice calm and unbothered. Just as the words leave his mouth, a deafening boom erupts behind the car, shaking the ground beneath yall. The explosion's shockwave rattles the windows, and the sky lights up with a fiery glow, cutting off Luke's next sentence mid-breath.

You groan.

The twins did drive you to the N109 this time, swiftly helping you out the car and into Sylus’s private villa. When you entered the front door, a nightgown and lacy underwear were laid neatly out for you in his room, your arrival clearly anticipated.

It wasn’t more than an hour before Sylus waltzed in the front door, eyeing your slouching figure on the couch. You sit up as soon as you see him, still somewhat annoyed.

“What took you so damn long? Also do you have to level every building you come across?” you spat, glaring at him. He says nothing though, walking straight past you and into his room.

“Huh? Sylus?? What the hell…”

Not liking the feeling of being ignored, you hurriedly chased after him. You had never really been uncomfortable barging into his room. You had done it plenty of times at this point, the first time being when he had challenged you to steal the brooch from him. No point in being shy now. He’s fumbling with something in his drawer when you reach up to tap his shoulder.

“Sylus! Don’t ignore me, I know you ca-”

He swiftly turns around, grabbing your wrist before you can touch him. His gaze is unreadable, cold even. You start to sweat, trying to take your arm back. But he only squeezes tighter.

"I was hoping you'd leave me be so I could calm down. But of course you're as petulant as ever" he says.

"Let go! What's wrong with you!?" You attempt to remove his hand from your wrist but he doesn't budge.

“Go to the bed. Place your hands on it” he says, face unchanging.

“Huh??”

“I don’t like to repeat myself”.

You freeze for only a moment before quickly moving to the bed. You meticulously put your hands where instructed, something deep in your core telling you that it’s likely best to listen for now. However, you can’t help to look over your should to quip at Sylus. You’re slightly bent at an angle, trying your best to keep your balance.

“What’s this about? I’m not that upset that you reduced the building to rubble”

Sylus snakes his way behind you, quietly, as if thinking of what to say. He reaches out a hand, grabbing the ends of your nightgown and moving the soft fabric around in his fingers. You feel the heat rise to your face, the skin of your ass feeling a slight gush of cold air.

“You like playing games with me, don’t you? Testing me” he says coldly, fingers trailing up the back of your legs slowly. You shiver, attempting to squirm away. His evol appears around you, its tight grip making you cry out.

Oh. This was about that.

“Huh?? No, I was just playing along. Just friendly banter yknow?” you say, voice wavering. You’ve clearly pissed him off. A part of you knows it’s a slight lie. You didn’t want to admit it out loud but it was kind of amusing to see Sylus get so riled up over something. Over you especially. But you hadn’t exactly done it fully on purpose. It was the alcohol.

But you knew he wasn’t buying it, as observant as he was.

“Sure. You were just pretending to act like a stray kitten trying to find a new owner?” he smirks, his fingers beginning to trace circles over the cloth of your panties. You let out a small whine, his touch just barely grazing your already wet cunt.

“Owner? I don’t belong to you. Or anyone” you scoff, the resolve in your voice wavering with every little circle he completes on your skin. You almost whine in disappointment when he pulls away.

“And yet…” Sylus trails off, leaving you with aching curiosity before you’re met with stinging pain on your ass. You cry out, unable to move with his evol still snaked around you. “You did exactly what I told you to do just now, wear the clothes I leave out for you, and practically melt everytime I even barely touch you”.

“Sylus?! What the hell was that…?!” you exclaim, trying your hardest to process his words and the situation at hand. He doesn’t respond, proceeding to gently caress the spot where he smacked you. The stinging pain gently eases away, and you feel yourself relaxing with his touch once again. He once again trails his fingers down to your clothed pussy, rubbing slow and meticulous circles around it. You start to whine, attempting to push yourself into his fingers for more friction. He pulls his hand away, making a disapproving sigh.

“Acting like you’re in heat per usual” he chuckles, watching as you wiggle around under the grip of his evol. “This is a punishment”.

“For what? Cause I let some sick and ugly looking crime boss think he had a chance with me?”

Sylus wastes no time bringing his hand to your ass again, earning another painful whine out of you. You feel tears forming in your eyes that you can’t wipe away. He’s certainly not holding back his strength, and yet you know this isn’t even a third of the force he could use on you.

“For entertaining him” he says plainly.

Another smack.

“Another for stupidly handing over your life, body and soul for a measly twenty million”

An even harder hit, this one fueled by rage.

“And lastly…”

You nearly choke as he delivers the final blow, your ass definitely bruising by now. Sylus offers no comfort this time, instead leaning down next to your crying face, breath hot against your ear.

“For forgetting that you belong to me, just as much as I belong to you. Kindred spirits remember?”

You have no chance to respond before he’s flipping you on your back, your nightgown flying up to reveal your wet panties.

“I-im sorry, Sy” you choke, tears blurring your vision.

“Show me then, sweetie. Spread your legs. Wide” he instructs, reaching up to brush your tears away. This isn’t done lovingly, more like calculated and cold.

This is far from over.

You silently but shakingly open your legs, your ass still painfully aching from his assault. You’re surprised when he doesn’t rip your underwear in two, choosing to rather peel them off your legs slowly. You notice the hunger in his eyes as he does so, as if savoring the view of your cunt at his fingertips. A small drop of arousal pools down your ass, and Sylus scoops it up with one finger.

You watch as he puts his finger in his mouth, savoring the drop of you with swiftness. His piercing gaze never leaves yours though, and you want to suddenly run away and hide. This is beyond thrilling, but you try your best to remain as still as possible, scared that he’ll think you’re enjoying it too much and punish you accordingly.

You suddenly can’t take the tension anymore, and close your eyes. You hear the sound of Sylus removing his belt from its loops, then the loud clang as it hits the floor. You feel the bed shift as he lowers himself over you, his face stopping just inches over yours, indicated by the sudden feel and warmth of his breath. He grabs your face in his hand and squeezes your jaw. Hard.

“Look at me kitten” he commands, his tone filled with unkempt rage and anger. Your eyes fly open, terrified.

“I’m the only one that will ever taste you. Repeat it” he says. Before you can get a word out, he’s pushing the fat tip of his cock in your entrance. You cry out in agony, nowhere near ready to have been penetrated. But he doesn’t stop filling you.

“Repeat it. Or I’ll hit you again. Do you want that?”

“You’re t-the…ah!” you whine, his cock halfway inside you at this point. Your poor cunt feels like it’s being impaled, splitting pain soaring through your core.

“Try again”

You let out a whimper, trying your best to push through the pain and put thoughts into words.

“You’re the oh-only one that gets to taste me” you choke out, voice wavering and your eyes teary. Sylus gives a hard thrust, pushing the rest of his length inside you. You cry out again, feeling like you’re on the verge of passing out. Sylus seems unmoved by your outbursts though.

“And?”

You stare at him, barely able to see his face through the tears. What? What does he mean and? He didn’t say anything else did he?

“Hu-what?”

You hear him sigh with disapproval, giving you yet another hard thrust. And another. And another. You’re clinging onto his back now, nails digging into his skin as the sound of the bed creaking and your pants fill the room. Blood has probably been drawn on his back, not that he’d even notice. You can hear him grunting in your ear, clearly enjoying the feeling of you tightening around him when you tense from the pain. Although it still hurts, you can feel yourself accumulating to the shape and size of his length, and the pain lessons a bit more with each thrust. He stops once again, tilting your face in his grip.

“What did I say you forgot? Or is this kitten filled with too much cock to think straight now?” he mocks. You can hear the smile on his face despite not being able to see him clearly. Heat creeps up on your cheeks as you wrack your brain for answers.

“I-you…we’re kindred spirits?”

“Before that sweetie”

You blink the tears on your face away, your vision becoming a bit more clear. Although he’s still gazing down at you, his expression is not as angry as before. Seems he’s gotten a bit of his pent up anger out now.

“I belong to you, Sylus” you say, voice small and whiny from crying. That’s definitely what he wanted to hear, as he began to pepper kisses on your neck, on your cheek, and eventually resting on your lips. You greedily return his affection, leaning into this feverish kiss, the both of you only periodically stopping to pant for air between kisses. He stops, resting his forehead with yours, gazing into your eyes once more.

“And I belong to you. What’s mine is yours. All of it”

You don’t get a chance to respond before he’s thrusting again, this time with a continuous and steady pace. You cling onto him, the exchange of flowery words and rigorous thrusting already bringing you on the verge of ecstasy. Sylus already noticed long before you did though, as he brought his hand between the two of you, circling your clit further your stimulation.

“Go ahead, come undone for me” he whispers, voice strained for nearly being at his end too. Your body obeys, unraveling and writhing with pleasure as Sylus continues to pound into you. You ride your orgasm to its end, till the touching of your clit becomes too much and you whine from overstimulation.

“Sylus…!” you moan, and he stops, already at the start of his own climax. You shudder as you feel him spill into you, his seed immediately beginning to pool down your cunt and to your ass. He pulls his heavy cock out of you, a feeling of emptiness taking its place. For a moment nothing is said, just the sound of the both of you catching your breath.

You decide to break the silence.

“Sylus…I’m really sorry” you start, looking up at him. He simply chuckles, placing a kiss on your cheek before getting up to grab a rag from the bathroom.

“You’ve taken your punishment quite well, why are you apologizing again sweetie?” he says from the bathroom, coming back to wipe you clean. You scoff, slightly tensing from the coldness of the cloth.

“Hmph. Fine, I take it back then. I’m holding a grudge anyways for how hard you hit me”

He simply sighs as he finishes wiping you up. “Back with the infamous wit already? Can’t a man catch a break?”

You sit up, feeling emboldened once more.

“Nope. Maybe don’t hit me with the strength of a thousand suns next time and we’ll see”

Sylus tosses the rag in a laundry basket, making his way back to your side. He pulls you into his arms, embracing you in his warmth. You can’t help but smile against his chest.

“Well, good thing I have all night to make it up to you”

You lightly pinch his side, giggling into his embrace. A question crosses your mind.

"Did you mean it Sylus? We belong to each other?"

Sylus took your face in his hand, giving you a slight smile.

"I don't say stuff I don't mean. You know this"

That's the furthest he was willing to explain it. At least for now. Who knows what kind of power trip would ensue if you truly knew how much you had the big bad leader of Onychinus wrapped around your finger.

[hairmetal666]

Eddie owns a record store, gets to talk about music everyday. Life is good. Great, actually.

He's consolidating the Christian rock section on a quiet Wednesday morning when it happens. A man with swoopy dark hair, tight dark blue jeans, and a plum Member's Only jacket walks in, and doesn't take his Ray Bans off even once he's solidly inside.

Eddie is awestruck. This dude is gorgeous. Heart stopping. He watches him browse in quiet astonishment, unable to say anything until he blurts, "Can I help you find something?"

The man smiles--Eddie's heart stops--and he says, "Nah, just browsing. Your sign caught my eye."

And he's still not quite with the program, the rich honey of the man's voice taking him totally by surprise. "Ah, oh, it did?" He manages after a few long beats. "Painted it myself."

"No shit? It's great."

"Thanks, man. I also think it's some of my finest work."

The guy laughs. "How can I know unless I see some of your other pieces?"

Eddie's face heats, but he's never been known for having good impulse control. "Maybe you'll get lucky."

Spots of pink bloom on the man's cheeks and the tips of his ears. "And here I was, thinking I was getting special treatment."

Eddie cocks his head, smiles big. "Well, the day's still young." It's so risky and stupid; no way this guy is queer, but he grins at Eddie, laughs a little too.

"That right? Well, tell me your latest recommendations."

"For you?" Eddie eyes him up and down. "Wham!"

The guy's laugh is warm and rich and Eddie wants to drown in it. "Big of you to say for a someone who's only listened to Enter Sandman for the last four months."

Eddie cackles, points a be-ringed finger. "It's a good song! A great record."

"Hey, I've got no problem with Metallica. I just don't think you should be casting aspersions on Wham!."

"Casting aspersions, do you have a word of the day calendar or some shit?"

"No! It's toilet paper."

Their snickers grow until they're both hysterical, needing to lean against a display to stay upright.

It's like he's living in a dream, hitting it off with a beautiful man who just happened to stumble into his store. They catch their breath and Eddie uses the time to grab a record off a nearby shelf.

"Here," he says. "Try this."

"Joni Mitchell?"

"Don't tell me, Wham! fan, that you're too cool for Joni."

"Nah, she's my best friend's favorite. How much do I owe you?"

"On the house," Eddie shrugs.

"Shit, that's generous. Thanks, man. Now, about your art--" He glances at the shiny watch on his wrist. "Fuck, is it really 3:15? Goddamnit, I gotta get going."

And Eddie wants to call him back, doesn't want this dream encounter to end, but he's dashing to the door--

And just like that, the man is gone, the only evidence it ever happened the lingering chime of the bell over the door.

The bell clatters again, and his head wrenches up hard enough it hurts his neck.

"Was that Steve Harrington?" the customer shrieks.

"No," he scoffs. Except. Except. The hair and the clothes and sunglasses and the face and his lips--

"No!?" He feels the way his eyes have gone wide with panic. He didn't just flirt with Steve Harrington. Of course not. Not ever. He would've recognized--

He runs to the racks of magazines in front of the register, grabbing the latest issue of People. The cover features a glossy, polished photo of the man who just left the store. The one who had the highest grossing movie of the summer alongside his co-star, Julia Roberts. The one who, according to the article within, is in Chicago right now shooting a new movie. The one who Eddie flirted with. The one who flirted back.

He groans and covers his face with his hands. At least he'll never see Steve Harrington again.

---

Harrington comes back.

The second time, he's wearing a jewel blue polo and fitted slacks, Ray Bans nowhere to be seen.

"Got anymore recommendations?" Steve asks.

"What?" Eddie's still trying to accept that Harrington came back.

"I finished Joni. It was good. Recommend something else for me."

Fully with the program, he reaches to the rack behind him, handing the vinyl to Steve without ever taking his eyes off him.

"Seriously?" Steve deadpans.

"Tell me you don't deserve it after last time."

Steve studies the cover of Metallica, a complicated look on his face. "Fine, but you have to listen to the album George Michael released last year."

He mimics getting shot in the heart. "After my magnanimous first suggestion, you dare to punish me with Freedom?"

"Think of it more as an opportunity."

"To regret every decision I've ever made?"

"To expand your musical horizons."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Fiiiine. It's a deal."

Steve beams. "Good! Ring me up."

And Eddie, he'd comp it again, but Steve gives him this look that tells him not to try it.

As they pass the magazine racks, Eddie points at one featuring Steve on the cover. "That thing you wore to the Vanity Fair party last month was hideous."

Steve snorts, then laughs. "Thanks. My stylist decided to go for something--"

"--terrible?--"

"Avant garde."

"Oh, is that what they're calling it these days?"

Steve pays, throws Eddie one last smile, "next time?"

Eddie nods, already certain this time is the last one.

---

He keeps coming back.

Eddie tries not to read into it.

Steve is straight, famously has a girlfriend. former horror movie child star turned cinema wunderkind, Nancy Wheeler. They're always on the covers of the tabloids, in ever more improbable stories about affairs and secret babies and french countryside weddings.

But he keeps coming back. And eventually, they grab dinner. And that dinner becomes lunches, movies, clubs, concerts. Eddie's in paparazzi photos, and there's no speculation about their relationship. Steve has a girlfriend.

But sometimes. Sometimes Steve will rest his hand on Eddie's nape, his lower back, let it linger. He'll trace a finger down the tattoos on Eddie's forearms or the patches of his battle vest. He'll lean too close when they talk, unafraid to press their bodies together. And he catches Steve's eyes on his mouth more than once, his pupils wide.

Over the next few weeks, Steve's gaze on Eddie's mouth gets hotter, his looks longer, and it's killing him. All he wants to do, all he ever wants to do, is close the distance between them, appease the gnawing beast of desire in his chest.

But Steve has a girlfriend.

They don't talk about her, not even when he knows all about Steve's best friend, Robin, and the gang of kids who adopted him, or Joyce and Hopper, his surrogate parents. Never Nancy.

He tries not to read into it.

---

They're supposed to meet for dinner. Steve scored reservations at a trendy new restaurant, but Eddie's late. Astronomically, horrifically late. It's pouring rain, it takes fifteen minutes to get a cab, traffic is a nightmare.

Out of patience and time, he decides to run the last few blocks to the restaurant. By the time he reaches the building, he's soaked to the bone, spluttering harsh breaths through mouthfuls of rain.

Steve is walking in the opposite direction, hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat.

"Steve?" He calls.

He turns and this is the first time Eddie's seen him angry. "You're late," Steve's eyes rake over him, and his face softens in an instant. He takes Eddie's wrist, leads him into an alley where the buildings are close enough to block some of the rain.

"What happened?"

"Traffic."

Steve's gaze go all soft and gentle, and Eddie's knees buckle a little. "You look like a drowned rat."

"Yeah, well." Eddie scoffs. "We can't all be beautiful movie stars."

"You're more beautiful than I could ever be, even soaking wet."

He shakes his head, ignoring the cascade of butterflies; Steve shouldn't say things like that. His vigorous movement sends wet strands of hair slapping him in the face.

Steve reaches out, softly brushes it back.

Eddie stops breathing.

Steve closes the distance between them.

What a thing, to be kissed by Steve Harrington. What a terrible, glorious thing.

He breaks it fast, face red, can't catch his breath. "Nancy," is all he can say.

"Nancy?"

"You have a girlfriend."

Steve's face scrunches. "She's not my girlfriend."

Eddie's mouth drops. "Yes, she is." They went to the Oscars together.

"Eddie." Steve takes a few steps back. "Eddie. I'm gay."

He laughs, an ugly honking thing. "C'mon. What could she possibly get out of that?"

Steve's eyes widen, eyebrows reaching his hairline, mouth pursed in a bitchy line. It takes Eddie a minute but, "Ohhhhh. So, it's all--?"

"It was the best way."

"But you're--?"

"I thought you clocked me immediately! Wham!???"

"That was because of the jacket!"

"Have you ever met a straight man who dresses like I do and likes George Michael??"

"That describes five dudes I see a day!"

"And you thought they were straight??"

Eddie stares into the middle distance, replaying some of those interactions, and--"Huh. Okay. I get hit on at work waaay more than I realized."

"For fuck's sake, Eddie!" He's shaking his head, but Eddie sees the way the corners of his mouth shake with suppressed laughter.

"I'm sorry! You have a very public straight relationship!"

Steve giggles, pulls Eddie close. "Is this okay?"

"So okay."

"You do like me back?"

"Are you kidding! Thought I was going insane, how much I want you."

"And now?"

"Come back to my place?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

And Eddie, he's seen Steve playing at love dozens of times, but this--right here, in a soggy, smelly alley where they're both soaking wet--it's more perfect than any movie.

[adelheidvonschicksal]

can u write about the first time ( doing that thing 😉😉😉😉😉) with lads mans? Sorry if my English bad😭

First Time w/ LND Men

Notes: sorry for the wait! Here you go <3

The first time with Zayne is impulsive.

Your relationship always played in the area of known but not said. At least you thought it was known between those periods of self-doubt when it came to waiting patiently for Zayne to return your feelings with the same amount of passion as you did.

And although your relationship should have been obvious, the desperateness and longing of the way he kisses you overtakes you until you’re too stunned to respond at first. When it finally clicks in, you’re meeting him back with an equal passion that even the god of time himself couldn’t pull apart.

It becomes a little clearer, kiss by kiss, the facade cracking along with his resolve, with each stroke of his hand clutching and roaming your body that Zayne is actually the one who needs you much more than you need him—and your mind is already racing with ways to match the indescribable sensation of his lips dancing across your neck and his cool fingers warming against the growing heat of your body.

When all the dust settles, there’s a hint of regret in him. He’d never regret being with you, but he wishes your first time was a little more patient, less rushed, and with much better ambiance. It doesn’t really matter to you because you have plenty of opportunities for more times.

The first time with Rafayel is romantic.

Rafayel goes all out because your bond is special, and he believes there’s a correct order to things. He’s also on the shier side when it comes to these sorts of things—these many firsts between the two of you, even your first kiss needed an entire garden to crown its specialness.

So, it doesn’t surprise you when the room he brings you into smells like the very same roses strewn out on the bed. It reminds you of a romance movie with dim lighting and soft music.

And, he really shouldn’t have been surprised when you laugh at the sight of it, and you’re not surprised when he seems less than pleased by your reaction. “What’s so funny?”

“No, no, it’s beautiful,” you tell him. “It’s just…isn’t this a bit much?”

Nothing is too much. You’re his only one, his little conch, his precious bride, and he wants to treat you as such. The more he kisses you, the more his purple hair and flushed skin shine with the dim flickering of candles and the more your skin smells like the rose petals that scattered across the floor as your back hits the bed, you have to agree that it’s better this way.

It’s sweet, following the fundamentals as no spot goes unmissed. And the usual banter between you melts into care, with each of you asking if the other is okay, if this is the right spot, if it feels good. And it does as each grind of your hips, each rut, each slow, deep thrust makes your heart feel like it could burst.

The first time with Xavier is passionate.

It starts slow at first, but quickly divulges into heavy petting, rush kisses on your collar, touch-starved fingers squeezing into the plush of your thighs trying more and more hurriedly to scoop as much of you in his palms as possible. It’s easy to see that he’s been holding back, still trying to hold back even with you in his grasps but Xavier quickly fails to hold in the desires that’s been building up since the first time he asked you to marry him centuries ago, since the first time he asked if he could hug you under the witness of a starry sky.

It's like he has to know you’re with him, pressing his weight into you and huffing warm breath with each heavy snap of his hips into you, his grip on your legs never lax as he holds them around his waist, pushing your knees towards you as he pulls you until you feel like you’ll melt into each other.

You’re ready to match him back though. His needy obsession with your touch makes it easy to coax him into another round, not that you had to ask. He’s so alert, and surprisingly awake as you take control. You’re bound to leave evidence of your night together all over each other’s body.

Although your first time together is fast, sloppy, and not what you were expecting for someone as chill as Xavier, it doesn’t matter in the end since the love is still there in his eyes.

The first time with Sylus is tender.

You’re not sure why you’re surprised. You thought you let go of all your initial thoughts about him—leader of Onychinus, criminal, boxer, and he surprised you every step of the way with how different he could be from what you’ve expected, so this shouldn’t have been any different.

He’s perfectly fine being in control, or letting you be in control; in fact, he seems to enjoy letting you take the reigns in this case, allowing you to have your fill at your pace even if it comes with a small bit of teasing.  

He can reassure you when you get nervous or guide you when you’re not quite sure where you want to go next. He has no problem talking you through it, be it instructing you on what he likes, exactly how much tighter to suck his cock, or just how much longer he wants you to hang on as he curls another finger into your soaking cunt.

And through every step, he looks at you with a tenderness in his eyes reserved for only those closed to him, and especially for you—that doesn’t fit the leader of a criminal faction, the motorcycle riding, black marketeering, leader of Onychinus—but it very much fits the one fate decided to tie you with.

[p3terparker]

𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆 𝗺𝗲 - 𝗽𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗿

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: peter wants to be babied.

𝘄/𝗰: 0.5k

𝗮/𝗻: hey guys!! it has been nearly a year since i’ve last written and i just wanna say i’m sorry for leaving for so long </3 please do bear with me, this may not be that good judging by how long it’s been since i’ve last written. i hope you enjoy though! also for everyone who has requested something, i haven’t forgotten about you! i’m getting to those soon :)

“please hold me” 

it’s nearly 1am and you’re sprawled out on your bed watching some random movie that was playing on tv. you’ve been up waiting for hours for peter to come by after patrol, and now he’s finally here sneaking in through your window.

“are you okay baby? you finished up pretty late” you question softly as you take off his mask and brush his hair out of his face.

“i’m fine. i just want you to hold me” he says tiredly and practically puts all of his body weight on you, causing you both to fall back onto your bed.

adjusting yourselves to get more comfortable, you’re now laid back on your pillow as you hug peters large frame while his face is nuzzled in your chest.

you two lay silently as you rub his back until you decide to break the silence.

“you know, you’re still in your suit. you’re getting my bed dirty.”

“you just want me to take it off so you can see me naked”

“you’re done” you say before attempting to push him off of you. peter quickly caught your hands before you could even try.

“how did you–”

“i’m spider-man, baby”

“clearly” you chuckle, referring to him still being in his suit.

“since you want to see me naked so bad, i’ll take it off” he groans as if it’s the hardest task in the world. “happy now?”

“very. now come lay back down”

you don’t have to tell him twice. he quickly gets back into the position you two were in before and enjoys the warmth and comfort you bring him.

“you’re so perfect petey, did you know that?”

“mmm” he groans into as he nuzzles his face further into your chest, enjoying the sudden compliment.

“i mean seriously. you’re so smart, so strong, so caring and so funny. you being handsome is just the cherry on top”

“stoppp” he whines. “i’m blushing.”

“okay fine, i’m done”

“nooo, i didn’t mean it! keep going please” he cries as he lifts up his head to look at you.

“you are truly such a big baby”

“i’m your big baby. now continue please, i love being praised by you.”

how could you deny him?

“i love how cute you are. you have the prettiest brown hair and eyes. your face is perfectly sculpted too. i don’t know how i got blessed with the most handsome boyfriend in the world.” 

“mmm” he groans again in complete ecstasy. hearing your compliments is like music to his ears.

“you’re so cute, i just want to squish your cheeks” you say before lifting his head up slightly and squishing his cheeks together.

you cannot believe he’s letting you baby him like this.

“aww petey, you’re so adorable” 

“thank you” he says with a pink tint on his cheeks as he rests his head on your chest again, suddenly feeling sleepy.

you two sat in silence for a few more minutes and he peacefully drifted to sleep.

you were definitely going to make fun of him for tonight in the morning.

[mononijikayu]

the other woman — ryomen sukuna.

“Do not mistake this for affection.” he warned, his voice low and rough. “I am still who I am. I am still the monster you should fear.” But you could only nod, your heart aching with a mixture of sorrow and hope. “I know,” you whispered. “I know, but I’m still here.” And for the first time, you thought you saw a hint of softness in his eyes, a flicker of something that could almost be… understanding. Maybe, just maybe, you were starting to reach him, one fragile step at a time.

GENRE: alternate universe - heian era;

WARNING/S: nsfw, angst, one sided romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/no comfort, unhappy marriage, hurt, physical touch, character death, mourning, loneliness, pain, grief, unhappy ending, depiction of one-sided relationship, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of illness, depiction of canon related violence, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, heian! sukuna, long suffering concubine! reader;

WORD COUNT: 11k words

NOTE: this was always going to be long, because it's heartbreaking. and heartbreaking ones have to be something that has to be expressed well. i listened to this in a audio software like its a podcast and i actually liked it. the other woman by nina simone was the constant in the writing. also, this is the aftermath of ashes of love, which is a series i did about heian sukuna. anyway, i hope you enjoy this!!! i love you all <3

main masterlist

the other woman masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

══════════════════

YOU KNEW THAT YOU WERE THIS UNLUCKY. The moment you were born, there would be a bleak fate for you to live. You were an accidental child, and multiple times, your own mother had nearly miscarried. Perhaps even as a fetus, you had always known this. How cursed you were. Even if you had done nothing. 

When your mother brushed your hair as a child, she would tell you of how you were born. She said that when you breathed the air for the first time, you were melancholic in the silence to the world. Somehow knew that you were built for this miserable world. And every day since that day, you knew. You were meant to live life without true joyous jubilation.

It did not help that the day you were born, there was a lone dark star in the morning sky, one which had been considered a bad omen. And with that, the whispers of fate echoing long before you had even had consciousness to know. Your village nestled in the shadowed valleys of Hida province, a place of whispered dread and ancient pacts. And for the longest of times, the once prosperous Hida province was in turmoil. 

And so, in those days, if there was anyone who controlled the ruins of Hida, it was that god-like curse user Ryomen Sukuna. His name alone was a talisman against the unknown horrors that lurked beyond the mountains, a deity whose power and wrath commanded fear and reverence in equal measure. And all either quivered at the sight of him or drew fanatic fervor. 

The Ryomen clan, his kin at one point, were at war—embroiled in brutal conflicts with neighboring clans for so long. And this had been going on before you were even born. The blood had soaked the earth for so long that the soil seemed to thirst for it. And the people were exhausted. 

The clan struggled to maintain control over Hida for a long time now, their influence fraying like an old tapestry torn at the seams. And with that, a power vacuum had long been in existence. The chaos of the era was a tide that threatened to drown them all, and Ryomen Sukuna's protection became the last fragile hope for those who called this land their home.

Your parents spoke in hushed voices of the offerings, the sacrifices made by the villagers to appease their god, the man who can save them,  this man to fear and worship, Ryomen Sukuna. To ensure his protection, they said. For years, the sacrifices continued, the chosen ones becoming mere footnotes in a history written in blood and fear. 

It came upon you rather quickly when you were young and it struck you—that the villagers saw you not as one of their own, but as a piece on a board, a pawn destined for slaughter. A sacrifice to their god. You would be among the countless, one more life to be cast into the jaws of the demon god they all feared.

The day of your sacrifice came as the sky was painted with hues of blood and gold, a cruel irony that did not escape you. The air was heavy with incense and prayer, but there was no comfort in their muttered words, no solace in the chants that pleaded for Sukuna's mercy. They adorned you in ceremonial robes, marked with symbols and sigils, your skin painted with the sacred ink that was supposed to cleanse your soul before the offering.

You were led through the village, a procession of death that seemed to stretch on forever. The eyes that watched you pass were filled with a mixture of pity and relief—relief that it was not them, not their child, not their blood that would be spilled today. Mothers held their children close, men bowed their heads, and the elders chanted in a low, continuous hum that sent shivers down your spine.

At the shrine, they bound you to the altar, thick ropes biting into your skin as you stared at the sky, searching for a sign, a miracle that never came. The high priest began his incantation, his voice rising above the murmur of the crowd. You could feel the cold seep into your bones, the air around you thickening as if the very world held its breath.

And then, you felt it—the shift in the air, the heavy presence that pressed against your chest like a vice. You had never seen him before, but you knew it was Sukuna. The villagers gasped, a collective intake of breath as his form materialized from the shadows, a figure cloaked in malice and power.

His eyes, crimson and unforgiving, swept over you like a cold blade. You felt your heart hammer against your ribcage, fear clawing at your throat. You were nothing to him, just another offering, another desperate plea from a village clinging to survival.

Ryomen Sukuna smiled, a slow, cruel smile that sent a tremor through the crowd. He stepped forward, each movement a ripple in the air, as if reality itself bent to his will. You met his gaze, defiant in your fear, knowing that you were one of many. Countless lives had been given to him, countless souls lost to his hunger.

And now, it was your turn.

  

══════════════════

YOU HAD NEVER EXPECTED TO MEET THE MAN IN THE FLESH. But before you stood this man, this god, with dark crimson eyes. Taller than any tree, intimidating than any curse. Frightening than hell itself. You could remember when you were younger. The whispers reached you before you even stepped foot in the shrine, everyone has. Tales of Ryomen Sukuna had traveled through the villages like the wind, carrying with them rumors that were both terrifying and tragic. 

You had always known that the man was delighted with the worship of the human people. But they said he had taken no other concubines, that he showed no interest in any woman who dared come near him.

And if he did, they were more likely to be servants than anything close to a concubine. And some were not so lucky. Some spoke in hushed tones, their voices trembling with fear, that he was a monster of unspeakable debauchery, one who had killed the women for even daring to breathe in his presence.

But the truth, as you had come to understand it, was far more tragic. At least from how you see it. The people of Hida knew—oh, they believed—the story was told long ago. There was someone who had been so loved long ago and most of all, by Sukuna.

Ryomen Hiromi, the one who had captured Sukuna's heart, the one he had loved beyond reason. There was another Sukuna a long time ago, many were aware. But there was nothing proven.

If anything, the children of Hiromi reject any notion of such a relationship. But the tale was woven into the very fabric of tales told, whispered among the elders late at night and shared in riddles among the children who barely understood the weight of what they spoke.

Hiromi, they said, had been his sun, his moon, his stars. A woman of beauty and strength, whose laughter could calm the wildest storms and whose voice was like the sweetest song. She had been the only one to ever touch his heart, to see the man beneath the demon god. But she was gone now, lost to time and tragedy, leaving Ryomen Sukuna to languish in his grief. 

No one dared speak her name aloud, not when Sukuna’s rage could split the earth itself. People have seen it. It was said he mourned her loss every day, that his fury was born from the emptiness she left behind. And that was why he would not tolerate any other woman. No one was going to be like her. None would match her wit, her beauty. Why should the king of curses settle for less when he had the world? 

As you lay on the cold altar, the ropes cutting into your skin, your thoughts were consumed by the stories. What kind of man—no, what kind of creature—was Sukuna? You wonder about this paradox of a man, this creature like god.

Did he truly mourn, or was that just another tale spun by terrified villagers to make him seem more human? What was he, actually? You had a million questions, and you know they will never truly be answered.

A gust of wind stirred the trees around you, the leaves rustling like whispered secrets. You heard the shuffle of feet, felt the eyes of the villagers upon you, their fear palpable. Then, you heard his voice. You could feel it all, that powerful cursed energy, coming from one direction. For a moment, you had no words. Only uncertainty.

"Why do they send another?" Sukuna's voice was like a low growl, rumbling through the air with the force of a storm. "Do you think I am so easily appeased, you fools?"

You dared to lift your head, the ropes pulling at your skin as you met his crimson gaze. He was tall, imposing, and every bit as terrifying as the stories had painted him. But there was something else there—something in his eyes that spoke of deep, simmering pain.

"Do you truly want to know why they sent me?" you found yourself saying, your voice steady despite the fear clawing at your throat.

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought he might strike you down then and there. But he didn’t. Instead, he tilted his head, a cruel smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Speak, then, girl." he said. "Tell me why I should not turn you to dust where you lie."

You swallowed, gathering your courage. "They send me because they fear you, because they believe you will protect them if they give you what you want. But… no one knows what you truly want, do they? No one speaks of her. Of Hiromi."

His expression shifted, a shadow passing over his face, and you knew you had struck a nerve. The air grew colder, a chill that seemed to seep into your very bones.

"Hiromi is dead." he said, his voice quiet but filled with an edge that could cut through steel. "And no one speaks her name. It is what I command.”

"But you still mourn her…." you continued, unable to stop yourself. "Do you not, my lord?”

His dark gaze bore into you, the weight of it almost unbearable. For a long moment, he said nothing, and the silence stretched on like an eternity. Then, slowly, he laughed—a sound that was bitter and hollow.

"You dare ask?" he repeated, as if the word was foreign to him. "What do you know of it all, little one? What do you know about such a life lived?"

You felt a tremor run through you, but you did not look away. "I know enough, my lord." you replied softly. "I know enough to see that your anger is not born of hatred, but of grief."

Sukuna's cruel smile quickly faded, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw something in his eyes—a flicker of vulnerability, quickly swallowed by the darkness. He hated how you said it, you know it too well. But there was no other choice. You were here for a purpose and you must fulfill it. You must. 

"You are bold, little one." he murmured. "Bold….for someone so close to death."

"Perhaps, my lord." you whispered back to him. "But if I am to die, I would rather die knowing who you truly are, rather than the monster they say you are."

He stared at you for a long time, his expression unreadable. Then, he stepped closer, so close that you could feel the heat radiating from his body, the power that thrummed through him like a thunder strike.

"Then you are a fool, little one." he said quietly. "For believing that I am anything more than a monster."

But there was something in his voice, something that made you wonder if perhaps… he wished you were right.

For the meantime, you were lucky to have your life, despite speaking so boldly, despite saying her name aloud—the name that everyone else dared not utter. Sukuna’s silence stretched on, his crimson eyes still locked onto yours, unreadable, cold yet burning with something darker beneath the surface. He could have ended you with a flick of his wrist, reduced you to ashes for your insolence. And yet, he did not.

He leaned closer, the edges of his form blurring into the shadows that seemed to ripple around him like stabbing waves in the ocean. His breath was hot against your skin, his presence overwhelming, suffocating. You felt your heart pound in your chest, each beat a drum that signaled your fragile hold on life.

“Perhaps you are simply foolish. Many have died for far less than what you dared to speak.” Sukuna finally said, his voice low, almost contemplative. “Huh, you speak brashly.”

The villagers around you seemed to hold their breath, waiting for his judgment. They looked at you with a mixture of horror and awe, unable to believe you were still alive after uttering the forbidden name. You, a mere sacrifice, a lamb thrown to the wolf, had survived what so many others had not.

“Why do you think I will let you live?” Sukuna’s voice cut through the tense silence, his tone curious, but with a dangerous edge. “Do you think I find you interesting? Amusing? Or perhaps I see something of her in you, something worth sparing?”

You swallowed hard, the reality of your situation settling in. You had survived speaking out of turn, but you were still bound to this altar, still at the mercy of a being who could destroy you on a whim. Yet, something in his words gave you pause, a flicker of something unspoken that lingered just beneath his surface.

“I do not presume to know your reasons, my lord.” you replied carefully, choosing each word like a step on thin ice. “But if you see something of her in me… then perhaps I am not so different from you after all.”

Sukuna’s gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing. “Not so different?” He laughed, a sound that was both mirthful and bitter, filled with a deep, aching emptiness. “You compare yourself to me? To Ryomen Sukuna? You are a child, a mere mortal who knows nothing of gods or demons, of love that scorches the soul and burns the world to ash.”

“And yet…..” you dared to continue, feeling the tightness in your chest. “If my lord felt nothing, you wouldn’t care enough to be angry… or to remember.”

He stiffened, and for a moment, his expression faltered. The shadows seemed to deepen around him, his aura flickering like a candle flame caught in a strong wind. You sensed that you were dancing on a razor’s edge, but you could not stop now. There was something here, something raw and real beneath the monstrous exterior.

“Enough.” Sukuna hissed, his voice a sharp command. The air grew colder, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. “You dare much, human. Too much.”

You pressed your lips together, bracing yourself for the inevitable blow, the moment when his patience would finally snap. But instead, Sukuna’s lips curled into a faint smile, one that did not reach his eyes.

“Perhaps I will spare you.” he murmured, almost as if speaking to himself. “If only to see how long that fire burns before it is extinguished. Or perhaps to see if you will end up like the rest—broken, hollow, pleading for mercy where there is none.”

He turned away from you then, his back a wall of power and darkness, his form towering against the dim light of the shrine. The villagers started, stunned, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You will reside in my temple.” Sukuna commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You will remain there, under my watch. Let them see what comes of those who speak of things best left forgotten.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, a mixture of fear and shock. They did not understand why he had spared you, why you, of all people, were allowed to live. Perhaps they thought you were cursed, or perhaps they thought Sukuna had some darker plan in mind. But you knew better. You knew that, in some small way, you had touched on a wound that had never healed, a scar buried deep beneath his monstrous exterior.

And as Sukuna vanished into the shadows, you realized that your fate was no longer in the hands of the villagers, or even in the hands of the gods they prayed to. No, your fate was now bound to his—a god who mourned like a man, a monster who remembered what it was to love.

══════════════════

IN A WAY, IT IS NOT SO BAD, BEING HIS CONCUBINE. You spent your days in isolation, your life confined within the walls of Sukuna's palace. You were nothing more than a servant, though they called you a concubine. The title meant little, for you were given no special privileges, no adornments, no tokens of affection. 

But it was a life. Your life. And it lived in some comfort, more than what is experienced by the rest of Hida province. You had multiple meals a day, you had rooms to yourself and even servants that address every bit of your needs.

Still, your world was small, your days filled with the quiet tending of the gardens, watching the shifting sky as the hours bled into one another. The flowers you nurtured became your only friends, their petals a fragile comfort against the cold indifference that surrounded you.

Perhaps the peace came from the fact that you did not see Sukuna often, and when you did, his gaze never lingered on you for long. He had no interest, no affection, no fondness to spare. You were simply there, like a shadow in the corner of his realm.

A figure lost amidst the vast emptiness of his domain. And perhaps that was for the best. It was better than being forced into Sukuna’s bed. You think that all women in the harem think that it was better that way.

But slowly, ever so slowly, something changed. His dark scarlet eyes began to linger, just a fraction longer than before. You felt the weight of his gaze like a chill running down your spine.

The other servants noticed it too, their whispers growing louder, bolder. You finally caught his attention. But it wasn’t because he had come to care for you, to see you as anything more than the nothing you were.

No, the truth was much crueler than that.

You were a spitting image of Ryomen Hiromi, the woman who haunted his every step, the ghost who lived in the shadows of his mind. At least that’s what the people say. But you did not want to believe them. Yet, looking at the murals at the glass gardens, the resemblance was uncanny.

It was obvious somehow. It was similar, everything. Your eyes, your hair, the curve of your smile. Every feature, every gesture seemed to remind him of her. And though you knew you could never be her, you had become a cruel echo, a reflection of something he had long lost.

And soon enough, the people talked. Of course, they did. They always talked. You tried to shut them out, but the more they whispered, the more people listened. And the more they listened, the more people spoke.  

“She reminds him of Hiromi, I am certain!” they whispered. “She is nothing but a shadow, a poor replacement for the one he truly loved. She lives in her image, as if she could ever hope to fill her place.”

You became the other woman, even when you didn’t want to be. No, not even that. You were a pale imitation, a mockery of a woman who had captured the heart of the king of curses. Every glance Ryomen Sukuna spared you was not a look of admiration or desire—it was the gaze of a man staring into the past, into a memory that was forever out of reach.

And so, you lived your life as another woman. No, the other woman. To a dead woman. To a love that had died long ago, but never truly left. 

Sometimes, in the dead of night, when the silence was so thick it pressed against your skin like a heavy shroud, you would wonder about her. About Ryomen Hiromi. Who was she, really? What had she meant to him, this fearsome god, this creature of darkness who now watched you as if searching for something he had lost in her eyes, now reflected in yours.

He never spoke of her. He does not want to. He does not dare to. Not to you, not to anyone. Some servants have been here longer than you and they have seen people killed over even a mumble of a prayer for the lady. And so you don’t ask. 

Not even when there were times he would come closer, when his dark eyes lingered on your face, searching, always searching. Yet he will never truly find it. He knew this, as much as you did. But it was as if he was trying to see her again, trying to find her in your skin, in your voice, in the way you moved through the gardens like she once had, perhaps. It was hope, a foolish hope. And yet you cannot escape this foolish hope.

The weight of her memory suffocated you. You were not allowed to be yourself, to have your own name, your own identity. You were always, always compared to her, measured against a ghost that you could never be, never touch. And Sukuna, with his cold gaze and his empty eyes, reminded you of it every day.

"You’re not her, little one." he said once, his voice low, more to himself than to you, as if testing a truth he could not fully accept. “You’ll never be her.”

His words cut deeper than any blade, leaving you with the bitter taste of something unnameable, something that tasted like defeat, or perhaps longing, or perhaps both. You had never wished to be her, to be anyone but yourself. But here, in his domain, under his shadow, you were not allowed that freedom.

You were trapped, forever bound to a life that was not your own, in the shadow of a dead woman who would never release you, and a man who could never let her go.

Days bled into nights, a blur of routine and solitude, and you began to feel like a ghost yourself, haunting the corners of Sukuna's palace, where life seemed to move around you but never through you. The servants kept their distance, wary of your resemblance, as if fearing you might be some ill omen, cursed to echo the tragedy of the past.

And Sukuna… he watched you, always watching, his eyes a deep crimson that saw too much and yet revealed nothing. He was like a storm contained within the fragile walls of the palace, his presence a force of nature that you could neither escape nor fully comprehend. His mood was mercurial; one day, he would barely acknowledge you, and the next, his gaze would linger on you, heavy with something you couldn’t name.

“Do you enjoy the garden?” he asked one afternoon, his tone deceptively casual, as if he were simply inquiring about the weather.

You glanced up, surprised that he had addressed you at all. He rarely spoke directly to you, even when his eyes seemed to follow your every movement. “I do,” you replied, careful, measured. “It is quiet there. Peaceful.”

“Quiet…peaceful.” he repeated, almost as if tasting the word. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but it did not reach his eyes. “Yes, she liked the quiet too. Always wandering among the flowers. Trees too. She’d like that then.”

You stiffened at the mention of her, the ghost you lived with every day, who lingered in every corner of this place. “I am not her, my lord.” you said, a tremor in your voice. You had repeated these words to yourself countless times, but they sounded fragile, almost insignificant when spoken aloud.

Sukuna's expression did not change. If anything, his gaze grew sharper, like a blade pressed against your skin. “No, little one.” he agreed softly, almost mockingly, “You are not her. But you will do… for now.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, refusing to let him see the fear that coiled within you, like a snake waiting to strike. “Why do you keep me here?” you dared to ask, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Why do you watch me as if you expect me to become someone else?”

He laughed then, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “You misunderstand, little one. I do not expect you to become her. I know you never can. But you… remind me of her. And that is enough… for now.”

The way he said it, the way his eyes darkened with something unreadable, made your blood run cold. You were nothing more than a stand-in, a living, breathing reminder of something he had lost. A cruel joke played by fate, a shadow dancing in the place of the one who truly mattered. To be kept alive, your village kept alive — because you look like a ghost. 

“I am not a replacement, my lord.” you insisted, your voice firmer this time, surprising even yourself with the strength behind it. “I hope my lord knows that I will not live my life as a mere echo.”

His smile faded, his expression turning serious. “You think you have a choice?” he asked, leaning in closer, his face so near to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath. “You are here because I allow it. You exist at my whim, not because of who you are, but because of who you resemble. Do not mistake this for anything more than it is.”

The reality of his words hit you like a blow, the finality of it sinking deep into your bones. You were nothing to him, nothing but a passing fancy, a painful reminder of a past he could not reclaim.

“I am not her, my lord.” you repeated, your voice shaking with defiance, with a spark of something that refused to be extinguished. “And I will not be her for you. You must understand.”

For a moment, something flickered in Sukuna's eyes, something almost like surprise, perhaps even respect. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the cold, unfeeling mask he always wore.

“Brave words, little one.” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “But words mean little here, in my domain. You will learn that soon enough.”

He turned away from you then, leaving you standing alone in the empty hall, your heart pounding in your chest, your hands trembling at your sides. The silence closed in around you, heavy and oppressive, and you knew that nothing had changed. You were still trapped, still living in the shadow of a dead woman, still bound to the whims of a god who mourned like a man.

And yet, deep inside, something stirred—a flicker of defiance, of hope. You might be a ghost to him, a reflection of a lost love, but you were still alive. You were still you, and as long as you drew breath, you would not allow yourself to be consumed by his shadows. Not without a fight.

Time passed slowly in Sukuna’s palace, and with it, your heart began to change. You did not notice it at first; how could you? Day after day, the monotonous routine of your existence lulled you into a sort of numbness. The gardens became your refuge, the sky your solace.

Yet even as you tried to find comfort in these simple pleasures, you found your thoughts wandering back to him—Ryomen Sukuna, the fearsome god, the monster, the man who mourned like a human.

At first, you hated him, hated him for what he represented, for what he had made you into: a replacement, a mere shadow of someone who had meant everything to him. But as you watched him, as the days turned to weeks and weeks to months, you began to see more.

You began to notice the things others did not—the subtle tension in his jaw when he was angry, the way his eyes softened just a fraction when he spoke of her, the quiet moments when he thought no one was looking, and the mask slipped, just a little.

You were in the garden one afternoon, trimming the roses, when you heard footsteps approaching. Sukuna rarely came to the garden, but today he seemed restless, pacing along the paths with a dark expression on his face. He stopped by the old cherry blossom tree, his eyes distant, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Without thinking, you moved closer. "Is something troubling you, my lord?" you asked quietly, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. You had learned not to provoke him, to keep your words soft and your gaze steady.

Sukuna looked at you sharply, as if surprised you had dared to speak. "Why do you care?" he snapped, his tone harsh, but you had seen the flicker of something else—a fleeting vulnerability, perhaps? “Such matters are none for you to care about, little one.”

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I see you every day, my lord.” you replied softly. “I see how you… struggle over something. And I cannot help but… care.”

He scoffed, but it was a hollow sound. “Care?” he echoed, almost mockingly. “You think you understand me, mortal? You think you can comprehend the depths of what I am, of what I have lost?”

You bowed your head, feeling the sting of his words but refusing to back down. “I don’t pretend to understand, my lord.” you murmured. “But I see the pain in your eyes, the way you linger in places she once loved, the way you… look at me.”

He was silent for a moment, his gaze unreadable. Then he turned away, his shoulders tense, his hands unclenching. “You are a fool, little one.” he muttered, almost too softly for you to hear. “A fool to think you can feel anything for me.”

And maybe you were a fool. A fool to care for a man who did not care for you, who saw you only as a shadow of someone else. But you could not help it. You could not stop the way your heart ached when you saw him, the way your breath caught when he looked at you with those sad, tired eyes.

Day by day, you found yourself drawn to him, not by his power or his beauty, but by the quiet moments when he thought no one was watching. The moments when his face softened, and you saw the man beneath the monster, the man who had loved so deeply and lost so terribly.

You saw the cracks in his armor, the places where he had been wounded, and you wanted, desperately, to reach out and touch them, to soothe the pain you knew he carried.

You found yourself thinking of him when you were alone, wondering what had made him this way, what had broken him so completely. You imagined him before all of this, before the darkness, before the loss, and you felt a strange, deep sorrow for the man he might have been.

One evening, as you were leaving the garden, you saw him standing by the cherry blossom tree again, his face turned upward, staring at the pale blooms against the darkening sky. He looked so lonely, so unbearably alone, that you felt your heart tighten in your chest.

Without thinking, you approached him, moving slowly, cautiously, as if approaching a wounded animal. “My lord, look.” you said softly, and he did not turn away. “The blossoms… they’re beautiful this year.”

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Hiromi loved them.” he said quietly, his voice thick with something you could not quite name. “Fond of them.”

You nodded, your heart aching for him. “I imagine she did, my lord.” you replied. “They’re… peaceful.”

He was silent for a long time, his gaze fixed on the flowers. Then he spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper. “She was… my peace.” he admitted, his tone so raw, so vulnerable, that it made your chest tighten painfully. “And now… there is only emptiness.”

You wanted to reach out to him, to touch his hand, to tell him that he was not as alone as he thought, but you knew he would not accept it. So you stood there, beside him, sharing the silence, hoping that maybe, in some small way, your presence could ease the ache in his heart.

And slowly, painfully, you realized that you were falling into the saddest position in the world. You were beginning to care for him, truly care for him, despite knowing that he did not, and could not, care for you. You were beginning to understand him, to see the depths of his sorrow, to feel the weight of his loss as if it were your own.

You were living as a shadow, and yet… you found yourself wishing, hoping, that someday he might see you as something more. Even if you were just a reflection of a memory, even if you could never be her, you wished, desperately, that you could become someone to him.

But as you looked at him, at the emptiness in his eyes, you knew that day might never come. And still, you could not help but care.

Days continued to slip by in a blur of silent moments and stolen glances, and though you tried to keep your heart guarded, you felt it slipping further and further away from you, like water through your fingers. You had resigned yourself to your fate—a concubine in name, a ghost in truth. You had accepted that Sukuna would never see you as anything more than a mere echo of what he had lost.

But as time passed, you noticed a subtle change in him. It was in the way his gaze lingered on you a moment longer, or how his tone softened when he spoke to you. It was in the quiet moments when you would catch him watching you, his expression inscrutable, as if he were trying to decipher some mystery he could not quite solve.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the sky in shades of crimson and gold, you found yourself in the garden again. Sukuna was there, seated on a low stone bench beneath the cherry blossom tree, his face turned upward as if searching for something in the dying light.

You approached cautiously, unsure if he wanted your presence or not. He did not turn to look at you, but he did not send you away, either. You took it as a small mercy, a silent invitation to sit beside him.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched between you like a fragile thread, delicate and unbroken. Finally, Sukuna spoke, his voice low and contemplative. “You are always here, little one.” he murmured. “Always watching. Why?”

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “Because I see you, my lord.” you replied quietly. “I see the way you carry your pain, the way you hide it behind your eyes. I… I understand it, in a way.”

He turned to you then, his gaze piercing, searching your face as if trying to find the truth hidden within your words. “And what do you think you understand?” he asked, a note of challenge in his tone.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his stare. “I think you loved her more than life itself, my lord.” you said softly. “And I think losing her broke something inside of you that will never heal.”

He was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he laughed—a harsh, bitter sound that cut through the stillness like a knife. “You presume to know my heart, mortal.” he said, but there was no true malice in his voice, only a deep, hollow emptiness. “You think because you look like her, you can speak of love and loss?”

“I do not pretend to be her, my lord.” you answered, your voice steady, even as your heart pounded in your chest. “But I know what it is to lose, to live with emptiness. I know what it means to be alone, even in a crowded room.”

His eyes softened, just for a moment, and you could almost see the man beneath the monster, the one who had loved and lost, who had once been capable of kindness, of tenderness.

“You think you know loneliness?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost vulnerable. “You think you know what it is to love someone so deeply that their absence is like a knife in your soul, cutting you with every breath?”

“I think I’m starting to understand, my lord.” you whispered. “More than I ever wanted to.”

He looked away, his jaw clenched tight, and you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides. “You are a fool.” he muttered, but there was no heat in his words, only a weary resignation. “You should hate me. You should despise me for what I am, for what I have made you.”

You shook your head slowly. “I can’t, my lord.” you admitted, your voice breaking. “I don’t know why, but I can’t. Maybe it’s because I see the pain in your eyes, the way you look at me… the way you remember her. I can’t hate you for that. I just… I wish things were different.”

He turned to you sharply, and for a moment, there was something raw and desperate in his gaze, something that spoke of a longing he had buried deep within himself. “Different?” he repeated, almost scoffing. “There is no ‘different’ for us. This is the world we have been given, and we must live in it.”

You felt your heart clench painfully, knowing he was right, knowing that no matter how much you wished for it, you could never truly reach him, could never become more than what you were—a shadow, a reflection of a woman long gone.

But you could not stop yourself from caring, from hoping that somehow, someway, he might see you, truly see you, not as a ghost or a replacement, but as a person in your own right.

You sighed, turning your gaze to the blossoms above. “I know, my lord.” you murmured. “I know that better than anyone. But I still… I still want to understand you. I still care, even if you don’t care for me.”

He was silent, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, you feared you had said too much, crossed a line you could never return from. But then, slowly, he reached out and took your hand in his, his grip firm but surprisingly gentle.

“You are a strange one, little one.” he said quietly, almost as if to himself. “To care for a monster… to care for a man who has nothing left to give.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, and you did not bother to hide it. “Maybe I’m just a fool, my lord” you whispered. “But I can’t help it. I can’t help but care for you, even when I know you can’t care for me.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, as if looking for some answer he could not find. Then, without a word, he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gesture so tender it took your breath away.

“Do not mistake this for affection.” he warned, his voice low and rough. “I am still who I am. I am still the monster you should fear.”

But you could only nod, your heart aching with a mixture of sorrow and hope. “I know,” you whispered. “I know, but I’m still here.”

And for the first time, you thought you saw a hint of softness in his eyes, a flicker of something that could almost be… understanding. Maybe, just maybe, you were starting to reach him, one fragile step at a time.

══════════════════

TIME FLEW BY AND WITH THAT, YOU AGED TOO. Slowly, like the steady drip of water carving its path through stone, Ryomen Sukuna began to accept your presence as something constant in his life. At first, it was subtle—the way he no longer sent you away when you appeared by his side, the way he allowed you to linger in his chambers or the garden without a word of complaint.

Over time, it grew into something more. He began to call for you, not often, but enough that you noticed. Sometimes, it was just to sit in silence while he read or stared into the fire, and other times, he would speak to you, his voice low and distant, as if he were speaking to himself rather than you.

He did not love you; you knew that much with painful certainty. His heart belonged to another, to a woman whose name he whispered in his dreams, whose memory seemed to haunt his every step. You were not her, and you never would be. You were a shadow of what he had lost, a pale reflection of a love that had burned too bright and consumed itself in the flames.

But he tolerated you, and in this dark, twisted place where fear ruled and love was a forgotten dream, that was enough. You had learned to find solace in the little things—the way his gaze would occasionally soften when he looked at you, the rare moments when his voice held a note of something other than indifference. 

You knew you would never escape Hiromi’s shadow. Her ghost lingered in every corner of this place, in every whispered word and hushed breath, in the way his eyes darkened whenever he spoke of her.

You were not foolish enough to think you could ever replace her in his heart, nor did you wish to. You had come to terms with your fate, with the cruel twist of destiny that had brought you here, to this palace where the walls seemed to whisper her name.

For the finite years of your mortal life, you would be what you were to him—an echo, a shadow, a living memory of something lost. You could have fought against it, could have railed against the injustice of it all, but you chose not to. You chose to make peace with what fate had given you, to find what small joys you could in the fleeting moments he allowed you to be near him.

There were times when the weight of your existence threatened to crush you, when you longed to scream, to demand that he see you for who you were, not for the woman you resembled. But those moments were few and far between, and you had learned to push them down, to bury them deep within your heart where they could not hurt you.

Instead, you found contentment in the little things—in the way his presence filled the room, in the rare, unguarded moments when he would speak to you of things he had buried deep within himself. You listened to his stories, the ones he told in quiet tones when he thought no one was listening, and you treasured them like precious gems, tiny fragments of the man he had once been.

You learned to be grateful for what you had, even if it was not what you had dreamed of. You accepted that you would always live in the shadow of Hiromi, that you would always be the "other woman"; the one who was not loved, but merely tolerated. And for as long as you had breath in your lungs and life in your veins, you chose to find peace in that.

You sat beside him by the fire, you felt a strange sense of calm settle over you. He was quiet, his eyes fixed on the flames, his expression thoughtful. He did not look at you, but you could feel his presence, warm and solid beside you, a reminder that you were not entirely alone in this world.

You turned your gaze to the fire, letting the heat warm your face, and you whispered, almost to yourself, “I do not ask for more than this. I am… content with what I have.”

He glanced at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if trying to understand your words. “Content?” he repeated, a hint of incredulity in his voice. “You are content being nothing but a shadow?”

You smiled softly, a hint of sadness in your eyes. “Contentment is a choice, my lord.” you replied. “I chose to be content with what fate has given me. It is not happiness, but it is enough.”

He looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, and then he nodded slowly. “Perhaps you are wiser than I thought now, little one.” he murmured. “To find peace in a place like this… it is no easy feat.”

You nodded, knowing he spoke more to himself than to you. You had accepted that you would never be more than a shadow in his life, but even shadows had their place, their purpose. You would be content with that, for as long as your mortal years allowed.

The days passed with a creeping heaviness that settled into your bones, a fatigue that no amount of rest could cure. You began to feel the strain in every step, the way your breath came shorter, the way your limbs feel heavy and uncooperative. At first, you dismissed it as exhaustion, a lingering effect of sleepless nights and endless thoughts that twisted in your mind like shadows.

But then came the coughing fits, each one more violent than the last, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth and a sharp pain in your chest. You ignored it at first, waving away the concerned glances of the servants who attended you. You kept your back straight and your face serene, refusing to acknowledge the way your body seemed to betray you.

Yet it grew harder to hide. The pain became more frequent, stabbing through your lungs like a knife with every breath, every step. The first time you coughed up blood, it was a shock—a bright, vivid red staining your hand. Your heart raced as you stared at the crimson stain, panic rising like bile in your throat.

You quickly wiped it away, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. Thankfully, you were alone in your chamber, and you pressed a trembling hand to your chest, willing yourself to calm down. There was no reason to be afraid, you told yourself. It was just a momentary lapse, nothing more.

But it wasn’t. It happened again, and again. You found yourself waking in the night, gasping for air, your throat raw and burning. The servants began to notice the dark circles under your eyes, the way you would clutch your side when you thought no one was looking, the way you moved a little slower, a little more carefully.

There was a day that you sat in the garden, trying to find solace in the soft petals of the cherry blossoms, a violent fit seized you. You doubled over, coughing hard, and felt something wet and warm splatter against your lips. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and saw the unmistakable smear of blood.

A sharp gasp came from behind you. One of the younger servants had seen, her eyes wide with fear and concern. She rushed to your side, her hands trembling as she reached out to steady you.

“My lady, oh my!” she whispered, her voice filled with worry. “You’re… you’re bleeding.”

You shook your head, forcing a smile that felt like a grimace. “It is nothing.” you said, your voice hoarse. “Do not worry yourself over me.”

The servant looked unconvinced, her brow furrowed with concern. “I must tell Lord Sukuna.” she said quickly, glancing toward the entrance of the garden as if she expected him to appear at any moment. “He must know—”

“No, no…..” you cut her off sharply, your voice firmer than you had intended. “There is no point in that.”

She hesitated, confusion clouding her eyes. “But, my lady… you are unwell. He should—”

“He would not care, little girl.” you said softly, looking down at your blood-stained hand. “There is no use in troubling him with this. It would make no difference. Sukuna does not love me, nor does he care for me in that way. Do you think he would be moved by something as trivial as this?”

The servant bit her lip, clearly torn between her duty to you and her fear of Sukuna’s wrath. “But… if he knew, he might—”

“Might what?” you interrupted, your voice edged with a quiet resignation. “Send a healer? Take pity on me? No, he would not. I am nothing more than a reminder to him, a shadow of a past he cannot let go. He tolerates me, yes, but that is all.”

The servant looked at you, her eyes filling with tears, but she nodded slowly, understanding the weight of your words. She knew as well as you did that Sukuna’s heart was a barren, desolate place, filled with ghosts and haunted memories. There was no room for you there.

“Promise me, little girl.” you whispered, reaching out to touch her arm gently. “Promise me you won’t tell him.”

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded, her expression tight with worry. “I promise, my lady.” she murmured, though you could hear the doubt in her voice.

You leaned back against the tree, closing your eyes and letting the cool breeze brush against your skin. You knew there was no point in hoping for more than what you had. Sukuna had given you a place by his side, but it was not out of affection. He had lost the woman he truly loved, and you were only a semblance of her—a shadow he tolerated, nothing more.

You were dying, that much was clear. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise, a way to free yourself from this liminal existence, to escape the torment of being a living reminder of what he had lost. You could find peace in that, you thought. At least, you could try.

You would not burden him with your illness, with your slow, inevitable decline. You would carry it quietly, with dignity, for whatever time you had left. After all, what was one more life in the grand, cruel scheme of his world? You were just another fleeting moment in the endless march of time—another sacrifice, another offering to a man who had already lost everything he had ever cared for.

══════════════════

YOU DECIDED TO LET FATE RUN ITS COURSE. You let time pass by, letting the illness be hidden in the shadows of low whispers and painful tears in your long suffering days and nights. And sure enough, Ryomen Sukuna had returned from his long and exhausting trip within the next few days.

He had been famished from his trip and sent word that he would be having supper with you that night, which you had obliged without another word. You dressed in your finest, watching the servants prepare the table in your chambers and calmly thanked them one after another as they left.

The evening had settled into its usual quiet rhythm, with the two of you sharing dinner in the dimly lit chamber. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the walls, and the scent of roasted meat and simmered vegetables filled the air.

It was a routine you had come to accept with a resigned sort of familiarity, a ritual that offered a small measure of normalcy in your otherwise constrained existence.

You sat across from Sukuna, picking at your meal with an absent-mindedness that spoke more to your weariness than any lack of appetite. His presence was imposing, yet tonight, he was unusually subdued, his attention focused on the food in front of him rather than on you. And somehow, you were a bit more grateful for it.

As you took a sip from your cup, you looked up at him, your expression earnest. "My lord, do you not think you should be more understanding of your subjects?" you began, your voice gentle but firm. "I must implore you once more to be more lenient with the people. The fear you instill is one thing, but mercy could win you their loyalty and respect."

Sukuna's eyes, dark and inscrutable, met yours. He did not respond immediately, his gaze lingering on you as if weighing your words. This was not the first time you had made this plea, and it was not likely to be the last. You had grown accustomed to his silence, to the way he would listen but rarely act upon your suggestions.

"It is not for me to coddle them, little one." he said finally, his voice low and dismissive. "Fear is a more effective tool than mercy. It ensures obedience."

You sighed softly, knowing well that your words often fell on deaf ears. Still, you persisted, driven by a conviction that even the smallest act of kindness could make a difference. "I understand your perspective, my lord,  but sometimes even the harshest rulers find strength in showing compassion. It can—"

Before you could finish your thought, a sudden, sharp pain gripped your chest. You gasped, doubling over slightly, and a violent coughing fit overtook you. You struggled to steady yourself, but the force of it was too strong. Blood splattered onto the table, the vibrant red stark against the white of your kimono and the pale wood of the dining surface.

Your heart raced as you quickly wiped the blood away with your sleeve, hoping to hide the evidence of your distress. You tried to maintain your composure, but your hands were trembling as you looked up at Sukuna, who had gone still, his eyes fixed on the crimson stain.

For a moment, there was a silence so thick it felt like a physical presence. Ryomen Sukuna’s gaze was heavy and unyielding, his red eyes locked onto the blood that had marred the table and your attire. You could feel the weight of his scrutiny, his silence, a heavy burden that pressed down upon you.

"It's nothing, my lord." you said hurriedly, forcing a weak smile as you tried to brush off the incident. "Just a momentary lapse. Please, continue with your meal."

Sukuna’s expression was unreadable, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. He did not speak, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze—perhaps surprise, or concern, or something deeper that he quickly masked.

You could feel the tension between you, an invisible thread connecting your quiet plea to his unspoken thoughts. It was clear that your condition had not gone unnoticed, even if he chose not to acknowledge it openly. You had always been a presence in his life, but tonight, the reality of your fragility seemed to cut through the usual indifference.

He took a deep breath, his gaze finally shifting away from you as he turned his attention back to his meal. The silence that followed was filled with the soft clinking of utensils and the low murmur of conversation from the servants who hovered at the edges of the room, their eyes darting to you with barely concealed concern.

You ate in silence, each bite of food tasting like ash in your mouth. The pain in your chest had subsided, but a deep weariness remained, a lingering reminder of your deteriorating health. You glanced at Sukuna from time to time, but he was absorbed in his meal, his expression unreadable.

The conversation you had tried to initiate was now buried beneath the weight of your illness, and you knew better than to press further. The battle for his leniency would have to wait for another day, another time when you were not so overshadowed by your own suffering.

As the meal drew to a close, you felt the oppressive silence settle around you once more. Sukuna’s gaze was distant, his thoughts seemingly occupied with matters beyond the confines of the dining room. You could only hope that, in some small way, your presence had made a difference, even if it was not the kind you had hoped for.

When the servants cleared away the dishes and the room began to empty, you excused yourself, retreating to your chamber with a heavy heart. You knew that your time here was growing shorter, that the end was approaching with each passing day. But for now, you would carry on, finding what small measure of peace you could in the fleeting moments you had left.

And as you lay down in your bed, staring up at the ceiling, you could not help but think of the blood you had tried to hide, of the way Sukuna’s eyes had lingered on it. You could only hope that someday, he might see you not as a mere shadow or a reminder of what he had lost, but as a person who had tried, in her own way, to make a difference in his world.

The next morning, you awoke to a disorienting cacophony of shouts and harsh reprimands. The once-familiar silence of your quarters was shattered by the sounds of chaos from the courtyard. Your heart sank as you stumbled out of bed, a sharp pain reminding you of the night before.

As you made your way through the hallways, the noise grew louder, mingling with the harsh, angry tones of Ryomen Sukuna’s voice. Your mind raced, dreading what you might find. You knew it already. You have seen it in the other households of the other concubines. And you can only know what had caused such a commotion. When you reached the courtyard, the scene before you was both startling and terrifying.

Your servants were gathered in the center of the courtyard, their faces pale with fear and their postures crumpled under the weight of Sukuna’s wrath. He stood at the center of the commotion, his expression thunderous as he raged at them. His anger was palpable, his words a relentless storm of fury directed at those who had failed to inform him of your condition.

Your breath caught in your throat, and without thinking, you stepped forward, your heart pounding in your chest. The courtyard fell into a stunned silence as Sukuna’s gaze shifted to you, his eyes dark with a mixture of surprise and irritation.

"My lord, please." you began, your voice trembling as you bowed deeply, your forehead nearly touching the ground. "This is my fault, not theirs. I beg for your forgiveness and mercy for my servants."

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed as he took in your contrite posture, his anger momentarily faltering. He regarded you with a mixture of disbelief and curiosity, his dark, unforgiving, gaze sharp as he assessed your sincerity.

"It was my decision to hide my illness, my lord." you continued, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I did not want to trouble you or cause unnecessary concern. Please, spare them your anger. They were only following my wishes."

Ryomen Sukuna remained silent for a moment, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. The servants, though still shaken, dared to lift their eyes to you, their expressions a blend of relief and apprehension.

Finally, Sukuna's gaze softened, a hint of resignation creeping into his expression. He took a deep breath, his anger dissipating as he looked at you with a new intensity. "You would take the blame for them?" he asked, his voice low and edged with incredulity.

You nodded, maintaining your bowed position. "Yes, my lord. It was my choice, my responsibility. I could not bear the thought of them being punished for my actions."

Sukuna’s expression hardened slightly, but the fury in his eyes had dimmed. After a moment of consideration, he gave a curt nod. "Very well. You will accept any punishment I shall put upon you.”

You swallowed the bile down your throat. “Yes, my lord.”

“Then I will call for healers. You will see them immediately." He says, as though it was the final verdict. “You will see them, all of them. Do you understand?”

“Yes…yes, my lord.” You whispered back to him.

He turned away from the servants, his gaze now fixed on you with an inscrutable intensity. "Go." he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. "See to your health, you foolish girl. Your servants too can go. They will tend to you, no matter what you ask.”

You straightened slowly, a mixture of relief and trepidation washing over you. You dared to look up at Sukuna, meeting his eyes briefly before turning to address the servants.

"Thank you, my lord." you said quietly, your voice filled with gratitude. "You have done nothing wrong. Please, return to your duties."

With a final, respectful bow, you turned and headed back toward your quarters with the help of your servants. As you entered your quarters, you felt like you had lived a thousand lifetimes in that one moment. Your servants were bowing at your feet, asking for your forgiveness. But you had all but shooed them away, telling them it was your duty as their master.

You wanted to be alone right now. At least when you still had the chance. When the healers arrive, you would have a life to yourself any longer. You would be stuck in their mercy, with their potions and their whims.

You must prepare yourself for the arrival of the healers. You groaned lowly as you clutch your chest, a wave of pain hitting one after the other. It will be over soon, that’s what you hoped. That’s what you want. You want to be free from this pain. You wanted nothing more than to be free.

══════════════════

THE PAIN WAS RELENTLESS. The days dragged on in a relentless cycle of pain and futile hope. Despite the best efforts of countless healers, none seemed able to bring you any real relief.

If anything, your condition worsened, each new treatment only seeming to accelerate your quick decline. Ryomen Sukuna’s frustration was palpable; his anger had become a regular presence, casting a long shadow over the already bleak atmosphere of the estate.

You had heard the whispers of the fate that befell each healer who failed to improve your condition. It was a grim reminder of Sukuna’s volatility, a dangerous mix of desperation and rage. The once-bustling quarters were now filled with an air of fearful tension as new healers arrived, only to face Sukuna’s wrath when their efforts proved ineffectual.

On one of the rare days when you felt well enough to leave your bed, you chose to sit by the garden. The fresh air and the sight of the vibrant blooms were a welcome distraction from the constant ache in your body. You had managed to position yourself on a stool under the gentle shade of a cherry tree, finding some small comfort in watching the birds flit about, their cheerful chirping a stark contrast to the turmoil that had become your life.

Sukuna appeared in the garden, his presence as imposing as ever. He walked with a deliberate pace, his gaze scanning the surroundings with an air of detached observation. As he neared, you looked up and greeted him with a smile, though the effort felt heavy, as if each movement was a strain against the burden of your illness.

“My lord.” you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “The skies are beautiful today, aren’t they?”

Sukuna stopped, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in your serene expression. The silence stretched between you, an unspoken tension that lingered like the heat of a summer day. He said nothing in response, his gaze fixed on you with an inscrutable intensity.

After a moment, he broke the silence. “How is it that you can accept death with such… calm?” His voice was low, edged with curiosity and something else you couldn’t quite place.

You blinked, taken aback by his question. A laugh escaped you, soft and brittle, more out of surprise than genuine amusement. “Accept death, my lord?” you repeated. “I haven’t accepted death, in truth. But there is no way to avoid it.”

Sukuna’s eyes remained on you, his expression unreadable as he listened. You continued, your voice tinged with a philosophical resignation. “Death will come for all of us, eventually. It’s a natural end to this life. We all must face it in our own time. In that way, we are all freed from the burdens of this world.”

He studied you with a mixture of skepticism and something akin to contemplation. “You speak as if it is an inevitability you embrace, little one.”

“Not embrace, my lord.” you corrected gently, sighing. “But acknowledge. It’s a part of life, as much as the beginning is. We can fight it or we can accept it, but it will come regardless.”

Sukuna’s gaze softened slightly, though his expression remained stoic. He seemed to be weighing your words, his usual fierceness replaced by an unusual quiet. “And you are not afraid, then?”

“Fear?” You tilted your head, considering the question. “I suppose I am afraid of the pain that might come before the end. But fear of death itself? Not so much. It’s merely another step in the journey, my lord. That is what I believe, at least.”

For a moment, there was a stillness between you, punctuated only by the distant chirping of birds. Sukuna’s eyes flickered to the sky, perhaps contemplating the vastness of existence you had spoken of. The anger that had once seemed so consuming in his presence now appeared subdued, replaced by a contemplative silence.

“I see.” he said finally, his tone carrying a trace of grudging respect. “Your words are… unusual.”

You smiled faintly, a tired but genuine expression. “Perhaps. But sometimes, facing the truth can be a way to find peace, my lord.”

Sukuna stood there for a while longer, his presence a dark silhouette against the backdrop of the garden’s tranquility. Finally, he gave a curt nod and turned to leave, his demeanor less harsh than before. The sound of his footsteps gradually faded as he walked away, leaving you alone once more with your thoughts and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze.

As you sat there, watching the birds and the shifting clouds, you felt a small measure of contentment. Sukuna’s visit had brought a moment of introspection, a reminder of the fragile balance between life and death. Even in your suffering, you found a semblance of peace, understanding that acceptance was not about surrendering to fate but about finding a way to live with it, even as the end loomed ever closer.

And just like that, the day you had dreaded finally arrived. And truly, you were left feeling an unbearable weakness that signaled the end was near. The once-familiar confines of your quarters now seemed like a distant world, and the pain of your illness was a constant, gnawing presence. Each breath was a struggle, each moment of consciousness a battle against the encroaching darkness.

To your surprise, your lord Sukuna appeared by your side as you lay on your bed, his imposing figure contrasting sharply with the fragility of your own condition. He had not been a part of your daily existence in the past weeks, his visits sporadic and his presence usually marked by anger and frustration. But now, he was here, seated beside you in a rare display of stillness.

You looked at him through the haze of pain and weakness, your voice a mere whisper. “My lord, it seems this is my time to part from you.”

Sukuna’s eyes were steady, his gaze betraying an emotion you could not fully decipher. “I know, little one.” he replied simply, his voice holding a note of finality.

A pained laugh escaped your lips, the sound mingling with a shuddering breath. “I only wish… I could avoid being reborn into such misery again. To be the other woman, to be nothing to you.”

Sukuna’s silence stretched between you, a weighty pause that seemed to deepen the divide between you. After a moment, he spoke, his voice low but firm. “You were something.”

You shook your head, the effort to move even slightly causing a fresh wave of agony. “You lie easily, as you breathe, my lord.” you said with a faint, sorrowful smile.

The silence that followed was heavy and palpable, filled with the unspoken complexities of your relationship. As you lay there, the end drawing closer with each passing moment, you found a strange clarity in the finality of your situation.

“I love you, my lord.” you said softly, the words carrying a weight that transcended the physical pain. “As sad as it is, I do. But I have no intention of having it returned. I hope that, in the next life, I never meet you again.”

Sukuna’s expression remained impassive, but there was a softness in his gaze that belied his usual stoic demeanor. As you took your final, labored breaths, his sigh was a mix of resignation and something deeper, something that spoke to the complexity of your intertwined fates.

“I hope so too, little one.” he said quietly, his voice carrying a rare touch of vulnerability.

With those words hanging in the air, you felt a sense of release, the weight of your suffering beginning to lift. As your consciousness faded and the pain finally ebbed away, you left behind the world that had been both your prison and your refuge. Ryomen Sukuna looked at your lifeless body, pursing his lips into a flat line.

“Live on in a better life, little one.” He whispered, his fingers brushing against your hair. “May you be loved by someone who loves you. May we never meet again, my other woman."

[thedivinetarot]

Light of my life, fire of my loins, my sin, my soul

Who is your future spouse?

☆How to chose the perfect pile?

1) Clear your mind.

2) Take a deep breathe.

3) Ask the question in your head.

4) Open your eyes and the picture that you are drawn to the most is your pile.

☆ Before you get into the reading you have to know the following:

- Please, please and I will say it again please do not think of anyone while you are choosing. Not your Ex or current boyfriend or even your crush. And I will say it again DO NOT THINK of any man as your future spouse if you want to have an accurate reading.

- This is a general reading so take what resonates and leave the rest. The future is not set in stone and the energy can change. This reading does not substitute any medical or professional help.

- I might do part 2 for this reading.

Stay safe ❤

Arya

Pile 1 - Bram stoker's Dracula

☆Where are you coming from? Your current love life:

I see that this pile have been lonely for quite some time and they are wondering if they will truly find someone. I see that you guys are overthinking everything about your love life and you are leaving no space for divine intervention. This pile’s energy is quite sad and tormented? You perhaps tell yourself that you don't need anyone but you truly want to build something stable and long lasting. I see that you feel stuck on I'm independent I don't need anyone mindset. Not because you really like being independent but because you are afraid of getting disappointed. The problem with this pile is the fear is literally paralyzing you and sabotaging any potential connection that can fit into your life. I'm also seeing that you might be someone who have been rejected and the pain of rejection is still vivid in your core memory. I see that you truly want love and to be loved! You might have a crush on someone with virgo or taurus placements. Or you might feel drawn to those type of men who embodies this archetype. I feel like you are kind of traditional towards dating. You might have had strict family or you really have a strong opinion regarding dating or hookup culture. This is your pile if you have strong virgo placements, water placements or the description fit you perfectly.

Who is your future spouse?

Pile one you might be manifesting your twin flame to be in a marriage with them? This person might enter your life so soon and above all you might get to know him online? I see that he might like your photos if you post yourself or he might just DM you through social media? This person is so grounded and stubborn. He is so earthy and stable in a generous way. He is the perfect mix between fire and earth. He is so childish or he aim to see infinite possibilities. I see that he is doing shadow work or he has been to therapy before. I see that this person is either a heartbreaker or been heartbroken many times. He is so naive or he seems naive? He might prefer texting over phone or video calls. There's an emphasis on his hair. He have curly and dark hair. His eyes are sleepy or he have sleepy eyes. There's something about his face, you see those people who have sleepy faces? Like they just woke up? I guess he might have that. He might look innocent and angelic. Like his aura is so comforting and serene. I also see that this person look younger than his age with hazel eyes. His style looks chill, like you see those guys who wear comfy hoodies? He might be one of them. I asked when will you meet him and the cards told me that you may meet him 6 months from now. You might be on a journey of self discovery when he enters your life. You might be losing weight and if you are not trying to lose weight; you might be trying to get in shape. I see that you are going to meet him after doing a lot of shadow work and inner reflection.

Pile 2 - The Addams couple

☆ Where are you coming from? Your current love life:

This pile is my daring and flirty pile. You might like your solitude but you flirt for fun. I see that most interactions that happen between you and the opposite sex are online. You might like to post spicy photos of yourself. Or send nudes to total strangers in public. You might like to take initiative in relationships. Even if you are a woman/female; you simply don't care about the traditional roles. Especially on who get to initiate to whom. If you like someone you are going to get them, I see that this is your moto. Also this might be your pile if you are stuck on a decision regarding travel. You might want to travel but you are juggling too many responsibilities and this is holding you back from actually pursuing that goal. If you are a man (since the dominant energy on this pile are men or masculines) you might be posting photos or nudes of yourself online. I see many risky photos and poses and if you are not a man or masculine then you might be doing the same action. You really value your own space; I see that you are protecting your peace at all costs. I mean yes you might like to flirt for fun with others but nothing really is serious and you are not looking for something serious either. This is your pile if you have significant leo or Aries placements.

Who is your future spouse?

Your future spouse is someone that you are going to meet through group project. At first as I said about your current energy, you are not looking for something serious so when you meet that person you'll find it kind of confusing. I see that you might be blinded at first. Like you might not notice them and if you are working with them you might not be attracted to them. They are not your usual type, they might be smart and quick thinker. This person knows how to take care of themselves. He might also know how to take care of women in general. Men might call him simp but he is no simp he is just so kind and empathetic towards women's needs. He is so determined, I see that once he put his mind on a goal he doesn't stop when he is tired, He only stop when he finish. I see that he LOVES to conquer a good challenge. He likes to to be assertive and he is looking for someone assertive too. He want his equal, his queen. He might look like he suit you? Wait let me rephrase it. You see that two people who are not dating but everyone in workplace ship them? You two might have intense chemistry. This person look like a heartbreaker. Eye color range from brown to gray or just those two colors. His hair is so silky or wavy. He have this confused look when he talk to you? He might even drag his feet while he walk, or he might look tired when he walk.

Pile 3 - Nosferatu

Where are you coming from? Your current love life.

Well, looking at the cards this pile is in their sweet feminine energy who wants princess treatment and to be spoiled. If this is not the case then this piles are for mothers or you are a mother or pregnant. If you are not pregnant and you are the girl who is in her feminine energy then I see that there's someone who wants to pursue you and he is so damn confident about it. I see that you guys are so confident in yourselves. Perhaps, you are someone who is working on their self esteem and self worth. I see that whatever the case you are in. It is going to pay off. For my girlies who are being pursued by someone I see that this person is very serious about you. He want to marry you quiet literally. This person sees you as his wife or future wife. I also see that this connection is meant to be and is distant to happen even if you are not aware of it. This person is quite civilized and diplomatic. He want to make you happy and cherish you, but if you don't want him it is your choice at the end of the day. I see a lot of happiness in this pile. Guys happiness is your middle name, since the energy or the cards I'm pulling are all yellow and yellow means happiness in tarot. Another energy I'm picking up on is that this pile doesn't really want to be strong and independent. Unlike pile one who is pushing themselves to be that way, this pile is accepting the fact that you want to be a stay at home mother or a rich wife of a rich dude. Most people in this pile are Venus dominant, have taurus or libra placement or have venusian energy in general. You guys might be the pretty girl in your friend group and everyone enjoys looking at you.

Who is your future spouse?

So right off the bat what I'm seeing is someone who have a lot of options. You know that one man who is wanted by every woman because of how friendly and charismatic he is? This man has this energy. It looks like this person is someone who has been heartbroken before and now he keeps his options open by befriending many girls and keeping his options open. He have the cup of love and he is so eager to give it to someone, I'm also picking up on someone passionate and eager to explore life. This person is sooo romantic in a cheesy way. I see that many times he attempted to get in a relationship but got afraid and back off from pursuing something serious. This person believes in manifestations or he tried manifesting an SO or future wife or this person really believes that he can create the reality he wants. This person gives off the vibe of a knight in a shining armor or a Disney prince tbh. This person look like a literal baby or he have baby features. He might have round or oval face. This man can be a little overweight or fat with blonde hair and blue eyes. He is so cute I'm seeing a picture of someone who look adorable and sweet. This person gives off the vibe of "I look good as a husband". But in general this person look so childish and baby like. Could look younger than his actual age? Or this person might be younger than you, but not so much like a couple months younger. He is so friendly or he have a lot of female friendships. This man gives off the ENFJ vibes Idk if you know mbti but you can Google it if you want to. He is so emotionally mature and caring. His energy is so nurturing. I asked the cards about when will you are going to meet him and they said he will enter soon into your life and one of the signs is a female around you is going to give birth or you are going to meet a pregnant woman or one of your relatives/friends will get pregnant. There's a NOTE for this pile specifically; if you are being pursued by someone this person is your future spouse. And if you are not being pursued by anyone then you might know who your future spouse is. And if you don't have anyone then take the reading with a grain of salt but you can enjoy it anyways.

Pile 4 - Hollywood couple

Where are you coming from? Your current love life:

This pile is truly stuck. I feel like I'm bored and desperate I want to cry. Like guys what is the matter? There's both boredom and stagnation. You might be someone who is really bored with how things are in your love life. I'm picturing a girl about 16 to 18 years old who want to be open to love but there's a man in her life (could be a male caregiver) who is very strict and structured. This man literally destroyed your well to date anyone. I feel like you are discouraged by the idea of love and I feel that you are unbalanced in a way? Like you are trying to protect yourself from getting hurt but at the same time you want love so freaking bad. I'm clinching my jaw and I feel like I want to scream and yell and kick things around me. Pile four why are you so angry? Please calm down! There's nothing in this life that deserve all this anger. Please take a break and go balance yourself and life. You are still young and have no experience and life is still long in front of you. I see that you might be waiting for something to happen; for someone to come in and rescue you from your life but nothing really happens so you pour all of your anger and resentment on yourself. Please stop hurting yourself and go find a hobby or something that can help you channel this anger and resentment. I'm picking up on someone who is bottling up their feelings and not really trying to express them. I also feel headache, do you have headache pile four? Are you bloated too? You might have significant leo and Aries placements. A little Taurus placements and sun, mars and sagittarius dominate. I feel like you are waiting and waiting but the waiting itself got bored of you lol. And you end up feeling devastated and angry. This pile’s energy is so rageful, please do some meditation or workout to get rid of that anger. You might also be scared of change? And overwhelmed by the idea of change? You might be someone who doesn't really like things to change and stick to a specific routine. Anyways let's get into the reading.

Who is your future spouse?

This person is very hardworking and workaholic. I see that the main focus in his life is his career, money and stability. This man is a little bit selfish, and he became like that because of how much he suffered. This person suffered from poverty, or he was very poor. He might even get kicked out of his family house so he can work and get them money. This person got bullied a lot by his peers and saw a lot of cruelty in his life, I feel so sorry for him. This person might be closed off emotionally, it is like he is trying to shelter himself from any possible heartache because of what happened in his childhood. I also see that when you meet him he might not be ready for anything serious or he might not really have healed fully from what has happened to him. There's an age gap here, he might he older than you or more mature. Like 4 years older. He might also be a co-worker of you? Or acquaintance If it is not then he might work with you in your field. The main challenge he is facing is stability, he want stability to be able to marry you. My advice for this pile is don't try to force things out if this person is not ready for commitment. He hasn't healed yet and his main focus is on the material. He might even use you if you attempted to help him financially so please don't. What really amazed me in this pile that this man is so materialistic, his love language can be gift giving. Now his appearance; this person look so cocky and confident. He have hazel eye color and sharp features. This person's back look hot or beautiful. He is not that tall, he is medium height. His hair is dirty blonde or chestnut brown. A foreigner? He might not be from your country. This man is possessive to be honest. If you met him after he get his ish together he will spoil you rotten but if not then don't try to help and heal him. You might meet him at the end of November to the most of December.

Post date: 25th/Aug/2024 - Sun

*Feedback is appreciated

[thatonegayship]

I had to

Wait, does the cheating thing on the bond always works? bcs that would be kinda freaky for R!Dipper like imagine you get pinned down by someone in the corner of a br or smthng and then said person kissed you and proceeded to explode into red mist and you literally have no idea what happened.

Also, would the constellation mark be a "cursed" Mark over the years, like you would give birth to a baby and the doctor says "😟 I am so sorry ma'am,,, I'm afraid your baby has the Cipher Companion mark. ( could also be something equally as science-y like Ursa Major, Constellation Calamation, etc idk)" And you just burst into tears.

Would that mean that dipper would get into a special program(demon wrangling program or smthng, demonologist? Maybe)? Or would the parents hide it away hoping that Bill would never take their child away?

(Sorry this au is just very interesting to me,,,, I hope u get more motivation, keep writing author 💪)

These are all options! The fun part of reincarnation AU being left ambiguous is that technically any of them could happen.

[madamechrissy]

✨️Feels like Stardust, Floating all around Us✨️

✨️The five times Suguru tried to confess his feelings, and the one that worked ✨️

✨️Pairings - Suguru Geto x F!reader

✨️Summary - It’s New Years Eve, and Suguru is at a huge party in the city, with Satoru, Nanami and Shoko, but his mind goes to the girl who moved to France right after your Freshman year of College ended. The girl he never got the courage to tell his feelings to, despite knowing her most of his life. You. When you return from abroad, looking even more beautiful than he remembered, he wonders if he can finally tell you how he really feels, and get your kiss at Midnight. (Or every night) Watch as Suguru tries to confess his feelings from Elementary, Middle, High school and College, while not knowing you felt the same.

✨️CW - MDNI- explicit, 18+ only! Very emotional, light angst, cute fluff, and smutty!! Mutual pining, same format of Duvet Days and Vanilla Ice Cream (Satoru’s 5+1 !!) If you enjoyed that storytelling format, you’ll enjoy this one! (Same world as this too) friends/idiots to lovers. Will be NSFW at the end, there is oral (f recieving), dirty talk, mating press, rough sex, creampie, the rest of the story also has suggestive, fingering, teasing, edging. -Word count- 16.2k- oneshot long af lol, just trust meee <3

Comments and reblogs so appreciated if you enjoy!! -(divider by @strangergraphics - banner made by me)

It’s New Year's Eve, and you’re so nervous to see your old friends again, especially one friend in particular, Suguru Geto. As the cool air makes you shiver a bit in your dress, you wrap your light suede jacket around you just a little tighter, stepping up to what you remember as Satoru Gojo’s house, opulent and extravagant, the perfect place for a party really.

You take a little breath, looking up at the clear night sky, knowing soon it would be smokey with fireworks, and you can’t help but remember all the times you’ve been here. Particular parties, or study sessions, with all of your best friends, who had clearly stayed close, you wonder will you still fit in? You also wonder, will you look good to a particular dark haired man.

Shaking it off, you psych yourself up, you’ve done your hair, your makeup, you’ve got this gold glitter all over your skin, and a gorgeous little gold dress. You wracked over ideas over and over, wanting it to be so perfect, wanting to make sure that you could maybe get noticed by him in a different way, in the way you’ve always wanted, but have never really said.

You finally, after minutes of standing and contemplating it, knock on the door, you can feel the music reverberating, and it blares when Satoru Gojo opens the door. When you see Satoru’s smiling face and pretty blue eyes you can’t help but smile. He says your name and yanks you in practically, pulling you in for a big hug, you giggle and hug him back.

“Satoru!” He pops a kiss on your head now.

“Oh my god, you’re back for good!?” You nod then, smiling.

“Croissants and wine are great, but I missed home for sure. Satoru, you're squeezing me to death!”

“Sorry, sweets. Just missed your face.”

“You’re hogging her.” Shoko says, you grin so big again, as she pulls you in for a tight hug, you both kiss each other’s cheeks. “You came home, huh?”

“Finally! Oh, Nanami!” He smiles a tired little smile, holding a strong arm out, you hug him tightly, his hand on your head gently.

“You came back to this shithole?” You snort, pulling back and shaking your head at him, leaning up to ruffle his sandy blond locks, much to his displeasure.

“Came back to torture you, Kento.” He rolls his hazel eyes, then you pause when you see him across the room, he stops right in his tracks, his lips parted just so, a pack of cigarettes in one hand as if he was about to step out. But he doesn’t move, not an inch, and neither do you then.

“He didn’t know you were coming.” Satoru whispers, you look up at him curiously, and Nanami chuckles a bit.

“We wanted to see the full effect.” He murmurs.

“Look, his jaw is on the floor. Shit, take her coat!” Shoko says, Satoru snatches it off casually, as Suguru approaches, and sees you in your dress now, your heart is racing in your chest when he stands right in front of you.

Suguru’s heart isn’t racing, it’s pounding out of his chest, when he sees you, so beautiful in this golden dress, it hugs your every curve, hitting mid thigh, revealing much of your supple skin that seems to glitter under the fairy lights hung all over. He blinks once, twice, three times, and opens his mouth, but he can’t even form a coherent thought.

You’re looking up at him with those eyes, the glittering ones that he’s looked at for so many years, but he has longed for them since you’ve been gone, he’s pictured them when he closes his eyes. Pictures of you are not the same, they are all gorgeous, you are gorgeous, but there’s something missing in them, something he can only truly feel in person.

He feels your very energy humming, and he’s so terrified, he’s going to close up again, isn’t he? He’s going to let you down again, hold back and shut down, when you last left he was in such a dark, dark place, and he would not let you in. He had no idea you would be here, though he knew you were coming home soon, he’d tried to prepare a whole speech, torn paper after paper.

Filled notebooks about you, highlighting sections, writing poems about your eyes, your lips, everything he would do to you if he got a chance. How he’d kiss every inch of your smooth skin, how he’d see you writhing in pleasure under him, but also how he’d get down on one knee for you, how he’d devote anything if he could just get a chance, a chance to tell you the truth.

The truth?

Suguru Geto has been in love with you since the first day you met, all the way back in elementary school.

“Gonna just stare and drool?” Satoru teases, bringing him back, he clears his throat, a dark pink rushing across his high cheekbones.

Suguru Geto was not inexperienced, he certainly was not a Satoru level player back in the day, but them both being in a fraternity and in sports came with certain things, parties and hookups. He mostly avoided it though, but he’s never been tongue tied with a girl, in fact being with girls was effortless for him, they all just came to him, but you?

You’re so different.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t seen you in so long…” You fidget a bit, nervous now, looking down. He’s fucking it up already.

“No, I’m sorry, I missed you all very much.” You say with a little smile, hands entwined in front of you, pressing your breasts together in a dress already too revealing, addling his mind. “You look good, Sugu.”

Sugu, the little nickname you had for him, hearing it from your lips after so long melts him, and you’re telling him that he looks good, he should be telling you how beautiful you are. He should have always told you it, but he could never find the right damn words, and after years of not seeing you, he hasn’t moved on, not even close, there is only one you.

“You… you look good.” He manages, voice breaking, he watches your face fall just a bit, cursing himself, as Satoru gestures behind you, a finger gun to his head, and Shoko slits her throat with her finger. Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Um, I mean great, really great. Like… you look…”

“It’s fine, I appreciate it.” You smile, walking up to him then, holding your arms out for a hug, when he pulls you against him, and inhales that scent, the sweet vanilla of your perfume, and the strawberries in your hair, it all hits.

It’s your scent.

He inhales, pulling you tightly against him, the longing making him ache, as you inhale his scent, that fresh yet masculine one, feeling his hard body against yours, he’s gotten even more buff, you feel all the muscles as he holds you tight. You feel how broad his shoulders are when your hands gently brush against his biceps over his soft black sweater.

You look up into his eyes, those dark violet ones that are lidded and lazy, making you wonder what they look like when he feels good. You shake the thoughts away, praying your dress covers the now perked up nipples from the contact, your heat pooling in your lower tummy just from a hug. How has he gotten more gorgeous, you can’t understand.

His mid length dark hair is even longer now, straight and silky to his shoulders and even beyond them, he has half of it up in a bun and damned if Suguru Geto is the only man that can make it look so attractive. A little wisp falls in front of his forehead just so, you ache to brush it back, to lean up and kiss those full lips, glossy when he runs a tongue along them.

It’s not just as bad as it was before for you…

It’s not just as bad as it was before for him…

It’s worse.

“Ahem, weren’t you going to smoke?” Shoko cuts in the awkward silence of you two, you step aside then.

“Sorry, don't let me keep you! We can catch up later.” You say, and he opens his mouth again, then Satoru interrupts.

“Go check out the stars together on the balcony and have a smoke, Suguru, yeah?” Suguru nods then, eagerly, taking your jacket from Satoru and gently putting it over your shoulders.

“Yeah, if it won’t bother you?” He asks, you shake your head with a smile, although you don’t smoke, it is very common in France, and you’re pretty used to it now, along with Sugu and Shoko having smoked since high school.

“Not at all. If you don’t mind the company.” You say, brushing your hair back behind your ear, you’re so fucking cute, Suguru wants to tell you…

No, he’s going to tell you.

Tonight.

What if you leave again, what if someone sweeps you off your feet? What if he’ll live forever and not have said it? He has to throw it out there, and if you do not feel the same, he worries he’ll hit that dark place again, but he’s going to try. He places his hand on the small of your back, then Satoru hands you both a glass of champagne, winking at you.

You walk out with him, god his big hand feels good there, it feels so natural. For years upon years you had a thing for him, but it seems you all had really just stayed friends, he’s kept in touch even though you’ve been abroad, but it seemed merely friendly. He watched your Insta and liked a couple pictures, made a couple comments, you two hadn’t even had a phone call.

You realize just how much you missed that dark, husky voice when you both step out back to Satoru’s balcony, it’s high up on a hill, giving the perfect view of the sky and of the city lights below. You lean against the glass railing, watching the sky glittering, stars twinkling, the moon a crescent shimmering and reflected on the water overlooking the pretty lake below.

“This is so nice, I missed the beauty here.” Suguru looks at you, at the breeze gently blowing your hair back, revealing your beautiful face in the night.

“I missed the beauty too.” He says, you look at him then, incredulously, and his heart hammers, like he’s a dumb teenager and not twenty two now.

“What do you mean, did you leave here for a bit?” You ask, and he exhales then, stepping closer to you, two fingers tilting your chin up, and you feel your body react, your pulse fluttering.

“I mean your beauty. You don’t just look great, fuck I am dumb sometimes, I suck at expressing…”

“Sugu, it's fine.”

“It’s not. You look breathtaking.” His violet eyes glimmer, dark lashes hovering over them, the words not computing in your muddled mind. “That’s as close to the word that describes you as I can think.”

“Breathtaking? I… that’s too…” You’re glad it’s dark, so he can’t see his effects on you, but surely he catches the rise and fall of your chest with the quickening of your breath, and when his thumb brushes over your lower lip, it trembles just a bit. “You really think so?”

He scoffs a bit, sighing. “I’ve always thought so, I’ve always thought you were beautiful, even when we were kids. I’m sure I’ve… said it.”

“N-no. Um, you have said pretty but I thought you meant it as a friend?” Suguru sighs again, looking back into your eyes, hand still on your chin.

“There are a few memories I’d like to look back on with you, do you think you can listen to them tonight? If I promise you the best New Years Eve kiss ever?” You giggle then, looking down shyly, hands roaming gently up his hard abdomen, fingers clutching the soft fabric just so.

“I get a kiss from Suguru Geto? Wasn’t the last one… gosh, prom?” He nods then, smirking just a bit.

“That will be one of the stories.”

“And do I get a kiss for each one?” You tease, raising a brow.

“Do you want five kisses?”

“Five! Sounds like it’d be more than kisses, hmm?” Suguru’s hair falls over his shoulder gently, his free hand pressing against the nip of your waist, and something clicks then, like this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

He knows this is where he is supposed to be, gazing down at your beautiful face, your lips parted just so, eyes dilating when his thumb presses against your ribcage under the swell of your breast. He watches your breath hitch, as his own does, when he feels your body, the curve of your waist, over the sequined dress he’d die to take off of you.

“I could kiss you everywhere.” You let this sound escape, this little cry that you quickly get embarrassed by, but he shakes his head, pulling you closer. “I’ll demonstrate a bit.”

“Y-yeah?” He chuckles against your ear, breath tickling.

“Yeah.” He kisses right behind your ear, a little press of firm lips, that touch alone has you aching, reeling, when his tongue flicks against your skin, your hands clutch him tightly, earning his quiet moan at your reaction.

“Sugu, I've also wanted to tell you something, something I really have been wanting to say for so long.” Suguru kisses your neck again, inhaling your scent, before nodding and pulling back.

“After my stories.” He says with a turn to his lips, you laugh softly.

“Yeah? All right. First one, shoot.” You pick up your glass off the railing, he picks his up as well. “Thought you were gonna have a smoke?”

“Trying to quit soon.” He admits, pulling one out then, leaning on the rail and looking at you, clinking your glasses. “Light for me?”

“Sure.” You take the lighter, hands just a little shaky when you flick it, the flame burns the cherry of his slim white cigarette, he takes an inhale, careful to blow the smoke up and away from you, then he takes a sip of the champagne, as do you.

“First story starts on the day we met, do you remember?” You smile fondly, nodding then.

*****

The First time Suguru Geto tried to confess his feelings - Age 11- Grade Five

Suguru Geto was staring at you, the new girl in the school, how could he not when you were just so cute? He thinks you’re the cutest girl he has seen, actually, and Satoru, his best friend, was snickering behind him as he just stared. “You think she’s cute!”

“No!” Suguru hissed, but Satoru was snorting in laughter, as you all played in the playground, it was winter time that year, and a light dusting of snow was on the ground, coating the grass in white.

“Hey, new girl!” Satoru shouted, you turned then, you were just reading a book rather than playing, Suguru found it so interesting, how your glasses sat just so on the bridge of your nose, which is a little red from the cold.

“Yeah?” You closed the book, standing and walking up to them both, Satoru had begun nudging Suguru in the shoulder, when your eyes met for the first time.

Gosh, he’s so cute, you thought, he literally looked afraid though as he stared at you with wide violet eyes. You worry then, is there something on your face!? The way he stared, you start to feel like something must be wrong with you, especially when he didn’t say anything, and instead his white haired best friend stepped closer to you, grinning.

“What’s your name, new girl?” He asked, you softly tell them, and Suguru repeated your name softly, as he continued to stare.

“Um, is there something on my face?” You asked him then, gloved hand coming to an overheated cheek. Suguru sputtered, and Satoru laughed then.

“Nah, he thinks you’re cute. I think he likes you.” Satoru had declared in a sing-song voice, and you felt it, your heart fluttering at the thought of such a cute boy liking you.

Suguru doesn’t like you though, he thinks he has fallen in love at first sight, maybe that sounds silly, but how else can he explain this?

“You think I’m cute?” You asked shyly, and Suguru shook his head, breaking your little eleven year old heart.

“No, I don’t! I don’t like you.” You gasped then, and Satoru grimaced at his friend's folly, hand on his own face. “I mean, oh my god, I don’t know you… I don’t not like you! I just… don’t think you’re cute. I mean-”

“I… I have to go.” You felt the tears pricking your eyes, embarrassment creeping in, maybe this is a thing, to be mean to the new girl? You turned and ran off.

“You really messed that up. She is cute.” Satoru had said, Suguru glared at him, then frowned when he looked at your retreating figure.

“Satoru, you throw snowballs at the girl you like.”

“It’s better than what you did!” Satoru was stomping his foot. Suguru sighed, running after you, calling your name, you paused, turning then, and he saw your face streaked with tears, it gives him the worst feeling in the world.

“What do you want?” You mumbled, voice breaking. “It’s fine if you don’t like me, but leave me alone.”

“I do! I… I don’t…” Why can’t Suguru say anything?

“Maybe we can be friends anyway?” You asked, sniffling then, and Suguru nodded eagerly, clearing his throat, brushing tears from your cheek then.

“Of course I’m sorry. You’re not… not cute. I…”

“Okay. Then… we are friends? I need friends, all mine are back home.” You were, holding out a hand, he took it in his, nodding with a little smile.

“Friends.”

But eleven year old Suguru knew even then that he didn’t just want to be your friend, no he’d like to always hold your hand, and it felt empty when you turned and walked away, a pretty smile brightening your tear streaked cheeks. Satoru whistled and shook his head when Suguru came back.

“You messed up, Suguru.”

“I know.”

*****

You feel emotions pick at you now, remembering that day like it was yesterday somehow, it’s all fresh in your mind even after all these years. You look down nervously, sipping the champagne and sighing, as Suguru puts out a cigarette now, brushing his hair back and looking down at you.

“I remember all of that. It was so embarrassing, Sugu, why are we going there?” Suguru shakes his head, taking your hand in his now, remembering how it felt to hold your hand the first time, even in both of your winter gloves.

“I did think you were cute, the cutest girl I’d seen.” You giggle a bit, shaking your head. “I did, Satoru put me on the spot, and I froze.”

“He’s good at doing that.” You are stepping closer, looking up at him under your lashes as he towers so tall over you. “I was so nervous, it was my first day, I think you two were the first to talk to me.”

“You had your nose in a book, you always have though.”

“So, why the walk down memory lane?”

Suguru takes a breath, cupping your face, he watches your pupils dilate, feels the heat of your cheeks under his palm, aching for you. “It’s so you know.”

“Know what, you thought the new girl was cute?” He exhales, shaking his head, lips just a centimeter from yours.

“Much more than that. But you needed to know that I liked you.”

“Really!?”

He chuckles. “Yes, really. I hated when you cried, it made me so upset. It always has.”

You gently hold his wrist, thumb pressing against the veins of his inner wrist that pop out of his skin just so, strong arms, strong hands, that make you wonder. “I think I earned one of your kisses.”

“You did, love.”

Love, that little term of endearment breaks you, breaks your resolve, when his plump lips descend, tasting just faintly of smoke, but also sweet like the grape of the champagne against yours.

When Suguru Geto kisses your lips, it takes everything in him now to lift up that dress and taste all of you, when his tongue dives into the sweetness of your mouth gently between the seam of your soft lips. You let out this breathy cry, one that makes him ache for you, fuck he’s getting hard just kissing you, just feeling your tongue glide along his, then you gasp.

“You got your tongue pierced?” You murmur then, when you feel the barbell hit your tongue, he chuckles a bit, thumb brushing along your jawline, making you tremble, you feel it, the wetness sticking against your lacy panties, from a kiss, then when he holds out his tongue?

You’re done.

“Yeah I got it done a couple years back.” You bite your lower lip, mind thinking insane thoughts, picturing just what it could do, and then trying to shove all that back, because you know how much it would mean if you both took that step.

Fuck it would mean too much to you, you don’t know if you can casually hook up with him, to the point you step back a bit. “I can’t.”

He frowns, brows drawing together. “Can’t what?”

“I thought I could maybe… hook up with you. God I want to.” His lips part, narrowed eyes widening now. “But it would be too much for me. I need to… I need to go, I’m sorry.”

“Stop. Please.” He murmurs your name, gripping your hand when you turn away, big hand swallowing your little one, you exhale, looking back up at him. “You think that’s what I want from you, a hook up?”

“No, I said I wanted it. But I don’t think I could be casual, not with you.”

“And you think I could be casual with you?” Your heart is almost thudding so fast you feel dizzy, he pulls you against him again, your eyes go back to his lips. “I wasn’t asking for a ‘hook up’ tonight.”

“If you keep kissing me, that’s what will happen. Your tongue ring is fucking up my brain.” He snorts then, you look down shyly. “I’m not joking.”

“You’re so cute.” You think back on that day again, as does Suguru. “I should have told you then, that you were the cutest girl I’d ever seen.”

“Sugu, we were kids, it’s fine. Don’t worry about things like that.”

“No, I need to tell you another time I didn’t say the right thing.” You shake your head. “Yes, I do. Want another drink for the next story?”

“Just don’t show me that tongue ring please, I don’t think I can handle the horny ass thoughts.” He chuckles again, leaning close, the breeze blowing his sweater just a bit, lining his hard body.

“Think that’s my only piercing?” You bite your lip, mind racing.

“You’re a tease, Suguru Geto.” You whisper softly.

“Not teasing. Another story, should we go inside for the next?” You nod, a little nervous as he guides you through the party, you wave and make small talk with old friends and new faces, when he grabs two more glasses of champagne and takes you by the hand.

“Where are we heading, storyteller? Feel like this is the ghosts of New years past.” He laughs again, fuck when is the last time he laughed this much?

“I have a room here for when I stay, though I don’t often now that Satoru has his girl, they fuck so loud it echoes everywhere.” You snort now, shaking your head.

“It’s wild they ended up together after so long, I didn’t know if they’d ever admit their feelings.” It gets quiet then, between you two, so much left unsaid, because Suguru hasn’t admitted his own feelings, despite helping Satoru finally confess his.

Suguru shuts the door to the room, heading over to the speaker and connecting his phone, putting on one of your favorite songs, sitting on the bed then, leaning casually and patting the spot next to him. You sit down, you’re alone with Suguru Geto, the boy you’ve been head over heels for, since forever.

His heart skips a beat when you sit down, and sip your drink, smiling curiously at him, the longing just growing with every breath you take. “You remember this?”

“Of course I do. It’s going to fit into my next story.”

“Can I pick the next spot you kiss? Shit that’s so forward oh my-”

“Shh.” Suguru has a finger on your lips. “Yes, you can pick anywhere on your pretty little body.” His words fuck what’s left of your mind, one of his hand casually brushing against your bare thigh.

“Pretty little body?” You whisper back.

“Very, very pretty. Are you ready for more of me admitting I absolutely was trash at communicating?” His violet eyes glint just a bit with humor, you sip your drink, scooching just a little closer, nodding then.

“I’m ready. Where to next?”

“Middle School.”

*****

The Second time Suguru Geto tried to confess his feelings - Age 14- Grade Eight

You and Suguru had a school project together, and he had to admit he was so nervous for you to be here, in his house, in his room. You were laying on your tummy on the floor, feet kicked up in the air, little silver anklets on your ankles dangling just so as you swung them back and forth, as you drew all over the giant poster board, shading it in as you go.

“You’re really good at art.” Suguru said softly, you smiled brightly at the compliment, lighting up your pretty face, your braces just adding to it.

“Oh thanks Suguru, you’re always so nice. I’m so glad we’re friends.” You said, sitting up then, on your knees, a hand on his shoulder fondly.

With glasses and braces, some kids picked on you here and there, but Suguru and Satoru never let anyone mess with you, so people backed off rather quickly when the boys getting taller and bigger than everyone stood up for you. Especially Suguru, he was the first to defend from any standpoint.

When your hand touched his shoulder he blushed, and you tilted your head curiously at him. “Are you hot in here, Suguru? Do you have a fan?”

“I… um… yeah. Hot.” He cleared his throat, turning the little fan on in the room, it blew back his hair just so, his growing dark locks blowing back, and your heart faltered just a bit.

He looked like some guy from a book, from a movie you think, riding some horse with his hair blowing like that. When he smiles at you with those tired violet eyes of his, you melt more and more. How were you supposed to only be his friend when he’s that handsome, and you kept imagining your first kiss in your head over and over, wishing that it could be him.

You know you’re probably not his type though, Suguru had girls that flirted with him a lot, and the only couple you’ve seen him with were pretty different from you. You’re a nerdy girl and quiet, so the two of you fall into a comfortable silence often. You imagine maybe he wants someone a little more outgoing, a little more popular, but you’re not sure.

You do know no matter how many times you all hang out, he has never even glanced at you as anything but a friend.

But you’re very wrong.

Every time you look away, Suguru looks at you, and would think just how cute you are doing every little mundane thing you did. His already deep feelings had him writing in his journals about you, and only you, he composed silly poems that absolutely should never see the light of day. You made him feel so silly, he should just share it with you, right?

He’s brought back to you gently putting your hand down, scooching close to him on the soft carpet of his bedroom, leaning back against the bed. “Suguru, can I ask something personal?”

“Of course. Yes, I am a spy, undercover. You knew?” You snort at that, rolling your eyes.

“Knew it. No, um… you’ve… have you ever kissed?”

Suguru’s heart literally stopped at that moment, god he thinks the room is spinning, as those words casually came from your lips, lips that had sparkly gloss on them, that he’s currently staring at now. He gulps, and you nervously wet them, doing far too many things to his teenage brain, that already runs at half capacity when in your presence.

“Have I what!?”

“Oh that’s too personal? I’m sorry… I just haven’t yet, and I feel like everyone else has. Is it the braces? Or… am I too shy? Not… maybe not pretty enough. Suguru, do you think I’ll get prettier when I get these off?” You asked, and he glared at you, long lashes lowering. “Am I asking too much?”

“You’re… you’re so…” Say it, say it, say it.

“So…” You lead him to finish but he takes a breath then, shocking you when he cupped your face gently, your hands came to his wrists, breath catching when he leaned over you.

“You’re pretty with braces, or without, okay?” You felt your own cheeks heat up, when he leaned closer, his silky hair falling to the side.

“Thank you, you’re the best friend.” You whispered, the word friend made him sick almost. “You made me feel better.”

“I’ve kissed before, I can show you. If… if you want.” He said then, and you nodded nervously, it’s a friend showing you a kiss, right?

When Suguru’s lips found yours that day, while your favorite song played on the radio, it was like some electric current ran through you, his lips pressing just so gently on yours, careful and sweet, his hand on your face pressed just a bit more. You gasped out, pulling back, eyes shooting up to his, his lips were just so glossy, covered in a bit of your glitter, making you giggle.

“You’re glittery.” You teased softly, and he licked his lips to taste the gloss.

“Strawberry?” You nodded nervously, your hands went to his shoulders.

“Can I try again? Like what do I do with… the tongue and all that?” Suguru gulped then, you were literally killing him.

“That’s making out. You just um… I don’t know how to explain. I can show you again?”

“Sure.” You both kissed once more, his tongue darted in your mouth, making you gasp at the sensation, you felt so warm, butterflies in your tummy, as you tried to move your tongue back. You felt so awkward in his comparison, the ease in which he moved, he seemed so smooth, so practiced.

But he enjoyed it, he enjoyed it so much, how sweet you were, and how much he wanted to kiss you every moment of every day. You tentatively moved your lips, your tongue, at certain points you sighed and leaned even further against him, Suguru lost himself in you, imagined that this was all real, that you were his girlfriend, that he could tell you the truth.

Soon you both heard a knock on the door, and you both separated quickly, nearly jumping apart.

“Hey mom.” He said, as she smiled at you both.

“Do you all want anything to eat? I’m cooking dinner.”

“Oh I can’t stay, mom will want me back home, but thank you!”

“Of course sweetie. Alright well it is six, so you may want to head home soon if you are all done.” She smiled as she walked out, leaving you to nervously gather your things.

You just kissed Suguru Geto.

Your first kiss!

You opened your mouth, then shut it. How do you tell him your feelings?

“Um, that was really nice. Kissing you.” You whispered, wondering if that was okay, but Suguru was still reeling, kissing you was nothing like kissing the other girls, it was… just, different, it was special.

“Oh, um yeah.” Was all he said then, and you stood there, blinking up at him, as he struggled to form the right words.

Tell her.

He said nothing, however. The silence was loud while you both stood there in that awkward silence, until you felt so mortified, embarrassed beyond belief. He was just showing you as a friend, why would you expect him to feel what you do? He probably felt sorry for you if anything, you immediately turned to leave, he stopped you with a gentle hand on the shoulder.

He cursed himself internally, why couldn’t he reassure you, why couldn’t he tell you that he has never felt this way!? When your eyes were just a bit glassy, and he saw your lips were just a little swollen from his kisses, you look even prettier, so pretty and perfect just how you are, that he was intimidated to say it. He was terrified, were you just wanting a friend to show you?

Was he overthinking it?

Were you overthinking it?

“I’m… you… you’re…”

“Suguru, what is it?” You asked, blinking just a bit and tilting your glasses up, he brushed your hair back, clearing his throat, your lips parted just a bit.

“You’re not bad at it.” Your face falls, the hopes just shattered, and Suguru could sense it, sputtering, what the heck was coming out of his mouth!?

“That’s good I guess?”

He can’t think of what to say, that he wants to kiss you again, that he wants to ask you to be his girl. How could he fuck it all up this bad!?

You felt so emotional you turned away again. “Bye Suguru.”

He’d shut the door behind you, resting his head on it, seeing your sad face in his mind until he closed his eyes that night. He kept looking at his phone, but he couldn’t reach out. He didn’t wanna mess up even more.

*****

You bite your lower lip now, it’s quiet as the song fades in the background, the same song that had played when he kissed you. “Was I so bad at it?”

“God no, I wanted to tell you then, but I couldn’t.” He leans close to you, eyes drinking you in. “You were beautiful then, and now. And you were the best kiss I had, you are the best kiss I’ve had.”

You gasp in surprise, brows together as you look into his eyes, as his hand on your thigh slips up just a bit, the contact making heat pool between your thighs. You look down, at his strong, tanned hand so casually touching you, before looking back up at him, letting his words set in.

“You were my first kiss, and you… are still my best kiss too.”

He blinks. “I am?”

You smile softly, brushing his hair back behind his ear, fingertip running along his gaged earring then. “Oh Sugu, you're so silly. Of course you are, I thought you didn’t like it, or felt bad for me?”

“No, no… no. I should have said it then, something I need to tell you.”

“What is it?”

He smirks now. “First you get a kiss, anywhere you want, remember?” Your mind goes to the most lewd places, you raise a brow.

“Anywhere?” He laughs softly.

“Anywhere.” His voice is husky, so deep, the timbre just adding to your addled senses, but you can’t just be like- kiss my pussy Sugu thanks- so you look where his hand is touching you now.

“There.” You gesture to your upper thigh, Suguru kneels then, shocking you as you look down at him, between your thighs, leaning low, the sexiest thing you can imagine seeing. You whimper, you fucking whimper when he presses his lips on your inner thigh gently, looking up at you.

“Here? Or… here.” He kisses higher, you grit your teeth to hold in another embarrassing cry, hips arching just a bit off the bed.

“There, actually.” You whisper, tapping your other thigh. “You have to make it even now.”

“Oh, of course.” He kisses your other soft inner thigh, fuck he can see those lacy panties peeking out under your dress, the plump lips of your pussy visible, along with a wet spot forming, making him throb under his jeans. His hands grip your calves, feeling the muscles tense under his hands, kissing up your other thigh.

He watches your head fall back, your eyes fluttering shut. “Sugu…”

“Yes, love? Somewhere else?” He stands now, leaning over you, fingertips trailing up your inner thighs and higher, leaving a network of goosebumps in their wake.

“Can I be greedy and get another kiss here?” You tap your lips, he smiles softly, nodding, then he’s kissing you, pressing your back into the mattress, and you swear you’d just have his fucking babies at this point when you feel him, hard under his jeans, pressing against your aching cunt. “Ah!”

“You okay?” He whispers, you nod eagerly, too eager, yanking him down against you, tongues moving, messy and sloppy, his kiss so intense you have to pull away to suck in a breath. “Fuck.”

“Y-yeah. F-fuck.” You manage to whisper back, he leans up on one arm, your hands slip under his sweater, feeling his hot skin, his taut perfect abdomen. “Do I need three more stories? I’ll die.”

He laughs softly, kissing down your neck, your hands grip his back, hips arching, he feels your heat against his cock. “Are you so needy for me, Princess?”

“Princess!? I’m already wet, stop.”

“Oh, I can feel that.” You’re heating up when he reaches down, rubbing you over your panties, then his violet eyes dilate, and he moans. “Oh, you’re that wet? Fuck.”

“Embarrassing.” You mumble, he shakes his head, thumb pressing against your clothed clit, fabric so damp it’s pathetic, his touch feels so good you could almost cum from his little circles.

You’re not like this, what does Suguru do to you?

“One more story and I’ll make your pretty pussy cum.” He says in your ear, your head falls back, when he nips it with his teeth.

“Oh fine, but Sugu we need to cool off or you’re not making it.” He smirks down at you, making your eyes narrow. “You’re getting cocky about this.”

“Getting you this wet, oh yes.” He laps the sticky clear arousal off his thumb, thin nostrils flaring then, he moans, as your mouth opens at the action. “You taste so sweet, oh my god.”

“Sugu…”

“Shit, yeah, come on.” He exhales and you both fix yourself a bit, you both down your drinks and he then leads you down the stairs, holding your hand as he does, earning the grins of your friends, including Satoru’s girlfriend.

Just this Christmas they’d finally gotten together after a lifetime of just being friends, Suguru hopes and wonders if something is in the air, as he tastes your sweetness still on his tongue, mixing with the champagne. “You all were up there a while, but not long enough.” Gojo teases.

“He’s regaling me with stories.” Gojo’s girlfriend giggles then.

“Oh, let me guess, five of them?” She teases, as Gojo yanks her closer.

“It’s the formula.” Suguru pulls you away then, as a song starts.

“Let’s dance?” You agree, smiling as he holds you in his arms, fuck it feels so good, his strong arms wrapping your hips, it’s nothing like the dances you remember with him before, not when he pulls you against him, and his thigh presses between you, torturing you when you roll your hips. He leans close, as your friends watch, kissing you in front of everyone then.

Something you never, ever thought he’d do.

Something he’d been dying to do.

He pulls back, turning you, your back against him as you rock side to side, pressing kisses down the side of your neck. Your eyes flutter shut in pleasure, ass arching against him, his big hand splaying your waist completely as it presses gently over your tummy.

“Having you in my arms? Am I having some dream.” He murmurs, surprising you then.

“You, having a dream about me?”

God, if you only knew what he dreams of, all the positions he’d have you in, the ways he’d make you cum for him. But also little things, like having coffee in the morning on the balcony with you, sweet little intimate moments he can picture so very vividly, like waking up with you in his arms, smiling at him sleepily.

“I have so many times while you’ve been gone. God I missed you.” Suguru turns you back around then, hands finding purchase on your waist, the entire room fades away then, it’s just you two.

Just like that night, the one where Suguru failed again.

“Third story, I’m ready. What’s the next story, Sugu?”

He grins, white teeth glinting. “So eager to cum, hmm?”

“Shush.” Your arms wrap his neck, fingers playing with his long silky locks. “Go on then, what grade are we travelling to?”

“We’re up to sophomore year now.”

*****

The Third time Suguru Geto tried to confess his feelings - Age 16- Grade Ten

 You were at this party after Satoru and Suguru had won the state championship for your school. It was an insane party you’d had to sneak out to go to, your mom thought you were at Shoko’s house, her mom thought she was at your house. You’re both giggling as you sit next to each other now, in a circle with a ton of your friends and a vodka bottle someone had snatched.

It’s spinning currently, Suguru was looking at you then, he was the one who had spun it, he watched you bite your lip, he studied you carefully, in bits and pieces, looking away every time you catch his gaze. Since that night in eighth grade you all had stayed great friends, but now Suguru knew how it was to kiss you, and no other girl had such an effect.

He had so many journals of you it’s embarrassing.

You had so many diaries of him it’s embarrassing.

You kept looking at him, at his jaw line, at him smiling and sipping on a soda as he watched everyone at the party, ever observant and aware, and even more handsome as you all grew up. Suguru and Satoru were two of the most popular boys there were, and they had their dedicated fans. You’d gotten your braces off and gotten contacts, you suppose you’re sort of popular by association of your friends, but nothing like them.

Suguru missed your glasses, he missed how they sat on the bridge of your nose, though he does enjoy seeing more of your pretty eyes now, not that you knew that.

Suguru had a girl by his side who was whispering something in his ear. You hated that you felt it like a punch to the gut, sipping your drink nervously to choke down the sensation. Shoko leans in, giving you a knowing look in her dark brown eyes. “You should just tell him.”

“Tell who what?” She snorted at you, rolling her eyes and wrapping her arm around your shoulders.

“You’ve got it bad baby, it’s painfully obvious.” You sighed, looking back at Suguru again, catching his violet gaze across the circle, and you busied yourself looking back at Shoko, whispering in her ear.

“Am I that obvious?”

“Oh yeah. He likes you too, you know?”

“No way. He’s never said so.” Shoko had leaned over and poured a little vodka in your cup, you gasp. “Shoko!”

“For courage.” You sipped it and winced, earning her laughter, when the bottle stopped, and it was just a bit from you… it’s on Shoko. “Yuck.”

“Yuck.” He agreed, and Satoru was laughing maniacally.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss.”

“Oh whatever.” Shoko leaned close, disgust plain on her pretty features. “I’ll puke after this.”

You giggled a bit at her expression, she leaned over, as did Suguru, and you watched their lips press together, but Satoru booed when they pulled back quickly, as did everyone in the circle. “You have to make out, you know the rules.”

They both grimace, and kiss each other again, Suguru’s eyes caught yours as he did, as he pictured kissing you instead, long lashes fluttering and casting shadows along his high cheekbones. You felt sick then, downing more of the strong drink with cheap vodka, as you saw the love of your teenage life kiss your best friend, his hand cupping her face.

Everyone whistled after that, and the worst part is it looked like Suguru enjoyed it, but he only did in any way because of looking at you, picturing your lips on his. Was your lip gloss still strawberry, he wondered? Was it another flavor? And when he caught your gaze, he could see you’re upset, and he wondered why. It can’t be you liked him, it had been years and you’ve never brought it up again.

Friends.

Best friends.

Shoko had wiped her lips in disgust as everyone laughed, and then it was Satoru’s turn, he spun the bottle and winked over at Suguru. “Hope it’s you baby boy.”

“Shut up, Satoru, ugh.” Suguru grumbled, his eyes kept flitting to you, watching Shoko pour more liquor in your cup, when Satoru’s bottle landed directly at you.

Shit.

Satoru leaned in close, lips against Suguru’s ear. “You don’t like her like that anyway, right? So no big deal.”

“Yeah.” He managed to try to spit out that lie, and Satoru knew it, rolling his blue eyes.

“Yeah? Won’t care?” Suguru shook his head, when you scooted to the middle of the circle, on your knees, your little pleated skirt spread just so, killing Suguru then. You had looked at him with something deep in your pretty eyes, before looking back at Satoru.

“Are we doing this?” You asked nervously, Satoru smirked charmingly, nodding and cupping your face, before descending his lips on yours.

Suguru wanted to punch his one best friend for kissing his other best friend, he’s never felt so mad, so sick as when he had to see Satoru kissing you. His fists clenched at his sides, anger coursing through his veins, at himself. His breath caught in his throat, Nanami and Shoko were whispering and looking right at him, your eyes were fluttering shut, like you enjoyed it.

Why wouldn’t you? You weren’t with Suguru, he shouldn’t expect you to just know what he thinks, how he felt, but when Satoru was pulling you against him, putting on a show, Suguru was losing the little control he had. Your hands came to rest on Satoru’s shoulders, wrecking Suguru then, he couldn’t handle it, the longing, the need for you, the desire to rip his friend off you.

You were kissing Satoru Gojo that night, and sure, it felt good, but it felt like a friendly press of lips at first. Then, Satoru surprised you, he was moving his tongue against yours, making you gasp as his big hands pressed your waist, you hadn’t been kissed like that.

Satoru had pulled back and whispered in your ear. “Gotta make it look good, look how mad he is.”

“Mad? No way.” You shook your head, Satoru chuckled, kissing you once more, your eyes found Suguru then, standing and turning, making you gently push Gojo away. “What are you trying to do?” You had asked him, glaring at his antics.

“Get him to admit his feelings.” Satoru winked now. “Oh you’re a good kisser by the way.”

You’re a blushing mess. “Go after him.” Nanami’s voice said softly behind you.

“Should I?” You ask, they nod, and you had taken a breath for courage, hopping up and running after Suguru, finding him alone out front of the little white house full of so many people. You wrapped your arms around yourself as he turned to look at you.

“Suguru, are you okay?” You asked softly, he sighed, shaking his head, looking at your lips, just a little glossy and swollen.

“No.” You stepped closer, shivering a bit, he took his jacket off, placing it over your shoulders, rubbing your arms gently under it, warming you with the contact, making the butterflies soar in your tummy.

“Why?” You asked, he had tilted his head, opening his mouth, closing it, then opening it again.

“I didn’t like it.”

“Me kissing Satoru?”

“Yeah.” He said, but did not elaborate.

You blink a bit, looking down. “I didn’t like you kissing Shoko.”

“You didn’t?” You both stepped closer, the alcohol was new to you, it’s hitting a bit, and that plus him leaning so close made you dizzy, made you want to kiss him so badly, and only him. “Why not?”

“Why didn’t you, Sugu?”

He sighed, cupping your face, brushing your silky hair back, his jaw tensing just a bit. “I just… I don't like it. Did you like kissing him?”

“I mean, he’s a good kisser.” The words bring you back then, and you step back, surprising him. “I guess I wasn’t then, was I?”

“What now?” His eyes narrow.

“In your room, do you even remember? It’s probably nothing to you, but it was my only kiss until just now.” His lips parted in surprise, and you feel embarrassment creeping up.

“Only kiss till now? But guys are all after you. Look at you.” His gaze had darted down, making your breath come in little pants.

“You like looking at me?” You asked softly, he scoffed then, looking to the side, seeing cars drift down the road.

How can you not know?

“That’s a dumb question.”

You blink then, before glaring. “Excuse me for asking, I guess I should know you don’t even see me that way.”

“What?” You were handing him his jacket, feeling tears prick your eyes.

“Why do you say things like that!? That you don’t like me with someone, when you’ll never have interest in me. No matter how pretty I try to look around you, it’s not like you care, I’m just your friend.” You turned and stomped away, confusing the shit out of him then.

“You’re drunk or something, you’re not just walking off into the night. And you’re wrong, you know.” He turned you back to face him, throwing the coat back on you, the moonlight glinted off your tears, tears that broke him. “Don’t cry please. You’re… you’re…”

“I’m what?”

“You’re pretty, okay? I notice.” You gasped, and Suguru wondered just how you were so oblivious, or was he that good at hiding it. “I notice a lot about you, all the time.”

“Why have you never even asked me out?” You asked boldly then, and he just stared at you. “Will we only be friends? I need to know, Sugu, because I hold back constantly, in this silly dream.”

“Hold back?”

“Yes. Why do you think you were the only kiss? I hoped you’d want to again, one day. But I think I’m wrong here.” Suguru tilted your chin up, leaning down so close you taste his sweet breath.

“Thought you liked the kiss with Satoru, hmm?” His thumb brushed over your lower lip, shocks were running through you.

“Not like our-”

“Suguru!” The girl that had been all over him most of the party came out giggling then with two more girlfriends, Suguru pulled back, and you felt your heart break into pieces, when you took the coat off and handed it to him, rage seething through you along with embarrassment.

“Hey, it's your friend!” They waved at you, and you smiled politely, Suguru just watched you, not saying anything, coat in his hand.

“Come on back in, they’re doing seven minutes in heaven Sugu.” Another girl teased, you stare at each other then, you ached for him to say something, say anything, but he cleared his throat, holding out a hand to you.

“Wanna go back in?” He asked, a fake smile on his face.

“Sure.” You don’t take his hand, but soon he has girls all over him, as you all return to the party, and he’s sent to that closet for seven minutes with one of those girls, Shoko is rubbing your shoulder gently.

“Did you say how you feel?”

“I tried, I tried. But he doesn’t say anything Shoko, he just shuts down.”

“He does that sometimes, but I swear he really likes-” Her vision went to the opening door, people were all whistling and making comments, you turned and saw him, with lipstick all over his cheek and neck, and the girl was giggling. His eyes caught yours, his face falling then.

“Let’s go home, please.”

*****

The memories hit so hard you can’t breathe for a moment, Suguru’s face is serious, you all aren’t dancing any longer. Remembering seeing him out of that closet feels as fresh as ever somehow. Now you’re in his strong arms, and he watches those tears back in your eyes, hating himself for them.

“I didn’t kiss her.” His voice brings you back to the present.

You blink in surprise. “What?”

“I never kissed her. She didn’t wanna get made fun of, so she asked if she could plant some kisses on my cheek, she was getting pressured by some friends. So I agreed and let her, but the rest of the time we talked, and I thought about you, fuck I felt horrible after.” You step back then, taking a breath.

“I need air.” You walk back outside, Suguru follows you then, your eyes are shut as it all sinks in.

“I’m sorry, I know that night was terrible, and after…”

“I got a boyfriend like a week after.” You say, when he stands behind you, hands on your bare shoulders, he leans over you, kissing one, making you tremble. “I was so hurt and upset I dated the first guy who asked me.”

“Shit.” Is all he manages, and you laugh without humor, resting back against his warm, hard body.

“Yeah, shit.”

“I wanted to kill Satoru, he did it to get a reaction, and he got one, but I still couldn’t open up. I couldn’t tell you that I wanted to kiss you.” You turn then, looking up at him, head falling back just so, seeing his own emotions now, making his violet eyes glisten, adam's apple bobbing as he gulps. “I only ever wanted to kiss you.”

“Suguru…” You’re crying when he captures your lips again in his, taking a breath against him, shaking with emotion. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

“Every time I tried I closed up. Then I fucked it all up, and… then you dated that guy for like almost a year.”

“I know. I wanted to get the silly idea of us becoming more pushed back in my brain. But… I never stopped…”

“Me either.” You both rest your foreheads together now, emotions coursing through you both. What seemed like a silly high school night had meant so much, and done so much damage. “We weren’t as close after that, I wanted to make it right, but I think I just fucked it up more.”

“No more stories for a minute.” He nods then, brushing your tears away gently, the love for you swelling more and more, he’s so ready to tell you, for you to know everything in his heart and soul.

“Let’s finish the other story on the way to my house.” You heat up then at the thought, eyes darting back at his lips.

“Are you inviting me to stay the night?” He moans softly, pressing your back against the railing, hands sliding down your arms gently, a thigh pressing between your own, right where you’re so hot for him. Your head falls back, hips arching just so, he feels you so wet against him.

“If you want to, shit I’d let you move in.” You giggle, shaking your head, but he’s dead serious. “I would, fuck I’d let you do anything you want, just to see you every day, just to hear your voice. After all these years, just pictures, just memories.” His voice is hoarse, as his hands slip across the sides of your breasts. “The real thing is finally here, and I don’t intend to let you go.”

“I missed your voice.” You admit, sniffling now, cupping his face and running your fingers along his jaw. “I missed you so much, god I just wanted to call.”

“I did too, god I kept dialing it and hanging up, I kept… dreaming of you.”

“I did too, Sugu.” He sighs now, as he holds you in his embrace, and it feels so perfect, to be in his arms.

You were always supposed to be here.

“Why all the stories, to make me cry my makeup off hmm?” You tease, trying to ease the tension, he smiles, shaking his head.

“Not a drop out of place, you’re perfect, Princess.”

Princess, you’re gonna die.

You bite your lower lip now, arching your hips just so, his hand trails down your tummy, it trembles under his touch. “Will you come spend the night at my house? So I can kiss you in more places?”

“Oh yeah?” He nods, smiling.

“I already owe you an orgasm for this one, don’t I?” The casual way he says those words wrecks your psyche.

“You do. Leaving me edged, you’re cruel Sugu.” He snorts softly at that, shaking his head.

“I’ll make up for it. Come on.”

“Oh you’re having a VIP party huh?” Satoru wiggles his white brows, smacking Suguru on the back. “You remember how to do it anymore? I have tips.”

“Oh fuck you Satoru.” You giggle a bit, raising a brow.

“It’s been a while?” You ask teasingly.

“Just a bit, is all. I assure you I know how it works.” His timbre is low as he whispers in your ear, making you ache.

“I believe you. It’s been a while for me too.” You whisper, he exhales, picturing everything he’s going to do to you.

“We’ll make up for it.”

“Get out before you fuck right here, god.” Shoko says, and your friends are grinning maniacally, basically shooing you all away.

“They planned all of this, didn’t they?” Suguru says, walking next to you now, you nod with a little smile.

“When aren’t they scheming something? Oh… is this your car, holy shit!” Suguru blushes a little, nodding as he opens the door for you, his sleek black sports car worth more than anything you own likely, but it doesn’t surprise you. Satoru and Suguru had killed it in sports, and both were making a lot of money. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Soon he’s shut your door and started up the car, leaning close to you, studying your face carefully, as if committing it all to memory. He studies you like you’re a beautiful work of art, and he’s a connoisseur, like you’re the most precious thing there is. And that is what made you always feel so special, how he looked at you, how you captured his full attention, even as a friend.

“Where is the spot you want a kiss?” He asks softly, you look around nervously, you all are in a car right in front of Satoru’s place still. “They’re very tinted.”

“Oh. Um.” You pull down your top then, and his throat goes dry when he sees them, your perfect breasts that gently bounce out, your nipples pronounced and begging for attention.

“Jesus Christ.” Is all he manages to say hoarsely, bending low, gripping your breasts in his huge hands, you cry out at it, nipples getting harder in his touch. “You’re perfect.”

“You don’t have to say-”

“You are. You are so perfect.” You feel a whirl of emotions, desire, love, pure fucking bliss when he runs his tongue around one areola, before sucking one into his hot mouth, moaning.

“Suguru!” Your hands entangle in his locks, back arching, one of his hands pulls you against him, the other gripping your breast, as his barbell flicks on it, and you’re getting soaked, so wet your panties are sticking. “Oh my god…”

Your voice is a breathy cry, urging him on more when he sucks on your other perky nipple. “Can’t wait to taste you everywhere.”

“Mnnh.” You yank him back up, kissing him over and over, it’s hungry and desperate, it’s full of a longing you’ve both had for over a decade, it’s needy and messy, so fucking messy. He’s got you on his lap, you’re grinding against him, pulling back for a gasp of air. “Sugu, I can’t make it to your house.”

“Lemme make you cum, Princess. Yeah?” You nod eagerly, he positions his arm so his fingers slip under your barrier, earning his groan, his eyes dilating so much they’re almost black when he feels you. “Oh my god, feel her, she’s so wet for me, isn’t she?”

You just nod weakly, when he’s teasing your entrance with his fingertip, before sinking in, you scream out at it, breasts pressing against his chest as he sinks one fully in, stretching your slick walls. You’re blinded when he finds that spongy little spot, pressing like he’s known your body forever, making you feel better with one finger than anything ever has.

“You’re so tight, fuck.” He whispers, you’re squeezing him like a vise when he slips two in, stretching you out, hearing the squelching wetness in his car now. He watches your face contorted in pleasure, his cock straining against his pants. He has precum leaking against them, so ready to be inside you. “You’re close already, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

“Please.” Is all you manage, rocking on his hand now, dripping all down him, crying out your pleasure into his lips, as he works you so well, long fingers hitting your spot again and again. “M’close, y-yes.”

“I can feel her, let go Princess. Let go for me.” He’s talking you through it as his thumb finds your clit with the pad of his thumb, and it’s over, you’re shattering for him, cumming so hard you can’t even see then, and he watches you as you fall apart. “That’s it Princess, good girl.”

“Sugu, Sugu- mmm!” You’re shaking as the orgasm wracks through your body, as his fingers slow in your sloppy cunt, so wet it’s fucking stupid, curling them just so to prolong the orgasm even more, until you’re weak. You clutch at his shirt desperately, thighs shaking. “Oh my g-god… what… you’ve been holding out on me this whole t-time!?”

He chuckles, cupping your face now, but not before sucking your arousal off his fingers, kissing you and letting the flavor of you mix with both of your mouths. “Can this hold you for two more stories?” He teases softly, you sigh.

“God I want more though.” You run a hand down his length, he pauses you, shaking his head.

“Not yet, I’ll die.” You’re blushing at the effect you have on him, his thumb runs along your inner wrist, as both of you gather your breaths.

“I don’t do this, I don’t get this way…”

“You still think that I want a hookup? No.” He cups your face, dragging your lips back down to his, as your fears melt. “I’ve waited forever for you, we can wait just a little longer.”

“Forever?” You ask softly, he nods, gulping and then easing you off him, adjusting himself with a wince, you giggle a bit, earning his glare.

“You laugh at my pain, hmm?”

“I’m flattered.”

“You seatbelt up.” He murmurs, leaning across and buckling you in, an arm around the back of your seat as he looks back and reverses, then he turns toward the road, which is surprisingly quiet. You lean against him then, head on his strong shoulder, it feels perfect, despite the nerves.

Would you be good at it? It had been forever.

“So it’s been a while.” Sugu teases, as if reading your thoughts, you grimace and bury your face against him. “It’s fine, you know. It’s been like ten months for me.”

“You? How. Aren’t women all over you?”

“Not the one I want.” You feel the happiness swell at that, looking up at him in the night, the red light you all stop at casting a glow across his handsome face, bathing it in soft red when he looks at you. “I also only really have sex in relationships.”

“Me too, actually. Um… it's been like two years for me.”

“Shit, yeah?” You nod nervously, clearing your throat.

“Yeah, and before that? Freshman year of college. I’ve only been with a couple people, I know that sounds lame.” You’re fidgeting nervously with your hands.

“It’s not, not at all. You’re picky hmm?”

“I wanted some dark haired broody man, one who lived so far away.” Suguru’s jaw tenses, the light goes green but he’s kissing you before he pulls off, exhaling as your words hit him.

“You wanted me?”

“God yes. Want you.” You lean closer, kissing up his neck and unclipping your seatbelt. “Should I show you how much?”

“You are not going to suck me before I eat your pussy. I’m a gentleman, mmkay?” You giggle now, he peeks at you with a tortured expression. “Seriously, I won’t last one stroke if you don’t stop.”

“Oh fine. I was going to see if I have any skills left!”

“I’ll teach you again.” His husky voice melts you all over, you stop the teasing strokes on his hard length, much to his relief, as a couple of more strokes and he’d cum in his pants and embarrass himself. “Alright, let's get this next story going, yeah? We’re at prom now.”

“Oh…”

*****

The Fouth time Suguru Geto tried to confess his feelings - Age 18- Grade Twelve- Prom Night

Suguru couldn’t stop his mouth from dropping that night when he saw you, in your beautiful prom dress, this little red number that clung to you in places that wrecked his brain. You typically were a little more covered up, so for Suguru to see the love of his life’s body like this, it was difficult to function, like you had short circuited his brain, well what was left of it.

It’s about to be the end of high school, and you and Suguru had grown a little distant, despite still having a good friendship. Suguru had been dating this girl for a few months, and they had been intimate already, he had always hoped his first time would be you, but you also were dating someone again. Every time he would think for a moment he could admit his feelings, something got in the way.

At this point he had just tried to focus on being a good friend to you, to have you in his life in any capacity, the journals he penned growing dusty as he lived his life, with sports and school. Friends and a girlfriend, who was then in his arms, dancing with Suguru, despite the person that he wanted, you, were standing there all alone suddenly, tiny in the center of the dance floor.

Your date had left you, right in the middle of prom on the dance floor, you were mortified then, when Nanami came to your rescue, pulling you in his arms and looking at you with concern. “What happened?”

“Oh Nanami, you don’t have to dance with me.” You murmured, tears pricking your eyes, you felt Suguru’s glance as he danced with his pretty girlfriend, you hated that you wished you were her.

“Nonsense, tell me.” Nanami spins you a bit then, he’s gotten so handsome already, him Suguru and Satoru all had, they were so tall and towering over everyone at the school, buff with pretty features. It wasn’t fair how attractive they all were.

So why then, did it only hurt that Suguru was with someone? You didn’t know if you ever would get over it, some dumb kiss from eighth grade!? It had been over four years, nothing was ever, ever going to happen, why couldn’t you just give it up, why couldn’t you stop comparing any boy you date to the man that he was?

“He wanted to go too fast. I couldn’t.” Nanami’s jaw tensed then. “Nanami don’t beat him up!”

“I will, and I will get Satoru and Suguru-”

“No, no it’s fine! Swear. I love you though.” You leaned up and pecked his cheek, earning a blush on his features, you pulled back shyly. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, darling. But I really think someone is mad now.” He teased, and you saw it, Suguru’s glare.

“We’ll never be anything.” Your whisper was broken, Nanami frowned at it.

“You don’t know that.”

“Look at who he’s with, and he never… I… Nanami I need a minute, okay? I’ll be right back.” He nodded then, and you strode past Suguru as the song ended, heading to sob your worries in the bathroom.

“I’ll be right back.” Suguru had said to his girlfriend, he ran down the empty halls of the school then, watching you turn the corner, hearing your sobs. He faced you then, watching mascara streak on your face, breaking his heart. “What happened, are you okay?”

“Just go!” You surprised him at your emotional outburst, shoving at him. “You just go be happy, okay?”

“But my friend is-”

“Nanami danced with me, I’m fine.” Your voice got so cold, and it made Suguru break down, stepping closer to you. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” He whispered, his hands came to rest on your shoulders, which heaved with your breaths.

“Like you want me. When you never will. Stop giving me hope.” Suguru blinked in confusion at you, how could you think he didn’t want you!?

“What now? You think I don’t want you?” He brushed your hair back, your hands came to sit on his jacket, clutching the fabric, your corsage the same color as the red rose in his pocket, a trembling hand, as your breaths entwined.

“You’re with her.” You had whispered.

“And you were with him.” He said softly back, the hurt on your faces and in your voices so clear.

“Just go, before I do something stupid.” You said, sniffling then, but Suguru leaned even closer, lips a breath away.

“I’m not leaving you.” You tiptoed, dragging him down to you, kissing him deeply then, and it had been like everything clicked into place, like the world all around you all melted. When Suguru’s tongue devoured your mouth, like no kiss you had before, and his hands cupped your face. “Fuck.” He whispered softly.

“Mnh.” You were whining out weakly, Suguru’s hands came to your waist, dragging you against his hard frame, you were heating up like you never have, heart thudding in your chest, when he’s slipping them lower, to your hips. Your back arched, breasts brushing against his chest, earning his moan, as he lifts you then, right on the sink.

Your eyes meet, both of your breaths coming in pants, Suguru Geto is between your fucking thighs, in your school bathroom, and your mind is reeling. “I’ve always wanted you, okay? I have always wanted you.”

His words destroy you.

Are you just dreaming?

“You’re with someone. I can’t do this.” You panicked then, Suguru’s face fell, he had been ready to leave that girl then and there just for one more kiss from you, but you hopped down, touching your lips and shaking your head. “I’m terrible, you’re making me terrible!”

“You’re not terrible, I am. Please, I’ll make it right, don’t leave just give me time and I will-”

“No, I’m awful.” You hated yourself then, so willing to kiss a taken boy, just because he’s Suguru. “You can’t just do that… for me to…”

“Stop, please.” He had begged, gripping your wrist then.

“No. Forget it. Forget it ever happened, I’m sorry I did that.” He doesn’t want your apologies, he wants you, you who disappears that night, before he could stop you, leaving him with one realization.

Kissing you was Earth shattering, kissing you was everything he could ever imagine, and he knew then, he would never get over you.

*****

“I broke up with her, you know.” The hurt in Suguru’s voice is clear as you all come to a stop in front of his home, it’s beautiful and sleek, wide open floor to ceiling windows surrounding it, in a quiet street. You admire it when he opens the door for you, pressing your back against the car as he leans down. “I wanted so badly to finally tell you that night.”

“I ran off on you, you can’t blame yourself for that.” You cup his face now, brushing your lips against his softly. “I was terrified that I did it, that I could do that to another girl, even if it was just a kiss. It felt like the worst thing I could do, but the kiss was the best thing I’d ever felt.”

Your words take Suguru’s breath away. “For me too, it eclipsed anything… though I think kissing you now is even better.” He smiles just a bit, enjoying the blush on your cheeks. “Come inside, Princess.”

“Princess, is that what you call the ladies?” You tease, as he unlocks the doors, and you step in, it’s sleek and modern, but it’s warm and inviting too.

“Only you.” He admits, you feel it then, you’re alone in Suguru Geto’s home now, he’s taking off your jacket, hanging it, warming your chilled fingers with his hands ever so gently.

“Well I’m special then.” You tease, but he’s serious, when he nods, and you lean up, taking out the bun of his hair, letting it fall. You exhale. “You’re like a whole romance cover with it down.”

“A romance cover?” His lidded eyes assess you carefully, now taking out the few hair clips you had holding your hair half up. “You’re beautiful.”

“Sugu…” He’s kissing you again, your hands slipping under his sweater, dying to see him, to see all of him, when he pulls away just an inch. “No, no more stories! I need you to kiss a certain area.”

“I bet you do.” He laughs softly, easing back, enjoying your slumped shoulders and head falling back in frustration.

“Biggest tease of a man ever.”

“We’re almost done now though, want a drink? It’s actually almost midnight.” He muses, peeking at his silver rolex then.

“It is, huh? Alright you better get this last one going then.” Suguru leads you to the kitchen now, he pops a bottle of bubbly, it looks stupidly expensive, and tastes so sweet on your tongue, and as he gazes at you, you ache to tell him. “Sugu… I really should say something.”

“You can soon, I promise.” He plants a kiss on your lips, leading you over to his living room, he slides open the curtains, revealing the pretty night, where people are already lighting fireworks. He sits in a leather seat, patting his lap, you sit on one hard thigh, his arm comes around your waist.

“It's so natural.” You say, brushing your fingers along his hand.

“I know, it feels like you were always supposed to be here.” He sips his drink, setting it down, cupping your face delicately, thumb brushing a drop of champagne that spilled on your lip. “I never want you out of them.”

“Then keep me.” You say softly, he moans, kissing you again, big arm wrapping you so tightly. “Mmm, finish, I’m dying here.”

He chuckles a bit, feeling your heat on his lap, his hands slipping under your dress on the side of your thigh, making your body react. “Alright, the last story.”

*****

The Fifth time Suguru Geto tried to confess his feelings - Age 19- The Summer before Sophomore year college

You were leaving for France, you were leaving for at least two or more years, and you still didn't see Suguru Geto at the airport. With all your friends and family, you kept looking for him. You all had not talked much this year, not after prom, not after that kiss that had you reeling for days, you hadn’t even gone to school that last week, you’d spent it in your room, a mess.

You decided that night to only be friends, no matter what, you’d come back to school for the graduation and given him a hug and a bright smile, and neither of you brought it up again. The lingering tension eased somewhat, and in college you all were so busy you didn’t get together much, and then you got the news that you’d get to study abroad.

A dream of yours, always. All these years you’ve dreamt of going to Paris, of seeing the Eifell tower, of walking along the rolling hills and cobblestone streets, drinking wines and nibbling on croissants and watching the sunrise. The only thing missing from your dream?

Suguru next to you.

“He’ll come, I’m sure sweetie.” Your mom had said softly, you sighed as they sound that you have ten minutes to board over the intercom. “We’ll see you soon, promise to take care?”

“Promise, love you mom, dad.” They left, as did Nanami, then Shoko, Satoru stayed for a moment, madly texting Suguru over and over.

“He’ll come, I swear.” Satoru tried to assure you. You put a hand on his shoulder, shaking your head when the five minutes are announced. “I swear if he doesn’t-”

“Satoru, it's okay. You’re a good friend.” You hugged him tightly, he exhaled, wrapping arms around you, then he chuckled. “What is it?”

“He’s here. God with one minute to spare.” You turned and saw him then, his face so serious, wrapped up in a black coat as he ran up to you. “Alright, bye sweets.”

“Bye Satoru.” You kissed his cheek and he shoved at Suguru, whispering something in his ear, before running off and waving, leaving you two alone, as there are just three more minutes before you board.

The busy airport faded that afternoon, all the people running, hugging, boarding and leaving. It was chaotic, but it’s just Suguru and you, as he’s breathless, his silky dark locks falling just so out of their bun. You felt it then, the emotions, as he opened his mouth to apologize for being late, but you stopped him with a big hug. He wrapped you in strong arms, pulling you against his chest.

“I almost didn’t come.” He admitted, you look up at him with eyes glittering with tears now, broken hearted at the comment.

“What? Why?”

“It’ll hurt too much.” He admitted, his own eyes glittering violet, lidded as tears threatened to spill, tears he cried all morning thinking of you leaving.

“Oh Sugu, I’ll miss you so much.” There was so much more you wanted to say, you ached to say, but you knew you couldn’t do it, you couldn’t spill a bunch of feelings a minute before leaving the country. Feelings you doubted were returned.

“I’ll miss the fuck out of you. Barely even seen you this year.” You nodded in agreement, choking up when he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, cupping your face, and you ached to kiss his lips, he ached to kiss your lips. To tell you.

That he’ll always love you.

But he can’t do that, he can’t just ruin your opportunity, this is your dream, and he wants you to live it, despite it killing him, despite him longing to keep you by his side, forever. So he swiped those tears, smiling down at you, as the final minute was announced loudly, he felt his heart shattering, his mouth opening and closing, as it always does, because he was terrified.

Terrified to lose what he never had.

Terrified you wouldn’t feel the same, terrified also that maybe you did, and that he’ll mess up your opportunities, ruin your life.

Terrified of you getting on that plane.

Terrified.

“Suguru, I…” The announcer cut off your admission that day, he never heard it, he never heard that you said you love him.

“What?” He asked, as it quiets, and you feel a relief, having said it, even if he doesn’t know. You leaned up on your tiptoes, kissing his perfect high cheek bone, arm wrapping around him once more.

“I said something silly, Sugu. Just know, I’ll miss you most of all, out of everyone, I will.” He opened his mouth once more, only for you to place a kiss on it, quick, running off before you talked yourself out of it.

He called your name, and you turned as you’re about to board the plane, he feels like he has to tell you. He should, what if he never sees you again? But he waves at you, smiling just so. “I’ll miss you the most.” He responds, shouting across the airport now.

You smiled sadly, sniffling as you turned and left the love of your life, knowing he has no clue how you feel.

“I love you.” He whispered, watching your retreating figure, leaning against one of the pillars then, sobbing into his hand as your plane took off, not knowing when or if he would ever have a chance to tell you.

*****

You’re a mess now as you’re brought back to the present, Suguru pulls you against him tightly, feeling your every emotion rake through him. “I should have told you then.”

“Told me what, Sugu?” Your voice breaks as you ask him, and he smiles through his own tears when he can finally say those words.

“That I’m in love with you.” Your breath catches, entire body overheats, as your heart clenches with his words. “That I’ve been in love with you, since the day I first saw you reading that book outside. That your first kiss with me that day in middle school? I wrote in twenty different ways in my journal. That night Satoru kissed you, I should have told you that I’ve never been more upset.”

“Sugu…” He shushes you gently, shaking his head, standing you both up then, your hands go to his chest as he pulls you against him.

“The night of prom, I should have danced with you, I should have let you know then, that you were the one I wanted to be with me. I should have told you then that I was in love, but that day you left? I should have let you know that I wanted to be selfish, I wanted you to stay, by my side, every day. But I loved you so fucking much, I wanted you to have the best life, even without me.”

“Suguru Geto, my life was not great without you, it was lonely, it was empty.” You speak now, your hand enwrapping in his hair, as he gulps, leaning so close. “I should have told you that I loved you. That I’ve been in love with you since I met you.”

Suguru gasps, and shakes his head, your words a dream, your body against his some insane fantasy. “You… you love me too?”

“God, yes, I always have. There was never anyone but you for me, not in my mind, not in my heart. I said it at the airport, but you didn’t hear, and I thought… I can’t do this, before I leave for years. So I didn’t repeat it, but in my heart? It’s always been you.”

He slams his lips on yours now, kissing you desperate, hungry, backing you until your shoulder blades hit the cold glass, you gasp at it, as he hovers above your lips. “Will you be mine, Princess?”

“I’m already yours, Sugu.” You answer, he groans then, turning you, unzipping your dress slowly, his long slender fingers trailing your spine when he lets it fall to the floor in a pool around your ankles, leaving you bare as the fireworks blast outside, his lips pressing kisses along the nape of your neck.

“You wanted another place kissed?” He whispers, you feel your cunt throb around nothing, nodding, getting so nervous when he turns you, when he sees your beautiful body naked for the first time, feeling his gaze all over you. “Oh fuck you’re so perfect.”

He melts your every fear.

“I want to see you.” You slip his shirt over his head, heating up when you see his broad chest, his perfect chiseled muscles, flat tan nipples pierced with black barbells, your body clenches when he’s got you back against him, his hands gripping your ass, just your panties a barrier now. “You’re so gorgeous, look at you.”

“Look at you.” You grin when he kisses you again, and he grins, you both have never felt this, the bliss, the beauty, words you both kept for so long spilling over and over in quiet whispers, when he picks you up in his arms, so effortlessly. “I need you in my bed.”

You cling to him, your thighs wrapped on narrow hips, and he carries you to his room, beautiful and huge, so clean aside from a set of journals scattered all over his bedside table. He lays you down then, kissing between the valley of your breasts, peeling down your damp sticky panties slowly off your thighs. You’re trembling as he does, hips arching up.

“Suguru…” You’re whining out when he’s between your thighs, broad shoulders nudging them apart, and he sees you intimately, all of you. His fingers part your plump lips, watching arousal drool out of your little hole, he looks up at you with hungry violet eyes, licking his glossy lips.

“Is this where you wanted your kiss, Princess? Your pretty pussy?” He asks huskily, you nod shyly, you’re so cute he thinks, when he laps at your honeyed arousal, making you cry out in pleasure, gushing more wetness out, coating his lips and tongue. “Fuck you taste so good.”

He’s lapping at you more now, his tongue ring hitting your clit, making you jerk, crying out as he starts flicking it over and over, long fingers pressing into the plush of your thighs, keeping them open as he circles your clit with the tip of his tongue. Your hands entangle in his long locks, pulling his hair and earning his moan, you let go then and he looks up.

“Pull it, Princess. Fuck my face.”

“Fuck your… face!? I…” You’re panting, his tongue flicks again, teasing, and you pull his hair then, putting him right there, he devours you then, his fingers bruising in their grip, the sounds of Suguru drinking you lewd and wanton in his quiet room, the fan spinning above doing nothing to cool you down. “Ah, m’close, Sugu! S’good at… you’re s’good I-”

You’re mumbling as he sucks your clit in his mouth, feeling it twitch when his barbell hits it again, and then he hums. He fucking hums on your clit, your juices flowing all over his mouth as you cum so hard you can’t form a thought, clinging to his hair and rolling your hips, unsure how he was even breathing as he’s buried his face, moaning as he drinks you all up.

The slurping sounds are ridiculous, when he leans over you, he kisses you, and you taste your sweetness, gasping out when he slips a finger in your eager hole, feeling the aftershocks pulse around his fingers. “That’s it, Princess, can you cum again f’me?” He whispers, kissing back down your body.

“Y-yes, yes. Ah!” Suguru is curling those long fingers in your gummy walls, so slick they’re slippery, his tongue circling your clit again, and you’re so sensitive you’re close stupidly quick, he smiles against your pussy lips when he watches you, shaking and falling apart for him.

“Good girl, you’re close hmm?” You nod weakly, he begins scissoring his fingers in and out of your squelching wetness, which pours everywhere down his hand, down his wrist, his cock aching as he grinds against the bed. He could cum just from drinking you, tasting you, feeling you cum again, gripping him like a vise. “Can you take three Princess, I need you ready.”

“Three? I… think? I haven’t…” You’re nonsensical, it’s been so long, and you have never felt anything like this in your experiences, Suguru’s so precise, overstimulating you to the point of tears when he slips a third in, leaning over you, hair falling to the side, his face coated in your slick.

“You’re so fucking tight, god. Hear yourself?” You nod weakly, as he stretches you with his fingers, your own jerkily unbuckling him, gasping when his cock leaves his boxers, thick, heavy and so long, you gulp at it, throat dry.

“You’re huge.” He blushes at that, where you thought he may brag or laugh, but he just nods, then moans, eyes fluttering shut when you stroke him, down his veiny length to his reddened tip, drooling precum. “Will this fit?”

“I’m gonna have fun trying.” He teases, his voice a whisper, he pulls back and slides his boxers and pants off then, and you drink in his body for a blissful moment before he’s on you, laying on top of you, you whimper.

“Lemme suck you, Sugu.”

“I won’t make it. Next time.” You stroke him, running your thumb on his tip, making him hiss, you lick his pearly precum. “You’re too hot, stop it.”

“Me hot? You.” He moans, kissing you deeply, lining his cock up then with your entrance, sliding it between your lips, you’re crying out, nails pressing into his back when he starts sinking in you, stretching you so much it burns. You’re so full of him just barely in, just the tip, you’re almost cumming again from it, your eyes flying up to his.

“Are you okay, Princess? Need more work up?” He’s so sweet, so caring you melt, but you pull him more, rolling your hips, watching his violet eyes roll back when you take more of him.

“I want all of you, Sugu. I can take it.” You whisper, he groans, one hand bracing himself up, the other cupping your face when he sinks in further, then in two more thrusts his tip is pressing your cervix, so intense you scream out. He’s kissing down your throat as your thighs shake around his hips.

You’re so full.

Too full.

But it’s so good, you feel him fucking everywhere, you’re dizzy when he begins to move, when he starts pumping inside you, your wetness dripping down his length, down his balls that are smacking your ass as he fucks into you more and more. Suguru can’t stand how good your walls feel tightening around him, how wet you are, the sounds of skin smacking mixing with your cries and his soft moans.

You lose your breath when he bottoms out, stuffing you full of his cock, when he slides a hand down, pressing into your clit, and your eyes lock. He watches you with parted lips, rolling his thumb on it as he rolls his hips just so, bringing you close again, but this time it’s so intense you can’t handle it, you’re whimpering and sniffling, eyes rolling back in your skull.

“Let me fuckin feel you cumming around me, that’s it. You’re taking me so good, love.” Suguru is murmuring in your ear, your nails leave crescent marks in his back, feeling the muscles roll and bunch as he fucks into you, curved tip dragging just so, and your orgasm starts hitting you in waves. “Oh, there it is. Good girl, so good.”

“Suguru f-fuck!” You’re sobbing out the words, he pulls back, your eyes lock, one of his hands entwined with yours over your head, as you try to focus, try to keep your eyes from rolling back. You’re weak, pathetically mumbling under him, cock drunk eyes lidded and heavy as you whisper. “L-love you, Sugu.”

“Love you, Princess. Love your body, your pussy, how your face looks when you cum? How wet you are.” He praises you, every bit of you then, before he shoves your thighs up so high, until your knees are on his shoulders, leaning over and folding you in half under his weight, hands gripping your face when you gasp. “Where do you want all this cum, Princess?”

You’re so flustered now, cunt spasming around him, his pelvis pressing against you, still snug in your drooling hole, so deep you can’t think of where he ends or you begin. “In me, Sugu. In me.”

“Fuck.” He growls that word then, pounding his cock now into your hole, slamming your abused cervix, balls slapping heavy where your cunt is dripping down your ass, down to his blanket. “You’re a mess, Princess.”

“F-fuck… you… I am… but���” He laughs just a bit, you glare, tightening, making him gasp, and glare as you giggle.

“Bratty Princess, hmm?” You bite your lip, then start drooling as he jerks his hips, hitting your spot again, throbbing inside you. “Can you take it hard, love?”

“Y-yes.” He smiles, kissing you so sweet, before he leans up and starts fucking you harder, faster, mean strokes of his fat cock in your sweet little pussy, hands shoving your thighs even higher, you feel him in your tummy when your head falls back, he watched the bulge move in your tummy, the site ending him then.

“F-fuck… Princess… gonna fill you so full.” He leans down, breath against your lips, you whimper and try to open your eyes as he cums so much, filling your cunt, coating you with his white hot ropes. His groans fill the room while he pumps it more and more, until you’re both oversensitive messes.

“You… feel so good in me…” You whine, tears falling when he finally slows, allowing you to get a breath, your thighs falling to the side now. He kisses you over and over, gently, softly, all over your face. You cling to him, struggling to catch your breath as you both come down. Suguru eases out, watching the mess of his cum and yours pour out of your little hole then.

“Oh my god, look at you, took so much cum in you, didn’t you?” He kisses your inner knee, you giggle, skin so sensitive you feel ticklish, he smiles softly, running his fingers across your skin.

“Ah!”

“Do you get like this after?” He muses, watching goosebumps form everywhere he touches, you shake your head then.

“Never, it’s never been like this for me.”

Suguru kisses your lower lip, exhaling sweetly on your lips. “It’s never been like this for me, either. God I can’t believe you’re here.”

Soon he’s got you cleaned up, and you’re wearing one of his sweaters, it’s swallowing you, so comfy and it smells just like him, you keep inhaling the sleeves as he makes you both coffee, you’re sitting on his balcony watching the fireworks. You’re enamored by them, but Suguru is watching you, your pretty face so enthralled by the sky, he can’t take his eyes off you.

You smile at him then, melting his heart, snuggling up to him and resting your chest, feeling his heart thud against your ear. “So where are you staying?” He asks, you lean up, sipping the coffee then sighing.

“My parents for now, ugh I know! But I need to find a place, the market is so crazy right now.”

“Stay here.”

You blink in shock, mouth opening. “Sugu, I’d love to but…”

“Then stay here. Home, where you belong.” He says softly, and you feel those tears again, tonight has been such a whirlwind, but this?

“Home.” You repeat softly, and he gently kisses your salty tears from your cheeks, as you snuggle even closer to him. “I feel like I’m home, Sugu.”

“Then stay with me. For as long as you want. Forever.”

“Yes.” You kiss his lips, and Suguru soon has you back in his bed, as you all get to know each other in every way, the fireworks are still thundering outside, as you get the best new years kisses all over your entire body.

And that was the last time Suguru tried to confess his feelings, but this time it worked, and you felt the same way the entire time.

A/N- This one was a lot of work so I really hope you all enjoyed, I love this format of storytelling, if anyone wants another similar let me knowww! Hope you enjoyed I got emotional w/this one, have an AMAZING new year!

Taglist: @higuchislut @cocoamide @imodii @makingtimemine @smolcooki33 @fushitoru @levislug @pe4rl-diver @indiewritesxoxo @uhnosav @candy-s72 @moonlitwitchdaisy @soobinsbreadscrumbs @inthedarkshadows000 @iheartkhloe @mawhoreagaa @yunho-leeknow @you-transfix-me @sugusmonkeyy @aldebrana @xixflower @witchbybirth @katsukihair23 @username23345 @ninikrumbs @stardust-mina

Post

[nctsworld]

fever pitch

✩‌ mark x reader | pro baseball player!mark | fluff | smut | 8.4k

SUMMARY | your world is shaken up (literally) when you meet the handsome man guilty of the accidental baseball smack to your head. after a comforting meet-cute and realization that he’s the city’s ace pitcher, you two go on a date. and by the end of the night, mark thinks he’s falling for you faster than any pitch he’s thrown before.

WARNINGS | sexual content (near the end), arm riding (iykyk), breast/nipple play, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, piv sex, some drinking // this is 80% fluff-20% smut (with lots of corny writing); there's actually not too much baseball mentioned, but i did a little research on it; however, inaccuracies may be inevitable!

RATING | mature

AUTHOR'S NOTE | i am sorry this is so late </3 i hope y'all enjoy! please also check out (and maybe send in some prompts to) @nctpromptmeme!

TAGLIST | @curieouscapt @dearlyminhyung @infnteen

Under the warm, summer sun, you beam as you walk towards your close friend, Chenle, and his dog, Daegal.

Shining back, he nods in hello to you with sunglasses pressed against his face. The teacup Bichon by his side wags its tail and pants happily at the sight of you, but is easily distracted the next second due to the park’s stimulating surroundings.

Dogs running amok, families having picnics, kids chasing each other in circles, friends playing baseball—

Specifically, a group of absolutely stunning men playing, as if a model catalogue exploded onto the field across from you.

But one in particular catches your eye.

Kind eyes shine behind wire-framed glasses, paired with a wide smile. His soft hair bounces with his light jog across the area.  

In his fitted white tee, he ends up in one spot and continuously throws the ball into his mitt. The game seems to be on hold as he speaks to a teammate. Absentmindedly, he rolls his arm sleeves up, revealing lean, yet defined muscles.

You silently gasp, struck by the beautiful sight, then gulp at the flexing of his biceps when he continues tossing the ball. His teammate must’ve told him a joke since the attractive figure throws his head back in joy.

And this is the exact moment you go into cardiac arrest because his laugh is the last straw of what you can handle from this man.  

Suddenly, the sound of your name shakes you out of your daze and reminds you to breathe.

“Okay, which one of these guys is the one who made you do a full stop in the middle of the grass?” Chenle asks, coming up beside you.

Daegal welcomes you with loving rubs against your leg. You squat to pet her, but your eyes are still honed in on the handsome stranger. The teams seems to be switching now when someone hands the bespectacled man a bat.

Your friend tracks your line of sight and nods, impressed. “Okay, he’s cute. Your distractedness will be excused this time.”

Scoffing, you shove his leg lightly and he giggles in return. After a few more moments of gawking, Chenle wonders, “Why do I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere?”

Standing up, you reply, “Probably comes here often with his friends when you walk Daegal?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I feel like I know him from somewhere else...”

Deciding you should probably drag your attention away and not be a blatant creep, you begin to walk away backwards, heading towards the ice cream cart before the line-up becomes as long as the field.

“Want your usual?”

“Yes, please!”

However, Chenle’s brightness fades instantly, jaw falling and eyes widening. You’re about to turn around to see what caused his change of expression when you hear a piercing—

“WATCH OUT!”

With a throbbing in your head, you wake up, squinting at the blinding rays. Coming into view, the cute guy from before replaces the sun’s spot, staring down at you with concern written all over his face.

“Oh, my God,” he pants. His hands shake in front of him. “I am so, so, so, so sorry.”

You roll your eyes a bit, trying to center your vision. Groaning, you ask, “What happened?”

“I, uh...” The individual’s mouth, slightly open with gritted teeth, pulls to one side as he runs a hand through his hair, “may have batted the ball and it coincidentally went straight for your head.”

Carefully, he helps lift your upper body off the ground. He asks if you’re okay, and you nod. But a grimace comes after, causing the stranger’s frown to deepen.

“Maybe we should get you to the hospital. You might have a concussion.”

All of a sudden, he inches closer and gingerly runs his thumb over the source of the throbbing. It’s likely all in your mind, but you swear the pain lessens from his touch. You tilt your head further, angling into his palm and embracing the comforting gesture.

“I’ll obviously cover all the bills—”

You cut him off with a slow lift of your hand. “No. I’m okay, I’m okay.”

You know you’ll definitely be more than okay if you can steal some more time with his magical touch.

Continuing, you say, “And that’s too much. If anything, you can buy some ice cream for me and my friend.”

Glancing around for Chenle, you find him, crouching like the stranger, but a few feet away. With a raised corner of his mouth, you deduce he’s deliberately giving space for you to interact with Mr. Handsome Baseball Hitter.

Said handsome baseball hitter chuckles. Hearing it tugs at your chest, even harder now that you can experience it up close.

“I’ll buy you a thousand ice creams to make it up to you.” He retreats his hand and you don't hold back pouting from the fleeting contact you already miss. “But seriously, if there’s any long-term side effects, please reach out to me and I’ll pay for any expenses that come your way.”

“How would I know how to reach out to you?”

He rambles the following matter-of-factly, “Well, you can find my manager’s information online, there’s the team’s Twitter account”—he looks up cutely in thought—“and I guess I’ve been kinda active on Instagram—”

You tilt your head in confusion. What is this guy going on about?

“Okay,” you interrupt, “but who are you?”

His face flips through a few emotions in the span of seconds, but they’re unreadable. Finally landing on a grin, he says, “I think what’s more important is: do you know who you are?”

“Yeah, I’m—” And you properly introduce yourself.

“Good,” he says, “so we’re not dealing with amnesia.”

Your cheeks rise at his humour. Saying your name warmly, he adds, “Nice to meet you, I’m Mark.”

He lends out a hand for you to shake and you do so. With help from his knees, he rises upward, aiding you to stand on your feet in the process.

“Mark,” you repeat his name aloud, locking eyes with him, “the baseball batter with the strength of a thousand suns.”

At the odd line, you catch yourself, thinking how the injury must’ve loosened your filter. He laughs at the lengthy label. “You should see me pitch.”

You shake your head. “Nu-uh, nope,” you playfully say. “I’m going to be safe and stay far, far away from that sexy arm.”

Both you and Mark’s eyebrows rise at the remark.

Yep, definitely a loose filter. Maybe you really do have a concussion.

While Mark breaks out into a pleased smile, you snap your eyes shut, wanting to run away. Or disappear, if at all possible. “Strong, strong. I meant strong...”

Avoiding eye contact, you hurry and make way to a now standing Chenle. Trying to leave the embarrassment behind, you grumble, “Chenle, let’s get going.”

Your friend smirks and whispers by your side, “You sure you don’t want to dig your grave even further?” You attempt to elbow him, but he’s too quick and avoids it.

“It was nice meeting you, Mark,” you call out over your shoulder as you walk away. “Thanks for looking out for... my head?”

Cringe falls over, making you pick up your pace. Time to officially stop talking.

Chenle turns away, his body shaking as he releases a snicker into his fist.

“Again, I’m really, really sorry!” Mark apologizes in a shout. You can hear the sincerity in his voice, and also recognize his voice as the one who warned you to watch out before the incident occurred. “If you need to find me, I’ll be here over the next couple of weekends!”

When you’re far away enough from the scene of the crime, you smack Chenle in the arm. In response, Daegal chirps a bark at you. “You just had to watch me make a complete fool out of myself back there.”

He lovingly places an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into him. “I mean, Daegal’s great and all, but if anyone has any entertainment value out of the three of us here, it’s going to be you.”

You groan at his harsh, yet true, words.

“Your head good though?”

You note how the throbbing is barely there anymore. Touching the spot, you wince. At most, there’s likely just a bruise. “Yeah, it’s good.”

In a hopeful tone, Chenle sing-songs, “Think you wanna come to the park again with me next weekend?”

Reflecting on what Mark said, you ponder if he really meant it about coming to find him if anything was wrong. Even though everything would likely be fine, you’d love to see him again. 

But how could you face him after the disaster of your mouth running free? You shake your head in defeat.

On Monday night, the next evening, your phone goes off right as you enter your apartment building. You drag your phone out, eyebrows furrowing at the notification that Chenle’s calling you. When was the last time he’s called you?

Actually, you’re fairly sure he’s never called you. Ever. You pick it up without hesitation. 

“Hey, everything okay?”

“Find a TV playing the baseball game,” Chenle pants. “Right now.”

Out of all the things he could call you for, this is what he’s asking you to do? He’s not even into baseball; basketball is the sport he adores to death. “What?”

“Do it,” he orders. “Now!”

“Okay, okay.”

Thankful you haven’t gone up to your apartment yet, you stride over to the little in-house gym in your building near the front entrance. You haven’t used it much since you moved in, but you recall that the TVs usually play either sports or news.

And you remember right, except at the moment, the baseball game is the only event plastered on the screens. Most people in the room are fixated on the game while they’re doing their set or on their respective cardio machine.

“Okay...” you trail in uncertainty. A pitcher from your city’s team throws the ball and the batter misses. The camera cuts to the batter from the opposing team, shaking his head in disappointment. “Why must I need to watch the baseball game so ba—”

The camera’s now on Mark’s face.

The same Mark from the neighbourhood park yesterday, sans the glasses, and in proper baseball gear.

He’s on live, national television, playing baseball in front of the crowd of tens of thousands of people.  

From a side angle, all eyes are on him as he tips his cap forward. His eyes mold into slits of concentration, his sharp jaw tightening after a lick of his lips. Sure, he’s different from yesterday’s care-free self, but you’d be lying if you said this serious side of him didn’t turn you on either.

Again, the camera cuts away, to the wide shot from behind him. Besides his great body (especially his gorgeous backside in those snug pants), you revel in the back of his white and dark green trimmed jersey, indicating his last name and his assigned number: Lee. 02.

He winds up for the pitch, raising his leg, and the ball is gone within a blink of an eye, landing directly into the catcher’s glove. The number 98 comes up near a rectangle on-screen, signifying the speed of his throw.

Mark wasn’t lying about his skills; he’s the pitcher with the strength of a thousand suns.

All the screens are filled with Player #02’s glimmer of a smirk, before he quickly stashes it away behind his cap. The camera lingers on him while the commentators in the background talk.

“A great put-out pitch for Lee,” one says. “His fastballs this season have been absolutely remarkable. Another great one from him.”

Cameras switch to another shot of Mark catching the ball, resetting once more for the next batter.

Another commentator supplements, “Aside from the slight hiccup earlier this season, he’s definitely on-track in making his mark on his debut in the league. A rookie ace indeed. It’s no wonder they’ve been calling him ‘The Tiger!’”

Understanding dawns upon you as to why he stated how easy it would be to contact him (and to be able to pay for any potential hospital bills). The city’s new star pitcher—how could you not know him?

“I knew he looked familiar!” Chenle pipes up from the other end, just as Mark’s nice figure takes up the screen once more. Awe and shock consume your voice, and you’re unable to create a coherent reply.

But you don’t need to, not when you have Chenle to talk your ear off about the game, but mostly Mark, for the rest of the night.

The week passes by, with you casually going through Mark’s Instagram (which, as he mentioned, he only occasionally posts on) and watching a few more of Mark’s games with Chenle in tow. 

You fawn together over his plays (and his ass) and, despite not knowing much about the game, he must be having a great week from the commentators’ constant praises and the team’s overall wins.

Once Sunday finally arrives though, a wave of nervous anticipation rolls over you.

Because for you, it’s game time.

Sure, you may not have initially wanted to, but now that you know who Mark is, what is there to lose if you step up to the plate and see him again?

The scene of the park is quite similar to last week’s, except for the large presence of people staring at the men, many you recognize from the city’s team from all the games you’ve watched this week, playing baseball on the field. You wonder if you were too caught up with Mark last week because you didn’t notice how everyone else was this enraptured too.

As you stroll closer to the grassy area with Chenle and Daegal hovering behind, the players coincidentally take a breather. Some parents quickly take advantage of the break to bring their children up to receive autographs.

This is perfect timing for you too.

However, you stop in place, debating if this was a good idea to return. You’re surely going to make a fool out of yourself again (this time with no injury to blame) and Chenle, despite his promise of not interfering, will totally budge in and—

And it’s too late to backpedal, because Mark, although distracted by the little cluster of people surrounding him, lifts his head momentarily and his gaze lands directly on you.

Air seizes in your lungs when he flashes you a grin that could compete with the sun. He gives a small nod and wave. Like a star struck fangirl, you glance around to ensure he’s not gifting that nod and wave to anyone else. 

But no, you’re not mistaken—his eyes are only on you.

Saying his thanks to his assumed fans, he jogs his way over to you, attired today in a fitted grey-mixed tee, ripped denim jeans, and thicker framed glasses compared to last time.

“Hey,” Mark says, still grinning beautifully. “How’s your head feeling?”

His smile is incredibly infectious. It’s a challenge not to do the same when you’re in the presence of this man. “Better. Had some bruising, but it’s all gone now.”

He nods in response, mumbling a “Good, good” under his breath. With his face turned away, he swipes some hair behind his ear and seems to be preparing himself to say something. But, you will yourself to address the elephant in the room first.

“So, why didn’t you tell me that you were in the major leagues?”

At the unexpected question, Mark darts his head up and draws it back in surprise, his lips pouting adorably. Your heart bursts.

Contrasting his cuteness, you notice the hint of stubble around his mouth. First the pout, now this. You’re captivated by it more than you should be.

He chuckles and lifts a shoulder. “Well, you didn’t ask.”

“I did,” you laugh. “I asked who you were!”

After looking up in thought for a moment, he concedes. “Okay, maybe you did.”

You two laugh in unison, and even when the moment is over, both of you stare into each other's eyes. Time’s filled with comfortable silence and equally comfortable smiles. 

Mark breaks the silence, asking, “Are you still wanting to stay safe and far away from my sexy arm?”

“Oh, my God...” you groan, hating to hear the same words that left your mouth from last week.

“No,” he says through another burst of laughter, “it’s a genuine question.”

“I meant to say strong!” you argue petulantly. “I was just a little out of it from the hit, no thanks to you.”

“I know, I know,” he giggles. “I’m genuinely wondering though, cause...” Mark pauses and begins to fidget, this time rubbing the nape of his neck. 

You tilt your head, intrigued. “Cause what?”

“Cause, I was, uh, wondering,” he says, eyes averting yours. “Since I owe you for your head injury—”

“You don’t owe me anything—”

“And I know it’s a long shot cause you’re absolutely gorgeous and you’re probably taken—”

This time, you draw your head back in surprise over the compliment and the grand assumption that you’re off the market. 

“—but did you wanna go out with me sometime?” His hand moves through his hair before he shyly looks at you again. “Maybe?”

Before you can even process what's happening you hear a "Yes!" behind you, causing you to jolt upright. “Yes, she will absolutely go on a date with you!”

“Chenle!” you gasp, appalled but not surprised, in the direction of your close friend as he nears your side. You face Mark again and gesture in the direction of the incoming intruder. “Don’t mind him.”

As per his charming self, your friend holds out a hand. “Hi, I’m Chenle. Your newest number one fan. Great plays this week, by the way.”

“Mark.” He takes the hand to shake, giving him a small smile. “And thanks.”

Mark’s eyes wander down and notices the dog wagging its tail excitedly. His face lights up. “Aw, who’s this cute little guy?”

“Daegal,” Chenle answers. “She’s my little handful, besides this one.” he says, jerking his head in your direction. Mark's too focused on Daegal to see you slapping her owner in the arm. 

Squatting down, he pets the lively dog. You follow suit and crouch down too, watching Daegal gift Mark tons of licks and enthusiastically rubs herself against his hands and arms. She’s never this delighted with strangers usually. 

“What do you think, Daegal?” Mark asks, holding eye contact with her as if she could reply, then he glances over at you. “Do you think your friend should go out with me?”

Immediately, she barks happily, causing all three of you to laugh. 

“Good girl,” Chenle whispers from above.

Although you pucker your lips playfully at Daegal’s betrayal, you reach out to pet her fondly along with Mark. 

“But how will you guarantee my safety from your strong arm?” Your stare lingers on them. Not that he has to know, but you had to make a conscious effort to not say sexy once more.

“I promise I won’t be tossing any more of my balls in your direction,” Mark casually says.

After a pause, your eyebrows raise and his eyes widen.

“Wait, I mean—shit...” he hisses, closing his eyes and shaking his head. Your lips twitch, suppressing a laugh and finding him adorable.

“I know what you mean,” you quickly say, relieving him of his embarrassment.

He shyly glances up at you and you share a comforting look. Suddenly, someone from the field hollers his name. With a small frown, he begins to walk in reverse away from you.

“I probably should get back, but now that you know how to get in touch, message me on Instagram and we can figure out a time that works for our date?”

“Yes, definitely!”

Incredulously, you look up at Chenle for answering on your behalf.

“For sure, Mark,” you say. “Have a great game.” With the way he plays, you know he will.

Chenle and you wave your good-byes to him and watch him retreat to his friends.

“You do know that I'm the one he asked out, right?” you ask as the three of you begin to walk towards to the park's popular ice cream cart, except you're more vigilant this time.

Your friend grabs out cash, ready to pay for your order. Or at least you hope so, for all the trouble he caused.

“Yes, and that's why I will live vicariously through you!”

After messaging him over the last week (with Chenle hovering over your shoulder and backseat driving many of the messages), Thursday really couldn't come fast enough for your date with Mark.

As you step out of your apartment complex, your jaw drops and an impressed smile fills your face.

In a green bomber, black tee, and skinny jeans, Mark coolly pulls up on a red Ducati motorbike. You recall seeing a post or two on his Instagram with it, but it takes you by surprise to see it in-person.

He takes off his helmet and runs fingers through his hair, attempting to ruffle out the messiness. You're a little envious of how good he looks, even with messy hair.

Your date takes in your outfit—an off-the-shoulder floral dress that teeters the lines of being cute and sexy simultaneously—and beams.

“Wow,” he says, mouth agape. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” you say, then make an over-the-top attempt to check him out. “You don't look so bad yourself.”

After a moment of shared smiles, he tilts his head towards his mode of transportation. “Hope this isn't too daunting.”

You shake your head. “Not at all.”

As Mark helps you with your helmet, now that you're up-close, you notice he's clean-shaven, unlike the other times you've seen him, and you presume he opted for contacts for tonight.

You also can't help but relish in the proximity of his hands near your face, flashing previously to the first time you met only a couple of weeks ago.

Once he's done, you ready yourself for the ride by wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, holding onto him snugly.

He twists around with his visor open.

“Ready?”

You respond with a squeeze around his waist and a nod, so he closes his visor and you're off through the nightscape of the city.

Everything passes by in a blur, but when there are the occasional moments when he slows down or stops at the red lights, you drink in how beautiful your city is.

On the other hand, you're dying to know what Mark planned for tonight. He gave you a vague idea—dinner, a small post-dinner activity (no balls involved, Mark promised), and dessert—but that's all.

In a nicer part of the city, he stops and parks in front of a bumbling Italian restaurant.

Once inside, Mark gives his name to the greeter, stating how he has a reservation, and a sweet host immediately leads you to your table. As you walk through the restaurant, you admire its warm atmosphere with dim lights and candles spread everywhere, along with the many other couples eating their dinner.

The host stops in front of a secluded semi-circular plush booth. You shimmy in, and Mark follows. Both of you sit comfortably close near the middle of the booth.

Despite how much you have been talking through DMs over the last week, as first dates often go, conversation is awkward at first.

However, as dinner progresses and the extravagant wine (Mark insisted, “Only the best for my date, please.”) makes its way through your systems, it gets easier.

You learn more about his family, his team, and his love for reading. For him, he learns about your friends, your job vs. dreams constant conflict, and your love for music.

The easiness also goes beyond words. Underneath the table, your legs brush up against one another's. You throw your head back in laughter, and you bravely touch his forearm in response. Mark even leans in close to your body, sometimes the edge of your shoulders gently pressing into the other.

By the end of dinner, being the gentleman he is, Mark doesn't even let you glance at the check and pays it all without hesitation. Then, you're outside and on his motorbike again, off to the mysterious post-dinner activity.

When he reaches a particular end of town where there isn't much around except one place, you have an inkling where you're about to go.

Once you're there and parked, your hunch is answered correctly, but you realize something.

“Isn't the aquarium closed at this hour?”

He shrugs nonchalantly and begins to usher you forward with a hand lingering at your lower back. Whispering into your ear, he says, “I may have booked it privately for tonight.”

As you walk through, Mark and you stick to each other's side, shoulder to shoulder, and switch between revealing more about yourselves while reading and conversing about the informational signs on the aquatic creatures.

Both of you stop in front of the main showcase of the aquarium: the large tank that houses two beluga whales.

Mark leans in a bit closer to the tank, catches sight of one of them in a corner, and points it out to you. As he straightens, you feel the back of your hand brush up against his.

“You’re quite the romantic,” you state while glancing at the tank, almost as low as a whisper. Even with nobody around, there's something so serene about the aquarium that makes you want to be respectfully quiet. "Does everyone get this first-date, first-class experience from you?”

“Only the girls who get hit on the head by me,” he teases in a whisper, making you softly chuckle.

After a moment passes as you watch the tank, hoping and waiting for the beluga whales to move to where you're standing, Mark asks, “Would it be surprising to say I don’t go on dates as often as you think?”

Your eyes dart toward him, but you quickly keep your gaze fixated back on the tank. You nod. “A little.”

He hums, followed by a lengthy sigh. You can sense a shift in him. You hear how it's laced with sadness, maybe even a little regret.

“I’ve been working so hard to get to this point and of course being drafted’s been so worth it, but it also meant that I had to sacrifice some things along the way. But now that I’m finally here”—you feel his gaze now directed on you—“I definitely can rearrange my time for other things.”

Your breathing slows as you turn to face him.

Courageously, Mark intertwines his hand with yours and his free one raises, caressing the bare skin of your upper arm. The contact makes you gasp and hold your breath.

He drags himself forward, as do you, and his hand is about to cup your face...

Until the two belugas are now your front-row audience, glancing at you as if they were smiling.

You both chuckle softly and give them a wave, not wanting to lose this rare chance of seeing them this close.

And although the special moment has passed, you two finish off the marine life tour with your hand in his.

Once outside, Mark leads you somewhere nearby. After about ten minutes of walking, you're standing on a large cliff with a scenic view of the city. You've never seen the city from this height before, and all its twinkling lights and the starry sky beckon you.

An ice cream truck is also coincidentally there, and you assume Mark booked it for your date tonight.

You two grab your waffle cone orders and sit down on a wooden bench that overlooks the view.

“So,” you say, licking the cone on its side to avoid the ice cream from dripping down your hand, “does this go towards the debt of you hitting my head?”

“Of course,” he nods with his signature smile, doing the same as you and trying to avoid his sweet treat from melting. “It'll be one ice cream out of the many future thousands.”

The implication that there’ll be more than just this date hangs in the night air, almost as if it's a promise, and you really hope it'll be true.

At the very least, it feels true as you peer over your city, leaning your head onto Mark's shoulder while he casually drapes an arm around you.

Getting off the motorcycle, Mark walks you to the front door of your place and you don't even think twice about asking if he wants to come in. He says yes a little too enthusiastically, making you giggle, but it confirms that neither of you want the night to come to an end just yet.

Mark hangs his jacket as you grab beers from the fridge. Both of you make talk for some time on your couch, but the energy in the room is buzzing, especially since the almost-kiss.

The second you gravitate towards Mark, he rushes to wrap an arm around your waist and his free hand cups your face, dragging you in for the first kiss that's been itching to happen.

His lips are dangerously soft, addictive really. You swear he tastes like cherry (could be from the food earlier or maybe a lip balm flavour, you wonder).

It's a slow, yet deep, start. In the beginning, the kissing is with intent, wanting to know what each other tastes like. Naturally, the curiosity evolves into exploration, with Mark cautiously dipping his tongue into your mouth. You react with zeal, swiping your tongue against his and even experiment sucking on it. He shudders at the sensation.

Mark holds you close throughout, but your bodies move into a new position, letting you sink comfortably into your couch beneath him.

Here, passion rises. He grips your waist, whilst his body presses into yours, and he begins to trail down your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses. Although it's already off your shoulders, he drags a sleeve of your dress further down, hungry to kiss as much of your bare skin as he possibly can.

Your fingers tangle in his hair and you arch into him, embracing his clear desire against you. You're falling and falling and falling, becoming more drunk with every touch and kiss from Mark. Ever since the first day you met, you couldn't help but yearn for his touch. Now, having a taste of him like this, you're desperate to experience more.

Although you're underneath him, you decide to take hold of the kissing. When he takes a breather for an instant, you steal the chance and fervently kiss along his jaw and rugged neck. Mark moans, gripping your waist harder, and grinds into you, his hardness dying to be free.

Shockingly, he suddenly tears away, sitting up and panting. Confused, you mirror him.

“Should we stop?” he asks. “Like, I know I might be being presumptuous, but I don’t wanna ruin our potential next date if we rush too soon?”

It melts your heart that he retracted because he's concerned over your potential future. You delicately rearrange some of his loose hair stuck to his forehead. “If you want to stop, we can.”

He pouts, reminding you of him previously at the park, followed by a cute whimper.

“But I don’t want to stop...” he laugh-smiles, leaning into you, about to drive his mouth into yours again.

“Neither do I.”

And with that, Mark makes the split-second decision to continue this good thing and not look back. Once again, he's leaving love upon your shoulders, at a measured pace currently, and he carefully lowers your dress. Drooping off your shoulders, you let it drop and bunch around your stomach.

Surprise is written on his face, as you didn't wear a bra underneath your dress, but the surprise quickly dissipates into enthrallment over the beautiful sight.

He lowers himself, mouth traversing across your chest while his free hand gently massages one of your breasts. You succumb to the rising pleasure, curving into him again.

When he arrives at one tip of yours, he looks up and asks, his voice low and gravelly, “Can I...?”

You whimper-nod, already on the verge of begging him to take the next step.

It kills you that he teases first, merely pecking the surrounding area and your tip; his mouth leaving goosebumps in its wake. Your patience grows thin.

“Mark, please, just—”

Air is depleted as his tongue swipes against your nipple in a broad stroke. He then wraps his mouth around it, sucking firmly. The other hand that was kneading your other breast turns to focus on your nipple, pinching it between his index finger and thumb.

The more he sucks, the more you hear the wet puckering of his lips, the more it makes you clench tighter. Bliss begins to boil in your abdomen when he flicks his tongue and mimics the same on your other tit with the pad of his thumb.

Your breathing grows heavier, and you sense you're close, but Mark abruptly stops. You're about to speak up, believing he'd be the type to finish you off if you ask, until you realize he's kneeling on the floor in front of you and stripping off his t-shirt.

With your help, Mark eases your dress to the floor and places it safely on the coffee table. Focusing on you, his gaze is dripping of lust—so carnal, so different than his regular self.

As Mark advances to your heat, your palms graze over his defined shoulders and back. He parts your legs further with his hands wrapped around your inner thigh.

“Wearing panties?” he inquires, his finger pulling the fabric a bit to the side.

“Huh?”

“No bra, but panties?” he smirks, making you realize the joke.

You roll your eyes and relax momentarily, leaning your head back. “Are you into that? No panties underneath?”

“Could be hot,” he shrugs, tugging your underwear to your calves and tossing them off to the side.

“Maybe one date I can do th-ah—”

Without warning, he dives in, one his hands now grasping you by your lower back, and you lurch forward to get a good view of his head between your legs. You've got a grip on his shoulder, the other tugging at his hair.

His tongue laps at your folds with agility, figures out what you like or don't like. There isn't much you don't like, Mark deduces. Languid licks. Penetrating patterns. Fast flicks.

You respond eagerly to them all with harsh tugs to his hair, notably when he spreads your folds to devour you entirely. The hair pulling hurts a bit, but he doesn't mention anything; he likes it a little rough.

Despite the positive reactions, he can tell you've been at a simmer with his moves, not quite reaching close to a high. He withdraws his mouth, and, through your hazy vision, you catch sight of his honeyed lips.

But your eyes blow wide open and an acute moan dispels as your lover of the night fills you with his fingers, alongside his licking of your clit.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

Following a few more minutes of scissoring and a few sucks to your bundle of nerves, he asks, breathing into your inner thigh, “Does this feel good, gorgeous?”

Your lip is drawn between your teeth, digging so hard from the pleasure you wonder if it'll bleed soon. “Mm-hmm.”

“Good,” he says, kissing your thigh tenderly, “'cause I'm gonna need you to remember how good tonight is so you'll keep coming back for more.”

Not gonna be a problem, you think, but all you could muster is senseless panting.

“You close?”

You can barely release a whimper out to respond, and Mark orders you to tell him when you're near.

It doesn't take long to get there. The warmth in your abdomen encapsulates your body and your hips rut upward frantically, desiring your climax to take authority.

“Mark, Mark, Mark. Fuck, I'm close, I'm—”

Immediately, he stands up, fingers still inside you and somehow impaling you further and faster while his thumb lazily strokes at your clit when possible, and his ardent kiss is the needed catalyst to take you over the brink. Simultaneously, the kiss swallows your bountiful whines.

When you finally come down from your high, you kiss him deeply and feel him through his jeans against you.

“Let's take this to the bedroom, I need to grab—”

“Should I run to the pharmacy to—?”

In tandem, you chuckle over how in sync you are, and tip your perspired foreheads against the other.

Holding his hand, you lead him to your bedroom. You turn on your bedside lamp and gesture to the tissues, so he can clean his hands. You then bound to your bedroom bathroom and fumble around to find your condom packs somewhere in a drawer.

Upon your return, you're graced with the sight of Mark sitting naked on the edge of your bed, stroking himself. You almost salivate.

God, he's bigger than you expected, and that's only one part of his magnificent body. You didn't have the opportunity before to admire his muscular abs, but you take every chance to do so now. The way his arm flexes with each stroke. And those thighs...

“Sorry,” he murmurs and shyly shrinks a bit, in contrast to his lewd action, “hope it's okay that I took my pants off already.”

He really is quite endearing. Maybe even a little perfect.

“There is absolutely nothing to apologize for, Mark.”

You place the condoms onto your bedside table, but are so absorbed with Mark's cock and existence. Entranced, it's your turn to drop to your knees.

Fingers wrap around his cock, and Mark's groans rise. You delve in your enthrallment for a bit, squeezing and stroking to your heart's content until you finally decide to ease him into your mouth.

Your tongue works wonders, tasting the underside of his length with every bob of your head. Meanwhile, his hands lazily thread through your hair and he watches attentively.

More saliva develops and drips, especially when you relax your mouth to let him hit the back of your throat. Obscene slurps accompany his delicate moans, both of which permeate the room in melodious unity.

As his threading develops into tight pulls of your hair, you detract yourself to avoid the night ending right then and there.

Since he's still sitting on the side of the bed, you sit onto his lap with a plan to abate and elongate the tension. You're back to kissing him, allowing both parties' hands to roam each other.

“I love your arms,” you mumble into his mouth as you reach for them.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “I know you love my sexy arms.” You punch him teasingly.

But an idea flickers in your head. You halt your actions.

“This might be weird to ask, but could I...” you trail off, picking at your hands, realizing maybe you shouldn't finish your question.

“Hey,” he whispers, holding your chin in his hand. “You can ask me anything, beautiful.”

You hesitate with closed eyes.

“Could I... ride your arm?”

Peeking a nervous eye open, an evidently puzzled Mark stares back at you.

“I—What? Sure?” His voice raises in octaves.

Embarrassed, you try to wave it off. “Never mind that I asked.”

“No, hey,” he says, his palm caressing the side of your face and angling it towards him. “I'm flattered and obviously, nobody has ever asked to ride my arm before. But if you want to give it a go, by all means, I'm open to it.”

“Yeah?”

Mark gives you the sweetest smile and a reassuring nod. “Yeah.”

Since you suggested it, you lead him to lay on the bed, more in the centre so there'd be enough room for you to sit. He watches you gingerly lift his hand near head-level, as if he's almost flexing to show-off or about to lay his head on his palm.

Carefully, you sit onto his left arm, facing the direction of his body. At the contact, you shudder. “Is this okay?”

He agrees, enticed by your ass near his face and the general exquisiteness of your being. “You can put more weight on it, it's okay.”

You comply, relishing in the pressure of his arm against you. After becoming more comfortable and placing most of your weight to an arm on the bed, you slowly rub yourself upon his arm.

Mark's fascinated by this foreign act, eyes watching your every move. With his free hand, he touches himself.

His favourite part about you riding his arm? The look on your face—fluttering eyes paired with your lip biting—and the fact that you find him this attractive, that using him this way can simply get you off.

“This okay still?” you breathe.

“Fuck yeah.” He squeezes himself harder. He knows the answer to the next question, but he wants to hear it from you directly. “Does it feel good for you?”

You assent with a sharp moan. Without notice, you lick your palm with the intent of reaching over to grab his cock. At first, he's confused when he notices your hand, but he happily lets you handle him.

“Oh, God,” Mark pants.

You fasten your pace on his arm, grinding greedily against him. As you do so, your arm attempts to match the pace for his desire.

“Fuck,” Mark twists his head to look at your hips, tries to focus on how wet you are amidst his own pleasure, “you really do love my arms...”

It's a sweet dream for you—no, sweeter than any dream or fantasy could ever be. This is real, this spectacular sensation spreading all over and it's all thanks to his arm. Your body winds up, tighter and tighter, and you eventually break, chasing your second orgasm of the night.

Cleaning your mess up, you wipe his arm fast, keen on what's about to happen next. You then draw him into your mouth a bit to get him up again before rolling the condom onto him.

Once the rubber is on, you tease him from above, sliding the tip of his cock against your pulsing centre.

Mark may be a gentleman, but a gentleman can only be patient for so long. He seizes his possession and you gasp as he holds you by your hip, forcing you to sit down onto him.

The feeling is heavenly, stretching you sweetly. You bounce on his cock, and the sounds from you two are louder than from before. There's a small voice inside your head, worried about a noise complaint from your neighbours, but future you could deal with that.

Right now, it's all about Mark. He plays with your breasts with every move you make, while you fondle his abs and arms. Both of you try your best to look at one another through the pleasure, but it's difficult when you're floating higher and higher.

He then clasps your lower back and skillfully rises upward with the help of his strong abs. This position provides an angle for him to do all the work to thrust into you, as well as continuing to rub your breasts and even suck on them again.

At this point, you're in absolute state of frenzy, drowning in all the stimulation. Mark's underwater, right there with you too.

He pulls away in the midst of licking your nipple, his eyes going round. Nevertheless, you lean into him, your breasts pressed into his face and your mouth hangs.

Together, you cry each other's names and swear in endless spirals and the bliss finally reaches its peak for the evening.

As Mark lays next to you in your bed, observing your peaceful sleeping state, he's obviously amazed by tonight's events, but he’s also unsure what’s in-store for either of you.

There are so many factors at play with his career, you're both essentially still strangers, the future is unknown...

And yet, despite these worries, the feeling blooming in his chest is more than a blossoming liking. It’s akin to the moment he steps up to plate, either ready to bat or pitch. Nervousness, determination, and...

It’s too early to call it, but when he’s around you, he swears it feels a lot like his love for the game.

He shakes his head, not wanting to jump into the deep end this fast. He doesn't want to ruin this good thing prematurely.

Nevertheless, he places one last kiss atop your forehead before he sleeps, praying you'll be a new constant in his life, at least in the near future.

EPILOGUE — FOUR MONTHS LATER

Today is game four of the World Series and your city has won the previous three. If they continue their streak, tonight will be the night where Mark and his teammates take home the championship.

Hours prior to the big game, the teams are having batting practice beforehand to warm-up.

With your chin perched in your palm, you watch Mark closely—of course, safely from a distance and from behind him—and nod with every ball he hits well at the mound. You're seated in the lower area of the stadium among many of the other team members' families and friends, including a gleeful Chenle.

“Stop checking out your boyfriend's ass,” he orders, nudging you with his shoulder as he tosses a piece of popcorn into his mouth.

“You stop checking out my boyfriend's ass,” you retort, nudging him back.

The two of you continue your little nudging contest until he says, “So when you guys get married—”

“Oh, my God, Chenle...”

“I'm just saying, we all know you two are going to have beautiful little baseball player babies! Anyway, as I was saying, when you guys get married, can Daegal be the ringbearer somehow? She's pretty much the reason why you guys got together in the first place.”

You shake your head, eyes still on your love. “Chenle, we'll have that conversation when and if we get there.”

“When we'll get there,” he states confidently, and you laugh, dismissing him.

Sure, it may have been a fresh relationship only four months in, but you couldn't deny that maybe the idea of marriage wiggled its way through your mind here and there. Despite your thoughts, it wasn't at the forefront; you were happy in love with Mark now, here in the present.

Player #02 hands his bat over to another player and jogs towards you. It makes you wonder why he hasn't done an advertisement with slo-mo running and wind blowing through his hair yet.

“How’d I do?” Mark asks, leaning onto the railing next to you. Chenle gives him two thumbs up with a large grin.

“Awesome," you agree. "Did you think about hitting my head with each ball?”

Mark chuckles and juts his tongue to a side of his mouth. “You’re never going to let me live that down, huh?”

“Never,” you quip, scrunching your nose. You reach out for him and hold the tips of his fingers in yours. “You nervous?”

“Yeah,” he exhales, closing his eyes. “More than usual.”

Your fingers progress forward and your thumbs rub the back of his hands lovingly. “You’ll do amazing, like always.”

“You’re too sweet, babe. But this might be the game and I might—”

You cut him off by cupping his cheek in your palms.

“And you are the Mark ‘The Tiger’ Lee”—you tenderly swipe some of his hair away from his face—“top contender for both the Rookie of the Year and CY Young Award. So no matter what happens, you will come out on top.”

In awe and in a little disbelief with how well-put that was, he stares at you with starry, doe-like eyes. He's so grateful to have met you, to have someone so supportive of him in his life.

After a few moments, he concedes. “I had a pretty great run this season, haven’t I?”

You admire how humble your boyfriend always is. It's one of his greatest traits.

“And you have me,” you add jokingly.

He tilts his head side to side. “I guess there’s that too...”

The two of you share a kiss, innocent at first, until he deepens it and you wrap your arms around his neck, which generates some of his teammates to holler and whistle. Likewise, you hear Chenle screech, "Save it for after the win!" and you swear you feel some popcorn being thrown at your back.

Finally, until you're content, you peel away and press your forehead against his.

“Go get ‘em, Tiger,” you whisper.

Mark nods, a little more confident than before. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“So much,” he punctuates it with a loving squeeze to your shoulder.

You don't think you'll see him before the game starts, so you grant him one last good luck kiss.

You wouldn't know it that night, but by the end of the season, Mark would indeed take home the Rookie of the Year and the CY Young Award, being the youngest recipient of both awards.

That evening though, your city's team works in unbelievable harmony (or maybe the opposing team is having its worst day) because the game is a perfect one. Mark shuts out the other team, not allowing them to have any runs whatsoever...

Thus, sealing his first title of being a World Series champion.

But certainly not without his beloved running out into the field to give him a congratulatory hug and kiss among the sea of people.

And at the end of that night in the confines of your bedroom (after earth-shattering celebratory sex), you would find out that Chenle was right (and later, that he was in on it) when Mark, merely in his boxers, gets on one knee with a little opened box in front of you.

He's visibly shaking, and not because he's half-naked. You've never seen him so unnerved. Your love spills the following in almost one breath:

“I know we just started dating, and we can be engaged for, like, ten years or whatever. I just know that, deep down, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I may have felt this way since our first date. I really, really, really hope you feel the same, even if just a little bit."

Mark takes a deep breath, trying to regain composure for the important question he exhales.

Tears rise in your eyes as an ocean of feelings hit you, but within that ocean, no doubts rise to the surface whatsoever.

All you think about is how you will be forever grateful for the baseball that hit your head on that life-changing day.

You immediately say yes.

[witchywithwhiskey]

tempting fate on the terrace

pairing: father's business rival CEO!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: you're relaxing on bucky's penthouse terrace and eating ice cream when he tempts you into something more

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, creampie, come play, light teasing, light overstimulation, finger sucking, choking, light bdsm, semi-public sex, little bit of exhibitionism, dirty talk, light degradation, praise kink, pet names (darling), unspecified age gap, fluff

word count: 2,900ish

a/n: y'all have @biteofcherry to blame for this follow up, because i couldn't get her idea out of my head and i just had to write it 😅 i'm so so so so so happy with how this turned out. i kind of can't get enough of these naughty little lovebirds, i just love them so much!!! and i hope y'all enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it!! ♡

tempting fate in the park (part 1)

tempting fate on the terrace (part 2)

tempting fate in the CEO's office (part 3)

The spring sunshine was perfectly warm on your face, and you stretched your legs out, sinking further into the soft cushions of the outdoor sofa as you considered whether you should trade in your Brooklyn brownstone for a Manhattan penthouse. Specifically a penthouse with a terrace as pretty as the one belonging to Bucky Barnes. 

You licked your ice cream cone thoughtfully, gazing through the greenery that had been set up around the edge of the terrace to give it a sense of privacy. The whole of Manhattan seemed to sprawl beyond the edge of Bucky’s penthouse and you enjoyed the view almost as much as you loved the tree-lined Brooklyn street where you lived.

But your brownstone didn’t have a concierge to go buy ice cream and cones so you could have a delightful treat after being ruined by one of the most powerful CEOs in the city—who also happened to be your father’s business rival. That said, your apartment did have a bagel store around the block with the best bagels in New York City…

You were distracted from comparing the benefits of your home to Bucky’s by the door to the terrace sliding open with a soft sound. The man who had been nothing more than your father’s business rival—until he’d become much, much more—paused just outside the door, his hands slipping into the pockets of his lounge pants while he stared at you lazing about on his outdoor sofa.

You grinned, taking a long lick of your ice cream as you stared right back at him. He looked deliciously comfortable in his lounge pants and simple gray t-shirt, the soft cotton pulling tight across his broad shoulders. His brown hair was a little disheveled from how much you’d run your fingers through it, and his blue eyes sparkled in the golden late afternoon light. 

“Y’know, darling, I could get used to seeing you looking so comfortable in my home,” Bucky rumbled as he prowled over to the sofa, lifting your legs and sitting down so they sprawled across his lap. Since he was closer, you could better see the way his eyes darkened as he raked them along your body. “And I could definitely get used to seeing you wear my clothes.” He fingered the bottom hem of the button-up shirt you were wearing—the one you’d stolen off his floor and put on because it smelled like him. “In fact, maybe it should be a rule that you only wear my clothes when you’re here.”

You laughed, the sound bright and airy as you tipped your head back, and you were still smiling when you looked back at Bucky. “You already made it a rule that I can’t wear panties while I’m here,” you pointed out, kicking him lightly with your bare foot. “At this rate, I’ll have to walk around naked, and I love your terrace too much for that—your neighbors are going to see me and we’re actually going to get that public indecency charge.”

Bucky’s hands had begun to massage your calves, slowly working their way up your legs but he paused in thought, his gaze going distant as he stared out over the city. “Y’know, I don’t think you can get charged for public indecency if you’re naked on a private terrace,” he said, then turned mischievous eyes on you. “Why don’t we test it out,” he teased in a deliciously warm tone, his hands slipping up your thighs to push the hem of your shirt up, revealing your bare pussy to his gaze.

“Jamie—someone could see!” you cried, laughing and pushing him away half-heartedly with one hand while you tried to hold your ice cream cone stable in the other. But Bucky turned and wedged his body between your legs so you couldn’t close them, his gaze heating as he stared down at the apex of your thighs.

“Christ, your pussy looks pretty with my come spilling out of it,” Bucky muttered, almost to himself, his fingers trailing through your still sticky folds. Your hips stuttered up against his fingertips and you sucked in a gasp as he brushed gently against your sensitive clit. “So fucking pretty, darling.” 

“Jamie.” That time, when you said his name, it was more of a whimper, the sound so desperate it made heat flood your cheeks. You and Bucky had already fucked three times since you’d arrived at his penthouse, it was amazing that your body was still hungry for more. It felt like you’d be hungry for Bucky for the rest of your life.

Bucky looked up at you, grinning when he saw the needy look on your face. “You might want to finish your ice cream, darling, because I’m fucking another load into your pretty cunt the second you’re done,” he said, his voice low and gravelly and making you shiver as warmth pooled between your thighs. 

Grabbing the collar of Bucky’s shirt, you pulled yourself up to sit, your legs wrapped around his waist from the side and held your treat out to him. “Help me finish, Jamie,” you begged in a playful tone, giving him a sweet smile as if you didn’t hear the double entendre of your words. 

Bucky held your gaze as he leaned forward and took a big bite of your ice cream, chomping on some of the cone and making you laugh. But the warm spring sunshine was hot enough that the ice cream was soon dripping down your fingers and you quickly licked it up. Bucky watched you for a moment before he wrapped a hand around your throat and dragged you in for a messy kiss, the sweet taste of ice cream filling your senses just as much as the rich taste that was all Bucky.

Together, the two of you finished off your ice cream, laughing and kissing and tasting each other. When the cone was gone, you licked the sticky sweetness from Bucky’s fingers, your tongue teasing over his skin while you watched his blue eyes darken with desire. Once you were done, he tortured you in much the same way, his tongue sliding between your fingers in such an obscene way, you let out a soft moan as you imagined his warm mouth pressed between your thighs instead.

By the time every trace of ice cream had been licked from your skin, you were soaking wet and desperate for Bucky; you pulled him in for a kiss. He made quick work of unbuttoning the shirt you wore and pushing it down over your shoulders while your fingers dove beneath his t-shirt. You raked your nails lightly through the dark hair that decorated his chest, delighting in the softness of it against your fingertips. He groaned into your mouth, breaking away only to pull his shirt off. 

Then he was laying you down on the sofa and pushing his lounge pants off to pool at his feet before he climbed over you, covering your body with his broader form. His hips settled between your thighs, his hard length nestling perfectly between your slick lower lips. 

“Fuck, you feel good, darling,” Bucky rumbled on a moan, moving his hips back and forth, just enough to slide the hard ridge of his cock against your puffy clit. “Wanna be buried in this cunt every fucking moment of the day—you’re tuning me into some pussy-drunk idiot,” he growled, kissing and nipping at your jaw while his hand circled your throat, his fingers digging lightly into the sides.

You huffed a sound that was half laugh, half shuddering moan, your legs hooking around the backs of Bucky’s thighs and using the leverage to grind against his bare cock. “If it makes you feel any better, all I can think about is how badly I want to be your cockdrunk little slut,” you murmured in his ear, nuzzling your cheek against the scruff on his jaw and delighting in the delicious rasp against your skin. “I think about sitting under your desk in your office, your cock in my throat, keeping you warm while you work.”

“Oh fuck—fuck, darling,” Bucky groaned, rocking against you harder, his cock growing wet and slick with your juices the more he slid through your pussy lips. “When you’re not here and I’m stroking my cock, I think about fucking you at one of your father’s boring galas,” he rumbled, his words coming faster to match the speed of his hips. “I think about sinking my cock into you and pumping you full of come and making you go back out to the party with my load dripping down your thighs beneath your gown.”

You raked your fingers through Bucky’s soft hair, clinging to him while your hips kept rocking together. His hard cock was rubbing your clit and his words were spinning delicious fantasies and it was too much. You felt your release swelling within you, threatening to overwhelm you, but you didn’t want to come against his cock, you wanted to come on his cock.

“Jamie,” you cried on a gasp, babbling words that you hoped made sense so he’d know what you wanted, “I can’t—I’m gonna—please, inside me—come, please!” 

Thankfully, Bucky understood your nonsense and he chuckled against your cheek. “Remember to be quiet, darling,” he rumbled, the warmth in his tone telling you he was grinning. “Don’t want the neighbors to hear you and risk finding out about whether we can get a public indecency charge on my private terrace.”

Before you could even think to respond to his teasing, Bucky pulled back, the tip of his cock needing no guidance to find your dripping hole. He slid inside easily, stretching you out around his cock. Your cunt was so wet, and you were so close to coming, it felt like your body was sucking him in deeper, your inner walls clinging to him as he split you open with his cock.

Despite Bucky’s warning, you groaned loudly—not because you wanted to find out about the indecency charge, but because you simply couldn’t control yourself. No matter how many times Bucky fucked you, every time he pushed deep into your cunt, it felt so good your mind went fuzzy with pleasure. You never wanted it to end, you wanted him inside you all the time, always and forever.

When the head of his cock pushed against your cervix, he grunted in pleasure while you moaned your own delight. Bucky dug his fingers deeper into the sides of your throat, cutting off your sound of ecstasy while he lifted himself up enough to see you. His eyes roved hungrily over your face, eagerly drinking in the way your expression twisted in pleasure as he pulled back and thrust inside you again, his hips clapping against your thighs. 

“Dirty, filthy girl,” Bucky grunted, thrusting into you to punctuate each word. “Can never be quiet when I tell you.”

You tried to smirk up at him, but another hard driving thrust had your eyes rolling back and your mouth falling open on a silent moan. With what you thought was a valiant effort, you mannaged to huff, “That’s because I like it when you make me be quiet, Mr. Barnes.” 

Bucky’s eyes narrowed on you and his mouth twisted into a determined snarl. “You know I prefer when you call me Jamie,” he growled, fucking you harder and faster, pressing his face close to yours so you could feel his warm breath ghost over your cheek. “You call me Jamie when my cock is deep in your cunt and I’m about to pump you full of my fourth load today—d’you hear me, darling?”

It was so much fun riling Bucky up, and you were enjoying the result of your efforts, your body lighting up from within as he pounded into you. But you knew he wanted an answer to his question, so you parted your lips and babbled, “Yes, sir, you feel so good, Jamie—love it when you fuck me hard, Jamie, please!”

“There’s my good girl,” Bucky rumbled, his tone as warm as the sunshine falling across your bare skin. He brushed a kiss to your cheek and pushed your thighs wider, fucking you in deep, grinding thrusts that had his pelvis rubbing perfectly against your clit. “Now come on my cock, darling, wanna feel your cunt choking my dick like I’m choking your pretty throat.”

As if you could resist an order like that. 

At Bucky’s filthy words, you came undone. The swelling pleasure in your core burst, and your body went taut as wave after wave of overwhelming sensation washed over you. Your lips parted in a scream that Bucky made sure stayed silent, his big hand gripping your throat so tightly, it made your entire being focus in on everything your body was feeling, every little spark and fizzle of pleasure that came from his cock, his hand—him.

“Good girl, so good, feel so fucking good, darling, fuck—fuck,” Bucky groaned, his hips thrusting wildly between your thighs until he pressed deep and let out a low grunt. His cock twitched and throbbed inside you and you knew he was coming, your clenching pussy milking every drop of his load from his balls. 

“Jamie,” you murmured when he loosened his grip on your throat. “Jamie, Jamie, Jamie.” Your chanting words were a plea and a prayer, which Bucky seemed to understand because his arms dug beneath your body so he could cradle you tight to his chest until there wasn’t a breath of air between you. You rode out your releases like that, your bodies writhing together, clinging to one another, unwilling to let the other move even a millimeter away. 

Slowly, eventually, the two of you settled, your body melting beneath Bucky’s while his cock softened inside you. His come spilled from your slit, sliding down between your ass cheeks. But you couldn’t be bothered by the mess the two of you had made, not when it felt too good to simply lay with Bucky, both of you naked and basking in the golden spring sunshine.

“Sooo,” you began, drawing out the word as you trailed your fingers through Bucky’s soft hair. He rumbled a short hum of acknowledgement. “D’you think any of your neighbors heard us?”

That had Bucky chuckling. He pressed a kiss to your neck, his lips finding the same spot where his fingers had dug in, making you shiver. “What’re they gonna do, tell me I can’t fuck my girlfriend on my own private terrace?” he grumbled. 

You went still beneath him and Bucky could feel the change in you, immediately lifting himself up so he could see your face. At his questioning look, you whispered, “That’s the first time you’ve called me your girlfriend.” You hated how small your voice sounded, but you were suddenly very afraid it was a slip of the tongue that Bucky would take back the second you pointed it out.

But he didn’t. Instead, his eyes went soft and he ducked down to press a sweet and firm kiss to your lips. “You’re my girlfriend,” he said resolutely, but then paused and gave you a look you couldn’t decipher. “Unless you don’t want to be.”

Your eyes widened and your fingers dug possessively into the back of his neck. “No, no, I want to be, I want to be,” you assured him quickly, smiling when he looked relieved. You pulled him down for another kiss, though it was difficult because you were grinning so hard. “Does this mean you’re my boyfriend, Jamie?”

“Of course I am,” he growled, nipping playfully at your lip and making you giggle.

“OK good,” you said with a happy sigh, going back to raking your fingers through his hair. “Then as your girlfriend,” you began, a teasing lightheartedness in your tone. “I demand my boyfriend get me another ice cream cone—since he ate half of mine.” When Bucky cut his eyes to yours, you gave him your best innocent pout, even though you knew he saw right through you. 

“Anything for you, darling,” he rumbled, dropping a kiss to your lips before he extricated himself from your body and sat up. He pulled his lounge pants back on and then tugged his t-shirt on over your head, a pleased smile curving his lips at the sight of you wearing his clothes. 

When Bucky dragged you up from the sofa, you tugged the hem of his shirt down over your ass, not wanting to flash any neighbors who might be looking, even though the greenery around the edge of the terrace would likely block you from view. Still, if you ever happened to move into Bucky’s penthouse, you didn’t want to have a reputation for walking around naked.

Not that you could see yourself giving up your beloved Brooklyn brownstone. 

Probably.

Unless Bucky asked you to move into his penthouse…

Thankfully, you were distracted from what a future with Bucky would mean for your housing situation by the man himself pulling your favorite flavor of ice cream from his freezer. He turned to you with a happy grin, looking devastatingly handsome and at home in his penthouse kitchen.

Right then, you decided you weren’t going to be tempting fate on the terrace again. It had been fun to fuck your boyfriend where any of his neighbors could have overheard or caught a glimpse of you, but you didn’t want to risk it again.

Just in case you did end up moving into Bucky Barnes’ penthouse.

tempting fate in the park (part 1)

tempting fate on the terrace (part 2)

tempting fate in the CEO's office (part 3)

[lokidjarin-7567]

The Prophecy

Viktor x You When the friend of your youth, Viktor, sees you still living in the Undercity, and working in a strip club at that, he is determined to reconnect, and rekindle a childhood friendship that was rooted in something more. Contents: fem!reader, fluff, angst and smut all in one folks, 18+ MDNI, a few physical features described but still reader insert I think (hair colour and freckles), both Viktor and you POVs, long-ass one shot 8.1k words Taglist: @night-fall-moon @zsuzsu321 @sh1zhu @circeinspace @casualjagodek @retrokatz @am-3-thyst @xlittlemissydjx @sseleniaa @thefandomsfervent Hi guys, thanks for bearing with my while I've been working on this one!! I have been absolutely obsessed with this man ever since I finished Arcane, so I just had to write something about him! I also think a lot of people mischaracterise him, so I tried really hard to get his personality right - let me know if I actually have lol. Anyone who knows my works knows how slutty my smut can get lol, but this is actually quite tender so a new one for me too. Anyway, I'll stop waffling now, I hope you enjoy. TTPD Contents | General Masterlist | AO3

DISCLAIMER: while this, in my opinion, is still classified as an ‘x you’ fic, a few physical features are described, namely ‘you’ having burgundy red hair that is, at one point, described as curly and having freckles, alongside a handful of super vague descriptors (eg. fluttering eyelashes, slope of her nose AKA things that can be applied to any and all faces) - basically everyone in the Arcane show has cool hair so I thought this would be a cute detail. It’s possible to ignore if you don’t want to think about have a different hair colour, but if you don’t want to, don’t read it! Almost every comment on this fic has been relating to this which, when I put hours of hard work and effort into something that I was proud of, is insanely demoralising. There has always been a disclaimer in the contents above, but I’m adding it here as well so it’s as clear as possible. Dead dove do not eat and all that. And I’m always open to constructive criticism, but there’s a way to go about it, and a way that will put someone in a slump for months, so please think before you comment! Anyway, not to put a downer before the work, thank you for the reposts and loves so far ❤️

Viktor was lost in thought as he made his way back to Piltover, small tube of Shimmer tucked away in his satchel. He didn’t know what to do. Using it might stabilise the Hexcore, allowing it to keep the plants alive and accomplish everything he and Jayce had been working towards for years, maybe even curing this sickness that had taken over him, or…

Or it could end horribly.

The undercity was as dark and unpleasant as he remembered it. He had never fit in here in his youth - too scrawny, too bookish, and with his leg, he stood no chance. And now was no different.

The neon store signs stood out against the blackened buildings and muddy streets. This part of the city, deep in the underbelly of Zaun, seemed busier than the rest, roads bustling with call girls and salesmen and tourists from Topside taking their pick of unruly establishments. Hundreds of voices layered atop each other in a cacophony of harsh laughter, garish music and argumentative tones. There was barely space to walk, especially with his cane, and he was starting to wonder if this journey was even worth it.

Then something caught his eye. A flash of red, deep and vibrant, moving towards him on the far side of the lane. It was hair, bouncy and curly and his subconscious told him it was shorter than it should’ve been, but it was a colour he knew. Her face wasn’t one he could place at first, but as she got closer, he saw the freckles that smattered across her nose like a constellation, her pink lips that were perpetually curled into a soft frown, her eyes that she always accentuated with brown liner. It was her.

The only friend of his youth. A young girl who used to sit behind the foliage near the water where he tested his inventions. She was shy, even shyer than he used to be, too scared to ask him anything about what he was making for a long time, just watching with curious eyes. But he would never forget the day she moved closer. The way her long, burgundy locks flowed around her, almost touching the floor, the way she was trying her best to be confident, but there was a soft shake in her hand, and a slight stutter as she said hello. Then she produced a small invention of her own - a submarine, the same colour as her hair, designed to float perfectly so the periscope was the only thing that peeked out from the surface.

For years, they were inseparable. She was more artistic than him, always adding a flair to her designs that he didn’t have, so he’d let her ‘improve’ his too. They would play together, and then as they got older, build together, each creation more daring and experimental. And then they started to drift apart. They were in their mid teens when her mother got sick, and she couldn’t make it out as much. Viktor always offered to help, but she refused, not even allowing him to see where she lived. And so, when Professor Heimerdinger found him and offered him an opportunity to be his assistant, he couldn’t even tell her. He left a note, delicately placed under a rock where they would build together, telling her where to find him and how to get in touch, but he never heard anything.

And now here she was. He called out her name softly, not wanting to alarm her in this hostile city, but she didn’t hear. She’d walked past him now, so he turned, following but she was walking fast, faster than he could manage. He called out again, but it wasn’t until then that he noticed the headphones over her ears. She couldn’t hear a thing. He carried on, hoping she would stop but she didn’t. If it was anyone else, he would’ve gone home, given up, but now he’d caught a glimpse of her, he had to see her. To talk to her. To find out why she never got in touch. To apologise for leaving her behind.

She disappeared from view for a moment, and he panicked, thinking he’d lost her again, but he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, entering an alley beside a row of bars and clubs. He grimaced, following her to see the red locks just moving out of sight again, and a bouncer closing the door behind her. He tried to follow her into the building, but the man stopped him.

“Please…” he asked, out of breath, “it’s an old friend, I need to see her…”

“Staff entrance only, pal. You’ll have to go ‘round the front like everyone else.”

“But… she’s right there… I only need one moment, if she just saw me…” The words died on his lips. Would she even recognise you?

“Don’t make me ask you twice.”

It was dark inside the club, the lights low apart from on the stage and around the bar. It was only mid afternoon, but the place was near full of lowlifes just starting their evenings, sloshing their drinks and talking loudly. The neon from outside carried into this space too, strip lights around the platforms accentuating their presence. There were dancers atop each of them, but he averted his eyes. He shouldn’t have come here. This was so far from his comfort zone, loud and unruly, a long way away from his lab, but he had to see her. He couldn’t let her go again.

He found a stool by the bar, ordering a soda and waiting for her to start her shift. There was no way he could miss her again if he was right here when she started.

And then he saw her at the very edge of his vision, as though his eyes were programmed to search her out in any crowd. She was on stage, cherry red hair glowing in the soft lights, combined with the neon from below making her look like a ghost, ethereal. What was she doing up there?

***

“Afternoon, Joey.” You muttered to the bouncer, and he opened the door for you wordlessly as you slipped off your headphones, replacing your perfectly selected playlist with the sleazy music of the club. Just one of the many reasons you hated working here. You were running late, as per, throwing your things in your locker and quickly changing. Lacing up your shoes always took the longest time, and you barely even had a chance to check yourself in the mirror when you were finished. Your hair looked perfect at least, the naturally burgundy curls sitting at shoulder length. You missed the long hair of your youth, but it become impractical very quickly, and the memories it held… you ended up cutting it all off soon after your mum died. That was when you started working here too. You’d had dreams, of course you did, but growing up in the Undercity made it almost impossible to follow them. There were worse places to work though - for the most part, the patrons were respectful, and everyone who you worked with was kind, but it was still a strip club. At the end of the day, no little girl wanted to be an exotic dancer when they grew up. At least it just about paid the bills.

You had been put on a long shift today - late afternoon until the early hours. You didn’t mind though; it was exhausting, but more time meant more tips. And you needed the money. You were saving, slowly but surely. One day, it would be enough.

These shifts always started slow. Not many tips this early in the day. Not enough drunks - they were all too willing to part with their money, an exploit you knew how to use. After a while on stage, it was your turn to make your way into the crowd. You started away from the bar, smiling at a few, a couple of words of flirtation thrown around, but no one was loose enough for anything else yet. There was something different about the energy today though. You felt… exposed, on display, more than usual. Self conscious in a way you hadn’t been since your first week. By the time you got to the bar, you were already feeling frustrated at the lack of interest. But your favourite coworker was pouring the drinks tonight, and she had one ready for you already.

“Thanks, Katie” You crooned, knocking back the shot quickly and she immediately offered to refill - something you gratefully accepted.

“Thought you might need it. Slow start?”

“Yeah, not the best day so far.” You took your second, thanking her again, when you heard a voice call out your name. Your real name. It made you start, whipping your head around to find the source. You didn’t use that name here. You were expecting to see an ex, or an old boss, but instead you were met with a face you hadn’t seen in years.

His eyes hadn’t changed. Kind but tired, amber in colour and glowing like whiskey in sunlight. The curve of his nose was the same, the curl of his lips, the small moles like points on a map - one beneath his right eye and the other to the left of his lip. There was a cane tucked beside his stool, and he was dressed well. Too well to be in this part of town. A uniform of some sort, something a Topsider would wear: blue shirt accented with a cream ascot and waistcoat. It suited him.

As soon as you saw him, every fond memory of your childhood rushed back to you like a river. The gentleness when he explained his creations to you. His willingness when you asked if you could paint them pretty colours, or add cute designs. The way he held you as you cried about your mum falling ill. How quickly he offered you support, and how quickly you turned him down. You didn’t want to be a burden, but you regretted that choice as soon as he stopped showing up to your usual spot. You kept going for months before you gave up, still trying to find him. The last time you visited was to scatter your mum’s ashes - your stories of Viktor’s designs and the beautiful creek where you tested them out together being one of the last things that brought her comfort.

And now, he was here.

He’d made it out. He’d made it Topside. And you’d only fallen further down.

If there was one person you never wanted to see you like this, it was him. He was the only slither of your youth and innocence left, the only soul in the whole of Runeterra who knew the true version of yourself, the first version of yourself. The version you actually liked. And now, he had to see this. You couldn’t tell what you were feeling. Every emotion was vying for attention: joy, nostalgia, anger, envy…

He repeated your name in a questioning tone, and you realised you’d been staring at him, the rollercoaster of emotions you just went on likely visible on your face.

“Do you know him, darling? Or shall I grab Joe?” Katie asked from behind the bar, staring him down with a protective look. Viktor opened his mouth to speak, indignant look on his face, but you answered for him, never once being able to tear your eyes from him.

“Yeah I… cover for me? If anyone asks, he got a dance.”

“Of course.” Viktor’s gaze had returned you, confused, and you just muttered a ‘come on’, signalling him to follow you, and you lead him across the floor to one of the private rooms. They weren’t exactly the nicest places to talk, the whole room painted a hideous deep purple, a weirdly-shaped black velvet sofa the only thing to sit on. As soon as you closed the door, turning around to see the soft look on his face, every drop of anger seeped from you, replaced with relief. Relief that he was alive. Relief that he had done something with his life. Relief that you hadn’t lost him forever.

You couldn’t help it but let the tears fall as you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him tight.

***

He was surprised by her warm welcome. After all these years, he had always imagined she would resent him, but here she was, face pressed to his chest as she hugged him, tears falling onto his shirt. He didn’t even have to think about it, one arm naturally surrounding her as she cried, keeping her close, while the other held firm to his cane, ensuring it was stable for the both of them. He never wanted to let her go again.

She eventually pulled away though, wiping her tears with the shy smile he remembered so well.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.. on your fancy Topside shirt too.” She laughed nervously, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I… um, I imagined bumping into you one day, finding you again, but I never thought I would be dressed like this.” He finally let himself glance down at her when he said that, to take her in completely, safe in the knowledge that she wasn’t meeting his eyes. She looked beautiful - a black two-peice set, solid silk on the areas that counted, but the frills and accents were a sheer lace, stockings too, glittering beads woven into the delicate material. Even if the environment didn’t suit her, somehow the clothes still did, the same style he’d seen her develop in her teenage years. Simple in colour, beautiful in design - the cunning of her inventor’s mind applied to her other passion.

“What are you doing here, Viktor?” She sat down on the awkward sofa, curling her legs up onto it, and he followed suit, resting his cane against the arm.

“I could ask you the same thing.” It fell from his lips before he could stop it, and he winced, expecting her to be offended, but she just smiled sadly.

“You got out.” She stated as a shrouded question, ignoring his quip, and he nodded. He could explain, he should, but not yet.

“And you never wrote me.” He responded.

“Write you? Viktor, I didn’t know where you were.” She never got your letter.

“I left you a note by the creek. You never got it?” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve found you somehow, or…”

“It’s ok, Vik.” She shuffled closer on the loveseat, grabbing his hand and squeezing tight. Hearing the name she used to call him sent a pang of pain to his heart. This is what he had been missing out on all these years, all because of a stupid letter. “If I was in your shoes, I’d have done the same. Besides, I never let you see where I lived, or anything else about me. And when mum… I fell off the face of the earth. I wouldn’t have let you in no matter how hard you tried.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“I know.”

***

You spent a long time asking about his life now. He was working in the academy, partners with Piltover’s favourite researcher, helping to create the HexTech that kept the whole city afloat… he had changed the fucking world. And you were… here. Still.

He said your name softly, as though trying to broach a subject carefully and you knew what was coming. You had seen the query floating in his eyes since the moment he saw you.

“What are you doing working here? I mean, you’re brilliant, more so than me, and yet…”

“I’m still stuck in the Lanes?” You sighed.

“Well, yes.” You’d never once thought of him as ignorant. Maybe he’d been living Topside for too long.

“I never got my break. You deserved what you got, of course you did, and you’re the smartest person I know, Viktor, but that doesn’t change the fact that you got lucky. And it’s not the same here as when we were kids. Sure, things weren’t great then, but now… There are no jobs, no money, housing is insanely competitive even though most of it is disgusting.. it’s a vicious cycle meant to keep you in the shitter. This is what I could get. It pays my bills and lets me save a little, the other girls are nice, it’s close to my apartment…”

“But…” You knew from the look on his face what he was going to say - a long speech about how much potential you have, and how much better you could have it. You dropped his hand.

“But what?” You couldn’t help but snap, defensive over the very job that you cursed daily. “But I’m better than selling myself to sleazy drunks? You think I don’t fucking know that? You think I want to be losing my sense of self every day just so I can keep the lights on? You think it’s my dream to feel like I’m a lesser human being because I will let someone pay me to take them into this room and…” You stood up then, starting to pace as silent tears fell. You never let yourself think about any part of your life longer than you had to. Not pondering on it was the only thing keeping you alive.

“You know I wasn’t saying that…”

“I know I’m sorry… I just…”

“I know… I know…” He stood up then too, wrapping you in his arms and letting you cry. Again. You felt so stupid. “I missed you.” He whispered, face nestled into your hair, barely audible.

“I missed you too.” The tender moment didn’t last for long though, as a sharp knock on the door startled you, jumping away from him and wiping your eyes.

“Vikki?” Joey’s voice called out, and you breathed a sigh of relief. “You ok in there?” You put on your smiley voice, cooing back to him.

“Yeah, all good Joe, got a paying customer in here...”

“You got it, doll.” You heard him walk away, and turned back to see Viktor looking at you, head cocked, small smirk playing across his features.

“What?” You asked with a shy smile, wiping away the last of your tears.

“Vikki?” Oh.

“Well I couldn’t exactly use my real name.” He laughed at that, and you couldn’t help but giggle too. “That does mean we’ve been in here too long though, I should…”

“Yeah, no of course…” he moved to open the door, grabbing his cane, but you stopped him quickly, pressing your hand against the door frame.

“One second…” He frowned as you reached towards him, but he didn’t move, just watched curiously as you took your time unknotting his ascot. Once it was off, you unbuttoned a few of his buttons, trying to ruffle his shirt a little, make it look like you had actually been doing your job rather than talking to an old friend. “There…” you muttered quietly, realising he’d shuffled a little closer to you as you worked, and now his lips were only a breath away. He was looking at you so intently, as though there was something he wanted to say, but he never spoke, just gazed at you in a way that made your heart swell. Your hands lingered on his chest, comforted by the warmth and solidness of him. A reassurance that he was real and here. You didn’t want to move.

“Please, don’t go anywhere just yet…” you muttered, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

***

She had been backstage for a while now, muttering something about trying to move her shifts around. She came back beaming, and it was infectious, a smile he was trying to fight taking over his own face just at the sight of her.

“Ok, if you’re busy tonight, or you have plans, you can tell me to piss off…”

“Never.” She blushed in response, her wide smile spreading further as she spoke, and he was helplessly drawn to her, eyes scanning her face intently.

“Well, someone came in early for their shift, but someone else is running late… anyway, our schedule is a mess, but good news is I only have to stay for another hour and then I’m free so… I was thinking, maybe you’d want to grab some food and catch up? Unless you have somewhere else to be…” She still sounded so shy, so unsure - the same habit she had when she was young, babbling when she was nervous. He was finding it hard to connect the dots in his mind: the timid person before him now, the girl he used to know, and the dancer on that stage, full of bravado and confidence.

“That sounds wonderful.” The joy in her face was intoxicating, and he watched as relief visibly washed over her body.

“Ok, brilliant.” She spun away for just a moment, trying to track down the bartender she seemed to know well. “Katie, he’s with me, ok? Send him back in like an hour, and his drinks are on my tab.” He tried to protest, but she rested a hand on his shoulder, quickly silencing him. “I insist. It’s the least I can do, considering how long you have to wait around.” Again, he tried to tell her didn’t mind, that he’d wait as long as she needed, anything for her, but she was gone already, slipping into the crowd, his shoulder cold where her hand had been. He sighed, turning back towards the bar on his stool, taking another sip of his soda.

“That’s our Vikki…” Katie mused, slicing a few garnishes behind the bar. “Never accepting that somebody else would want to do something for her.” He let out a dry laugh, half at the name, half in agreement.

“That sounds like her.” A beat of silence passed between them. The club was starting to fill up, but it wasn’t too rowdy yet, and nobody else was at the bar, all relying on bottle service and shot girls instead.

“Drink?” He shook his head politely. “How do you know her?” Katie asked, staying busy but obviously trying to snoop. He didn’t mind. She was a topic he didn’t mind talking about.

“Childhood friend. I haven’t seen her in… a very long time.” Her eyebrow shot up at that.

“What was your name, by the way?”

“Viktor.” A look of surprise flitted across her face.

“Ohh.” She drawled knowingly, smiling at herself as she continued to wedge limes.

“What?”

“I’ve heard of you, that’s all. Her childhood love who disappeared on her while her mother was dying…”

“You don’t know the whole story…” He snapped back quickly. He might hate himself for what happened, but he felt the need to defend his choices. It had turned out well for him, he just wished he could’ve found her. Taken her with him. Their life could’ve been so different. Katie chuckled, continuing her tasks.

“Oh trust me, I do. She’s very quick to defend you, you know. You can do no wrong in her eyes…”

“Not so sure about that…” As he muttered to himself, something she’d said suddenly hit him. Her childhood love…“Actually, on second thought, I will grab a drink please, whatever she usually has. But don’t put it on her tab…”

“I wasn’t planning on it, Topsider.” She saluted mockingly with a smile.

Two down and that was all he was having, just needing something to take the edge off after Katie’s admission. All those years wasted, because you thought childhood love was stupid and pointless. And now, seeing her again, you still love her as much as you did back then…

Katie was on her break, so he twisted in his seat, trying to find her in the crowd. She had never been difficult for him to spot, everything about her so familiar to him, and this time, she was centre stage, which made it even easier. Every part of him was screaming to turn away, to not taint his view of her, but he was instantly transfixed. She danced so fluidly, so gracefully. Every movement she made was purposeful and poised. However much she hated her job, she took pride in it. He was a scientist, sure, but she was a creator, through and through.

***

You were finally finished, and you were exhausted. Even though it wasn’t even half a usual shift, seeing Viktor, all the memories it brought back, it had been so emotionally draining.

You were grateful that the changing area was empty. It wasn’t the usual shift time, and no one ever came here on their break, so at least Viktor wouldn’t have to deal with that. You almost laughed at the thought.

There was a gentle knock, and his voice sent a flutter straight to your heart.

“Vikki?” He called out mockingly, and you laughed at the way he’d latched on to your new name. It was inspired by him, after all. “Are you decent?”

“Yes, you can come in.” You were looking good, if you said so yourself. The fashion and the opportunity you were afforded to express yourself in that way was one of the few things you did like about this place. You’d tried to incorporate the shapes and designs of your ‘work attire’ into a more Lanes-friendly outfit, layering a black organza shirt over the lacy bodice, beading shining through the sheer fabric, pairing it with a bubble skirt and knee high boots, just the right height to allow your stockings to peek from the top. There was only one item that wasn’t black; his neckerchief that you had taken earlier was now around your own collar, tied in a dainty bow. He grinned as soon as he laid his eyes on it, striding towards you and gently holding the hemmed edge between his fingers.

“I guess I’m not getting this back, huh.”

“Never.” He shrugged.

“I’m ok with that.” God, the way he looked at you. It made you melt without fail, warm flush spreading across your cheeks.

“Are you ready to go?” You muttered, eyes still glued to his, honey tones making you feel as though you were stuck in them. A fly trapped in amber, resigned to its fate.

“I’m ready when you are.”

You’d decided you were going to cook for him tonight instead of taking him out. The places near you either weren’t nice enough, or they knew you for the wrong reasons. Besides, you wanted to show him your place. To show him that, even though you were still here, you had done everything you could to make the best of it, to continue learning and inventing and developing yourself.

That did mean you had to stop by the store, though. Which meant bumping into Angel. He and Viktor would not get on.

You had grabbed Viktor’s arm as soon as you left the club, a habit from the times Joey had walked you home, knowing that you were safer beside a man than by yourself. Even though the Undercity was bustling tonight, there was something so soothing about being here with him. A nostalgia warming you from the inside out. He let you guide him into the shop below your apartment, chatting absentmindedly about nothing and everything, when a smooth voice stopped yoou in your tracks.

“Not so fast, Vikki…” You groaned, turning back the few steps you had made into the entrance.

“Hey Angel.” You cooed, although it felt wrong falling into your usual flirtatious routine when Viktor was right behind you. He was working behind the counter today, thumbing through the till. His long dreadlocks were down, grey peeking through his beard, wide grin as his eyes traced over you, following your arm to where it joined the man next to you.

“Is that a nickname, or…” Viktor muttered, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you responded.

“No, Vik, this is my landlord Angel…”

“Landlord, huh? Thought I was more than that, sugar…” He leaned across the counter, shit-eating smile on his face, clearing noticing and enjoying the fact he was winding up your new companion. Viktor scowled, moving a step closer to you.

“Yeah, yeah, keep dreaming, old man…” You sent him a wink, and he laughed, the booming noise of it always making you smile. “What have you got in that’s fresh? I’m actually cooking tonight…”

You chatted a little longer, grabbing what Angel recommended and some wine, before heading upstairs via the back of the shop. Viktor was still scowling slightly as you were unlocking your door, and you laughed lightly, nudging him with the bag of shopping.

“What?” He huffed.

“I don’t like that guy.” He grumbled, feeling smug that you had called it.

“He’s my landlord, Vik, and a friend. He’s a good guy, don’t worry.” He just shrugged as you finally got the door open, and you thanked the stars that you had remembered to tidy last night, or else it would be a complete tip. There were still remnants from your busy morning scattered all around the studio: scrap pieces of fabric and thread strewn across the kitchen table, the half-finished neglige you were constructing laid over the back of one of the chairs, the cogs and pieces of machinery lie abandoned next to your sewing machine in the wake of the modifications you were trying to make so it could handle more delicate material. The space itself was dark in colour, olive and navy washing the walls, brown leather sofa and black countertops marking their territory in the small apartment, the stain-glass screen in front of your bed the only splash of jewel toned colour. You could feel Viktor’s curiosity at the place, and as he stepped further into it, a smile settled onto his lips.

“It’s so very… you.” He said, and in any other intonation, it would’ve sounded like a bad thing, but when he said it, full of adoration.. it was a compliment of the highest order.

***

She was mesmerising as she cooked, twirling in the kitchen to her carefully selected vinyl, a wide smile on her face as she tested what she was making. He wanted to help but she wouldn’t let him, batting him away and telling him to sit down, and for now, he had obliged. But, as much as he wanted to help her always, right now, he just wanted to be close.

“At least let me pour the wine?” He said, already standing to help, and she huffed, but didn't object. Instead, she handed him the corkscrew and the bottle wordlessly. He smiled, leaning against the counter and continuing to watch her as she stirred. She was always so chaotic when she was creating, something evidenced by the near bomb-site on her kitchen table. It was just so… her. Everything about her apartment was as well, such a perfect and beautiful representation of everything she was, every tiny detail of her life and personality reflected in the space she lived in. The colours, the soft furnishings, the bookshelves lining the wall behind her bed. Then, he noticed something about the stain glass screen that separated the room, soft light from her bedside lamp washing through it and creating a blue ripple across the floor like a stream. It was of their place, their creek. It was abstract, sure, but he would recognise it anywhere. The way certain rocks jutted out, the colours of it all, the small boat floating in the still glass water.

“Did you make that?” He asked earnestly, and she briefly glanced up from the stove to see what he was looking at.

“Yeah, I've been trying out a lot of different hobbies actually, things to keep me busy when I’m not working. That was one of my favourites…”

“It’s beautiful.” She smiled sadly, focusing her attention back to the pan.

“It reminds me of you.”

He poured them both a glass, and she gratefully accepted.

“It’s nearly finished, just a few more… oh I meant to ask earlier…” Her mind was such a beautiful thing, the speed at which it moved so captivating, not even time to finish her own thought before starting another, “why were you even here today? In the Undercity, in my club… I just never thought I’d see you back here by choice.”

“I was visiting an old friend, a quandary about a new gadget Jayce and I are working on, but…” He was going to say something about it, ask her opinion on whether he should follow Doctor Reveck’s advice, what he should do next, but he decided against it. “He didn’t have any insights.”

“Maybe I can help?”

“No, I…” She looked hurt at the speed the word left his mouth, almost recoiling and turning back to her cooking with a frown. “I mean that you probably could, but I don’t want to taint tonight by talking about a project that has been frustrating me for weeks. Another time though, of course I would appreciate your insight.” She sighed in relief, smile flitting back across her face. She grabbed a spoon from the drawer, humming as she did, a flurry of breathtaking movement as she dipped it into the sauce, spinning back around and holding it up to him.

“Taste?” She asked, the look on her face so hopeful it melted him, her joy infectious. But underneath all of it, he couldn't help but notice the cracks: the bags under her eyes, the tiredness set into them, the subtle shake of her hand. But he just smiled, enveloping her hand in his and bringing the spoon to his lips.

“It’s perfect.”

“I’m not sure I’d go that far.” She looked proud nonetheless, spinning back away from him and he was left to watch again, heart swelling. He wanted this. Cooking with her, drinking wine in the kitchen to her favourite record, letting her order him around. He wanted the… intimacy of it. The domesticity. The realisation of it ached. You could’ve had this. All these years without her, all these years wasted. Precious time that you no longer have to spare. If you’d have just waited, just taken more time to find her, insisted on helping her even…

“It’s ready!” She exclaimed, presenting a plate with a wide grin, and every stress, every regret simultaneously melted away and intensified, a pit forming in his stomach.

“It looks wonderful.”

***

You had eaten, and you were both now on your second glass of wine. You felt closer to him with every single second, drawn to every word he said like moth to a flame. At some point in the evening, you’d moved to the floor, backs to the sofa, as you looked through some of your old sketches you had found. The conversation lulled momentarily, a faraway look in his eyes, and you realised how close you had gotten. Your elbow was leaning on the sofa, supporting your head with your body twisted to face him, knee pressing against his thigh. You moved your head forwards to glance at the sketchbook, and your hand fell, resting on his shoulder. A stillness fell over him at the touch, and he smiled sadly to himself.

“I think you should come back with me.” He stated with finality, and you froze.

“What do you…”

“I think you should come back to Piltover.” He closed the book, placing it gently on the low coffee table. He was serious. “Help Jayce and I with our projects. Let me teach you about HexTech.”

“Vik, I don’t exactly have any actual experience. I don’t have an education. I can’t afford to live Topside…”

“You can live with me.” He said it so simply, like it was so obvious. Of course you would love that. Now you’d seen him again, you didn’t want to be apart from him but… “Professor Heimerdinger can give you lessons, but you have the mind already. There are certain things that can’t be taught. You have the passion, the skill, the creativity…”

“But…” You weren’t trying to pick apart his plan, but it felt terrifying. Even though it was everything you had ever wanted, it felt so far fetched. Like a fever dream. It didn’t feel like your life, your future.

“No, I… I lost you once, I can’t do it again.”

“Vik…” He grabbed your hand that was resting by his shoulder, and you felt yourself relax into his touch. He turned head to meet your eyes, sadness creeping into them.

“I don’t have much time left.” The finality of his statement shocked you, and you couldn’t tell what he was talking about. Did he have somewhere else to be? Oh god, you’d already kept him here too long…

“What do you mean, time left?”

“I’m dying.” It felt like somebody had punched you in the gut, all the air in your lungs gone.

“You’re…”

“Dying.” He repeated factually, and your heart sank further into your stomach. “And if we don’t… Jayce and I are working on something that might help, but if it doesn’t, I need someone I trust to take over from me.”

“Viktor, hold on, I need to think…” Your mind was racing, and you still couldn’t quite wrap your head around everything, hands running through your hair. He was dying. He wanted you to move Topside. He wanted you to work with him. To take over his life’s work. “It’s been years. I haven’t seen you in years and now you want me to… now you trust me to…”

“Of course.” He muttered, speaking your name softly to get your attention, hand gently wiping your face where tears had fallen without you noticing. “You’re everything to me, you always have been. There’s nothing I wouldn’t trust you with.” His hand was still resting on your face, and as you searched his eyes, you saw something else. Something pleading, something that echoed the feeling bouncing around in your heart. It would be hard. It would take a long time to settle in, to learn the ropes, to feel like you belonged. But it was your dream. To help change the world. And if he didn't have long, there was no chance you were wasting any of your time left with him.

“Ok.” You answered nodding, and you watched a smile take over his face, heart swelling at the sight.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… Vik, you’re offering me my dreams on a silver platter, and on top of it all, I get to be…” You nearly slipped, about to say be with you but you knew that was a lot. That you had only just reunited and to spring the whole I’ve loved you since I was 10 and I’ve never loved a soul since thing on him might ruin the dream that he’s just given you. But, fuck, you wanted to kiss him right now. “I get to work with you again.. there would have to be one hell of a catch for me to say no to that.”

“The whole dying thing isn’t too much of a problem then?” He asked with a slight smile, trying to hide a genuine fear beneath a joke.

“Oh, honey, knowing that we don’t have another decade of time to lose… I’m not letting you slip through my fingers this time.” His hand felt so natural resting against your cheek you’d forgotten it was there until it moved to cup the base of your neck, thumb drawing gentle lines across your jaw. His amber eyes were searching your features, looking for anything to indicate that you were unsure, but your resolve shone through, and you could see the moment he realised this was going to work, relief flooding through them.

Then, before you could process what was happening, his hand gently guided you forward until your lips brushed against his—light as a feather. For a moment, you couldn't believe he had just kissed you, that it was real. But as you met those pleading honey eyes, everything else faded away. Every doubt, every regret, every sliver of worry vanished, replaced by such overwhelming care and love that you felt you might burst. Your body gave in without conscious thought, melting into his arms as you kissed him. His hands drifted to the back of your head, tangling in your hair and pulling you closer. You couldn't get close enough, your hands gripping the front of his shirt. His fingers traced down your body until they reached your hips, pulling you over him. A soft giggle escaped into his mouth as you swung your leg over his, settling onto his lap. When he finally broke for breath, you found yourself chasing his lips, panting into the space between you with a wide smile.

His lips found yours again, this time with more urgency, more need. Your hands slid up his chest to his shoulders, steadying yourself as his grip on your hips tightened. The feeling of his fingers pressing into your skin sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a soft moan into his mouth. He smiled against your lips, one hand moving to cup your face while the other remained firmly at your waist.

"I've wanted this for so long," he whispered against your mouth, voice rough with emotion. You could only nod in response, too overwhelmed by the feeling of finally being in his arms after all these years.

The record had long since stopped playing, leaving only the sound of your shared breaths and racing hearts in the quiet apartment. His thumb traced gentle circles on your cheek as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, full of warmth and something deeper, something that had been there all along. Something that you had been too blinded by insecurity to notice earlier. Something that you knew all too well, reflected in your own heart. You pressed your lips to the mole on his cheek, and the one beside his mouth, a small smirk playing across his features as you did.

“I still can’t quite believe this is happening.” You muttered softly against his cheek, and he sighed, thumb dancing across your lips.

You eventually found yourselves entwined on your bed, limbs tangled in soft cotton sheets, his back pressed firmly against your sturdy wooden headboard as you rocked onto him with gentle, deliberate movements. Each subtle shift of your hips sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making your breath catch. You panted softly into his mouth as his strong, careful hands helped guide your every motion, his touch both grounding and electrifying. The overwhelming need to be closer drove you to pull him tighter against you, your arms wrapping securely around his shoulders until there wasn't even a whisper of space between your bodies. Your chest pressed firmly to his, feeling his rapid heartbeat matching yours, as your head naturally found its place in the crook of his neck. You pressed feather-light kisses against the sensitive skin, tasting the salt and breathing in his familiar scent. The intimacy of the moment was almost overwhelming - so intense, so raw, so perfectly natural - and you found yourself climbing toward your peak faster than you ever had before, your body responding to his every touch as if it had been waiting for this moment forever. You whined softly into his skin as pleasure built within you, each movement bliss, and he responded with a groan as he pressed his lips tenderly to your temple.

"That feels so good, sweetheart," he drawled, his voice coarse with desire, and your hips instinctively bucked harder against him, drawing a sharp gasp from both of you. His meticulous fingers traced teasing patterns across your hipbones before finding their way between your bodies, circling your sensitive clit with perfectly measured pressure that made your toes curl. His other hand gently cupped your chin, drawing you back until your eyes met his, gilded with desire but still so full of tenderness. His lips ghosted across yours before he pressed his forehead to your own, releasing your face and returning his hand to your hip, guiding you once more. You could feel yourself fluttering around him as your pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak, and his eyes rolled back, a broken groan escaping his lips and filling the charged space between you. The coil of pleasure wound tighter and tighter as you approached your climax, desperately seeking more of him, claiming his mouth in a deep, passionate kiss that swallowed the stream of desperate moans spilling from both your lips. When your release finally crashed over you, it was like nothing you'd ever experienced - all the pressure, all the built-up desperation exploded like a supernova and pure, white-hot ecstasy consumed every nerve ending, every thought, every sensation except the feeling of him inside you and against you. He followed shortly after, gasping your name like a prayer against your skin as his own pleasure overtook him, his lips finding purchase on your neck as he shuddered through his release. In that moment, it was perfection, hearing him, feeling him, everything you had ever dreamed of and more. But as you came down from your shared bliss, you couldn't quite silence the intruding thought lurking at the edges of your consciousness - that you wouldn’t have him for long.

***

She looked so peaceful curled against him, her head nestled perfectly in the crook of his chest as if she belonged there, her beautiful red hair fanning out like a fiery halo in the dim light. Her beauty was staggering - the gentle slope of her nose, the delicate arch of her brows, the soft curve of her lips - and he couldn't help but trace each feature with his fingertips, mapping the geography of her face with tender precision. She sighed contentedly in her sleep at his touch, unconsciously pressing closer to him, one hand curling loosely in the fabric of his sheets that lay across them. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this complete, this profoundly at peace, as if all the jagged pieces of his life had suddenly aligned. His fingers continued their gentle exploration, committing every detail to memory - the light dusting of freckles across her nose, the subtle flutter of her eyelashes, the way her lips curved slightly downwards even in sleep. He wanted to capture this moment, to carry it with him always like a talisman, a protection. A reminder that he would do anything to preserve her peace of mind. To make her happy.

The soft amber from the bedside lamp caught in her hair and painted her skin in warm honey tones, making her look almost otherworldly in her beauty, an ethereal being who had chosen, inexplicably, to be with him. He pressed his lips to her forehead in a feather-light kiss, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair, before letting his own eyes drift closed. Despite everything - the illness creeping through his veins, the uncertainty that clouded their future like a torrential storm on the horizon - right now, everything felt exactly as it should be.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 10

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: GUYS ITS STILL TOO FUCKING LONG I HAD TO CUT IT AGAIN T_T blah blah canon stuff/high valyrian inaccurate blah. please please leave comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Daemon does not come home to you that night. When you awaken, you feel sick to your stomach. The thought of food repulsive though, so you spend the morning looking for your husband, until your body betrays you and feels sick because of not having eaten. You realize that your state is not borne simply from worrying about the prince, but probably also because of this supposed life you carried within you.

You try to deny it though, chalking it up to your mind playing tricks on you. After all, it's laughable that you suddenly experienced these symptoms just after all the fuss of learning you were with child.

You thought you finally found Daemon when you heard Caraxes was in the dragon pit, and so you run there, run, much to the protest of Arryk, who was hot on your heels. He managed to convince you to slow down by telling you that you would eventually get to the dragon pit if you walked, but you would never get there if you pass out.

You'd never been so happy to see the blood wyrm.

"Daemon?" you call out, searching for him.

Caraxes is busy feasting on meat and Arryk is busy watching him, body tense and senses on high alert.

The dragon keeper comes to you, shaking his head, "se dārilaros iksis daor kesīr dombo." The prince is not here anymore.

You understood nothing, save dārilaros, which you knew meant prince, and figure he's probably telling you he is not here, which you could gather from simple observation.

You turn to Caraxes and point, "zaldrīzes." Dragon.

The man brightens, as he understands, "Caraxes."

You nod, placing a hand on your chest. You do a walking motion with your fingers towards Caraxes.

His eyes widen and he shakes his head and hands.

You clench your jaw and turn to Caraxes, nodding your head in understanding.

The dragon keeper relaxes.

He mistakes you.

"Arryk," you turn to your ward, "can you come here please?"

Arryk's eyes linger on the dragon a moment before turning to you. You settle him in front of the dragon keeper, and while he is distracted from trying to figure out what you were doing, you circle behind your knight and sneak past both, making a beeline towards Caraxes.

The dragon notices you immediately and watches you near. He lifts his head and sniffs the air, and only then do the two men realize what's happening.

"PRINCESS!" Arryk shouts, sprinting towards you before coming to an abrupt stop.

Enraged, Caraxes cranes his long neck, roaring at Arryk, making him topple back on his bum.

The dragon keeper screams a command and raises his hands.

Amidst the peril of it all, you are calm as you look up at Daemon's companion. It stems from the truth that it would be far less complicated and less painful to be eaten by a dragon than to tell your husband you are with child and deliver it.

The red creature screeches as snaps his teeth at the two men, causing his keeper to step back and Arryk to crawl back with him.

Caraxes then averts his attention, shaking his head as he circles around you, effectively blocking the two from seeing anything other than his massive, scaly body.

In truth, you think your heart might be impaired, because it doesn't race at all as the beast seemingly imposes upon you. He cannot seem to stop pacing around you, as if he was restless, anxious even.

Your face contorts at the bleating sound it makes. He lowers his head slightly inhaling and exhaling deeply. He makes another noise and you swear to yourself, the creature looks like he's fidgeting.

You feel bad, for it seems... you've upset him, "apologies... I was hoping you'd eat me."

Caraxes screams loudly again when he spots two other dragon keepers come to you from the other side. He threatens them with a snap of his teeth.

"Daor!" they scream in unison. No.

Caraxes seethes and screeches, as if saying, 'do not tell me what to do'.

He circles around you again, and this time, he shoves you forward with his wing. You yelp as you are knocked to the ground with a thud. You manage to brace yourself, grazing your hands as you did, but your chest still hurts at the impact.

The keepers scream in horror because of this, fearing that you would soon be eaten.

"HEY!" Arryk screams, thinking he can distract Caraxes. He can't, and he is losing his mind. Hoes not know what to do but to shout your name in terror. He can't help but draw his sword and immediately the dragon keeper is yelling something, motioning that he stop.

You whine as you roll on your side. Caraxes growls as he bites your arm. The fear finally sets in as he does this, and his powerful maw pulls you up to sitting position.

The dragon keeper, who ran to retrieve you, shrieks out upon witnessing this.

You gasp when Caraxes roars back, and you squeal when his wing comes over you. The strangest thing occurs to you in that moment, and your heart finally begins to race— not because it sinks in how much danger you were in, but because, suddenly, you knew you were not.

You come to a stand, and with no regard for your safety, you reach out for the dragon's skin, somehow shocked by how warm and hard it is. "Caraxes."

He hears you, though you barely raised your voice. He is sensitive to the sound of his name. Caraxes moves back, pulling away enough to be able to coil his neck and look at you.

The dragon keepers, who were so on edge, altogether fall silent when they see you in the midst of the blood wrym.

Arryk nearly broke into a other sprint upon finally seeing you, but he manages to hold back and lowers his sword, unwilling to sheathe it.

Caraxes produces a sound you think is akin to a mewl, as much as a mewl a ten foot beast could make. You huff and feel your breath hitch. You close your eyes and reach out to him, ready to accept whichever fate awaits you, companionship or death.

You gasp, eyes instantly opening when you feel the wetness on your hands. Caraxes presses his snout to your palms, and you squeak, quickly pulling back at the heat of his huff.

He lifts his head and begins to pace around again. You are certain now that the beast was, in fact, restless.

"Paez ilagon!" you exclaim, raising your hands at him.

Caraxes huffs, debating if he should heed your command.

"Paez ilagon," slow down, you repeat as the dragon fully faces you.

You, and everyone else who witnesses it, are shocked that Caraxes listens. He quits his pacing and slowly comes to a halt, looming over you.

Your lips wobble, humbled by the idea such a fearsome creature would obey the commands of such a pathetic being. You begin to weep, as Caraxes lowers his head, sniffing you. Your hands dart out to him when he gets too close. You slightly topple when he nudges you with his snout. You feel the warmth of his breath seeping through your dress as he brushes against you. You can tell he is trying his best to be gentle, but even then he is too strong that you have to repel him. He makes the faintest of sounds.

"Gods be good," you mumble as you gaze upon the creatures scales, "you can smell him, can't you? Daemon?"

Caraxes remains pressed against you a moment longer.

You sniffle and momentarily fantasize about the child growing within you. You lean into him in defeat, "you silly thing."

His throat emits a low rumble.

"It would have been better if you made me a snack," you mumble against him, feeling your tears drip.

Caraxes slowly lowers his head until he is laid on the floor. You remain leaned on him for a moment, and then you pull away with a sigh. You look upon the dragon, thinking he is so much like his rider, and stroke his cheek one last time before pulling away.

You walk towards the dragon keeper you had blindsided and lower your head in shame, speaking the word you had learned for Daemon, "usōvegon." Apologies.

He stares at you for a moment, taking in your now messy hair and dirtied face, and replies with something you do not understand.

You nod at him without meeting his eyes then hurriedly walk off. Arryk is quick to follow after you, and his skidding makes Caraxes screech at him. He flinches at the sound, looking behind him warily. You do not.

When Arryk finally catches up to you, he takes your arm and calls out your name. He is alarmed by the red smeared down your philtrum and cheek.

"Forgive me," you mutter, unable to meet his gaze. You do not stop walking, "I- I was overcome... I did not think of anything but myself. I did not mean to cause anyone such immense distress."

"What were you trying to do?" Arryk quips, taking in your dirtied face. He did not know if it would be appropriate to wipe it with his cloak.

You shake your head, still unable to look at him.

"Princess," Arryk speaks like a plea, "did you know Caraxes would not hurt you?"

You gulp, quickening you pace.

Arryk huffs in frustration, calling out your name.

He forces you to stop by dashing forward, coming in front of you. You look up at him, eyes teary and mouth parted.

"I beg you," he clenches his fists, before succumbing to his urges. He grabs his cloak and wipes your face, brushing the dirt and blood as neatly as he can, "please tell me you did not knowingly put yourself in danger."

The tears running down your face help him clean you off. You honestly say, "I don't know if I should tell you."

Arryk is heart broken. He clenches his jaw tightly and releases his hold on you. He steps aside and you begin walking again.

You feel awful as you look at him. He is sullen as he walks beside you. You wipe your nose on your sleeve, "apologies, Arryk."

He shakes his head and opens his mouth. His jaw hangs for a moment, but then he closes his mouth, saying nothing.

You turn to your side when you hear your name called.

Alicent, who was making her way to the king's quarters, runs up you, eyes widening at the blood on your face. The red had spread as it mixed with your tears. She quickly pulls out her handkerchief, "your nose is bleeding!"

Your eyes widen, as you did not know this, but you quickly take her wrist and slowly pull away, "it is nothing."

"What happened to her, ser?" Alicent turns to Arryk.

Arryk is eager to tattle, "she was at the dragon pit and-"

"I fell," you cut him off, blocking your sister's gaze upon your ward, "I-"

"You fell in the dragon pit?!" she bristles further. Your feigning backfired. "What did Daemon do?!"

"The prince is nowhere to be seen," Arryk scoffs.

"I was- am looking for him!" you blurt

"Caraxes nearly attacked her," Arryk adds.

"Arryk!" you whip your head to him then back to your sister, "he did not!"

"He shoved her back and she fell!" he explains, "that's why her nose is bloody."

Alicent calls your name as you call Arryk's.

Your sister takes your shoulders, eyes immediately watering, "did you want to get hurt, sister?"

Your jaw slacks, "I- I-"

"Does Daemon posses you to do such things?" your baby sister begins to cry.

You shake your head rapidly, "no! No. I swear to you, this has nothing to do with him."

"Then what?" Alicent asks with a broken voice.

You gasp for air and feel a shiver run down your spine. You cannot tell her the truth, so you explain instead, "my nose already bled yesterday, which is why it's bleeding now."

"What?!"

"I already fainted yesterday and fell quite hard, which is why my nose is bleeding again."

"Mother, please," Alicent whispers.

"Alicent, I swear to you, you need not-"

"How could you let this happen to her twice?" Alicent turns to Arryk.

Arryk lowers his head, "I have failed-"

"I snuck behind him," you blurt, "do not fault him for my impulsiveness."

Alicent's heart is crush as she watches you wipe your face.

"It is not Arryk's fault that my nose is bloody. It is neither Caraxes fault for shoving me. It is mine. My body is weak and I have spent all day looking for my husband, against the behest of my maester."

Alicent clenches her jaw. It is Daemon's fault.

"I will go to the maesters' ward and submit to whatever is prescribed to me," you place a hand on her shoulder. You sniffle, "do not speak to father of this."

"Make sure to go to the maester's then," you sister warns.

Dejected, you look away and walk off.

Alicent takes in a breath before grabbing her skirts, marching over to the king's quarters.

Viserys is in the middle of gluing his diorama of King's Landing when he hears a knock on the door, "come in."

Alicent enters, sighing deeply before pulling a smile.

"Alicent," his blank expression slightly lightens.

She curtsies, "your highness," and walks over to him. She turns her attention to whatever it was the king was building.

Viserys shows raises a block, "a new tower."

Alicent smiles softly, "pretty."

The king raises a brow upon noticing the stiffness to her demeanor, "is everything alright?"

Alicent betrays herself on purpose by nodding her head too quickly.

Viserys puts the tower down. He reaches for her arm, "what's wrong, my girl."

She takes a sharp breath, "my sister—"

He furrows his brows.

"—she... she has a bloody nose from falling."

"She fell?"

"Twice," Alicent fidgets with her hands, honest agitation for her sister taking over her, "because she's been looking for Daemon."

His reaction to the name is instant. Viserys' jaw clenches and his fists ball in anger, "Daemon."

Daemon struts down the great hall, making his way towards the Iron Throne. The night was now deep and the few candles lit in the room only increased the tension between the brothers.

The prince looks up at the king. The king and two kingsguard stationed on either side of the throne look down at him. Viserys clenches his sword, "and where have you been?"

Daemon scoffs, aimlessly looking around, "have you summoned me to nag?" He clasps his hand in front of him, leaning on one foot, "I already have a wife for that."

His brother laughs, hard. It echoes across the hall, but it is by no means genuine, "I would not have ever known with all the time you waste in brothels."

Daemon grinds his teeth, face contorting, "so you've summoned me to reb-"

"Did you say it?" Viserys snaps.

"... what?"

"An heir for a day— did you say it?!"

"..."

The king's nostrils flare.

"... we must all mourn in our own way, your grace."

Viserys sighs, lowering his head in defeat for a second, then erupts, "MY FAMILY HAS BEEN DESTROYED!" He seethes, "and instead of staying at mine, or Rhaenyra's side you celebrate your own rise with your whores and your lickspittles!

"And wife," he scoffs, "your poor wife... do you even know that your mount has injured her?"

Daemon stiffens.

"She came to the pit looking for you and the beast caused her a bloody nose."

"What?"

"You chose her Daemon. And in choosing her you prove time and time again, I bend to your desires only to be repaid with disrespect. You have no other allies in court but me, yet-"

"You do nothing but distance me from court! From the City Watch, even with- with her... you do nothing but heed the whispers of that leaching old man."

"Leaching old man?" Viserys raises his brows.

Daemon nearly vibrates in anger.

"You mean Otto Hightower?" the king's lips curl, "the man who begged me—"

He laughs dryly.

"—over and back to spare her sickly daughter from enduring a lifetime with a the likes of you!"

Daemon is wounded, "I am your brother."

"Then why do you cut me so deep?"

"I see that man for what he is."

Viserys huffs, "a loyal and faithful-"

"A cunt!"

The king leans back. His kingsguard are ready to draw their steel. Viserys realizes there is no getting through to him. He looks away then turns back to glare at him, "jiōragon hen ñuha laehurlion." Get out of my face.

"Lēkia," Daemon steps forward, muttering the word that meant older brother.

The kingsguards step forward, showing a glimmer of their swords as a warning.

"I hear it is the first time your Hightower bride has been separated from her twin. It would do her health good to visit Oldtown."

He clenches his fists tightly.

"Perhaps she might get strong enough to grant you a child," he clenches his jaw, "maybe once the gods have granted you a boy or girl, you will understand my grief." Viserys motions with a nod, "you are to return to your lady wife with no quarrel. Take him out of my sight."

Daemon does not wait to be apprehended and storms out of the room. He is bristling as he gets out.

"Mazeman bona ziry gōntan daor jikagon sȳrī." I take that it did not go well.

Daemon turns and sees Corlys standing by the door, hands clasped in front of him.

"I wanted to speak to you of something important earlier today. I hope your mood is not too bad foul-"

"Ȳdragon se sagon gaomagon lēda bisa jenigon," Daemon snaps. Speak and be done with this bother.

Corlys straightens his back and motions with hand, "it is regarding the Stepstones, your grace."

Daemon furrows his brows, vaguely recalling this topic being broached during one of the council meetings. The two of them discuss this as they walk down the hall. By the time the prince reaches your shared quarters, he's agreed to help the Seasnake with his concern.

You leap from your bed when the door opens. Daemon freezes as you scurry to the door, hastily running to him without even putting on your slippers. You stand before him barefoot, heaving as you clutch your nightgown. He stares at you, hands clenching into fists.

"Usōvegon," your lips tremble.

Daemon's face falls a fraction as he watches your eyes water.

"Usōvegon," apologies, you repeat. "Please..." you slowly reach for him.

He watches your palms press against his chest. He makes no attempt to move.

"Do not be cross with me any longer."

A deep breath flares through his nostrils. He realizes then that he is exhausted and shuts his eyes. He leans his forehead on yours and takes your wrists. He huffs at your feel, "you are freezing."

"I-"

Daemon seals you into an embrace and the warmth of his body quickly seeps onto your much colder one. A shiver runs down your spine. You immediately wrap your arms around him and nuzzle your face into his chest. He mimics you, brushing his cheek against your hair, taking in the faint smell of citrus. He remembers what his brother said and repeats it, "ñuha mijegindita ābrazȳrys." My poor wife.

You don't know what he says, so you make sure to tell him what wants to hear— what you think he wants to hear, "I will not defy you ever again."

He does not care about that. He pulls back and looks at you. He wipes the tears off your face and a line forms between his brows, "Caraxes attacked you?"

One of your hands instinctively comes to your philtrum, "no. I-" you shake your head, "I fell."

You don't know why you think Daemon would be satisfied with your answer. He presses, "tell me exactly what happened."

You huff, "I was... yesterday, I fainted—"

"Fainted?"

"—then I fell."

He shakes his head, "this happened in the dragon pit?"

"... no. When... when I was chasing after you."

Daemon brushes your hair back.

You cannot hold his gaze, "I went to the pit, hoping you'd be there and-" you realize you cannot tell him what happened. You cannot tell him you walked to his mount and his mount did not attack you because he could smell part of him in you. You huff, "-and Caraxes got close and knocked me over."

"Did he try to bite you?"

You debate for a second before shaking your head.

Daemon sighs, "he must have smelled me on you and got excited."

Your throat tightens. Goosebumps form on your arm when Daemon traces your nose with his thumb.

"And your nose bled?"

You do not want to answer.

He sighs, "I will reintroduce you to him, so that he does not act so-"

"It's not his fault!" you blurt, "not really."

He knits his brows.

"When I fainted and fell, my nose already bled, so..." you motion with a finger, "Caraxes simply... set off a previous injury."

He says absolutely nothing.

"My body is weak," you mumble, hoping to explain it better, "I've had worse injuries."

"Do you tell me this so that I will not bring you to Caraxes?"

"No," you shake your head, "no. Just... so you do not..." worry, you almost say, but then the idea feels presumptuous.

"Not fault my beast for acting like one?" Daemon asks, as he heads for his cabinet.

You look at him for a moment then follow. You decide to hum and proceed to help him get undressed.

Your husband examines your face. The moonlight mixed with candlelight makes your skin glow. He is loathe to think your tears add to it, but it's unfortunately true. Your being glistens because of all these things. He interrupts your unbuttoning by taking your cheeks and slowly wiping off the tears on your lashes.

You blink at him, "better?"

"Gevie," he says, brushing your throat with his thumbs.

You nod, though you still did not know what that meant. You push his doublet past his shoulders and once his dress shirt remained, he is quick to remove his shoes as you bring his clothes to the hamper. When you walk back to him, he is picking out clothes from his closet. You are deeply confused when he hands you a stack of shirts.

Daemon moves to his other cabinet and says, "pack those in my trunk for me."

You freeze and blink rapidly, "I-" you turn to his truck, which was atop his closet. Your heart races, "I cannot reach it."

Daemon pulls out more clothing before looking at you. You watch him closely as he stands and reaches for the trunk. He places it on the floor and opens it.

You slowly kneel on the floor beside it, doing your best to keep calm in this moment. Are you leaving? You nearly ask him, but you don't because he clearly is. You begin to fold his clothes, but you cannot hold your peace, "where are you going?"

Daemon stuffs his clothes into his trunk and sighs before crouching down to fix them, "the Stepstones."

"W-what?"

"The Seasnake needs help with the Crabfeeder, so I will help him."

"Why?" you blurt all too quickly.

Daemon straightens up. He looks down at you as you shake your head and quickly finish folding his clothes.

"Why must it be you?"

The voice of his brother rings in his mind. Do you carry such low regard of him just as he? "Why can't it be me?" he snaps, "you think I will be of no help?"

He is taken aback by how you chuck his clothes into his trunk rather aggressively. His face begins to harden with anger but then you make a noise and lean into the trunk, heaving deeply in and out.

"Wha-"

You cut him off by reaching for his legs. He is frozen in place as you embrace him from where you knelt on the floor.

Whatever choler was building in him quickly dissipates and morphs into... fear, or rather, worry. He calls out your name, reaching for your head.

"You cannot leave me," you shudder, gripping his calves for dear life. You look up at him, face wholly distraught but not teary. You find yourself too tired to shed a tear.

Cannot leave you? He does not like the way you imply he would be unable to if he wanted. Daemon watches you as you slowly bring yourself up to a stand. He does not help you as you pull yourself up using his legs and waist.

Your hands remain gripping the sides of his shirt as you stare at him. You take in his stoic expression as you gather the nerve to repeat, "you cannot leave m-"

"And why can't I?" he quips as his insecurity gets ahead of himself.

You hear it in his voice. You hear how he thinks you're challenging him. You shake your head and correct yourself, "n-no," you shudder, "no, Daemon, no. I- I want you to stay." You brush your palms up his chest.

He can feel the tremble of your hands as they come to his cheeks. He knit his brows at your confession. He has to ask, "why?"

You could tell him many reasons. The one possibly most relevant to him is that of the fact you were carrying his unborn child. A shiver runs down your spine; you are not foolish enough to believe this would be something that would make him want to stay. You could always tell him you needed him, your health needed him, because it was true. As much as he clawed your fragile heart, he made it soar in ways you've never experienced. But there was a rather simpler truth to that need, though attached to a very complicated feeling, "because I love you."

Daemon's expression falls. Though his lips barely part, you can tell that he is gobsmacked. You release a shaky breath as you swipe his chin and jaw with the pads of your thumbs.

Should he be so shocked? Love in a marriage is not so uncommon, even if it is arranged, even if it felt opposite in the beginning.

So, what?

What was your love to him? It would wax and wane like his brother's— and his brother, his fucking brother. He could not grant him the satisfaction. Daemon takes you by the wrists and slowly pries you off, "you are mistaken."

You take a deep breath at his words. You are perfectly still.

"I do not feel the same," he mutters.

Daemon was not one to lie, convinced such an act was beneath him, reserved for incapable, lesser men; half-wits, and yellow-bellies. The only reason he could say this was because the cup in which you held your love for him was far deeper than the one he had for you, and he was aware of it. He loved himself far more than he could ever bring himself to love anyone; he would always be first.

Still, he was not an incapable, lesser man, nor was he a half-witted yellow-belly. He knew of the cup he held, which oft overflowed. The mere thought of you triggered a smell in the air, and at the mention of your name, his bones ignited. You were his, and you held his regard, his affection, his lust, and, yes, his love.

All of this, he was about to explain, but then your reaction blind-sided him.

You nod, "I know."

How terrible it was to hear it. He knew his words where callous. He knew wuch an admission is a gash from a jagged blade— to not be loved by who you loved. Yet your casual resignation to this information stung, nay, scorched his heart.

Is it cold? Is his love so dry you cannot even feel it?

His grip on you falters.

You bring your hands to his shoulders. You rub his bicep and smile softly in reassurance, "I do not mind."

"What?"

Your smile widens a fraction, "I know you enjoy the... delicateness of my body, both intimately and-" you motion to yourself, "-regarding my affliction."

He knits his brows.

"It is wholly contrary to yours, and it is mirthful to you," you nod again, "I understand."

"Do you?" he raises his furrowed brows.

You slowly loosen your hold on him. You pull away to fidget with your fingers, "do I not?"

"No," he scoffs under his breath, chest tightening far too much he has to move past you, "I don't think you do."

You are quick to grab him but it slips, "then make me understand."

Daemon stops in his tracks, turning back to you as his breathing picks up.

Your own does the same, but your gasps get shorter and shorter, so much so, you feel yourself get lightheaded. Your husband has to grab you to keep you upright, but you want to show him you have the will to overcome this, that you aren't dead weight, so push him away and mutter, "I- I can do it, Daemon."

He misinterprets you. You scorch him again. He squeezes your arms, "you don't want my help now?"

"No," you say as try to catch your breath, "I- I just-" you cannot continue.

Daemon has to sit you down to help calm you down. He tried to keep you upright, but then he realizes you were consciously trying to lean into his chest, so he lets you. You press your cheek against his warm muscles and sigh at the beat of his heart. You wrap your arms around him, "I want this."

He stares at your brown hair for a moment.

"I want all of this," you sigh, "which is why I want to be what you want me to be."

He finally lets himself embrace you, but just then, you pull away to look at him.

"I can do it," you nod as you take a final deep breath, "I can be a dutiful wife— I will be a dutiful wife. I will not defy you. I will do as you please. I will not expect more than I ought."

"You cannot do everything for me," Daemon says with slight contempt, a line between his brows.

"I-" you shake your head, "... I know," you shake your head faster, taking his hands, "but can I make you stay?"

He looks at how you hold him. He feels sick.

"What can I do to ma-"

"You do not understand," he pulls his hand away, "my brother wants me to leave. He is sick of me and prays for my riddance."

You watch as Daemon stands and paces around.

"He told me to bring you to your twin in Oldtown, and I would sooner eat Caraxes' shit than be tossed aside to the fucking Reach."

You shake your head, "why does he want you to leave?"

"He is weepy over the drunken words I spoke."

"Well, what did you-"

"Does it matter?!" he snaps, raising his hands, "I must leave!"

He is clearly upset. You nod your head and come to a stand, "then I will speak to the k-"

"No!" he shouts, "I will not have my wife act on my behalf, as though I rolled my belly."

"You are not rolling your belly, I am."

"You think there is a fucking difference?!" he quips, marching in front of you, "no! I am to leave in the dawn, so pack my fucking things, woman!"

You grit your teeth in an attempt to steel yourself away. It does not prevent the tears from running down your cheeks.

Daemon's nostrils flare as you go back to his trunk and sort out his clothes. He hears your soft whimpers and slowly begins to deflate. He wipes his face, slowly turning to you. He watches tears drop onto his garbs, "have you nothing to say?"

You sniffle and shake your head rapidly.

"No?!" his expression pinches.

You stand and grab the rest of this clothes. You sniffle with difficulty then sigh deeply. Your voice is shaky, "I want only to please you."

Daemon chuckles dryly, aimlessly looking around, "you think this pleases me?"

"Then tell me what will!" you whip your head around, clutching his clothes tightly in your arms, "I implore you." You step forward and haphazardly drop everything to his trunk, "I cannot please you if you refuse to tell me what you want."

"I want to go to the fucking Stepstones!" he points to nowhere.

You are shattered. How terrible of him to make it so painfully clear that what he wants does not even involve you. He does not want you, or even if he did, you cannot be enough. You lower your gaze.

"I want you to beg me to stay."

You look up at him. You chuckle dryly under your breath when you realize he's being serious. Your sorrow is not enough, it seems, now he wants even your shame.

Daemon tenses when you get on your knees.

You grip the fabric of his trousers as tightly as possible in an attempt to steel yourself, but it does not prevent your tears from falling. You shudder, "please."

"..."

"Stay. I beg you."

Your prince gazes upon your bitterness. He brushes your cheek and feels the coldness of your tears. He sighs because this does not affect him the way he had hoped.

It is not enough.

Dawn breaks, and Caraxes is restless. Daemon's things were being secured on his dragon, but that is not why so many dragon keepers had to keep him in check.

There, by the entrance, you stood with your hands clasped together and your head hung low. Both your wards behind you, eyeing your prince, who was doing his best to calm his ride as the last of his things were readied. Daemon did not know Caraxes was acting this way because of your distress, but the keepers slowly began to realize this was the case.

One of the keepers call out, "ñuha dārilaros, aōha ābrazȳrys." My prince, your wife.

"Rȳbagon, Caraxes!" Daemon snaps at his dragon to listen. Caraxes shakes his head and the prince spares the dragon keeper a glance, "skoros hen zirȳla?" What of her?

"Aōha zaldrīzes kostagon yknagon zirȳla boter." Your dragon can smell her suffering.

The prince turns to you, back to Caraxes, "iksis ziry zirȳla, Caraxes?" Is it her, Caraxes.

You lift your gaze when you hear Daemon call for you. He beckons you over and before you can move, Arryk grabs your arm and whispers, "I do not think this wise."

You slightly turn to him, "he will not harm me. You saw how Caraxes acted yesterday."

"It is not the dragon I worry about."

You look at the man, seeing how his jaw is clenched. You place a hand on his shoulder plate before walking towards your husband.

Rather immediately, there is a shift in Caraxes's demeanor. He huffs and screeches, neck coiling so his head could come near you. Daemon barks out multiple commands and his mount finally obeys.

The prince knits his brows then turns to you, reaching out a hand. You take it and find yourself pulled into your husband's arms. Your skin pricks with goosebumps when he whispers in your ear, "he wants you."

You sigh and close your eyes, resigning yourself to Daemon. He links his fingers into yours and places it atop his dragon's snout.

Caraxes sighs and slightly leans in.

Daemon is astounded by this, "I did not know he could possibly care for someone more than his rider."

You slowly open your eyes and look at the creatures ruby scales. "He does not," you mutter, rubbing one hand on your belly.

He does not hear this. When he turns you around, he catches you rubbing your stomach. He sighs and takes your hand, "do not weep so bitterly."

You cannot do anything but the opposite. Tears stream down your cheeks, "do not be so cruel then."

Daemon watches how your lips wobble. A line forms between his brows, "do not make this harder than it should."

You pull away from him and lower your gaze, "then just leave me now, and spare me the slow torture."

He tenses at your words. His expression hardens, "I did not ask you to see me off."

"Shall I leave then?" you snap, eyes red as you look back at him.

"Yes!"

You grab your skirt and walk towards the twins.

Daemon is stunned. He turns around and watches as you storm off. He calls your name, once, twice, and then he is sobered by the scream of Caraxes. You do not even stop by the entrance anymore, and walk past your kingsguards, who are quick to follow after you.

Here you were doing his bidding, following his wishes, yet there was no satisfaction. All there was... was less of you, less of your strength, your light, your fire.

Daemon turns to Caraxes, who was restless again. He pushes past the dragon keepers and saddles up. He orders Caraxes to start walking, so he does. The blood wrym begins to crawl towards you and the prince has to reel him back, barking out orders of obedience far too loudly.

Caraxes gives a loud screech before following the order. He huffs so deeply that the wind it produces makes you topple.

Your knights are quick to keep you upright, and though you so badly want to turn around, you remind yourself that your husband has done nothing but all he wants since you've wed. If he wanted you to stay, he would have told you.

You wouldn't know then that Daemon made Caraxes stop in his tracks. You wouldn't know that as he watched you walk off, he was mumbling under his breath that you turn around. You just kept walking yet he still waited for you to turn back, even after your figure had disappeared.

He would also never know that you headed down to the docks near the Keep, just to watch Caraxes fly away one last time. He would never know how your skin pricked with gooseflesh at the sight of the red winged beast soaring above. He would never know how hard it became for you to breathe.

"Gods, please," you mumble as your eyes endlessly watered, "swiftly return him to me."

Arryk and Erryk, stood on either side of you, glared at the sky as they heard your broken voice. They were on high alert as the docks were busy at this hour, and yet, it was necessary to convey their contempt, even if the person it was meant for could not see.

"Give me back my husband," you look at your reflection in the water, "or take me to my mother."

Before your words even register to either of the twins, you've already jumped into the water. Erryk nearly jumps in with you before realizing his armor would surely make him sink. "PRINCESS!" he screams as he undoes his armor.

"THE PRINCESS!" Arryk screams to the fisherman, "SHE'S FALLEN INTO THE WATER!"

The commotion is great. It is loud and frantic, yet as your body plunges and slowly begins to float, you care little. You feel someone fish you out of the water by the arm, and you want nothing more than to break free and swim towards your demise. But then, you hear your wards calling out your name, and you realize you cannot.

You say nothing once you are on land.

Both Cargylls has a hand on your arm, and each of them are worriedly questioning you, "are you alrigh- what happe- what were you thinki- are you faint- my princess-"

"I need to see him," you say.

Arryk and Erryk freeze. The look at each other, not knowing what to say. Arryk offers, "my princess. I fear you cannot see Dae-"

"Not him," you look between them as you gather your skirts. It is arduous, as it is soaking wet.

Otto was on his way back from the scrolls room when hears the shout from across the hall. He tenses like a rock at the recognition of his daughter's voice.

You hadn't realized how tired you were until you saw him. Your knees immediately buckle and you fall to the floor as you call out, "papa!"

The Lord Hand dashes to you, dropping the scrolls he had along the way. He gets on his knees and picks you up. He is aghast by your dripping state, and his anger is soon turned on your incompetent guards, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY GIRL?"

"Papa," you mutter once you are in his arms.

Otto cradles you, looking down at your sorry form. A deep line is between his brows.

"He left me," you whisper, tears wetting your already wet cheeks.

Daemon. Lord Hightower clenches his jaw. It's always fucking him. "Come, my girl," he mutters, trying to bring you to your feet, "let's get you-"

Your voice is soft, yet it still cuts him off, "you must not leave me."

Otto is frozen. Arryk and Erryk are frozen too.

"If you leave me too, I do not think I will survive."

[sugurugetofavoritemonkey]

if requests are open… i beg of you, the ethan writer…. to please write something about ethan being a certified munch… like you can’t tell me he doesn’t eat pussy for a SPORT. sure he’d love you to sit on his face but… i can just imagine him folding your knees up into your chest so he can have full access to you

A/N : Hii ! <3 I loooove your request so much, it just SCREAMS Ethan Landry to me, this man would happily die between your legs if it means he can eat your pussy for hours and make you cum multiple times !! 🤤🖤 Please tell me if I did justice to your request and you know where to find me if you want other Ethan’s fics 😘✨

Ethan Landry lives for eating you out as he loves giving the sweetest pleasure to your pussy…or is it his ?

❦ Even though Ethan Landry is inexperienced when he first starts eating you out, your boyfriend would improve so quickly because of two simple reasons. First, because Ethan wants to do things right and would absolutely listen to your advice when he asks you what feels good or not, taking mental notes of which spot makes you moan the loudest and which pace makes you cum the fastest. Secondly, because Ethan wants - need - to eat you out so frequently that he, anyway, grew to be very good at it.

❦ Ethan would definitely leave hickeys on your inner thighs before he even touches you pussy, his head nicely snuggled between your thighs as he nips, bites, licks and kisses your skin that will show his marks, only for him to know who you really belong to.

❦ He would then press his fingers on your pussy, his thumb rubbing on your clit through the pretty lace material of your panties that he offered you a few days ago, teasing you as Ethan feels the wetness dampen the fabric underneath his fingertips and proudly smiles when he realizes that he can work you up this nicely by barely touching you.

❦ Ethan would also always, and I say always, kiss your pussy through your panties before starting to eat you out, almost like he’s greeting your little cunny like the sweet boyfriend he is.

❦ This man could die between your thighs and he would be the happiest man ever. He would literally overstimulate your pussy for hours because Ethan cannot even realize how long he’s been giving you pleasure and he doesn’t care, he just wants you to feel good and…Ethan also gets excited just by eating you out.

❦ In fact, Ethan would get so painfully hard from pleasing you only with his mouth that he would start humping the bed to get some relief, cumming in his pants a few times seeing how much he’s desperate for you, and only you, making his head spin with pleasure.

❦ I also believe that Ethan’s hair is quite sensitive and with how much you would be pulling on his curly strands when he gives you orgasm one after the other, Ethan would whine, moan and grunt so much against your pussy, creating the most delicious vibrations against your sensitive clit.

❦ If you try to remove his head from your pussy (and if it’s still consensual of course), you won’t have any chance against his strength, his head won’t budge away from you. Nothing will stop Ethan if he isn’t finished with you yet and he will pin you down with his free hand by pressing against your tummy if he has to.

❦ Ethan will also bite your thighs if you contain your sounds of pleasure, he doesn’t want that and absolutely won’t let you do it. Ethan relishes in the way you so beautifully moan his name, whine in a pitched tone when you’re close to your climax and when you softly tell Ethan that you love him between soft whimpers after he overstimulated you.

❦ If he eats you out from behind or when you sit on his face, Ethan makes sure to grab handfuls of your ass while your thighs tremble and shake under his sweet indecent ministrations.

❦ Hell, this man would even eat you out at school between classes when Ethan really can’t wait to have you alone for himself. Ethan would take you to the restroom and press you against the wall as he kneels before going down on you. His head would be snuggled between your thighs as you look down to find his filthy gaze not leaving yours until he can hear you moan his name while you cream on his tongue. It simply feels like heaven to Ethan.

❦ Your boyfriend will even eat you out just to get rid of his stress, as Ethan paws at your skirt and then sliding his hand underneath it to caress the lace of your panties, after you both came back home from a long tiring day. « Please baby… I’m stressed, just need to eat you out real quick… I’ll be good… Can I ? », Ethan pleads you as he nuzzles your pulsating neck with his cold nose, pressing encouraging kisses there.

❦ Ethan feels immensely proud about giving you such pleasure only with his mouth and to hear those sweet sounds of yours mixed with little cries of his name, it all sounds like the most perfect music to his ears. After a session where your boyfriend knows that he did a particularly good job at making you feel good just by seeing the blush on your face, Ethan would silently look at you with a smug smile like the nerd he is.

❦ Ethan would make eye contact with you when he knows you’re close to reaching your climax. His eyes being half lidded white how pussy drunk he is.

❦ If you squirt while he eats you out, Ethan will feel so proud that he won’t ever shut up about it as he gently encourages you to do it again for him.

❦ After giving you so many orgasms with his mouth, a long session that leaves your pussy sensitive and puffy because of his lips, Ethan would so gently and softly kitten licks your pretty cunt and press little kisses on your clit, like the sweet boyfriend he is.

❦ While going down on you and after taking care of you, Ethan would praise you so much as he leaves kisses all over your face and pampers you with lovely words that he reserves only for you, his perfect girlfriend, « You did so well for me, angel. »

❦ Well, Ethan worships your pussy if that wasn’t clear enough.

❦ But what Ethan favors to do the most is folding your knees up into your chest so he can have full access to you and literally do whatever he wants to your pussy. Ethan would sometimes add two of his fingers when he wants to give you even more pleasure while sucking on your clit, twirling his tongue around it and lapping at your folds like the sweet puppy he is as he tries his best to tongue fuck you.

❦ When Ethan’s finished with you, as you’re so overstimulated that your legs go limp when he releases them, barely able to feel your legs anymore seeing how much strength your boyfriend applied on them. Some marks already start forming as Ethan apologetically presses kisses on your bruised skin, his face now covered in your juices as his mouth glistens. Ethan would give you the sloppiest kiss ever to make you taste yourself on his tongue, as he whines in your mouth at the feeling of having done a good job at making you feel good. During this kind of kiss, Ethan feels restless as he uncontrollably paws at your chest and holds your face to deepen the kiss, as he rubs his still hard-on against your pussy. His pants dampened with his cum after cumming in his pants so many times, feels sticky on your skin while he humps himself on your poor overstimulated and swollen clit. Yet, Ethan will never forget aftercare as he cleans you up like his dear little princess before cuddling you. Ethan is the loveliest puppy as he holds you tight in his arms, moving you closer to his body before he gets sleepy and rests his head on your shoulder, snoring lightly in your ear while he nuzzles against your face.

💗 Ethan Landry Masterlist 💗

[elliezlils11utt]

fluffy domestic farm life with farmer!abby <33

‧₊˚ ☆

a/n: coming from a texan this is genuinely my dream life. also this is like semi headcannons? the format is a tad funny bc i didnt have enough plot for a full fic but its mot just headcannons either?? idk man😪

summary; abbys grown up on a farm, its all shes ever known. and she CANNOT see her life not in the fields. and you, while still being from the south wanted nothing more than to escape it all. so when you told her you wanted to move to the city with her, she made it her mission to prove to you farm life could be happy. <3

‧₊˚ ☆ when you first moved into the farm house with abby, it was perfect. (you only thought this because there was no work to be done yet) but soon planting season started, then the animals started to accumulate, and all the sudden your back on a farm. exactly where you wanted to escape from. but this time its different. your with you’re person. you’re abby. and as much as you wanted to hate it, you couldn’t. not to admit abby was right but, she was right.. every morning you wake up, braid Abby’s hair, eat breakfast with her, and you go separate ways for chores. you tend to the animals as abby works on the farm in the fields. its peaceful.

‧₊˚ ☆“can you put one of y’r pretty bows in my hair t’day baby?” abby whispers to you in the early morning light as you lay cuddled in her arms. you hum in agreement, a smile laid on your face. Abby’s long golden locks have been one of your favorite things for the longest. and ever since the first day you french braided it down the back, shes had you do it everyday since. its become morning routine for her to sit between your legs on a pillow, with her cup of black coffee in hand, watching the morning news as you plait up her hair. now one of the ribbons that holds your hair up everyday, ties at the end of abby’s. a dainty blue bow holding her braid together.

“watcha think?”

“s’ pretty babe, thank ya s’much.” her tall frame scoops you up from in front of the hallway mirror and plops you back on the coach, tickling the crap outa you.

“abigail!!” you squeal

‧₊˚ ☆ oh and you definitely screamed when a farm cat showed up & abby had to scold you for trying to take it into the house.

“but abby! look at him.” you force a pout, pointing at the orange feline who genuinely had a dead mouse in its mouth. abby looks at you, then back at the cat, then back to you.

“baby. look, i love you. but no way in hell is that coming in the house.”

she then proceeded to drive out 40 minutes to the nearest pets smart & bought the little guy food to set out weekly ‘just incase’.

‧₊˚ ☆ i also like to think she brought one of jerry’s old projectors from her childhood home & sets it up on the side of the barn every once and a while. like when theres a new movie you wont stop nagging her about, at the end if the day as you go to get her for supper you see the bed of the work truck all set up with cozy bedding. abby appears from behind the truck. “Abigail Anderson. what is all’ this?” you cheese.

“oh nothinggg, i js’ rented that movie you wanted t’ watch” she says jokingly. she pulls you in by the waist and places a kiss on the top of your head.

“did you get anyy of your chores done today?” you say, pretending to be mad she hasn’t been tending to the farm.

“uh, thats a problem for tomorrow me.” she giggles.

‧₊˚ ☆ and you best bet that if you both finish your chores early there will be nap time. sometimes intentional, sometimes not. but either way its one of your favorite moments with her. one day you had fallen asleep on the porch swing after brushing the horses. abby had came to the house for a glass of water to find you softly snoring in the summer breeze. a smile tugs at her lips watching your stomach rise and fall with your breath. she lightly picks you up and carries u inside the house, abandons whatever chore she was doing before and lays with you. now its your turn to wake up to her baby snores (loud ass snores) & blond hair tickling your nose. your cutie baby.