#select affliction

[sugarysakurakitty]

My cat has a weird appreciation for approaching me while I'm holding sharp things. Good sir I don't want you to headbutt the knife. Please. Let me open packages and cut vegetables and cut zipties and try to remember how to open the peeling(?) Knife in peace without having to scramble to make sure you stay safe.

[bijoumikhawal]

it's a shame I don't feel comfortable talking about it here but like. Analyzing joined Trill through an adorcist lens would be so fascinating

[brokehorrorfan]

Affliction will be released on Blu-ray on April 16 via Shout Select. The 1997 neo-noir crime drama is based on the 1989 novel by Russell Banks.

Paul Schrader (Taxi Driver, Hardcore) writes and directs. Nick Nolte, Sissy Spacek, James Coburn, and Willem Dafoe star. Coburn won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor.

Affliction has been newly scanned in 2K from the original film elements. No special features are included.

When events shatter the quiet of his small town, Wade Whitehouse (Nick Nolte), with the aid of his new girlfriend (Sissy Spacek), is forced to confront his past and reexamine his life. Determined to fill the emptiness, he must either stand tall against his childhood demons or fall victim to his father's abusive ways.

Pre-order Affliction.

[catzunnyuan]

(jiuyuan) Omegaverse AU where SY is born into PIDW like airplane. He's still tasked with making the story better and filling in plot holes which means... He has to go to CQM.

SQH clocks him as a transmigrator during disciple selection and is way too excited about it. SQQ immediately pulls rank and takes SY on as his own.

SY can't risk getting kicked out and losing all of his points, so he does the bare minimum of playing nice guy his new shizun.

SJ meanwhile likes the cut of SY's jib. He's vicious, angry, full of resentment but most importantly, playing just enough by the rules. This is a child with the potential to deal with the snakes they call martial siblings. There's no resemblance to SQH, but SQQ still suspects SY is a bastard or other relative, especially given how much the rat*hovers*, invading QJP with all manner of excuses.

SY has a grudge against MF and the system doesn't complain about SY acting on it. Soon the other disciples lose most of their respect for MF - especially since while SY clearly hates MF he's kind and gentle with everyone else

The final nail on MF's coffin is when SY reports to SQQ that MF gave him a faulty cultivation manual and proceeds to present the manual SQQ personally delivered into SY's hands.

The audacity of this child. SJ didn't realize he could still feel delight!

The next selection NYY is brought in and SY starts growling and posturing whenever SQQ so much as looks at her. He knows he's in an omegaverse variant world, but it hasn't really hit him that he will soon be afflicted by a second gender himself.

SY is made head disciple but told in no uncertain terms that if he presents qianyuan he's getting kicked off the mountain

SY isn't surprised but he does complain massively to the system.

SQQ then starts piling sy with work and quickly realizes sy is a maths genius and starts using SY's work to lord over various other peaks.

SQH gets a nice gift for pointing the boy out

Unfortunately this means SY spends a lot of time around sqq and starts... Noticing things. Call him crazy but two years on he's actually convinced sqq is an omega, not the beta he pretends to be. The next time he takes paperwork to An Ding and confirmed Airplane who says only "wait you didn't know? I thought it was obvious from his whole... Everything."

Then LBH gets chosen in selection and even though SY's not that much older than him, he still goes full weird and codependent parent.

SQQ is furious that his heir has suddenly gone off the deep end and forgotten that the world is cold and you must be colder still to survive.

He beats SY at the barest pretense but this brings the idiot unmistakable *relief*. He still tries it many more times before finally turning the whip on the problem: LBH

SY presents instantly, not going through a month-long physical, mental and hormonal transition. No, there's no time, he has to protect LBH NOW and he tries to rip out SQQ's throat with his teeth. He fails miserably and after being beaten unconscious SQQ has MF dump SY on BZP.

(YQY is very sorely tempted to take SY for himself bc Xiao-Jiu clearly loves the boy and might regret it later, but he reasons taking SY in would just make sqq hate them both more.)

SY is not suited for BZP. But he can use the raids on qjp to check on LBH and make sure he's okay. (Airplane is devastated he still can't conscript cucumber bro)

LQG is very confused to find BZP running smoothly with formal classes when he returns but he doesn't care enough to investigate before preparing to enter the lingxi caves. SY approaches and tells LQG that now isn't a good time to enter the caves for secluded meditation bc sqq will be there and disturb the qi flow

LQG is pissed bc he scheduled this time first, but he knows if he complains YQY will just say there's no problem with them both secluding at the same time. But before he can get too upset about it, this wiry disciple of his hands over a mission scroll detailing a rampaging yao. The damage is enough LQG is intrigued so he sends sy off to inform the sect leader he'll take the mission.

Blah blah demon invasion, SY jumps in front of LBH to block the poison but sqq moisturized and in his lane after secluded meditation and uninjured from the lack of fight with LQG easily prevents disaster and then kicks shl off the mountain with the help of the array he'd been setting up the entire time the matches were going on. SY realizes that definitely happened in PIDW but LBH was too untrained to realize what he was seeing.

SY then starts his Abyss training program with LBH. For this, he leans into learning BZP techniques just to teach to LBH.

At the IAC, when things go to hell, sy sends LBH away from where the abyss will open, planning to fight the rhino-python and, if necessary, go to hell himself. He doesn't realize the abyss location was "where LBH is" rather than a spot on a map. He arrives in time to find sqq SEVERELY injured from fighting MBJ and LBH already gone into the abyss.

SY stares brokenly at the shards of zhengyang before helping sqq with his wounds.

They're bad enough sqq has lost control of his hormones and pheromones and they're running rampant through his body after decades of suppression. There's no pretending he's not an omega now.

SJ has blood dripping from his mouth, at least one lung is punctured.

"I had to do it."

"I don't care what you have to say"

"you marked that beast as your own kit, but where were you?"

SY just continues applying medicine

"I know why you let him ruin you. A heavenly demon. If I hadn't sent him into the abyss, he'd already be murdered by these so-called righteous cultivators."

SJ grabs him by the collar and forces SY to meet his gaze, as unfocused as it is. SQQ'S face is red and suffering the weight of denied instincts and cycles.

"I saved your brat and where were you?"

SY comes to many conclusions in a single instant

1. SQQ may not be in heat but he's definitely not in his right mind

2. They have both been blasting their pheromones out of control the whole time

3. SQQ has clearly done whatever the opposite of "emotionality washing your hands of SY" is

4. SY's body is very, very much on the same page.

HELLO SYSTEM WHAT HE'S NOT THE PROTAGONIST OF TOXIC DOOMED DANMEI????

He decides to ignore all of that and instead get sqq to the healers. As they're staggering along, LQG shows up and immediately gets into a pissing match with SQQ over which of them has SY as an alpha and SY didn't even know LQG was an omega, let alone any of THAT and decides he's not going to deal with it and orders his shizun to get someone to collect the shards of zhengyang

-

Afterward, sqq acts like nothing happened until SY is officially guaned at which point he makes it clear that he believes SY to be his little alpha who needs to be a good boy and come home

At which point his sexuality crisis actually abates a little bc sqq is an omega, he's an alpha. That's basically a straight couple, nothing gay going on there.

LQG tells him he doesn't have to go and makes an offer of his own which sy responds to with "don't be ridiculous, you're my teacher"

(by this point one of the hall masters explained where SY came from and his tenure as head disciple of qjp so LQG is just left speechless at this bizarre leap of logic)

[justcuriouspolls]

*Just you/the person answering this poll, not the entirety of humanity

Health bar: Shows how much “hp” you have, compared to you at maximum health. Lower hp=closer to death. Has a list of temporary ailments (diseases, injuries etc) affecting you, how much damage they deal, and how long it lasts before going away. If you have a chronic condition that affects your health/will stay with you most/all of your life, max hp (compared to current hp) is reduced. Also shows a stamina bar as well

Quest menu: Guides you on how to do things, from lifechanging achievements to everyday activities. Detailed step-by-step instructions, accurately prioritized, and a “hint menu” in case you get stuck

Checkpoint: From here on out, you can set one “point” (a specific date, time, and location- you must be at that point when you set it) that you revert to when you die, retaining the exact state you were at but with the addition of knowledge that you have at time of death. Once you set the

point you cannot change it, and you must revert there when you die. An extra life, essentially

Inventory Slots: You can store items (you must be able to physically hold them/carry them with ease) in a pocket dimension, and take them out/put them back at any time. Space is limited but is based on diversity of items vs number of items. Carrying bags, purses etc increase how many inventory slots you have

Damage Resistance: A single strike from a sword won’t kill you, tripping and falling won’t send you to a hospital, what would instantly kill the average person would typically just be an inconvenience to you. (You are not immortal, you just now have Video Game Logic ™ applied)

Rapid cooking/eating: You need a method of cooking and the required ingredients, but for some foods you can cook them instantly (it is still perfectly cooked and safe to eat) and you can instantly eat things (you can’t sense the texture/flavor, you still get nutritional benefits/detriments, foods eaten in this manner cannot harm you from overeating (but you are still restricted from eating further/you have a sense of fullness))

Skip Cutscene: If you have had the same conversation multiple times, or have a task that you do repetitively, you can skip it once a day

Fast Travel: In addition to the location where you wake up (if your sleep schedule is irregular, the location where you are at during midnight), you can select three other locations to teleport to. You can teleport three times a day. You can move around your teleport markers, but you have to physically go there to access them/move them

Double Jump: Self explanatory, you can jump twice, with slightly less height but half the stamina used as your regular jumping ability, and timing your second jump properly can significantly reduce the damage taken from high falls

[yandere-daydreams]

The suguru brainworms are really munching at my brain currently and I just got a deranged little thought.

Suguru would be the type to wash his darling's mouth out with soap for using colorful language. I'd imagine that darling would just assume he's joking when he's leading you to the bathroom, asking you to get on your knees and look up at him, open wide and he dumps some liquid soap into your mouth (specifically the one with the fish on the cover, a staple for every household) you'd half expect him to like idk use a bar of soap and not his dick to wash out your mouth and his cum probably tastes worst than ever.

Just a thought!

tw - physical abuse, non/con, infantalization.

i see the mommy!geto headcanons have been passed onto you as well. god truly does target his strongest soldiers with his worst afflictions.

he'd just be so infantalizing about it - clicking his tongue when you use yet another word he's asked you so nicely not to, taking your hand in his and guiding you so gently to the bathroom, making sure you have a towel to kneel on before he pushes you down to your knees. he takes his time, letting you squirm while he lathers up his hands, giving you long minutes to picture just how many fingers he's planning on forcing past your lips, just how long he'll keep them there, just how much crying it'll take before he decides you've learned your lesson. it's only when he starts pumping his fist over his shaft, using hand soap as a makeshift lube, that you really start to worry.

in the end, his cock is lodged halfway down your throat, soap and spit foaming at the corners of your mouth as you choke on the acrid taste. geto never lets go of your hair, never lets you pull away to breath, only cooing as you slowly suffocate on arousal and bubbles. it's only when he cums that he decides you've had enough, and even then, you're stuck with the aftertaste as he holds you in his arms and runs a bath - a reward for taking your punishment so maturely. you can only hope that, next time you're dumb enough to try and voice your thoughts sincerely, you'll remember to be more selective about your language.

[enviedear]

christmas dreaming ❅ jason todd

part of enviedear's winter wonderland... 🎧ྀི when jason overhears your complaint about the town’s lackluster christmas trees, he takes it as a challenge. every day, he stops by your store with an update—always casual, always shrugging off your insistence that it’s unnecessary. but beneath the easy smiles and weather-worn jacket, jason is on a quiet mission. for weeks, he’s combed through forests and farms, chasing the impossible—your perfect tree. and while he won’t admit it, this isn’t just about holiday spirit. it’s purely about you—and the way your smile might make the coldest december day feel warm. wc 1.4k | fluff. just toothrotting fluff. background on my farmer!jason au !

you never meant to set your own customer up for failure. truly. if you had known that by divulging your disdain for the local christmas tree selection you’d start jason todd on a nearly impossible mission—finding you the perfect tree.

for days, he’s come into your little general store to gently remind you that he’s still looking. despite you telling him that he really doesn’t have to go through all the trouble.

he always shrugs you off, even going so far as insisting upon the task. because for jason, this is his in. his way to show you how much he likes you. a perfect action to alleviate the ineptitude he feels with his words.

he’s working himself like a dog for it—for your joy. he’s consistently been up and searching before the sun fully rises, taking trips to neighboring towns, and going so far as to ask the other townsfolk—just for you. so you can have your perfect tree.

he has a list for himself. all the things he knows you want, and a few things he just assumes you may. so far the list contains the following:

a full tree—no sparse spruce! tall, but not too tall. wide, but not too wide. something that can fit in your living room, yet still maintain all your decorations. ethically sourced, of course. and finally, thick branches—for any especially heavy ornaments.

currently, he sits—freezing in his truck—waiting for the heat to kick on. it's a particularly dreary december day. grey skies, and land barren of foilage or much color. but aside from the weather's affliction upon the earth, jason's mind is peaceful. he feels contented by his task.

finding you the perfect christmas tree had seemed like a rather innocuous task at first, but your small town could certainly buy up all the good trees quickly. he started his hunt at the first of the month—and here he is, fifteen days in and tree-less.

he takes a peek at the list displayed on his dash, eyes taking in the mixture of your penmanship surrounded by his own. a shiver makes him cut his gaze back to the world around him—and he thinks back to you when he focuses in on fact that it's seven in the morning on a saturday, and he's up in the cold—for you. he wants to be annoyed at the fact he's not at all annoyed.

with a sigh that fogs his window—heat moreso tepid if anything—he puts his truck in drive and heads into the town over. praying that the farmer he talked to yesterday wasn't playing him for a fool when he promised to have 'just the one'.

just an hour and three miles down a dirt road later—jason's truck pulls into a small farm. there's a hand-painted sign in front of a barn, SMITH'S EVERGREEN’S, written in red paint and worn with age.

from the few trees he can see, there's nothing special. mostly quaint little things. nothing good enough for you. not in his eyes, anyway.

as he approaches the barn, a middle-aged man clad in flannel and wool emerges, rubbing his hands in hopes of hindering the cold.

“you that jason fella'?” the man asks, squinting at him.

“that’s me.” jason replies, offering a nod. “you said you had a good tree?”

the man scratches at his beard, lips quirking in a grin. “good? i said i had'a hell of a tree. saved it just like i said." he motions for jason to follow him, "c’mere.”

jason tails behind him until they reach the side of the barn, where a single tree stands, base wrapped in burlap and tied with twine. and despite himself—his breath catches. the thing's perfect—full and lush, with branches so thick they could hold every ornament you owned and then some. it wasn’t too tall, not too wide, and even standing in the dull morning light, it looked vibrant.

“hell of a tree alright.” jason murmurs, already imagining how it would look after you get your hands on it, the soft glow of lights and kitschy ornaments catching the reflections of your sweet smile.

“told ya.” the man hums, clearly proud of himself. “took a lotta pruning to get it lookin’ that good, but she’s a beauty.”

jason digs his wallet out of his back pocket without hesitation, counting out the cash. “i’ll take it.”

the entire drive back into town makes jason feel like both an impatient child and a concerned parent—he's at least ten over the speed limit but constantly checking his rearview. worried beyond belief that the tree may fall out of his truckbed or crumble with the wind. he’d gone overboard strapping it down, but for good reason.

this wasn’t just any tree. it was your tree. the one you’d reluctantly let slip that you could never seem to find—and he found it.

another hour and a mile of a dirt road, and he pulls into the lot of your general store. he gives himself a minute in his truck—he doesn't want to give it away before you see it.

the bell above the door jingles as he walks in, rubbing his hands together for warmth. you look up from behind the counter, eyes immediately lighting up when you spot him.

“jason!” you greet, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “you’re not seriously still out looking for a tree, are you?”

he shrugs, hands in his pockets. “what can i say? s'good challenge.”

you shake your head, chuckling. “listen, you don’t have to—”

“i found it.” he interrupts, voice soft and stable.

you blink at him, caught off guard—completely. “you…found what?”

“your tree,” jason said, his lips curving into a lopsided grin. “it’s outside waiting for ya.”

for a moment, you just stare up at him, and jason can feel his pulse quicken under your gaze. but then, you slip from behind the counter, brushing past him as you head for the door. he follows close behind, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets as you step outside and stop to peer into the bed of his truck.

“oh my god.” you breathe, enunciating every word. your eyes are wide as you take in the tree, tied down and dusted with frost—and impossibly perfect.

jason scratches the back of his neck, suddenly timid. “well, what do you think?”

you turn to him, breath visible in the frigid air as you struggle for the right words—words worthy of such a sweet deed. for a moment, it’s like you don’t know where to look, at the tree, or at him.

jason shifts under your gaze, his cheeks tinged light pink, though whether it’s from the cold or something else, you’re unaware.

“what do i think?” you repeat, tone shocked. your hand rises to cover your mouth as a laugh escapes, part disbelief, part absolute wonder. “jason…it’s perfect.”

the tension in his shoulders eases at your words, his lopsided grin softening into something sweeter. “yeah? checks all the boxes?”

“all the boxes and then some.” you take a step closer to the truck, reaching out to touch the spruce with such reverence that it makes jason’s chest tighten.

the tree is full, lush, and even more beautiful up close—exactly as he knew it would be. exactly what he wanted for you. exactly what he knew you deserved.

“how did you—” you glance back at him, shaking your head in disbelief. “i mean, this must’ve taken too much effort.”

jason shrugs, the movement casual, but the way his hands are buried in his jacket pockets betrays his nerves. “didn’t want you to settle for some shit tree—figured you deserved the best.”

your heart stutters like an old car’s engine at the sincerity in his tone. you let your hand fall from the tree and take a step toward him, your smile soft but radiant. “jason todd, you’re an angel.”

he chuckles, ducking his head as if to hide the way your words fluster him. “takes one to know one.”

“i mean it!” you insist, adamant now. “this…god, this is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. i don’t even know how to thank you.”

jason’s eyes flick to yours, a glimmer of hope and something deeper shining in them. “you don’t have to. i’m just happy you like it—really, that’s enough.”

for a moment, you’re both quiet, the only sounds the faint whistles of the wind and the distant hum of town life. on impulse, or maybe complete delusion, you step closer, standing up on tiptoe to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

the warmth of your lips lingers—even in the cold, and jason hates the fact that his breath catches amd his heart thumps franticly in his chest.

when you pull away, your head feels dizzy, and you avoid his gaze, second-guessing your boldness. but jason doesn’t let the moment pass—he tilts his head, catching your eyes with his own, and offers you a smile so soft it feels like a gift. with the corners of his mouth upturned, he speaks, “i don’t mind those sorts of thank you’s.”

[pressplay-if]

To think I was worried about this IF ending up too short for anyone to be interested.

The hospital section in this Chapter alone is only getting longer and longer. I keep thinking of new important details and little extra scenes to add just to complete the psych ward experience (TM).

Some interesting details about Zima and MC's past mental state below cut (might be important):

Zima has now had their first interview section, mainly determining the details of the nature of their past involvement with MC. There's a total of four options. If you enjoyed the choice of Stevie having a crush on MC, you're gonna love this.

MC can be hospitalized due to either depression or social anxiety, as these are the only conditions that I feel wholly comfortable writing. I considered also offering a combination of the two, but ultimately decided against it, as the MC's oast mental illness will eventually influence the future of the story and I want those paths to be very distinct and different.

Please mind that, while everyone who suffers from mental illness of any kind has their own totally subjective and individual experience with it, I'm writing social phobic and depressive MCs with certain "set" symptoms. Here are some set elements:

Social phobia MCs experience physical symptoms and selective mutism. They are nervous and quiet, so all their interactions, especially in the beginning of their hospitalization (even when picking the antagonistic options) will reflect that. So if you're wondering why MC seems to be acting meek or "submissive", it's bc of their affliction not allowing them to be as outspoken as they might like to be. Social phobia MCs have a general exhaustion of life, given they live in constant stress, but they do not self-harm. They are prone to sleep disturbances.

Depressive MCs experience listlessness, irritation (which can makes them more prone to acting aggressively), feelings of self-loathing and dissatisfaction. They have a heightened need for sleep and will report not wanting to get out of bed. They can, in fact, choose to be currently practicing self-harm, or to have done so in the past. However, even if they choose to have never self-harmed, they will report thoughts of suicide.

Either MC will be medicated during their time in the clinic. It's a small text section and a slight bit vague as my medical knowledge, despite my research efforts, is limited. The MC will get to choose how to feel about the drugs and the potential side effects, though.

Either MC will be able to additionally describe symptoms indicating neurodivergence.

Either MC can choose to be underage smoking, drinking or both during this time. Or neither, of course.

So thanks for reading all that! Small disclaimer: I know very well that the depression and social phobia symptoms I chose to write about are NOT universally representative. This all might sound like the routes are very set, but there's actually a ton of customization going on in this chapter, so don't you worry! (Also it's gonna be rly important for the future of the band)

[candy69gurl]

It's me I wanted to ask a student!Gojo x Student!reader,male x male,they are hidden in the basketball room or like changing room? were Gojo does an handjob at the reader and then when the reader cum Gojo is to worked up so he needs to fuck him?

Idk it's my first time asking yaoi so..umm thanks in advance

REALIZATION

PAIRING heart-throb Gojo Satoru x quiet shy boy (yaoi)

WARNING male x male, closet sex, dirty talks, handjob, cock rubbing, fingering, loss of virginity, anal, neck kissing, nipple play, cum on face, then some flulff and assuration (Red flag Gojo turns Green flag)

It's quite a sight, isn't it?

Everywhere he goes on campus, he's bombarded with screams, cheers, and catcalls from his adoring fans. The popularity, the attention, the admiration—he's practically swimming in it. It's a given: Gojo Satoru, the living, breathing epitome of Tokyo Metropolitan Technical College's ideal man, with his chiseled jawline, snow-white hair, and eyes as blue as the ocean on a clear summer day.

He's the golden boy of Tokyo Metropolitan Technical College, with a reputation that precedes him wherever he goes. Popular among both genders, and known to be quite the flirt, Satoru basks in the attention showered upon him by every student, acquaintance, and stranger alike. He's got a knack for getting his way, and he doesn't shy away from using his charm, wit, and skills to get what he desires.

And then there's the little matter of his romantic escapades.

Perhaps it's the thrill of the chase, or maybe just his insatiable curiosity, but one thing's for sure: Satoru never stays with a partner for long. He's the epitome of a commitment-phobe, moving from one girl to another, leaving a trail of broken hearts and bewildered faces in his wake.

It's become a running joke among his peers, the way he changes girlfriends as frequently as some people change underwears, LOL. But hey, it's all part of his charm, right?

For Satoru, variety is the spice of life, and he's determined to enjoy every flavor. He's not one to settle down with just one person, nor does he want to. In his eyes, the grass always seems greener on the other side, and he's more than eager to explore every blade.

But beneath his carefree facade and playboy lifestyle, there's a secret he's yet to reveal.

Amidst the chaos of his love life, there's a quiet, shy boy who's been nursing a secret crush on a girl—let's not say the name—for what feels like forever. She, however, has eyes only for Satoru.

But Satoru, as per usual, seems oblivious to this hidden affliction. He's too busy bask in his own world of popularity and admiration to notice the quiet boy's silent pining or the girl's unrequited love. He's a master of selective perception, focusing only on those who actively throw themselves at his feet. Little does he know, there's a hidden story unfolding right under his nose, one that could potentially shake his world.

One day, a new twist unfolds in the campus drama. A lottery determines that Satoru and the quiet, unassuming boy are to be paired up for a group project. Uproar and disappointment ripple through the halls, especially among the swooning fans who had hoped for a chance with Satoru.

The quiet boy, on the other hand, is a mix of surprise and confusion. He didn't expect to be paired with the campus heartthrob, the one his crush has been crushing on. Nonetheless, he remains silent, he does not want any drama in his life. He hopes to complete the project all by himself and add Gojo's name on it too.

Despite the disappointment all around, Satoru has another plan. He wants to befriend the quiet boy, not letting him carry the entire workload alone.

His interest in this new companion is more than just courtesy. He sees potential in the quiet, unassuming soul, and he wants to break through the shell of shyness and hesitation. He believes in teamwork, and he wants to show the quiet boy that they can make a great team together.

"Hey, buddy. No need for you to do all the hard work yourself, huh? Let's make a plan, and we'll make this project a piece of cake. So wait for me after school ends ,kay?"

The quiet boy nods uneasily, he hates to be the centre of attention, but whenever Satoru is talking to him or trying to him, everybody gives him a dirty look. Of course they are jealous, why this guy?

On hearing the news, the girl with a crush on the quiet boy rushes to him, her eyes wide with excitement and hope. "Is it true? Are you really working with Satoru?" she asks, desperation in her voice.

The quiet boy nods blushing furiously. "Please, please help me," she pleads, her eyes full of pleading. "I'll meet you outside the girls' changing room later today. I need to talk to you."

The quiet boy, his cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment, can't help but nod again avoiding eye contact.

But, as he agrees to meet his crush, he remembers the promise he made to Satoru. He recalls how Satoru told him to wait after school, but he can't shake the feeling that the busy, popular guy might forget or run late.

His heart tugs between loyalty and desire, Should I wait for Satoru first? Or should I stick to my promise with my crush? he wonders.

In the end, he chooses to wait for his crush, hoping beyond hope that his decision won't backfire.

After school, the quiet boy nervously waits at the designated spot, his heart pounding like a drum. He is earlier than usual he does not want to miss his chance with his dreamgirl. His anxiety heightens as a group of girls, the same ones who gave him dirty looks earlier, walks towards his direction. Panic surges through him, and he decides to hide near the locker room, peeking from the doorway.

As the girls pass by without incident, he breathes a sigh of relief. While the quiet boy nervously waits for his crush, Satoru is diligently keeping his word. He searches the school corridors until he spots the boy hiding near the "girls" changing room. Suspicion flares in Satoru's mind, and he approaches the mysterious rendezvous.

"Oooh, boy, what are you doing here?" Satoru teases, his voice filled with mischief. The quiet boy's heart jumps, caught in the act.

"P-please .. forgive me, I-I" he looks up to see Satoru with his cheeky smile, he lets out a sigh, "Oh.. you scared me"

"Why are you here? I told you to wait for me after school, so why you-.. Oh so are you trying to do some naughty thing here?" Gojo smirks.

"N-no.. I am n-" he is stopped by the sound of footsteps echoing and growing closer.

Just in time, Satoru pulls the boy into a small closet, the space barely fitting their bodies. They listen as the girls enter the room and the quiet boy's heart leaps as he hears the voice of his crush.

They're hidden, but the close quarters send a thrill through the boy. He can feel Satoru's warmth and hear his shallow breaths, his heart pounding in sync. This unexpected intimacy leaves the quiet boy even more flustered than before.

"It's all your fault, Satoru!" he whispers, his face burning with embarrassment, but Satoru chuckles softly, the dimple in his cheek deepening. "Hey, you were the one hiding in here first" he retorts playfully.

Then, their whispers are cut short by the familiar voice of the crush. "Oh, I hear Satoru's voice" she says, disappointment evident in her tone. Her friend pipes up, "Yeah, yeah, you always hear his voice"

The quiet boy's heart sinks as he hears his crush speaking. His only crush continues, her words leaving little to the imagination. "You don't know, I touch myself to thoughts of Satoru, I want him to fuck me, so hard and fast..." She trails off, adding more explicit details.

Satoru's laughter vibrates against the boy's back, his grip tightening ever so slightly. "What a down bad person" he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. The boy feels heat spreading across his face, both from the words and the situation.

Despite the embarrassment, the quiet boy can't deny the effect his crush's words have on him. His body responds, betraying him as he gets hard, brushing against Satoru's hand in the cramped space.

Satoru's laughter dies down, replaced by a low hum of appreciation. "Well, well, someone seems to be enjoying her horny imagination" he says, his voice a seductive rumble. The boy freezes, not sure how to react to this new turn of events. "Tell me do you have a crush on her" he teases.

Satoru does not know why but his hands move without warning, wrapping around the boy's suddenly hardened cock. It's a bold move, and the quiet boy is shocked. He's never even masturbated before, so he quickly covers his mouth to stifle any noise.

This unexpected touch startles and excites him, his breath hitching. Satoru's hands are warm and skilled, moving in a rhythm that sends shivers down the boy's spine. Despite the unusual situation, the quiet boy can't help but lean into the touch.

Satoru continues to tease the boy, his voice thick with amusement. "Imagining fucking her, huh? You're already leaking" he mocks, his fingers slipping beneath the boy's waistband with ease.

The quiet boy's breath hitches as Satoru's warm fingers brush against his most intimate place, his cheeks burning. He never imagined this would happen, but there's no denying the sensation is electrifying. He can't help but wonder how it would feel to be touched like this by his crush. His mind races with thoughts of what could be, his body responding to the taboo experience.

Satoru's fingers glide against him, and the boy bites down hard on his lip to suppress a moan. "But.. she can't make you feel the same way I do" he whispers into his ear, his voice husky and full of promise.

The boy's heart races, his breaths coming faster. He's never experienced anything like this before. He lets out a small moan, tears coming out of his as he is reaching his peak.

Satoru grips his cock tightly helping him to reach his best orgasm, but the boy lets out a loud whimper,

Outside the closet, the girls start whispering, discussing the sound they just heard. "Did you hear that?" his crush asks nervously, concern creeping into her tone.

Satoru reacts instinctively, pressing his lips against the boy's to muffle any further noise.

Their lips touch, soft yet firm, as Satoru continues to pump the boy to completion. The quiet boy's mind fills with a jumble of emotions - shock, arousal, and gratitude. He could taste the sweetness of Satoru's mouth, the connection sending sparks through him.

In this moment, the boy forgets about his all-ever wished girl, lost in the unexpected intimacy with Satoru. The pressure builds within him, the release imminent.

Satoru's kiss is brief, but potent. His lips move swiftly, breaking away just in time to allow the boy to let out a muffled gasp as he reaches his climax. Sweat drips down the quiet boy's forehead, his legs trembling as he comes.

As the aftershocks subside, Satoru pulls away, as the boy catches his breath, he hears his crush's friend snicker. "You're even hearing Satoru moaning, huh?" She teases, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Satoru pulls away, adjusting his clothes, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. He turns to the quiet boy, his eyes filled with a mix of mischief and warmth. "Did you like it?" he asks, a challenge in his voice.

The guy says nothing, he is too busy in getting over with the effects of the orgams. It's his first time after all.

Satoru listens carefully, hearing the footsteps fade. So he swings the door open, only for the poor boy to lose his balance and fall to the floor.

The quiet boy lies on the floor, his face flushed and sweaty, a testament to the intense experience they just shared. He's a sight to behold, tempting and vulnerable. His limp cock, covered in cum and nestled between his legs, is a clear sign of what just happened.

Satoru swallows hard, his erection straining against his pants at the sight before him. This feeling is unfamiliar, overwhelming. He's never felt this way for anyone, especially not for a boy. The thought that he could be attracted to a guy is foreign, yet undeniable.

Unable to hold back, Satoru unzips himself, his cock springing free. He approaches the boy, his heart pounding in his chest. He kneels before him, captivated by the sight of his cum-covered cock.

Slowly, he takes the boy's soft, sticky member into his hand, his own throbbing erection brushing against it. Satoru can't explain what's happening, but he feels an irresistible urge to claim this boy...

The quiet boy looks up at him, his eyes wide and filled with confusion and desire. He doesn't understand what's happening, but there's no denying the pull between them.

"What are you doing?!" he says in surprise, as Gojo keeps stroking himself against him.

"I want to fuck you" he confesses, his voice hoarse. The boy's eyes widen, shock etching across his features. "Are you crazy? I'm not gay!" he protests.

Satoru meets his gaze, his own eyes filled with sincerity. "Neither am I" he admits, his voice shaking slightly. "But I've never felt like this before. Please, I'll make you feel good."

The quiet boy takes a moment to process Satoru's words. He's never been with a guy before, let alone someone as confident and experienced as Satoru. But there's something in those blue eyes that makes him hesitate, something undeniably earnest.

He swallows hard, glancing down at their hard cocks. "I... I don't know" he murmurs, uncertainty creeping into his voice. "I... I'm not sure if I'm ready for this."

"Let me prepare you" Satoru says softly, his voice steady despite the nervousness echoing through the room. He pulls the boy closer, their bodies brushing intimately.

With gentle deftness, Satoru helps the quiet boy remove the rest of his pants, revealing his enticing ass. He can't help but swallow hard, desire coursing through him.

Reaching out, Satoru lubes his finger with his saliva and gently inserts a finger into the boy's tight entrance. The quiet boy gasps, his body tensing. He winces, the sensation foreign and unexpectedly pleasurable. He lets out a faint whimper, his dick hardening despite the confusion swirling in his mind. This sensation is new, foreign, yet undeniably good.

Satoru adds another finger, his movements slow and deliberate. The boy's eyes flutter shut, his body trembling under Satoru's touch. He's never felt like this before, overwhelmed by emotions and sensations.

"It's okay" Satoru whispers, his voice a soothing balm. "Just trust me."

He adds another finger, his touch steady and reassuring. The quiet boy takes deep breaths, trying to process the barrage of sensations assaulting him. His cock pulses in his hand, hard and eager.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Satoru asks, his voice laced with quiet triumph. "I promise, I'll make this good for you."

The quiet boy nods, his face flushed and breathless. Despite the confusion, he can't deny the pleasure coursing through him. Satoru's fingers inside him feel strange, yet exhilarating.

"Feels... strange," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "But...."

Satoru smiles, his fingers never pausing. He can feel the boy's body slowly relaxing, yielding to his touch. "Just relax, alright? You're doing great."

With a gentle tug, Satoru removes his fingers, the quiet boy's body protesting the loss. But before he can register what's happening, Satoru positions himself between his legs.

Their eyes meet, filled with anticipation and apprehension. With a slow, measured thrust, Satoru enters the boy, his cock sliding smoothly into his tight heat. The quiet boy gasps, his eyes widening in surprise.

Satoru's movements are slow and gentle, his thrusts deliberate. With every stroke, the quiet boy feels a rush of pleasurable sensations. He's never been with a guy before, let alone someone as skilled as Satoru.

"How does it feel?" Satoru asks, his voice husky. The quiet boy bites his lip, his heart pounding. "Unlike anything I've ever felt" he admits, his voice soft.

Satoru nods, his movements slow and gentle. His hands reach up, wrapping around the boy's cock. He strokes it in time with his thrusts, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

"Mghh~" the boy moans, his face reddening in heat. He can't believe he's enjoying this, enjoying Satoru's touch. His entire body trembling under the dual stimulation. The sensations are overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and vulnerability.

Embarrassment floods him, his face flushing bright red. He covers his face with a hand, hiding his reaction from Satoru.

Satoru chuckles softly, his thrusts growing more forceful. "You're so beautiful, you know that?" he murmurs, his voice thick with lust.

Satoru trails kisses down the quiet boy's neck, his tongue tracing delicate paths. With his other hand, he reaches inside the boy's shirt, his fingers brushing over his nipple. The boy jolts, a sharp gasp escaping him.

Unable to control his response, he cums, his walls tightening around Satoru's cock.

Satoru groans, his thrusts growing frantic. The quiet boy's reaction fuels his own desire, sending sparks of desire through him.

"Fuck" he breathes out, his voice rough. He slows his thrusts, letting the quiet boy ride out his orgasm. The boy's cum spills over his hand, the sight sending a shiver down Satoru's spine.

His grip on the boy's nipple tightens, his thumb rubbing it in a circular motion. The boy arches, his body trembling under Satoru's touch. "You feel so good" Satoru whispers, his voice thick with desire. "So tight, so warm" he groans, his hips bucking involuntarily. "I can't... I can't take it anymore."

He picks up the pace, thrusting harder and faster. The quiet boy's eyes widen, his body arching with each thrust. His skin glistens with sweat, the room filled with the sounds of their passion.

With a final thrust, Satoru pulls out, the quiet boy gasping for air. His body trembles, still reeling from the intensity of their encounter.

Satoru grips the back of the boy's head, guiding it towards his cock. The quiet boy hesitates, but then closes his eyes, bracing himself. Satoru's release pulses onto his face, hot and sticky. He opens his eyes, a look of surprise crossing his features. Satoru watches, his breath hitched, the boy's face painted with his cum.

Satoru kisses the quiet boy's forehead, gentle and tender. "Your crush wants me, but I want you" he confesses, his voice low. "And don't worry, I'll make our thing public. What do you say? Will you be mine?"

The boy's face is still red, his eyes wide. He thinks for a moment, hesitating. "But what if people—" Satoru cuts him off, placing a finger on his lips. "I don't care about people" Satoru interjects, his voice firm, "I only want you." He looks into the boy's eyes, filled with sincerity and desire. "I want everyone to know you're mine. I want everyone to see what we share, to see how special you are to me."

The boy swallows, his confusion evident. "You really mean that?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. Satoru smiles, his eyes shining.

"More than you'll ever know" he promises, his hand cupping the boy's cheek. His heart swells, feeling a sense of pride and joy. This boy, so quiet and innocent, has captured his heart in a way no one else has.

"We'll make it work, alright?" he continues, his gaze steady. "We'll face the world together, hand in hand. I'll protect you, I'll cherish you, and I'll love you until the end of time."

The next day, the quiet boy and Satoru walk through the halls, hand in hand. The sight catches everyone off guard, from girls to boys, jaws dropping in shock. The boy's ex-crush, caught off guard, stares in disbelief.

Satoru doesn't miss a beat. He looks around, his voice ringing with confidence. "Yes, he is my boyfriend" he announces, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

The whispers start, a ripple of shock spreading through the school. Satoru feels the eyes on them, but he doesn't let it bother him. He's made his choice, and he's not backing down.

"Don't worry" he tells the quiet boy, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "They'll get used to it. They'll see that we're happy, that we belong together."

The quiet boy looks up at him, a mix of fear and hope in his eyes. "What if they don't?" he asks, his voice low. Satoru chuckles, a small, reassuring smile playing on his lips. "They'll have to" he replies with a confident smirk. "I'm not the type of person you cross, remember?"

The quiet boy swallows, his heart racing. "But what if they... make fun of us?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. Satoru leans in, whispering in his ear.

"We'll show them what we have," Satoru repeats, his voice low and firm. "We'll be stronger together than any rumor or gossip. We'll prove to them that love knows no bounds, that our connection is real and powerful."

The quiet boy takes a deep breath, his grip on Satoru's hand tightening. "Okay," he says, his voice barely audible. "I trust you, Gojo."

Satoru smiles, his heart swelling with warmth. "That's my good boy" he kisses the top of the boy's head, while everyone watches them from confusion to awe.

Tagging @rabbidbunwy @sweetchildcloud

[kyrealm]

⭐️Pt 1 STARS OF THE SHOW!⭐️

My interpretations are half observational and half by the book with intuition being the glue! Feel free to leave your opinions below , i welcome all perspectives so long as they’re respectful 😉

-I’ve noticed that Ascendant trine sun people tend to get the “ohh that just (insert name) , don’t mind them” pass 😂

- Capricorn moon people have a subtlety to their power that gets overlooked. In terms of recognition I’ve noticed that these natives tend to attract recognition through what they’re drawn to / we’re gonna do anyways!

-10h suns get their 10’s for a reason no shade ! Even if the person who has this placement doesn’t act mostly on behalf of the suns desires , they still get looked towards as a beacon of light in the areas of legacy/standing the test of time. Once these people come into understanding the authority they’ve held all along and why it be over fr fr. 9/10 they’ll already know who they are but afflictions from say Saturn, Pluto , Uranus etc. can alter the energy in a way that stunts or distort the view they have of their light.

-fire venus/ placed in house 1 , 5 or 9

These people Truly have a love for keeping the fire burning whether it’s in conversation, romance or selective interest etc. these people truly appreciate self expression like no other. These are the type of people who can on the fly perform as if they’ve practiced for days on end. Once they find an outlet that they care about , no one can stop them from pursuing relentlessly besides themselves.

[neocrias]

all of my fears, my inner scars

synopsis: In a cursed village where the leaders plan to sacrifice their own to monsters in the forest, you escape for freedom and safety. But instead, you encounter a terrifying vampire who lives in an isolated castle. After an attack that leaves you on the brink of death, escape becomes impossible. Vernon’s dark castle is your new prison… or perhaps the key to your survival.

pairing: vampite!vernon x female reader wc: 5,8k genre/aus: thriller; suggestive

warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of death, violent content, +18.

No one could explain the reason for the countless misfortunes that plagued the small village where you lived. Before, life had been calm, peaceful, and quite prosperous – except for a few mysterious disappearances. The crops flourished, and the livestock were healthy. Now, the crops were devoured by pests, animals were disappearing, the water tasted strange, women and children fell ill constantly, and the men who volunteered to hunt in the forest never returned.

The leaders – the ones everyone accepted as leaders, though no one had ever chosen them – began to worry about the village's grim fate and proposed a very old practice as a miraculous solution.

— Dear villagers! — said one of the leaders, the eldest. — You all know that our village is plagued by terrible afflictions! But what have we done to the heavens to deserve such punishment?

His deep voice stirred the crowd, men and women shouted fervently at his words, shaking leaves of cycas revoluta to ward off curses. All the houses were decorated with these same leaves and scented with rue. Everyone took superstitions seriously, no one dared leave the village without a sprig of rosemary in their pockets. Mothers feared losing their children, and men feared not returning home before nightfall.

Everything was in chaos.

— We must calm its anger! — the second leader cried.

A murmur of “its?” and “who?” spread through the crowd, silencing the men standing on a sort of pulpit. Seeing the villagers’ agitation, the man smiled wickedly, his hollow eyes glinting with sadism.

— The beast! — he shouted. — The terrible monster that lives in the depths of the forest, he’s responsible for the curses. He’s poisoning the fertile land and killing our animals. We must appease him, or he’ll come after us, slaughtering our women and children; there will be nothing left once he’s satisfied.

— How will we do this? — the crowd cried, exchanging startled glances.

— A sacrifice! — said the last leader. — A virgin, as was done in ancient times.

The young girls in the crowd began to tremble, clinging tightly to the long skirts of their mothers, who, in turn, now appeared less confident. The last leader, noticing the women’s indecision and resistance – that made up most of the village now – rushed to continue.

— It only needs to be done once — he shouted. — One single life in exchange for many. A noble death.

— Who will it be? — a voice cried from the back, a man. — The chosen girl, who will it be?

The girls squirmed, hiding their faces in their mothers’ clothes, their small hands shaking and their eyes welling with fear at the thought of an imminent death. Mothers clutched their daughters tightly, terrified of losing them.

— Don’t worry! Young children will not be chosen — the leaders assured. — A careful conversation will be held to select a worthy offering who can rid us of these curses.

This did little to calm the villagers, but only one person really needed to fear the fate that awaited her, after all the girl had been chosen long before the solution was shared with the villagers.

You.

Consciousness returned slowly as if you were emerging from an endless nightmare. Your senses awoke one by one, revealing the cold dampness of the night, the smell of dry leaves, and the feeling of something hard against your body. You’re being carried, you realize with a shiver. Your body swayed with the heavy steps of the man holding you, and a throbbing pain pounded in your head, blurring your thoughts.

A growing panic took hold of you as you realized where you were and who was carrying you. You tried to move, but your body was still weak, your legs barely responding to your commands. Your heart raced, your breathing grew ragged, but before you could react, you heard a deep, mocking whisper:

— Finally awake, aren’t you, sweetheart? — said the youngest of the three leaders, with a venomous smile.

— Damn, finally! I thought she’d overdosed. — The man carrying you grumbled and dropped you to the ground.

You stumbled, your body still a bit numb, your legs trembling from cramps, and you only didn’t fall to the ground because the man held you roughly. Suddenly, you found yourself surrounded by them, the three of them looking at you with a predatory gleam in their eyes, their expressions cynical, as if they took pleasure in your vulnerability.

At some point in your life in the village, you had noticed those looks, but you never paid much attention. Surviving on your own, without family or friends - no one to rely on - already took all your energy. You focused on staying alive, ignoring the intentions of the men around you.

But now, in their presence, the discomfort you’d once felt was real fear and pulsing panic. Their expressions were open, undisguised, and filled with a malignant desire and a bitter resentment. The oldest leader tilted his head to the side and let out a dark laugh:

— And to think if you hadn’t been so proud… — he left the words hanging, intentionally unfinished, his eyes tracing your face and finally lingering on your body.

The three men encircled you, their dark faces illuminated by the faint lamplight, their eyes fixed on you with a threatening intensity, making it clear that their interest went beyond the sacrifice they had spoken of so fervently. When you finally found the strength to speak, your voice came out weak, but full of confusion and panic:

— Why are you… doing this?

For a moment, there was complete silence. Then, a laugh echoed, low and cruel, and the three men looked at you with cutting contempt. The oldest leader, his hollow eyes dark and menacing, leaned close so you could hear his cynical laughter up close. He grabbed your wrists firmly, pinning you to the damp ground, mud spreading across your skin as he brought his face close to yours.

— Why are we doing this? — he repeated, dragging out the words with irony. — Why do you think?

His words hit like a blow, revealing something deeper, something you’d been afraid to see. He laughed again, a cold sound full of resentment.

— Did you really think you could avoid us forever?

He pressed you harder against the ground, immobilizing you in the mud, his eyes now closer, full of contempt and barely hidden desire.

— So beautiful… A shame it has to end like this — muttered the second leader, crossing his arms as he watched the scene. — You know, I would’ve married you. You would’ve been protected, safe, and quite satisfied, but you chose to scorn us as if we were nothing.

You tried to move, but the grip was too strong, the weight of the oldest leader’s body preventing any chance of escape. The truth began to take shape on your faces as the panic inside you grew like an unrelenting wave.

The youngest of the three, with small, cruel eyes, shook his head with disdain. — If you’d been smarter, you could have saved yourself from this. Well, we have other plans for you now but don’t worry, sweetheart. It’ll be quick!

— Will it? — said the quietest of the three, his voice filled with sarcasm and poison. — I don’t think the creature will be satisfied if she suffers too little…

You shook your head in desperation. — Please, don’t-

— Sungjin… — the youngest warned, but the other just shrugged.

The eldest, who was holding you down, pulled a silver dagger from his back pocket and raised it above his head, smiling darkly. He let out a laugh as you struggled harder and closed your eyes, screaming in fear.

But instead of what you expected, you only felt the soft scrape of the silver tip against your cheek, making you shiver. Reluctantly, you opened your eyes to find the three men looking at you with sadism and twisted smiles. You turned your head, glancing from one face to another in confusion and dread.

— Silly… — the oldest cooed, and with the tip of the knife, he cut the high collar of your simple harvest dress, slitting it until your skin was exposed.

You groped at the ground around you, searching for something to grab onto, something you could use to strike at them and escape. The youngest of the three noticed what you were doing and kicked the ground near your hand, clearing away anything you could use to flee. Then he knelt beside you, holding both your wrists as their leader continued to cut the collar of your dress.

The terrified scream of the third man interrupted the others’ actions, and they turned around completely startled. Because of their large statures, you couldn’t see what they were looking at, but you knew it was bad by the way their bodies tensed.

The savage growl echoed through the trees, slicing through the heavy air with a bestial force. Before you could react, the body of the man on top of you was brutally torn away and ripped apart with a deafening noise. The blood of what was once the oldest leader now stained your skin and dress, and fear exploded in your chest, propelling you into instinctive, desperate movements.

You crawled through the mud, trying to escape the beast capable of tearing a man apart, looking up at the colossal creature standing before you. A monstrous figure, covered in thick black fur that absorbed all light around it, like a living shadow.

The powerful muscles moved beneath dense skin, each step causing a slight tremor on the ground as he advanced with a predatory and lethal grace.

The eyes, two large blazing embers, red as freshly spilled blood, locked onto you before shifting attention to the two remaining men with a glint of hunger and cruelty. The elongated snout revealed razor-sharp fangs, so long they barely fit in its jaw, dripping with thick saliva that glistened in the moonlight. Its hot and dense breath carried a metallic scent of blood, filling the air around with the smell of death.

The beast’s claws were enormous, like dark, gleaming daggers, each one capable of tearing flesh and bone with ease. The creature emitted a low, guttural sound, almost like a sadistic laugh, as it advanced toward the middle brother, throwing him to the ground with brutal force in a single move. The sound of bones breaking echoed, muffled only by his strangled cry of despair and pain that faded into the night. The beast then crouched over him, its fur soaking in blood as its teeth sank into the flesh.

You watched, paralyzed, unable to look away from the carnage before you, your mind swirling with terror and disbelief. The shadows seemed to dance around you as if every drop of blood attracted the very evil haunting the village.

The last man, the youngest leader, backed away slowly, his face a mask of pure terror as his eyes darted frantically between you and the creature that was now advancing toward him. He barely had time to scream before the monster struck him down, his body falling lifeless.

Breathing heavily, you stood up, legs trembling and heart racing. Your mind was a whirlwind of terror and confusion, desiring one thing only: to escape. You ran as soon as you could, stumbling in the mud and over roots, unsure of where to go, guided only by the need to distance yourself from that carnage and avoid a painful, imminent death.

Adrenaline was all that kept your legs moving, even as your feet became bruised and bloody from stepping on broken branches and sharp stones. You continued running without thinking, each heartbeat echoing like a frantic drum in your ears. Blood still pulsed in your temples, and the metallic smell mixed with sweat and mud covering your skin only intensified the sense of terror corroding your senses.

With each step, the forest seemed to close in around you, the twisted shadows of trees extending like deformed, menacing fingers. You refused to look back, afraid of what you might see – the creature with red eyes, the claws that tore bodies as if they were nothing, the growls that still echoed in your mind. The ground beneath your feet was treacherous, filled with roots and sharp stones, but the pain in your feet was just another detail you ignored, fighting to keep moving forward.

Suddenly, the forest opened into a corridor of trees, the twisted trunks like dark guardians of a forbidden path. The silhouette of something massive emerged in front of you: an ancient construction, a fortress of dark, impenetrable stone. A castle. You stopped for a second, panting, your mind was torn between the impulse to enter or try a different direction, but a distant, familiar growl broke the night's silence again, and the decision was made in an instant.

Without thinking twice, you ran toward the castle. Your hands trembled as they touched the worn, damp, slippery stone stairs. The steps were narrow and winding, like a serpentine path climbing the fortress's side, almost like a mountain road. The cold wind whipped against you, lashing your face and mixing with the sweat and dried blood, while you climbed without stopping, stumbling but refusing to give up.

You hesitated at the door, your trembling fingers tracing the rough surface of the old, heavy wood, dark as coal and damp as if it had never seen the sun. There was no time to think; another growl tore through the forest's silent air, and your hand, almost acting on its own, pushed the door. It creaked with a grave, ominous sound, revealing a cold, damp interior steeped in shadows.

The air inside was dense and icy. Each step echoed as a ghostly sigh while you advanced, feeling the weight of the walls around you as if the castle itself were breathing. You knew you weren’t safe here, but if the alternative was facing the creature outside, the castle had become your only hope. The silence of the castle enveloped you in a cold embrace, and your heart still pounded uncontrollably, adrenaline sustaining your caution, trying to figure out where to go and what to do.

You followed a long corridor, shadows seeming to stretch and intertwine around you, guiding you to a grand room at the end of the path. As soon as you crossed the carved stone arch, your gaze was immediately drawn to the center.

The throne made of bones was a macabre and impressive work of art. Countless interwoven bones formed its base and structure, arranged with terrifying precision and symmetry, composing a throne worthy of a dark king. Human and animal skulls were arranged in layers, forming a deadly crown around the man seated at its center, enclosed by a prison of bones, reinforcing his aura of power and predation. There was something disturbingly alive in how these skulls seemed to gaze at anyone who approached. Every detail seemed to breathe darkness, and you felt that if you got closer, the cold of the bones would engulf you, bringing with it all the secrets and sufferings of those immortalized there.

Vernon sat there, motionless, as if he were a statue sculpted by a divine artist. His skin was of flawless paleness, so delicate and translucent it could easily be compared to porcelain. His face was angular, with severe and incredibly beautiful lines, a dark, well-defined brow that highlighted even more the icy sharpness of his eyes. The gaze – cold, cruel, piercing – seemed to cut through you with unsettling ease, as if he could see every hidden fear and thought within you.

The dark black hair fell around his face with an almost ethereal softness, glinting in the room's dim light, making him stand out even more amid the shadows. He exuded a surreal beauty, too perfect to be human, unreachable and dangerous, something out of a dream. And yet, everything about him inspired dread: every detail, from the predatory look to the barely-there smile curving his lips, showed a threat that couldn’t be ignored. You felt every cell in your body scream to run, but something stronger – perhaps his very presence – held you captive, hypnotized.

Vernon was imposing, a figure that dominated the entire space with undeniable authority, and the aura around him was dark and powerful. Whoever he was, he looked at you as a helpless prey who entered the predator's territory unknowingly.

The simple sight of him was enough to steal the air from your lungs. You didn’t know his name, or what he was, but even so, you knew you were in the presence of something ancient, far older than you could imagine.

When he finally moved, leaning slightly on the throne, your heart skipped a beat. And then, a single word, soft and laden with danger, slipped from his thin lips: — Who dares enter my castle?

You felt the impact of his voice reverberating throughout your body, a low, cutting sound that seemed to grip your heart with invisible claws. His sharp gaze was the last thing you saw before everything began to blur and darken. Your body felt heavy, as if being pulled down, the ground coming closer, and you felt your legs give way, unable to bear the weight of fear any longer.

Your field of vision narrowed until only shadows surrounded you, like a dark veil closing slowly. The sound of your heartbeat echoed, muffled, and your mind grew cloudy and unfocused. The sensation of being pulled away from yourself intensified, as your senses faded one by one. All that remained was the cold feel of stone against your skin…

And then, nothing.

When your eyes opened again, a face was looming above you. Vernon was even more intimidating up close, his flawless, unreal skin under the shadows hanging over him. He gazed down at you with a look of disdain and cruel curiosity, as if examining a broken insect. His eyes slowly traced over your blood - and mud-streaked face -, then over your injured body, as if trying to decipher every mark of pain and suffering you bore.

In his expression, there was a hint of interest, cold and impersonal, an almost predatory fascination with your fragility.

Realizing you were awake, he curved his lips into an icy smile, his eyes glinting with a silent threat. In one swift, ungentle motion, he gripped the torn collar of your dress, pulling you to stand, despite your trembling legs and aching body.

— What do you think you’re doing in my castle, little creature? — he murmured, his voice low and disdainful, full of curiosity.

His touch, though delicate, was impossible to ignore. His cold fingers held the fabric tightly, and the slight smile on his face suggested he already knew the answers—he just wanted to see you struggle, vulnerable, as you tried to explain your presence.

Fear coursed through your veins like poison, even as the question lingered in the air, laden with palpable tension. You tried to respond, but the words tangled in your throat, choked by panic and pain. The sense of helplessness was overwhelming, and you squirmed, trying to break free, but your strength seemed to slip like sand through your fingers.

Vernon continued observing you with disdain and amusement. His smile was a thin mask covering the cruel curiosity that sparkled in his red eyes. When he tilted his head, assessing every fragment of your being, every ragged breath, and tremor of fear.

— Silence, then? — he whispered, but his voice still held an authority that allowed no opposition. Vernon brought his face close to yours, and the smell of damp earth and fresh blood surrounded you, sending a chill down your spine. — Do you think you can escape your fate?

You tried to avoid his piercing gaze, but it was as if an invisible force compelled you to meet his eyes. Fear burned like a wildfire in your chest, and as he leaned closer, you felt the sensation of drowning in the darkness of his gaze. Emotions clashed within you – despair and the determination to live.

— I am not an offering — you finally managed to murmur, your voice rough and weak, almost a challenge. The tone of your voice made a subtle smile form on his lips, but there was no joy, only a recognition of your bravery — or perhaps your foolishness.

— I’m not the one who decides, dear. Your village has already chosen your fate — he replied, irony evident in his words. — Pathetic. Sacrificing virgins as if that would solve the plagues that they created.

— It wasn’t a sacrifice — you denied it, knowing your fate was still death, but it was not justified as the village’s salvation. Still, your heart tightened at his contempt and mockery of your pain. — You have no idea what you’re talking about!

But Vernon’s expression remained impassive, his eyes fixed on you as if analyzing every word.

— I’m not interested in the concerns of a village that ignores its destruction, although sacrifices always have the finest blood…

His words resonated like a death knell, and you felt hope slip away. But amid the despair, a thought arose. You should fight, and find a way to escape, even if every fiber of your being screamed to surrender to the terror Vernon represented.

Vernon noticed your hesitation, pulling you closer, the fury behind his gaze now evident. — What will you do now? What do you desire?

A challenge. A spark of determination rekindled within you. — I want freedom — the words came out as a whisper, but there was an intensity in them that changed his expression. The disdain transformed into something deeper as if he were assessing the essence of your soul. Vulnerability mixed with a glimmer of courage for a brief moment, the air between you charged with possibilities.

— Freedom, you say? — he repeated thoughtfully. — Do you think that’s something you can have? What would you do to earn it?

— I… — you began, your heart pounding fiercely within your chest. — I’ll do whatever it takes. Just let me go.

Vernon smiled, but it offered no comfort, only a promise of a negotiation in which you’d never come out ahead. The game between the two of you had taken on a new form, and you found yourself walking a tightrope between life and death, between freedom and captivity.

— Then let’s see what you’re made of — he said, releasing your collar but keeping his gaze fixed, as though every move you made was being evaluated.

You didn’t back down, though you wanted to, you knew you had to face him head-on, with every ounce of courage you had left, preparing for the next step with the monster before you. An enigma wrapped in shadows and desire.

The atmosphere in the castle grew dense, as though the air was electrified by an impending storm. Vernon moved around you, surrounding you with his presence and power, his steps silent and graceful, like a serpent ready to strike. Every movement was laced with grace, and you found yourself struggling not to shrink back, not to let his presence intimidate you.

— Ah, the fair virgin — he whispered against your ear, his seductive voice dancing in the space between you. 

Vernon dragged his cold fingers across your jaw, leaving a trail of goosebumps that ran down the length of your skin and weakened your knees, clouding your mind with an uncontrollable urge to melt into the arms of imminent death.

Your eyes became hazy, and your eyelashes trembled with an uncontrollable urgency to shutter your eyes closed. Your soul sought his touch, the same way your lungs sought oxygen. You turned your head to the side, looking at the man behind you.

— Is it freedom you seek? Or deep down, is there a hidden desire for something… more thrilling?

You swallowed hard, your emotions a mix of anger and confusion. The way he moved closer, how the dim light of the lanterns reflected on his pale face, made your heart race, but you wouldn’t give in to the attraction you felt. He was just toying with you, you knew you shouldn’t fall into his traps.

— I am not a plaything for your amusement — you replied, your voice firm, though a tremor had started to seep into your words.

Vernon tilted his head, examining you intently. — That’s exactly what you are, dear, a game. What do you think happens when a little mouse gets lost in the cat’s den? Do you think there’s a way out?

He was almost touching you, and the intensity of his presence left trails of fire on your skin, the warmth spreading throughout your body, mingling with the cold of the surroundings. You found yourself wondering if he felt the same if this attraction was just an illusion born of fear — or perhaps it was exactly what he wanted you to feel.

— What do you want? — you asked, your voice now a whisper, almost defiant, but the emotions you were trying to suppress began to bubble to the surface.

Vernon smiled in a way that was both charming and terrifying.

— Intriguing. I could want many things... Your submission, perhaps? Your despair? Or maybe a piece of your resistance, just to see how you break under pressure?

He grasped your chin, tilting your head back against his shoulder. He inhaled along the length of your neck, reveling in the sweet, pure scent that you carried in your being. His red eyes glistened in the darkness; his scent was intoxicating, deep, and primal, making your body react even against your will.

— I will not play your game! — you murmured, indignation breaking through in your words, though your conviction had already begun to waver. What he was doing was dangerous, and you knew you were playing a risky game, a dance of seduction and power.

— You already are, my dear — the provocation in his voice was clear. — Every word you speak, every emotion you reveal, only feeds my curiosity. Do you not understand what’s at stake here?

You tried to remain firm, pulling your face away from Vernon’s touch, but his gaze was so hypnotic it was hard to focus.

— I know you're feeling something you shouldn’t — he whispered, brushing your hair from your shoulders. The soft touch of his cold fingers on your skin made you close your eyes, holding in a sigh. — Your scent betrays you, darling. Part of you wants to surrender, while the other tries to break free.

You bit your lips, trying to keep your composure, but his words were a direct assault on your resistance and desire. The tension between you was oppressive, and the warmth of his body enveloped you as if he were a flame and you, a moth drawn to the light.

— You can’t deny there’s something between us — he whispered, challenging you. — Something that transcends your fear. And if you allowed yourself to feel, you might discover a pleasure you never imagined possible.

His proximity was almost unbearable, and you found yourself on the thin line between surrender and struggle. Each word was a trap, and you were already ensnared in the web he wove without realizing it. Vernon smiled, knowing he was winning the little power struggle between you.

— Surrender, darling.

— I'm no fool — you replied, your voice now weaker, the defiance almost fading into uncertainty.

— No, you're an untamed spirit — he replied, his penetrating gaze making your heart race even more. — And that's your true beauty. But what will you do when your resistance begins to crumble? Will you surrender your soul to me or run away like a frightened kitten?

— I’m not afraid of you— you declared, although your words were nothing more than lies that didn't convince him at all.

— Oh, you are. And it’s that fear that makes this all so delicious. Now, what will you choose? Resistance or surrender?

You found yourself at the edge of a precipice, Vernon’s question resonating in your mind as he awaited your answer, his eyes gleaming with a near-predatory expectation.

Vernon leaned in closer, his eyes penetrating your soul. The space between you diminished even further, and he leaned in, his lips separated by only a breath. You felt the warmth of his presence, and the way he held your hair, elegantly pulling it, made your heart race. He left a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth, intimate and provocative, as if he were peeling away every layer of defense you’d built over the years.

Your eyes met, and you blinked slowly, the internal struggle beginning to dissipate under the intensity of the moment. The way he moved, so close and yet so distant at the same time, made you feel a deep connection that defied your logic.

— I can give you everything you’ve never had — he whispered seductively. — Pleasure, power, freedom. The choice is yours, but you must be willing to surrender.

You hesitated, but something within you, a curiosity and desire, began to shine brighter than fear. You’d never allowed yourself to feel like this, never surrendered to anyone. And yet, here he was, this magnificent and terrifying being you didn’t know, offering a new life, a new experience you never thought you could have.

— I… — you began, but the words were lost as he touched your face with his cold fingers, the softness contrasting with the strength he emanated.

In an unexpected movement, he pulled your face close, pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was eager and intense, an explosion of sensations that seemed to break all barriers. It was as if he’d awakened something inside you, a passion and desire that had been hidden, ready to emerge. You felt his cold, demanding lips molding to yours, and the ferocity of the moment consumed you both.

The elegance of the kiss contrasted with the urgency of the moment. It was as if you had known each other for centuries, every movement perfectly synchronized, a supernatural connection. Your emotions intertwined – passion, fear, desire, and a silent understanding that went beyond words. You surrendered, the world around you fading, and for a moment, there were no curses, villages, or sacrifices, only the two of you.

You brought your hands up to his neck, feeling the softness of his skin beneath your fingers, and sighed, surrendering to the intensity of the moment. As he felt your warm sigh against his lips, he abruptly pulled back, surprising you. Your eyes widened in confusion, and before you could protest, he turned you around, lifting you effortlessly into his arms.

You were surprised by Vernon's speed and strength as he walked to the throne of bones, your pulse quickening with each step. The sinister throne of skulls and bones didn’t terrify you as you expected; in fact, you felt safe, as if that were your place.

Vernon sat, placing you gently in his lap, his powerful presence enveloping you as he observed you with a burning need. The intimacy of the moment was palpable, and you realized that the surrender that once seemed distant now became inevitable.

— Now, you are mine — he declared, his eyes shining with a mix of desire and possession. — And there is nothing you can do to change that.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at those words. Vernon’s tone was final, laden with an authority that seemed to carve his declaration into the air. Your heart raced unevenly, torn between the fear of the unknown and an attraction that felt impossible to resist.  

— I’m not an offering, sir — you replied, your voice low but defiant, reaffirming. It was a fragile attempt to maintain some control over the situation, though your own will was dissolving under the weight of his gaze.  

Vernon’s lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile as if savoring the confrontation. He tilted his head, his fingers softly tracing the line of your jaw, a touch that felt both like a promise and a threat. Suddenly, he grabbed both sides of your face, locking you in place and reclaiming the dominance he so effortlessly exuded.  

— You’re a bad liar, my sweet little creature. — His voice was a husky whisper, each word dripping with an unsettling familiarity. — Your body has already made its choice. Your soul… well, it was mine the moment you ran straight into my castle.  

You couldn’t explain why, but those words sent a tremor of anticipation and dread through your body. He was terrifying, his sharp eyes reflecting pure power, and everything about him screamed danger. Yet, the gods knew just how much you had longed for the idea of belonging.  

In a late, unpremeditated reflex of self-preservation, you tried to pull away, but his arms tightened around you, firm as steel. Yet there was a surprising gentleness in his control over you. Your eyes never left his, and you saw something there deeper than desire or possession — an abyss of conflicting emotions, dark and seductively enigmatic.  

— Why..? — you whispered, the question slipping out before you could hold it back. — Why is all this happening?  

Vernon paused, his expression softening for a brief moment, as if your question had struck a chord he didn’t expect. His fingers stilled, and he leaned in closer, his lips hovering dangerously near yours.  

— Because, my dear, you’re the only one who can destroy everything — he murmured. — Or save it.  

His words resonated within you like a distant echo of a forgotten prophecy. Before you could process them, Vernon pressed his lips to yours again, this time slower, as if he wanted to etch every second into his memory. The intensity lessened, but the gesture carried a deeper, more possessive meaning.  

When he pulled back, his eyes gleamed with determination.  

— But you won’t have a choice. In the end, you’ll understand.  

And then, he ran a hand along the side of the throne, a casual gesture that made the shadows around you come alive, making even the bravest warriors tremble in fear. The sensation of being under his power was overwhelming; the shadows danced and twisted, forming barriers that pulsed with living energy. It was as though the entire world bent to his will, molding itself to seal your fate.  

Now, more than ever, you felt like you were walking toward something inevitable.  

Vernon’s lips returned to yours, but this time with an urgency you hadn’t expected. It was as though all the careful control he had shown earlier was dissolving. His kisses became more desperate, less precise, yet there was still an innate elegance in every touch. His lips trailed down the line of your jaw, exploring with an almost reverent attention.  

You sighed as you felt his lips trace a slow, deliberate path down your neck, the warmth of his breath sending shivers through your skin. When he reached your shoulder, his kisses became softer, but the weight of the moment was even more intense. Each touch seemed to claim you, marking not your skin but something deeper, something essential.  

Vernon’s hands, large and firm, slid down your back to your hips. You felt the precise strength of his fingers as he held you, as though he didn’t just want to touch you but anchor you to him. Without warning, he pulled you down against him, the movement firm and possessive. Your body responded before you could think, a warmth spreading through your veins as the closeness between you seemed to erase any trace of space or doubt.  

— You feel it, don’t you? — he murmured against your skin, his voice low and laden with a desire that felt inescapable. — This connection… the destiny.  

His words touched something deep inside you that you didn’t know existed, a call that echoed in your very soul. Your breathing grew uneven, and for a moment, you thought of protesting, of pulling away. But when his fingers lightly pressed against your hips, a fire ignited in you, burning away all doubt.  

You brought your hands to his shoulders, trying to steady yourself, but Vernon tilted his face, his dark eyes meeting yours with an almost overwhelming intensity.  

— Don’t fight it, my little creature — he whispered, his voice both a command and a plea. And then his lips were on yours again, more insistent, more voracious. His movements became less calculated, more primal, as though the entire world around you had disappeared, leaving only the two of you and the destiny he seemed so determined to claim.  

Vernon acted like a man insatiable — if he was a man at all. He sought to claim every piece of you with his kisses and needy touches as if quenching the longing for something he hadn’t possessed in a long time. What remained of his earlier delicacy gave way to something raw and primal.  

His lips explored your skin hungrily, descending along your neck and collarbone, where he paused for a moment, pressing kisses that sent a scorching heat through your body. The sharp tips of his white teeth scraped against the crook of your neck.  

You felt his hands grip your hips more firmly, as though he wanted to fuse the two of you into one. He pulled you even closer, and the force of the gesture made you gasp against his lips, the sound escaping involuntarily.  

Vernon lifted his head for a brief moment, his eyes gleaming with an almost feral intensity as he watched you, each heavy breath of his matching your own.  

— See? — he murmured, his voice rough, almost unrecognizable. — You belong to me, little creature.  

Before you could respond, he tilted his head again, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that seemed to consume everything around you. He moved his hands with confidence, exploring the curves of your body with a mix of urgency and reverence, as if engraving every detail into his memory.  

When he slid one hand along your side, the other remained firm on your hip, holding you against him. His breath was warm and uneven as he kissed the curve of your shoulder, slowly trailing down to the base of your neck. Each movement made your body react in ways you couldn’t control, a mix of desire and a strange sense of surrender that left you breathless.  

You found yourself gripping his shoulders tighter, your fingers digging lightly into his skin as a wave of overwhelming emotions washed over you. Vernon noticed, and his arrogant smile returned for a moment. He leaned his body, adjusting your position on the throne of bones, and you realized just how much at his mercy you were. But strangely, there was no fear. Only an intensity so overwhelming that resisting felt impossible.  

The bones beneath you creaked slightly, creating a trail of mystery and unease, but you were so absorbed by his presence that all you could feel was the electricity flowing between you.

As Vernon held you firmly, his lips traced a gentle path along the length of your neck, each touch affectionate. You tilted your head back, giving him space to continue kissing the skin of your neck and shoulders, holding onto his broad shoulders, trying to find balance as he enveloped you in his powerful presence.

— I missed you so much, darling — he murmured, but the words left you confused as if a mystery lingered over you. What does he mean by that?

Before you could ask, Vernon bit your neck, and the sharp pain exploded through your body, making you scream. It was intense as if time had stopped for a moment, while you found yourself lost between pleasure and agony. The feeling of blood trickling down your skin, the awareness of what was happening, all turned into a nebulous confusion.

You began to feel dizzy from the blood loss, your vision beginning to darken as a metallic taste spread in your mouth. And then, you were thrown to another place, another life.

A vast open field stretched as far as your eyes could see, the fresh morning air still carrying the dampness of the previous night’s rain. Your bare feet sank gently into the wet grass, the sensation both comforting and raw as if grounding you to the earth in a way few things could. Ahead of you, an enormous creature rested. Its coal-black fur gleamed faintly under the first rays of sunlight, and its red eyes, which could inspire terror in any mortal, gazed at you with a mix of reverence and affection.

To the world, he would be a living nightmare, a sight capable of freezing even the bravest in their tracks. But to you, Monster was just that: a big, needy baby, whose soul was as heavy as the footsteps he left upon the earth. You reached out instinctively, your fingers sliding through the dense, coarse strands of his fur as he closed his eyes briefly as if savoring the tenderness of your touch.  

— Who’s my favorite guardian? — you asked in a soft, almost whispered tone, as if protecting a precious secret.  

He replied with a deep, guttural growl, easily mistaken for a threat, but you knew it was pure happiness. A sound that vibrated in his chest, resonating through the air, and brought an involuntary smile to your lips.  

— Yes, it’s you — you confirmed, your eyes meeting his once more.  

There was something deeply moving in that exchange of gazes, an understanding that transcended words and forms. You knew he was more than the monster his fearsome appearance suggested – he was yours.  

Your guardian. The creature who would kill anyone just to protect you.  

He moved closer, his massive head resting gently against your shoulder, as though seeking a comfort only you could provide. The connection between you was as visceral as it was inexplicable. In the vast and silent field, surrounded only by nature, you were two exiles who had found a home in each other.  

Vernon’s whispered voice pulled you from that memory, only to throw you into another, further back. — It’s been so many years this time, darling. I suffered every day you weren’t here.

The small room seemed even smaller under the silver moonlight timidly filtering through the dusty window. The air was heavy, almost tangible, carrying the unspoken intentions that lingered between you and Vernon. Shadows danced on the walls, partially concealing your figure as he remained motionless, a predator waiting for the right moment.  

— I know you're here, Vernon. — Your voice cut through the silence firmly, but not without a hint of provocation. — Come out now.  

For a moment, everything stayed still, the sound of your breathing filling the room. Then, he emerged from the shadows with the ease of someone who had always belonged to them. The smile that spread across his lips was predatory, sharp, and dangerous. He ran his tongue slowly over his fangs, a gesture that should have made you uncomfortable but only fueled the tension between you.  

— You were quite confident I’m not a killer — he said, his voice low, laced with a veiled threat.  

You raised an eyebrow, responding with a defiant smile as you stepped forward, closing the distance between you.  

— You are a killer, darling. — Your provocation was accompanied by a look that said you knew exactly what you were getting into.  

Before you could react, Vernon moved with feline speed, his strong arm wrapping around your shoulders as he lifted you effortlessly. Your back met the wall with a light impact, enough to remind you of your vulnerability. He leaned in, bringing his face closer to yours, his warm breath brushing against your skin.  

— Then you should be terrified — he murmured, the threat in his words softened by the kisses he trailed along your shoulder. His lips were insistent yet controlled, struggling against the evident desire to bite.  

You tilted your head, exposing more of your neck in a gesture that seemed both defiant and submissive.  

— I’m not afraid of you, darling. — Your voice was low but carried a strength that made Vernon’s eyes narrow.  

He laughed, a deep, almost amused sound, as he tilted his head to the side, observing you like he was assessing his next move. Suddenly, his tongue slid across your cheek, an unexpected gesture that carried as much challenge as it did desire.  

Before you could respond, he lowered his head, his teeth capturing your shoulder gently. The bite was firm but controlled, leaving a trail of heat where his fangs grazed your skin. There was no pain, only enough pressure to remind you of who he was and the power he held at his fingertips.  

The air around you seemed to crackle, charged with an almost tangible electricity. It was as if fate itself was caught in the fine lines between you, pulling you closer with every word, every touch, every provocation. And in that moment, in the silence of the moonlit room, you knew there was something irrevocable about what you shared.

— Nothing will take you from me now, I promise — Vernon's voice pulled you out of that memory again, throwing you into a much more cruel one.

The world around him seemed to crumble slowly, as if time itself had decided to prolong the agony of the moment. Vernon knelt by your side, his hands trembling as they held yours, his eyes lost in a void so deep it seemed there was no return. The shadows on his face highlighted the pain etched into his expression, every feature marked by guilt and remorse.  

Your body felt heavy, sinking into something that was both physical and ethereal, as if the line between life and death was dissolving. The pressure of the silver dagger embedded in your chest was a constant reminder of what was happening. Each breath felt like a battle, the air burning your throat as the metallic taste of blood filled your mouth. You coughed, the weak, wet sound breaking the somber silence that surrounded you both.  

Vernon’s eyes finally met yours, and something in them shifted. The pain he had tried to hide spilled over, leaving him as vulnerable as you. He gripped your hand tighter, as if that alone could stop you from slipping further away.  

— This won’t happen again, darling, I promise. Never again. — His voice broke on the last word, every syllable laden with the hopelessness of someone who had already lost everything and couldn’t bear the thought of losing again.  

You wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. There was no strength to form the syllables that might have eased his pain—or yours. The connection between you, even in such a tragic moment, was unbreakable, a bond forged in something deeper than time or circumstance.  

Vernon lowered his head, pressing his forehead against your bloodied hands as if praying to a god he knew would not listen. His body trembled slightly, but his resolve was clear. He wasn’t just making a promise to you; he was making it to himself.  

The distant sound of thunder rumbled through the air, but neither of you paid it any attention. The world outside was irrelevant. There was only the two of you, trapped in that instant, sharing the pain and love that defined the essence of everything you were.  

And as the light began to fade from your vision, you saw something in Vernon’s gaze. Not just regret or sorrow, but a dark, almost dangerous resolve. Something that said, if he had to defy fate itself to keep that promise, he would.  

Reality rushed back to you like a lightning bolt, cutting through the haze of unconsciousness that had clouded your mind. Your body was overwhelmed by a new and strange sensation—a mix of overpowering strength and unsettling vulnerability. Your eyes opened slowly, and the world around you seemed sharper, more alive, as though every detail carried an intensity you had never noticed before.  

And then your eyes locked on him again.  

Vernon’s figure was cloaked in an aura of dark majesty, but there was something different in his sharp eyes—a rare warmth.  

— Vernon? — Your voice came out as a fragile whisper, full of confusion and recognition.  

He didn’t respond immediately, merely continuing to watch you, as if committing every detail of your expression to memory. Tears began to stream down your face, tracing warm paths over your cheeks as you struggled to process what had happened.  

— What did you do? — Your voice trembled, laden with disbelief and a mix of surprise and anxiety.  

Vernon leaned forward, the shadow of a smile on his lips, but his eyes were intense, carrying the weight of the world.  

— I transformed you. — His voice was deep yet soft, a combination of disdain for the world around him and a nearly desperate affection for you. — You will never be apart from me again. I cannot lose you, not ever again…  

His words struck you like a blow and an embrace all at once, and your body shuddered. Vernon extended his hand, his fingers brushing your face with a tenderness that contrasted with the possessiveness in his gaze.  

— You are mine forever. — He declared, the words sinking deep into your soul, sending shivers down your spine.  

You closed your eyes, feeling emotions crash within you—the despair of this sudden twist in your life, the weight of eternity beside someone as intense as Vernon, and a spark of something undeniable that felt much like relief. As you trembled in his arms, his firm hands held you steady, anchoring you to a new reality.  

And there, in that room consumed by silence and Vernon’s overwhelming presence, you realized there was no going back. The line between love and obsession, between fear and desire, was completely blurred.  

You belonged to him, just as he had always belonged to you.  

Forever.

[flawseer]

Jade Mountain Academy students

#6 - Skywing chapter

I like Skywings a lot actually. I think they were underutilized in the story. And then there is Flame. Poor, lovable Flame. One day I would like to write a more in-depth think piece on him, his character, and his role in the story. But not today, so here are some Skywings:

Carnelian

Tribe - Skywing

Winglet - Jade

Color - Tomato red

Relatives - none on site

Clawmate(s) - Moonwatcher (Nightwing), Kinkajou (Rainwing)

Favorite subject - Exercise

Least fav. subject - Science

Physical characteristics - tan horns, bendy; banded markings running down upper neck; light to medium scarring across face, neck, and limbs; medium to large stature, well-defined musculature

Other characteristics - selectively uncooperative, refuses to do assignments that annoy her (monitor for now); abrasive, three reported threats of violence against students (monitored, suggest expanding physical extracurricular options to burn off excess energy); appears to respond well to praise

Flame

Tribe - Skywing

Winglet - Gold

Color - Crimson red

Relatives - none on site

Clawmate(s) - Bigtail (Nightwing), Pike (Seawing)

Favorite subject - did not disclose

Least fav. subject - "All of them"

Physical characteristics - double-bent horns; black dorsal plates and accents; large, jagged scar running across left side of the face, intersecting the eye; blind in left eye; medium size with thin, wiry frame

Other characteristics - very uncooperative, refuses to do assignments and has poor attendance record (monitored, suggest counseling, consider withdrawing from student body if behavior does not improve); emotionally volatile, does not like eye contact, will react with hostility if stared at or if facial scar is mentioned (suggest counseling); shows signs of post traumatic stress and severe self image issues (suggest counseling); has turned down counseling offer (give space for now, ask again later)

Thrush

Tribe - Skywing

Winglet - Silver

Color - Apricot yellow

Relatives - Peregrine (cousin)

Clawmate(s) - Changbai (Icewing), Boto (Rainwing)

Favorite subject - History

Least fav. subject - Anatomy

Physical characteristics - straight horns; row of dark scales running down ventral side of neck; beak-like mouth; smallish stature, small-boned

Other characteristics - decent work ethic; very energetic, difficulty to sit still; eager to prove personal competence; frequently interrupts people while they're speaking (suggest guidance and monitoring)

Peregrine

Tribe - Skywing

Winglet - Copper

Color - Brick red

Relatives - Thrush (cousin)

Clawmate(s) - Pronghorn (Sandwing)

Favorite subject - Anatomy

Least fav. subject - Art

Physical characteristics - dark-colored stripe patterns running down the side of the neck; long limbs; medium to large stature with slender features; deaf in left ear

Other characteristics - practically-inclined; morbid sense of humor; tends to play with food before eating; owns a collection of small, sharpened animal bones (has been instructed not to bring them to class); expressed interest in a class/seminar about medicinal herbs

Garnet

Tribe - Skywing

Winglet - Quartz

Color - Amaranth red

Relatives - none on site

Clawmate(s) - Siamang (Rainwing), Arid (Sandwing)

Favorite subject - History

Least fav. subject - Cultural Exchange

Physical characteristics - sharply bent horns curving inward; ridge of thorn-like spines running from nose down to tip of tail; light scarring across ventral side; large frame with well-defined musclulature

Other characteristics - morose; does not like loud noises or crowds; prefers to eat alone; longest fire-breathing distance; notable age-gap to rest of winglet (no issues so far, but continue to monitor social integration)

Peril

Tribe - Skywing

Winglet - not assigned

Color - Tiger orange

Relatives - none on site

Clawmate(s) - none

Favorite subject - class attendance suspended

Least fav. subject - class attendance suspended

Physical characteristics - afflicted with firescales, body emits dangerous levels of heat at all times; scales show faint fiery glow like embers; bright yellow vein-like pattern spread through wing membranes; bright blue eyes; tall stature, very thin

Other characteristics - CAUTION! Do not come in physical contact with her, severe burn hazard; instruct student body to keep minimum distance; be mindful of surfaces she was in prolonged contact with, as they could carry residual heat; keep away from flammable areas; we don't know what to do with her yet, for now just give her a place to sleep and eat

[jenniferstit]

everything’s gnarly… pac

what’s the gnarliest thing in your life that NEEDS to go?

one

it’s time to let go. let go of the past. release the hold it has on your spirit. i’m seeing affliction to the heart space. there’s a deep abandonment wound. for most, i’m seeing this being caused by a father-figure, but that won’t be the case for everyone. this wound is affecting your ability to fully embrace your divine feminine power. self-love, self-worth, worthiness, confidence… i see all of that being negatively affected. this is limiting how you are able to show up in professional spaces, as well as your personal relationships. in your current energy, you are attracting people who are echoing your prior past traumatic experiences. you hope to manifest stability for yourself, but i’m seeing that hope is not something you let yourself feel, due to fear. release fear. release anxiety. release shame. these are some of the lowest vibrational states. it’s ok to feel these emotions, but do not linger in these vibrations, as nothing positive can manifest so long as you are operating in this frequency. learn to let these emotions pass through you, and then move on. someone once told me that pain is inevitable, but suffering is a choice. you have to recognize the role you are playing in your own suffering. break the cycle. let go.

two

this group needs to grieve. i remember when i first started counseling, my therapist told me that grief is something that confuses most people. we aren’t really taught how to grieve properly, or under which circumstances we ought to exercise grief. people understand it when it comes to the loss of a loved one, but even so… how many days are you allowed to be sad before people start getting tired of your negativity? a week? a month? a year? i sense this group may be trying to mask some sort of grief over a situation. for most, this is romantic. there are new opportunities trying to make their way into your life but people seem to see you as someone who is struggling. for many in this group, people are noticing & talking about your struggles. there is judgement present from others, maybe over the length of time in which you have been stuck in this grieving cycle. to them, life has moved on, but you have remained stuck. to your credit, i see you have been working hard and are continuing to work at your own pace, despite other people’s expectations; however, you’ve hit a wall. there is some sort of indecision present in regards to speaking to someone. you may be looking for closure. i personally believe closure is something you can give to yourself: it just didn’t work out, period. don’t question it… but for some, i’m seeing that you will have an opportunity to clear the air & emotionally purge w someone in conversation (esp if that’s something you’re wanting/manifesting). this closure will be the thing that officially the ends the cycle grief and allows you to reset. i’m reading this in terms of an energetic block. there is a blockage in your energy due to this grief. clear the energy. i would strongly recommend energetic clearing: sage, subliminals, fasting, and/or prayer.

three

inconsistency has to go. this group needs to learn to stand on business. i’m seeing that this group doesn’t really like to commit to anything. there’s a warped feminine energy present. you may think that by not committing yourself to one thing, that you are maintaining your worthiness… but i see your understanding is skewed. high value individuals do keep their options open, yes, but they are also able to recognize when something is or isn’t worth their energy from the start. if something isn’t worth your energy, you shouldn’t be open to it at all. it takes discernment to recognize when something is worth your energy, and discipline to maintain distance from things that drain you. easier said than done, of course. intention is everything. there’s a difference between being selective from an empowered place versus a place of fear. this group is operating from fear. deep down, there is a fear of rejection & abandonment. this fear is affecting your ability to show up for yourself. your relationship with yourself needs work. how can you expect others to show up for you when you cannot even show up for yourself? be an active participant in your own life. create goals, and stick to them. figure out what it is you really want and go after it, don’t settle. believe in yourself. for some, you will be reconnecting with a parent and improving your relationship together.

[astrolook]

Decode the Universe: Why astrology and tarot are the ultimate power couple! #4

Libra - Sep 23 - Oct 22 : Moon / Saturn / Jupiter in Libra

Moon in Libra - Queen of Swords - "Gracefully cutting through nonsense—one polite insult at a time."

Moon in Libra people can destroy you politely.

Reads people like a book, edits accordingly.

Knows exactly what to say and when.

Feelings? Considered—but facts win.

A queen who needs no king.

If moon is afflicted, They can get cold and aloof when annoyed. Socially selective. Too high standards. Can be passive-aggressive.

Saturn in Libra - The Empress (again) - "Grace and structure—because beauty needs discipline."

These people looks soft, works hard.

Interior design? Wardrobe? Flawless.

Tough love. Will support you, but won’t coddle you.

They know their worth and expects you to know it too.

Natural peacemaker. Will keep their home harmonious.

If saturn is afflicted, can be high maintenance and would replace people if they don't serve them any good.

Jupiter in Libra - The Justice - "Fairness isn’t just a rule—it’s a lifestyle."

Every choice they make is a blend of logic & morality.

These people see all sides and believes in karma.

Truly a diplomat and great at giving advice when you really need it.

A long-term thinker and won't waste their time, money and effort on short-term things.

If jupiter is afflicted, would do anything to climb up the social ladder. Life could be unfair to these people. Sometimes experiences loss more than others. Just another Tuesday.

Scorpio - Oct 23 - Nov 22 : Mars / Sun / Venus in Scorpio

Mars in Scorpio - King of Cups -"Silent waters run deep… and dangerously strategic."

Emotional powerhouse. Feels everything but lets nothing show.

Mars in scorpio people have that magnetic presence. Mysterious but weirdly irresistible.

If they love you, they love you.

Cool under pressure. Very hard to break.

If mars is afflicted, a man-child. Plays mind games. Exhibits possessive tendencies.

Sun in Scorpio - The Judgement - "Rebirth? Been there. Done that. Watch me rise again."

These people revenger via success. Their glow-up is your karma.

Not afraid to call you out when your doing something wrong.

These people don't break when they lose everything in life. They evolve.

Deeply spiritual and would easily catch you in a lie.

Not afraid of self-improvement. They rise like a phoenix.

If Sun is afflicted, their revenge has more layers than a subway sandwich. Poor judgement and can be rude.

Venus in Scorpio - Death - "Till death do us part… or maybe not even then."

Love? Not “cute” love. Soul-consuming love.

Romance? You will change after loving them.

These people are authentic to the core. No fakeness. Just raw, real energy.

They heal you with their powerful love.

They need a soulmate, not a situationship. For them, love isn’t just physical—it’s cosmic.

If venus is afflicted, they could be possessive AF. They hold on to their exes and jealousy too. If you break up with them, you will feel them and it would haunt you forever.

Nest post...Sagittarius and Capricorn placements. Stay Tuned!

Curious about your birth chart and what it's really saying about you? 🌟 Slide into my DMs for a personalized astrology reading, and let's unlock the secrets of your stars. ✨ Don’t forget to check out my pinned post for pricing details! 🔮 Let’s make those cosmic connections happen! 🌙🌌

[exquisink]

Beneath You - Geto Suguru X Fem!Reader

CW // manipulation, coercion, geto is a pining mess, reader's not a jujutsu sorcerer, cunnilingus, face sitting, body worship, geto is a walking red flag but the reader has no idea for a long time, geto's got a big dick, lactation kink, reader is inexperienced

Word Count: ~10K

Summary: There’s a twist of disgust inside of him as he to compare himself to a human, but he doesn’t consider you so low. Not at all. Far from it. If anything, he may go as far as to declare with full conviction that he’s the one beneath you. Yet here you are, blessing him with that ‘common decency’ he doesn’t deserve, even still. Because that’s the kind of person you are. People like you are rare finds, and he is sworn to protect rare breeds of human like you who belong to his new world order.

AO3

Another mission takes Geto to a remote village where grade 1 curses have wreaked havoc amongst its residents. He doesn’t intend to stay for long—grade 1s are not too much of an issue for someone like him—but upon arriving, he’s stunned to already see some locals hard at work given what little tools they have to survive. While true, the existence of curses isn’t completely a secret to the general public, he’s still shocked to find a select few of these villagers have begun to fight back.

Those non-sorcerers are not as primitive as he has been led to believe…

One particular villager leaves an impression on him. You are that villager. You’re not even a sorcerer, yet you attend to those afflicted or attacked by curses at a moment’s notice.

You’re the first person he meets, on the train ride there. He’s glancing at his ticket lost in thought over everything that’s transpired since the incident with Riko, and notices you peering at the thin slip of paper, before you lock gazes with his.

“What’re you going to my next stop for?” you inquire with a smile. “It’s probably not a good idea right now. There’s been reports of mass murders by an unknown cause and I’ve been called to treat any surviving victims.”

Geto hums, a flash of irritation in his eyes because he’s not one for small talk—especially given what he’s witnessed in the past few months.

“I’m there to stop the problem myself,” he responds, his tone a bit short but you don’t seem bothered by it. “Worry not, I’m sure it’ll be over after I take care of everything.”

“Wow, you sure got it all figured out, eh?” you remark, tone laden with curiosity for him, your grin widening. Geto stares at you for a moment. Why do you remind him of someone…? “That’s good to know. It’s nice that there’s still people like that out there. I’m glad you’re here to help out that village. We can always use true heroes like you.”

Geto perks an eyebrow at that last statement, averting his gaze to the nearly empty train. The train is about to slow, meaning they are close to their stop.

 “…You call me a hero and yet you’ve just met me,” he murmurs, more to himself.

Ah. He’s beginning to see who you remind him of now.

“Aw, well, let’s just say I have a knack for understanding someone’s real character,” you answer with a wink. “Since we’re going to be working together for a while, what’s your name?”

“Suguru Geto,” he answers, a bit too quickly for his own liking. Why’s that? Why is he suddenly so intrigued by you…? Why can’t he just ignore this sort of thing like he always does? He does sense something a bit unique about you, though. Perhaps it’s to sate his curiosity. Nothing more. He can forget about this mission and you by extension when this is over.

“Nice to meet you,” and you respond with your name. It rolls off his tongue nicely when he addresses it, and when you giggle, it’s the most pleasant of sounds to him. Unlike with most humans, who sound discordant and annoying, yours is light, beautiful, ringing like cathedral bells…

…Why is he pulling the cart before the horse here?

The train slows even more. Then comes to a complete stop. You both leave the train side by side, but you appear to be in a rush. He doesn’t mind. He’s probably going to run into again sooner than he wants to…

…And lo and behold, he’s correct to make that assumption as by the next morning, he’s found you at the front lines, securing any remaining victims and keeping them secured in a safe house protected by a veil a weaker sorcerer from the village has managed to cast themselves with the aide of a cursed scroll. That’s what you explain to him. So now he discovers you’re aware of sorcerers and what people like him do. He finds himself impressed by the effort from these villagers—they do seem to be a little more progressive here—but he learns that he’s called to this village because there are no sorcerers here who can compete with grade 1 curses. All of those who have tried, have died in combat, as you explain to him between treating victims.

And these villagers…don’t look opposed to the existence of sorcerers or curses. Or at least, it doesn’t seem so. Not necessarily. They don’t appear alarmed by them…as if this is a normal occurrence.

So much unlike the ones he’s encountered in the past.

He observes you like a deer caught in headlights, dumbfounded, as he scans rows upon rows of wounded villagers on the floor. Some are unconscious, some are barely breathing. Some are cut up terribly, blood seeping through their bandages. The stench of bitter metal, vomit, and shit hits his nose and his lips curl as he grimaces; it’s so foul he can’t breathe, fearing he may vomit himself…

And yet her you are, undeterred by the horrors which have befallen this village, the only one saving them all. As if they’re worth something more than a scrape of metal or a speck of dirt.

It’s awe-inspiring…yet confounding all the same.

He almost wants to scoff at how futile your efforts are, to save such scummy people who may sooner feed you to the wolves than thank you, but he finds himself drawn to how focused you are on healing them. You have no reverse cursed technique, only relying on traditional medications and the few incantations the living weaker sorcerers have learned. Humans, in general, can’t use reverse cursed techniques, so there’s no other option for them. This all likely won’t be enough, he figures, and it’s not like he can contact Shoko because she’s not meant to be fighting.

But maybe he doesn’t need to call Shoko because you’re already making a huge difference by actively trying to make changes. That’s so much unlike the behavior he’s seen in humans before.

What a conundrum he’s faced with now… he must accept that his own feelings aren’t all that pure. His morals aren’t as unshakable as he once believed.

He’s so trapped in his own inner conflicts that he doesn’t realize you approach him to dispose of the blood and vomit soiled gloves protecting your hands and retrieving new ones after disinfecting your hands. While you adjust them, he catches your eye.

“Geto, can we rely on you to exorcise those damned curse spirits? We can’t afford anymore casualties. The population of this village is already next to null, and we’re going to lose all of our villagers at this rate. It’s good you came to help us when you did.”

He nods, expression grim as he makes his way to the exit of the safe house, but not before turning back to announce: “I’ll make sure the barrier technique remains intact as well. You’ll be safe in here.”

“Thank you, Geto—you really are a hero,” you praise him before you run to your nearest victim who’s moaning in agony from a broken arm and a leg that’s been sliced cleanly off. He watches you, immobilized by how intrigued he is of you and the few residents in this village before he takes action to completely eradicate the cause.

The curse spirits are more than even he bargains for, but he manages to eradicate a few that night. Preventing further casualties or more injured villagers.

When he returns, some victims have been nursed back to adequate health in a rapid amount of time. He’s impressed by your efforts. Just watching you as you give them their herbal treatments and clean up their wounds. He does get injured a few times himself while he’s out there exorcising the spirits, and as you stop once you completed cleaning up another victim’s wounds, you signal him to come over.

“Let’s take care of you, Geto. You’re a godsend,” you praise him yet again with so much genuineness and a strong hint of reverence, that your words catch Geto a bit off-guard. He’s staring again, immobilized for a few moments once more before he ambles to your side and settles in the cushion before you. You pick up a fresh damp cloth with some medication to help disinfect the wounds. His body is scratched, slice and diced, and bruised all over, and you shake your head at the condition of his body. Nothing you haven’t seen before, at least he thinks, and yet…

“This might sting,” you warn him while he removes his top, and as you rest the damp cloth on a particularly large gash on his shoulder, he flinches and grunts out loud. “Man, you sorcerers…you really are full of heart. All of you. Sticking your neck outs for people like us who can’t do much for ourselves due to our lack of cursed energy. Many of these villagers can’t even perceive what attacked them.”

Geto hums absently. “It’s no glamorous lifestyle—that much I can assure you.”

You let out a dry laugh at that, while apologizing to him under your breath when you go over some tender parts of his skin from his many wounds and gashes.

“I’m a medicine woman, a healer, yet I’m sure I haven’t seen stuff more gruesome than you must’ve,” you comment, working to stitch the gash up after you clean and disinfect the area. He probably doesn’t know that you’ve noticed how frail he looks, like he’s neglected his own health in favor of his role as a sorcerer.

He manages a wry grin at that. “You have no idea.”

He freezes when he realizes how close your face is to his, and his cheeks burn as he flits his gaze elsewhere, to the door, to the sealed windows, to the moaning and groaning victims. Anything to avoid getting lost in those eyes that are so full of kindness that he doesn’t deserve, not with the sort of thoughts that have plagued his mind for months now since Riko’s death.

Once you’re done stitching up that large gash, you move to clean up the smaller cuts and bruises around his body. You sponge him gently with a fresh cloth, and he’s caught in another daze again as he observes you.

“You’re not scared of me,” he realizes out loud. “Or the curses.”

“Of course not,” you almost snicker at the absurdity of his statement, which has him furrow his brows at your behavior. Are you not aware of how rare sorcerers are in this world? “We have had a few sorcerers in this village who have since perished when these attacks began, protecting villagers who don’t understand what attacked them in the first place. I’ve had sorcerers in my family, but they’re all gone, fighting these curses that are too powerful for them.”

Ah. So she’s got a fair idea of the world for sorcerers, then.

“I’m sorry,” he replies, tone solemn. He knows too well losing those close to him to things like this. You manage a smile.

“We all have to go one day,” you reply with a deep sigh, moving to sponge his lower back. “I just wish I had more time with them. We’ll be together in the next life.”

“You believe in the afterlife?” he mutters, as you move to continue to clean the dirt and grime off of him.

“We have to believe in something to keep going,” you counter with a curt nod. “And for me, it’s to be with my family again. That’s enough for me.”

“I see,” he states. Once you’re done patching him up, you pat his unwounded shoulder.

“There you go! All fixed up…mostly.” You throw him a thumbs up while using a fresh cloth to wipe your neck glistening with sweat down. “You have to give your shoulder some time to heal, obviously.”

“We have a doctor back at the organization I work for who can help me with that,” he replies with a smile. “Thank you. Your kindness is most appreciated.”

“I like to think of it as common decency!” you retort under your breath with a playful wink. “Just doing what’s right.”

“Most people don’t think that way,” he points out, and his eyes catch you rubbing your arms and shivering a bit. It is a bit chilly tonight, he remembers, and the thermostat in this safe house doesn’t work.

Quirking an eyebrow, he picks up a nearby blanket in a basket by your tool kit that appears freshly washed, wrapping it around you in a gentle motion. He catches himself in the act, warring with himself over why he’s suddenly concerned for you. He usually does not allow himself to get too close anymore—especially after Riko.

“You should rest. The barrier won’t break, so nothing will get to you and the other villagers, for now. Don’t you have others working with you?”

“Thank you, Geto. You’ve got an eye for practicality,” you reply with a winning grin in spite of how exhausted you appear to him. His brows furrow—why do you risk your life for these people who don’t matter? “But unfortunately, no. This is my post—there’s only one person and they’re out of commission themselves.”

“Is there anything else I can do to help?” He doesn’t understand why he’s asking, but given there are more curses that aren’t showing themselves at the moment that he still has yet to exorcise…he’s going to be here with you for longer than he initially expected.

“Well, uh, I guess you could, with giving them their nightly medicine,” you murmur through a yawn. Geto looks at you with concern etched across his face, resting his hands on your shoulders.

“Rest,” he insists, frowning. “I can keep watch, and I can give the medicine. It’s this one, right?”

He gestures to the vials by your feet in a basket.

“Yeah,” you answer through another yawn, covering your mouth. “They need to be given the entire vial…taken orally, obviously, and the taste isn’t great so…give them some water if they ask for it. If they’re strong enough to ask for it. Let me watch you take care of one villager before I really pass out.”

“Sure,” he replies, and he does as you instruct him. Feeding a villager the entire vial and offering water, which the villager thanks him for profusely before desperately gulping it down to wash away the taste. As he turns around to seek your approval, you flash him a quick, tired grin before you settle into your chair and attempt to rest.

He’s never seen anyone like you…and all he can do is try his best to return your efforts.

The next morning, he’s waiting for you when you wake up. You complain of a dull throbbing in your head, clutching the side of it as you reorient yourself.

“The rest of the curse spirits have been exorcised,” he explains to you. Before you open your mouth to speak, he continues to clarify for you: “You were knocked out cold for a while. You’ve been neglecting yourself to help the villagers. Everyone is safe now. The problem is gone. My work here is finished, but I wish to stay to help you nurse the villagers back to perfect health.”

It’s against his character, and frankly, he still doesn’t understand why he’s offering to help out when he does have the freedom to return to Jujutsu Tech.

Something about you compels him to stay. His lips press into a grim line as he wars himself over his own aged inner conflict.

Why help those pathetic monkeys who can’t even fend for themselves?

It’s because of you, and he loathes this fact. He loathes that you stain him with your futile ideals. How you can still see humanity as worth protecting when they have taken your sorcerer family members away.

Everything about you—everything about you shatters his conviction about non-sorcerers. This whole conundrum…perhaps he must accept that there shall always be a gray area no matter how much he wishes to adhere to the belief that people like you are the reason he suffers, are the reason his comrades die.

But now he’s come to view you as a comrade. Someone to protect from harm’s way.

“I can’t ask that of you,” you finally answer him after a period of reflection. “You have your duties, and I have mine here, and mine don’t stop at this village. You must have more waiting for you, do you not?”

“You’re not asking this of me. I’m offering you,” he retaliates as he rests his hands on your knees, squeezing them gently. “Let me stay and help. The people I work for already know I’ve been gone longer than anticipated, so what’s another day or so?”

You snort at that. “You sorcerers really stick your neck outs for us, huh, Geto? Alright. I’ll let you help—for one more day. But then you have your own life to return to, alright?”

His heart skips a beat at that. “Of course.”

And he does stay and help as much as he can for that one more day. Once the remaining villagers can more or less leave the safe house, you offer him your place to stay for the night and offer to cook him some things to regain his strength before he leaves.

You prepare him a hearty stew along with other family favorites, splayed out all over a low wooden table.

“It’s the least I can do for you,” you announce after setting up the table and offering him some piping hot jasmine tea to accompany his meal. “Please, eat. I’ll prepare you some more meals for you to take back with you too.”

“That’s kind of you,” he mumbles as his eyes scan the colorful array of food. He’s moved by your kindness—more than he cares to admit to himself as he brings the bowl of stew to his lips, blowing on it gently before taking a sip and humming at how delicious it tastes. Rosemary, basil, and thyme hit his nostrils, and the soft potatoes are so chockful of flavor. 

“It’s a gift,” you tease with a little smirk playing on your lips. “I may not be a fancy shmancy sorcerer like you, but I can cook a mean meal that can win anyone’s heart!”

“I believe it,” he admits openly, downing the rest of that stew with a bit of gusto before attacking some of the finger sandwiches you prepared. You grin at him with a little twinkle in your eyes.

“Now you just eat up, relax, and you can stay the night,” you reply, “This is the bare minimum of what I can do for you after you protected this village. This is what’s left of my home. But, ah, it’s not like I get to stay here as long as I want to anymore. I tend to hop from village to village taking care of people.”

“So, you’re a nomadic medicine woman?” he inquires, mid-sipping on the stew.

“Something like that,” you declare as you rest your clenched fists on your hips. “I try to stay within the more remote villages since they don’t have as much access to modern medication. They don’t care enough to upgrade or fund these areas, so us countryfolk are left to fend for ourselves a lot of the time.”

Fucking monkeys, he finds himself thinking, but more about those who don’t want to progress than those who wish to help themselves, like you do, and by extension, clearly your family.

“Eh, it is what it is, I guess!” you go on as you whip around to return to the kitchen. “Now I have a big ole’ mess to clean up so you just sit back and relax, okay?”

“Are you sure you don’t need any—” he starts, but you interject before he can finish.

“—no, finish your meal and then rest up! You’ve helped me more than enough!” you call back to him with a dismissive wave over your shoulder as you disappear into the kitchen.

You don’t get to see it, but he’s smiling more genuinely than he has in the last few months, digging into the rest of the dishes you prepared for him. He might have some disdain toward non-sorcerers as a general rule, but he supposes there are some outliers, like you, who happen to come from a family with sorcerers and non-sorcerers. Someone like you, who can understand the horrors of the world yet still wear a smile through it.

It’s refreshing, indeed.

When he leaves the village the next day, you follow through on your promise and offer him some extra meals for him to take back with him. A little something to remember you by, you joke, to which he responds saying he can’t forget a kind soul like you. You remind him that there is still true good in this world, and you only shrug it off, calling him an idiot in jest.

“I’m just doing what’s right,” you remind him as you wave him goodbye. “Now go on before you miss your train ride back home! You stay strong now, ya hear?”

He doesn’t miss his train back to Jujutsu Tech. And then not too long after he returns, he learns of Haibara’s death through Nanami and Gojo has taken up the mission. He’s then sent on another mission shortly thereafter, in a village not too far away from the village you resided in, and maybe he should have expected to, but he doesn’t at the time this happens.

He finds two helpless twin girls caged by the villagers, threatening to execute them due to their ability to use cursed energy and see spirits. Even with your words echoing in his head—‘I’m just doing what’s right’—‘I think of it as common decency’—he’s scoffing at those notions. A deep scowl on his face as he scrutinizes the village for damning two innocent little girls.

Even now. These monkeys have none. No decency whatsoever. Not like you. They’re not understanding like you. They’re not full of heart like you. You’re not blind like these monkeys are to the true, unshakable reality that they are nothing but scum for putting these girls in danger over something they can’t help or change about themselves. They’re not like you, who understand the horrors sorcerers face trying to protect scum like these…filthy fucking monkeys who refuse to understand something bigger than them exists.

These people are beneath him, beneath you. They don’t deserve mercy.

“Excuse me, why don’t we all step outside for a moment?” he finds himself suggesting, and securing the girls, he goes out somewhere he can’t be witnessed committing the atrocity he’s about to do.

That village burns to the ground at his hand. Cursing them all to Hell like they all fucking deserve, these fucking monkeys who don’t understand the burdens sorcerers bear swearing to protect their weak asses. None of them deserve respite. None of them deserve safety. They have proven to him time and time again that they don’t understand the suffering, the struggling he endures again and again and again at their hands. Unknowingly or not, such monkeys are a plague to society and are best wiped from existence.

Even with your influence, he can’t wholly change his mind, and maybe he’s still plagued by the guilt of not telling you the whole truth of the matter, by that but not by very much. He hopes you’ll understand him one day. That you’ll see him beyond his actions and for his own truth—that these people, these monkeys, don’t deserve to live for the horrors they impose on sorcerers like him.

Smirking in triumph, his eyes scan the area, smirk widening with pleasure from the growing number of dead corpses of non-sorcerer scum before he ventures into the buildings. The stench of rotting corpses fills the air.

As he searches through the village for any survivors, he freezes when he finds you amid the rubble and cobblestone, unconscious, arm splayed over your heart cradling medication and herbal remedies, and he pales upon recognizing your face.

He doesn’t expect you to be here, but he should have considered the possibility before burning it all and calling it quits on the stupid rules the world of jujutsu imposed on him. He’s done playing games with the higher-ups and jujutsu society.

Thinking nothing of it—what you don’t know won’t kill you, and he’ll nurse you back to health—he scoops your body into his arms and tosses you over his shoulder, taking you along with the girls away from that wretched village.

There are no remaining survivors aside from you and the girls, and you are not a local. You don’t count in this equation. You just happen to be in a place where shouldn’t have, but you have your own duties to fulfill, he reminds himself as a disgusted frown graces his features, gaze flitting down at your unconscious, battered form in pity, don’t you?

He returns you to the cult he’s now taken over after he expelled himself from Jujutsu Tech. Like he’s reminded himself, what you don’t know won’t hurt you. He doubts you’ll have the means of discovering what he’s done to that village any time soon, anyway.

You’re slowly recovering from the incident. The guilt does gnaw at his stone cold heart, seeing you being thrown in the crossfire when someone like you doesn’t deserve it. Someone so kind, so genuine. So true to your character. Unshakable.

You may be the only one who almost made him change his mind about stupid, simple humans, but not quite. Not everyone deserves to be saved.

Frankly, not even he deserves to be saved. He’s told Satoru himself: if Satoru’s going to kill him, then he should be the one to kill him. There’s a point to it, at least.

There is a point in keeping you safe, though. He believes in that. Wholeheartedly.

He’s drawing idle patterns along your collarbone as your eyes flutter open, taking in the surroundings that you’re still adjusting to since he brought you here. You are barely conscious through most of your time here, but you’ve already been in the temple for quite some time now.

He calls your name, and you stare at him, a bit out of it. You don’t remember where you are, naturally, since you’ve been constantly drifting in and out of consciousness.

“Geto?” you murmur upon recognizing his face as a dull pounding comes on in your head, clutching it tight as you sit up against the headboard of the bed.

“Hey,” he greets with a little smile, happy to see you’re fully conscious this time. The most you have done since he’s brought you here is drift in and out. You seem more alert this time.

“I had a mission…” you trail off, then your eyes widen, and you gasp upon realization. “Geto, how did you find me? What happened to that village? And where am I?”

“Everything’s fine,” he lies through his teeth through that plastic smile of his. “The problem there has been exorcised. I found you there unconscious, so I took you here to heal you. I’m afraid it might be wise not to leave just yet, because you’ve taken quite a blow. What were you doing there?”

“I told you—I had a job there too!” you counter, “The girls…the ones who are sorcerers from that village, are they alright?”

“Yes,” he assures you as his smile brightens his entire face. Of course, he can rely on you to worry about what truly matters in the long run—the safety of those two innocent girls.  “They’re here, safe and sound. You need to focus on your recovery. At least this way, I can repay you for the kindness you’ve given me. Though I doubt there’s much I can do in comparison.”

“You’ve done more than you could possibly imagine for me,” you breathe, reaching to rest your hand on his cheek. He leans into your touch, before resting his hand over yours. “You look…strong. Healthy. Since I saw you.”

“Do I?” he chuckles as he intertwines his fingers with yours; when you don’t seem taken aback by the gesture, he relaxes his body a bit more from its more rigid posture. “I’m glad to hear it. I’ve been feeling much better. And it’s in part because of you, you know. I’ve come to realize that you and I, we’re not so different, right?”

There’s a twist of disgust inside of him as he to compare himself to a human, but he doesn’t consider you so low. Not at all. Far from it. If anything, he may go as far as to declare with full conviction that he’s the one beneath you.

Yet here you are, blessing him with that ‘common decency’ he doesn’t deserve, even still. Because that’s the kind of person you are. People like you are rare finds, and he is sworn to protect rare breeds of human like you who belong to his new world order.

You grin wide, and his breath catches in his throat; how are you so effortlessly beautiful? Yet you aren’t aware of your own. How…perplexing.

“Of course. Like I said, I may not be a fancy pants like you, Mr. Sorcerer, but I can help where applicable—I call myself a medicine woman since I use some tricks my sorcerer mom taught me!”

“Do you feel good enough to get out of bed?” Geto asks, “If you’d like, I’d love to give you the tour of my temple.”

You blink at him owlishly, eyes flitting to every area of the room, awed by how huge and spacious it all is. “Wait…this is yours? I knew you were fancy! I could tell by those pretty bangs of yours, but not this fancy!”

He chuckles, his tone bright and rich, at your remark about his bangs—he usually gets the opposite reaction—and smiles as you take in your new home, if he can help it. You look more than thrilled for him, and he can’t help his heart swelling with pride from earning yet another pat on the back from you. It just reminds him of how good-natured of a person you are.

“So how’s that huge gash on your shoulder? Did that doctor friend of yours help?” you find yourself asking as your gaze lands back on him. He freezes for a moment at the mention of Shoko before grunting.

“Yes, it’s much better now,” he replies, smiling. “Thank you. For everything back there. You really are an extraordinary girl, you know that?”

You rub the back of your head, wincing a bit from the mild throbbing still. “Aw, shucks, it’s like I tell ya, I’m just doing what’s right.”

He hums, and while a bold move, he moves to press a soft kiss to your forehead. You freeze, gazing up at him with those shimmering, timid eyes as you realize what he’s just done.

“What’s that for?”  you whisper, eyes flitting down to his lips in spite of yourself. His lips curve into a smirk when he catches that little action of yours and merely shrugs.

“You’ve done a lot for me,” he answers in a smooth tone. “It’s just a little token of appreciation. And I find you’re a wonderful girl.”

Your cheeks burn from the flattery, and you laugh nervously. “That’s awfully nice of you to say, Geto! But I’m nothing special.”

“Don’t be silly,” he insists, brushing his fingers along your cheek. “I won’t rush you, of course. You’re still recovering. But I’d like to know you better.”

Now it’s your breath that catches in your throat when he says that, and you’re smiling even bigger, before wincing again as the dull throbbing in your head makes another wave. “I’d love that more than you know, Geto.”

“Suguru,” he corrects, still smiling. This time it reaches his brilliant sparkling purple eyes. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

You beam at him, your gorgeous eyes twinkling. “Uh-huh, we sure are—owww!”

You clutch your head again, wincing, another wave of throbbing pain...

“You should take it easy,” he reprimands you with a frown. “Treat my home as yours. You can stay for as long as you need.”

“You’re far too kind, Suguru,” you reply, still beaming through the pain. “But hey, I can power through it! Just might need to be knocked out cold for another week or something though…”

Geto can’t help chuckling at that. “I’ll have some of our servants bring you food and medication. You can just relax as long as you need to, and I’m here for you.”

“Mr. Geto!!!!” A loud voice calls before a young blonde girl runs up to him. “We’re hungry!!!! Is she awake and is she okay???”

“Keep your voice down, Nanako,” he chides, before flashing you an apologetic smile. “She’s fine, but you need to use your inside voice around her.”

“Inside voice,” Nanako replies, lowering her tone to a low whisper. “Okay! But we’re huuuuuungry! Does she want to join us for lunch?”

“It’s noon?” you groan at him with an exasperated look. He stares back at you, apologetic.

“Well, would you like to? None of us would be opposed to lunch in bed,” he teases.

Nanako pumps her fists in the air.

“Yeah!!! And we can play Pokemon!”

“Nanako,” he chides again. “Inside voice! And she’ll need her space.”

You grin at Nanako’s antics, not minding in the slightest. “I’m really glad the twins are alright. Those people treated them so harshly.”

“They are,” he promises, then turns back to Nanako while scratching her head affectionately. “Order some food and bring Mimiko here. We’ll have lunch together, alright?”

Nanako nods and runs off.

“If I wasn’t feeling like shit, I’d cook for you again,” you offer, “It clearly looks like I’ll be out of commission for a bit longer than I want to, but if it means I get to spend more time with you, then I’m not complainin’!”

“There’s no need for that,” he replies, flattered by your comment as his heart swells with more pride. Your approval is all he cares about right now—because you don’t yet know the truth of the situation you have found yourself in; the guilt from lying to you is still weighing heavy on his heart. But you understand the real priorities—those humans are scum, which reassures him to a certain extent. “We’re happy with the pleasure of your company.”

“Man, stop buttering me up!” you whack him on the chest playfully. “I’m just little old me, not a big shot like you, Suguru.”

“Nonsense,” he retorts, “You’re plenty special.”

“And you’re still smooth talking!” you huff, before spluttering with laughter. “But alright! I’m seriously down for lots of rest and lots of food!”

“I’ll let Nanako know what to order for you. What would you like?”

You list out your typical go-tos, and he takes it all into account. He’s putting in his very best efforts to bring you the utmost comfort, and you don’t have to tell him you’re grateful for his hospitality. It’s safe to say he’s obviously not the type to offer something like this so openly.

Once you fully recover, he lets you go so you can fulfill your duties—much to his own reluctance. He’s become too attached to you—far more than he wants to admit to himself or to you.

Keeping you from doing what you believe is right is selfish of him, though he fears that you may not cross paths with him for a while.

“Aw, don’t fret, Suguru! I can come back, you know!” you assure him with an actual pat on his back.

“I’d love for you to,” Geto replies, his stare bordering on longing and tender. But of course, you don’t take it that way. You’re already turning your back, waving over your shoulder. “Take care.”

It’s at that moment he realizes he should have told you more, that he should have told you what happened, but he doesn’t want you to be afraid of him.

You do follow through on your promise, like you always do. Your character always proves to be unshakable. You’re a woman of your word, and he takes great pleasure in the fact.

For the last four or so years, you have returned in between your duties to spend time with him and the twins, who are more than thrilled to have you spend more time with them. They remember your kindness even before he burned it all to the ground.

Though you still have yet to learn the truth of what happened, he wants to maintain the illusion that everything’s still fine between you.

You make Geto more alive than he’s had since that dreaded day. Since he’s made that decision to stray from the conservative ways of jujutsu society. Full of fools who don’t understand the burdens they’ve forced upon people like him.

He strives for progress; he strives for harmony; he strives for peace. The only way to get that peace is to eliminate the cause of everyone’s suffering.

Geto just knows he’s clinging onto something from you he knows won’t last, but damn it, he can’t change what his heart wants. And it’s you. By his side. Through Hell or high water. There’s a point in protecting you, even if you aren’t traditionally what he accepts. He can’t bring himself to allow a good person like you die—there’s already so few of you out there.

He does wonder if you’ve caught onto the subtle changes in him. Well, it’s not too subtle to those close to him, or who have once been close to him—to them, it’s like he’s made a complete 180—but he wishes for things to reman more or less the same with you. You still view him through rose-colored lenses, and he would hate to shatter your perspective with the crushing reality that he’s not the hero you praise him to be, that he’s a monster.

Even if he kills that village for the safety of those girls, it doesn’t change that he doesn’t regret what he did, that he prefers that non-sorcerers be evicted from society…permanently.

“Are you going to keep staring into space, Suguru? Because those veggies ain’t gonna chop themselves,” you call out to him as you read along in your family recipe book while working with multiple pans and pots. Your culinary genius never fails to impress him, but that doesn’t mean you don’t appreciate a helping hand every now and then and he’s offered to numerous times.

He pulls himself out of his thoughts, picking up the large, sharpened premium chef’s knife and deftly chops the cucumbers, dices the onions, shallots, and bell peppers…

“You guys are so lucky I don’t charge you for all of this cookin’ I do for your conferences,” you snort, switching off some areas of the stove once those dishes are complete. “So how many members are we even feeding? This could feed entire villages, you know!”

“We have accumulated a staggering number of devotees and members,” Geto chuckles as he tosses the variety of veggies into a large ceramic bowl before handing it to you. He tries to ignore the softness of your skin as your fingers brush against his. He can’t lose sight of the reality—he’s a liar, and he has yet to come clean about his actions. He can’t entertain his feelings right now.

Maybe he shouldn’t bring it up while you’re in an environment with knives present.

“I really do appreciate everything you do here. The girls have really come to love you. Even some other members of the family have praised you, and that’s a rare thing, given how guarded all of them are,” Geto tells you with a winning smile on his face.

He doesn’t appear as worn and torn as he had all those years ago—well, four years is not that long but it’s enough to drastically change a person—and he can tell you’ve noticed. He may have found comfort in troubling ideals, but there’s a part of him that believes that you still see goodness in him, that he’s striving for the greater good, ultimately.

“Here you go again buttering me up like I’m about to these veggies,” you snicker as you toss them into the pot before twisting around to face him. “I think we’re all good to go here. Thanks for your help, Suguru! These dishes should be done right on time.”

Geto flashes you a smile before taking one of your free hands into his, kissing gently along your knuckles.

“Thank you,” he praises, violet eyes flitting upward to meet yours. “You have no idea how grateful we are for you.”

You roll your eyes as you retract your hand. “Alright, you. Enough of that. Leave me to the kitchen now. Actually, wait—!” you start while scooping a bit of stew from a large ceramic pot with a ladle, before presenting the piping hot sample to his lips. “—Taste test?”

You tip the ladle into his mouth, and he hums, smacking his lips as he judges the flavors. He then makes a pleased sound, sipping the rest of the sample with gusto, a little bit of the stew spraying on your hand.

Ah. An open opportunity. He lowers his lips to the area of your hand that still had some leftover stew, pressing his lips to the inflicted area and lightly slurping the leftovers up before pulling away with a little grin.

You make a mock displeased face before wiping your hand clean. “Ya nasty. Okay, now you can leave me to my devices.”

He does just that—frankly because he doesn’t want to test your patience while you’re in the cooking zone—and retires to the common area where Nanako and Mimiko are playing some dumb mobile game that’s completely taken up their free time between training sessions. Geto isn’t going to be one to rob them of their youth like those villagers were going to, so he tries his best not to be too strict with his rules about particularly electronics.

Especially considering Nanako’s cursed technique…

The meeting runs smoothly. You do stay behind to greet some of the members of the family you have met in the past. Even Miguel seems pleased to see you, which is a rarity for him, but it’s likely because they both share a love for the culinary arts. Regardless of the reasons, Geto is just happy to see you finding a place here—a home away from your home, where you had everything from you taken away just like he did.

Once the meeting concludes, Geto insists you stay over for a few nights. You at first try to decline, reminding him that you can’t exactly leave people in the more rural areas of Japan unattended, but he swears to make it worth your while.

An offer you can’t refuse, mainly because you’ve grown attached to him too.

“I’m afraid I haven’t been fully honest with you,” he brings up one evening, as you’re assisting him with some household work in his temple. You offer to in spite of the numerous times he refuses. You just like to be of service where you can. “About what happened in that village.”

“Why bring that up now? It’s been years,” you answer as you wipe off a bead of sweat from your brow with the back of your wrist.

“Because what I’m going to tell you might change everything between us. I’ve been selfish.”

“Suguru, you’re scaring me,” you remark, “What happened out there? I was out cold for most of it.”

“I know,” he replies, expression grim as he wipes his hands with a cloth. “I think it’s best if you take a seat for this.”

He leads you to the common area and sits you down on one of the couches there. He begins telling you that the villagers aren’t as open to the existence of sorcerers as your village was, that they threatened to execute the girls believing that they were the cause of their misfortune. He braces himself for the icy cold sting of rejection as he admits that because of that, he massacred the entire village and took you, and the girls, with him out of there to safety.

But instead of a backhanded slap across the face, or a lot of shouting or yelling, he meets your gaze to find your expression blank. Like you’re grappling with everything he’s just spilled to you—something he’s kept from you for all these years because he’s selfish and he can’t help that side to himself.

“I don’t blame you if this means you don’t want to see me again. I’ve done terrible things, and I will continue to do terrible things…” Geto can’t bear to look at your blank expression anymore and he flits his gaze elsewhere, resting his hands on your knees. “Sometimes we must do the things we mustn’t…for the greater good. For the protection of those who deserve protection. F….for those who truly matter in this world. You deserve protection. The girls deserve protection. But that village…they’re nothing but scum better off erased. I don’t regret a single thing I’ve done.”

Deciding it best to face the music, he meets your eyes again. Blank. Expressionless. Void.

Like him.

“But I don’t regret meeting you,” he goes on, eyes softening as he feels his heart drop to his stomach when you’re unresponsive, likely from shock. He squeezes your knees gently. “I don’t regret saving you, protecting you. I know I should have told you the truth sooner, but I didn’t want things between us to change.” He rests his head on your lap, voice strained. “I didn’t want to lose what we had. I didn’t want to lose you.”

The silence hangs in the air between them, constricting him like invisible chains around his neck and torso. He buries his face into his lap, awaiting your ultimate judgment—because he’s accepted a long time ago that he is indeed beneath someone as pure and as kind as you are. He’s not once deserved your kindness or this ‘common decency’ you so often preached because that’s the kind of person you are. He’s admired you for your character. He hasn’t stopped admiring you for your character.

His lips begin to quiver, and he feels a wetness down his cheeks, and, stunned, he raises his hand to find they’ve been stained with tears. You haven’t said a word since he confessed his sins. He doesn’t regret those sins.

“They were people too,” you mumble, digging your fingers into the fabric of your pants. “You…you really killed them? All of them? I-I know I’ve heard reports of a natural disaster taking the village, but all this time…that was to cover up your crime?”

“Yes,” he confirms, bloodshot eyes meeting your dead ones. “As you know, the existence of sorcerers is rare, and thus when such occurrences happen, and they do—perhaps not to such a degree like my own crimes—they have to cover it up to the general public. So they declared the village was overtaken by an earthquake. But the reality is I cursed them all to death.”

“You…” You hug your knees to your chest, shivering. “You—you…why?”

“Not everyone is like you. Not everyone is understanding and kind like you. They were going to kill two innocent girls!” He wants you to understand that particular detail—if he plays a bit more on your empathetic nature, does that mean he has a shot at keeping you in spite of the sins he’s committed? “You do understand where I’m coming from, don’t you? Those villagers you tried to protect in your village, your family died protecting them!”

“Yes,” you breathe, remembering your lost loved ones, your eyes now shimmering from sadness at their memories. “They were heroes. They did what they believed was right.”

“And I did what I believed was right,” he insists, desperation evident in his tone as he squeezes your knees too tight, to the point his veins begin to pop. “I saved you and the girls from those wretched, vile people.”

“You did save us,” you mumble, “That’s true. But the villagers, they didn’t all deserve to die…”

“I know you must be conflicted, but please understand where I’m coming from,” he bites back a whimper. “I don’t want to lose you. You’ve become dear to me and to the girls.”

“Suguru…” you trail off, but then you’re taken aback as his hands move up to cup your cheeks, wiping away the tears pricking at the corners of your stunning eyes.

“A man does what he mustn’t to protect those who matter to him most,” he whispers as he draws his face closer to yours, until his lips are barely against yours. “For her. To be worthy of her. Do you believe me?”

“I want to,” you whisper back, your eyes dropping to his lips then back to meet his eyes. Your breath hitches as you force down a sob. “I want to, but this is—Suguru, this is…a lot…”

“Then try to believe me. Try to trust me. That’s all I ask of you. I know I don’t deserve it,” he says, his lips teasing yours, hovering so close yet not quite meeting. His warm breath fans over your lips.

“But I am nothing without you,” he finishes, his words coming out in a low, raw whisper—he sounds so jaded from the horrors he’s witnessed all of his life. His eyes unravels so much to you, a man who has known too much violence and too much tragedy, and in this moment, a need for you to accept him as he is—hero or not, criminal or not.

Finally, his lips meet yours. His softness takes you aback, no urgency in the kiss just yet. His moves move languidly against your own, coaxing soft sounds out of you. He can tell you’re hesitating, frozen by the action, but his persistence encourages you; he’s frightened, that this is the only chance he might ever have with you. You shyly return the kiss, uncertain. You’re breathless when he pulls back, his entire expression softening.

“Wh-what was that for?” you murmur, your fingers brushing absently over your lips, still tingling from the kiss.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he confesses, his voice lowering an octave as he reaches out, brushing his fingers through your bangs. “I love you.”

“Suguru, I…” you stammer, your body still trembling, a war of unfamiliar emotions rushing through your mind.

“Shh,” he whispers, drawing his lips closer to yours once more. “There’s so much I want to try with you. Can you try to trust me?”

You gulp, averting your gaze as your heart races. You find it difficult to breathe. “I…”

“Do speak up,” he purrs, as a teasing smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“I don’t know if I can wait.” The playful edge to his tone catches him off-guard, but he frames his words to make it seem like you don’t have a real choice on the matter. Trust is no longer something you can withhold from him, even if you want to, and maybe that’s selfish of him, but he’s come to accept that he’s no virtuous hero a long time ago.

“O-okay,” you squeak, the sound of your (reluctant) submission charges something within him. An all too eager Geto scoops you up effortlessly into his arms, carrying you princess style as his lips trail kisses all over your face and forehead. The tension in his body melts off of him as he whisks you away to his bedroom.

“I’ll prove to you that I’m still the man you know,” he murmurs into your skin as he rests you on the feathery mattress. “I’m not a hero, I’m afraid,” he adds softly, speaking to himself more than to you. “No, not a hero…I’m far too selfish for that.”

He rests a hand on your cheek, a calloused thumb brushing along your soft skin with a reverence that catches you off-guard. He leans in, his hovering over yours, your breaths mixing.

“But I can still be the man for you,” he murmurs between heated kisses along your jaw. “The man you deserve.” His voice dips in a rawer way.

“Suguru…” Your hands instinctively reach up to grip his shoulders.

“I’ve…never done this before…” you confess, your voice barely a whisper, laden with nerves.

He pauses, a low hum vibrating in his throat as he kisses you once more, dragging his lips along the edge of your mouth before pulling back with a low, fervent growl. The intensity in his gaze is far too much.

“Then I’ll be gentle, my dear,” he vows, his voice a low rasp as he presses his forehead against yours. I’m yours to use as much as you like.”

He moves to unbutton your top, revealing your delicious figure. There’s a tremble in his hands as he explores your body. He traces the swells of your breasts before pulling them out from your bra, grinding his teeth against a nipple before sucking it into his mouth with a loud slurp.

You gasp, another flush blooming across your features. “Wait, Suguru—!”

He ignores you as he suckles a bit on the nipple, eyebrows furrowing as some milk splatters on his tongue. He hums at the exquisite taste before jis bewildered eyes meet yours, removing your nipple from his mouth with a pop to speak.

“How are you lactating?” he asks, not doing much to hide how giddy he is from this new discovery. He definitely plans on taking advantage of this for more than one occasion.

“Um…partially diet and uh…herbal medicine stuff…” you flush, covering your face from embarrassment. “S-some new mothers face difficulties with nursing so some remedies I created help with that…and I have to test them on myself, so…”

“I see,” he groans as he laves his tongue around your nipple, flicking off leftover droplets of milk. “Fascinating.”

He closes his mouth over your perky nipple and suctions hard, groaning at the taste. More flavorful than any meal you have ever cooked for him, and he can’t get enough of the pitchy moans you’re working so hard to bite down.

One of his hands fondles your unattended breasts, and he coos at how soft your mounds are, flicking his finger over your nipple as he greedily drinks from the other one.

“Fuck,” he moans into your skin. “Don’t hold back on those beautiful noises. You should enjoy it.”

“Suguru…it’s just…embarrassing…” you admit through a pitched voice. He laughs a bit at that, not to mock you (shockingly), but because he wants to ravish you.

He parts the nipple he assaulted with a kiss before switching, suckling on one nipple while a finger toys with the opposite. He prays that he will be the only one who gets to have you like this, and he intends to see that through. He doesn’t like the idea of you being with anyone else. The thought makes his blood burble beneath his skin.

He shifts gears, flipping you over so that now you’re on top of him. You yelp from shock, but it’s muffled as his lips plunge against yours, his tongue invading your mouth and gliding along the edges of your teeth. His hands snake down your waist and hips, stopping at the hem of your pants where he tucks his fingers inside and pulls them off along with your panties (which he definitely plans to keep to himself).

He purrs your name, and you let out a low whimper.

“I meant what I said before,” he murmurs against your lips before pulling away, sliding you up until your cunt is hovering over his face. “I’m yours to use.”

“I-I don’t know what to, um, exactly do…Suguru…” Your face is beet red.

He chuckles at that, sliding his tongue up your folds. “In that case, I’ll guide you. Worry not.”

He shoves your cunt into his tongue, twisting it between your folds and a shaky gasp leaves your lips. He digs his fingers into your ass cheeks, close to your crack as his tongue laves over your sensitive skin, your own slick already building from the slightest treatment. He hums, tongue flicking over your clit as his eyes never leave yours, admiring your flushed face, your rosy, parted lips as more breathy moans escape them.

From his focal point, you truly are a goddess, a true beauty—further proof that he’s truly beneath you in every conceivable way.

“Suguru…” Oh, his name rolling off your lips sounds so good, so sweet.

“Don’t be shy,” he purrs, his breath fanning over your folds before plunging the wet muscle into your fluttering entrance, making you choke on another gasp as you grasp for something—you reach for the top of the headboard to maintain a semblance of balance as his tongue fucks repeatedly into your spongy walls.

His grip on your ass cheeks tighten as his tongue ravishes you, and he growls when he feels your gummy walls clenching around him. You’re coming, and you throw your head back as you do, shouting as you’re unfamiliar with the sensation.

“Thank you for blessing me with such a beautiful sight,” he praises, tone full of reverence as he pinches one of your ass cheeks, making you squeak again. “My mouth isn’t the only thing free for your use, my love.”

He guides you back down to his lap, where his growing erection through his robe is evident. He grinds up into your pussy, still drenched from your arousal. “My cock, my fingers, anything. They’re all yours.”

He grabs one of your hands and rests it on his clothed erection. He groans your name. “Do you feel what you do to me? What more can I do to show you—that I am the man for you?”

“I…I don’t know,” you admit, tone wistful. “Suguru, I told you. I’ve…never done this before.”

He adjusts your positions, taking a moment to completely disrobe and reveal his bare body to you. He moves to cup your face, brushing his thumb along your lips.

“I’ll make this worth it for you,” he purrs, as he grinds the tip of his cock against your pussy. You bite back a moan in spite of yourself. “Can you trust me? I understand it’s too much to ask—”

“—Yes,” you murmur, and as he presses a kiss to your lips, he pushes the tip of his cock inside, experimentally. Sensing any discomfort from you before he rests his back against the headboard, guiding you up and down his girthy cock. His lips trail down your jaw and neck, growling into your skin as he keeps a gentle, but far from slow pace. Trying to get you used to the sensation, to the feeling of being filled to the hilt by his impressive size. He doesn’t want to hurt you. His fingers sink into your waist, as he purrs your name over and over.

“I’m yours,” he vows as his intense gaze never leaves yours. “I’m yours, my love. That much is true.”

He shouts as he comes, and you soon follow after and he’s moaning throughout as your walls clench around his girth. You slowly come down from the hot flash in ragged breaths, yours syncing with his.

“I’m yours,” he repeats, nuzzling his nose against yours. You glance down at him, chest still heaving as you catch your breath.

“I know,” you say, as his hands intertwine with yours. “I’m yours too.”

[fanaticsnail]

The Hawk and the Fledgling (P2)

Masterlist Here, Part 1 Here.

Word Count: 3,365 (Yeah, it was meant to be a drabble but the words ran away with me again)

I ended the year with Mihawk, looks like I'm starting the year off with him too! Lets goooooooo.

Warnings: Kissing, pining, longing, fighting, mentions of illness, drinking, kissing.

Taglist: @whatthemonsterfuckisthis, @writingmysanity, @gingernut1314, @alphaash99, @someobsessionrequired, @bookandstar

Hanahaki Disease is a disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from  unrequited love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings, or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear.

You presented your thumb and index finger up to your swollen lips, chapped and coarse from the hoarse coughing while warm to the touch. You felt no remanence of the illness that once eclipsed your body and rendered it unresponsive and trapped beneath the curling vines. The only aspect that remained was a small flurry of pale flower petals atop your tongue, prompting you to reach your fingers inwards to pull them out.

You were still sitting atop the wooden table Mihawk had placed you on moments prior, shock falling from your every fiber. You felt warm, light and breathless. Even though you had no weight placed on your chest, you felt burdened by the knowledge that lord Dracule Mihawk thought himself not to be the harborer of your affections.

As soon as you pinched one of the soft petals from its place atop your tongue and held it up to your eyes to examine the almost innocent-looking harbinger of doom, the door swung wide and Zoro was shoved harshly onto the cobblestone floor. His heavy boots were thumping franticly against the stone with haste, his eyes wide and searching yours for any affliction.

“I’ve brought the oaf for you,” your mentor spoke, his eyes not meeting with yours as he hastily walked through the kitchen to the leather-bound wall displaying his vast collection of wines. The many bottles were laying flat, perpendicular to the floor in catalogued rows from whites, roses and reds. Selecting one without reading the label, he reached his hand down and found a corkscrew and began hastily, and almost aggressively, brandishing it to rid the cork from the bottle neck.

Zoro gasped, sauntering over to you with wide strides and taking your cheek beneath his palm. He rose your chin upwards with the angle of his wrist, eyes darting between yours as his thumb smoothed a small circle over your cheekbone. He circled his grip down, your bottom lip feeling contact from his calloused thumb atop it as he continued looking you over.

“Hanahaki, right? Love unrequited?” he whispered softly, leaning down lower to your face in a low stoop. His eyes were warm, soft and almost apprehensive – a painted triad you were yet to see atop the green-haired swordsman.

This was the fifth time you were rendered speechless this day: the first being the knowledge that such an affliction exists in this realm, death and withering away your body by the doomed flowers and vines strangling your organs. The second was the knowledge that your unrequited and intense emotional love for your mentor, Dracule Mihawk, was the factor propelling you into this dooming fate. The third, Mihawk assumed your doom was due to the fact you were infatuated with your peer and his fellow pupil – not himself. The fourth, Mihawk confessed he had held a certain romantic fondness towards you; your love not as unrequited as you once thought.

The fifth was the fact that Zoro was descending in his stoop; his face leaning closer and closer to you, his lips drawing ever nearer to yours as he closed his eyes. Halting his descent, he raised his unoccupied hand up to brush several strands of hair out from shieling your gaze from his. Your lips were almost brushing, you could feel the heat from his breath tinted with the flavor of green matcha-mochi and cherry blossom tea.

“I do not yet harbor love powerful enough for you romantically,” he whispered, moving his hand through your hair to cradle the back of your head, while falling his other to rest atop your shoulder, “but I am a fast learner.”

At that, your eyes widened further as he pressed his lips against yours in a slow and deliberate kiss. You rasped out a small squeak as Zoro deepened the kiss, his brow furrowing as he deeply inhaled through his nose and circled his chin to rotate the open mouthed kiss he was pressing against you. He reached down, pulling your wrists upwards to circle his neck in order to bring you closer against him. His torso pushed flush against yours, he redrew his palms upwards to collect your face and lace his fingertips into the back of your hair once more.

He was passionate, deliberate and also cautionary. He was falling all of his desire onto you, along with the desperation that comes with the knowledge that one of his friends is ill – this embrace being the only cure, to his current knowledge. Hearing a small ‘pop’ of the cork being pried away from the green-stained wine bottle, the next sounds that were heard within the room was the glugging pour from the bottle into a crystal glass.

Continuing to remain unresponsive, and eyes perpetually unblinking and wide in shock, you brought your shaking hands down to Zoro’s chest and gave him a small shove to halt his movements. He apprehensively drew himself away from your lips, eyes first closed while his lips almost chased yours in response to his withdrawal. You pushed him a little harder to halt more deep and passionate kisses being pressed into your lips, while listening to a small whistled chirp sound indicating Mihawk was oxidizing his selected vintage over his palate and tongue.

Zoro received the message and pulled away from your lips, a frown prominent against his face and kiss-swollen lips partially parted. His eyes searched yours, leaning forward to press his forehead against your own to bring himself closer to you.

“Are you okay? Is everything okay? Was this okay-?” he began, halting as you pressed your four fingers against his lips to halt his words. Pushing your forehead against his in return of his physical affection, you whispered in a voice only audible for him to hear.

“Zoro, I adore you. You are my best friend, my peer. My brother in arms,” you removed your hand from his lips and caressed his cheek. Sighing out a deep breath, you shut your eyes as you spoke low your confession, “but it was not you that was holding me hostage to the disease.”

Zoro’s eyes widened, immediately seeking the gaze of his mentor who seemed to be looking bored and as disinterested as he could make himself out to be. His arms were crossed, him holding the crystal wineglass filled to the brim with crimson liquid and leaning against the marble benchtop with his legs crossed at the ankles.

“But you’re okay now. What does that mean?” he asked, his tone curious and almost frantic. He drew his gaze back to you and a warm blush tinted his cheeks as your confession dawned on him. “You haven’t spoken to Perona yet, so I doubt it was her. Does that mean- did he, did he-.”

“-Zoro, if you wouldn’t mind,” you winced out, a blush rising of your own to spread warmth over the apples of your cheeks and tips of your ears. Zoro immediately got the message, his nose scrunching up and shoving you playfully with his arm as his wolfy grin spread over his lips to paint his face with his knowing smile.

“A shame,” he chuckled, turning from you to make his way out of the kitchen, “I would’ve liked to see where this goes.” You laughed in response, looking to the ground as you swung your legs down from their position atop the table and jumped to place them on the floor. Mihawk’s unblinking gaze trailed after Zoro, scowling at the smirk his young apprentice offered. Zoro turned once more, arched his eyebrows up twice at you and closed the kitchen door behind him.

“What does that mean, Fledgling? Rabbit done with you so soon?” He arched his brow up as you approached. You steadied your breath and reached up to collect the wineglass from Mihawk’s fingers and placed it on the countertop behind him.

“I was drinking that, Fledgling,” he lazily disregarded you, turning away and bringing his hand over to collect the stem of the crystal glass from atop the counter. You immediately halted him by placing your hand atop his wrist, your eyes brimming with caution over how he’d receive such a touch. Keeping your gaze fixed on the hand clutching his wrist, you sucked in a slow breath and allowed the caution to remain steadfast in shielding your intentions from him.

“Sir,” you addressed him, his chin lazily snapping over to hold his intense and spiteful irises against your smaller form.

“Yes, fledgling?” was all he said in response to you words. You took a moment to syphon through your thoughts, attempting to relay what you needed to in order to confess your disease and the cure of it; only to have them halted as soon as they formed behind your lips.

“Little kiss fixed you up, did it? The rabbit and the fledgling, hardly a fit I would match. However,” he turned his gaze away from your face to fixate on his wineglass atop the marble bench behind him, “it is fitting, considering your age and stage. A match many would desire: similar interests-.”

“Sir,” you uttered a little more firmly, hoping to break him away from his lazy and annoyed rant; but alas, to no avail.

“I should move your rooms closer together. It would be good to spur on your training: pit you against one another to bring more passion into your sparring-,” he continued, rolling his eyes and breaking his wrist away from your grip to reclaim his crystal chalice filled with the bitter taste of a darkened Shiraz. Your temper was hanging by a thread, your nerves shot alite under your emotional state.

You had nearly died of a broken heart, Mihawk had confessed his fondness for you – healing you with his words. Zoro had kissed you, something you neither needed nor desired for yourself – especially since recovering from the death-like illness. And Mihawk: your boss, your mentor, your love, he was continuing to absolutely dance around his own confession by continuing to drink, and talk.

“My lord-,” you attempted to draw in his attention to you by using his formal title, to no avail.

“-I shall send for a priest. Perhaps you’ll be married by the weeks end-,” he turned away from you and drew up the chalice to his lips. Agitation was growing within him, his lips curling up and eyes narrowing.

“Lord Mihawk-,” you hoped his name would bring some kind of sway over him, but he continued on his tirade of nonsensical theatrics.

“-I will have Perona be your witness. Considering no family for either of you present; it will be up to me to give you away, I suppose-,” his voice was increasing in volume, his anger rolling off him in waves.

“-Lord Dracule Mihawk!” you reached your arm to collect his shoulder beneath your palm, only for him to roughly shake off your tender touch.

He turned to face you, his brows deep in their descent against his forehead. He was enraged; understandable from his perspective. He not only witnessed his own unrequited love be cured of their disease by another, but willingly drew him in to present his lips against your own. All he could do was watch and wallow in his own rage.

“And where will you honeymoon, hm?! Going to make some strong, sword-wielding children soon, I presume! You’ll need to halt your training in favor of your-.”

You lunged forward, jumping high enough to grip his shoulders with your arms and wove yourself around his form: legs hooking his hips and joining together behind him by your ankles. You immediately circled his neck with your arms and dragging him onto you and smashing his lips against your own to silence his taunts. Your hands wove into his hair, his form immediately falling victim to your embrace with a small stumble. His right hand clutched the wineglass firmly, although the liquid spilt over the brim at the hastiness of your embrace.

His unoccupied hand drew itself up to hook itself around your waist and hold you flush against his torso. Opening his lips, he danced his tongue around your swollen bottom lip and joined it with your own with a low gasped moan. Sharing breaths, you continued to harshly reciprocate his almost violent and desperate collision of lips, tongue and teeth. If he pushed firm, you pushed harder. If he brushed his tongue with yours, you lightly bit the organ with your teeth.

As he trained you to continue to advance in brandishing your blade towards an enemy, never backing down for any reason; you continued this mantra as you wove your fingers into his blackened waves of loose curls atop his head. The actions, however, were absolutely reciprocated by the man woven between your thighs. If you bit his tongue, he pushed your face away and trailed a violent flurry of open mouthed kisses against your chin, jaw and neck – tongue swirling over your pulse before reclaiming his lips with your own.

You reached your hands up, removing his wide hat from his head to get a better anchorage against his body, prompting him to unceremoniously throw the crystal chalice against the polished cobblestone floor. The red liquid pooled at his feet, prompting a gasp to rise from your parted lips. Taking this small moment of distraction, Mihawk used both arms to hook beneath your legs and rotate you around him – pressing now your body against the marble countertop and burying his face on the exposed flesh between your neck and shoulder. His lips grazed over the skin, a tingle shooting up your spine and elevating the hairs on the back of your neck to stand to attention.

“M-My lord,” you stuttered out in a breathy whisper, your eyes glazed over and irises blown with lust. He growled in response, claiming a small portion of skin between his pearled teeth and biting your flesh gently. He moved his lips up, trailing and pressing soft and tender kisses against each area of skin revealed to him.

“If this be the only time I will ever be permitted to kiss you,” he whispered against your cheek, pressing a soft brush of his kiss-stricken lips atop the smooth area; his silken moustache scratching against the skin, “I won’t waste a single moment on words, Fledgling.” He pressed a slow and timid kiss against your lips, his eyes closed as he allowed himself this small tender moment to fall over him and onto you.

You shook your head into the kiss, arching your back against his torso to remove his latch on your lips. His strong arms held you firm, you feeling his arms grip you tighter in response.

“Mihawk,” you managed to utter, his name being the only thing to halt his advance at this stage. He fell his forehead against the base of your neck, feeling his dark curls tickle your chin, and his heavy breath fall against your chest.

“Forgive me, Fledgling,” he uttered, removing his hands from their grip beneath your thighs and placing them atop the marble beside your hips. He was not quite ready to fall away from your embrace, but did not want to push his luck further.

Gathering enough courage to finally break your confession through, the words flew from your mouth at lightning speed.

“My lord, it’s you. You were the reason I suffered in such a way. You were why I was pushing myself so hard in training. You were the reason I broke my body under your direction, daily. My lord,” you took his whiskered chin beneath your fingers and elevated his gaze to you. His eyes were glazed, pupils blown only a little while he held such sorrow behind their deep amber. You brought your hand up, tracing the manicured beard up and cradling his cheek within your palm, “It’s you.”

His eyes widened, reality of the situation finally dawning on him. The pin had dropped, finding below it’s descent a balloon of latex and puncturing it beneath its small prick. As a balloon would deflate from its air and dart all around the room with no rhyme nor reason, Mihawk began to place the pieces of the evening together.

“But the Hanahaki-,” his words were halted within his throat as he continued to place them together, “-was broken with my offhand confession.” He sighed deeply, shaking his head to rid itself of his own assumed stupidity.

You smiled at him, continuing to hold his face within your palm and take in a visual map of the man you had come to adore. Dark hair tussled, lips swollen and tinted with the bruising shade of red, great-cloak disheveled and hanging loosely over his shoulders - his bare chest more so exposed to you. He was so beautiful.

“I hold such a deep admiration for you, my lord Mihawk,” you shook your head as you brought your other hand up to his forehead and brushed his hair from shielding his face, “it fell into something deeper along the way. As the disease indicates, it has swelled into love. I love you.”

He sighed, leaning first into your palm before placing his forehead against yours. You both felt waves of emotion falling from the two of you in this one moment, both pausing to feel the rise and fall of one another’s breaths and the heat reverbing from your bodies’ proximities. He allowed himself one final moment before he spoke his own confession.

“I loved you from the moment you first came to me,” he drew his hand from its position on the counter and placed it over the middle of your chest, “your spirit was so strong. At first, I wanted to break you as punishment for drawing such weakness from me. But then,” he withdrew his forehead from yours and replaced his prior position with his lips, “I saw you soar.”

Withdrawing his lips from your head, he held such deep devotion in his eyes as he relayed his final words to you, “and that is why I love you.”

“Because I’m a glutton for punishment?” you quipped at him, withdrawing your eyes from its connection to his and falling to the pooling red wine and shattered glass on the floor.

“No,” he chuckled at you, hooking his index finger below your chin and pulling your gaze to return to him, “it’s because, Fledgling, you are not a fledgling at all.” You knit your brows in confusion, knowing that he gives names to all of his apprentices. Zoro, the rabbit. Perona, the ghost. You, the fledgling.

“If I am no fledgling,” you whispered, “then what am I to you?” He smiled deeper, his eyes crinkling up at the corners as he revealed a rare and intimate smile with you.

“You’re a Formel,” he whispered, “My Formel.” You laughed a breathy giggle at this new title, placing a small kiss against the whiskered chin below his lips.

“Does that make you my Tiercel, my lord?” you asked him after pulling away from his chin. He chuckled at you and offered you one final utterance.

“Only in private moments, Formel,” he cautioned you, “which I hope we are to share more of together.”

Mihawk broke away from your embrace and looked to the mess he’d made on the floor with the wineglass. As you were about to hop yourself down from your seated position against the marble countertop, a strong arm hooked its way beneath your knees while another steadied itself around your back. You squeaked in surprise as he lifted you up and began carrying you away from the mess to exit the kitchen. You looked at the puddle of wine and glass on the floor before turning back to your love carrying you. His expression was almost playful, with his signature flavor of arrogance cascading over his face and posture.

“I’ll have Zoro clean that up,” he grimaced, lips pulling up in a sneer, “a fitting punishment for kissing my Formel.”

“On your orders, sir,” you uttered in return. He hummed, leaning down to press a small kiss against your cheek as he continued walking you both away from the kitchen and into the halls.