#how to draw diamond in easy steps

[stargirlygirl]

imagine long-term bf katsuki being hung up on what engagement ring to buy you. he’s gnawing at his cheeks, constantly sighing and running his fingers through his hair for a couple of months, trying to find a ring that’s good enough for you.

after patrol, he browses every reputable jewellery store in tokyo, searching for your engagement ring. he takes pictures of every one he thinks might suit you and sends them to eijiro.

shitty hair: idk about this one man. diamonds are nice but y/n gives more garnet or ruby vibes

explosive: the fuck you mean? i have to get her diamonds

shitty hair: nah bro, you should get something that suits her. not every girl wants diamonds.

explosive: stfu i know what she wants better than you do

shitty hair: 🤷‍♂️ just my opinion man

you noticed immediately that katsuki was coming home later than he usually does. you didn’t say anything at first because maybe something came up, and he did seem really exhausted.

but as weeks turn into months, you become suspicious. what is it that your boyfriend's doing after work that you can’t know about. he hasn’t changed how he treats you. if anything, he’s been even softer and sweeter with you lately.

you decide to confront him about it.

you sit at the kitchen table, waiting for him to come home. as 8pm fades into 10pm and drips into 12am, your anxiety ramps up. your palms are all sweaty and your heart beats erratically in your chest.

you’re on your feet as soon as the lock eventually clicks and the front door is forced open. you stalk up to a sleepy katsuki, who flings his duffel bag on the floor with a sigh.

when he turns around, you’re looking at him angrier than ever. there’s fire in your eyes as you stare up at him, your brows knitted together and jaw tight.

you spit out, “where have you been?” katsuki blinks slowly, too tired to register your words and respond. he moves to throw his arms around you, but you step back, dodging his embrace.

this time, you repeat yourself with more venom, “where have you been?” you sigh, “i’ve been waiting for you since eight.”

he grunts thickly, “why’d you stay up, babe?” you roll your eyes and slightly suck in your cheeks.

you say exasperatedly, “because i was worried about you. you’ve been coming home late from work for the last two months now.” you fold your arms beneath your chest as you scold him, “so where have you been?! seriously, like, where the fuck have you been wandering off to while i make you dinner and do your laundry?”

katsuki shakes his head, whispering, “baby, s’not like that.”

you catch his words and scoff, “so then, what is it like? i clearly don’t know so why don’t you tell me?”

his full lips draw into a hard line as he huffs, contemplating whether to tell you he’s been hunting for the perfect engagement ring for his perfect girl… and that he’s finally found one. it wasn’t easy, especially since he has just put up with yappertron 3000 chargebolt, skateboard freak elbows, and shitty hair for the past three hours while acquiring this ring.

he bites his tongue, mumbling, “look, i’ve just been busy, yea?”

you chuckle derisively, “you’ve been busy? right, okay.” you turn around and begin walking away from him when he catches your elbow. his grip is firm but considerate.

he tugs you back, making you stumble into his chest. you try to shove him away, but he doesn’t even budge as he draws you into his arms, wrapping you up tightly.

you shout, “just fuck off, katsuki!”

wincing, he rests his chin on the top of your head and murmurs, “no more late nights, baby, i promise. at least not for a while.” his body is so warm against yours, and his musk is so strong. you give up your assault on his concealed but delicious muscles and still in his grasp.

you grumble, “it’s not about the late nights, katsuki. it’s about you keeping things from me.” he kisses the top of your head and rubs circles on your back with his calloused palms.

he mutters into your hair, “i’ll tell you soon, okay?” you shake your head before tilting it back, returning his soft gaze with your harsher one.

you murmur, “so you’re not cheating on me? or are you cheating on me but intend to come clean?” your boyfriend’s mouth falls open as he stares at you, his blond brows raised slightly. regaining his composure, his usual scowl is back on his face.

he grumbles, “cheating? why the fuck would i be cheating on you?!” he licks his lips and gazes past you for a moment, sighing, “for fuck’s sake, babe. god, why the fuck would i be cheating on you? d’you really think i’m a cheater?!” you shake your head, taken aback by his sudden frustration.

he shouts, “I’VE NEVER CHEATED! NEVER! NOT LIKE FUCK-ASS DEKU WHO DIDN’T EVEN HAVE A QUIRK AND THEN—”

you gently pat his chest as you try to soothe him, “okay, okay, honey, it’s okay. i know you’re not a cheater.” after a few minutes, he calms down (for the most part).

he grunts, “d’you really think i’d do that?” a droplet of his spit hits your eyebrow. you go to wipe it away but he beats you to it, apologising all the while. you reassure him it's okay as you stroke his well-defined back up and down.

you say softly, “of course not. but if you’re not cheating on me, then what else are you doing? i just don’t understand, suki.” he shakes his head before settling back into the crook of your neck; his resting place.

he murmurs into your hot flesh, “just give me a few days n’ i’ll tell you, alright?” you pull back, cupping his cheeks with your hands while his fingers clench the back of your shirt.

you shake your head, saying, “you can tell me now.”

he huffs, “babe—”

“no,” you cut him off. “tell me now. i deserve to know why you’ve been coming home so late.” he gazes down momentarily as his fingers curl into your shirt even more, close to tearing the fabric with how tight his grip is.

he mumbles, “stubborn brat.”

it’s like something snaps. he releases your shirt from his killer grasp and smirks. he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a velvety red, ring box.

he grabs your wrist and places it in your palm, saying, “that’s the reason.” he gazes at you expectantly, waiting for you to open the box. but you’re in shock.

your wide eyes bore into his narrow ones as you blink dumbly. your lips are slightly parted, open enough for the flies to make a home in your mouth. and they could with how little you’re registering right now. you can’t think or speak or move. all you know is that your long-term partner just placed a ring box in your hand.

katsuki rolls his eyes, attempting to hide the pain in his expression as you continue staring at him. he huffs, “well, are you gonna open it or not?”

you nod, your mouth awfully dry. you seal your lips as you shakily open the box. inside is the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen. leaves protrude from the band and petals encircle a bright ruby glistening in the golden living room light; a rose. your gaze flickers up to him before switching back to the ring, and then back up to him.

you stutter, “a-are y-you, u-um, a-ask-asking m-me t-too—”

“yes,” he says solemnly. “you’re everything to me, baby. s-so, yea, will you be my wife?” you nod furiously. smirking, he takes the little box from your hand and slips the ring onto your finger. all the tension pent up in his body dissipates as he embraces you once more.

you squeeze his slutty waist tight as you begin tearing up, trying to process that your boyfriend just became your fiancé. katsuki sweetly kisses your forehead before resting his against yours.

he mutters, “i don’t tell you how much i love you enough. clearly like fuck. i fuckin’ love you, baby girl. more than you’ll ever know.”

a/n: link to the engagement ring design here (please lmk if it doesn't work); just imagine that it's a ruby and not a diamond.

[kingdom-carer]

How to regress when you’ve literally never done it and you have no idea what to expect (or it’s been a while)

*turns around in chair like Captain America* so ……. you wanna be tiny.

Awesome! :D

Voluntary regression, when done intentionally, can be immensely fun and healing. Let’s get you set up for success.

Step 1: Set Your Goals

Your goal should never be “to regress” - it may not happen. You may spend all of your time just age dreaming (acting small with your big brain still in). You need to be okay with that.

The reason you’re regressing isn’t the same as your goal. “Because I’m traumatized,” “for fun,” and “for chronic pain” are all valid reasons, but they don’t provide you with the framework for healing that we’re looking for.

Here are some specific, achievable goals:

“I want to relax and have uninterrupted fun after a long day.”

“I want to reparent my inner child through affirmation work, gentle parenting, and rules for self-care.”

“I want to work through trauma I’ve experienced through play so I can experiment with new outcomes for tough situations.”

“I want to complete easy tasks/assignments to give myself a sense of pride and accomplishment.”

“I want to allow myself to trust and be cared for in a way that I am usually resistant to.”

“I want to allow Jesus to speak to me when I feel most vulnerable and receptive to His kindness.”

“I want to improve my self/care habits by making them fun and digestible.”

“I want to revisit childhood/deep-rooted fears so I can work through them with effective coping mechanisms, like journaling.”

Step 2: Selecting Your Tools

Here, you might have seen lists of things that people like to use when they’re little, but rarely do they explain why they like to use them. These lists also may not resonate with older or alternative regressors.

So instead, I will give you categories of things that I believe are relevant to regression, and you fill decide what satisfies it best for you.

Something to wear: do you have clothing that is easy and comfortable to move around in, makes you feel good to wear, and/or gives you sensory input you crave?

Something to watch: do you know of a show, movie, or YouTube channel that holds good memories for you? Is there one out there that piques your interest? It doesn’t have to be “kid-friendly,” but its effect should be comfort and peace, not intellectual or emotional strain. We are not looking for challenge - that is for developing your grownup brain. Many regressors prefer kids media for this reason.

Something to do (with your hands): Stimulating senses other than sight is vital for grounding, especially in today’s online world … and, considering the nature of the work we are doing, you may need it. Painting, sensory sand, going to the beach, swimming, making music, woodworking, crocheting, polymer clay, diamond painting, puzzles, coloring books, and more can all bring out your inner child. Again, we are looking for joy, not challenge; perhaps your local dollar store has a craft kit!

Something to read: are you a scientist who loves learning about animals? A horror fan who loves spooky tales? Do you remember a series from your childhood that brought you joy? Reading is a great way to escape into a simpler world and evade screens, especially if it’s crafted without profanity or triggering subjects. Children’s books may also minister to you in ways that adults failed, such as teaching emotional regulation, socialization, and how to fight common fears.

Something to hold: plushies have been proven to be beneficial for mental health, but a companion doesn’t have to be stuffed! Action figures, dolls, and other friends can be thrifted, bought, or dug up from closets. They provide sounding boards for scary thoughts that get less scary when said aloud, companionship during play, travel, or sleep, and serve as willing recipients of your creative outputs (bracelets, clothing, drawings, etc). And, when you need a hug, your favorite toy can be right there with you in the absence of a human friend.

Something to nibble: food is fuel for the body, but it is also love. Choose foods that are nutritious and fun, just like you’d give a child. My personal faves are Slim Jim’s, pepperoni, berries, nuts, dairy, and veggies with dip. Treats are great too, but spend your tummy bank on nutritionally valuable food first! Regressors also find fun in experimenting with different vessels for food and drinks, like crazy straws, bottles, ZooPals plates, or character dining sets.

Something to play with: ‘play’ has many definitions and types. Below is a short list of types of play. No matter if you like toys or not, gather objects or activities that encourage play.

Symbolic play - using one object to represent another (i.e. a flower becomes a wand - try blocks or play scarves)

Locomotor play - moving play (try roller skates, online exercises/dance classes, or small exercise trampolines)

Creative play - invoking a desired or experimental outcome (try Legos and art supplies)

Deep play and rough-and-tumble play - play that involves bodily risk and movement (try hiking, rock climbing, or swimming)

Dramatic play - orchestrating play without personal involvement (“setting up” elaborate scenes with toys was a big part of my childhood play! Try small toys and accessories like Calico Critters, stuffed animals, or dolls)

Exploratory play - play to gain information (try boxed or homemade science experiments, or simply asking, “I wonder what happens if I …?”)

Fantasy and imaginative play - playing in a way that is unlikely to occur in real life and/or the rules have changed (try dressing up to be a superhero, royalty, animal, etc)

Mastery play - bringing a task to completion (build a campfire, dig holes in sand to fill with water, complete a video game level, etc)

Object play - manipulating objects to learn more about them (common in developing babies and autistic stimming; try fidget toys)

Socio-dramatic play - taking on a role that involves social interaction (I.e. playing house or doctor)

Somewhere to go: novelty can be hugely effective in delighting your inner child. Try hanging out in the backyard, going to a park/museum/aquarium, taking yourself on a “little” shopping spree with a set budget, going to a theme park/state fair, or checking out kids media from your local library. Since you are exiting your safe space, you must be mindful of those around you. This is why I usually recommend this to those who know they will only be age dreaming, unless they are completely alone. For your safety, please do not involve anyone who has not consented in your regression.

Something to see: if you can, decorate your safe space or a portion of your safe space in a way that makes your inner child happy. Try changing your phone wallpaper, collecting figures, displaying stuffies on your bed, putting up wall stickers or drawings you’ve made, or changing your bed sheets.

A note on pacifiers: pacis made for adults are a great way to abate thumb-sucking and unhealthy oral stims. They will shift your teeth only if you use them excessively; try limiting use to an hour at a time, and always wear your retainer if you have one. If you feel pain, stop. Disassemble and clean immediately after use.

A note on diapers: I personally do not use diapers because I don’t want or need them, but should you choose differently, there are lots of creators who have more information on them. Most importantly, they are not shameful.

Step 3: Meeting Your Inner Child

How do you know when you’ve regressed?

When play takes over.

When you find yourself fully engaged in what’s in front of you, finding captivation in the simplest things, you are regressed. It isn’t some magical transformation - you’re just revising a part of you that has always been there, latent. It is an unlocking of childhood whimsy … a state of being easily awed.

Thoughts may simplify; adult reasoning for comfort objects may reduce to a petulant mine. Anxious spirals may be replaced by a simple mama, I’m scared. Thoughtful analyses of character arcs and subplots may sound more like yay, ponies!

If you have an internal monologue, it may disappear, replaced with more primal emotions like “angry” or “scared” or “happy” or “calm.” There have been many times that my husband has asked little me what’s wrong, but instead of words, only sobs make it out of my mouth. Then, when he holds me, a warmth I can’t name fills my chest and makes me sleepy.

What is your inner child like? Are they more or less …

Sensitive?

Chatty?

Energetic?

Creative?

Impulsive?

Experimental?

Outspoken?

Stubborn?

Relaxed?

Giggly?

Curious?

Focused?

Defiant?

Angry?

Expressive?

Your inner child, like all children, is subject to fits and flights of fancy. This is normal! Love them as you would love a normal child.

Step Four: Caring For The Bunchkin

Since our goal is not to regress, we have the freedom to take a third-person point of view while we are in our safe space, check in on ourselves, and see how we are doing.

If your goal is to heal, take things slow. Choose one activity at a time that allows you to explore your deeper thoughts, and allow ample room for fun and relaxation.

Instead of focusing on your trauma and hurt, start by asking yourself - “what are my deepest desires? What am I lacking? What is important to me? What can I give myself that I did not receive?”

Kids’ “About Me” worksheets are a great place to start, since there are no wrong answers. As you get more comfortable being small, try making or completing worksheets that ask the weightier questions.

Caring for with your inner child can be as simple as imagining them like another person. For example:

If you are shameful of your desire to connect with an old fandom, ask yourself why that might be. Did someone tell you that it was shameful? Did you have a bad experience in that fandom? Were you at a turbulent point of your life? What might you say to a child experiencing these emotions now?

If you are reluctant to make noise or take up space, ask yourself why. Did someone tell you that you were ‘too much?’ Were you afraid to be judged? Did someone punish you for getting in their way? What would you say to a child afraid to take up space in your presence?

If you are distressed at the idea of stimming openly while small, ask yourself why. Did someone - or life experience - teach you to mask? Are you afraid of being judged as a “faker?” Are you afraid of looking or feeling incapable in some way? What would you say to a child who is afraid to stim?

If you are upset with yourself for reacting to a trigger, ask yourself why. Do you feel like you should be more healed, or more in control of yourself? Are you afraid of slipping back towards a state you used to be in? Are you afraid of re-experiencing trauma?

What would you say and do for a child who struggles with a trigger?

Showing your little self compassion and modeling joy from an adult headspace is vital. Don’t say anything to your inner child that you wouldn’t say to an actual child.

You may not be quite ready to believe the healing truths you have learned when you are big, but putting them into practice when you are small is a great way to soothe yourself from the inside out.

(I filled up my star chart by making my bed each day! Good job, me! I worked so hard, and now I get a treat!)

(I did a drawing all by myself! I can put it on my fridge now. Wow, I’m so glad I made something today.)

(I went outside, and there are so many cool things to see! What an awesome world I live in.)

Healing can be tough, but it’s so fantastic. It all starts with being kind to yourself. You can do it!

Step 5 - Putting Out Fires

Oh dear, something went wrong, and now a tantrum is afoot. Or a meltdown. Or a flashback. What do we do?

Hold up your fingers like birthday candles and blow them out to encourage deep breathing.

Play a song that makes you feel good, and dance if you can. Physical movement is your best antidote.

Name 5 things you can see, 4 you can touch, 3 you can hear, 2 you can smell, and 1 you can taste.

Repeat your affirmations aloud. There is power in hearing something that isn’t your own mental hurricane. “I am loved, I am safe, I am going to be okay.”

Assign the trigger to a stuffie (don’t worry, they are willing participants!). Say, “hey, wait a minute, why should you be in charge? These are MY thoughts! Take that! And that! And that!” Toss your stuffie around and get those crazy thoughts away from both of you!

Assign the trigger to a stuffie, and pretend they are you. What would you say to calm them down and tell them you are here for them?

Get a change of scenery. Go outside, go somewhere else, take a shower or bubble bath.

Scribble your feelings on paper. No, really, go ham. Break some crayons. Then crumple them, tear them, and throw them away.

Most importantly - don’t be mad at yourself.

The debrief - what can we do for next time?

Handle triggers with care, but don’t be afraid of the feelings that accompany them. There is an unmet need somewhere in your soul - what is it, and how can you meet it?

Journaling and affirmations - record what happened and why you think it happened, and then write kind things to and about yourself.

“Do it scared” - push past the lies you have been told about yourself and enjoy things anyway.

I am a Christian, and I live by the phrase: “if it isn’t your reality, make it your prayer.” Even if you don’t believe now that you are safe, loved, and capable, saying these things to yourself constantly will help them be realized.

Obviously, avoiding negative language about yourself in your adult life is the other half of the pizza. Your inner child is doing work for adult you, too! Don’t undermine it!

The Wrap Up

Well, Kiddo, I’m so glad you’re taking this step in your healing journey. A few things to remember before you go:

You may grow out of regression! That’s good! It’s a sign that your inner child is happy and content.

You may never grow out of regression. That’s okay! Your inner child can get love all your life!

Your regression is your business. You don’t have to tell anyone about it if you don’t want to. Choose who you tell very carefully.

Ignore the haters. You’re doing great.

Bye, Kiddo! You are so loved!! 🥰

[madamechrissy]

Silent Serenades

♔ An arranged Marriage with Duke Gojo ♔

♔ Pairings: Satoru Gojo x Duchess Reader

♔ Content/Warnings: Heavy, heavy fucking angst, jealousy, cunnilingus, fingering, blow jobs, rough sex, dirty talk, name calling (slut/bitch etc) toxic attraction, Gojo is toxic, reader is toxic. OOC. TOXIC britney spears level lol. Split POV-

♔ Word count: this chap: 12k

♔ Summary: you are the diamond of the season, he is the charming Duke, it’s the marriage of the decade. Prominent families joining, and it so happens that Duke Gojo is gorgeous. But, he doesn't want you, and now you're trapped in a loveless arranged marriage. Royal AU, dark bridgerton vibes, Cruel Gojo x reader. OOC Set in 1800s England. Slow burn, enemies to lovers. Gojo is awful at first, HEAVY angst Basically- Gojo is a royal dick and doesn't wanna marry you - Don't read this if you want a nice Gojo lol.

Comments and Reblogs appreciated <3

Part Eight - Masterlist - Playlist

Part Nine- Let it all Burn

Your POV

“You’re so foolish to trust him, we can do this without the Duke’s cooperation.” Nanami says, cupping your face tightly, and you sigh, shutting your eyes.

“I believe him-”

“How can you! Have you forgotten all the things he’s done to you?” Nanami demands, his voice so much harsher than you’ve heard it, making you back away a step, taking a breath.

“No, I have not, that’s why I’m leaving him, Ken. I don’t expect you to wait around all month, I already know that would be stupid and selfish. You do not have to stay with me-”

“I did not say I would leave you.” He whispers, but you see his brows draw together, you see the pain on his face, and you hate yourself more and more with every breath you take.

“Do not close yourself off, even after this annulment if I am to be alone, I will be fine, I will surely miss you sweet Kento, but I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy with you in my arms.”

“You’re miserable with me, you just won’t admit it, it drives you crazy and it hurts you. And that hurts me.” Your voice is hoarse now, as he shakes his head, denying his own truth. “You are hurting, be honest.”

“Because you’re trusting him, because I will not see you for a month? How can I be happy with that, when I want you to be mine, not his.” Kento’s voice grows more intense, as he’s looking down at you, taking your chin in his hands and running a thumb down your lip. “No I don’t want to share you, but at least I know you’re here, but now you’ll be with him only.”

He’s overwhelming you so much you feel your chest tighten, trying to focus on the right thing to say. “Things are moving so fast with us, I worry you’re not thinking rationally. You do not even know me that well to marry me so suddenly, I fear it’s your kindness, it’s your caring, your heart. Wanting to save me, care for me.”

He laughs then, but it’s a dark laugh, as he runs his hands down your body, pressing his fingers into your waist, against your ribcage. “No I do not think rationally with you, I’ve thought rationally my entire existence in my work, in my life, but with you I lose that completely, when I’m kissing you, when I’m inside you.” He’s pressing his body on yours, bending low as he murmurs. “There’s no rationale to how good you feel.”

You’re flushed, and overwhelmed, as you realize Kento has fallen so deeply, and you’re not sure you’re in that same way. You have love for Kento, you clearly have attraction, and it’s so easy to just be with him. You are happy, you enjoy him, but it’s not an all consuming need, and you don’t know what love truly is yet. You have never been taught such things.

Your mother told you nothing of sex, of marriage, and you had not even laid with your own husband, choosing Kento, and now your rash moment seems to just be hurting everyone. And why was Duke Gojo constantly on your mind, was it some trauma response as Kento theorizes, or is it so much more?

Is it the fact that his kisses destroy you?

Is it the fact that every day you feel worse for continuing with Nanami this way, but you do not know how to express it? And what future is there for you with him, surely your parents would disown you, society would disown you. And you do not mind such things for love, but you are unsure of everything, you wish so badly you could put proper thoughts together.

But how can you when you have Gojo acting…

Fuck, nice?

Was it some act, was it some game? And in the end, you need Gojo to end the marriage, you truly would have a horrible time without him, that’s where Nanami was a little wrong. You thought you were so sure of everything, but Nanami’s possessiveness and how deeply he feels brings a sinking feeling to your tummy, for fear of disappointing him, hurting him again.

It’s what you do, you hurt people, hurt them like you’re hurting, trying to find comfort in Nanami.

“I am not sure if I can return your love confession, that’s not fair to you-”

“You’re young, inexperienced, and this is new. I’m a very serious man, and I know what I want… and I take it.” He says softly, you sigh, biting your lower lip. “And I want you, I want to take care of you.”

“You do not owe me so much kindness.” You stroke his cheek with your gloved hand gently, and watch his lips set in a terse line.

“You have given me your body, your innocence, do you think these things mean nothing to me, like your… Duke thinks of them?” You blink a bit, hating the pain in his voice, but understanding it.

“I know they mean something, it was why I chose you to be my first.”

Kento sighs, pulling you against his hard body then, hazel eyes narrowing, thin nostrils flaring, you can tell he’s furious at the thought. “Please, don’t trust him, don’t leave me for a month to fall victim to such manipulation.”

“I don’t want to leave you! But I do want to help the villagers, and Satoru can help me with my parents even, that’s something we really need. You’re acting as if I will not face so many challenges-”

“Satoru, you call him Satoru?” He demands then, ignoring what you’re saying, and you sigh, shutting your tired eyes, feeling pulled every which way until you may break.

“Not to his face, never, I suppose I’m just sleepy.”

“Sleepy, why, were you just up all night with him?” It’s your turn to glare at him now, and Nanami rubs his eyes, exhaling and lowering his head. “Fuck, I’m sorry darling, I-”

“You said you forgave me, but you keep accusing me of doing more. I clearly broke your trust, and I don’t think that I can repair that.”

“No, no. I’m sorry.” His voice breaks, as he’s holding your hands and kissing them, sighing.

“I’ve given you every opportunity to run from me, to go be happy, you’re so handsome, so sweet, there is no way you wouldn’t find a lovely woman, with much less baggage. Please do not make me feel even worse than I do, I promise I hate myself enough.” You choke on the words.

Kento looks at you, stepping closer, brushing his hand down your cheek. “I do not regret meeting you, or doing this, but it’s killing me enough already. Now I must think of him near you and I don’t even get to see your pretty face?” His husky voice breaks your heart into pieces.

“Kento…” You’re crying now, and he’s swiping your tears, leaning down to kiss you, and you press your lips back, but when he has his hands gripping your hips, and then he eagerly starts to unlace your bodice, his tongue swiping in your mouth, you pause him, pushing him gently away. “We cannot, I gave him my word.”

His brows lower. “Your word? What about your word to me?” He says, and you lace up your bodice, blushing furiously.

“My word was to be honest, and I have been, I have told you what I did, and you are clearly still hurt. Perhaps-”

“Yes I’m hurt. But I still need you, it’s beyond wanting, I crave you, I’m falling so deeply, and now I’m terrified to lose you, because your Duke will manipulate you.”

“Ken…”

“You’re too innocent, you do not know what he could do.”

“I’m not so innocent anymore. I know you care… but I have an obligation here, and I think I owe it to try, if he is going to. It’s to end our marriage, and have all my dowry, which could go to my children some day. It’s a win win.”

“Not for me.” He says, and you feel your tummy lurch, as his words devastate you so much.

“No… not for you. Kento, here…” You’re taking off your necklace with shaky hands, as tears are burning your eyes, and Kento glares.

He stops your hands. “Do not take it off, it’s yours.”

“I don’t deserve it.”

“You do, I just… I’m just upset. I hate him for what he did to you, and you’re so kind you’ll forgive him.” You lean back against the wall now, bones aching and exhausted, as you see the hurt you’ve caused by being so selfish, by wanting to be so happy with Kento, at his expense, falling deeper in self loathing.

“Perhaps you will find someone more worthy-”

“I want you.” He says again, softer, tilting up your chin. “I’ve wanted you since that night, when you ran off and disappeared. I won’t stop wanting you.”

“Kento…” He’s leaned down and kissing you again, tasting your salty tears, and he’s gripping you so tightly, holding you against him, but the kiss makes you sadder and sadder, his arms like a trap you wish to escape, and you hate yourself for feeling that way about him. “I am sorry that I hurt you, I never, ever wanted to.”

“I cannot bear it if you do this.” You’re a sobbing mess now, as his words hurt your heart, like he’s piercing a blade right between your breasts. “Kiss me, please, let me feel your perfect lips.”

You press yours against his again, as he holds you close, in his warm, cozy apartments, and you wonder if this is the last time you’ll see him. You wonder if he’ll find someone so beautiful and sweet and open like he deserves, and by the end of the month, you’d be all alone, on your own. No cruel… confusing… Duke Gojo, no sweet, perfect Nanami.

Perhaps just you and your thoughts.

Maybe that was for the best, so you would not hurt him anymore, and you could wallow in your own self doubts, free of Duke Gojo. You did want to be free of him, even if perhaps you all could get along somewhat at the end of this, Gojo could never love you, fuck he hates you, and you reciprocate it. Hate and toxic attraction was not love and could never be.

Nanami is kissing down your throat to your breasts, where they’re rising and falling with every breath, tongue hot and wet against your skin, his other hand slipping your skirts up. “Will you not even let me pleasure you?”

“I promised. I’m sorry but I cannot have him keep his half of the bargain if I am not going to.” You say softly, as his hands pause, and his hazel eyes are narrowed.

“Why keep your word of not sleeping with me, when did he care for your feelings?” Nanami whispers then, and you frown.

“He has been with no one for over a week. I do believe he’s serious about this, about righting wrongs.” 

“It’s as if you’re giving him more care than me.” He whispers, and you can’t take it then, as you feel the pain setting in, the self loathing. “You had no problem letting him lick you, despite my feelings, yet you cut yourself off of me now for him. What am I to think?”

“Kento, I think perhaps we should… cool down on this.”

He glares now, jaw setting. “Cool down?”

“Yes it’s too much, too soon. It’s all so foolish! How can we have this happy life you wish when you don’t truly know me? When you cannot trust anything I say.” Your voice is breaking, and you see the hurt written on his face.

“There’s time to get to know these things, for now I just know I’m hopelessly in love with you. All of you.”

“You’ll be disappointed the more you learn.” Nanami’s normally warm and cozy apartments feel like they’re closing in, like they’re so tiny. “You’re a perfect man, Nanami Kento, I fear I am far from perfection.”

“You’re perfect to me. You taste and look like perfection, don’t you know?” He’s touching you again, until he’s on his knees, pulling you against him, looking up at you, and your heart breaks. “Do not leave so soon.”

“Kento, get up don’t…” You’re pulling him up gently, and he has tears in his eyes now.

“I’m asking you not to do this. Will you please not go?” He whispers, cupping your face, and you wish you could give him the answer he needs, but you know you need to do this. Everything is screaming it, even if you wish it would scream for you to stay with sweet Nanami.

“I must do this. I’m so sorry.” You say softly, and he chokes on a cry, just as you do, hating yourself so much you can’t stand it.

Why did you run to him?

Why did you put so much on him!?

And now you hurt him more.

But this is the right decision, your gut, heart, and soul is telling you, to try to help the Duke’s villages, to try to at least become cordial with him by the end of this. But hurting Nanami in the process was never your intention, clearly he would be far better off without you, and you don’t even know if you can keep on, with how far his feelings have gotten so quickly.

You ache to return them fully, you ache to love Nanami, fuck you do adore him, but this all consuming need he has, how he burns for you, you do not. Every time you try to tell him, he gives you an excuse, a reason, and does not let you finish your words, the ones constantly stuck in your throat.

“You’re making a stupid, foolish decision. Truly you are. I don’t know how much I can save you from yourself, Duchess.” He says then, and your eyes shut, your gloves are sticky with your tears as you wipe them off your cheeks. “You’re young and naive, you have no clue what you’re doing.”

“I may be young and naive, but I know I need to do this.”

“So then you’ll choose him?”

“I’m not choosing anyone, Kento did you not hear!? It’s to help me annul the marriage! To mitigate the insane consequences-”

“And spending that time with him, you’ll have no annulment, surely you’ll end up right in his bed.” You gasp now, and he curses, shaking his head.

“You’ve accused me of being a whore a few times now, granted you may be right, but you should have said so that day I told you. Rather than us…”

“Do you regret it?” He asks softly, and you shut your eyes, struggling as you feel nausea rolling in waves in your tummy.

Do you regret it?

Should you have left him that day, instead of letting this go further, letting his feelings get deeper?

“I do not regret the action, or choosing you, but I do regret not knowing how deep your feelings were, and hurting you by not sharing them fully back. I regret ever, ever hurting you. I regret ever talking to you that day-”

“Don’t say that!”

“Why, it’s how you got involved. I’d rather have wallowed in my self pity, perhaps just-”

“I don’t regret it, anything about you. How could I, when you’re the best I have ever had? The most beautiful?” You’re so drained, now, you cannot focus on his words, it’s as if there’s a throbbing in your entire body, as your throat gets tighter and tighter, and you’re rubbing it now.

“I should not have slept in your bed. Not while I was with him.”

Nanami scoffs at that. “He’s slept with half of London, you blame yourself!?”

“Yes, because now I’m no better. Nanami… here.” You’re taking off his necklace again, and he’s shaking his head, handing it back.

“Stop that, please. I’m still in-”

“We will talk later on, with cooler heads. For now, you keep this, for someone far better might require it.” You choke up as you speak, as you hand him the necklace gently, and he curses, pulling you to him, kissing you again. Something feels so desperate about it, like how Satoru kisses you.

Satoru, always on your fucking mind.

It’s not right to have him on your mind with Nanami, you’re not giving him your everything, and he’s giving you his absolute heart and soul. “Don’t do it. I cannot wait for you.”

“I do not want you to wait. I understand.”

“So you’ll break me?” He whispers, and you look away, eyes burning from your tears. “Break my heart, walking out this door, when you know you should be with me, you know how I’ll give you everything.”

“I don’t deserve your everything.” You break away then, and he’s behind you, pressing you against the door, hugging you tightly, burying his face against your neck. “Nanami, please let me go, please forget me.”

“How can I forget you, when my every waking moment is spent thinking of you, wishing you were in my arms, in my home? Knowing you’re with him, knowing he’s horrible to you. Knowing you’re not apt enough to… you don’t know enough to handle him.”

You blink a bit then, tensing in his hold. “Are you saying I’m not smart enough?”

“No just not… just stay, please? Or you will end me here completely.”

“I don’t want to end you! I never wanted to do this to you. You will not understand my decision, you may hate me for it, that’s fine. It’s what I’m owed for hurting such a beautiful person. A beautiful soul. So Ken, if I never see you again, if you find someone so much better, just know I will always care for you, and always be thankful. But this is best for you. You know it is.”

“You’re so foolish, Duchess.” He says with a sigh, finally backing up, allowing you a moment to breathe then, and you laugh without humor.

“Perhaps I am. I appreciate everything you have done, and respect any decision you make. Should I run into you again, I hope to see you smile.” He brushes a tear from your cheek then, turning your face towards him, pressing a kiss on each cheek.

“I see. Then I only hope you do not end up burned by your decision. I can no longer save you from it.” He says then, and the finality of it along with his tears devastated you.

You’re ruining something so good, but you must let him go.

Perhaps forever? You do not know.

Just yesterday you’d bought into the dream, of being happy, but you can’t take away Nanami’s happiness in the process. Surely he hurts now, but letting him go will allow him to find a true love, a woman that worships him just like he does, one that will love him so very much, as he deserves. Nanami Kento deserves everything.

“I wish you every happiness in this world. I hope I will become a distant thought soon.”

“You know it’s not possible to forget you. Good bye, Duchess.”

“Farewell, Nanami Kento.” You say then, and he opens the door, allowing you out, and you greedily suck in air as you do, on a foggy London morning. You feel your collarbone, the bare neck now, how quickly everything has changed.

You’re riding in the carriage later, replaying the conversation in your head. Nanami's words were not kind, but they were accurate. You are young, naive and foolish, and now you’ve likely lost him forever. All because you think that you should let him be happy, but he cannot see that now.

You want Nanami’s happiness, but you do not deserve it.

You did not deserve Gojo’s cruelty either.

But something about helping him, or understanding him…

You sigh as you shut your eyes, heading towards a man who ‘hates’ you, leaving a man that’s falling in ‘love’ with you.

Are you making a horrible decision?

Satoru’s POV

You walk inside the manor now, your cheeks puffy from crying, and your neck… it’s bare. The little gold necklace is completely gone, as you step inside, quietly walking up to where he is sitting at the dining room table, and he stands then, nervously assessing your face. He aches to touch you, but he’s so afraid, is he going to scare you, is he going to irritate you?

He used to care naught for such things, but now he longs to hold you in his arms, but what comfort would you find there? When he is the source of your pain, including what must have happened when you told your lover of his plan. Of course Satoru wants a chance before you’re gone forever, he does not deserve that chance, no, but he aches in his heart and soul for one.

“Is everything… Did something happen?” He asks, and you sit next to him then, not across like usual, surprising him.

“You’re asking me if I’m okay? Are you ill or something?” He snorts then, rolling his blue eyes, pouring you the nasty coffee you enjoy and handing you a cup. “And you’re giving me coffee? Are you seriously ill?”

“Can I try to fucking be nice?”

“Can you?”

“Insolent girl.” He sighs then, sipping his tea and watching you, your hands are shaking as you try to hold the cup, gloves soaked with what he presumes are tears. “Allow me?”

You pause then, your beautiful face looking up at him, lips parted, as he gently tugs on your gloves, revealing your delicate little hands. You say nothing as he holds them for a moment, as he sees that ring on your finger, he’s unsure why you wear it, when your marriage has been nothing for you. Five pretty little pearls on a gold band adorning your finger.

He wants to kiss your hand, how stupid, how foolish he is. What effects do you have on his psyche, on his heart, as he inhales your sweet scent, the scent that makes him ache with longing. You’re just letting him hold your hand then, as he watches emotions form once more in your glistening eyes.

“Thank you.” You say softly, taking the cup with a shaky breath.

“Why do you drink such a nasty beverage?” He asks then, and you blink just a bit, looking up at him.

“Do you actually wish to know?”

“That's why I asked.”

You sigh, setting the cup down, spinning the little rose gold spoon inside of it, before looking back at you. “I have asthma.”

Satoru is surprised then, eyes widening just a bit. “Asthma? Your parents never…”

“Yes, they did not want their daughter to be ‘not good stock’ as they said. What if I pass it to the baby and this and that. As if it’s so horrible, as if I’m less than for not being able to breathe.” Satoru remembers then.

‘Just breathe’

And the look on your face, incredulous, as you’d been clinging to your throat, then the pieces fall together, you’re always rubbing it, you have coughing fits he notices at night, always sipping coffee. And he, like a goddamn fool, has upset you over and over, probably making it worse.

“More reasons not to desire me I suppose.” You mumble, sipping your drink once more, and Satoru scoffs.

“What of it, you seem to have it under control, it’s not a flaw, it’s just… well, just who you are.”

You look at him in shock now, lips parted, and then you close them, clearing your throat, your lashes lowering over your eyes, casting shadows on your pretty face. “I appreciate that.”

“It’s nothing. So, what happened with your lover?”

You sigh, looking away, shutting your eyes, your breath catching just a bit, chest rising and falling. “I hurt him.”

“Hurt him?”

“Yes, by agreeing to this, but also… I had to let him go.” Satoru’s heart pounds then, for just yesterday he was so sure there was nothing he could ever do to have a chance. Not that he has one now, but some form of small hope blossoms in his chest, something he has never truly felt aside from that night in the carriage.

“You ended things?” He asks carefully, trying not to show how much hope was in his voice.

“It was necessary, I hurt him by my decisions. He has no trust in me. I’ve only served to disappoint.”

“Disappoint? He got so much of you, how did you disappoint?”

“I shouldn’t have even done it. It was rash and foolish. Now he’s completely heart broken, and all by my hand. I did not deserve him.” You cover your face now, your little sobs wrenching his heart. “I deserve nothing but misery.”

“What? Stop that. I…” Satoru’s tentatively reaching out for your back now, and you tense when he does, as he rubs your back up and down gently. “Is this… would you like me to stop?”

“No, do not stop.” You exhale, shaky as he pulls your chair closer, still rubbing your back. “Are you comforting me?”

“I’m sure I’m quite shit at it.” You giggle then, even through your tears, snorting with laughter as he pats your back now. “I’m so shit at it you laughed though.”

“Indeed, I did. Gojo, I would love to believe this, believe you can be kind, but I don’t know if I can. And I let such a good thing go, trusting you to keep our agreement, will you?”

“I will, if you want to end things, end things, however I can with our families. I will not make you stay.” Fuck he wishes he could, but he cares enough to stop keeping you in misery. You put a tentative hand on his thigh then, your touch burns through his trousers, it kills him how good it feels, but he stays still, watching you.

“I am trusting you, foolish as it may be.”

“I’m sorry you are… well, hurt. I can’t say I’m sorry he’s not fucking you.” You roll your eyes then, shaking your head.

“At least you’re honest.”

“I thought you loved sex so much?”

You worry your lower lip with your teeth now. “I suppose I embellished to hurt you more. I don’t know if I’m any better than you at this point.”

Satoru hates that he’s relieved. “You’re much better than I am.” He says quietly, as you fiddle with some stitching on his pants, his family crest, your fingers running around it, and fuck if it doesn’t make him hard, just that touch. God everything about you turns him on, just last night after leaving your room he’d had to make himself cum thinking about you.

What he’d said.

How you’d reacted.

“I told you about my asthma, tell me something. If we are to know each other somewhat.”

Satoru freezes then. “I will tell you something important if you can help me today. For now, I have something simple to share. I love horses.”

You smile then, so brightly, it stops his heart. “I also love horses. Do you enjoy riding them?”

“I do, it’s very calming, and freeing. There will be some for sale we may look upon while we’re there if you wish for one.”

“Oh, but I won’t even be here… long enough for…”

Stop those words, they kill him.

He already knows you’re almost gone.

“Well, you can take it with you if you choose, a gift from me. I notice your gift from your lover is…”

“Yes, I gave it back. He should bestow it upon someone worthy. This does not mean suddenly I’m yours, of course.”

“I know that.” He says softly. You nod a bit, standing and straightening your skirts, tilting your head a bit to look at him for a moment.

“I will freshen up and we can head to town?”

“Perfect, thank you.”

You smile again, so sweet and just a hint of one, but the way it makes you even more beautiful kills him. You head up the winding staircase then, and Satoru tries to control his breathing, tries to focus. He wants to make today and the rest of his time good for you, it’s the bare minimum he could do before you disappear, leaving a void he never knew was there.

He would need to tell you, explain, even if it makes no sense, even if it does not help him, purely because you deserved to know, at least some of what happened to make him treat you this way. Never an excuse…

Could he find the courage?

You two walk through the poor village, your hand rests delicately in his inner elbow, you look so pretty in your day dress, but when don’t you look pretty? Satoru wants to act as if this is real, that it’s no agreement, that it’s something true. Your face is scrunched up in worry as you look upon the acres of farmland and the conditions those are living in.

“Gojo… this is so… we must help them.” You look at him, your hand gently squeezing his arm, and Duke Gojo nods.

“Yes, I want to help them, it will be much more than a month of course, but I appreciate you helping at all.” You sigh now, as you all approach the main farmer that supplies the Gojo Manor with food and grains.

“Your Grace!” The farmer and his wife bow and curtsey, then look at you and do the same. “Your Grace!”

“No need to be so formal.” You say, and Satoru watches your soft smile as you walk up to them, they seem instantly enamored by you.

“We are here to discuss some better conditions, I know my father… was slacking when it came to this.” Satoru says, and they nod carefully. “Please, be honest with me so I may help.”

“Rest in peace to his grace.” Satoru tries not to snort. “But indeed, his short run as Duke was absolutely devastating to the villages, we had hoped that perhaps you would…”

“Hush, Richard!” His wife hisses, and Satoru holds a hand up.

“No, I need honesty. Go on.”

Richard sighs, wiping his sweaty brow. “The taxes have made it near impossible to do anything but break even, and we give as much food to the manor as we can, but here people are hungry” Satoru feels sick then, thinking of his conditions, thinking of how he let this all go, let all of this go because of his hatred.

“Cut the manor’s supplies by twenty-five percent, to start.” You say then, and Satoru smiles, as you look at him curiously, and he just nods.

“We could never!” Richard’s wife says, clutching the bodice of her old brown dress she wears.

“Indeed you may, we have a surplus. And Duke Gojo will lower the taxes as much as he can, it may not go back to how it was, but he can certainly lower them, yes husband?”

Fuck you’re amazing.

“Indeed, I will lower them… twenty-five percent.” He smiles at you, and you light up, nodding. Richard and his wife begin to cry, then they’re on their knees at your feet, you squeak adorably, yanking on them.

You bring everyone to their knees, don’t you?

“No, no! Get up!” You hold their hands and smile at them. “We will work on fixing this, you have my word. For now that will provide much needed relief.”

“You’re an angel, a godsend.” His wife says through her tears, and you pull a fancy handkerchief out of your reticule, handing it to her and holding her shoulder gently.

Fuck you are an angel. Satoru marvels as you start speaking to them both, and Satoru does not have to do much, not with you there, not with others around coming to you, and marveling at your beauty, and your kind nature. You are so gracious and sweet to every last one of them, taking your time as the Duke speaks to the men about the financials.

“Please make us a list of what you need. We can come and help with supplies or anything.” You say before you all leave. “Make a list for us, yes?”

‘Indeed. Oh, your Grace, you married an angel.” Richard says now, and you shake your head with a little smile.

“You’re… fuck, you’re incredible.” Satoru says as you all are waving goodbye and heading to the next person you must speak to. You blush prettily at that, looking nervously at the ground.

“You’re being so nice. It’s so weird?” He laughs a bit then.

“I was very nice once upon a time. Let’s say someone broke me. Like I clearly tried to break you.” He hates himself as he speaks, but you take his hand carefully for a moment, he feels the satin of your gloves before you pull away.

“I’m not broken just yet. Who's next?”

“The landlords of the village, I do need to speak alone to them, they do not respect women’s opinions. As if their wives aren’t smarter.” You giggle and the sound does things to his entire body. “Would you mind spending some time looking at the horses for sale as I convene with them?”

“Oh, of course. I will meet you there.” It’s so easy to pretend you both are a couple, so very easy to pretend that Satoru almost believes it, and so quickly. When he does finish threatening the landlords and getting them to lower their rents, he finds you petting a beautiful white horse and feeding it an apple. You look back at him, your curls bouncing as you grin.

Fuck, his heart stops completely, as the rays of sunshine bounce off your skin, making it glow, and he wishes upon anything he had not been so horrible, so foolish, because now all he will get are glimpses of you. There would be nothing else, once you are gone.

“Come here, look at her, she’s a beauty!” You say with a laugh, and Satoru takes a breath and comes over then, petting the horse’s face gently, she looks up at him with big brown eyes.

“Quite a beauty. Is this the one you want?”

“You cannot buy me a horse-”

“Why not, it’s a trifle to me. At least enjoy… before you leave.” He mumbles then, as the words hurt to say. You look at the horse carefully, then look at Satoru, smiling so cute, he watches your face light up. Today he’s seen you smile so much, he does not think he ever has before, not after what he’s done.

Is this who you are?

“That is most generous, Gojo. Thank you.” You hug him before you seem to think better, easing back with a tighter smile. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course. Let me purchase it, we can have her tied to the carriage.” Satoru purchases the horse and can’t stand how adorable you are, it causes some twinge he can’t place.

Satoru had long thought you so beautiful, long wanted your body, long enjoyed how you challenged him, your strength and confidence. But now he’s noticing every little thing you do, every gesture, every soft smile, everything about you, constantly endearing you to him. He should not get so close, so hopeless, knowing you do not want him, knowing you can never be his.

How can he fall for you now? When you’re not his, even if you’ve ended things, it’s not as if you suddenly would forgive and forget what Satoru’s done, especially in just a day or two. His problem last time was that he did not give you time, he just expected things to happen, as things always have for him, as a Duke, but you were not some conquest or some quick thing.

You are so much more.

Should he have hope, or is he a fool?

Now you all are in the midst of a little fair, where there are all sorts of villagers dancing and laughing, and you look up at Satoru then, sighing. “Although they’re so very underprivileged, don’t they seem so happy? So much more happy than…”

“Than you?”

“Than us.” You answer, and he sighs, nodding.

“They do seem happier. Perhaps finding the joy in community, in lovers, in family, whereas we just play our roles. Though I suppose your role will end soon.” He can’t stop the hurt in his voice, and you notice, blinking back emotion. You shouldn’t care, why do you still care at all?

“Perhaps. I know I would find joy in children, in family. Oh, hello!” A little girl runs up to you then, practicing her curtsey, making you giggle.

“Princess, Princess!” She says to you, and you look like one, don’t you, it’s why Satoru says so. You are straight out of some fairy tale, and Satoru is some beast you’re stuck with, surely.

“Aha, I am a Duchess, so very close. He is the Duke, so almost a Prince!” She points to you, and he chuckles a bit, shaking his head as you bend down, uncaring of the dirt at the bottom of your skirts. In fact you seem more alive here than you ever have at a dance or at the manor.

Satoru watches you light up then, as you stand up and hold that little girl in your arms, with the biggest smile on your lovely face, fuck it lights everything up, a sight he never thought he’d see near him. Not when he brought you so much pain before, so much so he detests himself for it, for clearly dimming this beautiful, bright soul you have with so much darkness.

Your little laugh is precious as you hold onto the kid, playing with her ringlets, and the kid grins so big back at you. “You so bootiful Dushess!” She speaks, and even Satoru smiles, he can’t help it, the kid is so genuine, and you’re so adorable with her.

“Me, beautiful, oh thank you, but you are such a beautiful Princess!” You say to her, and then you take off that little blue tiara you have, putting it on her little head as you sit her down on the ground. The little girl lights up, running to Satoru then, tugging at his lapels.

“I is a Pwincess!” She says with a big smile, and Satoru can’t stop his chuckle, adjusting the tiara worth far too much to be something for play, but then he notices you watching him, smiling at him so big, nodding.

God you’re beautiful.

You’re just glowing as you whisper - “tell her she is one”

Satoru sighs, leaning down on his haunches now. “You are indeed a true Princess, look at you! Can you twirl?”

“Twirl? Hmm!” She spins and he laughs, then takes her tiny little hand in his, spinning her instead, and she giggles like crazy, then Satoru looks at you, your hand on your chest, your eyes glassy as you smile.

“There, Princesses twirl like that. Let me show you with the Duchess. May I, my lady?” Satoru walks to you and bows at the waist, you blush so pretty as you give him a delicate curtsey.

“Indeed, you may, Prince Gojo.” She teases, winking at the little girl, who is bouncing up and down, as other kids come up with their parents, smiling at you both. Satoru takes your little hand in his big one, the other on your waist, realizing for once you are wearing short stays and not a corset, and he can feel your waist.

He has to take a breath for a moment, as he spins you, and then looks at the children with a smirk. “We need music!”

“Oh, let me sing!” One of the little kids says, and then they are all singing together, quite horribly, making you giggle as you look up at Satoru, and fuck you take his breath away.

Could you ever forgive him, care for him, stay with him?

The thought of you leaving makes his chest hurt so bad it’s like someone is ripping his heart out, to know he pushed you right into the arms of another, he hates himself for it. He wants so badly to know you, and he loves what he’s learned today, that you would be the best mother in the world. That you light up around children.

Perhaps your baker would have given you those, but for a heartstopping moment as you dance in his arms, in the middle of a poor little village with kids singing, he wonders if he’d change his vow to not have an heir, if only it was with you. If only you would stay, he would do anything for you now, anything to keep this smile.

He knows he has next to no chance, he knows he’s only beginning to repair anything, but you make him want to dream of it, make him want to try. As he dips you over his arm, and whispers against your ear - “A pretend kiss, Duchess?”

“You’re such a cad.” You whisper back, as he leans you back up to stand, eyeing your beautiful lips.

“For the children!?” He whispers, looking at them, then at you, and you sigh, looking up at him and nodding with a little smile.

“For them.” Satoru cups your face and plants a sweet, chaste kiss on your lips, and everyone is cheering.

“Royalty!”

“So in love!”

“So romantic!”

It’s not true, you’re doing this because he’s got you in an arrangement, because he’s trying his best to hold onto you, to just get a little bit of your attention and time before you slip through his fingers. But he feels you tremble in his arms, your arms wrap around his neck, and when you pull back you are flushed, smiling shyly, before you compose yourself and grin at the onlookers.

After you all had moved on and were walking back to the carriage, Satoru takes your hand, and you pause, before removing it, looking up at him. He sighs, his own hand at his side, as he burns for you, for your affection, something he pushed and pushed away. You sigh then, as you all get to the carriage, and look up at him, taking his hand.

You make his heart falter.

“Sorry, you’re trying to be so much kinder, I do appreciate it. But I’m too afraid that it’s a lie, that I have lost someone who loves me because I am foolish.” Satoru nods then, thinking of that man on you, swallowing down the sickness.

“I have one thing to say. If you would let me.” You take a breath, nodding then, and he cups your cheek, looking down at you, and feeling you tense, biting your lower lip. “I wish that was our first kiss.”

Tears form in your glittering eyes, as you suck in a breath now, looking away and your lip trembles. You shake your head, and Satoru’s heart is pounding, he’s never vulnerable, he’s so terrified, will you shoot him down, and how will he react? He’s so fucking scared…

“I wish that was our first kiss too.” You say finally, and he gasps, as you then turn away, and his hand touches your waist gently, helping you up into the carriage. He comes to sit next to you and you take his hand again, carefully with a small smile. “I wish we… well I guess it…”

“Yes. I agree.” You pull away but he pulls it back, and your eyes lock, the breaths loud in the carriage as it rocks gently. “I know you’re leaving me, but could I please enjoy this while I can?”

“Enjoy my hand?”

“Yes.”

You nod then, pulling back and taking off your glove, smiling as you hold his hand so carefully, now bare, your skin against his making him yearn ever more. “You mean like this?”

“Yes. Thank you.” He murmurs, holding your little hand, and you nod just a bit, as the sunlight filters through the carriage blinds, and Satoru thinks for once, maybe he could open up, he could try even if it’s going to end in his own pain. Even if you’re too far gone, he cannot give up. He has to try for you.

“Today was beautiful.” You say after a few minutes of quiet, and he looks over at you now.

“You’re beautiful.”

“Don’t… please…” Your voice breaks, and he sighs, shaking his head and turning to you now, still holding your hand. “Duke Gojo…”

“I should have told you from the beginning. That night, our wedding night, how beautiful you looked, your lacy little outfit, your hair shimmering.”

“Don’t.”

“You looked perfect, your body I can only imagine fully, I’ve just seen it in pieces, but I know it’s beautiful. I know your heart is beautiful. I saw you today, uncaring of dirt, treating these people as equals. I have never met a fucking noble like that.”

“You give me too much credit.”

“I gave you no credit until now. None. I was horrible.” He hates himself then, as emotion wrecks him, emotions he wants to keep in as he cups your face. You have little tears glistening down your cheeks. “I know you’re not mine. But it was so beautiful to pretend.”

You grip his wrist, as if to take it off, but you don’t, you shake your head at him now. “Why did you do this? Why did you cause this? Do you not understand, if you did not, I would have… fallen… I…”

“What?” He asks quietly, and now you take a breath and shut your eyes, as you speak words he thinks are impossible.

“Even now, after all you’ve done, I feel things for you, I don’t know if they are hatred, I have no idea, but they consume me. Consume me so much I had to let a good man go, because you’re always in my fucking head. I hate it, I hate it so.” You take his hand off then, and Satoru exhales, as you swipe your tears off your cheeks.

“Do you think of me?” He asks, and you laugh then, without humor, eyes glistening with a sheen of tears as you study him.

“You are like a plague, a sickness, I hate it. I hate you so much, Satoru.”

“Satoru?”

“That’s what you hear!? Not that I hate you, that I hate what you do to me!? That I can’t rid myself of you? Even when we’re done, I have no clue if I will, thinking of your body on me, thinking of your lips on mine, biting mine. When I had someone perfect, and all I desire is you. I hate it, I hate it.” Your words get hoarse, as your breasts heave in your bodice, as your cheeks flush with anger, or more.

Satoru scowls then, grabbing you by your waist. “You think you don’t constantly consume me? I told you I burn for you, I meant it, in every way. Not just your body, not just your face, it’s everything, everything about you making me fawn over you like some stupid schoolboy. Just by existing you destroy me.”

“You destroy me.” You’re crying fully now, and you shock him then, bringing him down to meet your lips.

You’re kissing him!?

Satoru has always kissed you, mostly when you fought, when you were so sexy when angry he could not stop himself, when you pushed him to the point he could not hold back any longer. But now you’re pouring your passion into his lips, and he pulls you against him, moaning into your lips, tasting your sweet lips, drinking you in, as you’re even closer against him.

You pull back, shaking your head at him, struggling to breathe. “I hate that I want you, I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t!” You smack at his chest then, and he lets you, he deserves your hits he deserves none of your kisses, none of your kindness.

“I know you shouldn’t. I know.” He brushes your hair back, falling out of your perfect little coif, and you’re trembling in his hold, as he looks at you so lovingly, as the carriage is reminding him of that night, the night he tasted you.

“Why do I want you?” You are asking yourself more than him, as he’s right against your lips, as you breathe each other’s air, as he can feel your pulse racing under his thumb as he feels your little wrist in his grip. “I’m a whore, you’re right.”

“You are not a whore. I should have never called you that. I’m… fuck I’m so sorry for saying it, for blaming you. I just… I wanted to be your first.”

“You didn’t deserve to.”

“I know.”

You sigh then, head falling back as he pulls you into his embrace, as he feels you tensing, then relaxing in his grip, now one of your thighs is over his, and he’s slipping his hands up your skirt, inch by inch, watching you and waiting for you to tell him to stop, but you don’t. You’re just watching him, as he reveals your legs, clad in little white stockings with bows.

“Like the wedding night.” He murmurs out loud without realizing, and you shift, even closer, it’s as if you’re both drawn to each other like magnets, like he’s drawn to your gravity, and you his, as he’s consumed by images of you. “I should have given you a true wedding night. Not having you crying and hurt. You should never forgive me, never, for any of it.”

“I know I should not. I know.” Your hand runs down his chest then, as Satoru’s hand is even higher, and he finds you, soaking wet and dripping, and he moans as he feels you, so slick. You cry out, head falling back, hips rolling for more. “I should not want you. I hate it. I hate you.”

“You should hate me.” He whispers, as he slides a finger in your tight entrance, watching your eyelashes flutter, as your breath quickens, and you whimper from the back of your throat, making Satoru so hard he can’t stand it, it’s painful. When he leans down to kiss you again, lips hovering. “Let me make you cum, please, it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Fuck it means so much to him though.

“I shouldn’t be doing this, I’m stupid.”

“So am I. But you’re not stupid, it’s… something between us, I’ve never felt it, even with my… with my ex. Ever.”

You look up in surprise, but then just moan out loud when he finds your clit now, and he can’t stop himself, he’s dragging you on his lap, you’re straddling him, as he fingers you, as you’re soaking his hand. And you’re clinging to his shoulders, kissing him desperately, messily, unpracticed still but fuck you’re good at it, as he pumps his fingers in your eager little cunt.

“Fuck you’re beautiful.” He whispers, enamored by the goddess on his lap now, and you’re clenching around his fingers now, gasping. “That’s it, cum Princess.”

Your POV

Satoru makes you cum right on his long fingers, so easily, so hard you’re blinded, as your entire body overheats, and you’re trembling in his hold, as he presses you down now, and you feel it, his length so hard and pressed between your lips. You moan out, grinding and rolling your hips, and fuck you want more, you can’t take it, when he looks up at you with those blue eyes.

When those elegant fingers unlace your bodice, and he’s sucking a nipple into his mouth, pressing up, and your head falls back, as waves of pleasure roll through your body, then he’s kissing you again, and you can’t think, you can’t function. You need Satoru Gojo like you need air, and you’re horrible for it, for wanting him so goddamn bad.

You break away and his pretty lips pout, thin brows draw together. “Please, it doesn’t have to-”

“It means something. It does, and I don’t know what it fucking means. I don’t know anything, Satoru.” You can’t help it, but feel vulnerable in his strong arms, and he’s cupping your face so delicately.

“You can still leave me, I understand. Just let me please you again, and again, until you pass out from pleasure, until-” Gojo’s desperation, his pleading, and his stupidly pretty face do you in.

You’ve fought it so long and you’re weak for him.

“Fuck it.” You pull back then, to his shock, unbuttoning him eagerly, and his eyes are wide in shock, as his own breaths hitch, and you find his length with your hand, stroking his pretty cock, watching his own head fall back.

“Oh my god I’m fucking dreaming.” He whispers, as you’re stroking up and down, feeling his hot skin, he’s so hard for you, and he’s kissing you again and again, moaning into your mouth. “Fuck I could cum just from that. Pathetic for you, fuck you.”

“Fuck you, fuck you. Hate you Satoru.” You whisper, then he scowls at you, gripping your hair.

“Should fuck that bitchy mouth.” His aggressive words just turn you on more, and he stops himself. “Fuck I shouldn’t say that, I’m sorry, I’m trying to-”

“Fuck my mouth then.” You say, earning him sputtering at you, before he’s pushing you down on your knees in the carriage, and he’s shoved his cock in your mouth, and you’re so wet it’s stupid, as he groans, hitting your throat.

“Fuck, feel so good, slutty throat, isn’t it?” You just nod, pathetic like he is, you want him to call you it, you love his cock hitting the back of his throat, love him moaning, whimpering above you as he’s cupping your face. “Oh my god, fuck.”

“Mmm.” Is all you manage, as you’re playing with your pussy under your skirts, aching for him.

“So slutty, you’ll play with yourself? No.” He yanks your hand off now, sucking on your fingers and groaning. “Only I can touch you.”

You pull back then, letting him go with a pop of your lips, eyeing the precum on his tip, before looking back to Satoru, glaring. “Only you!?”

“I want to fuck this attitude out of you.” He whispers, as the carriage stops then, and you realize what you’re doing. You hurriedly run out, leaving him to adjust himself and chase you, you can’t breathe, fuck you can’t… “Please, please… don’t leave, don’t run from me. Please it can mean nothing if you want. Just use me.”

“Use you… what… I…” Satoru stops you in the halls again, pressing you into that wall he’d had you on before, barring you with his arms on either side.

“You can still go. Just please, give me this moment, I have never wanted someone like this, I’ve never needed someone like this.” You shake your head, trying to come to your senses as he’s consuming you. “I’ll just make you cum, you don’t have to touch me again.”

“I liked touching you, sucking you! Fuck you for that!” You shove at him, and he exhales, so tall over you, so beautiful as his face is so close, as his hand slides to your bodice, undoing it lace by lace, and you’re on fire for him.

“I don’t hate you.”

“You do!”

“I don’t. I hated you because… fuck… you look like someone, who hurt me, okay? Just like her.” He’s cupping your face, and you blink in surprise, feeling him open, feeling his vulnerability. “It’s no excuse, and I can explain more later, but please, please let me keep touching you, I know I don’t fucking deserve to, but please.”

Satoru finally confirms what you thought.

You want to know more, but your addled, overheated mind can only think how much you want him. “It doesn’t mean I’ll stay. It doesn’t.”

He’s unlaced you fully now, and unzipping your skirts, letting them fall to a pool at your ankles. You’re in just your chemise now, nothing else, and in the middle of the manor, where any servant could walk out. You are on fire everywhere he touches, everywhere he kisses, as he picks you up now, your stocking clad legs wrapped around his hips.

“I know. I know. Let me have you cumming on my face again, let me drink every bit of you, please. There is no one I desire as you.”

“Liar, liar!” You cry out as he’s kissing you again, as he’s grinding his hips and pressing against you. “Liar.”

“I was a liar. I was. Not now. You are a madness, a black hole, sucking me in every minute you breathe.” You can’t take it, as you’re letting him carry you, as he’s shutting the door to his room, and you glare at his bed.

“How many whores came on it? I won’t fuck you on it.” You say then, and he grins like a little shit head.

“You are going to fuck me?”

“No!”

“Hmm. They’ve been cleaned. But I can fuck you on the wall, like a pretty little slut, is that what you want?”

You scoff, shoving at him. “I don’t want you. I don’t like you. I hate you.”

“Mmm, I know, Princess.”

“Not a Princess- fuck!” Satoru’s slipped off his coat, his shirt, and you drink in his perfect body, as you slide your chemise down now, and he’s staring at you, dropping to his knees, mouth dropping open.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous. Every bit of you.” He presses kisses on your tummy, as you feel emotions consuming you when he pulls down your stockings gently, as you feel Satoru’s energy taking over, as you cannot stand hardly from just his breath against you.

“I should not want you. I should not. I hate myself for it.”

Satoru looks up at you, his blue eyes swirling as he inhales you, mouth kissing your pussy just the slightest bit, making your hips jerk, as he throws a thigh over his shoulder. “I hate myself for hurting you. I hate myself so much.”

His words break you, you can’t stop the tears, of desire, hatred, confusion, of everything, of his vulnerability as he kisses your inner thigh, biting it hard, and then the pain makes you even wetter. “I hate myself and I hate you.”

“I hate myself for making you hate me.”

“Fuck… fuck just…”

“Just what?” He raises a brow, and you glare.

“Just…” You press his head against you now, and he moans, tongue lapping at you as only he can, as if he knows every spot, every inch, fucking you with his tongue as his nose bumps your sensitive clit, then he’s sinking two fingers in, and you’re cumming embarrassingly fast, as he drinks you. “Satoru!”

“Oh my god.” He groans, vibrating you as he continues fingering, looking up at you. “I can do this all fucking day. Nothing else.”

“Mmm, liar, you liked me sucking you.” He smirks then.

“Are you talking shit to me, insolent brat?”

“Sure am. Fuck you for being that good at this. Ah!” He’s sucking on your clit now, humming on it until your knees get weak, and you knock him down to the floor, eagerly grinding on him again, and he flips you on your back, the cool marble against overheated flesh, hovering over you.

You can’t speak then, not when he’s covered in your slick all over his face, not when he’s shoving two fingers back in, watching you fall apart hungrily on his goddamn floor, and you’re writhing under him. “Want to be fucked on the floor, maybe you are just a pretty little whore.”

“Oh fuck you, Mr. I fuck the brothel. Hate you.” He chuckles then, pulling out his fingers and sliding them in your mouth then, making you choke out as you taste yourself.

“Shut you up. Ah!” You bite his fingers now, and Satoru winces, shaking them off and laughing like a psycho. “Evil little bitch.”

“Cruel, mean ass fucking Duke. Hate you, mmm.” Satoru’s cock is at your entrance, and you’re cumming just from it rubbing on your clit, he gasps then, his jaw clenching. “Mmm!”

“Cumming from that, are you so pathetic, Princess?” He whispers, and you glare up at him, on your elbows now, he shoves you down, thigh high over his arm, and he looks at you, eyes darting back and forth on your face. “Ready to actually get fucked, like the pretty slut you are?”

“All talk, aren’t you, bet you- ah!” Satoru’s cock has shoved fully inside you now, and you’re shuddering as you try to take it, as he’s filled you so full, and he pauses then, lips parted, looking down at you.

“Fuck.” He whispers, leaning lower, a hand sliding up your ribcage, his forehead resting on yours for a moment. “You feel better than anything. Perfect.”

For once, the word does not hurt.

Because Satoru feels perfect inside of you.

“So tight. So wet. Oh my- fuck-” Satoru slides out, then back in, and you’re screaming out at it, at how he’s grinding his tip on your cervix, something you’ve never felt, so intense you’re shaking. “Beautiful.”

“Oh shut up, fucking… don’t make me like you… just… fuck me, ah!” Satoru’s stroking in you now, and your head slams into the floor at how good it feels, as he’s moaning over you, kissing down your throat, your breasts, fucking you harder and harder, so hard it hurts, but you want it you want- “more, more.”

“So slutty, need to get fucked good huh?” You say nothing, and he slams into you hard, and you’re cumming again, so intense you can’t see, everything goes blurry, and he then is pulling out, making you whine. “Cock hungry, aren’t you?”

“Fuck off, Satoru. Fuck-” He picks you up now, throwing you on his bed, and slamming back into you, groaning as he rolls his hips, as he snaps them into your pussy over and over, and you’ve never felt that good. You’re losing yourself in him, in his cock, his hands, his lips, his everything.

Just physical, it has to be, you can’t love him.

You can’t, you won’t, you never will.

You’re stupid.

But fuck his cock is wrecking every thought you had, and where Nanami at this point would be done, this psycho is just getting started it seems, as he’s pulling both your legs up, fucking your deeper. You’re clinging to his blankets desperately as he pumps, and your head is going side to side.

“Gonna fucking ruin you, Princess, for anyone.” He whispers, shoving your thighs against your breasts, and you’re gushing all around him, as he pumps so deep. “Make your cunt mine.”

“It’s not yours. It’s not. Ah! Mmm!” Satoru’s turned you then, and you’re on your tummy, panicking, looking up at him. “What are you doing?”

“Gonna fuck you like this, Princess. What, thought you were so experienced, huh?” He slides his cock in as you’re on your tummy, and he’s so deep like this, you feel him everywhere. He takes you over, as he buries his head against your neck, biting it, his hand sliding low as you’re shattering, unsure of your existence.

“It’s too much, too much.” You whine out, and he laughs then, psycho ass duke, rolling his fingertips on your clit, and you can’t take it, your head falls back, and he’s got a hand around your throat.

“Too much, Princess? What he couldn’t fuck you like this?” He shoves in so deep while he’s squeezing your throat, you feel like you’re floating. “You like it, me choking you, don’t you?”

“Fuck you.” He smiles against your cheek, his silky white hair tickling you, moaning into your ear then, sounding so sexy it pushes you over the edge.

“Feel her pulsing around me, fuck she wants my cum, doesn’t she? Slutty cunt, fuck I almost would just to feel it.” His words are madness, as he keeps squeezing, as he’s slamming his cock inside you, and you can hear the squelching wetness as she sucks him in, greedy for more, until your orgasm rocks you. “Oh fuck, that’s it, Duchess, that’s it. Cum all over me.”

“Hate you, hate you.” You whisper out, but you hate yourself, because you have never felt this good. He’s tilting your head now, slamming his lips against yours, in a mind numbing kiss, his cock working you over and over into oblivion, your walls clenching around him, you hate how you can’t imagine not having this.

“Could’ve been doing this, fuck I’m stupid fuck. I hate myself.” He huffs the words, then your eyes lock, and your vision blurs on his pretty face. “Best I’ve ever had, ever.”

“Liar. Manwhore.” You kiss him brutally, a hand reaching back to pull his hair tightly, and he moans at that, fucking you harder, each thrust smacking your ass, making it jiggle.

“Little slut. Wanna be fucked mean, don’t you?” He fucks brutal then, slamming your cervix, gripping you and gasping. “Oh my god, cum again, fuck cum again. Slutty fucking cunt gripping me too good.”

“Fuck you, Satoru- ah!” You scream out as you do cum one last time, fuck you’ve lost count, you’re weak and going numb as he thickens inside you, pulling out then, jerking himself into his hand, whimpering as he cums, hunched over as if in pain, and you carefully sit up, watching him breathlessly.

Satoru’s hand is covered in thick white ropes, so much of it, still pouring out of his pretty pink tip, his eyes fluttering shut, lips parted. You’re trying to catch your breath at what just happened, you feel as if you’re going to fall off the edge of the world. He looks at you then, as you look at his cock, fuck you could suck him again, he tasted so good, how does his cum taste?

Why do you think this way!?

“Let me… don’t leave, please?” He pleads, and you nod a bit, as he comes back with a washcloth, carefully wiping you, lovingly almost, what a joke, studying your pussy carefully with a smirk.

“What?”

“Beat her up.”

“Oh god.” You smack at his hand then, rolling your eyes. “You’re such an immature man. Boy I should say.”

“Boy, huh, how many times did you cum?” You’re blushing then, as he’s leaned close, kissing your lips once more. You bite him, glaring. “You’re so adorable mad, you know that?”

“You vex me so.” You push him off then, trying to catch your breath, as the reality sets in.

Nanami was right.

You ended up right in his bed.

As if reading your mind, Satoru sighs, brushing your hair back. “I’ll still allow you to leave, even if we’ve consummated the marriage.”

You look at him in shock then. “You will?”

“I gave you my word. I don’t want you too, but I will not hold you here if you still want to then. I swear it.”

“But why?”

“Because you deserve that choice, the one not given to ladies. You deserve to leave me for what I did.” He blinks away tears, lingering on his white lashes, and you break into pieces, falling deeper into his gravity, into his black hole.

He seems to feel you’re his black hole.

How do two black holes work? Do they destroy each other?

“I must… I must go.” You say softly, and he shuts his eyes, resting his forehead on yours now, nodding.

“I don’t want you to go. But I understand. I wish I could… bloody hell this is stupid. Wish I could hold you.”

“Hold me?”

“Yes, I ache to hold you every night. But I’ve brought it all upon myself. Thank you, for this. I did not deserve it, did not deserve to feel you, and your tight little pussy, watch your beautiful face, touch your perfect body. None of it. Thank you.”

“You’re thanking me?”

“Yes.” His eyes lock on yours when he pulls back, and you can’t put two and two together.

“I can’t trust you yet.”

He gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I know.”

“If I fall, you’ll just get a new mistress, flaunt her, you’ll-”

“There will be nothing after what I just felt with you. You’ve ruined me, Duchess, ruined me forever.” His words are hoarse, and so easy to fall into you have to pull away, shaky as you stand, he has to steady you. “Do you want to know more about her?”

You nod, you’d been so overwhelmed you could not remember anything for a moment. “I would, yes.”

“Get rest tonight, I will share with you tomorrow, after we take care of more pressing issues with the village.” He slides your chemise on, and touches your shoulders with his hands, even that action makes you ache for more, as your pussy throbs from his cock still, aching in ways you never have. “Thank you for everything today, even if it’s just once.”

His eyes, his face, his lips, his vulnerability, it’s too much. You lean up then, as he bends down, kissing him, letting him hold you. “I shouldn’t have.”

“You shouldn’t have, but you did. I’ll dream of it.”

“Shut it, Satoru. Fuck you vex me.” You kiss him again, before dragging yourself away, taking several breaths. “I still hate you.”

“You should.” He takes your hand, kissing it then. “There’s no excuse for anything I’ve done. I will never be able to make up for it. But I hope… tomorrow you’ll understand me more.”

“I hope I will as well. It was all I ever wanted.” Your voice breaks, and you turn away then. “I bid you goodnight.”

“Good night, Princess.” He pulls you back, tilting your chin up, kissing your forehead, and you melt from it. “Thank you.”

You cannot speak, you just leave quietly, back against the large wood doors, eyes shutting as you try to compose yourself, as you try to understand what happened, but there’s no words for it. You’d loved what Satoru did, you’d loved his cock inside you, loved him biting you, calling you a slut, loved him taking you from behind, consuming you utterly.

You are shaking as your Nan prepares a bath, and you can’t even speak to her, as you sink into the hot waters, remembering every bit of his touch. Is that what sex truly was, when you felt so much? Nanami had been so sweet with you, Nanami had professed his love, begged you to stay, but you left him.

You’re horrible.

Because Nanami isn’t even in your mind, unless you force him there, unless you make yourself think of him. It’s all Satoru Gojo, your mean husband, a cruel man who had destroyed you, a man that had fucked women right in front of you. A man that had pushed you to lose your innocence, when perhaps you would not have so quickly, perhaps you’d have thought better.

If he did not destroy your mind, your psyche, your soul. But you wanted to forgive everything when his pretty face looked at you like that, when his eyes gave you that gaze that made you feel so desired, like you were the only thing that existed for him. Nanami had never looked at you like that whatever the fuck that was.

You should scrub Satoru Gojo off you, but instead your mind is filled with images of him, that sweat dripping down his straight nose, his lips reddened from your kisses, the way his eyes rolled back when you sucked him. Instead you relish in it all, in a man you’re going to leave, in a man you don’t know, that made your body come to life.

You sink into the tub then, into the water, scalding hot, and you hope it burns you alive, as you scream out under the water in frustration.

What the fuck were you doing?

A/N: Lots of people are torn on this story, as they should be! Some people don't like the Duchess, she's not perfect as perfect characters bore me, I like complex ones. This was always a gojo/reader even if I really am confusing and hurting people lol. Love ya'll who enjoy my mess, Nanami isn't gone from the story by the way!

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

Until the next one, dear masochist readers

Part Ten

[trashytracktales]

I absolutely love your writing!!!!!! I have a bit of a longer request, you don’t have to write it if you don’t want to.

Lando and y/n meet through a mutual friend, and they both feel an immediate attraction. A few months later, they’re on a group trip—maybe at a beach villa or a mountain house for skiing. One day during the trip, they both decide to stay in, each thinking they’re alone.

Lando, believing he has the place to himself, starts masturbating on the sofa in the living room. Around the same time, y/n comes into the living room, planning to watch TV. She spots Lando on the sofa but doesn’t immediately realize what he’s doing as she was behind the sofa and a few steps away —until he moans her name. She kind of hides herself and spies on him until she gets enough courage and goes to him and asks him if she can help him and basically she goes on her knees right in front of him and starts sucking him off and he’s so surprised and turned on that he doesn’t know what to say or do other than moan her name and praise her

Deep in the Alps | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Sorry for keeping you waiting, I had a few works in progress + another request that came in before this one. Enjoy 🤍🎀

❄ summary ──── What begins as a private moment turns into something unexpected and, with a few days of vacation left, Lando is determined to make every moment count, setting the stage for an unforgettable getaway that blurs the lines between friendship and something far more... exciting.

❄ pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

❄ rating ──── explicit

❄ category ──── F/M

❄ warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, slight fluff & smut, teasing, explicit language, horny thoughts, masturbation, oral sex ─ (m)receiving, low-key whiney Lando.

❄ word count ──── 4.1k

❄ date ──── Dec. 2, 2024

OF ALL THE people in his friend group, Lando looked forward to winter break the most. He loves summer, but nothing compares to a holiday deep in the Alps, away from cameras and prying eyes.

Their cabin is covered in a generous layer of snow that glimmers like a sea of diamonds under the pale winter sun. The air is crisp and cold, and everyone is excited for today, considering how much it snowed last night.

The group dynamic is diverse, having friendships that have been inseparable for years, while others are still navigating the early stages of familiarity.

She met them through Pietra a few months ago, but this is the first time she joined the entire group for a holiday. As expected, Lando is the central piece who draws attention through his bad jokes and easygoing charm, being a constant source of amusement for everybody. She, on the other hand, is content to sit back and observe, though she’s found herself smiling at his antics more often than she’d care to admit.

Their days so far have been a blur of early mornings spent carving down snowy trails, afternoons in crowded lodges sipping hot chocolate or mulled wine, and evenings around the fireplace, sharing stories and making more plans to hangout in the future. It was easy for her to fit in because everyone seemed — at least at first — to go out of their way to make her feel welcome and included.

Today, however, a dull headache throbs at her temples, forcing her to opt out of skiing, retreating to her room for a nap and leaving them to bundle up and head out to the slopes.

Lando also stays behind, claiming he’s exhausted from the previous night’s gaming sessions with Max and Morgan. But in reality, he’s just craving a moment of quiet, which is a rarity for him.

Outside, the snow glistens with an almost blinding brightness, reflecting the sunlight in too sharply. Lando had made a point to pull the curtains earlier, and now, the dimly lit living room is perfect for lounging on the couch with a blanket draped over his lap. The movie playing on the TV is a vague blur of sound and color in the background, abandoned halfway through in favor of his phone, which is much more interesting at the moment.

He scrolls through his Instagram feed, pausing on a group photo they took when they first arrived at the location. The image lingers on the screen, and his focus sharpens, studying everybody's face until he gets to her. She’s in the center, barely noticeable because of how small she looks like next to the others, bundled up in her pink jacket, her knit beanie perched perfectly atop her head, with loose strands of hair curling around her face. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold, and her smile is soft but radiant.

Lando exhales sharply, the pressure building low in his stomach catching him off guard. He tries to shake it off, tries to remind himself that she’s just a girl that hangs out with them from time to time.

Just a girl. That's all.

However, he can't explain how she managed to get under his skin so quickly. They are polar opposites of each other, and Lando noticed that. She's so quiet and reserved, yet somehow captivating in a way he can’t quite understand — it’s frustrating, really. Maybe that's exactly what gets him, making him wonder what it would take to make her lose that composure.

No. He can't go there.

Although…

He lets his thumb brush against the screen, zooming in on her face. A low groan escapes his throat as he recalls the way she looked last night, perched on the arm of a chair while everyone chatted around her, her lips quirking up at his dumb joke; she was the only one that understood it, and he caught that. Such a stupid joke, it wasn't even funny. But she laughed.

Why does she have to laugh at his jokes? More importantly, why does he want to make jokes all the time, just so he can hear her laugh?

“Get a grip, mate,” he whispers to himself under his breath, his free hand shifting lower, sliding under the waistband of his sweats. It’s instinctive, his body reacting to thoughts he’s been suppressing for a while now. “Not that kind of grip, fuck’s sake.”

He can't stop but think of how she would've laughed at that, too.

Lando closes his eyes, his strokes slow at first as he lets the thoughts flood in — it’s a good thing no one can read his mind at the moment. He thinks of her lips and how they part slightly when she’s surprised, and the way her teeth graze her bottom lip when she’s lost in thought. He can't help but imagine those lips closing around his cock, and what her voice would sound like if he fucked her pretty mouth.

“Come on,” he gasps, frustration tugging at the edge of his patience.

His pace quickens as his mind wanders further, seeing her with his mind's eye lying delicately beneath him, small and innocent, breathing in short spasms, and asking him for more. Her softness and the way she carries herself makes him want to see her like that — in a different light, flushed and undone. The image of her laughing at one of his ridiculous attempts to impress her spurs him on, and his hand tightens, his strokes becoming rougher as his breathing grows heavier.

That's when she realizes what she's walked in on.

All this time, she thought she was all alone and, judging by the scene in front of her, he thinks that, too. Her heart thuds wildly as she tries to process it, too stunned to move another muscle. His breaths are ragged, and she feels the tension radiating off him even from where she stands, frozen in place — at the base of the stairs, behind the couch. She knows she should leave and spare them both from an embarrassing encounter, but something keeps her there.

Closing her eyes, she squeezes the railing nervously. She barely got rid of her headache, but now her head's all dizzy from Lando's rough grunts that are echoing throughout the room.

He sounds as if he ran a marathon, barefoot, in the rain.

He sounds tired, but he's aggressive, like it's making him mad — the rhythmic slap of his fist against skin making her mouth water and stomach tighten.

He sounds... delicious.

And then, her eyes snap open.

She blinks rapidly as if that will help her hear better. His voice, low and needy, whispers her name like a prayer, again and again, a desperate sound that escapes his mouth deliberately. It echoes in the room and within the walls of her skull, pulling Lando deeper into the fantasy that he’s helpless to resist — and her, towards him.

Heat floods her cheeks, a mix of surprise, shock, and something deeper spreading through her as she tries to control her breathing.

How can she simply leave, when her name hangs on the corner of his mouth, so drenched in want? It's too late now. She doesn’t think anymore, doesn’t stop to analyze what she’s about to do; she simply trusts her instincts, as she always did.

Lando doesn’t hear her approach, lost in the haze of his own thoughts, his hand moving rhythmically under the blanket. His moans get increasingly louder, so obscene in her ears. It's like they call for her, alluring and profound, and she can’t say no.

Quietly stepping closer, she leans over the back of the couch, her hand reaching out as if it has a mind of its own. When her fingers slide over his, Lando's body stiffens, his breath catching in his throat.

“Relax,” she whispers, her voice soft and filled with anticipation, causing him to drop the phone somewhere on the couch.

He tilts his head back, wide eyes meeting hers, his face flushed and disbelieving. Her sweet perfume takes over his senses, getting him high on it.

He's surely dreaming, because there is no way in hell that she is real.

“What—”

“It's okay,” she assures him, her hand gently guiding his to resume its movement. “Let me help.”

Lando yelps, his head dropping back against the couch, their faces so close to each other as her grip steadies him, matching the pace he had before. The light weight of her hand over his sends a jolt through his body, his brain so close to shutting down for good, while his chest is rising and falling rapidly as she coaxes him closer to the edge.

What in the fuck is happening?

“Does that feel good, pretty boy?” she asks, her lips dangerously close to his.

Lando nods as his hips jerk involuntarily. He refuses to believe it's because of the pet name she just gave him; he is way too strong to fall for that.

Still, he closes his eyes again, biting at his lower lip to stop his whimpers from cascading out of his mouth. There is a small trace of cold sweat pooling on his forehead as her hand moves with his until his entire body tenses, and he finally lets out a deep, guttural moan, her name falling from his lips again, more like a warning this time. He knows he's close, so he tries to push her hand away to avoid the mess that he's about to make. But she stays ferm, using her free palm to push his head in the crook of her neck and caress his cheek softly. His breath falls hot on her skin, and when she starts encouraging him, it's enough for Lando to let go, thick splashes covering his lower abdomen before he can even think. The rest spills over their their joined hands, managing to get another grunt of pleasure out of him.

“There you go,” she says, tracing her thumb over his cum-soaked head, feeling him throbbing beneath her touch. “Such a hot view.”

For a litte while, the room falls silent except for Lando's labored breathing. She moves to sit beside him on the couch, giving him a moment to recover; his eyes are still closed, because how the fuck is he supposed to look at her now?

After that, she throws the tissue box at him, letting out a soft chuckle at his pathetic attempt to catch it.

Exhaling sharply, Lando drags his hands down his face, still avoiding the eye contact. “Well, that was embarrassing.”

She chuckles again, studying him closely, while he squeezes his eyes shut as if he can erase the last few minutes from existence. Except he doesn't really want to.

They sit in silence for another moment before she shifts, crossing her legs and facing him fully. “Did it happen before?” she asks curiously.

His eyes widen slightly, finally looking at her, “What? Of course not.”

Her brow lifts, amused. “Liar.”

“I’m not lying,” he insists, his voice pitching higher.

Her lips curl into a knowing smile. “You always glance around when you’re lying, like you’re checking to see if anyone buys it. You just did it,” she points out.

Lando sighs, dragging a hand through his curls. “Right. That obvious?”

She leans in, nodding, all the amusement gone. “When?”

He hesitates, clearly debating how much to say, but her expectant gaze leaves him no choice. “It started after the Singapore weekend,” he admits, his voice low.

Her mouth goes dry. That was the weekend Pietra first introduced them. Lando had won that Sunday, and the after party was the craziest she'd been to yet.

“You wore that top, and—”

She frowns. “That top?”

“You know the one,” he says, gesturing vaguely at his chest. “It was black, low-cut, and — look, you just looked really good, okay? I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“My top?” she grins, leaning her elbow on the back of the couch as she watches him squirm.

Your tits, he wants to say, but stops before he embarrasses himself even more.

“You've never said anything,” the girl continues, “Why?”

Lando breaths in slowly, running a hand through his tousled curls again, the tips of his ears burning. “Because of P,” he admits. “She told me how much she liked having you around, and I didn’t want to mess that up. She’d kill me if she thought I scared you off or made things weird.”

Her brow lifts, amusement flickering in her expression once again. “You’re scared of Pietra?”

“A little,” he jokes, though his crooked smile falters under her probing stare. “But mostly, I didn’t want to ruin anything for you. I figured it was better to keep my mouth shut. You seem to enjoy your time with us, and I want you around, too.”

She tilts her head, studying his face in the dim light. His piercing eyes are framed by soft, dark brows, and she can’t help but imagine tracing her fingers through his soft curls. The faint facial hair adds a maturity to his otherwise boyish features, making her swallowing hard.

Bottom line, she is attracted to him, even more so now that she knows the feeling is mutual.

“Well, that’s… considerate,” she replies, her lips curving slightly.

Lando chuckles nervously, though the sound dies quickly when her hand moves, her fingertips brushing over his bicep. The contact is featherlight, but it sets his skin ablaze, his breath hitching as she lets her hand glide down his arm, tracing the curve of his muscle with an idle curiosity that feels anything but innocent.

“And now?” she comes back to her initial curiosity, her voice dipping, almost teasing. “What’s stopping you now?”

His throat tightens, words tangling in his mind as she looks at him, her eyes glittering with something that makes his cock throb against his thigh. Lando was sure that he had her figured out. But now, as she leans closer, her lips parting slightly as if to taste the tension hanging between them, he realizes how wrong he was.

“It’s always the quiet ones,” states Lando, ignoring her question, “The ones who seem all shy and innocent, hm?”

“I am shy and innocent,” she agrees with a nod, which makes him scoff. “Alright, maybe not that shy. Or innocent.”

Recognizing that doesn't make Lando's job any easier. Quite the opposite. He's more intrigued as to what secrets she may be hiding beneath her deceptive surface.

“So… since we agreed on that. Is there something else I can help you with?” she murmurs, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she gazes at him expectantly.

Lando brings his hand to rest on hers, his restraint hanging by a thread. “You don’t—have to.”

“But I want to,” she rushes to say, her tone decisive.

With that, she shifts slowly, lowering herself to her knees in front of him with an ease that makes his chest burn. Her hands rest lightly on his thighs, her gaze lifting to meet his, and in her eyes, he finds no hesitation, no doubt. Only intent, want, and excitement.

Stil, he needs to ask, “Are you sure?” he breathes, his voice barely audible.

Instead of answering using her words, her fingers grasp the edge of the blanket, freeing him from under it. She has to muffle a groan of surprise when she sees all of him in its entirety, still half-hard, resting heavily on his thigh.

“See, I knew you had a pretty cock,” she says matter-of-factly, mostly to herself. “I mean, it makes sense. So is your face.”

Lando’s hands flex at his sides, “You’re gonna ruin me,” he mutters, voice hoarse, but he doesn’t stop her as her fingers curl around his length, her movements deliberate and sure.

“Oh no,” she teases sarcastically, her grin widening as she leans forward, her touch igniting a fire that spreads through him like wildfire. “I kind of hoped it would be the other way around.”

“That can be arranged,” he assures her, hissing at her movements.

She needs both of her hands to take him properly: one wrapped around the base to hold him steady, while the other pumps him a few times to get him hard, before dragging her mouth down the sides. And, because she's the literal devil, she makes sure she holds his gaze while she takes the head in her mouth — warm, inviting, and so wet.

“Fuck,” he rasps, his hand fisting the blanket at his side.

She starts slowly, testing her movements first. It's a good thing she's already imagined this before, and now her mouth water on its own when she takes him in, inch by inch. Until she gets to her hand that stokes his base lightly. It makes her feel so full, which is ridiculous considering that he's about to fuck her mouth, and not her pussy. Still, her walls clench hard on nothing as she pulls him all the way out.

“Fuck,” he repeats, “Your mouth is so—fucking hell. You feel so good.”

The cold air after she pulls him out is enveloping his needy cock from every direction, forcing a string of whimpers out of Lando’s throat. It only make her smile as she keeps his eye on him, turning back to licking from the base all the way to his tip, where he started leaking in the meantime, as if she didn't help him jerk off only a few minutes ago.

It's hard to stay focused on her when her tongue seems like it wants to send him into a coma, but it's even harder to take his eyes off her. She looks so good on her knees that his hand almost searches the couch looking for his phone to snap a quick picture. Instead, he is content to imprint her on his memory, confident that he won't forget what she looks like, with her lips around his cock, sucking the life out of him as if hers depends on it.

Even so, Lando needs superhuman powers not to grab the back of her head to guide his cock deeper. He can't do that, though. She did offer to suck him off, but Lando doesn't know her limits yet, and he doesn't want to cross them without knowing. Alternatively, his fists squeeze tighter, sliding his body down on the couch to be closer to her.

Luckily, she gets the memo, taking him deeper into her mouth, bobbing her head a few times before she drags her tongue against the underside of his cock. The feeling makes every cell in his body burn, one at a time. He's had people going down on him before, but no one managed to get all of him in one go, and certainly not the way she does — opening up so wide for him until the tip of her nose taps gently on his base, making her drool messily all over him.

It’s almost too much, and so overwhelming that he forgets how to breathe for a few seconds, the tension in his lower abdomen building at an alarming pace.

“Shit, Lando,” the girl sobs, her eyes teary, “You're big,” she adds, her voice raw as she continues working her hand up and down his length, while catching her breath.

He doesn't need an ego boost, but he's happy to take it as long as it comes from her.

Lando's head falls back against the couch in surrender, just as she squeezes at his thigh with her free hand, only to bring him back to her. But the slick, pornographic sound her hand makes as she rubs him sends Lando straight to his own personal heaven, where his senses are activated exponentially. He's far too lost in the way she makes him feel, that only her mouth sucking hungrily on his tip can bring him back. Her tongue starts circling around it, and Lando’s eyes snap open while he rolls his hips back into her mouth.

She moans in protest, pulling him out again, “Eager boy,” she whispers out of breath. “Are you close?”

“Mhm” whines Lando, finally rising his head to look at her.

And what a rookie mistake that was.

Somehow, she managed to keep that innocence he saw in her ever since they met for the first time. Her big, deer eyes looking back at him while her cheeks are flushed pink, her lips swollen and her chin drenched would usually be his undoing. But she’s still mouthing around his cock, holding him in her delicate hand, so oblivious to the fact that Lando will see exactly that image whenever he closes his eyes, for a long time to come.

Starting now.

She chuckles at his choked hum and the way he seems like he can’t keep his eyes open anymore, “Where do you want it?”

Inside your mouth.

All over your tits.

On your face.

Her colorful giggle brings him back once again, realizing much too late that he said it all out loud.

“You look so hot when you're desperate,” she says, her lips shiny with spit and pre-cum, squeezing him slightly as she traces her thumb over his leaking head.

Normally, he’d have words to counter that, but all he needs right now is to cum, cum, cum. Except she unexpectedly frees him from her grip, forcing Lando to snap at the loss of contact, her lips leaving him cold, wet, hard, sensitive, and so fucking close to the edge.

His legs tense, and a low, guttural groan escapes him without permission. “Why did you—” he begins, his voice breaking. His head snaps forward, another whimper slipping from him as he watches her, wide-eyed and wrecked, struggling to catch his breath. “Fucking hell, what are you doing?”

She silences him by peeling her pajama top off in one smooth move, tossing it aside without hesitation. The gesture is rapid and deliberate, and Lando’s jaw slackens as he takes in the sight of her bare skin, the curve of her chest illuminated by the faint light that’s coming from the TV. His hands twitch on the couch as if he doesn’t know whether to reach for her or keep himself anchored to the seat.

Without a word, she leans forward, her eyes locking with his as she takes him back into her mouth. Her gaze never wavers, and Lando feels like he might combust on the spot.

So beautiful.

She smiles, intertwining her fingers with his, while her other hand wraps around his length, stroking him in rhythm with her mouth. The intimacy of it all, the eye contact, and the sheer devotion in her movements make his mind travel far away.

His muscles tighten, his free hand gripping the back of the couch for support as he feels himself throbbing against her tongue. He can barely form a coherent thought, his body shaking with the effort to hold on just a little longer, even though he knows it's a losing battle.

“Oh, shit,” he murmurs, his voice raw and heavy with need. “Such a perfect mouth, I’m—”

That’s when she pulls back again, and he curses loudly at the loss of her warmth. But before he can beg her to come back, she leans over slightly, guiding his cock as his release spills over her bare chest, the warmth of it contrasting with the cool air.

“Fuck, baby, fuck,” Lando cries out, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm. “That's so hot.”

She lets out a soft sigh, her lips curving into a satisfied smile as she tilts her head, still maintaining that piercing eye contact.

Lando can’t breathe. He doesn’t know whether to apologize for the mess or worship her for the sight in front of him. Either way, he doesn't even have time to decide. The next second, her mouth falls open, sticking her tongue out to rub his sensitive tip against it, cum and spit dripping down all over her chin.

“Holy shit,” he finally continues, his voice shaky as his eyes are raking over her with a mix of awe and disbelief.

His fingers, still intertwined with hers, tighten their grip, and before she can move away, he uses the leverage to pull her on top of him. She gasps softly at the sudden movement, bracing herself on his shoulders, her flushed face just inches from his.

“Oh, hi,” she says, the sudden closeness catching her off guard.

“Hi,” replies Lando with a little smile in the corner of his mouth, “Swollen lips suit you,” he teases, his voice thick with lingering desire and a touch of his usual smugness. His eyes gleam with a mischievous light as he brushes his thumb over her lower lip, smirking when she playfully hits his chest in response. “Although I’d say you’re missing something.”

“You don’t say?” she asks, arching an eyebrow. “And what’s tha—?”

Lando doesn't let her finish before closing the space between them, capturing her lips with his. The kiss is messy, unrestrained, potentially gross, but he doesn’t care about the lingering remnants of spit and his cum still on her. If anything, it seems to spur him on, his tongue exploring hers with a slow intensity that makes her feel like she’s the only person in the world that has ever caught his attention.

When Lando pulls back, his lips glistening just like hers, he chuckles, wiping his jaw with the back of his hand and giving her an exaggerated grin. “My turn?”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2024

[ponderingmoonlight]

Geto being forced to kiss you during a mission but shamelessly making out with you instead

Pairing: Geto x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,8k

Synopsis: It was an easy mission like many others before. Get in, find the suspect, free the innocent. Well, if it wasn't for none other than Geto Suguru who has to play your boyfriend. If it wasn't for that fateful situation that forces you into a heated kiss.

Warnings: I swear this is a dream I had tonight and I HAD to write it down with Geto being the main character lol, no smut but it's getting a little heated y'all, enjoy

You’ve been assigned to many missions before, but this one is different. It’s not the mission itself - that’s pretty standard. Blend in, gather the information needed, free their hostages and get out. No, what makes this different is who you’re paired with.

Geto Suguru.

It’s not that you dislike Suguru. Quite the opposite, really. He’s intelligent, powerful, and intimidatingly good-looking. To be honest, you didn’t really get the chance to talk a lot with him. You’ve met him a few months ago at a party, innocently meeting his gaze for the first time. Since then, you wrote a few messages back on forth without him really kicking off a conversation with you himself.

Working so closely with him? That’s a whole different challenge.

You glance over at him as the two of you walk down a crowded street, playing the part of casual tourists. He’s dressed casually, his black hair tied up in its usual bun, dark sunglasses resting on his face. His tall frame and handsome face draw some attention, but not enough to arouse suspicion. Still, you’re hyper-aware of his presence, every step synchronized with his, every breath you take feels too loud beside him.

“You alright?” Suguru questions, his voice smooth as ever, but there’s a hint of amusement hidden behind it.

You realize you’ve been staring a little too long. Again.

“Yeah, fine,” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Just focused.”

“Good,” he comments, his lips curving into a faint smile.

“We can’t afford any distractions today.”

It’s funny he should say that, given that he’s been the biggest distraction for you all day.

The two of you are currently undercover in the heart of Tokyo, tasked with infiltrating a high-profile gathering where some curses are believed to be in league with a dangerous rogue sorcerer. You’re supposed to act like a couple - just a pair of normal people attending a party, gathering information without raising any alarms. Simple enough.

Except pretending to be a couple with Geto Suguru isn’t as easy as it sounds.

The party venue is just up ahead, a high-end rooftop lounge that glows with expensive lights and laughter spilling out into the cool evening air. You take a deep breath, adjusting the strap of your dress as you try to mentally prepare yourself for what’s coming. You’ve done plenty of undercover work before, but never one so… intimate.

As if sensing your tension, Suguru places a hand lightly on the small of your back, guiding you toward the entrance. The touch sends a jolt through you, far too electrifying for something so casual. You hope he doesn’t notice the silly reaction of your body, how his touch alone sends shivers down your spine.

“We’ll get in, blend, and be out of here before anyone knows we’re even involved,” he murmurs, his voice so close to your ear it sends another shiver down your spine.

“Just stay close to me.”

You nod, your pulse quickening despite yourself.

“Got it.”

The two of you approach the entrance, and after a quick flash of the fake invitations, you’re in. The lounge is just as extravagant as you expected: soft golden lights, chandeliers glinting like diamonds, and elegantly dressed people sipping on expensive drinks.

The air is thick with the scent of alcohol and perfume, a faint buzz of conversation filling the room. You can feel the tension already, a subtle undercurrent that tells you something’s off. The rogue sorcerer could be anywhere in the crowd, and the curses could be anyone. You can’t afford to relax for even a second.

Suguru’s hand doesn’t leave your back as he leads you through the room, guiding you with the ease of someone who’s done this a hundred times before. You find a spot near the back, close to the open bar, where you can observe without being too obvious.

“They’re here somewhere,” Suguru mumbles, his eyes scanning the crowd behind his sunglasses.

You nod in agreement, your gaze sweeping over the guests. You can feel eyes on you too, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary. Just regular party-goers glancing at the attractive couple standing together, unaware of what you and Suguru are really here for.

Just as you start to relax, a small group of men enters from a side door, catching your attention. One of them, in particular, stands out. He’s dressed sharply, his dark hair slicked back, a predatory gleam in his eyes. You don’t need to double-check him, your palms already starting to sweat.

That’s him. The rogue sorcerer. The man you’ve been searching for.

Suguru notices him too, his posture tensing slightly.

“That’s our target,” he mutters under his breath.

You nod subtly, trying to remain casual, but the moment the sorcerer’s eyes land on you and Suguru, they narrow. He recognizes something. Or maybe it’s just paranoia. Either way, the tension in the air spikes.

“He’s watching us,” you whisper, your pulse quickening.

“Act natural,” Suguru says, his voice low, steady.

He slides his arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Just follow my lead.”

Your heart pounds at the sudden closeness. His hand is warm on your waist, his body pressed against yours in a way that’s far too intimate for what should be a simple undercover mission. But you force yourself to relax, slipping into the role.

The sorcerer is still watching, his eyes flicking between the two of you with suspicion.

Suguru leans down, his lips brushing against your ear.

“We need to do something to throw him off. He’s getting suspicious.”

You swallow hard, nodding slightly. The last thing you want to do is causing a scene and risking the lives of countless innocent people.

“What do you suggest?”

There’s a pause, just long enough for you to notice the way his gaze switching back and forth between your lips and eyes. No, he can’t really mean this, right? You, kissing Suguru Geto?

But his eyes aren’t joking around. Not the slightest bit.

“We’re going to have to make this look real,” he continues, voice low and serious.

Before you can ask one more time what he means, his hand slides up to cup your cheek, turning your face toward his.

Your breath catches in your throat as he tilts your chin up, his dark eyes locking onto yours. There’s no time to question it, no time to think. His lips are on yours before you can even process what’s happening.

It’s soft at first, just a brush of his mouth against yours, gentle and controlled. It’s meant to be quick, just enough to make it seem real. But then something shifts. The pressure deepens, his hand sliding from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

You can’t help the soft gasp that escapes you as his other hand tightens on your waist, his body pressing more firmly against yours. What started as a brief kiss to maintain your cover quickly spirals into something else entirely. The kiss grows heated, his lips moving against yours with a hunger you hadn’t expected.

Your hands move on instinct, holding onto the back of his neck as you lean into him, literally fall against him.

You should pull away. The mission. The rogue sorcerer. You can’t afford to be distracted. This is nothing but a cover-up, after all. But the kiss… it’s overwhelming. Suguru’s lips are firm, his breath hot against your skin as he deepens the kiss, coaxing a response from you that you can’t hold back.

The world around you fades. There’s no party, no rogue sorcerer, no mission. There’s just the heat between the two of you, the press of his body against yours, the way his lips seem to know exactly how to pull you under.

Your pulse races, your mind going hazy as the kiss stretches on longer than it should. There’s an urgency now, a desperation in the way his mouth moves against yours. It’s not about the mission anymore. This is something else entirely. Something raw, electric. Something you only allow yourself to dream of.

His tongue brushes against your lower lip, and without thinking, you part your lips, letting him in. The kiss becomes even more intense, your bodies pressed so close you can feel the rapid beat of his heart against yours. His hand moves from your neck, tangling in your hair as he pulls you impossibly closer, his breath mixing with yours as the kiss turns downright needy.

A soft sound escapes you, half gasp, half moan, and you feel Suguru’s grip tighten in response. He’s losing control too. The realization sends a thrill through you, the idea that Geto Suguru, the calm, composed and always in control force of a man, could be folding because of you.

But then, just as suddenly as it started, he pulls away. The kiss breaks, leaving you both breathless, your lips swollen, your heart racing.

Suguru’s chest rises and falls rapidly, his dark eyes staring into yours, wide with something unspoken. His hand lingers on your waist for a moment longer before he finally lets go, stepping back, his expression unreadable.

You blink, trying to clear the haze from your mind, trying to remember where you are, what you’re supposed to be doing, your mind desperately fighting for control while your body still griefs the cold he left behind.

The rogue sorcerer. The mission.

You quickly glance around, realizing the sorcerer is no longer watching. He must have lost interest, convinced by the display. You breathe a sigh of relief, but the tension between you and Suguru remains thick, heavy.

“That… worked,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Suguru nods, but his eyes are still on you, dark and intense.

“Yeah. It worked.”

For a moment, neither of you move, the air between you crackling with something unsaid, something neither of you is quite ready to acknowledge.

But the mission isn’t over yet. You have a job to do, and now, more than ever, you need to stay focused.

Suguru clears his throat, straightening his posture, slipping effortlessly back into his composed persona.

“We should keep moving. We still have to find out what their plan is.”

You nod, trying to steady your racing heart as you follow him through the crowd. But even as you focus on the task at hand, you can still feel the lingering heat of his kiss, the way his lips felt against yours, the way your body reacted to his touch.

Tags:

@arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld

@hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen

@magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut 

@mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0

@ynackerman9499 @keepghostly  @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife 

@coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain 

@risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny

@ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr

@sugu-love @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world

@oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @kentocalls @cheesemachine44

@ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299

@okay-it-is-ivy @paridoliaaa @cupcaketeddybehr @ryumurin

[luveline]

Jade Ik it's a bit past due but I would love a hotch and sunshine reader Valentine's fic!! I miss that trope

You can barely see Morgan to ask over your hamper, “Is he in his office, do you know?” 

“Hi, mama. Somebody’s going all out today.” 

You beam at him, nudging the flowers aside to see him in all his handsomeness. “You know me, Morgan. I love him.” 

“Yeah, I know,” he says. “He’s where he always is. Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.” 

You wish Morgan a loving Happy Valentine’s and begin the treacherous journey up the steps to Aaron’s office. You used to be so scared coming up here, worried he’d reject you, chastise you for something, but somehow he never has. Now you ascend them with a smile and make your blind way to his office door and knock the window pane gently. 

“Come in, please,” he says. 

You smile like an idiot at the mere sound of his voice. The hamper and bouquet you carry shuffle in your arms, desperate to be dropped, but you make it soundly to his text before you lose your grip. “Oh, shit,” you swear under your breath, grabbing the flowers as their petals grace the surface of his cup of coffee. “Sorry.” 

You can’t know how Aaron feels about you —he’s told you a succinct explanation of his feelings as people tend to do, affectionate, tender I love yous that don’t cover the half of it— but he’ll tell you later about this moment. You in his office with your lovely smile and how it cleaves him apart just looking at you. The hint of nerves, the tentative anticipation about you as you pull the card from a basket full of chocolates and red packaging to hand to him across his files. 

“Honey, come here,” he says, the knife of you urgent, unignorable. He takes the card and catches your hand, encouraging you around the desk. “Come here.” 

He changes his mind and stands. Your eyes widen ever so slightly as he holds your hands between your two bodies and leans down for a peck. “You’re not supposed to be here yet,” he says, “you'll have to wait a minute for your flowers.” 

You laugh excitedly. “You got me flowers?” you ask. 

“Mm,” he says, squeezing your fingers, “but they were supposed to arrive at lunch, with lunch.” He brings his hand to your face and strokes your skin back from the apple of your cheek to your ear with the side of his hand, pleased goosebumps erupting down your arms at the touch. “Is all of that for me?” 

“Treats for you,” you say. You both know he knows the feeling flooding your senses now. You’re intensely easy to please. Any amount of affection could melt you, but you especially love being touched by him like you’re going to break if he’s not careful. You’re flustering the longer he strokes your face, his thumb drawing hearts at the soft skin beside your ear. 

“And the lump in your pocket?” he asks. 

Your mouth makes an ‘o’. “That’s for you too, of course. But I figured I’d give it to you during dinner.” 

“Whenever you want. You can have yours at the same time.” 

Your eyes glow like diamonds, and that’s fitting. He’s sure you’ll always shine brighter than any gift he gives you, but he’s really tried it this time. 

You needle your arms behind his neck. “Happy Valentine’s Day, handsome.” 

He leans down to hug you, arms crossing behind your back. He’s tempted to keep you forever like this, chests  together, stepping on the toes of each other's shoes, but you’ve got better things to do, he’s sure. You laugh softly in the well of his neck and press a kiss to his jaw before you pull away. 

“I can’t believe how pretty you are,” he says without thinking. 

You look like you could burst. “Oh, I love Valentine’s. They should have one of these every month.” 

Your breath escapes the corners of your lips in a breath that’s nearly a squeal when a knock sounds at the door. Hotch answers and takes care of the tip as he accepts your dinner for the afternoon and then, moments later, the intrinsic bouquet of your favourite flowers. He’d meant for you to be sitting when they arrived, but it barely matters. You’re so excited you linger by his side and make a face that he believes to be the holding of a silent scream as the delivery men leave. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, honey,” he says, closing the door with his ankle expertly. 

You crush the bouquet between you, grappling for a kiss he’s eager to give. 

[pluralthey]

what steps do you go through to draw in your current style? do you have any pointers about it? its absolutely one of my favorites

i'm not sure if i think of my process in steps. in my head, i'm just straightforwardly drawing the shapes the characters are made of at angles that look right and building on that... luckily, i stream when i draw every day, so i have a ton of videos of myself drawing. example:

i haven't bothered to upload a lot of the modern streams to youtube because my video editor can't handle editing 4-8 hour files even if i'm speeding them up and technically making them shorter because of the way video editors interact with files, and the freeware i use isn't able to make proxy files. the act of downloading and editing and combing through all the footage is a ton of time and memory space and it's just not what people are usually looking for from me, so it's not where i wanna put my time.

but that's neither here nor there. what i mean to say is these vods are really long. so you don't want to rawdog those. but you can just download a video speed controller extension to your browser and it's extremely easy to cruise through the backlog of vods at ~15x speed.

i've gone ahead and highlighted some of the recent videos to separate the chaff from the wheat. i tend to take long breaks to eat or walk my dog so there are big periods of Nothing Happening. i'll try to skim some more and do the same. unfortunately, i don't have any good videos of me coloring, since twitch deletes vods after like a month, and i've just been focusing on sketching.

but yeah, in general, it really depends on how good i'm feeling on a given day -- sometimes i will sketch multiple times for just one panel and sometimes i won't sketch at all. i use paint tool sai 2 and a pixel brush usually 2 pixels wide with no pen pressure. for comics, i have 1 layer for the panel borders, 1 layer for the sketch, 1 layer for the lines, 1 layer for the colors, 1 layer for the text, and 1 layer speech bubbles. sometimes there are special effects that overlap borders and need their own special layers. when i start sketching a new panel, i will usually put it on its own new layer, and sometimes for multiple characters i will put them on another new layer at a different opacity. this is mostly to move them around without constant cleanup. once i've gotten a sketch pretty finished, i merge all of the layers into the sketch layer. the line layer is usually just the sketch layer cleaned up and paint bucket tooled black. but basically, the vast majority of my time working on art is spent trying to fix small things like tangents, fitting speech bubbles into panels, thinking about how to lay out a page, checking continuity interaction with other pages, that kind of stuff. the complex technical parts of the process are to save time on those in ways i can without compromising quality. the other portion of working on the art is like "step 1: draw head circle (or jessie head diamond). step 2: draw the rest of the owl." i don't know if this was helpful at all y_y if you want more pointers i might be able to offer clarity on more specific questions!

[her-satanic-wiles]

Kinktober Day 10 - Aphrodisiac

Brother Imperator x Succubus!Reader

He’s newly appointed to the Ministry as head honcho, the man who makes all the decisions. You love a man in power thanks to the Dark One, especially when they try to resist your powers as much as the good Brother does.

Masterlist ⛧ Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Words: 7.7k.

Reading Time: 32 min.

Warnings: clothed man/naked woman, cunnilingus, degradation, face sitting, mentions of exhibitionism, mentions of public sex, multiple orgasms, predator/prey, plus size!reader, PIV sex, praise kink, public sex, unprotected sex, vaginal sex

Taglist: @akayuki56 @alien-the-ghost @amazing-bobinsky @angellayercake @anonymous-appreciation @babydestinyinfluencer @bitchywitchygardener @blossomsea @call-me-little-sunshine84 @copiaspet622 @cosmixxdust @copiasslut @dolceterzo @dopey-fandom-girl @faithisyours @ghoulishxdelights @hauntedharmonic-ghoulishhaunter @high-above-the-city @howlingco @inkstainedrat @kaijukimchi @kenken-the-shoggoth @ledger-kaos @magopi @megachaoticstupid @meliza1001 @miss-leto @mommy-dust @neganwifey25-blog @piaart @saintbowie @shycardinale @sister-of-sin-claudia @sisterof-sin @sodoswitchimage @the-did-i-ask @xiyingly @zombiesnips-blog

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Inspired by Trust In Me from the Jungle Book. This was almost a self insert and I’m not even sorry about it. Big bitches rise!

The glint of his grucifix was what first caught your eye, a shimmering beacon in the dim candlelight, pulling you from the shadows like a moth to a flame. You lingered in the hallway, concealed by darkness, watching the faithful sheep wander through the sacred space. The whispers of prayers and hymns filled the air, but all you could hear was the sinful pulse beneath their dark piety.

Your nostrils flared, taking in the scent of them—sex. The intoxicating musk of sweat and arousal clung to the congregation like a second skin. The lingering essence of their pleasure radiated off them, mixing with the incense that swirled lazily through the air. They reeked of it, their bodies pulsing with the afterglow of indulgence. The lightness in their steps betrayed how recently they had succumbed to their primal urges, fucking each other senseless in secret corners. You could hear them down in the dark basements, bouncing, and licking, and sucking and fucking, and screaming.

They were a quick meal—easy prey. You could snatch one of these writhing souls from the flock, drain them in the shadows, and be done with it. Their release would fill you, but it would fade soon after, leaving you hollow and hungry once again.

But the glint of his grucifix… it kept you anchored, drawing your eyes like a predator watching its prey. The two rubies clasping his blazer, blood-red and shimmering, held your gaze. And then there was the cross itself, pure diamond, gleaming with such sacred light it almost made your skin crawl. Almost.

You inhaled again, deeper this time, letting your senses stretch toward him. Him—his scent was different. Stale. Not a drop of sex clung to him. He hadn’t fucked in months. Not even a stolen touch to himself in the dark. The absence of lust around him made the tension in his body palpable, like an overripe fruit begging to be split open. His chastity, however voluntary, was a brittle mask, hiding the pent-up desires that pulsed beneath the surface.

A wicked smile curved your lips. Perfect.

All that caged need, that desperate yearning, it would make him so easy to seduce. His innocence, brittle as glass, would shatter beneath your touch. And the feast he’d give you… oh, you could taste it already. One deep, throbbing release from him would be worth more than a hundred fleeting climaxes from the rest of these sheep. You could already imagine the richness of his pleasure flooding your senses, satisfying you for months.

Your core stirred, a dark, hungry ache that bloomed within you. The thought of him between your legs, spreading him out like a banquet for you to devour—it made you shudder with anticipation. You could already see it. His body trembling under your touch, his breath quickening as you led him to the edge, until he begged you to push him over. His moans, thick with desperation, would echo through the hallowed halls, smothered by the walls that pretended to guard against sin.

And when you were done, when he had spilled everything he had, you’d consume him, leave him nothing more than bones on silk, a hollow shell of the man he once was.

Your hunger twisted inside you, fierce and demanding. The thrill of corrupting someone so pure, of taking that untouched lust and turning it into your feast, was nearly overwhelming. The thought of how his soul would tremble at the touch of your fingers, how his body would shudder in betrayal as it succumbed to your dark allure, was enough to make you nearly lose control.

You stepped forward, letting your power unfurl in the air, thickening it with lust, with an aphrodisiacic pull. He wouldn’t stand a chance. His eyes would widen, lips parting in unconscious longing, as you reached him. The sacred cross dangling against his chest would flicker with a unholy light, but it wouldn’t protect him. Not from you.

Slowly, you’d let your lips curve into a sweet, almost innocent smile—an invitation cloaked in desire. His knees would buckle, his resolve cracking under the weight of your allure. He would fight it, of course. For a moment. They always do. But that glint of fear in his eyes would melt away into submission, and when it did, you would descend on him like a predator that had waited far too long.

And oh, the sound he’d make when he finally gave in…

Sweet agony.

Your fingers twitched in anticipation. Tonight, you would feast.

You followed him, footsteps soundless as a shadow, your form gliding through the dim corridors like a predator on the prowl. He moved ahead, oblivious to the danger that trailed him—a lamb on its way to slaughter. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows along the stone walls, but not a single one betrayed your presence. The world around you didn’t stir, didn’t bat an eyelid to the demonic sister who crept behind their beloved leader, with hunger gnawing at her stomach and arousal pulsing deep within her core.

Your eyes never left him. Each step he took, each slight shift in his posture, was a symphony to your sharpened senses. His breath, though steady, carried an edge of tension, his body taut under the weight of devotion and years of unrelenting denial. But it wouldn’t be long now. You could already taste the fear that clung to him, faint and delicate, like the first drops of blood in the water.

He entered a small chapel off the main hall, the heavy door creaking as it closed behind him. You paused just outside, leaning against the cold stone, savoring the moment. Your tongue flicked over your lips. This was it. No escape.

Pushing the door open with a barely audible click, you slipped inside, the air in the room thick with the stifling scent of incense and the oppressive weight of sanctity. He knelt at the altar, his back to you, oblivious to the darkness that had followed him in. His head was bowed in prayer, the low murmur of his voice sending a tremor of something delicious down your spine. The grucifix around his neck gleamed faintly in the candlelight, a last desperate symbol of his faith.

He had no idea what was coming.

A quick scan of his mind revealed the woman he would worship. The image was vivid—plump and round, with thick thighs that could crush him, a waist wide and inviting, hips that swayed like a promise. Breasts so full and heavy that they spilled through grasping fingers, too much for him to hold, too much for him to handle. But it was exactly what he wanted, what he fantasized about in those dark, lonely moments when his mind wandered and his hand wrapped around his cock.

Your body rippled like liquid beneath your skin, your form bending and twisting, giving way to his fantasy. The change was smooth, subtle at first, and then unmistakable. Your hips widened, stretching the fabric of your robe as your thighs thickened, curving into the soft, inviting shape that had danced in his most sinful dreams. The fabric magically stretching with you, your waist becoming fuller, your breasts heavy and plump, swelling beneath the layers of cloth until they were too much to be contained.

The soft sound of your footsteps was swallowed by the stillness of the room, but he must have sensed something—an unearthly presence lingering just behind him. His body stiffened, the rhythmic murmur of his prayer faltering for just a moment. You stopped, standing over him, your shadow looming tall and dark against the stone floor.

“Who’s there?” His voice was steady, though you could hear the faint tremor beneath it. Fear, like a sweet perfume.

You smiled, the curve of your lips hidden by the hood of your cloak. “Brother Imperator,” you purred, your voice a velvet caress, dripping with a subtle seduction that made the air around you hum. “Do you not recognize your own flock?”

He turned his head slowly, his brow furrowing in confusion. The dim light caught your face, the faintest glimmer of something… wrong. Something predatory. His breath hitched as his eyes met yours, the weight of your gaze enough to make him swallow thickly. “Sister…?” His voice faltered, uncertainty slipping in.

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, stepping closer, your body towering over his as he remained kneeling. “You look troubled, Brother,” you murmured, the edges of your words tinged with mockery, though laced with a sweetness that made his cheeks flush. “Perhaps your prayers have gone unanswered?”

His lips parted, and you saw the faint glisten of his tongue, almost tasting the nerves that danced across it. You crouched beside him, your face now level with his, the dark fabric of your habit barely concealing the otherworldly hunger in your eyes.

He tried to stand, to pull away, but your hand was already there, fingers curling gently around his wrist—too gentle, too soft for the grip that sent his heart racing. “Don’t be afraid,” you whispered, your lips close to his ear now, your breath warm against his skin. “You’ve been so good… so pious… but I see the longing in you, Brother.” You tightened your grip just slightly, your touch a mixture of promise and threat.

“D-did Lord Lucifer send you?” He asked, hope in his eyes of a reward for his hard work.

No, Lord Lucifer did not send you… but he didn’t need to know that.

“Oh, yes!” you lied. “He delivered me unto you personally - to thank you for your service to Him.” You reached your hand up to stroke his face, the smooth jawline felt like velvet beneath the back of your hand. You allowed your thumb to catch on his enticing pink lips. “Would you let me bestow His gift upon you?”

You could take him by force, use his body as you wanted. You had the power. But the consent made your meal sweeter, far more succulent. The enthusiasm they’d throw your way made it taste that much more delectable.

His lips parted in a soft gasp as your thumb grazed across them, his breath trembling beneath the weight of your touch. The hope in his eyes was almost too sweet, too innocent, a deer in the jaws of a tigress. His gaze flickered with something between fear and excitement, the very idea that Lord Lucifer had personally rewarded him setting his mind alight. The heat radiating from him was palpable, his resolve slipping further with every second your fingers lingered on his skin.

“I…” His voice was weak, trembling with the weight of temptation. You could feel the hesitation, the vestiges of his piety clinging to him like a threadbare cloak. His lips brushed your thumb as he spoke again, softer this time, his words barely a whisper. “I would be… honoured.”

Your smile widened, a dark, sultry curve, as you let your hand slide from his lips to his neck, fingers tracing the line of his pulse—fast, frantic beneath the thin veneer of control he still tried to maintain. His blood sang with a hunger he was too afraid to name, but you could feel it, smell it in the air around him. It was intoxicating.

“That’s what I wanted to hear, Brother.” You purred, voice laced with sweet venom. You took a slow step closer, your body brushing against his in the dim light of the chapel. He inhaled sharply, his composure unraveling as you pressed against him, your presence a tangible force that enveloped him, pulling him deeper into your thrall.

His eyes flickered down, catching the faint curve of your body beneath the dark fabric of your robes. His breath stuttered again, a flush creeping across his face as his fingers twitched at his sides. He wanted to touch you, wanted to lose himself in you.

You leaned closer, lips brushing against his ear as you spoke. “I can feel it, you know… your need. You’ve worked so hard for Him. And now you deserve to be rewarded.” The lie rolled from your tongue so easily, dripping with sin as you let your other hand wander down his chest, feeling the shudder that rippled through him at your touch. His body tensed beneath your fingertips, but he didn’t pull away. He didn’t want to.

“Yes…” His voice was faint now, nothing more than a breath, a surrender.

You turned his face to yours, gently, like one might guide a lamb to slaughter. His wide eyes, filled with nervous anticipation, met your own, and you could feel the last remnants of his resistance crumbling like dust. He was yours now—completely.

His lips parted again as you leaned in, your breath ghosting over his skin, the tension between you palpable, electric. His heart pounded beneath your palm, his pulse quickening with each passing second. The hunger in your core twisted, urging you to take him, to devour him whole.

But you waited.

“Do you want this?” you asked softly, your lips hovering just inches from his. The question was unnecessary—you could already feel his answer in the way his body trembled, in the heat radiating off him. But hearing it would make it all the sweeter.

He swallowed hard, his voice shaky, uncertain, but filled with an eagerness he could no longer hide. “Yes… please…”

And there it was—the moment of consent, the breaking of his will. The words tumbled from his lips like an offering, and you could practically taste the sweetness of it.

Your smile deepened, dark and victorious, as you finally closed the gap between you, your lips brushing his in a kiss that was both soft and demanding. His breath hitched, and for a moment, he hesitated, his body frozen in shock. But then his lips parted, and he surrendered completely, melting into your touch, into the wicked promise you offered him.

The kiss deepened, and you let your power flow through him, subtle at first, a slow, creeping warmth that spread through his veins. His hands, once trembling at his sides, finally rose, fingers brushing against your waist, hesitant but needy. He groaned softly, the sound vibrating against your lips as he pressed closer, his body betraying him in the most delicious way. His erection grew rapidly, the feel of your soft body beneath his fingertips and the addicting way you kissed made him give over to you so easily it was almost pathetic.

You pulled away just enough to speak, your voice a low, sultry whisper that made his heart race. “Good boy… let go. Let me show you what true devotion feels like.”

You felt his body respond in kind, a shudder running through him as your words curled around his mind like a serpent, squeezing out the last drops of resistance. His erection pressed against you, desperate and needy, as though his very soul had been waiting for this moment, for the permission to surrender completely.

Your lips brushed against his again, teasing, barely giving him what he craved. “You’ve been so good,” you murmured, your breath warm against his skin, sending a ripple of desire through his entire body. “So devout. Let me reward you properly.”

He moaned softly, a sound that reverberated through his chest, and you could feel the heat radiating from him now, his body a furnace of pent-up lust and unfulfilled desire. His hands, once hesitant, now gripped at your waist, pulling you closer, his hips twitching forward in desperate need for friction, for release. It was almost pathetic, the way he melted under your touch, so easy, so malleable.

You chuckled, low and wicked, your lips ghosting over his neck now, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. The scent of his arousal filled the air, mixing with the incense, and your hunger surged. His body, so tightly wound, begged for release—release only you could give.

Your hand slid down between your bodies, pressing against the hardness straining beneath his jeans. He gasped, his body jerking against yours, his breath coming out in ragged pants as you teased him, fingers dancing over his length with a delicate touch. “Feel that?” you whispered against his ear, your voice dark and laced with cruelty. “That’s what you’ve been denying yourself. All this time, fighting your desires… for what? For Him?”

He whimpered, his body trembling under your touch. His eyes fluttered shut, his lips parted, but no words came out—just the sound of his breath, shallow and ragged, as you continued to torment him. His hands tightened on your waist, fingers digging into your flesh as if he were afraid to let go, afraid you would leave him hanging on the edge of this delicious torment.

You leaned in closer, pressing your body fully against his now, your mouth hovering just inches from his ear. “You’ve served Him so well,” you whispered, your lips brushing against the sensitive skin of his neck, feeling the pulse beneath it quicken. “But now it’s time to serve yourself.”

His head fell back, a low moan escaping his lips as your fingers closed more firmly around his length, stroking him through the thick fabric of his jeans. You could feel him trembling, could hear the soft, pleading sounds that escaped his throat, and it sent a thrill through you. So needy. So easy.

You freed him, undoing the button and the zip and letting his thick length out of its cage. His cock was beautiful, long and girthy, with the precum glistening against the head, tantalising and teasing you.

“Look at you,” you purred, your fingers teasing him with slow, deliberate strokes, your lips grazing his throat. “Such a good little servant. So desperate to please.” His body jerked in response, his hips pressing up against your hand as you continued to stroke him. “Tell me, Brother… what would you do for me?”

He swallowed hard, his breath hitching as he tried to find his voice. “A-anything,” he gasped, his voice barely a whisper. “Anything you want… just… please…”

You smiled darkly, your eyes gleaming with satisfaction. His submission was perfect, total. He had fallen into your trap with such ease, so eager to give up everything, to be consumed by you.

Slowly, you pulled away, watching with dark delight as his eyes snapped open in shock, the sudden loss of your touch making him whimper in protest. His erection red and angry, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps as he stared at you with wide, pleading eyes.

“You want more, don’t you?” you asked, your voice dripping with sweet mockery. His nod was frantic, his body shaking with need, but you weren’t ready to give it to him yet. Not until he was completely yours.

“You have to ask for it,” you whispered, leaning in just enough for him to feel your breath on his lips. “Beg me.”

He hesitated, his pride warring with his desire for only a moment before he gave in completely, his eyes dropping to the floor as he whimpered, “Please… please, I need you. I need it so badly.”

Your smile widened, triumphant and wicked. Perfect.

You took a step back and stripped yourself of your veil and habit, with no underwear underneath, you were fully exposed to him and his hungry eyes.

His eyes widened as you stood before him, fully revealed, the dim light casting shadows over your body in a way that only accentuated your inhuman allure. His breath hitched, eyes hungrily drinking in the sight of you.

You tilted your head, your lips curling into a dark, seductive smile as you watched him. The devout Brother, the leader of the Ministry, Satan’s favourite son, was now nothing more than a quivering, desperate man, wholly in your thrall.

He swallowed hard, his gaze darting between your eyes and the rest of your body, his erection still painfully obvious even after the release you had granted him. It wasn’t enough. He was far from sated.

You stepped forward, your hand reaching out to gently brush the side of his face. He trembled beneath your touch, his skin warm, his pulse racing beneath your fingertips. “Don’t worry,” you whispered, your voice soft but laced with danger. “I’m going to give you exactly what you deserve. All you have to do… is worship me.”

His breath caught, his lips parting, and you saw the flicker of hesitation in his eyes—the last vestiges of guilt, of fear, before they were swept away by the force of his need. He nodded, barely able to form the words as his voice cracked. “Yes… I’ll worship you.”

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you tilted his chin up, forcing him to look at you. “Good. On your knees.”

He dropped without hesitation, the weight of his desire pulling him down like a stone into the abyss. His hands reached out instinctively, trembling as they hovered near your thighs, but he didn’t dare touch you—yet. Not until you gave the command. His eyes were wide, almost pleading, as he stared up at you.

You stepped closer, letting your fingers trail through his hair, tugging gently as you forced his head back to meet your gaze. The sight of him, kneeling at your feet, was intoxicating—delicious in its submission. “You know what to do,” you purred, your hand tightening slightly in his hair. “Make me feel how much you need this.”

His breath trembled as he leaned in, pressing tentative kisses along the inside of your thigh, his lips soft and reverent as though he were worshipping a holy relic. But this was no act of piety—this was pure, carnal desperation. His hands finally settled on your hips, his fingers digging in just enough to ground himself as he moved higher, his lips tracing a burning path up your body.

A shiver of pleasure ran through you as his lips neared your core, his breath warm and ragged against your skin. You let out a soft sigh of approval, your fingers tightening in his hair as you guided him closer, demanding more.

“Good boy,” you murmured, your voice low and dangerous. “Don’t stop.”

With a whimper of submission, he obeyed, his mouth moving between your legs with an eagerness that bordered on frantic. The heat of his breath, the desperation in every flick of his tongue—it was almost too much, and yet not enough. You could feel the power building between you, every drop of his devotion feeding into your hunger, making your desire grow more intense, more ravenous.

You rolled your hips against his face, the sharp sting of pleasure making your body hum with delight as you let yourself fall into the moment, letting him give you exactly what you wanted. His moans were muffled against your flesh, and the vibrations sent shocks of pleasure through your body as you gripped his hair tighter, forcing him to keep going, to give you everything.

You moaned. “Lie on the floor.”

He pulled off you quickly, obeying immediately. He watched from the ground as you lowered yourself over him, hovering above his face before sitting on it entirely.

As you lowered yourself onto his face, your thighs framing him, you felt the desperate pull of his hands gripping your hips, guiding you down onto him like a man starved. His mouth latched onto you with fervor, and the way his tongue moved, eager and reckless, sent a bolt of pleasure straight through you.

His groans were muffled against your skin, each one sending delicious vibrations deep into your core. You leaned back, your hands braced against your thighs as you rode his face, grinding against his mouth, feeling the sharp edge of his teeth grazing against you with each desperate flick of his tongue.

He was so eager, so hungry. You couldn’t help but let out a moan, a low, satisfied sound that echoed off the chapel walls. The thrill of it all—this filthy act in such a sacred place, however inviting it was, the power you had over him—made the pleasure all the more intense. He wasn’t just a man beneath you anymore; he was yours, completely, utterly devoted, worshiping you as though you were the goddess he had never known he needed.

“You’ve done so well,” you purred, grinding harder against his face, your voice dripping with dark affection. “But I’m not finished with you yet.”

His body jolted, a soft, muffled whimper escaping him, but he didn’t stop. If anything, his pace quickened, his tongue delving deeper, licking and sucking with wild, unrestrained devotion. You could feel the tension building in your core, that sweet, unbearable pressure mounting as you rolled your hips, your pace becoming erratic as you chased your release.

With a gasp, your head fell back, eyes fluttering shut as your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him tighter against you. His muffled groans of desperation only spurred you on, pushing you closer and closer to the brink.

“Yes… just like that…” you moaned, your voice barely more than a breathless whisper. “Don’t stop. You’re mine now… all mine.”

And as the climax hit you, your body convulsing in a violent wave of ecstasy, you felt the power of it surge through you, your very essence pulling from his submission, his devotion, his soul. He was shaking beneath you, gasping for breath as you rode him through the peak of your pleasure, leaving nothing behind for him to hold on to.

Finally, with a satisfied sigh, you lifted yourself from his face, gazing down at him. His chest heaved, his eyes half-lidded, dazed and spent, his lips still glistening with your release.

You stood up slowly, your legs shaky with the lingering pleasure of your climax, but you weren’t done with him yet. Not by a long shot. The chapel floor was cold beneath your feet, but you didn’t feel it—your skin still buzzing with the heat of his devotion, with the power you had over him.

You gazed down at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he lay there, spent and trembling from his efforts. His lips were swollen, his face flushed, and his eyes half-lidded with lust. Yet, despite how exhausted he looked, his cock still stood painfully erect, a testament to just how much he wanted you—how much more he still had to give.

Your lips curled into a wicked smile as you placed one foot on either side of his hips, standing over him, your body fully exposed to his ravenous gaze. His eyes widened as he stared up at you, helpless and needy, his hands twitching at his sides as if he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare.

“Look at you,” you purred, lowering yourself just enough to let him feel your heat hovering above his aching length. “So desperate for me. Do you even know how pathetic you look right now?”

He whimpered softly, his eyes pleading, and the sound sent a thrill through you. You reached down and gripped his cock, feeling it twitch under your touch as you guided him to your entrance, teasing him, letting the tip brush against your slick folds but not giving him the satisfaction of entering you just yet.

“I could leave you like this,” you mused, your voice a low, dangerous purr. “Make you beg for it until you’re nothing but a broken mess on the floor. Would you like that?”

His breath hitched, his body tensing beneath you as he struggled to find the words, but all that escaped him was a desperate, choked sound. You chuckled, relishing in his torment for just a moment longer before you finally lowered yourself onto him, taking him in inch by inch. His gasp was immediate, his body jerking as you sank down onto his length, enveloping him in your tight, wet heat.

You let out a low, satisfied moan as you settled fully onto him, the feeling of his cock buried deep inside you sending a wave of pleasure through your body. His hands flew to your hips, gripping you tightly as if to ground himself, as if he couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Fuck…” he gasped, his voice trembling as his hips instinctively bucked up into you, seeking more, needing more. But you were in control here, and you weren’t about to let him have anything unless you wanted it.

You placed your hands on his chest, pushing him back down against the cold stone floor as you began to move, slow and deliberate. His eyes rolled back as you rocked your hips, your pace agonizingly slow, making him feel every inch of you as you rode him.

“Is this what you wanted?” you asked, your voice dripping with mockery as you leaned forward, your breasts grazing his chest. “To be used like this? To be taken by something so much more powerful than you could ever hope to be?”

He nodded frantically, his fingers digging into your hips as his breath came out in ragged pants, but you didn’t give him time to answer. You increased your pace, rolling your hips in slow, torturous circles as you rode him, taking what you wanted, letting his cock fill you over and over again.

The sound of your skin slapping against his filled the chapel, the obscene rhythm echoing through the holy space as you fucked him on the very floor he had once knelt on in prayer. His moans grew louder, more desperate, as his body surrendered to you completely, his hips jerking up to meet your every movement.

You threw your head back, a deep moan escaping your lips as you felt the pleasure building inside you once more, the tight coil of desire winding tighter with every thrust. His cock was perfect, hitting just the right spot with every movement, and you rode him harder, faster, your nails digging into his chest as you chased your release.

“Look at you,” you growled, your voice rough with pleasure. “A pathetic, whimpering mess beneath me. Is this what you imagined when you swore yourself to Him?”

He whimpered in response, his body trembling beneath yours as his hands gripped your hips tighter, his breath coming out in sharp, ragged gasps. His cock twitched inside you, and you could feel him teetering on the edge, ready to fall apart for you completely.

But you weren’t done with him yet.

You slowed your movements just enough to drive him mad, keeping him on the brink, torturing him with the promise of release but not giving it to him. His moans turned to desperate pleas, his body thrashing beneath you as he begged for mercy.

“P-please,” he gasped, his voice raw with desperation. “Please… let me come…”

You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Only when I say so.”

You felt the desperation in his body, the way he writhed beneath you, his hips bucking as if trying to coax his release from you. The sound of his pleas echoed in the chapel, mingling with the sharp slaps of skin against skin, and it only fueled your hunger. You couldn’t resist teasing him a moment longer.

With a wicked grin, you decided to grant him the pleasure of your movements. You tightened your grip on his chest, fingers digging into his skin as you rolled your hips with renewed vigor. Each thrust was relentless, a passionate declaration of your dominance as you claimed him entirely.

“Such a good boy,” you murmured, your breath hitching as you increased your pace, riding him harder. The intensity of his desire washed over you like an intoxicating wave, your body moving in perfect rhythm with his desperate thrusts. His moans transformed into deep, guttural sounds, filled with a mix of pleasure and frustration.

The chapel’s cold floor beneath you faded into oblivion as the heat between you grew. Every thrust sent shocks of pleasure coursing through your body, the electric connection sparking with each movement. You reveled in the feeling of his length filling you, the way your bodies collided, and how his needy cries echoed within the sacred space.

“Let go,” you commanded, your voice low and sultry, urging him to surrender completely to the ecstasy you were providing. “Give in to your desires.”

He obeyed, his body arching up towards you, chasing that elusive release you had kept just out of reach. The warmth of his skin beneath your hands, the desperate rhythm of his thrusts, and the sight of his pleasure-stricken face drove you wild. You pressed your hips down harder, taking your pleasure as he lost himself in yours.

“Please…” he whimpered, his voice cracking as he struggled against the intoxicating wave of need threatening to consume him. “I can’t hold on much longer… please let me come…”

You loved the way his voice trembled with desperation, how he begged and pleaded like a sinner before his goddess. And yet, you weren’t quite finished with him. The feeling of control surged through you, powerful and thrilling, and you couldn’t resist the urge to draw this out a bit longer.

With a wicked smile, you leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear once more. “Not yet,” you whispered, the words laced with dark promise as you tightened your core around him, milking him for every drop of pleasure you could extract.

His back arched, a raw moan escaping him as you felt him tense beneath you. He was so close—so very close. But you pulled back just enough to keep him on that precipice, your body quivering with the effort of holding back your own release as well.

“Ride it out for me,” you commanded, the authority in your voice making him whimper. “You can do it. Just a little longer. Show me how devoted you really are.”

With that, you increased your pace once more, driving him harder against the floor as your body took everything it wanted. Each thrust pushed him further toward the edge, and you could feel the tension in his body building, ready to snap at any moment. His desperate pleas only intensified your need, the power you held over him sending a thrill down your spine.

His hands clutched at your waist, pulling you closer as if trying to merge your bodies into one. You loved that he wanted you so desperately, that he was willing to submit to your will without question. It made you feel powerful, alive, and it was exactly what you craved.

Finally, you leaned down, capturing his lips in a fierce kiss, your tongues dancing together as you drove your hips down harder, faster. The pleasure surged through you both, a wave that threatened to drown you in ecstasy, and you could feel his release building within him. The taste of his desperation lingered on your tongue, fueling your own need as you lost yourself in the moment.

“Now,” you gasped against his lips, your voice barely more than a breath. “Come for me.”

With your command, his body shattered beneath you. He let out a primal groan, his back arching as he finally released himself, spilling deep inside you with a cry of pure bliss. The warmth of him flooding you sent shockwaves through your entire body, and you rode him through the waves of ecstasy, your own climax crashing over you as you surrendered to the pleasure.

Together, you rode the high, the chapel echoing with the sounds of your union, a sacred act of pure, unfiltered desire. His essence had poured into you, filling you up and satiating your hunger. You breathed heavily, basking in the deliciousness of your meal.

Before you could catch your breath, he shifted beneath you, a glint of newfound determination sparking in his eyes. With surprising strength, he pushed you onto your back, the cold chapel floor pressing against your skin as he loomed over you, the raw need radiating from him almost palpable.

“Wait—” you began, but he silenced you with a heated kiss, his hands gripping your wrists as he pinned them to the floor beside your head. The fervor in his movements sent a thrill through you, igniting a spark of excitement deep within.

He buried himself inside you once more, the sensation of him filling you again pushing you over the edge of pleasure. You gasped against his lips as he began to thrust, his movements driven by an insatiable hunger that mirrored your own. His rhythm was wild and desperate, a primal instinct taking over as he chased the high of a second orgasm, your bodies intertwining as if they were destined to fit together like this forever.

“More…” he gasped, his voice strained as he pressed deeper, each thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. The intensity of his desire only fueled yours, igniting an inferno of lust that threatened to consume you both. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and the sight of him lost in the throes of ecstasy was intoxicating.

“Please… let me feel you,” he murmured, his breath hot against your neck, the urgency in his voice sending shivers down your spine. You reveled in the way he sought to claim you again, your body responding eagerly as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him to push even deeper.

The grucifix on his blazer swung wildly above you as his thrusts grew more frantic, more desperate as he chased that high, the aphrodisiac coursing through his veins giving him a stamina you hadn’t anticipated. Each thrust was a declaration of his need, his primal instincts taking control as he lost himself in the rhythm of your bodies moving together once more.

The pleasure mounted quickly, the tension in your core tightening as you felt the familiar heat beginning to build again. You moaned his name, the sound blending with the echoes of the chapel, and it only seemed to drive him further, his movements becoming more erratic, fueled by your sounds of pleasure.

“Just like that… don’t stop…” you urged, your voice breathy as you felt yourself spiraling toward that edge once more. He complied eagerly, losing himself in the moment as he pushed harder, faster, his hands gripping your thighs as he buried himself deeper inside you.

“Sathanas, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice hoarse and ragged. “I can’t get enough…”

You could feel the heat building inside you, an insatiable hunger igniting with each thrust as you surrendered to the rhythm of his body. The world around you faded, the only thing that mattered was the pleasure coursing through you, the connection that bound you both in this moment of bliss.

“Come for me,” you urged, your voice a sultry whisper, and it sent him over the edge. With a final, desperate thrust, he cried out, his release flooding you once more as you felt him pulsing inside you. The sensation tipped you over the edge, your own climax crashing through you as you reveled in the delicious aftershocks of both your pleasures intertwining.

You writhed beneath him, lost in the waves of ecstasy that surged through your bodies, feeling completely and utterly consumed by the moment. As his release filled you once more, a deep, primal hunger awakened within you—a hunger that went beyond mere physical satisfaction. You could feel the warm, intoxicating rush of his essence flooding through you, sending delicious waves of pleasure radiating outwards, wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

With each pulse, you savored the taste of him, letting it wash over you, feeding on his orgasm again as if it were the sweetest nectar. The sensation was euphoric, a heady mix of power and pleasure that sent shivers down your spine. You could almost feel the tendrils of his release seeping into your very being, nourishing your essence and filling you with warmth and satisfaction.

As the last shudders of ecstasy faded, the warmth of his body collapsed against you, a heavy weight that anchored you to the cold chapel floor. His breathing was ragged, softening into a gentle rhythm as he drifted into unconsciousness, spent from the pleasure you had given him. You could feel the heat radiating off him, a testament to the fervor of your union, and for a brief moment, you relished the sweetness of your victory, the satiation of your hunger.

But before you could fully bask in the aftermath, a deep chill enveloped the chapel, cutting through the remnants of warmth like a cold knife. Shadows danced along the stone walls, twisting and writhing as if alive, casting eerie shapes that seemed to flicker and vanish before your eyes. A palpable tension filled the air, thickening it with an electric anticipation that made your skin prickle.

Then, with a grace that seemed otherworldly, He emerged from the darkness—Satan, the God of Darkness, cloaked in an aura of authority and danger. His presence was magnetic, drawing your gaze with an irresistible pull, as if He were the very embodiment of temptation itself. His form was draped in a flowing garment of black velvet that shimmered like the night sky, accentuating his lithe yet powerful frame.

His skin glistened, the deep crimson hue catching the flickering candlelight, creating an almost surreal contrast against the shadows that danced around him. Long, elegantly curved horns sprouted from His goat-like head, twisting upwards like the branches of a dark, twisted tree, glinting with an otherworldly sheen that hinted at both beauty and menace.

Satan’s eyes were a swirling abyss, deep pools of molten gold that seemed to pierce through the veil of your very soul. In them, you could see the weight of centuries, the seductive allure of a power that promised both ecstasy and destruction. They glinted with an unfathomable knowledge, as if He held the secrets of the universe in his gaze, and for a moment, you felt utterly naked before Him—exposed, yet exhilarated.

He moved closer, hooved feet clopping against the cold floor, each step deliberate and graceful, the air around Him charged with an intoxicating energy. You could feel the temperature drop even further, your breath visible in the air, mingling with the lingering scent of desire and smoke that clung to the chapel. The shadows shifted, stretching and elongating, as if bending to his will, swirling around Him in a dark dance that was both mesmerizing and foreboding.

Satan’s lips curled into a knowing smile, an expression that held a multitude of meanings—pleasure, intrigue, perhaps even a hint of disapproval. “My dear succubus,” He spoke, His voice smooth and rich, a seductive whisper that wrapped around you like silk. “It seems you have indulged in your own appetites.”

His gaze flicked down to the unconscious figure beneath you, and his smile widened, revealing sharp, gleaming teeth that glinted like daggers. “Such a delightful little feast you’ve had.” There was a playful lilt to His tone, yet it held an undertone of warning, a reminder of the power that coursed through his being.

You met his gaze, feeling both enthralled and wary, a thrilling mix of fear and fascination coursing through you. “He was… delectable,” you replied, your voice steady despite the tempest of emotions swirling within you. “A gift of desire, just as You promised.”

Satan chuckled, a low, dark sound that reverberated through the chapel like distant thunder. “And yet, you seem to have drained him to the brink of exhaustion. Is it not wise to leave your prey alive for the next indulgence?”

As He spoke, you felt a shiver run down your spine, the implications of His words sending a thrill of excitement through you. You had given in to your desires, but there was a deeper hunger within you now, one that craved the power he embodied.

“Would you like to be my next indulgence, my Dark Lord?” you asked, playfully teasing your God.

Satan’s smile deepened, His sharp teeth glinting in the dim candlelight, an embodiment of wickedness and allure. The shadows danced around Him, reflecting the darkness that thrummed in the chapel, echoing the intoxicating energy between you. He stepped closer, the air thickening with His presence, each movement imbued with an undeniable charisma that both captivated and terrified.

“Ah, My sweet succubus,” He purred, His voice a silky caress that wrapped around you like a lover’s embrace. “You play with fire, and yet I find your audacity utterly delectable.” His gaze roamed over you, an appraising look that lingered on your exposed skin, the remnants of your previous indulgence evident in the lingering heat that radiated from your body.

He paused, leaning closer, the heat of His breath brushing against your face. “But tell Me, what makes you think you could handle the full weight of My indulgence?” His eyes glinted with a mixture of mischief and challenge, the promise of darkness dancing within their depths. “Many have tried, but few can withstand the depths of My desires.”

The thrill of His words sent a shiver of anticipation through you, igniting a hunger that pulsed beneath your skin. You met His gaze boldly, feeling a rush of confidence surge within you. “I am not afraid of the depths, my Lord. It is the heights of ecstasy that draw me to You.”

Satan chuckled again, a sound rich with amusement, echoing through the chapel like a dark melody. “Such spirit,” He replied, His tone dipping into something more serious, a glimmer of intrigue lighting His eyes. “You intrigue Me, little succubus. Your hunger matches My own, and that is a rare find.”

Satan’s smile widened, a predatory gleam dancing in His eyes as He stepped closer again, the shadows swirling around Him like a living cloak. He extended His hand towards you. “Come home, child,” He said, waiting patiently for you.

With a final glance at the still-unconscious figure on the floor, you reached for His hand, feeling the warmth of His touch blend with the darkness that surrounded you. As your fingers intertwined, the chapel shifted, the air crackling with energy as you were drawn into the depths of His domain, where pleasure and power coalesced in a tantalizing embrace.

He had brought you back to Hell, where you belonged.

Prev./Next

[so-many-fandoms-here]

(English isn’t my first language so feel free to correct any mistakes you notice.)

• Characters: Shuntarō Chishiya, fem!Reader

• Genre: Angst

• Warnings: death, betrayal, logic mistakes/plot hole (I just kind of messed up I’m sorry :/), (manga spoilers I think?)

Angst Prompts - #20

༺☆༻ ༺☆༻ ༺☆༻ ༺☆༻

-Chishiyas POV-

(Y/n) and I stepped inside the classroom of the elementary school which was the destination of the game we would participate in. Two other people were already inside the room, sitting on the big desk in the middle of the room.

On the table was something like a board game set up, obviously the game we were about to play. „Four people“, I mumbled, looking at the two empty chairs left at the table. „Means this will either be really hard, or really easy“, (Y/n) finished my thoughts.

Hesitantly she walked up to one of the chairs and sat down, being greeted by a belt like thing popping out of the seat and trapping her on the chair. „What a surprise“, she mumbled sarcastically, making me grin slightly. I sat down next to her on the last empty spot and took another glance at the people sitting on the square table. Both of them were men, trembling and sweating with fear.

„Registration closed“, the well known mechanical voice appeared. „Game: Rummikub. Difficulty: Diamond 2.“

I have to say, I was a little disappointed at the difficulty. Of course two days more on my visa were better than nothing, but I hoped anyways to get a higher difficulty so I could have a few days more to rest. But it was too late to think about that.

I looked back to (Y/n) who’s leg trembled nervously, then back at the table. It wasn’t exactly a board game that was set up. On the table laid tiles, lined up in neat rows. In front of the players stood a little rack where one could place said pieces.

„Rules: Every player gets 14 tiles on their rack. The goal is to be the first one to play all the tiles from your rack by forming them into sets. There are two kinds of set. Either a run, a set of at least three consecutive numbers in the same color, or a group, a set of three or four tiles of the same number in different colors. In order to make an initial meld, each player must place tiles on the table in one or more sets that total at least 30 points. These points must come from the tiles on each player’s rack; for their initial meld, players may not use tiles already played on the table. Later players can add tiles to already placed sets. If a player can not place anything, they have to draw a tile which ends their turn. Jokers can be used to replace any number. The last one with tiles on their rack loses.“

I looked over to (Y/n) to see if she understood everything. She reassured me with a nod.

„Game start.“

For this game I definitely needed luck, but maybe if I payed enough attention I could see some patterns in how the others placed their tiles on their racks. Maybe they have a structure behind it like placing them after color or numbers. I focused on one of the men, looking whenever he picked up another tile, the way his groups were organized, hoping I could see trough him.

(Y/n) was the first one to finish, followed directly by me which caused me to relax my shoulders again. We’re safe.

The unlucky man who lost acted like all the others in the games I played before. He screamed, cried, kicked and tried to flee but like all the times before he was unsuccessful and after a few seconds of him having a meltdown a laser shot trough his head. At least he had a quick death.

I looked over to (Y/n) again who seemed calm again too, not further touched by the man’s death or at least didn’t show it.

While we sat there and waited for the Game Clear announcement, the table suddenly started to move down. I leaned forward to get a closer look and saw that the floor where the table stood on was constructed like a small pedestal, now moving down into the floor and swallowing the table. But even after the floor closed again the mechanical voice stayed silent, destroying the light feeling of peace again that I was feeling.

After a few moments the table returned, the tiles set up neatly again. (Y/n) looked at me with the same amount of horror in her eyes as I was feeling deep inside me. It would have been way too easy.

„Round two. Game start.“

My eyes were glued to the man that sat with us and I tried to focus on him but not because I wanted to read him, but because I tried everything to not look at (Y/n). I felt so stupid. I was always prepared for everything, always had a plan and held a good distance to everyone, but besides all my efforts I just couldn’t stay away from her.

I heard (Y/n) mumbling all kinds of curses and stuff, completely consumed by panic which made it even harder for me to stay calm.

„No no no!“ „That’s not right!“ „I don’t want this!“ - her cries shattered my heart.

I didn‘t know if I was glad or not that the man lost. Yes, I would have more time together with (Y/n) but it also made the situation so much harder than it already was.

After the scream of the man died with him together, we were left alone and if the situation wasn’t so unbelievably painful, I would have laughed about the fact that even the table disappeared again.

„What now?“, she asked after a long pause, obviously not needing an answer. My eyes were glued at the tiles in the table, all neatly lined up again. I wanted to touch her and if we both would have reached out our fingers could have linked but none of us moved, knowing that this touch would have made everything harder.

Her (e/c) met mine and in silent agreement we reach out for the tiles to start the last game. I didn’t know what I hoped for. If I wanted to win or if I wanted to lose because both seemed to have the same outcome - I would die. And I couldn’t tell which death was better, the physical or the emotional.

(Y/n)s fingers danced over the table, picking out the tiles carefully and like the times before it seemed like she had luck with every draw. Almost as if she knew where which tile was placed.

„That‘s not right!“

My head shot up and I watched her as she looked at the tiles. With a horrible gut feeling I focused on her eyes and saw it. They didn’t move in a swift motion, they eyed every piece individually. She counted the tiles.

„You seem to win again“, I whispered, nodding to the many rows she already placed. She paused and with her hand still in the air she looked at me, her eyes shimmering with tears. „I don’t think I want to win.“

The words I said hurt worse than every injury I suffered before: „Then why do you play?“ A confused look appeared in her eyes and slowly she let her arm sink. „What do you mean?“

„I heard rumors about the Dealers“, I said. „They make sense, you know. Setting up the games and all that. But why do you set up a game where only one can survive if you know we’re both will participate?“ All the color in her face was gone, but she still acted like she didn’t know what I was talking about. „Did they manipulate your game?“, I asked further but still couldn’t get an answer from her.

I looked around the room, hoping I would find a camera, but if they where some, they were hidden pretty well. It didn’t surprise me though. Nothing surprises you when lasers are shooting through head out of nowhere.

„You can’t talk about it, right?“, I took another guess that was answered with silence too. All the times she went on a walk, was she actually setting games up? She was gone for hours but I never questioned it. Why would I? I couldn’t blame her for wanting a few hours to herself, which I thought was the reason for the long walks.

„I am sorry.“ (Y/n) voice was barely loud enough for me to hear. „I am a dealer.“ She shut her eyes tight, like she waited for something, but what she was waiting for didn’t seem to happen, leading her to open her eyes again. „Guess they don’t care, since one of us is going to die anyway“, she said with a sad sigh, confirming my guess that she wasn’t allowed to talk about it.

„You lied to me“, I stated objectively, trying desperately to keep my composure.

„Of course I lied!“, she suddenly yelled, her voice breaking mid sentence. „Did you think I would actually tell you the truth?!“ Her tears are pouring like waterfalls. „I couldn’t! I mustn’t! They would have killed me on the spot! I tried to make it obvious that I was lying, your so smart Chishiya, I hoped you would see through me!“

Keeping my stoic expression was hard with her screams, invading my ears and running through my body like bolts of lightings. „I prayed that you would get suspicious of my walks! I prayed that you would notice my obviously weird excuses, but you never did! Why did you trust me Chishiya?!“

My skin crawled, not because her voice became so high, but because of the hurtful truth in her words. Of course her reasoning was odd and maybe there was a part of me that was suspicious, but I didn’t want to be. I felt like (Y/n) wouldn’t lie to me, that she wouldn’t betray me. But she did.

But she had no other choice.

„Yes, I set up the game but originally only one was supposed to die!“ Her eyes didn’t seem to have any tears left, but her body didn’t stop to twitch, trying to squeeze out more tears.

„What about the other games you played? Did you all set them up?“, I asked, somehow still keeping myself together. „The less you know the better.“

I wanted to get angry at her but I couldn’t, because I knew that she was right, no matter if I liked it or not.

„I know a lot, Chishiya. More than I want to know, all Dealers do. We get provided with a decent amount of information, but we still don’t even have a quarter of the knowledge of what’s going on“, she continued. „And believe me, I didn’t want anything ever so bad than to tell you everything, but I can’t without causing you to be in danger again.“

I did believe her. Again I was met with the brutality and chaos of this world again. You couldn’t tell good and evil apart and betrayal and lies were sometimes a good thing.

(Y/n) sigh heavy, her breath leaving her lungs intermittently causing her to sound even more miserable than she already did. „How many tiles do you have left?“, she asked, bringing our last conversation to an end. „Two“, I answered and looked at the black and red one on my board.

Without looking away from my face she took a random tile and placed it on her board. „Take the second last from the top row out of your perspective.“ Her eyes were burning themselves into mine and I needed a second before I was ready to look away, to trust her one last time, and reached out for the tile she was about to take a few minutes ago. It was a joker.

Then she drew another random tile, which she didn’t even bothered to place on her rack but instead placed it next to it, the number facing down so neither I nor she saw what her last draw was. „Finish“, she whispered, but my hands were frozen.

There was so much I wanted to say, and I felt she had so much to say too, but both of us stayed silent, knowing these words had to die too, because if we started talking, we maybe wouldn’t stop ever again. Not a hundred years would have been enough for all the things I suddenly wanted to say, so instead I took the few seconds left to look at her, to study her beautiful face so her features would be burned into my brain and I would never forget her.

She smiled while I placed my last row of numbers. She smiled while I knocked over the rack to symbolize that I have won. And she still smiled while the laser shot through her head, causing her head to fall on the table.

„Game clear“, announced the mechanical voice while my chair set me free again but I didn’t stood up right away. I decided that everything that happened in this room would stay in this room, so if I cried in here, it basically never happened, but my eyes didn’t pour any tears besides a single one, which made their way lonely down my cheek.

After I stood up I allowed myself to pet her (h/c) hair one last time before I took the card and left the building, leaving (Y/n) and with her a piece of my heart behind.

[litnerdwrites]

Clandestine Affairs - Lust X OC (I)

A/N: Omg, the first part of Clandestine Affairs is finally done! I'm so excited to share this with you all. I'll try to update weekly, but if I can't, I'll see if I can get some Euphemia content out. Other than that, I have a Gluttony x Reader oneshot I'm working on to, but I don't know when I'd upload that. Tomorrow, I'll set up a masterlist that'll be pinned to my blog. If you have theories as to where this will go before we reach the point my Prince of Sin week work ended on, or want to be tagged in this series, comment and let me know. Finally, if you want some spoilers as to where this series is going, Speak Now is a oneshot for Lust with this same OC that I did for Prince of Sin week, and this is just fleshing out his and Amara's story a little, so feel free go check that out, along with @princeofsinweek for a bunch of KOTW content.

WC: 1887

TW: Implied suicidal behaviour, implied abuse, implied suicide attempt, implied suicide attempt by FMC.

Masterlist Kingdom of the Wicked Masterlist Clandestine Affairs Masterlist

She wasn’t sure how long she’d sat there, eyes locked on the crashing waves below, but not really looking at them. 

“Get out of my sight,” 

The sudden wind at her back had her lurching forward. Or was it a hand? Was the voice in her head? She couldn’t tell anymore. 

SMASH

The waves sound like shattering glass.

Or does the glass shattering sound like the waves crashing? 

Which one could she hear?

“I’m sorry, Mara. My poor, sweet Amara,”

Another crash draws her attention to the raging sea. If it were a little louder, could it, perhaps, it could drown out the rend of her heart when those words played.

It would be so easy to just… lean forward. 

Just a little. 

Chunks of earth crumble beneath her knees, where her legs dangle off the side, and disappear into the inky waters below. 

That could be her. 

It would be easy. 

Just lean forward. 

Grasp a piece of the sweet oblivion she longed for. 

Easy.

It’s right there.

Peace.

Oblivion.  

So, so easy. 

Just-

Something rushed through her, like rapids flowing through her veins, sudden enough to draw the air from her lungs, and has her lurching back. Pulled from her trance, her eyes searched around for the source of the feeling. Fishing boats, and personal ships bobbed in the distance, some hanging lanterns to mark their location from shore, while shadows danced below the surface. 

Dragging her gaze away, she scanned the area, searching for what might have been the cause of the sudden rush she’d felt. At a glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The night’s pearl had long since taken her place, surrounded by glittering diamonds, forming constellations in the sky. Stalls and vendors had been packed away, with every respectable merchant having gone home to their family, likely tucked into bed, or in front of a warm fire with a drink by now. Her heart clenched at the thought, just as a chilly breeze swept over her.

Suddenly, she longed for that warmth. A warm fire, or a blanket- anything to keep the cold at bay, and warm her chilled body. 

As her eyes searched, they caught on a light coming from behind a rock formation at the edge of the nearby beach. With slow, cautious steps, she walked along the edge of the cliff, until she could see a mass of figures surrounding a large bonfire. They were chatting, eating, and dancing to the most hypnotic music she’d ever heard.

For a moment, she wondered where the music was coming from, as she didn’t see anyone with instruments amongst or near the mass. The thought was quickly banished from her head with another gust of wind, and suddenly it was all she could think of, to get closer to that warmth.

It was such a familiar occurrence that she didn’t even struggle when she felt those dark thoughts and fatigue pulling her under, leaving her as a passenger in her own body, letting it run through the motions as she sank further into the darkness. Perhaps that was why she didn’t notice as her legs began to move, or that little voice inside, screaming at her to stop. 

Instead, she let her feet carry her towards the bonfire.

Entranced, she made her way down the side of the cliff, vaguely registering the way her limbs trembled. She wondered if it was from anticipation or the cold. The thought passed quickly though, and before long, she found herself right in front of the pyre, where the flames danced against the backdrop of night. But, something was different. When she turned her head, giving the area a slow once over, she realised; The crowd was gone. 

Instead, there was only a single person, dancing around the bonfire to an indiscernible source of music. That should’ve bothered her more.

The sculptures that nobles commissioned from renowned artisans to line their overly elaborate halls must’ve been inspired by the man. He wore a silver suit, though seemed to have either discarded or, more likely, forgone a shirt or vest.

His skin was gold, hair dark, and his eyes were the colour of charcoal. Yet, somehow, she got the impression that if she met his gaze, she’d feel like she was falling into a different kind of abyss than the one she was used to. This one would be darkened by desire, though be it to disrobe or begin worshiping, she couldn’t tell.   

“If you like what you see, then why not join?” The man’s voice jolted her from her thoughts. 

He had been across the beach a moment ago, but now he stood right in front of her. 

Too close. 

His face was too close, as he bent at the waist to examine her. It was only then, when she felt that flaming circlet flicker against her forehead that she realised how… Wrong- no. Not wrong. Off? How... Strange? No. How… Unsettling it was. 

“Doesn’t your head get hot during the summer?”

The man’s eyes widened, and he had jerked back, clearly surprised by the question.

No sooner had the words left her mouth, Amara dropped her head and slapped a hand over her mouth. She tucked her chin against her collarbone, stiffening, before taking two steps back. Every second she felt his gaze on her, searching her, as if peeling back every layer to find the deepest secrets, locked in her heart. 

With every ounce of strength left, she pulled her hands from her mouth, willing- forcing herself to stutter an apology. 

“I- I’m so-” 

“There are no summers where I’m from,” 

Amara’s head snapped up, but she kept her hands close to her mouth, ready to raise them to her face at a moments’ notice. The man was grinning casually, amusement clear in his voice. 

She blinked up at him, hands still pressed to her mouth, but eyes wide and curious. He seemed so jovial when she first saw him, then surprised at her outburst, but that was nothing new, and then, even without seeing his face, she felt like he’d instantly whittled down, through every layer of her until he found her secrets laid bare. Now, he seemed like any other bored noble’s son, seeking attention. 

“Should you not be more concerned by it?” he cocked his head to the side.

Amara dropped her hands from her mouth, and blinked up at him again. After a few moments under his expectant gaze, answered with a shrug. 

“I have… Seen stranger. I am a witch, after all.”

His brows shot up. 

“You seem remarkably comfortable sharing that, when all it would take is the wrong person overhearing for you to be condemned,” 

“You obviously aren’t human, and even if you were, then I guess that’s my mistake,” 

His eyes narrowed, as he circled her. 

Amara didn’t bother tracking his movements. 

Silence stretched on for what felt like hours, though was likely only minutes.

“Do you know who I am, Stella Stregah?” he finally asked, coming back to stand in front of her. 

“A Malvagi,” she stated, matter of factly, if not somewhat dully, before looking behind him, amd asking hesitantly, “Why are you having a bonfire all alone?” 

“Would you care to join me?” was the only response he gave, head cocked to the side.

“Why?”

“Dance with me, and perhaps you’ll find out,” the demon bowed at the waist, offering his hand to her. Amara eyed him, and his grin widened, before he asked, “What could you have to lose?”

Her eyes widened at his words. 

“My life,” she blurted. 

“But you don’t care about that,”

“What?” 

His eyes moved to the cliff she was sitting on, before she wandered down here, and she followed his gaze. 

“If you cared about your life, then why would you allow yourself to lean so close to the edge?” he asks. 

“Heights don’t scare me,” Amara responds, struggling to keep her voice even.  

The man simply grins wider, before shrugging, as if pocketing the information, and holding out his hand again.

“If a height like that doesn’t frighten you, surely a mere dance won’t shake you either, no?” 

She narrowed her eyes, intent on rejecting it, as his words replayed in her mind. 

What did she have to lose? If she died, no one could say she took the coward’s way out. If she didn’t, what would be the harm? Perhaps it would be fun? Perhaps it could breathe some life into her for the first time in what felt like forever. Perhaps she’ll be able to escape her torments for a night. What could be the harm?

With a sigh, she took the man’s waiting hand. 

Music filled her ear again, though there was no discernible source, as the demon guided her through the steps. Amara let him, keeping up with the steps expertly. She followed his lead, though never once made eye contact with the demon. 

“Which one of the seven are you?” 

“The best looking and most well endowed, naturally,” he grins. Amara’s expression deadpans. This seems to amuse him more. “I go by many names, Stregah, but you may call me Lust,” 

She narrowed her eyes on him. Taking a moment to examine herself, and thinking over their interactions thus far. It didn’t seem like he used his powers on her.

“Have you tried to influence me with your sin, yet?” 

Lust cocks his head to the side, examining her, as if considering if he should tell her or not. She leveled him with an impatient glare in response, though it only seemed to amuse him. Still, it seemed to convince him.

“For a time,” Lust admits, and Amara narrows her eyes. 

“What?”

“You have a lot of questions, don’t you, little witch. Careful, each answer will cost you,” he warns. 

“I…See,” 

“Tell me, why were you so close to the edge, Stella Stregah?” 

Lust raised a brow, examining the way her face scrunched. 

“That’s not your concern, Malvagi.” Amara snapped, moving to pull away.

He chuckled, yanking her into a spin, before she could, then caught her, and pushed her into a dip, hand cupping the thigh of her raised leg. His face was mere inches from hers.

“No need to be so wrathful, little witch. Let go of your troubles for a night. Release those pent up feelings and give in to your desires,”  

“I’m not sleeping with you,” she told him, point blank. 

“I never said you should. Not unless those are your desires,” Lust shrugged, not rising from the dip, letting his hand trail down her leg, “Dance. Drink,” she glanced behind him to see a table of drinks and food she hadn’t noticed before, and on the other side, comfortable looking chairs were laid out around the bonfire, “Rest. Talk. Sing. Give into whatever brings your pleasure,” 

“You mean to feed your sin-" Amara's thoughts came to a halt, her eyes narrowed, "If you are the Prince of Lust, why not encourage, or influence more..."  

"Why not influence more carnal or debaucherous forms of pleasure?" He finished, lips quirked into a wicked grin as his thumb began to trace circles into her thigh. "There are many forms of pleasure, Stregah, and fucking is merely one of them. Is happiness itself not a part of pleasure and satisfaction?" 

Amara's breath hitched, as heat trailed in his wake, spreading from her thigh to her core. 

"I- I suppose," she muttered, as she fought the warmth of his touch, as well as any indication of the sort of effect he had on her. 

The last thing she needed was for The Prince of Lust to assume she had any desire to be in any way... intimate... with him. Just the thought alone had blood rushing to her cheeks and her stomach in knots. 

“Can you deny that giving in to pleasure, forgetting what ails you, even for a single night, would be bad?” Lust's brow cocked as he posed the question, snapping Amara from her thoughts.

It wouldn’t. If it wasn't sex of any kind, then she knew it wouldn’t.

“Surely you have plenty of people available to feed your sin,” 

“Yet, at this time, I make this offer to you, and you alone," 

Amara’s eyes narrowed. 

“If I give into pleasure, you won’t use your sin on me?” 

“Not unless you ask, little witch,” 

“Then it’s a deal. Just for tonight.” 

“Just for tonight.” 

Just for tonight. What could possibly go wrong, in just a night?

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

Working on some designs for the White Witches! The concept of them is so fucking creepy and unsettling I love it so much, so naturally I have to draw them. But before I get to do that, I have to figure out how the fuck to do that- so welcome to my process! This is gonna be long as hell, so I've put it under the cut for the sake of convenience.

First we gotta go over what we have. I haven't seen any official art of White Witches, only of the Manus and some Hunters, so we gotta work off of the narration. The first notes I took were from Arc 2, the first ever appearance of a White Witch.

These are the details I got from that scene:

White robes

Gloves

Long sleeves

Long white veil with light green and blue embroidery

Lower face showing, eyes covered

So all of these needed to be incorporated somehow. Step one was messing around with the veil and the robe silhouette.

Silhouette

This part was easy enough, I wanted to stick with the church theme so I started looking through nun habits. I didn't want to exactly copy any specific style, but it felt like an appropriate starting point. What I ended up keeping was a heavy lean on triangles and rectangles.

Veils

This was probably my favorite part to experiment with. The veils are described as covering the eyes, but not the lower half of the face, so you can see the mouth clearly. This detail actually spawned a whole train of thought that massively influenced my design going forward but we'll get to that later-

The first idea I had was to just take a regular veil and make it sheer at the bottom, like a gradient. But I quickly dropped that, it felt too same-y, and with colors it would blend right in to the rest of the white robes. The whole point was to bring a focus to the face. What I ended up sticking with was this!

Once I had it down it seemed so obvious- a split veil! I just put a split across the bridge of the nose and bam, suddenly it made sense. The triangular cut and the cascading folds just kind of happened, it felt natural with the rest of the shapes I had been drawing. A friend said it reminded him of moths, which felt oddly fitting given their association with magic in Arc 1. In retrospect, I think I was subconsciously inspired by early appearances of Blue Diamond in Steven Universe. Not intentional, but I do love how it turned out.

Other Uniform Details

This is the "later" I mentioned earlier, because I am obsessed with the implications of this veil. It's very specifically said that a White Witch is never without her Manus or a Hunter, and the first one we ever see is flanked by two hunters. They are, fundamentally, still seen by the church as threats.

So with that in mind, one goal expanded into two. At first my goal was to make them unsettling, but beautiful. Like porcelain dolls. The church doesn't parade their cruelty around, they dress it up in fine robes and narratives of redemption.*

* This is some extrapolation on my part. It's mentioned in Arc 2 that most witches regard White Witches as "traitors". That implies that their imprisonment is not common knowledge. If it was, they would be "captives" or "prisoners". Even if they turned themselves in, I highly doubt they were signing up for whatever the fuck is going on in that church.

Now I have my second goal: make them clearly, but not obviously, trapped.

This gave me a really clear direction to move in, because now every piece of fabric has an extra practical purpose. For example-

There is a myth that making eye contact with a witch is inviting a curse upon yourself. The veil helps with that. Blocking their eyes eases the anxieties of any passerby or audience (and makes real spells that require direct eye contact impossible). It also heavily obscures their vision, making them reliant on their Manus to move around effectively. The mouth is uncovered so that they can always be monitored for recitations or chanting. Symbolically, the veil could parallel the blindfold of Lady Justice. If the narrative spun by the Church is that the white witches are willingly working in their service, then there is a sense of self-redemption to it. Turning wicked skills to the service of what is good and holy. Repenting as an act of the pursuit of justice. Obviously made all the more ironic and gross by the true nature of the whole thing.

The long sleeves are beautiful, and add to the general elegance of the uniform. They are also deeply impractical. The length makes them easy to trip over, the weight of the fabric makes them difficult to roll up.

There's a sketch on the first image by my friend who suggested that they could have twin trains coming off of the skirt, like moth wings. They create a very sleek and elegant design befitting the image of the Church. They're also easy to step on or grab in the event of a runaway witch. Naturally I took his suggestion.

This is what I meant by "clear but not obvious". None of this stuff is hidden, but most people aren't going to notice it. Someone like Zachary probably would, because he would be thinking from the perspective of how to escape or fight back, so he'd pick up on those details. But the general non-magic crowd isn't going to be thinking about that at all. They'll assume that a lack of literal chains means that there are no prisoners here. So the Church gets to keep a squeaky clean image with the public at large while still acting as a prison.

Basically, I'm having way too much fun with this. And now I have a solid idea of what I want these guys to look like! Next up will be settling on designs for Little One, Pointer, and Middle! (Speaking of which the utter disrespect of calling her "Middle"???? That was one of the details that made "As violently as possible please :D" a very satisfying moment)

[freebirdyance]

There is one consistent figure who's remained in Hannah's life for the past few years. One who's refused to allow her to slip out of his grasp, no matter what.

Vincent Ansaldo is a prominent figure in the underground works of the city. Well, more like his family is, and he just inherited the power automatically. He's a charmer, a taker, someone who sees something and has to have it if he likes it, and he had to have her the second he saw her. After one interaction, his thoughts were racked with thoughts of the redheaded woman.

His girl. His property. His diamond.

But after a few interactions, she'd tried to flee his presence. As if she could give him hopes and then leave him wanting. No, she'd have to kill him to do that, and he made sure she wouldn't. Not if she wanted to keep her little fantasy world in tact and free of certain people. So when he'd finally shown her who had the upper hand, who controlled who, she submitted to what he wanted.

Text messages varying from love letters to threats on her life, footage of his diamond being shoved against walls and grabbed by her throat in the midst of his own fury, her drinks being tampered with and it being allowed, it was all excused. She had no other choice. It was easy for her to close her eyes and envision herself somewhere else until he was done with her.

So she'd kill more than she should. She'd down drink after drink until she was blackout drunk. She'd try to break herself down until he was no longer interested in what was left of her.

But he would always be interested. He would always want her.

Which is what got her here in the first place. Down in the deepest basement he had in the most secluded 'home' he owned. Vincent wouldn't have to worry about her running off or being with that piece of shit if he kept her right where he could always find her.

His diamond would always shine bright down in the darkness.

@perfectly-intoxicated

Yancy has lost count of the bodies. More accurately, he wasn't really keeping count to begin with. All he knew is that he wasn't going to stop tearing through people until he got fucking something… anything that would lead him to her.

Finally, a name. Vincent Ansaldo.

It's a family name that Yancy has heard here and there in conversations, never having any direct dealings with them. Now he wonders if he had, how different this entire scenario could have turned out. But before he can descend into further despair, he moves forward. Forward. For her.

He wanted information on every speck of property this piece of shit owned, especially the places he wanted to keep quiet and tucked away. Yancy's empire had taken a hit, but Bam Bam was the best damn hacker around, as far as he could tell. The question is, would Vincent get spooked from heat he's drawing and try to run, or is he cocky enough to believe he was going to survive this?

Yancy is betting on the latter. And he couldn't wait to prove the motherfucker wrong.

“Yance.”

Hank's voice pulls his attention away from the computer screens he's watching over Bam Bam's shoulder, turning to look at his right-hand man. “Is he here?” His voice is rougher than normal, lack of sleep and too many cigarettes.

Hank nods. “Yeah, he's right outside.”

“You sure about this guy yer bringin’ in?” Yancy trusts Hank implicitly, but… he'd also trusted Dave, too, and he had to break his neck.

“He's rock solid, yeah. With Jimmy being out of commission and our limited resources, we need who we can get…”

Yancy sighs because he knows Hank is right. He can't do this entirely alone. “Show ‘im in.”

Hank does just that, opening the door and letting a man step in. He's a few inches taller than Hank, also early forties, if the mob boss had to guess. Definitely built like a former military man, which is how Hank knows him. The most eye-catching feature is the tattoo of a ram on his neck.

“Boss, this is Jackson Kincade. Former military, now…”

“Freelance, I ‘spose you could say,” Jackson rumbles while offering his hand. “Pleasure ta meet you.”

Yancy shakes his hand with a nod. “Thanks for comin'. I'm sure yer expertise will come in handy.” It's already more small talk than he wants, fucking chomping at the bit to get this done. To get Hannah back. To make Vincent regret ever laying a single finger on her before snuffing him out.

Looking around at everyone gathered, he then turns back to the computer screens. There's a secluded mansion. Way too many guards for it to be a normal home. If she's not there… he would tear through every single piece of Ansaldo's life until he finds her.

“Let's get to work.”

[vegley]

writing some shit lol. ye olde fantasy traffic life au where nobody knows about the life system yet and grian rolls into town and acts suspicious. i’ll add on later and might draw the designs idk. i’m just having fun writing, it’s good practice. :p

  Good Times Inn was the gem of Castle Town. It was a warm, welcoming place, with its perpetually lit lanterns and handmade rugs laid over the polished wood floors. Its owner, a man affectionately known as Scar, matched the building well. His brown hair and slightly tanned skin meshed perfectly with the inn’s colours, and his easy smile could make nearly anyone feel at home. As a result of all of these traits, Good Times saw a fair bit of traffic, and almost always had a visitor or two. With how many people had come and gone, there were bound to be a few oddballs every once in a while.

  But never as odd as this. 

  The door to Good Times swung open with a gentle jingle, alerting Scar to his next guest. He glanced up from the conversation he was having with a fellow townsperson, who also turned to look at the door, brushing her bright orange hair out of her eyes.

  Despite their short stature, the newcomer had an imposing aura. Their footsteps came briskly and lightly, their worn boots barely visible underneath the long, dusty purple cloak they wore. A hood hid most of their face except for the tip of a sharp nose and a thin smile. 

  Soon after the cloaked figure had entered, four people followed after them, wearing similarly coloured cloaks, though none were as intimidating as their supposed leader, who confidently stepped up to the counter.

  “Hello.” The figure adjusted their hood, moving it back to reveal the rest of their face. The man underneath the cloak had pale skin, dirty blond hair, and large, pitch black eyes that the inn’s warm light didn’t seem to reach. “This is Good Times, yeah?”

  “Ah — of course! Welcome, welcome!” Scar spread his arms proudly, masking his unease at this mysterious guest. “Are you looking for a welcoming place to stay?” He winked. “If so, then you’re in just the right place!”

  “You know, we just might be.” The cloaked man extended a hand to shake. “Grian.”

  Scar shook Grian’s hand as confidently as he could. The smaller man’s skin was surprisingly cold and soft, and his grip was tight. “Well, it’s great to meet you, Grian! You can call me Scar — I’m the innkeeper of this lovely place, and, you know, it would be such a pleasure to house you. How many rooms were you fine folks hoping for?” 

  “Just two, thanks.” Grian slipped his hand out of Scar’s. “How much do we owe you?”

  “Two diamonds per room, per night — so four total, for now.”

  “Perfect.” Four shiny, raw diamonds were dropped onto Scar’s counter.

  “Oh, thank you, this is just wonderful. Why don’t you all wait around here so I can prepare your rooms?” Scar raised his voice slightly, intending to include Grian’s companions in this proposal. 

  The group of four, who had been muttering amongst themselves, stopped chatting and turned to look at Grian. He gave them a quick nod, and the four people removed their hoods.

  The first to do so was a tall, lanky woman who had long hair of a similar colour to Grian’s, with a few pale blonde strands that curled into peculiar crescent shapes. Her alert blue eyes curiously scanned the area. She left her dusty purple cloak draped over her shoulders. 

  The second woman removed her cloak entirely, revealing her shockingly pink hair. She seemed a bit more anxious than the first, and periodically flicked her eyes from Grian to Scar, then back again. 

  The third person was a tall, slim man with pale skin and dark hair. a prominent moustache hid his mouth. His dark eyes frantically darted around the room, and he shifted to stand closer to his companions.

  The fourth person sat down on one of the inn’s couches before removing her hood. She seemed to be the most comfortable of the four, her green eyes shining confidently through the lenses of her round glasses. Her orange hair was tied back in a braid, and a few small, delicate flowers were woven in among the strands of hair.

  After finalizing some extra details with Scar, Grian moved to join his group on the couch. When he was out of earshot, the townsperson who had been talking to Scar earlier gave him a wry laugh. Her pale, slightly green face rested on her hands. “A colourful group, aren’t they?” 

  “I swear, Cleo, I always get the weird ones!”

  “Scar, you run the only inn in town — you get everyone.” Cleo adjusted her posture, sitting up straighter. “Are you going to need any help with the rooms?”

  Scar scoffed. “Me? Never! I’m a very efficient innkeeper, Cleo.” 

  “Right.” Cleo stood from her chair, but made no move to leave. 

  “Okay, fine, come on.” Scar strode into the inn’s hallway with the help of a cane, Cleo following just behind him.

  As the pair entered the first room, Scar quickly shut the door behind them. “Okay, so, that was really weird, right?” 

  “Um…” Cleo crossed her arms, considering his question. “Is there a scale of weirdness that we’re consulting here?”

  “Cleo, come on! Grian is freaking WEIRD!! Did you see his eyes?”

  “I mean, I didn’t think he was especially weird. Joel’s pretty weird too, and you don’t seem too bothered by him.” 

   Upon hearing his name, a man who had messy, brown hair streaked with green opened the door to the room. “What are you guys talking about?” He leaned against the doorframe. “I’m not weird.”

  “Joel!” Scar whipped around to look at him. “Come in, close the door!!”

  Joel raised his eyebrows, but obliged, entering the room and closing the door behind him. 

  Joel was a long-term guest at Good Times Inn, and Scar had gotten to know him well. The two had first met nearly a year ago, and Joel had begun staying at Good Times just a month later. He was more or less a part of Castle Town’s community, but was reluctant to officially move in, instead choosing to remain as a guest at the inn. 

  “I’m not weird, Cleo,” Joel repeated.

  “Debatable.” 

  “Why does no one else care about this Grian guy??” Scar exclaimed, interrupting his peers. “He’s WEIRD!!!”

  “Well, Scar, I think I might have to meet ‘this Grian guy’ before I decide if he’s weird or not.” Joel rested a hand on his hip.

  “Oh, right, you weren’t there! Let’s see…” Scar scratched his head, thinking. “He was this tall” — Scar motioned with his hand, indicating a height near his mouth — “and he had blond hair, and he had these eyes!” Scar widened his own eyes for emphasis. “They were huge and completely black!” 

  “Hmm.” Joel seemed unimpressed. 

  “Not as weird as you, right, Joel?” Cleo asked cheerily. 

  “Why do you think I’m so weird all of a sudden??” Joel poked her in the shoulder. “Look who’s talking!”

  “Joel!” Scar grabbed the shorter man and shook him.

  “Okay, okay! Sorry!” Joel released himself from Scar’s grasp. “I just don’t get why this one guy with sort of strange eyes is freaking you out so bad.” 

  “Cleo…” Scar pleaded. “Vouch for me!”

  “I mean… he really wasn’t all that weird.” 

  “Cleo!!!”

  A knock on the door caused all three to freeze. It creaked open, and one of Grian’s companions poked her head into the room, her pink hair catching some light from the window. “Um… am I interrupting…” She stared at the group of three. “…Whatever you guys are doing?”

  “No!” Scar stood up straight. “No, absolutely not! What do you need?” 

  “Pearl and I were just going to move some of our luggage to our rooms. I was wondering, is this…?” The pink haired woman gestured to the room, implying the rest of her question. 

  “Oh, of course, of course! We were just cleaning up a bit. You’re free to move your stuff in whenever, miss…?”

  The woman paused briefly, but eventually gave them a quick smile. “Lizzie. Thanks for your hospitality!” She exited the room, presumably to gather her luggage. 

  There was silence.

  “Okay,” Joel spoke up. “She definitely was weird.” 

  Cleo tilted her head, thinking. “I guess so?” Scar stared at her, and Cleo raised her hands defensively. “She’s really not that weird!! She just has pink hair!” 

  Joel put a hand on Scar’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Scar, she just doesn’t get it. Her weirdness standards are all messed up because she has green skin.” 

  “Glass houses, Joel.” Cleo flicked the strand of green hair that dangled in front of Joel’s eyes. He snickered at her. 

  Scar was not to be distracted. He scrunched his eyebrows together, thinking hard. He bent over slightly to reach Cleo and Joel’s eye level. “Should we, like, report them?” 

  “Report them?” Cleo laughed. “Scar, they haven’t even done anything yet!” 

  “Yeah…” Joel nodded. “I’m with Cleo. Even if they are a bit weird.” He paused, considering. “Well, for now, at least. If they actually do something, I’d be fine with filing a report.” 

  “Sure.” It was evident that Cleo still wasn’t sold on the idea, but she let it go. “How about we clean these rooms now?”

[csueno]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Dream picks flowers in Kinoko Kingdom

OKAY. TRIED MY BEST. unedited unbeated you know how it is

Dream & Sapnap (George ment.) | Gen | 1.1k words | two ex friends having a super normal conversation trust | @sixteenth-day-event

He doesn’t mean to stray far. 

He was just looking to make dye, for pink flowers that—despite his paranoid overstock in everything else— Techno lacked. 

A few tulips, maybe peonies if he could be bothered to look for more, because the guy has insisted on knitting himself a scarf, of all things, and they didn’t have pink sheep. Between a simple scouting mission and feeding Techno’s army of dogs, he would always pick to stay away from overexcited little beasts. Besides, he missed the sun, a delicacy in the tundra Techno chose to make home. 

Anyway. 

He doesn’t mean to stray too far; anxiety still lingers under his skin, making his muscles lock up whenever he isn’t inside the cabin, or rather, inside his 10 x 10 cubes mini bunker under the main cabins, only connected to Techno’s and the Syndicate room. Every second outside is a reminder that he’s still vulnerable, that he hasn’t built his own muscles again, that his response time is still stilted, and that his body and mind simply don’t work the way they used to, fine weapons intimately connected. 

He’s clumsy in his steps and only barely avoids leaving any important tracks behind him, but he knows any skilled hunter (and there’s people on his mind, there’s always people on his mind) would know exactly where to find him. He trusts a bit too much on his main prosecutor's incompetence in traversing the forest, and follows a path down, where he sees the beginning of a plain. Away, a mess of colors that promises wild flora.

His spotty vision isn’t an issue outside of the general feeling of fear he gets whenever he isn’t able to see too far beyond. He’s reconnecting with the world, and it takes time and effort, so it warns him (a tight feeling around his throat) whenever he’s in danger, but he can’t see above what another player would, like before. And when he sees tall, red mushrooms, he just wonders how far away from the cabins he is to appear on such an unfamiliar biome. 

Then he hears the sword draw, and he notices the flap of a flag too late. 

“Fucked up of you to show your face around here.” Sapnap spits, smoke falling out from his mouth and ears. He looked a bit like a kettle, which almost made Dream smile. His mask would’ve hidden it, but it’s the principle of the thing.

He’s in a bad position. He can barely move his neck (itchy, terse) fast enough to catch Sapnap’s face. 

 He’s in such a bad position, that he considers simply giving up, as easy as that. Letting the Syndicate’s efforts go to waste, render Ranboo’s ‘sacrifice’ useless, just to avoid arguing for his own life. He barely manages to turn his back away and face Sapnap completely, trying (and failing) to hide the flowers on his hand. He had only gathered two pink tulips and one single peony, wilting miserably with the grip Dream had on his hand. 

“Hey, hey, Sapnap… uh, long time no see?” 

Sapnap blinks down at the flowers. There’s a heavy pause, where he stares in disbelief. “Is that—are you looking for George?” 

Closer to hyperventilating than he would like, Dream doesn’t even think of lying. He just thinks about how he has an non-enchanted diamond pickaxe and Sapnap is one of the few people that can stand against him in fair combat. “No. These are for a scarf.”

“A scarf.” Sapnap echoes. 

“I-I’ve been staying with, uh, someone. They like to knit.” Dream continues. Whatever little self perseverance instinct he still has reminds him not to sell his only ally to a person who will not hesitate to kill him today, and help kill his other allies tomorrow. “I wasn’t going to enter. It’s, ah, a nice place.”

“Dream,” Sapnap looks conflicted all of the sudden, like Dream dropping all pretense he has the control has managed to wreck him. Dream swallows, something like pain cursing fast through his body. “I. I have to kill you.”

“I mean,” Dream drawls, standing up slowly, keeping his eyes connected to Sapnap’s. His heart is beating too fast, the unwavering grip of Sapnap’s hands on his sword keeping him on his edge, but he’s willing to bet on Sapnap’s own doubts. He’s good at making plans in a second, and he didn’t even expect to be able to make Sapnap pause anymore. Maybe Dream’s deplorable armor is getting to him. “You don’t have to, not really. I’m not planning anything. I don’t want trouble, I swear. Just getting these,” a weak gesture to his own plants. “I can even leave them there, if you don’t want me to steal. But they’re flowers. You guys have plenty. 

“Why do you think I can trust you?” Sapnap snarls, somehow remembering his own anger. His eyes flash red again, and his face blushes, irate. An angry Sapnap is an unpredictable, hasty Sapnap. Dream takes a step back, seizing his chances. 

“You haven’t killed me,” Dream reasons, another step back. “You could’ve before I even noticed–Sap, I had like, my back to you for five seconds. You’ve killed me in less time.”

“That was in fucking Manhunt, you asshole,” he stomps his feet, irritated. “There were no stakes there.” 

“What difference does it make?” Dream asks, getting frustrated too. He’s tired. He’s hungry. He would let Sapnap kill him. He—doesn’t like how okay he is with the thought of Sapnap killing him here, without a witness. To be buried between the flower beds that welcome the kingdom George and Sapnap made—explicitly— without him. It would hurt, but it would be the last time they hurt. “Look, you either kill me now, or let me go. I can’t even,” he makes his ax appear, which makes Sapnap’s shoulders raise until he realizes is a chipped, used one, “what the fuck can this do against netherite?” 

“You fought me the last time,” Sapnap seethes. “What’s the difference this time?”

“Honestly? I’m fucking exhausted.” Dream mumbles. “There’s nobody to see me losing. You could tell them, I guess. I don’t know. I’m tired, I don’t care to fight.”

He doesn’t say: the plan is both taking too long and is coming faster than I thought. He doesn’t say: Techno’s carpet floor itches, but I can’t shake off the wrongness of a bed. He doesn’t say: this isn’t the way things were meant to go. He doesn’t say: at least let me make sure you keep your promise. I wish you would keep your promise. Out of everyone, I know you would make dying the least painful. 

When Sapnap doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, he remembers the sun. The aurora borealis of Techno’s cabin. He remembers how good it feels to swim for ours, to cook something good and have others praise you for it. And then he throws an Ender pearl as far away from the mushrooms and flowers as he can. For a second, it stands against the sun and turns Dream’s world gray, and then it’s over and he’s far away. 

“If I were to bring George flowers,” he shouts, not looking back, “I would bring him roses!”

He goes back to the forest, and chooses a different path.

[jamiesfootball]

I’m curious (if you’re willing to share) — is your post season 3 fic shippy or platonic? Looking forward to it!

Both of the main ones I'm working on now are platonic! But also you've opened the door for me to talk about it so I'm gonna talk about it!

The post-season 3 fic is platonic and--I cannot overstate this enough--has so much of a plot going on across multiple characters that I finally broke down and made a fucking spreadsheet.

That said a lot of Roy's struggle in this fic centers around his emotional attachments with other people and the roles he plays in their lives (with family, with friends, as a coach). He's stuck in this perfect storm where it seems like all his most important relationships are in flux.

See below the cut for spoilers:

His Family

This is a big one for him and where a surprising amount of therapy work gets done. When the story kicks off, Phoebe is suddenly Around Much Less and a part of that is his sister tentatively feeling out a reconciliation with their parents. This causes a surprising (to Roy) amount of emotional upheaval in his life. As someone who's always been in his sister's corner, he's always seen (even if he's never fully verbalized it to himself) his keeping contact with their parents as a way of releasing his sister from any responsibility or lingering guilt about cutting them off. But now that she's tentatively in contact with them, and introducing them to Phoebe, Roy is realizing that he has a lot of unresolved issues with his parents. Adding to that stress is the fact that while he's played a huge role in his niece's life, he's never actually had to ask to spend time with her before, and he is awful at admitting he might need something, especially when the people around him keep telling him he can 'have a break.'

Keeley

He and Keeley have decided to remain friends. Keeley wants to be single for a while and work on herself, her company, and all the special projects she has falling out of her sleeves (*cough*womensteam*cough*). However, Keeley is the most serious relationship he's ever had, and they started out on a flirty, romantic footing, so he's never just been friends with her. In fact he's never stayed friends with any of his exes. He's navigating unfamiliar territory and he's not sure what's allowed of him. Even basic shit--is he allowed to tell her she looks nice? invite her for coffee? for dinner?--he ends up second guessing.

The Diamond Dogs / The Workplace

He literally JUST became a Diamond Dog and showed them emotional vulnerability by asking what the secret was to becoming a less shitty person and now he's in charge of them. (And he's in therapy, seeing the staff therapist, so everybody knows about that too.) With Ted gone, the inter-team dynamics between the coaches is a whirlpool of Beard and Nate trying to out-smart each other, and suddenly Roy is the one keeping everybody in line and fielding Higgins' questions about player recruitment. This isn't the big drama but it is mundane and tedious and just another fucking thing to deal with.

The Team (Sam, Isaac, Colin)

The step between captain and assistant coach was a fairly easy one for Roy because he was essentially doing the same thing in both jobs (yell at them about their form, psych them up before a match, etc). He's the gaffer now. Most gaffers don't just casually hang out with their players. If he was another team's gaffer, he wouldn't. But these are people who know him, people he used to play side-by-side with, and god help him but he does care about them. So while he's pretty sure he needs to start drawing a boundary between the professional and personal, how the fuck is he supposed to tell them that when Colin is literally getting chewed up by the media as the only openly gay player in the league and he clearly needs the support? How's he supposed to back away when Sam, who's never angry about anything, is fucking seething over Edwin Akufo and asking Roy for help? Is he supposed to step back and drop it all on Isaac, who's trying his best but also seems to be carrying his own weight about something? They're not not his friends, but also he feels responsible for them. So what kind of coach is he going to be, now that he's the guy in charge?

Jamie (ofc)

Where does any of the above leave Jamie? Truly, if the boundaries between him and the other players are in flux, the ones between him and Jamie are fucking spaghetti. Because all of the same issues still apply, but with additional layers (their rivalry, Keeley, Amsterdam, Wembley, personal coaching, the fact that he's met Jamie's parents and would punch his dad in the face if he ever got a chance, the fact that his niece thinks they're best friends). His partiality is skewed every-which-fucking-way, and frankly he's a little annoyed that no one else holds it against him.

And all of that becomes additionally fucked up because:

Roy going to therapy is intrinsically tied to his behavior towards Jamie (Roy has a lot of guilt to work through on how often he's taken his anger out on Jamie)

Jamie and him have unwisely turned therapy into a goddamn competition (they have a chart), which means that any time he makes progress in therapy, he immediately ends up sharing it with Jamie

They don't even have the coach-player thing to fall back on because Jamie starts off the summer injured

This is also the Jamie Going Through It fic (with Tartt Sr in rehab being a huge part of that), and at this point its a given (to Roy at least) that if Jamie needs help, Roy is going to help him.

Jamie might be his friend. Maybe. Possibly. Roy might even admit that one day

So is this a shippy fic? No! No relationship statuses are added, lost, or changed in the winding plot of this fic (unless I figure out how to break up Beard and Jane). Everything picks up right where the finale left it.

But do relationships--the weight of identifying what you might need from other people, and how to navigate changes, and how to define things that aren't easy that are maybe complicated and messy and necessary for your own personal happiness--appear in this fic?

Absolutely yes.

[taixuandream]

"kiana speaks of you very highly." in the silence left by the holocaust, fu hua's flames crackle like slow embers. less conflagration and more the flickering dance of red leaves in autumn or the tail of a lone koi, single master of its lake at the onset of winter and thus left without rival——and thus without companion.

she would like to say so many things: " thank you for saving me " ; " you are incredibly reliable " ; " your power is so awe-inspiring ". but all of these, she imagines, have likely followed someone of fu hua's ability as long as she can remember, and have since lost their weight in heart ; she suspects this because she is the same, and praise once hefted like bullion of gold somewhere along the way had thinned out and thinned out, until they resembled more the streamwater that flowed, half-shimmering, through the holes in the pan under idle hands only half paying attention, the riverbed long lost of its luster.

she supposes in times like these, there is very little she can say to make a difference. but nevertheless, she smiles and offers what small words she can. the woman had, after all, kept particular watch over her, sensing early on her deficit in this place and her fear. "it's easy to see why. having a friend in this place must be reassuring. we also don't know how many more trials lie ahead. . . "

the thought alone is nearly enough to make her steelbound poise fracture ; as it is, the brief fall of her gaze to the floor is the only clue——that, and a resounding sigh, delivered as if to overflow: to the audience it seems to ask " the performed ennui of a diva ; or the heart of the tale? "

but the words that come after are frank, delivered without gravitas. "if i'm to be honest, i wish i was more like you." a rueful admission, but not one to dwell on now. she knows her limits and her strengths——which stages are hers to shine on, and which invite the leading light of other stars. "but with things as they are, i must request your protection a while longer."

Intensity never left the nimble frame. Even as rest, over-exaggerated heaving led to an odd rhythm in exertion. Uncanny diamonds meet the actress, head tilting, as if a dog were trying to understand a command. Each exhale leads a subtle smolder, dissipating almost as instantly as it escapes. A grin, betraying innate ferocity. "Kiana and I go back a long time... " mere seconds in the crushing eternity she's lived. "I can't think of many others as reliable as her." Even fewer if counting those still breathing.

Upon the others admission, the gears turn quite visibly. A certain delicacy has fallen between them in such a moment, a fragile masquerade tested just before the finale. If she were to guess, this is familiar territory. While compliments are often sparse, it's ones like that truly hang on. Still, eyes search to find something deeper, to find the reason her heart still beats.

"I think I like you as you are," words are careful, slowly as they come out, searching to not draw from the ensuing message. Invisible chains tug, wanting to profess some special, uniqueness that they all withheld. It didn't matter though. "But I will protect you, just as I have been. As I will with Paimon, and Kiana. However..." heavy is the hand that finds Divinity's shoulder. Such a simple, benign pat, carries the weight of millions; the rage in the sunrise and the ashes raining down.

"You can't give up on me, not when we need you. Stars shine brightest in the darkness." Drawing back, index and middle digits press lightly to Furina's forehead, before turning and taking a step. Fu Hua doesn't look back, though her companion can see the subtle curves of another smile. "And you do have a friend here." Beckoning to come, steps are slow, as if treading the unforeseen ocean of what is to come, or waiting for another to catch up. Heaven only knows that the other two won't wait for them.