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strawberrystepmom · 1 day

Text

pairing: Suguru Geto x F!Reader

word count: 9.7k

contents: Canon compliant up to the events of JJK0, cult leader!Suguru, naive reader, slight age difference between reader and Geto (5 years), reader can see curses/has cursed energy but it is kept intentionally vague

cw: dark content | emotional manipulation, dubious consent, voyeurism, oral sex (m!receiving), spit, violence, descriptions of anxiety, mentions of religion and religious imagery, mind fuck-y

notes: so this is a remaster/full repost of unkindness that was on my old blog! i only got up to like the third segment in that post so i figured why not do it all at once. thank you for reading if you do and i hope that you enjoy my little story! ♡ | crossposted to ao3

When you were eight years old, sitting in your mother’s lap as she combed through your wet hair, you remember telling her about a recurring dream you had been having for weeks. You were nervous to tell her, your little hands balled into fists as they rested against your nightgown clad thighs.

“A raven,” you recount to her as she nods and gently uses the bristles of the comb to detangle a knot. “Bigger than any bird I’ve ever seen is in this dream every night, flying around over my head.” Your mother sighs and reassuringly pats your head. You hear the spritz of a spray bottle from behind you, a synthetic green apple scent filling your nostrils.

Telling her filled your stomach with anxiety, an issue you didn’t know you had at the time. You figured the world was just scary back then. You wish you could go back and tell yourself how right you were. About how scary the world is, anyway. To tell yourself about how everything will eventually end up likely wouldn’t change the outcome but at least you could say a few things.

“The raven comes to the ground eventually. He doesn’t fly over your head forever, instead he glides by your side.”

“The visions you’ve seen are real, you aren’t crazy.”

The most unbelievable thing of all?

“You end up in love and you end up losing yourself along the way.”

Back then though, you only had your mom and her words to illuminate the darkness you felt lurked around every corner.

“Have you ever heard of omens?”

Shaking your head, you turn to look at your mom who is tapping the edge of the comb against the heel of her hand. She’s chewing the inside of her cheek and you can tell she’s deciding what to say next to comfort you. Your mom has never been good at this kind of thing, a woman who never envisioned she would have a child with so much angst and fear.

“Sometimes we receive signs that something is going to happen in our lives even if we don’t understand them,” she starts. You hear her mouth open, as if she wants to add something additional, but you hear it snap shut as if she thought better of it. You nod once, signaling your understanding and she gets back to work at the stubborn tangle at the base of your skull without another word shared between the two of you.

You hate that this is the most vivid memory from your childhood.

You hate that you still have the dream.

You wake with a gasp, looking around and blinking as warm morning light filters through the window. Feeling around the bed, you wonder if Suguru is already up and moving for the day as your hands touch the duvet where he should be. It’s cold, as if nobody was there in the first place. Knowing that may have been the case anyway, you sigh and rub your hands over your face.

“Suguru?”

His name leaves your lips in a tentative manner and you look around the room to make sure he isn’t looking at the early morning sun or standing there watching you sleep. No matter how much of your life you spend with him, you’ll never get used to the feeling of those black diamond eyes following you everywhere you go. But finally, you are seen.

Four years spent with him and no one sees you like he does.

You were 18 years old, a few months from graduating high school, when Suguru approached you. The sight of a stranger raised your hackles, scared of the world at large at that point in your life, and you were concerned trouble was coming for you. All of the omens in your dreams would finally come true at the hands of this beautiful man, rising to his full height which is nearly towering over you. His hair was shorter then than it is now, just past his shoulders and tied in a neat half bun off of his face.

He looked like less of a god now than he did then but you knew it. The omnipresent feeling of him sticks in your bones. It’s the confidence that makes you stand with your back straight, that guides you through the worst of the days where he’s nowhere to be found.

Unable to find him, you shuffle back to the futon and lay down amongst blankets that smell like him. You’ve never been able to place the scent but you know it’s his. Wrapping yourself in the duvet, you let your mind wander back to all of those years ago.

“I know this seems sudden but I wanted to ask you about your gift.”

Mention of your gift, not that you’d ever call it that, makes you freeze. He notices your expression, wide eyed and haunted, and he fights the urge to smile at you. Just as he and everyone else suspected, you have no idea what you’re capable of. It would be a failing worthy of death to let Gojo find you first. Suguru couldn’t risk the bird dog finding his canary and dropping her off, bloodied and broken, on the doorstep of the Sorcerer community.

He wouldn’t allow it.

“M..my gift?” You repeat with uncertainty and he nods, bun bobbing against the back of his head as he does so. The situation is withering, a handsome stranger asking you about a secret you’ve kept hidden for your whole life while the sun beats down and makes you sweat. You wonder if you’re about to be killed.

“You are an exceptional young woman, do you know that?”

The background noise of the world fades out, the sound of the spring birds chirping disappearing as you blink once, twice, and you notice those dark eyes fixated on you. You blanch and avert your eyes. Were you even allowed to look at him? Dressed in such nice clothing with such a regal demeanor? Shaking your head, you play off the awkwardness with a humorless chuckle.

“You must be looking for someone else, sir.” Bowing your head as a sign of respect, you turn to walk away. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

Before you can turn on your heel to walk away, you feel a large palm rest on your shoulder. You take note of the weight of it, the feel against your bones, and you wonder why this is happening to you? You are so afraid but you can’t run, you don’t have the guts for it. What do you do now?

Nothing. You do nothing, just as you’ve done your entire life. You let this strange man grab you, hold you, speak to you. Humiliation rises like bile in your throat and you turn to face him, astounded again by his beauty. The sunlight catches his dark eyelashes, warmth emanating from him. How can you walk away? You won’t walk away.

“I don’t want this to be more strange than it already is,” he starts, voice deep and dreamy. You could get lost in the baritone and the way it wraps around you but you choose instead to focus on his words to try and understand what he wants from you. “But I know you have something nobody else has. Abilities.”

He’s correct but you wonder how he could possibly know about your struggles. You have kept them to yourself for years even to the detriment of your own well being. Your mother and father both assume you’re deranged and there are times where you’ve wholeheartedly agreed with them since you began seeing the things that haunt you at every turn when you were 5.

“How do you know about that?”

The man shakes his head and holds his free hand ahead of him. “Why don’t you walk with me and we can talk some more?”

How can you say no with his hand on your shoulder? Turning on your heel to face him, you keep quiet and wait for further instructions. Your naturally submissive tendencies are serving you well in this situation and Geto doesn't hide his smug smile. You are perfect and he knew it.

As the two of you begin to pick up pace walking side by side, you anxiously keep your eyes glued to the ground. Being able to visualize each of your steps is keeping you calm and if you look down, there's less of a chance you'll see whatever is out there to scare you.

"Look at me."

He doesn't ask, he commands, and you listen. For the first time, you notice something perching on his shoulder. It's formless for the most part and less terrifying than what you usually see attached to others as they pass by you but you're intrigued nonetheless.

"Do you know about that....thing?" Pointing to his shoulder, he nods at you and you breathe a sigh of relief. "You see them also?"

A chuckle is his response and you ponder what it means while you wait for him to clear up your confusion. "I don't just see them, I control them."

The figure disappears quickly and you gasp, searching around your own feet and your shoulders to make sure he didn't order it in your direction to harm you.

"How?"

Despite your trepidation, Suguru can see the way that your eyes sparkle at the thought of someone being like you. He knows how it felt for him, too.

"I can show you and so can my friends." He watches your nose scrunch in confusion at his words and he laughs, amused. The sound is musical and uplifting and you feel yourself lightening up for the first time maybe in your entire life. Knowing you aren't alone has shifted your perspective more than you realized it would.

"There are more of you?"

"A couple dozen, yeah."

Nodding, you think for a moment. What if he can actually help you? What if these people are actually like you? What if you can find a place that suits you for the first time in 18 whole years?

"How can you help me?"

The man turns to you, knowing smirk in place across his mouth. “I can show you better than I can tell you.”

You hate her.

Never in your life has such a bitter feeling gathered in the pit of your stomach. Your face flames every time Manami walks by, you can feel it and you know she can see it. Tonight, you are more glad than ever to be on kitchen duty even if it means having to listen to her cackle from the other side of the wall.

“Geto-sama!”

She sing-songs across the tatami with a giggle as Suguru traipses by en-route to have dinner with the group, seating himself at the head of the table as everyone else files in around it. You fight the urge to roll your eyes from where you’re standing next to Mimiko and Nanako, pouring hojicha into tea cups.

“Geto-sama,” you mock under your breath and Nanako giggles, dishing rice into bowls at your side. The two of you giggle together, a secret shared, as she begins to bring the dishes to the table for service. Sorting your tea cups, you count how many more servings you need as you look around the doorframe to see who is waiting.

Your relationship with Geto’s most trusted inner circle has expanded greatly since you first arrived months ago.

They knew better than to be outwardly distrustful of you. Aside from the twins, every one of them had set out to find Suguru and his group on their own. He found you. He brought you. He touted your abilities long before you arrived.

“She’s the perfect blank slate,” he gushed over dinner one night as the other members of the group listened enraptured. “We got to her just in time, too. My source says that Gojo was planning on paying her a visit.”

Your arrival was underwhelming. Greeted at the end of the footpath that leads to the front door by Miguel, Larue, Mimiko, and Nanako while Manami glowered from the porch with folded arms, you weren’t immediately made to feel welcome by anyone except for Suguru who continued to guide you along the property with your arm looped in his. She was scoping you out, taking an assessment. She believed you to be no threat. She believed wrong.

Tinkering with the last cup on the counter, you take one look into the dining room again and the realization that your usual spot is full makes you chuckle humorlessly. Not that you’re surprised, Manami has done all but piss all over Geto to mark her territory but the sight makes a bitter, sour feeling turn in your guts just the same. Your nose scrunches as if you’ve smelled something bad and you don’t immediately hear when someone else enters the kitchen to pick up the tea cups you are still filling.

“About ready?”

The voice you recognize as belonging to Mimiko calms you and you respond with a nod, wrapping your hand around the warmest cup as you take a breath and plaster a smile on. This one goes to the man himself and you feel eyes upon you as you offer it to him with a bow. His hand lingers on top of yours for a moment and you’re glad your face is pointed toward the ground, your flustered look hidden as long as you don’t make eye contact.

“We’re just waiting on you,” he chides lightly, always a stickler for timeliness. You lift your head to his view enough to offer an apologetic half smile. He pats the side of your face with his tea-warmed hand and your smile grows. Your eyes meet his rich, umber colored pair and you feel at peace. “Manami will be out of your spot by the time you get back.”

A small “oooooooh” breaks out around the table but the tension is quickly killed with a sharp look from Suguru. Everyone quietly begins shuffling their utensils and you don’t stick around to watch Manami’s rejection, scurrying back to the kitchen to gather your own rice and tea.

“I want to share a few moments after dinner, if you’d all like to stick around.”

Suguru’s words inspire nods and happy, affirmative hums and you catch the tail end of them as you settle next to him at the table. Your opposition glares icily from the other end of the table, the same look she kept plastered on her face the day you arrived, and you meet her eyes long enough to offer a sweet smile before bowing your head in thanks for the meal you were about to share.

“I’d especially like for you to stay,” he looks across the table at Manami who nods once before turning back to her plate. Her lips are pursed and her eyebrows are knit together in irritation but smugness glimmers in her eyes. “You too,” he says and you turn your head to see him glancing down at you. Fondness crinkles the corners of his eyes slightly and you shrink into yourself with a nod and a shy smile. “Of course.”

The rest of dinner goes as you’ve come to expect. The twins giggle and joke with every other member of the group and you all sit beneath the watchful eyes of your leader who sips at his own tea with a barely visible over the edge of his cup smirk but you can see it from where you sit. You can see the corners of his mouth upturned just enough it makes your heart flutter in your chest.

He looks down at you and thinks about how vulnerable you look. How little you hide, your emotions and yourself alike. Were you like this before he met you or is this his influence? He takes credit. He knows the way you flash fake nice shit eating grins in Manami’s direction is for his sake. His sweet little bird isn’t afraid to fight and he hoped that would be the case.

“Since we’re all here, I wanted to discuss a few things,” Geto clears his throat and sets his cup on the table in front of him. He basks as he feels every eye in the room turn toward him but none make him feel more intoxicated than yours. When he casts you a glance, you smile shyly. He wonders if you’ll do that forever, look at him as if he’s a savior on a big white horse. He hopes so.

“I want to make some changes in what we’ll all be doing around here,” his voice rings proud and clearly and you fight the urge to prop your head up with your hand girlishly to get a better look at him. A few people shift in their seated positions but you don’t glance around to find out who, gaze fixed upon the person you want to witness the most.

“Manami, your duties are changing.” Replacing the sound of shifting clothing is small gasping and murmuring. Manami has been Geto’s assistant for close to two years, a coveted spot amongst anyone in the group. “You will still be my personal assistant but only for off compound events and daytime hours.”

Grateful for your own refusal to look at the rest of the table, you can tune out the uncomfortable chatting. “I know this may be surprising but we have many things ahead of us we need to prepare for,” he starts and the noise quiets. “Manami is one of the brightest among us and she will excel no matter what she’s doing.”

Hearing him praise someone else makes your back stiffen, the urge to pick at the seam of your t-shirt making your fingers twist in the fabric idly. You’re grateful your grip is beneath the table, hidden from view. No one will suspect how you feel as long as you’re careful but you gasp as you feel two large, soft hands untangle your fingers from your shirt and squeeze them between their palms. Looking up you’re greeted by the handsome, vulpine smile of Geto and you feel another gentle squeeze of your hands.

You take a deep breath and ground yourself, focusing on his words as he opens his mouth.

“You will be my new on-premises and evenings assistant.” Despite your shock and the look on your face that shows it clear as day, you nod. “I would love to,” you clarify and he squeezes your hands once more as he rises and drops your clammy fingers back into your lap.

Standing at his full height, Geto smiles as he looks over the faces of everyone sitting around him. Even Manami is working to hide her pout, looking toward the ground but keeping a smile plastered on her face. You sit with your legs tucked beneath you, a shred of hope illuminating parts of you that you once saw as dark and empty.

You get to spend most of your day with Geto, most of your evenings too. Perhaps in that time he will finally have the opportunity to tell you about your gift. In 6 months you’ve learned as much as you knew the day you arrived but that may be soon to change. Giddiness makes you smile slightly, your face beaming as you keep it looking up.

Suguru extends his hand in your direction and your smile grows wider. Gingerly placing your palm in his, he helps you rise as he places his hands on either side of your face. You strain your neck glancing up at him, you’re only chest level or so to his massive form and you can feel him using his grip on your cheeks to lower your head. Once you’re gazing at the floor his lips graze your forehead and you gasp, fire erupting through your limbs.

“I’m going to teach you so much,” he coos as he uses his grip to turn your face back toward him. His eyes drink in the sight of you - the tip of your nose, the shape of your lips, and he smirks so quickly you swear you only imagined it. His thumbs graze your cheeks before he drops his grip and looks over your head at everyone else. That tall, dark shadow rests directly over you, though.

“You’re all dismissed, thank you for a lovely evening.”

Everyone stands and you stay facing Geto until all of the footsteps have filed out, waiting for his permission to leave next. You flinch slightly when his hands grip your face again, a natural reflex to the surprise of his touch, and he gazes at you silently for so long you stop keeping time. It could have been seconds, it could have been days - you will never know but you will accept it nevertheless.

“Come see me tomorrow morning,” he whispers and you nod. You can see his eyes flit from your eyes to your mouth and you wonder what he’s thinking. He dips his head slightly and you can feel his lips brush gently against yours, a kiss almost too small to be qualified as one. You shiver, his thumbs digging into the plump flesh of your cheeks.

“Yes sir.”

“Say that again,” he mutters against your lips. The vibrations of his words are directly on your skin and the heat that erupted in your limbs before has become a full blown fire, your face hot and your palms sticking together. “Yes sir.”

He presses another kiss to your forehead and releases his grip, straightening his back out as he walks toward the door and offers you a bow of his head. “Get some rest.”

You make certain he’s gone before you touch your fingers to your lips, your eyes fluttering shut as you commit the feel of his soft mouth on yours to memory. You won’t be sleeping tonight.

“Geto-sama?”

The sound of your meek voice alerts Suguru to your presence and he looks up from his usual place by the open sliding door between his room and the porch attached to it, a light breeze blowing his hair off of his shoulder. He looks ethereal and resembles a hero from a book you obsessively read as a child. Rescuing a sweet young woman from a life marred by sadness, the hero hauls her off to a place where she can be happy.

The irony isn’t lost on you.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” you start, clasping your hands together in front of you and he rises to standing, elegance exuding from him even in the most mundane of situations. He approaches you and gently rubs the back of your head and you fight the urge to lean into the touch. No amount of him feels like enough.

“You didn’t interrupt anything,” he responds with a serene smile, one you’ve noticed is just for you. He doesn’t smile at anyone else like that, not even Manami, and smugness rises in you for a split second before he speaks again. “What can I do for you?”

Clearing your throat, you look toward the ground and keep your hands linked. Geto recognizes the posture, something you do frequently when you want to speak, and he waits with his own hands joined inside of the sleeves of his yukata robes. He loves how naturally you submit to him, how you won’t even meet his eyes.

“Why am I here?”

If he’s surprised by your question, he doesn’t show it, but he does take a few strides to your side to place a comforting arm around your shoulder. Against your better judgment, you lean against him. Sides pressed together, you’re surprised when you feel the most minuscule squeeze of reassurance. Your heart threatens to burst as he leads you to where he was sitting and invites you to sit across from him, the two of you looking out at the sun setting on the horizon.

“Before I answer,” he adjusts his sitting position and turns to face you. The golden hour warmth hits his face and you swear, not for the first time, you are glancing at a deity. Something, someone, greater than yourself. You shouldn’t be this close to him and you start to spiral but his voice brings you out of your own mind and into reality, your gaze shifting from the ground to him. “Will you tell me why you’re asking?”

Twisting your fingers together and sitting your hands in your lap, you sigh.

You’re uncertain of how much time has passed since you left your old life behind to join him and while you do finally feel at peace with yourself, the natural pull you feel toward the man who brought you here in the first place hasn’t dissipated in the way you expected it to. It feels like an unfulfilled hunger, a need more than a simple want at this point, but how can you begin to tell him that?

“I’m afraid that if I tell you, you’ll see me differently.”

Your words finally get a rise from Suguru and he quirks one of his dark brows. The crack in his cool headed exterior makes you giddy - is that because of you? You’re dumbfounded when his posture changes and he scoots closer to you, your knees nearly touching his. Should you pick yours up and press them against your chest? To quell your own anxiety, you decide to follow his lead. You will only move if he does.

“Nothing you say will change my opinion of you.” He reaches out and touches your knuckles with the tips of his fingers and you feel heat rise through every inch of your body. The touch makes you feel emotional and you break the intense eye contact between the two of you to stare at the ground, hoping it will hide the tears that are threatening to spill down your lash line. “I brought you here.”

Nodding, you lift your still joined fists together and wipe your eyes and down your cheek with the back of one of your hands. Although you are still looking down, you can see Geto moving from your periphery and you wonder what he’s going to do next.

Concerned your display is upsetting him, you sit still and try to regulate your breathing to keep from sobbing but errant tears still flow. You feel Suguru’s finger before you realize what’s happening and you flinch slightly beneath his touch as he wipes the wet tracks off of your skin. He wipes his finger along the fabric of your yukata robe before wrapping both of your fists in one of his much larger hands.

“Please be honest with me.”

Thinking back to what prompted this need for confirmation of what you mean to him, you dig your nails into your palm until you’re certain marks will be left. Manami, someone who spends almost as much time around Geto as you do, comes into your mind and you gnaw on your lower lip as you think about the jealousy churning in your gut. Why does she get to be there to help him make decisions? Why does she get to watch while he’s in meetings? Why did you see her leaving his room last week, hours before dawn?

Knowing it should be you is the emboldening thought you need to open your mouth.

“Do I mean anything to you?”

Feeling him squeeze your fists, the palm of his hand warm and comforting, you release the breath you’ve been holding. For better or worse, you’re about to find out and although your mind is racing, willing yourself to be calm comes easy in his presence. As if you needed further confirmation of everything he has done for you at a moment when you’re demanding something you feel unreasonable for wanting.

“You mean everything to me, you’re our future.”

His confirmation makes you weep. Tears flow freely, dripping down your cheeks and they hit the knuckle of Suguru’s thumb. You should feel guilty, you think, for putting him in a position to have to answer to you but cannot bring yourself to do it. You shouldn’t have had to wait more than a year to know but forgiveness is easy when it comes to him. If anyone should be sorry it’s you for questioning him in the first place and so you begin to ask for forgiveness.

“I’m so sorry for asking, Geto-sama.”

You feel him pulling you into his lap, his strong hands wrapping around your hips and the blood rushes into your face. Perching with uncertainty, your bottom rests against his thigh and it feels natural. All of the yearning couldn’t have prepared you for this feeling and you sigh as he brings one of his large hands to cup the back of your neck, his voice so close to your ear it makes goosebumps erupt across your skin.

“Call me Suguru from now on,” he whispers, a secret for your ears only. You feel his lips press against the space where your jaw and neck meet, another secret for the two of you to keep. Everyone on the compound would view you differently if they knew this was happening but you don’t care. You can’t care, not when he’s running his palms up your waist and unfastening your robe.

The opened door with a view of the outside doesn’t concern you as Suguru’s deft fingers work at the knot keeping you decent, the same breeze that rustles his hair that has always reminded you of feathers blowing across your bare chest as the robe is worked down around your waist. Your nipple stiffens and Geto reaches to pinch it between his thumb and index finger, making you yelp.

“How long have you wanted this, my little bird?” He wonders aloud and you almost feel as if he isn’t speaking to you at all, he merely wants you to listen and to witness. “Since you met me?”

He knows the truth just as he knows the way you’re looking at him. Eyes lidded, cheeks puffed out, lips wet with your own spit. You’re never going to leave his side.

“Tell me the truth,” he pinches your nipple once more and you arch your back, lip jutting out at the roughness of the feeling. Nobody has ever touched you like this before and the feeling is electric. Despite the fuzziness in your brain, the heady arousal clouding your every thought, you wet your lips with your tongue and speak.

“So long, Suguru.”

He smirks knowingly and lowers his head to suck your breast into his mouth, his warm tongue lapping at your skin. It’s nothing short of heaven, you think. This is how it always should have been. His hands travel from the dip of your waist to your hips, pulling the fabric of your robe further down to expose more of you to his hungry eyes. You reach out toward his face, your fingers tentatively brushing against his lower lip and he releases your nipple from his mouth.

“Can I touch you too?”

Another whisper, another secret. A predatory gleam shines in Suguru’s eyes and you wiggle against his lap, keeping your fingertips pressed against his mouth. He puckers and kisses them gently, reaching to grab your wrist. He places your hand against the bulge beneath his robes, covering your delicate fingers with his own.

“You can,” he uses his grip on your hand to press the heel against his hard cock and he hisses through his teeth. You admire the way his throat looks when his head is tipped back in pleasure, his Adam's apple bobbing. How is everything he does so effortlessly beautiful, you wonder. Your attention is recaptured by his voice. “But first, how long?”

Your wide eyed, parted lip expression only serves as further fuel for the blood pumping between his legs. You look so innocent, the same as you did when he felt the first of your defenses crumble, the day he approached you to come with him. It strikes him as funny that both times, your vulnerability is because he has put his hands on you. Nervously, you shift in his lap and he presses you closer to his body to keep you from going any further.

“Since the first day,” you admit, to him and yourself for the first time. He smirks, molding your hand around his bulge and you squeeze. Another hiss from him is all you want, the noise motivating you to offer yourself further. Using your free hand, you slip out of your robe the rest of the way and for the first time, you're bare to his eyes.

"Look at you." Your face heats and you feel your posture collapse in on itself, shoulders slumping after being so seen. "Show me how well you listen."

His command drips with condescension but you’re too awed to notice. When you nod, he gently nudges you off of his lap and you tuck your legs beneath you. Watching as he rises, you stay seated and admire the way those same lithe fingers that were just caressing your overheated skin work at the knot in his own robes.

Those dark eyes glance down at where you kneel on the ground and he gently smooths his hand over the top of your head and slides it into place along your cheek to cup your face. Using his grip to force you to look at him, you do and appear dazed. Transfixed, perhaps, would be better.

“I’ve always known,” Geto unfastens the knot in his robe fully and you gasp at the sight of his nude form backlit by dusk right outside the door. He’s tall and broad and you can’t look away. “That you would realize.”

Pumping his hand along his impressive length, you bite your tongue to keep from eagerly interrupting him. You want to touch him so badly, you have to sit on your hands like a child to keep from approaching sooner than you should. Before you can think any further about his words, he walks a few steps and the sticky head of his cock nearly brushes your soft, swollen mouth.

“I knew it was you from the moment we met.”

He hangs his head just low enough that you feel the words are truly meant just for you and you shiver. As you wait for further instruction, he squeezes your cheek and jaw in the palm of his hand. Your eyes don’t leave him once.

Suguru has always prided himself on his ability to break people down - to their core, their most base selves in every sense of the word. Usually there’s a moment where he can see in their eyes that they have been broken, cloudy and glossy. Yours have looked like that since he met you.

“This is what devotion gets you.” His words make you shiver as he uses his free hand to point the head of his cock at your lips, rubbing the sticky tip along your pouty mouth. Sitting still as stone and waiting for his directions, he gently pulls your face toward his pelvis and his tip pops into your mouth. A long, low moan leaves him and you squirm at the sound. “Just relax for me, okay?”

Suguru releases his grip on your cheek and moves to palm the back of your head, fingers finding an easy and natural grasp on your skull. You take a deep breath and look up at him with watery eyes and he chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re perfect,” he breathes toward the ceiling and you tense slightly as he uses his grip to move more of his cock between your lips. “Stay relaxed, baby. It’s okay.”

Your head bobs slightly and he groans again and you wonder what it will take to get him to make that noise again, the deep guttural moan sending shockwaves to your clit. You want to rut against something, to feel the pressure release in your stomach and between your legs, but Geto is your first priority.

Experimentally, you dip your face toward the dark hair at the base of his thick cock and you gag a bit as more of his length slips down your throat. The grip on the back of your head tightens and he gasps. Lifting your eyes in his direction for just a moment, you whine at the sight of him with his head thrown back in pleasure. Open mouthed, eyes shut tightly, every muscle in his neck bulging - you love it. If you were a more artistic person, you’d find a way to capture this forever but for now you commit the vision to memory and allow him to thrust his hips so that the remaining length of him dips fully between your lips. The tip of your nose brushes his pubic hair and you moan and gag around his length, tears slipping out of the corners of your eyes. Using the thumb of his free hand, Suguru brushes your tears away and it makes you sob and gag.

“Oh, don’t give up on me now,” he comforts from above, brows furrowed as his hips jerk and your nose continually bumps against his pelvis. Finding a rhythm, he listens to the noises coming from between your lips with every stroke and he feels himself getting closer. His balls tense and his cock twitches and he isn’t willing to prolong the wait any longer than it has already been.

“Open up, keep your tongue out, just like that,” he instructs as he releases his cock from between your lips with a sticky and wet pop, jerking his hand along his spit covered shaft right above your lips and chin and nose. “Stay just like ahhh-,” his words are cut short with a pleasured shout as he shoots translucent ropes of cum across your spit soaked face. A splash lands across your tongue and you note the salty taste - something you’ll associate with just Suguru for as long as you live.

Wrist pumping until he feels fully emptied, he takes a deep breath and covers himself halfway. His lean torso is visible and you feel your cunt throb at the sight and part of you wonders if he’s going to do the same for you - if he’ll kneel between your legs and worship your pussy like he hasn’t had a meal in days.

“Miguel, Manami, you can come in now.”

The deep voice filling your ears makes you scramble to cover yourself with your arms, your breasts and back bare to the open sliding door. The pair make their entrance and you keep your face pointed toward the ground, tears spilling hot down your cheeks. Suguru pats the back of your head as he walks back toward the tatami and sits, patting the spot next to him for you.

“Had some other business to take care of, please forgive my rudeness.”

You stay frozen in place but you can feel the eyes of your compatriots on your sticky face, remnants of Geto clinging to your cheeks.

Days spent on the compound are simultaneously mind-numbingly boring and some of the busiest you’ve ever had.

Each morning, you rise with the sun and watch her from the window that is on the wall opposite where you lie. Most of the time you are on your side, arms wrapped around yourself, in your bed or Suguru’s depending on the events of the evening prior. He most often has you visit him in his quarters and you appreciate the near luxurious gift of privacy on those evenings. It’s far less private in your own room, thin walls separating yourself and whoever is in the room next to yours, although everyone seems to know exactly what Geto uses you for and has since your arrival.

He honors you by allowing you to love him, you remind yourself while the dark thoughts swirling in you churn. They’ll be chased away by the sun and by his presence when he returns to his room where you lay. His side of the futon is empty, already made up as if he were never there, so you allow your mind to wander. If he’s feeling generous, maybe today he will have lunch with you or even better, he’ll finally allow you to begin training your cursed energy into something more than a never-ending sinking feeling in your guts.

He promised you a very long time ago he would help you learn about your own abilities. It seems ungrateful to still long for usefulness considering you know exactly what your role is, yet you can’t help but wish to find this key to understand yourself that seems to always be out of reach.

Tracking the time fell away from you long ago, not long after the first time you were intimate with the man you so dutifully serve. Autumn gave way to winter which faded into a difficult to remember spring followed by the once again balmy days of summer. Again and again and again. Cicadas ring out across the secluded surroundings of the compound morning to night. You blink as they instruct you to rise, singing a tune even more rehearsed than the mechanical beeps of the alarms you used to set on your phone. How long has it been since you’ve had a phone?

Does it matter?

Months or years may have passed but you find that you don’t care all that much. Time passes the same without being able to watch it, a voice that sounds a lot like Geto’s reminds you in the back of your head. You are here forever as part of your purpose to serve his goals and time is just a construct.

When’s the last time you felt like yourself?

Last night, when his satisfaction was the only thing you had to be concerned about, you chide yourself silently. You sound ungrateful to your own ears even if you don’t speak, these endlessly appearing questions becoming more aggravating with each second that passes, and you are annoyed and angry when you rise from Suguru’s bed, re-knotting the tie of your yukata. The shoji is open and he stands just outside of it wearing a cotton robe of his own, sunlight silhouetting him.

He’s a God, you remind yourself, though it doesn’t kill the bitter taste in your mouth the way it usually does. Shuffling toward the door, you take a deep breath and call out his name from inside, his face turning toward you. This makes the bitter taste turn into something sweet you wish to taste again, a soft smile replacing your uncertain frown.

“Good morning,” he calls toward you, sweeping his hand out in front of you to indicate where he’d like you to be. You dutifully follow the wordless instructions and arrive at his side with a smile, squinting in the early morning light.

“Good morning, Suguru. How did you sleep?” Smiling down at you, he gently takes your hand. “As well as I always do when you’re in my bed.”

The compliment and his touch make you feel girlish, heat rising in your face. To be a God’s beloved concubine is an honor, one you rarely take for granted even in your weakest moments. He has given you purpose, motivation, and an understanding you would not have found in a world with people who are unlike you.

Yet that same pit in your stomach lingers. He can tell, narrowing his eyes when he glances at you again though you avert your gaze.

“What’s on your mind?”

A tight smile slips across your face, measured and careful; similar to the one you always give Manami when she’s swearing her devotion to him at dinner or after the congregation. You want to tell him the truth, to open up and make him understand your need to be useful, but the words stick inside of you.

“Nothing, I just didn’t sleep very well.”

It isn’t exactly a lie but he knows that it isn’t the entire truth and his blood runs cold wondering what you’re hiding. You are usually so placid around him, glassy eyes and subdued smiles with averted eyes, but he can feel the anxiety flaring from your body. Are you unhappy? Is the spell he has held over you weakening? Does he need to scare you into reminding you of where your place is, the way he has with so many others?

Tutting gently, he wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you to his side.

“Speak freely, I value everything you have to say.”

Lulled into a false sense of security, you look at him out of the corner of your eye.

“May I train with you today?”

Suguru laughs, lifting his hand and gently brushing his thumb against your chin. He’s always touching you when it’s just the two of you, hands rubbing your forearms or fingers pressed against your face. He’s a sculptor and what are you if not simply the clay he’s molding beneath his touch, smoothing out edges and reshaping you from the bottom up into something you aren’t sure you recognize anymore which is how he has always intended things to be. His perfect blank slate, he said so many years ago. There isn’t a time where you haven’t proven it to be true even if you need a reminder.

“Why?”

The tone of his voice makes you feel foolish for asking and your sidelong glance turns to the ground beneath you. Subservience is a practice and one you tend to be good at, evidence provided in the form of your refusal to make eye contact even when he begins speaking again.

“I’ll protect you from anything that could hurt you. You know that, right?” He furrows his brow, one of his hands wrapped around your forearm while the other remains on your chin. “You are safe here. Nothing here can or would hurt you, not while you’re in my care. Isn’t that enough for you? You demand training so you can, what? Fight?” Chuckling and finishing with a haughty sigh, he shakes his head. “You don’t have a fight in you, little girl. You never have.”

Defenses faltering, you laugh to yourself and up at him, sensitive eyes once again squinting when faced with the grace of the higher being in front of you. Of course he’s keeping you from having to enter battles you aren’t equipped for, isn’t that what he has been doing this entire time? Protecting you from those shadows that have lurked over your shoulder and kept you from sleeping since you were a child, comforting you, blessing you.

Your rudderlessness isn’t Suguru’s fault, it’s simply your own for assuming you know more than he does.

Nobody knows you like he does. They never will.

“Please forgive me, Geto-sama.”

You call him Suguru in pleasure and Geto-sama in exaltation, raising it to the heavens that put him on the earth. Moving to fall to your knees before him in apology for making him believe his protection isn’t enough, he stops you with a firm hand on your shoulder. His thumb digs into your collarbone, somewhere between painfully and pleasurably, and you remain standing on wobbly feet with a dumbfounded expression.

“I already have. For everything.”

There is so much you’ve done since you’ve arrived, so much to be forgiven for. Questioning him, doubting your place with him, doubting others, speaking with a jealous tongue and thinking poisonous thoughts. You accept his grace with a smile, tears rimming your eyes. You have always been told that forgiveness grants freedom, the wind at your back and the sun on your face. You feel it on this day, gazing up at a man who has saved you time and time again despite your own folly.

Nodding and sniffling, you shut your eyes to stop yourself from open mouthed sobbing in thanks. You don’t deserve this and never have.

“I’m going to tell you something I’ve told nobody else, okay?”

The assertion that he still trusts you despite your disrespect makes you emotional again, eyes opening and tears falling while you nod.

“I love you.”

I love your devotion to me, he means, though you’ll never read between the lines to consider that the truth is that you are just a pawn to a man you’ve dedicated your existence to pleasing. Your body, your words, even the way you enter a room have all been carefully trained to suit him. You’ve been broken by his hands and he is always in a hurry to remake you, fashioning you into something once again useful.

“That’s why you’re here, little bird. To be safe and loved, not to fight or grow jealous or be angry with me. Are you angry with me?” You shake your head quickly, leaning into his touch with furrowed brows. He drops his hand from your chin and wraps his arm around your waist. “Never, Suguru.”

“Then don’t ask about training again, understood? Trust me to take care of you.”

And trust you do, nodding and finally letting that open mouth sob escape. He does a bit more tutting and his large hands paw at your body, yanking at the knot keeping your robe closed, roughly cupping your breast when the fabric falls open. Tears drip down your cheeks and onto the back of his hand, just how he likes it, and his tongue pokes out from between his teeth as he glances down at you.

“Do you trust me?”

This isn’t even close to the first time that he has asked but he needs to know just how many pieces he has smashed you into. He flexes his hand, squeezing your breast, further punctuating the point he’s trying to make - every little bit of you is his to have, to control, to make, to break, to feel.

“More than anything, Suguru, I swear.” Your legs ache to once again fold and bring you to your knees, the way you best know how to prove your regret, but you remain standing, lower lip quivering. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Your apology is a mantra you repeat as his hand dips lower beneath your robe, grazing the soft skin of your stomach and hip. Roughly wrapping a hand around said hip, he pulls you against his body, cold glance locked on your puffy, wet eyes. Despite himself, he smirks down at you, head tilted to the side. His hair is a black curtain that falls over both of you, soft strands resting against your bare torso and arm.

“Do you love me?”

You do not have to think about your answer though it shakes when it leaves your mouth, your lungs begging you to gulp down enough air to replace what you’ve let escape through sobs.

“I love you so much.” You shake your head and sob again. “Please, please believe me”

You feel like a half-formed thing, ready to be made over however he sees fit.

“I believe you, no need to cry,” he assures you, grip on your hip tightening. You breathe through your open mouth and he takes the opportunity to bring his thumb to your face once again, pulling your jaw down and widening your mouth. You know what’s coming next, heat stirring from deep within you despite your sorrow, before he even commands it.

Your tongue lolls out of your mouth and he spits down onto the muscle.You roll it back into your mouth in an instant, grateful for the opportunity to have even the tiniest piece of him in you, his eyes following your throat as you swallow. Communion, consumption of him to purify yourself from the inside out. The ultimate apology until he can use your cunt to fulfill himself later, although he wants to take you now, right here, inviting everyone out to see the work of a master craftsman.

Sobs gradually give way to less powerful sniffles, you squint up at him with your skin exposed and his touch and his hair and his scent and wonder what you were even wishing would happen in the first place. That he’d train you to do what, exactly? This is what you were meant to do.

“Do you feel better?”

You nod and he smiles down at you, the same measured smirk he always wears. He leans down and kisses your forehead, pulling up the sleeve of your robe to give you some semblance of modesty but leaving it open as he ushers you back inside, sliding the shoji shut behind him. Suguru crowds you into the room, leading his nearly lost lamb toward the futon while untying his own robe.

“Now, apologize like you mean it.”

Now, you fall to your knees, grateful he’s allowed you to show how sorry you are in the shadows of his room instead of by the light of the sun.

“War is on the horizon.”

Sitting with your legs tucked beneath you at Suguru’s side on the elevated platform at the front of the room, you keep your eyes downcast while he addresses his congregation. This is your role, it has been for a very long time now, and you’ve learned to ignore curious onlookers or newcomers who will never be able to fathom such fanatical love.

You love him so much you silence yourself. You sit by his side, so quiet you may as well be nothing but air. You have never learned how to defend yourself or even delved into the curses that used to weigh you down; freedom from these responsibilities came in the form of surrendering yourself fully to him. Body, mind, soul, all tied to his whims. You are a puppet on a string and he is free to move you in whichever way he chooses.

Just the way you like it.

“I’ve officially made the declaration to Satoru Gojo himself.”

For the first time in years, you look up when you are meant to look down, the anxious murmuring of the crowd making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You know what happens when the congregation disagrees or questions their leader and he rises with a flourish, petting the back of your head gently before stepping off of the platform.

“Do I sense disagreement?”

Looking every bit the apex predator that he is, you dare keep your gaze trained on his back rather than the floor. His head swivels from one prostrate form to another, seeking out anyone who dares disagree with his plans. Foreheads touch the ground below them, the ultimate show of devotion, yet one head remains raised and Suguru chuckles as he approaches the newcomer.

You don’t know their name, you realize. You stopped bothering to learn the newcomer’s names given how little interaction you have with them. They’re nothing but faces to be forgotten about after they have spoken out of turn and met their end at the hands of the man standing with his chin held high.

“Is there something you’d like to say?”

Whatever boldness was previously etched into the face of the man kneeling before Suguru has very clearly disappeared but tension flares through the room regardless. You know that whatever choice he makes, however he chooses to deal with this foolish man, is exactly what he deserves. To spit in the face of God is bold and everyone has to learn their place eventually.

You certainly have.

“N-no, no. Please forgive me, Geto-sama.”

Suguru clicks his tongue, turning to face the rest of his family with his arms spread wide, face turned toward the ceiling. Your eyes are to be trained on the ground but you drink in the sight of him standing amongst the mortals who have always believed they know better than he does.

“What do you think I should do to the non-believer today?”

The question is rhetorical. At least, the silent room treats it that way, no one rushing to answer. Everyone knows to only speak when spoken to, even the inner circle who welcomed you years ago keep their foreheads pressed to the ground. He quietly pads through the crowd again, headed back toward you, and your eyes meet the ground swiftly to avoid being punished for looking at him out of turn.

“Look at me.”

Yours are the only pair of eyes he ever truly cares to have on him. Following the command, you glance up at him, remaining with your knees tucked beneath you and your hands folded in your lap. The way he looks down at you is as tender as he will ever get, even his softness is cold and harsh, but he speaks loudly enough that even the room behind him can hear that he values your opinion above the rest of them.

“What do you think I should do with him?”

Smiling back at him, your glassy eyes meet his and you say exactly what you know he wants to hear.

“Kill him, Suguru.”

Smirking, he reaches down to pinch your chin between his index finger and thumb like he always does when you are performing as expected. It isn’t a performance anymore, if it ever was, it’s simply the way you feel when it comes to those who oppose him. He wags your head back and forth before dropping the touch completely, turning around and leaving you facing his back.

Your eyes dart toward the ground once more. You were not instructed to look at him.

Geto walks through the rows of people once more, reaching to touch the backs of each of their heads while he passes, finally stopping in front of his target. His hands rest in the opposite sleeve of each of them and he bends at the waist, offering the same smile he gives to all of his victims.

“Well, unfortunately, your fate has been chosen. You may as well speak now while you still have the chance.”

A curse materializes, brought to this realm by the man in front of you, and you keep your eyes trained on the ground while screams and the sound of the rending of flesh fill the congregation room.

You’ll only look up once you’re instructed, as always.

#geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #kendall writes

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mattslolita · 5 hours

Text

lunchbox friends - n. sturniolo ( 001. )

in which ... they meet at a melanie martinez concert and become best friends. platonic!nick & platonic!black!fem reader

warnings ; cussings, mentions of vape, mostly fluff!

"𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓."

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ꒰

nervousness flooded your body as you walked up towards the venue to see your favorite singer — melanie martinez.

since 2017 when you first began listening to her, she's resonated with you deeply. her lyrics which spoke poetry about real life situations, and how her song titles were innocent but the song went deeper — the cry baby album would always be your favorite and hold a special place in your heart, but when melanie dropped portals you literally had it on repeat since that day. it's safe to say nymphology was your favorite song.

unfortunately, you didn't have many friends that listened to her on the level you did, so it resulted in you not having anyone to go with. your anxiety increased due to this, because you didn't particularly like going places alone.

your hands adjusted the bands on your wrist then you smoothed your earth green long skirt from your outfit in confidence — the line was finally starting to move as you could see the arena ahead of you, causing your nerves to cease slightly as you realized you'd be breathing the same air as your favorite singer in some minutes.

when you reached the front row just behind the barricade, you found yourself next to people already — your excited nerves flowed through your veins as you looked up at the stage in anticipation.

"oh my gosh, i love your outfit!" a male's voice says from beside you, prompting you to turn to the source.

he was brunette and taller than you, a nose ring that complimented his face nicely — the kind smile on his face caused you to smile at him.

"thank you!" you said to him, your eyes traveling down to his shoes and your smile widened, "i love your shoes so much."

"thank you," he says back to you, "i really liked this whole outfit, i devoured honestly."

"period, you did that!" you giggled at him, both of you sharing another laugh with one another.

"i'm nick, by the way," he tells you, holding his hand out for you to shake.

you look at him like he's crazy before pulling him in for a hug. "i'm y/n! it's nice to meet you."

"i'm kinda nervous, this is my first concert alone," nick tells you, and you nod knowingly, "my brothers aren't really into melanie so i didn't pressure them into coming with me."

"i'm an only child, i wished i could've had siblings to come here with me," you tell nick, and he grins.

"we should definitely hang out after this, then," nick suggests, and your eyes light up and snap your fingers at him in agreeance.

"yo brothers are finna be sick of us with the way i'm gonna blast melanie all the time," you giggle, causing nick to laugh along with you.

right off the bat, you know nick matched your energy really well — he was exactly what you looked for in a friend, and it was like a breath of fresh air when all that surrounded you in the past was toxicity.

suddenly the lights dimmed, causing both you and nick to share a grin as you clamp onto his wrist excitedly — a beautiful, earthy escape came on the screen and your eyes wandered around it as you marveled at the pretty mushrooms and butterflies that littered the scenery.

"bitch oh my gosh," nick gasps quietly, tugging on your arm to capture your attention, "she's here."

"oh my fucking word."

low and behold, melanie emerges from the stage causing everyone including both you and nick to go wild upon seeing her — alot of people shamed her for the prosthetics she wore, but you thought it was one of the most creative and bravest things she'd ever pulled off. it was definitely different, but that's why you loved her so much — she never limited her creativity, always going outside of the box. and she ate every time.

"MELANIE, I LOVE YOU!" you yelled, cupping your hands around your mouth as she lets out a giggle into the microphone.

"la, how are you guys tonight?" melanie announces, and the crowd immediately whoops and hollers for her.

"girl, cause what do you mean we're breathing the same air as her right now?" nick whispers to you, causing you to laugh as he holds his phone up towards her to capture the moment.

you follow suit, also discreetly taking a few pictures of both you and nick together ( mostly of you freaking out ), before the first song comes on, her dancers coming out as well — death.

an excited squeal comes from your mouth as you and nick are now both recording each other singing along to the song silently.

"when you aren't around," you narrate with your hands, recording you and nick, "i sink into the ground. i try to pretend i'm closer to you!"

"never understand it, you're always on my mind, i cannot help it," nick sings along with you, the both of you watching as melanie and her dancers perform in front of you.

as your favorite part draws closer, you find yourself beginning to dance, feeling this song so badly as you and nick continue singing with melanie.

"BACK FROM THE DEAD, BACK FROM THE DEAD!" you both sing, holding each other's hand as you sing, "I'M BACK FROM THE DEAD, BACK FROM THE DEAD!"

you're hyping each other up at this point and you're pretty sure there's other people giving you both crazy looks, but you could care less as you're both relishing in the amazing time you're having.

pretty soon your favorite song starts playing, and you squeal at nick in excitement as you grab his shoulder. "bitch, this is my song! i'm gonna teach you to shake ass to this one!"

"bitch i'm so excited, don't fucking play with me!" nick yells back to you.

"CALL ME YOUR NYMPH, PRAISE ME FOR MARTYR, PRAISE ME FOR SIN!" you both sing to each other, "CALL ME YOUR MUSE, A SPRITE OR AN ELF THAT YOU CRY TO AND USE!"

"i will not suffer, cry under covers," melanie sings into the microphone, swaying along and you feel yourself about to get crazy, "i'm not your mother, oh oh, oh oh-"

"IT'S NYMPHOLOGY, NOT PSYCHOLOGY!" you and nick scream, and you begin throwing it back slightly, causing nick to hype you up as he records you, "BE THE MANIC PIXIE DREAM GIRL BITCH YOU FUCKING OUTTA BE!"

"damaged audity, bought by sotheby's!" melanie sings, dancing on the stage causing you and nick to cling onto each other, "auctioned to a selfish man who thinks that he's the prophecy!"

"you can't even spell that you're an expert in nymphology!" nick sings as he records melanie.

he remains blissfully unaware as you quickly open your small purse and duck your head to take a quick hit from your peach mango watermelon elfbar, blowing the smoke downwards so that nobody could notice you.

"girl let me hit that real quick," nick whispers to you and your eyes widen before you giggle and pass it to him, watching as he ducks down the same way you did to take a hit.

the rest of the concert was magical — you couldn't believe the energy that melanie produced and the amazing show that she performed, and the newest friendship that you made. even the smallest moments like when melanie giggled into the mic again whilst singing moon cycle, or the way nick gave you water when he noticed that you were running out of breath meant, that meant the most to you.

when the concert was over, you and nick were still attached at the hip as you both gushed nonstop about your favorite singer and her abilities to make this one of the best nights you've ever had.

when you both exited the venue, you two were so engaged in conversation that you almost didn't notice a group of three girls slowly approaching the both of you.

"hi, i don't mean to interrupt you guys," a brunette girl said shyly, messing with a bracelet on her wrist as she and her friends smiled at you both, "i love you guys' videos nick, and you're one of the most gorgeous girls ever."

"thank you!" both you and nick smiled at the same time, causing the girls to giggle.

"i was wondering if i could get a picture with you both?" she asked, looking between the both of you.

"are you okay with that, y/n?" nick asks you, and you beam at the girl with a nod.

"did you guys wanna be in it too?" you asked her friends sweetly, both of them nodding with shy smiles.

the brunette girl gets in the middle as you and nick gather around her, one friend next to nick whilst the other stands on the other side of you — you smile into the camera as the girl quickly snaps three photos, and your heart could melt at the way she gushed in admiration.

"thank you guys so much!" she said to the both of you, "have a great night!"

"you too, love!" nick tells her, and you wave to them kindly.

"videos?" you querie nick with a smile, "what kind of videos do you make?"

"me and my brothers have a youtube channel together, we do vlogs and car videos," nick explains, and you nod in intrigue. "this is actually one of the first nights where i get to relax and have fun like this, honestly."

"i love that for you, then," you tell nick, then you wriggle your eyebrows with a grin, "and i would love even more to meet these brothers of yours."

nick rolls his eyes at this playfully. "girl, they're gonna wanna steal you from me!"

"that's not finna happen, cause you were gang before they were!" you tell him.

"do you live in la by any chance?" nick asks you.

"i do!" you smile, pulling your phone out and going to contacts, "give me your number and shit so we can text each other!"

"we need to plan to hang out again, too!" nick adds, as he puts his number into your phone.

"lemme call an uber before it gets too late," you pout slightly, not yet wanting to stop talking to nick. "it was so amazing meeting you, nick!"

"girl, it was great meeting you too!" nick smiles.

you bring him in for yet another hug, then ask him various times if he had a ride home to make sure he was safe — after finally reassuring you, your uber had pulled up not long after and with one final hug to nick for the night, you hop inside, waving him goodbye.

when you got home, the first thing you did was turn on the heater since it was cold in your house.

you slipped your sandals off and put your purse on the foot of your bed, going into your bathroom to wash off your makeup. a text from nick caused you to grin as you got your makeup wipes and began with the blush on your face.

twinflame❤‍🔥💋

girl tell me why i accidentally sent one of the videos to my brother and he IMMEDIATELY asked for your instagram👀

twinn🤞💜

nick😭😭😭😭

is he cute tho ?🤣

twinflame❤‍🔥💋

🙄 y'all haven't even met yet and it's already starting

i'm disappointed.

twinn🤞💜

BYEEE

no but don't give him my gram yet, i wanna meet in person😝

twinflame❤‍🔥💋

do you wanna come over sometime next weekend ?

we can go out to eat somewhere then come back and hang out!

twinn🤞💜

absolutelyyyy !

i'm so down & i'll text you to let you know !

twinflame❤‍🔥💋

goodnight girl❤

twinn🤞💜

goodnight stinkaa😘

twinflame❤‍🔥💋 liked this message!

you exited out of your messages with a content smile, finding yourself extremely excited for the next time you both would hang out. you could tell this friendship would be a good one, and you were hoping it was better than the type of friends you had in the past.

lil 💌

cause this been in my drafts for TOO long, & i love my fav so yk i had to make a best friends series for him😝 for my twinnie @thenickgirl happy early birthday to us🤭.

@luverboychris @muwapsturniolo @prettiest-poision @mattsturniolosleftnut @mrssturnioloo @guccifrog @junnniiieee07 @astrowh0r3 @v33angel @ilovechrissturniolo1 @e1ias3 @l0akkzz @hysteria-things @eyeliketoeatpoosay @sturn777 @stasiesturn @prettypinkprincess15 @breeloveschris @summerssover @mayhem-72 @riasturns @chrissturniolossidehoe @moonk1ss3d @v33angel @h3arts4harry @stargirll567 @bitchydragonparadise @heartsforchrisandmatt @pepsienthusiasts @tillies33ssss @thenickgirl @sturnprime @summerssover @k4di333 @pinksturniolo @middlepartmatt

#nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nick sturniolo x you #nick sturniolo x reader #nicolas sturniolo x you #nicolas sturniolo x reader #platonic #best friends #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #the sturniolos #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo fandom #sturniolo imagine

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heyftinally · 1 day

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April 30th is the Day of the Homeschooled Child

I was one of the 1.7 million children homeschooled in the USA.

I am also one of Homeschool's Invisible Children.

I was heavily restricted at home - I was barred from nearly everything that my peers were connecting with. I had incredibly limited access to movies and TV, even more restricted internet access, and was even barred from many of the same toys my peers played with. This on top of my academic isolation made socializing very hard.

I didn't relate to my peers socially.

Children younger than me were more academically advanced than me.

I was socially unaware, and frequently missed jokes or made faux pas comments because I didn't understand how to interact with peers.

My ADHD went untreated my entire childhood.

And the issues were not only social. Despite living in a state that boasted some of the most rigorous checks for homeschooled students, I was missed. My portfolios every year were falsified - much of what they claimed I had learned I had little to no understanding of.

By the time I graduated high school "with honors" (that I did not earn and were entirely false), this is a brief list of some of my academic failings:

I had never written an essay, and did not know how

I did not know how to do a critical analysis of a piece of text or media

I was incapable of math above a 4th/5th grade level

I could not tell time on an analog clock

I could not identify more than ~5 states on a map of the United States

I could not identify more than ~5 countries on a map of the world/globe

I could not spell above a ~6th grade level

I did not know that there was proof of life on earth prior to dinosaurs

I did not know that the lymphatic system was real

And so much more.

I entered college woefully unequipped for both the academic and socal demands that were placed on me. At 18, I was closer to as 14 year old, social/emotionally. Academically I was much worse.

I had to work three times as hard as my peers to achieve the same results, battled my still-undiagnosed ADHD as well as my academic and social neglect.

I didn't fully know who I even was as a person, due to spending so many years being expected to fit a specific ideal that was enforced upon me 24/7 through the isolation of homeschooling.

This April 30th, I'm wearing green for Homeschool's Invisible Children - for children like me.

If you are a child experiencing homeschool neglect, please know that you are not alone. There are resources available to you, and your future is not doomed just because your guardians failed to educate you. I'm listing some resources below that may be of help to you.

Homeschool alumni/survivors who resonate with this story: we deserved better. We deserved education. We deserved freedom. It's okay if you're angry at your past. It's okay if you're grieving the life you might have had without homeschooling. It's okay if you're conflicted. I hope you're able to find closure and healing in whatever form that means for you.

And, because I know it unfortunately needs to be said, if you're an ex-homeschooler or a homeschool parent who feels the need to jump on this post and defend yourself, I need you to step back, sit down, delete your comment, and sit with why you feel so attacked by our truth.

This is not a personal attack on you - this is abuse survivors speaking up to prevent further abuse. It is not your place to tell us we should be silent.

"But homeschoolers test better and are more successful!" I'm sure you're dying to say. To wave your statistics at me.

And you would be wrong. Because here's the problem with those statistics.

Let's pretend we have ten homeschooled children and ten public schooled children.

All ten of the public schooled children take a school assessment. Because some excel at different things than others, the public school students average out to an 85.

Only four of the homeschooled children take the assessment. Of the other six, one is traveling with their family during the assessment, two are not permitted because their parents know they aren't up to grade level and fear backlash or judgement, two are mentally or physically disabled and so their parents don't feel the test will adequately display their knowledge, and the last hasn't received any kind of education in years because their parents keep them at home either doing chores, working a job, caring for siblings, or they are simply neglected and spend all day hungry and scared.

Of the four homeschooled children that do take the assessment, they do quite well, as their parents knew/suspected they would. Their average score is a 98.

A 98 is better than an 85, yes. But just because 4 out of 6 homeschooled children were above the public school average does not mean homeschooling is automatically better. If you tested the top four public school students, they might very well score a 98 as well.

However, if you included those other six homeschooled students, the average homeschool score would very likely be something closer to a 45.

So when we talk about Homeschool's Invisible Children, we're talking about those six that never got the chance to take an assessment. Those six who never had a chance to tell a teacher "I'm ten and I don't know how to read". Those six who may not even realize how far behind their peers they are. Those six who deserved to have access to supports so that they could learn in ways that actually met their needs.

So while your statistics look good on paper, they are not honest. They do not present the full picture of homeschooling. Listen to the homeschool survivors who were one of those six kids who never got to make their voices heard. We have a voice now - don't try and take it from us.

Resources for current homeschool students and alumni:

Khan Academy - basically free online self paced K-12 classes. They have fantastic explanation videos for the lessons, you can review them whenever you want, and you don't have to stay in the same grade level for every subject - great if you're trying to catch up and you're in 6th grad for English but 2nd for math. They have courses besides just core classes (math/english/science/etc), too! They run on donations, but it's completely free to use. Also, this site is used in my local public school system to supplement the existing curriculum, so it's not just for homeschoolers!

Coalition for Responsible Home Education - actively fighting for more oversight and restrictions on homeschooling in the USA. They mostly do awareness and advocacy, but they also have resources on their site for things like what to do if you don't have a high school transcript. They run on donations, but the information is freely available.

Probably the most famous resource on this list. Videos that give you a "crash course" (aka a condensed overview) of a wide variety of topics. These are best used as supplement to more structured lessons like Khan Academy, but they have a lot of merit on their own if they're all you can manage. Knowing a bit about something is better than knowing nothing about it!

#homeschool survivor #homeschool abuse #homeschool alumni #homeschooling #homeschool #day of the homeschooled child #homeschool's invisible children #coalition for responsible home education #crhe #make homeschool safe

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natt-writes · 2 days

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~5 Writing tips that actually help~

(These tips are meant for fiction books, especially fantasy. so if you’re writing nonfiction a decent amount of these won’t apply to you. Sorry!)

Find your writing voice.

one of the biggest issues I find in things written by beginners is a lack of emotional connection with the narration. Sure the story can be great, but without personality, without looks into the characters minds, without little quips here and there, it really isn’t all that interesting. Something that really helped me to realize this was a book called the tragical tale of birdie bloom. It’s a kids book but it honestly has such a good narrator (and storyline tbh) that you can look past the little kiddy-ness. I recommend you check the book out if you’re looking for some inspiration. I will be making a post about how to develop your writing and character voices soon so if you want some extra help with that, stay tuned!

2. Get to know your characters.

I know that you all probably already know this, but characters are one of, if not the most important part of a book. Readers don’t want to read about a flat, boring character who just feels like a vessel for the horrifying amount of trauma you add to your story. They want to read about people that feel real, people with flaws and feelings and hobbies and backstories. When I wanted to develop my characters I started going through the drafts, the plot outlines, everything and seeing what the characters did, said, felt. Then I took their basic backstory and started lining things up. Like if a character decided to get into a fight with another character, I would see what had happened to them that might have caused this. Maybe they had been abused as a child and thought that any disagreement meant they had to fight for their life. Maybe this person reminded them of a former enemy. After you start to figure out what connects the characters to the big plot points, you can then start to develop subtle things. You could start writing something, realize this situation would have triggered a character, and then drop subtle hints towards them feeling uncomfortable. Go nuts with it, after all you can never over-analyze a character.

3. Describe things uniquely.

Descriptions are what help us to understand what’s going on in a scene. They can tell us about the tasty drink a character is enjoying, the slick dress that someone is wearing or the way a characters muscles tense when a certain someone enters the room. But sometimes descriptions a fall a bit flat and that can ruin the experience for the reader. Something I always try to remember is to try and come up with new words describe something, for example; “her eyes were a beautiful shade of brown.” Is a very basic and over used description, instead you could try; “her eyes sparkled as she sat across from me, gleaming a rich chocolate shade as the light from the candles reflected off of them”. This is a much stronger sentence as it gives both environment hits and a description of the eyes, all while staying away from overused terms. I often see this theme in stories written by beginners, things being described in a very straight forward manner. And of course this is ok once in a while, especially if this isn’t a very important topic, but it still sounds better when you branch away from that basic sentence structure. I always like to use descriptive sentences to push things forward. Here is another example; “she was wearing a fluffy green dress with lots of lace. She walked over to the door and opened it.” Vs “the lacy trim of her green dress dragged on the floor as she walked towards the door. She smiled wide as she held it open, inviting her guests into the building.” Making strong sentences is very important, so please toy around with different words, structures, etc, until the sentence fits the type of book you’re trying to write.

4. Make trauma realistic.

Yes, even if you’re writing a fantasy book, characters experiences have to be realistic. Something that always gets on my nerves is when writers come up with a good idea for some trauma, so they just give to a character, even when it doesn’t suit them at all. if you are going to give a character trauma you need to explain it, set it up so it actually fits into their character arc, then have the character actually be affected by it. They can’t just randomly be like “I got shot by a dude.” And that’s it if there is no way that character could have gotten shot given their life experiences. Also if you want a character to be relatively unaffected after an extremely traumatic event you have to plan it out so that they have a specific and consistent trauma response that makes them not react shortly after an event like that. Characters are supposed to be like people, and no two people react to trauma the same way, so you do have some leeway if necessary, but people also don’t just stay the same after something horrible happens, they are affected by it and that has to be accurately portrayed. This does get easier the more you get to know the characters though, as soon you will know how they react to things and how to plan trauma that suits them.

5. Make a plot outline.

I cannot stress this enough, make a plot outline. Making a plot outline literally saved my book, and they are really easy to make! I recommend you download a spreadsheet app like XL spreadsheets or Apple numbers but you could even use google docs if you want. You want to put in all the chapters and then give each chapter at least six spots to write scenes. Add a spot for adding the main event of the chapter/a summery of what you have to write. This will help you to understand what you have to write for that chapter and how it fits into the next chapter. After that you start to fill all the scene boxes in with your plot information. Having a plot outline is great as it can be super vague and messy, but still hold all your ideas. It also helps to prevent unnecessary rewrites later, as you can just edit the plot outline before you start writing the first draft. You can even make a plot outline after you’ve started writing your book. That’s what I did and I promise, it still is very helpful. (Example of a plot outline below.)

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sweetienans · 23 hours

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Lonesome || R. Cameron

Summary

"What are you going to do with all the money?" Rafe followed you to the store that he didn't even know it was there. Stores in the cut were a new world to him.

"What are you talking about? I don't have any money" You said grabbing some apples and peaches.

"I know you do, or you will do" He reached your lower back trying to gain your attention but you slapped his hands out of it.

"Don't touch me. Rafe I swear to god I don't know what are you talking about. Are you high or something?" You tried to look to his eyes to see if they were dilated but they were the normal blue and tinted green as always.

"I heard my dad talking with one of his lawyers yesterday" he looked straight to your eyes to try to see if you were lying to him. You weren't. "Your mother is dead, and she left you all of her wealth"

Nothing ever happened. No gold, no cross, no El Dorado. Everything followed the normal course. Except for you. Your mother died, not that you actually care. She never raised you. She never appeared until now when apparently she was rich and left you all of it. You didn't want to know anything about the money even though you needed it. And if it wasn't for Rafe, you wouldn't even check the numbers on your bank account. He has a plan, a plan that he would do anything to achieve even if he has to use you.

Pairing: Rafe cameron x reader.

Warnings: use/mention of alcohol, mention of drugs, smut eventually but will be labeled. Violence (jj's father) Ward is still a bad father. 18+ MDNI!

wc: idk

see Pt. 1

Pt.2

You paced through your room all night. Going back and forth with your phone in your hand. What would you do? That was a huge amount of money in your bank account but in a way it didn’t feel like it was yours. You would like to be in another situation where you were mourning your near passed mom but there you were, keeping something you deserved all your life but you were never given. It kinda sucked. And it sucked more than you had to know it because of Rafe.

You fell asleep near four in the morning and didn’t wake up until 1pm where you felt the door slightly slamming in the entry clicking shut right after.

“Hey sweetie” your dad peaked through your open door. His clothes were all muddy and had traces of dirt in his head. “I’m sorry I disappeared”

On a normal day you would scold him for not even calling but right now you had a turmoil in your stomach that you couldn’t bear.

“It’s okay, I’m glad you’re here” you said laying on your side. He nodded and then left you to yourself again, the sound of the shower being on sounded above your thoughts.

You were quickly to take your phone and start typing the news to JJ but when you were writing the text you started wondering, was it a good idea? Would you even keep the money? you deleted it and instead wrote a ‘hope you have a good day with John B’ message.

You scrolled through your socials, incapable of thinking in getting up when a text from Sarah popped up.

‘Kook party in the night, you coming?’ Meet me at Tannyhill so we can go together’

It wasn’t a lie that you were considered one of the good pogues, you were good friends with Sarah Cameron, Rafe’s sister and even his friends were good to you. You didn’t understand why but you were always invited and welcomed in their parties.

You thought about the party and decided that it was a good idea to show up, to clear your mind and do normal teenage stuff before having to worry about the elephant in the room. Telling your dad, telling your friends that in the span of night to morning you were practically a new Kook. It wasn’t your fault.

You went to the shower and dressed up to go with Sarah. She didn’t give you much information about the party so you decided to put on a yellow sundress that had the neck v-shaped and your white snickers. You put on some makeup, basically tons of blush, mascara and gloss and went to your dad’s room to tell him that you were going out.

He was face down in his mattress sleeping like he never slept in his life. You decided to leave a note that you knew he wouldn’t read.

You left your house closed and walked the rocky path to the main street that was basically a highway. Your car wasn’t functioning so you made all your trips walking, it was a long way to Tannyhill but you didn’t mind.

The gates of Tannyhill opened in front of your figure. The house was massive, it was the biggest house in figure eight all because of Ward’s effort. Something to look up to, to be honest.

“Girl! you look amazing” Sarah appeared hanging from the side of the porch’s door. “I just have to do my makeup and we can get going, did you walk all the way from your house to here?” she asked, giving you a side hug.

“Yeah, it’s part of my exercise routine,” you said sarcastically. “My car broke down again so the legs had to do the job”

“That’s awful, you want a glass of water?” She didn’t even wait for your answer to reach one of the glasses in the higher cabinet above the sink just to fill it with water.

“Thanks” you said following the blonde to her room. You’ve been up there many times. Sarah was your best friend, beside JJ, the boys and Kie, even though the latter didn’t understand why. “So, where’s this party? Topper 's again?”

“Oh no, after we left last week, some punks wrote shit on the living room walls, his mom got furious with him,” Sarah explained, putting some eyeliner in the corner of her eyes.

“Did they know who did it?”

“Mm no, I mean, there were only Topper’s friends” she just shrugged and turned around to face you. “What do you think?” She said giving you a full look of her outfit and makeup.

“What can I say of the Kook Princess?” you said, rolling your eyes. “You look gorgeous, Topper is going to die when he sees you”

She made a subtle grin but her eyes darted away like she was hiding something. You would ask, eventually.

When Sarah parked her car, you expected a good looking house, not a beach with a bonfire on it. You made a mental note to never forget your cardigan again.

“Pogue style?” You asked to make her shiver. She hated the tumultuous fight between pogues and kooks, and you could understand why, but most people couldn’t.

“Topper house is out of the party market, Kelce’s family from California is staying in his house for the weekend and well Tannyhill is just unapproachable when dad and Rose are there” She explained locking up the car and walking through the sand.

You walked to her side, waving some familiar faces together but keep walking until you made your way to Topper.

“Hey pretty ladies” he said in a smug tone kissing Sarah’s cheek. “I thought you wouldn't make it” he said fetching some red solo cups and filling them with beer (the expensive one)

The difference between pogue beach parties was clearly the cheap beer and that the cops would show up eventually in the night. This was a private beach and people could do what they pleased without having to worry about being incarcerated.

“Thanks” you said to Topper receiving the cup and downing half of it in one gulp. You needed it, you needed the fun and to keep things out of your mind for a while.

“Easy” Topper said in a surprised warning. “There’s plenty more”

“Leave her alone, I’m the one driving anyway” Sarah said pouring her beer in your glass.

The party went without any problems. People were dancing, some of them were making out and Sarah was nowhere to be seen. You were sitting in a big log beside the fire when a guy that you have never seen sat by your side.

“Hey” he said in a charming way. You cringed on the inside but nodded anyway to his side. “I’m new here, what’s your name?” He scooted over the log and pressed his thigh to yours, completely invading your personal space.

That must've been the worst way to flirt with anyone. You took a sip from your drink and cleared your voice to reject him in a nice way.

“I’m-

“Not interested”

You turned around to his voice. Rafe's tall figure lingered above yours stepping and blocking the light from the fire making him look terrifying.

“She’s definitely out of your reach so why don’t you go somewhere else” he said waving his hand to the guy and urging him to leave your side.

You had a new feeling in your stomach, like the beer was settling in wrong.

“I got it under control” you said watching him walk and take the seat of the guy. He was wearing a long sleeved shirt, those that are white and had the sleeves in another color, this was green and his cap was backwards making him look more handsome than he already was.

“Yeah, I can tell” He said, taking your cup from your hands and gulping all the content down. “What about we talk business?

“Jesus” you muttered under your breath and prepared yourself to lift but before you could do the push he circulated his hand around your wrist. “What did I tell you yesterday? I’m not interested”

“I know you received the money” he said looking straight into your eyes, there was no way to deny it. He always had like a sixth sense. “And I also know that you don’t know what to do with it”

“Look, spending it on coke so you can double the amount it’s not a good idea to me to be honest” you said plainly.

“You are not giving me a chance” He said like he was hurt because of your words.

“I don’t even know you Rafe”

“You’ve been Sarah’s friend for a while, you know me enough”

“You just said it, Sarah’s friend, not yours” you specified.

“That hurt” he put one of his hands on his chest and you rolled your eyes. “I thought you had feelings but this..

“Please, cut the bullshit” You were done and ready to leave.

“Just invest with me and I promise you won't regret it” he said pleading, puppy eyes and all.

“Invest with you? or invest in you?” you crossed your arms. “Because for why I understand in the first you have to put money too”

“I’ll do it if that makes you feel safe” He answered like it was nothing.

“You are something else Rafe Cameron, but no, I won’t, I don’t trust you” you took your cup from his hands and left him all alone with the words between his lips. He wasn’t going to give up so easily.

Rafe Cameron was a man of his word and mind. If he had an idea (even a bad one) he would do anything to reach it and make it true. He needed the money to seal a deal with Barry and Ward got him on a leash lately, cutting him loose, so he had nothing, just the two dollars that you threw at him in the store the other day.

He was going to convince you but apparently not tonight, because even though you had been right, you weren’t even friends with him, telling him that you didn’t trust him broke something on the inside, so he drank, and drank and drank until he couldn’t even get on his feet.

“Have you seen Sarah?” you asked one of the girls that was dropped in her knees grabbing his friends hair so she can puke.

“No, go away!” she yelled at you and you thought that you deserved it, bad time to ask.

This wasn’t the first time that you’ve lost Sarah in a party, she would usually sneak around with Topper but she would always pick you up later. Right now, her car wasn’t in the spot she parked and there were no Topper or Sarah in sight.

You kept walking around the cars, looking for someone familiar to give you a ride but you didn’t know any of them. You were about to call JJ for backup knowing very well that he will get angry at you for coming to this party when you saw Rafe leaned against his car trying to get inside.

“You gotta be kidding me” you said, grabbing his shoulders to make his eyes snap open. “Have you lost your mind? you can’t drive this way”

His disoriented eyes, alcohol breath and languid body said that he was more than wasted. He couldn’t even keep his eyes open to look at you. You searched for his keys that were in his hand and snatched it.

“I’m going to drive okay?” you said wiggling the keys in front of his head. “I need you to lean on me so I can open the door and get you inside, Rafe”

“Am I dreaming?” he murmured in your shoulder while you put one of his arms behind your shoulders to keep him steady on his feet. “This is much more of what I asked”

“Tell me about it” you said, manhandling him towards the passenger seat. “How did you end up like this, honestly the booze wasn’t even that good” you talked more to yourself than to him, he was a pure excuse of a man in that state.

“My heart is broken” he said while looking at you with his eyes half opened while you stretched yourself to put his seatbelt on.

“I changed my mind, I don’t want to know Rafe,” you said, closing his door and walking to the driver’s side.

“Then don’t ask stupid questions” he said pouting and crossing his arms over his chest the moment you closed your door.

You were good to drive and the way to Tannyhill wasn’t even that long, you would crash in Sarah’s bed and leave in the morning when the sun rises .

“Invest with me please” he mumbled. You thought that he would’ve fallen asleep if you didn’t talk but he didn't. He was partially awake and ready to keep pushing it.

“I’m not gonna, I already told you, drop it” you said turning to the road that leads to figure eight.

“No, no, wait” he said, grabbing the steering wheel with one hand and turning to the opposite direction.

He hit the curve in the road and one of the cars that were passing by almost crashed against a light pole. “Fuck Rafe! Don’t do that again!” you said pressing the brake and parking on the side. “I was going to drop you at your place, what’s your problem?”

“Let’s go to yours, my dad doesn’t want me there” he said, starting the car again urging you to start driving, giving you zero options.

“What about Kelce’s or Topper’s?” you asked, finding an option that wasn’t your house, even though it was pretty convenient to you to be in your place and having no need to walk back from someone's house.

“Topper is with my sister I don’t fucking care where and Kelce’s house is crowded, you can leave me with Barry if you want” he said closing his eyes again.

You knew better than going to Barry’s. The man sold drugs to JJ's father and he was constantly hanging there, so, if he saw you there with Rafe, JJ and your father would know and they won’t stop asking for the truth.

You were against a wall, figuratively speaking. No choice at all.

“Fine, let’s go to my place”

author's note: Rafe is coming babyyy. I'm excited, i'm not going to lie. Let me know that you think.

Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @haruvalentine4321

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron x smut #obx fic #rafe imagine #outer banks

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aurumacadicus · 2 days

Text

@ifdragonscouldtalk fuckin deleted the post thinking I had saved the screenshots smh. Anyway 69 😎

"Spock, I need a favor," Leonard said.

Spock blinked slowly, the words taking a moment to really register. Of all the people he ever expected to ask for a favor, Leonard would have been on the bottom of the list. In fact, he'd be on a whole separate list, titled 'will die rather than ask for help.' But then, Jim might be the one who needed help, and they needed a cooler head to prevail.

Or someone with a stronger punch. But he hoped it was the former.

Spock finally turned from where he'd been examining a particularly interesting carved statue and blinked again, very hard, when he saw the flower crown on Leonard's head. It was made of what looked like Terran hedera, small pink hyacinthus, and blue myosotis. It was different from all the other flower crowns he'd seen so far, woven only with plumeria.

"So unfair that you don't have to participate in this stupid festival," Leonard grumbled, scowling up at him.

"If the Captain had listened to me, none of you would have to participate in the Florum's customs," Spock explained, for what felt like the umpteenth time. He turned his gaze on the festivities, watching as one of the green-skinned Florum plucked a flower growing from their breast and placed it in the crown of another. "As it stands, Vulcans are offensive to the Florum peoples, especially in their nuptiae rites. Flowers, as you know, are not abundant in the hot, dusty climate of Vulcan, and--"

"Listen," Leonard cut in impatiently. "Just--pretend to be my date, okay?"

Spock stared at him for a moment. Then, quite inelegantly, he said, "I'm quite certain I misheard you, Doctor."

"You didn't, the Florum are trying to get in my pants, and I have never been more uncomfortable in my life," Leonard hissed, glancing over his shoulder at the milling of peoples on the marble courting floor. "I haven't been with anyone since--Look, I just. I don't like this. I'm not Jim. I'm not--"

He really did look deeply uncomfortable, Spock realized as he watched Leonard shift nervously on his feet, trying to keep his back to any of the Florum's wandering eyes. He'd only come off the ship in an effort to learn more about the Florum's medical procedures. Apparently, the clean, clinical smell of the medical crew was like catnip to a cat. It made sense to Spock, what with Terran medicine starting in the use of plants to treat ailments.

But that didn't matter if Leonard was uncomfortable, he reminded himself. And while the Florum were known to engage in non-monogamous behavior, they were aware that more territorial species existed.

"...I know we can't hold hands," Leonard added haltingly. "I don't... know how else to show..."

Spock nodded. Of course he wouldn't know how else to show casual affection without it being too much. He and Jim were always all over each other. Vulcans were more reserved, though, and Spock even more so. Still, he thought, narrowing his eyes at an approaching Florum. He was Chief Science Officer. It would be unconscionable to leave Leonard to suffer while he was uncomfortable.

"Leonard," Spock said firmly, laying his arm over Leonard's shoulders and pivoting on one foot to turn him and lead him further away from the nuptiae floor. "I saw a particular sculpture of the Florum's deity of medicine that I think you'll find interesting. Come along."

"Oh," Leonard squeaked, and Spock couldn't tell if he sounded confused or embarrassed. That was fine, though. The Florum did not feel either of those emotions and wouldn't understand it even if they sensed it. "Okay."

Another Florum approached them. Spock paused only long enough to snarl at it wordlessly, and Leonard let out a noise he'd never heard before, so he whisked him away from the marble floor entirely. If asked, Spock would explain that since Florum didn't understand spoken language, he was just warning it off in a way that was expedient. He had to admit though, at least to himself, that he was annoyed that the Florum would clearly ignore Leonard's flower crown that basically flashed a blaring 'taken; not interested' sign at them.

#ifdragonscouldtalk #1-161 stony ficlet challenge #spones #anyway spock's snarl awakens something in leonard and he has no idea what to do with it #star trek

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coffyao · 2 days

Text

one more time

Summary:

Long-term abstinence has been the best TLC you have ever had after breaking off a turbulent relationship, but as of recently, you have started to crave the feeling of being ruined once again. But since emotional bonds are no longer on the table, perhaps being drained physically will sufficiently do the job…

link to my a03: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalaloopsyland

I’ve had my terrible share of relationships. They had a few things in common and that was that they all had a handsome face and body, but it was juxtaposed by their horrible personalities and lack of self-control. After the end of my fourth one, the only person I realized who was to blame was myself. I kept coming back to them, hoping that things could be better between us.

Well, that was the optimistic lie I deluded myself with.

If I had to be completely candid, then it would have to be the back-and-forth that I enjoyed every time we argued. It would have been the way he would hurt me with his words but soothe me back to life with the presents he showered me with.

It would have to be the way he would scream at my face, with saliva and all with eyes that fucked every part of my soul.

It excited me because I knew that my body would be in for a rough time.

however, as much as my body felt satisfied, the emotional drawback of all of those relationships inevitably made me leave. The control and the horrific jealousy that came from their hypocritical mouths was something I could no longer take and the damage that I had at the end of it, had to be something I had to fix.

So, I decided to remain celibate for a while. I didn’t count the months or days, so I didn’t remember how long it had been. Then I decided to browse the internet one day. It must have been on a Saturday night; I was wearing a black satin nightie, and I couldn’t stand the quietness in my house.

so, I switched on my television to have ambiance in the background, so I could feel less lonely. I had my laptop on my lap, and I was trying to find ways to get off. Then I came across an advert and being as absent-minded as I was, I ended up clicking on it.

It was an advert for gigolos.

I had never heard of such a thing. But I was curious. So, I scrolled down, and on each page, did it contain profiles of terribly attractive men.

But younger men, to be precise.

But I wasn’t old, so I was truthfully offended that my own algorithm recommended this. But that feeling washed over me quickly when I came across a profile that made every single follicle on my skin stand up. I had to immediately turn my screen brighter.

The first thing that I noticed about his pictures was his green eyes, sharp like emeralds and intimidating like venomous snakes. He certainly wasn’t timid about the assets he had either, as those pictures flaunted the muscles that were underneath his tight, black shirt. His biceps were huge, and the tiny fang that had shown itself when he smiled was a nice touch.

But that wasn’t what convinced me.

What convinced me was the scar that was across his left eye, like it had its own story to tell.

I was intrigued by it.

So, I reached out, and like a starving hyena, he loved that opportunity.

He suggested that we meet at an Italian restaurant since it was the most casual non-casual way of setting up a date. I had no desire to, but he insisted otherwise because he wanted to get to know me first.

But I felt nervous because I could sense what type of person he would be. most likely emotionally unavailable, had a loose tongue, and nothing to show for it except for his amazing body and extraordinarily great skills in bed.

My exact fucking type.

So, I was sitting in my seat and overdressed in my slip midi dress, makeup, and strapped stiletto heels. It was an early evening when it was at its busiest, and I ordered a bottle of pink prosecco, already on my third glass as I awaited his arrival. Many of the people in the restaurant were couples which was hardly a surprise at all, and a perfect way of making sure we blended in with them as well.

I didn’t want anyone to know what kind of relationship we had.

Then he came in. He wore about anyone would expect from a man, which was a black blazer with a slightly opened white shirt and trousers.

But the greatest difference was that they weren’t him.

and he wore it like it was entirely his.

And when he arrogantly stuffed his hands into his trousers and walked like he was the only person in the room, I couldn’t say I hated it.

He then casually sat down on my table, shoulders relaxed, and grabbed his wine glass, gesturing it towards me.

“…Aren’t you going to pour me a drink first?”

I twisted open the prosecco, and vigorously poured the drink into his glass, hoping some of it would spill onto his face.

“Appreciate it.”

He took a sip and placed the glass to the side, leaning forward.

“…So, from the details that you have sent me,” as he kept his voice low, “I understand that you don’t want companionship, is that right?”

“That’s right.”

An emotional connection built overnight meant absolutely nothing if I had to pay my way to see him.

He scoffed sarcastically, keeping his intense gaze on me.

“… so, then it's straight to business huh?”

He snatched the wine glass, and drank the rest of his drink, setting it down and wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

“Because I really did intend on courting you. good conversation and whatnot.”

Not if we are only seeing each other once.

He also had a tactless way of talking to women, saying whatever he wanted and felt. It was evident through his text messages, but it was glaring when they met face-to-face.

But his lack of manners was the least of my concerns.

I shook my head, “…I don’t care for any of that, because it’s fake.”

“…what part of it is fake?”

“You. Your fake. But that’s why I chose you.”

He slowly leaned back on his chair, rubbing his chin in thought before leaning closer and revealing his grin, nonchalant yet with an underlying tone of danger to it.

“…Well, then you would be right. I don’t really give a shit about you.”

Fuck.

“But that’s the unfortunate news neither of us care about. Do you wanna hear somethin better?”

Even though the restaurant was loud, I had a paranoid inkling that someone was listening in to our conversation, a conversation we really shouldn’t be having, so I brought my ear closer to him, so he could say exactly what he needed to say.

“If there’s one thing that I do care about, then it would be making sure I…”

Then, he stopped speaking and pulled away.

“can’t ruin the element of surprise, now, can I?”

He stood up from his seat and snatched the bottle from the table.

“… a bit of that liquor courage just in case,” he murmured and tipped the rest into his mouth.

Fucking cocktease.

Once we started to head towards our hotel room, where the corridors remained quietly vacant, and the moon hit the reflection of the window, I thought a part of me would start feeling regretful.

I was waiting for it to hit me, to convince me that perhaps I wasn’t going about this the right way. it was the reason why I searched up many advice forums, so I could console myself, and reach a place where I could heal.

But it was all a mistake.

And it’s because I wanted to fix myself the only way I knew how.

“…Are you going to open the door, or should I?”

And I didn’t need a gentleman.

“No need, I will,” I said, inserting the key into the lock.

I just wanted an unapologetic waste of space.

I opened the door, and he followed, closing it after me.

He then wrapped his arms around me and pressed a single kiss on my neck, the sharp scent of prosecco stinging my skin.

“…I told you, liquor does wonders to your confidence.”

“But does someone like you even need it? Your ego is plentiful already…”

“…Well, that’s where you’re a little bit off the mark I’m afraid.”

He then starts moving his large hands toward the middle of my dress, using his fingers to fondle the sides of my breasts.

He whispered against my ear.

“...couldn’t be bothered to wear a bra?”

“…wasn’t for you. It was for my comfort.”

A partial lie.

“Ah ah, but I didn’t ask you if it was for me,” he tutted, repeating the continuous motion, his fingers, ever so subtly, brushing my nipples.

“You just assumed I did, how perverted do you think I am?”

“…v-very if you keep touching me like that,” I tried stating calmly, but it was taking every part of me not to helplessly melt into his touch and reduce me into nothing.

“…oh no, I’m just fulfilling your desires.”

He moved his hands toward my straps and forcibly pulled my dress down.

“Every single dirty one.”

I turned around, and he wrapped my hair around his hand, pushing me down until my body was on the ground, the bristly carpet floor rubbing against my knees.

He unzipped his trousers, and immediately pulled down his boxers, revealing his erection.

“here’s your first one. Now come here and suck it.”

As pathetic as I was, I needed to follow his command.

I inched closer and put my hands around his cock, lightly caressing the tip with my fingers, before putting my mouth into it.

“suck it harder.”

“y-yes,” I murmured, using my tongue to suck it as hard as I can, his approving groans encouraging me to go deeper.

“Fuck, that’s the spot…” he muttered to himself, moving his pelvis along to the motion of my mouth, becoming evident that he was coming close.

“…hey, I can come in your mouth, right?” he said, putting his hand on the back of my head, ready to push the moment I uttered a ‘yes.’

And I did. I wanted it in my mouth.

“yes-“

And he pushed my head until my mouth covered most of his shaft, the mix of my saliva and his cum making its way into my throat.

He then pulls my head back, observes the mess he made on my face, and manically grins.

“…you know what you look like?”

“No,” I said, still dazed.

“a fucking whore.”

He started tearing off each piece of his suit, throwing it all by the side and leaving him completely naked, the most prominent features in the pictures that I saw of him being shown to me all at once.

He is the pictures.

“…and do you know what I’m going to do to you now?” as he crouched down to my level.

“no...”

“I’m going to fuck you as hard as I possibly can.”

He suddenly grabbed my inner thighs, pulling me up until I was face-to-face with him, his face inches away from my lips.

I want him to devour me.

Then, he throws me on the bed and climbs on top of me, his hot body against mine.

I couldn’t look at him, as his eyes pierced through my skin, and my vulnerabilities were bare in front of him.

His fingers trailed along my stomach until he reached below, and using his hand, tore away my underwear and inserted two fingers into me.

he wasted no time picking up the pace, as his fingers continuously thrust against my C-spot, whispering obscenities whilst doing so.

“How is your dirty pussy so wet for me?”

And more.

“You just keep sucking me in and in...”

And fuck me more.

“Fuck, I want to make you come so bad.”

Then, I immediately came, the natural high of an orgasm overwhelming me until my body finally became still, that high wearing off.

But I still wanted to continue that high. I wanted it soooo badly.

“... and we aren’t even at the best part,” he said, momentarily getting up to grab a condom from his jacket and ripping it apart with his teeth.

He then went back on top, and he leaned into me, rubbing his cock in between my folds, and pulling it out again, and it drove me fucking crazy.

“Just put it in me already.”

“You want me to?”

Fuck, I really, really hate cockteases.

“...Please.”

“Ah, but I don’t want to.”

But even though he kept shamelessly denying me what I wanted, I found myself wanting to beg him, pacify him, and make myself completely his bitch.

“fuck, toji please!”

“…god I love how pathetic you are.”

“I am, I’m so pathetic,” I repeated, inching myself towards him.

“Damn right you are,” he sneered, as he tortuously pushed in and out, whilst keeping his eyes closed in on me, a mind game that I wanted to desperately win.

“I just need your cock, I need it inside me.”

“you want it that badly huh?”

“I want it, I want it, I want it,” I begged.

“then fucking take it."

Using the full force of his body to completely overwhelm mine into submission, a sensation I couldn’t hide, nor could I escape from.

“You love my cock that much huh?”

And I had to rejoice.

“fuck-fuck-I-do- “as he mercilessly slammed his cock into me over and over, and I became what he wanted me to be; a song that he could play for as long as he wanted.

And he played,

“I love it- I love it - “

And he played,

“Right there- fuck right there - “

And he played,

“Oh god- Oh god- “

And I eventually started to break.

But he wanted to end it in the best possible way.

“-Want me to make you cum?”

And my prayers became true.

But I couldn’t properly communicate my appreciation for those answered prayers, as my voice became hoarse and quivered each time, as he thrusted like he was doing it once more.

So, I nodded, but he still wasn’t satisfied.

“Hah- come on I asked you a fucking question,” grabbing my chin with his hand, tilting it sideways until his lips were against my ear, and he commanded me.

“Hm? are you going to cum for me?”

And another one slipped out of his mouth like it was nothing.

“…are you going to cum for daddy?”

And I had to answer him, despite how close my head came to exploding.

“fuck-yes-i-want-yo-“

And I became numb.

the grip that I had on my voice completely letting go and the painful trembling in between my legs, becoming never-ending.

And he sighed, putting his mouth against mine, savouring the tears that poured down my face as he shoved his tongue.

He eventually pulled away and licked his lips in satisfaction.

Like he’d finally made me into his own.

_____________________________________________________________

#toji smut #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x reader #fushiguro toji #jjk smut #jjk x reader #smut #jjk fushiguro #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic

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romance-rambles · 14 hours

Text

ROSES FOR THE BLUSHING BRIDE

Your attempt at killing your kidnapper goes awry. How tragic it is—that the man who killed your love wore his face first.

— word count: 2.1k

— pairing: [unspecified] alkaid mcgrath x little painter/you

— tags: mentions of murder, suicidal thoughts and suicide, alternate universe - vampire/vaguely historical/reincarnation, mentioned non-con kissing+biting, unhappy ending [neither of them are mentally well - possibly ooc?]

— note: inspired by my little ramble in the tags of this gif post so it's technically PL but it could just be au alkaid. not sure if i did it justice but also, i wrote this over the course of two days so!! small victories!!! 🎉

return to lbc masterlist | series: none

THE DOOR CREAKS LIGHTLY AS it opens, the warmth of your candlestick highlighting the steps beyond it. The monster that resides in this manor is foolish, and your Alkaid is—was—not. The hefty lock that once guarded against you sits carelessly beneath a portrait of a woman who looks like you—who was once you, if the ravings of a mad man are to be taken seriously.

And if they are, then you will meet him soon—the man you were set to marry, with the same bright green eyes and light blond hair, and a warmth that the lord of this manor greatly lacks.

And if they aren't, then, that is simply not possible. Because, you think, how else can this be explained?

Your fingers lightly graze over the most recent puncture wound at the base of your neck. They play connect the dots and the monster's claim draws a circle. It ends where it starts, with the gemstones on the dagger's obnoxiously decorated hilt digging into the palm of your hand and your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip.

There sits a bruise there, the likes of which you've only ever allowed one man to gift you. You can still taste your own blood upon your tongue, metallic and bitter, but you can no longer remember your lover's smile.

Yearning overwhelms you, for a man long dead. It is something you can fight off almost as well as the monster. And it is a maddening thing—the way your carefully-groomed nails desire to claw your skin off. The way your hand twitches, dagger still in hand.

It is a mistake to think of him at all.

You cannot afford any mistakes, not when your weapon has been promised a different target. You cannot afford any mistakes, when your next life is to be a happier one.

So, the candlestick lifts higher.

Heels you might've chosen for yourself in another life clack against stone, the sound echoing throughout the darkened chamber. Yet, the monster still slumbers, oblivious to your intrusion. At the very end of the room lies a coffin, and there he waits, surrounded by white and green. By roses and their stems carefully preserved, a silent mockery of the promise Alkaid once made you.

Eternal loyalty—but this is not the eternity you desire.

In hopes of composing yourself, of chasing away the familiar disgust, fury, loathing, you tear your gaze away from the coffin. The grey floor has borrowed an orange hue from the candlelight. As you cross the distance, you do not look at the portraits that line the walls, with their never-changing subject, the contents of which you know only because the monster brought you to his lair exactly once.

You, with the same dead eyes and the same dead love and the changing fashions doing little to distract from your likeness. You, who were unfortunate enough to fall in love with that monster in some other lifetime, having been blinded by his pretty face.

And the bile that climbs your throat at the thought, which you choke back with a tired grimace—that, too, is familiar.

WHEN YOU REACH THE COFFIN, the first thing you do is yank the flowers out of your sight. Your dagger comes in use much earlier than expected, handling all that your hands cannot.

It is the least you can do for Alkaid.

The monster remains asleep throughout. It's convenient—if you'd known it was that easy, you would've done it sooner. You would've avenged him sooner. Alkaid was a light sleeper, and you had assumed the same held true for the monster.

With the same hand that carries the dagger, you open the casket. It takes a bit of effort to ensure you never lose sight of your target—quite literally. The payoff lies in the way the candlelight illuminates the man resting within.

His lighter hair takes on a warmer hue, thought it's incomparable to the way Alkaid's hair would gleam golden under the sunlight. He is blue, dressed in an outfit that looks to be the furthest thing from comfortable sleepwear. Alkaid was beige and green, and he was always getting on your case about dressing comfortably.

Marking the spot where your hands should hover, you set the candlestick beside you, careful to ensure its enthusiastic flame avoids the hem of your dress. You're almost giddy with excitement.

You'll see Alkaid soon. You'll get to him, even if it takes ten or twenty—

The monster mumbles your name lovingly.

Alkaid?

The dagger freezes just before the blade can slice through the layers of fabric guarding his heart. Your heartbeat quickens. You watch the figure warily, waiting for anything that could signal his monstrous nature.

Why would Alkaid be here when he is meant to be dead?

But the monster has never said your name before. You are simply his bride, just the most recent in a long string of replacements. If you did not share the same name as all the rest, you're certain he wouldn't know what it was.

And if it is Alkaid, if he has turned into a monster, if he is just as much a victim as you—

How could you ever dare to hurt him?

You can't lose him again. His family and yours, if they're still alive, would gladly testify about the absolute wreck you'd been when he disappeared a few days before your wedding.

It was only when one of his friends mentioned that he had seen Alkaid near the monster's manor that you'd found the resolve to crawl out of your bed for the first time in weeks.

Of course, you hadn't known just yet that there was a monster at all. You hadn't known of all that was to transpire—that had already transpired.

Your grasp on the dagger's hilt tightens—you don't want it anywhere near Alkaid. You want to know if he's Alkaid. You want to shake the man awake and ask, Are you him? Are you the one I've been searching for? And what about the monster?

You know that if he says he was the monster all along, you'll forgive him with an ease he would not deserve.

Again, the man mumbles your name. It does much to distract you from your spiralling thoughts.

After all, it sounds like coming home.

You want to believe it sounds like coming home.

"Al—"

As if sensing that his name is on the tip of your tongue, the man rouses himself from his slumber. The first thing he seems to gaze upon is you—and the dagger you've pulled close to yourself.

Ah.

You tremble. His gaze is cold and his grip is bruising. Alkaid has never looked at you so unkindly. You used to find it disconcerting how easily the glare on his face would slip away if he glanced at you. Now you wish for it more than anything.

What have you done wrong? Why is he upset?

In your desperation, you almost beg: Alkaid—

Then, you blink, remembering the weapon in your hands. It coincides with the moment that a sense of clarity washes over you, beckoning you to recall your mission. To remember—

This man isn't Alkaid.

"Oh." Your heart flutters strangely. You want to claw it out too. "The monster."

Alkaid is dead, after all.

"Yes," the monster agrees.

The dagger plunges into his heart.

AN ORDINARY MAN WOULD KEEL over from the pain. The monster only grunts. You might as well compare it to bumping into the furniture by accident, with the way he seems so unfazed.

His gloved hand climbs down to your clenched fist, as if hoping to wrench the dagger away from your fingers. He is a monster and your Alkaid was not—that is what makes the difference between living and dying.

"You didn't die," you note, disappointment plainly evident in your tone. "Did you know?"

Did you know this would happen when you gave me this dagger?

"I'm difficult to kill," he responds flatly.

You wonder who the scorn in his voice is directed to. His gaze seems distant—which one of your predecessors is he thinking of? But you've never learned to tell the difference, so it's not as though the answer would make any sense to you.

"Unlike Alkaid?"

The monster remains silent. It only infuriates you more.

"I hate you," you spit out. Tears well up in your eyes, though for what reason, you're not sure. "I'm sure they all hated you too."

Anger briefly flashes across his bright green eyes. Instinctively, you pull your hand away, pulling the dagger along with you. Blood drips onto your nightgown, dying its white fabric a bright red.

Beyond an sharp inhale, the monster's expression remains unchanged. You're almost surprised at how easily he lets go of your hand, at only the slightest show of resistance.

"I know they did," he says, eyeing the new stain on your dress. You don't want to put a name to the emotion on his face. A monster like that doesn't deserve it. "They all told me as much."

You fill in the blanks yourself. Before they died. But they must've been the same as the monster when they died—that is why he refrained from performing that particular act with you. That is why the blemishes on your skin have nothing to do with any sort of traditional violence.

He hates it when you're hurt.

"And how did they die?"

He doesn't care enough to see that you're past that point.

He looks haunted. "That's not something I want to tell you."

A spiteful part of you delights in watching his expression. It wonders how much more his face will crumple when you meet the same fate. Dying is the only part of your gambit that was guaranteed to work out flawlessly in the end—the only time you've ever tried to trust the monster sitting in his coffin.

(I will turn you only if you truly desire it.

...I don't believe you.

Do as you please. I will hold onto my word regardless.)

The dagger is still in your hand. You pull it away from the monster's reach and nod almost imperceptibly. You cannot kill him because you do not know how.

But you are not beholden to the same laws of nature as him.

"And you won't tell me where to find whatever it is that killed them either?" you ask, though you know it's useless to ask.

For you, it is either death or a life spent with the very monster that stole your lover away. You will remember nothing of this conversation, nor of the pain you went through when you awaken once again. And you will go through the same pain and suffering, all the while cursing your predecessors for not taking care of what should be their mistake.

But you can still meet your beloved.

You want to meet your beloved.

"You have no need for such a thing," he says, with your name on his lips.

That is enough for you.

HIS EYES ARE GREEN JUST like Alkaid's. It's something you've noticed before.

As the dagger pierces your flesh, they widen in horror. You can't feel much of anything—if your hands were not holding onto its hilt, you wouldn't know you'd been stabbed.

There's an odd expression on the monster's face. Pained and familiar. It reminds you of the time you tripped over your own two feet, leaving you with scraped knees and elbows, and your dinner for the night littered across the ground.

You'd left Alkaid behind in a hurry, the siren's call of a warm meal too difficult to resist, and he hadn't been quick enough to catch you.

But the man in front of you is not the man you love.

Your lips pull into a faint smile regardless.

You're not sure why.

THE HANDS THAT WRAP AROUND are so terribly cold. You know for certain they belong to the monster. His tears drip down onto your cheek and you're surprised to learn that he can cry. But the blood on your hands, on the dagger lodged into your stomach, is sticky and warm.

Your neck remains untouched. His previous words echo through your mind—a man can only watch the woman he loves die so many times, after all.

You think you might pity him.

That is, before the memory of his confession, of the way he killed your love, leaves you with nothing but fury coursing through your veins.

You think you curse him.

You think he welcomes it.

#fics by aya #lovebrush chronicles #lovebrush chronicles x reader #for all time #for all time x reader #alkaid mcgrath #alkaid mcgrath x reader #lbc alkaid #lbc alkaid x reader #lovebrush alkaid #lovebrush alkaid x reader #rambles from here on ->#looking up card arts and guessing what's going on seems like a very productive use of my time #i already have a second alkaid card in mind (it's wedding unascended)#but i don't know what the plot is even though ik i want it to be witch!alkaid+reunion #some kind of friends to strangers deal like my mind is saying time travel shenanigans waking up 10 years in the future #also have something for ayn but it's more mundane “oops accidentally got married and now we have to live together”#or something along those lines—there was another card where he was the most beautiful man alive but #idk how to translate that into plot #im thinking late night return from a trip turns into a proposal from mc or something—he was REALLY beautiful #that or idol boyfriend shows up at 3 am at your door for some godforsaken reason and it's still a proposal #also for some reason i really love alkaid and white roses...which—fair enough

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