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strawberrystepmom · 18 hours

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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magpiepills · 2 days

Text

Made Me Love You

Chapter 2

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ ONLY! MDNI

Pairing: Tommy Miller x AFAB reader, Joel Milled x AFAB reader

work count: 3.7

Summary: you and Joel are left to your own devices after a night of debauchery with Tommy and emotions run high.

Warnings: smut, PIV, Unprotected sex, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, infidelity, size kink, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, cum eating, feelings, angst. No use of Y/N no established age gap, no physical description of reader, angst, etc.

A word from the author: this is a repost! I don’t normally like to get too plot heavy because I prefer to jam-pack my writing with wall to wall smut, but I didn’t think I could continue this story without some plot. Don’t worry, though, it’s still plenty explicit. I think I may have one more chapter in me to finish out this story, maybe two. I can’t make promises, though. If you see spelling and/or grammar mistakes, just ignore those. I write all this on a phone with a broken screen. Hope you enjoy! Big kiss to the ✨magic sluts✨ for the inspiration.

Tommy didn’t wake you before he slipped out for a long day checking over a new job site. He had left you sleeping peacefully, alone in the bed you’d shared, where he and his brother had both fucked you thoroughly last night. Your sleep was deep and dreamless. Just like you had wanted, and you awoke slowly, tangled in the sheet, naked and warm. You looked around and let the memory of the night before play back in your mind. It made your heart ache. The room was quiet and still, with sunlight slanting in through the curtains. When you rolled over, Joel was there, in his own bed, face squished into his pillow, looking at you as if waiting for you to tell him what to do, but you just met his gaze and looked into his eyes for a while across the narrow space between your beds, each of you at the end of an invisible tether.

Joel had woken up early, he never slept well but it was pointless to even try after what had happened.

“Hungry?”

“Mm. Coffee maybe.” You kept the conversation simple, not wanting to get into the messy tangle you’d tied with him last night at 8am. You stretched, arching your back into the mattress. You realized that you were still naked under the sheets, and debated asking Joel to hand you your robe but the little part of you that liked teasing him won out, and you slipped out of bed naked to saunter to the bathroom. You didn't check to see if he was looking.

You took a long shower, repeating your routine while replaying everything that had happened in your mind, remembering everything they had said. Everything Joel had said. You didn’t regret it exactly, but you hadn’t given any thought to how things would be between the three of you now. Part of you hoped you’d never speak of it again, never acknowledge it, wipe the whole thing from your memories, only revisiting it when you were all alone and certain that no one could hear you thinking. Another part wanted every night to be an encore, the three of you falling into an easy rhythm of generous sex in dim hotel rooms. That couldn’t happen, though. Another part, a quiet part, wanted Joel to be all yours- wanted him to be the one you would go back home with.

By the time you clicked off the bathroom light, everything was made up in your mind. Last night didn’t happen, there would be no repeat, no need to talk it over, and everything would be just as it had been before. It was easier that way. No proof anything had ever happened existed. If anyone found out it would be because Tommy or Joel had told. You would deny the whole thing, play it off as an inside joke and let them sort the betrayal out for themselves. It was the only option that could make sense, even if it made your chest ache a little, knowing that Joel was everything you wanted and would never have. Not the way you really wanted him, anyway.

You finished primping, put on some sunscreen and your favorite purple swimsuit, and went in search of your book to read by the pool.

Your resolve nearly shattered before you could make it out of the room. Sitting on your bed, next to your book, looking warm and inviting in a dark blue t-shirt and cargo shorts, holding an iced coffee as if he had dropped straight from boyfriend heaven, was Joel. Damn him. He smiled and held out the coffee, and you wanted to melt into his chest. Damn him. “Got donuts too.” His voice was soft and gentle, like he worried he would frighten you away. His eyes are so big and dark and soft and full of things he wanted to tell you. Things he would tell you later.

Your plan hadn’t included a section on explaining to the brothers that none of you were to speak of the event, and were to act as if it were a strange dream. You flipped your book out of the way and sat beside him, hoping that your nerves would settle with some caffeine. Your plan didn’t include him looking this good, either.

“Thanks. You didn’t have to do this.” You tried so hard to sound casual, like you hadn’t cried his name into his shoulder while he fucked you better than anyone ever had before, and that you weren’t still dabbing his cum, commingled with his brother’s from your pussy. He clearly didn’t get the message from your tone, because after he handed you a donut, his hand was on your thigh in an impossibly casual gesture of intimacy.

“I should be taking you out to breakfast after last night.” His voice was an octave lower, and slower. Oh no. “We don’t have to… we can…we could act like that didn’t happen.”

“Is he good to you?” So much for that.

“Yeah, Joel. He’s good. It’s good.”

“He’s away a lot.”

“It’s his job. He’s got to be at the sites. You understand that. You’re away working a lot too.” You can hear the waver in your own voice. You can hear how it sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself.

“I’m here now.” He said, moving a little closer and gently dragging two thick fingers back and forth across your shoulder.

“We should go to the beach. Make a day of it. Tommy said he wouldn’t be home until late and I don’t want to waste a nice day like this.” He made it easy to read between the lines. “How late did he say?” How much time did you have alone with Joel before Tommy came back? “Six. Maybe later. He’s going to a meeting with the building inspector. We have the whole day.” His eyes searched your face, desperate for you to understand him. Last night wasn’t enough for him.

He watched as you dug through your drawer for the swimsuit you wanted, admiring the soft curves and slopes of your body, greedily staring at all the things he'd only imagined before. Once you were tied into your suit, you turned to Joel and saw he’d changed into the ugliest trunks you’d ever seen in your life. “Joel ..” you gawked at him, they looked too big and the pattern was a garish yellow, blue, and black pattern that your brain couldn’t even make sense of. “What? What’s wrong with them?” He ran his hand over the front, adjusting his half hard cock in the mesh lining, watching you watch him touch himself. “Nothing. Ready to go?” He pulled on a stretched out white t-shirt, zipped a key card into his back pocket, and you slipped out of the hotel into the morning sun. You walked up the beach, avoiding the most obvious topic, and falling into comfortable silence. Your mind swam with conflict. Thoughts of Tommy, your relationship, and how what you really wanted was to stay in the room and fuck Joel again.

When you made it down to the beach, Joel held the little cooler he’d packed in one hand, and took your hand in the other while you carried the bag with your towels and sunscreen. You walked further, looking for a more secluded spot away from your hotel and his arm was around your shoulder, pulling you close to his side. It felt so natural to be with him like this that you could easily ignore everything that was wrong. Finally picking a place to set up for the day, Joel rented an umbrella and you laid out the towels side by side, making a solitary little island in the sand for the two of you to live on disconnected from reality for as long as possible.

You took turns rubbing sunscreen into each other. He started with your back, then slid down your arms. He took his time on your chest, his fingertips dimpling the plush swell of your breasts, dipping under the fabric of your top, watching intently how your body responded to his touch. Marveled at how your nipples were hard and pressed against the triangle of your top. Satisfied with his work, he guided you to lean back into your elbows. He squeezed more Hawaiian Tropic into his palm and spread it across your belly. You could have done this yourself, but he didn’t stop and you wanted every bit of contact you could get today.

His touch was tender and slow, working his way over your hips, thighs, calves. He felt like he was getting away with something when he touched you like this. When he was done he handed the bottle to you and laid on his stomach. You straddled him and as you slicked him up, making him smell like an island god, you teased him. “I should leave a bare spot in the shape of my initials. Give you a sunburn tramp stamp.” He scoffed, “Do it. Brand me. Then I’ll put my name on you. Once my name’s on it, it’s mine.” He squinted up at you with one eye and gave your knee a squeeze and rolled under you to lay on his back, his new position letting you feel his hard length against your pussy. You rubbed your core against him as you covered his chest in SPF 50, admiring the freckles that made constellations over his shoulders.

When you were done you moved off his lap, pulling away from his grasp. You took a nectarine from your bag and took a few bites before Joel held your wrist and pulled the fruit to his mouth, holding your gaze he took a bite right over where yours had been in what felt like a small, but profoundly intimate act.

“Come swim with me.” Joel was a strong swimmer, and it was one more thing about him you liked. You always knew you were safe with him. He always knew what to do, he stayed calm, he was strong and big and decisive. Tommy was a good swimmer too, but you knew he couldn’t save you if you were in danger.

Out as far as you could go in the water, you swam, paddling over the waves, floating on your backs, diving under or getting knocked under by early breakers. Joel was always there to turn you right side up, helping readjust your swimsuit while you got your bearings. When it felt like it must be lunch time, you motioned toward the shore. He hesitated, then wrapped his arms around you and took you a little deeper and kissed you. He tasted like saltwater and the nectarine you’d shared.

He held your hips,and pulled you close until his thigh was between your legs, letting you feel how hard he was. No one could see you and no one could stop you from grinding against him, aided by his big, strong hands now palming your ass under your swimsuit. Joel kissed your neck, and slid his right hand over until his fingers covered your pussy, making you whine at the sensation and tighten your grip on his shoulders. He kissed your ear and spoke into it, sounding equal parts surprised and proud. “Wasn’t sure I’d get to touch you like this again, but I think you want it.” He was getting bolder in the privacy of the water. “I think you wanted this before.” He emphasized his point with another firm press against your increasingly sensitive folds. If this was an interrogation, you were folding. “Yeah. Yes. Wanted you before. Wanted this.” You reached between your bodies into his stupid, ugly trunks and found him hard. You stroked him as he continued his ministrations and breathed into your ear as you told him how you’d thought of him when you were alone, making yourself come on your fingers. How you’d pictured him instead of Tommy when there was a cock spurting down your throat, and how you wanted him to overwrite all of your memories and color himself in their place.

He had enough. He pushed you away from his body, and pulled you slowly to shore, taking time to think of baseball, gravel, traffic, bugs, anything to draw the blood away from his cock long enough to get back to the hotel. Back on land, he threw his towel around his neck and wrapped you in yours, rushing you back toward the room the two of you shared with your boyfriend. The walk was silent and heavy with anticipation. Joel kept you tucked tight against his side. In the elevator he took your hand and squeezed it tight, looking down at you and not bothering to hide his desire, but still silent. It was a long ride up. Every time the doors opened and closed, letting other guests on and off at their floors you wanted to scream. Finally, finally back at the room, you barely made it in the door before he was crowding you against the door, holding you, trailing wet, open mouthed kisses over your neck and jaw, before gently pushing you onto your knees. “Just for a minute. Please. I’ve gotta see your lips around me again.”

You liked how he looked when he begged. You made a show of looking up at him as you tugged down those hideous trunks, letting his cock spring free before your face. You grasped the base and gave him a few light licks up the length of his shaft, kissed the blushing head, then wrapped your hand around his shaft to gently pump him while you lavished attention there. His foreskin was smooth and soft on your tongue and slipped back and forth just a bit with your movements. You dropped both hands to your knees and took him further, slowly down, slowly back up, letting him hear you breathe, holding his gaze. He was babbling half coherent praise as you sucked “yeah, just like that. Fuck. So good. So fuckin’ good. Look at you.” You thought he would come in your mouth, but instead he pulled you up and walked you backward toward his bed, guiding you onto your back.

He leaned over you, boxing you in with a muscular arm on either side of your head and a knee between your thighs, tantalizingly close to where you needed to feel him most, but frozen by the charge in the air between you. Joel was looking down at you with a look of menace and tenderness, want and victory. It made your pussy ache. He watched your chest rise and fall, the flush that crept up your chest and neck giving away how needy you were for him.

“Take this off.” He pulled at the strings of your top while you untied the bottom and dispatched it across the room.

He wanted everything all at once. “Hands and knees for me, angel. Come on.” He urged you and helped you position how he wanted you, legs spread wide and back arched in lewd presentation. “Perfect. You’re perfect.” He held you steady with both hands firm on the globes of your ass as he leaned down and licked a broad stripe from your clit to your entrance, taking his time to taste you before retracing his path, firmer this time, pushing his tongue inside you, bringing his thumb to your clit to stroke it softly. Pulling his mouth away, Joel watched himself use his thumb to spread your wetness all around, loving how you wriggled and sighed. “You’re a mess. So wet. Look at that.” He sealed his lips around you once more and sucked firmly on your clit, making you cry his name while your thighs quaked in an all consuming orgasm.

You sank into the soft bedding and caught your breath as he rubbed up and down your thighs. “Fuck me, Joel. Please.”

“Yeah? You want that?” He asked, almost surprised. “Yeah. Ok, baby. Anything you want.”

He stroked himself and notched at your entrance, pushing inside slowly so you could adjust to his size. You whined at the stretch and groaned when he was fully seated, Joel stilled there, letting you feel his weight, his heavy cock, and kissed your jaw. “I don’t think I can let him have you back.” He didn’t give you time to absorb what he was saying, he pulled back slowly, then thrust forward a little faster, angling his hips to grind his pubic bone against your clit while letting him watch himself fuck you. His filthy narration had you on the edge.

“I love how you take me. Squeeze my cock so fucking tight.” He moaned into your shoulder, a deep, rough sound, he had to stop himself from sucking dark purple marks into your neck. “Look so pretty on this big cock. Gonna come for me one more time?” Joel kept his pace and babbled to you, letting one hand wander to your tits to brush over your sensitive nipples, or down to grab your ass and pull you tight against him. “Won’t last much longer, baby I’m sorry. Where do you want me?”

You really wanted him to come inside you. Wanted to feel it again, wanted a filthy souvenir dripping from you later while you were laying in bed with Tommy. But you weren’t ready for that conversation, so you said simply “not inside.”

Joel nodded, understanding that he couldn’t make the decision for you, so he just hitched his left leg under your hip for better leverage and drilled into you hard and fast. The angle let him hit just perfectly over that spot inside that made you see god. Your orgasm hit hard and it was all Joel could do to pull out and rut against your mound, smearing cum between your naked bodies.

Rolling off of you, Joel went to fetch a towel. He let you use it first, but you swiped a finger through his spend and brought it to your mouth, tasting him at last. There may as well have been stars in Joel’s eyes as he watched.

It was still early, 2:30 when you got into the shower and Joel went out to bring back lunch. Alone again under the hot spray, you thought. You thought about Tommy, about the perfectly adequate life you had together for the last eight months. He was good, he took you out, he was a generous lover, he has friendly and optimistic and he was so, so into you. And you liked that. But he was also immature, drinking a lot, getting into fights, losing jobs until Joel let him come to work at his small company. You wanted to bend time, make it so you met Joel first.

When you got out of the shower it was a bit of deja vu. Younfreshly showered, Joel waiting to feed you. This time it was a sack from Five Guys, and a big cup of sweet tea. Exactly what you needed. You and Joel talked while you ate, avoiding the obvious topic, and instead talked about movies you liked, books you had read, music you listened to, Joel told you about things he was doing to his house, a fixer-upper he had bought recently. “Maybe when we can get back you can come over and see. Give me some paint colors that would look good. ‘M not good at that part. Needs a woman’s touch I guess.” You dug a few fries from

The bottom of the bag and drifted away for a second to a reality where you and Joel could live together and be together and everything worked out for the best. Then you just nodded. “I’d love that.”

After Joel showered you only had about an hour until Tommy was expected back. You made the most of it, naked under the covers in Joel’s bed, legs entwined, mouths melded together while he made you come again on his long, thick fingers. “We don’t have to tell him anything, sweetheart. This can be whatever you want. I don’t want to make all this hard for ya. I won’t say anything to him if y’dont want me to. And if y’do I’ll handle him. Been handling him his whole life.” Joel looked pretty like this, naked and warm in the white hotel sheets with his tan skin and freckled shoulders, his big dark eyes, his pretty sloping nose and his untamable curly hair. “I want you, Joel.” Your voice was soft and light, he almost wasn’t sure he heard you. “Tell me again. Slowly.” You said it louder, you said it again, you said it as you kissed him. Joel beamed as he hugged you right to his chest and kissed you once more, pouring all of his unspoken feelings into you the best he could.

You’d just barely gotten buttoned back into a pair of shorts and tank top when Tommy came into the room. You went to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He smelled like sun and sweat and dust. He pulled you up to him in a deep kiss that trailed down your neck, and cupped your ass with one hand. “Missed you today, baby.” “Missed you too, Tommy.” You nuzzled into his neck as you spoke, since again letting your imagination shape shift him into his brother. His brother who was out on the balcony, with your scent still on him. “Where’s Joel? What did you do with him today?” It was an innocent question, but you felt guilty as you quickly glanced around the room, afraid that there would be some glaring sign that would tell him you spend the day fucking his brother. Of course there wasn’t, but Tommy noticed the way you tensed and shifted his weight to one foot, cocking his head to the side. “Something wrong?”

“No, just uh, just hungry.” You lied.

Tommy studied your face in silence before kissing the top of your head. “Go get changed and we’ll go get some dinner. You nodded, relieved to have any suspicion out of Tommy’s mind for now. You weren’t even sure if he would be mad. He had enjoyed seeing you with Joel last night, so maybe you should just be honest about fucking him today. You rolled the idea around in your head as you put on your dress, and Tommy picked up the damp piece of purple fabric from the floor at the end of Joel’s bed.

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character smut #pedro pascal characters #bat writes #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel x reader #joel the last of us #tommy miller #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x f!reader #Joel miller x you x Tommy miller #smut

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negronispagliato · 1 day

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𝔞 𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔠𝔨𝔢𝔡 || 𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔥𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯

summary: "there's a serpent in these still waters," helaena murmurs, "lying deep down."

pairing: martell!reader x alicent hightower (mentions of martell!reader x rhaneyra targaryen)

words: 2.6k

warnings/themes: MINORS DNI, soft/dark!reader, implied dubcon, sexual themes, fingering, subtle degradation, corruption kink-ish, mentions of internalized homophobia and religion, murder, alicent is a closeted gay and refuses/hates dealing with it ™

notes: this is a repost from my old blog (that had the same name). in a stroke of genius ™ i deleted the entire thing :') , anyway, hopefully this fic gets more love this time.

NSFW. MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY. IF WARNINGS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE , DO NOT READ. YOUR INTERNET IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY.

ALICENT NERVOUSLY PACED around the drawing room as the hour to meet with Larys drew nearer and nearer.

Everything about this…dependence on him got away from her. Slipped further into the chaotic pit of her desperation and his greed.

She knew she hated all of it—having to depend on him to even have an inkling of an advantage over Rhaenyra, the way he always made himself known, that he was perpetually watching her even when he wasn’t always there, the way she debased herself for his pleasure even when he didn’t have to touch her at all. One favor led to another, and she hated what it had become.

She wished more than anything that she could be rid of him.

Alicent scoffs at the idea, knowing that no such thing could come about lest she damn herself and reveal everything.

As she always does, she goes on her own. No one must know, not even Talya, her handmaiden. Her hands open and close in anxiety despite her outward composure she keeps at all times.

The path to the particular drawing room is laden with noble stragglers far too interested in business that wasn’t theirs, ready to feast on any crumb of fodder they might catch on feigned happenstance.

Alicent sighs shakily once she arrives at the doors that separates her and that snake.

She remembers it all, how Larys purposefully misconstrued her words for his own convenience, how she implored that she hadn’t asked to slay his own brother for her but he did. He did anyway.

She remembers how Rhaenyra couldn’t find it in herself to grieve because she couldn’t, but ever since then the woman that had been meant to leave for Dorne came back and stayed at her side, looking at Alicent like she knew the Queen had something to do with it.

Nothing of convenience happens just because the Seven will it to be so. You had said to her once. She balked at your blasphemy, but you hadn’t cared. Not even with your formalities thinly veiled as inappropriate advances at Rhaenyra, did you care.

Part of her wishes that that so-called…loyalty Rhaenyra indulged in so naturally from you came to her. That it would be for her instead.

Yes, loyalty is what it was. It had to be that. The Seven would never allow anything else.

Alicent can feel the way her hands shake when she pushes one of the heavy wooden doors, quickly making her way inside and latching it closed as quietly as she could. She closes her eyes for a moment, taking a breath to compose herself. Letting it escape her shakily, she turns around.

“Lord Strong, I—” Alicent’s breath leaves her, and this time for entirely different reasons.

You sit in the ornate chaise comfortably, as if you had always belonged there. You donned more Westerosi attire in hues of black and maroon—a gesture of good faith to the Targaryens, a jacquard pattern in the emblem of your House adorning the sleeves, yet your sun warmed skin made you stand out against most of the nobility in the Realm.

Alicent could feel the wind leave her lungs, much like it did when she had an inappropriate dream about you and reluctantly relieved herself of it.

But the way her body shivered then in comparison to seeing the delicately macabre sitting position Larys was in was entirely different.

You greeted her with a warm smile, raising a goblet as if to toast her. Next to you, Larys Strong sat slumped in his chair adjacent to you, the life drained from him only moments ago. Drained chalice at his feet.

“Come, your majesty. We have much to talk about.” You said, gesturing to her usual place across the table.

Alicent hesitates, wondering if she should scream for the guards. But no one knows she’s here, and no one is supposed to know she’s having these secret meetings with the man that now sat dead in front of her.

“Nothing that’s meant for you is poisoned, if that’s what you’re thinking.” You add, casually plucking a few berries from the bowl in front of you.

Alicent swallows as you look at her intently while you pop each berry into your mouth, chewing carefully. She sighs in trepidation, shaking the sins that swim in her head whenever she looks at you for too long.

“How did you—”

“Know?” You ask, completing her question for her, “when you learn to move as I do, you come to know of many things.” You reach for the jug of wine, pouring some for yourself and for Alicent. “Besides,” you add, taking a small sip, “you Westerosi love to talk far too much about yourselves. Is nothing ever kept secret?”

Alicent looks at the goblet of wine in front of her with trepidation, and then to you.

“I took the risk, same as him.” You nod over to Larys, “only, he was not so prepared as I was.”

“You…poisoned him?”

“And myself.” “Then how did you-”

“I am Dornish, your majesty. You forget that where I come from, we are always prepared to take the risk. We were prepared to take it when my ancestor told our would be conqueror to fuck off. I was prepared before you arrived to risk it for Rhaenyra’s legacy.”

Alicent stares at the little vial dangling from your fingers. A spark of dread makes bile rise in her throat, but she forces it down.

“I would be a fool to cast aside all the work I’ve done in the name of truce by killing the Queen.”

You walk over the short length of the table until you reach Alicent’s side, sitting on the corner of the table with your arms crossed.

Alicent can feel her blood boil yet again, especially when she feels the weight of your stare as she wills herself up from her seat.

“How dare you!” She growls, hands balled up into fists as she rises from her chair and is suddenly inches away from your face. “You dare to defend a faithless woman, one who parades her sons as legitimate even though they’re-”

You narrow your eyes, jaw tightening as you cross your arms and tower over her defiantly as you abandon your seat.

“And what of you and Ser Cole?” You ask, chuckling as you watch Alicent’s eyes widen in panic, “yes, I know of that too. I know of all that you do, my queen.”

You reach up to brush aside a copper curl from Alicent’s face, tucking it behind her ear. You smile at the way she shivers when you cup her face, her eyes fighting to stay open.

“Have you ever loved a woman, your majesty?”

Alicent doesn’t answer. She doesn’t want to. But everything she’s thought about in her fantasies with you, her jealousies that give way to sinful dreams when she sees you with Rhaenyra, especially now when she feels your breath on her face, your thumb tracing her lips…

“To love a woman, to be loved by one…it is second only to what a mother would do for her own children. It is to feel the sun on both sides.” You whisper, moving Alicent’s face so she would face you.

You ghost your lips over her own, watching as Alicent struggles internally with her own thoughts.

She hates it, the way she feels when the things she’s dreamt of with you are as alive as they make her feel in that moment.

Suddenly, she gasps as you squeeze her chin between your thumb and your fingers, her lips pursing together. In your eyes, an anger that rivaled that of the dragons’ roars. An uncomfortable dread bubbles in her stomach.

“Do not think of me incapable of doing what I must to ensure that Rhaenyra’s succession isn’t challenged. She is everything to me, and I will make sure to do what I must to protect her.”

Alicent’s lips move to speak when you cup her face gently, in contrast to how you held her just moments ago. But no words come, only a thrill that jumpstarts her heart and burrows itself as an ache in her belly.

“Would you like to know what it’s like, your Majesty, to kiss a woman?”

Alicent doesn’t seem to notice how you move her so easily, one step from you.

Then another.

And another.

“I-I..shouldn’t…the Se-”

“The Seven do not give a fuck in the world, your Highness.” You enjoy the way she lets out a breath when she realizes that her back is touching the wall. “They ask nothing that one isn’t prepared to give. Impose…nothing.”

Alicent’s breath leaves her in a broken gasp when your fingers dance across the neckline of her dress. A conflict within her-knowing not whether to press herself on you or away from you.

But she does not fight it either.

“Why should we impose anything on them, don’t you agree?” You all but purr, cradling her chin between your thumb and fingers. Her lips wobble as your thumb rubs her chin slightly, her tongue darting out to lick a dryness that is there before she swallows.

She knows she is lost when she feels your fingers follow the motion of her throat.

“Would you like to know, your Majesty, what it’s like?” You ask, eyes glinting in a lascivious enthusiasm when her lips press on the pad of your thumb. It makes you hum in satisfaction, like everything you’ve felt to be true about her was confirmed by the feel of her tongue slipping out to take a taste of your skin.

Alicent’s eyes hold on to your own, and you see the conflict swimming in her eyes. It’s clear to her you’ve taken possession– of the power in the room, and of her. She takes your hand, moving it from her chin and downwards, until you catch on to what she wants.

Her crumbling sense of control makes you chuckle darkly. She is fraying at the edges. She lets go of your hand so quickly that her own are scrambling to lift up the skirts of her gown and undergarments. Naturally, her thighs make room for your hands, heart thumping in her chest like a war drum when you tease her.

“Has Rhaenyra…Oh gods..you-” Alicent gasps in relief when your fingers slide into her warmth. Her hands slap onto the wall behind her, scrambling for purchase to tether her somehow. “Has she..and you…”

“I’m here with you now, am I not?” You whisper against the shell of her ear, “enjoy yourself. It’s no one but us.”

It wasn’t just the two of you, but the pleasure blooming across her skin distracts her from the darkness just on the other side of the room.

Alicent isn’t entirely sure what kind of relief to feel. A part of her thought about what you had done. If you were more than willing to kill for Rhaenyra, what would you be willing to do for her?

The back of Alicent’s head falls to the wall behind her as she feels the ache in the pit of her belly about the burst once again. It should be unreasonable for her to do this, to want you the way she does. If someone were to find her, they would have her head put on a pike for impropriety and treason.

And yet, as she remembers how all her life was structured on how to please others, she craved this chaos for herself.

She wanted this. Wanted you, the Princess of Dorne.

Everyone in the Realm had their secrets. Why couldn’t she have one of her own?

“That’s it,” you coo, feeling her hips move along with your hand, “don’t be afraid to let go. Don’t shame yourself out of your own pleasure.”

“I need-” she gasps, her hands grasping your shoulders, nails digging into the embroidered epaulets of your garb, “tell me. There is no shame here with me.” “I need to feel-”

Alicent preens when your fingers curl against that place inside of her that finally drives her over the precipice. Her inhibitions, once frayed at the edges like the fine silk of her gown, finally unravel.

As her climax blooms all over and bursts along her skin, she grabs your face, desperately kissing your lips. You all but practically consume her, and she’d gladly let you do it if it meant that it kept you away from the person she grew to loathe the most.

Your enthusiasm clashes against her desperation, everything is all teeth and tongue and pleasurable warmth she wants to drown herself in.

Alicent closes her eyes, waiting for the adrenaline to wear off. She sighs as you brand open mouthed kisses against her jaw, down along her neck as you take in her smell.

——

Alicent startles awake.

She sits up, momentarily still dazed in sleep and unaware of where she is.

Realizing she’s in her own room, she stops grasping at the sheets. Her reverie breaks when Talya walks in, and helps Alicent prepare for the day.

She passes most of the day functioning as a puppet–going through the usual motions of her activities.

She finds comfort in the presence of her daughter Helaena, until they’re called for supper later in the evening.

She feels the strangest sense of comfort as her family is seated around the table, around Viserys. For the most part, everyone is getting along well, even if it is a farce for Viserys’ placation.

A squire interrupts their conversation, whispering in Viserys’ ear. Viserys nods in approval.

The doors open and Alicent’s heart all but stops.

“My sincerest apologies, your Grace.” You say in reverence, “I could not arrive empty handed. Please, have the finest wine Dorne has to offer as both an apology and a token of celebration.”

Alicent can’t help but follow where you sit–the empty chair right next to Rhaenyra. She picks at the skin of her nails, trying to fight off the jealousy that was as green as her dress.

Viserys, thoroughly amused by the gesture, calls for the cupbearers to serve the wine. You’ve only just sat, but you take the goblet full of wine from your homeland, and stand.

“It would please me greatly to propose a toast to his majesty King Viserys,” you raise your cup, “and to his true heir, the Princess Rhaenyra. I’m sure her reign will be a long and prosperous one, welcomed by all in the Realm.”

Viserys wheezes out a jolly laugh, tapping his walking staff instead of clapping. Naturally, everyone else follows what he does, and raises their cups to drink.

Alicent can feel her throat close up, a lick of fear making its way through her. She wants to say something, anything. But she cannot. Does not.

The way in which everything happens so normally, members of her family each in their own corners of the room talking with each other, bewilders her.

“Something wrong, your Highness?” You ask with a feigned cluelessness so natural, Alicent nearly believed it. “I know history has shown that my people have a…proclivity with certain poisons. Nothing that is meant for us is poisoned, I assure you.”

“Of course.” She chuckles out nervously, taking a small sip from the goblet in front of her.

“I would be a fool to cast aside all the work I’ve done in the name of truce by killing the dynasty that has blended with my family’s for generations.”

You continued, everyone clapping to your toast as Alicent had her attention interrupted by Talya. The young maid bent to whisper in Alicent’s ear.

They’ve found Lord Strong in his study.

It’s then that Alicent glances at your deceptively kind face nervously, the color draining from her face when she notices the very same pendant from her dream hanging around your neck.

It was empty.

Before taking another drink from your replenished cup, you raise your cup to her, winking surreptitiously before taking a drink.

Alicent feels the dread drip down her spine and numb her limbs once again.

#alicent hightower x reader #hotd fics #alicent hightower fics #house of the dragon fics

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