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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 6 months

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how deep is your devotion? ; satoru gojo

synopsis; you’re his knight, and he’s your prince. if only it were that simple.

word count; 6.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, royalty au (..but no effort put into making it historically accurate in any way oops), knight!reader x prince!toru!!, childhood friends, mutual pining, fluffy overall, some hurt/comfort too, vague allusions to abuse (reader is punished by one of the castle maids as a child but it’s only really hinted at), knight!reader is horrendously devoted but prince!gojo is arguably worse, he would burn the world down if u asked nicely <3

a/n; big big BIG thank u to @softgirlgonehaywire for having the biggest brain in the world and infecting me w this concept <33 if u pay attention while reading u can tell the exact moment i started slowly spiraling into insanity

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

five years old, a mere child, and too young to be blinded by such brilliance. too young to be where you are; curled up in a dark alley, back against a grimy brick wall, covered in bruises. like a beaten dog — scrawny and afraid. waiting for a strike that never comes.

the boy in front of you is also five years old, but you don’t know that. something in him looks older, somehow, something in the way he carries himself. like he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. like he’s never even felt fear. he parts his lips and speaks like he has the right to, like he’s comfortable in his own skin, a radiance so blinding you could mistake him for the sun. too much for you to bear.

”does it hurt?”

the words fall on deaf ears. but you flinch, your body reacts, a tremble down your tiny spine. you hear the sound but not the words. too mesmerized, too paralyzed, unable to look away from the blue of his eyes, painted with rich watercolour hues. seeping into the world around you like ink on paper, cobalt and aquamarine and something else, something you’ve never seen before —

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

the boy has an innocent face. almost girlish, plump cheeks and long lashes, clean clothes and smooth skin. a little too pretty to be out here, you think, in this part of town — too pure to be anywhere near someone like you. he’s above you, that much you can tell. a pretty, innocent face, untouched by dirt or ache; the face of royalty. an entirely different species.

there’s something keen in his eyes, a contrast to his childlike features. a sharp gaze, something that sees through you, something that won’t look away. something mildly frightening. enough to have you cowering in fear, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

but then he smiles. and it’s sincere. sweet, vibrant, all honey and milk and a world you cannot reach.

a smile so captivating you take his outstretched hand, and let him drag you away to god-knows-where.

(that's how it begins. the dynamic that’ll follow you into your adult lives; satoru takes the lead, and you follow. no matter where he’s going.)

satoru gojo, as you soon come to learn, is the prince of the nation you reside in. the only child of the royal family, born with talent and prestige, fame and fortune, set to become king. a different species, indeed.

but he brings you home with him, to a castle so grand you feel as if your very presence is an insult to the architects who designed it, and convinces his parents to let you stay. it’s surprising, but you don’t protest; following him like a puppy at his trail. and he’s stubborn, insistent, demanding that he get to keep said puppy.

the king and queen don’t care one way or another. they glance at you with apathy, and tell satoru to do what he wants — but convincing the scary and displeased castle maids takes some work.

satoru doesn’t waver, though. he holds your hand in his, and demands that you be treated with respect.

and he wins. he always wins.

that’s how you become the prince’s playmate. raised alongside him, allowed to stay close, eat from the same food. he won’t settle for anything less. defending your honour, always, before you even know what honour means. before you care.

time passes slowly. joyously. every day is a new adventure, as you attempt to get used to the miracle that is your new life — sweet and silky, apricot blossoms and fresh peaches, duvet pillows and a bubbly laughter you didn’t know you still had. he coaxes it out of you, with every secret midnight outing, every bout of mischief he drags you both into.

satoru has nice hands, uncalloused palms, fingers that grasp yours and don’t let go. he takes you outside, to see the stars, to catch fireflies in the dark of night on top of the hill that oversees the castle. to take a dip in the river just below it, gleaming a silver hue under the blue shade of the moon. you worry about getting in trouble, but he reassures you — the prince can do what he wants.

that might be true, but you are no prince. not even close. satoru may safeguard you, but all you’ll ever be in the eyes of the world is a stray he got to keep.

and one time, only one time, you do face the repercussions of your midnight outings. you, and you alone. a bad influence — seething words, buzzing in your ears. an angry castle maid, and a stinging pain in your cheek. blurry tears.

but that’s an incident no one in the castle dares to speak of.

(you’ll never forget that look in his eyes.)

satoru is an odd boy. he keeps you close, always, clinging to you like he needs you to breathe. you don’t understand why, but you’ve learned not to question him. the castle guards all know you as the prince’s best friend, and some part of you knows that’s all you’ll ever amount to. but you don’t mind.

because you love him. at five years old, six years old, seven and beyond, you love him. satoru gojo, the kindest boy in the stratosphere.

a boy who keeps finding you, no matter where you are, who tugs you along as naturally as the rise of the sun. who raids kitchen cabinets with you and always makes you laugh, little giggles and chuckles that have him beaming proudly. a boy who cleans your wounds with a serious expression, and tells you that he’ll protect you forever.

(you tell yourself the same. that you’ll protect him forever and ever, until you run out of air to breathe. a boy so sweet you’d die for him.)

a pledge is made. you make it before you know what a pledge is. pledging to protect him, to become his sword, because even as a child you understand that his life will be difficult. you see it in the dullness that sometimes comes over his eyes, the apathy of his so-called parents, the hours he spends locked up with nothing but a pile of dusty books to keep him company.

so you decide to become his knight. his, and his alone.

it’s challenging. but you push through; training with another aspiring knight, miles better than you, black hair tousled by the breeze as he knocks you off your feet for the thirtieth consecutive time. wincing as the girl who sometimes watches your sparring patches you up, soft hands cleaning your wounds so tenderly that you almost choke up.

and eventually, as the apricot blossoms of the castle orchard wilt and bloom over and over in a flurry of pure white, your dream comes true.

there’s something playful in satoru’s eyes, when he places his blade on the curve of your shoulder. something sweet and fond, and just a little bit ironic — as if you’re still seven years old, and playing house.

you want to tell him that it isn’t a joke. that you’re serious, about this, that you’d tear your stomach open to keep him safe. but you know he’d just laugh. so you let the words clog up your throat, honey-sweet devotion sticking to the walls of your esophagus. breathing in through your nose, as he speaks. as the words you’ve waited to hear flow from his glossy lips.

when all is said and done, satoru smiles. he calls you his little knight, and you can tell that he’s teasing you. indulging you, as if he’s in on some joke that you aren’t. but you’ll take what you can get.

you call him my prince, expecting him to laugh it off, but his smile begins to fall. and a pang of ache rushes through your soul, instantaneous, guilty, although you don’t understand why.

so you keep calling him satoru. even though it’s more than a little unprofessional, and you become painfully accustomed to receiving a few judgemental looks here and there. a knight and a prince shouldn’t be so very close, they think, and you don’t disagree. but there’s nothing they can do about it, anyhow.

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

not much changes. you’re his knight, but he treats you the same as before. he’s playful, a little goofy, and you indulge him. as always. attached at the hip, bickering and bantering, bouncing off each other effortlessly. and satoru never bothers to hide your history, the soft spot he has for you; it’s in every fleeting glance, soft tilt of his head, teasing call of ah, there’s my favorite knight.

(you’re no stranger to jealous looks. sometimes a pout on the lips of a pretty girl, a crease between the brows of one of your fellow knights. and sometimes a glare, from his fiancée — a woman he was engaged to before he was old enough to speak.

but you don’t mind. you’ve never cared what anyone but satoru thinks of you.)

satoru never loses his smile, that effortless air of confidence. the charm that makes people want to follow him, a charisma you know well. one you fell victim to at five years of age. he’s still just a prince, far from being a king, but he receives the same respect.

and that keen, sharp glimmer in his eyes never quite goes away; the hardened shell around his heart unbroken. you see it in fleeting glances, during meetings, ones he allows you to attend despite your status. when he speaks to a room of people with more power than you can imagine, his voice unwavering. back straight. elegant, serious, the presence of royalty — enough to receive respect without even trying.

but he still shoots you a smile, easygoing, when your eyes meet. one only you can see.

as for you, the step into knighthood is a clumsy one. but you take your duties seriously, and adjust properly. a deep devotion runs through your veins, from your beating heart down to the tips of your fingers, where a sword lies clutched. you keep it close, always, ready to serve. to obey. to protect.

all of it for one person.

all you do is for him. duels in his honour, beasts slain for his peace of mind, and he’s always there to welcome you back. wiping the blood from your cheek, tenderly, smearing his untainted skin with red; all while he looks at you softly, a coo or word of praise waltzing on the tip of his tongue.

that’s only for when you remain unscathed, though, when the blood on your cheek isn’t your own. when you get hurt, it’s different — something begins to brew inside his eyes, and you can’t tell what it is. but he insists on bandaging you himself, paying no mind to your meek protests.

sometimes, you’re more reckless than usual. your injuries worse. sometimes he looks upset, angry with you, and doesn’t speak. you don’t, either.

a strange look comes over his eyes, every now and then. when you get down on one knee, to kiss his hand, the metal of the ring on his finger — and if you look up, you’ll see it. simmering inside those blue depths, something just as fond as it is sad. troubled, you think.

(something tells you he’d kneel, too, if only you’d let him.)

the bond between you remains intact. even as you begin to shoulder more responsibilities, more duties, even though you don’t have as much freedom as you used to. even though you seem to get less time to spend with each other every single day. but you stay together, even so; just like when you were children, running around and causing trouble, more than you could get away with now.

despite everything, satoru has grown up into a fine man. and you couldn't be prouder.

“do you think i look good in black? be honest.”

you throw him a glance. curious, somewhat perplexed, eyeing him up and down.

satoru is wearing a white blouse, puffy sleeves and a low neckline, showing off the skin of his bare chest. no black colours to be seen. you think back to that banquet he attended last month, forced into an expensively tailored black coat. a corset around his waist. and then you hum.

“sure you do.”

”suguru said it makes me look like a try-hard,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. tilting his head in your direction. ”do you think he’s jealous?”

”definitely.”

a moment passes.

satoru narrow his eyes, and gives you a dubious look. clicking his tongue. ”… something tells me you aren’t taking this seriously.”

”i am,” you assure him, a lazy smile at your lips. meeting his gaze, that displeased little pout. still smoothing a brush down the mane of your horse, the smell of hay soothing your muddled senses. ”just tired. you look good in anything. you know that.”

he hums. silent, the sound of a spring breeze filling in the gaps.

it’s late. outside the stables, the world is engulfed by a dark sky, almost too murky to see anything. hazy stars glimmer in the distance, and a sense of fatigue gnaws at your bones. it’s been a long day, and yet you’re here — doing even more work. just a little more.

and satoru’s right there with you. even though he’s just sitting there, on the floor, not lifting a finger to help. not that he has to. insistent on spending some quality time with you, keeping you company. just talking and munching on the food he snuck in, bread and cheese and an expensive bottle of wine, that he leaves completely untouched. he tries to leave some of everything else for you, though. keyword being tries.

a sense of peace simmers in the air. palpable, almost enough to taste, as midnight air streams in from the opened doors, chilly and pleasant on your skin. ruffling the thin fabric of your clothing.

and it’s nice, you think, just to have satoru there — talking about this and that, complaining about all the annoying people he had to meet yesterday, yawning every now and then. nostalgic. like this, it almost feels like you're still kids. back when you spent every single hour of the day by each other’s side.

it’s been a long time since you got the chance to speak like this. satoru’s been busy, and so have you. more so than usual.

”are they running you ragged?” he suddenly asks, and you don’t realize you’ve spent the last minute staring into space. resuming your brushing, with steady hands, but turning your head to meet his gaze.

”need me to…” he makes a slicing motion with his hand, right over his throat. a glint of mischief in his eyes. ”handle it?”

and you scoff. amused, but answering him seriously; unsure if his question is all-together humorous, if it doesn’t carry a hint of something genuine too. ”of course not.”

there’s a weariness in the way you blink. the way you pet the animal in front of you, having finished getting the dirt and blood clots out of her mane. she lays down in her stall, and you smile. turning around to rest your back against the wooden border between you, a respite for your aching bones.

it gets just a little bit tiring, sometimes. fighting, patrolling, helping townsfolk. protecting the castle, making sure everything is in order. killing whatever needs to be killed. cleaning the stained silver of your sword.

but…

”it’s my duty,” you answer, seriously, and it comes out sounding like a vow. because it is.

you avoid his gaze, but you can feel it, as you pick up the wine bottle by your feet and pop the cork. soft moonlight flits in from the windows, illuminating the green glass. a chartreuse glow that reminds you of fireflies, shimmering in your grasp, and for some reason it soothes your heart.

satoru only hums, far from approving. popping a piece of cheese into his mouth.

after a brief pause, he continues. ”you don’t have to be so serious all the time, you know.” his voice comes out a little raspy. it’s got a certain tilt to it, one that means he wants you to take him seriously. ”not around me.”

you take a sip of the wine. expensive, blood red. it’s too sweet for your taste, heavy on your tongue.

”… i’m less serious with you than i am with others.”

satoru sits up a little straighter.

”yeah?” he grins, a kind of satisfaction blooming in his eyes. cerulean and sweet. almost smug, you think, like the cat that got the cream. ”that’s good. you really should loosen up, though.”

a glance. fleeting, just to see him — but he isn’t looking at you. he’s looking outside, through the opened window, at the sway of the apricot trees. white petals flitting in, landing by his feet. in his hair.

when his eyes meet yours, they’re smoothed over by that something you can never put your finger on. a blend between longing and fondness. crinkled at the edges.

”you’ve got a pretty smile,” he exhales. ”be a shame not to show it off.”

when you look at him, really look at him, you see it. that fatigue. it slips out when he talks to you, a sincere way of speaking that never quite allows him to hide his emotions. you hear the hint of a yawn, can practically feel the weight on his shoulders. the weight of an entire nation. a weight he was always bound to carry.

(you could never bring yourself to be even remotely alright with it.)

“have you been doing okay?” you ask, and satoru blinks. there’s a soft look in your eyes, as they trail over the contours of his face, his lashes catching the light of the stars. an innocent, pretty face. but he looks tired. frail. like he hasn’t been sleeping properly.

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

”they’re running you ragged, too,” you say, hand settling on your hip. where your sword usually is. unconsciously, on instinct — or maybe just to make him laugh. ”need me to step in?”

satoru chuckles. husky, mellow. dripping with soft amusement.

”settle down, little knight.”

a moment passes. silent. his eyes flutter shut, for a second, and a breath slips from his lips. almost a sigh. in the distance, you hear the quiet coo of an owl.

”of course,” he eventually answers, opening his eyes. and you think he looks a little resigned. but smiling. self-deprecating, you think, although he’d like you to assume otherwise. ”all of it is just preparation, anyhow.”

a flimsy smile, as he looks into your knowing eyes. ”it’s what i was born for, wasn’t it?”

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time.

“yeah,” he cranes his neck, emitting a low groan. “me neither.” something sweet blossoms in his eyes, sweet like the crunch of the apple he bites into, juice dribbling down his chin. ”but it is what it is.”

a beat. you part your lips, trying to find the right words. ”tell me if there's anything i can do,” you settle on. the same words you always choose. ”anything at all.”

satoru smiles. “right.” his voice carries a teasing tilt; almost a purr. ”there’s nothing you wouldn't do for me, hm?”

“— there isn’t.” you smile. “nothing at all.”

he blinks. a little dazed, for a second, and you watch as his ears redden. slight, enough for you to notice, but gone before you can bring it up. a contemplation smooths over his features. and a pleasant breeze flits in, ruffling his hair, apricot petals kissing up his skin. he looks at the apple in his hands.

then he sighs. placing his palms on his knees, and rising to his feet. his arms twitch, muscular beneath the flimsy blouse, and you gulp. although you aren’t sure why.

“alright, then.” his eyes flicker in the dim light, sharp and decisive. he crosses over to you with long strides. “there is something you can do.”

when he’s close enough, satoru reaches out his hand; opening his palm. a silent beckoning. you look at him, not saying a word. his expression is unreadable.

then you intertwine your fingers with his. unquestioningly, even in the midst of your confusion.

(it reminds you of that day. when he pulled you up to your feet, held your hand in his and refused to let go. leading you to the promise of something better.)

no matter where he goes, you follow.

and satoru grins. it’s sweet, just like back then, a smile so vibrant you wish you could tuck it into your sleeve and keep it there forever. he curls his fingers around yours, gentle, fondness bubbling up inside his eyes. for a second, you think you see the sun.

“come with me.”

at first, you truly aren’t sure where he’s going to take you. hand in hand, you begin to walk, feeling the midnight breeze nip at your skin. beyond the castle walls, away from the hustle and bustle of the nearby town. satoru holds your hand and smiles, tousled tufts of white hair swaying with the wind, leading you to a place you know well. a place where the air tastes like freedom.

it’s the river you used to play by as children.

gleaming a solemn silver under the evanescent moon, framed by bushes of lilacs, blooming indigo and violet and pure white. butterflies flutter about, almost glittering, blue wings settling down on the leaves. the scent of nectar hangs heavy in the air. on top of the hill just above you, you think you can spot tiny little glowing dots; green and yellow, buzzing around. dancing merrily, now that there aren’t any troublemaker children left to trap them.

satoru lets go of your hand, to roll up his sleeves. the hems of his pants. then he’s taking a step forward, dangerously close to the edge of the river, and you can tell what he’s thinking.

“ah — wait —“ you stumble forward, to grab hold of his arm. a worried crease forms between your brows. “that's dangerous, satoru. you could slip and fall.”

he turns to face you, a teasing mirth in his eyes. smirking lightly. “oh? is that so?” he hums, a slight tilt of his head. then he’s stepping closer, so close you feel his warm breath on your skin, but you will yourself not to step back. “wanna know what i think?”

he leans forward, just a little further, warm air brushing against the shell of your ear. flushing beneath it. his voice comes out low, a sleepy lilt, dangerously raspy. hand ghosting over your waist.

”i think you’re too scared to get in.”

you blink.

”… really?” you deadpan, stepping back a tad. satoru looks pleased with himself. awfully amused.

“really,” he purrs. “you were always like that. could barely dip your toes in without shivering.” he reaches out to pinch your cheek, a coo on the tip of his tongue. ”scaredy-cat.”

you raise your brow. unimpressed.

satoru steps back. inching closer to the river, until a quiet splash tells you that he’s standing in the water. lapping up his bare legs, not enough to even reach his knees — it felt a lot scarier when you were smaller. he’s still holding your hand, very loosely, fingertips ghosting your own.

“c’mon,” he coaxes. soft, encouraging, a playful glimmer in his eyes. teeth catching the light of the moon. “or is it too much for my brave knight to handle?”

satoru laughs, when you furrow your brows, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks. a warmth spreads through your chest at the term of endearment, and you bite your lip. melting a little.

his knight. his favourite knight.

“.. fine,” you tangle your fingers in his own. sighing deeply, taking a tentative step forward. “just be careful, okay? i don't want to deal with your whining if you hit your head.”

“ah, but you’d kiss it better, no? if i asked?” he flashes you a honeyed grin, eyes rich with amusement. you hope the darkness of the night is enough to hide the red of your ears.

a grumble buzzes in your throat, locked behind your pursed lips. something in your jaw goes tight.

the man in front of you softens. parting his glossy lips. he says your name; slowly, thoughtfully, as if savouring every syllable. dragging them out, speaking with a lilt that tells you he’s being sincere.

“— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

and it’s odd. how easy it is to get lost in him, the watercolour of his eyes, the brightness of his grin. how pliantly you let him whisk you away. before you know it, you’re playing in the water — because satoru splashed you, laughing at the shock on your face and the shiver of your spine, and you had no choice but to retaliate.

the sound of his laughter fills the air, sweet and bubbly. deep and giddy. strands of hair stick to his wet skin, droplets running down his neck, but his grin never falters. bright and toothy, boyish. he looks younger than you ever remember him being. like there’s no weight on his shoulders, none at all, only soaked fabric weighing him down. a flimsy, see-through blouse.

you think it’s ridiculous. two grown adults, splashing each other like children. but his melodic giggles are contagious, and before you know it, you’re laughing too — and satoru looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. through dewy eyelashes, with cerulean eyes that melt into the pale blue of the moon and the silver of the river. filled with wonder.

a particularly ruthless splash knocks him off balance, and he has the instinct to reach for your arm; stumbling, slipping, dragging you down with him. you land on his chest, cheek against his neck, his pulse against your skin. erratic, joyous. fluttering happily.

his chest is heaving. lifting you up and down, a little, rhythmic and comforting.

a sudden yelp slips past your lips, as you get snapped back into reality, into the realization that you basically just pushed your own prince into a river and used his unfairly soft chest as a cushion. a mumbled string of apologies escapes you, as you attempt to get up, scrambling to find footing.

but satoru wraps his arms around you. tucking you under his chin, keeping you flush against his chest. nice and still.

and then he sighs. a blissful little breath, fatigue seeping out of him. into the air.

“stay like this, for a bit,” he rasps. ”it’s okay.”

his heartbeat resounds in your ear. warm and rapid, like claps of thunder, coaxing you into closing your eyes. satoru has always felt so very safe. the water of the river is cold, seeping through the fabric of your clothing and sticking to your skin, but…

(he’s warm.)

silence. and then, a whisper; frail, slipping past his lips, gently slicing the silence in half. softer than you've ever heard him speak.

“i missed this.”

…

nuzzling into his neck, you breathe him in. he smells like sandalwood and dried roses, buzzing with warmth, heavy arms around your waist. solid. when did he get so big? you used to be taller.

then again — that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?

“… me too.”

“missed you,” he continues, his jaw on top of your head. it’s a sincere confession; childlike in its innocence. “missed hearing you laugh like that. feels like it’s been so long.”

you stay silent. unsure of what to say. satoru continues, and you let his husky voice carry you away, the tremor of his chest running through your entire body. soothing like a lullaby.

”we haven't had much time together, lately. i’ve been worried,” he admits, and something about it strikes you as rather sheepish. a little ashamed. ”it bothers me that i can't be there to watch over you. make sure you're treated with respect, you know.”

a sleepy chuckle. muffled into his shoulder, almost a scoff — slightly exasperated. little droplets cling to his skin, sticking to your lips.

”relax, your majesty,” you tease. ”i promise the other knights aren’t bullying me.”

satoru pouts. you can hear it, when he speaks. ”i’m serious,” he huffs, squeezing you lightly. ”and it’s not them i’m worried about. suguru’s there.”

another scoff threatens to escape your throat. you want to tell him the only knight that should be suspected of bullying you is suguru himself, but before you can even think to part your lips satoru’s beaten you to it.

”they all treat you so carelessly.” there’s something cold to his voice, an irritation tugging at his teeth. oddly seething. ”like you exist to serve them. like you’re disposable.”

a moment passes, heavy with a silence so thick you don’t dare break it. when he speaks again, it’s an order. a demand.

”i want you to tell me if they go too far.”

silence. again. you can do nothing but gnaw at the flesh of your bottom lip.

(he isn’t wrong. but that’s simply what it means to be a knight — half-human, half-weapon. an unattainable ideal, stuffed inside a suit of armor.

when a weapon breaks under the force of a slash, the only choice is to throw it away. that much you know.)

”it’s fine. i’m not that fragile,” you weakly protest, but it’s not enough. satoru huffs.

”you’re a human being,” he reminds you. strangely stern, for once. chastising. ”you deserve to be treated with respect. knight or not. fragile or not.”

a deep inhale. he breathes in, and the rise of his chest carries you with it. his voice buzzes with something, a slumbering kind of fury. one you haven’t heard in years.

“if anyone gives you trouble — if anyone hurts you… if anyone makes you feel unsafe,” he almost spits the words, like they’re venomous, sacrilegious. ”tell me. i’ll destroy them.”

silence. and then, a chuckle.

that’s all you can manage; that one meek little breath. resisting the urge to cower, at the love that clings to every word he speaks. angered affection. a promise, dangerously genuine, like a growing wildfire.

”i can take care of myself, satoru,” you remind him. hoping it’ll soothe him. ”you know that.”

but his grip around you only tightens. gentle, even still. as if you’re made of glass, a firefly cupped in his palms. he lets the silence linger, for a moment.

and then;

“i’d do it, you know.”

a questioning hum. “do what?” you ask, though some part of you already knows.

satoru’s reply is instantaneous. an arrow hitting its target, cold and concise, decisive. frighteningly honest. almost a growl, flattened, a hint of teeth behind his soft lips. ”destroy them. anyone.”

”i’d tear this nation apart if you asked me to.”

…

(ah. that look in his eyes — one you remember well. strung together with blurred memories, the sting of a palm on your cheek, a castle maid you never saw again.)

you search for the words. biting back a gulp, hesitant. “… i wouldn’t.”

“i know.” satoru yawns, breathing you in, voice shifting back into the softness you’re so used to. your shoulders relax. “but i would. if that’s what you wanted.”

and it’s a little scary, the depths of his devotion. but you’re almost certain you’d do the same for him. maybe you're both a little sick in the head, a little too eager to serve your hearts on a silver platter.

“it bothers me, you know.” satoru breaks you out of your thoughts. gentle, a soft lull of his tongue. ”when you get hurt. when you fight for me.”

“i know,” you murmur. you’ve seen it in his eyes, a worry he’s not as good at hiding as he thinks. ”i want to, though.”

“and i want you to be safe.” a chuckle bubbles up in his throat, just a little bit rueful. “you never listen, do you? so stubborn, i swear. always worrying me.”

you bite down on your lip. he sounds… a little sad.

“… sorry.”

a moment’s pause. then he shakes his head; cradling you close. “it’s fine. i’m here. always,” his palm runs down the small of your back. ”in case anything happens.”

he inhales. ”and when i become king —” a beat. he swallows thickly. ”you’ll never have to worry again. no one will be able to touch you.”

”satoru,” you crack a small smile. amused. raising a single eyebrow. ”i’m not worried. i can protect myself.”

”i know. but i’m saying you don’t have to.”

and then he’s pulling back. just a little bit, just enough to see you. cheek smushed against his chest, comfortable and soft, more unguarded than he’s seen you these past few months. it’s enough to get his heart racing.

enough to have him reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your hand, tangling your fingers together. bringing it to his glossy lips. a chaste kiss, brimming with unspoken murmurs of love.

”— i’ll protect you forever,” he vows. ”remember?”

there’s devotion in his eyes. heavy, a vow he’ll never quite be able to voice in full. something that makes the blue of his eyes glow even brighter, cerulean, aquamarine, a blue so jarring it makes your heart beat faster than it should.

you blink. starstruck, caught in a daze, lost within that sea of blue. distracted by his warm breath on your cold skin, the soft whisper voiced against your knuckle. something shy blossoms in your chest, enough to have you averting your gaze.

“... you really don’t care about the dynamic here, do you?” is all you can reply. a meek scoff, a weak attempt at hiding how flustered you are. “i’m the knight. i’m your protector.”

“oh, i know.” a smile sticks to his lips, playful, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. a coo on his tongue. “my little hero. what would i ever do without you?”

a roll of your eyes. satoru chuckles. in the distance, you hear crickets chirping, a breeze rustling the lilac bushes all around you. he’s still cradling your cheek, smoothing over your wet skin, brushing a drop of water away with his thumb. clinging to your bottom eyelash.

“i don't get it, though.”

you blink. when you meet his eyes, satoru looks a little perplexed. muttering under his breath, absently rubbing circles over your cheekbone. you resist the urge to close your eyes again, biting back a blissful sigh.

”a prince shouldn’t care for his knight…” he repeats, like he’s heard the string of words a million times before. ”the idea of that. i don’t understand it. never have.”

the smile that blossoms on his lips is soft, indescribably so, as if he’s looking at the most precious thing in his life. rich and warm, like wine in your veins, nectar on your tongue, a chest pressed against your own. dripping with fondness.

satoru tilts his head, as if in confusion — but he’s smiling. “what’s so strange about wanting to protect the one dearest to my heart?”

…

his hand slips from your skin, a warmth leaving your cheek. only to search for your hand, again, cradling it in his larger palm. placing it right over his chest, against the soaked material of his blouse. ”feel that?”

you do. a rhythmic rise and fall, a soft flutter from the depths of his ribcage. as if it’s itching to break out, out of the cage that binds it, the hardened shell around it. a heart too big for his body.

”it’s you,” satoru whispers. ”all for you.”

a moment passes.

silently, you lean forward; tucking yourself into his neck. into that comforting warmth, wet skin beginning to dry, the steady thrum of his heart right by your ear. you listen. not saying a word, afraid of what might leave the confines of your strangled throat. it feels as if your heart has begun to crawl upwards, sweet honey blocking your airways, and all you can do it feel it pulse.

all while satoru gazes at you, fondly. placing a big palm on the back of your head.

fireflies dance in the distance. butterflies flutter about. strings of lilacs bloom under the glow of the moon. and satoru’s heartbeat never changes, never falls out of tune, a sound you would recognize even if the sky were to shatter, if the world were to end. the sound that saved you, the boy who dragged you out of hell. into his light.

satoru gojo is everything. he’s the beat of your heart, the silver of your sword, the reason you believe in goodness. he’s your prince, your favorite person, and you’ll protect him until your very last breath. until the world runs out of oxygen.

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

(a boy so sweet he wouldn’t want you to.)

a shiver runs down his spine — sudden, a shudder of his bones, and a quiet little sniffle. you feel it, hear it, and don’t attempt to bite back the fond smile that slips into the curve of your lips.

”c’mon,” you beckon, almost a coo, placing your palms on his chest to hoist yourself up. ”let’s go home.”

but satoru shakes his head. and then he traps you again, strong arms around your waist, pressing you against him. you could escape — you’re almost certain you’re stronger — but you don’t quite have the heart to. ”it’s fine,” he huffs. almost a whine. ”stay.”

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

a deep exhale. tumbling from your lips, just a little bit humorous. mostly exasperated. ”that can change,” you mumble, fingertips dancing along his exposed skin. absentmindedly.

a smile. one you can’t see, but you hear it clear as day. he sounds content, like he’s got everything he needs right in front of him. ”some things never change,” he informs you. pleased. ”just look at us.”

and he’s right. so you don’t say anything else.

but your heartbeat quickens, only for a beat or two, and you’re almost certain he feels it. if he does, he opts not to tease you for once, and you’re grateful. and so the silence lingers. as if time has begun to freeze, into an eternal dusk, a string of silent seconds. broken only by low melodic chirping from the faraway fields, his soft breaths in your ear.

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

“hey,” he hums, shifting a little, the river swaying around you. pulling back to meet your gaze, eyes crinkled and voice raspy. “wanna know a secret?”

you raise your head. a dubious look on your face, one that has him breathing out an amused puff of air, like you’re getting ready to hear a bad joke. “... what is it?”

before the words have fully left your throat, he’s resting his forehead against yours — breath fanning over your lips. a pleasant shiver trails down your spine, at the close proximity, goosebumps spreading across your chilled skin. only exacerbated by the whisper that follows, so quiet you almost don’t know if you heard him correctly. childlike in its sincerity. a sunlaced smile woven in between the vowels.

“i think i was born to meet you.”

(a sentiment so sweet you barely even feel the warmth of his lips meeting yours.)

#u both catch a cold the next day <33 #anyway i am normal about the devotion of a loyal knight paired w the devotion of a man who’s only ever loved one single person in his life #shoutout to knight x royalty dynamics for inventing romance #i wanted to get a good balance on prince!gojo’s twisted side and soft side so i hope i did ok!! :’3 #hes a kind man at heart he rly is but i think being born at the peak of the class pyramid does smth to a person lmao #i didn't touch on it in the fic but he would have turned out a lotttt more twisted if he hadnt met reader as a child …#what if i was ur knight..;;; and u were my prince….;;;;; and we changed the trajectory of each other’s lives 😳😳 👉👈#mickey if u see this!!! tysm for letting me write abt this concept i had so much fun!!! this fic is for u <33 #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen

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merakiui · 1 month

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Mafia Lord!Azul forcing Darling to ride him on his lap while in a business meeting with his associates to establish dominance.

👁 👁 dressing you up in an outfit that really only acts as a garnish to your pretty body. It doesn't leave much to the imagination, and Azul knows his associates would never dare lay their filthy hands on you if they value their lives and their business partnerships with him. And even if they did, he'd make quick work of them himself. Or he'd toss them to Jade and Floyd, who will be sure to have lots of fun with this fresh catch.

He has one hand settled on your waist while you bounce up and down in his lap, your soft gasps and moans filling the room. It may be distracting to his associates if they aren't used to this, but those who have done business with Azul long enough know just how much he fancies you. Azul brings you everywhere; you're his arm candy, his caged canary, that sweet singer from the jazz bar he snatched up after he came to own the establishment. <3

You're not allowed to stop until he says so, and if you get too tired he'll simply pin you to the table to continue lazily rutting into you from behind while he discusses business with his associates. Sometimes you make eye contact with them, and you look away quickly to spare them of the disastrous consequences. You learned that the hard way when you held eye contact. Just a few seconds too long and that poor, unfortunate soul met their end in this very room, shot through the skull with such horrifying precision. So now you look anywhere that isn't at his associates.

#twisted chit chat #n/sfw #omg azul threatening everyone else but then turning to you to whisper the sweetest of things in italian #italian ojiisan azul you are so beloved to me orz

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valeriele3 · 1 year

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TWST x Reader who falls into a long sleep randomly once in a while

It was just a normal day in NRC or well..As normal as it can be

Everything is good, life is good, not that stressful

But then, slowly everyone started noticing how the Prefect and their little cat(Grimm) has been missing the entire day..

Panic soon arises in the school grounds and almost everyone in the school looking for their dear prefect(and cat)

A whole day passes with no sign of them..Then a week, a month, and almost 2 months

Everyone is starting to loose hope. What happened to them? Did they get hurt? Are they safe? Did they leave? Are they back to their original world? If so, why didn’t they say goodbye..? Were they really that unimportant to them?

It was another day of looking for prefect. They all decided to search again in the city and the nearby forest with another plan to meet up in the plaza at 8pm to report their findings

The clock strikes 8 and again, no news..But wait, one group is missing. The Adeuce is missing

Then suddenly, they all heard someone scream “Y/N! I FOUND THEM THEYRE DEAD!”

Panic, shock, horror, sadness, and anger is all they feel..They quickly rush to the area where they heard Ace scream

Once there, they find Deuce standing and crying, regret for not being with them in his eyes, Ace crying hysterically while holding onto a “dead” Y/N

——————————————

After everything was set, it was finally time for Y/N’s funeral..Some expressed their sadness and the others tried to hide it to keep up a front and look unbothered

They were just about to bury them when suddenly..The casket is making pounding noises? And someone screaming..Something like “Hello? Where am I?!! Is someone there!”

“Oh I can still hear their voice..” Deuce said sadly

“Same..” Ace replied

“Wait guys— Stop I think the prefect really is alive..!—“ Someone in the crowd said worriedly

The top/cover of the casket gets destroyed by Readers fists and they sit up still a bit sleepy

Everyone is shocked. Did the prefect just come back to life??

After a bit of celebrating and etc they asked Y/N who killed them and the prefect answers with “I was never dead. I was just asleep” they smile brightly

‘Asleep?? What human sleeps for that long?!’ The guys think

“I have this thing that I don’t really know but I randomly fall asleep once in awhile. It only lasts for a few hours or a day if I’m lucky but if it’s severe for some reason it’ll last for a few weeks or months!”

“Oh”

And everyone starts celebrating the return of the prefect again

~The End~

——————————————

“By the way guys..Where’s Grim?”

——————————————

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atlafan · 6 months

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Robert and Beverly Clark have been married for almost four years. For the last five months, they’ve been trying to grow their family, but have been having an unusually difficult time conceiving. Their fertility doctor recommends trying IVF, but Beverly is deathly afraid of needles and is extremely squeamish. As one last natural method to help spare his wife of going through the trauma of IVF, Robert recommends they do something to take their minds off conceiving: a huge backyard renovation. A new patio and an in ground pool! As he does with everything, Robert knows the exact person to take on the job. His old friend and old across the street neighbor, Harry Styles of Styles Landscaping. Harry, who took over the business after his father passed away, is more than happy to do the renovation and offers to do it himself instead of sending his employees over, to save the Clarks a few bucks.

Robert and Beverly are a classic, suburban husband and wife living the “American Dream”, but not everything is always as it seems…

1963, PART ONE, COMING SOON

#1963 #y’all this is unlike anything I’ve ever written #the twists and turns this takes is so fun #can’t wait to share #come send me theories!!!!#harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles x oc #harry styles au

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0bticeo · 3 months

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fuck philosophy. anyway, have a lil snippet of that one alastor wip i mentioned. yes, it's with the journalist!reader.

you’re dancing the night away in the arms of a killer, and you’re on fire. he dips you, low, low, until you almost touch the floor. you feel the path of his eyes down the column of your throat and wonder if he’ll take a bite. he doesn’t. he doesn’t, and you’re almost disappointed when he pulls you up again. almost.

your fingers trail up his forearms, left bare by the rolled up sleeves of his shirt. you watch him shiver as your nail scrape against a jagged scar down his wrist. you bring your lips close to his ear, breath brushing his cheek.

“bad hunt?”

“nothing but an old wound, my dear. nothing to worry about.”

#obticeo writes #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #wip: you twist/i turn/who's the first to burn?

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barbielore · 9 months

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Francie Fairchild was an early member of the Roberts extended family. Marketed as "Barbie's MODern cousin", and being canonically from the UK, she extended the brand to capitalize on a few social trends and widen the appeal.

Francie was also the first character in the Barbie line to be depicted as a person of colour. Before Christie debuted as the first exclusively non-white character in the line, and over a decade before Barbie was depicted as a woman of colour, Francie was produced in both a Caucasian-appearing and African American-appearing doll.

Francie was officially in production from 1966 to 1976, though had a few special editions and anniversary rereleases over the years.

In particular there was a Silkstone release of Francie in 2011, showcasing a variety of different vintage looks.

#francie fairchild #francie doll #barbie #vintage barbie #barbie lore #barbie history #twist n turn barbie #silkstone barbie

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lvminisciel · 2 months

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You are a god, and i am your scales.

not even close to a compliance,

i am but mere scales, flocked around

bits of me will soon fall into the abyss

as you soared with your grace

amidst grayish hue

dutifully, every single being within me

shall worship you with no argue, unquestioning, unyielding.

not even close to an envoy,

i live on day by day

believing that i am covering you, safeguarding, protecting—

even when Your might is greater than all of us combined

i am but a mere mortal devoting my insignificant existence to you,

an omnipotent immortal who shall rule this bountiful land

dutifully i tread my path

whatever appeal you shall i serve

i am more than grateful to be alive within your grasp

please do use me to your heart's desire

a being dedicated to you and only you

if it is death you adore,

my carcass shall be handed to you on a silver platter

if it is life you crave,

then i shall travel between realms

even if it meant trapping my soul in the process

if it is love you yearn

then i repent, my Lord,

for i have none to give

nor do a temporal frame such as i

deserving of such decorum

please forgive my incompetence, your Highness

you may have my skull in exchange, if you wish

#tw // implied gore #tw // implied suicidal tendencies(?)#when i tell u sebek would've gladly sell his soul for his lord #ths man knows no bounds #n hes truly passionate of his loyalty #sebek zigvolt #malleus draconia #twst #twisted wonderland #miè writes ✍️#miè's poems #notice how the 'i' are written in lowercase; whereas any term referring to his Lord begins w/ uppercase?#its cz he deemed himself as a lowlife compared to his Lord the almighty #idk ive always seen sebek yelling out 'humans!!' even if hes half human himself as some form of insecurity of his #bc hes not as great as those of a full-blooded fae #even tho thats not true #alas; hes still a boy. hopefully he'd soon realize that he's just as worthy with the way he is #WHY DOES THIS TURNED INTO ME RAMBLING #miè rambles.. i guess

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dat2ndaccount97 · 10 months

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If it weren't for the fact that it literally says "Twist & Turn" on her sack dress and the bow, you'd have no idea she's supposed to be inspired by 1967 Twist N' Turn Barbie. No Bangs, instead of a mesh top it's a solid white sack dress. and the trim on her fit is red not orange. I know in some photos the orange on the original TNT fit can look a little more red, like the stock photos form the My favorite Barbie Repro Version. But even then it's not this deep of a red.

Look I LOVE Twist N Turn/Mod Era Barbie, it's one of my fave eras of barbie, and i'm totally down for a doll inspired by said era even if it's a playline doll with almost no budget. Playline fashionistas can come out looking really cute (the base doll here I actually quite like). But I just think they botched the execution on her.

#TNT Barbie #Twist N Turn Barbie #Barbie #Barbie 65th anniversary #Barbie Fashionistas #Mod Barbie #Twist N Turn inspired barbie #barbie doll

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loveydovey-leviathan · 1 year

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fights with sebek and talking it out

x gn!reader

warnings: curse words, like 1 small mention of self-hatred, probably ooc sebek :/

Saying that today was not your day would be more than just a major understatement. Everything, both small and big, seemed to be going wrong. You woke up late on top of your desk, having spent the entire night cramming for an important test you completely forgot about, not to mention Grimm didn’t even try to help, so the grade was entirely on you. And while you ran towards the school, you tripped and injured yourself, which also sent Grimm flying across the pavement. Luckily, he wasn’t hurt, but he did talk your ear off for it.

So you arrived to class injured, tired, and your uniform messed up. The professor made you stay back during lunch, which was to be expected, but the thought didn’t do anything to help your mood. And during the rest of the exam, the students stared as they laughed amongst themselves- the magicless prefect once again shows how much they don’t belong.

And so to add several shakes of salt to the already wide-open wound, you were also hungry- having skipped breakfast. At the very least, you packed Grim some extra tuna so he didn’t complain too much. But as you cleaned the class, you accidentally tipped over a beaker. The sound made a loud crash! in the empty schoolroom. It was safe to say your punishment got worse.

As you walked to your next class, you saw your friends for the first time today, and the first thing Ace does is make a comment about your appearance.

“Geez, what happened to you? You look like a mess-,”

“Not today, Ace,” you usually wouldn’t have minded, but it was only halfway through this excruciatingly long and stressful day and you wanted nothing more than for it to be over. To close your eyes and sleep for the next few days, to replenish your energy so you could have enough strength to handle the next pile of bullshit Crowley or someone else will inevitably put you through.

You expected him to keep pushing the topic, but your look may have convinced him to stop his jokes for once. Whatever it was, you were grateful that he read the signs and shut his mouth. And thankfully, so did the rest of the first-year gang. You could tell they were keeping themselves in line for you. Maybe you’d treat them with something when you had the time.

But all the peace your friends had been desperately trying to keep will inevitably come crashing down in the form of green hair, crocodile eyes and a loud mouth. And to make things even more unfortunate, it was the end of the day and the one time you were alone, Grim had gone scampering off to Scarabia (thank the Seven for the crappy cellphone Crowley gave you and the fact that Jamil woke up with a kind heart today). In other words, you were at your wit’s end.

“HUMAN!!”

You take in a deep breath before turning your head, meeting the eyes of Sebek, and before you could tell him that you’ve had a bad day and would really appreciate some peace and quiet-

“Young Master wishes to invite you over to Diasomnia for a group study session! ”

“Sorry Sebek,” you interrupt him with a sigh. You really don’t have the energy to study, let alone walk to another dorm and face the Diasomnia students, glaring at you for daring to even look at their Great Malleus.

“EXCUSE ME?! For someone as great as him to personally extend an invitation to-”

“God, do you ever shut up?!”

The words had tumbled out of your mouth before you could even properly register them in your head, and all that is left is silence as you watch one of your closest friends take in what you said. Your brain refuses to cooperate as you desperately try to get yourself to open your mouth and apologize.

“Sebek, I-”

By the time you manage to gain control of your body, you know it’s too late. You see the exact moment his face hardens, and all he gives you is a nod before he turns around and walks back to his dorm.

Not knowing what to do, you just watch him leave. You figured you would give him some space before you tried apologizing, maybe the time alone wallowing in your own misery and self-hatred would be enough to convince the emotional part of your brain that you had suffered enough, that karma had already been dealt and you wouldn’t feel as bad for hurting him.

But try as you might, you couldn’t get the image of his eyes glistening for just a moment before he walked away out of your head.

…

An entire week had passed since the incident. You had tried approaching him to apologize numerous times, but you were 100% sure that he had been actively avoiding you. Your little gang had tried talking with him to help, but it seemed Sebek had been avoiding them as well. And during the few times they managed to catch up to him, as soon as they brought up your name, he would make some type of excuse and run off.

Sebek Zigvolt. Running away from confrontation.

At this rate, you had half a mind to walk up to his room after school so you could apologize right then and there, where he would have nowhere to go. You wouldn’t, of course, but you were definitely thinking about it.

But it seems like you didn’t have to go to such measures, because when you arrived at Ramshackle Dorm, you saw him standing on your porch.

You quietly tell Grim to go inside and have dinner without you, and for once, he complies with no fight. You watch him go through the little pet door you had installed in case he wanted to get in when you weren’t nearby.

As soon as he was safely inside, you walk up to Sebek, who was staring at you with the hardened expression he’s worn on his face since your confrontation. Lilia must have talked to him and convinced him to confront you directly, for which you're grateful. Sebek looked like he had something to voice out, which was strange since you were the one at fault here.

A large and incredibly awkward silence filled the air as the both of you tried to think of what to say. But you’re the first one to speak.

“Umm… okay,” you take a slightly shaky breath. “I’m uhh- I’m sorry, Sebek,”

He says nothing, so you continue.

“Sorry I lashed out at you. You didn’t do anything wrong, I was just-” you let out a guilty sigh. “I was just really tired that day. It’s not an excuse, but- yeah. I’m sorry,”

It definitely wasn’t the best apology, but you hope that your sincerity came forth.

But still, no response. His eyes were looking at you as intensely as ever, and you don’t know what that means.

“Err.. Sebek?”

“...I’m… having difficulty finding the words to properly express myself,”

“O…kay. Umm..” you try to think of a way to help him, but your mind is blank. “Do you want to sit down?”

He stares at you for a moment before giving a curt nod. You look around and realise you don’t really have anywhere to sit, so you opt for the rickety stairs of the porch, and he soon follows.

The silence stretches on for a long while, but you have no problem waiting. Still, it wouldn’t do to just stare at him as he thinks of ‘how to properly express’ himself, so you distract yourself with your thoughts.

If you didn’t know him as well as you did, you’d think he wouldn’t have taken what you said to heart. He’s always had tough skin (literally and metaphorically), and a comment like that wouldn’t have even made a dent. But you’ve known each other for months now, and while there were still many things that remained a mystery to you when it came to Sebek, you knew he was more sensitive than he let on, especially when said person is dear to him.

Despite everything, your slightly fucked-up head couldn’t help but be glad that this situation practically proved that he saw you as someone to care about.

”Many people have told me that I am too loud and boisterous, but I never pay them any mind,” you quickly recollect your thoughts and focus all your attention on him, and from the tone of his voice and the way he wouldn’t turn to face you, it was evident that this was hard for him to admit.

“My sole duty is to protect the Young Master, so if cowardly people like them want to talk in whispers behind my back, so be it,”

Another pause, like he so desperately wanted to stop there, but nonetheless, he pushed forward.

“So imagine my surprise when I came to the realization that I was hurt by what you had said. I realized that it wasn’t because of your statement, but because you had said them,”

It was easy to say that Sebek had never been this honest with you before, and now he was looking at you with another expression you’d never seen on him, and you didn’t know how to describe it nor how it made you feel. But you could tell this was your time to speak.

“You know I didn’t mean what I said, right? I like it when you talk, I like watching you get passionate and excited, and I like how you’re not afraid to express how you feel. Even to me, even after I hurt you,”.

He’s shocked by that apparently, like he didn’t expect you to say anything even remotely close to what you just said.

And then he quickly turns his head away and coughs into his hand, and after a moment of- what you assume- is him trying to collect himself, he looks at you again, and you can tell from the look in his eyes that everything between the two of you had been resolved. Even if it would take some time to get back to normal with him.

“...Thank you, [ ___ ]”

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merakiui · 9 months

Note

overblot! Riddle nonconning you in front of Ace and Deuce while going on about how this is the only thing a magicless nobody is good for 👍🏼

Omg yes,,,,,,,,

(cw: yandere, gender neutral, nsfw, non-con, humiliation/degradation, public sex)

Amidst a ruined, debris-ridden rose maze, a monster looms. No one dares stray close, lest they find themselves maimed and sent to the grave, and so they can only watch helplessly from the safety of overturned chairs, tables, and uprooted rose trees. The scene was once serene, an almost-perfect Unbirthday. Now it is desolate and bleak, a nightmarish reality that leaves thick, discomforting silence blanketing the grounds.

Riddle casts a grotesquely bone-chilling shadow, and his appearance mirrors that of a creature torn from the pages of a classic horror; that's the only way to describe him: cruel and cold, all sharp, vicious edges and thorns, dripping blot. He's on the verge of a supernova, toeing the line of life and death, a monstrous mage who has reached the consequences of a culmination of excessive magic, spilled over into bitter negativity. The aura that clings to him is, in a word, utterly terrifying.

And you're right there in his shadow, a fragile, caged thing bent down on your hands and knees. Your fingers curl into the grass, tearing clumps. No one dares to speak up, to demand he release you, to fight for your safety and dignity. Hopelessly collared, Ace and Deuce, your closest companions in all of this mess, look on in horror even though they don't mean to.

It's like a tragedy spun right before their eyes. They want to look away, but they can't. It's morbidly ensorcelling.

"Observe!" Riddle's voice booms, commanding absolute obedience and attention. His pallid hips press against your ass while clawed hands dig into your hips, holding you perfectly still. Blood is drawn; it seeps beneath his sharpened nails, leaving painful indents. You feel filthy and fearful, cut down to something small and insignificant and weak. Droplets of blot speckle your backside each time he shifts. It's warm like candle wax, but it doesn't burn.

The betrayal does, though—stains through to your very soul.

You grit your teeth, squeezing your eyes shut in hopes of drifting off elsewhere. Anywhere that isn't here, speared on his cock for all to see, forced into the grass like you're bowing apologetically before the Queen and her card soldiers.

"You lack the key capabilities all mages must possess, and yet you thought it wise to challenge my rules? Here? When my word is law?" He barks out a laugh, sickly amused. Scarlet eyes narrow with disdain. "Perhaps you're as slovenly as you are disobedient. As expected of a disrespectful, magic-less fool who knows nothing! Absolutely nothing of the order I so carefully uphold!"

He pulls back, seething through grit teeth, and snaps his hips forwards. You collapse on shaky arms, gasping in pain.

It hurts more than heartbreak, more than a bruise, more than a slap. Tears spot your lash line, threatening to fall with one more well-aimed, brutal thrust. Spidery fingers dance along your waist, tracing a line towards your neck. He grips your chin and forces you to look upon a crowd of terrified faces, all ogling with bated breath. Ace is watching and so is Deuce, albeit through the cracks in his hands.

"What did you hope to achieve—to prove—by defying me?" he demands, his grip a deadly vise. "That I could be in the wrong? That all I've worked tirelessly for, all that I've done, is wrong?"

"Riddle..." You wince in your futile attempt to pull away. "Riddle, please... I... I'm sorry, but please... You're hurting me..."

He turns your head towards him, eyes ablaze with a furious tempest, and he leans closer, pinning you with startling ease. His cock presses up against your insides, enveloped tightly in your walls, and you shudder through the discomfort and the agony. A single claw traces dangerously close to your jugular.

"Speak up if you have something to say!"

"It hurts!" You gasp again, outright sobbing now. "It hurts! Please..."

"It's a punishment," he sneers, glaring disapprovingly. "It's meant to impart a lesson—one learned through pain. If you understand this, stop sniveling and respond appropriately."

You're not sure which is worse: humiliation at the hands of someone you considered a friendly acquaintance or the fact that, no matter how villainous he may be, you only wish for him to return to himself. You'd never wish this fate on anyone, but maybe it's your too-big heart that makes it impossible to hate him. You don't hate him. You can't.

And perhaps that's the worst part of all this.

You hang your head, defeated and devoid of hope. "Yes, Dorm Leader..."

And so he teaches you and all those who witness the devastating spectacle a lesson neither will ever forget.

Red is passionate and fiery, a reflection of roses and redamancy. But it is not a pleasant color. Not anymore. Not in the aftermath.

Red is the color of Riddle and Heartslabyul and blood and pain and anger. And every time you spy the slowly healing marks from that day, you feel it all over you. Red everywhere, inside and out. Externally, you may heal with all matter of magical cures, but internally it's not an easy fix.

So red is no longer a comfortable color. You wish you could look upon it and admire it for what it is: a color. But that proves impossible, for a color that is so highly revered as pretty does not evoke pretty feelings for you.

#twisted chit chat #n/sfw #yandere twst #tw: noncon #i need to replay book 1 because i often forget just how severe riddle was in the build-up to his overblot #could you imagine being the only female in the dorm and he regularly subjects you to pussy inspections #just to make sure you're not sleeping around with his students.......#ace and deuce are like 'man this dorm SUCKS'#but then you turn to them like 'does your housewarden stick his fingers inside you every day? no? then stop complaining'#they all have it bad at heartslabyul T_T and trey and cater provide no help whatsoever just a semi-sympathetic 'sorry guys :/'#you don't even want to think about what it might be like in another dorm if you transferred ;;;;

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