Deep Abyss

── ⋆⋅🫟⋅⋆ ── 19 | ꜱʜᴇ/ʜᴇʀ

[that-one-fangirl69]

friendly reminder to everyone to reblog (or like) the fic before you read it so you dont lose it forever

(totally not talking from personal experience)

[lemonmoonmochi]

Also side note make sure you don’t forget them or they’ll sit in your likes forever and you forget about them not that I have experience of course (๑•﹏•)

[g0oshtt]

I'm going to give my opinion, and if you don't like it, that's okay, but it's my opinion and it's not going to change.

WARNING!!!!!!

From here on, I will be discussing topics such as pedophilia and sexual abuse, which may be disturbing for some sensitive viewers!

It's extremely problematic to take a character, any character, and make them a pedophile, rapist, or something of that nature, and it doesn't help at all to include trigger warnings And when someone points out how disgusting it is to write that, you simply say "oh, but there are warnings".

I want to make it clear that I'm not referring to smut itself (there are many writers who, thank God, are aware and have two adults performing the act).

I think that when you write anything, you have to start thinking about the audience you want to reach, because that can definitely inspire and motivate them, and it's so obvious.But above all, it's disgusting to scroll through the feed and see something like that; disgusting for whoever writes it and even more so for whoever reads and enjoys it.

This has really caught my attention because how can this type of content continue to circulate as if it were normal?

Again: I'm not referring to those who write smut about other content (such as boyfriends, married couples, friends who like each other, enemies to lovers) and various other plots that don't related to what I mentioned above.

[liahcharms]

knights, come hither!

What could happen if a lovely maiden showed a bit too much of an ankle to the knights in a local tavern? And what if they turn out to be someone much more... important... than simple knights?

part of the Tales, Myths, Romances

pairings: Satosugu x Reader

content/warning: MDNI 18+, Medieval AU, tried to keep the historically accurate speech and some elements, smut with some plot, threesome, pussydrunk, cunnilingus, blow jobs, we're fucking with knights let's gooooo, they are down bad, manhandling, creampie, slight breeding kink, reader is a bit shy, she's also a virgin, we're getting courted!!!, belly bulge, King Arthur and Merlin based story

WC: 5.2k

a/n: Do you know those fics "getting sandwiched between Satoru and Suguru or Toji and Sukuna in a club"? Yeah, so this is my equivalent. Also, a quick note, the term "fair maiden" I'll be using is not related to the reader's skin colour. It simply means a beautiful, virgin, virtuous young lady!

Maiden = young, unmarried girl Wench = A SLUTTTT

art by idk who, help meee

The music rumbled, goblets of honeyed mead trickled down your throat one by one, and braided hair looked quite messy. Not ladylike, not like your mother taught you – definitely not courtly, as you should present yourself.

Ladies like you shouldn't even be in lousy, dirty taverns, with sticky wooden floors and most of the bizarre townsfolk gathering inside to feast and dance.

"Just today," Shoko pledged, while covering your hair with a milky veil. The plan was rather simple – sneak out of home and dance all night, till the first beads of sun peek through the tavern's windows. "Just for this evening, we shall have some fun!"

"What if we get caught?" you whispered, still getting yourself dragged quietly through the back doors of your home.

Shoko was your most cherished friend and a little viper who always put sinful ideas into your head.

Like this one, for instance, to sneak to the local tavern and have some fun, before both of your hands will get ringed by some folks. After becoming wives, you surely would not have time nor permission to enjoy such moments as this one – drinking, dancing, jollying with young men, maybe even stealing a few kisses (dearest, no, you weren't a wench!).

After slinking into the tavern, a mix of sweetish alcohol, jumpy music and loud laughter washed over your body, sending exciting sparks straight to the fingertips.

Oh, how thrilling it was!

To have a drink one after another, with sugary nectar slipping down your chin and blaring music making your heart gallop faster. With folds of pinkish dress rolling up under your embroidered little shoes and droplets of sweat curling under the loose braid. It was anything but ladylike.

However, as you were quick to notice, other ladies acted quite frivolously too. Drunk and jolly, chirping with you and Shoko freely, with the tavern's warm candles licking their reddened cheeks. They laughed cheerfully as if tomorrow would never come, whispering about the knights sitting at the corner table.

"They've been glancing at you all evening, dear," one of them giggled, while you secretly turned your head.

And she was right indeed – two knights, dressed in grain tunics and black trousers, sat at the dimmest corner of the tavern. Goblets of mead untouched, no words slipping in between, but solely dark, cheeky eyes focused on your... dearest!

You quickly corrected the robes of your dress as they accidentally rolled up to the middle of your calf.

"They've been staring at my legs!" you shouted in a whisper, with a blush spreading up to your ears.

"Well, your legs are quite lovely," Shoko giggled, and the other three girls joined her. "Why won't you show them a bit more?"

You quickly looked back, seeing that the knights were still looking your way. But this time, with a sly smirk curving their mouths, while the white-haired one sent you a wink.

Your sheepish eyes went back, looking at the girls with a clear horror. "Oh God, what shall I do?"

"Wait for them to ask you to dance, I guess?" Shoko said, getting another goblet of mead.

"I shan't! My mother would hang me," came out almost cryingly, as you hid your face between hands.

The music changed the tempo, with flutes, lutes and recorders turning the tavern into yet another tale-like bash. More and more townsfolk gathered inside the small, wooden house, dancing jolly with mead and bear flooding from between their goblets.

Another goblet of mead was shovelled between your hands, with golden waves almost whispering your name. Drink us, drink us, and you shall have fun!

Were you drunk already?

"Well, good that your mother is not here then," one girl chirped, resting her plump face on a hand. "I wished the knights looked my way too. You know, I've heard from a few girls in town they're really good in... it!" she gestured, and you once again groaned, hiding face between feverish fingers.

But before you answered, all three girls, together with Shoko, suddenly straightened up, with gentle giggles slipping through their drunken lips. "Oh, dear, um, we shall join you back soon," Shoko winked, taking her goblet. "Let's go, let's go, they need space."

"What–" and soon after, two tall, looming figures walked to your table, with a gentle knock on the wood, forcing you to look up.

"Good day, my lady," the white-haired knight smiled, with a joyful gleam in his eyes. "May we join you?"

The other man smiled, almost as ominously as the first one, with purplish eyes and dark locks giving him a rather girlish look.

With clenched throat, you gave them a shy nod and followed the white hair catching warm hues of the candelight.

"I'm Satoru, my lady," the first one chirped, taking your hand between his fingers. A gentle kiss was placed on your knuckles, with light, ocean eyes tracing the soft bloom spreading over your cheeks. "And that's my companion, Suguru."

Satoru gave your hand over, and soon another long finger clenched it gently, with a wet kiss tracing the knolls on your shivering skin. You introduced yourself quietly, not daring to look at them longer than needed.

As, god help me, you've seen quite a few fellows through the tender days of yours, but never ones of such a beauty. Looking almost like those little angels in the local church, with sharp faces and blooming skin. Eyes rather sly, curved as if entertained by little sips you took of the fresh mead, with plump lips smiling alluringly. They were tall and, dearest, muscular – with biceps tensing under the beige tunic, which, usually loose, material hugged their broad backs warmly.

"Where's the armour, good sirs?" you asked, thinking why the king's knights could allow themself to dwell among the townsfolk in commoner's clothes.

"Why? Wanted to see a bit of silver, my lady?" Satoru hummed.

"Well, I'm quite disappointed. This maiden has never seen a fully armoured knight," you laughed, supporting a hearty face on a chin.

Gaze already a bit hazy, drunken warmth spreading all over your body, kissing, tracing, brushing feverish skin under the tight dress. It covered you almost fully – with ankles and wrists wrapped in a pinkish dress, leaving a little peek on your plush breasts with a thin necklace resting between. The foggy air of the tavern alone was making you wet, and sweet mead, together with those men's attentive eyes, pushed you over the edge!

"A maiden?" Suguru chipped in, seeing your gaze lulling between him and his companion. "You're unmarried, then?"

Sweet giggle tickled their ears. "I am indeed, my good lords," another sip of mead warmed your heart. "Not for long, I'm afraid, as my mother has her foul plans."

"Poor little birdie, aren't you?" Satoru pushed out his pinkish lip, bending a finger to bring in more mead.

"Oh no, good sir, I mustn't! That's enough for–" but before you could finish, another three goblets were placed on your small, wooden table.

Small candles licked their cheeks, as both men laughed and clinked their goblets with yours.

"You shall have some fun, my lady. As this is the last night before marriage, right?" Suguru asked, looking at the way cold alcohol swirled down your chin, dripping right on a bare piece of chest.

"I'm not getting married anytime soon! And it's my first night out... ever, indeed."

Both of them raised eyebrows, hearing your shy confession.

"Ever?" Satoru asked after.

You nodded, swirling a lock of hair around finger.

"Have you ever danced then, my lady?" Suguru continued, but before you could scoff and say that you weren't such a commoner, he added. "With a man."

There was a minute of silence, with nothing but the bard's jolly music jumping in the background and the sticky floor of the tavern trembling under the heavy feet of the dancing townsfolk. Your table was nicely hidden, with nothing but a few candles offering a mellow, tender glow, bathing their faces in dangerously handsome angles.

"I've never..." your throat bobbed, feeling their knees under the table brushing yours. "I've never been with a... man. Nor did anything."

Satoru tilted his head, and a few white strands brushed over his milky forehead. "Anything, my lady? You mean, anything?" The last word rolled with more pressure.

You nodded.

Oh, was it always that hot in this tavern?

"My good sirs, what are you insinuating?" you probed, but both of them said nothing.

Well, only shared a one meaningful look, which made you rather wary, but nevertheless quite... feverish?

As the next second, Satoru took your hand to help you stand up.

"Shall we dance then, my lady? Allow us to give you a bit of joy during this night."

You should say no, of course. You should slip your hand away and thank them for the fine talk before going back to your female friends.

You shouldn't let yourself get dragged between other sweating bodies, but still be far away from the prying eyes of the townsfolk.

You should not allow them to cage you, covering fully with massive backs and fingers tracing the plush of your cheeks.

You should walk out of this tavern the second Satoru's thumb pressed your lower lip, and Suguru slipped behind, with his big hands slowly, slowly, tracing your hips.

"Your dress is quite thick, my lady," he whispered to your ear, with warm breath tickling the lobe. "I must assume you've spent quite a while tying it up," his deep voice slashed through the melodic tunes played by a bard, sending a gallop of shivers through your sweating spine.

Their bodies squeezed yours, lulling you softly to the not-so-calm music. But none of the townsfolk cared about the poor maiden being eaten alive by the king's knights. No one even saw you, probably, considering how dim the place was, with their muscular shoulders wrapping your body tightly.

Satoru's fingers traced the softness of your cheeks, squeezing them with a low groan, while looking closely at the shuddered breath that slipped through.

Suguru's head nuzzled in the crook of our neck, inhaling the sweetish fragrance of your sweat. His arms curled around your waist, pulling your hips closer to his.

A soft cry filled their ears when the mound of your ass brushed against something hard.

Though Holy Church did condemn intimacy of wedlock, yet among the common folk of the town, such deeds during courtship or betrothal were rather cherished. Too common, you could guess, with a few of Shoko's friends being closer to a wench rather than a prudish maiden.

You, however, were neither courted nor betrothed to either of those knights, thus truly shouldn't allow Suguru's fingers to slide down your hips, right between–

"Shush, my lady," Satoru whispered, covering your fallen lips with his thumb. A warmth filled your lower belly when Suguru's fingers circled the dangerously pleasurable spot. And you still wore a full dress, mind you. "You don't want anyone to see you in such a wenched state, hm?"

Your head shook, lips closed with a gasp when Satoru's hips brushed against your front. He, too, was hard and cunning, with ocean eyes following all the changing expressions of your face carefully.

"I cannot," you muttered, trying to push them both away. "I shall wait to be properly courted by my future husb–"

"We can court you, sweet lady," Satoru chirped like a little bird, with a crafty smile curving up his lips. "If you wish, we can even pledge in a betrothal."

Suguru's clothed cock nuzzled against your ass, and, oh may the Virgin Mary watch over me, if he wasn't huge.

A lovely cry rolled through your lips, but Satoru pushed his finger in, placing it right on the drenched tongue. "Good maidens shall follow knights' order, my lady. It's the king's announcement," Satoru whispered, pushing you harder against Suguru's chest.

Your lips unconsciously curled around his milky finger, sucking it gently to strangle another cry. Satoru's brows furrowed, lips fell flat, while Suguru hissed upon feeling your hips brushing against his in harsh waves.

Maybe you were just a wench, after all. A wench and a harlot, who lost her mind for two simple knights.

Or maybe, you were just a woman?

Satoru's eyes suddenly glimmered, with gentle candles smooching his flushed cheeks jolly.

"So now, my sweet maiden, do you wish to be properly courted?"

𓇬 𓇬 𓇬

"Fucking hell," he groaned, trying to undo the strips of your dress.

Pinkish strips curled around your back, tying your waist tightly and pushing the breast out. They changed positions, with Suguru currently drenching your lips in a messy, hungry kiss, with his sweet breath coiling all your senses.

You don't know how, but at some point, the three of you tumbled to one of the tavern's rooms on the upper floor, with Satoru renting it for a whole night. At least they kept their promise to hide you away from the prying eyes of Shoko and other girls.

But she surely knew where you were heading, seeing a piece of your lovely dress going up the stairs!

"Forgive me, my lady. I'm not a patient man," Satoru whispered, and a second later, the back of your dress was ripped apart.

"My lord! This dress–" rolled with a cry, but Suguru quickly shut you up, placing another messy kiss on your swollen lips.

The dress finally hit the wooden floor, and nothing, nothing, could prepare you for the wave of sticky fingers that started to travel around your body.

Wearing nothing but a skimpy, white robe, their fingers strolled feverishly through your skin. You didn't even make it to the bed when Suguru cupped the swell of your ass, lifting you high up. Satoru was right behind you, tracing plush breasts and hard nipples covered by nothing but an almost translucent robe. Your back was glued to his chest, head lulled on his shoulder and thighs wrapped tightly around Suguru's strong hips.

You curled fingers into his raven hair and moaned, feeling his lips tracing the drenched kisses down your neck.

"C-can we, please, my lords, move to the bed?" rolled shyly, but this position was quite uncomfortable and, well, not enough.

Not enough to feel their rigid bodies and hard cocks, trying to brush against your plump skin. They both panted and groaned, feeling your warmth and sheepish moans slipping through, every time Satoru rolled your nipples harder and Suguru sucked harshly on your neck.

"We can do whatever you want, sweet lady," Suguru murmured, and soon your back hit the plush mattress.

And from this position you felt like... a lamb.

Spread almost naked, with wetness dripping down the thighs and pleading eyes staring up at two massive men. Looking down at you with maddened gazes.

You've seen wolves before – howling in the nearby forests and from time to time feasting on a few chickens and cows kept by neighbours.

You've seen the bloody trails left on the ground and the crimson pool of their prey's bowels, spread all over the road.

And now, with two muscular knights, undressing slowly in front of your trembling body, you thought that your fate was no better than that of a simple lamb. Waiting to be either killed by her family or devoured as prey.

"Sweet lady," Suguru murmured, while Satoru climbed behind you. Strong arms curled around your body, slowly, slowly, pulling you against his chest. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

Your throat bobbed. "I'm scared..." slipped quietly, but they still heard your almost silent voice.

Satoru's lips tickled your ear, placing a soft kiss on your lobe. "There's nothing to be scared of, my lady. You know the rules of courtly love, right?" he chuckled, when your head shook. "Well, for example, one of them states that the male lover shall be obedient and inferior to his lady."

Suguru moved to your squeezed thighs, spreading them wide with a gentle push. Plush lips traced wet kisses around your knee, going down, down, making your skin crawl and drenched pussy squeeze around nothing.

Purplish eyes followed every change in expression of your face, while Satoru whispered sweet little pledges, curling his fingers around your nipples.

There was something predatory, but still gentle, in the way they handled you. With rough hands, but velvety touches, skimming your skin in an almost shy manner.

And this... this was making you lose your mind.

It's not as you shouldn't, but simply weren't allowed to be there – a fair maiden with two stranger knights, indulging in the most sinful activities prohibited by the Holy Church.

But your mind was blank and heart heavy, upon feeling the first shy licks of Suguru's tongue near your dripping cunt, and his trembling groan going straight to your folds.

"G-good s-sir–"

"Just Suguru, my sweet lady," he looked up, taking in the sweet mimic of your face. "Call me Suguru."

"W-well then, Suguru–mhmmm," your hips waved, as if seeking more of wet kisses.

One place in particular – fluttering, trembling, drenching the bedding till Suguru looked down at it and inhaled sharply. "Quite impatient, aren't you?"

Satoru giggled, rolling the hem of milky robes up, up, up, finally leaving your soft body bare and feverish. Muscular arms again locked you in a hug, pulling your back to his naked chest.

"And you know, my sweet lady, what else the courtly rules say?" his lips traced down your neck, leaving gentle kisses and wet trails over the skin. You head, once again, shook, rolling a deep chuckle from his throat. "The male lover shall do quests and trials in his lady's name."

Suguru's palms forced your thighs to open even wider, with a heavy gaze stuck to your heat.

Oh, he was already starving!

"Q-quest? What q–ah!" came out in a cry, when his fingers spread your folds open.

"Dearest, Satoru, you should see it yourself," he groaned, taking with two fingers a heavy whip of your creaminess and lifting it up.

Looking at his long fingers covered in your sticky cum seemed so filthy, messy, sinful. It wrapped around his skin firmly, like a spider's web, slowly trickling down the knuckles and palm, till Satoru grabbed his wrist and pulled it closer.

And then– oh, the Sunday prayer will be nothing but shameful.

Seeing Satoru's blushed lips curling around the man's fingers, licking them clean with a low hum, made you cry a bit louder. With warmth bubbling in your lower belly and mouth falling open.

"Mmm, you really are sweet, my lady," Satoru whispered. "Now allow us to fill the first quest in your name," before you asked again, he squeezed your cheeks, lifting the head back, till your gaze met his. "And that is to make you cum, of course."

And from then on, everything went too fast.

Suguru's tongue delved between your folds – licking, slurping, scooping your honeyed cum to fill his mouth even fuller. Hands kept your thighs open, placing gentle circles on their back, as if trying to calm your trembling body.

Satoru took his cock out, smearing the precum all over your back, with fingers still fiddling with your swollen nipples.

The room was hot and steamy – dirty windows already covered by a gentle veil of fog, hiding three sinful bodies away from the lively streets. Warm candles licked the lines of their handsome faces, smooching foreheads veiled in a thin glaze of sweat and lips curving in a smirk, every time another cry slipped through yours.

Nothing but your heavy breaths and Suguru's drenched licks filled the room, with your cunt clenching around his tongue in rhythmic spasms. His lips sucking your clit? Clench. Satoru squeezing your nipples? Clench. Your hand reaching for his dripping cock? Clench.

And when Suguru murmured, let me make it easier for you, sweet lady, your body was suddenly moved on all fours. With hips high in the air and nose deep in milky pubes.

"Are you okay, my lady? In dire need of help?" Satoru chuckled, but his brows furrowed the moment your soft hand wrapped around his cock.

It sat heavy in your palm, with a pretty pink head leaking pearly beads of precum. In size, it was no better than Suguru's, with a slightly curved tip and blueish veins curling around its shaft. You've never seen a man's cock, of course, as such acts were reserved solely for the purest and most obliged maidens, who followed the rules of proper courting.

For long you have thought that such a title could also be bestowed upon you, but... well.

You weren't better than a simple tavern harlot.

His cock jumped when your warm breath hit its head. It smelled rather good, delicious even, but most importantly – manly. And soon your lips curled shyly around the pinkish skin, before taking the shaft deep down the throat.

"Mmm, my lady!" Satoru groaned, tangling his fingers in your dishevelled hair.

You weren't skilful nor talented in sucking cock, but your teary gaze and sloppy, awkward licks somehow made him ever harder. The way your tongue swirled around the leaking head and throat clenched around his shaft pushed him over the edge. Swollen cheeks were sucked in, as if trying to milk him dry.

And when Suguru's tongue again slirped on your drenched hole, you moaned, sending a wave of trembling pleasure through Satoru's body.

"Suguru, fuck, let's change, or I'm going to cum."

"You're really weak, my King," he mumbled, already drunk on the sweetness of your cunt.

King?

You couldn't pry further, because Suguru quickly slipped a single finger in. "My sweet lady, you're so fucking tight."

"I confirm," Satoru growled, pushing his cock further into your clenching throat. "Squeezing me like a good little slut, aren't you? Maiden my ass, let me stuff your cunt full, and we can get betrothed tomorrow morning."

Suguru was slowly stretching you up – curling, thrusting, skimming the quivering walls of your soft pussy. His leaking cock brushed your feet, with soft head mendling between your fingers, soft pads, smearing the precum all over your skin.

It felt immoral. Wicked. Unholy, with two men caressing your body in such a fiery, but gentle manner. With Suguru kneeding the swell of your ass, but at the same time sucking softly on your clit and drenched hole, with creamy juices dripping down his chin. Satoru moved your head faster, with pinkish cock hitting the back of your throat, but also stroking your puffy cheeks in delicate circles.

And when your eyes started to cross, with feet curling in pleasure, they suddenly stopped. Both exchanged a quick, meaningful look before changing positions.

"Hello, sweet lady," Suguru muttered, leaning down and capturing your wobbly lips in a short, sweet kiss. A moan rolled, and he swallowed it with a low hum, squeezing your cheeks, before pulling away. Nothing but a long string of spit hung between the two of you, with his maddened eyes taking in the flushness licking your cheeks. "Care to help me out a bit? Open your pretty lips up."

His fingers traced back the lost strand of your hair, and you nodded into his big palm. His skin wasn't calloused as you expected from a knight, but rather felt your cheek tenderly, with a big thumb spreading your lips apart.

"Good girl," he whispered, smearing sticky precum all over your lips. "Sweet little maiden, you're taking us so well. Sure, you've never been with a man?"

You didn't have a chance to speak when something suddenly poked your entrance. Warm and round, slapping a few times against your drenched cunt, before slowly slipping in.

It felt... terrible.

No... heavenly?

A mix of painful stretch and a shattering pleasure washed over your spine when Satoru's fat cock smooched through your folds.

"Fucking hell," he moaned, throwing milky forehead back. "Suguru, she's never been with anyone. Trust me."

Suguru chuckled, following Satoru and pushing his cock between your fallen lips.

Little tears danced in the corners of your eyes, but he wiped them off with a thumb before licking them clean. "Even your cries are sweet, my lady."

And then, they started working in perfect harmony, as if touched by a spell. Satoru's thrusts were deep, but slow, with his balls clamping gently against your clit, and fingers gripping the fat on your hips. The stretch still burned, but slowly started changing into something else. Something that made your hips push back to meet his and throat clench around Suguru's cock.

"Gripping me so tight, dearest. I managed to pull out the sword, but forget about pulling myself out of your pussy, my lady," Satoru groaned, his shaft smooching your clamping walls with its rolling precum.

Your cunt was moulding around his girth – pulsing, clenching, hugging it warmly, sending shivers down his spine every time the tip kissed your cervix.

You wondered why it was Satoru who fucked you first, but Suguru seemed to read your mind.

"It's for the best," he caressed your wet cheeks, biting down a lip to suppress a deep groan. "Your sweet lady deserves a first time with someone of a higher rank. It'll make things easier in the future."

You ignored the fact that he called your pussy a sweet lady, and furrowed on the second part of the sentence.

But, oh well, couldn't ponder too long, as Satoru started thrusting faster. Meaner, with low groans floating down to your ears and fingers going between your thighs, only to start fiddling with a clit.

He seemed to forget the weight of his body, resting bulging hands on your perked ass. Suguru was no better, thrusting his cock deep down your throat, till milky fog veiled your vision and fingers curled around the bedding.

The last traces of their gentleness seemed to quiver away, with a warmth slowly building inside all three of you. It started spreading fast, coiling tenderly in your lower belly and getting ready to gush out every time Satoru's cock licked your womb.

He was that deep, with a vague bulge pushing out your pouch and stretching the velvety skin.

"My sweet lady, dearest, I'm going to cum soon," he groaned.

You wanted to pull back, scream that he shall not do it inside, anything but inside for the love of god, but Suguru's palms kept your head in place. Nose brushing his pubes, and cheeky eyes glancing down at your wobbly face.

"Don't worry, lady, we'll take care of all the consequences," rolled lovely, but there was nothing sweet in the way his hand clenched around your throat, tracing the pattern of his cock. "We promised to court you properly, after all. And that's what you shall get."

A second later, something burst.

Inside and outside, with Satoru's cum filling your bruised womb in heavy swells, and Suguru flooding your throat, till salty seed tickled your nose. Your clit trembled under Satoru's merciless pads and gushed all over his palm. Waves of pleasure tickled down your spine, legs, and bedding, with their heavy groans smooching your ears. It felt maddening, divine, almost sacred, with breaking currents washing over your body in the bliss you've never felt before.

The whole thing must've really taken hold of you, as your lids soon started to close. In a pleasure, but tiredness too, with all the strength leaving your body at once, till it fell lifeless into Suguru's arms. The last thing you could remember was both of them dancing around you like maids – wiping your drenched body with a wet cloth, changing the sheets, and, finally, cuddling with you on a simple bed, caging your sleeping body between theirs.

And when the sun started to creep through the dirty windows – you finally woke up.

It was still before the first rooster, but the golden rays started to glow over the horizon. Which meant that you didn't have much time before your mother would try to barge into your room.

Which also meant that you would get flogged and hanged on the town square, if you didn't come back home... right that second.

Moving quietly between their sleeping bodies, you quickly put on the dress – or its shredded pieces – and left the tavern.

Parting away with the first and only night marked by such a pleasure and a mix of emotions, that would forever be kept locked away in the deepest chambers of your heart. Saying goodbye to white hair lying messily on the pillow and raven strands tickling your cheek in the morning. Ocean eyes with the slyness of a wild fox, and the violet gaze that washed your heart with serenity. During the night, their skin rubbed against yours lovely, with muscular arms wrapping you warmer, as if trying to shade from the autumn's biting cold.

When you suddenly woke up in the middle of the night, they were still there. And you could trace quietly sharp jaw lines and straight noses. The slightly plump lips and straight brows, bending obediently under your feather touch. They looked so peaceful, filling your chest with a weird, but rather alluring warmth.

You got back home on time, but what about it! Your heart lingered heavily – sometimes stuck in throat, sometimes low in belly. It was flooded with misery, and you cursed Shoko for ever taking you out that night.

If she hasn't done it, your feelings and dignity would still be intact.

But one day, suddenly, a sharp scream spread through the town. Soon, the short melody of a trumpet and the loud clacking of a golden bell hit the open windows, lifting up the curious ears of each and every townfolk.

"Hear ye, hear ye!"

A town crier has come!

You, your mother and two sisters run out of the home, gathering with other people on the square. All the neighbours you've known had come, pushing through the crowd, just to get closer to the man.

A long scroll has been gripped by his fingers, with a tall body hidden under the thick, red coat.

"Hear ye, hear ye, townsfolk!" he shouted again, ringing the bell to amass the attention. "As of this day, the King has decided to make an announcement."

Someone gripped your arm, and a second later, Shoko joined you in a crowd. "What have I missed, my little harlot?"

"Nothing, yet," you murmured, hitting her with an elbow.

"Good folk!" the town crier continued. "A grand wedding shall be held in the Royal court, with a fairest maiden chosen by the King's own hand. 'Tis said she shall ascend the throne of the Kingdom, and bear a royal heir, with dignity and fate. This decree by the monarch's own wise wizard told, should be terminated as of now. With the fairest maiden named..."

And when your name rolled slowly through his lips, the world had stopped.

As never in your wildest dreams would you think that two men who fumbled you a few sunrises ago would be no one but the King and his dearest magician themselves!

I needed a short break from mythology, so I hope you liked it! If someone didn't understand, Satoru and Suguru are presented here as King Arthur and wizard Merlin!

Okay, townsfolk, I shall now start working on those requests (Ares!Toji first!) and Bridget Jones series.

collection taglist: @silverklaus @cherrys-wrld @buttclencher28 @anothergojostan @sirensdairy @waterisntwetanymoreiam @somekindofcelebrity @prome911 @iridescentshine @venussdovess @classycreationlight @bokenessa @sashabearsstuff @gater-grabber96 @venetiandream @luvducks19 @koreluvsspring @moonlight-inthe-sea @hashahasha @mysicnote @sukunasl-ttywh0re @princesstiti14

permanent taglist (Geto tags, because those people also chose fics with Gojo): @mellyrally @1cckedheart @ham-star @indom-itus @satorupied @msheds0519 @a-dizzle777 @man1cslut @naxinomi @getopilleds @shittypunkbarbeque @urgirl-jijiiii @mariaflor873 @wiishies @d34dg1rl101 @disaster-rose @levisotakugf @helenfartsglitter @peachygelic @palanggaaa @sapph22 @magicalpeenpoo @nanadexth @chloesfinalproject @oranges334 @iluvgetosuguru1 @satorussolace @lejit

[liahcharms]

under your spell 🗝

The Victorian-style house looked a bit creepy, but rather cute. Very pinkish. Perfectly serene for your remote job and longing for silence. And everything would be wonderful if not for this little weird doll that looks like you and a small door in the living room, leading to... nowhere? And what about those two guys who lived here sixty years ago?

˖𖦹 ݁˖ pairing: Satosugu x F!Reader

˖𖦹 ݁˖ content/warnigs for this chapter: ꒰ Coraline AU :: reader is a horror writer :: dark and eerie atmosphere :: victorian house :: a weird doll :: appearence of Satoru and Suguru :: they have button eyes :: Satoru is just a housewife :: the eerie well :: small town mystery :: Sukuna is a dickhead :: 7k words ꒱

˖𖦹 ݁˖ notes: Apologies for such a delay! I was busy with life :( I suggest reading the series in the evening!

masterlist ˖𖦹 ݁˖

──── chapter two 🗝

Soft wind bounced off the window and woke you early in the morning. The non-stopping rain painted the old glass in harsh strokes, crystal droplets running down the pink, slippery eaves.

Usually, you would allow gentle smooches of sunshine to wake you from your dreamy slumber. Yet that morning, a light pit-pat-pit-pat tickled your eardrums before the sun had even fully risen. You looked over your shoulder, seeing a thin fog curling in front of your windows, clinging softly to their crying surface.

It might have been the worst summer of your life, with little to no warmth seeping through the light bedsheets you brought with you. The winter one was yet to be bought, and so you wondered whether it was time to make a short trip to the town.

The old car, with scraped midnight paint and a hump that made it look like a beetle, would be brought under your house by tomorrow. And so it meant spending another night squirming under the thin summer sheet, trying to warm yourself with the woollen pyjamas you had fortunately bought.

You looked at the phone – 8:00 am – and groaned, trying to slip back into the dreamy slumber. But whenever you tried, Sukuna's hips slamming into his whore and the latest email from your editor – please tell me you're working on some story – were plaguing your mind like a nightmare.

So you groaned, wiping your face with a hand, before trying to grab the phone from the bedside table. With a sleepiness still sticking to your lashes, it dropped from your fingers, landing under the bed.

"Fuck," you murmured, slipping only the upper half of your body off the mattress to grab it back. But when your eyes fell on the mysterious treasures hiding beneath the bed, a sudden "Oh!" escaped in surprise.

Something sat shyly on the floor.

Hidden in the darkness, a yellow jacket mingled under the foggy flame creeping into your bedroom. You quickly grabbed it and sat back on the bed.

A doll.

Rather soft, filled with a wool of some sort, neatly hidden beneath its tightly sewn skin. Her button eyes, the same colour as yours, looked at you curiously, cheeks painted a peppery red. You brushed her hair, made of soft wool and looked down at the outfit. The same one you wore yesterday, with a yellow raincoat brushing her knees and high boots loose around the calves. A jumper peeked from beneath the jacket, of the same colour as the one currently lying on the chair.

"Why do you look like me, hm?" a soft ask bounced off the doll's eyes, and you tapped on them with your finger. "Where's your owner, sweetie?"

But the doll, of course, didn't say anything. Instead, looked at you with its round irises and pouted lips, as you sighed. The first day in an old Victorian house, and you were already going crazy. Shoko would surely be proud of you.

With no other option, you hugged the doll closer to your chest and, with a light blanket draped over your shoulder, you went downstairs.

The house was eerily quiet, with the squeak of old stairs echoing off the walls hung with portraits and your breathing mingling with the light patter on the centuries-old windows. The woody fragrance still lingered in the living room as you walked past. Your eyes stayed a moment longer on the slightly ajar little doors, as if checking whether the red brick had suddenly disappeared, revealing to you the entrance to the Alice in Wonderland-like realm.

Unfortunately, it was still there.

The kitchen was bathed in darkness when you set the doll on the counter and switched on the lights. Something flickered, something hissed, before the bulb dimmed like a blown-out candle.

"Are you joking?" You groaned, trying to turn the light on again and again.

Hitting the switch madly until the bulb finally came back to life and bathed your kitchen in a faint glow. Well, it's not like you needed full light to eat breakfast.

The fog knocking on your window provided enough glow to let you distinguish the spoons from the forks in the shadowed drawer.

You opened the fridge next, sighing when you saw the meagre groceries you managed to buy yesterday while passing through the town. A few eggs, butter and milk, as you were sure they would last until your car finally arrived.

"What do you think, mini-me?" You asked, peeking your head from behind the fridge doors. "Bread with eggs or eggs with bread?"

For a minute, a few seconds, you wondered whether you had left her in that position. With her head turned your way, gently tilted. Button eyes gazed lovingly, hair brushing her cheeks in an utterly adorable manner. She looked almost curious about your questions, seemingly listening to your soft complaints all this time.

"Bread with eggs it is then," you giggle, closing the door with a thud.

The buttery fragrance swirled over the pan as you cracked two eggs. At the same time, your phone buzzed, lighting the kitchen with a few messages popping one after another.

You peeked at the screen before a deep scowl twisted your forehead.

Dickhead: Where are you? Your mother said you moved the cities.

Dickhead: Can we please talk? I know I was a total asshole, but you can't just cut yourself off after so many years.

Dickhead: Don't block my number or I'll just get the new one.

"Fuck off," you mumbled, peeking towards the doll. Her small head was still facing the fridge, so you turned her towards you. "Mini-me, how about going on a trip today? I've read there's a haunted well somewhere around," her button eyes shimmered under the flickering light bulb, almost as if she wanted to agree.

With a cup of instant coffee and a warm scrambled egg, you sat on the rocking chair waiting on the porch. Rain pattered, plip-plop-plip-plop on the pinky-washed roof, dripping down the bare ground. An earthy, cold smell tried to slip under your thick pyjamas, so you wrapped the blanket more tightly around your shoulders and sat back in the chair.

The fog was slowly falling, unfolding the sad, dark view of the withered garden and big puddles forming beneath the stairs.

You placed the doll on the table, as if she were the only human-like creature you could speak to. But in fact, if someone peeked through your windows, they would see a possessed, lonely woman who spent her days talking to the weird doll and strolling through the forests to find her next concept for a horror story.

The mug warmed your skin, and the coffee burned your throat in an utterly pleasurable way until a soft sigh slipped past your lips. You wondered whether to ask the neighbour about the doll, but Miss Pink and Miss Forcible would surely show other signs of dementia upon seeing a toy that looked just like you.

As for the peculiar neighbour upstairs… he was better off alone.

The rain slowed as the sun peeked out from between the dark clouds. It kissed the drenched windows for a moment before disappearing again, swallowed by the storm swirling over the mystic woods.

After breakfast, you made yourself look half-presentable, changing out of pyjamas into a yellow raincoat and long boots before going outside. The jumper brushed your skin softly, keeping the pinching air from slipping beneath it.

You've never experienced a summer like this one, but the fog tickled your cheeks pleasantly, and a fresh, woody smell swirled in the air, filling your lungs with an earthy taste. Your yellow-booted feet stepped off the porch, immediately sinking into the mud. With a doll in your hand, you started walking towards the woods spreading behind the house.

A hill of sorts loomed over the pinkish eaves, and so you walked up its crooked path, kicking the little stones creeping under your feet. A low melody bounced off the drenched trees, birthing fruits and flowers and simply leaves, with little droplets tap-tap-tapping onto your coat-covered head.

A crow looked high from the branch, coal eyes following your figure jumping over the pools, with hands gripping the lone stick and marking long, writhen paths. Its lone caw-caw-caw tickled your ears, and you smiled under your nose, hugging the mini-you closer to your chest.

The hill ended after fifteen minutes or so, and thus you stood on its top, glancing at the pinkish house hugged by a soft fog. It was slowly, gently falling down, dancing just above the first steps of the porch, as if scared to slip any further.

The well you've read about on some scaryplaces.net and spookyoregon.com should be somewhere here.

On the hill, beneath the old Victorian house, a well was hidden. Where the town's folk and daredevils would slip in silence, disappearing into the hells of the earth itself. It was supposed to be as old as the house, deep in metres unknown.

You looked around the ground, kicking the pebbles and brushing the mud with your dirty, yellow shoes. Mini-you was looking down too, watching the earth with her shimmering, button eyes.

"Where is this cursed well, hm?" You started jumping, and jumping, hearing nothing but the splashing mud. "The site said it should be somewhere he–"

"Jump once again and you will fall right into it."

A strange voice sliced through the air. You didn't understand why, but a shiver ran down your spine as your head shot up. It was rare you felt any dread at all, tempered by all the ghostly and gory stories that slipped from beneath your wicked fingers.

You weren't scared of ghosts, murderers, or spectral creatures of sorts, always more than happy to visit each and every haunted house nearby.

And yet, the sight of a man standing right in front of your eyes tickled your skin in such an unpleasant manner.

"Oh," slipped past your lips as you looked down. The mud indeed covered the large, wooden lid, and you quickly moved to the left. "I haven't noticed it."

The man came closer, with hands tucked into his old trousers and a brown hat resting on sun-kissed hair. His chest was clothed in a woollen jumper, with a white shirt peeking from the cut collar. Straight trousers ended just above his ankles, revealing long white socks and black, elegant shoes, clean of any mud. Sandy hair was slicked slightly back, and chestnut eyes looked down at you with amusement.

He looked as if he'd been plucked straight from the 60s.

"You didn't see a fairy ring here?" His finger pointed at a few mushrooms growing into a circle.

"It seems so, I was distracted," you mumbled shyly, trying to keep the distance between you and the stranger. "Do you know anything about this well?"

He hummed, clasping hands behind his back. "A bit, miss. It is a very wicked creature indeed."

He paced around, brushing the white mushrooms with his shoe, yet not intruding on their peaceful existence. The wooden cover was old, with planks crumbling under the weight of mud itself, and another shiver tickled your spine at the sheer thought of falling into the endless pit.

"A creature?" You asked, one hand poking the planks with a stick, the other gripping the dolly closer. "It's just an old well."

But the man's eyes got lost somewhere on your chest. Or more, somewhere in the deep, button eyes of your new friend, looking up at him with a pouted smile.

His head tilted, and chestnut moved up, to cross with your scaredy stare. "Where did you find her?"

Your fingers curled around the doll a bit tighter. "A present."

"Present?" Something in his voice told you that he knew about your little lie.

Yet you nodded, lying through your teeth. "From the neighbours."

His eyebrows lifted and creamy forehead creased, bending the skin into a single, crooked fold. The gentle rain tapped on hat, shielding his squinted eyes.

"Which neighbours, if I may ask, miss?"

A feeling of doubt bubbled in your chest. Your heart jumped when he took a step closer and bent over the wooden cover. With two hands, he moved it to the side, showing you an endless pit of unfathomable darkness. A musty smell hit your nose, a mixture of long-forgotten secrets and deep waters bubbling somewhere below.

"I don't know where you found it," he sighed, shaking the mud from his hands. "But I would suggest throwing it here."

You froze. Breath hitched, heart suddenly stopped, as you looked at the man whose warm eyes beamed with truth and kindness. But a desperation of sorts, a worry maybe, as he peeked with a furrow at the dolly sitting in your embrace.

"It's just a doll," you laughed, yet his lips stayed flat. "Why would I need to throw her away?"

A minute had passed or so before he sighed and looked towards your pinkish house. "That place is of the most wicked kind. You should stay away from it."

Your ears perked again, in a similar way as yesterday. The little door was a source of utter disappointment, but if the house veiled other secrets unknown, then you were ready to plunge into them all.

"I've just moved there. The main apartment with the porch," you said, pointing somewhere down the hill. "I think this place is rather nice."

"It's cursed," he said harshly, a low tsk slipping past his lips. "You shouldn't be there. No one has been living here since the previous owners disappeared."

And then you remembered about the picture, still warming the back pocket of your jeans. Thank god you wore the same trousers as yesterday!

You put the dolly under your armpit and grabbed the old, crumpled picture.

"Excuse me, sir, do you mean them?" You took a step towards the man and showed him a photo of two young men. "The neighbour ladies told me of them. But maybe, if there's a chance you know something else…"

It was clear he knew them. Quite well at that, as his face suddenly went limp, chestnut eyes bulging like little porcelain plates. Long fingers grabbed the photo, thumb brushing it gently, as if afraid of crumpling it even more.

And then suddenly, his gaze shot towards the well.

A fathomless hole of most peculiar kind, dripping shivers down your fear-kissed spine. You stood outside the fairy ring, two steps away, yet a sinister spell seemed to pull you closer. No creature tugged at your yellow jacket, yet you needed to take another step back, as if afraid the ground between you and the well would crumble.

The man's breath shuddered, and his eyes filled with fear, as if looking at the well brought back memories he long wished to forget. They plagued his mind and ripped his soul, leaving you no choice but to finally ask, "Did they drown here?"

He suddenly looked your way in surprise, as if your very existence had already slipped his mind. "It's impossible to drown in it."

Another wave of dreadful tickling pinched your skin. "But it's a well. It must end somewhere."

The man shook his head, eyes jumping between the picture and the pit.

"Not this one," he whispered before giving you the photo back. "Stay away from it. And stay away from the house. It's not a good place."

You looked over your shoulder, oogling the rosy tiles mingling in the sheepishly peeking rays of sunlight. The dark clouds swirling over the house slowly began to clear, allowing a few golden rays to bounce off the glass-tiled windows.

There was something eerie about this house indeed, but, after all, that was one of the reasons you bought it. And if it truly hid something wicked behind its walls – you wished to be the first to know of it.

"What happened to the previous owners?" You asked, looking over your shoulder.

But the man… was gone.

And so a gasp slipped past your lips. Muffled and shuddered, as you felt the prickling cold finally slip under the warm jumper. Biting your skin till a chill seeped into your bones, forcing another puff from your throat.

You wondered whether your mind was playing tricks on you.

If the man was simply something you had imagined. A spectral creature, maybe, as it would fit the clothes he wore. The flat scent of his body and skin white as snow, looking cold rather than living.

No… he was here.

As the soles of his shoes were still pressed into the squelchy mud and a photograph, ripped in half, lay on the wet ground.

And so another gasp bubbled in your throat as you bent and grabbed two pieces of paper. Teared right in the middle, splitting the two handsome faces.

Oh, what a pity it truly was, and you sighed, pushing the photograph back into your jeans.

As you stood there – alone, with a chill kissing your spine, your eyes dropped towards the well.

Opened, bare, tugging on your curious mind and whispering wickedly. You bit the inside of your cheeks, looking down at your muddy shoes brushing the fairy ring. Small mushrooms stood tall, like a fortress trying to keep you away from the danger.

If the man fell into the well, you would hear it.

Maybe.

Unless the pit had no water indeed, being a sinister portal of sorts, swallowing the lost fools into its unfathomable realm.

"What do you think, mini-me? Should we look inside?"

The dolly looked at you with her round eyes, and with a finger, you helped her shake her little head.

"Yeah, I also think so," you muttered, and kicked the wooden cover towards the well, just to close it safely.

To keep the world here away from it, but more importantly – to lock whatever resided at its bottom.

꩜ ꩜ ꩜

Before you went down from the hill, the sky had closed over the house once again. The bits and snippets of warmish rays of sunshine were long gone, drawing another wave of pattering rain from the sky.

The crystal beads dripped from your yellow hood, wetting the dolly's raincoat too.

As you neared the house, you noticed the neighbour from upstairs grabbing a few packages lying under your door. Not only a lunatic, but also a thief!

"Hey!" You shouted, pointing at him with your stick. "Old man, why are you stealing my stuff?"

He looked over his shoulder, dressed in a tattered bathrobe and a white, dirty shirt peeking from beneath it. The same maniacal look painted his face as he squinted his eyes as if it was the first time he saw you.

"That's not your package, miss," He muttered, straightening up. "Here, smell it."

He stretched his hand; a white, neatly packed roundish thing was right under your nose as you took a deep breath.

"Yuck!" you pushed it away, clipping your nostril with fingers. "What is that?"

"A radish, little miss. Good for your health." He pushed one of the small packages into your hands. "Here, take it. You look sick-like, this weather does not do you good."

Your eyes fixed on the smelly package, and you wondered whether its smell would fill every corner of your house. Maybe you could drop it by his house in the evening and politely return.

The neighbour yawned, scratching himself on the chest. He smelt of pungent cheese, so you stepped back, trying to keep yourself away from the funky odour. Was it for his imagined mice?

"Right," he suddenly leaned closer. Long moustache reminding you of kitten whiskers, old robe sniffing of something musty. "The mice say you are a foolish little lady."

Your eyes twinkled like two lanterns, and your head tilted. The dolly in your embrace felt a bit heavier, so you pressed it closer to your chest. "Why is that?"

He looked over his shoulder, visibly uneasy, standing on your porch. His eyes traced the large windows still hugged by fog before he moved even closer. You held your breath, the odour of radish and cheese wrapping around your wet face.

"They say you shouldn't open the little door."

You scoffed. Not this lunatic talk again!

"But there's nothing on the other side. Just a brick wall separating my apartment from the neighbours."

No one lived on the other side, so you thought it was still for sale. But you didn't dare knock on the empty door to see if anyone was there. Was the scratching you heard that night only in your dreams, or was it something coming straight from the house?

The man sighed as he had yesterday and simply stretched. "The mice say, eat radish to not attract demons. Sometimes they are a bit crazy, but they're never wrong," he repeated. "Eat the radish, little lady, and close the door."

Before you could say anything back, he ruffled your hair with his big palm and went towards the stairs.

"I think they meant garlic," you shot behind him, watching the tall men climb up the steps.

"What did you say?"

You sighed deeply. "The demons are scared of garlic."

He looked at you for a second, twirling a thin moustache between his fingers. "Right, little lady. So the mice are wrong."

He took another step, and another, murmuring under his nose the mice are wrong, they were wrong, before you could only hear the thump of his closed door.

Your eyes peeked at the dolly. "Oh, mini-me, we're surrounded by the crazy people."

A growl came from your belly as you entered the house. But your fridge was beaming with emptiness, and a single packet of instant noodles was hidden somewhere in your luggage. You cooked it with a single egg that was still waiting for its turn on the cold fridge shelf, and sat at the little table in the kitchen.

Laptop right in front of you, with the word opened on the new blank page.

The cursor was blinking, click-click-click, as you started writing whatever slipped into your mind. But it was nothing, truly, only some eerie thoughts swirling over your head like a big, stormy cloud, tapping your fingers onto the keys to put a few coherent, but more likely incoherent, words.

Something about the little town mystery. A haunted house, a weird little dolly, with the round buttons constantly fixed on your face. About the unusually cold summer this year and the need to wear scratchy Christmas sweaters and yellow wellingtons that were a bit too big and squelched in the mud.

You didn't know who the main character would be yet. But the atmosphere of the house and the dolly's tilting head made you think of a little girl who would surely love it much more than you did. And the way she would have a hard time connecting with the weird neighbours – adults, who always seemed quite difficult to understand when you were a child yourself.

It was late evening when you finished scribbling the first two pages. Messy and silly, but a sort of pride swelled your heart and a gentle patter of the rain made you believe that this story could work. Something much different from the things you usually wrote. Without the gore and erotica, but rather reminding you of the Lovecraftian stories and macabre poetry by Edgar Allan Poe.

And so you saved a few silly pages as a PDF and sent your editor an email titled: a horror for children – what do we think?

"Well, mini-me, how about we take a ba–"

But the mini-you was nowhere to be found. She suddenly disappeared from the kitchen counter where you had sat her, between the shelf of spices and the slightly stale bread. There was nothing left but a small pool of rain where her yellow coat had been.

You furrowed, looking around the kitchen. Whenever you had a new idea, you would immerse yourself fully in the new world you were trying to build. And so you would forget to eat and drink, sometimes even to live – the world spun around, and you sat by your desk, focused on the blinking cursor. Sometimes you would unconsciously stand up and do something, only to forget about it a minute later.

And so you thought the same thing happened to the mini-you. You moved here somewhere without giving it much thought, only to forget where the poor dolly was waiting for you.

The darkness slipped into the house, casting shadows over the crimson carpets as you walked in fuzzy socks. The old chandelier gleamed weakly with yellow light, looming over you as you walked through the long corridors.

"Mini-me, where are you?" You hummed, opening the bathroom.

Tile walls silently shone, and the rain still tapped on the little window over the bathtub.

You checked the bedroom, the upstairs bathroom, and the kitchen once again before finally slipping into the living room. And when you thought she wasn't there either, the gentle flickering of the fireplace bounced off the button-shaped eyes.

Lying on the floor, slipping into the slightly opened little door.

"What are you doing here?" You giggled, but an unsettling feeling clenched your heart.

The dolly lay half-hidden behind the doors, button eyes the colour of your irises pulling you closer with unimaginable force. You leaned closer, then bent and grabbed it from the floor.

"There's nothing in there, stop sniffin–"

But then, suddenly, something caught your eye.

A light of some sort – warm and bubbly, slipping through the crack of the small door.

You blinked, once, twice, glancing between the dolly and the door.

With your foot, you pushed it open and gasped.

The brick wall was there no more; instead, glowing bluish circles stretched deep into the house, with cocoon-like walls forming a long, mystifying passageway. Your knees hit the carpet as you peeked inside and touched the soft structure of the tunnel. A deep, delicious smell filled the inside, a roast of some sort that made your stomach turn and squeeze in crying hunger.

Just in case, your fingers pinched your forearm, but aside from the soft "Auch" that slipped quietly past your lips, nothing in the room changed. The fireplace crackled with a soft pop-pop-pop, and rain pattered onto the large windows. Mini-you sat on the floor, leaning against the wall with a pouted smile. Button eyes watched your breath drop in a shudder, as you bit the inside of your cheek.

The mice say you are a foolish little lady, suddenly slipped into your mind. They say you shouldn't open the little door.

Did it also mean you shouldn't walk into whatever was on the other side?

Certainly, and yet you made the initial move by crawling into the tunnel. The rings glinted softly beneath your fingertips, blending and shimmering with gentle hues – from purple and pink to blue and black. Each time your hand or knee made contact, the material exploded with colour, as though each step left a magical, purple imprint.

When you got to the middle, a low, sweet hum slipped past the slightly opened door waiting on the other side. The luscious smell was getting stronger, watering your mouth after a whole day of eating nothing but stale bread and instant soups.

Finally, with a gentle push, the door opened.

Letting you right into… your living room?

"Oh," you mumbled, crawling from the tunnel.

The room looked quite the same, with the deep red sofa sitting calmly in front of the crackling fireplace. The darkness cast shadows over the Persian-style carpets, but you noticed the lack of tapering rain.

The house, instead, was filled with warmth, this mouthwatering smell, and someone's hum. Melody that curled around your earlobes with smooching kisses, as you slowly, with a fast beating heart, walked towards the kitchen.

Your nose following the smell, eyes looking around the house, which seemed the same and yet so different. A bit warmer, cleaner, decorated here and there with flowers and crocheted blankets that hugged the sofa and flower pots. Everything was much more colourful, and so you felt a sudden shiver drip down your spine.

Because it was certainly not your house.

And a man sweeping around the kitchen was certainly not your guest.

He stood tall, a pink apron curling around his lean waist, his wide shoulders clad in a light jumper. From behind, you could only notice milky hair, falling short over his creamy neck.

You stood in the doorway, fiddling with the hem of your jumper. A second passed, then a minute, before the man looked over his shoulder with a beaming smile.

"Oh, sweetheart, you're already here? The roast is almost ready," He giggled, cleaning his hands with a small towel.

The breath caught in your throat. Eyes bulged, and lips fell open, as you saw the same man who plagued your dreams and raised questions beneath your tightened chest. The same man who was in the photograph, with a half-covered face and cheerful eyes mingling like little stars.

But this time, they didn't shine as bright.

Because instead of irises, light blue buttons neatly settled in his sockets. Reminding you of a sea, carrying a sense of freshness, wrapping around your warmed face like a gentle breeze.

"Who are you?" you mumbled, almost shy, and ogled his handsome, angelic face, brimming with a smile.

His head tilted, with a few strands of milky hair brushing the soft forehead. "I'm your neighbour, sweetheart."

"No, that's my house."

A low hum slipped past his lips. "Well, if we want to fight over the ownership, that is, in fact, my house. At least in this world, hm?" He peeked inside the oven, letting the delicious, roasty smell fill the warm kitchen. "Sweetheart, can you please call Suguru? He's up to his elbows in the garden."

"But the garden is withered…" You mumbled, still not daring to come inside the kitchen.

As if afraid that passing the doorway would force you to accept the delirious yet bewitching reality you somehow entered.

Was it a dream? Did you fall asleep while writing again?

Or was the man, with button eyes and a low melody filling the lusciously smelling kitchen, truly real?

Before you'd noticed it, he came closer. And closer, closer, before his long fingers flicked your forehead. A soft "auch" slipped past your lips, and when they opened, he quickly pressed his finger onto your tongue.

At first, you wanted to bite it.

But then heavenly sweetness spilt all over your taste buds and eyes twinkled.

"Not too sweet?" He asked, and the fact that he slipped the same fingers into his lips didn't go unnoticed by your flushed cheeks.

"It's delicious."

He hummed, nodding his head. "Go and tell him the dinner's ready. I know you're starving, so the sooner you go, the better."

You didn't ask him how he knew that. Instead, pressed your palm to the reddened forehead and went outside, towards the garden.

And when your feet stepped from the porch, a loud, surprised gasp once again escaped your throat. The night never looked as beautiful as then, with the dark sky peppered with mingling stars and a large moon, bending and curving as if touched by a wicked spell. It shone almost unnaturally, with a yellow, tale-like light, casting long shadows over the big, lush garden.

The warm illumination hit your cheeks, giggly, as you passed the rusty entrance to the garden and ogled the magical view unfolding right before your eyes. With lanterns hanging heavily off the fruit trees and clean cobblestones leading you further towards the bridge passing over the shallow creek. The flowers were there and birdies and bugs, with bees landing softly on the sweet petals, zzz-bzz-bzz, and drinking the nectar dripping down the watered ground.

There was something utterly enchanting about this place, rather mystical, as the flowery scent smooched your warmed skin, tugging unconsciously on your lips. A giggle slipped past when a little butterfly sat on your stretched finger, its purplish wings flapping with the gentle wind.

And when you crossed the bridge, you saw a man kneeling over the freshly dug earth. His long, raven hair was pinned up in a bun, a few locks falling over his sweating forehead. He hummed a melody of sorts, soft and kind, drawing the little birdies' attention as they sat by him and listened with lidded eyes.

"Um…" you started, swinging on your feet. "The man inside said the dinner's ready."

He glanced over his shoulder and, as you too expected, looked at you with little button-shaped irises. But his were misty purple, deep and mingling, catching the warm flicker of the lanterns.

"Oh, darling, you're early. I still haven't finished planting your flowers," he chuckled and stood up.

You stepped back, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by his height. He seemed as tall as the man back in the house, and yet there was something utterly intimidating about the way he looked at you from above. In a slightly less striking and cheerful way, but with a soft smile tugging on his lips and button eyes staring blankly into your face.

"I didn't know someone else lived in this house," fell awkwardly, as you looked behind him at the few planted flowers. They indeed looked like your most lovely ones. "The little door was bricked."

Suguru chuckled, wiping his hands on the muddy trousers. "I told Satoru to open it a bit later, but he was set on preparing your favourite roast." He left the gardening gloves on the ground before showing you the way to the exit. "And the cake too. I hope you're hungry. He's been cooking all day."

Walking arm in arm, you peeked at Suguru's wickedly beautiful face. His straight, raven eyebrows sat neatly over the purple buttons and sharp jaw, smooth yet slightly dirtied with the mud. Raven locks seemed soft, almost silky, and you needed to curl your hand into a fist so as not to brush a few strands behind his ear.

You didn't need to answer as the sudden growl in your belly was enough to push a soft chuckle past Suguru's lips.

When you walked back into the kitchen, everything was already set.

The table was filled with foaming meats and fruits, a bottle of red wine with three glasses stood in the middle, and Satoru was quickly pushing the strawberry-cream cake to the fridge.

"Please sit down, sweethearts," he said, pulling your chair.

You nodded, sitting down on the soft, cushioned seat. Much more comfortable than the ones you had in your house.

"The weather's pretty fine today, isn't it?" Satoru hummed while putting a piece of warm, honeyed-glazed meat on your plate. With mashed potatoes, vegetables, coating everything in gravy.

The portion was large, but your hunger was even greater, so your fingers gripped the chair's edge in excitement.

"It rained a little, but I almost finished everything," Suguru answered, placing a glass of red wine in front of your plate. "Darling, how was your day?"

Two pairs of button eyes turned to you with a mingled look, and suddenly you felt small. Overwhelmed by the warmth and kindness filling this house, and by the way they turned such simple things, like dinner, into something lovely. It was the same house you lived in, yet it carried a homey cosiness that let your shoulders to roll back and lips lift into a shy smile.

"It was fine. I finally started writing my new book."

Satoru gasped, taking a sip of wine. "What is it about?"

Suguru hummed, also wishing to know more.

The cutlery clicked as you pushed it down and you cleaned your palate with a sip of wine. It dripped down your throat, coating it in a sweet glaze.

"Well, I just finished the first draft. Nothing special, just a children's book," a lie fell from your lips almost naturally.

They didn't have to know that you took inspiration from their eerie house and decided to present it as an unfathomable, wicked spirit. And that whatever, whoever, they were, would surely slip into the furthest pages of your book.

"Talking about children," Suguru chuckled. "Did you like your present?"

Your head tilted, eyes jumped between one and another. "What present?"

The soft crackling of the fireplace coming from the living room tickled your ears.

"The doll, of course," Satoru said, propping his chin on his hand. "Suguru made it especially for you."

The charm of his voice made your head spin, and a surprised gasp escaped your throat. "Ah, she's lovely! Thank you so much, um…" You bit the inside of your cheek. Feeling their blank, soulless button stares felt rather uneasy. "You didn't have to. The dinner too."

Satoru waved his hand. "Oh please, why won't you just join us for dinner every day?"

You took it as a joke, and thus a lovely laugh fell past your lips. But it, in fact, was no fool at all, and so both of their handsome faces looked up from their plates, staring at you with an empty look.

"Satoru is right, darling. We would love to have dinner with you."

And the truth was, you didn't have anything against it. Rather, you felt a mysterious pull towards the two men living in the otherworldly part of your house. The curiosity that killed the cat the moment you slipped through the small door.

You knew, felt, that there was something utterly wicked about it all. Their faces, without a wrinkle, as if they were still in their youth. No more than late twenties, surely, with cheeks smooth and a jaws sharp, as they chatted with you throughout the whole dinner.

A while passed before you untangled yourself from their soft requests to stay. To see the garden, look around the house, get another slice of cake. Satoru joked a lot, while Suguru stayed mostly quiet, simply adding a few questions here and there.

They were kind, almost gentlemanly, and a joyous laugh bubbled in your throat whenever Satoru rolled out another joke, and Suguru shook his head with a sigh. It took a while to get used to their eyes, but after a few glasses of wine, you stopped avoiding their gaze.

And looked instead. Observed the movement of their brows, the bloom coating the smiling cheeks, long lashes casting shadows over the buttoned eyes. At first, you thought it looked similar to contact lenses. But after peering closer, you noticed that those were just their eyeballs – dark like midnight, with big buttons covering them completely. Almost as if they had dug up the previous ones, and–

"You can also stay the night?" He suggested, giving you a slice of cake after dinner.

His finger wiped off the cream from the knife and extended towards your lips. With a quick, uncertain glance at his bluish buttons, you licked it clean, immediately feeling another wave of pleasant sweetness drip down your spine.

"I don't want to sorn…"

"Sweetheart, you're more than welcome to spend your days here."

You wriggled on a soft chair, digging uncomfortably into a cake. "Truly, I cannot. I have work too, and need to visit the town…"

"But–"

This time, a low, shuddering voice echoed off the wooden kitchen floor. "Satoru."

It sounded tenderly, yet laced with admonishment too. As if Suguru tried to suggest gently, not to push you any further.

Satoru's lips fell into line before he glanced at the man with the blank expression.

The stillness stretched like a wicked thread as you bit silently into the strawberry cake.

"Right, apologies, sweetheart," he said after a minute, cracking a soft smile. "I forgot that we have all the time in the world."

Instead of saying anything, you simply nodded and hummed sweetly.

They seemed so different, like sun and moon, yet made of the same matter. Their lives were linked in some obscure way, with the past completely unknown and any questions you had about their lives left to blur into the air like fog.

You knew that the moment your feet would land back on your side of the house, they would lead you straight to the laptop.

The search engine opened as you tapped any possible keywords that would show anything about the mysterious men living on the other side of your house.

In a completely different world, where your garden blushed like blooming roses and the moon lurked over your cheeks warmed by the sweetness of red wine.

This evening felt comforting, almost intoxicating, with your belly stuffed full and gentle dizziness already lulling you to slumber.

But you couldn't find anything online. Nothing related to the old secret of the pinkish Victorian house. Nothing about the two young owners, who supposedly disappeared into thin air.

As if nothing ever happened here, in what you simply couldn't believe.

You sighed, scratching your itching palm. A rash of sorts was slowly spreading around it, and a tsk fell past your lips, as you remembered that you didn't have any ointment. That's what you get for grabbing the dirty, muddy sticks.

Rain still pattered on the windows, as if this world and the one behind the doors were of two completly different universes.

The tingling on your spine felt like a bad omen, but the last drops of sweet cream spreading all over your tongue reminded you of the well-spent evening.

The dolly sat by the closed doors, looking at you with the same pouted smile. But also mischievous of sorts, as if unsatisfied that right after coming back here, you immediately locked the door shut.

With the key sitting deep in your jeans pocket and your mind pulsing with the overwhelming experience.

One thing, however, was clear.

You would go back to that house again.

And uncover whatever wicked secret both men tried to hide for the past hundred years.

©liahcharms all rights reserved. Do not copy, plagiarise, feed AI, translate or modify my works.

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[liahcharms]

under your spell 🗝

The Victorian-style house looked a bit creepy, but rather cute. Very pinkish. Perfectly serene for your remote job and longing for silence. And everything would be wonderful if not for this little weird doll that looks like you and a small door in the living room, leading to... nowhere? And what about those two guys who lived here sixty years ago?

˖𖦹 ݁˖ pairing: Satosugu x F!Reader

˖𖦹 ݁˖ content/warnigs for this chapter: ꒰ Coraline AU :: reader is a horror writer :: dark and eerie atmosphere :: victorian house :: mentions of Sukuna :: Shoko is ofc our friend :: weird neighbours :: introduction of Satoru and Suguru :: mentions of cheating :: small town mystery :: 5.4k words ꒱

˖𖦹 ݁˖ notes: Happy summerween everyone! Omg, so excited! I hope you'll enjoy it <3 I decided to post it a day earlier, since I planned to publish a full summerween collection tomorrow.

masterlist ˖𖦹 ݁˖

──── chapter one 🗝

The woodsy smell slipped into your car through the slightly open window. Heavy droplets of rain tapped on the glass as Shoko took another turn along the forest road. It was the middle of the day, yet the darkness spilt over the crying sky, raising a gentle fog that hid the winding road ahead.

It was the beginning of summer, yet the sky ripped apart the moment you entered your new city. The deep, dark forest loomed over the little houses, bending and curving into wicked shapes, and you couldn't count how many times Shoko cursed under her breath when the thin branches scratched her window.

Passing the little town centre, you turned deeper into the woods. The GPS was going crazy, yet there was only one road leading to your new house. After a while, with rain pattering on your foggy window, a tall building finally loomed among the ghastly trees.

"Pink Palace Apartments," Shoko read the wooden sign hanging in front of the house, before letting out a giggle. "It really is pink."

You looked up and saw an old Victorian house painted pastel pink. The wooden planks looked as if they had been freshly repainted, with white decorative elements curling like flowers on the porch and around the windowsills. Your gaze immediately fell on the two turrets with pointed metal roofs.

Long stairs twisted near the porch, leading to another section of the house occupied by a neighbour. On the opposite side, you've spotted stairs descending to the basement – likely belonging to other neighbours.

A dark forest spread behind the house, and in front – a little, withered garden waited for someone to put a bit of work into making the flowers bloom again. It seemed no one had cared for it for a long time, and something tugged at your heart.

Maybe it was time to get back into your long-forgotten passion for gardening?

"Pretty," you whispered, slowly opening the passenger’s door. 

"Rather creepy," Shoko snorted, glancing over her shoulder at the moving truck carrying all your belongings. "But I guess it suits a freak like you."

You laughed, slipping under her big umbrella and heading towards the porch. "Not everyone who writes horror is a freak," you murmured, wiping your muddy shoes on the welcome mat, which seemed as old as the house itself. Cute.

"No, but everyone who moves to the place in the middle of the forest and without any signal..." She looked at her phone. "...only to move into a haunted house, certainly is."

"It’s not haunted!" You giggled, opening the white, wooden door. "Oh!"

The inside was as beautiful as you expected. Warmth spilled over the old desks and dark walls, giving the interior an antique soul. The Persian-style carpet under your feet looked as if freshly washed, drawing you towards the centre of the house. Long, dark stairs led to the second floor, while two corridors welcomed you further inside.

Shoko followed you into the kitchen – old and slightly rusty, with rain tapping against the large windows. You hurried to explore other rooms – the living room, a small basement that Shoko refused to enter, and a cosy office with beautiful mosaic windows overlooking the garden. Eventually, your feet carried you upstairs.

The big bedroom, with a baldachin bed and a wide windowsill, seemed an ideal spot for reading in the evening. Shoko grimaced at the old, flowery tapestry covering the walls and the crimson carpet on the floor. 

"Has no one redecorated this house since the nineteenth century?" she murmured, and then her eyes fell on the bedside table. "Oh my gosh, is that a paraffin lamp? Are you kidding me?"

Your eyes fell on the little, yellow lamp and twinkled like little stars. It was indeed a paraffin lamp, and you would surely check whether it was still working.

"Oh, come on, it has a soul!" You tapped your finger against a crying window before turning back to sighing Shoko. "I love it. Just imagine how beautiful it’ll be when the garden blooms again."

Your friend walked to your side, looking out the window. The sky was torn apart over the withered trees and flowers, but she had to admit it indeed had potential. With just a bit of care and patience, the whole place could be turned into a fine summer house, with her and Utahime coming over for the weekends.

"I saw a lake nearby. I guess… we could have a BBQ or something," she muttered, and you bounced on your feet with a squeak. 

Your arms wrapped around her shoulders, and cheek nuzzled against hers. "I told you! I’ll make sure you love this place. And since Utahime also likes gardening, just bring her over at the weekend."

The moving company brought all your things inside, and when you went downstairs, heavy boxes loomed like wicked trees over the living room. The old crimson sofa seemed a bit dusty, so you both sat on a carpet and began to unpack slowly. 

Wind and rain hit the windows, letting the faint tap-tap-tap fill the house. After an hour, you ordered a pizza and stuffed yourself, enjoying the dark, rainy day from the porch. The air smelt earthy, tickling your skin with a gentle chill. A light jumper warmed your goose-bumped arms, and you laughed, thinking how delirious the weather was. 

"So does it look like the place to give you an idea for another story?" Shoko asked, taking another slice. 

A low hum slipped past your lips as the crispness wrapped around your nostrils. "I can already sense another best-selling murder in a little, eerie town. Or a haunted house, maybe?"

She giggled, nodding slowly. "A haunted house would work," she said, her eyes looking up the long stairs to the attic. "I guess you can ask neighbours about any freaky accidents. Aren’t they like a hundred years old?"

"I don’t know, the listing only mentioned that they’re quiet."

"So maybe they’re dead."

A low tsk escaped your lips, and Shoko chuckled. "I’m just joking. But if they really have been living that long, you should ask them some questions." She wrapped a loose jumper around her arms a bit tighter as a chill wind smooched her cheeks. "This place is so fucking old I wouldn’t be surprised if someone had been murdered here."

A minute of comfortable silence stretched between you before Shoko turned your way, a slight frown on her forehead. "I’m serious. This place was crazy cheap, so what if someone died here? In, you know, the most wicked and horrible way."

Shivers washed over your spine at the sheer thought of someone dying in the same living room where you had just unpacked your things. But at the same time, something exciting bubbled in your belly. Something telling you that the writer’s block that had haunted you for the past few months would finally dissolve into thin air.

That, after all, was the whole point of moving hours away from your previous town. Leave family and friends behind, only to get yourself cosy somewhere, nowhere, in the middle of a forest. In a small, unknown town, living in a centuries-old Victorian house that kept the secrets of the most unknown and dreadful kind.

It’s been a while since you wrote something good. Winning the global charts, an immediate bestseller-type of good.

The past few months had truly been nothing but hellish, with a nasty break-up topping it all. You still tried to kick Sukuna’s body, hunched over some blonde slut, on your shared sofa in your shared apartment out of your mind. His pathetic attempts to coax you up, because he’s been a bit too lonely, simply overly drunk, and he absolutely didn’t mean it. 

Three years of relationship ended just like that and a week later, with all the money saved on the previous two bestsellers, you bought this house. 

Old and very pinkish, waiting for its owner for a very long time. You didn’t ask much about why. Didn’t ask whether someone had died here or if it was haunted. At that point in your life, it simply didn’t matter. The only thing you were thinking about was how to get away from Sukuna’s begging to bring you back and cut yourself off from your editor’s constant prying about the newest text.

Shoko glanced at your furrowed forehead and sighed. "Here," she said, fiddling with her jeans’ pocket and placing something on the table. "I found it in the drawer of your night table. Maybe you could start by asking about them?"

You looked at the piece of paper before noticing it was, in fact, a picture. Old and a bit crumpled, it showed two young men. The first, closer to the camera, had a loose strand of black hair brushing his cheek. Eyes slightly lidded, looking down at his hands. He looked rather handsome, with a sharp jaw and a straight nose, no more than in his late twenties. 

The other man behind him seemed almost ghastly. With white hair and crystal eyes, he looked straight into the camera. Two raised fingers covered his lips, but with only such a bit of detail, you noticed that the beauty of his face was indeed unmatched.

You flipped the photo to see if it had a description. There was something, a few letters, but someone blanked them out with a black marker.

"Previous owners?" You asked, squinting eyes and trying to read what was written under the heavy marker. Unfortunately, to no avail. 

Shoko shrugged, chewing another slice of pizza. "A bit young for the owners, no?" You shot her a look, and she chuckled. "Right, sorry. They do look our age. But I don’t think they make cameras like that anymore. It must’ve been taken a long time ago."

Your brows suddenly furrowed, as if you had just remembered something. "You said you found it in the bedside table?" Shoko nodded. "I checked it before, but there was nothing inside."

She stopped chewing, chestnut eyes suddenly bulging. If the plate wasn’t already on her thighs, she would drop a slice of pizza, sauce-side down, dirtying her jeans. 

"Don’t joke," she murmured, seeing the wicked smile turning your lips. "Oh my god, stop! I really think there’s something wrong with this house!"

But the thing was – you did not, in fact, joke. After coming into the bedroom and opening all the furniture with handles, you truly didn’t see this photo. It may have slipped to the bottom of the drawer or stuck to one of its sides. You may also have missed one of the three drawers the table had, and indeed didn’t notice it.

Your thumb brushed the old photo. And only then did you notice a yellow, slightly hazy date in the corner. 

1966.

Shoko looked at the point your thumb just brushed over and pretended the goosebumps washed over her spine. 

"Sixty years ago," she muttered, staring at it with wide eyes. "If your neighbours are that old, surely they will know something about them."

Two hours later, after Shoko helped you unpack most of your belongings and returned to your city – though not before repeatedly assuring you, just call me if anything happens; I’ll get here as fast as I can – you finally found yourself in front of a neighbour's door.

The short stairs led to the ground floor, and you noticed they lived just beneath your kitchen. Thick wooden doors featured a small window in the centre, mostly covered by a curtain. You knocked once, twice, and before deciding to ring the doorbell, you thankfully looked down at the old mat with a don’t ring the doorbell or whistle sign.

"So what am I supposed to do?" You wondered, trying to peek through the blinds.

The inside looked a bit empty, dark, as if no life had graced it for a long, long time. But with a squint of your eyes, you noticed a gentle flicker of the lamp, shining somewhere deep within the house. 

"Hello?" You knocked again. "I’m your new neighbour! Just wanted to drop by and say hi!"

But the long silence that stretched between you and the wooden door was broken only by the soft pattering of rain. 

And so, with a photo in the back pocket of your jeans and gaze lowered, you turned away and walked up the stairs.

Not a second later, someone fiddled with the handle. You heard a whisper, and the door opened with a loud bang. "Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie. Next time, try to knock a bit louder!"

You looked over your shoulder and saw a tall, old woman. With a strange waist-to-breast ratio, you wondered how her back handled the weight of such size. Blond hair, neatly brushed into a bob, and blue eyeshadow smeared on her eyelids.

You tried to suppress a giggle at the pink fur she wore, which made her look more like an old dancer than a senior lady.

"Oh, hello. I’m sorry to bother you, but I just moved in and wanted to say—"

"Of course, sweetie, come in, come in," she turned back to look at someone. "Darling, please boil the water for tea! We have a guest."

And so you slipped inside the dark house, only then noticing that the long corridor stretched further into the place. The woman led you right to the velvet curtain covering the rest of the home, and as she lifted it, a large, dimly lit living room spread before you. 

With multiple flickering candles scattered all over the place – decorating the chimney, shelves, and a low wooden table set right out from the sofa. Red cushions swallowed you whole as you plumped down. 

Only then did you notice at least five dogs running around the room. Barking, sniffing your slightly wet shoes, jumping on the sofa and trying to lick your cheek. You pushed them away with a low giggle before a blond woman took them all down to the old carpet and joined you on the couch.

"Call me Miss Forcible, sweetie," she said, looking towards the chimney. At the large picture showing two slim women dressed in tight gymnastic suits. "For I was unmatched for a whole life!"

A short gasp slipped past your lips as you looked closer. Both women looked as if they were in their late twenties, with beaming smiles and circus-like decorations stretching behind them. A waterfall of colours, ribbons and lights, and you could almost smell the familiar scent of burnt popcorn and the cheesy melody that mingled with children’s laughter. 

You recognised the tall lady with long, blond hair, but the other one, with an arm wrapped around her waist…

"And me, Miss Pink!" A slightly pitched voice filled the dimmed living room, turning your head towards a room that seemed to be a kitchen. 

A short, older woman walked out, carrying three cups of tea. A bit curvier than her friend, much, much smaller, she reminded you of an apple. Pink hair curled under her eyes, making her plump face look even plumper.  

Three cups of tea were set on the low table, while Miss Pink slouched in the soft chair next to the couch. Dressed in a green bathrobe braided with plastic feathers. Her rosy face smooched with a round, crimson blush, reminding you of those vintage china dolls with cheeks plump like peaches and a round bloom coating their pale skin.

"Oh, our new neighbour?" She asked, looking at her friend. 

Miss Forcible nodded, placing a cup in front of you. "Yes, darling, this is…"

You introduced yourself with a giggle, feeling a slightly intimate manner stretch between the two women.

"Such a beautiful name!" Miss Pink gasped, pushing a plate of buttery cookies towards you. "And what a beautiful owner!"

A shy thank you slipped past your lips as you bit into a cookie. Buttery creaminess spilled over your tongue, with a few sugary droplets moving under your teeth. 

Miss Forcible nodded and picked up her cup of tea. "So why here, sweetie? Isn’t Pink Palace a bit too… vintage for a young bird like you?"

You swallowed the cookie and took a sip of black, bitter tea. Miss Pink watched you with a gentle smile, like a sweet, caressing auntie. 

"I think the house is beautiful. And I just needed a little break from the city’s rush," you half-lied, not mentioning the break-up. "Oh, I’m also a horror writer and thought a Victorian house would be a perfect place to get a few fresh ideas."

A few dogs sat patiently by your legs, waiting for a few crumbs to drop onto the carpet. Something sweet lingered in the air, and the room was much warmer than your house. More cosy, homey, so you let yourself sink deeper into the couch.

"This house is full of ghastly stories!" Miss Pink gasped. "And if you visit a nearby town, I’m sure you’ll find some spooky tales. I think you can still visit the place where they burned witches," she giggled, and you followed. A minute later, a thought clouded her forehead, and thin, pale eyebrows lifted. "Actually, why won’t you ask the boys? They know everything about that stuff."

Your head tilted, and your hand froze over the second cookie. Miss Pink nodded, as if to herself, and Miss Forcible sighed. 

"Darling, they moved out a long time ago," she said, adding a sugar cube to her tea. The third one already. "She’s too young to know them."

Miss Pink hummed under her breath, chubby fingers fiddling with a bathrobe. "Ah, right, indeed. I seem to forget how much time has passed," she muttered, taking a sip of tea. "I wonder how they’re doing."

Now your ears pricked up and eyes shone with curiosity. It was a pity you didn’t have a notebook to write down this brief chit-chat, but your brain was already working at full speed to memorise every detail. 

"Who knows?" Miss Forcible waved her hand. "Moved out, went missing… They just disappeared one day. It was for the best; enough problems had been caused by their presence."

And then, you remembered. The thing you came here for. 

The picture felt like a burn on your skin, as if reminding you of a hidden mystery within its thin, paper-like form. You pulled it from your back pocket and placed it on the low table. A few candles cast a warm glow over the old photo, making it shimmer faintly.

"Are you talking about these two?"

Miss Pink and Forcible leaned in, squinting at the photo. One of the dogs leapt onto the sofa, nuzzling its furry head against your shoulder and waiting to be stroked. You scratched it with a giggle, as it bounced in place. Miss Pink gasped, pointing at the men with her long nail. 

"Darling, we made this photo!" She exclaimed, glancing up at Miss Forcible. 

"Mhm," the other woman hummed, still squinting her blue eyes. "I remember. On the day you broke your ankle."

"And they needed to take me all the way to the town’s hospital," Miss Pink said, turning your way. "We were fifteen then, just before a local acrobatic competition."

Your head tilted as a few questions began to bubble beneath your chest. "So it was…"

"Sixty years ago," Miss Forcible sighed, setting down her cup of tea. "They lived here for four years before their sudden disappearance."

Candles on the table flickered, though the air stayed still and sweet. Sugary, with a buttery scent clinging to your clothes. But you didn’t mind, taking another cookie from the plate. 

"Can you tell me a bit more about them?" You asked, swallowing the sweetness with warm tea.

But Miss Forcible only frowned, her gaze fixed on the low table. Blonde locks were neatly tucked behind her ears, and blue eyeshadow smudged across the eyelids and along the waterline. She looked young for a seventy-five-year-old, though wrinkles did indeed bend and curve across her slim face. 

"They were real gentlemen…"

"Only because they were nice to us doesn't mean they may be called gentlemen, darling."

Miss Pink pouted, shaking her head. "Well, they were quite nice indeed. And funny, especially this one," she said, her finger pointing at the white-haired man. "Although I don't seem to remember his name. He always gave me sweets and dolls," she added, this time her wrinkled finger moving to the black-haired man. "Made by him. Oh, and he always spent all day in the garden! It was so beautiful, I tell you, sweetie. I lived in the attic apartment back then, and we always had so much fun!"

A smile tugged at your lips as the image of such a vast space in full bloom suddenly popped into your mind. If only the rain stopped for a moment, you could go and take care of it. Ignore the book you haven't even started yet and your phone, which glimmered with a dickhead nickname at least five times a day.

"But the townspeople never liked them," Miss Forcible added, pulling a heavy sigh from her darling. "Outcasts, you may say."

"Why?" You asked, taking a sip of still-warm tea. 

It pooled in your stomach, rising as a fluttering, tender feeling.

But it seemed your question carried a sort of mouth-shutting spell. Both women looked at each other, a sense of something obscure clouding their foreheads in the same manner. A thought, a memory, long forgotten in the corners of their minds, was pulled back with a single question of yours. 

And, from their expressions, the memory seemed to be of no pleasant sort. But rather a nightmare that plagued their wrinkled heads, with gazes crossing and reddened lips sighing lowly. 

A long minute stretched between you, with warm candles flickering over a single buttery cookie left on the plate, and an old clock ticking tick-tock tick-tock, filling the room with its steady tune. 

Then, suddenly, Miss Pink’s eyes glimmered, and a life turned to her flushed cheeks once again. Wrinkled hand petted one of the dogs as she giggled under her nose and glanced at the blonde woman. 

"Darling, why won’t you invite the boys over? I haven’t seen them in a long time."

꩜ ꩜ ꩜

Five minutes later, you were standing under the long stairs leading to another neighbour. 

The words all of them are old and crazy said by your real estate agent, still lingered in your mind, and thus you simply deduced that Miss Pink simply had a sort of dementia. 

Miss Forcible, on the other hand, seemed to know something. Remember, of the two men, whose picture once again burned through the back pocket of your jeans. 

After finishing the tea, you decided to excuse yourself, as it seemed your questions were only making one, if not both, of the elderly women uncomfortable. Although it was a pity, as they truly seemed to be the only ones who could tell you as much about those two young men. 

The rain was pitter-pattering on your yellow coat draped over the loose jumper. A low huff slipped past your lips, seeing the sky still showing no trace of the warmth you longed for. Although the weather indeed looked rather perfect for indulging yourself in a story. 

Or at least its outline. 

Or maybe simply opening the draft.

You walked up the stairs, its old, rusty metal chattering under your steps. 

You knew nothing of the other neighbour, aside from the fact that he used to work in a circus. A tall man with a certain accent, as Miss Forcible said. Rather weird, smelling of radish and with little footprints following him all around. 

So when you knocked on the white door, you expected to hear another wave of barks. Or maybe a low meow, slipping from the endless darkness spilling behind the small window. 

This time, you didn’t have to wait long, as the door opened with a creak. If not for your rather quick reflexes, the man, at least two metres tall, would surely have hit your nose. 

"Excuse me?" You gasped, quickly jumping back. 

Your eyes followed up, and up, through the tight shirt hugging his torso, with a few stains on its white material. Through the long arms and wide chest, till fixing on a thick moustache and eyes squinted like a cat. Sandy irises looking up and down your drenched body, with a yellow hood of a raincoat protecting your head.

"Excuse you indeed, young lady," his voice was low and lined with a sort of bitterness. "Who are you, if I may ask?"

You took another step back, feeling a strong smell of radish emanating from his body. So the weird ladies were saying the truth.

"I’m your new neighbour," you pointed downstairs at the porch. "Just wanted to say hi, and–"

"Hello," he said and a second later, the door closed. 

Simply, just like that, leaving your mouth open and fingers digging into the wet palms. The darkness spilt behind the little glass window, with a white curtain covering the inside of his attic apartment. 

It’s not like you desperately wanted to come in, but… well. You did want that. 

To see the inside of his house, ask about the previous owners from sixty years ago. Although considering the timeline, there was a chance he wouldn’t even know them. And a man looked a bit younger, too, of no more than sixty years.

With a low, irritated sigh and dickhead slipping past your lips, you started walking downstairs.

Stairs felt slippery under your shoes, rain hit your cheeks, and the photo weighed almost a ton. Filling the inside of your pocket like little stones, till you felt each scratch and crumple of the paper. 

The hood obscured your vision, forcing you to focus on the metal stairs. Crystal droplets hit your ears, also making you rather deaf to anything else around you.

And thus you didn’t hear, didn’t feel the footsteps following you, until a heavy hand landed on your shoulder. 

You turned with a shock, twisting your face and letting a muffled gasp escape throat. 

The man who closed the door in front of your nose stood mere millimetres from you. With face eerily close to yours, finger pressed to lips and gaze fixed somewhere. Over your shoulder, down the stairs, towards the porch and the crying windows. 

"What–"

"My mice say, young lady cannot open the door," he whispered, still looking anywhere but into your eyes.

As if whatever he said was of the utmost secret.

Your forehead furrowed, and nose squirmed, feeling the strong smell.

"The door? What door?" You asked in an equally whispering tone. 

He, finally, looked at your face. A low hum filled his throat and moustache moved with a parting of his lips. 

"The small door. Don’t open them."

You didn’t check each corner of the house yet, but did not see any sort of the small door he was talking about.

Old and crazy, you remembered the agent’s enigmatic voice.

But the man… did not look crazy at all. Rather, something flickered behind his gaze, as if the little door he talked about was the centre of his recurring nightmares. The way his fearful gaze slipped between you and the porch of your house quickly spiked your interest.

And it also sent a shiver down your spine as he once again pressed a finger to his lips. 

"Don’t talk," bulging eyes quickly glanced to one of the big windows. "They hear everything."

"They?"

He nodded before finally pulling away. His tall, lean body straightened, with a few joints popping here and there. Only then did you notice he was wearing sports shorts. A little too tight, a bit too short.  

A face, twisted in fear just a few minutes before, now slipped again into this stony, a bit indifferent expression. As if whatever was plaguing his mind just now, simply withered.

"That’s what the mice say. Sometimes they are…" His finger swirled around his temple, lips whistled. "… a bit crazy. But never wrong. Don’t open those little doors, young lady."

And with that, he once again went back to his attic apartment. Leaving you shocked and cold, with a gentle wind brushing your lips and rain tapping faintly, tap-tap-tap, on your yellow coat.

The moment you slipped back into your house, the first thing you did, as a devilishly curious woman, was to search high and low for the little door the man had been talking about. 

With the afternoon long gone, the sun slowly hid below the horizon, bathing the grey sky in dark, purplish hues of the evening hour. A light rain still hit your windows, nevertheless letting a low melody of crickets fill the chilly air. 

And when the night fell, the house seemed to change too. Into something more wicked, lined with an eerie sensation, scratching the centuries-old walls. With the scent of all the people who lived here before still lingering in the air. The warm light of the old lamps twinkled dimly, lingering over your body that looked frenetically for the little doors. 

Head slipping into the bathroom, bedroom, or even down into the basement, though this time going down the wooden stairs took a bit more courage. The fireplace in the living room crackled and popped weakly, pop-pop-pop, filling the house with a cosy, woody smell.

"Where are you?" You muttered to yourself, standing in the kitchen and listening to the tapping sink. 

You would need to call someone to fix it, but your main goal now was to uncover the thing your neighbour forbade you from finding. 

And then, while looking through the kitchen drawers – you found it.

A key, black and lean, ending in a small, button-like shape. It felt heavy in your palm and looked quite old, as if it were meant for doors long gone, with a lock forgotten by the time.

A low hum slipped past your lips as you fiddled with it. The doors of the house were already rather old, yet this one seemed not to fit either of them.

Returning to the living room, you plumped down on a sofa with a sigh, eyes still fixed on the key. The black paint coated its long barrel, and it was slightly larger than what you were accustomed to.

The doors must’ve been somewhere – close, at the fingertips, as you could almost feel their presence nearby.

Somewhere… in this room.

The flickering of the flame bathed one of the walls in a gentle glow. The flowery tapestry was rather dark, with multiple ornaments twisting and bending across its surface.

And yet, something piqued your interest. 

The small bulge seemed to arrange itself into a low square. Your head tilted, and eyes followed the swollen lines just above floor level. 

You slipped off the couch and crawled towards the eerie shape, a key still clutched in your fingers. 

The palm pressed against the wall, and you knocked it once, twice, hearing the echo ring somewhere on the other side. 

The door.

But it seemed that, for some reason, they were covered by the tapestry. So with the sharper end of the key, you gently traced their outline, peeling the coating from their surface. 

A low gasp slipped past your lips, seeing the eerie, faded blue wooden doors in all their fullness. With no handle to pull them and only a big lock awaiting the key gripped in your fingers. 

Excitement bubbled in your chest, eyes gleamed, and fingers trembled as a key slipped into the lock. You turned it with a soft click, and dust swirled in the air, rising from the cracks that had been sealed for the past few hundred years. 

Your heart galloped, beating against your chest in low thumps until you felt the tremble wash over your body. 

Using the fingers, you pulled the old surface – slowly, slowly, till the door opened fully and…

And presented you a miserable sight of a brick wall. 

Old and dusty, with red bricks stacked one on top of another, filling the cosy living room with a musty smell. 

"You must be joking," you groaned, a low sound escaping your throat as you hit the wall with a fist. "I can’t believe it!"

Because, as you already thought, a new idea for a story would finally slip easily into your mind, all the dreams were shattered in a single second. 

And thus your head hung between your shoulders. After a few deep breaths, you took the key from the door and slammed it shut with a furious thud. The wooden surface bounced off the wall, leaving a small gap. 

Small enough to allow something, someone, to see you walk away with heavy, disappointed footsteps.

next chapter ˖𖦹 ݁˖

©liahcharms all rights reserved. Do not copy, plagiarise, feed AI, translate or modify my works.

No worries, we will meet the boys SOON!

art by by K05062688 - twitter button divider by @saradika-graphics

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[ryvieres]

is the castlevania fandom still alive . . . alucard yearners are you still there . . .

[demigoddessqueens]

Dracula and Alucard to their loved ones

[mimimochis]

hubby!gojo's jealous you fell for someone else in tomadachi life✧ ｡

Summary: Satoru Gojo thought he was living the dream when he installed Tomadachi Life until the Mii he'd painstakingly modeled after his wife developed a crush on Nanami!

Content warning: sfw fluff, lowk crack fic, whiny!toru, yes i said bf!gojo but i changed my mind, im married to this man

Satoru Gojo had not meant to become obsessed with Tomodachi Life: Living the Dream.

That was the official story, anyway. According to him, it had started innocently enough. He had been curious because people online kept posting clips of their Miis doing all sorts of silly things, and he had thought it would be funny to recreate everyone he knew. It had been a harmless little distraction that he insisted would last a weekend at most. Then, somehow, a weekend had become two weeks, and two weeks had become him clutching his console at breakfast with the concentration of a man on a mission.

"Toru, you haven’t even checked your workphone yet and you’re already playing that game," you pointed out one morning before giggling at how serious he looked.

Satoru didn't even look up. "It's called commitment, sweetheart."

"You said that yesterday."

"And I meant it yesterday, too."

It wasn't the fact that he'd made himself that concerned you.

It wasn't even the fact that he'd recreated all of his students with alarming accuracy, spending an embarrassing amount of time trying to get Megumi's perpetually unimpressed expression just right. It wasn't the way he'd nearly cried laughing when he discovered how absurd cutscenes could become depending on who was involved. It wasn't the fact that he'd muttered, "Woahhh they call me ‘Your Majesty’ babe!" with the confidence of a man defending a doctoral thesis.

It was the way he'd made you.

He had approached your Mii creation with the seriousness of a sculptor commissioned to carve a masterpiece through the facepaint section

"No," he had said, frowning at the screen. "Your eyes aren't right."

"They look fine."

"They don't look as cute as you."

"You've been adjusting them for twenty minutes."

"They’re not cute enough, baby."

You had watched him restart over and over again after that.

He insisted the tiny digital version of you needed to be perfect. Every time he thought he'd gotten it right, he'd notice something tiny and start over again. You had eventually wandered away to make tea, only to return and find him still hunched over the console with narrowed eyes.

"You know I'm literally sitting right here, right?"

"You deserve accuracy babe."

"You make it sound like you're painting royalty."

"You are royalty."

After that, it should have ended there, but

It wasn't enough for the Miis to exist on the island. He wanted to see how everyone interacted. He checked friendships, he watched cutscenes, he read out the commentary like an overly enthusiastic sports announcer despite being the only one who cared about the outcomes.

Then he discovered relationship rankings.

"Oh?" Satoru blinked.

"What?"

He slowly turned the console around toward you.

"We're friends."

"...I would hope so."

"No, look." Your Mii and his Mii were listed as friends. Satoru stared and then his eyes widened.

"We can do better than that."

You snorted.

"You sound offended."

"I am offended."

Thus began his campaign.

He didn't call it a campaign, of course. He referred to it as "letting fate take its course," which would have sounded more convincing if he hadn't started checking their friendship status every few hours. You'd catch him lying across the couch with one arm thrown over his face, only for him to suddenly sit upright and grab the console with startling urgency.

"Good news."

"What happened?"

"We're Good Friends now."

"You look happier than when you got your paycheck, Toru."

"It means we're destined to fall in love!"

It escalated from there.

Whenever cutscenes involving your Mii and his Mii appeared, he watched with rapt attention, even when he’d already seen them. He narrated them under his breath. Sometimes he laughed. Sometimes he placed a hand dramatically over his chest like he'd just witnessed the greatest romance ever told.

You had never expected your husband, one of the strongest sorcerers alive, to become emotionally attached to tiny digital representations of people he already knew. Yet every night, he updated you on island developments with the same enthusiasm other people reserved for gossip from work.

Eventually, the inevitable happened.

Satoru gasped. "Oh my God!"

"What?"

"We're Ultra Friends."

You blinked.

"...Congratulations?"

"No, you don't understand."

"I think I understand exactly as much as I should."

"We're Ultra Friends."

He looked genuinely thrilled. Then he threw himself sideways across your lap.

"I think my mii is your mii’s favorite!"

"Well you’re my favorite in real life, so…."

"Yeah, but now it's official babe!" You laughed hard enough that your shoulders shook.

The betrayal arrived three days later, it was far too early in the morning.

He notices your friendship ranking changed overnight and got suspicious because how had he missed that? He'd checked the island before bed. He'd checked it while brushing his teeth. He'd checked it while waiting for instant noodles to cook. There was no way your Mii and Nanami's Mii had become Ultra Friends over his friendship without him noticing.

Then he keeps watching because, obviously, he needs answers.

And he tells himself he's not worried. Ultra Friends just meant they got along well. You were friendly in real life, and Nanami was a decent person even if he was annoyingly competent. There was nothing inherently romantic about being Ultra Friends. Satoru repeated that to himself three separate times while staring at the screen with the intensity of a detective investigating a murder.

Then the cutscene starts.

At first, it doesn't even register as dangerous.

Your Mii and Nanami's mii are talking like all his Miis do. Satoru relaxes slightly, slumping back against the couch cushions as he lets out a quiet breath through his nose. See? He knew he was overthinking it! Your Mii was just as much of a sweetie as-

Then your Mii pauses. Satoru straightens up.

"...Wait."

Your Mii’s cheeks streak pink as the background fades into a pastel hue. Satoru's entire body goes rigid. "No!" The realization hits him all at once. Your mii had fallen in love with Nanami!

Your mii.

The one he'd painstakingly edited multiple times because he wanted to get every detail right. The one he'd proudly shown you because, look, he'd even gotten your smile perfect. The one he'd watched become Ultra Friends with his own mii before cheering like his favorite team had won a championship.

Satoru stared at the screen in complete silence.

"...No."

Your mii admitted to falling in love with Nanami.

Then, with the horror of a man witnessing the collapse of civilization, he immediately shuts the game off. The click of the Switch powering down echoes through the apartment. You don't even have time to ask what happened before Satoru lets out a strangled noise and hurls the console across the length of the sofa.

Not hard enough to damage it, but hard enough to communicate his clear devastation.

The Switch bounces once against a cushion. Satoru turns toward you with an expression usually reserved for discovering a loved one has been replaced by an impostor.

"You fell in love with Nanami!"

"...What?"

"You fell in love with him."

The entire day becomes one long pity party after that. He follows you around the apartment and all day he asks increasingly absurd questions.

"Have you always liked responsible men?"

"Satoru." you chide.

"Did you ever think his tacky yellow tie looked nice?"

"Huh?"

"He probably has good credit or whatever that bullshit means."

"You are jealous of a video game, baby."

"I am ‘jealous’ of a homewrecker!” He curled up dramatically against your side on the couch. At one point, he actually mutters, "I knew I should've made him uglier."

Even after you reassure him over and over again that you are, in fact, married to him and not secretly harboring feelings for Kento Nanami, he still looks personally victimized by the entire ordeal. Eventually, much later that evening, curiosity gets the better of him.

"...Maybe I should check."

"You've been avoiding the game for six hours."

"Because I'm grieving."

"You threw it two feet away."

"It was symbolic."

He reaches for the Switch with the cautious energy of someone handling explosive material. He turns it back on and the cutscene resumes. Your Mii is still standing there with a crush on Nanami. Satoru makes another offended sound.

Then…he notices the options. "...Huh?"

You lean over his shoulder.

"What?"

Satoru reads the choices aloud.

One of them says:

You're imagining things.

Silence settled heavily over the living room.

He stared at it.

Then he pressed the button.

Your Mii paused on screen as if genuinely taking the advice into consideration. After a brief moment, she perked up almost immediately, admitting that maybe she had just been imagining things after all. Just like that, the crush vanished as though it had never existed in the first place. The problem that had consumed Satoru's entire day resolved itself with a single press of a button he could have chosen from the beginning.

Neither of you moved.

Satoru remained frozen on the couch with the Switch still clutched in both hands. You sat beside him, staring at the screen with an expression that slowly shifted from disbelief to something far more dangerous. The apartment was so quiet that the hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen suddenly seemed deafening.

Very slowly, you turned to look at him.

"...You mean to tell me."

Satoru kept his eyes fixed firmly on the screen.

"You spent an entire day accusing me of emotional infidelity, you threw your Switch across the couch, you followed me around the apartment asking if I secretly preferred financially responsible men."

At some point during the interrogation, Satoru lowered the console into his lap. His shoulders gradually curled inward beneath the weight of every accusation, his earlier confidence shrinking into something considerably smaller. He looked less like the strongest sorcerer alive and more like a child caught drawing on the walls with permanent marker. After another long stretch of silence, he finally cleared his throat.

"...In my defense, baby-"

"You had a button."

"It was a very emotional situation!"

You stared at him for another beat before the first crack appeared in your composure. A laugh escaped despite your best efforts to hold it back, quickly snowballing into something impossible to suppress. The look on Satoru's face shifted immediately from sheepish embarrassment to outright offense. He wilted against the couch cushions as though your laughter itself had become a personal betrayal.

He dropped forward without warning, burying his face into your shoulder as if physical proximity might somehow protect him from the consequences of his own stupidity. His arms wrapped around your waist, dramatic as ever, though the grip itself carried a familiar sincerity beneath all the theatrics. When he spoke again, his words came out muffled against your shirt.

"I got scared, don't you understand, sweetheart?"

The confession lingered between you, unexpectedly earnest after hours of exaggerated sulking and ridiculous accusations. His fingers tightened slightly where they rested against your side before he let out a soft groan of embarrassment. "I know it wasn't actually you," he admitted quietly. "I know it was just a game and none of it meant anything, but... I don't know. It still felt weird seeing a version of you choose somebody else."

Your laughter softened almost instantly.

"You jealous idiot."

"I know."

"You really thought I'd leave you for Nanami."

"I didn't think you'd leave me."He pauses. "...I just didn't like seeing a version of you choose someone else." You wrap your arms around him at that. "Good thing the real me has good taste." Satoru brightens immediately in response. "You think I’m in good taste?" He beamed.

 "You had a meltdown over a Nintendo game because you love me. So I’d say you’re at most a sweetheart."

"It’s romantic." He retorted. “No baby, it’s insane!” You replied. Satoru grins against your shoulder before glancing back down at the screen. "...I'm still keeping an eye on Nanami." You immediately start laughing again.

And Satoru, despite having discovered there had literally been an "you're imagining things" option the entire time, narrows his eyes suspiciously at Nanami's tiny digital face anyway.

Because some grudges, apparently, transcended reality itself.

a/n: i know this is a shorter wordcount but my ass is exhausted from life and exams, whiny toru def cheering me up tho :b

also i've rlly liked tomadachi life, i got addicted rlly fast and im ngl it gets boring sometimes but most of the time its rlly fun!!

divider credits!! @dividers-are-us , @cursed-carmine

tagslist-@genosblackwife @whispersingojo @6x-x9 @megumisrighttoe @laisaj-21 @sissi4tete @tchmiya

[torucider]

geto 😳🤤 hi guys

[w0rm3y]

What the hell is happening in Shibuya?

...Well, Husband!Sukuna is actually being scolded by his wife, and he's taking it like a little bitch champ ═══════════════════════════

“Please, watch your step, my lady,” Uraume warned, taking the lead a few paces in front of you to guide you through the chaotic scene your husband had made of Shibuya. It was quite impressive, you had to admit, but you weren’t about to praise him for his mess–you’ve seen better, and you’ll make sure to let him know that as soon as you’re done giving him a piece of your mind.

They paused a few steps in front of you, waiting for you to catch up to offer you their hand and help you over the smoldering rubble. You paused when, above your head, you heard Sukuna’s familiar maniacal laughter as he toyed around with a curse, tossing the poor thing all over the city without any real effort or care for the civilians among you.

“Fucking manchild,” you sneered under your breath, following Uraume’s lead through the burning mess. In the distance, you watched a plane fall from the sky, crashing into a fiery pit of rubble before exploding. “His gluttonous need for mayhem disgusts me.”

Uraume chuckled, “I believe there was a time when you found that to be a charming attribute of his, my lady. And if I remember correctly, you used to eagerly partake in the chaos as well.”

“Don’t mistake my words, Uraume. I only meant that this madness isn’t something to indulge in alone–he’s keeping this all to himself.”

They hummed over your explanation with a small smile. “I see. You’re upset that you’ve been left out.”

“Precisely,” you hissed, taking their hand again when it was offered to you. “He should have waited for me.”

“To be fair, Sukuna-sama wasn’t aware that we’d be attending. Otherwise, I’m almost certain he would have waited for you.” You didn’t believe that for a single second. “This way, my lady. I believe their fight is nearing its end.”

When you finally set your eyes on your husband again, he was watching over the burning corpse of the curse he’d been fighting. At your side, Uraume dropped to their knee on the charred sphere you were standing on. In another life, one that was set a thousand years ago, you might’ve knelt before your king, too. 

However, this was a different era, and you’d had a thousand years to stew in your anger and contempt after being neglected and abandoned by your husband. To say you were livid was an understatement; therefore, the only one who would be doing the kneeling between you and Sukuna was going to be Sukuna kneeling for you.

“Who are you?” he dared to ask, not even turning to look at you or Uraume.

“It’s nice to see you again, Sukuna-sama.” 

You rolled your eyes at the pleasantries that always dripped off Uraume’s tongue when they addressed your husband–as if he deserved it.

“I’ll have to disagree with you, Uraume,” you gritted out, finally earning the attention of the insufferable man you bound yourself to all those years ago. “I feel rather nauseous upon our meeting.” 

He glanced at you over his shoulder, red eyes, mirthless and unamused, narrowed in your direction as he tried to fit the familiar pieces together. Then, as if the realization struck him at once, they ever so slightly widened in surprise, then filled with just a touch of fear. 

Good.

“You spineless coward.” His throat bobbed as he gulped, watching as you paced forward, paying no mind to the singed ruins burning the hem of your kimono. “You disgusting, petulant, monstrous, little brat–do you have any idea how long you’ve left me alone?! To deal with the consequences of your actions that you left behind without a moment’s notice?!”

He grabbed your wrist to stop you from stabbing your finger into his chest. “You’re angry-”

“Yes! I am angry! You did not tell me you were abandoning me-!”

“I did not abandon you-”

“Do not play dumb with me!” Your hand surged up to grab onto his face, fingers digging into his cheeks to pull him down to your level. So easily, he could have pried you away from him, yet he didn’t. Instead, he only rolled his eyes and waited for you to finish. “You said you were going away for a while.”

“And that was true. It has been a while, yes?”

“I did not think you meant a thousand years!”

“Your mistake then.”

You were about to grind your teeth down into little nubs with how tightly you were clenching your jaw. A sneering hiss passed your lips, and you harshly dragged your hand away from his face. 

“This boy that you’re inhabiting–your vessel-”

“Yuji-”

“I do not care for the brat’s name!” Sukuna flinched at your tone. “Does he feel pain when you are fronting in his body?”

“No.”

“Good.”

With his answer, you didn’t hesitate to back hand him across the face, putting all your rage into the one swing. He grunted with the impact to his cheek, but took the attack as he should–wordlessly and without punishing you back. 

The space around you went quiet, only filled by the crackling sound of embers and distant screams of anguish as you dragged your hand back, shaking out the tingles quickly before holding it out to him, which he begrudgingly took to heal it for you. 

“That has quelled the worst of the anger.”

He only grunted in response to that, tracing his thumb over the back of your hand until it didn’t ache anymore.

“There.” When he let go of your hand, you didn’t pull it back. You kept it held out in front of him until he groaned and grabbed it, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before lowering it to your side in a soft, delicate motion. “Good?”

“Adequate,” you corrected him, crossing your arms and sliding your hands into the sleeves of your kimono. “With that out of the way, I will admit that I’ve missed you.”

He exhaled a faint sigh of relief, the smallest smile ticking up on the corners of his mouth before disappearing. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“Have you really?”

“Indeed. Want me to prove it to you?”

“No need.” Your nose curled at his insinuation, eyes glaring over his new body. “I’ll take your word for it. I’ve no interest in lying with someone so young and who lacks the proper number of appendages. You’re missing two of your arms.”

He chuckled, “Among other appendages, but yes, I’m aware.”

You grabbed the uniform he was wearing, bunching it in your fist to push it up to his chest, revealing his boringly bare torso, no belly mouth in sight. “And the best part about you is also missing. How tragic…”

“My apologies.” 

With a scoff, you released the uniform top, returning your hands to your sleeves. “When will this affair be over? And I mean completely over. I want my husband back, and I want him in my husband’s body.”

“Hard to say. I have a few more things I’d like to do.”

“Make it quick then. I want to spend the New Year together-”

“It’s not that simple-” At his interjection, you raised your brows, making him fall silent before he sighed, “I’ll make it quick.”

“That's the way.” You took a small step toward him, closing the gap between you. “Lean down.”

When he did, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, which made him grumble, “That’s it?”

“It’s all you deserve.” 

You gave his chest a pat before turning on your heel, only to be caught by your wrist and pulled back against him. His arms circled around your waist as his face pressed into the crook of your neck. Sukuna inhaled deeply and released it with a sated groan, hand dragging down your hips to palm your asscheek. 

“You’re not really leaving already, are you?” He pressed a kiss to your neck, just below your ear. “You should stay. I’ll fight you next. It'll be the most fun we've both had since I left.”

“No, thanks.” You let him place only one more kiss to your skin before pushing away. “Don’t make me wait too long, Sukuna. I’d hate to have to find someone else to take care of me.”

He snorted, “Like who? No one else can handle you.”

You shrugged innocently. “I hear Satoru Gojo’s in Shibuya. Sealed up tight in the prison realm. Maybe I’ll just take it for myself and free him. Maybe then I’d renounce my title as your queen and devote myself to fighting for his cause. Offer myself up as his wife, too–I’m sure he’d appreciate a step up in the competition, don’t you?”

You could feel his anger wafting off of him in waves, hitting you in the back of the neck as you grinned.

“I’ll kill you both.”

“Hurry up while you still have a wife waiting for you.” You hid your snickering behind your hand when you heard his irritated grumbling. “Let’s go, Uraume. I need a new kimono before you take me home.”

[hangenism]

boyfriend!megumi who remembers every single one of your anniversaries, no matter how ridiculous. first date, first kiss, first time you brushed hands—whatever it was, he always remembered. when you’d tease him about it, his ears would flush pink as he muttered, “shut up,” while holding out a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

boyfriend!megumi who notices every one of your hyper fixations. new favorite band? you’d find their albums and posters slipped under your door. hooked on a new game? he’d silently hand you a gift card so you can buy all the skins you want.

boyfriend!megumi who lets you steal all his hoodies. you claim you “haven’t seen them anywhere,” but they mysteriously go missing right after he gives you one. he never complains and thinks you look better in them than he ever could.

boyfriend!megumi who lets you play with his hair. the two of you would be sprawled on the couch, watching a show as you run your fingers through his messy hair. you hum softly as you do so, and he leans into your touch like it’s nothing.

boyfriend!megumi who complies when you ask him to try a new recipe you’re working on. even if he’s convinced it’s a biohazard, he taste tests without a word and gives you a nod of approval that makes you beam.

boyfriend!megumi who lets you do his skincare. he’s skeptical of the weird pink liquid you’re patting into his skin, but since you love it, he sits still and lets your work… though not without the faintest scowl crossing his face.

boyfriend!megumi who always offers his jacket. you insist your outfit is fine but megumi knows better: you’re going to be cold later. one shiver from you and he’s already shrugging his jacket off and putting it over your shoulders. “thank you,” you smile. “if you get sick, i get sick,” he shrugs, like it’s nothing. but you know megumi, and you know he cared for you in a way no one else could.

boyfriend!megumi who studies with you. even if you’re working on completely different things, he sits by your side, occasionally passing you snacks or refilling your water, silently keeping you company until you’re both too tired to keep your eyes open.

boyfriend!megumi who pretends he doesn’t care when you fall asleep on him, but he adjusts his position so you’re more comfortable and doesn’t move for hours just to avoid waking you.

boyfriend!megumi who doesn’t say “i love you” a lot, but shows it in every small action—walking on the outside of the sidewalk, remembering your order without asking, leaving space for you beside him like it’s reserved just for you.

megumi taglist: @vanillaapples, @kamislop, @jiyuspassion, @rengoatku, @sunnyfieldsz, @bookenbash, @6x-x9, @megssleepygirl + join taglist here

[dierdre-despair-and-destiny]

Me because Im scrolling FOREVER just to fine new fics 😔

Tumblr should have a shuffle option when your on a tag

[b3rriesyrup]

craving an angst burger with unrequited love fries and an insecure!reader drink to wash it all down

[actually-mentally-ill]

[reignpage]

SYNOPSIS:

in which the men turn to the AITA subreddit for opinions on their relationship disputes. the comments aren't always the most...supportive

warnings: just fluff and crack, some cursing, some sexual language, prob not the most accurate depiction of reddit (I am not familiar with the platform so I did my best lol), non curse au mostly, NOT PROOFREAD (this was a pain to edit you don't even know so I don't want to hear it) featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna

[meowhoraga]

𑣲┆𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐓𝐀 𝐎𝐊𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐒𝐔 kind of creeps you out.

unhealthy behavior and suggestive content. obsessive yuuta headcanons requested by oomf! if you like the way i characterize him, you can find more in my series. requests are open <3 jjk masterlist

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta still loves you gently no matter how strongly he feels about you, let this be known. he touches you like you’re fragile, brings you small gifts, and holds onto every single word you say. he treats you delicately, as one would a dandelion.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta always seems to be exactly where you need him to. forgot something somewhere? he has it. you feel unsafe? he’s already there to step in. you stop asking how he already knows; it’s probably only coincidence.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta has big puppy-dog eyes you struggle to resist. you don’t always want him to tag along to places with you, or sit in your room while you change, but how can you say no to a face like that?

you have a hard time being mad at him even as he blatantly crosses your boundaries. whenever he’s invasive in his actions or words, you redirect him, whereas you would’ve literally ripped into anyone else.

he’s definitely cried a few times as you’ve scolded him for disrespecting you. yet deep down, his little pout makes you want to apologize for having autonomy.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta stole your favorite perfume from your dorm and sprays it onto his pillow. your addictive scent lulls him to sleep when he’s having trouble dozing off. it also makes it easier to pretend you’re to him closer than you really are.

on late nights, he buries his face into the pillow, inhaling your scent and muffling the sounds he makes to the thought of you. he imagines your hands touching him instead of his own, since he can’t have the real thing yet.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta starts to resent rika for existing. he tries everything in his power to convince you he isn’t still hung up over the dead first love he carries with him. it doesn’t help that she’s so possessive and aggressive toward you. how can he be with you if a curse won’t let him?

he speaks to her differently after the day she attacks you out of jealousy. his tone turns stone cold, and his previously kind requests of her become demands. he’ll sharply order her around, then turn to you and speak sweetly with a soft smile on his face.

rika’s apologized many times since then, but he’s made up his mind.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta’s cursed energy literally wraps itself around you if you’re nearby, especially when the two of you are around other people. it’s awkward when you’re in public around non-sorcerers, who can’t tell that you’re being engulfed by such pressure. sometimes, you swear you can feel it even when you’re supposed to be alone.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta has to pretend he doesn’t already know about all of your interests and routines. he used to slip up at first, but he’s gotten a lot better at sounding clueless. he’s sure to ask about your day and listen intently because he loves the way your eyes light up as he shows interest in you.

plus, if you’ve already told him about your day, you have no reason to talk to anyone else about it!

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta takes on some of your missions behind your back. he can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt, especially at the hands of some foul, disgusting, creature. when you find out he’s been interfering with things, he apologizes profusely and continues to do it anyway.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta makes everyone around you feel on edge. they’re worried about you. they see the way he stares at you while you’re unaware. they feel the atmosphere shift whenever you’re affectionate toward others. they’re hesitant to even say your name in front of him because of how much his demeanor changes.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta had a meeting arranged behind his back by the group while he was visiting the sister school. your friends sat you down and asked if he’s done anything to harm you. you told them you were a bit weary, but “he just has a big heart, that’s it.” they looked unimpressed. as they left, you could’ve sworn you heard panda mutter “stockholm syndrome” under his breath.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ your friends trust yuuta not to hurt them… they think. but they don’t miss the way his face drops or his grip on something tightens when he thinks they’ve said something wrong to you. they love you dearly, but do start to avoid you a bit. if you do talk, they’re paranoid and constantly checking for him over their shoulders. just in case.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ the kyoto students, however, think yuuta’s a fucking freak. his performance in the goodwill event was outstanding because of his skill, of course, and you. he caught kamo and miwa planning to ambush you and immediately stepped in. they barely escaped with their lives, but thankfully, you managed to calm him down before he could go too far (well. further.)

gakuganji and utahime were both horrified and appalled, while gojo simply chalked it up to yuuta's “amazing fighting spirit!”

when todo asked what his type was, yuuta described your body with a dazed expression. mai was disturbed by this interaction.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta was distraught once he noticed you pulling away from him. he hadn’t meant to scare you, but seeing them so close to harming you made him snap. and god, did your absence make him feel sick. he was physically repulsed by himself for upsetting you.

“i made her mad, i hope i die.”

“stfu yuta it’s your turn”

“oh, draw four”

“damn it!”

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta dropped onto his knees in front of you and groveled for forgiveness, swearing not to do anything like it again. he probably didn’t mean it, but it felt like the truth at the time. when you forgave yuuta while cupping his cheek, he felt as though he was being touched by an angel. he didn’t think he deserved you, or your forgiveness, but since you gave it to him he took it gratefully.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ whenever your classmates bring up yuuta’s behavior to gojo, he waves them off and tells them they’re only being dramatic. gojo is, of course, lying off his ass. he thinks the kid’s a little weirdo who probably shouldn’t be left alone with you. however, he’s banking on you to awaken his potential. it’s definitely a risky plan, but gojo’s known for throwing his students to the wolves.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ maki once caught yuuta licking the blood you left on his hand after he patched up your wound. when she told gojo about it, he simply smiled and said “kids these days are so passionate!”

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ gojo’s hunch did end up being correct despite his questionable methods. after seeing you and the rest of the first years injured during the night parade of a hundred demons, yuuta’s growth was triggered over his emotional state. he surpassed his limits over his pure rage from seeing you hurt.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ gojo doesn’t say it outloud, but one of the reasons yuuta was sent off to africa was to have some space away from you. he thought the distance will be healthy and better for… everyone, really. he also got tired of being nagged because apparently his student raised concerns about “safety” and “endangerment”, which he rolled his eyes over

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta is sure to call you at least once a day while he’s gone. he doesn’t think he could survive without hearing the sound of your sweet voice. he sends you good morning/goodnight texts around the time he remembers your schedule being while he was with you.

he values every single picture you send of yourself, so much so that he replies to them while typing with one hand!

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta doesn’t go to sleep until hours after he’s supposed to be just in case you call him. what if there’s an emergency? what if you’re in need comfort? what if you accidentally buttdial him and he misses out on an interaction with you because he was asleep? he can’t just abandon you!

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ obsessive!yuuta appreciates you just the same, if not more, once he returns. except this time, he’s stronger and unafraid of the curses that plague the world. he’s open about his feelings and has learned to control his copious amounts of cursed energy. he’s trained so hard and dedicated himself to protecting you (and the rest of humanity, he supposes).

he’s come to trust that your classmates won’t cross any lines with you. they’re his friends, so he knows they’ll respect his feelings. the same can’t be said about the other sorcerers or random guys on the street who ogle at you.

yuuta doesn’t trust that itadori guy, either. while he was away, toge reported that he was “making eyes” at you every time you two trained together. yuuta reveled in chasing and killing yuuji for the higher ups before unfortunately having to revive him. he may have brought him back, but now yuuji knows he’s someone to be feared.

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ most in his position have a mindset of “mine, mine, mine,” but i believe he’s the opposite. he loves you and he’s yours. yuuta’s positively sure you’ll own his heart until the day he dies <3

[lmhavingaboibee]

Reblog to claim your medal if you were always a Yuta fan even before the switch up

To all my people out there, who loved Yuta ever since JJK 0 and stood tall despite his slander.

In Yuta Okkotsu we trust.