#anyway this post has been all over the place you know how it is

[strawberrystepmom]

pairing: Suguru Geto x F!Reader

word count: 9.7k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The most unbelievable thing of all?

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

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

“Have you ever heard of omens?”

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

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

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

You hate that you still have the dream.

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

“Suguru?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wouldn’t allow it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you know about that?”

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

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

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

"Look at me."

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

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

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

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

"How?"

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

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

"There are more of you?"

"A couple dozen, yeah."

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

"How can you help me?" 

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

You hate her.

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

“Geto-sama!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About ready?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes sir.”

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

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

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

“Geto-sama?”

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

The irony isn’t lost on you.

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

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

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

“Why am I here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please be honest with me.”

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

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

“Do I mean anything to you?”

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

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

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

“I’m so sorry for asking, Geto-sama.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So long, Suguru.”

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

“Can I touch you too?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Does it matter?

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

When’s the last time you felt like yourself?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s on your mind?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“May I train with you today?”

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

Nobody knows you like he does. They never will.

“Please forgive me, Geto-sama.”

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

“I already have. For everything.”

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

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

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

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

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

“Do you trust me?”

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

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

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

“Do you love me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you feel better?”

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

“Now, apologize like you mean it.”

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

“War is on the horizon.”

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

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

Just the way you like it.

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

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

“Do I sense disagreement?”

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

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

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

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

You certainly have.

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

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

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

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

“Look at me.”

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

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

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

“Kill him, Suguru.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[lieslab]

The cut that always bleeds

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Hyunjin X gn reader

Summary: After struggling with the past, you walk out of a date and ghost Hyunjin until he shows up at your place trying to figure out what went wrong.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 3.2K

Trigger warning: Mommy issues, depression, self-hatred, and insecurities.

A/N: To whoever requested this, I'm so sorry. I wanted to post this yesterday and then my internet crashed after I came home from work. It was awful, but anyway, I have all of this finished. It's here in all it's glory and I know you wanted comfort. Most of it isn't until the end, but it's here. Enjoy <3

_ _ _

Grief is such a funny thing. They say you can go your entire life running from it until it finds you in the middle of a sunny afternoon. Sometimes it looms overhead in the weaning hours of a dark and dreary night. Sometimes it finds you in the most unexpected places and at the most unexpected times. 

Your grief fell into your lap in the middle of a romantic evening with your boyfriend. Hyunjin sat across from you, sawing through his medium rare steak. The inside was still a light pink, not yet cooked to a well roasted brown. Oozing with a reddened myoglobin, your stomach churned at the sight of it. 

Your own piece of steak caught in your throat. You forced yourself to swallow and took your eyes away from him. Your once longing appetite slipped away from you. You placed your silverware back along your plate. 

“Mommy, I can’t get it!” 

“Can’t get what?” 

“It won’t cut!” 

The shrill voice of a child caught your attention. You glanced over to find a young girl with her mom sitting at the table across from yours. The mother was all dressed up in a black dress. The young girl was in similar attire with her jet black hair hanging down her back in a long braid. She couldn’t have been much older than ten. 

You watched in silence as the mother leaned over and began to show the young girl how to cut the steak. You weren’t aware of the tears pooling in your eyes until Hyunjin called your name. You glanced back over at him and took him in. 

His eyes were narrowed in confusion. There was a faint wrinkle between his eyebrows as his eyes went back and forth between you and the mother and child beside you. He didn’t know what was wrong, but he hated the sight of you crying. 

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He reached out a hand to grab yours, but you tugged your hand out of his reach. A wave of hurt flickered in his eyes. 

You forced yourself up on unsteady feet and slipped the wooden chair behind you back. The two of you came to a steakhouse just for a nice change of scenery. Hyunjin had a knack for being romantic. He liked to spoil you with fancy things now and then. 

In your opinion, this place was too fancy for someone like you. Waiters and waitresses served food from metal platters with lids. It was a form of luxury that you had only seen in the movies. The steakhouse was dripping with wealth. 

It was in the way the customers and how they dressed. The clicking of expensive stiletto heels from women and the three piece suits from some of the men. Your nicest shirt and dress pants were nothing like what everyone else was wearing. In your head, you stuck out like a sore thumb. 

“Wait, where are you going?” 

“The bathroom,” you mumbled. 

You stepped away from the table and pushed your chair in. Dazzling bright lights hung overhead and had been dimmed down. Knives and forks scraped along pearl white porcelain plates. 

The further to the back of the restaurant you walked, the more you saw things that you didn’t want to see. Couples sharing dates and plethoras of smaller groups. Wine glasses clinked and the wealth in the air made you feel faint. 

Your mother was someone you hadn’t thought about in quite a while. You tried to outrun the thoughts of the past, but it has a nasty habit of catching up. You were nothing, but a victim of your past. It kept you nailed down to a cross that you couldn’t quite escape. 

The situation began to overstimulate you. The silverware against plates were like nails on a chalkboard. The voices enhanced and became louder. It was all too much and it was suffocating. Your lungs felt restricted and you couldn’t breathe. 

You reached the bathroom and shoved the door open. You swallow mouthfuls of lemon-filled air. The tiled checkered floor was spotless. The mirror, running across the sink, remained free of fingerprints and water droplets. 

This date was a disaster, but it wasn’t Hyunjin’s fault. In the dining area, he sat at the table with the ghost of your presence. The scent of your body spray still lingered. He slowly sipped his red wine with a frown. Your steak had barely been touched and you might have taken one sip from your wine. Whatever you were struggling with, he didn’t understand it. 

He wanted to, but you had a tendency to keep things to yourself. If you kept your problems to yourself, only you had to wear the shackles of life. You didn’t have to chain anyone up with your problems either. You weren’t adding to the weight of the world on their shoulders. This was how you kept yourself safe and how you kept others from leaving. 

There was rot in your heart and you knew it. You have known it since you were a child. Maybe you were born with it or maybe it was something that had wormed its way inside you and burrowed through your body. Gnawing through organs, riding the circular waves of blood, and seeping into your marrow. 

Your mother was sure to never let you forget who you were. You were a maggot, a parasite, the worst of the worst; the lowest form of life that took others for granted. You were a mistake, a lost cause, and nothing, but the dirt on the underside of her shoe.

Nothing you could do would ever make her happy. You could beg for forgiveness on your knees. You could give her thousands of dollars. You could promise to do better, but it’d never work. Your mother’s mind had been set in stone since you were a child. Your whole life, you faced nothing, but her wrath. 

She was cruel and she knew it. Every word spat your way was another invisible slap in your face. You could rip out your heart and your own mother would thank you. She’d crush it and watch the life drain from your eyes. She wouldn’t mourn her child, she’d relish in your death. 

Your eyes began to well up faster and you brushed away the tears. Your fingers gripped the sturdy edge of the sink. You forced yourself to breathe through the urge to sob. You jerked your head back to face the ceiling and sucked in deep breaths, but it didn’t help. 

Growing up without a stable mother was difficult. Everyone deserves a parental figure. Everyone deserves maternal love. The delicacy and sweetness, the cooing and the coddling, the comfort and the sense of safety. 

Maybe you really had been cursed since birth. That right had been ripped away from you and you were left with nothing, but an ache. You could try to patch the superficial wound, but sometimes cuts need stitches. There was nothing there for you to stitch up the gaping hole. It was wide open and infected; oozing with a longing for a mother that’d never be filled. 

You could try to fill it with parasocial relationships. You could distract yourself with social media. You could read a thousand books and watch movie after movie, but the truth is that there will always be a bit of an ache. 

It will occur in moments when it’s not supposed to. It’s hard to heal from something that you never had properly to begin with. Parental love is something that’s irreplaceable. Don’t we all just want a little love? 

When the door flung open and another person entered, you jerked your body up straight. You sucked in a final breath, wiped away your tears, and you hurried out of the bathroom. You didn’t give the other person time to ask if you were alright. You ducked out of the heavy wooden door and took off. 

Weaving through the tables, you found Hyunjin with his back turned to you. The flap of butterfly wings brushed against your stomach before your stomach acid dissolved them. You pushed that giddiness away and forced your feet to move. 

He was sipping his wine when you approached. He paused mid-sip and glanced up at you. “Are you okay?” 

“I have to go.” 

“What?” 

“I’m sorry, but I have to go.” 

“Wait, I don’t understand. Did something happen? Did I offend you or something? Baby, I-” 

“Mommy, can we go to the park after this?” 

“Sure. If you really want to, we can get ice cream too.” 

“With sprinkles?” 

“Of course, with sprinkles.” 

It was the final nail in the coffin. You could feel your heart starting to burst in your chest. You found your wallet in your pocket, fumbled for cash, and slammed it down on the table in front of Hyunjin. He looked at you entirely frazzled, but you didn’t catch it. 

“I’m sorry, this should be enough to pay for everything.” 

You walked away without another word. Too shocked to stop you, Hyunjin watched you go. He didn’t know what to say to you. Did you just dump him in the middle of your date? The two of you had been dating for a while. 

All he could do was sigh and sip more of his wine. When the waiter approached and asked if everything was alright, all he could do was ask for another refill on his wine. He couldn’t understand what was going on in your head. What did he do wrong? 

Late that evening, he attempted to text you, but you never returned it. The next morning, you didn’t return his call. One evening grew into another and then another and then another and then another. 

You saw all of it; the bursts of text messages, begging for some sort of explanation. The vibrations of phone calls where his name was still left under the cheesy contact name you gave him since the two of you began to date each other. 

The longing you once had for him had turned into an empty hollowness. If your own mother wouldn’t want you, then why would Hyunjin put up with you? He deserved something better than you. Someone smarter, someone prettier, someone who wasn’t rotting from their past. He deserved better.

And you? You’d continue the sad journey of life. You were giving up the relationship for Hyunjin. He didn’t know it now, but soon he’d learn how rotten you were. You’d push him away until he’d rip off the rose tinted glasses and see the reality of what you were; a monster created with a heart of glass and gnashing teeth. What little beauty laid in the world, you destroyed it with a single touch. 

Your plan was flawless and you were executing it perfectly. Every painstaking voicemail Hyunjin left, you didn’t respond to. You didn’t bother opening them, you sent them straight to the trash. You left him text and call you because, in some twisted way, it was comforting. It was comforting that he still wanted you, despite everything. 

That was an awful way to think, but you couldn’t help it. You had always wanted to be wanted and here was someone wanting you. You wanted to give him an explanation, but you were too afraid. You didn’t want to admit that you weren’t good enough for him. You didn’t think you’d be able to get out the words without bursting into tears. 

So you let yourself rot. You got up and went to work and then collapsed in your bed. The world around you became hazy as the dark bags grew beneath your eyes. The knots in your hair became tighter and your clothes became more and more loose. You didn’t know how to put yourself back together again. 

Nearly a week later, the texts and calls stopped. It all stopped and you were relieved and yet heartbroken. Speckled confusion stained your soul. Everything was okay and yet, it was one of the worst things to feel in your life. Once again, you were alone. 

Curled up into a ball on your bed, you fell asleep. You didn’t bother curling beneath the blankets under your body. You didn’t try to fight the wave of sadness that left you exhausted. You let yourself rot again. The tumultuous state of your mind seeped out into your apartment again. 

You didn’t eat much and when you did, you didn’t have the energy to do the dishes. They were starting to overflow in the sink. Your laundry hamper was filled with clothes and bursting over the top. The trash needed to be taken out, but you couldn’t muster the will to do it. Life didn’t get to you often, but when it did, it was bad.

The banging on your door caused your eyes to open. Encrusted with sleep, you struggled to make sense of the noise. You laid there listening, but it didn’t stop. Over and over it went again and again. 

You didn’t know how long it took you to pull your aching body up. You were still hazy from the dreamless sleep. With a yawn, you stumbled to the front door, fumbled with the lock, and jerked it open. 

Hyunjin’s eyes were wide when he saw you. Your eyes were glassy and red. You must have been crying at some point. He gently stepped toward you and cupped your cheek. You blinked while trying to make sense of his sudden appearance. 

“What are you doing here?” You croaked. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“No, you’re not.” 

“You should go.” 

“Why?” He stepped closer and crossed his arms over his chest. “Give me one good reason why I should go.” 

“Hyunjin, please, I-” 

“Did you find someone else?” 

Your face scrunched up in shock, “huh?” 

“Is that what this is?” 

“No! No, it’s not that!” 

“Then what is it?” 

Your bottom lip began to quiver. He softly called your name and gently cupped your face. “Sweetheart, what is it? Trust me, I can handle it.” 

“I don’t deserve you,” you whispered with tears glistening in your eyes.

“I don’t think that’s for you to decide. Let me in and we can talk about this together.” 

You stood in your doorway blocking the entrance. He stared at you and silently refused to budge. After a brief silent battle, you finally caved and stepped aside. He glanced around your apartment. You had drawn all the curtains, so it was nearly entirely dark; it was incredibly depressing. 

He wanted to ask, but he stayed silent instead. His eyes found you and you rubbed your eyes again. Still half asleep, you had yet to realize if this was a dream or not. 

“Are you going to tell me why you ghosted me?” 

“I don’t deserve you,” you mumbled again. 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“I’m not on the same level you are. I’m not as beautiful and I’m ugly. You’re more talented than I ever will be and I-” 

“Woah, woah, woah!” He held up a hand to stop you with wide eyes. “Honey, where is this coming from? Is that how you’ve felt the entire time while we dated?” 

It killed you. That last sentence. The truth was that he made you feel like the most beautiful person in the whole world. He made the colors around you feel brighter. Your heart grew when you were with him. It was the closest thing to normal that you ever got again. 

“Yes,” your voice came out higher. 

He recognized your dishonesty right away. “Why are you lying to me? What’s really going on with you? Why won’t you let me in? Why won’t you let me care about you?” 

Your lip quivered again. You couldn’t stop the tears from falling down. You didn’t bother hiding the sobs as you fell to your knees. Hyunjin rushed towards you and tugged you into the warmth of his arms. You cried and cried and cried some more. 

You blubbered through the situation with your mom. How the mother and daughter at the steakhouse reminded you of the past. How much you longed to be wanted and desired. The warmth of a mother that never quite reached you. On and on you went. 

By the time you were finished, you were utterly exhausted. Your head was buried in Hyunjin’s chest and he soothingly rubbed your back. A period of silence lingered between you before he spoke. 

“I’m not your mother and I can’t take away the hurt that she caused, but I can try. I don’t care what negativity she told you because none of it is true. With you around, the birds sing a little louder and the sun shines a little brighter.” 

“You have a tendency to bring love with you wherever you go, did you know what? You try to understand and make room for everyone in your life. You always listen and you try your best to help people with their problems.” 

“I’m sorry you didn’t get the mom you deserved, but your mother couldn’t be more wrong. You’re not an awful person and you don’t deserve to die. I can’t believe she said something like that to you.” 

He let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes. “You mean everything to me and I love you; all of you. Every flaw, every scar, every pore. I’ll take you as you are and not how your mother thinks you should be. You’re perfect how you are.” 

His cheek dipped down and rested on the back of your scalp. Your arms were wrapped around his ribs. Tears silently trickled down your cheeks and seeped into his shirt. 

“I’ll stay here as long as you need me to. Please don’t push me away. I want to love you like I always do and like I always have. My love for you is sincere and it’s not something I take lightly. You’re one in a million and no matter what you think, I wouldn’t be happy with someone else. I want you and that’s it.” 

After a few more beats of silence, he broke it again. “Are you hungry?” 

You shook your head, but your stomach growled at the same time. Hyunjin chuckled and tightened his grip on you. “I think you’re lying and you need food. We’re going to get food, but first-” 

Curiously, you lifted your head up. Your glossy eyes met his. His heart panged with a wave of agony. He couldn’t believe your mother had destroyed you and abandoned you with these vile thoughts. This self-hatred and insecurities, he hated that you struggled so much. 

“You know what happens to liars?” 

You shrugged. 

“They get tickled as a punishment.” 

Your eyes widened as he grinned. You scrambled and tried to get away, but he was faster. His fingers went directly to your stomach and he began to tickle you. You squirmed and laughed, trying to free yourself from his wiggling fingers. 

Despite everything, your laughter lit his heart ablaze. You were his and he was yours. He’d never stop reminding you of how much he loved you. No matter how long it took, he’d be here until his dying breath if he had to be.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Masterlist

Requests, taglist, and inbox rules

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids drabbles #skz fanfic #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin stray kids #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin #hyunjin x you #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin comfort

[sunflowervoltwentyeight]

Happy 28th! Here is my April 2024 fic rec, organized by word count, from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

When All Is Said And Done by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10 (76k)

“You must be thinking of another of your ex-husbands,” Louis snapped back, and Harry stilled, slowly turning to face him. There was something almost dangerous in Harry's look then but Louis stayed firm, not cowering away.

“Thankfully, I only have the misfortune of one ex-husband,” Harry said darkly, snatching up the plates and slamming them onto the table. 

*****

Louis and Harry were married, but things fell apart, ending in divorce, broken hearts and separate lives. Years later, their paths cross once more, and time together forces old feelings to resurface. But is it too little, too late?

Greenhouses AU Series by TiredTiredTz / @tiredtiredtz (63k)

Glass Closets and Greenhouses (60k) Charlton Athletic defender Louis Tomlinson and worldwide sex symbol Harry Styles are rumoured to be hooking up after a viral video filmed at Harry’s Wembley show was posted online by Tommo’s twin sisters. Sources close to the pair tell us the couple have been dating for a while, with rumours of house hunting, marriage and even kids on the cards! Styles, 29, is as well known for his whirlwind love life as his chart topping music. Most recently linked to British fashion designer Alex Millet-Sloan, Harry has stayed tight-lipped on rumours of any romantic rendezvous between himself and footballer Tomlinson, 31, yet fans online are convinced that all evidence points to #Tomlinstyles being the real deal. Not Conditional (3k) Harry is bald and this is how I’m coping. Set a few years after the events of Glass Closets and Greenhouses.

It Feels Different When You’re With Me by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings (45k)

Harry fell in love with sign language as a kid. He never imagined the first love of his life would lead him straight to his second.

Every Lonely Place by HamPalpert (38k)

Facing the fact that he’s been prioritizing his career over his relationship, Harry proposes to his longtime boyfriend Louis on a whim. But when yet another work emergency takes precedence over their plans, Louis decides he’s had enough. Harry goes to bed drunk and alone, and when he wakes, he finds himself in an entirely different world. Over and over again, Harry visits a lifetime he’s once lived, across time and dimensions. And wherever there’s a Harry Styles, there’s a Louis Tomlinson.

The Act of Making Noise by suspendrs / @suspendrs (32k)

“Oh,” Harry frowns, waving him off. “No, I could never. I respect myself too much to sing for a living.”

It feels like a slap across the face, but Louis does his best not to stiffen, blinking once and then frowning. “What?”

“Those people are always so miserable, you know?” Harry says, hopping down off his stool and straightening his sweater. “There’s so much pressure on them, and they have to work so hard to keep up appearances, I can’t even imagine how difficult that is. I can’t even stand to listen to pop music today, let alone watch TV or read the magazines. It makes me so sad, thinking that those people, you know, the ones who actually went into it with heart, they only ever just wanted to make music and instead they got turned into things on leashes being paraded around to make money for other people,” he says. “Anyway, you can have the stool.”

Or, Louis's famous, Harry has no idea who he is, and they get snowed in together at a ski lodge in Vermont.

It’s About Time by kingsofeverything / @kingsofeverything (3k)

Best friends and roommates, Louis and Harry have been through a lot together, including law school for Louis, marriage and divorce for Harry. Their imminent eviction forces them to admit their feelings.

#28th appreciation #April fic rec #monthly fic rec #Larry fic rec #fic rec #hlcreators #read

[drunkkenobi]

Well. This is the weirdest one of these I’ve ever made.

I’m not going to rehash the wank from the Watcher TV announcement. You all know what happened. I am standing by my assertion that this streaming platform is the only way they’re going to stay afloat because YouTube is just not the place for them or anyone else making videos that aren’t just of one person in their house. (nothing against those folks, it’s just a completely different business model)

Anyway.

First up, here’s how Mystery Files season 2 did. It did well, with each ep hitting a million fairly quickly, but it didn’t do as well as season 1. Not significantly worse, just not as high. (two weeks after season 1 ended, the average per episode was 1.854 and for s2 it’s at 1.194million) Of course, the two weeks since season 2 ended have been fucking insane so it’s impossible to say how much of that is a factor.

I will say that views between last week and this week are down overall, but that’s expected. If someone has paid for the streamer and you want to rewatch Ghost Files or whatever, you’re going to watch it ad-free on the app you pay for and not YouTube for the most part. Also it’s very possible people are just not rewatching stuff right now for their own personal reasons, which is fine. I also just don’t think it’s something to worry about.

For better or worse, the Goodbye YouTube video is the best opening weekend Watcher has ever had (and will have?) on YouTube.

Watcher lost around 100k subscribers over The Announcement but, again, if people are paying them directly now then this is kind of a non-factor. For posterity, they’re at 2.84 million subscribers today.

I’m not sure what else to say this time, tbh! It felt like a good time to make one of these with MF season 2 being over but YouTube viewcounts are just…not going to be important anymore for Watcher so there’s not much to say about them. Finding out that a million views only nets between $10-30k has been very eye-opening to me about how piddly the revenue from YouTube is for a production studio like Watcher. The shows they want to make just cost more than they can make off of there. It’s that simple. No one has to like that fact, but that is the heart of all this.

Also, with all of that being said, I think my time as a spreadsheet gremlin is coming to a close. I’m going to keep up with it for a few more weeks and probably do one last round-up for every single video’s views, but with Watcher moving away from YouTube as a business model, there’s little reason to keep up with these. I’ve been making these updates less this year anyway because of a job change and I was losing my steam for it a bit too, so the timing feels right. Like I said, this won’t be my last viewcount post, but maybe second-to-last? And who knows, maybe I’ll check in when Ghost Files premieres but the counts will mean so much less now that the videos will premiere with a month delay from the streamer. We’ll just have to wait and see how the wind blows on this.

Thank you all, as always, for reading, reblogging, replying, liking these posts. Y’all are the reason I’ve kept up with it for four years (and my own nosiness but having encouragement helps!). And don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll have some other spreadsheets to share in the future of Watcher fandom. (I have…so many) So, until next time, thanks again. ❤️

#watcher #my spreadsheets

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Promise

We will pretend it hasn't been 3 weeks since I made this post asking for writing ideas.

Anyway, @wangxian-stan here's the idea you suggested, I hope you like it and sorry for the delay!

Here's the prompt:

It is so quiet in the jingshi that, if Lan Wangji tried, he would even be able to hear the sizzle of wax melting under the gentle flames of the candle wicks. The silence rings in his ears – and not even the sounds of the night outside are doing much to fill it.

It’s unnerving. Such undisturbed silence reminds him of times he would rather forget. Of loneliness, pain and the discordant notes of songs ending in tears, the bitter taste of alcohol and regret.

The dull sting of his wounds being cleaned adds on to that – especially since the claw marks on his back cross over the faded scars of the discipline whip. It feels almost uncanny, some kind of déjà vu – except it is not a healer or his brother that is helping clean and bandage his wounds, but his husband.

However, for all the teasing and talking Wei Wuxian does, the energy and the liveliness that Lan Wangji loves him for – he is being unsettlingly quiet as well. He has been this way ever since Lan Wangji returned from his night hunt with the back of his robes torn into, red painting the edges. The injuries do look worse than they feel and Lan Wangji made sure to tell his husband this much from the start – but Wei Wuxian seemed a bit too shaken by the sight to really listen, his expression darkening and his voice waning until he decided not to speak anymore at all.

And so, he is now tending to Lan Wangji’s wounds, with the gentleness and care of someone that has known far too much pain, his fingertips trembling on the washcloth as he cleans the injured skin. The beast had hurt him not out of an oversight, but rather, as a choice – he had not thought much about it, intercepting the hit in place of Lan Jingyi more out of instinct than anything else. Whilst a hit like that would do little more than inconvenience him, someone as young as Jingyi could have been incapacitated by it for a long time – so it was a small price to pay, in hindsight.

But it does make Lan Wangji’s heart squeeze to see his beloved be so affected.

The ointment Wei Wuxian uses on him next smells of herbs and the faint scent of disinfectant – again, much too familiar. A very effective cure, developed by the Lan healers long ago, though unkind to the touch. It stings terribly being placed on an open wound, Lan Wangji knows it better than anyone.

Which is why he’s tried to keep his reaction contained, not wanting to worry his husband any more – yet  a faint hiss does still leave his lips as Wei Wuxian applies some of the medicine to his wounds. His fingertips lift off the sensitive skin, and a gentle current of cool air blows over the sting to soothe it. The knowledge Wei Wuxian is so gentle moves Lan Wangji to finally speak.

“Wei Ying…”

The other makes a questioning noise, continuing to gently blow over the wound and alleviate the sting.

“It is alright. I feel fine.”

“It’s important to make sure you heal properly. Do you know how easy it is to get an infection from something like this? Open wounds must be treated seriously even if they’re not bad.”

Lan Wangji feels like those words are not Wei Wuxian’s own, rather repeating what he himself has heard a long time ago, a lifetime ago, from somebody that had been too good at her craft to die the way that she had.

“You need to be more careful.” Wei Wuxian adds, the tone of his voice softer, worried and loving all the same.

“I am.” Lan Wangji replies, and he’s being truthful in this simple, confident reply. He is careful, calculated and precise – but not when it comes to protecting the people he cares about. There is no time for him to weigh his options when danger befalls somebody he considers part of his family, and he knows Wei Wuxian cannot blame him for it – because he does the same.

Wei Wuxian carefully covers the wounds in bandages, his touch light. “You know what I mean. You got off easy now, but what if it won’t be like this next time?”

Lan Wangji sighs, fondly, warmth blooming in his chest at his husband’s worry. “Wei Ying…”

“I know, you’re the great, peerless, undefeated Hanguang-Jun…” he smiles as he says it, “…but you’re not immortal.”

“Not yet.”

That pulls a light chuckle out of Wei Wuxian, and it is the first time that night that the heaviness in the jingshi lifts. “Well, since you promised me forever, that means you have to make sure you get there in one piece.”

A smile tugs at the corners of Lan Wangji’s lips. “I will. I promise.”

He feels a soft pair of lips at the nape of his neck, Wei Wuxian’s lips whispering into his skin. “I’ll hold you to that.”

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #writing attempts #i loved writing this #and i realized how much i missed writing

[duodusk]

still cant believe my shitty poorly looped autism creature yippee gif is still getting used on here where are u people finding it

#txt #in case u didnt know if you upload a gif tumblr notifies you when other people use it in a post #WHICH MEANS i get a direct feed of autism posts in my activity . which is great i think its fun /gen #but god if i knew people would keep using it i wouldve at least fixed the skip at the end where the video looped before i stopped recording #i only made it myself bc i couldnt find a version of it anywhere quickly for the reply i wanted to do #secondary effect my username is now on all those posts im like signing off on them #anyway hi . im sleepy 2day been kinda busy #GOT TO TALK TO MY FRIEND ABOUT THAT OC THING THO !! #also my techno merch shipped 💜 its gonna be here way sooner than i expected #ahh i cant wait #im gonna make myself a plush since i didnt order one back then i just need to buy a pig plush n make the crown and cape myself #i think itll feel nice to have one. one of my friends has one and whenever i go to their house now i just want to hold it #feels a bit comforting you know? #anyway this post has been all over the place you know how it is #hope ur all having a good night tho !!

[corfisers]

i really need to finish this one day

#one of my fave ideas but i keep getting stuck or starting over. third time's the charm hopefully #anyways. posting it as an excuse to rant because i'm losing my mind over this rn for no reason #incoherent but i just need to Talk or my brain won't shut up #you ever think about how fucked up it is that aoi feels guilty over what happened. i do. i think about her a lot #he can't even look at me. we aren't even blood related but he still had to go to jail because of me. i still love him #in reality none of it is her fault. it shouldn't be about doumeki in the first place. baby girl you were 15 when it happened. #you can say that yashiro is cruel in his dismissiveness (on the surface) of doumeki's trauma but you can see where he's coming from #you got a glimpse of what your sister was going through? of what i went through? and now you're sooo guilty over it? and who does it help? #doumeki's so focused on his own feelings that he ignored aoi when they were living together. “saves” her by pure chance #proceeds to focus on his guilt and ignore her again. if yashiro didn't get involved she'd be sitting in the rain for god knows how long #yet she still loves and to some degree idolizes him #yashiro and aoi both saying that doumeki isn't the type of person to be a yakuza too. doumeki's good doumeki's better than that #and then ch 24 happens. where yashiro says that he's going to throw up and doumeki's response is “i probably won't stop even if you do” #“guess i am like my father after all” and yashiro still goes “you're not. you're pure and im the problem” #(touches doumeki's face. rare gentle gesture. he's gentle afterwards too before leaving. man.) #he's not cruel enough to repeat what he said in the earlier conversation and he doesn't actually believe it anyway #but i wish yashiro was cruel there. it shouldn't have been about doumeki and his feelings. again. #something about yashiro throwing a knife at another person and it flying back at him huh #for all the talk about how doumeki supposedly romanticizes yashiro it really is the other way around. always has been #which is a whole other conversation but yeah. everything about aoi and yashiro in relation to doumeki makes me so fucking sad #but this is also what i mean when i say that aoi doesn't haunt the narrative per se but still has this weird presence? #she's in the parallels. she's in the brief but important mentions. she's in the “your sister was lucky she had you”. #wips tag

[kavehater]

I wish I could inject pasilyo into my brain so I can have permanent happiness

#There’s this specific part of the song #It srsly alters my brain chemistry #Anyways #i hate tumblr sm #Idk like I Gen hate being on here sm #No matter what account I make no matter if I tell ppl about it whether I don’t tell ppl I just hate this place soooo much #Like if I have a following it sucks because it’s rlly lonely if I don’t it’s still lonely and then if there’s nobody at all it’s lonely #Loneliness is what got me to discord boy so like :D #The fact I am genuinely missing him sm I’m gonna krill myself 😻🙏 #Also I think I hate talking to minors cause these kids be letting themselves get groomed all the time I’m so tired of seeing it #The creep in my course is being so weird to Raisa who is a minor … I can’t help but think it’s all my fault … I invited her to the pharm gc #To show her how messy it was …. #I didn’t expect her to follow and accept requests of everyone … #Anyways I just am so annoyed. Like I wish I could have one person just one where I can be confident in being their no.1 but every time I th #Think I’m maybe somewhere high up on someone’s list of important ppl I realise I overestimated my position even tho I’m rlly self conscious #And being myself down over that. Also I still hate Eid. I hate Eid sm. How do ppl genuinely enjoy Eid. Idk if I’ve ever been excited for Ei #It’s like I’m just suddenly getting more sick of ppl by the day. I Gen don’t like talking to ppl at all even tho I used to rely on talking #To others like its sustenance now it’s just such a hassle to me because I’m so sick of being unimportant to literally every single person I #Have ever known. Literally everyone except maybe dahlia idk. the only person who has never gotten mad/snapped at me o is dahlia #And knowing my luck that will soon be taken from me too. Anyways good riddance to tumblr i loathe this site and im sick of the mind games #All the time from just existing on here. Gen makes me feel ill. I’m so sick of that girl I like and sick of everyone. The only time ppl car #Is when I cause a scene. And ykw atp I loathe being showed sympathy and pity for these sorts of posts because it just feels like a big joke #Cause why couldn’t you just care when I was fine. Why do you ONLY care when I’ve had enough of your bad behaviour. How does one make someon #Like me go mad with all these things #Istg if I come back to this dumb site whether to this acc to the tora one or my other account everyone has permission to beat me up. #dora daily #Tldr;I HATE ppl and everyone ever + I’m just sick of pretending like everyone doesn’t suck cause how can ppl be so insufferable intolerable #Insane horrible in every way and ppl like them. How do they live with themselves when they’re this aggravating. Every day I hate ppl more #Because their mannerisms their everything is just so embarrassing. #Essay tags 😻😻😻

[silverselfshippingchaos]

i hate s.eifer a.lmasy so much

#that was a lie #i need him carnally actually #ahem sorry what HAHAHAHAA #ash rambles 💚 #he is so... AHSKHSKAHAKAHSJWJSJAHSJWJSJWHSJQHSNWJRUJWHEJW #i know he's an asshole but shhh he's sooo dreamyyyy!!!! #i don't support the chaining s.quall up and torturing him but um #heck #s.eifer in the mobile games... him always talking about how he wants to be a knight and protect the people he holds dear... #also he's really handsome did i mention that #thank you s.quall soooo much for cutting his face in the intro of the game since that facial scar does him soooo good #ahsjabdnsbdjwhdb i feel like this gush post is all over the place but s.eifer turns me into mush #however my s/i for him is so cool! she's so stylish! and also she has guns! two of them! and lots of earrings and a cool outfit and stuff!! #she's a member of the main party so s.eifer is her enemy for like. the whole game #(but she has a crush on him and her friends tease about it often) #however in the ending cutscene you see them hug! they get together a bit after the game! they have a lot of recovering to do together #considering that they've both been enrolled in Mercenary School since they were very very young- #but heck. i hate him (i really love him so much but i'm stubborn and just saying it makes me smile) #he's handsome and strong... and kind.. actually no he's not #but shhh whatever i love him anyway!! he may be a questionable villain but he's MY questionable villain #also hehe i used tiny s.eifer for this post #look at him. look at how small he is. he's so cute

[atomicengineerdetective]

No one talk to me I just came back from a family vacation to find out my favorite youtuber ever is leaving the platform.

I am devastated.

(I am actually happy for him, he has given me so much happiness for like 8 years. He deserves to let the channel go an enjoy his life. It just hurts, but I'll get over it

I'm so thankful for MatPat and Steph. I Hope every future endeavour or project they take on is successful and that over all they have a happy and fulfilling life with Ollie.💚❤️💛💙)

#I leave to a place with no cellphone signal and come back to this? #may be the lord was protecting me idk #What do I call this? a personal rant? Im not really ranting more like letting my feelings out #venting if you #never done this on my blog before but I feel like I have to #I've been a Fan of game theory since I was like 13 or 14 #He was like the first youtuber I ever suscribed to #that spoke english cause my first language is spanish lol #His videos and overall community meant a lot to me. I dont know how could I possibly express that #Of course Im going to still watch the videos after he is gone with the new hosts but still it wont be the same #Hope this doesnt sound too like sad. I dont mean to be negative. I am legitemetly so proud and happy for him #I mean He had one of the classiest goodbyes of YouTube at least I can say my favorite youtuber was never cancelled thats a win haha #But seriously he has achieved so much and has over all been such a positive influencer how could I not be proud to call myself a Fan #so truly I am not sad He ended on the highest note you could ask for. I cannot ask for anything more from him. #I am not sad However I did cry like a Baby during the Video. Man I just. Im tearing up even thinking about it #but anyway #You bet I am going to watch every single one of his videos the second they upload until march 9. #And then I am going to dedicate the day to the celebration he supposedly plans for then #I will probably vent some more in a bigger post then too. like I did in this tags lol. #Right now... I just cant. I need to process a little more heh #MatPat #Matthew Patrick #The game Theorists #game theory #goodbye matpat

[xxsabitoxx]

How JJK Men Eat Pussy 2.0

Satoru, Suguru, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna, Yuta, Itadori, Megumi

Warnings: All characters are 18+, this post is explicit smut. As if you couldn’t tell that from the title

A/N: Funny story, I forgot I already wrote this same concept last year… but since I didn’t realize until I finished writing this… imma post it anyways. But if you’d like to see my original thoughts on this topic, you can see them here with an additional 2 characters lol

Gojo Satoru

He is relentless, especially when he’s in the mood to go down on you. These little moods of his will have him between your legs for hours, multiple times a day. You always like to joke that he knows when you’re ovulating because somehow these little moods seem to fall in sync. If Satoru goes more than three days without you, it’s like he’s going through withdrawals. He’s skilled with his tongue, he’s able to move it in ways and speeds you didn’t know a man could. Typically he’s a tease, he’ll edge you until you have an orgasm so pathetic you can’t even call it one. Ya know, the kinds where you come and don’t feel that satisfaction, just the pulsating ache of needing more. But recently, Satoru discovered how much more fun it is to overstimulate you. He loves the way your finger’s bury in his hair and try to tug him off as he sucks on your clit until you’re sobbing and begging him to ease up. He’ll keep your thighs spread wide, large hands effortlessly keeping them in place while they desperately try and close. He’s also the type to see those “pineapple make’s your cum sweet” articles and come home with enough pineapples to feed a village. He’s not even embarrassed about his reasoning, even if it’s just a myth, his sweet tooth can’t pass up the opportunity. Satoru loves your natural taste, but you surprised him with edible lubes in various fruity and sweet flavors one night… you still recall seeing the sun rise. 

Geto Suguru

He’s a god at eating pussy and you can’t convince me otherwise. Suguru has always been about your pleasure over his, not to say he doesn’t have his selfish moments, but your pleasure is just so much fun to him. He loves the noise, the facial expressions, the smell, the taste. The first time he went down on you, you were convinced he was lying about it being his first time. The ability just came naturally to Suguru. Like Satoru, Suguru loves to tease you. He’ll focus all of his attention on your dripping entrance, only stimulating your clit if his nose bumps it. He loves the way you squirm, his nails leaving crescent shaped nail marks in the plump flesh of your thighs as he holds you in place. He loves your breathless gasps, his long hair tickling your thighs as he eats you out, only adding to the stimulation that’s making your toes curl. Suguru loves to make you beg, pulling his mouth away from your cunt to just barely flick his tongue over your clit. He’ll stop all together just to taunt you until you’re sobbing, begging him to do something. He has a whole album on his phone dedicated to you, most of the content being videos of him eating you out, some he even made you take just so he could see the camera shake with your effort to keep it straight and hear your noises better. He puts on a show for you, slurping and sucking and moaning just to feel your thighs tremble as you moan with him. 

Nanami Kento

Eating you out is a stress reliever for Nanami… so it happens like very fucking day. Lord help me this man will spend hours edging you, cheek pressed into your thigh as he lazily licks and nips at your cunt. He can’t think about anything but you when he is between our legs, moaning and whining his name like a beautiful lullaby. He’ll let you cum eventually, but for the time being you are completely at his mercy. Nanami is the type to wake you up with his head between your legs, especially on nights where he comes home late and you’re already passed out in bed. He’ll make out with your cunt honestly, licking and sucking and nipping at your folds until he can’t tell if you’re wet from his saliva or your own arousal. The answer is both. He doesn’t care for any of the fancy shit, so don’t bother with flavored lubes or eating particular fruits to try and alter your taste, he just wants you and you alone. I feel like this man has a scent kink so the smell of your arousal honestly gets him going even more. He prefers eating you out in bed, mostly because he’s tired and nothing feels better to him than laying on his plush mattress while using your thighs as his pillow. He’s a whore for face sitting by the way, even less of his energy needs to be put into  that, especially when you’re grinding your cunt against his tongue. Nanami’s other favorite thing to do is use his tie to bind your wrists, that way you really can’t interrupt him.

Fushiguro Toji

I had to restart Toji’s so many times because I got too aggressive. Listen, this bummy ass bitch will eat you out till the sunrises and he will make a fucking mess of you while he does it. Toji will eat you out and finger fuck you until you’re screaming. He’ll give you a “break” by stuffing you full with his dick and then get back to work eating you out again after he blew his load in you. Filthy bitch. He’ll eat you out anytime, anywhere, any position. He’ll never turn down the opportunity and depending on your relationship with him, this bitch may even charge you for his services. Which is just another way he likes to tease you, watching you whine and squirm while you cough up the money he wants. He’ll call you pathetic as he gets on his knees and basically rips your underwear off of you, commenting the whole time about how much of a whore you are… like he ain’t selling his body to you rn. This man will somehow make you feel inferior, but you can’t be bothered when his tongue is lapping at your cunt like a starved man. Toji will make sure your thighs and your cunt are swollen, bruised, overstimulated, and sore by the time he’s done with you. Your cunt is puffy from his sucking and biting, thighs littered in dark marks and teeth indents. He'd go as far as to find a marker and write “cum dumpster” on you if he was really in the mood to see you sob.

Ryomen Sukuna

Listen, you thought Toji could be mean? Sukuna is ten times worse. The thing is, the king of curses actually likes to eat pussy but he won’t admit it. But that is not to say he can’t live without it, Sukuna is selfish and really only prefers things that pleasure him in the process. But, when you’re sobbing, pathetically begging him to go down on you, he may just crack. Especially if you’re looking at him with watery eyes, swollen lips from sucking him off, your neck littered with bite marks and bruises. Oh, and, if you’ve made him cum, he’s more likely to agree and indulge you. If you manage to convince the king of curses to go down on you, don’t expect him to be easy on you. His nails are digging into the flesh of your thighs, blood dripping slowly as he eats you out with so much force it’s borderline painful. He’s using his tongue and his teeth, nipping at your folds and even grazing your clit with them until he can tell your sobs are a breathless mix of pleasure and pain. If we’re talking true form Sukuna, I promise you he won’t stop until you’ve blacked out. He’ll use one set of arms to hold your waist while the other set keeps your thighs spread. He’s forcefully dragging your cunt over the long tongue that protrudes from his stomach, occasionally stopping just to hold you still as he spreads you open and stuffs you with the same tongue, watching you yelp and moan as he toys with you. 

Okkotsu Yuta

If you look up the definition of “pussy drunk” you’ll see a picture of Yuta. This man cannot go down on you without becoming delirious. Your body puts him in a trance, he can’t even explain the way you make him feel. Yuta is all about body worship and his favorite way to go about it is having his face shoved between your legs for hours. He’s just as vocal as you are while he eats you out, groaning and whining against your cunt until the vibrations are making your eyes roll back as you cum again. He’ll be kneading your thighs as he eats, squeezing them like stress balls and hitting nerves that send sparks of electricity all the way to your toes and all the way up to the base of your neck. Without even trying, Yuta will manage to overstimulate you until you’re unironically going cross-eyed, fingers twitching as they bury in his hair and try to pull him off so you can catch your breath. Yuta is still a bit shy when it comes to being intimate outside of the privacy of your home. But that doesn’t mean he won’t drag you into the nearest bathroom and eat you out against the bathroom stall. In this sense, he’s almost cocky when someone unknowingly enters the bathroom only to see two sets of feet in one of the stalls. Not to mention the noises are echoing. Yuta lives to see your eyes going wide from embarrassment as he doesn’t stop, your noises are uncontrollable as he tongue fucks you. The poor bastard who entered the bathroom with the intention of properly using it just muttered under their breath and walked out.

Itadori Yuji

Yuji is eager, so, so damn eager. He wants to do anything and everything that brings you pleasure so when it comes to eating you out, he’s determined to be great at it. Yuji is the type to ask you for “practice” or “lessons” which is just his way of indirectly asking if he can eat you out. Most of the time, it’s an offer you can’t refuse, because as fate would have it, Yuji isn’t bad at anything. He’s so praise focused, eyes glued to your face as he flicks his tongue along your folds and waits for you to tell him he’s doing good. He’ll slow down when your praise isn’t coming fast enough because he wants you to beg. Yuji is a sucker for adding fingers to the mix, as much as he loves making you cum with just his tongue, he sees no point in limiting your pleasure for his own confidence boost. Kind of contradictory since he likes when you beg. Yuji is also the type to wake you up with his head between your legs, just slowly lapping at your cunt while also rutting his hips into the mattress, trying to not wake you up until you’re coming. He finds it so pretty when you wake up gasping, completely unable to restrict any of your noises as you orgasm. It’s important to mention that Yuji is a sucker for 69-ing and face sitting, he loves, loves, feeling your plush thighs caging in his head. He can’t get enough of the way your body settles so nicely into him, no longer afraid of “suffocating him” by sitting all the way down on him.

Fushiguro Megumi

He won’t admit it but he loves to eat you out. Megumi is shy at heart so even if he’s been with you for years, he can still get embarrassed when telling you how badly he wants to go down on you. He’s focused when he does get between your legs, hands gripping your thighs or hips while his tongue laps greedily at your cunt. Megumi loves to tongue fuck you, just because he knows it’s not enough stimulation to make you cum but enough to make you embarrassingly wet. He’s a bit mean at first, not willing to let you come until he feels you’ve earned it. He’ll stop abruptly just to sink his teeth into your inner thighs, not stopping until you’re gasping as the pain turns bruising. He’ll admire the teeth indents he’s left on your skin while his nails are scratching down your other thigh, tongue moving to wiggle against your clit until your hips are bucking. Megumi finds toys to be very hit or miss, but he’s found a love for stuffing you with a vibrator while putting all of his attention on your clit. Megumi’s preferred method of “torture” depends on his mood, either he’ll edge you until you’re begging or overstimulate you until you’re crying. He’s very private when it comes to these things… unless he’s jealous. Much like Yuta, he will not hesitate to drag you somewhere private while out in public to remind you of who you belong to. 

#dividers are from @benkeibear #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk headcanons #gojo smut #geto smut #satoru smut #suguru smut #nanami smut #toji smut #sukuna smut #yuta smut #itadori smut #megumi smut #gojo x reader #geto x reader #nanami x reader #toji x reader #sukuna x reader #yuta x reader #itadori x reader #megumi x reader

[spock-adoodledoo]

feeling officially aro for now

#personal #been flip flopping between aro and ace and aroace and possibly bi for like at least half a year probably #most likely more #i still really can't tell but a school group had an entire dinner convo about green/red flags in dating and i was just fucking Shocked that #people even had partners And exes in the first place like damn yall actually dated?? #idk. feel like my romance experience has been 0 even now when im p sure someone still romantically likes me i feel like the concept is entir #entirely disconnected from me #maybe i just prioritize friendship over that; especially because i feel like i don't have close close friends in the way many people seem to #anyways really feeling those posts that are like. how do you find the lack of something bc damn #yeah #we'll figure it out. #i also feel that before i was like ehhhhh idc about a label because if i like someone i'll like them and that'll be that but it's a lot hard #harder to determine Whether or not i'll end up liking Anyone at all and i think i just want the comfort of Knowing rn #so . the label will be there as a concrete identity for now #feel like this is extreme character development i was so fucking weirded out by queer stuff like 5 yrs ago man #that was so weird im glad i found the internet

[maniculum]

A post of mine from several months ago about the Perlesvaus self-rearranging forest just wandered across my dash again and made me think about it some more, so I wanted to talk about it a bit.

Perlesvaus, for those who don’t know, is a 13th-century French Arthurian romance. It’s intended to be a continuation of Chretien de Troyes’s Perceval, but it’s mostly known for being completely batshit when it’s known at all. (There’s an old book on Arthurian texts that dedicates a chapter to Perlesvaus and repeatedly speculates that the anonymous author had Something Wrong With Him. This is the longest scholarly treatment of Perlesvaus I’ve been able to find & read.)

Anyway, there’s an odd worldbuilding detail in the text. See, it’s a Thing in chivalric romances that the questing knights happen upon castles & lords & damsels & such that are unfamiliar to them and have to be explained. You know, “this is the Castle of Such-and-Such, where the local custom is as follows. It’s ruled by Lady So-and-So, whose character I shall now describe to you.”

This is a genre convention that largely goes unquestioned, but it’s a bit odd if you think about it. All these knights are at least minor nobility. They don’t know the other nobles in their region? They don’t know what castles are where? Don’t they have, like, diplomatic relations with these people or at least attend the same tournaments? Even if they’re all fully committed to the knight-errant lifestyle and don’t really engage in courtly diplomacy, you’d think they would share information with each other and get the lay of the land. But instead, to use TTRPG terminology, it’s like they’re all on a hexcrawl that was randomly generated just for them to have these adventures.

The author of Perlesvaus decides to address this. In what’s kind of a throwaway paragraph late in the text, he explains that God moves things around so knights always have new quests to do (and, presumably, is also making sure they always arrive at the right narratively-significant moment). So the reason they’re always encountering people & places they have no knowledge of is because those people & places really weren’t there yesterday. They didn’t know about the Castle of Such-and-Such because it’s normally a thousand miles away and the forest path they followed to get there used to lead somewhere else.

And I think that would be a really interesting thing to stick into a novel or a TTRPG or something. When a knight rides into the forest with the intent of Going On A Quest, at some point they go around a bend in the path, cross an invisible barrier, and wind up in the Forest of Narrative. This is a vast forest with no set geography, filled with winding paths and populated almost entirely with questing knights, damsels in search of questing knights, friendly hermits, strange creatures, and allegorical set-pieces. Then, at the narratively-appropriate time, they cross back over the invisible barrier back into the regular world, and find themselves wherever the Narrative has decided they need to be. This could be a different country, a different continent, or a different world entirely.

Whether anyone involved is actually aware that this is how it works is… optional, really. Though if it’s not a Known Phenomenon, the people whose jobs it is to handle trade & diplomacy & god forbid, maps, are going to end up tearing their hair out in frustration.

[sundrop-writes]

Careful - Chapter One

(Dad)Spencer Reid x (Mom)Fem!Reader

Chapter One: Over Yet

We can go farther, beyond the end.

Summary:

You and Spencer broke up more than four years ago. Since then, he has tried his best to forget about you. He has pushed all of his feelings down - locked them away into a little box that he never touches.

That is, until he sees your name on a list of potential victims being stalked and killed by a man who kills single mothers. (And he quickly realizes that your son could be his.)

Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Angst.

Word Count: 5,900

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Please keep in mind - I am not doing a taglist for this series, so please do not ask to be tagged in future parts. I do not do taglists. If you want to be notified when future parts of this fic are posted, you can follow this blog and turn on notifications here - I don't make personal posts on this blog, it is just pure posts of my fanfiction. Or you can subcribe on AO3 to get email notifications when this series is posted. You can also view the posting schedule on the series materlist and check @tenpintsof-sundrop for any information about possible changes to that schedule.

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: general warnings for a Criminal Minds episode - mentions of murder/killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of dead bodies, the underlying misogyny that comes with a man killing women, mentions of children being orphaned due to their mothers being killed (though there is no mentions of other living family members taking care of those children - you can imaging that they still have nice families to take care of them if you want, I didn’t fill in that detail), mentions of children being in proximity of a serial killer; exes to lovers - the reader and Spencer broke up and the reason why will be revealed later; mentions of pregnancy/mentions of the reader having a child; mentions of sex that resulted in a child/pregnancy (there is no detailed sex scenes/detailed smut in this chapter, but there will be in other chapters); mentions of JJ x Will; the reader’s looks are described as vaguely as possible; passing mention of incest (in the context of a historical figure); all statements that Spencer makes toward the end of this chapter were heavily researched and are factual; I think that’s about it?

A/N: The reader and Spencer originally dated around Season 1/Season 2 - I state at some point during the fic that they dated for 3 years before breaking up, so they started dating when he was very early Season 1 baby Spence (or even before Season 1) and they broke up around Season 2. So technically this fic takes place around Season 6 - but because I didn't want to distract from the plot, I didn't mention any of the stuff going on with Emily or any of those major canon plot points, and I am using pictures of later versions of Spencer just because that's who I was picturing in my head while writing this. But that's how the math works out. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the fic!! This chapter is more of an introduction before we really get into the meat of things, but I still hope that you guys like it.

...

The team had been in Portland for three days.

No leads, a confusing, inconsistent profile - huge pieces missing that would likely give them the real answers. 

A patient killer with an extended timeline who likely wouldn’t kill again for months - leaving them chasing their tails, looking for answers. 

“Okay, so, let’s take a step back.” Hotch sighed. “What do we know so far?” 

He leaned against a nearby table, looking at everyone with the hope of reassessing the case from a different angle. The hope of talking it out to get some answers. 

Another woman’s body had been found just before they arrived, and that would mean that the UnSub would be out hunting again soon. This was both good and bad. 

Good, because the UnSub clearly had to spend a lot of time stalking his victims - he knew a lot of details of their lives, and he had spent a lot of time developing an intimate fantasy of being a part of their family in his mind. So he wouldn’t be killing again the next day. No woman was in immediate danger. It gave the team more time to find viable suspects. 

Bad because they had no physical evidence, no good leads. And thus far, the profile was leading them nowhere. It felt incomplete. 

They could find no real connections between the victims - their gyms, their banks, their childcare, their grocery stores. Somehow, the victims didn’t seem to have any crossover in their lives. There was no real way to say how the UnSub had met them. And someone like this - he would have interacted with them at least once in order to become obsessed and stalk them to this degree. 

“Five women dead within the last three years.” Prentiss announced, starting to round up the facts that the team knew for certain. “All of them mothers, all with children under the age of five. All within the same ten square mile radius of Oregon, around Portland’s suburban neighborhoods.” 

She slumped back into her chair with a tired huff, and then continued. 

“The UnSub breaks into their homes through a backdoor or a back window, and somehow goes undetected in such an upscale neighborhood.” She sighed. “He kills the mothers, but he leaves their children alive. And then he calls 9-1-1 to report the death as a case of child neglect.” 

“So he was likely neglected by his own mother in his childhood.” Morgan easily theorized. 

“All of the victims upper-middle class, single mothers to one child with good jobs. All of them are of the same physical type.” Rossi added on. “They’re the same race, they have the hair color, they’re the same body type - all in their late twenties to early thirties. So the UnSub definitely has a type. He’s most definitely recreating a fantasy of some kind - perhaps taking out revenge on his own mother, but protecting himself. Which is why he never hurts the children.” 

“Yeah, but the children are different.” Morgan replied. “Sometimes boys, sometimes girls. Some of them are biracial - he doesn’t look for a specific type in the father. He doesn’t necessarily need to see himself in the children.” 

Then, as another thought occurred to him, Morgan continued on: 

“Plus, the children’s ages vary from barely a year old all the way up to five - if he was looking to seek revenge on his mother, looking to protect a younger version of himself, then he would have locked in on a critical event that he needs to protect himself from. The age of the children would be more consistent, at least, because he would be looking to protect himself as he hits the age that he was most traumatized by a specific event.” 

“That’s good.” Hotch nodded. “Then we know that it’s more about the mothers. He hates women at his core. Protecting the children is just a byproduct of his obsession over these women.” 

“But we still have no clue how these women could be connected or how they met the UnSub.” Morgan replied, jaw stiff with frustration. 

“Focus on what we do know.” Hotch reminded him. 

“All of the women were killed via stabbing. They all had over a dozen stab wounds to their stomachs and genital areas.” Rossi replied. “So, he is an aggressive sexual sadist.” 

“But if he hates women so much, why spend so much time in the house?” Morgan argued gently. “Every single one of these scenes has evidence that the UnSub spent hours - possibly up to a day in the house before he killed them. He cooked dinner, set the table, and made the women eat it before he killed them. Including a second place setting for a child. Some of the kids even said that ‘the scary man’ tucked them into bed and read them a story.” 

He held up one of the crime scene photos that depicted the scene of the family’s place settings - a haunting scene of plates not cleaned up from dinner, with a flower vase sitting in the middle of the table with a few white flowers wilting inside of it. 

“He’s right - why bother to show them the kindness of a last meal if he shows so much aggression toward them during the killing?” Prentiss added on. 

“It’s a routine.” Hotch said, the thought suddenly occurring to him. “It’s likely that he chooses single mothers because he gets to play the role of the father. With the real father figure absent from the picture, it makes it easier for him to impose himself into that role. At least for a temporary amount of time.” 

“It is strange.” Reid added on, clearly swimming in thought. “It’s almost like he’s courting them? Sending them gifts, showing what a good father he could be. Each of the women were sent white carnations sometime in the days before they were killed, and after the killing, he lays the flowers around their head in a halo-like fashion. It is said that carnations represent motherhood, and the white shade could depict an angelic innocence that he’s projecting onto these women.” 

“So he views these women as angelic figures, yet he kills them so brutally?” Prentiss scoffed. “It just doesn’t add up.” 

“Maybe he views the killing itself as a type of purification.” Reid theorized. “It’s not uncommon for killers to emotionally fetishize dead bodies and consider them more ‘pure’ than their living counterparts.” 

Prentiss visibly cringed at this. 

“Wait.” JJ said, looking at one of the crime scene photos with a sharp line pulling her brows together. 

Everyone looked to her, waiting for her to finish this thought. 

“I don’t think that the mothers were the only ones sent gifts.” 

She held up the photo, showing a picture of a colorful child’s play mat in the living room. Everyone stared at the photo in confusion, and JJ sighed and began to explain. 

“Look at this toy truck in the middle.” She said, pointing at something that almost blended into the background of the photo. The true focus was a large handprint - one that belonged to the killer, but he had worn gloves. “It’s wooden, it’s hand-carved, it’s old fashioned. All the other toys are plastic, brightly coloured. Remember what the UnSub said in the second 9-1-1 call?” 

“‘She pretends to have her son’s best interests at heart, but she was going to let him get cancer from sucking on those cheap plastic toys.’” Reid said, repeating it word-for-word, using his impeccable memory. 

“Exactly.” JJ confirmed with a nod. “Clearly the UnSub believes that he would be a good father because he can gift his child something hand-made instead of something mass produced.” 

“Alright, get the crime scene techs back over there to pick up the truck, maybe he wasn’t wearing gloves when he made it and there is some slim chance he left a print on it.” Hotch said, and JJ left to call the crime scene unit. 

This left the team sitting in silence for a few more moments until Reid spoke up again. 

“What about preschools?” He said, suddenly coming out of a wave of thought to announce this to the room. 

“What?” Prentiss prompted, wondering what on earth he was talking about. 

“Preschools.” Spencer confirmed, looking across the table at her. 

“We checked already, none of the victims’ children went to the same preschool.” Morgan reminded him. “Two of the kids didn’t even go to preschool.” 

“Yeah, but preschools typically have large waitlists.” Spencer argued. 

Naturally, all eyes in the room fell on him, waiting for him to explain. 

“In the first 9-1-1 call, the UnSub said that the victim ‘shipped her son off to be cared for by strangers half the time’.” He explained, once again perfectly reciting this from memory. “What if the UnSub resents preschools and the schooling system for taking these children away from their mothers, so he’s choosing his victims off of a preschool waitlist? What if that’s where his obsession stems from because that’s where his rage stems from?” 

Reid jumped up, pointing to the map he had been using to make a geographical profile. 

“All of the victims live within the same school district.” He added on. “So they would be applying to the same group of preschools.” 

“I’ll call Garcia.” Morgan announced. 

A few minutes later, Morgan connected Garcia’s call to the comm on the center of the conference table they were working from. 

“Hey, pumpkin pies.” She greeted them sweetly, as usual. “So it turns out, the preschool that Tommy Laird, and Emily Ashton, the third and the fourth victim had in common, does have a waitlist. But none of the other victims’ names were on it.” 

“Come on, babygirl. I know you’re holding out on me.” Morgan said, giving a small smirk. 

“Oh, my Adonis, if I don’t have your trembling anticipation, I have nothing.” Garcia giggled. “The school’s waitlist, and their applications, are handled by a firm called Gordon & Stanheight. And it turns out, they handle the applications and waitlisting for five other preschools in the area.” 

“Which gives the UnSub a perfect way to pick his victims.” Morgan sighed. “The first interaction that gets him hooked might not even be in person-” 

“Unless he’s picking them out of the line-up on paper and then waiting to meet them in person?” Prentiss replied. “With this type of guy, the smallest smile, a nod in his direction - that could be consent in his mind to play father to a household that’s missing one.” 

“You said they handle forms for five different schools? That just widened the victim pool.” Rossi groaned. 

“And the suspect pool.” Garcia added on. “The firm has thirty male employees. And I did a bit more digging - the preschool applications have ten ‘optional’ questions on the bottom that are definitely not marked as such. Questions directed at the parent filling out the form, rather than vital information about the child. Things such as: ‘what’s your favorite food?’, ‘when is your birthday?’, ‘what’s your favorite color?’, ‘do you plan on having more children?’ - typical survey schlock,” 

“That would explain why the UnSub served Lisa Laird a birthday cake.” Reid sighed. “He knew it was her birthday two days before he killed her.”

“I have a feeling I’m not gonna like where this is going.” Emily sighed. 

“Oh, sugar. You probably won’t.” Penelope easily agreed. “The ‘optional’ part of the forms is sold off to other companies as survey data. And those forms are seen and handled by over a thousand male employees of Gordon & Stanheight’s larger ‘data processing’ sector.” 

“Well the UnSub has to be local to Portland. So narrow down the suspect list based on his last known address and go from there.” Hotch said. “Also, it would be someone who has a criminal record. Someone committing this level of violence wouldn’t be a first time offender.” 

“Gotcha.” Penelope said. “Penny G, out.” 

… 

The team ended up raiding Gordon & Stanheight’s Portland based office. 

After some pointless conversation, some threats of lawsuits, and some even larger threats of being detained for impeding an FBI investigation, the team was able to get their hands on the preschool applications. Over two-dozen boxes worth, that they would have to sort through. 

So this left JJ, Reid, Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss knee deep in paper, looking for anyone who fit the UnSub’s victimology - praying that they would be able to pick out the next victim and get to her before the UnSub did. 

“We’re never gonna get through these fast enough, are we?” Prentiss sighed, continuing to sift through the papers. 

“We just have to go as fast as we can, and hope the UnSub sticks to his schedule.” Morgan replied. “He has to spend time stalking them, learning their routine. Even if he has chosen his victim by now, he won’t break into the house until he’s fully confident that he won’t be disrupted.” 

“And the stalking helps build up the fantasy.” Reid added on. “He romanticizes them from afar, sends them gifts. It adds to his delusions of grandeur and forbidden love. The idea that he’s swooping in to become the perfect father figure for these ‘broken’ families.” 

“So we’re hanging all our hopes on the idea that this psychopath needs time to ‘fall in love’ with his next victim before he kills her?” Prentiss groaned. 

“Sadly, yes.” Rossi confirmed. 

“It helps that most of these applications are from two-parent households.” JJ pointed out. “We can throw out anything with a second applicant on the form, because he’s only targeting single mothers.” 

The rest of the conversation easily became quiet in Spencer’s ears when he saw it. 

It should have been just another page among the sea of paper in his hands, but when he saw those words on the page - that name - it was like a punch to the gut. It pushed all the air out of him in seconds, it made him dizzy, made him struggle to breathe. Like a reel flashing through his mind, it brought back a flood of memories he thought he had locked away forever. 

It was you. 

What the hell were you doing applying for preschools? 

Spencer rushed to tear this paper away from the others in order to read it more carefully. 

Surely enough, the application was filled out in your handwriting. Something that had barely changed over the years. And it was all right there, laid out in front of his eyes, clear as day - 

You had a son. 

A son named Sebastian, who was three years old. Spencer checked the date on the form, eagerly looking for a birth date for your son. His birthday had just recently passed, actually, so he was four years old now. 

And his birth date was… fuck. 

He had been born eight and a half months, almost nine months exactly after the two of you had broken up. Your son had been born eight and a half months after the day you had left and Spencer had never seen you again. 

One thousand, seven hundred and two days. 

Four years, eight months, and two days. 

It wasn’t difficult math. 

Your son was the perfect age to be Spencer’s child. Was this Spencer’s child? 

His hands began to shake at the very thought of it.  

Is that why you had disappeared from his life with such haste? Because you knew that you were pregnant and you didn’t want Spencer to be a part of your child’s life? 

Had you been keeping this from him intentionally? 

He hadn’t thought about you in four long years, he had tried so hard not to. He had spent so long forcing himself not to miss you, and now he was struck with the realization that he might have a child out there with the woman he considered to be his regrettable lost love. A child he didn’t know - a child who he had missed four whole years with. 

What the fuck was going on? 

There were no pictures included with the application, and suddenly, Spencer found himself dying to see the boy. He wanted to know if there was any physical resemblance to himself, or if he was jumping to conclusions. 

Maybe you had cheated on him. Maybe that was why you had left town and never contacted him again. Maybe the kid wasn’t his at all, maybe- 

“Reid.” JJ called out gently, getting his attention. 

Spencer suddenly realized that he was hyperventilating, staring down at the application with your name on it in his hand, wrinkling the paper as he squeezed it more frantically. 

“Did you find something?” 

… 

All in all, the team found four different women who fit the victim pattern in the files - you being one of them. 

So the team split up, ready to knock on each of the womens’ doors, preparing to warn them that if they received any gifts or saw any suspicious men lingering around them in the next few days, they should call. They had to hope that the UnSub wouldn’t move on from this victim pool if he saw the FBI around. But he was overly confident, he had contacted police before. 

It could definitely work. 

When Hotch found out that Spencer had known you, he said that Spencer should be the one to knock on your door. That you might find it comforting to hear that you and your child could possibly be in danger if it were coming from ‘an old friend’. Spencer stuttered over himself and didn’t have the words to explain that you weren’t just a good friend to him, but a romantic flame. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of the team by telling everyone that the break-up had been messy, and sudden, and Spencer still wasn’t even completely sure what had caused it. He didn’t want to rip open his old wounds in front of everyone. 

So he simply shut his mouth and got in the car with JJ, and they made their way toward your house. 

…

“So…” JJ’s voice broke through the undulating silence of the car ride - filled by nothing but the sound of the car’s motor running and gears grinding inside Spencer’s mind as he tried to figure all of this out. “I do have to ask the obvious question,” 

“What is that?” Spencer probed, slightly glad to be relieved of his own thoughts. 

He wasn’t so glad when JJ pried those thoughts out of his mind and spilled them to the open air. 

“Is the kid yours?” She wondered aloud. “I mean - when did you and Y/N break up?” 

JJ had known you as Spencer’s girlfriend. 

Come to think of it, she was probably the only person on the current field team who had some kind of a relationship with you back when you and Spencer dated. 

Initially, it had been by accident. JJ had driven him home one night after a particularly long and sleepless case, and you had been coming to his apartment to drop off some books he had asked for (shortly after he had given you a key). When JJ saw you, her natural curiosity got the better of her - even more so when you stuck out your hand and introduced yourself as ‘Spencer’s girlfriend’ without hesitation. 

The two of you got to talking, and JJ invited you to ‘girls night’. You met Elle and Penelope shortly after. You had become pretty good friends with the three of them before the break-up. 

But Spencer had always felt secretive…. well, protective of you. He didn’t want Morgan teasing him about you, or him wanting to have ‘guy talk’ about things that occurred in the bedroom. Not when it might mean talking about intimate moments with you. Spencer had only introduced you to Gideon over coffee about three weeks before the break-up, and that felt like a lifetime ago. 

Back then, having you, Elle, and Gideon leave his life all in a matter of a few months felt like hell on earth. It felt like being grabbed by his ankles and shaken for all he was worth. He really wasn’t sure that he was ready to see you again. 

It had been four years. 

JJ was someone he could lean on right now. 

“Four years ago.” He told her, completely honest. 

“And how old is the kid?” JJ asked. 

“Four - four years old.” Spencer stuttered out, realizing that now as he was speaking about this very real possibility, he might be breathing more life into it. 

“Oh my god.” JJ sighed. “Well… could it-? I mean…? Did the two of you?” 

It took Spencer a moment to clue into what JJ was talking about. He gave her a sideways glance and she took her eyes off the road for a moment, raising her brows and giving him a pointed look. 

“Please tell me you know what does and what doesn’t make a baby,” JJ groaned. 

“Oh!” Spencer huffed, a small wave of embarrassment flooding him. “Yes! God, yes. I know.” 

There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Spencer felt the need to clarify his answer. 

“We - I mean. We…” He trailed off for a moment, clearing his throat. “We didn’t always use… protection. We were together for three years, at the time, it was on the table.” 

“Kids were on the table for you back then?” JJ asked, clearly shocked by this. “I could not imagine little twenty-four year old Spence with a baby.” 

“Well… it’s something I’ve always wanted.” He mumbled quietly in reply. 

It was true. At the time, Spencer easily imagined himself getting married to you, having multiple kids with you. These days, seeing JJ with Henry and Will brought him the occasional underlying pang of jealousy - but since breaking up with you, there hadn’t been anyone else in Spencer’s life that he could have imagined having kids with. He thought that he was going to be alone and childless for the rest of his life. That the dream was long dead for him. 

“Hey - then, maybe this is a blessing in disguise?” JJ posed. “If we hadn’t been looking through those forms because of this UnSub, you never would have found Y/N again. You wouldn’t even know this baby exists.” 

There was another thing that JJ was dying to ask - something she held back because she felt like it was a touch too personal. (Even if ‘too personal’ was basically how the BAU team lived - knee deep in each other’s business, all the time). 

She wanted to know why you had a baby, a baby that Spencer had very likely fathered, and you hadn’t contacted him about it. Spencer seemed entirely clueless about the child’s existence before now, and JJ knew that because of what his own father had been like, he wouldn’t just blow off a kid that was his if he knew that one was out there in the world. 

So why hadn’t you told Spencer about the baby? 

“What if the kid isn’t yours?” JJ wondered aloud. 

Maybe that would unburden him. She knew that either way, Spencer would fight to protect you from the UnSub. But if the kid wasn’t his - he would walk away again, and he wouldn’t have to be hung up on the heartbreak of dealing with his ex just to parent a child together. 

“Honestly… I think I’ll be more heartbroken if I find out that he’s not even mine.” Spencer told her, his voice quiet and already lulling with that disappointment. 

That was not something JJ had considered. She frowned as she saw the sadness paint across Spencer’s face. 

“One thing at a time, alright?” 

…

When they pulled into your driveway, Spencer’s mind immediately began churning. 

It was a nice house. It was a beautiful, quiet neighborhood. The front yard was clean and trimmed and there was a silver SUV in the driveway with a ‘baby on board’ sticker in the rear window. There was a rocking chair on the porch, but he didn’t see many children’s toys out front on the lawn. He guessed that was a good thing. Letting children play in the front where they could run into the street and potentially get hit by a car was too dangerous. He was glad to already see signs that you were a good mother. 

Spencer felt like he was opening up a book halfway, desperately wanting to be filled in on the previous chapters while having missed so much. Still wanting to read ahead and see more. 

He had already missed so much of your son’s life. He had missed you. That was something forming the biggest knot in his gut. He had truly missed you. The times he had allowed himself to think of you over these past few years - he had missed you so dearly. 

And now the two of you likely had a child together. 

Craning his neck to get a better look, desperately trying to take in more information, Spencer’s eyes were wide and hungry as JJ put the car in park by the curb in front of your house. As Spencer reached for the passenger side door handle, JJ’s phone rang. 

“I have to take this.” She sighed. “You go ahead.” 

She gave Spencer a distinct look that said ‘I know you need a minute alone with Y/N’, and he nodded, stepping out of the vehicle while she greeted whoever was on the other line. He smoothed down his tie - for once in his whole life, he was actually worried about how he looked. Only because he knew that he was going to see you. Perhaps he had only ever felt like this before going on his first date with you. 

He had such a strange lashing of emotions going through him as he approached the door. Fear, anxiety, anticipation. Longing. 

He truly had tried so hard to lock away his feelings for you when you had left. He had tried to move on. He had considered, briefly, in passing, dating other women. There had been times when someone else caught his eye, and he considered asking her out on a date. Morgan had offered to ‘set him up’. Penelope had offered too, telling him that he deserved to ‘get back out there’. 

Whenever she asked about you, his heart freshly cracked open. 

At one point, she had advised him to write a long, Shakespearian letter, pouring out his heart to you in an effort to get you back - one which she would mail. (Because of course, she could get your new address in a heartbeat.) But he didn’t want to experience the heartbreak all over again if you ignored him. He didn’t want to sit, waiting by the mailbox every single day like a lost dog, waiting for you to write him back in return. 

You had disappeared from his life for a reason. Just like everyone else had. For a long time, Spencer convinced himself that he was simply meant to end up alone. 

Perhaps if he had known about your son - a child that could very well be his - then he might have felt differently about getting Penelope to contact you. 

But now he was standing at your front door, his fist shaking as he raised his hand to knock. 

He let out a sharp breath and steadied himself, giving three swift, firm knocks against the door and then trying to wait patiently. His heart thumped inside of his throat, and it felt like forever. 

“Sorry!” Your voice called out from behind the door, muffled. “Sorry, I almost didn’t hear you. I was-” 

You cut off your own words as you opened the door - the moment you caught Spencer’s eye and recognized it was him, pure shock fell across your features, and you froze on the spot. 

You were just as stunning as ever. You had barely aged at all - your hair was different than the last time he had seen you, of course. And you were dressed casually - wearing a simple hooded sweatshirt with a drawstring and a pair of jeans with some fuzzy slipper boots on. But pale blue looked so good on you.

So much like the pale blue dress you had worn on your first date with him. 

You were breath-taking. 

“Y/N.” He greeted you, his throat dry already. 

You didn’t say anything, simply continuing to stare him down with wide-eyed shock. 

Seeing you again, Spencer couldn’t help but to think back to that first date. 

The first night that he knew he was in love with you. 

… 

He had taken you to see the Virginia Symphony Orchestra. 

It was Spencer’s idea of a good time - and it ended up being one of the most beautiful, most romantic, most unique first dates that you had ever been on. 

It was difficult not to fall for him with the beautiful music in the air and his glossy eyes, so sickeningly thick with affection, staring you down all night. 

Afterwards, the two of you stopped to get ice cream at a small shop that was a short walk down from the orchestra. And now you were both enjoying your ice cream as you walked along in the cool night air - enjoying the peace and quiet and the gentle breeze in the darkness. 

It was a perfect night. 

Spencer could think of no better way to spend it than with you. The yellow bulbs of the street lights practically cast a glow onto your skin, the mulberry lipstick now worn off your lips as you brought the pink spoon to your mouth and licked up your sweet treat. 

His stomach was churning with nerves. Joyous nerves. 

And as per usual, when he was nervous - he rambled. 

“You know, Bach actually married his cousin.” He said, spouting off the first thing that came to mind. 

You told him that Bach was one of your favorite composers - it’s why he had thought to bring you to the orchestra on a date in the first place. 

“I did not know that.” You giggled. “So what? Was it like a ‘third cousin twice removed’ type situation?” 

Spencer found himself grinning at the fact that you actually engaged him in the conversation, rather than staring at him with an odd look for bringing up such a strange topic. 

“Not quite.” He replied. “They had the same surname before marriage.” 

“Oh, ew.” You chuckled again, giving a shudder at the thought of this. 

Spencer knew it was an odd topic to discuss on a date, and if he rambled on too much, it might freak you out - but he couldn’t stop himself. His mouth ran away with him, and he continued. 

“He married Maria Barbara Bach, and they had seven children together.” He told you. “His sons, Wilhelm Friedemann and Carl Philipp Emanuel became composers and musicians much like their father, which was actually carrying on a legacy started by Bach’s father himself - who was a seventh generation musician. He was the one who taught Bach the organ from a very young age.” 

“Why don’t people play the organ anymore?” You wondered aloud. “Except in churches, I guess. The organ rocks.” 

Spencer’s brain began rocketing off at the fact that you had asked him a question. A question he could answer. 

“The organ has actually long been associated with divinity.” He replied. “The instrument rose in popularity alongside Catholicism throughout the eighteenth century, and in a sense, that was part of what made Bach a sort of ‘rockstar’ of his time. The religious references in his work, and his mastery of the organ - all of it made him incredibly popular at the time because it caused him to be favored by the church and by royal figures associated with the church.” 

Spencer gleamed a large smile, heavily enjoying that he could share these facts with you. He thought for certain that any moment, you would change the subject or imply that he should stop talking. But instead, you engaged the conversation more. 

“Religious references?” You questioned, wondering what he meant by this. 

“Yes!” Spencer grinned, suddenly very excited by the explanation behind this. “Even in his secular music, Bach would often incorporate the acronym ‘INJ’, a Latin abbreviation that means ‘In Nomine Jesu’, or ‘in the name of Jesus’. It was something he put on all of his manuscripts.” 

You grinned back. You found it fascinating that being around Spencer for such short periods of time caused you to learn so many things. It easily made you want to be around him more. 

“Interesting.” You replied. 

“And his talent on the organ was seen as something that made him ‘divine’ at the time. Divine enough to be worthy of performing for royalty.” Spencer added on. “In 1708, Bach got a position as the court organist in Weimer for Duke Wilhelm. And later when he requested early release from this position, desiring to go work for Prince Leopold of Koethen, the Duke actually had him arrested and put in jail for several weeks in 1716.” 

Spencer laughed at this mental image - the composer being put in jail. 

“Ooh, harsh.” You sighed. “But I guess Dukes have too much power.” 

Spencer let out another bright laugh at this. 

“And see, the interesting thing is, Bach later became the conductor of the court orchestra, in which Prince Leopold played.” 

“So he got his wish,” You replied with a smile. 

“And see-” 

Spencer set off on another rant again, and you couldn’t help yourself. You put your spoon into the cup of ice cream and then you used your now free hand to reach out and grab Spencer by his tie - you pulled him toward you before he could get anymore words out, and he let out a shocked, choked-off sound when you pressed your mouth into his. 

He sighed gently against your lips, and unconsciously dropped his own melting chocolate cone on the ground by his feet as his limp hands drifted toward your waist. He was dizzy, and now every single fact he had ever known about any composer had vanished from his head. In that moment, standing under a random street lamp on a random sidewalk somewhere - all he knew was the soft, pillowy feeling of your lips and the cool night breeze against his skin. 

It was perfect. You were perfect. 

You found his intelligence and the enthusiasm with which he spoke to be so utterly irresistible. You had been on so many dates with men before where they had acted like talking about their interests was a chore. Where they had made it seem like the whole thing was simply a routine, waiting for the end of the night so they could get into your pants. And for them, that’s what it probably was. 

But Spencer was nothing like that. 

He spoke about everything with such intense passion - and you couldn’t resist the urge to try and suck that very passion off his lips. 

When you were forced to pull back slightly, your lungs crying out for oxygen, Spencer let out a gentle moan and began puffing out sweet little pants across your chin as he tried to catch his breath. You kept a hold of his tie, wanting to keep him close, and he stayed there, gently pressing his forehead against yours. 

“That was… wow.” He sighed. 

“I didn’t think I would ever find you at a loss for words, Doctor Reid.” You replied with a giggle. 

“Well, I - you - wow.” 

It was all he could muster, causing you both to break down into laughter. 

Back then - everything had been perfect. 

He had no clue where it all went so wrong.

...

Continue reading: Chapter Two - Liar

#sundrop writes #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #dad!spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

TW: NSFW, yandere

gn reader

You’re attracted to Bakugou for many reasons – he’s tall and ripped and handsome and a bit of an asshole – but really, what you like about him most is that he doesn't seem like he’d be too much trouble. And you mean that in many ways. 

You’ve been in relationships before, and none of them have ended on good terms – always leading to deep upsets and disappointments. You’d come to the realization that boys, on any level that wasn’t purely sexual, were something you didn’t really need or want at the moment – which is why Bakugou, in all his disinterested glory, was just perfect for you. 

He’d fold you in half in filthy places like the locker room or bathroom or in his smoke-steeped car – making your heart beat from the thrill without that nagging feeling of being underappreciated because, well, you didn’t really care. He wasn’t your boyfriend and you weren’t committed to each other in any serious way, so there really weren’t any grounds for standards or expectations – it was just sex – carnal ball-clapping sweaty sex – pure and simple and just what you needed. No more, no less.

You didn’t go on dates or meet each other's parents or give each other chocolate on Valentine's Day or any other presents on any other holiday – you didn’t even hang out aside from seeing each other at parties and sometimes in the school hallways. He’d cock his head with a grin, and you’d smile coyly up through your lashes, and you’d meet in the handicapped bathrooms between classes to get drilled over the sink with your face smudged against the cool mirror.

It's only when he starts knowing things about you that you grow a little stiff with your arrangement - things he couldn’t possibly know from you as you’d never cared to speak about your private life. And sure, some of those things he could have easily found out through your social media standing – which already makes you feel a little iffy – but there are other things he’ll slip out, specifics about your interests and classes and whereabouts and the stuff you do with your friends – stuff you’re positive you’ve not posted anywhere. 

When you asked him about it, halfway jokingly with a somewhat nervous laugh, he’d only quirked a brow and brushed it off, insisting you’d been the one that told him. And you, despite being sure he’s lying, decide to believe it anyway. Because what the two of you have right now is still good – much better than any other fuck-friend you’d had before. Katsuki makes you so wet, and he's always so able to just pound your orgasm right out of you. 

If payment is small talk, you can humor him.

But then the sex becomes a little dull. Instead of his fist wrapping tight around your throat, he’s now sucking gentle love bites into the skin. And he no longer has his hand in your hair, forcing your face down against a cold surface with nails digging into your scalp to keep you still while fucking you fast and selfishly from behind.

Both his hands are instead holding you around the waist, keeping your body skin-to-skin against his chest as he gently lolls you on his lap – so slow you can’t even feel your heart – so slow you’re still breathing through your nose. He hasn’t slapped your ass once, and it’s beginning to get a little sad.

You want to tell him that you want him to fuck you like he’s a dirty cop and you’re a criminal resisting arrest – and not this old married couple shit. But you also don’t want to be rude. 

However, after all the one-sided heart-to-hearts he’d sat you through lately – spending more time chatting than making you cum – you were left feeling a little awkward, honestly. And between that and how he’d started texting you goodnights at eight-thirty – you were afraid he’d lost his original raw sex appeal.

He’s become so pedestrian in your eyes he might as well have been wearing glasses and a sweater vest.

You let him finish without saying anything – but you can't deny you’re happy when you feel him finally blow his load.

Dismounting him, you jump to your seat in the car and pull your underwear back up without a word.

It’s silent while he lights a smoke and rolls down his window – his hand coming to rest on your thigh after.

You look out your own window, your face in your palm while you think. And then talk. “I think… we need to stop.”

He's a little busy with his cigarette, but still, he answers, casually. “Stop what?” Smoke goes out his mouth and up his nostrils, then out again.

“This.” You answer. “Fucking.”

The hand on your thigh stirs and you catch him shifting his head to look at you, but you don’t return the gesture – keeping your eyes fixed on the puddle peppering with raindrops out on the empty parking lot the two of you’ve often spent time burning rubber drifting donuts before making the windows steamy.

“Why?” He eventually says. Flicking the spent filter out onto the wet pavement. Rolling the window back up and leaving the both of you in a way too tense silence of muted rain.

You sigh, leaning back against the headrest. “We’re not strangers anymore... It’s just getting a little boring.”

He taps another cigarette up from his box but doesn’t light it – just rolls it around in his fingers with his head bowed. “Boring, huh?” He repeats. And then there’s a pause. 

A hefty pause. A silent one that lasts a little too long and makes you forget the subject in favor of thinking about other things – like, had your roommate done the dishes this time, or were they still on the counter?

“What if I lock the car and drive us off a cliff?” He breaks through your thoughts, and this time, it’s you who turns your head. Looking at him while he still fingers the same slim roll in his hands – mumbling to it, it would seem. “I’ll laugh, you’ll scream… and maybe I’ll light this cig’ while we’re in the air…”

He sighs – as though what he’d just said was not what he’d said – then copies your action, letting his head fall back to rest against the leather – his face blank and his breath steady.

“If you fuck someone else, I’ll break their face.”

This time you blink when staring at him – face riddled, doubting what you were hearing come out of his mouth. “You what?”

“If- you fuck- someone else…” He repeats slowly. “I- will break- their face.” He says it so calmly you’re still unsure whether you heard him right. “Understand?” He asks – chin cocked up while glancing at you from the corner of his red eyes. “I won't stop punching until their teeth are on the ground and their eyes are so bloated and bloody they can no longer see who it is that’s throwing the hits.”

You blink a few more times. Stunned into a stupor, picturing it with parted lips without any words escaping them.

He rolls down the window again and puts the smoke between his lips.

And while he lights it and blows the roof full of grey, you’re still hung up on the image…

Maybe Bakugou wasn’t as boring as you thought.

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore #yandere bakugo #yandere bakugou #yandere bnha #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere katsuki #yandere my hero academia #yandere bakugou katsuki #yandere bakugo x reader #yandere katsuki bakugou #yandere bakugou smut #bakugou smut #boku no hero academia smut #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugo katuski #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x y/n #bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x you

[nariism]

Could you write Neuvillette blushes so bad when reader called him an otter.

a/n: hi anon! this is cute... yeah guys this is the obligatory neuvillette otter fic on my blog now, enjoy it ●ᴥ●

He shouldn't be feeling jealous. He knows how ridiculous it is to be envious of such a tiny critter, especially one that's been seeking equal amounts of attention from both you and him.

But he can't help it.

"Look!" You hold the otter up into the air, dangling it around in front of his face. The otter trills, curling up into a ball and giving Neuvillette what he can only imagine is the equivalent of puppy-dog eyes.

"Are you sure it is safe to pick it up like that?" Neuvillette murmurs, watching as you peer around the creature with a wide smile.

You're completely ignoring his concerns about scooping up a wild animal, unable to contain your excitement from finally having a chance to grab one of them. "It looks just like you. How cute!"

And he also knows that such a passing comment meant to tease him shouldn't make heat crawl up his neck, but it does anyways.

"How in the world does it look like me?"

Your fingers scratch at the top of the otter's head and it's horrible that all he can imagine is your hands doing the same to him.

You turn the critter around in the air like you're showing off your child, to which the man can only stare in confusion. "White fur, cute face. Even has blue streaks, like your horns!"

"I don't see it." (Correction, he refuses to see it.)

The otter makes another noise and licks his nose, clearly content with being the center of attention. He only scowls, cheeks flushing when he realizes how much you adore the damned thing.

"So adorable," you grin, cradling it in your arms. "Just- just...! So cute!"

He's pretty sure you're malfunctioning with the overload of cuteness. He fares no better, brain melting with every hard-struck realization that you might be calling him cute by extension since you're so insistent about the similarities.

"It..." he clears his throat, losing composure with the second-hand praises. "I suppose."

"You suppose?" You laugh, finally turning your eyes back to him. He almost melts into a puddle right then and there. "You're not jealous, are you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he immediately refutes, rosy all the way to the tips of his ears.

"Jealous," you insist with a smile, setting the otter back down into the water. It leaves a shell as a parting gift and disappears into the sea.

"I am not jealous." Neuvillette bends down to pick up the shell, unceremoniously shoving it into your hands. You know you've got him then, with his sudden lack of manners.

The Iudex can't be jealous. Especially not over something so silly. But his face is a mortifying shade of pink, both at your passive comments about his similarities to such an adorable creature and your accusations of envy.

Your free hand suddenly lurches forward and grabs him by the face, effectively holding him in place while he falls apart. There's a pretty softness in your expression as you look at him.

"Cute," you tease, and he's melting all over again.

(Neuvillette flops down on the couch that night, face down in your lap. You raise a brow, setting your book down to peer at him curiously.

He's unmoving for a pause, completely still to the point where you wonder if he just instantly fell asleep. But then he shuffles, turning onto his back to look up at you.

Ah, there it is. Something akin to puppy-dog eyes underneath his stone cold expression.

Your fingers scratch gently at his scalp as you continue to read, combing through his long hair. "Knew it," you muse with a smug expression.

He grumbles with red cheeks.)

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

#— whispers in the wind ✧ #ummm am i technically a neuvillette account now idk #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact fic #genshin fic #genshin impact fluff #genshin drabbles #neuvillette #neuvillette genshin #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x y/n #neuvillette x gender neutral reader #neuvillette x gn reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin x reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin x gender neutral reader