#he looks like he's mentally insulting her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rinhaler · 4 months

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Trigger Finger Ready and Got Nowhere To Run To

Did you ever imagine your boyfriend would offer up your body to solve a yakuza dispute? No, but you aren't surprised.

✧˖*°࿐ : 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ ⁭yakuza!ryomen sukuna x f!reader x yakuza!toji fushiguro

Genre: filthy filthy porn with a plot Notes: biggest happy bday to the dilf of dilfs (and my husband of husbands), toji!! (++ sukuna bc they r both beefy n hot :3) Warnings: 18+, dub/noncon, mentions of violence/murder, toxic!relationship, free use ♡, manipulation, jealousy, fem!Uraume, degradation ♡, praise, no prep, oral fixation ♡, size!kink, daddy!kink, choking (hands + belt), slight breathplay, exhibitionism, spanking, dacryphilia ♡, dumbification, creampie(s), calls your pussy “she/her”, slight cucking, oral (m+f receiving), restraints, fingering ♡, pussy spanks, squirting ♡, multiple orgasms, double penetration!(one hole), brief anal mentioning, breeding ♡, belly bulge ♡, pet names (princess, brat, good girl, sweetheart). Words: 15.2k

You’re numb.

Only mentally, numb, to the word which you willingly leapt into. A world with bloodied rivers and bodies piled to the height of the highest mountains. None of it bothers you, not anymore.

Talks of murder and dismemberment barely reach your ears as you flip through the pages of your magazine. You aren’t sure why Sukuna insisted that you be here. He likes to show you off, you suppose. He likes to flaunt what he possesses, and his men never will.

“How much longer?” you whisper, eyes scanning the pages on the gossip mag in your hands. You’d rather be reading a copy of Vogue, but one of Sukuna’s idiotic subordinates picked up the wrong magazine in a hurry.

Actually… You haven’t seen him since.

“What have I told you?” your lover whispers back, he leans over to you. His head turns away from looking at the men in the room as the meeting goes on. But their boss sharing his attention with you rather than the subject at hand earns a few nosy onlookers watching you converse. “Be a brat in private, not here.”

You sigh, crossing one leg over the other as you carry on reading. Sukuna’s hand rests on your thigh before he scowls at the men who’d dare to look at him with an emotion other than fear in their eyes.

He stands up, staring down silently at everyone in the room. It even manages to get your attention. The dread he’s able to instill into his subordinates is more than just impressive to you. It’s exhilirating. Sukuna is a king, and not just to you. To his little brother sitting nearby as the meeting continues. To the subordinates he trusts and who hang on his every solitary breath. And to the public.

People know who you are, now.

You’re Sukuna’s girl.

You were nothing, until him.

He was quite fond of your big mouth and downright horrible attitude when you met. He liked that you didn’t know who he was, and you didn’t hold back when he accidentally bumped into you while shopping. You were wearing a white sundress that hugged every inch of your body, and the coffee in your hand turned the material murky and hideous.

The men surrounding him and ready to silence you for good weren’t even registered in your mind. You didn’t even notice they were there until the friend you were shopping with told you to shut up.

You insulted him, sure. But Sukuna was barely listening. He was too drawn to the way the liquid made your already tight dress cling and stick in all of the right places. Your decision to go braless became painfully obvious to anyone who’d dare let their eyeline drop to your chest.

He dismissed his men, earning a sigh of relief from you and your friend. You watched him carefully as he pulled out his wallet.

“I ruined your dress, huh? Let me buy you a new one, and a new coffee.” he told you. Your eyes bulged as you saw the fat wad of cash in his hand. He smirked, watching your hand hesitate back and forth as you were unsure whether to accept it.

Before him, you weren’t wealthy.

The opposite, really.

You were barely making ends meet and every penny you had was spent on living essentials and rent. The money he offered you was enough for more than that. He was handing you the option to live a little. But before you could take it, before you could fully grasp the bank notes in his hand, he flicked his wrist away.

“I want your number for the pleasure of this expensive meeting.” he grinned.

In hindsight, it was incredibly stupid to accept money from a yakuza man. It seemed like too good of an offer to turn down, though.

For the pleasure of knowing Sukuna and that chance meeting, there have been ups and downs. Everything you knew before Sukuna is your old life. You can’t remember the last time you saw those friends you had. You haven’t been back to your old apartment in over a year, though you know Sukuna still pays the rent on it.

It’s used for some kind of illegal activities, you’re sure. You don’t know why else he’d still pay for it otherwise.

Your old clothes weren’t good enough for you anymore. That’s how Sukuna felt. And with each extortionate purchase he made, you began to agree. You can no longer bear the thought of wearing some cheap, discounted item like you used to. Your entire wardrobe is designer, and you’re like a new woman.

If anyone from your past could see you now, they wouldn’t recognise you.

You don’t care, though. You’ve been poor and you’ve been miserable. What Sukuna gave you that day wasn’t just money, it was an opportunity to cast the old you aside. You’re glamorous, you’re taken care of.

But most importantly, you’re loved.

You’re an object, a doll for him to play with.

But he loves you.

It’s apparent in the way you are in private together. He can be so many things in so many ways. But you know that you are more loved by him than you’ve ever been in any other relationship. He loves you more than friends and family combined.

To Sukuna, you’re everything.

“Listen. Up.” he starts. You know he doesn’t mean you. He wouldn’t mind if you kept your nose buried in your tacky magazine for the entire day. And yet, you find yourself closing it and putting it down on the desk in front of you. Your sole focus is on him. “My wife and I have better things to be doing than sitting here listening to this shit. Figure out this territorial dispute, today, or I’m going to lose my patience.”

His wife.

Everyone’s eyes fall on you when he refers to you as such, and it takes every ounce of concentration and sheer will power to stop yourself from smiling. Your face remains straight and composed, but there are two men who know you enough to see through the façade.

Sukuna, and his brother.

The elder of the two looks down at you, only because he loves to see you squirm because of him. And he’s proud of you, oh so proud that you are well behaved and know that you should appear as strict as he is.

Yuuji, however, has to turn away so no one can see how much he wants to laugh. He’s always liked you; he likes that his brother likes you and he likes how nice you are when you warm up to people. People like him. He’s gotten to know you through being his brother’s second in command. If Sukuna can’t be by your side, Yuuji will be.

And he thinks it’s cute, really, how much you love his big brother. The big brother that most would see as nought more than a terrifying monster. A murderer and a fiend who can so easily ruin lives just because he feels like it.

Yuuji thinks it’s downright adorable.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts when his big brother whistles. He watches as you hurriedly stuff your magazine back into your handbag and follow him to the exit. Yuuji follows, too, after his brother gives him a commanding look.

“You shouldn’t lie.” you mutter, leaving the room and walking by Sukuna’s side as Yuuji trails behind you both. Sukuna turns his head sideways so he can look down at you. His tattooed hands remain in his pants pockets as you approach the exit of the building. You keep looking forwards, though. And he smirks.

It’s a cute little pout he recognises.

“You are my wife.” he tells you. “Don’t be a brat because I haven’t proposed, how droll.”

You scoff, finally looking at him, your full glossy lips seem to pout even harder when you actually face him.

“You know what happens when you get married for real, princess?” he asks. And you scoff, again, because you know what he’s going to say. He says the same thing every time you have this truly trite conversation. “Boring sex. And then, none at all. And I know you can’t live without this cock in you for too long.”

“You’re disgus—”

“Speaking of which,” he stops walking and turns to face you. It makes you laugh every time he talks about how boring your sex life would be if you got married. You aren’t sure how true it is, but it amuses you, nonetheless. He gets his wallet from his inner breast pocket and withdraws his credit card, handing it to you with a wide smile on his face. “That’s what you get when you’re a good girl. Thank you.” he grabs the crown of your head with a large palm and plants a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“I thought we were talking about sex, not money.” you speak, and he smiles. “Which do you think I prefer?”

“With me, sex. In general, money.” he tells you, and you suppose he’s right. “But with money, you can buy things for sex. Unless you want to be a brat, I can take back the card. Otherwise, buy a pretty set for daddy to fuck you in.”

He loves how your demeanour changes at the use of your favourite name for him when you’re alone. Yuuji is here, yes, but he knows the intricacies of your relationship so there’s no need to be concerned.

“Theeeere she is, daddy’s good girl.” he approaches you; his hand settles on your waist. A simple cue for Yuuji to know he doesn’t want to be here. He walks on ahead; and you both watch him walk by before focusing on each other again. He backs you up until your shoulder blades rest against the wall. You tilt your head to kiss him, but he pulls his head back to tease you. “Why aren’t you always a good girl for me?” he wonders.

You allow your head to loll back against the wall with a gentle thud. He watches you, intently, wondering what’s going on in that pretty head of yours. His eyes drop as your right hand gently traces over his crisp black dress shirt until you find his tie.

And you tug.

His body cages you in and you will never get over what a behemoth of a man he is. He’s so intimidatingly large. You’re like a little mouse about to be devoured by a viper. And yet, somehow, you’re in control. He gasps, albeit quietly, but there is pleasure behind it as you pull him closer.

“You’d be so bored if I was always good, daddy. And you fuck me better when I’m a brat for you.” you tell him, voice filled with lust as your sultry tones reach his ears. His cock twitches at your words, although he’s tired of you having the upper hand. One hand grabs your jaw, and you know if he wanted to, he could break it with ease. But you smile, willingly.

If you are to die, it would be an honour by his hand.

He kills you with a kiss, instead. Your thoughts dissipate as you allow your lips to lock and teeth to clash as you needily make out. His body presses into yours, uncaring for the place or potential audience that could find you at any moment. A soft, needy moan slips by your lips as you feel his hardening bulge grind between your legs. It makes him smile, smugly and proud as he steals continuous little noises from you.

“You only keep your fucking mouth shut when you’re getting this dick.” he comments, his tongue licks against yours before he suffocates your desperately mewling with heated kisses once again. He pulls away, whispering in your ear. “You’re nice ‘n wet for daddy, yeah? Want my cock, baby?”

“Mhmm…” you nod, raising your leg to rest on his hip. His fingers squeeze into the flesh of your thigh as he helps it settle in place. His kisses are barely there anymore. Soft pecks as he gradually pulls away until you’re whimpering and begging for more. “Please, daddy… please.”

“Awe,” he gives you one final kiss before looking over his shoulder to see some of the higher ranked members of his organisation approach. He pulls away, leaving you completely breathless. “Brats don’t decide when their holes get used. Their daddy’s do.” he reminds you.

You’re left panting with your hand on your chest as he walks away. He looks over his shoulder at you before giving you a self-satisfied smirk as he waves at you.

“Keep your cunt wet for daddy.” he tells you.

You scoff, fleeing the scene quickly as the humiliation of his words surges through you. The lack of respect and discretion should make you furious. And honestly, it does. But that feeling of anger and fury is overridden with pure, unadulterated lust.

“Hey, are you ready to go?” Yuuji asks as you walk through the double doors and out into the blaring summer sun. The heat is unbearable, you’re sure the sidewalk would steam if you poured water onto it. “Are you okay? Thirsty? Can I carry your jacket?” Yuuji wonders. And you nod.

“Thanks, Yuu.” you smile, taking off your coat for him to hold for you. “You’re taking care of me again, I guess.” you sigh, but try to remain optimistic. You both know you’d rather Sukuna be the one taking you shopping, but you don’t hate spending time with his brother.

“What are we shopping for today?” he asks, opening the door to his car for you to climb into. He puts your coat in the back and rushes around to driver’s seat. “You can go crazy since he won’t be there to stop you.” he winks. You giggle a little as he buckles himself in and starts the car. “Oh, he wanted you to get some lingerie, right?”

You go quiet, looking down at your hands as you nod quickly. It’s almost unnoticeable, but Yuuji knows. He starts driving to a boutique he knows you like, smiling to himself. You’re so brazen and loud most of the time. You can be so confident and fearless.

But he thinks it’s sweet that you get so shy about things like this.

“I’m not judging you, y’know.” he tells you, looking to the side to see if you’re listening. You raise your head to look at him, the slight anxiety you feel slowly leaves your body the longer you look at him. “You’re a good friend to me. I’m happy Sukuna met you, otherwise I wouldn’t know you.”

“Yuuji…” you respond, you can’t stop yourself from smiling as you hear his sweet words. It makes him laugh, though. He’s happy he managed to break you out of your nervous sulk. “I wonder sometimes… if I’m crazy.”

“You are.” he tells you. You lightly slap his arm, “Hey, I’m driving!” he laughs. “You have some kind of arrangement with my brother, right? That doesn’t matter. You love him, don’t you? I know he loves you too. He’s told me enough, and I can see it in his eyes. You’re crazy, but he is too.”

An arrangement.

You’re happy it’s a secret, even to Yuuji. If anyone from your past life knew what you agreed to with Sukuna, they’d be ashamed. You figure anyone would be, really. But you don’t care. Yuuji is right.

Sukuna is crazy.

But so are you.

“Thanks, Yuuji.” you smile, weakly. “You’re a good friend to me, too.”

Sukuna is possessive, he’s greedy.

But what Sukuna doesn’t know won’t hurt him. You model a few lingerie sets to his little brother. And Yuuji, of course, is a perfect gentleman about it. His eyes rake over your body, though you can detect a lack of lust in him. There’s another woman on his mind that you know to be the reason. He’s a lovesick puppy, and you are off limits. He isn’t stupid, but he’s happy to help you shop.

Sukuna should be the one here with you now, anyway. He should be the one watching you try on panties and bras and pretty baby dolls. And yet, he’s sent you away to give himself some peace while he works on whatever the hell it is he does all day. Threatening and being a general bastard to the city at large.

If he were here, you know you’d be getting fucked within an inch of your life in every pretty ensemble you try on.

“Yuuji, what is your brother doing today?” you ask him, pouting a little. It feels humiliating to have to ask. You should know where your boyfriend is and who he’s with. Even Yuuji looks taken aback. Does Sukuna often keep you in the dark? It’s not like what he does for a living is some big secret.

“… There’s a huge territorial dispute right now…” he starts, looking at the store clerks and urging them to walk away if they know what’s good for them. They do, giving you two the space to talk. “He and the other higher ups are having a follow up meeting to decide what to do.”

You huff and start to undress as you head back into the changing room.

“Uraume?” you wonder, already knowing the answer. “Is she there?”

“Well, she’s Sukuna’s right hand. After me, obviously.” he tells you, and it only earns another huff of annoyance from you.

You know what Sukuna will want is for you to pick a pretty lingerie set to wear under your clothes all day until he gets home. You’re not doing that, though, not now. Not when you know he’s with her. He’s lucky you’re even still buying any in the first place. Yuuji watches you as you tell the staff to ring you up, a look almost akin to sorrow lingering in his soft brown eyes.

“Nothing is going on between them, y’know.” he tries to assure you. All you can do is scoff. The notion of remaining silent dies as you begin to think about how many positions he’s probably fucking her in while you run around and play the role of the oblivious wife.

A wife without a ring, at that.

“No offence Yuuji, I’m not exactly going to take your word for it. He’s your brother.” you sigh. He grabs the shopping bags for you once you pay the extortionate price. Sukuna had told you to get a set, not several. But you think it’s the least you deserve after finding out he’s with Uraume instead of you. “I want some new jewellery, let’s go.”

You hold the door open for Yuuji before you walk side by side towards the nearest jewellery store. Sukuna’s feelings are the least of your concern, whether he’s frustrated with your purchases or not doesn’t matter to you. Not right now. You’re hellbent on giving his credit card a workout before you go home.

The air conditioning hits you as you enter. Yuuji finds a seat as you begin to browse, dumping your shopping bags by his feet. He keeps a watchful eye on you as you’re shown around at some pieces you might like. A necklace is calling your name, but new earrings would be nice, too. But with the way you’re feeling, you might just leave with everything that you take even the vaguest of interest in.

You hear Yuuji’s phone ring behind you, and it forces you to look at him expectantly. It’s embarrassing, really, how badly you’re hoping it’s Sukuna to ask for your location so he can be here with you. But his younger sibling shakes his head despondently, feeling sad that he’s letting you down.

“Shit, I have to go.” Yuuji tells you, and your brows furrow. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been left alone. What could be so important? He looks at you, eyes serious and almost desperate as he wills you to listen to him. “I won’t be long, please don’t leave. Sukuna will kill me if anything happens to you.”

“It’s fine, Yuu.” you nod, barely looking at him anymore as you admire the glimmering jewels in their glass display cases once more. “I’ll be here.”

He smiles, gratefully, and squeezes your shoulder. His speed is impressive, you’re surprised you haven’t been left with a dust cloud as he leaves your side and departs the store. You have no idea what’s happening, but it must be serious if Yuuji had to rush off like that.

The clerk assisting you can’t help but fawn over how gorgeous you look as he allows you to try on a diamond necklace that caught your eye. It’s simple, something you’d wear every day. It’s glamorous but not overstated.

“There are matching earrings, if you’re interested.” the clerk tells you, and you nod. “And there’s—”

“If it matches, I’ll take it all.” you smile. The clerk nods and takes the necklace from you. You watch for a few minutes as he wanders around and collects everything you’ve asked for, but you soon get bored and begin browsing again.

You raise your head as you see two men with black hair enter. You unintentionally stare, but soon avert your gaze when another necklace catches your eyes. You hear the men discuss something about a sister, and you deduce they are likely here to purchase gifts. You feel your blood run cold as they become silent, and you feel them glaring at you.

You’ve gotten a sense of when people are sizing you up, now. Even if it’s something as tedious as being leered at. Being with Sukuna has taught you to sense danger, however small.

“I’d like this necklace as well, please.” you speak, hoping your confidence and signalling of the staff will get them to stop staring at you. The clerk nods and sends another member of staff to your side to aid you.

You look in the direction of the men. Truthfully, you aren’t sure if you had tried to warn them that you were onto them with a look their way. It seems like you’re more interested in scoping out a potential threat.

“It’ll suit you.” the younger one says. “Maybe we should get something like that for Tsumiki?”

The older man is silent.

Your skin tightens together, breaking out in goosebumps as his looming presence gets closer and closer to you. You clear your throat, hoping that it will be enough to tell him that you know he’s there and you don’t want him to be. It does little to dissuade him, though.

He stares at you, urging you to return it. There’s an uncomfortable yet palpable silence between the two of you as you look into each other’s eyes. His face is sculpted, yet damaged. And still, you find him beautiful. A scar stabs betwixt his lips, though it’s aged and healed.

It’s a warning, in itself, that you shouldn’t trust him.

But his gaze is serious and endearing all in one. His eyes are beautiful, just like the man he’s with. There’s no doubt, now, that they’re related. They’re like a copy of one another. Father and son, you suspect. Though they remind you of Sukuna and Yuuji. The man in front of your appears to be the same age as your lover, maybe a little older. Yuuji is around the same age at the young man accompanying him.

You find yourself lost in his eyes, an odd compulsion to figure out this man and his life story. Who is he and what could he want with you? Your guard has been lowered, despite it being unwise. You should be more alert, if anything.

But those eyes are—

“You’re staring, sweetheart.” he tells you, breaking his eyes away from you to look at the clerk behind you. He curls his finger, a simple instruction that you seem to miss until you see him holding the necklace in his hand. “May I?” he asks, acting before you even answer.

You turn around and make sure your hair isn’t in the way so he can put it on you. This isn’t right, you know it isn’t. You aren’t sure why you’re allowing him to do this. He’s so close that you can feel his breath on the back of your neck, the hairs stand on end when you realise.

He fastens the clasp behind your neck, and casually allows his hand to fall into the small of your back as he guides you to a nearby mirror.

“Suits you.” he tells you, tucking hair behind your ear so he can examine it further. You don’t miss the way his eyes drop to your cleavage, though, and you clear your throat again. It prompts him to slip back into his cool demeanour. “My daughter is around your age. Think she’d like it?”

“I don’t know your daughter. And I don’t know you.” you remind him, earning a soft chuckle from him. You watch him summon the man he brought with him, and now you’re sure he’s his son. After hearing him mention his sister, you manage to put the pieces together.

“I want two of these.” he announces, making sure everyone can hear. You aren’t sure if he’s instructing his son or the clerk beside you. Either way, he hands his credit card to the man he’s with in a similar way Sukuna does to you.

It’s almost… dismissive.

“Two?” you say, curiously.

“I’m buying yours.” he tells you. He shushes you when you go to protest. “You’re brave, hah? Big mouth, attitude, ‘n your pretty too. I like it.”

“I’m spoken for. And expensive things won’t—”

“I know.” he interrupts you, putting his hands in his pockets. He looks over to his son as he pays for the jewellery. You’re nervous, though it’s not entirely because of him. The thought of explaining this to Sukuna sends chills down your spine. “Girls like you are always spoken for. And he looks after you, yeah? Buys you nice things ‘n all that. Figures.”

“… Y-You didn’t tell me your name…” you say, meekly. It’s pathetic and wimpy, though that’s how you feel beneath his divine gaze. He smirks at the sound of your voice, maybe it’s the submission.

“Toji.” he replies, simply. His son approaches him with a single shopping bag, it’s black and sleek with the store logo on the side. It makes you excited and impatient to receive your own purchases. And after this, you have no desire to shop anymore. You want to get home where you know you’re safe. “We ought’a get goin’, Megs.” Toji tells his son, who nods in agreement.

Just as they’re about to leave, Yuuji returns.

He can’t say anything, not right away. If you were looking at him, though, you’d be able to see how much he wants to burst. There’s a vein bulging in his forehead as he looks between the men.

But your eyes are solely on Toji.

His hands remain firmly in his pockets as he walks away and towards the exit. And then he turns around again, fully, facing you head in to gift you with his parting words.

“Give Sukuna my regards, won’t you, sweetheart?” he smirks, leaving the store with his son in tow.

“Fushiguro!” Yuuji yells, though they pay him no mind. He faces you, now, intent on finding out what the hell is going on. “What was that all about? Are you stupid? Seriously stupid? I told you not to talk to anyone!”

“You didn’t, you told me not to leave.” you remind him, and he grunts. “Who were they, Yuuji? I’ve never seen either of them before.” you tell him. He just shakes his head and decides to ignore you. He’s furious, though you can’t figure out why.

Have you really done something so bad?

The fact that Toji seems to know who Sukuna is certainly doesn’t bode well. They’re from rival gangs, clearly. His and his son’s tattoos aren’t like Sukuna’s. His are brazen, confident. He was cocky enough to get them on his face, too. But the Fushiguro’s, as Yuuji had named them, must hide their markings beneath their shirts like most yakuza men tend to.

“Let’s go.” Yuuji speaks, anger lingering in his quiet words as he leads you out of the store and back to his car. “I’ll have to tell Sukuna about this…” he explains, making sure all of your shopping is secure safely in the trunk of his car. You get into the passenger seat and shrug, it makes no difference to you if he tells his brother about this.

You don’t even know what he’s telling him.

It gets later and later into the evening, with no signs of Sukuna returning any time soon.

And you’re ready for him.

You’re fully dressed, wearing the very same clothes you’d worn to go shopping hours earlier. But you had stripped briefly when you got to your room. The lingerie options were almost infinite as you peaked in each and every shopping bag you brought home from the boutique.

He’ll like the pink one most, you suspected.

So, you put it on.

“Where’s Sukuna?” your one and only true friend in this cutthroat world asks through the speaker of your phone. It snaps you from your daze as you recall how the pink lingerie fit your body like a God damn glove while you checked yourself out in the mirror. “You’re doing housewife shit while he’s out having fun?” Nobara continues, and it makes you scoff. There’s laughter in it, but your annoyance towards your lover is evident.

“He’s with Uraume.” you say, calmly, as you continue washing the mountains of dishes in the sink. You aren’t normally one to do chores, but you thought it would distract you from your worries. Even if only for a moment.

“Oh I hate her.”

“Me too.” you agree. Something tells you Nobara doesn’t feel as strongly as she’s making out, she’s just showing support. You appreciate it all the same, though. “There’s something going on… I know there is.”

“No way. You don’t know, you just think you do. But even I can see how much he worships you. He’d never cheat!” she says confidently, and you wish you could believe her. It’s not like you’d leave him, even if he was.

He’s conditioned you to need him, after all. How can you go back to your old apartment when it’s his, now? Your old, pathetically paying job won’t cut it, either. Sukuna has gotten you used to the finer things in life, things you don’t want to lose. Your friends, your family, it’s all gone and forgotten. All you have is him.

There’s no leaving him, now.

“… I don’t trust him, sometimes.” you confess, quietly. You aren’t even sure if she heard you over the sound of the gushing tap. “I don’t trust—”

The sound of a lock turning in the door stops you from speaking anymore. You look over your shoulder, and you finally see him. He doesn’t say a word as he comes in. He gives you a curt nod as he hangs up his jacket.

“Uh, Nobara, how’s your day been?” you ask, loudly, hoping she’ll get the hint and change the subject.

You tense up a little as you feel Sukuna’s presence looming closer and closer. You put down a plate as you feel him behind you. His body traps yours between his and the sink. You hold your eyes closed lightly as you feel him. Really feel him. You aren’t sure you’ll ever get over his domineering size.

Nobara begins to prattle on about nothing in particular, and relief flows through you. You manage to stifle a heavy breath as Sukuna begins to kiss your neck; though you almost falter as he takes your earlobe softly between his teeth.

“Sukuna, ‘m on the phone.” you angle your head to whisper, but he just silences you with a kiss instead. And instinctively, you’re smiling again. You’re so simple, maybe even stupid. It’s always so easy for him to placate you, even without knowing you’re upset with him.

“Don’t care,” he growls into your mouth, kissing you again. “You agreed, did you not?” he asks, feeling you up over your clothes. Your head droops back onto his shoulder as you feel him caress your tits through the fabric of your dress. His free hand roams between your legs, pushing the black material covering your thighs between them and dampening it with your slick.

“Mmpf,” you hum, lightly, biting your lip. You can’t help but wriggle and squirm beneath his touch. As much as you’d prefer to stop so you can wrap up what you’re doing first, you did agree to this when you started dating him.

“Anyway, I still don’t think Sukuna would fuck Uraume.” Nobara speaks, and you both freeze for a moment.

As she lists her reasons, in gratuitous detail, Sukuna’s hands move across your body. They’re slow, but with purpose. Your dress settles back into place once he moves his left hand away from your core. He wraps his arm around your midsection, tightly, giving you no chance to flee. His right hand moves a little quicker, fingers brush along your collarbone until he finds your neck. He somehow manages to choke you, slightly, while holding your jaw with his thumb and index finger.

And he makes you look at him.

He doesn’t speak, the sound of Nobara discussing everything you’ve told her about him and Uraume is the only sound either of you hear. His red eyes terrify you the longer it goes on. The longer he goes without speaking a word.

“’Kuna—”

“You’re jealous of Uraume?” he says, loud enough for Nobara to hear. She’s quiet. Uncharacteristically so. And then your heart plummets when you hear the beep that signifies the call has ended. “Still?”

“What do you— Sukuna!” you yell, feeling him pull your dress down your body. You try to scold him. You try to focus on finishing the dishes so you don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how desperately you crave him. But it’s all in vain as he spanks you upon seeing the pretty pink set hugging your body.

“Good girl.” he tells you, spanking you again.

The chore of washing cups and plates is soon abandoned as he yanks your hair by the roots. Your back arches gloriously, and he can’t help but slap your ass repeatedly until it stings. He wants to hurt you, just because he loves you.

He’s insulted that you think so little of him.

“What happened to you, princess?” he asks, spanking you again. “You never used to be so insecure. That’s what I liked about you.”

Liked?

“Don’t— c-care—”

“Oh?” he interrupts, “You really want to be a brat for me right now? I’m not in the mood, but you can test me if you’re feeling brave.” he warns you, and you manage to shake your head in defiance.

“Sukuna, I just— I don’t like her.” you tell him, you see an eyebrow raise out of the corner of your eye. It’s a curious look you can’t quite place. Maybe he hadn’t expected you to say something so honest, or maybe he just can’t put his finger on why you feel this way about her. “She has feelings for you… it’s so obvious.”

“And?” he speaks, his hand that had been around your throat moves to the bend of your knee. He effortlessly raises your leg so that it rests on the marble countertop. His breathing is heavy and stained with alcohol as it fans across your shoulder.

Your breath hitches as he hooks his finger into the seat of your panties, moving the pink material into the crease of your thigh. You shiver just slightly as the cool air of the air-conditioned room hits your folds, and he growls as he holds you tighter.

With one hand, he unbuckles his belt and manages to free his length from his trousers. You gasp as you feel him press his heavy tip between your folds, the tacky wet sound reverberates through the room. He isn’t targeting anywhere specific, but he snarls each time you mewl when he catches against your entrance.

“Unff— fu-uck!” you keen as he finally pushes into you.

“This,” he starts, slowly sinking inside of your welcoming slot. Your eyes roll over white with each agonising delve into your walls and towards your sweet spot. He spanks you once more, demanding your concentration as he tries to drill his words into your before he starts drilling his cock into you. “It’s all yours, y’hear me, princess?” he explains as he carefully rocks his hips, his chest swells with pride as he repeatedly nudges against your g-spot.

“S-Sukuna,” you pant. “Daddy, I love you.” you tell him, tears spill down your cheeks as you pathetically confess. He knows, of course he knows. But his ego will never tire of hearing those four precious words from the lips of his favourite girl.

“Yeah? Y’love daddy?” he asks, faux sympathy in his voice as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. “Hurts my feelings when you don’t trust me.” he lies.

“’m sorry,” you sob, “I trust you, daddy, ‘m sorry!” you continue, and you melt into his touch when you feel him softly kiss your cheek again and again as his thrusts get faster and faster and faster.

He’s so deep you can feel him in your throat. Your mind is churning, thoughts become liquid the harder and deeper he pounds into you. His teeth sink into your shoulder as he continues, and he shoves his fingers into your mouth to silence your cries.

You suck and lick and lave over them as if your life depended on it.

He forces your mouth open wide, strings of drool dribble from your lips and tongue as he repeatedly fingers dangerously close to your throat. He laughs maniacally when he flies to close to the sun, triggering your gag reflex.

“Oh, baby, got real tight for daddy like that.” he tells you. Your hands search for something, anything to grasp as he ruins you from the inside. “So fuckin’ tight for me, princess. Wanna cum?”

“Yes, yes please.” is what you’re hoping to say despite his fingers still invading your orifice. “Please daddy, n-need it.”

“Mmm, good fucking girl.” he praises you. “So needy, hah? I’ll be good to you this once. So cum.”

You brace yourself, twisting your torso so that you’re facing him. His fingers remain in your mouth, but your fixation on them has dies a slow, painful death the longer this encounter carries on. His fingering slows, but the spit leaking from your mouth still pools out and covers whatever it squelches on top of.

“Go on, cum for daddy.” he orders.

And you do.

You cream his length as you lose control of your entire body and give it to him. You’re crying so hard but you don’t know why. He licks your cheeks, though, getting off on the taste of the salt and sorrow you’re gifting him with. You convulse as you reach the peak of your orgasm, and he makes sure to keep a careful hold of you.

“Hate you being fucking jealous.” he explains as he chases his own high, the deafening sounds of your genitals meeting again is so sloppy and lewd. If you weren’t so tired, you’re sure your face would flush with heat from the embarrassment of it all. “You’re mine. I only fuck you. I only cum in this perfect cunt. Are you listening? Or did daddy fuck you too fucking stupid?”

“D-Daddy,” you mumble, “love you…” you trail off, exhaustion consuming you as you bargain with yourself to rest your eyes for just a minute.

“Daddy’s slutty girl, yeah?” he grunts, and he’s surprised that you manage to nod in response. “Only shut that big fucking mouth of yours when you’re getting this cock.” he speaks, he hopes you’re listening but he’s not so sure.

With only a few thrusts later, he’s cumming buckets into you. You hum at the sensation, the warmth of being gifted with your daddy’s load is a soothing feeling that makes you feel completely claimed. You’re safe, secure, like this. He plugs his cum inside of you for a while as he refuses to move.

You don’t want to think about the fact that you aren’t ever really going to know the truth. You won’t know if he’s just telling you what you want to hear while he’s out doing exactly what you’re worried about. You won’t truly feel safe unless Uraume goes.

But you know that will never happen.

He pulls out of you, watching as your pussy pulses while he splits open your lips on his fingers. His softening cock jumps at the sight of his sperm gushing out of you and splattering against the cold kitchen tiles below. He angles your body, again, so that he can plant a searing, messy kiss on your lips from behind.

He wipes his dick against your ass, doing a poor job of it before he tucks himself back into his grey trousers. He moves the gusset of your panties back where it belongs to stop anymore cum from dripping out of you.

“I should… clean up…” you say, wistfully as you look at the remaining dishes in the sink and the dollop of sperm on the ground beneath you.

“Don’t worry about it.” he tells you, walking towards your bedroom to find your shopping bags. “Show daddy what else you got today.”

You take a deep breath and stumble a little on unstable legs. He looks behind himself, reaching out to take your hand to support you. He leads you to your room, a little surprised by the amount of new shopping bags spread out.

He lifts you up and places you down carefully on the bed. You bite your lip as he helps you out of your high heels while he’s down on one knee. He watches, attentively, as you throw your head back as he kisses each of your legs.

“I don’t recall telling you to buy jewellery.” he speaks, knowing he didn’t say it at all. You only giggle, which makes his smile grow wider. He rests his body on his knuckles on either side of your thighs, his nose almost touching yours as he examines you. “That one is new, isn’t it?” he asks, reaching up to hold the pendant against his palm. You nod, and he hums.

He takes his time admiring everything as he looks through each and every bag. You’re silent as he searches, not sure what he’s actually looking to find. Sukuna seems pleased with the multitudes of lingerie you’ve returned home with, often looking between the material and yourself as he envisions it on your body.

Though soon enough, he’s looking through the jewellery. He’s full of flattery, for some reason. You can’t help wondering if it’s because of your very obvious insecurity.

Your heart sinks, however, when he picks up the receipt.

“W— uh, what are you doing?” you ask, cursing yourself for not playing it cool in the least.

He’s silent as he looks over each item and price. His eyes drift briefly to look at you before he’s fixated on the receipt again. “I’m checking how much having a bratty princess for a wife has cost me today.” he tells you, his voice almost monotone as he speaks. He picks up each piece of jewellery as he mentally checks it off of the list in his hand. And then his eyes zero in on you once more. Or specifically, the necklace you’re wearing. “Did you steal that?” he asks.

You shake your head.

If there’s one thing you’ve learnt from being with Sukuna, it will never serve you to lie. He knows more than you can possibly imagine. And what he doesn’t know, he figures out quickly.

“… I’m going to fucking kill him.” he speaks through gritted teeth, crumpling up the receipt in his hand. You have no idea who he’s talking about. He stands up, holding the necklace around your neck in a clenched fist. “Tell me, princess. Do you love this necklace? Or did you pick it impulsively?”

“Both,” you nod. “I was only looking at it because— b-but I love it, now.”

He lets go of the pendant, now warm against your skin after being in the palm of your lover despite it being brief. He smooths his hand over your hair and then strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“A lovely gift from a man trying to muscle in on my territory.”

You knew Toji must be yakuza, too. But you had no idea he was such a direct rival of Sukuna’s. It’s unsurprising, though. Maybe they’d been tailing you and Yuuji today. You’d assumed it was a coincidence that they wound up in the same store as you, but you’re no stranger to being naïve.

Sukuna’s territory…

Could he also be referring to you?

“Territorial disputes are standard practice in our line of work, Sukuna.” Uraume starts, trying her best to calm your boyfriend down as he seethes in yet another meeting. “Although she has certainly complicated things.” she speaks, looking at you as her tone becomes more calculated and vicious.

Of course to anyone else, it sounds like she’s just making a point.

But you know better.

“I didn’t complicate anything, thank you, Uraume. I went shopping as I was instructed to do and he just showed up.” you try to defend yourself maturely despite wanting to rip her hair from her scalp.

“No, this isn’t your fault.” Sukuna reassures you. “You shouldn’t have fucking left her you idiot!” he bellows, his voice booming through the room until it reaches his brothers ears. His words seem to echo the longer Yuuji remains silent. He doesn’t even get the chance to talk as Sukuna demands he be quiet. “More and more of them are doing shady shit in areas that I own. Making profit that should be mine. How do we—”

“Yuuji, you’re friendly with his son, right?” you ask. And he shrugs, passively. You’re sure there’s a story there. Perhaps they went to school together given that they’re the same age, but you don’t want to press it and risk him getting in deeper trouble with his sibling. “Do you have a phone number or anything for him?”

“Uh…” Yuuji pats down his body as he looks through his phone. Sukuna watches, everyone watches as he scrolls through his contacts. And finally, he nods.

“Call it.” Uraume orders, Sukuna looks at her and then nods at his brother in agreement.

The tension in the air can be cut with a knife as each ring passes. You feel sick to your stomach the longer it goes on.

Until finally—

“I was wondering when you’d call.” the younger Fushiguro answers, Yuuji places the phone down on the table and puts it on speaker. “My old man has an offer for your brother.”

“Megumi, Sukuna isn’t exactly the negotiating type.” Yuuji explains. “He wants you and your dad dead, to be honest. That shit you pulled at the jewellery store—”

“Is he listening?” Megumi asks. Yuuji looks up to his brother for permission to confirm or deny his presence. The silence lasts a beat too long, and Megumi figures it out for himself. “I’m with Toji, now.” there is a shuffling sound on the other end as he hands his phone over to his father. A large sigh rattles through the speaker, and then he finally speaks.

“Sukuna.” he starts.

“My brother is right, Zen’in, I don’t negotiate.” Sukuna speaks, announcing his presence to them finally. “There is no benefit to me letting you stake your claim on my territory. We’ve killed a few of your men already for your insolence and disrespect. You’ve no idea the lengths I will go to so that you will understand this threat isn’t empty. We won’t just be killing the small fry next time.”

He looks at Uraume, listening carefully as she warns him not to resort to threats of violence so soon. You look between them both, trying to gauge how he’ll respond. He only sighs, agreeing with her, before asking what the negotiation would entail.

“I want to fuck that little girlfriend of yours.” Toji says.

The room falls silent. Sukuna stares daggers at you for a few minutes as if it’s your fault he said something so outrageous. You look around uncomfortably, seeing everyone’s eyes have fallen on you.

You feel dirty.

You feel like a mere bargaining chip, an object for them to make a decision over.

“Everybody out.” Sukuna says, noticing your distress as you feel compelled to hang your head in shame. “NOW.”

Everyone scurries from the room, the only people that remain are yourself, Sukuna, his brother and Uraume. Your lover slams his palm, hard against the table before yelling down the phone at Toji.

“Are you FUCKING joking?” Sukuna shouts, Uraume tries to calm him down but it does little good. “In what world do you think I’d agree to something so stupid?”

You hear Toji chuckle, like he’s considering how to use his words and what he should say. He knows exactly what he wants to tell him in response, but he’s deciding if he wants to rile Sukuna up further or get straight to the point.

“I’ve heard rumours that you use her like a toy.” he starts, a smirk curls on his lip and his scar pulls along with it. You and Sukuna look at each other, wondering who could have found out about your lewd secret. “I’m not… unreasonable. If you comply, I’m willing to come to a binding agreement that we will keep clear of your turf.”

“… Hang up the phone.” Sukuna orders, and Yuuji immediately presses the big red button. Sukuna looks at you, eager to speak. And by his expression, whatever he wants to say seems fuelled by rage. But by a stroke of luck, Uraume intervenes.

“I think you should do it.” she starts. Sukuna directs his angry glare towards her, while you look at her in surprise. “We’ve all heard the rumours, it’s not a secret, Sir. I believe it’s called ‘free use’ yes?”

“Why is that relevant?” you ask.

“Well, you’re used to being used, no? Why is this any different. It would be for Sukuna, for all of us. I’m sure you’d be able to open your legs for a few minutes for the sake of peace.” she speaks, calmly, crossing one leg over the other as she leans back in her seat. You scoff, standing up to argue, but Sukuna splays out his hand and warns you to keep in line. “Sukuna, it’s just sex. You won’t have to pay them off, you won’t have to share your territory that we— that you have worked so hard for. A simple trade.”

He sighs as he looks between you both.

“It’s not that straightforward, at all.” Sukuna tells her. You hope he’ll elaborate but feel a little deflated when he opts to keep quiet instead. You feel comfortable with your so-called arrangement because you’re in love.

At least, that’s what you thought.

“A shame. You continue to be a useless disappointment in this organization.” she tells you. “If it were me, I’d do it.”

“Well, Uraume. It isn’t you. You know why?” you spit back, shoving by Sukuna with the intention of leaving when you’ve said your piece. “Because you are his subordinate. I am his wife.” and with that, you leave.

Uraume is unfazed, however, which would infuriate you more if you were around to see it. Instead you’re leaving with your handbag in tow. You’re stopped, however, when you reach the exit. Sukuna’s men are holding you hostage on his orders. He hasn’t followed you to see if you’re okay. He’s still talking to Yuuji and Uraume as you pace around an empty meeting room.

You’ve always hated this building. Every time you come for a meeting here you’re nauseated by an overwhelming mechanical smell. It’s the office supplies, you assume. The copy machines and printers whir all day and night, the perfect operation taking place to disguise Sukuna’s general misdeeds.

Around twenty minutes later, you’re no longer alone.

Sukuna enters the room and shuts the door behind himself. Your eyes water as you instantly read his expression. You know there’s another way, but he’s obviously made his decision. Uraume’s influence played a part, you don’t doubt.

“I don’t want to. I love you…” you cry. “She’s trying to—”

“Enough.” he silences you, curling his finger. A simple instruction for you to follow him. “I haven’t decided yet, come along.”

He brings you back to the meeting room where you were sitting earlier. He commands Uraume and Yuuji to leave, and they do, Yuuji leaves his phone behind so Sukuna can call Megumi’s phone again.

“I don’t want to share you.” he confesses, pulling you into his lap as he spins the phone in his hand. Each thud against the desk makes your anxiety spike. “Uraume is right, though. It’s a tempting offer for the sake of a few measly minutes.”

“I don’t want to fuck him, Sukuna.” you pout. “I can’t believe you’re even considering it! What if he’s lying and will keep asking to fuck me? I don’t want everyone to find out about it and think I’m some whore. Do you—” you stop, a large knot gets stuck in your throat as you try to remain composed. You feel sick to your stomach, and you hate that you even have to ask. “Do you even love me anymore… Sukuna…” you ask, lower lip trembling as you speak.

“I do, of course I still love you.” he tries to assure you, but it feels half-hearted at best. “I’d prefer you to make a decision; but I want it to be the right one. And remember, you agreed to let me use you. And I will use you for whatever purpose I desire, if that means letting other men use your cunt for the sake of peace… then…”

“’Kuna…”

“I’m talking now.” he stops you, grabbing your cheeks in his hand and squeezing until your lips pucker. “You better spread those pretty legs nice ‘n wide for daddy, I want you to make me proud.”

He lets go, slowly, and uses a single finger to call Megumi back.

It rings.

And it rings.

And it rings—

“You mull it over?” Toji answers, his cockiness radiating through the phone. “Who am I speaking to? Sukuna?”

“I’m here.” he answers, he bounces his thigh, a silent instruction for you to announce yourself. And, for him, you do. “We’ve thought about it.”

“And?” Toji speaks.

Sukuna looks up at you, expecting you to do the honours of answering. His face is stoic and it makes your heart sink. He really wants you to agree to this. This is the first time since you’ve been with him that’s he’s made you feel like the object you agreed to be, for him. You thought it was out of love. Maybe even respect.

You were a fool to think that, you see that now.

You take a deep breath, and your whole body shakes. Even the little breaths you take to steel yourself warble and you try and gain the confidence to tell Toji that you agree.

Sukuna agrees, you don’t.

“We’re not interested.” you tell him. Sukuna glares at you, and you swear you see flames licking through his pupils. You try to stand up, but you’re trapped. He holds you, tight, and you worry about what you’ve let yourself in for. “Sukuna, get off.” you try to warn him off quietly, but it only increases his grip.

He mutes the call, and fingers sink harshly into the fat of your hips as he lifts you up. You land on the large meeting table with a thud as he towers above you with a dangerous glint in his eye.

“You dare disobey me?” he starts. You flinch as he raises his hand, the rings on his fingers twinkle under the fluorescent lights in the room. He doesn’t hit you, and you can’t tell if that’s what he was considering. He’s never struck you before. But, thinking about it, you’ve never defied him before. He balls his hand into a fist, a singular finger breaking free as he points in your face. “I don’t think you understood me before. Did you get confused?” he asks, voice dripping with condescension as his eyes alternate between your shimmering eyes and tremoring lip.

You ignore him, you just stare at him as you wait for him to finish.

“Understand me now. You are mine. Your life, your clothes, the bed you sleep in? Mine. Your body is mine. Your cunt is barely yours, I own her.”

“You said the decision was mine to—”

“I said I want you to make the decision I’m telling you to make. I’m not giving you a choice, I was giving you the power to make the decision yourself. But I see now, you’re too dumb to make the right call without daddy’s help.”

You sniff, picking up the phone to your side and unmuting the call. You’re surprised Toji is still on the other end, perhaps he knew that you’d gone against orders and was waiting to hear your reconsideration. He doesn’t say a word, nor does Sukuna, as you continue to sniffle and gather your bearings.

“T-Toji?” you whimper, and you hear an amused breath on the other end.

“Yes, darlin’, I’m here.” he speaks. His voice is somewhat soothing given the circumstances. Your lovers fiery stare remains on you. He and your very own body are imploring you to make the decision he’s expecting of you. But your heart, your mind, tell you otherwise. If Sukuna kills you, so be it.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to sleep with you, I love Sukuna too m-much.” you whimper, tears cascade down your face as you look at him. Even after this, after how he’s spoken to you and what he’s trying to make you do, you can’t help but love him. Even his face softens as he hears your plea. Your utter devotion to him makes his heart skip a beat.

There may even be a slither of remorse behind his eyes.

“You’re a real good girl, aren’tcha? So loyal… It’s hard to find girls like you.” Toji responds, and it snaps Sukuna out of his daze. The looming anger returns as he realises you’ve ignored direct orders twice now. “Tell ya what… Sukuna, you still there?”

“… I’m here.” he responds, slouching down in the seat he’d been sitting in previously. It’s odd, looking down at him like this. He looks deflated, like he doesn’t know how to handle you. Maybe he does still love you, after all. He doesn’t want to hurt you or kill you, he’s wrestling with it. If you were like his subordinates you’d be dead already.

He doesn’t know what to do with you.

“Princess, would you feel better if Sukuna was there?” he asks. You both look at each other, unsure of what he’s getting at. The idea infuriates Sukuna. Why on earth would he want to sit like some cuck while one of his enemies rails his girlfriend? “I don’t need you to myself, I just want to fuck you.”

“Um… oh.” you speak, the penny finally dropping. “I like that better.” you confess.

“Mm, I’ll bet.” Toji smirks. “Alright, I’ll make arrangements.”

“Go find Yuuji and go home.” Sukuna whispers as Toji continues to speak. He barely looks at you as you slide off the desk. So you don’t even bother saying goodbye. You’re still so fucking angry at him for all of this. But, really, you can’t help but feel like he isn’t pulling the strings here.

Not really.

You find Yuuji outside vaping, and he chokes when he sees you. He desperately attempts to swat the plume of smoke away, but it’s too late. You take the device from his hand and drop it on the ground.

“Enough.” you tell him, crushing it beneath the chunky platform and heel of your boot while looking him dead in the eye. “Stop buying them.”

“Sorry.” he chuckles. “Want me to take you home?”

“Yes,” you sigh. “The long way… if you don’t mind.”

He nods, understandingly.

Maybe you chose the wrong Itadori to fall in love with.

You hadn’t realised how close Toji’s apartment is to yours and Sukuna’s. You never even knew he existed until a few days ago. And yet, now, you’re in the elevator on your way up to the penthouse suite.

The preparation into this night, which you’re sure will amount to a few grunts and thrusts from each of them before they’re panting and bored, has been substantial.

Sukuna agreed to let Toji cover the cost of everything, which surprised you. Sukuna is a proud man, he’s proud of himself and the money he makes. And he’s especially proud of his possessions.

Most of all, you.

You’ve been accompanied by Yuuji and Megumi for the last week everywhere you go. And they’ve bickered about everything.

As you were sitting in the hair salon earlier, Yuuji insisted upon how Sukuna would like your hair to look, whilst Megumi argued about what Toji would prefer.

They argued when they took you clothes shopping about what kind of outfit you should wear. They argued about what colour lingerie you should wear. Hell, they even argued about what perfume would be best.

You didn’t have the energy to intervene, however, not when it feels like your world is crumbling around you. You’ve lost Sukuna, you think. You aren’t sure how or when it happened, but you don’t see love in his eyes anymore. And it’s a fool’s gambit to try and force that love back.

Now, you’re just a toy he’s grown tired of.

The elevator stops with a ding as you reach the top. Your stomach is doing somersaults, and you’re a little taken aback as Sukuna takes your hand in his. The reassuring squeeze he offers calms you immensely as he leads you out directly into the apartment.

“Welcome.” Megumi greets you both. He gestures to a bottle champagne and three pre-poured flutes filled with the gorgeous, bubbly liquid. You don’t notice until you get closer that there’s even strawberries drowning in the glasses. “Make yourselves at home, he won’t be long.” Megumi speaks, gesturing to the modern staircase that leads upstairs.

And with that, he leaves. He enters the elevator and waves as the doors shut, taking him all of the way to the ground floor. You can’t help but wonder where he’s going. Maybe, despite all of the bickering, he and Yuuji are planning to go out and have fun together while their bosses are occupied.

You feel sick.

Everyone’s going to find out about this. Everyone is going to have you down as a slut who trades her body for the sake of gang disputes. The naïve nature within you is telling you that this is a one time thing. That you made the choice and you only made it because there is something so alluring about Toji.

But, really, after this… you fear that you may be better off dead.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Toji speaks as he announces himself, slowly descending the stairs as he drinks you in. His shirt is open, revealing his glorious body beneath. Each move he makes is teasing, only subtly showing off his musculature that glistens beneath. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.” he tells you.

His hand settles on your hip as he kisses your cheek. It’s gentle, yet forceful, and it lasts a beat longer than you had expected. The feeling of his lips is cemented against your face, and it takes every ounce of willpower that you have to not hold your cheek longingly.

“Glad you could make it, both of you.” Toji expresses, looking at Sukuna briefly before focusing on you again. He can’t get enough of you. He can’t stop ogling your perfect body in the skintight, chocolate coloured dress you’re wearing. The way your breasts slightly spill over the bust, the way the plunge shows the perfect amount of cleavage, the way a huge slit down the side perfectly showcases one of your legs and teases the treasure at the apex of your thighs.

He picks up two glasses, handing them to you and Sukuna, before grabbing his own.

“To peace.” he smirks. Sukuna chuckles and repeats his sentiment, though you’re silent. You aren’t exactly proud of yourself for doing this for the sake of peace.

But at the very least, you might have a little fun. You take a small sip, while Sukuna and Toji’s glasses are bare. Toji tops them up, and they chat as if they’re old friends.

“I’m sure you didn’t invite us over just to make nice, Zen’in.” Sukuna comments, and Toji laughs but nods. Sukuna sets down his champagne flute, tilting your head up by your chin with two dominant fingers. “She won’t object to anything. Isn’t that right, princess?” he asks, and you nod.

Toji finishes his drink again, circling around you both to stand behind you. Sukuna sits down, already pouring his third drink of the evening as he watches how you choose to behave. You’re not going to defy again, though. Not when you agreed of your own accord.

Your gaze narrows as your eyelids become heavy from Toji’s presence behind you. He softly gropes and manhandles every inch of your body. And even the areas you wouldn’t normally consider sensitive have you shuddering under his touch.

He attacks your exposed thigh, dragging the back of his nails upwards towards your pussy as his teeth lightly graze your pulse point. You emit a vociferous moan as his fingers splay outward, his digits barely breaching the material of your dress and yet somehow stimulating your immediately drenched cunt.

“I think she likes me.” he sighs against your skin, maintaining complete eye contact with Sukuna as he feels you up. “This dress was made for you, baby.” he tells you, kissing softly behind your ear.

“Look,” Sukuna starts, standing up as he looms above you. He pulls down the bust, revealing the black mesh bra underneath. Your nipples are barely covered, perfectly visible to all eyes in the room. He cups your breasts, and his thumbs repeatedly swipe over the raised buds. “They’re so hard, princess. Is this exciting you?” he asks.

You nod, dumbly. He captures your lips in a deep kiss and you moan into it. Toji reaches forwards over your shoulder, grabbing a handful of your tit as he squeezes the flesh and lightly flicks the nipple. His other hand settles in the curve of your hip, and you yelp slightly into Sukuna’s mouth as he pulls you backwards against his body.

“Feel how hard you’re makin’ me already, darlin’?” he asks, sharp canines nipping lightly against your bare neck as he pants shallowly against your skin. “Haven’t even touched your pussy yet and I’m aching. Haven’t even seen your fuckin’ panties.”

“Strip her, go on.” Sukuna orders. He backs away as he allows Toji to move you wherever he desires.

You gasp as you feel him move you with ease until your bent over the countertop, your face turns to the side to face Sukuna and the bucket of champagne. You’re distracted by the water droplets slowly traversing down until you hear Toji gnarl against the nape of your neck.

You can’t help but whimper when you feel him repeatedly kiss your bare skin until he reaches the zip of your dress. Sukuna stares into your eyes. Watery, eager eyes that are still focused on him without him even touching you. The red irises that own you and your every move, Toji was right, you are a good loyal girl.

Toji takes the zip between his teeth and pulls downward until the dress shucks from your body, it starts to pool at your feet, but still clings to your waist. Sukuna helps yank it downwards, while Toji lands a harsh strike against your supple rear. He whistles at the sight of your flesh jiggling, repeating the action on the opposite cheek just to see it again.

“Do you know how to use that mouth, princess?” Toji asks, and you nod.

“She knows how to talk shit with it.” Sukuna informs him, and Toji smirks. “But she gives good head, too. Get on your knees.” Sukuna tells you.

And you drop like a stone in front of Toji, you’re sure your knees will be red raw from the uncomfortable landing. You watch Toji with complete focus as he unbuckles his belt. Your eyes stay on his, getting the perfect view of his defined abs and large pecs as you stare up at him. The metal of his belt echoes through the room as he throws it in Sukuna’s direction.

You’re awestruck when Toji’s length is revealed. He’s beautiful. You don’t even realise you’re drooling until the bubbly liquid drips down and splats against your hand. He’s huge. Sukuna is too, but Toji might have him slightly bested. His cock curves upwards, and you can’t help squirm as you think about it hitting all of the right spots inside of you.

His pubic hair is trimmed perfectly. You wonder if he usually keeps himself groomed or if he only did it for this occasion. His tip is gorgeous. A slightly more blush pink in comparison to the rest of his cock. And it’s oozing. It’s shimmering with pre, the tip is completely covered and some of his length below is coated too.

“I’m gonna kill you if you keep staring at his cock like that, princess.” Sukuna warns you. You look at him, worry stabbing through your eyes before Toji grabs your jaw and forces you to focus on him again. He bends down, his face dangerously close to yours.

“He might kill you later, but I’m gonna kill you now if you don’t hurry and put that pretty mouth to work.” he snarls. You nod, widening your mouth to accommodate his girth. He groans, passionately, as his tip hits against your restrictive throat. “Fuuuuuck, good girl.”

You hold his hips as you attempt to take him deeper and deeper into your mouth. Your jaw already hurts, you feel like you might need the ability to unhinge it like a snake just to take him. It’s a similar experience with Sukuna, though he doesn’t make you suck him off often. He prefers your cunt, he doesn’t like to waste time on foreplay normally.

Only if he’s particularly stressed.

“You’re right, she’s a good little cocksucker.” he tells Sukuna as he praises you. He lightly combs his fingers through your hair with one hand before he forcefully shoves you to take his full length. And you cry out, you sob, and he slightly pulls out before shoving back in. “Are you gonna sit and watch me face fuck your toy?” Toji asks, earning a scoff from Sukuna.

He bends down, picking up the belt Toji discarded as he approaches. “Watch.” he orders. You gasp as Toji sets you free so that you’re true lover can take over. He wraps Toji’s belt around your neck but doesn’t completely fasten it, giving them both the freedom to tug and choke you into submission if needs be.

Sukuna removes his own belt, handing it to Toji to do with whatever he pleases. You whimper as he pulls your wrists behind your back, tying them together with the uncomfortable leather binding.

He pulls out his cock, slapping you lightly across the face with it as you wait patiently with your tongue hanging out. You mewl at he taps his tip against your tastebuds, the taste of his pre instantly permeates your senses.

Two hands settle on either side of your skull as he sinks his cock into your drooling mouth. He throws his head back, groaning as he slots in comfortably. He wastes no time, thrusting into your mouth again and again until you’re sputtering and sobbing.

“She cries easily, huh?” Toji drawls as he strokes himself.

Sukuna nods, forcing you down all of the way to the base until you’re choking. You can’t even steady yourself anymore with your wrists being bound. You can’t breathe and you can’t push away. He pinches your nose when you remember you can breathe through it, suffocating you completely.

“Aw, what’s wrong darlin’? Not gonna break so soon, are ya?” Toji asks, grabbing the makeshift collar and leash around your neck as he softly pulls. But he lets go as Sukuna frees you from his malicious clutches.

They both laugh as you cough and sputter, collapsing into a heap on the ground as you try and get your breath back.

“What’s wrong? You don’t like it?” Sukuna asks. He picks you up with ease, and you’re soon bent over the counter again. But, this time, your feet don’t touch the ground. You’re left there, powerless to their touch with your ass perfectly raised while your feet and legs dangle helplessly over the edge.

Toji spreads your ass apart, and the stickiness sounding through the room is deafening. He sneers when it hits his ears. “She’s lying.” he spanks you, hard. And then his fingers toy between your pussy lips, making a complete and utter mess of your panties. “Do you like old men picking on you, hm? You must do. Can you feel how sloppy this cunt is, princess?” he asks.

You whimper out apologies, though they don’t seem to be interested. Toji picks you back up, throwing you over his shoulder as he carries you towards the stairs. Sukuna follows, a wicked grin on his face as he observes your tear-stricken face.

“Does she like anal?” Toji wonders.

“She likes whatever I tell her to like.” Sukuna laughs. “Would you like that, baby? Should we use both of your pretty holes?”

“Can’t wait to tear these fuckin’ panties off ya.” Toji explains. “Dunno why you bothered coming here with clothes on. Should have come bare, with a bow on your head.”

You enter Toji’s bedroom. And it’s gorgeous. It’s so sleek and stunning and there’s even a fireplace crackling away. The atmosphere is romantic, but this situation is hardly that.

Sukuna strokes your cheek, a subtle check to make sure you’re okay as he looks into your eyes. You nod, discreetly, before he slips his thumb between your teeth. You bite down, softly, and he can’t help but smile.

“Think this is the quietest she’s ever been,” Sukuna starts. He massages his thumb into your tongue, and you can’t help but instinctively suck. “Bein’ so good for daddy tonight.” he praises you.

“Daddy, huh?” Toji smirks, taking two fistfuls of your panties between his hands and tears them apart carelessly. “Hope you’ll call me that, sweetheart.”

You look to Sukuna for permission, and he nods. “Just this once.”

“Real pretty girl when you’re suckin’ on somethin’.” Toji comments. He sits on the bed beside you, lifting you up abruptly to sit on his lap. He unhooks your bra and Sukuna seamlessly breaks the straps between heavy fists, ripping it quickly from your body without undoing your bindings. “Suck ‘em while I play with this sweet little cunt.” Toji groans against you as he pulls your back flush against his chest.

Sukuna lightly slaps your tits before walking away. You watch him as he takes a seat in the corner of the room, and he’s become exactly what he hadn’t wanted to. He looks unfazed, though. He seems to be enjoying it if anything. He pulls a cigar from his inner breast pocket along with a lighter, he rests his ankle on his knee as he watches Toji toy with you.

“Watch him, want him to see how good I make you feel.” Toji whispers. He presses two fingers into your mouth slowly. The metal of his rings clang against your teeth, but you don’t care. You wish you could hold his hands as you suckle and lap at his digits. Though you’re broken from your efforts as he starts to circle your clit. “Mmm, such a messy pussy.” he comments.

You wriggle and squirm even with such little pressure applied to your clit. He runs his fingers through your folds, teasing your hole only slightly before he massages your swollen clit again and again.

“—addy!” you whine, unable to sit still as he torments you.

“Hear that? She called me daddy.” Toji chortles, looking at Sukuna. He smirks, but again seems more unfazed than anything. You almost screech around his fingers as he finally inserts his other digits inside of you. As if they weren’t already thick, more metallic rings seem determined to push your pussy to the limit. “You’re gonna make a mess f’me. Alright? Don’t fight me.”

He inserts a third finger between your lips, your mouth contorts and stretches uncomfortably, and still, you suck.

He digs around inside of you like he’s searching for something in particular. And when your legs begin to jolt and quiver, he deduces he’s found it quick enough. His ministrations are almost evil as he alternates between hard and slow fingering. It’s so intense, so excruciating that you can barely concentrate on his fingers in your mouth.

“Can’t see your face, baby. You still with us?” he asks, and you can only offer a barely intelligible response. Sukuna leans forward in his chair as he smokes, uncaring for where he flicks the ash. It’s the last thing on Toji’s mind, too. Especially when you’re already losing consciousness like this. “They’re just fingers, darlin’. Gonna go stupid for my cock if you can’t even handle this.” he laughs.

“Slap her cunt.” Sukuna tells him. And soon enough Toji is landing a hard enough spank to your puffy clit. You mewl, so he repeats it. Again and again. Harder and harder. “Finger her, I’ll do it.”

Toji puts his fingers back inside of your tight walls and finds that spot again. Sukuna lords above you, cigar resting between the gentle bite of his teeth as he spanks your cunt hard. It makes you dizzy, almost delirious. The conflicting feelings of pain and pleasure make your eyes water.

“Crying again.” he says as he spanks your pussy again. “Who knew two cocks would make you so obedient and submissive?”

“And we haven’t even fucked her yet.” Toji reminds him, and he smirks. “I should have invaded your turf a long time ago if I knew it would get us here.”

“Hm,” Sukuna hums. Your breath hitches, and he raises an eyebrow in suspicion. “She’s going to cum. Is she getting tight?”

“Like she’s gonna break my fingers.” Toji smirks. And with a few more spanks against your clit as Toji continuously batters his fingers into your g-spot, you’re cumming harder than you ever have in your life. Sukuna doesn’t move away as he feels you douse him with the thick stream shooting from your cunt. “Oh fuck. You’re a little squirter, huh. Or a big squirter, look at the fuckin’ mess you made of us, dirty girl. Told ya you would.” he teases you, not letting up on your insides as he tries to draw every last drop of your arousal from you.

It's not like it’s the first time you’ve squirted.

But you’ve never squirted that much before.

Your mouth is free as Toji pulls out his fingers, and you feel a chill as he wipes your saliva against the column of your spine. You’re surprised when you feel him undo the belt keeping your wrists together. And you’re even more surprised as he helps you straddle him properly.

He squeezes your ass as you begin to rut your hips against his cock, the tip catches against your hole as he holds cups your cheek and offers you a showstopping, tongue tangling kiss. You yelp as Sukuna yanks your hair until your vision is his face at an almost upside down angle. He spits in your mouth, crudely, before releasing your hair.

You don’t bother swallowing it as Toji brings you back to him and locks his lips with yours. He couldn’t care less that Sukuna had spat in your mouth. You’d already sucked his cock, what did it matter to him?

“You’re so well trained, princess.” he smirks. He stands up, and you instantly wrap your legs around his waist. He places you flat against the bed, nibbling on your collarbone before he nips and kisses downward. Further and further and further. “Let daddy taste you.” he demands, and you nod.

Sukuna holds your underarms and pulls you until your head droops backward, lolling over the edge of the mattress.

You wince as he slots his cock between your lips again, and he loosens the tightness of the belt still around your neck. The slight choking feeling is replaced with his hand, intent on feeling your throat bulge from the broadness of his cock.

Your legs cramp around Toji’s head as he gets to work feasting on your folds. If not for Sukuna’s length stuffing your throat, you’d be screaming at the way he suctions his lips around your clit. He licks and sucks again and again until your mind goes blank.

“That’s a good toy,” Sukuna chuckles darkly. “Stop thinking, now, we’ll do that for you.”

Toji can’t get enough of your taste. He can’t help but stroke himself as he pleasures you, and he grunts again and again against your heat. The fingers on his free hand sink into your doughy thighs. He’s doing all he can do to make sure you stay put. And he wants his face to be suffocated by your cunt.

Sukuna pulls out, determined not to cum this way. He’ll only cum if he’s doing so directly into your womb. He drops to his knees, helping you up a little so you can look down at the man about to give you your second orgasm of the evening. Your head sags against Sukuna’s broad shoulder, but you manage to look through barely open eyelids to see raven locks shaking and swaying as he lashes his tongue against your clit.

“’m gonna c-cum, daddy… fuck.” you mutter, unsure if you’re referring to Sukuna or Toji. Neither of them seem to care, though, they’re more focused on your wobbly thighs and spasming cunt. “Ngghh—!” you wail.

Toji slurps up your mess as you squirt all over his face. He laughs, scar pulling deliciously as he tries to catch your essence in his wide, smiling mouth. He sticks his tongue out before attaching his lips directly against the source again.

And even he’s panting when you’re finished. Completely satisfied from this alone.

Though his eyes and mind are full of desire as he fantasises about how close he is to feeling you wrapped around him.

“I want her pussy.” Toji insists, and Sukuna shrugs his shoulders.

Sukuna scoops you into his arms, and the two of them help position your near lifeless body between them. Though your pseudo-husband is the first to shove his cock into your drooling slot. Toji scowls, prepared to pull you away from him if needs be.

“I said—”

“And?” Sukuna responds. “Fuck her pussy, then.”

Toji is frozen, unsure of what he means. But they keep eye contact as Sukuna fully sheathes himself to the hilt. Toji’s gaze only falters when he hears you moan from the stretch. You look up at him, your sweet doe eyes absolutely sodden with tears. And still, you bite your lip as you lose yourself to the bliss of being an object.

“Oh, princess,” Toji smirks, kissing the tip of your nose before he lines his cock up with your hole. “Gonna have to break this little pussy, ‘cause your daddy’s so selfish.” he tells you.

He hisses as he breaches inside of you, and your head falls forward to rest on his chest. They both hush you and coo sweetly as their cocks tear you apart. You aren’t sure which of them he was calling selfish, but really, it’s both.

They could have taken turns if they both wanted you this way.

But they were hellbent on double stuffing you.

Their hips move in tandem, neither of them giving you a single moment to catch your breath as they bully their cocks into you again and again. You’re screaming out moans as they pummel your insides. You’re bound to be aching and bruised tomorrow. You don’t care, though, not right now. And they certainly don’t. Not when your tight little hole feels so Goddamn perfect.

“Fuck— fuck,” Toji grunts. “Don’t wanna pull out.”

“D—on’t.” you squeak out, and they both let out a little laugh each at your weak request.

“She’s a little cum slut, can’t get enough. Fill her up, fuck if I care. Want this little pussy bred, baby? Hm? Want your daddy’s to fuck you full’a kids?” Sukuna teases. And you nod, it’s weak, pathetic, but determined. “Goooood girl, ‘m close.”

“I’m close as well, I’m gonna fuckin’ lose it.” Toji announces, his thrusts becoming sloppier and more staggered.

The change in pace has you clenching, the third and final nail in your coffin as your pussy begins to gush for them both. They’re both a little embarrassed, flushing red in the face as your tightening hole leads to both of their mutual demise.

“That’s it, take it, little slut.” Sukuna commands as he empties his balls inside of you. Toji is no better, the obscene names seem like second nature to them both.

“Fuck, look at her stomach.” Toji snickers. Sukuna looks down to see your tummy swollen with their cocks and cum.

They both pull out, wholly beguiled as your body collapses onto the bed in a heap. You’re practically asleep as they position you onto your stomach and split your legs apart to see how their sperm leaks out of your twitching cunt.

“I want another go.” Toji smirks, unable to pull his eyes away from your glittering slit.

“Let her rest a little.” Sukuna tells him. “I’m not done with her, either.”

You’re tired.

You’re so tired of coming to these fucking meetings.

Sukuna walks through the building with you close by. His arm around you, protectively. Somehow, you think the encounter with his rival has made him love you more. He’s been clingier, lately, which isn’t like him. He never wants to let you out of his sight, or his grasp.

He’s been using you more too.

It’s like how things were in the beginning again.

You’re sure everyone knows what happened. Eyes are on you, and their full of judgement. It hurts, of course, but there’s nothing to be done. Sukuna was right: you agreed. You did it for him and yet out of the two men who were supposed to deal with this amongst themselves, you’re the only one paying the price.

Nobody cares if their boss had a threesome.

Everyone cares if his girlfriend got used like a slut though.

Mostly, you can’t bring yourself to care. As you sit down beside Sukuna, his hand rests on your thigh while you scan everyone’s shame-filled faces. You’d challenge any of them to care what others think of them after the night you had.

It was mind blowing.

To be dominated thoroughly by the two biggest men you’ve ever met like that is a feeling you can’t begin to describe. To feel so small and worthless in comparison to them. For your body to be used in whatever manner they see fit and for them to still allow you to cum despite your purpose being for their enjoyment…

You haven’t stopped thinking about it.

About them.

About him.

Sukuna’s hand leaves your thigh as he addresses the room. Explaining how Toji miraculously decided to back off after a firm warning. No one believes it, but everyone is happy enough. But there’s always going to be issues and problems when you’re involved in illegal activity. So despite your nose being buried in your phone, you can’t say you’re surprised when you hear Sukuna move onto the next issue.

Uraume sees you smirking as your fingers tap away at your keyboard. And it makes her smirk, too.

Toji insisted that you put your number in his phone when you spent the night. Sukuna was using the bathroom, and he forced his phone into your shaky fingers. You were panicking, but you typed fast.

You’ve been texting non-stop ever since.

Uraume thinks you’re a naïve fool.

She knows exactly what you’re doing because this is what she had envisioned from the very start. She orchestrated everything. She invited Toji’s foot soldiers to start operating their business on Sukuna’s turf; just like she is the one who informed Sukuna of the invasion with such haste and loyalty.

She is the one who hinted at where they might find you that day you were shopping with Yuuji. And she is the one who let slip to Toji what your arrangement with Sukuna is.

Sukuna respects Uraume, but he doesn’t give her nearly enough credit.

She has managed perfectly to drive a wedge between you that neither of you even know is there yet. His lack of respect for your body has driven you into the willing arms of another man. Only through texting, for now, but before long that won’t be enough for you. Sukuna’s jealousy and possessiveness have made him love you more, the scales have tipped the other way and it is all to benefit Uraume.

Sukuna will find out, she’ll make sure of that.

And whether he kills you or casts you aside, it matters not to her. Because his heart will be broken either way; and she will be there to pick up the pieces. Sukuna hates how jealous you are of Uraume. But neither of you have a single solitary clue that she’s thinking all of this through right now.

Uraume feels a little bad for you, your intuition is keen. But Sukuna will never suspect a thing. You’re just insecure, he thinks. But Uraume applauds you for having your guard up about her.

You were right to worry.

13K notes · View notes

yueebby · 2 months

Text

keep dreaming! – gojo satoru

synopsis. down bad? … it’s gojo satoru!

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo, he basically has a wet dream of you, you wear tinted lip balm, your first kiss w him (??), suguru plays devil’s advocate

notes. remember spring days!au but can be read alone. anyways, enjoy!! I am writing this while sick (yikes). also of course this wouldn’t be canon compliant if i had not included satoru and suguru’s dynamic! I tried my best to apply their interactions during the basketball match + while theyre leaving jujutsu tech as much as i can.

“satoru…” you murmur, looking up at him shyly. the two of you find yourselves alone in the classroom. a greedy smile plays on his lips, and you struggle to formulate words as your eyes travel from his cerulean ones to his lips. satoru can barely contain his excitement, the anticipation radiates from him like an electric charge.

“say it, [name]. tell me what you want.” he whispers back at you seductively, his eyes are spellbound onto yours. you whine before grabbing the collar of his uniform and pulling him onto you. your lips are soft, so soft. you were made for him, he’s sure, as your lips mold together. as a matter of fact, your lips are so soft that they feel eerily like his pillow–

"get up! we’re late to our mission!" suguru hits the top of satoru’s head with the spare pillow on his bed. the white haired boy immediately activates his innate technique to block his best friend’s attacks.

it was going to be a long day.

“it’s unlike you to wake up so late.” suguru’s hands pause over the shoji door of the classroom. his concern for gojo was more important than the imminent lecture they were going to receive from yaga for their tardiness. “plus you totally sucked today.”

their mission had taken an unexpected turn for the worse when the pair had found themselves stuck in an incomplete domain. the narrow escape was only possible as a result of suguru’s quick thinking with rainbow dragon.

the bandaid on satoru’s cheek is a silent testament to the mission gone wrong.

“i’ve just been tired.” satoru mumbles quietly, heat rising to his cheeks as the memory of the dream flashes in his mind. he was too deep in thought to counter his friend’s insult.

something was definitely wrong. suguru raises his eyebrows, “and it has nothing to do with the fact that i caught you making out with your pillow?”

“i– what?” the heat has spread from his cheeks to all over his face. he hopes his sunglasses cover the blush that was blossoming on his face. suguru lets out a breath of relief. satoru’s blush meant that the matter at hand was only trivial…

“don’t tell me you were dreaming of [name],” his best friend smiles knowingly. satoru groans. suguru definitely knew, he was just playing with him at this point.

their conversation is cut short when the doors slide open by themselves to reveal a certain brown haired girl with a distasteful look on her face.

“satoru is having wet dreams of [name]?” shoko remarks quietly, making sure her comment is only heard by the two males. “i would act surprised, but it’s not like you’re above it.”

“just who do you think i am?” satoru looks down at his friend.

“a real pervert.” shoko simply replied before quickly making her way back to the desk next to yours.

satoru’s eyes follow her and make their way onto you. like a fly making its way into a honey trap, he can’t seem to look anywhere else. too busy burning the image of you absorbed in your textbook, he absorbs every little detail from the way your soft lips slightly part to mouth the words of the book to the way your leg bounces underneath the table. were you using a new lip balm? there was a subtle shade difference from your usual choice. gojo makes a mental note to ask you for the exact brand for… personal reasons.

in his trance, satoru fails to notice yaga’s scolding. he had also failed to notice how suguru had already made his way into a desk.

“satoru since you seem so eager to continue standing, i assume you volunteer to solve this equation.” yaga angrily taps the blackboard with a worn out price of chalk.

satoru stiffens up, not because of yaga’s wrath, but because your attention has shifted from the textbook to him. you blink up at him, the image dangerously similar to his dream. satoru gulps, eyes quickly flitting to the equation messily written on the board.

at least math equations don’t make him feel like his heart is beating out of his chest.

it didn’t take a genius to notice how quiet satoru has been today. as if he were in his own world, you notice.

“i fear that i may have been giving satoru too much attention lately,” you mutter to your two other friends, mind running laps trying to recall all of the intimate moments you have spent with the white haired fiend— all of which could be characterized as highly inappropriate.

“you always do,” suguru lazily rests his chin on the palm of his hand on the desk across from you. after yaga’s lecture, the seats had been rearranged appropriately so that the four of you could enjoy lunch together. “lay some of your love on us too.” he gestures his chopsticks to himself and shoko who were sitting side by side.

one could argue that the subtle smirk playing on suguru’s lips were a lot more dangerous than satoru’s. you’re afraid that suguru has started a game that will only end with your downfall.

the silver tongued boy seemed to catch satoru’s attention with his comment.

“ha– mad that you don’t pull? get your own girl,” satoru speaks up for the first time, glaring at his best friend through half lidded eyes from above his dark glasses. the half eaten melonpan in his hand was long forgotten.

“last i checked, [name] wasn’t your girl,” suguru places his chopsticks back down on his bento box.

you could’ve sworn you saw an irk mark appear on the side of gojo’s face.

shoko, who had been watching the scene unfold, sips on her juicebox silently. your eyes anxiously flit between the two boys.

“if you’re still mad about that mission, step outside. it’s not like i’m the one savin’ our asses every time.” satoru grits his teeth.

the loud sound of suguru’s chair screeching on the wooden floor reverberates in the mostly empty room, “you and your uncouth mouth,” he accuses satoru.

shoko flees the scene. smart girl.

you were about to follow her, but suguru holds out a hand for you to stop,

“i’m just about done anyway. please, don’t cut your meal early on my account,” he looks down at you and your full bento box. the black haired boy leaves no room for discussion when he turns his back to leave the classroom.

when the shoji doors are slammed shut by suguru, your head whips to satoru who resumes eating his strawberry melonpan.

“what was that? you’ve been acting strange, satoru– what happened on that mission?”

“don’ worry ‘bout it,” you barely make out the words coming out of his mouth that is full as he munches on the pink bread.

you scoff, “you can’t just expect me to ignore the argument you just had with suguru. and that ugly bandaid on your face?” you point at the skin-colored bandage haphazardly placed on his face. upon further inspection, you also notice the growing eyebags on his face. it was truly peculiar to see any blemish on satoru’s perfect face.

he pouts, “are you calling me ugly?” satoru doesn't take pleasure in upsetting you, but the gradual way you leaned closer to him sparked an unexpected thrill within him.

“no, i’m worried about you. you’re being weird, satoru.” he was far from ugly.

as your back faces the window, the outside light casts an otherworldly glow around you.

“well, aren’t you an angel?” he tilts his head as he leans back in his seat, completely enamored.

“you never stop, do you? you’ve been completely out of it all day!” your scrutinizing gaze zeroes in on gojo who was mindlessly nodding with a dazed out smile on his face. “and judging by the way you’re all bandaged up, suguru was probably right! i mean you totally got roughed up. the great gojo satoru, wounded.”

satoru blushes at your angry face. he’d say something indecent, but he fears that it would only scare you away. if only you knew that the reason he was all messed up was because of you.

“it's partially your fault, y'know.” cerulean eyes blink at you sheepishly before being replaced by a newfound mischievous look.

he doesn’t miss the way your anger shifts into confusion.

"excuse me?"

satoru continues, “if it weren't for you appearing in my dream i wouldn't have been distracted by that incomplete domain.” he points to the bandage cut just below his right eye.

“dreaming of me now, gojo?" you raise an eyebrow. the uncomfortable heat that was starting to rise onto your face at the new revelation that gojo dreams about you is ignored.

satoru looks away, "can you really blame a guy?"

you huff, ignoring his comment, “i think yaga has a first aid kit somewhere in the closet.” you make your way to check out the forgotten door in the back of the classroom.

the cool sterility of medical supplies contrasts with the charged atmosphere left behind in the classroom.

when you do come back with the kit, your heart races, praying he won't notice the hitch in your breath as your fingers delicately tend to the nearly healed scratch beneath his cheek. satoru's ability to evoke strange emotions within you is undeniable.

silence envelops the classroom, broken only by satoru's deep breaths. you're so close that you can almost feel the warm gusts of air from his breath on your face.

"your body healed remarkably fast. i'm not surprised," you softly observe, your focus on the task at hand. satoru smiles, his eyes fixed on your concentrated features.

"yeah? well, i have an excellent nurse," he remarks, tapping the freshly placed bandaid on his cheek. "though it seems she missed one of my injuries."

you furrow your eyebrows. satoru points to his expectant lips, a playful pout on his face.

"no," you plainly state.

"aw, c'mon. kiss it better? i almost died today," he pleads, his eyes silently begging. you shake your head, unaware that it was your fault he nearly lost his head during the mission.

"you really want a kiss?" you repeat, catching on to his persistent request.

he nods fervently, his excitement palpable. was that even a question

you think he was pretty insane– requesting kisses from a fellow peer.

“satoru..” you murmur, leaning closer to him. his eyes were twinkling with excitement. the two of you were all alone, left with nothing but each other. this scene was all too familiar.

the sides of his lips quirk up into a smirk while he watches your eyes travel all around his face. satoru has been fantasizing about this moment since the moment he laid eyes on you.

“[name],” he says, his voice softer than ever, a privilege reserved for those closest to him—especially you.

just a few more inches and your lips will meet… just a few…

slap!

satoru blinks in shock while you giggle at his confusion. he attempts to ask what just happened, but his mouth is sealed. his hand rises to find a bandaid now on his lips.

“you’re cuter when you shut up.”

you seal your words with a soft kiss placed on his bandaged mouth.

...

gojo satoru explodes, his voice muffled by an adhesive barrier.

“m.rrry.. m.. mph..mph!”

extra:

all conflicts were resolved by evening when you had strategically set up a mario kart tournament.

right after you (indirectly) kissed gojo, you fled the scene, leaving a flustered satoru all hot and bothered. you ended up screaming into your pillow.. the same pillow that satoru was laying on not too long ago.

#kt.writes.·:*¨༺#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojou satoru x reader #gojou x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojou satoru x you #jjk x reader #tbh it wouldnt surprise me if gojo was a conniving enough to trick you into kissing him #better luck next time satoru~!#remember spring days!au #rsd!au

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all4yoi · 1 month

Text

was it just a game to you?

𝑒nhypen x fem!reader ⚹ cw. hyung line , 2nd pov , ︎ poor attempt on angst , lowercase intended , hand holding ( not w u! xd ) , karina mentioned on heeseung's & wonyoung on sunghoon's , not proofread ! part two here !

catching them holding hands with another girl after they accepted your confession

confessing to them was already on your monthly bucket list, but them accepting it and liking you back certainly wasn't. feeling ecstatic, you walk towards your university's glass doors only to find him holding hands with a female that certainly isn't you.

★ LEE HEESEUNG

eyes trained on their hands clutched tightly on to one another, you watch silently as the girl smiled up at him shyly, tucking a strand of her hair with her empty hand.

doubt began overtaking you. right, who would choose someone like you over someone like karina? she was everything you weren't. perfect face, perfect body, she's kind, and absolutely beautiful. if you were heeseung, you would choose her too.

you flinched as you made eye contact with the girl holding hands with someone who should be yours. she sent you a smile, a genuine one. not mocking, nor insulting. she didn't have any idea about the conversation last night you shared with the man she's holding hands with.

she didn't know about how he smiled at you brightly, didn't know about the hug you two shared, and absolutely didn't know about how he said he liked you too. so how could you hate and blame her?

before you could even send a smile back at her, heeseung turned around and instantly took his hand back when his gaze landed on your stiff body.

instead of making a scene, you showed them the best smile you could muster despite the quiver on your lips before quickly walking away towards your first class.

heeseung panicked, turning to karina.

"you're a great friend karina, but i don't feel the same. i'm sorry."

with that, he ran after you hoping you would hear him out and let him explain.

other members utc!

★ PARK JONGSEONG

you felt your mood instantly drop. yesterday he promised he would prove to you how much he liked you back too, now he's holding hands with a pretty girl.

your eyes quickly met his and the way he quickly took his hand back from the girl made you even more upset. you watched as the female said something incoherent to him before he approached you hastily.

he stood infront of you, worry written all over his face. your frowned deepened, betrayal making your chess heavy.

"it's not what it looked like, i promise." jay whispered that only you could hear. he didn't want you doubting his feelings for you, he was merely helping the girl up after he had bumped into her. she insisted on shaking his hand after telling him her name, it was such wrong timing that you saw.

he didn't mean to hurt you.

"it's okay. i'll see you later jay." was all you said before walking away with a small smile. he watched your figure become smaller and smaller until he lost your figure to the students crowding the halls.

despite the smile on your pretty face, jay knew he had hurt you badly and he intended on fixing that. for now, he'd give you space.

★ SIM JAEYUN

his hand was instantly removed from hers as soon as you saw it. you didn't know what to feel. were you supposed to be glad that he immediately let her go as soon as your eyes met his? still, you don't know for how long he has been holding her hand before you even saw.

but then again, you two weren't together. so who were you to be mad? he liked you back sure, but he wasn't your boyfriend. he could hold hands with anyone he'd like. but was it bad to hope that he'd only do those things with you?

you couldn't help the tears falling down your cheeks. immediately, you felt ashamed. ashamed for crying about something so stupid like this, so you did what everyone would've done.

you ran, ignoring his desperate calls for you. and even when he caught up with you and brought you to his chest, the tears didn't stop. you mentally cursed yourself for being so sensitive.

pushing yourself away from him, you wiped away the tears.

"i can explain, please."

"it's fine jake, really. i just wish you would've been more honest with me." lips wobbly as you attempted a small smile, jake's heart broke as he watched you walk away from him again.

★ PARK SUNGHOON

you didn't know what to do. there he was, holding hands with the prettiest girl in campus with other students fawning over them. exclaims on how good they looked together echoed through your ears.

maybe he only said he liked you back to make fun of your reaction with his friends. maybe it was a lousy bet between him and his friends to make you believe he actually liked you back.

"don't they look absolutely good together? seriously, sunghoon and wonyoung, literally everyone here expected them to get together at some point" a random student told you, her smile wide as she observed the two, who were still holding hands.

the way he stiffened and dropped her hand as soon as your eyes met his brought you back to reality. blending in with the crowd in the halls, you attempted to escape his line of sight, desperate to leave before the tears in your tear ducts escape.

you were forced to halt when you felt a strong grip on your forearm. sunghoon turned you around to face him, his brows furrowed whilst he bit his bottom

"y/n.." he gulped as he saw how your eyes got teary immediately. "i'm sorry, it's not like that at all."

"so why were you holding her hand? with the biggest smile on your face?" he kept his mouth shut, unable to form an answer. this only made you frustrated even more.

pulling your arm back, you cleared your throat and looked down on your shoe. "you could've turned me down instead of making me hope- nevermind.. see you around."

sunghoon watched you walk away from him helplessly, mentally beating himself up for not clearing things up.

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yearning-for-autumn · 3 months

Note

So, here is my humble request 👀:

Reader is afab Illyrian, got her wings clipped (because we hate this tradition that’s why and because I am too much into enemies to lovers) and the Bat Boys consider her something close to a little sister.

When Eris was making a deal with the NC to get their help to kill Beron and that shit, his bond snapped with reader.

Obviously problematic for him because he has been insulting Illyrians since his mom popped him out about 500+ years ago.

So…bonus points for: smut obvs.- go as filthy as you like, Lucien absolutely mocking Eris for FUMBLING desperately to get his charm going, reader being oblivious.

I hope this sparks some ideas and creativity 🥰🤞🏻

Would That I -- Part 1

A/n: This was too good not to make into a multi-part fic, so expect more soon. Smut will be coming!

Pairing: Eris X Illyrian!Reader

Warnings: Allusions to smut, pining, mentions of mental health

Word Count: 3,638

Summary: You hate him. You hate the very thought of him. And yet he's your mate. The Mother has a cruel sense of humour.

Part 2 Part 3

Fury rippled through your body like a forest fire. You were livid. And Cassian had the nerve to laugh at you. Well, stifle a laugh. Rhysand was watching him with a worried look as he tried to give him a silent warning to stop. This progressed to warning him mind to mind when you got up from the sofa, flinging a pillow so far it almost landed into the fireplace. Azriel flinched.

“Him!?” You seethed, finally breaking the silence you had kept since your return from that damned High Lord meeting. Cassian snorted softly and you rounded on him with a deathly calm. Rhys made a small noise in the back of his throat.

“Is this funny to you, brother? I’m shackled to that evil, pompous, ginger-haired freak and you’re laughing?” His smile had dropped and a look of fear was quickly overcoming his rugged features. You stepped closer to him, your finger in his face. “Don’t sleep too deeply tonight.”

Rhysand cleared his throat.

“Look, this doesn’t have to be the end of the world. You don’t have to accept the bond. We can make sure you never see him again.” The bond snarled through you at that and you growled.

“Sure Rhys, because you were so calm when you found out Feyre was your mate.”

His brow furrowed.

“So you want to be with Eris?” The name seemed to physically disgust him. Azriel scoffed, abruptly rising from the sofa and marching out of the room. Cassian eyed the doorway in his wake. You turned to Rhys.

“No!” You groaned in frustration, pacing up and down on the carpet like a caged animal. Cassian’s eyes darted between Rhys and you. Finally deciding to break things up he manhandled you into a hug. You fought it for a few moments, before giving up and collapsing into your brothers embrace, hot angry sobs wrenching through you. Rhys took this as his cue to leave, and winnowed—probably to his office—out of the room. Cassian rubbed soothing circles on your back, careful to avoid your wings that were ever more sensitive after the clipping.

You were clipped at thirteen, which is how you had come to live with the three brothers. In Windhaven, they clipped your wings the day you started your cycle. Once grounded there was no escaping your duties, nor any chance to leave the camp. Unless, of course, you had grown close with the High Lord’s son, who had a mother with a habit of collecting strays.

You were there through all of it, the highs, the lows, and Morrigan’s tumultuous relationship with one Eris Vanserra. The male you were now mated to.

---

In the Forest House, Eris was pacing. His throat was still sore from the memory of Azriel’s scarred hand, and his cheek burned from the slap that had earned him from his father. But all of that had been overshadowed. He knew as soon as he saw you. His heart had lurched in his chest so hard he had thought he might throw up. You were the most beautiful female he had ever laid his eyes on. And of course, you were from the Night Court. The Mother truly did have a cruel sense of humour.

You had walked in, looking as arrogant as the rest of them, sharing a secret smile with the shadowsinger before sitting down next to the High Lord. Eris, next to his mother, couldn’t rip his eyes from you. Your doe eyes, sharp and intelligent captured his attention first. He wanted nothing more than to get lost in them, to find out everything about you: What you liked to read, your favourite food, how best to pleasure you and have you screaming his name. He was pulled from his fantasies by your wings. Cauldron, your magnificent wings. Their beauty stole breath from his lungs as they unfurled, getting comfortable on the chair. You had smiled at Feyre, warm and supportive, and Eris knew he was utterly lost.

He finally stopped his pacing, locked inside his room, and sat down on the edge of his bed. He sat there, holding his head in his hands until he heard the scratch of claws at the door. Getting up with a weary sigh, he opened it only to be knocked to the ground by his oldest and most loyal smokehound.

“Cheddar.” He chided as she licked his face excitedly. “Cheddar Biscuit.” He said, sternly, and she leapt off of him, waiting by the door expectantly.

“Yes alright, I suppose it’s time for a walk.” Cheddars tail thumped faster against the door frame and Eris couldn’t help the smile that grew. “Go and fetch your brothers and sisters then.” He said, grabbing the leashes off the wall. A walk was one way to clear his mind.

---

As you had predicted, Rhys was holed up in his office when you went looking for him. He barely looked up at you as you entered.

Rhysand’s office was always meticulously organised, but as you came up behind his chair you noticed how messy his desk had become. Letters and notes were piled on every inch of space, his childhood stuffed bat sitting atop one pile as a makeshift paperweight.

He loosed a breath.

“We are going to war, Y/n.” He said quietly, and any thoughts of Eris Vanserra eddied from your mind. Rhys looked up at you with bloodshot eyes. Guilt coursed through you for ever caring about something as trivial as a mating bond when you and your brothers were set for battle. You had only just got Rhys back from under the mountain, only to potentially lose him again.

“Is it certain?” You asked, leaning down to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Yes.”

“Is Cass--?”

“Leaving for Windhaven by first light.” He answered.

“Ok.”

Rhys turned, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He knew what you were thinking, though you wished you weren’t.

“Eris is an awful male, Y/n. You know I could never support the bond between you. Azriel is...well, I’m sure you already know.”

You did. The moment he had stormed out of the room you had known this was the beginning of a negative spiral for Az. Not to mention the upcoming war. You stood up straight.

“That being said.” Rhys continued. “Eris is ensuring Autumn allies with us against Hybern. There is a certain political advantage to the match.”

You scoff.

“Like there was with Mor?” Rhys turned green. “What did Eris bargain for in return for Autumn’s support? What did you trade away, Rhys?”

Rhysand looked every bit five centuries old when he turned to you.

“Our support in his bid for the throne. Whenever that may be.”

Hatred for the male burst anew in your gut, fiercer still now that you were mated to him.

“That power hungry bastard.” You spat.

Rhysand sighed.

“He could never deserve you, starlight. I will make sure that he never sees you again. I will not lose another sister.”

---

It wasn’t until midnight that you saw Azriel. The last of your brothers to approach you. He let himself into your room, waking you, tattered blanket draped around his shoulders. Rhys’ mother had sewn it for him years ago, before you had come to live with them. It had helped him through many hard nights. So much so that it was threadbare and faded. Rhys had enchanted it not to break further as a solstice gift one year.

You sat up worried.

“Az? Are you ok? You didn’t—”

“No,” He assured, and you relaxed against the pillows, “I’m ok.”

You shuffled over in your bed to make space for him, and he laid next to you, blanket over the both of you.

“I hate him.” He said into the darkness. “I hate what he did to Mor. I hate everything he stands for. I will not let him have you.” He declared.

You snuggled up to your eldest brother.

“I don’t know why you all seem convinced I’m going to somehow fall for this prick.” You said, and he snorted. “I hate him as much as you do.”

Azriel tucked you under his arm.

“I know.” You smiled tiredly, somehow understanding the words Azriel left unsaid. The words Rhys had been able to express. Azriel’s shadows settled over your heart, confirming, and the two of you fell asleep.

---

Months later, Eris sat in a tent, head between his legs to stop from throwing up. Thousands were dead. Thousands more were surely destined to die. Two of his brothers, and his mate, fought on the battlefield.

He only had a moments warning before he was violently sick into a bucket.

Asher, his youngest brother before Lucien, chose this moment to enter his tent unannounced, scowling at the sight of Eris hunched over and retching.

“Can’t handle the bloodshed, brother?” He teased, though he sat next to Eris and put a warm hand on his shoulder. The gaping wound on his neck was healing quickly, as it should with the High Lords power coursing through his veins, but the sight of it set Eris off again. He heaved into the bucket, choosing to ignore the gagging sound Asher made.

“Eris you need to pull yourself together. Father is only a tent over.”

Eris rolled his eyes.

“Just show me your plans, Ash.”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m better off keeping them to myself, seeing as you’re battlesick.” Asher grimaced when Eris finally sat up and pushed the bucket away from him.

“Asher.” Eris’ voice held all the command of General, and eldest brother. Asher groaned petulantly as he handed over the plans.

In Eris’ opinion, not that Beron took any heed, Asher should never have taken on as much responsibility in this war. After Ceres had died, Ash had taken over as Eris’ right hand. Ceres had been more naturally suited to the role, Beron’s bloodlust had run as deep as his bones, and he had a sharp mind for strategy. Eris still mourned the boy he had raised—a quick witted, chess loving, boisterous child—but he had to accept, he had lost Ceres long before he had died. And Eris wasn’t keen on losing anyone else. Asher wasn’t comfortable with a sword, the gash in his neck clear evidence, and he had a wife and child that weakened his resolve. This is what Eris had to work with. And he had a job to do.

He let Asher discuss his plans, though he was unable to rip his mind from providing a hundred different ways that he could die, that Ash or Lucien could die, that you could die.

It took every ounce of training ingrained in him not to falter in his attack the moment he had caught sight of you, fighting your way through the onslaught, Mor by your side. Cauldron, you were ethereal. Your silken wings were spread as if they could carry you into the air, though he had long since guessed that they could not. You cut through your enemies with a frightening ease. Catching his eye, you hesitated just a second, then your face had turned to rage and the next Hybern soldier to cross your path had been beheaded so brutally that even he had to avert his gaze.

When he had looked back up, you were gone, lost in the chaos.

Asher sighed,

“You’re not listening.” He said, and Eris had the decency to feel bad. He looked at Ash wearily.

“Come back in the morning. I’ll be more attentive.” Ash just peered at him over his notes.

“It’s her isn’t it. It’s Y/n.”

“Yes.” Eris said, lacking the energy to lie.

“She’s Night Court. She’s not one of us. One day you’ll find a nice Autumn girl to marry and when you’re High Lord she can pop out a few Autumn court babies.”

“She is my mate.” Eris growled.

“Mate’s aren’t always meant to be Eris. It’s only a biological match, not a political one. When you find an Autumn Court lady you’ll wonder why you ever spent time worrying over some Night Court harlot.” Eris snarled, despite himself. His brothers words were wrenched straight from Beron’s throat and he wouldn’t stand for it. Not from Asher. Not from his kind, loving Ash.

“Get out.” He said. Asher looked surprised, and—Eris was pleased to see—ashamed. He made no moves to leave, so Eris repeated himself, sharper this time.

“Get out.” He snapped, “Come back in the morning with more sense.”

Asher, chastised, fled from the tent, and Eris buried his head in his hands. What use was there protecting you from his brothers when it was certain your own said the same about him. There was no denying the cruel twist of fate the Mother had pulled on the both of you, destined to crash and burn. He imagined you in your own tent, laughing at the thought of him speared on another males sword. Mor sat next to you whispering all the terrible things he had done that day, terrible things to twist your mind and poison the very notion of him. He was too late, he was nothing but soot in the deep pit of your heart, choking the both of you.

He felt blindly for the bond, and found it, rotten.

---

The war was over, but the scars it had left were red raw and bleeding. Rhys had died. Your brother. The one who had sheltered you, loved you, given you a home and a family for a few agonising minutes had been gone. Gone. And yet that Cauldron damned bond had been chafing in the back of your mind. You sat in your bedroom riddled with guilt as it plagued your mind. Eris. Eris. Eris. He infested your mind, your senses, you were consumed by the very thought of him.

Walking through the streets of Velaris had started to feel claustrophobic, being around anyone beginning to suffocate you. You felt safer on your own. Recently you had taken to sheltering in your room, only emerging to eat. Your brothers eyed you with poorly concealed worry every time you walked, ghostlike, through the house, shuffling to the kitchen to fix a plate of leftovers then retreat hastily to your safe space.

Nesta was struggling too, after the war. It had left its scars in all of you. You could feel Cassian’s heart breaking the day Rhys sent her away with him, but all you could think about was whether your brother would do that to you. You thought you knew the looks he gave you.

Disgust.

What use was a flightless Illyrian female, who couldn’t train, couldn’t talk, couldn’t think. He was dead. Rhys was dead. And then he wasn’t. Why were Seren and your mother not afforded the same luxury. You grieved, and cried, and screamed. It truly was a sick thing, to use to the miracle of Rhys’ living to guilt yourself into believing there was hope for them. But then, everything in your mind had twisted of late.

Nesta began training. Nesta began healing. And you were stuck in your room.

Every morning without fail, Azriel came to check on you. He stroked your hair until you woke up, then retreated when you once again rejected his invitations to join them. The Valkyries, they were calling themselves. You would have been proud of Nesta if you could feel anything anymore.

Occasionally, you could feel a light tug on the bond, on the shackles that kept you bound to Eris. The first few times you had thrown up. Now it was little more than an annoyance. You were his dog, disobediently pulling your leash as you fell further and further into nothingness. His face in your mind was as cold as it had been on the battlefield as he yanked you back, choking you. You spluttered. Standing weakly, you made your way down to the kitchen, setting water on the stove to boil.

“Sister.” Cassian’s voice rang out behind you and you flinched, dropping your teaspoon. He bent to pick it up and set it down on the counter. “Azriel says you’ve been ignoring him. You’ve been ignoring all of us.”

You shrugged, the familiar pang of guilt squeezing your chest, making it difficult to breath. You braced both hands on the counter top, taking a ragged breath. Cassian was beside you in a heartbeat, holding you in his arms.

“Y/n, I’m worried about you. We all are.” He squeezed you closer to him, closer than you had allowed anyone in months. “Come and stay with Nes and I. Az is a terrible chaperone, and I need to see you. You could be wasting away down here and I wouldn’t know until it was too late.”

You shook your head, though you no longer knew why you resisted him. Your body melted against him, muscle memory taking over as he enveloped you in his wings. You swore you heard him sniffling as you hugged him back.

“Please, y/n.” He said, voice shaking. It didn’t take much more convincing.

A few days later, Rhys was helping you unpack your bags in your new room in the House of Wind. You took the room next to Azriel, who—Cassian had explained—was falling into bad habits again: Not eating, not sleeping, waking up in a cold sweat when he did finally drop off. Cassian wasn’t doing as well as he wanted you to believe, either. Twice in the following week you woke up to find him taking things from your room. And once, when you had floated downstairs in a miserable haze, you found him throwing up in the kitchen sink, an empty plate that had once held a batch of Elain’s cookies sitting on the table.

Nesta had dragged you to Valkyrie training a few times, and whilst you were beyond their current skill level, it had taken your mind off of things. Cassian’s eyes gleamed with pride everytime Nesta mastered an attack or a block. He touched her affectionately, he teased her, he lingered as she passed to breath in her scent. Watching them together was as painful as it was sweet. How simple love could be.

Would that you could be half as lucky.

Slowly you were emerging from your shell. You could smile again. Nesta invited you to read with her and the Valkyries, and in the silence you found firm friendship. Emerie was a gift from the Mother herself. You bonded instantly, both of you clipped, grounded, but neither broken. Many late nights were spent talking, about books, your brothers, or about Eris. Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn knew little of the Autumn prince, but you appreciated their outside perspective on the bond. It was still a bitter taste in your mouth, but it was becoming more bearable with each passing week.

---

There was a ball approaching in the Hewn City and Rhys had asked Nesta to attend. Not long after, she asked you to join her.

“I can’t do this alone, Y/n, please.” She said one night, sitting at the end of your bed. You bit your lip, unsure.

“Eris will be there.” You said.

“I’ll be the one dancing with him. Rhys wants him falling madly in love with me. He won’t look your way, I promise.” Nesta said. You knew she meant well by that. You had never wanted him anywhere near you before. But something about her oath left a sting. You frowned, which she took to mean you were still unconvinced.

“Please, Y/n. My sisters will be there, Rhys will be there. I’m not ready to face them all on my own, not yet.”

And so you found yourself stood atop the stairs the following week, draped in a black dress with a slit so high up one side your whole leg was practically exposed. The back scooped so low the dimples at the bottom of your spine peeked over top. You were devastating. Death in midnight silk. Rhys’ smile was that of pure brotherly pride as you walked down the steps, your hair pinned in braids and curls.

Nesta stole your breath away as she appeared in the hallway, but it wasn’t your gaze she sought out. You looked towards Cassian and could have sworn he was drooling. Eris would be blind-sided by her, of that you had no doubt.

In the Hewn City, they danced like lovers. Nesta as dangerous in the ballroom as she had become on the training grounds. Every move was calculated, every parting of her lips a dance of the mind, designed to ensnare Eris in her dastardly web. Eris was caught. And you burned.

Standing next to Azriel, heat rolled off you in waves. He took a step towards you, perhaps to offer you a drink, but found something in your eyes to make him change his mind. You hadn’t taken your eyes off of Eris all night. He was sinful. A courtier and a Prince. His hair pooled over his shoulders, one strand to the front neatly braided. You reminded yourself that this was the male that left your cousin for dead at his Court border. Biting your lip, your mind wandered to see yourself lying prone beneath him as he stood, smile widening, cock hardening in his—

“Get me a drink.” You ordered Az. He raised an eyebrow.

“What’s the magic word.”

“Azriel.” You growled, and he turned on his heel. Your eyes stayed pinned on Eris as he led Nesta across the dancefloor in a tantalizing waltz. His gaze finally met yours, and you saw a fraction of surprise before his emerald eyes darkened. He licked his lips, eyes locked with yours as he leaned down, and pressed a kiss to Nesta’s neck.

A/N: I have to thank @fandomsmultiverse for talking to me and giving me about 100 ideas to flesh this story out, I really hope you like it! There will be a part 2 coming soon! I wouldn't just leave you on a cliffhanger like that. We will see more of Eris and Reader interacting, and maybe.....some smut...

1K notes · View notes

i-cant-sing · 4 months

Note

I can’t get this scenario out of my head with yan!batfamily in which Bruce worms his way into a depressed reader’s life by marrying their mother and slowly taking over the role of parenting reader while dealing with the depression.

No because Bruce would do that. In his head, its just another mission to "save Y/n" and sure, your mother isn't exactly his type, and your depression isn't exactly her fault- the poor woman just works day and night for you both to survive in this outrageous economy, she doesn't have had enough time to see you not doing so well mentally.

Bruce and his sons, by whatever sequence of events, are now infatuated with you. What started as concern for your well being has now turned into obsessive need to control your life to make it better. So, yeah... Bruce decides to marry your mom, who is more than happy to finally find a chivalrous, handsome man... who just happens to also be very rich.

Meanwhile, you hate him. It's stupid, but you hate how filthy rich he is and even though you know that he donates a lot to charities, you still hate him because Bruce thinks money can solve everything (and in your case, it almost can), but you can't help but feel insulted everytime he offers you a cheque, a wad of cash to pay off your bills and loans, or even a $20 bill to get yourself some snacks. It feels... abnormal. You're not a charity case.

Perhaps your socioeconomic status isn't the only reason you're depressed. Maybe it's just you missing your father (could be dead/murdered/suicide/just moved far far away).

The moment Bruce finds out that your dad is the reason why you're so depressed, oh it's "I WILL FATHER ANOTHER CHILD IN NEED OF PROFESSIONAL HELP" time. He's doubling down on his paternal instincts and he's just mentally smacking himself like "ofc you need a father figure in your life. Who better than me????"

And it just makes your skin crawl at how nonchalant Bruce is about all this- about incorporating himself into your and your mother's life. Treating you both, especially you like you're actually related. Like he's been around with you two his entire life. You lose your appetite when he stays for dinner, but you sit at the table for your mother. You try to make excuses when your mother tells you that you have to go with her at the Wayne Manor because "Bruce wants to spend a day with family". You can't help but look at your mother in wonder at how she is comfortable when you both pull up at the manor. You thought things would be easier if Bruce's sons were also uncomfortable or even hated you and your mother (or thought that your mom was a gold digger), but no, they're just as worse as Bruce. Dick being particularly the worst in the sense that he's more affectionate and his love language is physical touch, so you get squished to his chest everytime he sees you, with a small cry "my baby!" Sometimes, "sis" would be added.

You didn't like either nickname.

Then there's Jason, who is the most normal one of them all, perhaps because he isn't around much and when he is, he just makes small talk.

Tim doesn't talk much either, but he stares a lot. Somehow you feel like he knows something about you, at least more than he's letting on.

And lastly, there's Damian, that pompous little shit. You know he's being amicable for Bruce, but his eyes look at you like he's judging you- thinks you're beneath him. Which is true, in the sense of finance. Despite all of that, Damian still wants to show you off his interests/things around the manor. He's still being arrogant ofc, "Look at this oil painting- it's a Van Gogh original. Van Gogh is a famous painter- he's dead though. I'm sure you aren't familiar with his works. I can take you to the Gotham gallery to show you more paintings. Father owns it, so it can be just us two without other people bothering us." He's nice but also not nice. But at least he's not doing it intentionally.

Then there's Bruce. Who is always looking at you with a small smile, but his eyes are always analysing you, even when he's not looking at you directly, you know that he's watching your every move like a hawk. He tries spending time with you, often he succeeds, only because your mother makes you go. He's a good man, hasn't done anything exactly inappropriate, but... even something as small as making you walk on the inner side of the sidewalk so that you're safe from the cars... it doesn't sit right with you. Why is he being so paternal? You certainly have been rude to him on purpose. Always giving him one word answers when he asks you how your day was.

Then one day your mother returns home with a beaming smile.

"Bruce proposed to me! We're getting married!"

After only 3 months of dating? It's what you wanted to say, but you held it back when you saw how happy she was.

The next day, Bruce held a dinner at the manor to celebrate the engagement. Surprisingly, that was the first time you saw Damian looking mad at you and your mom.

It was a reasonable reaction. Acceptable to you, instead of the overly excited yell of Dick "WE'RE GOING TO BE SIBLINGS! That means we can have slumber parties and pillow fights and-"

Your mother and Bruce were shopping for the wedding, looking at dresses and venues and all the shenanigans while you were at the manor, moving your and your mom's stuff in with the boys. It was the last thing you wanted, but your mother.... she insisted on it. Or at least that's what she says, you know Bruce insisted.

Doesn't matter because by next year, you'd be moving away to college anyways.

You just need to put up with this for a little longer and see your mother finally be happy.

You didn't expect your mother to be dead a week before the wedding.

It was out of the blue. You were sitting in the library at the manor because Dick refused to let you be alone in your room all the time, so he was making you some cookies while you read. Then he and Bruce came together, their faces pale as they looked at you.

"Y/n... your mother, she... she got in an accident."

She was driving to some restaurant, wanted to get you your favourite fried chicken and spend some time with you alone. But on her way, a truck crashed right into her car.

She died on the spot.

Whatever little improvement you had on your mental health went straight down the drain. You locked yourself in your room and just cried quietly. They left you alone the first few days, but then Bruce and Dick tried to persuade you to come out, that they were concerned for you. You did come out the day the funeral was held. And it hurt you... it hurt you so deeply when you found out they were burying her at the Wayne cemetery.

She wasn't a fucking Wayne.

If you had any strength, if you had any energy at all, you would've taken your mother and buried her someplace else.

But you didn't.

When you returned inside the manor, you went straight to your mother's room, which was also Bruce's room but you didn't care if he saw you in there or not. You just started packing all of your mother's stuff, her clothes, her jewellery, her photos, everything she came here with, which wasn't much to begin with but still.

"Y/n?" You stiffened when Bruce called you, but you didn't pause on packing. "What are you doing? Looking for something?"

You sighed. Might as well get this over with.

You turnd around, not looking him in the eye.

"I'm moving out. And I'm taking mom's stuff with me. You can check, I'm not stealing anything that belongs to you."

Bruce looked at you in confusion. "Moving out? Where are you going?"

"College. I'll be going there soon anyways, so I'm moving to an apartment with some friends."

"Oh, but you don't need to move out. You can stay with us. Youre family-" you cut him off.

"Bruce, let's not." You finally look at him. "We're not family. I never was, I never wanted to be. Mom's gone now, and I have no reason or desire to be here. Thank you for letting me stay here for as long as you have, but I will be moving out by tomorrow, if not tonight." You said picking up your mother's bag of stuff and walking out of the room. Bruce followed you to your room.

"But I don't want you to move-"

You dropped the bags. "I don't care what you want!"

Bruce looked at you with his brows furrowed. He didn't get why you were acting like this. Your yelling had gotten the attention of the boys too, all looking in confusion at the bags.

"I don't want to be a part of this family. I never have, and I never will. I never liked you or anyone in this family. And if you're concerned about me speaking to the media about you guys, don't worry. If it helps you, you can make me sign an NDA!"

Damian narrowed his eyes at you. "Dont talk to father like-"

"Shut up!" You yelled harshly. You didn't care who you were hurting. Your mother was gone, you had no reason to be amicable to them anymore.

They left you alone that day, and by the next morning, you were ready to leave. At 6 am, you walked down to the main door, with your bags. You weren't expecting them all to be waiting for you, but here they were. You took a step towards the door, but Dick stopped you.

He cleared his throat. "Um, this is the NDA... if you'd just sign it here." He handed you the papers.

Unbelievable. They actually drew up a contract. You took the pen from his hand and signed at the dotted lines.

"Bye." You took another step, except Damian and Tim blocked your path.

"What now?"

"Where are you going?" Tim asked.

"Do we have to go over this again?" You grumbled. "College." You answered.

"You can't." Damian said smugly. What's he smirking for?

"You're gonna break my legs?" You scoffed.

"No, you just signed a document saying that you're a part of this family, and Bruce Wayne is your guardian and has authority over all decisions concerning you like going to college, or even... going out of the house." Damian replied.

You looked at Bruce, because there's no way Damian is being serious. But there were no signs of joking. You looked at Dick, at Jason-

They were all dead serious.

"You cant- you can't be- you can't keep me here." You said.

"You signed the documents. It's your fault for not reading them." Tim said.

"Bruce-"

"I really do believe that it'd be better for you to stay here." Bruce said, taking ahold of your shoulders. "At least until you're doing better mentally."

"I'm fine-"

"I don't think so. And I could even take you to a psychiatrist, they'd agree with me." Bruce cupped your cheek as you flinched away. "You'd be happy here. I promise you that, you'll be safe and happy with us."

You'd try fighting, but you already knew you were outnumbered.

Besides, even if you weren't, even if you were alone with the smallest one of them, you still wouldn't be able to leave. You have no idea what Damian is capable of.

After all, he's the one who had your mother killed.

#yandere batfamily #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam #yandere batman #yandere batboys #yandere bruce wayne #yandere damian wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere tim drake #yandere jason todd

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yuellii · 6 months

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🪼 HI USER YUELLII OMG I LUV JEALOUSY TROPES MAYBE THAT SAYS... SOMETHING ABOUT MY CHARACTER BUT I LOVEEEE JEALOUSY TROPES. AND WITH NEUVILETTE????? SOEMONE WHO PRIABBLY DOESNT EXPERIENCE JEALOUSY OFTEN IF AT ALL???? im sold. IM SOLD. PULLING OUT MY CREDIT CARD. IWOULD LITERALLY KILL TO READ UR THOUGHTS ON IT

The Four Stages of Jealousy : THE IUDEX.

STAGE I. — Identification.

There is a threat, that a person may feel losing someone to someone better than them. "I want what you have, and I hate that you have what I want."

Neuvillette wasn’t quite sure of the sudden twist in his stomach as he stood at your doorstep, a bag of pastries tucked under one of his arms and a box of tea bags carried under his other.

Saturdays, three o’clock sharp in the afternoon held meaning: A time in which he’d arrive at your boutique, treats in hand and a pleasant look on his face. He’d try on one of your hats, maybe, for it was a prime time for tea, taken advantage of by the two of you, alone together every Saturday afternoon. It was an evening of the week where he was most happiest, though that might’ve been only an assumption. But the tranquility he usually felt standing at your doorstep was never one he could ignore.

Unfortunately, said tranquility seemed to be lacking this time around.

What he expected as another nice time alone with you ( especially since it was on your undocumented schedule—but who cared for documents, when he looked forward to this meeting every week? ) was instead being interrupted by a certain someone. Namely, a certain Champion Duelist. And maybe, Neuvillette would not be so bothered, had she not been sitting in his seat.

( Said seat was also unspoken, or ‘undocumented’ between the two of you, but still. He sat there every week—therefore by repeated pattern alone, that antique chair in front of the table should be his. )

( And sure, this might’ve been your boutique’s seating area, where everyone comes to sit during the day; But on Saturdays during tea time, he’d like to think that seat was practically reserved for him. )

“Neuvillette!” you practically gasped, facial expression turning into one of lightened excitement at seeing him. There was a blissful ignorance in your voice—‘ignorant’ in the way he was truly glad you didn’t know he was mentally annoyed at the mere fact his seat was taken. But nevertheless, the tightrope of his heart fluttered at the sound of your voice, which always sounded so enthusiastic every week he came back here. Perhaps you were just excited to see him as much as he was excited to see you—the thought alone brings a shiver to his spine.

He approaches forward with a polite smile of his own when you pat the empty spot adjacent to you on the loveseat. Ah, so the theft of his usual antique chair leaves him to sit beside you. Maybe the uninvited guest was welcomed, now that he thought about it.

“What brings Miss Clorinde with us today?” he finally asked, addressing the most obvious outlier first. When he set the bag of pastries down on the table, he watched as the Duelist eyed it with interest.

Clorinde hummed. “I was here for a small chat, then I was told that Monsieur Neuvillette would be ‘arriving soon’. And here you are.” At the recount of events, Neuvillette noticed how Clorinde threw a playful look at you. This playfulness did not stop, unfortunately for him, when she leaned forward to peek at the paper bag he brought in. “Then I stayed, because I thought: ‘What could the Chief Justice possibly say that’s interesting enough for weekly conversations?’”

You gasped at her teasing insult. “Clorinde!” you scolded with slight laughter. “Monsieur Neuvillette is a great companion for tea conversations! He’s very interesting, indeed, I promise you!”

“Thank you,” Neuvillette coughed through his words. He’s beginning to feel a bit awkward here…

“Oh?” Clorinde piped up again, just before Neuvillette could even get another word out. “There’s a lot of pastries in here, and also a new box of tea?”

“He brings them for us to share every week!” you exclaimed happily, grabbing the bag off the table and kindly distributing a treat to everyone. And that’s when suddenly, Neuvillette wishes he only bought one for the two of you, because he watches as you set down the pieces of Conch Madeleines in front of the Champion Duelist, despite Neuvillette knowing those were your favorites. Meanwhile, instead, you gave him and yourself the remaining other pastries. But surely, you wouldn’t just give up your favorites like that… Unless you favored Clorinde. Ah, but maybe he was overthinking it. “Isn’t he the sweetest?”

Clorinde sends him a casual smirk, likely to tease him. “Sweetest, certainly.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to any of this at all.

When he eventually had to leave, Clorinde still stayed there to chat with you, and he felt empty walking out of your boutique. Emptier than usual, actually. It was certainly confusing, due to the fact nothing inherently bad happened, and he certainly didn’t want to say Clorinde’s presence bothered him, or anything over-the-top like that.

Hm.

Neuvillette didn’t get to talk to you as much as he wanted to today.

STAGE II. — Confrontative.

Where negative thoughts start to bloom as "envy." Jealousy begins to indicate love for the person, and the individual is afraid of losing that object of their love.

It’s the following Saturday when he sees you again, and he can’t quite understand why he feels an air of relief upon seeing that Clorinde is not there today.

“Neuvillette!” You greet him with the same smile and same excitement as always, and the rush of paradise courses through his body before he sits across from you in his usual seat: the antique chair right in front of you. He sets down his paper bag of fresh pastries; And upon doing so, he can’t help but smile when he noticed there are only two teacups on the table. One for you, and one for himself. “You seem a little more delighted today”—Was it that obvious?—“What’s gotten you into a good mood, Monsieur?”

He hummed. “Nothing, really.” He actually wasn’t quite sure why he was feeling so joyous today, either, but as long as you were sitting there still smiling at him, then it would all be alright. “It’s just natural, since it’s always my pleasure to spend my Saturday afternoons with you.”

Bring your hand up to cover your mouth, you lightly gasped at his words. “Oh, Monsieur!” you giggled. “I hadn’t known you could be a charmer with your words!”

He liked the reaction you gave him. He thinks he liked the feeling of approval you gave him, but even more. Neuvillette learned rather gradually that you always tended to get a happy sort-of embarrassment from his ‘compliments’. Said ‘compliments’, however, referred to mere truthful facts he’s laid for you. But there’s a certain loveliness that comes with confiding in someone to tell all your truths to, and he’s more than elated that you’re the one he trusts to blabber endlessly to. He just hopes it can stay like this for a long time: Just the two of you, enjoying your Saturday afternoon tea.

“So,” Neuvillette began, watching as you took a bite of the Conch Madeleine he bought specifically for you. He had to catch himself from smiling at you—if his duty was to buy your favorite treat every week, then so be it. “How has your week been since I last saw you?”

Your hand once again flies up to cover your mouth as you quickly finish to chew and swallow the bite before answering him. “It’s been fun, actually! I saw a concert performed by a famous violinist—I believe I might’ve even spotted you in the front row…”

“Ah, yes, that would’ve been me. It was a spectacular performance; I’m happy to know you saw it,” he smiled. Hm, if he knew you were there that night, he certainly would’ve said hello. Your hand moves upwards once more to bring your teacup closer to your lips, and now he’s curious to ask: “And that ring of yours—that’s new, when did you get it?”

“Oh!” After setting the teacup down, you quickly leaned forwards, outstretching your right arm to show off the ring to him at a closer view. “I just got it yesterday, actually. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“It is.” It really dazzles to compliment your eyes. Neuvillette catches himself thinking of little things he’s never thought before. Like the way your hair frames your face perfectly, especially at this angle. Or the way your eyes held this delicate shine he admired so dearly, only now heightened by the sparkle of the ring’s reflection. There’s a new tide of poetry unspoken in the depths of his mind, and they might as well stay locked until he figures out just what this emotion is.

When you offer your hand for him to get a closer inspection of the ring is when his breath seems almost stolen from his lungs. Months and months of these weekly tea meetings, and yet he feels this is the closest proximity he’s ever been to you. Here, in his antique chair in the middle of your boutique shop, holding your hand from across the table.

But he feels a spark that he prays you sense as well, for the mere desire of wanting this moment to last forever is enough to tell him that he is completely in love with you.

He leans down gently to reach closer to your hand, kissing your knuckle so featherlight next to the ring. “And it’s even more beautiful on you,” he mutters to you when he pulls away.

Your heart might’ve skipped a beat when you retracted your hand, but he has no idea—he was too lovestruck just now to even think properly. But you take just a moment to recover whilst he’s still stuck in his little daze; Though, who could blame him when he just discovered the ethereal feeling of falling in love?

“Thank you,” you exhaled with a smile that seemed a little breathless. “Lady Clorinde helped pick it, actually.”

…What?

Well, that was a name he completely forgotten until just now. He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure after the sudden whiplash of emotions. From finding out he’s in love, to the pang of unwarranted negativity for the Champion Duelist. As expected, he couldn’t tell what this uncomfortable feeling was, but he certainly did not like it.

“Clorinde was there, you say?” he tried to clarify.

You nodded. A little too happily for his liking. “We went out shopping yesterday.” Oh. “And she said this ring really matched ‘the colors of my personality’, whatever that means!” you wholeheartedly laughed. The way you spoke of her, with all this smiling and all these giggles, was making him crave for something more. Did… Did you perhaps want to see him more outside of these tea times, too? You seem perfectly fine shopping with Clorinde now, after all.

He’s never gotten personal time with you like that. It’s always been solely Saturday afternoons, nothing more. And yet, Clorinde immediately gets invited to your shopping runs, and apparently her opinion is also important enough to make you buy the ring? How unbelievable. Neuvillette bets if he was there instead, he’d buy you every piece of jewelry that you even took so much as slight interest in, because that was what you deserved. But no, here he was, not invited to these outings at all, and further stuck wallowing as your mere ‘tea companion’, and not something more.

The door to the boutique suddenly opens, and the both of you turn your heads to the customer.

But instead of a client, you were met with the face of a slightly-smiling Clorinde, ever so amused to see the both of you here again. Well, she shouldn’t be amused. Neuvillette was here on schedule.

“Ah, you’re here!” you say excitedly, briskly standing up to grab another set of tea; And now, Neuvillette can’t quite tell if you greet everyone at the door with this same excitement, and it’s not just restricted to him alone. He shouldn’t be that selfish, of course, so he thinks perhaps it should just not be directed at Clorinde, specifically.

“Pardon me,” Clorinde announced, making her way to the table after you set the tea display down. “I’ll be intruding on the both of you again.” Neuvillette wishes he had any right to refuse.

This time, now that he’s regained his rightful spot on the antique chair, Clorinde had no choice but to sit… right next to you on the loveseat—the same place Neuvillette sat last week when his spot was stolen. A moment comes forth where he now no longer wants his seat at all ( which he doesn’t understand why, because shouldn’t he be happy his unspoken designated seat is back? ), and prefers the loveseat.

Maybe it was the sight of Clorinde next to you, and the fact she was sitting so much closer than he’d like to imagine. And suddenly, that’s when he realizes he doesn’t like the idea of Clorinde being this close to you at all.

“Oh! You’re wearing the ring I got you!” Clorinde recognizes. She grabbed your right hand to immediately inspect it, and Neuvillette can’t help but feel like someone just shot him. Not only did she comfortably grab your hand like it was nothing ( meanwhile, he had to find both the confidence and the breath to even try to kiss your hand earlier ), but she also got it for you? The little detail you never mentioned: That Clorinde bought you the ring.

Now Neuvillette is internally questioning what exactly this ring means. Is it akin to a proposal? A vow? A promise ring for the future?

The longer he stays here the more insane he may be driven, he thinks.

“Sorry to cut my time here short, but I think I have to get going,” he spoke up. Both Clorinde and you looked over at him, and he figured this was a good idea—he doesn’t think he can handle another tea session where the two of you are happily talking as he sits there awkwardly quiet. “I’ll be off, now.”

“Already?” you frowned at him, and that expression almost makes him want to stay. But the sight of Clorinde still absentmindedly toying with your hand sends him into a spiral of emotions he needs to sort out. He’s already stood up to leave without realizing it.

“Unfortunately so,” he says. He might’ve sounded colder than he meant to. It was clear in your face you knew something was wrong, but didn’t want to say it out of privacy. But when he walked towards the door, hearing Clorinde continue your conversation on like normal, it was fruitless to even consider it.

He opened the door. It was raining.

It feels like he was losing your love before he could even have it.

STAGE III. — Redirecting.

Where pleasure is derived from hurting others, stemmed from unconscious feelings of envy. The envy can come in a so-called as a form of competitive implication.

The next time he saw you was around the market area in the morning, wandering the streets like a normal citizen on this wavering Wednesday.

Normally, he would have just smiled and waved at most, but this time, something compelled him to walk up and join you. “Is this where to find you on Wednesday mornings?” he asked curiously, catching your starling attention and watching as your lips curved to a smile when you recognized him.

“It is, Monsieur.” When you stepped ever-so closer to him, a mere basket around your arm being the only thing between you, he felt as if his feet had turned into bubbles, and there was a flutter of heaven around his shoulders. “My weekly groceries are scheduled for today, however I don’t recall ever seeing you on this side of the city, if that isn’t just my ignorance.”

He chuckled, “I’m usually at my office by this time, so you would be correct.” Then his arm slid against yours, taking the wooden basket out of your hands and walking a few steps forward down the market street you shopped at. “But I’m open to a change of pace, so might I join you on this lovely morning?”

The little smile of contentment you gave him when you answered “Of course” made his heart skip a beat. And when you walked forward to hook your arm around his free one, he swears to the sovereign he might simply dissolve right then and there. The closeness of your presence to him now makes his heart race in a way he feels it drumming in his chest, a feeling that is so human that it makes him almost taste the fruit of mortality. You, walking along with him as you hold onto his arm whilst he carries your grocery basket—you look like romantic partners, and he can’t help but feel sort of lightheaded at the mere thought of that.

“Ah, look!” you pointed, and Neuvillette allowed himself to be guided by the arm to a nearby vendor. “They’re selling slices of apricot pie.”

“You fancy these desserts as well?” he mused, already fishing his pockets for his wallet. “Perhaps we should purchase a slice or two and save them for our weekend tea session.”

You agreed, “I thought the same.” Then you noticed his shuffling and playfully waved off his hand, insisting he needn’t pay. “But I fear it might spoil by the time Saturday comes.”

“You want a bite of mine?” And that’s when Neuvillette wasn’t even surprised anymore to hear the voice of the Champion Duelist appearing out of nowhere. He has such horrible luck running into her, that he’s now just accepted it at this point ( or, for better words: he still has yet to accept the fact that maybe Clorinde was specifically seeking you ). She stood there, leaned against a pole with an easy-going expression and a fork in one of her hands, carrying an aluminum tin with the exact same apricot pie you were just eyeing.

You gasp at her appearance, “Sure!” Neuvillette doesn’t even have a moment to process the mere seconds it takes for you to slip away from his arm, leaving him to follow behind as you skip over to Clorinde. The uninvited guest takes it upon herself to feed you a bite with her fork—it was at this time that the Iudex began to feel like an outlier once again.

“We were actually about to buy a few slices ourselves,” Neuvillette piped in. He did it quickly, perhaps it was instinct so he wouldn’t be left out of the conversation again. “But an excellent point was brought up, that the dessert might spoil by the time we reach Saturday afternoon.”

“Why don’t you just buy one and eat it now?” Clorinde shrugged. Ah. Neuvillette internally scolded himself; He should’ve thought of that. And when you waved off her suggestion dismissively, claiming it was fine now that she let you try it, Neuvillette realized he completely missed an opportunity to have dessert with you on a Wednesday instead of a Saturday. That while he was still a man you only saw once at the end of each week, you’d be seeing Clorinde multiple times throughout it.

He wasn’t fond of the way Clorinde was still feeding you more bites of pie, either.

“Miss Clorinde,” he addressed. If only he had more of a grasp of human sociability, then he might’ve realized how firm his voice sounded in this situation that was… not so serious. “Shouldn’t you be alongside Furina at this time of day?”

“On a typical day, yes,” she answered simply. “And shouldn’t you be in your office?”

He almost glared. “No, actually, I’ve given myself the time to roam around today.”

“Oh wowww,” she teased, though Neuvillette might’ve heard it as something mocking. “Lady Furina would be pleased to hear that. Instead of being cooped up in your office or the Opera Epiclese all morning long, you’re out here at the market, even holding a basket for shopping.”

The Iudex cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll have you know that this basket isn’t mine.” There was an air of competitiveness in his voice, one that almost had him biting his tongue in surprise of himself. Because it was simply just as he said: a basket. But the fact it belonged to you, and the fact that he was carrying it for you—suddenly he wanted to boast it and show it off to the world, especially to Clorinde’s face. “The two of us are shopping together this morning, if you’ll excuse us.” His next move might’ve been bold, but the feeling of possessiveness was so airtight and he had no choice but to hook his own arm around yours once more, getting ready to turn and leave.

“So cold,” Clorinde rolled her eyes. ‘Cold’ was a word often used to describe him, but no, not here. He did not want to appear that way in front of you. “Is this really the attitude you want to spend all morning with?” she asked, this time directed at you.

Something in him snapped. There was an emotion that clouded his head far angrier than annoyance, and it sprouted from the way in which she made him look bad, like the stone-cold Chief Justice everyone thought him to be. Albeit with you, he was trying to be everything but that. Emotional, vulnerable, heartfelt, human—Clorinde was not going to take that away from him.

‘Is this really the attitude you want to spend all morning with?’ The question kept playing in his mind, as if she was any better than him? She, who most people also saw as stoic, should not be seen by you in a better light than him. She, who did not know your favorite desserts like he did, who did not make time for you like he did, who did not fancy you as much as he did—

He felt you tug at his arm, snapping him from his thoughts.

Your eyes held the same, worried look you gave him on Saturday when he left so abruptly. So jealously.

Neuvillette cleared his throat once more. “It seems you are correct, Miss Clorinde.” There was solemness in his voice. Yet he was so quiet as he unlocked his arm from around yours, and handed your basket to Clorinde. “My attitude proves to be too unfavorable for the likes of this lovely morning, I thank you for bringing it to my attention.” These emotions were too much right now; he was starting to fear them. “My deepest apologies to you both, I’ll be heading back to the Palais Mermonia now.”

He bowed his head as diplomatically as he could manage, but the skies were already darkening.

“I bid you both a fine rest of your morning.”

“Wait, Neuvillette!”

Your call was drowned by the deafening drums of his hammering heartbeat, and the patters of light rainfall from the somber sky.

STAGE IV. — Medea.

At this stage, the grip of envy appears almost irreversible. There is a hatred towards others that dominates their thinking, and happiness or success is no longer foreseen.

Saturday afternoon.

He couldn’t see you again, even if it was time for your weekly meeting, not when he was feeling like this.

Not when the sky was pouring from the mere thought of you, and how he’s probably already lost. It was inevitable for a man like him, and he should’ve realized so earlier. Three o’clock, and you were already probably sipping away with Clorinde at your side, pastries on the table and a dazzling ring on your finger. She was much more human than him, after all, and such a shortcoming became his eventual downfall.

The Palais Mermonia was quiet, though that might’ve been due to the endless rain that’s been pouring since Wednesday morning.

While it was nice, he couldn’t help but feel the silence only amplified his feeling of loneliness in this moment. Especially at this time: a time of the week in which he looked most forward to.

“Monsieur Neuvillette?” a Melusine knocked from right outside his door. “You have a visitor!”

And before he could even reply, that was when you ignored all formalities, all proper respect as you pushed your way through the door and into his office. The surge of panic he felt from your sudden presence was unrivaled to the way you made haste in getting seated in front of his office table, setting down your handful—said handful consisting of two teacups, and a bag of pastries.

His heart practically shattered. The familiar cups and bag of treats on the table, the way your hair and clothes were lightly damp from the rain—you made the effort, coming all the way here just to see him. Just so the both of you wouldn’t miss a single Saturday afternoon together.

“I believe you might’ve forgotten our schedule, good Monsieur.” A light scolding, yet partnered with the most comforting smile you’ve ever given him, and he starts to feel his hands tremble. “You seem surprised to see me,” you commented further, filling in the silence as he has yet to utter even a word. “Did you really think I’d just let you ditch me like that?”

It was hard to breathe, hard to find his voice when you were so patient with him. “Sorry.” It’s all he can mutter now, this blistering swell of emotions causing a waver in his voice. “I’m so, very sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you chuckled at him. His body tensed when you reached forward to grab one of his hands. But you felt cold just like the chilling rain outdoors, and now he worries you might catch a fever because of him. “I’ve been meaning to ask you what was wrong, but…” Your eyes drooped with a certain sorrow in their crevices, and Neuvillette found himself slightly squeezing your hands. “I couldn’t seem to find a good moment alone with you.”

He shook his head at you, whispering, “I don’t even know what’s wrong, myself…”

You frowned. This atmosphere was suffocating and just from one glance upwards at your face, Neuvillette could easily tell you were holding back something to say. Granted, it was his fault. He’s the one who’s here, sitting and sulking in his office with little to no explanation. He’s the one who’s kept you worried this past week from leaving so abruptly two different times now. If anything, he might understand how to be a human even less after this ordeal.

“Would you be so kind…” he starts, words like lumps in his throat, “to allow me to be honest? To let me ramble whatever nonsense I’m feeling for just a moment, so that maybe you can make some sense of it all?”

You gave his hands a comforting squeeze. “Of course.”

There’s a certain phrase caught dead in his tongue. And he’s never been afraid to speak his mind before, yet suddenly, your judgment of his feelings mattered much more than the truth of his words. But he was feeling so much, and if this was really the emotional baggage humans had to carry all the time, he could only wonder how most people have yet to burst from the hauntings of their own mind.

Or more accurately so—the hauntings of their own love.

These words were doomed to come spilling out. “You’ve bewildered me with mountains of emotions,” he rambles quicker than he thinks. “All from the sleight of your hand, I best believe I’ve fallen in love with you.”

He forces himself to ignore how your eyes widen in that moment, or how the grip from your hands suddenly loosens from the shock that rings through his confession. He doesn’t have a way with words, and he knows this. So in a hasty attempt to piece together a board of emotional exposure his mind cannot even comprehend, he does the only thing he knows how to: talk and talk, until he has no more truth to confess to you.

“But the feelings that came alongside my love,” he began to you, “are unexplainable.” As his voice ended in coarseness, there was such an hopeless look of utter confusion you had never seen on his face before, like he was silently pleading for you to help a poor soul like his own. “The beating of my heart when I see you… A stark contrast to the tightness in my stomach I feel… When Miss Clorinde joins us.” The ending of his sentence dropped to nearly a whisper, like he expected it to be sin. “But what I just don’t understand, is why,” the section of his brows furrow in distress, “because she’s my coworker, and I do not dislike her, but I feel as if I cannot stand her when she joins us…”

You listen quietly. He doesn’t know whether to be thankful or fearful whilst awaiting your reaction.

He continued, “But when she sat with us for tea, and bought you that ring, and joined us at the market…” This confession; It was arguably harder than confessing his love to you. Because Clorinde was your friend—maybe even closer, if he was so unlucky—and he might’ve crossed a line here he didn’t even know existed. “I felt like I hated her,” he finished.

You were still silent, though it wasn’t like he could see your expression anyways. He refused to even look up to it, choosing instead to stare down at your joined hands.

But this silence was deafening. Please, just reject him already. He let out the most exhausted sigh he has ever before, the weight of these human emotions bearing down on him. “So I was just…”

“Just jealous,” you finished for him, and he noticed in your voice how you were almost laughing quietly to yourself. The emotion you just named—he didn’t know how envy even felt like, much less jealousy ( though, he supposes he knows now ). “Neuvillette, you should’ve just told me you felt uncomfortable with Clorinde there.”

“Hm?” He was confused. So confused, that his eyes finally darted up to meet your own. And there you stood, most comforting of smiles on your face as your thumb began to trace patterns on the back of his hand.

You reassured him, “Those are times we spend together, dedicated to the both of our comforts.” Which was true, but he was ready to argue that he felt selfish that way—and that you wouldn’t love nor deserve a selfish man. “I trust you to tell me when you feel things are unfavorable,” you continued, “and I promise you, Clorinde would understand if I told her.”

“But,” he piped up, so much doubt in his eyes as if struggling to believe your words, “is she not important to you?” And now, he could not comprehend the bashfulness that raised blood to his cheeks, or the complete disbelief that you’d wave off the Champion Duelist just because of his silly discomfort. Human relationships; He feared he may never understand them.

“Of course she’s important to me—she’s my friend!” you lightly laughed. “But you’re important to me, as well. Please understand that.” His heart might’ve stopped for just a moment. “And when we have our scheduled times alone together, the last thing I want to have is you feeling uneasy when we’re supposed to be relaxing.” Your words, the kindness you shed—it was all so confusing yet so welcoming at the same time, that he feels it’s only a matter of seconds until he drowns from the sound of your voice. To feel such comfort in a person was bizarre to him, but it’s a feeling that makes him crave your presence all the same.

His eyes fell to another slight frown, voice quieter as if losing the will to argue. “But… I should not have the right to impede on a relationship significant to you…”

Now it was your turn to look baffled. The way he worded it. Oh, surely he didn’t— “Monsieur, do you think Clorinde and I are a couple?”

“Well, I certainly thought you two were getting to that state in your relationship,” Neuvillette answered truthfully, voice flowing without hesitation as if it was the most obvious fact in the world. The man who just confessed his love for you only moments ago was fully convinced you felt romance for another woman. “Hence why I was…” He turned his head to the side, shyly clearing his throat. “Envious…”

You practically burst out into giggles. In fact, one of your hands even let go of his grip just so you could cover your mouth to laugh. “Oh… Oh, Neuvillette, surely you jest!” you attempted to name whilst controlling your laughter. The Iudex was shell-shocked into pure silence, wondering what he could’ve possibly said to make you react this way, because as far as he knew, he was not making a joke. “Clorinde is only a friend to me,” you clarified. “Nothing more.”

He remains silent, but there’s a sweeping wave of new emotions that suddenly flood his shoulders.

“And if she sees me as anything more, then, well,” you continued, glancing up outside and then back down to meet his awaiting eyes. “Unfortunately for her, the love in my heart has already been captured by another.”

“By whom?” The lack of hesitation from his immediate question has more giggles escaping your lips. He looks at you, and your face tells him it’s an obvious question with an obvious answer, and yet he still cannot comprehend this even when you squeeze both his hands in yours once more.

“Who do you think, Monsieur?” And yet even after his face flushes red, he still has a focused look of anticipation on his face—it’s as if he absolutely will not believe it until you spell it directly to his face. “Neuvillette,” you sighed, but there was an air of gentleness in the way you say his name that relaxed his soul. “It’s always been you.”

The rain continued on.

But now the sun shined between each droplet, because if he could cry from happiness right now, he was sure you’d already be busy wiping his tears away. And this sunny rain continued on and on, even as he poured you tea, even when he bit into the pastries you bought, and even when he looked at you fondly across his desk, not a single doubt of your love.

And as for Clorinde, well, he might need a few more days to recover before he can forgive her for all the sporadic heart attacks she’s almost given him.

#neuvillette x reader #neuvillette imagines #neuvillette x you #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #neuvillette fluff #genshin x gender neutral reader #neuvillette

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katszumi · 5 months

Text

bakugou katuski wasn’t sure how you managed to break his shell. he didn’t find himself surrounded by friends— shitty hair, raccoon eyes and dunce face forced themselves around him so they didn’t really give him a choice (though he secretly appreciated it).

but, you, tenacious, vexatious, obnoxious, you found your way to him. he despised how easily you spoke to him, like a mother to a toddler. do you know who he is?

it was first year. bakugou knew who you were, how could he not miss the clamorous sound, also known as your voice, every morning. you were aggravating, but you were tolerable. he realized that when you two were paired for an assignment. you were assertive, deeming that you could hold your own against his trivial insults. it wasn’t admiration that struck him that day. no, not even close. you just earned a little bit of respect.

soon after, you were attached to his hip. why? he couldn’t even answer that. every morning you’d meet him halfway at a local coffee shop to make your trip to ua, because “who wants to walk alone?” was your reasoning. he didn’t believe your statement, but he disregarded it. in fact, he looks forward to his morning walks with you every night, sometimes even waking up earlier than usual to buy the two of you a beverage before you arrived. a decaf coffee for himself and an iced coffee for you. “i was thirsty. it’s just a one time thing.” was his answer when you first asked, but you and him both knew it wasn’t.

you two had daily conversations: mainly about school, how deku has ticked him off for the millionth time, or some stupid shit you brought up to irritate him as a joke. you were the only person he could converse with and not feel completely enraged by the end of it. he supposed that your voice wasn’t so clamorous after all.

it wasn’t until after class 1a moved into dorms that he started to notice things about you. instead parting your hair in the middle, you did a side part. you often switched the two every couple of days. you preferred sweet candy over sour, but you were obsessed with spicy food. you routinely listened to the same artists; he makes a mental note to force you to listen to new music. you always exercised in the training room at six o’clock on the dot, never a minute before or after.

bakugou knew he was fucked when he began looking for you.

movie night in the dorms lounge? he consistently searches for your figure, because if you’re not there he’s simply not going. choosing partners for an assignment? of course, it’s you, it has to be you. who else would be able to bear with him? a new album was released from his favorite rock band? he waits to listen, because you had to be there.

he even found himself doing stupid shit for you. like holding your backpack for you, because ‘it makes your back ache’. cooking for you because you’ve overworked yourself, you needed the nutrients anyway. helping you study for the next test, groaning at how easy it is and you should understand it, but deep down, he doesn’t mind. he’d save a spot for you next to him on the couch whenever everyone would do a group activities, you don’t deserve to sit on the floor like the rest of the extras.

bakugou was gentle when he was around you, everyone noticed it too. at first, it was a revelation to his classmates, surprised that bakugou could do such sweet things. it felt as if bakugou was painted a new man on a perfect canvas. but, they soon realized it was only you he was this way towards. his aggressive behavior remained with the rest.

though, the man himself didn’t realize his transformation until denki mentioned.

“how come you don’t yell at y/n, but you scream at us all the time?”

bakugou’s face contorted with confusion. that wasn’t true. “the fuck you talking about, dunce face?”

he shrugged, “i don’t know. i just feel like you’re more chill with her than any of us.” mina and kirishima co-signed his words with a nod of agreement.

silence surrounded the room, bakugou’s eyes planted on the floor.

he wanted to say because it’s you, beautiful, determinate, fierce, alluring, you. but, instead, the corner of his lip quirked up into a smirk, his eyes dawning onto the golden-haired boy in front of him.

“she’s bearable.”

like always, his words failed to convey his true emotions. bakugou katuski knew you weren’t just bearable. oh no. you were a million things more than that; you were his anchor to his crazed storm.

#bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou smut #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki x you #katsukibakugou #katsuki x y/n #mha x reader #mha #mha bakugo katsuki #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha bakugo x reader

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sundrop-writes · 22 days

Text

Careful - Chapter Five

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

Chapter Five: Brick By Boring Brick

Her prince finally came to save her, and the rest you can figure out.

Summary:

The world is closing in around you. You're supposed to sit in your home and wait for a killer to come to you, and your son seems to prefer a man that you were convinced never should have been in his life in the first place.

What happened? Where did you go wrong?

The only way to find out is to reflect on the past - and to perhaps, forgive something you once thought was unforgivable.

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

Word Count: 9,700

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: again, general warnings for a Criminal Minds episode - mentions of murder, stalking; the reader character is being victimized by a serial killer; angst - lots of emotional angst; the reader character and Spencer argue and hash things out; this chapter shows the flashback of how their relationship ended; mentions of drugs/drug use/drug addiction - there is mentions of Spencer’s drug addiction after the incident with Tobias Hankel; mentions of the reader having an eating disorder (in the past, before meeting Spencer); mentions of how pregnancy can affect eating disorders; mentions of the reader having an absent father; mentions of Spencer’s trauma/PTSD after the Hankel incident; mentions of lack of hygiene/lack of cleaning his apartment due to trauma and depression; Spencer uses his profiling skills to insult the reader; I believe that is it for this chapter.

A/N: This is it! This is the big chapter where we all find out what happened for them to break-up! I hope everyone enjoys it. (I am not gonna lie, I am really starting to mentally stall with this series, and I am really eager to work on something else lmao. So let's hope I can stick it out and get it done.)

...

Spencer considered lying to you.

He knew that you were going to have a hard time taking the news - there was no safehouse, no protective custody. Just him. Everything he had been offering before, nagging you about - it wasn’t truly being offered to you now. You would take it harder because now, in a sense, you and your son were being used as bait to lure the killer out and catch him in the act.

He considered lying to you. But he knew that it would ruin all the progress that the two of you had made.

So he made what he hoped was the right choice. He laid it all out for you as plainly as he could. They needed to catch him into the act, or he might choose a different victim. More innocent women might get hurt, their children being orphaned in the process. There would be unmarked cars stationed nearby, ready to help when Spencer called them in.

He would be there to protect you.

You still had a glisten of tears in your eyes, and he thought that you were going to panic. He was surprised when you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him again - but he embraced you tightly, feeling a certain selfish joy at having you back in his arms.

“As long as you’re here to protect me.” You sniffled quietly, burying your face in his chest once again.

“I’m not going to leave you.” He promised. “I don’t care what happens - I won’t let you out of my sight until we catch him.”

You didn’t bring up the fact that this likely meant sleeping in the same bed with Spencer. You weren’t sure if that was something you were looking forward to or dreading.

…

Spencer encouraged you to go about your usual routine - especially because he didn’t want Sebastian to be afraid or paranoid, even if such a smart boy could sense that you were upset and didn’t understand why.

Sebastian was easily distracted from the underlying tension when he realized that Spencer would be around to tuck him into bed.

He became so ripe with excitement that you thought it might be difficult for him to sleep. Even though his bed time wasn’t officially until later, he skipped his evening TV time to rush up the stairs so that Spencer would come with him. He insisted that Spencer help him pick out his pajamas, and then he wanted to show Spencer his toothbrush that played Moonlight Sonata (a toothbrush that was designed to play exactly two minutes of a song so that kids knew how long to brush their teeth).

You followed them upstairs and any efforts you made to help - showing Spencer which drawer the pjs were in and pointing to the drawer with the toothpaste in it - you were brushed off by Sebastian, who insisted that they didn’t need your help. He only wanted help from his new best friend.

Observing the whole thing truly made you wonder what the past four years of your life would have been like with Spencer there.

It caused a kind of lovesick nostalgia to flood you. Something that overtook you as you watched Spencer kneel down by the sink to get on Sebastian’s level, quietly complimenting him on his brushing technique and reminding him not to miss any spots - ready with a cloth to wipe your son’s face when he was all done.

You could only imagine how sweet he would have been with the newborn, tightly swaddled Seb; how he would have taken care of you so well after you gave birth, how perfect he would have looked with a baby in his arms. All of it left you stewing in regret, and you tried incredibly hard to hide a frown from Sebastian for the dozenth time that day.

Soon, Sebastian was rushing to jump into bed, and shouting an all too familiar request.

“Mommy, the stars!” He cheered brightly, pointing toward the lightswitch.

Spencer’s expression grew confused at this, and you felt a tingle of delight surge over the fear and anxiety for the first time in hours.

You turned off the lights, and then you walked over to a bookshelf on the far side of the room - on top of which, you had set up a star projector for Sebastian. It was something you had gotten for him as a night light when he was still very little. Even if it was an unconscious whim at the time - you couldn’t deprive Spencer’s son of the stars.

You switched it on and an array of bright stars were projected onto the ceiling, causing Spencer’s neck to crane upward in awe. Sebastian giggled in delight and flung himself backward in bed to look at it.

“He usually sleeps with this on as a night light, but he’s probably gonna want a story before he goes to sleep.” You said, motioning toward the book shelf. “You can turn the side lamp on.” You pointed to that as well. “Are you guys gonna be okay while I go get my pjs on?”

You knew that Spencer wasn’t likely to let you out of his sight - and that was exactly the look that came in his eyes; hesitant dread, clear to you even through the semi-darkness with the bright swirling lights moving across the ceiling reflected onto his face.

“Don’t lock your door.” He told you quietly. “And make sure to holler if you need anything.”

He chose his words carefully, not wanting to alarm Sebastian.

“I’ll be fine.” You assured him. “I’m right down the hall.”

Then you turned to Sebastian - who was laying on his back, still admiring the stars, already looking sleepy. He’d had quite an exciting, usual day - so that wasn’t entirely surprising to you.

“I’ll come back and kiss you goodnight in a minute, okay?” You told him. “Spencer is gonna read you your goodnight story. Sounds good?”

“Yeah!” Sebastian easily agreed. “I love you, Mommy!”

That grin, those big eyes looking up at you - it really reminded you why all the pain was worth it. That you would do anything to protect him.

“I love you, too, Seb.” You leaned down and kissed his forehead, and then you moved to walk out of the room.

He added something on that caught you off guard, though, causing you to freeze in the doorway.

“Mommy?” He called out, and you turned back to look at him. “Can Spencer stay forever?”

You felt as though a fist had been jammed into your throat.

All of your bones were concrete stiff, and you couldn’t bear a single glance in Spencer’s direction - you felt his eyes on you, but you couldn’t face him.

“We - we’ll talk about it more tomorrow, okay?” You replied, having to clear your throat roughly in order to get the words out.

“Okay.” Sebastian huffed quietly, rolling into a yawn.

When you left the room, Spencer felt an intense temptation to follow you simply to pursue that subject - but he had an obligation toward his son now. Something he hadn’t had the privilege of partaking in before.

A simple bedtime story.

Spencer settled in with Sebastian and you rushed down the hallway toward your room. You closed the door behind you (not locking it) - the second that you were alone, the tears rushed out before you could stop them.

Of course your son had missed his father’s presence in his life. Even if he didn’t know that Spencer was his father - their personalities were so well-matched, and Spencer was so good with him.

How could you have been so stupid? Who were you to deny a child of his father?

You walked over to your bed and sat on the edge, and then you took your jewelry box out of your bedside table drawer - you kept it right next to the lock box that contained your gun. You opened the jewelry box and took out the star necklace that Spencer had given you, staring at the pendant in the middle of your palm with deep contemplation.

You had broken up with him for a good reason. Many good reasons. And you had known your reasons back then - and they had been life-altering. Back then - it felt like choosing between a secure life for your baby and choosing the chaos of chasing the life of your love. Back then - Spencer was so unstable. He hadn’t been fit to raise a child.

The Spencer who had swept you off your feet and treated you like a princess - the man who had given you the necklace; he was not the same person you had faced down, vicious and bitter on the night that you had broken up with him.

But that man who gave you the necklace - it felt like the same man who held you in the kitchen and promised that nothing would happen to you. It felt like the same man who looked at your son like he had hung each and every star in the sky.

You put the necklace back on with shaking hands, struggling to clasp it for a moment. You hoped that it would be an omen. The man who had given you this necklace was back, to stay - he could raise a family with you. He could be your stability. He could be what you and Seb needed.

Then, you tried to shut off your mind as you went about getting ready for bed yourself. Even though you were pretty certain that you weren’t going to sleep with all this hanging over your head, it was still nice to be in comfortable clothing; to have a routine. You did your nightly skincare (but you didn’t bother to brush your teeth, knowing that you were likely going to want some coffee soon), put on your pajamas, and uncaring if Spencer noticed - shed your bra, needing to relieve some tension from somewhere.

You left the room wearing a pair of loose, thin pajama pants and a large tee shirt with Garfield on the front of it; along with your slippers and an unzipped hoodie. You had the necklace freely untucked from the neckline of your shirt, knowing that Spencer would spot the silver chain and know what it was anyway.

He was a profiler, so he could read you like a book anyway. You hated that.

When you walked back to Sebastian’s room, you found it oddly quiet.

You were surprised that you didn’t hear the sounds of Spencer’s soothing voice reading a story, Sebastian’s laughter - his small voice egging Spencer on to read more even though it was time to go to sleep.

You stood out of view, just beyond the doorway for a moment before you decided to peer inside.

The sight inside made your chest twist with a very unique kind of pain.

Spencer was laying half on the small single bed, one of his feet on the floor to keep himself from falling off completely, his head awkwardly propped up against the headboard. Sebastian was about half a foot off the wall, cuddled up closely to Spencer, his head laid in the middle of Spencer’s chest. The Rubble plushy that Spencer had gotten him was curled up under his chin, Spencer’s arm gently petting his curly hair while he peacefully slept on top of his father for the first time in his short life.

The way Spencer looked at him was what truly broke your heart.

You knew that was the gaze of a man who had missed so much - whose own heart was breaking from all the time he had missed. Someone who was enjoying this moment more than anything in his life because he had missed out on so much of Sebastian before this.

After a few moments of you standing in the doorway silently, tears gathering in your eyes, Spencer felt your presence there. He was finally able to tear his gaze away from Sebastian’s gentle, sleeping face to look up at you.

“He said he wanted to hear ‘a new story’.” Spencer told you. “I started reciting The Old Man and The Sea from memory, and he only got about five pages in before he fell asleep.”

It didn’t surprise you that Spencer knew the novel by heart. It didn’t surprise you that his theatrical, meditative speaking voice had so easily soothed Sebastian to sleep.

You nodded, and deeply against your will - a thick tear rolled down your face.

Unable to face it any longer, you left once again - feeling like a prisoner in your own home, running from corner to corner in a poor attempt to avoid the inevitable. You rushed to the kitchen and clicked on the coffee machine before you began attending to the larger dishes from dinner - pots you had left to soak in the sink that you now wanted to scrub at in an effort to distract yourself.

Spencer felt a sense of urgency rise up in him when he saw you start crying (seemingly out of nowhere). He hated watching you run away from him for the dozenth time that day.

Any calm he had felt from watching his son fall asleep was chased out of him. But of course, he didn’t want to wake the peacefully sleeping boy, so he had to very slowly, very carefully wiggle out from underneath the sleeping boy. He adjusted Sebastian’s head onto the pillow, making sure to cover him up and tuck him in with his toy before he left the room - leaving the bedroom door slightly ajar behind him, with the star lights still circling the ceiling.

And then he practically raced downstairs to see you.

What had he done to upset you?

You wanted him to be a part of his son’s life, right? You wanted him to be a good father, right?

What the hell had he done to upset you now?

When he came into the kitchen, you were standing at the sink with your back to him, furiously scrubbing at one of the pots from dinner.

“What the hell happened?” He sighed, tired and frustrated. “What the hell could I have possibly done now?”

“You didn’t do anything.” You replied, your voice short, angry, and still choked off by tears.

In truth, it was your most honest view of the situation.

This made Spencer spike with an even deeper frustration.

He thought that the two of you had been making progress. But now, you were cutting him off again. You were trying to placate him with lies when he so badly wanted the truth. He wanted to air it all out. The two of you needed it out - out it in the open instead of festering away like a damn secret.

“No, no.” He pressed, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms, swarming with bitterness. “Come on, I must have done something.”

You remained silent, letting out a single sniffle as you continued to scrub - the only sound going through the kitchen being the sloshing of water through the sink and the bubbling of the coffee maker.

“Trust me, I know how it is.” Spencer sighed. “I don’t open up enough, I don’t trust you… it’s always my fault.”

In the months after the break-up, he had done a lot of thinking. He had gone over it in his head again and again - he had picked apart his own flaws in his mind, wondering how he could have been better for you.

“That’s just it.” You replied, your throat closing up due to your own tears. “You’re perfect.” You sniffled again. “You didn’t do anything.”

This left Spencer silent and confused - wondering for a moment if you were being sarcastic.

You put down the sponge and grabbed a dry dish cloth off to the side, drying your hands as you turned back to Spencer.

When he caught your eyes, he knew then that it wasn’t sarcasm. You were swimming in sadness, turmoil, but most of what he could see was guilt. You didn’t blame him for any of this.

“Y/N-”

“All day, you’ve been perfect.” You huffed out, cutting him off. “I’ll be honest, at first, I thought it was an act. I thought you were just playing at it, trying to show me that you could be a good father to get in my good graces. To maybe get me back.”

Spencer was hurt by this. But with the way you had started off the sentence, that didn’t seem to be your opinion now. He remained silent, letting you continue to get the full stream of your thoughts out.

“I didn’t think you’d be able to keep it up. I thought something would happen. I thought you’d slip… but then, I realized: you can’t fake it. You’re not faking it. The way you are… you’ve changed. You really have changed.” You sighed.

He was glad to hear that, but he knew that there was something else. Now, he was determined to find out why you were upset.

“Look-”

“Did I hallucinate the whole thing?” You spoke suddenly. “I just feel so crazy… Did I really break up with you for no fucking reason?”

This stung Spencer.

He knew that there had been a myriad of good reasons at the time. But something he had gone over in his mind, stewing with regret over and over again - he had never wanted it to be a break-up. He had wished over and over again that the two of you could have worked on things instead of just ending them so suddenly.

“You did have your reasons back then.” Spencer admitted quietly. “I know that you did.” Then, after a moment, he felt the need to add on: “I… I know they were good reasons. I don’t blame you for wanting to end the relationship.”

He chose his words carefully in that sense.

He fully understood ending the relationship. That was your choice. But the one thing that still plagued him-

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me that you were pregnant?” He asked, entirely exasperated.

It was as though he had flipped the knife around, plunging it into you this time.

You remained stunned and silent, not prepared to be confronted by the question, and Spencer, utterly hurt, continued on.

“You stole four years of his life from me! Four years!” He shouted, his words whipping at you in a way that made you flinch. “And you were never planning on telling me! You were gonna let me miss everything! His first day of school, his college graduation, his wedding! You never wanted me in his life! You-!”

“Because you weren’t good enough for him!” You shouted back, utterly defensive.

You hated that you couldn’t take it back - you hated the pain that flooded across Spencer’s features.

“Not back then.” You added on, knowing that it was barely a worthy addendum. “The man I left standing in that apartment wasn’t someone I wanted to raise a child with-”

“How is that any excuse?” Spencer spit back bitterly.

You glared at him.

You had your reasons then. It felt like you were on trial, now, though. And you had to scramble to put together a defense - to explain it to him when he had been the accused in the crime at the time.

“You really can’t understand why I didn’t tell you that I was pregnant?” You gaped, still defensive.

“No, I really don’t get it.” He agreed, shaking his head. “You had to know that I would have done anything to become a father. No matter what, I would have stepped up, I-”

“Oh, don’t give me that!”

You were raising your voice now, years old anger bubbling up in your veins, awoken by his self righteous attitude - his foggy nostalgia when viewing his past self.

“It was bad, Spencer. It was a bad time. And you can’t tell me with all honesty that you would have turned it around like that,” You snapped your fingers to help demonstrate the point. “Just because you found out that when you came inside me, it stuck.”

“I would have tried.” Spencer pressed.

“But you wouldn’t have tried for me?” You replied desperately.

That stung you deep, tearing open some of the wounds you still had from that night.

It was something you had suspected, but you had never heard him confirm it for certain.

When you had been back there, begging him to change - he had turned on you. You alone weren’t good enough for him.

Spencer’s face fluctuated rapidly between shock and discomfort, and with no words from him, you continued.

“A baby would have been enough for you, but when I was sobbing, begging you to get better - that wasn’t good enough?” You continued, fresh tears clutching at your throat, beginning to simulate the sight he had been met with on the night you had broken up.

It was a terrible mirror. You standing in front of him, your face a picture of pure pain with glassy tears dancing in your eyes - begging him for answers, begging him to show that he loved you. That he would step up and improve out of love for you.

Because that’s what it was.

It hit him so suddenly then.

He saw that night - that deadly, world ending fight - in a whole new light now.

…

Just before the break-up, you and Spencer hadn’t officially moved in together, but you did have a key to his apartment. Moving in together was supposed to be the next logical step in your relationship, and he was heavily considering asking you to move in with him.

Well, he had been thinking about it - before his entire world was turned upside-down by a man named Tobias Hankel. When he came home scarred and emotionally chaotic, thinking about taking ‘next steps’ in life wasn’t really something he was doing.

Instead, he was in survival mode. And for the first time in his life, he was trying to do as little thinking as possible. Whenever he spent too much time in his own head, he had nightmares - he found himself back in that tiny room, strapped down to that chair, cold and unable to escape, with death looming over his head.

He hated that he relied on the drugs to drown it all out.

Among the mess that he often found between his ears - he often forgot that you had a key to his place.

When he came home that night, he was expecting to take a particularly heavy hit that would hopefully put him right into a long, dreamless sleep. He definitely did not expect you to be there. It wasn’t something that the two of you had discussed beforehand. If you had asked to come over, he likely would have said no. He squinted against the lights as he opened the door to his apartment and a particular wave of nausea hit him as the smell of food cooking hit his nose.

Perhaps it was that ironic kind of nausea that only comes after starving for so long. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten. Of course, his body seemed to run perfectly fine on nothing but coffee and that precious thing that felt so heavy in his pocket. As far as he knew, he didn’t need to eat.

“Spencer?” You called out his name when you heard the door creaking on its hinges, and Spencer sighed deep in his chest when he realized that the interaction was inevitable.

So much for a peaceful night.

You had been so much of a nag lately. The way you had been acting, he would even border on calling it bitchy.

When he wanted you there for meaningless sex to get his mind off things or even if he just wanted to cuddle, when he needed you to hold him - you always wanted to talk. You were constantly on him, asking him what was wrong, and how you could help. You wouldn’t just shut up and leave well enough alone; no matter how many times he told you to lay off and insisted that he was fine. (He knew that it was a lie, but he didn’t force you to talk about your problems. He wished you could see that he just wanted to be left alone. That he could get through this on his own.)

The last time he had seen you, he had torn out of your apartment at the speed of sound when he had taken off his sweater in anticipation of some hopefully mind numbing orgasms - and instead, you had asked about the marks on his arm.

And he had been dreading seeing you again ever since.

“Hey.” He called back dully, slinking in the door and closing it behind him.

He tossed his keys onto a nearby table - one that was already messy with books and newspapers. He took off his messenger bag and tossed it down carelessly too, still not turning to look at you as he peeled off his outer jacket. He left a sweater on underneath to keep his arms covered; he didn’t need any more questioning from you right now.

“I made you dinner.” You pointed out, your voice tentatively hopeful. “It’s that cheese tortellini that you said you liked. And I stopped by that little shop downtown and got some of those chocolate cupcakes.”

When Spencer finally turned around, you were holding a bright pink box with the lid open, displaying two very plump, beautifully decorated chocolate cupcakes - a small, tired smile on your lips while you waited for him to say something about the kindness of the gesture.

A fresh wave of nausea rolled over him at the sight and all he felt was annoyance.

(What made things worse was that you had clearly taken the time to dress up. You were wearing one of your nicer dresses, a matching cardigan thrown over your shoulders. A light, but well done dusting of makeup across your beautiful features. If Spencer wasn’t mistaken, he could hear the clack of heels beyond the counter where he couldn’t see your lower half. You looked gorgeous, and it made him feel all the more like garbage where he stood.)

“You didn’t have to.” He huffed out, still trying to be civil, even though all he wanted at the moment was to be left alone in his own home, rather than having you there, bothering him.

“It’s okay, I wanted to.” You giggled, closing the box and setting it aside. “You’re absolutely worth it.”

That was it. That was the comment that truly cut through him.

Because he wasn’t worth it - he was a scumbag. He was a piece of trash who pitied a man who had killed seven people, and he should have died in that shitty little shack in the cemetery instead of standing here with you while you took the time to buy him cupcakes and make him dinner. He shouldn’t get to be spoiled by you after everything he had done.

Every ounce of that anger that he was feeling toward himself boiled over like a terrible overcooked pot and came spitting out like hot oil, ready to burn you.

“Can you just shut up?” He snapped. “I didn’t ask you to do any of this.”

He felt regret churn in his stomach when your face curled with hurt, and he was surprised when you didn’t immediately leave.

“It’s okay.” You said quietly.

The fact that you rolled over so easily, so apologetic - that annoyed him more.

He watched on with shock as you reached a hand toward your purse, which was sequestered off on one edge of the counter - a space you had clearly cleaned off before you had started cooking.

(Spencer could only imagine how much you looked down upon him, considering him a lazy pig with how messy and generally unhygienic his apartment was because - even though he hated it - he couldn’t bring himself to clean with his generally mental disarray as of late.)

You put a hand into the open zipper of your bag and soon came out with something you easily knew was there, didn’t even have to dig around for, and Spencer watched on curiously as your hand came back with a thick fistful of colorful pamphlets.

“I also got these for you.” You said, extending the arm out to him.

He had a terrible knot in his gut.

He stepped forward on shaking legs and when he grabbed them from you - surely enough, it was exactly what he had feared.

Spencer’s eyes grew tense with anger as he scanned over it all.

A bunch of crap about sober living with generic stock images of people smiling - well paid models who had never known a single day of pain in their stupid, well groomed lives. People who could never even imagine what Spencer had been through.

“We can talk about it when you’re ready.” You told him, anxiety keeping your breath tight in your chest as you spoke. “I know it’s hard, so-”

What the hell did you know?

“God, you are so fucking full of it!” Spencer shouted, tossing down the pamphlets, causing them to scatter across the counter in a mess, his sudden spike in volume making you flinch.

As though you had been slapped, it took you a moment to recover from the pure shock of his words before you could actually speak any kind of reply.

“What?” You gaped at him. “Spencer, what the hell do you mean? I’m trying to help-”

“‘Oh, I know it’s hard.’” He repeated your words in a mocking voice. “Please, what the hell do you know?”

That caused a dangerous shift in you, turning the understanding and pity inside of you toward fed-up anger.

“I don’t know anything because you won’t tell me!” You shouted back. “You won’t even tell me what the hell is wrong! It’s like you don’t even fucking trust me!”

Unconsciously, this is exactly what Spencer had wanted. He had wanted a fight - claws, noise. He needed to be punished. He couldn’t stand you sitting around, acting so damn calm, being so sweet to him when he was so awful.

“Why should I tell you?” Spencer argued, grasping blindly at nothing, yelling just to make noise. “It’s none of your goddamn business!”

“Why wouldn’t this be any of my business?” You gasped. “Spencer, we’ve been together for - what? Almost three years now?”

It had been two years, eleven months, and three days since your first date. It had been two years, eleven months, and fifteen days since he had first spoken to you. It had been three years and four days since he had first laid eyes on you - thinking that you were the most beautiful woman on earth, thinking that he would never, ever work up the courage to speak to you. Thinking that there was no chance on earth that you would ever actually be his.

And now, he was about to ruin the best thing that had ever happened to him.

All good things must come to an end, right?

“I care about you.” You said, your voice cracking around the words - the ghost of tears beginning to form in your throat, like dark clouds forming in the sky before a storm. “That makes it my business.”

Spencer huffed and rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“It’s not just ‘whatever’, Spencer!” You screamed, your frustration flaring up once again.

He didn’t speak, he just kept on glaring at you. This pissed you off more - finally gave you the balls to say it.

“You’re on drugs!” You finally found the courage to speak it aloud. There was a tense stare down as you waited for him to deny the accusation. When he didn’t, a sharp spear pierced your chest, and the first tears fell. “You’re hurting yourself. This is a big deal, baby. You need help.”

Looking back on it now - it had been four years, nine months, and eight days since the last time you had called him ‘baby’. He should have seen it then, but this was the beginning of the end.

He should have latched onto it as a safety line and pulled himself ashore. He should have accepted the help that you were so graciously offering him.

But instead, at the time - it only stung him more. It only showed him a display of the sweetness that he didn’t think he deserved. It only caused him to turn on his defenses more.

Like a poisonous plant evolving his instincts in the worst way - it made him fight back harder.

“Don’t tell me what I fucking need!” Spencer cried out, every inch of his voice utterly insulted. “So what if I’m on drugs? You’re not a fucking peach yourself!” He let out a bitter, airy chuckle with these words, and instantly your face shifted.

A very large part of you knew that he was resorting to personal attacks because he was desperately trying to shift the attention away from himself - away from talking about his own problems. But with the shock and hurt pulsing through your system, you couldn’t truly focus on the logic of it all.

“What?” You gaped. “Spencer, what are you talking about?”

“You - you act so goddamn perfect all the time, but-”

He stuttered, hesitating for a fraction of a moment, watching the hurt and confusion tangle over your beautiful features - he could have blamed it on the drugs in his system or the fact that the trauma had been so recent and he technically had not ‘recovered’ from it. But he made the final move, then, hurling a harpoon into your relationship, making a giant wound that couldn’t be recovered from.

“But you’re a pathetic, shallow little girl with abandonment issues because your father left you before you hit puberty-” He said, breaking you down in that intense, psychological, profiler way. “You seek validation from me, the man you’re having sex with, in the most utterly Freudian way, and when you don’t receive that validation, you starve yourself in the name of vanity, seeking satisfaction and control that you’ll never truly obtain because you’re a narcissistic control freak!”

He managed to hit every point perfectly; he had used his skills to look into your soul, hand-picking every single thing that would have hurt you most. Given, he also had information that you had told him during late-night conversations where the two of you had bonded. You had told him about your shitty father and the eating disorder that you struggled with on and off since childhood (and still occasionally struggled with since you had met him). He had told you about his mother and his own shitty father - but it was never something that you would have used against him.

You knew that it was meant to hurt you - to distract you. You knew that he was lashing out in order to put a wall between himself and you. But you couldn’t help the giant lump that rose up in your throat, the flood of tears that poured freely down your face.

Hearing those words right from his mouth was one of your worst nightmares come to life - as though one of your safest, softest places to land was now a bed of thorns.

Spencer’s gut twisted when he saw you crying, but like a man possessed, he couldn’t stop himself.

“Did you honestly think that being with me was going to fix you?” He let out a dark chuckle, sounding well and truly like a super villain, punching right through your heart. “Maybe, you should spend less time focusing on me and my supposed problems,” He griped, sarcasm tight on his lips. “And spend a bit more time fixing yourself.”

You sucked in a chest rattling breath, and began gathering your purse, leaving the pamphlets on the counter as you moved to grab your coat off the hook.

You would forever regret turning back for one last word, your throat quaking hard and struggling to even get the words out.

“And how would you recommend that I do that?” You asked, entirely bitter.

“Well, for starters, you could use a few less cupcakes in your life.” He replied, snarky, demanding.

He was angry about the cupcakes because they represented everything good about you - your generosity, your kindness, your propensity to view the small things in life as a representation of life being good as a whole.

It came off sounding like a jab at your weight, degrading your perfect body - especially after he had called you narcissistic for having an eating disorder.

A sharp jolt went through his chest when the words fully penetrated his own ears - when he truly heard how terrible it was.

Especially when he saw the look of horror that struck your gorgeous, tear-soaked features.

“Y/N-” He said your name so softly, and an apology begging to be chased from his lungs.

But you wouldn’t let him.

“We’re done here.” You declared, a dark finality in your voice as you turned and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind you.

At the time, Spencer simply thought you meant - done with the conversation. He didn’t know that you had already decided that your words were declaring - done with the relationship. At the time, you were well and truly done with Spencer Reid.

He ached to chase after you, to scream apologies down the hall, no matter who would hear him - but his feet only carried him as far as the door before he collapsed against it, pressing his forehead hard into the wood while his soul clawed at the inside of his chest, aching to get to you, mourning that he had hurt you so badly.

Spencer left the food to go stale, turning off all the lights in the apartment. Then he took a strong hit, and cried himself to sleep.

He woke up the next morning stewing in regret. He called you, and of course, you didn’t answer. He sat on the edge of his bed, thinking. He wondered if he should go to your favorite coffee shop, get your favorite breakfast and go to your place to force his way in so that he could talk things over with you. He wondered if he should agree to go to one of the sober treatment programs that you had picked out just to please you.

While he was considering all of this, his phone rang, and he rushed to pick it up, thinking that maybe it was you. It was JJ, alerting him to a case. He gathered his things and left for work, letting you fall into the back of his mind, thinking that he would be able to pick up the pieces and apologize when he got back.

But it had been too late.

The next time he opened his apartment door, he tripped over the key he had given you. You had slid it under the door in order to return it to him after locking up.

You had let yourself in to gather your things from Spencer’s place, and to leave a very large box of his things that had been left at your place in the middle of his kitchen counter. Beside that box was an envelope with his name on it. A six page handwritten letter from you, explaining all of your reasoning for not wanting to speak to him in person, wishing him well in getting sober, telling him not to make any efforts to contact you again because he had hurt you so badly and you simply needed to heal - and declaring the end of the relationship finite and official.

(Your pregnancy, of course, was mentioned nowhere among those six pages.)

Several weeks later, Spencer would receive a similar letter from Gideon when he left the BAU without telling anyone.

When he read your letter, Spencer sobbed so loudly that his throat hurt.

And after reading it several more times, letting it truly hit him - he flushed the last of the stash he had down the toilet. A few weeks later, after he had worked up the courage, he went to your apartment. After a while of him knocking on the door and calling your name, begging for you to come out and see him, one of your neighbors came out. They yelled at him to shut up, and informed him that you had moved.

That was the first day Spencer went to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting.

…

It had all happened so fast.

You found out you were pregnant, and you knew that the end of your lease was coming up. It had been a time you were hoping to move in with Spencer, but with that hope blown to shreds, you needed a fresh start.

Your mom knew someone selling for cheap because it was in a newly developing area, and most of the other houses around it weren’t finished yet. She thought it wouldn’t appeal to you because it was in a different state, but - you found yourself calling the real estate agent and packing up your boxes that week.

You figured that because you had done so well growing up without a father, your kid didn’t need one either. You didn’t want Spencer to cause more trouble being in his life and being unstable than not being there at all.

So you fled. It seemed like the wisest decision at the time.

…

Spencer had been so stupid.

Not only had he hurt you badly - but you had wanted him to get sober out of love. You had been so patient with him, so soft, so loving. You weren’t talking about his addiction because you wanted to pick apart his flaws. You hadn’t gone to his apartment that night because you wanted to hurl around accusations. You hadn’t wanted to be invasive; you hadn’t thought that he was a genuinely horrible, broken person and you simply wanted him to admit that.

You saw that he was hurting and you had wanted to help him heal.

At the time, you had nothing but love for him - and you had even loved those broken parts of him. He hadn’t been prepared to accept that love. He had made a terrible mistake. And there was only one thing he could do now.

Spencer shocked you when he moved from leaning on the kitchen counter and got down on his knees in front of you. Your jaw slacked in shock and you stared down at him as he clasped his hands together as though praying, staring up at you with his wide, wet eyes.

“I am so sorry.” He said, his voice quaking around the words. “I know that I could never apologize enough for what happened - I was horrible to you back then. You definitely didn’t hallucinate that.”

“Well… it wasn’t all you, right? I mean, you weren’t really yourself then.” You sniffled, clearly making an implication toward the fact that he had been taking drugs.

All this time, you had put a lot of emotional stake in that. When you looked back on your memories with Spencer, you hoped that drugs was solely the reason he had turned into a different person - a kind of person who would make such harsh personal attacks toward you.

It made a lot of sense as to why he was so sweet, so normal, so personable, so good with Sebatian, so himself now. He must be sober.

“That’s no excuse.” He told you. “I need to take full responsibility for my behavior. I treated you with the type of cruelty that no person should ever have to experience, let alone a partner.”

“Spencer, get up, please.” You reached over and grabbed the fabric at the shoulder of his shirt, and he let you haul him to his feet.

It felt all too natural to stay close to you.

As you leaned up against the counter beside the sink, your hands drifted to his waist and pulled him to you. And his hands lingered behind you on the counter, bracketing you in. His face hovered close to yours - this was the closest he had come to kissing you all day. His eyes lingered on your lips.

But he knew that the two of you were too close now - too close to the truth.

He had to let you speak instead. He couldn’t risk ruining things again.

“I accept your apology.” You told him quietly.

It was something you had been waiting years to hear him say. This moment - this whole day - it was like something out of your distant fantasies. You didn’t think that you would ever get to see this version of Spencer again. And now, you weren’t entirely sure what to do with him. You still felt too cautious.

“I really want to work on things.” It was the truth, and you knew that you had to speak it out loud. “I really want you to be a part of Sebastian’s life.”

I really want to work on things.

It was the tiniest scrap of hope, but it was all he needed to pursue things.

“Are you and I gonna work on things?” Spencer asked, barely above a whisper, reaching a hand up to oh-so-gently brush his fingers across the side of your face. “Is there a future for us?”

He closed his eyes and tentatively pressed his forehead into yours while you tightly gripped onto the fabric of his shirt. His soul was clawing at his chest once again, feeling all too much like the night you had left him in the apartment all alone.

But this time, he wasn’t prepared to let you go.

“Can you answer something honestly?” You whispered.

“Anything.” Spencer replied.

“Have you…?” You breathed out, unsure how to phrase the question. “When was the last time… are you clean? Like - are you sober?”

You were almost certainly sure that he was. He was acting so different, so much more like the version of Spencer that you had fallen in love with. But you couldn’t have someone who was actively on drugs parenting your son. And you had to hope that his prolonged trip to the bathroom earlier wasn’t for that reason.

“One thousand, seven hundred, and two days.” Spencer replied. “That’s how long I’ve been sober.”

That was a very long time. You let out a breath of relief, and Spencer felt it puff out against his chin. To clarify, he then said:

“It’s about - four years, eight months, and two days.” He added on.

“So… a little after the time I ended things.” You concluded.

You felt a pang of guilt flow through you. At the time, you knew that breaking up with him was a risk. It was a painful event, and he could have turned to drugs even more for comfort. You had taken away his support system, something that could have helped him in getting sober. But he was spiraling, and you couldn’t stay there and let him take you down too.

When you found out about the pregnancy, you realized that a large part of how quick you were to act and how rash you were was likely due to the pregnancy hormones. But you weren’t going to rush back and apologize to Spencer because you didn’t want an addict helping to raise your child. You didn’t think that he would simply quit cold turkey because he found out about the baby - not from the way you had seen him.

But apparently -

“The break-up… the way things ended, it was a huge catalyst in helping me get sober.” Spencer told you. “And I’m thankful for that.”

That part surprised you.

At the time, you know you could have severely relapsed in your eating disorder.

The only reason you didn’t was because you found out that you were pregnant. Knowing that you had another human life to support, that your body wasn’t just your own - it pushed you to eat healthy, and allowed you the mental room to eat ‘treats’ when you wanted to. Nobody cares if a pregnant woman gets fatter, and that did make you feel safe, in a sense.

You knew that you didn’t want to date after Sebastian was born - you were focusing so much on him that you didn’t have too much room to be self conscious of your Mommy body. You exercised by lifting Sebastian and carrying him around. Later, you got plenty of exercise chasing him around when he could walk. You didn’t think too much about your diet, because you mostly just ate what he did, and made sure that he was eating healthy.

In a lot of ways, he saved you. Becoming a mother was the best thing that could have happened - for your mind, body, and soul.

“What I was doing… it was not the kind of coping mechanism I should have used.” Spencer spoke up again, distracting you from your own thoughts. “But knowing that I hurt you like that - knowing that I lost the best thing in my life… it made me realize that I was turning into someone I didn’t want to be. I was turning into this utterly horrible person, and I needed to change.”

“Spencer-” You choked out.

Hearing him describe himself as an ‘utterly horrible person’ did hurt.

“It’s okay.” He said softly.

“Can - can I ask what happened?” You whispered. “What made you turn to-? I mean… you left and then when you came back… you were so different.”

He knew what you were talking about.

He wasn’t even sure how he could put it into words for you.

A man in Georgia who had taken on the personality of his father in order to survive. Seven murders in the name of religion. A case that was supposed to be straightforward - a time where Spencer had nearly met God himself.

He had refused to tell you back then because he didn’t want to be seen as weak. He didn’t want to taint you with the details. He wanted to be comforted and coddled by you without you knowing why he needed that comfort.

After a moment of Spencer not speaking - standing there with distant horror in his eyes as it all replayed in his mind, you spoke again.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.” You said, reaching up and gently petting a hand down his arm. “You’ve done a lot of healing since then, and I know it’s in your past now.”

“Tobias Hankel.” He told you, confusing you slightly for a moment before he continued. “He - he was a man who killed seven people. It was a case in Georgia. It was supposed to be standard. We were called in to profile the murders, and actually - he was listed as a witness, and JJ and I went out to interview him. It was a really secluded area. And we got separated.” Spencer took in a breath, and you continued touching his arm, a gentle assurance that you were there, that it was okay. “And… he caught me off guard. He knocked me unconscious.”

Spencer didn’t feel the need to give you all the dirty details. How he had been shocked by Tobias speaking in the voice of his father, by the appearance of ‘both suspects’ in one body. How he had begged for mercy.

“And he took me to another location. And when I woke up… I had no clue where I was.” He said, this throat tightening up as the memories came flooding back to him.

“Oh baby, that must have been so scary.” You said, the word flying from your lips out of instinct as you moved your hand to his chest - instinctively trying to protect his heart with the whole of your palm.

Hearing it from your lips, so gentle, so soothing - baby.

Spencer felt like he was at home again. It was the last thing he needed to crack open that door - everything he had been holding back, every raw emotion - it came flooding out.

He blinked out tears, and you thought that it was terror resurfacing from that day.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay.” You told him, reaching up to wipe those tears away. “I’m here now.”

That’s all he had ever wanted. To be here with you. All he had ever needed.

“Thank you.” He said quietly.

“You don’t have to thank me.” You replied, your voice gentle.

“At the time - he drugged me.” Spencer continued the explanation - the one he so dutifully owed you. “That - that’s why.” He stuttered out. “When I came home… I couldn’t stop. It was the only thing numbing the pain. The only thing stopping me from… truly facing it all. From thinking about everything that had happened to me - processing it. I didn’t want to like it, but… it was the only thing that got me through when I was… when I felt like I was so close to death. I didn’t know how to stop. I didn’t know how to exist without it at the time.”

Spencer took in a sharp breath.

“And when you left, I realized that I needed to stop - I needed to stop the drugs, or I was just gonna lose everything.”

“You are so strong.” You said, your own voice ripe with tears as you continued to hold Spencer’s face, holding both of his cheeks now, forcing his gaze toward you. Your eyes were burning passionate, every inch of the declaration intense and strong. “Spencer, you got through that and came home. I don’t know if I could have done what you did.”

“You could have.” He told you, entirely truthful. “You’ve been raising a child by yourself for four years. Never doubt how strong you are.”

He wanted to deflect - eager to stop talking about himself now. But he was doing it with compliments this time. He knew that he could never make it up to you, but he would never stop with the flattery. He would never stop trying.

“God, Spencer. I missed you so much.” You said, your throat clenching around the words. Then, before you could stop it:

“You know I never stopped loving you, right?”

He swore that his heart stopped in that moment.

“I - I don’t think I could have stopped loving you if I tried.” He replied, his tongue fat and dry in his mouth, having to swallow tightly after he spoke.

You used your hands on his cheeks to pull him toward you, then, and like the inevitability of the earth rounding the sun as the years passed - Spencer came home to you, sighing into your mouth as he felt your lips in that perfect, beautiful kiss. He finally felt that tightness ease in his chest - maybe it was a feeling he had been waiting to pass for years, his heart locked up and tight with that love for you strangling him from the inside, clawing to get out with you not around for him to truly love you the way he needed to. With his son somewhere out there in the world, waiting to be loved by him.

Your lips were so smooth and perfect against his - and it wasn’t long before that sweet love turned aching, insistent, and passionate.

Spencer put his hands on your hips and scooted you back up onto the counter. You let your body naturally shift with the movements, letting yourself slowly fall into the trust of being touched by him again. You let out a moan into his mouth and embraced his tongue past your lips, one of your hands moving to tangle into his now much wilder hair. You loved the feeling of his voice vibrating a moan against you as you gave his roots a gentle tug.

Heat surged through your body as he stepped between your now wide open knees, pressing himself right up against you where you were sitting on the counter - he needed to get closer. He needed to feel you. His crotch pressed tightly against yours - causing a stirring of heat and wetness in your underwear matching him as he was just beginning to get hard.

He had missed you so much. And it had been so long for both of you - you had barely looked at other people since the break-up, and having the touch of a lost loving stirred something in your bodies that made you both so hungry.

Spencer pulled away from your lips and began kissing down your neck, eager to suck and lick and kiss and consume as much of your skin as possible. When he came across the chain of the neck sitting on your skin, he gave it a loving lick and hummed into your skin, and you moaned his name into the air.

“Spence, oh!”

And then-

Then there was a crash from somewhere else in the house. The sound of glass breaking.

You hadn’t set the alarm - because typically that was something you did before going to bed.

Someone was breaking into the house.

The killer was coming for you.

“Spencer!” You said his name with more urgency now as his head whipped up from the crook of your neck, looking around for the danger, not yet moving from between your legs as he assessed the situation.

There was a crash from your office as something was knocked over. The sound of someone stumbling as they climbed in through the broken window.

He grabbed one of the nearby kitchen knives from the block, quickly realizing that his gun was his bag by the front door - too far to run for.

“Go upstairs, get Sebastian, take him in your room and lock the door.” He told you, his voice as authoritative as you had ever heard it. He took his cellphone from his pocket and thrust it into your shaking hand. “Call JJ or any contact in this phone labeled BAU. Call until they pick up and tell them that we need back up here. No matter what happens or what you hear, do not open the door for anybody. Got it?”

...

Keep reading here: Chapter Six - That's What You Get (Finale)

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

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