#YOU HAVE NO MONEY YOUR MAN IS ABUSIVE YOU WERE IN A HAPPY RELATIONSHIP

[bestworstcase]

I hope I’m not weird or offensive for thinking this that Oz and the GoL relationship has abuse undertones. I go as far as it reminding me of sexual violence. The violation of bodily autonomy, lack of informed consent, using someone else’s body for one’s personal use, sense of domination from the perpetrator, the victim having a fucked sense of self and self-hatred. The GoL is also Salem’s abuser who violated her autonomy and consent so it’s not out of character for him. RWBY has handled similar topics like Adam and Blake so it’s not like uncharted territory. I even seen ppl claim that the Curious Cat has similar undertones considering what they did to Neo.

"undertones"--even in the extremely biased narration of the lost fable, jinn, telling the story as ozpin understands it, draws an overt equivalency between the god of light and SALEM'S FATHER. you know,

What more could a man want? Just one thing: a son and heir. When his wife became pregnant, the whole castle rejoiced. But soon the lord’s fortune reversed. His beloved fell ill, gave birth to a baby girl, and lost her own life in the process. The lord locked his daughter in the highest tower of the castle and retreated to his chambers to grieve. Only he and the girl’s nanny were allowed in or out of her tower room, on punishment of death. Many weeks passed before the lord visited his baby girl for the first time, and he refused to hold her no matter how much the nanny encouraged or even begged him to. Over the years, his daily visits grew shorter. Then they became visits two or three times a week. By his daughter’s eleventh birthday, he was visiting only once a week. “Why must I stay in this tower?” the girl would ask him. “I am protecting you from anything or anyone that might harm you. You are the most precious thing in the world to me. I could not bear to lose you.” He brought her food and presents: dresses and hairpins, brushes and dolls, but nothing that she could use against him or to take her own life. [...] Meanwhile, miserable and alone, the lord’s sorrow gradually twisted into resentment. He raged against the unfairness of the gods and took out his anger on his staff. He became obsessed with increasing his wealth, as if money could replace the love of his life, increasing land taxes on his tenants and cutting his staff’s wages. Paranoid about losing all he cherished, he dismissed half of his servants and replaced them with trained soldiers to protect his riches and defend his castle. By the girl’s sixteenth birthday, the king was visiting only once a month, whenever the whole moon was visible from her tower window. “This was your mother’s favorite place in the castle,” he told the girl. “She loved gazing out that window.” “And now it is my prison,” the girl said. “You aren’t my prisoner. You’re my daughter.” “Then let me go,” she begged. “I cannot. Someone would abduct you and demand a ransom,” the lord said. “Or worse.” But the girl realized that the lord did not love her as a parent loves a child. Rather, he thought of her as just one of his treasures, to be jealously hoarded like his gold and jewels. […] “What is it?” the knight asked. “What else would make you happy, my dear?” Freedom, she thought. But she bit back the word, for that kind of talk made him angry and violent.

the man who was so viciously abusive that this is how ozpin depicted him in a sanitized fairytale account of what happened.

note, for emphasis, that by the time salem was eleven she was so actively suicidal that her father had to vet every object that went into her room against the risk that she might try to kill herself with it, and he didn't care.

ozma modeled beacon academy after salem's father's castle and put the headmaster's office at the top of the tower—in her cell. whether or not he could actually articulate this feeling consciously, deep down he regards the god of light as an abusive parent too powerful to defeat or escape. and we have seen, with light, that he becomes angry and violent whenever something doesn't go his way and that his immediate, first reaction to one of his creations doing anything he doesn't approve is brutal murder. he tears jabber apart, incinerates ozma, bites salem, shrugs when his brother vaporizes mankind. his ultimatum for remnant is "obey me or die." there's no undertones he is explicitly abusive toward everyone he comes into contact with including his brother.

[fishgirl514]

these homos are starting to piss me off

[zarameraki]

🖊️💌 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮'𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝘃𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝗽𝗲𝗻-𝗽𝗮𝗹 🖊️💌

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 prisoner sukuna x his penpal 𖥔 just plot with porn 𖥔 mentions of abuse 𖥔 mentions of sexual assault 𖥔 pussayy eating rawr but also u suck his dick so 𖥔 uraume and toji found family ���� he would kill for you 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw

: ̗̀➛ words: 10k?? idfk it's long

: ̗̀➛ notes: happy halloween, mamas! 🎃 i know ive been MIA for a while but thats because i wasnt feeling creative. but now ive dumped a 10k sukuna fic on you for you to read at 3 in the morning. this one's got a kick to it yall. its long but give the bitch a chance, shes good. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.

So, this was where you’d ended up—on a site for writing to prisoners. A pen-pal with an inmate.

How lonely did you have to be to fill out your info, pay a yearly fee, and do this? The answer: really, really lonely. Orphaned, friendless, and scarred from a relationship that had left you with broken ribs and a blind eye. And as if to top it all off, you wanted to reach out to a criminal. I guess you deserved at least that small bit of connection.

You scrolled through inmate profiles, noting their crimes—arson, theft, cybercrime, drug trafficking, money embezzlement, and so on. None of them were charged with homicides or serious offences.

One profile did catch your eye. The smirk in his mugshot suggested he’d probably killed someone and managed to evade the cops before they could pin anything on him.

“Sukuna Ryomen,” you whispered, clicking on his profile and staring at a laundry list of crimes. “Aggravated assault, drug manufacturing and distribution, kidnapping—Jesus—extortion, cybercrime, Satanism . . . what the hell?” You chuckled as you scrolled further. “Bank burglary, vandalism of religious properties—so that’s the Satanism part—illegal possession of firearms, stalking?”

Why was this man even on this website, given his long list of crimes?

You zoomed in on his mugshot. Was it wrong to find him attractive despite his record? He truly embodied the term “bad boy,” though he didn’t look like a boy at all. He was ruggedly handsome with hollowed eyes. His light-mink hair was swept back, with a few strands falling over his forehead, and he wore a single hoop earring in his left ear. Black tattoos marked his nose bridge, jaw, and the centre of his forehead, while narrow-eyed designs were inked on his cheekbones.

You wondered if he’d get any letters, given his long rap sheet. Maybe delusional women like you, who’s pussies sang for high-profile criminals, sure. 

Licking your lower lip, you picked up a piece of paper and a pen, tapping the end against the sheet as you continued to study his face.

Then you started writing.

Hello, Sukuna Ryomen, 

My name is Y/N. 

You thought it over. For now, you'd keep it light before diving into your deeper issues. It felt easier to share your thoughts with someone you’d never meet face-to-face than with a stranger in a bar whose only interest was getting into your pants.

You kept writing.

Dear Sukuna Ryomen,

I’m currently living in an apartment complex that’s in desperate need of renovation. I’m harvesting cockroaches—no, I’m not eating them; the fuckers just won’t stop nesting in my kitchen cabinets, and I’m tired of spending money on pest sprays. On top of that, I’m pretty broke, barely managing to keep a roof over my head. I’ve even considered trying to seduce the landlord into reducing my rent, though I doubt any man would find a woman with one working eye appealing. I noticed you have an extra beneath your real eyes. Care to share?

Anyway, this is my first time writing to someone like you, so apologies if it’s a bit awkward. I wish I could send a nude, but I’m pretty sure you’d wish you were blind after that. I feel like I’m rambling like this is my diary, so I should probably wrap it up. If you want to write back, feel free. I don’t mean to sound privileged, but I’m lonely as fuck.

Thank you (?),  

Y/N

P.S. About the Satanism—care to explain?

You didn’t bother proof-reading and folded the letter into an envelope, sealing it with a lick. From your drawer, you pulled out a pack of old stickers—remnants of your childhood—and placed one where the envelope met. You wrote the prison address provided on the website and added the stamps you’d bought during your walk, which was your final push into becoming a prison pen-pal. After selecting Sukuna Ryomen on the site and uploading your ID and other required documents, you waited for your profile to be approved. 

After three days of waiting, you sent out the letter first thing in the morning and anxiously awaited a response.

Sukuna’s fists collided with the inmate’s face, each strike more brutal than the last. Blood splattered across his knuckles as the crowd of orange-clad convicts roared with twisted delight, their voices a chorus of vile encouragement. “Finish him!” they taunted, while others jeered at the barely conscious man, urging him to get up and fight back, to aim a desperate kick at Sukuna’s balls.

“Sukuna!” A guard’s voice cut through the chaos, and soon the officers were pushing through the throng, shutting the prisoners who dared resist their authority. “Get up, now!”

“Fuck off!” Sukuna snarled, his lips curling into a sneer as he shoved the guard aside. He watched with cold satisfaction as the man lay still, blood pooling beneath him. All this because the idiot had the nerve to laugh when Sukuna missed a three-pointer. Now, the bald bastard had paid the price for his arrogance, and Sukuna breathed in the aftermath—his own dark victory painted in blood and broken bones.

Officer Gojo Satoru strode into the circle, handcuffs gleaming in his hand. 

Sukuna's eyes narrowed at the sight of the blue-eyed bastard, a wave of hatred surging through him so fierce he could almost feel his fingers tightening around Satoru's throat. The very thought of choking the life out of him fueled his dark desires.

Satoru’s father—the man responsible for dragging Sukuna down, catching him red-handed with crates of cocaine at the border, and sealing his fate with a fifty-year sentence. If Sukuna had known the old man’s spawn would end up as a deputy officer here, watching his every move with those piercing eyes, he would have never shown up to that cursed delivery. But no—he had wanted to play the good boss, personally seeing his precious cargo off. Now, every day behind bars was a constant reminder of that one fatal mistake, and Sukuna’s rage festered as he thought of the traitor, Yuji. The little fuck who sold him out would pay dearly, and Sukuna was already plotting the perfect revenge.

His own fucking nephew sold him off. Motherfucker wanted the throne for himself—an empire Sukuna built with his bare hands. 

“Throw him in the ice box,” Satoru commanded, his voice dripping with that infuriating smugness. The officer roughly cuffed Sukuna’s wrists, shoving him forward. “Cool down, Big Guy. You’re not going any—”

Before he could finish, Sukuna rammed his forehead into Gojo’s nose, relishing the satisfying crunch as the lanky bastard staggered back. The inmates roared with approval from where they were restrained by the other officers. 

Gojo chuckled, dabbing at his bleeding nose with a pristine handkerchief, the kind only a spoiled little bitch like him would carry. “You think that’s funny?” he asked, his tone laced with condescension.

“Hilarious,” Sukuna whispered, a dark grin curling at his lips.

“Okay,” Gojo replied with a casual shrug. Without warning, his fist slammed into Sukuna’s jaw.

Once.

Twice.

Three fucking times.

The officers stood by, indifferent, as their captain unleashed his fury. For them, it was just another case of self-defence.

Sukuna finally collapsed to the ground, his vision swimming. Gojo leaned over him, his voice a venomous hiss. “Who’s laughing now?” A final, vicious kick to Sukuna’s chest left him gasping for breath. “Keep him in that freezer until he’s begging to be let out. No meals for a week.”

Sukuna’s vision blurred as he glared at Satoru’s retreating figure, the ringing in his ears barely drowning out the disappointed murmurs of his fellow inmates. His body, battered and beaten, finally surrendered to the encroaching darkness.

When he came to, he found himself in the prison’s infirmary, cocooned in three heated blankets. Yet the warmth did little to pierce the deep, bone-chilling cold that gripped him. The need to piss gnawed at him, but even that seemed distant compared to the icy numbness that had taken hold. 

“Welcome back to hell.” 

Sukuna raised his head from the pillows to find Uraume, the prison’s doctor. They were also the only person he tolerated, and somewhat close to since he ended up in the infirmary more than once. He hoped they considered him a ‘something’ after he killed a two-hundred pound guy for groping their ass in the cafeteria. How did he do it? He knew Uraume kept a pocket knife in their doctor’s coat and quickly swept it out and stuck it in the dick’s jugular. 

“How long have I been out for?” he asked, squirming his arm out of the blanket to rub his eyes. 

“A day.” 

“What?” Sukuna pulled himself out of the blanket by wiggling around like the fucking worms his cell mate Toji liked to collect every time they went in the courtyard to play. They’re better company than your grouchy ass, he said once. “How long was I in the ice box?” 

“Barely an hour.” Well, that’s just pussy behaviour from him. “They pulled you out before hypothermia killed you. What a way to die, am I right?” They chuckled, preparing some pills in a small disposable cup. “Here, take these. They’re nutrients.” 

“I could use actual food.” Sukuna downed them like a shot. God, he missed alcohol. “That blue-eyed bitch restricted my meals for a week.” 

“Fuck him.” Uraume took out a sandwich from their bag and threw it in Sukuna’s direction. “Just fake illness when you’re hungry. I’m always here to feed my favourite dog.” 

Sukuna snorted. “Go to hell.” 

“Already here.” Uraume clipped back their white hair with the back dyed red. Like someone smashed their head into the wall and the colour just bled to the sides. “Oh, this came for you.”  

Sukuna shoved the sandwich in his mouth and stretched his muscles before walking over, snatching the letter. It was already opened, a flimsy teddy-bear sticker hanging from the paper. “What the fuck is this?” 

“A letter.” 

“A letter? For me?” 

Uraume broke their attention from the computer to look at him. “Remember when you had me register you on that prison pen-pal bullshit after Toji received a pile of fan letters?”

Sukuna blinked. 

He definitely remembered being jealous when Toji got a letter from an artist who drew herself naked on paper for him, and a shit ton more asking for his dick size or when he’ll be out. Of course, Sukuna was envious of the attention. Plus, no one in prison made good company. He just wanted the taste of the outside world again after being locked in for five years now. Even if it was through ink on paper. 

But then Sukuna looked down at his first ever letter torn open. “Why is this open? Who read it?” If it was Satoru, he was going to rip his eyeballs from his sockets and feed it to Toji’s pet worm. 

“Relax. They’ve got to identify if there’s any substances attached to the paper, or any other shady shit. Whoever wrote to you is just a harmless nobody.” 

Sukuna frowned, bringing the letter up to his nose. It smelled like a plain envelope. No drugs, nothing.

He found purchase on the bed again, pulling out the folded paper and ironing the creases out on his leg. Here we go.

He began reading each word carefully. 

A week went by since you’d mailed your letter to Sukuna Ryomen. A week of pure torture to hear something back from the criminal. You’d relaxed on Sunday because the post offices are closed, but on Monday, you were at your mailbox, watching the mailman sort out letters and slip them through the boxes. 

Once he left, you dashed to your box and flipped through the coupons, flyers, newsletters—

Your breath hitched. 

Everything dropped from your hand except the cream envelope with an address from the prison. You didn’t care about reading it upstairs and quickly, yet carefully, tore it open from the side, reading the writing. 

Trying to read it. 

Sukuna had terrible handwriting. It made you giggle. 

You leaned against the mailboxes and murmured the words written under your breath. 

Hey, Y/N

I don’t know how to start a letter since I’ve never written one so don’t mind if I hurt your little feelings. Don’t know if you’re aiming to entertain me or bore me to death with this “dear diary” bullshit. I thought I’d get a nude, at the very least. Hell, Toji over here—yeah, the bastard who was on the news last year with a thing for setting houses on fire—gets way better fan mail every week. Pictures, drawings, mostly nudes. And I get your whining about rent and cockroaches?

Look, I may be locked up, but I’m giving you some advice here. Don’t fuck your landlord. You’ve got one eye? Good—use it. Hell, that’s already intimidating enough. Threaten the prick to call pest control, or better yet, trap those damn cockroaches and give him a taste. Stuff a few down his throat if he still doesn’t take you seriously. People respect action, not whining.

Speaking of. One eye? Really? Now, how’d it happen? Was it torn out? Still got some sight in it, or is it just gone? That’s gangster. Hot, even. I’d fuck a one-eyed chick. Maybe when I’m out we can cross that off my bucket list. Nah, I’m just playing with you.

Or maybe I’m not.

Think on it.

Hate (in a friendly way),

Sukuna.

P.S. Yeah, I took out some satanist scum who tried kidnapping one of my people’s kids. But don’t go thinking I’m in with those freaks. I’m just the Devil they wish they could be.

“Woah,” you breathed out, hugging the letter to your chest. This was it. This was what you were waiting for. A pull towards something real, something thrilling. It’s all you’ve been craving for eons now. 

“Whatcha got there, sweetie?” The voice snapped you back, harsh as nails against glass. Your landlord had wandered out of his door on the first floor, wrapped in a faded bathrobe and gripping his mug like some king holding court. “Made a mess on my floor with your papers.”

“Sorry,” you muttered, quickly tucking Sukuna’s letter back into its envelope and reaching down to gather the stray papers scattered on the floor. When you straightened, he was already in your space, close enough that the coffee on his breath made you flinch.

“Excuse me—”

“You’re excused.” His smirk widened as he leaned in, his nose grazing your neck. The greasy warmth of his breath made bile rise to the back of your throat. “Just wanna take a little bite out of you.”

Sukuna’s advice echoed in your mind. You’d never—never—think of following through with his revolting insinuation. But letting this sleaze get away with treating you like this? No. Not anymore.

“Step away,” you commanded. “Now.”

He blinked, then chuckled, dismissive. “Feisty today, huh? Got a letter from your boyfriend in prison, sweetie?” How did he know that? Fuck. Did he go through your mail before it was deposited? “Let me guess—you think he’s got your back now?” He leaned even closer, the stench of his laugh wafting in the air. “Come on, where's that one eye of yours aiming, sweetheart?”

“Next person who mentions my eye eats the dirt,” you snapped, every ounce of your resolve boiling up. “And as for what I’ve got—it’s something way out of your league, old geezer. So get the hell back to your apartment, and call pest control now.” 

For a second, he was stunned, face going pale as your words sank in. But you could feel Sukuna’s thrill, his twisted approval in the back of your mind. You’d tapped into something that wouldn’t settle. But then, “Well, I’ll be damned. Someone put on their big girl panties.” 

Your jaw tightened as you held your ground, taking small breaths. You’d rehearsed this moment in your head, picturing a confrontation that ended with him backing down. But things never went as planned with him.

“I’m not here to beg,” you said evenly. “But I’m not gonna let you walk all over me, either. I pay rent. It’s your responsibility to keep this place livable.”

He snorted, raising his coffee mug and giving you a once-over that made your skin crawl. 

“Not for free, sweetheart. You’ve gotta give me something worth my time.” His eyes travelled down your body. 

Your pulse throbbed in your ears, but you squared your shoulders. “I’m already paying rent. It’s your right to ensure your tenant's safety.”

His face darkened, lips curling into a bitter smile. “Not when that tenant’s acting like a spoiled little bitch.” And then, with a flick of his wrist, he launched the mug’s contents right at you.

You dodged, but a few hot droplets scorched your arm, leaving a raw sting that only fueled your anger. He laughed, shaking his head with a mocking scowl. “Get the fuck out of my sight before I kick you out on the streets.”

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You turned on your heel, heading back upstairs with quick steps, forcing the tears back until you could lock the door behind you. Once inside, you slumped to the floor, breathing hard. The letter from Sukuna crackled beneath your hands, and you clutched it close to your chest, feeling the heat of humiliation turn into something fiercer, darker. 

“Damn it,” you whispered to yourself, pushing back to your feet with renewed energy. You marched to your desk, grabbed your notebook and pen, and let the words pour out, hurried and jagged. If anyone would understand this kind of anger, it was him—the one man whose entire life was carved from rage.

And this time, you wouldn’t hold anything back.

“Letter for you, Ryomen.”

Sukuna dropped down from his top bunk, snatching the letter right out of the guard’s hand.

“From your girl?” Toji asked from across the table, flipping a card, halfway to beating Sukuna in Blackjack.

“Not my girl,” Sukuna grunted, tearing into the envelope. But still, he smirked as he unfolded your letter.

Hey, Sukuna. 

Fuck my landlord to hell and back. I need you to know I’d kill him if I could get away with it. I’m trying to keep this “ethical” so they don’t cut off my letters, but let’s just, I hate the elderly. They should be rotting in retirement houses instead of owning properties and doing a shit job running them. That senile asshole threw hot coffee at me this morning. Burning. I nearly shattered the damn mug over his skull.

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his fingers squeezing the letter hard enough to crumple the edges.

And now he’s saying he’ll kick me out, as if I have anything to pay him with. This place is a dump, anyway. I might hit up one of those shelters for women, maybe hop from couch to couch for a bit. My job at corner store’s giving me scraps; it’s not nearly enough to get by. So yeah, you could say I’m screwed.

And to answer your question about my eye—yeah, I’m blind in it. Got it from a real piece of work I used to call a boyfriend. He decided my face was fair game, and thought I could just live with it. But he's dead now. Overdosed last I heard from his brother. Good riddance, am I right?

Oh, and for that kink of yours you mentioned—sending my picture along with a little extra treat. 

Hate (because I’m about to go crazy here), Y/N

P.S. For all the things you’ve done, I can’t lie—the world you talk about sounds safer than this one. Well, except for you committing the most heinous crimes. 

Toji clicked his tongue. “Look at that dumbass grin on your face.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sukuna muttered, flipping the letter over—and there it was: a stick drawing of a woman lying on a bed, two messy circles for her chest, legs spread wide, and what looked like . . . well, he didn’t need to guess. Sukuna went from grinning to outright laughing. “She’s hilarious.”

“Not just that. She’s sexy as fuck,” Toji said, holding up a photo, ripped clean in half.

Sukuna’s eyes flashed. He swiped the photo and pieced it back together, cursing himself for tearing through the envelope like a brute. But as the two halves reconnected, he felt his pulse kick up, hard.

“Well, shit.” You were more than just beautiful. The way your hair fell, the curves of your body wrapped in that short black dress, standing under a streetlamp with the city lights glinting around you . . . But it was the smile—the easy, teasing grin—that really did it for him. “I’m definitely jerking off tonight.” Respectfully, of course.

“Can we get back to the game now, or—”

“Fuck the game. I’ve got a letter to write.” And a plan brewing to get you out of that dump and right where he wanted you.

Your landlord was pronounced dead. 

An ambulance had arrived early in the morning, around nine, waking up every tenant. You were one of them, groggy from your sleep, and all the crying you’d done from realising how high rent was these days.

Apparently, he had a heart-attack, said one of the residents. 

He was eighty, said another. 

You stuck to the back of the crowd as his body was wheeled out on the stretcher. How could he have died just five days after you sent your last letter to Sukuna? It couldn’t have been him, could it? Maybe one of his associates? Given the man’s extensive criminal history, you suspected he had some serious connections.

As the crowd began to disperse a few minutes later, you joined them but didn’t head upstairs. Instead, you made your way to the mailroom.

And luckily, Sukuna’s letter was present. 

All he wrote was: 

You’re welcome. 

Neutral, 

Sukuna. 

You broke out laughing, or crying. Whatever it was, it felt good. So good. 

Hey, Sukuna!

These days, I’m feeling calm. Really calm. I’m sleeping well, eating better, even starting to enjoy work. Sometimes, I’m scared it’ll all get snatched away. By who? I don’t know. Life’s been that way, though. I’ve lost so much—my parents, my friends, even my left eyesight. At one point, I lost my will to keep going. But I guess some part of me held on, believing a better day would come.

Turns out, those days are here. Who would’ve thought a felon could make me feel less alone? I know it sounds crazy, but my life’s been full of surprises lately.

If you think you can’t bring happiness to someone, I’m here to tell you you’re wrong. I’m genuinely happy, and it’s thanks to you. I already think of you as a friend—and I hope you think of me the same way. You don’t get a choice in that, by the way.

Love (genuinely), Y/N

P.S. I’d like to come visit you sometime soon.

Sukuna lowered the letter, his eyes settling on the wall where he’d pinned up your picture. “Toji?” he called out, still staring at the photo.

Toji paused mid-pushup, raising an eyebrow. “What, bitch?”

Sukuna let out a low laugh, barely shaking his head as he spoke. “I think I’m in love.”

Hello, Y/N.

When I’m out in fifty years, I’ll give you a real surprise. And don’t write me any more of that sentimental crap, alright? Save it for when you visit. I’d rather hear it in person.

Hate (but maybe not so much), Sukuna

P.S. You’re beautiful.

You pressed the letter to your chest, biting your lip as warmth spread across your cheeks, your face aching from how much you were smiling. It was official—you were falling for Sukuna Ryomen. You’d have to look your absolute best for your visit. Just the thought of seeing him, hearing his voice, maybe even feeling his hand brush yours, made your heart race. You’d kiss him if they’d let you. And if they didn’t? What could the guards do? Throw you in jail? Now that would be ironic.

But fifty years . . . Would you really wait fifty years for Sukuna to be released? How high was his bail, anyway, that even his hidden cash stash wasn’t enough to cover it? He had to have some kind of pull with the right people, didn’t he?

With a sigh, you grabbed a piece of paper and began to write your reply.

Sukuna,

Fifty years is a lifetime, don’t you think?

Love, Y/N

Sukuna read the short note you’d sent, surprised by how much you’d poured into just a few lines. He noticed small, faded dots on the paper—tears, unmistakably yours. You’d been crying, and it didn’t sit right with him. His stomach tightened, but thankfully, he’d already secured your visit through Uraume, who handled it while Gojo was away.

Now, all that was left was seeing you.

He wondered how he’d keep his hands to himself after all the nights he’d spent memorising your picture, losing himself in thoughts of you. Every night before sleep, every morning when he woke, every time Toji was out cold and couldn’t hear Sukuna’s barely-stifled groans as he imagined you were there. God, he wanted to steal you away. 

The day of your visit finally came. Sukuna was led to the visitor room, wrists cuffed, flanked by two guards. He hadn’t set foot in this room since a couple of his associates had visited months back with updates on the family business and Yuji’s latest fiascos. They’d kept everything running despite his brother’s mess-ups, and Sukuna owed them.

He glanced down at his hands. Fifty years. He’d been scheming for a way out since he first set foot in here, but now, with you in the picture, the urge to escape was relentless. Bail was twenty million. Even if he could scrounge it up, he doubted he could get it done without tipping off the wrong people. No, his only real option was breaking out.

“Sukuna.”

A soft voice pulled his head up slowly. He couldn’t remember the last time his name was spoken with such warmth. 

“Y/N.”

He shot up from his seat, his eyes flicking to the guards stationed in the corner before letting himself drink you in. You looked stunning—a soft sundress, hair delicately curled, makeup enhancing every curve and angle of your face. His gaze lingered on your eyes, marvelling at the contrast: one foggy, hazy, while the other was bright and striking. A smirk pulled at his mouth, but he softened it for you. 

“Hey,” he whispered, the one word holding more emotion than he’d ever admit, especially with witnesses around.

“Hi,” you whispered back, eyes lowering down his muscled body, the pattern tattoos like rings around his wrist and with the first three buttons of his jumpsuit unbuttoned, you found the top of the rings on his pecs as well. His light-pink hair was brushed down, the tendrils poking his reddish-brown eyes. A peculiar colour. “Hi.”

He smiled. “You already said that, baby.” 

Baby. Gosh, you were even more nervous now. 

“They said I can’t shake your hand.” You looked at the cuffs on his wrists and tossed a glare at the guards. “Or hands.” 

“Fuck them.” Sukuna sat down and you followed. “You’re stunning.” 

You blushed. “Thank you.” 

“Not gonna compliment me back?” His deep voice was cocky, smug. You loved it. 

“You’re handsome and you know it.” 

“I sure do.” 

You chuckled and Sukuna watched you with a soft expression. “Thanks for . . . you know.” 

He understood the words you mouthed and smiled. “A little Ricin never hurt anyone.”

“How did you pull it off?”

His eyebrow arched in surprise. “Just because I’m stuck in this hellhole doesn’t mean I’ve lost everyone’s respect out there. Blood is thicker than water in my clan—except when it comes to my nephew. I just want to drain it out of him.”

Your own smile faltered. “Well . . . I’d like to have coffee with you. But fifty years, Sukuna, is too long.” 

He sighed. “I know.” 

“Isn’t there any way to get you out?” 

Sukuna saw the longing on your face and wanted nothing more than to hold it in his hands and stare at you for hours. He just couldn’t believe you were real. He would’ve killed you if you were cat-fishing him. “I really want to touch you,” he whispered instead. He did. He really fucking did. 

You pinched your lips in a smile. “Me, too.” 

Sukuna placed his hands on the table and grabbed both of yours. They were so soft and small. He wanted to kiss each finger. Knuckle. Vein.

“Hands off, Ryomen,” the guard warned. He didn’t relent, and simply winked at you. “I said hands off.” 

“Fuck you,” Sukuna spat back. 

“Visit’s over.” The pair of guards pried Sukuna away, making you reach out for him with a protest. 

“I’ll see you this weekend.” Sukuna winked and let the guards drag him away. 

You sat stunned before the officers escorted you out of the visiting room and apologised on his behalf. 

When the weekend finally rolled around, you found yourself standing at the prison gates once more, entering alongside a pair of guards.

Waiting by the visitor room was a towering figure with straight silver hair and striking blue-eyes. You got a closer look at the badge—Satoru Gojo. You’ve read the name in one of Sukuna’s letters complaining about him.

“Y/N. What a pleasant surprise,” he greeted, waving away the guards and pressing a hand on your back, leading you down the opposite direction. 

“We can chat another time, officer. I’ve got to meet Suku—”

“He can wait. Prison teaches a man patience. He’s got fifty more years left. Plenty to visit then.” Gojo opened the door and guided you inside. The shutting made your shoulders flinch. The lock clicking had dread pooling in your stomach. “Sit. Would you like anything to drink?” 

You eyed the dark setting bathed in a golden light from a corner lamp. There was a cart with a decanter set and a mini-fridge to the right. A bookshelf and a wardrobe on the left. “I’m fine, thank you.” 

Gojo shrugged and poured himself whiskey before taking his seat behind his table. You sat opposite him. “So, what’s your relationship with my favourite prisoner?” 

You blinked. “Uh, we’re just pen-pals.” 

“Lying to a police officer is a serious offence.” 

“I’m telling the truth,” you said. “We’re strictly pen-pals.” 

“I’ve read your letters to know that isn’t true, Princess. So unless you want to sit there and lie to my fucking face, I suggest you start using that mouth for good and tell me the goddamn truth.” He slammed his glass down, but his face remained smiling with false politeness. 

You felt suffocated in the office, eyes darting left and right for anything sharp in case he tried some other method to get you to talk. 

“I’ve been in this field for a decade now to know when someone is hiding something from me,” Gojo continued, taking a leisure sip from his drink. “I have a file on you, Y/N. You’re an only child, with no proper education or a stable job. You’re one bad decision away from being trafficked. You’re submissive, a follower, who if went missing, no one would look for.” Tears welled your eyes at his words. “And I know that bastard’s the reason you’re still living in that dump you call home.” 

That was the last nail in the coffin. 

“I’ve been following you since your first letter,” he said quietly. “You think I don’t know what you’re up to? Oh, Princess, you couldn’t be any more wrong.” He stood up and rounded his way to you. 

You quickly scrambled out of your seat. “Please. I don’t know anything. I—I don’t—Sukuna’s a friend, yes, but I’m not involved in any of his criminal activities.” 

“Friend?” Gojo spat out. “That man is the last person you’d ever want as your friend.” He stalked forward and you retracted. “He’s committed more crimes in his lifetime than any other man. He’s killed half the people in this country, extorted money from politicians, burned down houses for fun, and killed my father!” He grabbed the collars of your dress and slammed you back into his wardrobe door. A cry ripped from your throat. “And you, a nobody, has the audacity to call that fucker a friend? Sweetheart, you’re just a ploy, a pawn, a time-pass for him. A hole to warm his cock in.” A sardonic chuckle. “That’ll never happen since he isn’t getting out anytime soon. But, hey, maybe I can prepare you for him.” 

Your breath quickened, a whimper slipping past your lips. “How does that make you any better than him?” 

Gojo smiled and brushed his lips over your ears. “Because I have the power to get away with it.” 

Your eyes, frightened and flickering, dragged up to his blue-ones. 

In the blink of an eye, you slapped him across the face, taking him by complete surprise and broke free from his hands. He leaped towards you as you unlocked the door and ran out and down the hall, shouting for help. 

A pair of officers turned the corner. 

“Help, please!” You fell into the arms of one of them. “Please, he’s going to hurt me!” 

“Who?” one asked with concern. 

“Satoru Gojo!” 

They exchanged a look and briskly turned away, leaving you standing. Their spines straightened as Gojo walked down the hallway, flattening a hand down his chest. The duo saluted him and walked away with their heads down. 

Your heart sank. 

You had no power here. 

“I told you, Princess,” Gojo purred, prowling towards you, “this is my domain.” 

You cried out and ran towards the visitor’s room. The door knob was locked and could only be opened with a keycard. “Help!” You slammed your palms on the surface. “Please, someone! Help—ah!” 

Gojo gripped the back of your hair and pulled you from the door. “Perfect timing, actually. I’d like to see the look on Ryomen’s face before I split his woman on my cock.” He swiped the card and opened the door, pushing you inside but controlling you with the grip he had on your head. 

Sukuna was already standing and enraged, held back by two guards who struggled. He must’ve heard your helpless cries. You wish he didn’t have to. “Let her go, Gojo!” 

“Oh, I will,” said Gojo, “as soon as I’m done with her.” 

Sukuna growled, thrashing against his restraints. “You fucking prick, I’m gonna tear you in half if you touch her!” 

“Like this?” Gojo squeezed your left breast and laughed. 

Sukuna elbowed one of the guards in his nose, momentarily seeking freedom to hit the other. Hope blossomed in your chest as he fought them off and made his way towards you. 

Gojo chuckled and pulled out his gun, shooting Sukuna in the leg. You jumped with a scream as he fell to the floor, clutching his thigh. “All this chaos for a common whore,” he muttered. “Come on, Princess. Let’s put you to good use.” 

“No, please!” You shouted as he dragged you away. “Sukuna, no! Sukuna!” 

“Y/N.” Sukuna reached his arm out, his hand curling into a fist and falling defeatedly onto the floor. “Don’t hurt her, please.” His face was squeezed in pain, as the guards kept him pinned to the floor. “Please! Don’t fucking hurt her—” 

The door closed shut, and the last sight before your eyes was Sukuna crying. 

Sukuna hadn’t heard from you in over a month. 

He’d also spend the month in the infirmary after Uraume did an extensive surgery on his leg. It hadn’t hit a vital artery. He believed Satoru’s aim was calculated to keep him alive. To continue letting him suffer. 

Sukuna also went quiet. He hadn’t spoken a single word to anyone except murmuring to himself. He read back on your letters, slept with the papers under his pillow, if he slept at all. 

Every morning, afternoon, night, in and out of his dry sleep, he was plotting a way to get out of this hell and find you. Would you even want to see him? Would you even care? Were you even alive? He’d dragged you into his mess, put you in danger, and fell into Satoru’s disgusting trap. 

“You need to eat something, Sukuna,” Uraume advised as they have been since his injury. They placed the tray in front of him. “At least eat the yogurt.” 

Were you eating? Were you still living in his house? Were you alive? That question rang in his head again. 

“For fucks sake.” Uraume brought forth a stool and sat next to his bed, staring at the side of his face. “What the hell do you want to do?” 

He wanted to kill Satoru first. Then escape with Toji since he was the only bastard he trusted in this place. Then find you and run away from the law as far as possible. It was a simple plan that required efficiency. 

“Are you gonna talk—” 

Sukuna shoved the tray aside, the food falling onto the floor. He was irritated by the questions outside and inside of his head. “I need to find her,” he mumbled to himself. “I need to know if she’s alive.” Please, baby, please be alive. 

“Everything all right in here, doc?” One of the guards stationed outside the door asked with his head peering through the door. 

Sukuna stared at him, then went back to Uraume. They met his eyes with their blank stare. They scanned down his body, to his injured leg, then back to his head. 

A sigh left them. “No,” they replied. “Do you mind helping me clean up the mess?” 

Sukuna gritted his jaw as the guard walked in, closing the door and crouching down, grumbling curses at Sukuna. Uraume stood from their stool and made their way to the cabinet, pulling out a syringe and a small vial. 

Sukuna's eyes lightened, spine straightening. A smile curved at his lip as they flicked the droplets from the tip of the injection and walked over, making small-talk about the weather. 

Suddenly, Uraume jabbed the needle into the officer’s neck and pushed down the plunger. He fell to his side, clutching his neck and staring up at them as they shrugged. Sukuna watched with pure delight as his body began to convulse, foam gathering at this mouth and dripping from the side. 

Then he stopped. 

“He’s dead,” Uraume said before Sukuna could ask. “Works the night shift so you won’t have a problem running into anyone else. Change into his clothes. I’ll drive.” They walked away to grab a face mask. 

“Why?” asked Sukuna. 

Uraume sighed, head dropping. “Because I fucking hate it here.” 

Sukuna was definitely going to hire them once he killed his Gojo, and his nephew. 

He quickly changed into the officer’s clothes, giving him a hard kick in the stomach that had Uraume rolling their eyes. 

Sukuna followed behind as they led the way. “Let’s take Toji.”

“Why?” they asked. “That’s a hassle.” 

“Just feel bad.” 

“And when did you start feeling guilt?” Uraume easily slipped past the security gate, waving to the officer who was busy on his phone. 

“I don’t know,” he said, smiling because he knew. Sure, you’d only touched him once, but your letters were what truly began to change him. Just the other day, he’d lost a round of blackjack, stacking his debt to Toji by a million, and instead of knocking the guy out cold, Sukuna shook hands and called it a ‘good game.’ “On second thought, let’s leave him here for the time being.” Until he got his money in check. 

Once they settled into Uraume’s car, Sukuna quickly discarded the officer's cap, tie, and badges. Uraume entered your address from the letters, and they drove in silence for the next thirty minutes.

When they arrived, the building matched your description: shitty.

Uraume stopped Sukuna before he could leap out of the car. They scanned the street for any signs of police presence. “Go. I’ll wait here.” 

Sukuna nodded and dashed out of the car, walking inside the apartment. There was no buzzer system, which meant anyone could stroll in, armed and dangerous. This was a problem. He needed to get you out of here and into one of his safe houses—a hidden place even his bastard nephew didn’t know about.

He hurried up the emergency stairwell to the tenth floor, slightly winded by the time he reached door 1090.

This was it.

With his hands gripping the edges of the door, he hunched forward, heart racing. Please, be alive.

Finally, he knocked.

He chewed the shit out of his bottom lip, hissing impatiently through his teeth. “Come on, Y/N.” He knocked again, his impatience boiling over. “It’s me, Sukuna! Please, open the door.” He pounded harder, fear creeping in with each passing second. The Sukuna Ryomen was . . . scared. “Goddammit!”

“Sukuna . . .?” 

He halted mid-breakdown and turned slowly, his heart dropping at the sight of you standing there with two bags of groceries. You looked so fragile, your complexion pale, and the radiance he remembered from your visit had completely vanished.

The grocery bags slipped from your hands and fell to the ground.

In an instant, you both rushed toward each other, and he lifted you off the ground effortlessly. You wrapped your arms around him, sobbing uncontrollably as he buried his hand in the back of your hair, inhaling the comforting scent of your body wash.

“It’s okay, baby,” he whispered. “It’s okay, I’m here.” His eyes were directed straight ahead, and he was shaking. Terribly. “I’m here, sweetheart.” 

You pulled back, cradling his face in your small hands. Gently, you brushed aside his dark, mink-like hair, tracing the tattoos on his skin with your fingertips. “You’re alive,” you whispered, overwhelmed by relief. You couldn’t help but touch him, and he simply smiled, allowing you the closeness. “God, you’re alive. Sukuna—you’re really alive. How?”

“Of course, I am. I just needed to know you were alive,” he replied, his hands enveloping your cheeks. “Where did you go? Why did you stop writing to me?”

Your face went blank. “What do you mean?”  

“Your letters. You stopped writing to me.” 

“They . . .” Your voice cracked. “They told me you were sentenced to death.” 

He was taken back. “What the fuck?”  

Realisation dawned upon you. The second time you visited Sukuna, Satoru had literally dragged you out of the station, kicking you out the doors. He’d threatened to take you to his office next time, but since he had a meeting with officials that day, he’d reluctantly let you go. That didn’t stop you from sending countless letters, pouring your heart out until, two weeks later, you finally received a notification from the police station. Sukuna had been sentenced to death by lethal injection and was no longer alive. You’d cried for days on end. You imagined he had been cremated and reduced to ashes, stored away somewhere. The thought shattered you. For an entire month, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave your house.

Until tonight. 

And he was here. Sukuna was here. He was alive. 

“Y/N,” he murmured, his thumb gently brushing the area below your sightless eye. “Let’s head inside, alright?”

You nodded, pressing a soft kiss to the underside of his wrist. He held your hand tightly while using his other arm to carry your grocery bags. Once you reached your apartment, you opened the door and locked it securely. The deadbolt you had installed was a precaution against Satoru, just in case he showed up.

“I’m so happy you’re al—” 

Sukuna kissed you before the words could leave your mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck, moaning from the taste of his lips, the taste you’d been craving for months now. He didn’t allow you to breathe, didn’t pull away. You both stood there in the alcove, kissing for minutes, clinging to each other. He cupped the back of your head and drew apart from your lips, peppering kisses over your face, especially your foggy eye. 

“I don’t want to fuck you, baby,” he whispered in your ear. “I want to make love to you. For hours.” Your grip tightened in his shirt. “Then I need you to pack everything in a bag and run away with me.” 

“Run away?” You searched his dark-reddish eyes. “Run away where?”

His knuckles grazed your wet cheek. “Somewhere not even God can find us.”

You swallowed hard. “They’ll send out a manhunt, Sukuna. What if we get caught? What if they take you—”

He cut you off with a kiss. “No one is going to take me away from you. Do you get that?” His strong fingers moved through your hair. “I’d turn this world to dust before that happens.”

Your insides melted from the threat. “Take me,” you murmured over his lips. He kissed you. “Take me everywhere, anywhere, wherever, as long as it’s with you.” 

Sukuna lifted you effortlessly, carrying you like a bride as he kicked open your bedroom door. He set you down on the bed, then began stripping off his clothes, revealing the geometric tattoos that marked his thighs and torso. You were caught off guard by how quickly he moved, fumbling to take off your sweater and jeans. By the time you looked back at him, he was already naked, and your gaze dropped to what you could only describe as a gloriously, long erection. 

“Woah,” you whispered, feeling your mouth go dry. “You’re abnormally big.” 

“You can take it.” He leaned over you, tearing your panties without a second thought. Before you could protest about them being your favorite pair, he spread your legs and went down on you. “Oh, my god—Sukuna—wait—”

“Waited too long,” he growled, his mouth finding your clit as he buried his nose between your wet folds. He nipped, licked, and bit, his tongue plunging deep into you, creating messy sounds that filled the air. You couldn't form words or catch your breath, gripping the roots of his hair tightly.

When you came like a flood, Sukuna lifted your hips, making sure not a single drop of you was lost to the sheets. He let out loud, deep moans as he sloppily lapped at your sensitive cunt.

He wiped his glistening mouth with his fingers and then pressed them against your lips. You eagerly sucked on his warm, thick digits, noting the lustrous glint in his eyes. He pulled his fingers out abruptly. “Suck my cock.” 

Suck his what? 

You looked down and saw him leaking at the tip. You clenched your legs, unsure. He wanted you to take that into your mouth?

You licked your lips, managing to kneel while he stood before you. He took hold of himself, rubbing the tip against your lips. You instinctively flicked your tongue out to taste him, causing him to flinch. “Sorry—”

“Don’t apologize.” He seemed to enjoy it. “Just take it in your mouth.”

You nodded, wrapping your fingers around his hot, veiny length. You opened your jaw as wide as you could and slowly took him in. His head fell back, and he engulfed your face with his palms. Your performance was mediocre, and yet he was entertained.

His tip pressed against the back of your throat, making you pull back to cough. He laughed softly, brushing your cheek with his hand.

“Come on, baby. You need to get used to it.”

“I’ve never done this before,” you replied, your voice shaky as you reached for him again.

“Stick your tongue out.”

You took a deep breath and extended your tongue. He rested the head of his cock on it and started to move his hips slowly.

Slowly, you took him in, feeling his satisfaction as he gently rocked his hips back and forth. He tasted warm and a little salty, and you found your hand wandering between your legs, seeking some relief.

“I’m going to pick up the pace, alright, baby?”

You nodded in response.

“Don’t be embarrassed if you choke,” he said, hooking a stray lock behind your ear. “It’ll just make me come faster.”

With that, he thrust deeper, and you gripped his hips tightly, struggling to catch your breath. He noticed and pulled back slightly to give you a moment, but it was brief before he pushed back in again. “You’re taking me so well, baby. Fuck.” His movements became more feverish, and you felt the pressure building as you choked and gagged, saliva escaping at the corners of your mouth. “Fuck, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come down your throat.” 

You tapped his leg, shaking your head.

“No?” He smirked. “You don’t want me to come down your throat?”

You shook your head again and pointed between your legs.

In an instant, Sukuna pulled out. He flipped you onto your chest, lifting your ass up in the air. Without a second thought, he thrust himself deep inside you, and you cried out his name into the pillow.

He felt so full, so thick, pushing into you with a force that made your breath hitch. It was everything you needed—so good, so fucking good. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned. He filled you completely, driving into you with a fast rhythm that left you moaning, completely lost in the pleasure.

Your nails clawed at the sheets as his thick tip pressed against your womb, punctuated by the stinging slaps of his hands against your ass. He showered you with a blend of sweet and dirty words—“good fucking girl,” “cock slut,” “so perfect and tight,” “little whore”—and you pushed back, needing him deeper and deeper.

Sukuna released a torrent of warm cum inside you, still driving his hips against you, holding you securely by the waist. The sensation sent waves of pleasure through you, and he pulled out, flipping you onto your back. He bent your knees, driving himself back inside without hesitation. How was he still so hard?

Your hands cupped his flushed, beautiful face, a lazy smile stretching across both your lips. Sukuna leaned in, kissing you deeply before trailing his lips down to your neck while his hand found its way to your breast. “I’m not on birth control anymore, you know?”

“Good.” He pulled back to meet your gaze. “And don’t even think about getting back on it.”

“But we can’t afford the risk, Suku—”

“I love you,” he said, his grip firm on your jaw. Everything inside you exploded. “I love you, baby. I love you so fucking much that I’ll take every fucking risk.”

You moaned softly as he came again, your trembling fingers brushing against his lips. “I love you, too.” He kissed your fingertips, a promise in every touch. “I’ll take every risk with you.”

“Fuck yeah you will.” He didn’t pull out, his eyes locked on yours. “Starting with putting a baby in you.”

You happily accepted your fate.

Sukuna pulled the trigger, shooting another police officer in the back of his head. The sound of the gunfire mixed with the blaring sirens, echoing through the flickering lights of the corridors—a devious melody composed just for him. He chuckled low, the corners of his mouth pulling up in a grin as another officer lunged out, attempting to stop him—pathetic. A single shot rang out, and the man crumpled like paper.

The path to Satoru’s office was a long one, and the bodies he left sprawled out in his wake were only a brief distraction from the task at hand. He had things to do today, after all.

Another officer stumbled into view, eyes wide, panic evident. He didn’t stand a chance. Sukuna barely glanced at him as he fired, stepping over the man as he slumped against the wall. Blood splattered his shoes, but it was hardly the worst stain on his day.

You were going to be pissed. He could practically hear the biting tone, the disappointed scowl that’d meet him the moment he finally made it to Mai’s first birthday party. Sukuna scoffed as he shot a bullet straight through a door that dared open near him, knocking down yet another obstacle.

But this was necessary. He needed to do this.

Free Toji. Kill Gojo. And then, eventually, deal with his meddling nephew. Everything would finally align, and maybe—just maybe—he could stop all this. For you. For your daughter.  

Satoru’s office was close now. He could smell the antiseptic scent of the door, the false air of authority that seemed to reek from it. He cocked his gun, steeling himself. Because when he was done here—when he’d finally finished what he’d started—he’d make it up to you.

Or so he told himself, as another officer charged and met the floor with a hole in his skull.

Sukuna didn’t bother with the doorknob. He slammed his boot into the door, sending it splintering inward with a loud crack. The office was stripped bare; Satoru’s usual pile of clutter, the irritating stench of his cologne—gone. Only the dust of where things once sat remained on the shelves and desk.

The bastard had fled.

Sukuna’s jaw clenched as he surveyed the room. Gojo knew he was coming and had bolted like a coward hours ago. He pulled his lighter from his pocket, flipping it open with a flick of his thumb, the small flame dancing aglow. Without a second thought, he stepped to the heavy, pretentious curtains Gojo insisted on, pressing the flame to the thick fabric. It caught quickly, embers licking up and curling black around the edges as the fire took hold, consuming Satoru’s last pathetic hold on this place.

He turned and walked out, ignoring the smoke that was already billowing into the hall. The prison alarm was still blaring, red lights flashing down the cold corridors as he made his way to the cells. Every so often, he’d pause, assessing the prisoner cowering behind bars. Rapists, pedophiles, molesters, abusers, killers of innocent lives—he moved on from them. But when he found those who didn’t quite repulse him, he took a single shot at their lock, releasing them in a stream of confused, wary freedom.

As he approached the far end of the corridor, a familiar sight greeted him—his old cell. And standing behind those hard, metal bars, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, was Toji.

“Didn’t think you’d come back to this hellhole,” Toji remarked. 

“Not for long,” Sukuna replied, levelling his gun at the lock. He fired once, the lock shattering as the cell door swung open. 

Toji stepped out of his cell, took one look around, then paused. “Hold up.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, watching as the man crouched beside a loose brick in the wall. With a wry smile, he pulled out an old, scratched-up plastic bottle with a wriggling, sickly-looking worm inside. He tapped the side of the bottle, making the creature twist and writhe. “Almost forgot my little friend here.”

Sukuna barked a short laugh. “You’re out of your damn mind.”

Alarms blared louder as they navigated the winding corridors and ran past prisoners surging toward freedom. Some guards tried to block the path, but they were quickly swept aside by Sukuna’s bullets and Toji’s fists. By the time they hit the outer gates, the entire prison was pandemonium, prisoners scattering into the open like ants from a burning nest.

Outside, a sleek, black car idled just past the gate. Uraume sat coolly behind the wheel, watching the stampede of convicts with bored detachment. As they approached, Uraume rolled down the window, glancing at them with their nose slightly crinkled.

“I could smell you two from a mile away,” they said dryly, eyes flicking to the stains of blood on their clothes. “Maybe next time, schedule a prison massacre that doesn’t fall on your daughter’s birthday?”

“Just drive,” Sukuna replied, sliding into the backseat with Toji following. Toji glanced at Uraume with a quick nod, still keeping a light hold on his bottle, the worm twisting inside.

“Welcome back to the real world, Fushiguro,” they said, starting the car as they drove off into the night.

The road stretched long and dark, winding into the depths of a thick forest. The further they drove, the thicker the trees became, their branches curving overhead to cast everything in shadows. The road narrowed into a rugged trail, overgrown and wild. Uraume navigated it deftly, until at last, the forest opened up, and they could see the soft glimmer of moonlight on the water beyond.

Perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean stood their safe house—a dark brick estate against the endless stretch of water. Waves crashed against the rocks far below, the scent of salt and sea heavy in the air.

Sukuna looked at the house, then at Toji’s surprised face.

“This is where you’ve been hiding for the two years?” he asked as soon as they were out of the car. 

“Not for long if I fuck this up.” Sukuna slipped in through the garage, keeping his steps light. He had just one goal at this moment: reach the shower before you spotted the blood streaked on his clothes and the smell of gunpowder clinging to him. 

But as he shut the door, there you were, arms crossed, eyes sharp as they landed on him.

“Sukuna,” you started, an edge in your tone that he recognized all too well. “Do you have any idea what day it is? Look at you; you're a mess!” You gestured at the dark stains on his shirt and his unmistakable smirk.

Instead of trying to dodge the lecture, he listened, that faint smile tugging at his lips as he watched you, soaking in each scolding word. You were the one person who never held back with him, and it made something dangerous in him soften, something in him settle. “I know, baby,” he replied, pecking your cheek. “But I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Barely,” you replied, sighing, though you couldn’t quite hide the relief in your voice. You glanced over his shoulder. “Toji, Uraume—it’s good to see you both.”

Uraume gave a slight bow, a wry smile still tugging at their lips, while Toji just gave you a quick nod.

You waved a hand, turning back to the kitchen. “Both of you boys—shower, now. I won’t have the two of you smelling like a prison while I’m trying to decorate my daughter’s cake. Go on!”

Toji gave Sukuna a knowing look and shrugged, as if to say, She’s right. Sukuna shot him a warning look, then followed up the stairs, chuckling under his breath as he imagined how you’d cornered him like this. 

Fifteen minutes later, he stepped out of the shower, cleaned up, feeling far lighter as he tugged on a fresh shirt and came downstairs, catching the scent of the dinner you’d prepared. 

He walked over to you, wrapping his arms around you and pressing a kiss to your temple. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile that melted your anger as he pulled you close.

“Gojo got away,” he murmured. “He knew I was coming, and he ran like the coward he is. But I’ll find him. And I’ll make him pay for what he did to you. I swear it.”

You paused, looking up into his eyes, your hand settling on his cheek. “I know you will, Sukuna. But don’t miss the important things here. We’re what’s important now, not just revenge.”

The words took root in him, grounding him, but that flicker of rage still danced in his eyes. He pulled you close, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’ll never let him touch us again. I promise you that.” 

Just as you leaned in for another kiss, Sukuna heard the faint sound of your daughter stirring awake from her nap on the living room floor. Mai’s soft little whimpers broke the room’s quiet. Instinctively, he abandoned your kiss, his attention snapping to her as he practically floated over to where she was squirming in her pink dress, rubbing her tiny fists over her eyes.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured, scooping her up with all the gentleness he could muster. Her sleepy eyes blinked open, and he was rewarded with that toothy little grin she’d recently mastered, one that brought an uncharacteristic softness to his entire face. He pressed a cascade of kisses on her cheeks, nose, forehead—anywhere he could reach. “Look at you, sweetheart. All dressed up for your birthday, huh? The prettiest girl in the world.”

You laughed softly from the kitchen, watching as Sukuna held her close, stepping into an impromptu waltz around the living room, his steps surprisingly skilled. She squealed in delight, her small hands reaching up to his face as he spun her around. Even Toji, who had just come down from the shower, stopped in his tracks at the sight, a rare, amused smile tugging at his mouth.

Sukuna glanced up, catching Toji’s presence, and with a proud smirk said, “Toji, meet my daughter, Mai. She’s already got more spirit than most of the people you and I have met.”

Toji stepped forward, studying your daughter. He reached out a hand, and she looked at him with wide eyes, inspecting him with her natural, innocent curiosity. “She looks like trouble. Must take after her old man.” 

“Her mother, mostly,” Sukuna said in your direction, bouncing her lightly. “She’s going to have a whole world to handle, with us around.”

In the background, Uraume was setting the table, their usual precision in each movement. They threw Sukuna a blank look, brushing off their hands. “Now that the table’s set, if you’d all just take your seats, maybe we can have a peaceful birthday dinner without the talk of blood and violence for once.”

Sukuna chuckled, shooting them a dry look before turning back to his daughter. Holding Mai close, he took a seat at the head of the table with you beside him. He looked around, taking in the sight—the cake you’d just set down, the quiet chatter as Uraume and Toji exchanged comments, and his daughter babbling in his lap, still pawing at his face with sticky fingers.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt peace. 

The “Happy Birthday” song had been sung, candles blown out, cake shared, and Toji had crashed in the guest room, completely knocked out. Uraume, too, was resting in another room, finally allowing herself a few hours of sleep.

In your bed, the soft rise and fall of your daughter’s tiny breaths filled the space between you and Sukuna. She slept peacefully between you both, tiny fingers curled into fists as she dreamed. But you and Sukuna were both wide awake, eyes locked on each other in the moonlight. His hand drifted up, fingertips brushing your cheek. 

“Do you remember my first letter?” you asked.

A smirk began at his lips. “You mean the diary entry about the cockroaches in your kitchen and how you thought seducing your landlord was a better solution than paying rent?”

You laughed, covering your mouth to keep quiet, not wanting to wake your baby. He loved that laugh—the way it sounded like music only he got to hear.

“Or how no one with one functioning eye could ever be taken seriously romantically,” he added. “Debunked, by the way.”

Your laugh softened, and you looked at him with a smile that held a thousand memories. “Do you remember the last thing I wrote?”

“The part about Satanism?”

You laughed again, the sound bubbling up and melting into the dark. And as he listened, he couldn’t help but chuckle alongside, his thumb tracing along your cheek, taking in the moment like he was trying to memorise it.

You took a breath, glancing down before meeting his eyes again. “I said I was lonely as hell, remember?” Sadness wove into your words. “And . . . I was. Back then, I thought no one could ever really understand me. Until you did.”

Sukuna shook his head. “You were never meant to be alone, baby,” he murmured. “Not then, not ever. Not while I’m here.”

You swallowed, heart catching as you looked at the life you’d built, the fragile happiness that now lay nestled between you both. “I’m just . . . scared sometimes,” you admitted. “I’m scared of losing this. Of losing you. I don’t know if I could protect what we have.”

“We’ll protect it together,” Sukuna affirmed. “Nothing will take this from us. Not while I’m still breathing.” He leaned forward, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was deep, reassuring, exactly like the one he’d give you when you’d sealed your vows. When he pulled back, you met his eyes, a soft smile tugging at your mouth. 

“I love you, Sukuna,” you whispered, fingers brushing his sharp jaw. “Genuinely, your wife.”

He took them and gave a kiss to the tips. “And I love you most, baby. Genuinely, your husband.” 

Moments later, your eyes drifted shut, your breathing evening out as you finally slipped into sleep. But Sukuna stayed awake, his gaze never leaving you, or your daughter. 

This was the family he’d fought and bled for, the life he’d killed to create. And yet, an unsettling undercurrent of unfinished business tugged at his nerves. But tonight, he forced it away, just for a while. 

For now, there was no room for anything but the second chance he’d been given.

Genuinely, by you.

[lady-ashfade]

All Is Far In Love And Farming

Chapter 1: Getting Started

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Yandere!Mha!Hybrids × Farmer! Fem!Reader. Chapter 1.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ storyline: The calling of being a professional farmer had been your dream since you were young. Growing up on your granddad’s farm was the best thing, many years later you happen to be back. And the property is now yours to restore. With some hard work, you want to restore hybrid caretaking back to what it once was.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Chapters: Previous // Next

╰･ﾟ✧☽ words: 2.5k

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: short chapters, stardew valley au, yandere behaviors, obsession, stalking, hybrid abuse, slightly sick love, possessive, manipulative, gaslighting. platonic yandere, hybrid and human relationships, and future warnings when more chapters come out, spelling mistakes and grammar who?

╰･ﾟ✧☽ characters for now: Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugou, Mina Ashido, Ochako Uraraka, Tenya lida, Denki Kaminari, Kyoka Jiro, Tsuyu Asui, Shoto Todoroki, Eijiro Kirishima, Hanta Sero, Mashirao Ojiro, Koji Koda, Momo Yaoyorozu

series masterlist

-`｡ﾟ˘: ﾟ⋆ ––✷☽ ᱬ ☽✷––⋆ ���: ˘ ﾟ｡.`-

Everything you once saw, the brightest of grass and the crops ripe and perfect, and the animals in the barns chirping of happiness— it was all gone. once a happy place you roamed in the summer as a kid was now a abandoned filthy place, old bards with holes and damaged walls. Nothing was what it used to be, the grass was as tall as small trees and it was going to take a lot of lovin.

But if your granddad taught you one thing is that; working for a better future would make everything you did it worth it.

And that’s exactly why you are here, to make your future. Everything in your life was about becoming a farmer, like your grandfather. and like him, you believed hybrids deserved to be in a safe and open land to roam, not such in some metal factory and enclosed to live their life.

“Come join the number one hybrid farm in Japan, The League.” the tv rung in your ears back at the college room, the place had been taking over everything and running all the local and good places out. at one point the only place you probably could work at was The League, since they seemed to be everywhere. “New locations, New Areas, And New Pay. Call the number on your screen for more information.” you had heard the commercial so many times you rolled your eyes everytime.

Never did you believe they would come out here, and be the competition. 

Honestly, the first day your body was drained easily from all the work. The labor wasn’t exactly what you were expecting to start off with, moving the rooks and weeding. But you had supplies to start off with thankfully, the money he left you was so much, and ready for a new purpose. But the only thing that was helping you in all of this, your holy grail was a local store owner. Arthur, who happened to be your grandfathers best friend.

slapping the metal truck with the gloved hand, the old man smiled and stepped down from the back of the moving truck. you whipped off the sweat from your skin and catch your breath as the unpacked heavy boxes placed besides you and man.

“The old man used to buy twice as much as this and unload it all him, then complain when his back hurt afterwards. Lucky, he had me to talk some since into him.” the white haired man spoke breathlessly. you didn’t want him to have to help, seeing his age but he was in better shape then you by the looks of things. “Old bat was stubborn, you got that in you kid?”

taking a deep breath you arose from the bend down position you were in and look at the man, smiling a bit you commented back. “Used to give granddad a run for his money, I think I have it in me.” you were earned with a deep chuckle and a small one from yourself. starting back up again you closed the doors and gave the man who drove the truck the okay and he drove away.

the next day was worse then the first, your body was sore and tired, you wore sunscreen all over your body to protect you from the heat damage and the illnesses you could catch. unpacking all the equipment, getting them put together, and make sure the starter crops are taken care of. you took many breaks. and Arthur was the greatest help you could ask for.

you heard the story of how he met your granddad many times before, but you didn’t mind hearing it from his side. Arthur had moved from the United States to start his business with his family, and your grandfather was just started out in town. they were younger and bonded right away, and there for marriages, children and grandchildren. knowing he wasn’t as alone when you left was comforting in a away but you knew the full story. just before your tenth birthday you were moved away from the small town with your parents and left the farm behind.

“He talked about you every day.” The words perked up your ears. You looked at Arthur as he continued to work on a huge fan.

“Everything that happened in your life, he would tell me. What happened at middle school sport events, to dances and even show pictures of the dresses you wore. And man, when you went to college for Hybrid Education he was bursting with energy again.” It’s been a long time since he was able to leave the cabin. You knew that, but knowing still punched you in the guts.

“Was he proud?” asking was a waste of time.

“Proud as hell, there should be no doubt about it. His pride and joy was you, more then anything he did here, and now you have a legacy to continue.” smiling you continue to work to hold yourself from the weight building up in your chest. you missed him so much.

Each day there was something new to fix and call in, you knew granddad was rich from the bank account he left you. but boy, it sure was a lot of money. and now, you finally had a starting point. you had scheduled a barn repair on the electrical and building. the crops were set up along with the sprinklers and scare crows, even cleaned out the well…but not without getting algae all over you.

Smalltowns in the country side where the best, everyone in the community was helpful towards one other. And since The League had a location down the road, the people really came together. Businesses were losing in hybrid projects and animals, but the crops were the same. But this met more hybrids lost there homes, and had to be relocated elsewhere else or to The League…You hated it.

A big wooden sign at one of the joint shop centers made you smile and turn into the lot. today was the weekly event, selling of many things of local produces. you remember coming here as a kid and always getting blueberry jam from the market lady. and just like then, it was crowded. and with a lot of stalls and moving trucks. Arthur had told you they still had them and that you should check it out. of course you wouldn’t miss this for anything.

you shut the truck door and fixed your clothes before started the walk around. everyone was selling amazing things at their booths. the first table you saw was one cover in homemade soap bars and honey products. a sweet older couple ran that shop. some stalls were for hybrids for sale but you didn’t have room for them, at least until the barns are rebuilt. but milk, crops and seeds where your thing anyway to look at.

“how much for this?” the only person behind the table was a young girl who looked angry and ready to chew off your head, it was laughable. she was going to be hard to haggle, but a amazing work ethic. “I don’t know you, so twenty bucks.” your eyes widen and look down at the honey in your hand. it was a very small jar…and not worth it, I mean for the bigger bottles sure.

“Hmm, how about ten?” the small girl glared at your words and huffed. she shook her head in annoyance and pointed to the tag, “you trying to get out of paying hard working people lady? This is the best honey you’ll find in the whole country! Haggling is only for people I know,” her finger pointed at you and you back up a little at her shouting voice. “And you ain’t it!”

signing you pull out a twenty and handed it to her, she smiles so kindly you forget about the anger she had. placing it in your cloth bag you continue walking down the path, smiling and looking around. not much you could buy yet, though you did buy from groceries and loaded the up in the bed of the truck.

“well if it ain’t the talk of the town,” a sweet woman’s voice called out loudly. you turn your gaze and see a almost forgotten face, but one that filled you with joy and nostalgia. “Aunty Hoshiko.” You scream and rush over, the older woman comes out form her booth and takes you into her arms. only now did you realize the sweet small of jam and the jar’s decorated like they used to be, but this area was bigger and a extra tent was behind it.

“I couldn’t believe you moved back here after moving to the city, heard you got into a good college.” She smiled from cheek to cheek while pulling away. “Why come back here?” it was flattering how much she thought of you, but you couldn’t have stayed away from this place for much longer.

“Well, grandpa left me the farm and I needed to start my new life. Can’t get much better then a already laid for land, and with great soil.” she hummed but her eyes dropped a little and her smile became different. ��I’m so sorry, he was a good man. you tell me if you need any help okay? Your granddad helped us a lot, so many people in town will be willing to do help too.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you smile and take a peek at the table, “mind if I look?” she is excited to show you all the new flavors and jars she has, letting you smell each one. she even offers you a discount for family.

you had a few jams picked out but you keep looking at everything, knowing you’ll come home with more. then there was a sign and paperwork around on a tables end.“Hybrid Rescues” is what you read and your hands reached for it immediately. seeing your interested, Hoshiko started to talk.

“The League has been running out businesses, hybrids are either purchased or…end up alone and abandoned. My friend runs a rescue company, we help her out here trying to give some of them a home.” you clinch the paper in your hand and want both more then to go punch the owners of the company. No hybrid deserves to be left alone.

“I usually have a few here with me, but today only one is for sale. He’s very special. And a house animal, or helper if you will since I know you don’t have much room for more yet.” the next step was to always get hybrids, but you weren’t sure if today was the best idea today…

“Oh!” that wasn’t your choice since she pulled your arm and lend you into the tent where only one hybrids sat. you struggled to look away from the hybrid laying in the floor.

He was huge. he looked peaceful tho, curled up on a bed and resting peacefully. he had long and pointed ears, a middle tail that curled. “he’s a special breed, no idea why they didn’t keep him since he must have cost a fortune.” there was a small scar on his arm and you hated to see, it looked like cattle whip strokes.

“tenya,” she called out quietly to wake the dog. you really didn’t know if you should get a hybrid, but seeing him already you knew you couldn’t say no. his furry ears twitched and his body rolled over ready to see what was happening. he was fast, and he was built. a pure breed for herding and hard labor. “I have someone here who needs a dog to help around the farm.” she patted you on the back and you got shy for some reason.

His tail was sticking up, his eyes glancing over and panicked. he was on high alert. “Hey buddy, my names y/n.” You smile softly. You don’t want to move until he gives you a sign. his nose sniffs into the air for a moment and his body freezes, you both stop for a minute too.

until the thumping of his tail was heard and he jumped up to greet you properly. you are taken aback and he gets excited and starts to shout, you can’t help but to smile. “My names Tenya, I am apart of the Iida breed. I have experience in herding, working and defending territory. I have many skills,” his hands reaches for hers and stuffs it into his nose to get a proper smell.

“Hello to you too,” you giggle. having some help now would be good, and a herding dog would the best thing.

“Tell me iida, are you okay with maybe coming home with me?” if it was only a dog he would for sure be jumping on you from how happy he seems to be.

Iida didn’t want you to leave to get things needed, saying it was his job to be with you now but you need to find food and things before leaving. he whined forever until he saw you again.

you came back to get him…like you said you would. he loved you, loved you so much. the kindest human he’s met.

Riding back to the farm was a journey. he was talking every second about all the things he could do, from each animal, hybrid or not. boy, was so happy to be by your side. and he was asking about you too. why you picked him? what you wanted him to do.

your heart broke once you got back to the cabin.

you held the door open and called for him to come in, but he just stood on the porch looking at you almost guilty. “Hybrids aren’t aloud inside, I must protect you from out here.” he was already looking for a place to set up for the night. it was a miracle you didn’t start crying again.

“Well, whoever told you that was a idiot. Many dog hybrids are aloud inside, and it’s my house so my roles go.” you tap the door again. he was hesitant, and it took about ten minutes to get him inside. and you told him to stay put while you get the things from the car…then told him it was a order to get him to stay.

you placed the things on the floor and smiled, proud of yourself. “Okay, so I got a large mattress for you. We can place it anywhere you want, also got you special food, hybrids approved.” he looked at the mattress for a long minute. Iida couldn’t believe it was his, he hadn’t slept on one of them since he was little, and then at the market earlier. And this one was his, made for his height and weight for him to sleep…inside.

“Your bought this for me?” He asked while poking at the bed, it’s softness amazed him. once he accepted his reality his tail starts to swing like crazy and crawled over to you, and hugged you lovingly.

“I’ll be the best boy I promise. anything you need I will do, anything.” his grip tightened around your waist and pushed his head into your plush stomach. you patted his head and thanked him, and told him he deserved to be loved and cared for.

That night, he placed his bed in front of your bedroom door and stood watch in his bed. to protect you, his master…his.

next chapter.

series master list.

Taglist: @serxinns @queenpiranhadon @hah-simp-acc-2 @imlonelyty @yourmommasworld @moonlight-dreamer04 @cherrysxuya @melody-deathnote @ladybug2235 @odevote118 @hrezx @androgynouszombiegentlemen @letmelickureyeballs @lovelystarstruckvoid @simpingmasterpiece

@ please don’t repost my stuff to any other platform. This is my writing so don’t claim it as your own.

[bluebeary-jay]

Damage done

Pre/No-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: during a fight with Joel, he unknowingly sends you into a panic attack caused by your previous experiences. he deeply regrets it. (based on this wonderful ask!)

Tags: heavy ANGST, hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending (there's also fluff), established relationship, petnames, soft!Joel (he's trying his best fr 🥺). Several years pre outbreak. please read the warnings carefully

Warnings: fighting, talk and mention about previous abusive relationship, panic attack, emotional distress, self-destructive thoughts

Word count: 4K

A/N: i wrote it partially based on experiences with my own panic attacks, but i know everyone's is different. if there's a warning i missed, please let me know. also i want this man to take care of me so much 😢 anyway, stay safe, darlings, and as always: happy reading and i hope you'll enjoy!! 💕 comments and feedback are greatly appreciated 😌

It had been a rough couple of weeks. Things at your work were rocky to say the least, what with your boss firing several people every week and cutting your salary. Joel didn’t have it much better – from what you understood, two clients suddenly canceled their order, and Tommy got himself thrown into jail, again, breaking his longest record to date. On top of that, little Sarah went down with some kind of flu that was raging in schools recently, and for the last two weeks one of you had to be home with her almost all the time.

So it was probably no wonder that the tension and stress became too much at one point, and you both snapped.

It was about the play at Sarah’s school.

“You promised her, Joel! She was talking about it for the entire week.”

“It’s not my fault we have to go out of town on this date,” he answered through clenched teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose and not looking up at you. “I tried to reschedule, but the commissioning party refused. I can’t help it, for fuck’s sake.”

You were glad Sarah wasn’t home right now to listen to your fight. You dropped her off earlier at her friend’s house because she wanted to practice lines for the play they were doing next week. The play that Joel was apparently planning to miss.

You adored Joel – god, you loved him with all that you had – but he could be so stubborn sometimes, it was driving you up the fricking wall.

“It’s your kid, Joel–”

“Yeah, it’s my kid!” he raised his voice, only now lifting his head. His stare was cold and hard, so unlike how he usually looked at you. “Not yours.”

“Are you kidding me?!” you shouted, hurt by his words and the tone he used. “I’ve been taking care of her, loving her– She is like a daughter to me!”

“But still not yours,” he repeated harshly. That was a low blow, especially when he told you so many times that you might not be Sarah’s biological mother, but it’s obvious you love her like she’s your own blood.

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you know I’m right,” you snarled angrily, and Joel huffed a humorless laugh.

“Of course. You always know better, dont’cha?” He stood up, towering over you, but you didn’t back down. If anything, it only made you more mad, as if he was doing this to intimidate you. “I’m sorry I’m such a terrible father in your eyes, but I have to think about earning money. Especially since it’s only a matter of time ‘till that asshole boss of yours will fire you, too.”

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?! You really think so lowly of me to say it won’t be long until I get fired?”

“I don’t– Christ, you’re puttin’ words in my mouth again.”

“Again. Of course.” You spat out and took your sweatshirt from the couch, done with him and this conversation. “I’m going to my home,” you told him dryly. Joel’s nostrils flared and he took a step forward.

“No, you’re not.”

“Fuckin’ watch me,” you muttered under your breath, but loud enough for him to hear.

“We are not finished!!” Joel screamed, his booming voice echoing throughout the house.

It felt like a slap. In one second you froze, all your muscles seized up and a feeling of coldness gripped your heart and throat, sending panic flooding your veins. The sweatshirt you were holding slipped out from your stiff fingers.

Joel has never raised his voice at you like that. Never with such anger and fury. There was a bite to his tone that you couldn’t explain, but which you knew very well – the telltale sign that you went too far, and the other person’s patience was at an end, that now you were going to pay for it.

Your previous boyfriend taught you what it means. It meant bruises and split lips, and screaming when you started crying…

Joel noticed the shift in your behavior right away, and his anger immediately ebbed, replaced by confusion and concern.

“Darlin’?” he murmured the pet name, though it rolled off his tongue heavily and with difficulty.

He was still furious at you and your refusal to understand what he was going through, but it all died down when he saw how wide, how empty your eyes were. Your knees buckled, and you looked like you could fall down at any moment.

Joel didn’t have any idea what was happening with you – but knew that whatever it was, it was his fault.

You, in the meantime, felt like you couldn’t breathe. The man in front of you – you weren’t even sure anymore who that was – took a step forward with his hand lifted, and you quickly backed away, stumbling in the process.

“No! N-no, no, please, I’m sorry–” you started blabbering and sobbing, wrapping one arm around your middle to protect all the main internal organs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“No, you didn’t…”

“Please… I’m sorry, I swear,” you cried, trembling at this point, but not daring to escape the room. “I’ll be better, just don’t… Please, don’t…”

Joel’s heart broke when he saw you bursting into tears and trying to make yourself as small as possible. All his anger disappeared in a cloud of smoke, replaced by the overpowering need to comfort the girl he loved.

But you seemed so scared when he wanted to come closer… And he didn’t know how to proceed.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he repeated in an even softer tone, his eyebrows scrunching in worry. “Sweetheart… M’not gonna hurt you.”

He took another slow step forward, but that seemed to already be too much, because the trembling intensified and you practically slumped against the wall, one arm around your stomach, and the other squeezing your throat tightly. Joel feared to know the reason why you would do that to yourself.

“Stop, plea– I can’t– I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s okay, my baby, it’s alright…”

He fell down to his knees next to you and reached to take you in his arms, but you started shaking your head violently, backing away and squirming out of his reach.

“No, no, please, I’m sorry! Don’t– don’t touch me!!”

A bile rose up in his throat, and he retreated his hands, holding them low in front of him to show he’s not going to do anything.

“It’s alright, babygirl,” he muttered chokingly, feeling completely helpless and lost about what to do. “You… you’re safe.”

You were crying uncontrollably now, though it seemed like you tried to stifle the never-ending sobs and tears flowing out of your eyes, in result making your entire body shake. You flinched – actually flinched – when Joel opened his mouth, and your fingers around your throat tightened their grip.

“No,” Joel said decisively, breaking your wish and grabbing your wrists, moving them away from your neck where red crescents started to form. “Baby, please, don’t.”

“Let go!!” It was hard to distinguish the words from between your cries, but the message your body language was conveying was clear as day. “No, don’t… me…” You sobbed again, quickly weakening despite your efforts. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Come ‘ere,” Joel whispered in a voice full of pain, carefully shifting closer and wrapping his arms around you, though being careful not to make you feel too crowded or trapped. “Shhh… it’s Joel, darlin’, m’here.”

Surprisingly, you let him hold you – maybe it was just because you didn’t have strength to resist and fight back anymore, Joel thought, but maybe you recognized him. Maybe it was both. But the tears didn’t stop. No matter how gently he stroked your back or whispered reassuring words, you couldn’t seem to stop crying.

Several times in the next couple of minutes you tried to grasp your neck or arm again, but every time he delicately, though firmly, moved them away. You still babbled half-intelligible apologies and pleas, and each time your voice broke or hitched on another fearful word, Joel’s heart was shattering into a million pieces all over again.

“I’m sorry…” you sobbed again, trembling in his arms. “I’m sorry, don’t hurt me, p-please–...”

“My darlin’...” Joel held you closer and more securely in his arms, rocking you back and forth. “Sweetheart, my sweet, sweet girl… I’m never gonna hurt you, I swear.” He planted soft, delicate kisses on your hair. Even though he wanted to hug you tightly, to show you how much he loves and cares about you, he restrained himself and tried to keep his touch as gentle as possible. “I swear, my babygirl, m’sorry, so sorry for screamin’... Didn’t mean to.”

You were still crying, albeit weaker now, in his arms, clinging to him like your life depended on it. Joel could feel your nails digging themselves into the skin of his back, but it was the furthest thing on his mind – hell, he could start bleeding and still it wouldn’t be as important as comforting you at this moment. Better him than you.

“I love you s’much, my babygirl, my life,” Joel continued murmuring into the top of your head, feeling close to crying himself when your tears seemingly couldn’t stop flowing. “M’so sorry. I won’t ever hurt you like that again, I swear…”

His words, though full of love and compassion, rolled off you like water off a duck’s back, and you still couldn’t locate yourself, couldn’t tether your being to this world and make sense of the difference between what you knew should happen, and what was actually happening.

Your whole body was hurting, yes, but it wasn’t the pain of being repeatedly hit. You could barely hear your own cries, but it wasn’t because of vicious and cruel words being thrown at you. You knew it was Joel you were clinging to, and he never hurt you in this way, but… but you also were never so angry at each other. You never fought like this – and experience taught you that crossing that invisible line will carry certain consequences.

You weren’t angry now. You were scared. And confused.

“Joel,” you whimpered between gasps, struggling to breathe through your rapid sobs. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t– don’t go.”

“M’not leavin’ ya, babygirl.” He spoke into your hair, closing his eyes. “M’not goin’ anywhere.”

You were calming down a little now, the sobs wrecking your body and breaking Joel’s heart dying down, though you were still shivering. Joel continued to hold and soothe you the best he could.

And wondered who must’ve hurt his darling so much that you’d react so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered after a while, sniffling into Joel’s chest, but trying not to get snots on his shirt. Joel sighed sadly, but his hold on you just tightened.

“No, babygirl, my darlin’...” He pressed his lips to your hairline, stroking your back with his other hand. “You have nothin’ to be sorry for, I swear. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you whimpered pitifully, unable to stop another wave of tears from falling. “I’m sorry I reacted like that. I know… Joel, I know you won’t hurt me. Baby, please.” You took his head in your hands, searching his eyes with fear painted across your face. “I’m so sorry, wasn’t thinking and…”

“Hey. Love, it’s fine.” He placed his own hands on your cheeks, stroking lightly your damp skin with his thumbs. “Don’t say that. M’not angry at you and would never be because of that. It’s… it’s okay.” He petted your hair, trying to relax for your sake, but his chest remained tight. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”

You nodded weakly, though you weren’t sure if you believed him. Joel swallowed heavily and nodded after a while, too.

“Okay. I… I’ll run you a bath,” he whispered, but you held his hand tighter and shook your head with tears gathering in your eyes again.

“No, no! Just s-stay with me, please.”

Joel took your face in his hands, but you closed your eyes, feeling too vulnerable and exhausted to even try to maintain eye contact.

“I’m here, baby. C’mon, just hold onto me.”

He waited until your arms were around his neck before slowly standing up and tucking you securely in his arms. You hid your wet face in the crook of Joel’s neck, breathing in his soothing smell and trying to calm your breathing, which you still found difficult.

Neither of you said anything when he took you to the bathroom, sat down on the toilet seat and started to fill the bathtub with water and soothing oils. You just watched him, wiping your nose every once in a while.

Still remaining silent, Joel extended his hand and helped you stand up. Then, almost with fearful hesitation, he touched the hem of your shirt, sending you a questioning look. You just nodded, not having strength to undress yourself, and lifted your arms, letting him take your clothes off.

You didn’t let go of his hand even after he guided you to sit in the tub. You couldn’t bear being alone with your thoughts right now, and Joel, being as wonderful of a man as he was, stayed by your side as the warmth from the water seeped through your tired bones.

Another several minutes passed before he finally asked the question that was gnawing at him since the very beginning. You must’ve subconsciously known it was coming, cause it didn’t even surprise you.

“Who was it?” he asked quietly. His hand was still caressing your palm with the gentlest of touches, but his eyes were like ice, full of hidden rage and hatred. “Who did this to you, darlin’?”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, not sure whether to answer or not. Ever since you got to know him, Joel has been nothing but kind and understanding, never pressuring you into doing or saying something you didn’t want… but you had a feeling he wasn’t going to let the matter drop.

And honestly, you were afraid to tell him. To admit how your previous relationship looked and what exactly happened to make you act so strongly about something so small. Because… what if he’ll realize how broken you are, how much effort it’d take to put up with you, and he’ll leave? Even if he was willing to take care of you, it was really unlikely that he’d stay – even if he says that now.

You were doing good until today. You managed to hide the issues you had with yourself and all the pain you carried inside, never letting Joel know that something was wrong with you. But now he… he will…

You didn’t want him to leave. He made your life so much better and you loved him to pieces with all your heart, as weak and broken as it was.

You couldn’t lose him.

“Oh, baby…” Joel’s hands cupped your cheeks so carefully and lovingly that you almost started weeping again. “M’not goin’ anywhere. I love ya so much. You’re never gonna lose me.”

You didn’t realize you said those words out loud, but even so, somehow his affirmations didn’t make you feel any better. You wanted them to comfort you, but if anything, they just made you feel sick.

“I’m afraid you’re gonna leave someday,” you whispered hoarsely, keeping your eyes on the slowly disappearing bubbles. “I know I’m being selfish, but I don’t want you to. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Joel. I…” Tears spilled from your eyes again and you shook your head. “I know I’m too much. And… and broken. And I know it sounds like I wanna guilt-trip you, but I’m not, I’m just–” You choked on a sob, and wrapped your arms tighter around yourself, hugging your knees to your chest. “I don’t– don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Sweetheart, look at me, please.” Joel’s hands were rough to the touch, but so incredibly gentle when they guided you to meet his eyes, and a big pit formed in your stomach when you saw how they shone. He was on the verge of tears, too. “Don’t say things like that. Nothin’ is wrong with you. Who…” He sighed again. “Who made you believe such things?”

You didn’t answer at first, but Joel kept staring at you, and – finally – you relented.

“My previous boyfriend. The one I didn’t want to talk about. He– Look, I know he was a horrible person.” You let out a short laugh, but without any joy – or emotions altogether – in it. “And I hate him so much, but he… he was right. About some things.”

“He’s not.” Joel didn’t back down, feeling despair growing inside his chest as he saw the girl he adored with his whole heart put herself down like that. “You’re… fuck, you’re perfect, darlin’, and you didn’t deserve to be treated or talked to this way. M’so sorry it happened to you.”

He brushed some of your hair to the back and sighed silently. He seemed so lost and sad, it made you feel even worse.

“What can I do?”

That stopped the train of your thoughts, and you looked up.

“What?”

“What can I do?” he repeated softly. “To prove t’you that I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Your lips parted, and you were unsure what to say. Joel took your hand in his, delicately tracing patterns on the back of it.

“Babygirl, listen to me. You’re the most precious thing t’me. I don’t care what this asshole told you, but… but none of this is true. And it’s not gonna drive me away from you. Nothin’ is gonna make me leave,” he repeated more firmly, never taking his eyes off you. “Because I love you. More than anythin’ else in the world”

Joel sounded so sincere and desperate, tugging at your heartstrings with his gentle, sad eyes and loving words. The water became cool some time ago, but your insides felt like they were on fire – as if the next breath you were about to take would be your last.

“I’m sorry for everything I said.” You took a shaky breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “I don’t think you’re a bad father. I think you’re the best and most amazing dad Sarah could ever ask for. I didn’t want…” You sniffed and your shoulders started to shake again with silent cries. “I didn’t want to hurt you, I’m so sorry, I didn’t–”

The sob that you tried to stop with all your might suddenly escaped you, and Joel’s forehead scrunched in worry. He pulled you closer, leaning over the edge of the bathtub. Neither of you concerned yourself with water dripping off your skin, only feeling relieved from each other’s closeness.

“I know, babygirl. M’not mad.” Joel left a lingering kiss on your tearstained cheek, and then a second one on your forehead. “I’m sorry, too. For how I acted and for–” he sighed heavily into your shoulder, “for shouting at ya.”

“You couldn’t have known,” you mumbled, but he shook his head.

“That’s no excuse. I shouldn’t ‘ave done it in the first place.” He relaxed in your arms, and somehow it made your muscles less tense, too. “I’ll see what I can do about that job. So that I can see Sarah’s play.”

You nodded and let your eyelids drop, giving in to the feeling of calm and security that always came with being with Joel.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” you asked quietly. You still were a little afraid that he’s going to turn you down after what happened, but you really didn’t want to stay alone. “With you?”

“‘Course you can. D’ya want to go now?”

You nodded again. Not bathing seemed like a big waste of water, but you didn’t feel strong enough to actually wash your body. And Joel didn’t pressure you – he just bent over and wrapped his strong arms around you, practically pulling you out of the tub by himself.

His clothes were completely soaked when he put you down and reached for the fluffiest towel you had, wrapping it around you like a little cocoon. He got rid of his wet shirt, kissed your head gently and, without a word, scooped you up into his arms again.

“I can stand,” you offered when he started walking towards the bedroom, forcing you to wrap your hands around his neck for support.

“I want to take care of you.”

“But your back pains…”

“I’m not that old yet, sweetheart,” he answered with a half-smile, slowing down and gazing into your eyes softly. “Let me take care of you.”

You brushed his cheek with your fingertips tenderly, eyes flickering across his face. “But you’re always taking care of everyone, Joel.”

His throat bobbed and he almost immediately looked away. It was clear what he was thinking – that according to himself, he wasn’t doing a good enough job. Because you got hurt. Because he was the one who unintentionally hurt you and sent you into a panic attack.

He was silent when he put you down on the bed with care, turning around to fetch one of his shirts from the closet. During this whole time you didn’t say anything, either. Your mind was still a little closed off from when you tried to separate yourself from the painful memories that started to haunt you, and despite Joel’s efforts, it was still difficult to move past the experience.

But your head snapped up when Joel, after helping you put the shirt on, knelt in front of you, took your hand in his and leaned forward to kiss your knee gently.

“M’sorry,” Joel whispered with pain tinging his deep voice. “I’m sorry for sayin’ all those things about you and Sarah. I know you love her.” He pressed his lips to your knee again, and lifted his head, revealing how misty his own eyes were, which in turn made your heart ache even more. “My sweet girl. I swear I won’t ever hurt you again.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” you answered quietly, but Joel shook his head and took a deep breath.

“What can I do?” he repeated his question from earlier, and this time you knew exactly what you needed him for.

“Can you… can you hold me?”

Without missing a beat, Joel raised from his position and enveloped you in his embrace, making you feel safe and protected like never before. You sighed heavily, breathing in his scent and feeling like just by touching you with such love that only he was capable of, he helped you to lift some invisible load from your shoulders.

Despite the headache from all the crying and your chest still tightening with every shallow breath you took, you felt a little better now. You didn’t feel alone.

You knew you were safe with Joel.

It took some time for you to fall asleep, but even when you did, Joel could not find peace in the silky darkness of the evening.

Before you dozed off, Joel vowed again and again how much you mean to him, how you and Sarah are the best things that ever happened to him, and how he’ll never let anything happen to any of you – and he could clearly see that you believed his every word, and that you weren’t mad at him. You weren’t flinching when he rocked you back and forth, or later when he pressed small kisses to your forehead.

But you still were quiet and your face miserable, and several times Joel tucked you in closer to himself when he felt you shaking and sniffing. There wasn’t anything else he could do but hold you and whisper soothing promises into your hair. Once your eyelids started to drop, he began humming a familiar melody he knew you liked, and you nuzzled your face into his neck, curling up in his embrace.

And you whispered ‘I love you’ before you drifted off to an uneasy sleep in his arms. And before he could even answer, you thanked him for loving you.

When he heard it, he had to keep himself from breaking down with the last bit of his strength.

“You mean everythin’ to me, love. Everythin’,” he murmured after a couple of seconds, not even knowing if you were still awake. The guilt in his chest made it hard to breathe, but he pushed through it, and then he softly kissed your forehead, making a promise to himself.

He will find time to go to Sarah’s play with you. And he’ll make it right.

[sttoru]

𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 . . .

⟣ sypnosis. you’re fed up with your rich abusive husband and finally decide to hire a skilled assassin to get rid of him in secrecy. one night when you’re left alone in your penthouse, you invite the assassin named toji over to give him the money he’s demanded to accept the job. things turn for the worse when your husband comes home early that day and catches toji and you together.

⟣ note. eeek. never thought i’d be here to write this out but i did and it turned pretty detailed if i must say. hope u all enjoy and appreciate my hard work. feedback / comments are greatly appreciated ! if the fic does well, i can make an alternative ending that’s smutty :3 wc: 7.4k

⟣ tags. toji fushiguro x female reader. angst, comfort. themes include abuse. reader is in an abusive + toxic relationship with her husband. implied age gap with husband. implied size difference with toji. mentions of guns + blood + m.urder. knifes.

“what is a successful marriage?”

that is one of the many questions that keep you up at night. you’ve laid awake for hours on end ever since you’ve married your husband, in search for reasonable answers. you’ve got many of them sorted out, however that specific question is one left unanswered.

it is very subjective—many can vary about the concrete answer. but one thing you know for sure is that your marriage is the exact opposite of what ‘successful’ means.

you were so full of yourself. you didn’t realise that your pride would also be your downfall one day; you’d constantly brag about having a rich husband who gets you everything you wanted. you were too blinded by love—or actually—by his money to notice the real him. the real, twisted and manipulative face of the man you were determined to marry.

his name was daisuke. from the yamamoto family. a family known in japan for its generational wealth and the many buildings and famous corporations it owns. you’ve worked at one of those companies and had met daisuke whilst he was on a visit. you’ve heard about his image by the public; sweet, caring and apparently wouldn’t hurt a fly.

unfortunately, the true him matched none of those descriptions. the true him only you—his wife—came face to face with at your shared home. you remember when it started. when daisuke began to turn into a nasty, abusive man whose anger is never restrainable.

your dating years were nothing but a dream. or, maybe you were too gullible to notice the signs and red flags your then boyfriend was showing. his love bombing, the manipulation, the gaslighting—you didn’t know better. if you complained about a minor thing that he had done, daisuke would apologise by sending you lots of money and presents. toxic, isn’t it?

but you didn’t care. you were happy and content with that being your compensation. the money was the evildoer that made you lose all your morals. the teenage you who said that you’ll never put up with a man’s disrespect was long forgotten.

even now, 4 years later, you put up with his verbal and physical abuse just to continue staying in that big mansion you live in. to continue getting everything paid for you. to continue getting lots of money by doing nothing but be his wife—his trophy wife, at this point.

it’s an easy life; ‘all i have to do is get through his abuse and it’ll be just fine’, you tell yourself that every night. it’s the only thing keeping you sane—a coping mechanism of some kind.

however lately, daisuke’s never skipped a day without being abusive towards you. he’d enter your home yelling and shouting, complains about the tiniest speck of dust in the house (which is not even your fault, it’s the maids’), reminds you how worthless you are in his eyes and the list goes on. he sometimes gets physical and throws stuff at you, causing multiple bruises and cuts to appear on your body after he’s done having his daily tantrum.

he might even kill you one day. it’s scary to think about; if he would, he easily could. he could one day just decide to be done with you and stick a knife in your body, leave you to bleed out and then order one of his men to get rid of your corpse. just like his family does to whoever stands in their way of success. you don’t want to discover how many people your husband has killed.

daisuke can easily get away with murder after all—the law is nothing but a thing to exist to keep the common citizens in the government’s control. to the rich, it’s like those rules don’t exist. court? justice? the so called independent judge? nothing money can’t buy. after all, money is power. money is innocence.

after four years of sticking with that rich man, you were getting tired. you were staying with him for his wealth, but was it actually worth it? besides, if daisuke hates you so much, why wouldn’t he divorce you instead? you don’t have anything going for you. except for your looks and youth, probably. that’s the main reason why daisuke coaxed you into marrying him—to show you off during events or parties. a complete and utter trophy wife you are.

you’ve been going to sketchy bars lately to let off some steam. you weren’t even there to drink alcohol. the sole reason for attending pubs was to forget about your own situation. you’d get weird stares since you’re always alone, sitting in that one spot in the far corner, no one wanting to come up to you because of that gloomy aura you’re emitting. and because you’re always dressed modestly from head to toe—not an ounce of skin showing. it was all the opposite of what most people would normally look and act like in bars.

‘what is normal?’ also a subjective question. society has turned it into an objective one, however.

“good day, miss.” a deep voice had interrupted your thoughts one day whilst you were doing your usual routine; sit near the bar counter, get a non-alcoholic drink, stare at the table for hours and question your purpose in life before going home to the reason of your problems.

a man, probably in his late 30’s or early 40’s, sat next to you on an available stool. he nonchalantly ordered a drink before making small talk. it was a nice change of pace for some reason. you had asked him his name. it was shiu.

that stranger had kept you company for hours until a call from your husband made you snap back to reality; you had to be home as soon as possible. judging by daisuke’s tone, you were in big trouble.

you remember how shiu outed his concern for your well-being by pointing out the bruises on your arm which you didn’t even know were showing.

you dismissed his worries with a fake smile and told him it was nothing, quickly pulling your sleeve back down. shiu seemed to let the topic go, but before parting ways with you, he handed you his business card. you didn’t know what it was for—what kind of services he could offer;

“call that number if you need someone to get rid of your problems,” was all you got before the mysterious man walked away. you couldn’t shake off the emphasis on the word ‘rid’. it sent a shiver down your spine.

that sentence of shiu’s echoed in your ears as tears streamed down your cheek after you arrived home. you were in your personal bathroom, hands shaking as you put a bag of ice on your fresh bruise, the small red and blue-ish area stinging. once again—you couldn’t avoid your husband’s wrath.

after having slept for a mere two hours that day in your bathtub, you’ve awoken to an empty house. daisuke was gone for work. luckily for you.

you hastily grabbed the business card in your purse and dialled the number. staring at the card, you’d think it was some kind of house cleaning service. that’s the kind of vibe it gave. little did you know that it was far from that.

a few rings later and you heard the same familiar deep voice in your ear; “good morning. with shiu kong.”

your heart was beating in your throat as you couldn’t gather the right words to say. maybe it was due to the little voice in the back of your head that warned you for something—you couldn’t pinpoint what the specific cause was just yet.

you answered eventually, “hi. uhm, you said i could call this number if i needed someone to get rid of my problems.” you pause and inhale deeply, “wh-what if my problem was.. a person? would you…” your voice trailed off, but the implication could not be missed by anyone if they heard the tone you used.

shiu seemed to recognise your voice, though stayed silent for a second or two at your request. when he replied, it sounded like he had expected you to ask him this—like he’s heard this many times before; “certainly.”

that’s when you realised what you’ve gotten yourself involved with. you were sweating and you had trouble breathing as you realised that.. this was your chance. to get rid of that man called your husband. your abuser.

you had decided to take on that opportunity and that’s how you ended up getting a phone call from an anonymous number right after your talk with shiu. the agent hadn’t told you anything other than the name of the person who’d contact you; ‘toji’, and said that he’d help you further.

you stared at the ‘no caller ID’ on your screen. this was him: the person who’d help you get rid of your problem. you gulped before sliding your thumb across your mobile to answer the call.

“hi, good m—”

“location.”

the husky male voice cut through your introduction and got straight to the point. your lips were parted to answer the man whom you guessed was ‘toji’, but your breath got caught in your throat for a second. do you just randomly give your address to a stranger? was that okay to do? you didn’t know—no, you didn’t care. if you got killed in the process or something similar, that’d be way better than to live another day in hell with your husband.

you dropped your address after some hesitation and toji just added a quick, ‘be there in an hour or so,’ before hanging up on you.

fast forward to 50 minutes later and you were pacing back and forth in your living room, trying to breathe properly and not have a second panic attack. daisuke wouldn’t be home until noon, so at least he won’t see whoever will enter your mansion in a few minutes. and if there’s a possibility that you get killed by this stranger, you’re sure that your husband would be more than happy that the job was done for him.

a loud tune. the sound of your doorbell. normally, you’d find the short melody relaxing, but now it sounded like something out of a nightmare. you made your way to your intercom and looked at the small screen—seeing a tall black-haired man with a compressed shirt and beige baggy pants standing near the gates. that must be toji—the man you talked to an hour ago.

he must be confident in his abilities since he didn’t cover up his identity at all when coming all the way over here.

you press a button and the gates open with a buzz. toji disappears from the little screen as he enters your front yard. the screen fades to black and you’re left alone with a sense of dread in your stomach. that only lasted for a couple seconds since the doorbell of your front door goes off.

“c-coming!��� your voice cracks. you make your way over to the entrance of your home and breathe in. you open the doors slightly, peeking through the gap at the tall, intimidating man standing before you.

toji was kicking a rock to the side whilst waiting and looked up when you opened the doors. he seemed laidback, as if this was nothing but child’s play to him, “took ya long enough.”

you were appalled as toji simply barged into your home like he owned it. his strong, masculine cologne wafted through the air as he passed you by without giving you a second to process his intrusion.

your shaky eyes followed his bulky figure—the muscles that bulged through his shirt, which tensed every now and then. his aura was no joke either; it was horrifying to someone whom didn’t even know who he was or what he exactly did for a living.

“phewww,” the dark-haired man let out a low whistle as his eyes scanned the interior of the entrance hall, shamelessly touching a few expensive looking decorations, inspecting the material, “pretty damn rich, ain’t ya? this y’r daddy’s money?”

you shake your head and close the door behind you, staying there in case you needed to run. you are still wary of this situation, even when you had been the one that started this all.

“h-husband’s.” your voice was a quiet whisper. toji raised an eyebrow and turned his attention towards you. his eyes scanned you from head to toe. you looked pretty young. a fragile little thing, is how he described you in his head.

“husband? you?” toji chuckles dryly, before stepping closer to you, his body towering over yours. he lowers his head and stares at you from up close, his hands in his pockets whilst wordlessly looking at you.

you swallowed a bit of saliva and glanced back at the big man whom belittled you twice in just a couple seconds. you fumbled with the sleeve of your hoodie as the silence grew deafening—the only sound being your own soft yet shallow breathing.

your fingers scratched at the bruises under the fabric of your clothes, causing the cloth to slightly crinkle and glide up a few centrimeters with each rub before coming back down once your fingers stop. the instant you start touching those bruises, the itching just wouldn’t stop.

toji noticed this and looked down at your arm. his eyes caught a small glimpse of a wound on your wrist, but he didn’t seem to comment on it. with a sniff, he straightened his back and cocked his head to the right—face cold again as he glared at you;

“do ya know what kinda stuff i do?” his voice was booming, the deepness to it making you shiver. you press your lips together and search for answer, only to find nothing;

“n-no, i mean—“ your itching increases the more nervous you felt, “th-the man who directed me to you said you’d explain things further. all i know is that you can get rid of uhm— a problem of mine.”

toji scoffs and mutters something incomprehensible under his breath about his ‘stupid agent letting him do all the work’ before turning around. he lazily walks ahead as if he had all the time he needed in the world. once arrived in your living room, the man plops down on your couch, spreads his legs and leans back against the cushions. he really acted like he owns this place.

“i’m not the type to beat around the bush, little lady,” toji starts whilst his eyes follow you as you nervously sat on the chair next to the sofa, “so i’m gonna get straight into it. and if ya back down after this or get too scared ‘n call the cops, unfortunately, y’r pretty ass gotta go.”

toji swipes a thumb across his neck to indicate what that latter meant; killed. you’re gonna get killed if you learn his real identity and decide to expose it to anyone, especially the police. you blinked your tears away whilst thinking of that possibility and shook your head, putting on a determined face. you need to take responsibilities for your actions. you were the one who started this.

“all right. i promise that i won’t back down.” you reply after getting yourself together. toji’s eyes had left yours for a second to look around the grand living room—as if inspecting for something—before settling back on you. he quickly exhales through his nose; leaning his head on his hand while his piercing gaze burned holes in your skin,

“i’m an assassin.” toji says in a bored tone. he’s done this little introduction to his job so many times before to clients who hire him in for the first time, “i kill people in exchange for money. so, ya basically hired me to get rid of someone ‘nd i’m here to collect the money and information i need to finish the job. got that?”

there it was. the confirmation you needed and got without an ounce of hesitation coming from the man in front of you. you had expected this outcome (from the many you created in your head), of course, thus you weren’t that surprised. yet the fact that you actually have a hitman in your house, someone who can easily kill your husband, still makes you nervous.

“yes, thank you.” you eventually replied and nodded, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. you looked up at toji and this time it wasn’t in a nervous way. this time it was in a determined way. toji notices this change and the scarred corner of his lip curled into a smirk.

“how much. . . money do you want for this job?” you go straight to the point. the dark-haired man grins whilst scanning your figure up and down shamelessly, enjoying the confident look on you. it suited you better.

“depends. who is it that i gotta kill?” toji asks, using his thumb to crack his index finger. you look around as if anyone could hear you. you were sure that no one was there with you, no maids no bodyguards no husband, yet your anxiety was still at its peak.

“my husband.” you reply quietly and point at the big picture frame on the wall near the chimney. it was a picture of daisuke and you. you seemed happy there, but it was all for show. that photoshoot was simply for his benefit, “daisuke. daisuke yamamoto.”

toji raises his eyebrow and stares at the picture. he’s heard of that name before. it was mentioned many times in the articles he reads. the assassin stands up with a grunt and walks to the chimney, letting out a small hum like he was thinking about it. not about if he could get the job done—no, his pride told him he easily could—but about the amount of money he wanted to get out of this.

there was a silence before toji turns around on his heels and walks over to the couch again, plopping down on the soft cushions whilst propping his feet on the table in front of him, “around seven million yen will do.”

that was about 50.000 dollars.

your jaw slightly dropped. it’s not like you haven’t seen nor heard of such big numbers before, it’s just that it was a little unexpected. but then again; nothing you can’t afford. with your husband’s money. the same money that ruined your life, is going to be used as a weapon to save it.

daisuke’s own money is going to be the death of him. and you’re the one to guarantee that.

“all right. i can get you that in cash.” you nod idly. your mind was clearly somewhere else—trying to remember the password to daisuke’s safe that was situated in a hidden room near his office. you recently found out that he keeps most cash, gold and other valuable pieces there, away from your sight. he was bad at hiding that fact from you, however.

one night, he came home drunk and it ended up with him confessing to you that he ‘won’t ever let a gold digger like you near his money again’ and proceeded to spill that he ‘has a secret safe which you won’t ever get your hands on’. eventually, you did. after a bit of snooping around, you easily found the hidden room behind a bookcase.

those fat stacks of money in there definitely add up to more than seven million yen. you’re sure of it. the only obstacle in your way is gathering that money. most of the time, daisuke locks his office before leaving home—or if he doesn’t—his maids will be in there cleaning.

“it will take me some time, but…” your voice trails off as a pensive look falls on your face. you bite your bottom lip and try to figure out something—a plan. toji catches your attention again by letting out a deep sigh. he dismissively waves your worries away with one hand;

“tha’s fine, lady. i need some time to prepare for this job too—it ain’t an easy one after all.” the assassin comments whilst scratching the scar near his lips, also seemingly deep in thought about his own plan, “bet he got lots of guards on his ass, too. tch.”

there was another thought in the back of toji’s mind that bothered him. normally, he’d be pissed off if his client didn’t prepare any kind of money beforehand. maybe some compensation bills, or at least a little thing he can have before they give him the full amount.

but with you, he seems not to mind. he wouldn’t be mad if he left this place empty handed for the time being. maybe he actually feels pity for your situation. or was it something else?

toji scoffs at his wandering mind and inwardly tells himself to shut up about such dumb stuff. getting his money is what’s most important to him. if you die afterwards, he wouldn’t care.

that’s what he tells himself.

“anyways. you should gimme all ya know about him. y’re his wife, right? ya should know his routine ‘n stuff that i can work with.” toji speaks up after the ten seconds of silence. you nod at his question—he wanted every single piece of information about your husband, so you’ll give him everything. no details excluded.

you pull out your phone and show toji pictures you took from daisuke’s computer in secrecy. pictures of his daily schedule for the upcoming month. your prior intention by taking those was to know when to be back home or when to avoid him, but they could be useful for this as well.

you continue to explain when and where daisuke holds his breaks, where his main office is located, the bodyguards that accompany him every day and when they leave him alone— all the information you gathered.

toji can’t help but be amazed by your memory. and the fact that you can recall everything, small or big, about your husband. it certainly did make his job easier; now he doesn’t have to pry out more hints on daisuke himself.

of course, you had your reasons for knowing all the miniscule facts about daisuke. it’s how you managed to survive those four years of marriage.

“good. tha’s enough.” toji nods and stands up with a grunt, stretching his arms—the muscles retracting. you couldn’t help but stare at them; he must have gone through a lot of training to become an assassin. a skilled one at that.

“before i go,” toji continues as he walks past you without looking back, heading straight for the exit of the living room, “you should delete all cctv footage that ya got going on ‘round here. i’ll take care of further evidence, yeah?”

toji moves his index finger in a circle, pointing at all corners in the house. he doesn’t want to risk anything, “i’ll call ya once i get things sorted out. then i’ll get to work when ya hand me the money.”

you nod and make a mental note for yourself to do that immediately once toji’s gone. you still had an hour or two before your husband would return. you don’t think he checks the cctv footage often (otherwise he’d have caught you sneaking into his office before), but it’ll be a big problem if he actually does and sees a random man in his home.

“will do. thank you.” you reply to toji and get up to politely see him out of your house. that’s when the realisation kicked in; your husband will be killed by this man right here in front of you. goosebumps appeared on your skin—not from fright. but from… happiness?

this stranger will end years of torment for you. yes, it’s his job. he’ll probably disappear after he’s got the money and completed your request, and yet, you can’t help but be extremely thankful.

without thinking, you reach out and grab onto toji’s wrist to stop him from moving. the assassin doesn’t stiff or tense up by this sudden touch. in fact, he’s already sensed it coming and allowed it.

toji’s actually more surprised by the fact that his mind and body allowed you to touch him. if it were anyone else, he’d probably have avoided their touch, broken their hand or worse—cut it off.

he moves his head to the side and looks at you from his peripherals, though not fully turning to you yet. he doesn’t speak up either; he’s waiting on you to go first.

your heart was somehow starting to beat even faster. you bit your lip and mentally cursed yourself out for pulling such an action; you could’ve just waited to show your gratitude through the phone.

well, either way, there was no going back now so you might as well spill your words of gratitude right this moment. you took a deep breath and parted your lips, ready to talk, but was then interrupted by your biggest nightmare.

a familiar, chilling voice. your heart drops. your body freezes.

“i knew it.”

a looming figure stood near the entrace to the living room. you recognised him instantly, as did your body, which went into an almost paralysed state. your mouth went dry, your hands started shaking and your eyes widened to the point you weren’t blinking anymore.

your husband, daisuke, appeared out of thin air in front of toji and you. his gaze was solely focused on the way your fingers were curled around toji’s wrist. to top it off, he had only heard the last bits of your conversation: something about deleting cctv and money. his brain hadn’t heard the entirety of it—he had already taken wrong conclusions in his head.

daisuke’s veins were on the verge of popping as he took two big steps towards you—you taking two steps back in response.

“i knew you were cheating on me, you fuckin’ slut.” daisuke spits with his finger pointed right at you. he was ignoring toji’s presence for the time being. he had to deal with you first;

“i work my ass off all day and night to provide for you and this is how you repay me? by inviting a random dude over whilst i’m gone? ungrateful bitch.”

two insults in a row; one more and daisuke’s putting his hands on you. it always went like that. your mind felt like it was emptied, but you somehow felt relieved that your husband didn’t seem to know the real reason of why toji had come over. daisuke really thought you were just cheating on him, and that your words of ‘deleting all cctv footage’ was to hide that infidelity.

“it’s n-not.. like that, daisuke.” you try to soothe the raging man in front of you, but your attempts were futile. he was just three quick steps away from resorting to physical violence.

toji, in the meantime, had stepped off to the side. you were only his client, thus there was no need to interrupt a couple’s ‘dispute’. you weren’t anyone dear or special to him—just a client. a stranger that owes him money to perform a job.

the assassin leans against a nearby wall, crossing his arms over his chest whilst watching the scene unfold. it was unfortunate that toji’s target was right there in front of him; he could just kill him right now. get the job done and over with. but, once again, toji only got to work if he had the money. he only assassinates when his skills are paid for. not any earlier and not any later. those were his morals—the rules he lives by.

if toji wanted to, he could simply walk away and let you handle this stuff by yourself. daisuke accusing him of being your ‘thing on the side’ didn’t bother him. as long as your husband doesn’t know his real identity, he’s fine with whatever accusations that get thrown at him.

but, for some reason—the same reason from earlier—his body was yelling at him to stay. toji sighs; he knows he won’t ever win a battle against his heart’s needs. he decides to stay.

daisuke still doesn’t seem to care about this; all the man wants is to out his anger and accuse you of things he now has enough ‘evidence’ for. he was seething and fuming at this revelation.

“god knows what else you’ve done behind my back. i bet he isn’t the only one you’ve fucke—“

“stop! i’m not cheating,” you finally yell back. it was the first time in a while that you had gathered the strength to do so. it felt good now that you had stuck up for yourself, but you knew how this would end for you—probably on the floor. crying.

despite all of that, you decided to keep on going. it’s now or never: all you have to do is make up a lie, probably withstand daisuke’s anger again and hope it doesn’t kill you. just this once; all you have to do is survive this once and then you’ll be freed from him.

you’ll give toji his money and he will do the job for you. just a few more days—

“he’s.. he’s my friend’s husband. i invited them both over and he just arrived earlier than expected.” you quickly made up. it sounded a little convincing to you. toji’s low snicker of amusement in the back confirmed that it maybe was the opposite of convincing.

daisuke scoffs at the pathetic attempt of hiding your ‘infidelity’. with another step forward, he raises his voice a notch; “yeah, right! what a pathetic excuse.”

a second step—you were waiting on that third curse. that third swear word that would set hell loose in this house, “do you really think you can fool me with that? huh?!”

it hadn’t happened yet. you still had time to think of a plan to perhaps escape this situation. your eyes flickered over to toji, although it didn’t seem like he’d be of any help. of course, he’s just an outsider after all. a stranger whom you just met today.

assassins have already disregarded their heart emotions the moment they decided to go down the path of killing for a living. you wouldn’t even blame toji for not stepping in. you’re also but a stranger to him.

toji could see the glimmer of hope in your eyes when you looked at him. or maybe it was a call for help. a desperate look. he can’t tell the difference. though, what he can tell, is that there was a gnawing feeling in the pits of his stomach. a gut feeling that told him it’d be smart to interfere.

but there’s his rational thoughts that tell him to not get involved—to avoid any more trouble than needed. besides, what other benefits would it bring him if he did? toji doesn’t want to be seen as a hero or saviour by anyone.

his jaw clenches as the time ticks. only a couple seconds left before the cold-hearted assassin has to make a decision.

daisuke’s patience was running low. the tension was increasing and could burst at any given moment now. one wrong move and you’re done—

one wrong breath could result in the worst possible outcome.

your silence spoke volumes to daisuke. the way you held your head low, your eyes that flickered from the floor to the ceiling, your fingers that nervously fumbled with your clothes and your bottom lip that trembled unstoppably. that pissed him off.

everything about you pissed him off. daisuke didn’t see any benefits of having you around anymore. he hadn’t for the long time, however didn’t know how he’d get rid of you.

divorce? no, he’ll have to give some of his earnings to you. kick you out? a possibility, but that would ruin his reputation. blackmail? that option was now the best choice. he’s caught you with another man after all. with camera evidence.

but, daisuke wouldn’t be satisfied with that outcome. his rage was blinding him—more than usual. he has to make you learn your lesson. in a way that will have you begging for your life to be spared.

and thus, the last step was made. the deciding hands were raised—aimed for your neck. the final curse had left his lips;

“come here. i’ll show you how whores like you should be treated.”

killing intent. it was the first time you’ve seen daisuke’s gaze darken that much, his demeanour emotionless yet full of rage. you close your eyes and expect for the worse.

“tha’s enough.”

everything went blank to you. it was silent, your vision was black, your hands were above your head, your heart felt like it wasn’t beating anymore—had you met your end? had you already been murdered?

in that same instant, you could feel drops of liquid splatter on your face. a faint ringing sound in your ears—it sounded like fireworks had been set off. a loud ‘pop’ sound.

something hit the ground right after. it wasn’t your body since that someone or something landed right at your feet.

after that: utter silence.

you gathered all your strength once more and slowly opened your eyelids. your vision was a bit blurry, though the first shape you could make out was one of a man on the ground. and not just any man—it was the man whom you hated most. at your feet.

you would’ve never thought of seeing that image before. of your husband laying at your feet; both literally and figuratively. a red liquid gushed out of his head and soaked into your shoes.

a normal wife would’ve let out a blood hurling scream at the sight of her lover laying lifelessly near her. a normal wife with a healthy relationship, that is.

you did let out a scream at the sight of your husband laying lifelessly near your feet. but that wasn’t done out of panic for your husband’s life—or due to the pain you were in to see him dead.

it was purely because you hadn’t seen a corpse before.

“d-daisuke..?”

a normal wife would’ve called out her husband’s name in a futile attempt that he’d answer back. that all of it was a dream. that her beloved wasn’t dead.

your reason wasn’t anything close to that. you called out that name in hopes he wouldn’t answer back. that all of it wasn’t a dream. that your abuser was dead.

it was real. you were glad, yet extremely disturbed by the fact that there was a corpse at your feet. you didn’t want to see all of it happening—that wasn’t part of the plan.

you stumble back a bit, hands clutching onto the chair you bumped into as you did your best to avoid the gruesome scene before your eyes. you just wished someone would clean the mess as soon as possible.

it’s then that your gaze fell on the other person present in the room; the man who was standing with a gun in his hand. toji scratched his head with the barrel, cold eyes looking down at the corpse with a faintly visible disgusted expression.

the assassin clicks his tongue as he walks towards the lifeless body and puts the sole of his shoe on daisuke’s cheek as if he was stepping on a pile of dirt, moving the head back and forth to check for any possible ounce of life in there.

there was none. the soul had left its body almost instantly after that bullet went through his brain. toji sighs; this time at himself for acting irrationally, “should’ve tortured you to death for tryin’ to put y’r hands on that lady instead of givin’ you the easy way out.”

with a harsh kick to the head on the floor, toji gathers some of his saliva on his tongue before spitting on the man. doubling the disrespect; “consider yourself lucky.”

toji cocked his head to the right. that’s where he spotted you with a familiar look on your face. the expression of someone who just went through a traumatic experience. he’s seen many people react like you when facing a near death experience or when witnessing somebody die before them.

usually, he’d tell them ‘it’s normal, get used to it’ and leave it at that. this was different. it felt different with you.

“are you okay?” the words slipped out of toji’s mouth before he could hold them back. his tone was a mixture of genuine concern and confusion. the latter was due to his own state of mind at the moment.

you didn’t answer, but you put your hands on your mouth as if you were going to puke any moment now. your vision was getting blurry with tears, head spinning and body feeling numb and weird.

toji hesitates before stepping towards you. his hands reached out to hold you, though he stopped them. he’d figured you wouldn’t be comfortable with him touching you in any way or form. he just killed someone in front of you—

it’s not like you cared that it was your husband. that much was clear. you sniff and glance up at toji with such a relieved yet devastated expression that his arms instinctively wrapped around you and pulled you into his warm embrace.

it was an awkward hug since toji doesn’t really know the basics of comforting someone. he was a bit stiff, but you didn’t show any discomfort due to that fact. instead, you clung onto his body and left tear stains on his black shirt.

“shhh, shh. it’s fine. it’s okay.” toji whispers, whilst his big hands indecisively move around, trying to find a spot to rest on. one eventually lands on the back of your head whilst the other starts to slowly rub up and down your spine, “it’s over, yeah? all of it—it’s over.”

toji doesn’t have a clue about the exact details of what your life was like. why you asked him to kill your (now ex-)husband was none of his business. all he knew was that he was going to get paid for it, so he didn’t care what the reason was.

it wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed the scars and bruises on your body throughout your conversation either—but that as well—was none of his business. assassins do their job without any further questions. there was no need to have personal connections or relations with their clients.

yet, toji was going against those unspoken rules once more. all because of you. for you.

“thank y—you.” your voice was weak as you speak up. it sounded hoarse and tired, though the sense of gratitude was undeniably there, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

a series of ‘thank you’s’ leave your lips whilst your body and mind were still trying to recover from the whole ordeal. toji was trying his best to keep by your side until you calmed down. that’s the least he could do—after the fact that he singlehandedly got rid of the main problem in your life.

“no need to thank me, lady.” the dark-haired man whispers, allowing you to mess up his shirt with your tears and tugs, “i did what i had to do.”

toji didn’t actually have to do what he did. he never does his job before he’s guaranteed the money. however this time, it was a different story. he did it without thinking. he had to. his body was telling him to move—and in a flash—it was done.

he tries to tell himself that it’s just him slacking off. that he isn’t possibly starting to care about another person. he shouldn’t; those complicated emotions would stand in his way. and yet. . .

“c’mere.”

toji lifts you up bridal style while you keep quivering against his shoulder. his hands had a tight grip on your body, his eyes a sharp gaze on the mess he created. with a sigh, he takes you upstairs to a random room—kicking the door open.

toji carefully puts you back on your feet and guides you to sit on the edge of the kingsized bed. he absentmindedly brushes a few strands of your hair back after wiping some more tears away from your face;

“i know it’s a lot to take in,” toji kneels down before you, looking up with an unreadable expression whilst wiping the tears from your cheeks. his warm palms make contact with your skin and it’s like you’ve forgotten all about what just happened, “but is it okay if ya stay here while i go take care of the rest? i’ll come back once i’m done.”

toji has his own ways of cleaning up after he’s done a job and most likely wants to put one of those techniques to use before any maid or guard comes to check in on the house situation. you sniffle and hiccup afterwards, trying to form a verbal response through your broken sobs, but to no avail.

you simply nod and lean into toji’s calloused hands—such rough and masculine hands—ones that were meant to protect instead of hurt you. you weren’t able to trust men after your marriage, however this one in front of you was unlike any other. even if he may not seem like it on the outside.

his touch was gentle yet firm. the pads of his thumbs swiped the wet skin under your lower eyelashes and you could’ve sworn toji’s gaze had softened for a split second before he caught himself.

he had to stand up, get rid of the mess and leave the place before he got too attached to you. the assassin cannot make such a grave mistake.

“i promise,” toji speaks up after a bit again, standing up after giving you a soft pat against your shoulder, “you’re fine. i’ll be back—ya have my word.”

there he goes; making promises he knows he probably can’t keep. ‘i’ll be back’, will he? he can’t. for your own safety. he has to treat you as just another client. none of what he did in this house could be spoken of anymore.

he slipped up this once. it needn’t to happen again. money. he does his jobs for money—when he obtains the money. he doesn’t kill his targets for the sake of others, for the protection of others.

he doesn’t kill for love.

toji wishes that all of this had never happened, because he knows that his heart will lead him back to you at the end of the day. he knows he won’t leave once he cleans up the mess downstairs. he’ll come right back to you.

and you have faith in that. you trust this stranger whom had practically saved your life with just one shot.

“i don’t know how to repay you.. thank you.” you manage to mutter through shallow breaths. you stare at the back of toji’s head as he makes his way to the door. he stops in his tracks to reply to your comment.

he stands still at the doorway and looks over his shoulder at you—the scarred corner of his lips twitching;

“prepare the money. tha’s how you can repay me.” toji replies and you don’t know if he’s joking or being serious because of that little grin on his face. a breathy chuckle follows and then the assassin disappears.

the door closes and you’re left alone in this space. left alone in the silence of the home that had treated you as its prisoner. you remember how your husband used to lock you up in your bedroom whenever you had done something to piss him off; taking away your freedom by keeping you in a room.

now it’s yours—your life is yours. you’ve fully gained your freedom back and can decide what to do for yourself. it seems like a foreign situation, a foreign world, a foreign concept; you can now actually do whatever your heart desires. without any restraints.

“what is a successful marriage?”

well, to you, it’s one with a satisfactory ending.

🏷️ : @satoruhour @squicksquak @omgeto @xmintpie @cursingtoji @obsidiannero @elmoees @x1aosg1rl @fushironi @ceceher @ajax1230 @toji-is-hot @jayugh @rinshoe @sligerate @satoryaa @luveblad3 @happystrawberrytyrant @ezraiix

[cheenapri]

Transactional [Yandere Illumi Zoldyck x Reader]

Day ???

Summary: Illumi wants to get reacquainted with you after you escaped from him

Word Count: 3.9k

AN: Can we pretend it didn't take me half a year to finish this pls. This is also the last installment for Transactional, anything I write for Illumi in the future will be unrelated

Notes: yandere, kidnapping, gender neutral reader, unhealthy relationships, unbalanced power dynamics, mentions of past abuse, Illumi is not very nice, reader gets strangled

Day One Day Two + Three Day Four + Five

The cool night air felt nice against your skin. You take a deep breath, looking down at your feet as you continue walking. The song of the crickets was barely audible against the sound of honking cars and other city noises. You pull your jacket tighter against yourself to ease the faint anxiety that always ate away at you. 

You were returning to the motel you currently stayed at after finishing your last shift at your part-time job. Your job was nondescript, just like your disguise; an under-the-table job at a diner. It was perfect for a runaway such as you as it didn’t require IDs and paid in cash. You were offered the job by a sweet older woman you’d become friends with, her kindness extended as she had also given you a phone free of charge. It was an old model, but you were ecstatic nonetheless.

You felt stable as a pattern in your daily life began to form without unbearable dread scaring you into hopping onto the next bus and fleeing to another city. You hadn’t thought about his name quite as much but it never truly left your mind. The anxiety coupled with expectations of his long, sharp claws snatching you away at any moment slowly dissipated each time it failed to happen. 

You have learned to live again.

You were no longer going hungry for days at a time, stealing food and water just to evade starvation. You were no longer forced to sleep outside if you even could sleep, worried you were too exposed and he’d come to scoop you up in any minute. You no longer had to wear the same clothes for days on end, the rainwater being the only thing rinsing them and making them somewhat clean again.

Finding a serious buyer for the wedding ring he had given you was awfully difficult, from scammers who lied and told you it was a fake ring to almost getting robbed a few times. It was a good thing he told you how much it was worth that one time, casually spilling that he had spent one-hundred fifty-five million yen on it. As much as you wanted all of that cash, you had to settle with one million as you were becoming desperate and needed the funds to take care of yourself. 

After you were able to secure the money, you immediately got yourself a cheap motel room, some food, and some new clothes, using the rest of it to fund your travels. You never stayed at motels for long, making sure to stay on the road and get as far away from that evil man as you could. You honestly thought your escape would be fruitless, that he’d find and kill you almost immediately, but as days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, you wondered if he was even looking for you. Sure, you had drastically changed your appearance, but you were certain he wouldn’t need to look so hard to know it was you. 

To this day, you still wonder if you actually escaped or if he had willingly let you go. 

After weeks of begging and feigning passionate favors, you found yourself on yet another date with him — your last date with him. He had taken it upon himself to take you out whenever he felt you’d earned it, the requirements for earning it always seeming to change based on his mood. 

You felt like some kind of stress reliever, maybe that’s why he kept you around.

At least he hadn’t hurt you in a long while, or rather “disciplined” as he liked to call it. It was probably because you weren’t challenging his delusions anymore, allowing him to convince himself and others that you two were a normal, happy couple. He even began to trust you a bit, initially allowing you time out in the garden under Shiori’s supervision before allowing you to explore freely.

His family had warmed up to you as he’d said. Not in the sense that you all hung out and drank tea together, but rather in the sense that they either ignored you or treated you like you were a pet. They rarely ever refer to you by name if at all. Kikyo especially as she took it upon herself to “teach” you how to better serve her son. Her teachings were always mentally draining.

Kalluto was the most bearable Zoldyck. He wasn’t intimidating, overwhelmingly at least, he never said a word, and he never made any effort to hurt you. He only seemed curious at your existence, like you were some brand new undiscovered species. As long as he kept his distance when watching you, you had no issues with him.

Silva seemed to view you as a spectacle but never looked at you for more than a few seconds, Zeno even less. That was a guess, however, as you were too afraid to look either of them in the eye. They were aware of that and seemed to respect you since they avoided you as much as you avoided them, even if it was more so to preserve their eminence.

You hadn’t seen Milluki since the dinner, only hearing news of him from eavesdropping, and you thankfully hadn’t been forced to go back to the Zoldyck mansion for another agonizing family meal either. Shiori wasn’t as active in her role as your assigned butler, but your captor had been in his role as your “husband”. You got that skylight you wanted though it was at the price of your dignity. 

You shake your head before rubbing your temples, not wanting to let your mind wander to something that was long in the past. Picking your head back up, your speed quickens, carrying you inside the near-empty motel lobby and into the elevator. 

Your phone buzzes.

You fumble around in your pocket for it, pulling it out and tapping the message notification from your boss. It read: 

“I appreciate your hard work today. Your paycheck should come in tomorrow.”

The elevator shudders as it ascends, but your eyes remain fixed on your phone’s screen, the three little dots implying she had something more to say. 

“I know we haven’t known each other long, but I want you to know that I’m here if you ever need anything or need to talk to someone.”

You had never told anyone you’d stumbled across the truth about your situation, afraid they’d be endangered if that man found out about it. You didn’t need to, however, as your anxieties were written on your face clear as day despite your best efforts. 

You clutch the phone in your hands. This was all so unfair. You hold the very object that would allow you to communicate with your family, to call for help, but you’re unable to do so, his past threats towards your family a constant reminder every time you thought about calling them. 

You refuse to put anyone else in danger. 

The elevator dings as its doors open, revealing a dimly lit corridor before you. You slowly begin walking, your phone still open on your boss’ text message as you’re unsure of what to say. You desperately want someone to confide in, someone to tell your traumatizing story to, but you won’t do it at the cost of their life. Your thumb squeezes the power button, shutting the phone off and leaving you alone with your thoughts. 

As you reach the corner you must turn down to get to your room, you stop. It’s eerily silent. Your head hurts. You feel sick. 

Your phone buzzes again, echoing within the empty halls. 

“Maybe we can sit down and chat before you leave tomorrow if you’re comfortable?”

You continue and turn the corner, looking down at the text before turning the phone off once again and slipping it into your pocket, chalking up your sudden nausea to your recent thoughts about him.

You stop. Your room is at the end of the hall, you stand mere feet away from completing your recent daily routine and yet you’re unable to get yourself to move like you had many times before. 

It was simple: wake up, go to work, go “home”, go to sleep, rinse, repeat. However, your daily pattern never featured a strange man standing still as a statue right by your motel room door.

Your expression is almost as blank as his, you’re unable to react. You stare at him as he does at you, neither of you saying a word. His jaw ever so slightly clenched, his pointer finger twitching, his eyes unblinking. 

This headache will kill you before he does.

“Hey,” he greets, his voice an unfortunate familiarity. His tone is calm as always. Slowly, he inspects you from his spot, not commenting on your failure to greet him as he had “taught” you while he takes in your disguise. He hums to himself, quiet yet audible enough for you to hear. “I’m not a fan of the new look.”

His words were blunt, his eyes meeting your gaze once more. “You disappeared for a while.” He pauses momentarily and allows the tension to build as his stare remains fixated on you. “I thought someone else had gotten to you first.”

He wasn’t supposed to be here. Your mouth feels dry yet you swallow hard, the reality of the situation fully sinking in as you’re face-to-face with the one person you never wanted to see again: Illumi Zoldyck.

He’s angry, he has to be.

He was interfering with your plans. You were supposed to pack up and leave the motel tomorrow in search of another hiding spot to avoid this very event. How did he even find you after all this time? Your mind races as you think of all the possibilities. You know you didn’t leave any traces because you couldn’t leave any, all products were purchased in cash or discretely stolen, your face covered and head low at all times, and you never stayed in one spot for too long until recently. Maybe you’d gotten too comfortable? Unable to think logically, you slowly put your hands up in a defensive position, your body shifting as you take a step back.

“Don’t move.” He reaches out toward you — the space suddenly feels colder. Your body freezes as instructed despite the possibility of your freedom or even your life coming to an end. “You’ve run enough. Come here.”

You stay still, afraid to move let alone bridge the gap between the two of you. Illumi is static, still standing in his position with his arm outstretched to you. You’re like a deer in headlights, your face expressing nothing but pure terror to the man before you. Maybe you’ll turn invisible if you remain still enough…

“I won’t be so forgiving if I have to come to you,” Illumi threatens, a slight frown on his face.

What’s the difference if he’s going to torture and kill you either way? Wouldn’t it be better for him to be rough so you could die faster?

“Come here,” Illumi repeats once more, a much more commanding tone in his voice. You were in no position to test his patience. 

Tears begin stinging your eyes as reality sinks in even further, your heart burying itself into your stomach. With shaky legs, you take a slow step toward him. Your eyes dart from door to door hoping that if you stalled long enough, someone would come out and discover the two of you. Normally you wouldn’t wish anyone the misfortune of stumbling across Illumi, but your morals seem to dissipate now that you are being confronted. 

Illumi remains silent as you cautiously approach him, your eyes wide and your steps hesitant. Your fear grows stronger the closer you get to him. You flinch when he lowers his arm, your mind convinced that every movement he made was malicious. 

“You’ve been very busy, haven’t you?” Illumi asks sarcastically, the sarcasm in his voice is barely noticeable and the question almost seems legit. “You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, though that was your plan from the beginning.” 

He holds his hand out to you, the unspoken command for you to take it obvious. You hesitate, however, as past incidents of him crushing your hand as punishment resurface in your mind.  He’ll start by breaking your hands before breaking your legs and then finally breaking your neck, leaving you crumpled and gasping for air in the motel’s hallway. 

For a long moment, you didn’t move. “Give me your hand.” Illumi verbalized his command as his patience was running out. 

You’re visibly shaking, the tears in your eyes now overflowing. Slowly, you bring your trembling hand forth, cringing a few times as you envision yourself putting it in the mouth of a metal shredder. With your fate unavoidable, you place your hand in his, eyes shut tightly and head lowered as you mentally prepare for what’s to come. 

Silently, he takes hold of it with his other hand, pulling you closer to him. Illumi took note of your every reaction. The recoiling at his sudden movements, the shivering when his hand rubbed against yours, and, of course, your blatant anticipation of what he’ll do next.

His eyes move from your face to your fingers — narrowing slightly as the object he was looking for seems to be missing. He underestimated just how reckless you were, though the thought of you doing what he secretly dreaded was always possible.

He’s quiet, attention focused on your ring finger as if trying to manifest the symbol of your bond with him out of thin air. His anger was palpable. 

“Hm… you sold it,” he states, tone flat and expression unreadable. “How much?”

Your hand trembles, his itching to squeeze with intent to crush. You grumble your answer, voice timid as your eyes look off to the side. Before you could even react, his hand springs forth and grabs your jaw in a vice-like grip — his hold is dangerously close to your neck. Illumi forces your head up, his gaze meeting yours. 

He doesn’t say anything, only holding you in this unfortunate position. You let out a deep breath through your nose, your eyes shutting as you repeat yourself in a louder tone, “O-One million yen.”

Illumi abruptly releases his hold as if disgusted with you, his actions a stark contrast to your prediction of him immediately ripping your head off. He mentally repeats the number, his internal resentment battling over which to be more furious over: you being stupid enough to sell your binding to him, especially for such a low amount, and then using the cash to run away from him, or you being stupid enough to even think about selling your binding to him at all?

Ultimately, he chose both. 

Quietly, Illumi reaches into his pocket, eyes still trained on you as he retrieves the motel’s master key. He then turns to swiftly unlock your room’s door, stepping back and gesturing for you to head inside.

You don’t move, and the itch to run becomes more tempting. Seeing your hesitation, Illumi takes it upon himself to guide you inside, placing a hand on your lower back and practically shoving you into the room. Once the both of you are inside, he shuts and locks the door behind him with clear finality, watching as you back away and clumsily stumble onto the bed.

He doesn’t turn the lights on, the only light being from the moon’s glow through the window. He steadily moves toward you before stopping just shy of the window, the moonlight partially illuminating his features. He seemed less controlled, almost giving you a death stare in his own way. 

“Go on,” he says, a noticeable edge to his voice. His request was open-ended, its implication meaning anything. He wanted to see just how stupid you were. 

You scratch your head and think of thousands of ways to die at that very moment. If you’d gotten a gun from a shady seller, you could’ve made your unplanned interaction with Illumi short and messy — if you were even able to grab it. Maybe if you piss him off enough he’d deem you unworthy and side with his inner instincts, wasting no more time and snuffing the life out of you efficiently.

“You’re…” you start, ”You’re suffocating me. I just want to live.” Your arms wrap around you as you seek comfort in this unfortunate predicament. 

Illumi takes his time processing your weak excuse, the weight of his scrutiny becoming more and more unbearable with each passing second. He tilts his head, “You think you can live without me?”

“I can and I did for several months!” Your voice no longer felt weak. You shut your eyes as your deep-seated disdain for him builds even further within you — your mind no longer concerned about the possible repercussions. What more did you have to lose anyway?

“You weren’t living, you were surviving.” Illumi straightens his head. He allows time for his words to sink in as he takes in the sight of you again, his eyes flicking over your cheap hoodie, worn-out shoes, and tired, yet angry eyes. “The streets hadn’t been very good to you, I see.” His eyes move to make contact with yours. “You look a mess.”

“You’ve made me look worse!” You grit your teeth. Without thinking, all your pent-up anger was released at that very moment — the worst moment. “You’ve taken everything from me and you treat me like shit! You don’t know what love is! You’re horrible and I hate you!”

At that, he moved. The air around you shifted — a menacing, yet familiar energy you realized you hadn’t felt until now. You’ve provoked him, that much evident from the visible frown on his face and a slight furrowing of his brow.

“You talk too much.” He closes the distance between you and shoves you down onto the bed. Your breath hitches, your hands up defensively as you prepare to fight a battle you know you won’t win. 

His movements are deliberately slow as if the anticipation was intended to be its own form of punishment. You go to move backward, to relieve yourself — even momentarily — of his overwhelming presence, but he pushes you down again. The bed dips under his weight, his hands moving ever so slowly towards your neck. Knowing this wasn’t a bluff, you grab his wrists and try in vain to push them away.

You’re too weak. 

“You’re in no position to speak to me in such a manner. Here, I’ll show you.” His hands grip your neck with immense pressure, causing you to gasp and claw at his wrists. 

Illumi remains reasonably calm, externally at least, as he watches you struggle beneath him. “(Name),” he says. His grip loosened completely which allowed you to breathe. You continued coughing as you took in deep breaths but your sense of relief was quickly snatched away as his hands squeezed again. “(Name),” he calls again.

An overwhelming sense of dread embodies you as you realize that he is actually going to kill you. You’re unable to deny your survival instincts forcing you to fight back despite a smaller part of you reasoning that this was the happy ending you so desperately wanted. 

Illumi’s grip loosens once more, his gaze softens watching you spring back to life and greedily suck in oxygen. He relished in the control he lacked over you for so long. He wants something from you and you know that.

“I’m… sorry!” you manage to force out between breaths. You’re crying hysterically now, apologizing again and again as you don’t wish for your final moments to be as humiliating as this. 

“For what? What did you do this time, (Name)?” Illumi asks calmly, his fingers digging into your neck the more you try to pry them off. 

You hesitate despite the situation. You’re not sorry. You’re not sorry for a damn thing. Your lungs are burning though so you have no choice. “I’m… sorry for… run-running away…”

Illumi hums, his black eyes boring into you. “Running away wasn’t your only offense. What else have you done?”

Your head is spinning though you’re still able to breathe somewhat. You tap his wrist, a pathetic admittance of defeat. He doesn’t let go though.

“Please… get off me,” you beg. He ignores your pleas and keeps you pinned beneath him, his thumbs ready to press down on your windpipe at any given moment.

“You haven’t admitted all your wrongdoings. You haven’t fully apologized,” he states flatly. 

“I don’t-“ 

You’re cut off as he crushes your throat, his eyes narrowing. “You do.”

You’re beginning to panic again. You’re unable to rack your brain for whatever thing you’d done to warrant such an assault. 

Illumi could feel your pulse quickening. The temptation to squeeze just a bit more until it slows to a halt is overwhelming. He’s had you at his mercy before, but he had never thought of actually going through with it. His eyes are glued to you, taking in the drooping of your eyelids, the paleness of your skin, and how your body is relaxing. Even now as you’re being rightfully punished for daring to betray him, you still manage to humanize him – forcing him to feel something he was taught to suppress. 

He hated it. 

But he hated the way he hesitated even more.

Illumi releases your throat, and you spring back to life. You have no tears left to cry, only coughs and hoarse sobs as you replenish your oxygen. It was clear to Illumi that you were simply too stupid and stubborn to be sorry, and that it would be a waste of time to continue forcing disingenuous apologies out of you. 

That’s okay. You’ll come around. 

He slides off of you and fixes his clothes as if nothing had even happened. His calm, blank expression slipped back into place as he took in your small motel room. “This is what you’ve run to.” His voice carries a hint of mockery.

There was a lack of concern for your struggling figure on the bed, only disapproval as if you were acting. Your throat ached, and your head spun. Why were you still here?

“You’ve proven you are incapable of handling any ounce of freedom given to you. You cannot be trusted to make decisions on your own. You don’t know what’s good for you… that’s why you need me.”

He returns to the bed, standing over you once more. “Get up,” he says, “it’s time to go.”

Though you knew it was coming since death failed to, your heart sank at the thought of stepping foot in that wretched place once again. You let out a strangled sob, your limbs quaking as you force yourself up. 

“We have a lot of catching up to do, (Name).” Illumi places a not-so-comforting hand on your shoulder. “We have to ensure this incident won’t happen again.”

His subtle threat confirmed the plans he had in store for you. Your body refused to move as the realization that you were back at square one sunk in, but you forced yourself onto your wobbly legs as you were only delaying what was clearly inevitable. 

He wouldn’t forgive you – you knew that – and the treatment you’d receive would be much, much worse. 

[navybrat817]

“If you want something, you have to use your words.” With Bucky Barnes 😍😍

Such a fun prompt, lovely! How about CEO!Bucky?

Use Your Words

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky will give you what you need as long as you use your words. Word Count: Over 1.1k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral (m. receiving), possessive behavior, established relationship, pet name (princess), slight D/s vibes, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I don't know why this screamed CEO to me, but here we are. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You huffed a sigh as Bucky finally hung up the phone. He glanced at you with a small smile, the corner of his lips curling more when you narrowed your eyes. The love of your life was a busy man and you respected that. But if he took one more call, you’d throw his phone out the window. You didn’t care. He had more than enough money to buy a new one.

And you had been waiting for him on your knees, naked, for at least ten minutes.

“About time,” you muttered.

Your throat went dry as Bucky walked toward you. He stopped two feet away and from the angle reminded you just how much he was built like a brick house. The white dress shirt pulled taut over his wide chest, accentuated by his broad shoulders, and pants that hugged his massive thighs built for riding, the sight made you want to climb him and take his cock until he destroyed you. He ran a hand along his chiseled jaw and, from the mischievous look in his steel eyes, he drew attention to it on purpose.

You'd bite his chin later once you had the chance.

“Aww, princess,” he said in an almost mocking tone, his eyes sparkling again with laughter when you continued to glare. He loved riling you up. “If you want something, you have to use your words,” he told you, taking one step closer.

Like everyone else in Bucky’s life, he towered over you from his position. It would've terrified anyone else, but not you. No one else got to call themself Bucky’s princess and you would fight anyone who tried.

He was yours as much as you were his.

“I want you to put your cock in my mouth,” you said sweetly as you crawled closer to his feet, swaying your hips and watching his gaze fall to your breasts once you sat back on your knees again. “I want you to fuck my throat before you fuck my wet pussy.”

“Such a slut for me,” he said with a hint of affection he didn't dare show anyone else. He brushed a finger along your lips and your mouth fell open obediently. With a happy hum you sucked the digit into your mouth, happy that he put something there. “What makes you think you've earned my cock?”

The pout on your face didn't sway him as he took his finger out, but you caught the swift intake of breath when you ran his hands up his thighs. No one got to him the way you did. It was a heady feeling to know he gave you that kind of power. It was a gift you wouldn’t abuse.

But using it occasionally to your advantage wouldn't harm anyone.

“Because I've been good. You worked all day and I didn't bother you or tease you once. I didn’t even whine or complain when you took that call. I think that deserves a reward,” you answered, unbuckling his belt. You didn't move any further since he was still in charge. Or so he thought. “And don't you deserve a reward, too? Don't you deserve to use my holes?”

Reaching between your thighs, you watched his eyes darken when you gathered some of your wetness to show him. “That's my pussy you're touching,” he said.

“Mmm. So it is,” you smirked at the rustling of fabric and sound of him lowering his zipper. The sight of his hard cock springing free seconds later made your clit throb. You needed some relief, but he would reward you later for being good. “And your pussy is wet and ready whenever you're ready, Sir,” you promised, smearing your slickness along his cock from base to tip.

He taught you to appreciate the taste of yourself, but it was better when mixed with his.

And he rewarded you with a groan when you gave him a kittenish lick. “Show me first with your mouth how much you want me to fuck you,” he ordered.

You leaned forward to take him in just how he liked it. You started with the head, swirling your tongue gently around it with a moan. The drop of precum on your tongue had you greedy for more and it didn't take long for you to take in more of his cock, relaxing your throat so he could slide in. Being full of him was one of the best feelings in the world.

“Fuck, princess, that's it,” he rumbled as you slowly bobbed your head. Your head spun a little when he pushed himself further down your throat and groaned. You could take every inch.

The smile he gave you when you hollowed out your cheeks looked a little like love. The whine you let out when he hit the back of your throat said that you loved him, too. You loved him when he used you or when he treated you with such care. You loved that you belonged to each other.

He called you his princess, but you were truly his queen.

“And such a good girl for telling me what you need,” he grunted as he sped up his thrusts, your eyes burning with tears at his harsh movements. It wouldn’t be long until he came down your throat and your pussy clenched at the thought. You’d accept it all. “Keep sucking, princess. That’s it. Doing so well for me.”

He twitched on your tongue when you whined and moved faster, determined to make him feel good. When your hand moved up to cup his balls, it was all it took to tip him over the edge. With a growl, he spilled into your mouth. He gasped when you suddenly pulled off his cock and opened your mouth wider, showing him the load on your tongue.

You swore his cock twitched again when you shut your mouth to swallow it all down.

“Trying to kill me, princess,” he exhaled, tenderly holding your chin so you could look up at him. You smiled sweetly when his blue eyes locked with yours, proud of yourself when he continued to pant. Yeah, you got to him. No one else would ever compare. “Still need me to fuck my pussy?”

“Yes, Sir,” you rasped, your throat a bit sore in the best way. “Please, fuck me.”

He surprised you by joining you on your knees, keeping a hold of your chin to kiss you. He licked into your mouth, making you mewl from both the urgency and tenderness. “I’ll fuck you,” he breathed against your lips. “I'll always give you what you need.”

You knew he would. Bucky would always take care of you. All you had to do was use your words.

What do we think of CEO!Bucky? Yes? No? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[sigilslvt]

Love & Lies • Toji Fushiguro

☣︎ Summary: You were once a horseback rider that people would kill to have on their tracks knowing they'd make good money betting on you. Things change, however, when a certain assassin with a gambling problem comes into your life.

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem Reader

Tags: fem! reader, ex boyfriend! toji, light angst, mentions of gambling, mention of animal death, manipulation, smut, brief oral sex (f receiving), p in v, creampie

WC: 2.7k

Art: arokushisu_11 on Twitter!

A/N: I would genuinely let this man drain my bank account as long as he fucks me like this immediately after, I'm not sorry.

I can fix him.

You had always made fun of women that claimed they could fix toxic or abusive men. Until you became one of them. Five years you’ve been with Toji. Five years you’ve been dealing with his addiction. You’d be fine if he was addicted to porn or collectibles or something, but no… gambling is his vice.

At first, it wasn’t a big deal, you met him at a horse race, after all. Being a rider, you knew people liked to bet. You thought he was a casual gambler when he was chatting you up to give you some sort of confidence boost because he had placed his bet on you. When you won, he called you his lucky charm and you fell for it. Instantly.

It wasn’t long before you started dating and you winning became less about luck and more about him running you and your horse ragged to make sure that you’d win when he bet on you. You’re still not sure if he was doing it because he just wanted to make big bucks off you or if he just genuinely thought he was helping and giving you motivation when he had you and Shiloh on the track constantly practicing. He claimed to love you, so there’s no way you were just a tool to him, right? Wrong.

Because here you are, two years after quitting because Shiloh broke her leg and had to pass over the rainbow bridge, and your relationship has deteriorated entirely. You no longer spend time together outside of him coming to lay in you guys’ bed at night. It’s become a circle of lies, loss, anger, apologies, and makeup sex. It never fails. He tells you he’s going to change, then he leaves after taking a job only to come back with no money to show for it. Of course, he knows that you wait at the track whenever he’s away for jobs, so he’s switched up his methods. Started betting on boat races, car races, you name it. It makes no difference to him as long as there’s the thrill of the gamble.

Every time it would happen, you’d tell him you were done. You’d scream and shout while he apologized, pleaded, and begged for you to stay after claiming he’d get help from one of the numerous places you’d called for him. Used Megumi as a way to manipulate you into staying by telling you his son loves you oh so much. It’d soften your resolve enough for him to touch you in all the right ways that’d make you forget just how angry you’d been. Fuck you stupid enough to believe him when he’d say he’d change.

This time is different. This time, after getting the notification that thirty million yen had been taken from your personal bank account, you pack your bags instantly. You don’t wait for him to get home, you simply write a note for Megu and disappear after changing your bank, phone number, and social media. You can thank him for one thing after all of this and that’s teaching you how to scrub your existence entirely. You do it well.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

It’s been three years since then and you’ve moved out of the city, to the countryside. You’ve managed to live a peaceful life after regaining your funds, buying a small farm and a few horses. You’re happy. You miss Megumi, still. So so much. It’s taken everything in you not to contact Toji just to hear Megumi’s sweet voice again. He’s eight now, old enough to know you’ve gone and likely won’t see him again. You wonder if he misses you. If you hurt him by leaving.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock on your door. You brush yourself off, pulling your shorts down so your ass is better covered, and prepare yourself for your horseback riding lesson appointment. It’s the way you’ve been making a living lately, which you’re grateful for, because you get to do what you love and watch others grow to love it, too.

When you walk to your door, you get an uneasy feeling. One that makes you feel like you’re on a rollercoaster about to drop. You push it down and open the door only to see exactly why you were feeling that way. Your breath escapes you and you look up to see none other than Toji. Thankfully, your body reacts before you can even think to and you start to close the door, but his large hand stops it and you know you won’t be able to physically stop him, so you don’t bother to try and force it.

“Please. Please don’t.” Is all you say and his expression contorts into one of regret and sadness. You look away, knowing he’s not going to do anything but try to break you down and you can’t let him. You won’t.

“Just hear me out, doll. I swear I’ll leave if you tell me to leave after, but I just need to… I have to… fuck, I had everythin’ rehearsed, but seein’ you lookin’ more beautiful than when you left, I lost it all. Just give me a few minutes, please?” He asks, fidgeting and shifting on his feet. You’ve never seen Toji like this before. He was always sure of himself, always ten steps ahead, always confident. But the way he’s acting now isn’t even how he would act when he was trying to get you to stay with him.

You can’t find it in you to speak, but you nod, moving away from your door frame so he can step in. When he does, you close the door behind you and lean against it, taking a moment to take a deep breath. Your feet carry you forward to walk in front of him, leading him to the kitchen and pulling a chair out for him. Instead of sitting, you lean against your counter with your arms crossed as if they’ll help your emotional defense. “What is it, To…? After all this time, what could you possibly have to say to me?”

“I… you left.” He says, rather plainly. As if he’s still shocked you did it. You nod, gesturing for him to continue. “You left and I didn’t get to say goodbye. Didn’t know if somethin’ happened to you, I-I thought someone with a grudge might’ve… I thought the worst, doll. It wasn’t till I saw the note you left Megumi under his pillow that I knew you left. I… why didn’t you at least leave me a note? Would that have killed you? Did our love not mean enough to you? I–”

“Stop. Don’t do that, don’t say that. Our love was everything to me. It wasn’t enough for you, though. Not enough for you to stop gambling so much that you drained even my money. I left without saying anything to you because I meant nothing more to you than being your lucky charm when I was racing for your wins. Don’t act like I did.” You spit, so enraged that you stand up and walk to him, bending down to get face to face with him.

There it is. That expression you were so used to seeing whenever he’d come home pissed from losing his money. “You think I didn’t fuckin’ love you? You think I was just, what? Keeping you around for shits and fuckin’ giggles? I love you so fuckin’ much. I tried to stop! I tried to live a straight life, I did! But every time I came home to see you so sad, so fuckin’ miserable, I broke down more and more. I didn’t know that I needed to do more than just fuckin’ quit. Didn’t know that there was more to a relationship than just providing. But, I know that now. I know that you and I can do this, I can make you happy, doll, just let me make you happy.” He pleads, the anger dissipating with every word he says, leaving only the look of a broken, desperate man.

“No. No, I won’t risk my happiness by allowing myself to fall for this shit again, Toji. I’m glad you figured out how to make a relationship work, I figured as much after seeing your girlfriend’s po–” You stop yourself, swallowing your words.

“You’ve been checkin’ in on me?” He asks and his voice is so hopeful that you feel a familiar crack in your resolve form. “Sh-she wasn’t my girl, she isn’t. I know what it looks like, but I haven’t committed, not since you, I-I can’t. Everytime I… no matter what whore I’m inside of, all I can see is YOU, doll. It’s always your fuckin’ face. It’s your name I moan, I… please. Please, baby, I’ll get help. I miss you, I need you, there’s no one else for me in this fucked up world. I know I took advantage of your patience and I know I don’t deserve you , but I’m askin’ anyway. One more chance. Just one.” He says, getting on his knees in front of you– something you’ve never seen him do during any of his episodes before.

You feel tears threatening to spill from your eyes and you look up, trying not to look at the man you can’t help but admit you still love. His hands find your thighs and his head rests against one, his arms snaking around you. “Please…” He lets the broken word out of his scarred lips before he begins to kiss your bare skin, smelling you in between kisses. “Please, doll… need you…” He keeps going when you don’t stop him, your legs beginning to tremble. His hands grip the back of your thighs tightly and he groans as his face lifts up to your clothed cunt, pressing a kiss to it and making your hips buck. “Tell me this ‘s okay, baby…” He says, emphasizing what he means by kissing you there again.

Your lip trembles and you shake your head, your fingers sliding into his hair and pulling his head away from you, making him look up at you. “You need to get help, To… that’s the only way this will-”

“You got it, babe.” He says before you can finish, immediately going back to your thighs, licking a strip up one of them. “M’gonna fuckin’ worship you like I should’ve.” He growls, wasting no time and hooking his fingers into the back of your shorts, pulling them down your legs roughly. You’re about to step out of them, but he stands up and picks you up, putting you on the table and spreading your legs for you.

You cover your face, not having been put on a display like this in so long, but he rips your hands from you immediately, slotting his lips onto yours. The texture of the scar on his lips was something you sorely missed and you nip at his bottom lip, his hips rutting against yours in response, his erection pressing painfully hard against your core. “Mmph, To…” You whimper out before he nods.

“Got you, princess. Lemme do my thing.” He chuckles, kissing down your jaw, then your neck, along your collarbone, and lastly over your chest before he grabs your tank top and pulls it down under your breasts, groaning when they spill out. His lips attach to one and fingers to the other, his slimy muscle working on your nipple within his mouth with a vengeance. Your back arches up off the table and your head falls off of it with a loud moan. He repeats the action on your other breast before moving to kiss below your navel and then your pelvis.

You roll your hips up, trying to get him to bury his head between your thighs already when a large hand pushes you back down on the table. “What’d I say, hmm?” He asks, making you groan and roll your eyes, needy for him. “Bad girl. Such a fuckin’ bad girl.” He hisses before he gives you an inkling of what you want, swiping his tongue between your clothed folds, making you jerk in response. He pulls your underwear to the side with one finger, smelling your slick, his eyes rolling back into his head as he does so.

“Tojiiii, stop!” You beg, embarrassed at how fucking nasty he can be with you. He doesn’t listen, of course, instead immediately plunging his tongue into your waiting hole, making sure to rub his nose against your clit as he moves his face side to side, moaning at your taste. You grip his hair again, your other hand grasping and massaging your breast like the added stimulation will help to alleviate the pressure he’s creating by teasing you. “Please… more…” You beg, breathing quickening as he continues to tongue fuck you.

“F’give me for wanting to enjoy you a bit more, princess. But, since you asked so cutely, I’ll give ya what ya want.” He hums, kissing your clit just once and standing. His hands immediately work to rid himself of his pants and boxers, gripping his fat cock and smacking it against your slippery folds. You look down at it and it looks angry, red and dripping precum from the tip. He smirks seeing your reaction, continuing to wet himself with your slick as he grunts. The second you give him what he wants– a needy whimper, he sheathes himself inside you.

Your pussy flutters and clamps down on his cock immediately, earning a long groan from him as he bottoms out. “Heh. She missed me, huh?” He asks, making you nod and blush. That’s enough of a response for him and he wastes no time flushing his body against yours, rutting into you with a force that only he’s capable of. His thick cock bullies your gummy walls, stretching you around him so deliciously that you can’t form any coherent thoughts or words, really. “Love you s’fuckin’ much, princess. Never letting you go again, n-ugh- never. All mine, y’r all fuckin’ mine.” He grunts out, fucking into you even harder, your table creaking beneath you.

“L-Love you, Toji! Love you s’much, s’deep! ‘M all yours!” You cry out, hands slithering up his shirt and raking your nails down his back violently, but you know he can take it. It only riles him up more. His hands move down to grab your thighs, folding your legs up so he can get in at an angle, kissing you as his tip turns your cervix to mush.

“Still as fuckin’ tight as the day you left, doll.” He growls between kisses and you feel your cunt clamp down harder on him, twitching. “Oh? Gonna cum?” He asks, sitting up, slowing down and rolling his hips against you roughly, purposely delaying your orgasm. “Tell me, princess… tell me you love me one more time and I’ll let you cum.” He hisses out, the slow, deep thrusts doing a number on him, too.

“Love you! Fuck, please!” You beg, trying to fuck yourself on his cock to get yourself all the way there.

“Mmm mm, you know what I wanna hear.” He delivers a punishing thrust into you once before continuing the slow and rough pace.

“I love you, T-Toji! I love you s’much, I’m all yours!” You moan out, earning a satisfied moan from him, his head falling back as he speeds up churning your gummy insides out with his cock like his life depends on it, the table now making concerning noises beneath you as he brings you to your peak and your orgasm washes away everything from your mind, your mouth falling open as you cry out and cum. A creamy ring forms at the base of his cock while your cunt clamps down so hard on him that he can barely continue to thrust, which pushes him over the edge.

“Nngh, fuck!” He groans, using all his strength to pull out and plunge back into you while he cums, the force of his thrust so hard that the table breaks beneath you and you both fall with it. He doesn’t bother to pull out, chuckling as he moves your hair from your face, kissing your forehead while you both try to catch your breath. “Missed you so much, doll.” He coos, his eyes so loving that you feel you’ll melt.

“I missed you, too, To… don’t let me down again. Please…” You breathe out and he nods.

“Never again. I promise.”

[exhaslo]

Hellooo!! I was wondering if you could do a part 2 to the Sugardaddy!Miguel story? 🫶🏻🤍

Sure thing!!!!!

Part 1

Warning: MINORS DNI, some smut, language, Sugar Daddy/Daddy kink? What would that go under??

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It had been a year since you and Miguel made that deal at the strip club.

Miguel was going to be your Sugar Daddy in exchange for a few dates.

It lasted two months before you asked him to further your relationship with him. Miguel was young, hot, kind, charming and just perfect.

The two of you were in a happy relationship. Miguel still spoiled you as if he was still your Sugar Daddy. You didn't complain as much because you had told Miguel it was all going to be used for your education.

Miguel was fine with it, but he loved to take your shopping. Buying you everything you looked at, everything you wanted, it felt too much sometimes.

Luck was truly on your side to have taken such a risk that night. Not only had you paid off all your bills, but you were finally going back to school. Miguel was so understanding and supportive of you that you couldn't help but fall more in love with him.

Miguel was amazing at everything. Once the two of you became an official couple, he was more honest with you.

The man was the son of the CEO of Alchemax.

The man was SPIDER-MAN!

The later secret was told just recently. You had found Miguel injured and grew extremely worried as you helped heal his wounds. It made sense why he was so rich, so strong and so goddamn good in bed. The stamina he had was inhumane.

Honestly, you were surprised how Miguel hasn't put a baby in you yet. There had been times where Miguel would fuck you so good that you couldn't move for the next few days.

Speaking of numb...

"Migueeeeel, I have an exam today. I told you," You said with a soft whine, laying flat on the bed.

"Aye, sorry mi amor (my love). I did restrain myself just a bit," Miguel said with a hum as he kissed your head, "I can swing you over to the building."

"But then I have to walk inside," You said with a pout, "I don't wanna be charged the missed fee."

"If that's what you're worried about..."

You squealed as Miguel flipped you over and pinned you against the bed. His smirk growing wider,

"I can handle as many missed fees as we need."

"But Daddy~" You giggled, causing Miguel to kiss you.

If there was one thing about having Miguel as a young Sugar Daddy that was good...was that Miguel LOVED being called 'Daddy'. It was a kink that you got used too as well.

"Ah~ D-Daddy! R-Right there~" You moaned, arching your back as Miguel held your hips.

"Does my good girl like that?" Miguel hummed as he thrusted into you again, "You want Daddy to take care of everything?"

"Y-Yesh! Yes! I-I'm a good girl!" You cried out, feeling your orgasm approach.

"Don't worry, I'll take....nh...good care of you." Miguel groaned as you tighten against his cock, "You want Daddy's milk that bad?"

You gripped against the bed sheets, begging for Miguel to unload inside of you. You gasped and moaned as Miguel gave you exactly what you wanted.

"Such a good girl," Miguel grunted as he kissed your neck, "My good girl,"

"Hah...hah...Miguel, I know...you're rich, but I can't keep...mhm...abusing you like this." You muttered. Miguel raised a brow as he picked you up from the bed,

"(Y/N), You know well that I don't mind. I have too much money to know what to do with. I will gladly always spend every penny on you."

"Hehe, a true sugar daddy."

"You're daddy." Miguel said with a chuckle as he carried you to the bathroom, "You've worked too hard your whole life to allow me to let you continue. I want to make sure you are always comfortable."

"You're always working hard too, Miguel. You have to live comfortably too."

You closed your eyes as Miguel gave you a deep kiss. He turned the water on and laid in the large bath with you. His arms firmly around your waist as the two of you laid in the tub. Your hands stroking his scars on his arms.

"Why don't we go on vacation? To celebrate me graduating soon. You could use the week off."

"Hm?" Miguel nuzzled his head against the crook of your neck, "How about three weeks? Any country of your choosing."

"Oh, you spoil me, Daddy."

"Anything for my good girl,"

It was a good thing Miguel was paying that fee for missing your exam...

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Hope you liked it~

[dckweed]

NEXT THING YOU KNOW, gator tillman

summary: in which gator tillman and his arranged bride figure out life and each other and what a real relationship means to them.

warnings: mentions and depictions of abuse, mentions of bruises, arranged marriages, romance, humor, dead parents, slow burn relationship (not completely but not not), basically we know the tillman men are asswipes so i 100% see Roy forcing gator into this kind of situation for money for his militia, eventual smut with kinks such as thigh riding, gun play, choking, spanking, lots of marking and possible spit play.

comment on this post to be added to the taglist for future parts!

The smell of cigar smoke hung thick in the air, the lighting dim in the dark office. You sat stiffly in a large leather chair, and across from you on the other side of the massive oak desk sat your step father, Boyd Augastine. He was a mean old man, and you had hoped in your time away at boarding school that he had graciously paid for, that he would have calmed down. That hope seemed to be more wishful than anything though, in fact, you thought he seemed meaner than the last time you had seen him at Christmas dinner.

“Boyd, please!” You begged, trying to fight back tears. You hated being home, if you could even call this massive estate that, it made you tense and irate, scared. You shake your head at the man in front of you, trying to remain as polite as you could lest you reap the repercussions. “You can’t make me marry that boy!” You say, tone as even as you could keep it. “Is this even legal?!”

He had at least let you finish speaking. “I can, and you will.” He sniffs, not even bothering to look up at you as he shuffled through some papers sitting in front of him. You assumed they were the documents pertaining to the horrid news you had just been given. “The Tillman boy is a fine young man, he’s strong and not entirely stupid, and his family is almost as powerful as me. You will marry him, and you will produce a male heir to take over both families when the time comes.” He says, finality in his tone and a hint of annoyance that you knew meant that the conversation needed to end before you wound up being hurt. “Lord knows i’m not about to leave my fortune to some half-witted emotional broads. You may not be my blood, but you are legally an Augastine, you will do your part.” You wince. “Unless of course, you’d rather one of the girls marry him when they come of age?”

You purse your lips, trying desperately to bite your tongue. He always knew exactly what to say to get you to do whatever he wanted, and you hated that you had no backbone sometimes. What were you supposed to do though? Your half sisters weren’t even in high school yet, they were mere babies still..they deserved to find their own happiness in life, with someone they actually loved..if you had to marry this boy for a few years and pop out a kid or two for them to be able to live their lives, just to satiate their father, then you would gladly do it. They didn’t need to take your place. Besides, it's not like divorce wasn’t a common thing amongst young married couples anyway.

He knows your answer before you’ve even opened your mouth to speak it and tosses his expensive fountain tipped pen across the desk. It lands with a thud and you pick it up with a trembling hand as he slides the documents towards you as well. “Your mother would be proud.” He says cooly, watching you scrawl your name across every highlighted area that needs signing. You wondered what the Tillman’s were receiving in return for this, they were already fairly well off from what you understood. Pretty much every man in their lineage had been sheriff of the godforsaken county, law ran in their blood, and it paid well too. But who's to say that they weren’t being paid handsomely for this?

You felt as if you had just signed away your soul.

You toss the pen back to him, and give him his stupid papers back before standing and turning on your heel. You didn’t care if you hadn’t been dismissed, you were done. You needed to be alone, you needed to cry. You stride across his large office, and just as your hand touches the brass knob of the heavy door, his voice rings out.

“You’re to be married in two months' time, wedding planning begins tomorrow.” You clench the knob, fighting back the tears. He didn’t deserve to see you cry. “Sleep well, Pearlie.” You swore on your mama’s gravestone that the nickname she had given you dripped with venom when it came from his mouth. Sometimes you wished you could drip actual venom into his mouth, shut him up forever. It was a soothing thought when you were younger, before he had shipped you off to boarding school.

You make your way down the long carpeted hallway to the large wooden staircase, climbing them as quickly as you could. You could hear your sisters, Victoria and Lucy in their room giggling about something that had happened at school, and you smiled as you pressed your ear to the door. You had worried the whole time your mother was pregnant that the girls would be treated just as horribly as you were when your mother wasn’t around, that they would have to hide bruises and emotions and pretend that everything was okay just like you did, but they were his own flesh and blood, his own life force, he could never act such a way towards his own blood. But they weren’t boys, so they also weren’t good enough to take over his fucking business.

You head a little farther down the hall, closing and locking your own door behind you as you slipped into your room, the only place that occasionally felt safe to you when you were here. “I wish you were here, mama.” You whisper to the photo sitting on the dressing table right next to the door.

True to his word, the wedding planning started the next day. You were awoken by your sisters’ nanny early in the morning, her knocking at your bedroom door loud to your pounding head. You had spent the night crying and you were paying for it dearly.

“Miss Pearl,” Her ever pleasant voice calls through the thick wood as you sit up in bed. “Boyd is requesting you downstairs, your betrothed and his father have arrived..” You glance at the clock. It was seven-thirty in the morning. You were used to waking up around this time for school anyway, you had only been home twenty-four hours by this point. “He’s not too pleased this morning,” Her hushed voice comes next and you sigh, leaning your head back into your pillow.

“Thank you, Lorraine,” You say loud enough for her to hear, your thick comforter falling off of you as you sit up. “Tell them I'll be down soon, please..” She doesn’t respond but you hear her footsteps fade away from your door.

You stretch before swinging your legs over the side of your bed, rolling your head from side to side. You knew it was in your best interest to play along with Boyd’s scheme, and he would know if you were half assing or catching an attitude the moment you walked into the room. If you were going to do this, then dammit, you were going to do this right.

Within fifteen minutes you were dressed in a sleeveless white dress that flowed down to your feet, the top of it pushing your breasts up in the illusion of a push-up bra. You had purposely bought this one a size or so too small for that effect while you were still at school, wanting to impress one of the guys you had been previously dating before graduation. You left your hair down to fall around your shoulders, brushing it and using one of your favorite hair serums to run through it with your fingers, leaving a nice smell before you slid on a glossy lip oil and mascara, with a spritz of your favorite perfume to your wrists.

With one last look at the photo of your mom, silently wishing she were here with you to help you through this, you open your door and make your way barefoot down the hallway and stairs.

You hear their voices when you come off the stairs in the middle of the grand hallway on the first floor, floating out of the massive dining room that was hardly ever used. You don’t pause, afraid that if you did it would be all you would need to turn tail and hide in your bedroom forever, and head immediately for the doorway, waltzing in as if you weren’t interrupting their apparently humorous conversation.

You paint a smile on your face as Boyd narrows his eyes at you, a look that you knew meant he wasn’t at all happy with you and you were certainly going to hear about it later. “Sorry to keep you waiting, sir,” You say, kissing his cheek to keep up the appearance of a loving father and daughter relationship, something you had been doing since you were ten. He couldn’t have the world knowing that he despised his late wife’s daughter, could he? You squeeze his shoulder. “The drive up from school must have exhausted me more than i realized, i didn’t mean to sleep in and miss greeting our guests.” You shoot them an award winning smile as well as you smooth out your skirt, taking your seat next to Boyd, but across from the Sheriff and who you assumed was his son.

Boyd hums and you just know that he’s boiling with rage at you, though in your defense, he hadn’t informed you that there would be a breakfast this morning. “You haven’t missed much, we were just talking about your horse actually, and your award from Eventing last season.” Just the topic brought another smile onto your face, a real one this time.

“That was a close one too, we were neck and neck with our second place competitor..” You had spent the majority of the time after the event wondering if Boyd had paid off the judges to put you in first, though you did know that you had put in a lot of training hours with Bubbles, and it had clearly shown. Besides, Boyd didn’t like you nearly enough to pay off the judges just to see you place first in any sport, let alone Equestrian Eventing.

The older man sitting across from you, the Sheriff, smiles what appears to be a genuine smile at you. “You love your horses, I can tell from the way your whole face just lit up like the sun had touched it..” You can’t help the blush on your face, and judging by the look on his sons face as he looked at you, you had just done something right without even knowing it. “You and I already have something in common with each other, perhaps i’ll make time to take a ride with you this weekend..” His sons face completely changed at the mention, you would say it resembled a sort of panic.

“I would love that!” You exclaim, more than pleased to spend any kind of time on your horse, even if it was with your soon to be father in law. He nods at you in return, and nudges his son, as if communicating with him.

Breakfast is served not too much longer after that, and the time is spent with your step father and the Sheriff talking about things you couldn’t even have pretended to care about in that moment, like golf or what the government was doing, while you and the boy across from you shared a couple of glances, staying silent unless spoken to.

You had to admit, he wasn’t terrible on the eyes. He wore a black polo shirt underneath of what you could only assume was a bullet proof vest with a velcro patch that said Sheriff across the chest. His hair was slicked back away from his face, and you noticed a tattoo peaking out of one of the short sleeves stretched across his bicep. Oh, he was certainly handsome, but probably not the type to ever be happy with a girl like you..nor did you think you could be happy with him.

You were obviously younger than him at only eighteen (your birthday thankfully just before your wedding date), you had just graduated highschool. You had no job, and your only future now lay with the man in front of you. He didn’t speak too much, and you couldn’t tell if it was because he was a naturally quiet person, or if it was because his father and Boyd were obviously the alphas in the room and from what you could gather, weren’t to be bothered until they bothered you first. You didn’t mind that he was older than you, though you guessed he was at least mid twenties if he was already a cop. You kind of liked the thought of being with someone older than you, the boys you had been with at school were all dipshits and childish. You hoped that he wasn’t the same. And if he was, well, at least he was handsome to look at.

The boy, Gator, looked up at you from across the table. You decided that his eyes were hazel, a beautiful color for a decidedly beautiful man. You give him a shy smile from where you sat, raising a mug of your favorite breakfast tea to your lips. You noticed the way he licks his lips, his eyes darting to your mouth and back to his plate once you had set your cup down on its saucer. Well, you thought, at least he’s clearly attracted to me. Maybe our marriage won’t be completely boring..

You had long ago tuned out the droning voices of your step father and your soon to be father in law, using your fork to pick around at the fruit salad you had served yourself for breakfast, adding a little yogurt to it here and there. You couldn’t bring yourself to fully eat, your stomach uneasy the more you thought about your impending marriage. God, how was arranged marriage even still a thing? How was this even fucking legal? You made a mental note to ask Boyd for copies of all of the documents you had signed so you could take them to a lawyer in town somewhere, have them double check that the documents were in fact legal. If there was anything you could do to get out of this, you were willing to do it. 

You’re jolted from your thoughts by Boyd’s voice, and you jump, startled. “Sorry, i was day dreaming..” You say, shaking your head with a small giggle, hoping that he hadn’t been trying to get your attention for too long. You can see Sheriff Roy give a small smile from across the table, another nudge to his son.

Boyd gives you a subtle eye roll as he faces you, and you can tell from his body language that he’s upset with you for zoning out. You were certain to hear an earful about it tonight and that made you nervous. “Roy and I have some business to attend to in my office,” He says, giving a pointed glance to the boy sitting across from you guys. “How about you take Gator on a walk around the grounds? The girls are out getting piano and violin lessons right now, you won’t be bothered for a while.” Is he trying to tell me to fuck this boy? You wondered disgustedly, you knew Boyd was..well, Boyd, but really?

You want to say no, you want to tell him to marry the boy himself if it was that important to him, but you’re afraid of what could possibly happen to you if you do, so you paint another smile on your lips and look over to your husband to be. “I’ll show you my horse!” You say, setting your napkin next to your plate as you stand, walking around the table to lead him out into the foyer. “The barn is a little ways out there,” You say when you notice him following you out of the dining room. “Hope you don’t mind a little walk..”

He follows you silently through the formal living room and into the kitchen, straight back into the mudroom where you bend over to put your well worn boots on. They were brown, and the leather was starting to wear down on them but you didn’t mind, they still got the job done. They were a gift from your mama and you would wear them until they fell apart, and even then you would probably duct tape them back together again.

He’s gentlemanly enough to hold the back door open for you, and you breathe in his scent as you brush past him. He smells good, his cologne floods your scents. Its a woodsy kind of scent, mixed with a little bit of leather, and something a little fruity that you can’t quite name and you wonder what the hell it is as he falls in step next to you as you both walk off of the porch. His hands are slipped into his pockets as you guys walk, a casual look, and you notice that he’s tall too, even in his work boots.

You realize that he’s not going to make the first step to conversation.

When you’re a good enough distance away from the house, out of sight of Boyd’s office, you stop abruptly and turn to face him, the sun beats down on his face even with his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes. He stops too, tilting his face down at you, an eyebrow raised and an amused look on his face. God, you though, he really is handsome.

“Can I help you with somethin’?” He asks, his drawl washing over you. That was the first time he had spoken and good lord his voice could do things to you if this were any other kind of situation, you just knew it. His shoulders are squared, and you realize that now, alone with you, he is the alpha male. You kind of like the vibe that rolls off of him, but it makes you wonder why he cowered when he was in the same room as your guys’ fathers.

You look around, lips pursed and hands on your hips as you thought. “Look,” You start, meeting his gaze under the brim of his hat. “The way I see it, neither of us particularly wants to be in this situation.” He hums in agreement, crossing his arms over his chest as he listens to what you have to say. “Neither of us are happy, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t at least try to be friends..we’re both stuck doing this, and even though i wasn’t given a choice, I would still like to at least be friends with the person i’m marrying in two months..”

He sniffs and looks around for a moment, and for the first time, you see a smile on his face and you couldn’t help but think it was beautiful. “Alright then,” He says, holding out his hand for you to shake. “Let’s be friends.”

taglist:

@ruth-barnes @justherebecausesafarisucks @daisy-is-a-writer

[animalistic0]

Not Enough Time (Part 1)

Part 2: Here

Plot: A little history and background on JC and JJ. Explaining and building their relationship. Ends with them reuniting.

OC Maybank twin + platonic pogues x Rafe Cameron

*Season Four Spoilers!*

Warnings: OuterBanks, Season 4, mentions of abuse, allusions to death, horrible fathers, sibling fluff, angst, self sacrificing characters, allusions to mental health

Word Count: 1.3k+

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were supposed to have more time, more life, just more everything. After everything they’ve been through this wasn’t right! This wasn’t justice, and this sure as hell wasn’t the plan. However, would anything have changed if the twins knew this was the outcome?

JC was older by five minutes and never let JJ forget that. An argument, “I’m older than you boy.” A scolding, “You need to listen to your elders, kid.” Admitting affection, “I love you, little brother.” A compliment, “You rock baby Jay!” JC claimed it was her birthright to remind JJ he was younger than her, and she never missed an opportunity either.

JJ outwardly acted like he didn’t like it but he did. He never wasted a moment to complain and mention it was only five minutes though. “You’re only older by five minutes, JC. Five minutes!” However, knowing that his sister always had his back made everything worth it. Even if she was five minutes older and never let him forget it.

The twins were each other’s everything. From the very moment that JJ was born they only truly had each other. No one knew them like the other. They shared the same friend group, JJ closer to John B, and JC closer to Pope. But neither pogue could even began to understand the twins relationship. Pope and John B were just glad to have their friends, and witness the unconditional love and bond JJ and JC had.

As time passed and the twins grew older, it was as if the two only grew closer. However, just like most twins JJ and JC went through a phase of trying to show their individuality. That phase only lasted for two months before the twins dropped it. Finding that they couldn’t truly be happy by separating themselves from the best part of who they were.

No matter what happened, and no matter what the other did they never stopped supporting, fighting, and understanding each other. When JJ ended up betting the rest of the gold on himself and lost it, JC was the only person who kept herself calm. She was a bit disappointed in her brother but she knew he was just trying to help. The two of them never grew up with money, not like their friends. Even John B had more money than them. For JJ and JC to have the amount they did it shocked them and they struggled to save it. So yes, JC couldn’t completely fault her twin. Just as when JJ found out JC had slept with Rafe a few times after Singh, he couldn’t completely be mad at her. Especially when they sat down and had a conversation about how Rafe both protected and saved her. JJ wasn’t happy, very disappointed but he could understand where she was coming from.

When the Pogues were fighting for their home and business and JJ ended up crashing out, JC was right there with him. Protecting and helping him. The amount of damaged the two did was both poetic and astonishing. JJ with his baseball bat and JC with her golf club. She stayed right by his side, and did everything she could to make sure they both escaped the police. Her twin always her first priority, though she was worried for Pope and how she had witnessed him being arrested.

When the twins met with Groff and had to run for their lives, JC was right beside her brother’s side. JC refused to believe he was their father, not able to digest that the man that raised and abused them wasn’t. It made no sense, and neither did it for Groff to abandon them for a better chance. JC called it bullshit and hated the admission. When Groff admitted he was in fact their father, JC couldn’t help herself from punching the older man in the face. JJ had to hold her back, before the three of them were kidnaped.

When John B, Sarah, and Kiara rescued them JC had never been happier. Though when Groff showed up JC didn’t make any move to help him not like her kind hearted and loyal baby brother. The twins actually ended up arguing later that night about Groff and what that meant for the both of them. JC, or Juniper was furious, not at her brother but at the hand dealt to them in life. “Luke may have been a horrible and cruel father, but he is our father. We are Maybank’s JJ, through and through. Pogues for life!” JJ, or Jackson as the twins had learned was frustrated and confused. He felt like a little kid, and had hope that maybe they could have the father they always wanted. “Groff is our dad, JC. He deserves a chance, we deserve that chance!”

JC would look back and forever regret not being there for JJ for once. She refused to help Groff or spend anytime with him. Ultimately leaving her brother in the man’s hands. When it was revealed that JC’s intuition was correct about the older man she had only felt dread. Terror flowed through her veins as if it was oxygen. When they found JJ in the water, injured and left for dead something within her snapped. She had almost lost her twin. The one person who was her everything and their sperm donor was the one who attempted it.

When Rafe and John B were able to convince Shoupe to let them go after Groff, JC had almost cried in happiness. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on the older man and get the revenge that was due. That was where the twins were the most similar, their loyalty to those they loved had no bounds. They were both reckless, self sacrificing, revengeful, and unstoppable in their loyalty. JC would get revenge on Groff, for abandoning them, for hurting Kiara, for hurting JJ, for attempting to kill him, for killing their mother. JC would become the villain for her brother, for her family, for the Pogues.

When the storm hit and Sarah was knocked overboard, only for JJ to jump right after her, it had almost sent JC into a frenzy. JC had only stayed calmed because Pope and Cleo had held her. Both of them whispering soothing words to her as they stayed strong for her. Though the moment they all made it to land JC was walking the beach up and down. John B had been by her side for hours before he needed a break and sat by the fire with the others. JC refused to give up, stumbling the beach front all night. Her hands never staying still as she ran them through her hair, held her head, placed them on her hips, or just chewed on her nails.

It was Rafe who managed to coax her to come sit down and rest for a bit. He had hated seeing how distressed the Maybank girl was. She had a special place in his heart ever since they were kidnaped and held hostage by Singh. He couldn’t explain it, how she had wiggled her way into his heart and seemed to make camp never expecting to leave. Rafe made sure JC was settled with Pope and Cleo before he sat far away from everyone, silently watching for his baby sister and JJ. At every passing moment he grew worried for them, and more worried about the girl he could clearly see on the edge of breaking.

JC couldn’t describe the relief she felt when she saw her twin and Sarah. She had allowed Kiara to cuddle with JJ for a little before the twins ended up holding each other. Glad to see that the other sibling was alive and safe. If only it could stay like that. However, when your a Maybank and Groff it’s as if the universe is just waiting to shit on you. If JC knew this was the last normal moment she would have with JJ, what would she have done?

[nymphia-tarot]

✞︎ All About Your Past Life 🦢🩶

pile 1 ----> pile 2

pile 3 ----> pile 4

🕊️ meditate on the pics and pick whichever one calls to you the most. you might feel drawn to more than one pile, which means you may have messages in other piles for you as well! if you don't feel particularly drawn to any pile, the messages in this reading might not be intended for you. since this is a general reading, take what resonates! 🕊️

🩶Pile 1

For my pile 1s I'm getting a lot of yall had very hard and stressful lives 😭 You might have faced a lot of societal and systematic problems which kept you worried throughout your life. With the world rx I'm getting that yall were deeply unsatisfied with the way your life progressed in the past and that there were a lot of regrets and unfulfilled wishes in the end. You were very intelligent and clever and it helped you survive the tough times though you might've been denied of a formal education due to your background and were kinda inhibited in a way from reaching your full potential. But from some of you, I'm getting that you did get to pursue the field you wanted initially but it didn't pan out due to practical issues and you had to abandon your own happiness. For some of you, I'm getting like street thug or thief? Where you were involved in illegal stuff and did a lot of questionable shit to survive and in the end it cost you a lot. I'm getting overall that money was a big issue in your life. However, you guys were very mentally strong people who had a "come what may" attitude towards hardships because you were so used to it.

You might've been in love with someone (I'm getting a woman) of high status in society but you couldn't dare to court her due to the difference in your social positions. For your career, it's like no matter how hard you worked it was extremely difficult to get to where you wanted and you might've also been burdened with the worries of feeding and supporting you family because you were the primary provider. Eventually, you ended up in a conventional marriage, probably arranged too, but you were never satisfied with your spouse truly. You always yearned after someone else (the lady mentioned earlier?) and couldn't give your heart to your spouse fully. For some of you guys, I'm getting you were a woman forced into a marriage with someone you didn't love just to provide for your family and fell in love with someone else (a foreign man I'm seeing) and tried to elope but it caused a huge scandal and you ended up homeless and abandoned.

You might've lived during a time where the economic situation and all wasn't really the best and the common folk were always under the worry of starving the next day. I'm getting like, a cold place too? You had to give up a lot of your dreams for the sake of either other people or due to the bad luck handed to you during your lifetime. It's like you lost sight of your purpose in life at the end and ended up deeply unhappy.

🩶Pile 2:

[TW: mentions of abuse‼️⚠️]

Pile 2, I'm getting you guys grew up in an affluent or well-off family. Probably like upper middle-class or something. Many of you guys' fathers were probably some rich businessman/trader. However, I'm getting that you guys had very unhappy childhoods. For some, I'm getting you guys were orphaned early due to an accident and may have been in grief for a long time. The trauma might've stayed with you guys for a good amount of time and it deeply affected you future interactions and capability to have relationships. For others, I'm getting like childhood abuse? By a male figure, or bullying by the rest of your family members, and it deeply impacting your self-confidence. As an adult, you might've closed your heart off entirely but deep down your biggest wish was a desire for a genuine connection free of deception, and true love. You guys were genuine romantics at heart. I'm getting that you guys in pile 2 didn't really marry at all and that romance wasn't really a big part of your life.

Spirituality was a major part of life for some in this pile and you guys might've become nuns that swore a vow of chastity or just some other religious/spiritual figure who inspired and taught people. My pile 2s are very nurturing and gentle souls deep down and it seems like people may be drawn to your warmth and caring personality. You guys provided comfort to a lot of people in your past life. Even if you weren't a religious figure, I'm getting that you were in some sort of position where you took care of people like a nurse or something. After a certain point in your adult lives, you guys took to travel: for some it was a spiritual journey, for others it was just a normal journey to aid those in need and help the impoverished in society like maybe social workers. You guys had innate spiritual gifts and intuition and your purpose in life was to help people. Very kind souls overall. Many people might've looked to you as a wise and knowledgeable figure in your later years and you became a symbol of knowledge and learning in your community. You might have even travelled from place to place to spread your knowledge and aid people.

In this life, a lot of you guys in pile 2 might be very passionate and dedicated individuals with a zest for life. Maybe a water sign too? Or like prominent water placements in chart. I feel like your past life purpose carried over to your current one as well and you might be very spiritual and intuitive people. "Learn to let go of your fears and let loose" is what I'm hearing?

🩶Pile 3:

Pile 3, It seems a big theme surrounding the energy of your past life was a certain lack of control you had regarding your destiny and choices. You might've been born to a life where you were put under heavy obligations and duties because of your position. You must have felt really restricted and burdened, as if there are eyes all over you, and pressure from everywhere, to the point you felt really burdened and suffocated. You might have been born at a time and place where there was a lot of upheaval and chaos and you were a key figure regarding the events, or at least you played a part in maintaining the balance of the situation no matter how small. For a huge part of your life, you might have been a part of a "higher order" (whatever that means) where you had to maintain a strong front. Perhaps there was a lot of conflict involved in your era and you were forced to participate or mitigate the issue. For some, I'm getting you had a very strict and controlling maternal figure in your life who made all your choices for you and shoved you into the path you were headed without really giving you any free will. And fir some, I'm getting a vindictive and malicious feminine figure of authority who posed as a thorn throughout your life.

There seems to be a lot of trickery and manipulation surrounding your relationships in this past life reading. Perhaps due to your position, there were a lot of malicious individuals who coveted your downfall. There were a lot of lies, backstabbing and secrecy involved in your interpersonal relationships, most likely due to the chaotic situation fate had handed to you. It was as if you could never fully trust anyone around you with your back. Due to these complications, it seems you never really found someone to commit yourself to.

One of your biggest desires in your past life that went unfulfilled was a desire to take charge and carve out your own path by yourself. You had to live in constant worry and fear of betrayal and death. Quite a lot of you in pile 3 were those who had a more creative streak to you and maybe what you really desired was to start a business of your own or to pursue the arts. A lot of you ended up as martyrs in your life which was the necessary step to pave the path for everyone's happiness but it ultimately made you sacrifice your own. I'm getting a lot of you also just wanted to live a life if simplicity in a small-scale area or community, away from the burdens of your position. An advice spirit is telling my pile 3s is to "drive out the negative influences and to take back your power".

🩶Pile 4:

Whoo pile 4 you guys are the most "tame" pile so far in the sense that you guys probably led the "happier" life compared to the other piles lol. The other piles' energy were so heavy 😭

I think my pile 4s were leading relatively simple and cosy lives but I'm getting that work/career was a significant source of stress for you guys in your lives. You guys were hard workers who probably worked in a job where you had to collaborate with or meet a lot of people. Maybe you guys were severely burnt out by your work to the point you felt your spark diminishing. Or perhaps life was so easy that you felt bored and wishing for adventure and excitement. You guys were very grounded and stable individuals however. I'm getting there might have been a lot of workplace drama in your lives though. Your co-workers may not have had your best interests at heart and you might have gotten cheated or manipulated by them. I'm getting workplace injustice. They took advantage of your kindness and giving nature and used it to exploit you. You might have even gotten framed for something you had no hand in and had to suffer for it.

You were, however, very loved and abundant when it came to suitors and friends. You might have even gotten a lot of love offers and proposals. You eventually ended up in a happy marriage with a very sensitive and emotionally mature person who cared a lot for you. I'm getting Aquarius vibes? Your spouse had a lot of love for you in their hearts and was someone who was willing to dive deep into anything for your sake.

I'm getting that a major issue surrounding your past life is work-life imbalance and diminishing creativity/passion. You guys might have been depressed at some point too. Perhaps you were chained to a very conformist lifestyle where you did not get to have a lot of fun. An advice I'm hearing from spirit is to guard your possessions and be wary of whom you give to. Don't just let people take what's yours freely and be open to what's different from the norm from time to time.

[brazilian-vampyra]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ I'LL TRY TO FIX YOU

(english)

⿻ contains dark themes, if you don't feel comfortable, don't read it — ♡ ᵎᵎ

⿻ warnings: depressed!reader x killer!toji, strong language, blood, violence, mentions of past traumas ⤵

slowburn, sex, l-bomb, oral, toji smoking pot, lots of tears, age gap (toji is +30, reader is in her 20s), fem!reader, toji helping the reader to overcome this difficult situation — ♡ ᵎᵎ

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 was not always easy, you suffered a lot at the hands of others and were abandoned in an orphanage when you were a child. And it didn't take long for a family to adopt you.

But your rainbow was painted gray when you realized that family wouldn't give you the love you deserved. An abusive family that always puts you down. Even though they are rich and give you all the best, they neglected you all the years.

They didn't listen to your outbursts, they belittled your insecurities — and even increased them and caused many of them — and put you down when they could.

When you were around 13 years old you developed depression, and that feeling of sadness consume you day after day, becoming increasingly debilitating. This sadness and emptiness couldn't be normalized, but how were you to know it couldn't be?

You had no parameters and no family support.

With this lack of love and attention, you didn't have good relationships. You have fallen into the clutches of inhumane partners, that gave you crumbs of affection, and as a result you went through several toxic situations, leaving you alone all the fucking times.

Had God abandoned you? Could everyone live well but you would never have your happy ending?

Life was unfair, raw and fucked.

After some time with this emotional imbalance, death started to seem like a good thing. Maybe the best choice.

It was then that the crisis began, as well as the self-harm. The years of suffering accumulated scars on your skin, which became more covered every day by sweatshirts and jeans, as well as dark circles under your eyes.

You had already tried to end this suffering several times, but none of the ways worked.

━━ Am I too weak even for this? — you questioned yourself in a whisper between tears after a failed attempt.

Your parents were considerably powerful people in the commercial world, perhaps they got money in a dirty way and ran some nasty scheme to accumulate those digits in the bank account.

Since your childhood, you would hear suspicious conversations in the room, with strange people in meetings over cigars and expensive wine. The mansion had many security guards, it even looked like they were the president and the first lady of the country.

You never understood the reason for this excessive security. What were they so afraid of?

One night, you were wrapped in a blanket, lying in bed and looking at the wall while thinking about nothing. Your mind was as empty as the bottles of champagne they popped on the weekends.

Maybe this would be a good time to end this once and for all. Then you walked to the balcony of your room, which overlooked the backyard, and felt the cold breeze kiss your sad face.

You sat there and looked at the floor. It was very high. Tears began to flow down your face unconsciously, you felt incapable even at that moment.

That's when you heard a strange noise coming from the garden.

Then everything was silent again, it was okay, it shouldn't be anything you need to worry about.

After a few minutes, you heard a loud, terrified scream coming from your mother on the first floor, and then the sound of gunshots. It made you look back and wonder what could be happening.

In less than a minute, your bedroom door opened and you flinched in fright.

There was a peculiar man, you had never seen him in your life. Tall, muscular, dark hair, green eyes that made him look like a natural predator, black clothes, scar on his lip, skin covered in blood, a gun on his waist and he was holding something that looked like a sword with a chain.

Your tearful eyes met his cold gaze, and you felt a chill run through your body. Maybe it was the cold of the night breeze, or the fear of this stranger, but you didn't want to think about anything else and immediately jumped.

In an almost supernatural way, the stranger had crossed your vast room in a second and was now on the balcony. He grabbed you by the waist mid-air and pulled you back.

It's not possible that you were going to die at the hands of a stranger when you finally found the courage that was missing in you.

You began to struggle in the stranger's muscular arms, but he was too strong and was pulling you away from the balcony. The iron smell of blood was filling your nostrils and you felt like vomiting.

━━ Let me fucking jump, take your dirty hands out of me!

He didn't say anything, and he didn't even make an effort to keep you quiet. When suddenly he pulled something out of his pocket like a cloth that was placed on your nose and you started to feel your eyelids get heavy.

You didn't see much and you didn't hear much either, but you opened your eyes slightly and saw how he carried you in his arms like a bride, dodging the corpses of the security guards on the ground, the result of the bloody scene he caused.

The next day, you woke up.

You were in a considerably comfortable bed in a dimly lit room. The dark curtains hid the light from the cold day outside, but you could hear some car horns, the sound of an ambulance, a motorcycle accelerating, sounds of the avenue.

When suddenly, a male voice was heard outside the room, followed by another male voice.

━━ Why didn't you kill the girl too?

━━ The ad asked for her parents' heads, not hers.

━━ Are you going to babysit a grown woman? I'm not judging but I didn't expect that from you.

━━ I know how to handle myself, Shiu. Don't worry.

And then a door closed, probably the main one and the other man left. It was then that you heard the sound of footsteps approaching in the hallway, until the doorknob turned and that muscular man from yesterday entered.

You closed your eyes and tried to hide it, but it didn't work.

━━ You don't have to pretend to be asleep.

You slowly opened your eyes and noticed that he was wearing gray sweatpants and a black compression shirt. That skin was no longer stained with last night's thick blood.

Instead of saying anything, you remained sullen and quiet, like a helpless animal.

━━ I’m Toji Fushiguro.

He offered his hand to you, and yet reluctant and uncertain, you decided to hold it and shake it. The skin on his palm wasn't as soft as yours. It was calloused, a little harsh, the hands of a blacksmith.

━━ You didn't kill me yesterday, you just killed my parents. Why?

━━ By the look on your face, I must say I did you a favor.

━━ You're a hitman, aren't you?

━━ I think this is kind of obvious, but yes.

He went to the window to open the curtains and let in the gray daylight.

━━ Why aren't there bars on the windows?

━━ 'Cause this isn't a kidnapping, perhaps?

You found the man's actions quite strange and the way he was reacting to you.

━━ Look, why don't you get up and go down the street with me? We’ll go to the market.

He grabbed a pair of all stars and placed them next to the bed before leaving the room. You noticed it was yours, and on a chair was your backpack. Had he prepared a backpack with your things? That's weird.

You accepted what he had said and put on your sneakers, before leaving the room. He was in the apartment's kitchen, near the counter, taking out his wallet and keys.

━━ Here, have a glass of water first.

He took a bottle from the fridge and poured water into a glass for you. You took it and so you went to the market.

It was so strange to be on the street now, and that giant man seemed to be your bodyguard. How long has it been since you were outside? Depression has made you give up on leaving your room, so going for a walk was very weird.

On the market everything went well, it was much more normal than you had imagined. He didn't leave your side for a long time but it wasn't like he was suffocating you with his presence.

At a certain point he went to the fruits and vegetables area.

━━ I'm terrible at choosing these things, would you like to help me?

You helped him choose the best. For someone with a physique like that he was very lost on how to buy this kind of healthy food. Then you went back to the apartment, and he started taking some things out of the bags.

━━ Can you bathe alone or do you need help?

You didn't respond, what response should you give?

He sighed.

━━ I'm going to assume you need help. C’mon.

He led the way, heading to the apartment's bathroom. It had a bathtub, shower, a good-sized mirror, grayish stone sink, black carpet that absorbs water.

Toji bent down next to the bathtub and turned on the taps, so it started to fill. You took the opportunity to start taking off your clothes, even though you were embarrassed. First you took off your black hoodie.

He turned back and noticed that your arms and thighs were in a sad state. Your skin was wrapped in white bandages, completely stained with blood.

After all, you were alike in something. Both of you wore black clothes to hide the blood. Him for one reason, you for another but with the same purpose.

━━ After the bath I'll take care of it.

He rolled up his sleeves and dipped his forearm in the water to make sure it was at an ideal temperature for you. You then got into the bathtub, sitting down slowly and after taking off the bandages.

The water made it burn a little, and although it wasn't bleeding like before, your dermis was exposed with crimson marks.

━━ These cuts are deep…

That's what he said, before picking up a brand new bottle of shampoo. It smelled like honey.

━━ I know…

You felt ashamed of yourself for being in this situation. When did you get this bad?

He remained silent, after seeing how you shyly hugged your knees. You felt the honey-scented shampoo being poured onto the top of your head, then he could massage your scalp with the strong pads of his thick fingers. It was the most peaceful bath you've ever had in your life. There was a strange man — maybe not so strange after all — washing your hair, while putting liquid soap on your hands so that you could wash your body by yourself.

At the end of the bath, he took a very long, dark gray towel and asked you to stand up. Toji rolled you up like a package and took you out of the bathtub, placing you standing on the rug.

━━ Can you dry yourself? I'll get the medicine and your clothes, I'll be right back so I can take care of this.

You nodded and began to dry your body carefully. It hurt a lot and you had to do it carefully, patting it lightly with the soft fabric of the towel. And soon he was back. You felt so useless, you couldn't even clean yourself properly.

Within a few seconds, Toji knelt in front of you and grabbed a pair of panties for you to wear. The man's strong, calloused hands slid the fabric up your legs, carefully moving up until he could finally dress you. He also handed you a random blouse that he had gotten from your closet yesterday and you got dressed.

━━ I'll start with the thighs, okay? It will burn a little.

With that said, he took some medicine and started applying it to start cleaning the cuts. It burned a little, but it was bearable, even though you grimaced and suppressed a groan.

━━ I know it hurts, I’m sorry.

You endured the pain and so he cleaned the deep cuts on your thighs, applying antiseptic spray before wrapping them in white bandages again. Now he had gotten up and was cleaning your arms so he could repeat the process.

After this whole process, he combed your hair gently with a blue comb that was in a bathroom drawer. You were showered, completely clean, with new bandages and your hair smelled good.

That afternoon Toji tried his best to make you some good food. He wasn't much of a cook, as he didn't have much time for it and didn't even care about eating healthy. But he sautéed some vegetables and greens, along with some pieces of tender meat, and used olive oil.

Even though the kitchen was a little far away, he could see that you were sitting on the sofa in the living room, silently, looking at your bandages. Yeah, you looked like a mummy now with that brand new tape. And your empty eyes were between looking at your arms and thighs and looking at the huge window that overlooked the street.

━━ C’mon. Open wide.

He said, holding a white bowl in his hands and using a fork to feed you.

━━ What do you like to eat? I can try to do whatever you like.

━━ Good question.

It's not that you developed an eating disorder during depression, but you definitely no longer had an interest in food. You ate, but you ate less because the food suddenly became uninteresting. You only ate for the sake of eating, you no longer had the happiness of eating sweets, for example, you only ate on "automatic mode”.

It was as if you couldn't taste the acidity of a kiwi, or the sweetness of a papaya. The bitter taste of unsweetened coffee, or the tenderness of meat cooked with potatoes. Suddenly, food became just food, everything with a universal flavor like bland, edible pasta.

He was well aware of your depression, and he knew he would help you.

After that day, you started living with Toji in that apartment. The place was very clean and considerably large; well maintained. He took care of you, until you were able to shower yourself, feed yourself and many other things. Not to mention that he had also noticed the way you looked sad at your cuts with that white bandage, and that's why he always bought different bandages at the pharmacy.

Some were teddy bears stamped, others dinosaurs, even some little hearts. Somehow, he just wanted you to feel more comfortable in your own skin.

He took you out for ice cream, walked in the park, let you put whatever you wanted in the grocery cart, bought you new clothes and everything. You also got to know Shiu Kong, who "monitored" you sometimes when Toji needed to work.

The killer was still afraid that you would freak out and throw yourself out of a window.

This man slept on the sofa in the living room, which was actually a sofa bed. He always preferred to leave the bed in the room to you, even if it was a double bed but he wanted you to have your personal space. After all, it was a difficult stage in your life, and you were in the process of healing.

Your cuts, which were deep, were finally healing, leaving scars on the skin. Your dark circles were disappearing and your face was getting more colorful again, becoming healthier and brighter.

After a few months, you were much better than before. Not completely healed, in fact it was far from it, but you felt like you were slowly coming out of rock bottom.

Toji Fushiguro and you hardly spoke to each other. You only spoke the essentials, but it wasn't in a strange way that didn't make you create intimacy. And every time he arrived after a murder you were already in the warmth of your covers, in a peaceful sleep, late at night.

However, this time you were awake, as you had gone to the kitchen to get a glass of water. You heard the key turn in the door handle, and saw him enter immediately without turning on a single light. The iron smell of viscous blood entered your nostrils.

━━ Goodnight.

━━ Goodnight. I didn't mean to wake you…

━━ It's okay. I was awake — you said. ━━ Are you fine?

━━ Don't worry- oof. I’ll be fine, go back to sleep.

You looked for the switch and turned on the light in the living room, seeing what you already imagined. The blood stuck to the fabric of the shirt on his body, and made you notice a wet spot right next to the rib. You sighed when you saw him like that, you had never seen him hurt during all this time. The frown remained on his face, as if he was incapable of feeling pain, but you knew it was really sore.

━━ Hm… you can… take a shower and come back. I’ll wait for you here.

Apparently the older man had understood what you meant, and oddly enough he didn't complain or question it. You already knew where the first aid kit was and some other medicines were, so you took the white suitcase from a closet in the bedroom and went back to the couch. Toji didn't take long to shower, and apparently he had taken a cold shower because his skin was refreshing, and you smelled a very peculiar perfume. A woody perfume, striking with some notes of something expensive.

It was there that night that you saw him shirtless for the first time, wearing only black sweatpants and leaving a large part of his ripped body exposed. There was a huge cut on his rib, but he was calm, as if he didn't feel anything.

He sat on the sofa and you started cleaning it very well so that it didn't get worse.

You poured some alcohol on the cut, and it remained motionless. It must have burned a lot, but you couldn't tell if he didn't feel it or if he managed to hide it very well.

━━ You know you could be in bed right now, don't you? — his harsh tone of voice was already familiar. ━━ You could be having your princess sleep.

━━ You always took care of me. Is it hard to let me take care of you?

He said something like "hm" and decided not to answer the question, keeping quiet and letting you finish taking care of that wound. In the end he practically whispered a "thank you" and you were minimally happy with that, going to the bedroom again to finish your night's sleep.

A few weeks passed and you were getting a little closer, maybe tending to his injuries was enough for him to understand that at the end of the day, you were similar. One night you woke up crying after a horrible nightmare, and Toji came to your room to comfort you. The man sat in a chair next to you so you could go back to sleeping peacefully in that huge bed.

Well, you didn't say anything else about that night, and maybe it wasn't necessary.

One night when he didn't have any work, he was on the living room balcony, smoking something that wasn't an ordinary cigarette. The peculiar aroma entered your nostrils and you could recognize: he was indeed smoking pot. Sitting on a small sofa there, enjoying the night breeze and watching the city lights in the distance in the dark. You shyly approached, and he noticed how you looked.

━━ Come here… — he patted where you were supposed to sit, right next to him. ━━ I won't bite.

Somewhat awkwardly, you approached and sat down, watching him bring the cigarette to his lips and inhale the smoke.

━━ Toji…

━━ Hm?

━━ Can I ask you something?

He nodded.

━━ That night... why did you save me?

━━ Because the deal asked for your parents' death, not yours.

━━ But you wouldn't gain anything by saving me…

He finished releasing the thick smoke through his lips and a slightly uncomfortable and heavy silence fell between the two of you. Fushiguro looked up at the starry sky for a few seconds before sighing and speaking again.

━━ You know, girl. When I looked into your eyes that night, I saw myself.

You remained silent, trying to understand.

━━ When I was younger, people threw me into a pit full of curses as punishment… that was the damn day I had to learn to be strong. I was fragile, innocent and people made me cry a lot.

What a sad story. You never imagined that someone like him had gone through something like this.

━━ With this scar here — he pointed to his own lips. ━━ I became who I am today… — powerful words. ━━ And looking into your eyes, somehow I saw the same look I had. The same look of trauma, sadness, disappointment…

A few tears were gathering in your eyes.

━━ Fuck, I mean I couldn't understand why people who were supposed to protect and love me were hurting me so much. And in your eyes I could see myself.

Well, he talked more than he should have and shut up once and for all, but his eyes widened, as he heard a crying sob and looked at you, watching two tears running down your cheek perfectly. You weren't crying because of sadness, after many years you were crying because of something good. Although you couldn't identify this feeling very well, was sure it was something good.

Had he felt connected to you somehow? Did he understand your pain?

You had finally found someone as broken as you, but who hid it and played strong, so that you could rebuild yourself.

Instinctively Toji opened his arms and made to hug you, but he stopped himself because he didn't know if you would be comfortable with that. His look of hesitation was like a request for permission, and without even thinking you fell against his strong chest, crying into his white t-shirt, as his strong arms wrapped around your body weakened by tangible emotions. He hugged you tightly and remained silent, allowing you to cry in peace.

How long has it been since you received a hug?

Even more of a hug like this, comforting and true. The kind of hug where you can feel the heat of the person's body and feel safe and protected.

━━ Why do people always hurt me, Toji? Why? — you said, sobbing.

━━ Because empty and futile people need to hurt people around them to increase their ego and pretend to fill the void — he brought a hand to your head, lightly stroking your hair. ━━ Idiot people will always want to hurt amazing people. But look…

He distanced himself a little and cupped your chin lightly with his thumb, making you look up, eyes bathed in sadness.

━━ That night I held you, and I promise I'll never let you go.

Those were the most sincere and pure words anyone had ever said to you. You didn't care if they came from the mouth of a man who got blood on his hands, he was honest with you.

Suddenly, looking into those beautiful green eyes you felt a strange attraction. And apparently he felt it too, because he hadn't taken his thumb off your chin and was looking at you with complete compassion. You sighed heavily, your eyes teary and shyly brought your face closer to his. That was what Fushiguro needed to be able to bring his face closer to yours and finally touch your lips with his.

His lips were warm and soft, and you felt his scar but it didn't bother you, it was just different.

Toji then slid his tongue across your lips slowly, and you gave in. Now your tongues were touching and you brought your shaky hands to his face, while more tears rolled down your cheeks. You were crying with happiness knowing you were savoring a kiss, it wasn't just any kiss like all the others in your life, this one was real. He felt your nervousness and held your shaking hands, making you feel the warmth of his, as he put them on his shoulders so you could get some support.

It wasn't a needy kiss, it was slow. But certainly intense.

It was then that your relationship with Toji became more serious, more sentimental, more romantic. Now he slept with you in bed, hugging you so you felt safe, or bringing you to his chest so you could enjoy as a pillow. Your cuts were already well healed but the scars would remain on your body forever and were evident. That was horrible, you bitterly regretted having cut your flesh in moments of anger and sadness, but there was nothing you could do at that time, especially without support.

Some nights, he would come back exhausted after executing a few kills, and all he needed was to collapse into your arms and rest his head in your lap. Despite his size and strength, he was still a little fragile.

And he knew how to be delicate.

Proof of this was when the kisses became too intense and evolved into sex. I mean, he always tried his best to control himself and let you take your time. Fushiguro didn't want to pressure you into anything, he didn't want to take you to bed right away.

Giving yourself over to him was certainly one of the best decisions you had made.

That night, he gently held you in his strong arms and covered you with kisses so you could relax and enjoy the moment. You had already fucked a few times with some idiots but all of them were without much desire, just done for their please. But with Toji it was different, completely different.

You were sitting on his lap while you kissed intensely, moaning against each other's mouths and he took off your blouse, making your bare chest rest against his, which also no longer had any fabric inhibiting it. The man leaned you back a little and took the opportunity to kiss your arms, especially your scars. Goddamn, he was so fucking gentle.

The delicate kisses went to your chest, radiating tremendous heat through your body. So was that desire? The real desire?

He kissed your breasts and sucked them eagerly, causing some popping noises throughout the room along with your moans. He groaned against your skin and a trickle of saliva connected his lips to your nipple as he looked up.

━━ So soft…

Suddenly, you were already lying on the bed and he was kissing your thighs, caressing your scars. The thin fabric of your panties was already completely soaked by that liquid desire that dripped down your sex. Your legs were thrown around his strong shoulders as his hot kisses were dangerously close to your most sensitive spot.

━━ I’m probably all fucked with those scars…

You ended up leaving that comment on the air and Toji licked your clit through your panties, making you moan loudly.

━━ My love, sex is not a show. We don't have to be perfect all the time…

He placed a kiss over the thin fabric and then slid his huge hands around your waist, lowering and finally removing your panties. When you were completely naked, you felt a little ashamed, yes, but not that horrible feeling of wanting to cover yourself immediately.

Toji watched you as if you were a work of art; and to him you really were.

━━ Let me just take care of you, okay? Let me do my best for you…

The words spoken in a hoarse tone entered your ears and that was more than enough for you to enjoy this fantastic feeling.

Toji simply devoured you with an immense desire, and you squeezed his hair at times to be able to control your own body due to the stimuli. He held your thighs with his big, strong hands, squeezing a little so he could rub his face more against your wet spot just like his nose rubbed your clit. While he was eating you out, he grinded his hips against the mattress looking for some relief, ‘cuz those panties were so damn tight, his cock was throbbing.

For the love of the gods, he was splendid, simply perfect.

And besides giving you so much pleasure with his tongue, he also held your body tenderly that night, fucking you in the most affectionate way possible. He placed one of your legs on his shoulder and placed a small kiss on your ankle as he held it close to your thigh and was grinding his hips against you. Fushiguro's moans were profane, as profane as the image of him naked and slightly sweaty reflected in the dim light of the nightstand lamp.

The messy dark hair, the striking scar on his lip, the striking green eyes… wow, that's a sight to behold.

You couldn't tell if that was for the best, or if it was him fucking you in missionary, keeping your legs tightly crossed around his strong hips, as he was just feeling your warm pussy milking his cock while he intertwined his fingers with yours against the mattress. He kissed you in a way that took your breath away; that was a needy kiss.

You came like never before in your life, you had never come so hard like this. And this man did it effortlessly, just by touching you in the right spots and making you scream and beg for more.

Okay, that was a night to remember.

You were now officially his girlfriend. And you had finally found someone who could rebuild you while giving you the opportunity to put the pieces together to understand the complex puzzle that he was. Every day he surprised you more, and made you feel truly loved, truly wanted.

He kept buying you clothes, washing your hair with your favorite shampoo, taking you to amazing places and giving you affection. Especially liked lying in bed with him and putting your hand over his, which was much bigger compared to yours. That hand that caressed your body and also killed people for money.

Two mentally broken people who finally intertwined fingers and decided to walk this path of life together. This brings a reflection. The romance between a murderer and a suicidal is intriguing, isn't it?

He would kill for you. You would die for him.

[...]

𑊁📂 𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: random idea i had on a sleepless night, forgive any grammar mistakes.

XOXO little bats, kisses that taste like type o negative 💋

[nico-esoterica]

More about celeb sps!

"But what about the millions of other people manifesting them?" 🤔⭐

There's the perspective that they've successfully manifested them in their personal realities, but I'm an elitist. In every other reality, I believe I am the only person my man would ever want to be with, consider, or fathom as a partner. I am the best of the best. I am the only person to ever exist in his world he'd want to be with intimately. I don't care who he's been with. I'm the best lover, best romantic partner, most attractive person to exist in their world. I am always infinitely better. I am what dreams are made of. Billions of the most attractive and good men in the world would kill irl to be with me or even be in the same room with me. Women and other identities too!~

This is how you need to think. If you think anyone's manifesting them? No, they're not lol. Because they'd never do it successfully or have the confidence and conviction to maintain it. They're also not you. And they're weak bitches! I said what I said. I've never thought small in my entire life and I have unwavering confidence, self discipline, and belief in myself. I am self-obsessed and radiate power, magnetism, and sex appeal. I'm also the most beautiful person I've ever personally come across, alive or dead. In a room full of the most conventionally beautiful people, my sp would only have eyes for me. Even in an industry full of surgical beauties! Idgaf! Even if I wasn't gorgeous, my sp would still think I was! Now, let's discuss stalkers and other criminals and what makes you different:

You're always winning in your reality, even if that winning is you losing, lol. You're winning in the assumption that you can't have what you want or who you want. That's winning but just not in your favor.

Even if millions of people are casting love spells or manifesting your person, they will always fail because you've rendered them ineffective in your reality. Also, AGAIN, you are YOU! Someone can only 'take' your sp if you THINK it's possible that they can be taken! That's why you need to STAND THE FUCK UP! Would you wanna be with you? I would wanna be with me! My sp is LUCKY that I even give a fuck the way I do lmao! I also personally believe whoever you're manifesting is manifesting YOU back! That's how manifesting people works objectively if you look at stories of couples who've described how it feels on both ends.

I don't consider stalking to be something celebs want but may be what they expect due to their job and not thinking they're in control of their realities, etc. I also put obsessive fans in that category because their emotional investment makes them money lol. But as a celeb who wants to be genuinely loved as a human being, I do believe they're manifesting the right person for them and that spectrum of possibility will involve someone that's potentially a fan or was one due to the magnitude of their fame. But this person would truly love and appreciate them. That's the difference. When Hailey Bieber and Victoria Beckham were manifesting their men as fans, they wound up in healthy and happy relationships with them. Thriving, tbh.

But the typical 'fan' is usually someone with piss poor self esteem, puts their fave on a pedestal, and may think they have to force themselves on their fave to 'get them to like them' when that's just abuse and assault. That's due to poor self concept and probably due to having an unhealthy relationship with them bc of social alienation from Capitalism, untreated/misdiagnosed neurodivergence because of lack of money and access to quality healthcare, and a combination of factors where their fave is the only 'good' experience in their lives. You're always telling yourself a story. With your sp, celeb or not, it's the same thing.

These people don't believe that they can successfully 'be' with their fave without breaking the law or bypassing personal boundaries and that lack of self belief is because of bad self concept and personal self esteem. They don't think they would ever choose them without them needing to force it to happen. When you're manifesting like Hailey, Victoria, etc, you're putting yourself on the pedestal instead. You're believing that there's no way in hell that celeb sp WON'T want you for just existing. I don't know those women personally but it takes audacity and that audaciousness is a result of a strong self concept about themselves and what they're capable of. But it doesn't have to be all that.

You don't even have to like yourself to manifest a celeb sp, but most people don't tell themselves that they can just exist and the sp will find them and fall in love with them.

That's the difference between a stalker, saesang, and toxic person vs another person manifesting them. You'd think there's overlap but there's a distinct difference in mindset. You don't need to be in creepy group chats full of criminals exchanging stolen personal info or do any weird shit but people do most likely because that's the only way they think they'll get access to their sp. They're still insecure, lol.

That's why people commit crimes anyway and is the way our system is set up. They're still manifesting that fraudulent access but they rarely, if ever, land the full blown relationship where their sp wants them back. Their sp not wanting them back despite all the weird shit (bc people irl DO have relationships w/ toxic people) is proof that they DON'T think or believe this person wants them. Otherwise they'd think it was cute or something because they'd see them as the one and only exception. That rarely happens with celebs, even though I'm sure it does, but that not being the norm means those people manifesting celeb sps simply don't think they can do it deep down.

That's why you're one out of millions or a billion, honestly. Even if someone seems very confident, unless they have consistent commitment to their inner story like con artist Anna Delvey, for example, then they won't be successful.

Because that's all it takes with anything, sp or not. It's the story you're telling yourself. It doesn't have to feel real. You just need to not change it.

Like I said, the other girls are weak bitches. It just is what it is.

[strawberrylabs]

You and Lyney have been dating for some time and he's really comfortable with you; to you, he's not Fontaine's Great Magician, but just plain Lyney.

Your happiness come crushing down one day when you suddenly tell him you have to break off the relationship. Apparently, your father had borrowed a large amount of Mora from an underground (illegal) money lender with you as the collateral to feed his Sinthe addiction. Now that the debt is due, your father have been more than willing to hand you over to clear his debt.

Lyney panics; he has heard unwanted rumors of the money lender: he has a volatile temper and will take his anger out on his wives as and when he feels like it.

:0 I like the way you think.

Angst is so fun for no reason. Or maybe I just like making my readers suffer, who knows?

ANYWAYS-

WARNINGS: spoilers for fontane archon quest and Lyney story quest. Mentions of abuse, blood, being restrained, physical harm, gore, swearing, implications of SA. read with caution if sensitive to these topics!

Hands off

Synopsis: Your father has handed you over to a notorious money lender, who's known for mistreating the people who are handed to him. Lyney, having heard of this, isn't going to sit back and do nothing.

(Note: will be from reader's POV)

"Alright. Here is my child, as promised."

I didn't look at anyone as my father handed me over to the sleazy man who now "owned" me.

"Good to see you kept your end of the deal. Pleasure doing business."

I was guided away, deeper in the domain that was home to the money lender's association. I didn't look back at my father.

I hope Lyney is ok. I hope he forgives me.

Our last discussion didn't go as I hoped.. although to be fair I don't know what I was expecting...

(flashback)

"What do you mean? I don't understand! We were going well weren't we?"

"Yes, everything was great! You're an amazing person Lyney, and none of this is your fault! It's my father.. he's gotten involved in some... questionable groups.. and I have to go away for a bit...."

I turned away from him. I didn't want him to see me cry.

"...I had a rumour that your father was involved with this one money lender.. (Y/n), you can't be serious! I know you've heard the same things I have, you can't go!"

"I'm sorry Lyney, but even if my father has never been the best person, if I don't go he'll get hurt. And we both know I'd just be hunted down.. they never leave debts uncollected."

I turned and ran before Lyney could stop me. I remember hearing him call out to me as I ran

"Wait! You can't!"

(end flashback)

I felt tears run down my face. I missed him.

But I couldn't risk putting him and Lynette or even Freminet in danger. If I didn't comply, they would've been targeted..

I hope Lyney forgives me..

I'm pulled out of my thoughts when a large, calloused hand harshly grabs my chin and forces me to look up.

I pulled my head from his grip and seethed

"Well, the bastard wasn't lying. You are a looker."

The man grinned a chesire smile. It disgusted me.

"Don't touch me!"

A yelp escaped me as I felt a sting against my cheek.

"Now now, I was hoping you would've been disiplined by your father already. I'd hate to break such a pretty thing before I've had any fun."

A shiver ran down my back at his word. Horrid images flood my mind.

I want to go home. I want to go back to Lyney..

"Leave us. I've got to break in my newest catch."

The men around us left, leaving me locked in with the large, ugly man in front of me.

"Now I'm going to ask you to do some things, and so long as you obey, you might not get hurt.. too much."

I glared at him.

"Careful now. Too much atittude isn't good for your health." His gaze turned sinsiter.

He creeped towards me, grabbing me with more strength than he appears to have.

"Let me go! Don't touch me!"

He places me in shackles tied to the roof, suspending me in the air.

"Now, it's time you learnt to behave"

-----------------------

(narrator POV)

Lyney was panicking.

He hadn't seen you since you ran off.

He knew where you were. You were with that vial thug. The thought of you being in the same vicinity of that man made Lyney's skin crawl.

Lyney needed to get you back. He didn't want to take Lynette. He knows how much trauma she has with these situations...

So he ran to someone else who he knew would help.

"Traveler! Paimon!"

"AHH! Lyney! Don't scare Paimon like that!"

The little fairy screamed as she yelled at Lyney.

The Traveler however, instantly recognised the worry on Lyney's face.

"What's wrong?"

"Its (Y/n)"

---------------------------

Some time later the three of them locate the domain. They divised a plan:

Traveler takes out any enemies.

Lyney gets you out.

And Paimon is Paimon.

Getting in was easy once they found it. Most of the lackies and mercs the man had hired were easy to take out.

Eventually, they made it to where (Y/n) was held.

Lyney gasped when he saw the state they were in

You were hanging by chains from the roof, clothes torn leaving you almost entirley bare, bruises and cuts littered your body. Words like "slut" "brat" and "disobedient" had been.. carved.. into your skin..

Lyney almost threw up.

But what scared him most was that you weren't moving.

Your head moves slightly. You can register the sound of Paimon crying, and someone else calling your name.

Voice strained from crying and yelling, you call out

"Ly..ney?"

"(Y/n), im here! I'm going to get you out ok? You'll be alright!"

Lyney removed the chains with the key they found earlier. Lyney picked you up bridal style, being mindful of your wounds.

"I do believe it's considered theft to steal what doesn't belong to you, magician."

Lyney feels (y/n) tense in his arms.

Lyney sees red.

This is him. The one who hurt his beloved.

Lyney gently placed (Y/n) down, signaling for the traveler to tend to their wounds.

"I'll deal with this one.."

Lyney stood face to face with the man, his face holding an icy glare.

"You'll deal with me ey? Well alright. I'll give you the same treatment I gave your whore of a lover! A stubborn bitch that one was. You should've seen it's face when I-"

The man couldn't finish what he was about to say. Lyney shot an arrow right into his leg, causing the man to curse.

"Dont ever talk about them again. Don't even think about them. If you do, I'll end you myself. I'll let the garde deal with you. They should be just outside with Lynette right now."

Lyney ignored the mans string of slurs and curses as he bent to pick you up gently.

"You're safe now.

No one will ever lay their hands on you again.

I promise."

sooooooooooo

idk how I feel about this ending- I ended up having to stop before finishing and then wrote the ending after work and I feel like there's more I could've done.

so having said that, should I make a part 2 with the aftermath??? maybe some angst and comfort?? bitta ptsd?? idk, you guys tell me.

Hope you enjoyed regardless of the ending!

-Strawberry

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