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starmapz · 1 day ago

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what you know - ch6: intoxicated || r. sukuna

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. implied injury. family trauma. smut. slow burn. anxiety. tags will be updated as series continues.

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.

❦ words ; 12.7k.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter - coming soon

Brushing the snow from his jacket, Sukuna flips his hood down and runs a hand through his disheveled hair. He’d gotten up early enough to work out before taking the kids to school, but in usual fashion, his overly-excitable little brother had been such a handful that Sukuna didn’t get a chance to finish getting ready. He opted for a shower and just threw on the first set of clothes he could find.

He blows a breath out through his nose, scanning the lunch hall. He hasn’t exactly worked out what the hell he’s planning on saying to you after last night, but a promise is a promise and he swore to join you for lunch. He’s failed you enough times.

He trudges up to your usual table with his hands in his pockets, his usual aloof expression plastered across his features, though it twists to confusion as he realizes you aren’t there.

Haibara’s the first to notice him as he pauses a small distance behind your blonde friend. Kento, Sukuna thinks?

“Hey, Sukuna!”

He grunts in reply, before inquiring about your whereabouts.

Shoko and Kento exchange a glance that Sukuna recognizes as cautionary. “She’s sick,” Shoko’s eyes twitch as she narrows her gaze on him suspiciously. “She is sick, right Sukuna?”

Although he doesn’t mind Shoko, he doesn’t like what she’s insinuating, even if she is right. Clenching his fists in his coat pockets, he scowls at her with a tense jaw. “How the hell should I know?”

Shoko’s gaze lingers a moment longer before she sighs, giving in. “She said she was studying at home today. She doesn’t want anyone getting sick before finals,” Shoko explains, swinging her fork around as she speaks.

“That’s nice of her,” Sukuna comments, shooting a pointed glance at Kento who won’t stop glaring at him, which only serves to piss him off further.

With a final nod of acknowledgement intended primarily for Shoko and Haibara, Sukuna turns on his heel and heads back out into the snow. He loathes the strange sensation lingering in the back of his mind that he’s retreating from Shoko and Kento’s scrutiny like a dog with its tail between its legs, but what other option does he have? He’s not about to fight with them. Pushing the thought to the back of his mind, he heads towards the library with the intention of sending you an email.

Once isolated in the cold again, he lets out a sigh as his breath billows into the freezing winter air. Contritefully, he watches as snowflakes fall slowly and dissolve on the sleeve of his coat.

Fuck.

Shoko had every right to drag him through the mud the way she had, he knows she’s right. You’re not sick. He would have believed it if you were still watching over his sick little brother, but that hasn’t been the case for a while. You’re avoiding him. Without classes, you chose to stay home and avoid the possibility of running into Sukuna.

Lightly kicking a rock as he steps through the snow, the burly man pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. He should be studying in the small amount of spare time he has. He should take extra shifts. He should go Christmas shopping for his brothers. He should meal prep. He should be doing anything other than skulking around campus thinking about the things going wrong in his life.

The worst part? Aside from one very large and glaring issue, you’re the source of all of his problems. Well, no, that’s not fair to you. You just happen to be at the center of all of them, but if he’s honest with himself, he knows there’s more to it than that.

You may be the source of all of his problems, but Sukuna is the cause of each and every one of them.

Taking a step towards the rock he kicked earlier, he sends it flying into the brick of the library with a satisfying thunk before ducking into the building.

Settling quietly in the corner of the library, Sukuna pulls out his laptop and opens his email, doing his best not to think too hard about what he’s typing.

[email protected] - Friday, 12:11 PM heard youre sick. you okay?

After hitting send, he leans over the table, running his hands over his face to mentally reset himself before diving into his studies.

To Sukuna’s relief, you do reply to his email just over an hour into his studies. He knows he fucked up, but at least you’re still acknowledging him this time.

[email protected] - Friday, 1:34 PM Yeah, sorry. I forgot to tell you.

He frowns at the sight of your email. It’s an awfully dry response in comparison to your usual bright demeanor. His fingers rest idly over his keyboard as he contemplates his reply.

[email protected] - Friday, 1:38 PM right. need anything

[email protected] - Friday, 1:38 PM ?

[email protected] - Friday, 1:59 PM I’m not going to ask you for soup, Sukuna.

Okay, so you’re at least a little bit mad at him. He slumps back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

He could bring you soup.

He could. He remembers you liking the bowl from the cafe he took you to.

He clenches his hand into a fist while biting down hard enough on his lip to draw blood. What the fuck is he thinking? Finals are next week, he’s hardly studied, he has to pick up his brothers in an hour and he has work all weekend.

He doesn’t have time to chase after his frayed connection to you.

His eyes trail across the speckled library ceiling. There’s a water stain just to the left of where he sits. He remembers thinking those sorts of marks were coffee when he was a kid. In retrospect, that makes no sense.

Hell, it makes about as much sense as Sukuna’s obsession with you as of late. He doesn’t have the time, nor the mental capacity to be sitting here stewing over an email that he could be reading too much into.

Leaning forward over the table with a huff, his fingers run across the keys on his laptop as he formulates a reply that’s painfully him.

[email protected] - Friday, 2:09 PM feel better

It doesn’t shock him that you don’t reply this time.

–

For the better part of the week, a feeling of unease seems to follow Sukuna like a fly he can’t seem to swat away. Even through finals, he finds himself wanting nothing more than to slam his head against his desk in hopes that thoughts of his fuck up might finally leave.

Yet the taste of you always remains on his tongue.

Bittersweet, like the sweetest memory tainted with the reminder that it never should have happened.

It was a mistake.

Throwing his hood up over his head, he leaves the school with one thing in mind.

Your fratboy friend is throwing his end of finals party tonight and Sukuna has every intention to drink to forget. To forget about the lawsuit, to forget about the ways he’s failed his little brothers, and most importantly: to forget about you.

He knows the feeling won’t last forever, but shit, it’ll be worth the way that he pleaded with Choso’s friend’s mother to take Yuji for the night too for a sleepover.

He just needs to escape for the night. He can worry about mentally resetting himself tomorrow morning when he wakes up with a killer hangover on some disgusting couch in Gojo’s ridiculous and over-decorated house.

Until then, he’ll continue on with his day as usual, picking up his brothers from school and cooking something to eat.

“Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna-”

“What?”

“- Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna-”

“Brat! What do you want?” He shoots a look of irritation at his little brother as the youngest Itadori bounds up to him with some sort of craft in his hand.

Sukuna sets his spatula down, leaning down to get a better view of the beaded creation in Yuji’s hand. There’s a yellow lizard dappled in black spots proudly seated atop his outstretched hand as though he’s a mad scientist showing off his greatest creation.

“It’s a lizard.”

“It’s a gecko,” the little boy proudly corrects him.

Sukuna’s nose wrinkles in exasperation. “Same thing.”

“No. They’re not.” This, of course, launches into a five minute explanation of the difference between lizards and geckos, which Sukuna hums along to as he rises back to his full height to continue cooking dinner.

“- so geckos are lizards but they’re not the same as lizards,” Yuji finishes his explanation, tugging at his older brother’s hoodie to hold out his gecko again. “This one’s a leopard gecko.”

“Didn’t know you liked lizards so much, Yu.” Sukuna’s tone is mild, a calm expression plastered on his face. Yuji’s interests change by the day, the only constant seeming to be pokemon and sports, though he’s gone from basketball to tennis to hockey over the course of the last year. Not that Sukuna can afford his interest in hockey, and cautiously pushed him back towards basketball.

Turns out when you’re five, all you need is for your cool older brother to install a basketball net on the back of your door and lift you up to do a slam dunk to be enthralled with the sport again. Sukuna thanks god for that.

“I love lizards!” He beams.

Sukuna hums, a rare smile pulling at his lips. “It’s a nice bead gecko.”

“Leopard gecko. Thanks Kuna! Guess who showed us how to make them?”

The corner of his lip twitches as he stares down at the spotted bead lizard. There’s no shock when Yuji says your name. The shock comes from the dreadful feeling that sits like a stone in the base of his stomach at just the sound of your name.

Fuck, he needs a drink.

“Can I show her?”

“No, Yu.”

“Please?”

“No-”

“Please? Pleeeeeeeaaaaaase?”

This has been a repeating situation practically all week. Yuji seemed to want to show every little thing to you and won’t relent until Sukuna sends an email. He would demand to know what you replied each and every time, and while there’s a part of Sukuna that’s grateful it gave him an excuse to reach out and hold onto your tense relationship, it equally caused him to relive his guilty conscience.

Sukuna sighs, giving in to the relentless pleading of his youngest brother.

“Fine. Let me finish dinner.”

With a cheer, Yuji runs off excitedly to inform Choso to prepare his best lizard to send a photo.

Sukuna’s shoulders rise and fall heavily as he lets out a breath. He stares down at the pan in front of him, the sizzling of gnocchi and tomato sauce offering little distraction from his wandering thoughts.

It seemed no matter what he did, you were so ingrained in his life that he couldn’t escape you.

To say that’s what he wanted in the first place would be a lie. No, he never wanted to escape. He still doesn’t. He just wants things to go back to the way they were before he let his dick do all the thinking and kissed you.

If he wanted to escape, he wouldn’t have searched for you in the crowds during finals. He wouldn’t have frustratedly tossed his textbook on his desk with a thump that made Choso jump and come check on him. Your words echoed in his mind as he feigned a smirk and sent the boy away.

He’s worried about you.

Choso’s too smart for his age. He should be playing games with his friends, begging to see a PG-13 rated movie, anything but worrying about his own guardian.

The pop of tomato sauce brings him back to the present, and he hisses at the feeling of the boiling liquid hitting his forearm. He sets the spatula aside, shutting off the stove and wiping the sauce off with his thumb, popping it into his mouth with a pop!

He needs to get his shit together.

He calls the kids into the dining area for dinner, and before long he’s sitting in front of his laptop, the screen pointed at his brothers, waiting for Choso and Yuji to position themselves in front of the camera with big smiles. In Yuji’s hand is the leopard gecko that he figures you must have told him about, proudly displayed with a toothy smile. Choso’s lizard is a dark purple with a white stripe, his smile more reserved but his eyes shine just as bright.

Sukuna snaps the photo, pulling his laptop back towards him. Yuji clambers onto Sukuna’s lap, met with a grunt and a mildly irritated “enough, Yu.” Choso peers at the laptop screen quietly, watching as Sukuna opens his email chain with you. The last few emails between you both are almost the same as this one, typing out that the kids wanted to show you their lizards.

Your replies to his brothers’ antics have been more positive than your replies to him. He wonders if you knew they were constantly asking about your responses or if the rift between you was healing, but he assumes the former. You’re good with his brothers. They adore you, and you seem to feel the same towards them.

“Tell her my new favorite lizard is um-” Yuji pauses to think, pulling Sukuna back to the present. It seems he’s lost in thought a lot lately. “A frilled lizard!”

“Mm.” He glances at Choso, urging the young boy to choose one as well.

“I like… iguanas.”

Sukuna nods, typing out the boys’ message to you before hitting send. “There. Now go get ready for your sleepover.”

He lets out a sigh as his brothers restlessly go bursting out the door back to their rooms to pack a bag, ensuring they bring just about every unnecessary toy and game and no toothbrush or toothpaste to be found. Exhausted from his finals, he drags himself along after them, packing jackets, gloves, extra socks and toiletries in their stead with a lazy scolding to be more careful.

He’s beyond burnt out and while he usually resents the mother of Choso’s friend for her obviously pitious comments towards Sukuna’s situation, for once he’s glad for her sympathy. If it means he gets just one full night to himself where he can fuck off and forget about all his problems, then he’ll take it. He’ll run with it and he won’t look back.

Once he’s loaded their backpacks into the lady’s car and provided his neighbor’s number in case of emergencies, he finds himself slumping back in his bed in relief. Despite his solace, the silence carries with it an eerie sense of foreboding. He doesn’t think he’s been alone in the comfort of his own home in almost three years now, and it should be a freeing feeling, yet he’s filled with trepidation in place of relaxation.

“Fuck this,” he mutters, dragging his hands down his face. He’s never been early to a party before but fuck it, he needs to dull the sharp edges of worry and doubt with alcohol. Grabbing his keys, he opens his locked bedside table drawer, violently shoving aside ripped legal papers to grab a few blunts and a shooter of Jack Daniels. His hand hovers over a small bottle of Everclear, but he opts to keep it for a later date, certain he’ll need the hard liquor another time.

Shutting and locking the drawer, he languidly begins getting ready, moving at a sluggish pace as he runs gel through his hair in order to get it spiked just how he prefers. He grabs a Danzig shirt, the sleeves chopped at the sides with arm holes deep enough that anyone could get a peek at his abs and chest. Topping it off with a black denim long sleeve and a pair of gray joggers, he rolls his sleeves up to his elbows and throws on some cologne.

He pauses before heading out the door, his laptop seeming to loom over him like a ghost, begging him to check his email.

[email protected] - Friday, 7:51 PM Yuji!! Choso!! Those both look amazing!! You’re both so creative, it looks like it runs in the family :) Iguanas and frilled lizards are great choices. Maybe if you can steal your big brother’s laptop for a bit, you can find a bead frog tutorial. My favorite is the desert rain frog! They kind of remind me of your brother. ;)

It reminds you of him? A frog?

A quick google search has him scowling at his screen, an equally grumpy looking frog staring back at him.

Stupid. It’s stupid. He shouldn’t have looked.

Shutting the search window, his eyes train once more on your message to his brothers. Despite the fact that he wrote the email, you still seem to be upset with him, choosing to answer as though his brothers wrote it. At least you still teased him about looking like a frog.

Even if it’s stupid. It’s a stupid frog.

Slamming his laptop shut, he tosses his coat on, pockets his broken lighter in the side that isn’t singed, and makes his way out the door towards campus and Gojo’s frat house.

The weather has warmed up significantly over the past week to the point where he can’t see his breath anymore, although the ground is still coated in a thick layer of snow. Pulling out a blunt from his pocket between two deft fingers, he sets it between his lips, lighting the end and inhaling deeply.

Among the many poor decisions Sukuna has made throughout his life, he didn’t mind adding tonight to his list if it meant drinking to forget and smoking to feel calm.

Although he’s earlier than most of the crowd, the music is already pumping loudly through speakers, bass booming through the ground beneath his feet as he makes his way up the porch stairs. He doesn’t recognize the frat boy letting people in, but one disinterested glare from Sukuna is all it takes for him to step aside. After all, who wouldn’t recognize Sukuna?

Swapping his lighter to his joggers’ pocket, he tosses his jacket over a coat rack and heads further into the house in search of something hard to get him buzzed as soon as possible. He blows smoke over the heads of most of the crowd, one of the perks of being nearly seven feet tall, as he heads towards the back of the house where he knows he’ll find the kitchen.

The further he moves from the makeshift dance floor in the front living area, the more reasonable the music volume becomes. College students chatter amongst each other, speaking loudly over the pumping bass, when a familiar voice grabs his attention.

“You made it!”

“Hey, buddy.”

“Well, well, look who decided to show his face.”

Sharp crimson irises flit between Uraume and Atsuya, who greet him casually, landing lastly on none other than Toji Zenin. Always at odds with Sukuna with a shit-eating grin as he pushes the pink-haired man’s buttons just a little bit too far.

“Uraume. Atsuya. Toji.”

It’s a miracle he still considers Toji a friend. Well, maybe an acquaintance. He certainly won’t bring Toji into the fray that is his life any time soon.

And Atsuya, well… The Kusakabe family is known for wealth, so Sukuna likes to keep him at arms’ length as well. Still, he enjoys his company. Uraume is easily his closest friend and he won’t deny that seeing them seems to ease his tension, even if only a little bit.

“So, finally decided we’re worth your time again? Or did you mess shit up with your girl?” Toji barks out a laugh, as though anything he’s saying is humorous.

“She ain’t my girl,” Sukuna growls, making a point of blowing smoke towards him.

“Dunno, you two seemed pretty close at lunch last week.” The scar on the corner of his lip stretches as he grins, taking a sip of whatever concoction is in his solo cup.

“Fuck off, Zenin,” Sukuna grumbles with a roll of his eyes. Toji should consider himself lucky he isn’t about to be at the center of Sukuna’s anger, saved only by the cannabis circling Sukuna’s system and dulling his thoughts, his anger, his mind. With a huff, Sukuna heads towards the kitchen to grab a drink.

“I see he still enjoys getting on your nerves,” Uraume observes, falling into step with him.

“Mm. Dunno how ya tolerate that asshole so much,” he comments, coming to a stop in the kitchen where he stubs out his blunt in an ashtray and opens the first bottle of rum he can find, pouring himself a rum and coke.

That is, if you can consider something that’s sixty percent rum a ‘rum and coke’.

“Me too, please,” Uraume requests. Sukuna hums, pouring a much more reasonable split of alcohol for them. “You can complain as much as you would like about Toji, but I know you two used to be close. Even if he can be a pain, I can tell you aren’t as bothered as you wish for him to believe.”

It’s true. Back in high school, the two were inseparable. Toji didn’t even mind when Sukuna’s father asked the two to take young Choso along to a basketball court or movie, so long as it was appropriate. Their issues came when Sukuna’s father passed away in their first year of college and he refused to speak with his best friend about it, choosing instead to take on mountains of stress on his own. As usual, Sukuna was the cause of his own problems.

Moving out of the dorms and finding a place for his two kid brothers to stay with him, that was a whole other challenge. Learning to change diapers, figuring out a schedule that worked both for the kids’ school and his education, that was what nearly dragged Sukuna to an early grave when he got horribly sick.

That’s where Uraume stepped in, helping to alleviate some of his classwork by taking on additional project work for him. They always expected something in return, but that’s just the way Sukuna preferred to make deals. They helped him get into the swing of taking care of two young kids.

Somewhere along that path, he came to the realization that they’d also had a big piece in both his and Choso’s recovery from grief. Sukuna had grown angry and Choso hardly spoke a word. Although still irritable, Sukuna is generally more reasonable nowadays and although still quiet, Choso is more talkative than he has been in a long time.

In particular with you. He knows Choso adores you, although he’s not as loud as Yuji is about it. Yuji may as well scream it from the tops of buildings.

Taking an unreasonably large sip of his drink, he wills away thoughts of you, replacing what he gulped down with more rum.

Uraume’s brow raises. “Difficult day?”

“Somethin’ like that,” he grumbles, alcohol and cannabis running through his veins and sending his mind into a haze so that he just might be able to handle Toji. “How’ve you been?”

“I’m relieved finals are over,” Uraume takes a sip of their drink with a small smile. “And it’s good to see you around again.”

“I saw you two days ago,” Sukuna points out, arching a brow.

They hum. “Yes, but Toji has a point. You’ve been spending more time with your project partner than us, which is unusual for you.”

He sighs. “Shit, guess I have.”

“Don’t misunderstand me, Sukuna. I know you’re busy, and I can see she means a lot to you, but-”

“She’s just a project partner.”

Uraume purses their lips as they side-eye him. “... Right. Remind me, when did your project end?”

Sukuna’s jaw clenches, shooting them a sharp look.

“As I was saying, I can see that she means a lot to you, so I don’t mind. I do wish you would get a new phone as I do miss texting, but our friendship won’t change.” They shoot him a reassuring smile, one that Sukuna lowers his defenses at the sight of.

“However Toji and Atsuya aren’t aware of your situation, which makes it appear as though you’re spending all of your time with her.” Uraume takes a sip of their drink, carding a hand through their snowy locks.

“Mm.” Sukuna runs his tongue over his lower lip as they approach the couch that Toji’s splayed himself over, manspreading with a bottle of beer held in one fist. He recognizes Toji’s cousin Naoya Zenin on the other end of the couch, surprised the two can even stand to be within five feet of one another. Toji may be an asshole, but somewhere buried beneath all that muscle is a fairly genuine person. Naoya, on the other hand, is the kind of person Sukuna wouldn’t mind socking in the face once or twice.

“So,” Toji starts, that infuriating grin returning. “Tell us ‘bout your girl.”

Sukuna chooses to stand between Atsuya and Uraume, his two friends who are decidedly less irritating. It’s a wonder him and Toji were ever close to begin with, though Sukuna supposes he was a lot different back when they hung out more.

The world had changed Sukuna, hardened him into a shell of what he once was.

“I told you, Zenin,” Sukuna hisses, “she’s not my girl.”

Toji scoffs, a wide grin across his face. “Yeah right. Ya got fuckin’ heart-eyes for her. Holdin’ her hand in the lunch hall n’ shit.”

Sukuna downs more of his rum, relishing in the burn as it slides down his throat. “We were studying, shithead. I owe her a favor, that’s all.”

“Yeah? You gonna bring her home n’ cuddle all cute-like?” The raven-headed man teases.

Atsuya sighs at Sukuna’s side, chewing idly on a toothpick. “Can you two shut up?” He grumbles, knuckles white as he grips his beer bottle tighter at the grating sound of their argument. “Giving me a damn headache.”

“C’mon Atsuya, I know ya saw it too,” Toji eggs both men on.

“Toji, enough,” Uraume scolds.

“Nah, I know Atsuya saw it.”

A muscle ticks in Sukuna’s jaw, his teeth grinding as he does what he can to push his frustrations aside. Turns out a full solo cup and blunt aren’t enough to dull Sukuna’s senses to the point where he can tolerate this conversation.

He’s supposed to be forgetting, yet here Toji is pushing the thought of you back in his face, infuriating him.

He downs the rest of his rum in two gulps, staring at the empty cup with a scowl, completely dazed as he tunes out the sound of his friends.

Heart-eyes. As-fucking-if. He scoffs to himself at the thought, staring back over the heads of the crowd towards the kitchen. He needs something harder after all. He should have brought the Everclear.

His relationship with you is similar to that of him and Uraume, he’s sure of it. It doesn’t go beyond that.

So why is he drinking to forget you?

Finally pulled from his thoughts, he turns on his heel to get something harder when he realizes where the conversation has turned in his absence.

Naoya questioningly tilts his head at Toji, a sleazy grin on his face as your name leaves his lips. Sukuna’s lip instinctively curls in disgust at the sound of your name leaving his lips. That’s not where it belongs, and Sukuna doesn’t dare imagine a world where this asshole so much as looks at you, because he thinks it just might give him an aneurysm.

Hell, he thinks an aneurysm would be kinder than the thought of Naoya Zenin ever looking your way.

“She’s fuckin’ hot, she’d look sexy as hell under-” Naoya’s gaze seems to search the crowd for you, a predatory gleam in his eyes. Toji interrupts with a distasteful snarl, but it’s Sukuna’s words that seem to cut the crowd, red hot rage boiling in his chest.

“Don’t you dare fucking finish that sentence,” Sukuna barks, his tone low as he takes a step towards the vile excuse for a human being.

Naoya hardly seems phased by Sukuna’s outburst, although the throng of the crowd has dimmed in the face of Sukuna’s fury. “Aw, is she claimed, Sukuna? Is she your little playth-”

Sukuna barrels forward, not offering Naoya the time of day to speak.

Naoya’s eyes widen as Sukuna’s fist raises, barely managing to cower out of the way in time as Sukuna’s knuckles narrowly miss the blonde’s face and collide with the back of the couch. His eyes swirl with a ferocity that his friends haven’t seen before as they all leap towards him. Atsuya and Toji grab either of his arms and with a harsh pull from Toji, Sukuna stumbles backwards. They’re lucky he’s tipsy and not as stable as usual.

“Woah buddy, I’m all for teaching him a lesson, but let’s not start shit right now.” Atsuya speaks from a place of reason, but Sukuna knows he simply doesn’t want their group to get thrown out by Gojo.

… Again.

At least last time, it was Toji who started shit with Naoya.

Sukuna’s teeth are gritted as his friends hold him back. Naoya’s face has twisted from barely disguised fear into a satisfied smirk. “Did I touch a nerve, big guy?”

Sukuna lunges forward, stumbling back into the wall behind him as Toji pulls him back harshly. He grunts as his back collides with the wall, venom dripping from each syllable as he speaks in a dangerous tone. “If I hear you talkin’ about anyone like that again, I won’t hesitate to throw you through the nearest fucking wall.” Sukuna stares down at his knuckles that collided with the wooden back of the couch. They’re not bleeding, but they’ll bruise.

Naoya opens his mouth to retort, but his words die in his throat when Sukuna pushes off the wall, standing at his full height. Naoya’s tall, but Sukuna makes everyone look short. His usual smug expression falls as he chooses the cowardly option and slips away with an irritated grumble. The crowd that had gathered to watch the spat slowly begins to return to their conversations again, not daring to shoot a glance at the monstrous man spitting threats at the back of the room.

Sukuna huffs, flexing his hand as he moves past his friends to head back towards the kitchen, shoving his way through the crowd. He’s tipsy, but fuck, it’s not enough.

His brothers, his friends, even Naoya, why does everything constantly lead back to you? It’s like you’re some sort of succubus with your claws buried deep within the recesses of his mind that he can’t escape. Yet even as he spins the cap off of a bottle of Jack, he realizes it's his resentment of the way you’re so deeply ingrained in his life that’s causing him to think such a thing.

You’re not a succubus, you’re more like a fairy. Soft, sweet, and kind.

Sukuna pauses his motions, staring down at the bottle. His fingers drum lightly on the stem of the glass as something akin to distress stirs deep within him. He grips the bottle with white knuckles, his throat tight. Before he has time to consider what it is that you mean to him, Toji comes jogging over.

“Hey, everythin’ alright, man?”

The look on his face reminds Sukuna of a time long past. Of late nights at barely-lit skateparks as Sukuna learned the ropes of graffiti. Of long afternoons chatting as they passed a basketball back and forth in the late afternoon sun. It wasn’t so long ago but it feels like a lifetime after the battering Sukuna’s last few years have caused him.

“Why the hell is he even invited?” The pink-haired brute gruffs rather than offering a reply to Toji.

No, he’s not okay.

“Everyone’s invited, Ryo.”

Sukuna shoots him a glare. Everyone’s gotta have a nickname for him, don’t they? He sighs heavily, letting out a long breath before downing several gulps of Jack straight from the bottle. Just once, he wishes he was a lightweight.

He just wants his mind to go blank. He wants the racing thoughts to stop.

“Woah, let’s pace ourselves, yeah?” Toji reaches out to grab the bottle with a grimace, eyeing his long-time friend as he sets the Jack down and pours them both much more reasonable looking ratios of rum to coke. “Alright, so I guess you’re not okay. That’s fine,” he mumbles as he passes Sukuna a cup. “Let’s jus’ go have some drinks, forget about my cousin, yeah?”

With a barely veiled huff, Sukuna pushes off the counter as he follows after Toji.

Sitting alongside Toji and Uraume, a haze begins to settle over his mind that finally leaves him more comfortable. His anger dissipates and he eases more casually into conversation with his friends, something he’s needed more than ever before.

Finally, even if only for a night, he can forget.

–

“Shoko, this goes so low,” you whisper as though saying it any louder might proclaim it to the entire world.

“Yeah, that’s the point,” she retorts, grinning at you in the mirror.

“But it’s winter,” you whine, staring in the mirror at the black dress that, admittedly, does hug your curves just right, but god you feel exposed. It’s also not your usual style, and you know exactly what Shoko’s doing and why.

Ever since you mentioned being sick, she’s been on your ass about what Sukuna did, regardless of how adamant you are that he did nothing.

It’s a lie and you haven’t fooled a soul.

Sukuna did hurt you.

Again.

This time, though, there’s a certain trepidation that sits alongside the pang of hurt. Like you’re not quite sure that you’re allowed to feel hurt, so you hide it behind a smile and a lie that Sukuna did nothing wrong.

No amount of stewing over what happened in Sukuna’s bedroom has given you any answers. You’re stuck somewhere in between feeling guilty for ever expecting anything romantic from him and feeling hurt that his best attempt to reach out was a sad ‘feel better’.

Hours of wondering if all you are to him is another warm body in his bed, even though the rational part of you knows it doesn’t make sense when no one knows his reality except you. Hours of wondering if he feels anything towards you at all or if he simply doesn’t care.

Yet your mind clung to one thing, one thin string that seemed to tie to an impossible ideal. Still, you couldn’t push the thought away.

If you really mean nothing to Sukuna, why is he acting weird? Why won’t he reach out properly, hiding behind his brothers? Why hasn’t he completely pushed you away?

If you were nothing more than a babysitter, he wouldn’t bother reaching out, right?

But if you were nothing more than a warm body to him, why hasn’t he pushed you away?

Shoko scoffs, the sound grounding you to the present. “Girl, you know Gojo will let us use his closet for our jackets. That’s your worst excuse yet.” She rolls her eyes, tossing your winter coat at you. “No more complaining, we’re going.”

You cast one more glance at the frilly black dress that barely reaches your knees and follow after Shoko.

The air is warmer than you expect, making your argument even less valid the moment you’re outside. You don’t bother to refute Shoko’s triumphant teasing, even as she mentions all the people you’ll surely attract in that dress.

Your stomach stirs uneasily at the thought.

As the staple at Gojo’s parties that you two are, the frat boy at the entrance shoots you both a kind grin as he lets you through. Why they bother with a bouncer at a party everyone on campus received an invite for is beyond you, but you return the smile regardless.

The thrum of music and thick scent of liquor, weed, and perspiration suffocates your senses as you enter the house. It’s familiar, and you know exactly where Gojo and Geto will be tucked away. Nanami and Haibara headed home practically the moment finals ended.

Making your way past the kitchen and grabbing a cooler, you slip past a game of beer pong and peer out the patio to the backyard. Sure enough, the snow’s been cleared and a massive fire pit is raging in the corner. Geto and Gojo are sitting around the fire alongside a few other frat members you recognize and some women very obviously vying for a place on one of their arms.

“My two favorite ladies!” Satoru calls out as you carefully make your way over the packed snow, trying desperately not to slip in your heels. You wrap your arms around yourself, thankful for the raging fire as you and Shoko take your seats between Satoru and Suguru.

“Why do you wanna sit outside?” You mumble, holding your hands out to the fire.

Suguru chuckles beside you. “I tried to convince him otherwise, but he wouldn’t have it.”

“It’s warm tonight!” The snowy-haired man insists with an overdramatic pout.

“Just because it’s not freezing doesn’t make it warm, dumbass,” Shoko rolls her eyes, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. She offers them to the group, though only Suguru takes one. She leans over you to light it for him, smoke billowing in the air around you.

With a drink in your hand and your friends at your side, conversation comes easily and you all keep close to the fire, stoking it often to keep a steady flame. Eventually, the mix of the flame and the alcohol warms you up and with toasty cheeks, you’re staring at the fire with a steady buzz.

“How do you think your finals went?” Suguru inquires, leaning back in his camping chair.

“Killed it,” you reply confidently, eyes glazed with the thrill of vodka. “I even think I nailed history,” you proudly tell him, straightening your posture with a gleam in your eyes.

“Mmm, would a particular history major have to do with that?” He asks, a teasing lilt to his smooth voice. Your proud stance falters, your cheeks heating up further as you can only offer him a shy smile, too inebriated to defend yourself as your stomach jumps at the mere thought of him. Suguru chuckles. “I see. I’m just teasing, I won’t push like Shoko does.”

“Hey! I’m a great friend,” she narrows her eyes in a playful scowl, though Suguru just grins.

After the busy last month of the semester, not to mention finals, you’re relieved to share warm moments like these with your friends, reveling in the jokes and laughter filling the air around you.

Being able to indulge in partying is a relief too. Although Satoru does it every second or third day, you can’t partake in the same luxuries and still expect to pass. Life isn’t quite as kind to you as it seems to be for the blue-eyed campus royalty. Between your studies and looking after Choso and Yuji, you’ve had your time well-occupied for the past month.

That’s not even beginning to mention the resumes you’ve been editing for some quick cash, on top of your own.

Not that it’ll be enough extra cash to get you home for Christmas. You know your parents tried, but they’re already doing their best to pay for your apartment and day-to-day expenses. At the end of the day, you can’t sacrifice any of your savings for a trip home, as much as you would like to.

You just have to hold onto the fact that you’ll see them once you start working. Most of your friends will go home for Christmas, but that’s okay. Nanami even offered to pay your way home and have you join him and Haibara, but that just didn’t seem fair, as much as you wanted to take him up on his offer.

You’ll enjoy your time video chatting and maybe take some time to visit Satoru and Suguru’s families, who’ve kindly invited you along.

“Deep in thought?”

“Hm?”

Suguru smiles, amused. “Distracted, are we?”

Your cheeks heat up, embarrassed. “Sorry. What were you saying?” You offer him a kind smile.

“I was offering another drink, would you like me to grab you something?” He taps your empty can.

“Oh! Actually, I’ll come with you I think.”

Suguru hums, leading the way back towards Satoru’s kitchen with a much wider gait than your own. “What are you having?”

“Just whatever cooler is fine,” you shrug as he leans down into the fridge. He pulls out a couple of coolers to give you options, returning to the fridge with the can you choose not to take.

Your eyes scan the crowd from the kitchen with a mirthful, albeit dazed expression that falters when you come face-to-face with the one person who’s been a constant in your thoughts for the past week.

He’s hard to miss, towering over the crowd with a head of pink hair and sharp tattoos decorating his features. Your heart pounds in your chest at the mere sight of him. Clearly a week away from him has done your heart no favors.

Sukuna looks good. You’re so accustomed to seeing him exhausted in deep blue coveralls or a big hoodie with wet, disheveled hair and a frown that seeing him with a relaxed smirk, his hair pushed back out of his face and a chain sat around his neck, he looks handsome.

You bite your lip, tearing your gaze away from him to turn back to Suguru. A knowing smirk has found its way onto Suguru’s face and he chuckles. “Go talk to him.”

Of course, he doesn’t know about the strange fissure sitting soundly between you and Sukuna, but you appreciate his encouragement nonetheless. Even if his tone is teasing, he does have a much more genuine way of handling things than Satoru would have.

For a moment, you do consider Suguru’s encouragement, turning back to Sukuna in the corner of the house, but your heart drops as the crowd shifts.

Standing in front of Sukuna is a tall woman with long, blonde hair. You recognize her from the Volleyball team, she’s gorgeous and Sukuna’s leaning down, his lips close to her ear as he blatantly flirts with her. His eyes are lidded and tinged in red, likely both drunk and high, and he chuckles along to something the blonde says.

Blinking a couple of times, you feel your heart sinking, green with envy. You appreciate Suguru’s encouragement, but maybe you should resign yourself to a world where your feelings remain unrequited and you’re just friends with Sukuna. That is, if he even still wants to be around you. He’s so difficult and hard to read and that’s not to mention the fact he hasn’t even attempted to talk about the heated kiss-

Sukuna’s eyes flicker upwards, meeting yours and stopping. His lidded expression falters, lips pursed. His brow furrows as the woman tugs on his shirt to get his attention and pull him closer, his gaze flickering between her and you.

You tear your gaze from him, turning back to Suguru. With a light touch to his bicep to get his attention as he pours himself something, you force a smile. “I think I’m gonna go find a quiet corner to get some air,” you tell him, slinking away before he can protest. With one final glance back at Sukuna, who’s returned his attention to the blonde, you slip into the crowd.

Pushing through sweaty bodies, the bass and crowd seems to box you in. Your heart is racing too fast, your mind too buzzed, your world too hazy to be trying to handle this many people.

Finding the stairs brings with it a sense of relief, no longer suffocated by the loud music and overwhelming smell of liquor. On the top floor, several of the rooms are shut, telltale signs of couples finding makeshift privacy and you don’t dare peek into any of them. You head straight for Satoru’s room, knowing well that it’ll be locked, and knowing equally well that you have the digital code to get in.

2-3-7-8.

B-E-S-T.

Cocky as ever.

Slipping inside, you shut the door behind you and take a breath as the ringing in your ears gradually begins to mute. Taking a seat on the edge of Gojo’s bed, you let out a long breath. You’ve spent hours on end in this exact spot, watching Satoru and Suguru compete in Super Smash Bros long after you and Shoko had been knocked out.

It doesn’t usually feel so lonely.

Pulling out your phone from within your bra, the only place you could store it, you find yourself doom-scrolling whatever social media has new content. It’s a poor effort to return to the happy state you’d found yourself in only a few minutes ago, and unsurprisingly it doesn’t return.

You’re not sure how long you sit in that spot, but with nothing left to scroll, you get to your feet and pad slowly towards the window, staring out towards the balcony that overlooks the backyard. Flipping the lock, you step out into the chill air, but it hardly seems to touch you, protected by the warmth of liquor in your veins.

You should probably get a coat given that the alcohol won’t really protect you and you’re not close enough to the fire to bask in its heat, but you don’t think you care enough. Not if it means seeing the one person whose presence suffocates you. The crowd is one thing, but Sukuna seems to outweigh every single one of them with just one glance. He crowds your world in a way a group of sweaty unknown college students can’t.

You wonder if maybe you had found him earlier in the night, if maybe you would have had the courage to ask about the kiss. Liquid courage maybe, but courage nonetheless.

You wonder if he would have told you it meant nothing and to move on from him. You wonder if he would have told you to fuck off. If you’re nothing to him.

Yet somehow those don’t seem to scratch the surface of the complicated canyon of emotions that holds you both at arms’ length. Each possibility is too simple.

With a sigh, you cross your arms over the balcony, letting the cold metal raise goosebumps along your skin as you rest your chin on them. Down below, your friends seem like they’re having a good time. Shoko’s attention is on another brunette you recognize from your history class while Satoru and Suguru joke alongside some other frat members.

You long to be a part of that, but you know you would be feigning a smile if you returned.

You shouldn’t be this drunk and this jealous when Sukuna isn’t yours and never has been. Hell, he hasn’t even spoken to you in-person since the kiss.

Maybe you’re this jealous because you’re this drunk.

“Need a jacket?”

You startle at the sound of Sukuna’s voice, a mix of dread, uncertainty, and jealousy raging in your system.

“You scared me,” you murmur, standing upright. Great, just who you want to see.

Sukuna hums. “My bad.” Shutting the balcony door behind him, he takes a couple of steps forward until he’s next to you, though he keeps an uneasy distance between you.

The drop-off between you is so evident it’s almost as though it’s real and physically repelling you from one another. Sukuna shuffles, the silence unbearable to his inebriated mind as he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

“I didn’t fuck her.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes as the shed in the corner of the yard suddenly becomes of great interest. “Don’t say it like that…” you mumble, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“I didn’t have sex with ‘er.”

You sigh again. The phrasing wasn’t really the point behind your words, but he’s either too drunk, too high, or too focused on the way you took a step away from him to notice. “It’s none of my business, Sukuna.”

He doesn’t know what to say to fix this. You’re talking to him, and that’s a start, but he’s way too far gone to soundly come up with an apology that makes sense, so his mouth just starts running.

“My apartment’s overrun with lizards.”

Even upset, you crack a smile. It’s hard not to at the thought of his little brothers absolutely littering his place in little bead lizards, all because you showed them the trick to the feet.

“The lil’ brat lectured me on the difference between lizards n’ geckos,” he pauses, a noticeable slur to his drunken speech. “Still think they’re pretty much th’same.”

“They’re a species and a subspecies,” you reply monotonously.

Sukuna doesn’t like your tone, devoid of any emotion. He shuffles slightly towards you. You look hot, but Sukuna knows better now than to blindly follow his desires, even in his completely intoxicated state. “Jus’ because you added ‘sub’ t’the word doesn’ make ‘em different.”

You let out a long sigh. “Are we not gonna talk about it, Sukuna?” You wrap your arms tighter around yourself as you turn to face him.

He straightens, pinned in place by your conflicted scowl. Your eyes are glazed, you’re drunk too, and you seem more upset than your emails lead him to believe. Maybe it’s just the alcohol clouding his ability to grasp your expressions.

“‘M sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” You echo his apology, a brow quirked.

“Yeah. It was a mistake.”

That hits you like a slap in the face and you purse your lips, staring at the ground as you take one, two steps back from him, with the intention of heading back inside. No, with the intention of going home.

“Fuck, no, no. Wait.” Sukuna’s jaw hangs ajar as he follows your stride, walking two steps towards you. His tongue runs across his lower lip as he hesitates, brushing a hand through his hair. “That’s not what I meant.”

Your throat is tight as you fight back tears. You can’t help but wish you weren’t drunk while having this conversation, then maybe the tears wouldn’t be so quick.

“I-” Sukuna fights with himself, “- I was thinkin’ with the wrong head.”

Right. So he’s doubling down on it being a mistake. You nod slowly, turning away with a sharp intake of breath.

“Wait, shit. Wait. ‘M sorry, I’m way too fuckin’ drunk n’ high n’ shit to be doin’ this right now,” he scrambles with his words, taking another step after you. You stop again, giving him another chance to explain himself. You’ve always been too kind and patient with him.

Grappling with the thoughts running through his mind, he shuts his eyes for a moment with a deeply furrowed brow, red eyes dilating as the light of Gojo’s bedroom behind you illuminates your silhouette. Your dress suits you and frames your curves so well that it’s driving him insane, jumbling his thoughts even further. These thoughts are what got him into this situation to begin with.

“There was so much shit goin’ on n’ I wasn’t thinkin’ straight,” he slurs, red eyes flickering between yours. He can see the hurt in your eyes and he’s far too inebriated to even begin thinking about why it is that you’re so hurt he would refer to the kiss as a mistake. That’s a can of worms he can’t possibly begin to wrap his brain around in this state. “I was jus’... I dunno. I was chasin’ somethin’ I shoudn-” he pauses as his words slur, “- I shouldn’t have.”

You let out a scoff of disbelief. It doesn’t matter how many different ways he words it, at the end of the day it’s clear as mud. It was a mistake. His excuse, though? That’s just pitiful and insulting.

“Do you think I don’t have a lot going on? Do you think that somehow my problems aren’t worth as much just because I don’t have two jobs and kids?” Your words are sharp, and they take a moment to sink in.

“No. Fuck. I jus-” He pauses again, knuckles white as he balls his hands into fists at his sides, his jaw clenching in frustration. He could use a dictionary right about now. Maybe just a whole damn linguist. Hell, he needs someone to read his mind because everything is coming out jumbled and it’s pissing him the fuck off, when all he really wants to say is, “Fuck, I jus’… don’t wan’ the kids to lose ya.” He swallows hard. “I don’t wanna lose ya.”

Your shoulders fall, your defenses crumbling. What? “What?”

Now that he has your attention again, he turns back to the balcony, hunching over it. The cool metal railing lulls his heated skin. Soothes the burning anger with his own inability to process a single thought. Maybe drinking to forget wasn’t his brightest idea.

He says your name quietly. It sounds foreign, vulnerable, when it falls from his lips that way. “I’m losin’ the kids.”

You take a step towards him, tilting your head to get a better view of his face. His expression is solemn, but you’re not sure you understand where he’s going with this. They seemed pretty fond of him when you saw them last week. Choso surely wouldn’t be expressing his worries to you if he didn’t love Sukuna.

“What do you mean?”

“Their fuckin’ mother slapped me with court orders. She’s takin’ ‘em.”

Your blood runs cold, eyes widening. The legal documents. You’d always assumed it was some foolish run-in Sukuna must have had with someone with a bit too much power or money, but never once had you stopped to consider that it could be something like this.

“No, what? You’re gonna fight for them, aren’t you?” You ask, voice strained.

“The hell ‘m I supposed to do?” He barks, turning to face you with a snarl. The look on his face isn’t one of anger, however. It’s distress. “Pull money outta my ass to pay f’r a lawyer?”

You frown. “Maybe you can find a pro-bono attorney?”

Sukuna’s too drunk for this. “Free? That’s free, right?”

You nod.

“The fuck’s a shitty free attorney gonna do? Convince the court that the older brother with two jobs, school, n’ tattoos c’n take better care of two brats than the person who birthed ‘em?”

“Sukuna, come on-”

He doesn’t stop there. “No court’s stupid enough to say no when she pushed ‘em out-”

“Eugh, don’t say that.”

“- that’s not even mentionin’ the fact that she practically shits cash with how much she’s got-”

“Sukuna! Okay, I get it.” You set a hand on his bicep, grounding him as he stares at it. Your touch is searing. He’s not sure if it’s because of the cold, his anger, or something else entirely. He’s not in the state of mind to think about it. His chest heaves as your steady voice speaks so softly to him that it does manage to calm him, even if only a bit. “How much water have you had tonight?”

He huffs. “None.”

“That… makes sense,” you chuckle lightly, shooting him a tired smile. “Why don’t we start there?”

Had one of his friends asked a half hour ago, he would have rolled his eyes and downed the Jack Daniels in his pocket. After his beyond frustrating last few minutes where he couldn’t seem to get a single word out, it doesn’t sound nearly as bad.

“Fine,” he agrees, following after you as you turn to lead the way back to Gojo’s room, only to pause at the door.

“You didn’t lock the door behind you, did you?”

“What? No.” He peers over you, wrinkling his nose at the sight of a couple tangled in one another on Gojo’s bed.

You can only pray he didn’t notice you and Sukuna up on the balcony at all, he’d kill you if he knew what was going on.

“How convenient,” Sukuna deadpans, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he shields you from the couple with his body, ducking through the room as quickly as possible and shutting the door behind him. His grip on your shoulder doesn’t relent as he keeps you close to his body while heading down the stairs, through the crowd and towards the kitchen, shielding you from the sweaty dance floor.

You scramble to keep up with him, needing to move at almost double your walking pace just to keep up with him as he drags you along. Your cheeks are burning and whether that’s from the alcohol or his touch, you’re not sure.

Once you’re in the kitchen, he loosens his grip on your shoulder and watches silently as you move around the cabinets and fridges, filling a glass of water for him.

He hums in acknowledgement, leaning back against the counter. You hop up on the marble beside him, watching as he slowly sips on the water, staring down at the liquid that vibrates with the thump of the bass.

“So,” you begin, pulling his attention back to you. “You don’t wanna lose me, huh?”

Sukuna’s sharp eyes narrow into a glare, but it dissipates as he realizes you aren’t teasing. You’re lucky he’s drunk, because there’s no other circumstance where you would get such a direct answer from him. “No.”

“Is that why you didn’t reach out to talk about it?”

He returns his gaze to the water in his hand, rippling in the glass. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what t’ say. I overstepped boundaries.”

You sigh, glad he’s found a more eloquent way of putting how he really feels rather than just labelling the whole thing as ‘a mistake’. You wish he started with that, but obviously drunk, high, and in a panic to keep you from walking away, his words failed him. You can accept that he doesn’t see you romantically but values your friendship.

“It’s okay, Sukuna. We… both… overstepped boundaries,” you offer with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. It’s clear that what Sukuna needs right now is a friend, someone to support him and look out for him when he needs it most. You’ll be that for him, even if it means leaving your feelings for him at the door.

His eyes narrow again as he looks at you, irises flickering between your pupils as though he’s trying to make sense of something, but he lets it go to down some water, turning to the sink to refill his glass.

You don’t bring up the kids with people flooding the kitchen around you, keeping the conversation casual. Sukuna points out his friends in the corner at one point, telling you he’ll introduce you when Toji’s not drunk because apparently ‘he’s a prick’. You recognize Uraume’s name from a while ago when they had watched the kids so that Sukuna could be there to get your grade for your project. Sukuna tells you that he thinks you’ll get along well.

It’s gradual, but his speech eventually stops slurring and he joins you on the counter, though his head and shoulder hit the cabinet behind him and he hardly fits.

“Wait- that was today?”

“Mhm. I probably woulda been kicked out if Toji and Atsuya didn’t hold me back.” He flashes you his knuckles that are, as he expected, beginning to bruise.

“Something tells me you say that from experience,” you giggle.

“Somethin’ like that. Last time, it was Toji’s fault, though,” he shrugs, downing more water. You’re both now just comfortably buzzed and Sukuna doesn’t seem nearly as tense as when you were up on the balcony.

“Sounds like I should be glad I’ve never met this Naoya guy.”

“Tch. If you even see that slimebag look at you, head the other way. Guy’s a walking red flag.”

“Noted.” You kick your feet, staring down at your black heels dangling from them. “Oh, by the way, have you ever tried that diner near your place?”

“What diner?” He’s staring down at your feet as well, watching the movement as they gently sway.

“The one like a block over from your apartment, with the blue and pink logo?”

Sukuna stifles a laugh, but it still bubbles up in his chest and he snorts. “That’s a fuckin’ strip club, princess.”

“No it isn’t!” You insist with certainty.

“It’s literally called Strip Joint.” He points out with a smug grin.

“Kuna. They make chicken strips. It’s a joke, they’re a chicken strip joint.”

His lips part in disbelief as he tilts his head to look at you. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m dead serious,” you giggle. “How did you not know?”

“What do you mean ‘how did I not know’? How did you know?” He waves his hand out in the air like it isn’t quite as obvious as it seems. He’s got a point, it absolutely looks the part of a strip club with a dark outside and bright neon sign, but that only makes you laugh harder.

“You know what, now that I think about it, I actually think I know that because Satoru took us there for his birthday and thought it was a strip club,” you ponder the time you first visited, but can’t place if that was your first visit for sure.

“See!” He’s grinning, his cheeks dusted in a shade of red that suits him, just as well as his smirk does. Another one of those rare moments where you think you’re seeing the real Sukuna, even in the midst of everything bogging him down. It’s a good look on him, one that sends your heart soaring. “I’m sure the frat boy loved that.”

“You know, he wasn’t as upset as you would think he’d be,” you giggle, shaking your head.

Sukuna hums, glancing around momentarily. “Can’t believe I live right next to a chicken finger place and the boys don’t know. They’d love that shit.”

Your heart falls, but you do what you can to mask it at the mention of his little brothers. “Let’s check it out.”

“We can do that sometime,” he agrees, yawning.

“No, I mean why don’t we go now?”

Sukuna’s brow arches. “You wanna take my drunk and high ass to a chicken finger shop?”

“I think that makes it funnier, honestly,” you grin, hopping down off the counter. Sukuna contemplates your request for a moment, before dropping down to his feet with a thump.

“Fine,” he huffs, shoving his hands into his jogger pockets as he follows after you. You both pull your jackets from the front coat rack and closet and step back out into the cold. Considerably less drunk than last time you were outside, it’s markedly colder.

Thank god Sukuna’s apartment isn’t too far from campus, unlike yours. You’d had every intention of crashing at Shoko’s overnight, so you’d likely just head back to her place when the night ends if you can get a hold of her.

Heels probably weren’t your greatest call with all the snow, but you manage to keep yourself from slipping by walking slower. It’s a snail’s pace for Sukuna, but as much as he grumbles and gripes about it, he’ll be more than okay.

Jogging up to the door, you pull it open with a shiver and thank every god you can think of that it’s open at one in the morning.

Just as you had said, it’s a diner that specialises in chicken strips, classically decorated in reds to go with the otherwise grayscale diner colors. Off to one side lies a row of red leather booths, while there’s a faded red counter with patches of bare oak where forearms and plates have worn the color from the wood. The lights are dim, with one at the back of the diner flickering softly.

The restaurant is empty aside from one employee and an older man drinking coffee at the counter before her.

“Have a seat wherever, dears.” The kind old employee smiles softly at you, gesturing to the booths. You return her smile, leading Sukuna to a booth in the center of the diner, a couple away from the flickering light.

Sukuna shuffles into the booth, shrugging off his coat and leaning against his bent elbow. He yawns, grunting in thanks when the employee leaves menus before you. He doesn’t look as disinterested as usual, but tired hardly cuts the dark circles lining his eyes.

You peruse the menu for a moment, glancing up at Sukuna. His eyes are skimming the menu, his fingers drumming lightly on the white table lined in metallic silver.

“What do you think you’re gonna get?”

Sukuna’s brow arches. “Chicken.”

“Alright, smartass,” you giggle. “I’m thinking of having ice cream.”

Sukuna’s gaze narrows. “You complained about it being cold the whole way here.”

“Yeah, but doesn’t that sound good?”

“Chicken sounds good,” he mumbles.

“You’re just high.”

“You’re just drunk,” he counters, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. He shuts the menu after a moment, setting it at the side of the table to get the waitress’ attention. The kind woman rounds the bar and pulls out a small notepad and pen.

“What can I get you?”

“I’ll have the six piece meal,” Sukuna starts, holding his hand out for you to go next.

“I’ll have the chocolate ice cream.”

“You were serious?” Disbelief drips from Sukuna’s tone as he shoots you a look like you’ve gone mad before the waitress can even confirm your orders. You kick his shin lightly under the table and he shuts his mouth with a grimace, muttering a ‘thanks’ when the waitress confirms your orders and heads back to the bar. “You were serious?” He repeats once she’s gone.

“Of course! Doesn’t that sound good?”

“Not really,” he chuckles, still leaning against his palm.

“Well, I think it sounds great.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever the princess wants, she gets.”

You grin at him as your stomach flutters at the nickname, following his gaze outside. The street lamps cast an eerie yellow light over the otherwise still roads, your fresh footprints the only sign of life out there. No cars pass by the side road at such early hours of the morning, the hustle and bustle of city life momentarily paused as most people settle in the warmth of their homes for rest.

“What are you gonna do, Sukuna?”

He yawns, wiping tears from his eyes. “‘Bout what?”

“The kids.”

“Mm.” He sighs, leaning back in the booth. It’s a bit short for him and he has to slump down for any amount of back support. “Dunno. Not sure I can do much.”

“What about the pro-bono idea?”

“Maybe,” he hums, a little more level-headed as you inquire this time around. “I don’t think some free attorney off the streets is gonna do many favors against whatever expensive asshole their mom’s payin’ for, though.”

“Maybe, but you never know. It’s better than self-defense,” you shrug.

“Unless I find Daredevil on the streets, I get the feelin’ it won’t really matter.” The defeat hanging around him like a spectre seems to weigh heavily on him as he stares out the window.

“You can’t just give up.”

He throws his hands up in frustration, though he’s too tired to back it up with words. He supposes you can take that however you’d like, he’s not about to fight with you about this, not when this lawsuit almost cost your friendship all because his dumbass step-mother chose to deliver the legal papers at the most inconvenient time.

“They need you, Kuna. Where’s their mom been all this time, anyway?” Your brow furrows at the thought. Why does Sukuna have his brothers if their mom’s still around?

“Dunno. Overseas or some shit. She took a high-paying position and our dad refused to move us with her. When he passed, I tried to get a hold of anyone on her side of the family. Not a single word. Even the lawyers couldn’t reach any of ‘em.” He shrugs, reaching up to scratch his jaw as his gaze remains fixed out the window.

“Huh. What about your mom?”

Either Sukuna’s feeling kind today, or he’s too tired to fight your nosiness. Whatever it is, he shrugs again in reply. “Dunno about her either. I was an accident. My dad was nineteen when they had me, she signed me away the moment I was born.”

You suppose his statement from the other night about his father ‘knowing how to pick them’ makes more sense with this context. It seemed neither woman had done any of his sons any favors.

“I’m sorry, Sukuna.” “It’s whatever,” he mutters through a yawn.

“Hey, what about the law students or professors?”

He tilts his head, leaning over the table on both of his forearms. “What about them?”

“Have you spoken to them?”

“No. I dunno any of ‘em and I’m not about to get anyone involved.”

“Don’t you think it’s worth it? For Yuji and Choso?”

Sukuna parts his lips to reply, pausing momentarily when your ice cream and his chicken arrive. You both quietly thank the waitress before he continues. “‘Course, but I’m not gettin’ my hopes up.”

You frown, spooning some ice cream into your mouth. After your first bite, you chew on your lip in thought. “Would you consider talking to a law student? I know you would need to tell them what’s going on and that isn’t what you want, but…” You trail off, not really sure there’s a sound ‘but’ behind your insistence on helping him.

He sighs, finishing a chicken strip in only a couple of bites. “You think it’s worth it?”

You nod, swallowing another bite of ice cream. “I just know if I were in your position, I would be trying everything. I couldn’t possibly let go of them.”

Sukuna’s heart twists and he runs a hand through his hair. There it is again, that uncomfortable sensation of being outside of his own body as panic grips him. It’s the same feeling from when you mentioned him being their hero. It’s like you’ve dropped something on him that he doesn’t quite know how to handle.

He stares down at his plates, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

“Sukuna?”

“I’m fine,” he mumbles, strained. He subconsciously slides his foot out until he finds yours, as though he’s seeking your presence for comfort again like the night spent in his room. You set your spoon down, watching as he shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath.

You open your mouth to voice your concern, but he interrupts before you can.

“You know one? A law student?”

You chew on your lip briefly, taking in his distant expression. As though being high, buzzed on alcohol, tired, and mildly hungover isn’t all enough for one person, now he also hardly seems present.

“I don’t, but one of Kento’s friends is in the program.”

“Great,” Sukuna mutters, rolling his eyes as he jabs his chicken a little bit too harshly in plum sauce. “My biggest fan.” You knock his foot beside you, which seems to bring him back to the present somewhat.

“You know, I think if you explain to him what’s going on, he might not be so cold to you.”

The pink-haired man makes a show out of his disdain for including Kento with a dramatic groan. “If it makes it easier with the law student, then sure, but,” he pauses, shooting you a glance, “I choose what I share.”

You pick up your spoon again, shoveling more ice cream into your mouth. “I wouldn’t share any of your secrets. Kento doesn’t know about your brothers.”

He doesn’t doubt that’s true, otherwise he thinks he may have garnered just a little bit more sympathy from the blonde. He’s fairly sure the only reason he’s still just barely on Shoko’s good side is the fact that she knows he’s taking care of two snot-nosed brats.

He mutters out a barely audible thanks before focusing on his food. Even as he eats, he’s running out of steam, just barely managing to stay awake as comfortable silence hangs between you. It’s a stark contrast from a few hours ago, the rift patched and stitched with a nice little bow to top it all off and for that he’s beyond grateful.

“Do you wanna try some?” You hold out your spoon as he sets his plate aside, wiped clean.

He reaches out, taking the spoon and popping it in his mouth. “That’s pretty good. I thought it was just Breyers or some shit.”

You shake your head, staring down at the couple of remaining scoops. “I think it’s made in-house.”

He hums in agreement, leaning over the table with a yawn and you get the feeling it’s time to go home. Waving the waitress over, you request the bills with a polite smile.

“Together or separate?” She inquires with a kind smile in return.

“Together.”

“Separate.”

“Together,” Sukuna doubles down, pulling out his wallet.

“Are you sure?”

He scoffs at the question. “You got one ice cream, I think I’ll manage.”

Giving in, you nod at the waitress.

“Thank you, Kuna.”

“Mm,” he hums as he pulls out his credit card, paying quickly before sliding out of the booth and throwing his coat on. You follow suit, thanking the waitress and heading back out into the cold.

“You promise you’re okay with me reaching out to Kento about this? It probably won’t be until after Christmas, he’s back in our hometown with family,” you explain.

“It’s fine. Worth a shot, right?”

You smile at his willingness to work with you. He’s shown you an awful lot of vulnerability all night, and you appreciate his honesty, even if there’s still a pang of disappointment that your feelings for him aren’t mutual.

“You need me to walk you back to the frat house?”

Your nose wrinkles at the thought. You really don’t want to stay there if you don’t have to, and your buzz has completely faded. You have no desire to return to the party, which you would need to do if you wanted to crash with Shoko. “That’s alright, I think I’ll head home.”

Sukuna rolls his shoulders backwards, fighting a yawn. “Uber? Busses aren’t running this late.”

“Yeah, I’ll get one now.”

“I’m comin’ with you.”

“Sukuna, you’ve been yawning for the better part of the last two hours. You look like you’re ready to pass out,” you point out, reaching forward to poke him in a similar fashion to back when you first met his brothers and teasingly shoved him to prove a point.

Marginally more awake than your first encounter with his brothers, Sukuna grabs your wrist before you can poke him. “Nice try, princess. It’s two in the morning, I just wanna make sure you make it home. I’ll walk back after.”

Your heart should not be soaring like it is right now given the fact that he openly admitted to you that he overstepped boundaries, but you can’t help the way it races. “Okay,” you smile meekly, waiting alongside him for the car you hailed to pull up.

The ride is an odd one as Sukuna struggles to stay awake while the driver recounts his night, but his presence is comforting in what would otherwise be an awkward ride.

Arriving back at your apartment, you open the app and add a secondary destination, keying in Sukuna’s apartment. He sluggishly goes to get out but you dash around the car as best as you can in your heels to block him.

“Thanks for getting me home, now I’m getting you home.”

He’s too drained to start something with you for being too kind when he could just walk home, returning to his seat with resignation and a mildly contemptful expression.

“Thanks,” he grumbles, though he’s internally much more grateful than he’d have you believe.

“Text- uh- email me when you get home.”

He blows air from his nose, amused. “Yeah. Night, princess.”

“Goodnight, Kuna.”

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❦ a/n ; i hope you guys enjoyed the chicken strip conversation as much as i did, maybe i'm just tired but i though it was toooo cute something about writing sukuna fumbling through his day-to-day life is so enjoyable, this poor poor man. i love him sm 😭 as always, thank you for reading and a huge shoutout to each and every one of you who's interacted with my posts, you guys seriously make my day and are a big part of the reason i'm having so much fun sharing this story with you all. thank you all <33

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dduane · 17 hours ago

Text

Invictus

In the dimness he woke and knew it was too late. Morning never came so late unless the world was ending.

Fortunately, he knew what to do about that.

He blinked and ruffled his feathers, looking around. This was his place. Surrounding a patch of grass were two holly trees, a pine, a cypress whose branches all went the wrong way, and much shrubbery, mostly beech and thorn. The shelter was good here, even on nights like last night. And in the holly, food appeared hung up: good food that tasted of fat and meat. It was all his. Later, when it was time for sex, there would be someone else who’d get some of it. But right now, he owned it.

This cold white stuff on the ground did complicate matters. It came and went without warning, and here it was again. Now, others who might have spent the morning scratching around the ground instead of stuffing themselves full up here would be turning up in his territory, eating his food. His feathers ruffled up again, this time with rage at the thought. Bastards. Bastards. Kill them all.

He hopped up onto the branch that had the best view across the patch of grass and into the bushes, and sang. Bastards! Who wants a piece of me? Come and get it! Because this was when it had to be said, no matter how much you might have preferred to sit quiet with your feathers fluffed up, conserving your heat. The dim sky was already paling toward that too-cold blue. It would be a bad day, cold, everybody and his family would turn up here trying to get at the tree food, which was what you needed this time of year if you meant to stay alive until dusk –

And suddenly he heard the harsh dark cawing coming from across the hardened path, across the wall, in the wood full of tall starved pines. He shivered. Not so early, he thought, what are you doing up at this hour? But he knew. That one wanted the tree-food too. It had come for it before. Now, in the silence before the morning wind, he heard the flapping of the wings.

Hastily he turned to the food cage, ate a few mouthfuls, felt the fat melt down his throat like blood, like life. Almost before he finished, the darkness had landed with a noisy thrash of leaves and branches up in the holly. A huge expressionless black eye gazed down at him.

He sang. It was almost all he could do. It’s mine! Stay away, or I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you! But the outcome was hardly so simple. The black-headed, white-backed shape with the axe-like beak bounced down another branch, and another, its eye on that tree food, that meat. It liked meat too. He’d once seen it zoom down onto the pond and simply pick up a baby duck and fly off with it. I’ll kill you if you get any closer! Don’t push me! I will!

It came closer. It was winter, it was death, the shape now only one branch of holly away. He sang as if life depended on it: because it did. If he had enough to eat, the sun came up. If the sun came up, the world was safe. It was as simple as that. Go away! I have to eat the food or the world will end! I’ll kill you to keep that from happening! Monster, go away, don’t make me rip you up — ! He fluttered at the monstrous gaping head, enraged, desperate.

A clacketing, rattling noise from behind. The black eye went wide, the death-pale bulk roused its wings and flapped clumsily out of the holly tree. Desperate with relief, he flung himself at the food-cage again, and ate with frantic speed as the sky paled brighter, toward day-blue: and between mouthfuls, he sang at the top of his lungs, shuddering with relief and triumph. Bastard! I warned you not to mess with me! Victory! Victory!

The sun peered up over the far hill. The shadows fled. He gorged himself as the black bird flew off, and stopped, and shouted again, Victory!

…She stood there with her mug in one hand, looking out across the back yard snow at the dot of red breast deep in among the holly branches, pecking furiously at the suet in its little cage. “Boy,” she said to the husband, back in the kitchen, “listen to that guy. You’d think he’d just won World War Three.”

“Yeah. Where’s the milk?”

The door closed. On the snow, the sun of the shortest day shone.

Victory!

#solstice #winter solstice #fiction #murder birb

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keeryhours · 3 days ago

Text

(not so) silent night - rafe cameron

Baby daddy! Rafe x Baby mama! Maybank! reader

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron Masterlist

More Baby Daddy! Rafe

Summary:

You spend Christmas with Rafe and Iris, and Rafe has a surprise for you.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, drinking, mostly a lot of fluff!

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N:

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! I hope you enjoy this little Baby daddy! Rafe story!

—

The lights twinkled brilliantly on the outside of the house, multicolored bulbs lighting up the night. Iris looked on with wide eyes, taking in the sight. It was her first real Christmas where she would kind of understand what was going on.

Rafe climbed down the ladder, walking to the front of the house where the two of you stood. You were still a little unsteady from the accident, but had been healing nicely. You held Iris in your arms.

“How’s it look?” Rafe asked, turning around to look at his work once he’d reached you.

“Pwetty!” Iris exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

Rafe smiled at her, running his fingers through her soft light brown hair. “You like ‘em?”

She clapped again, then reached for her dad. He gladly took her from your arms, and you were glad because it was starting to hurt a little.

“Looks great,” you said, smiling softly at the two of them. Rafe beamed, looking proud of what he’d done. “It’s beautiful. I love it. Thank you for doing this for us.”

“Ah, it’s no problem,” Rafe said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Anything for my girls.”

You technically still weren’t “Rafe’s girl” anymore, but someone would have to tell him that. Since the accident, he’d been around a lot more often. Always looking for ways to help, for excuses to come over. You needed a lightbulb changed, batteries replaced? He was there. It was nice when it came to things like this, when you wanted to decorate the house for Christmas but JJ didn’t feel like doing it for you.

“Ready to go do the tree?” You asked Iris, a big smile on your face.

“Tree!” She said, throwing her arms in the air. Rafe smiled down at her, the look on his face one of pride.

The three of you headed back inside out of the cold. Everything was on the living room floor, ready to put up. The tree was still in its box, the tote full of ornaments and decorations sitting next to it.

Rafe sat Iris down and she skipped over, looking at the stuff as you lifted the lid off the tote. It was filled with ornaments and decorations, some store bought and some handmade.

He pulled the tree out of its box and started setting it up while you sorted through ornaments. He had it put together in no time, then got to work fluffing the branches out.

“Oh my god, remember this?” You asked, bringing out a round clay ornament. Iris’ 6 month old footprints were stamped into it, painted to look like reindeer.

Rafe smiled wistfully, taking the ornament from your hands and examining it. “She was so small.” He hung it on the tree.

You handed Iris some of the round unbreakable ornaments. She took them to the tree and Rafe bent down and helped her hang them on the branches. She dropped them a few times, but eventually got them on and came back for more.

You kept handing her ornaments for her to put on with Rafe’s help. He held her up to help her put some higher on the tree. It was really coming together.

You pulled out one of the last ornaments from the tote, a plastic ball ornament with a picture of the three of you in the hospital inside, along with Iris’ hospital bracelet and hat. You looked at the photo, then at the toddler and the man in front of you. Tears welled in your eyes and your heart swelled in your chest, filling you with so much love for your little family, no matter how unconventional.

Rafe was smiling at Iris, helping her hang another ornament. He turned to look at you, and his smile dropped, seeing the tears in your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You showed him the ornament, and his expression softened. He took it from your hands, looking at the photo up close. It had been the happiest day of both of your lives, despite not being together. Rafe had been amazing, there hadn’t been a single argument. It was just a beautiful experience and it gave you the best gift you ever could have dreamed of.

“She was so tiny,” he mused. “We should have another one.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “I don’t know about all that.”

Rafe laughed. “One of these days you’ll give me another one, huh?”

You blushed, looking back into the tote of decorations and pulling out a long garland. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Rafe smiled even bigger. “I think my odds are pretty good. I gave you a cute one the first time.”

“You did,” you agreed, laughing as you untangled the pine garland. “We’ll see.”

When you were done with the decorations, you held Iris as you looked over the tree. Rafe plugged it into the wall and it lit up with multicolored lights. It looked beautiful. You smiled and Iris clapped her hands together, giggling.

“You like it?” He asked, coming over to join you. “I think it came out pretty good.”

“Looks amazing,” you said honestly. “I love it. Thank you for helping us today.”

Rafe placed a kiss to the top of Iris’ head, then to yours. “I’d do anything for you two.”

—

Christmas Eve came faster than you expected. Rafe was over again, spending the evening with you and Iris. You were all in the kitchen, helping Iris make little balls of cookie dough and place them on the baking sheet.

“Are you ready for Santa to come tonight?” You asked her, watching as she stood on her step stool and smushed the cookie dough in her small hands.

She nodded, although she still didn’t exactly understand. You and Rafe had been telling her about Santa, and she seemed excited, but she was still too young to fully get it.

“There’s gonna be lots of toys,” Rafe told her, which made her whole face light up.

When you were done placing the dough, Rafe took her into the living room to start the movie while you put the tray in the oven.

You walked in to see The Polar Express starting. You were all dressed in matching red Christmas pajamas - it surprised you that you were able to get Rafe to agree, but he didn’t even put up a fight. He had been much different since the car accident, wanting to do anything he could to make you happy.

You snuggled on the couch with Iris between you, watching the movie together. She had never seen it, but she was entranced. She loved the hot chocolate song. It didn’t take long for the cookies to be done baking, so you headed back into the kitchen to take them out and let them cool while they kept watching.

When the movie was over, you all went back into the kitchen to decorate the cookies. You gave Iris her own icing bag, and you were pretty sure more of it ended up in her mouth than on the cookies.

You decorated your cookies in typical Christmas designs, Santa faces and snowflakes and Christmas trees. Iris’ were scribbles of icing. Rafe decorated his with…dicks?

“Rafe!” You scolded him.

“What?” He said, looking at you like he was innocent. “She doesn’t know what they are!”

Before bedtime, you set the cookies on a plate with a glass of milk. Rafe helped you give her a bath and get her dressed for bed, then you both gave her a good night kiss as you left her half asleep in her crib.

You closed the door softly behind you. “I’m so excited for tomorrow,” you whispered.

“Me too.” Rafe followed you down the hall. “I’m sad I have to leave.”

You bit the inside of your lip as you thought. “You don’t have to leave.”

He looked at you, stupid grin on his face. “You don’t want me to go?”

“Not really,” you admitted. JJ was out and you didn’t really want to spend Christmas Eve alone. “We could watch another movie. Have some eggnog.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” He smiled at you again, so softly and with so much love that you felt it in your chest. You returned the look, wanting desperately to reach out and touch him, to kiss him.

You watched Home Alone together, sharing eggnog with rum. You were both feeling a little tipsy by the end of the movie, giggling together and bringing up old happy memories.

“Remember when we took Iris to the store when she was first learning to talk, and that old lady was talking to her?” Rafe laughed. “And Iris just looked at her and said, ‘Shit!’”

You both laughed hard, remembering how hard it had been to get her to stop using that word, especially when you couldn’t stop giggling whenever she did.

“She gets that from you,” you teased, nudging him with your foot in your fuzzy socks.

“Yeah, well,” he said, running a hand over his hair. “She gets a lot from me.”

“That’s true.” You couldn’t stop smiling. You hadn’t felt this happy in ages.

Rafe rubbed your legs resting in his lap. “You’re so beautiful.”

The words caught you off guard, and you blushed furiously. “Stop.”

“I mean it. I’ve always meant it.” He looked at you, so much swimming behind his eyes. “You are seriously the most beautiful girl on the island. Well, next to Iris.”

You laughed again. “True. Iris is the most beautiful girl on the island.”

Rafe moved your legs off his lap, scooting closer to you. He placed a hand on your cheek, his thumb gently caressing the skin. Then he was leaning in and your eyes were fluttering closed and his lips were on yours.

Your heart beat hard in your chest as he kissed you. His touch on your face was like electricity, sending shivers through your body. His lips moved against yours slowly at first, the kiss gentle and full of love. You pulled him closer, kissing him a little more eagerly now.

He pulled you onto him so you were straddling his lap, never breaking the kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth, moving against your own as you moaned into the kiss. You rolled your hips down against him and he groaned, you could feel how hard he was getting already.

His hands moved down to your hips, guiding you to keep grinding against him. “Fuck, I’ve missed this,” he said, a little breathless from the frantic kissing. He kissed the corner of your lips before trailing down your jawline and to your neck. You tilted your head, giving him access to do whatever he wanted. He placed gentle kisses there first before nipping at your skin, making you moan as he started to suck on the spot.

“Let’s go to my room,” you said, eyes closed and head tilted back as he worked at your neck.

You didn’t have to tell him again. Rafe grabbed your thighs and stood, lifting you easily as you squealed and wrapped your arms around his neck. You kissed him again as he carried you down the hall and to your bedroom, dropping you down on your soft mattress.

He pulled his pajama top over his head, revealing his toned chest. You wanted to reach out and touch him, but he was already reaching for you, hooking his fingers in the waist of your pajama pants and pulling them down, tossing them away. He ran his hands up your smooth legs, feeling all over.

His hands trailed up until he was pushing your top up, lifting it off and getting rid of that, too. You hadn’t had a bra underneath, wanting to be comfortable tonight. Rafe placed kisses all over your chest, his tongue sliding over one of your nipples and making you gasp. He took it into his mouth, sucking on it as his hand pinched at your other one. You arched your back into his mouth - you were soaked already.

He moved his mouth to the other nipple, giving it the same attention. You moaned, fingers trailing over the muscles of his back. “Feels so good, Rafe.”

Rafe hummed, not stopping for a second. He began kissing down your body slowly, down your stomach and to the waistband of your panties. He pulled them down tantalizingly slowly, then spread your legs for him, laying between your legs.

“I’ve been wanting to taste you all night,” he murmured, two of his fingers spreading your folds as he licked a stripe along your pussy. You cried out, hands tangling in the bed sheets as he sucked at your clit, his tongue doing all the things to you he remembered you loved.

He pushed a finger into you, and you writhed beneath him as he began pumping it into you, before quickly adding a second finger, curling them deep inside so they pressed right against that spot he knew made you fall apart.

“Rafe!” You cried, your hips grinding up against his mouth as he devoured your pussy like he’d been starving for it. “Fuck, ohmygod, feels so good.”

Rafe groaned against you, moving his fingers faster as he licked at your pussy, tasting every bit of your wetness. He was determined to make you cum on his tongue and fingers, and your release was building fast.

“‘m so close,” you whined, wishing his hair was longer again so you could pull on it like you used to. “Please please don’t stop.”

“Go on and cum for me, baby,” Rafe said, before moving right back to bury his face in your pussy. He wrapped his lips around your clit again, sucking gently as he moved his tongue over it.

Your orgasm crashed into you hard, you rolled your hips up against his mouth over and over as you came. “Rafe! Rafe, oh fuck, Rafe-“

“That’s it, baby, good girl,” he praised, fingers still pressing right against that spot that was making your orgasm feel neverending. “You look so pretty when you cum for me.”

He didn’t remove his fingers until you had completely come down, then he was kissing up your body again, his face hidden in your neck as he kissed and sucked at the skin there again.

“Want you so bad,” you whined, rolling your hips up against the erection in his pajama pants.

Rafe sat up, pushing his pants and boxers down, his cock already painfully hard. You looked at it hungrily, wanting nothing more than to have him inside you right that second.

You trailed your hand slowly over his chest, making his cock twitch as his eyes fell closed. “I like it when you touch me like that.”

“Yeah?” You felt all over, his muscles flexing beneath your touch. “You’re so hot.”

Rafe laughed, leaning over your body again. “You’re the sexiest girl I’ve ever seen.” He kissed you, tongue dipping into your mouth again. You could taste yourself on him.

He lined himself up at your entrance, then pushed inside, slowly. It had been a while since you’d slept together, and Rafe was big. He knew to take it gently with you.

You whined as he pushed inside, the feeling intense but incredible. He bottomed out inside of you, groaning into your neck.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” he gritted out, taking every bit of self control in his body to not immediately start pounding you senseless. “Feels so fucking good.”

“You can move,” you told him, needing to feel him filling you over and over again. “Want you to fuck me.”

Rafe groaned again at your words, but immediately obeyed, pulling out until only his tip remained and then rolling his hips back into you. You both moaned at the feeling, your back arching as he filled you so deeply.

He set a slow pace at first, fucking you slow and deep. Making love, even.

He looked into your eyes as he thrusted into you slowly and deliberately, cock pressing against the bundle of nerves inside you again. It felt amazing. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Your heart felt like it could burst out of your chest. “I love you too, Rafe.”

“I mean it. I love you so fucking much.” He kissed you deeply, conveying all the emotions he was feeling through it.

“I love you too, I love you too,” you told him, feeling like you could cry but holding it back because it would be incredibly embarrassing to start crying during sex.

Rafe smiled at you, kissing you again. You began rolling your hips up against him, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him into you with every thrust. He groaned louder, speeding up his pace.

“Fuck- babe, not gonna last long,” he said, reaching down and gripping onto your thigh, holding it up towards your chest. “You feel too good.”

“I want you to cum in me,” you said quietly, trying to keep it down to not wake Iris. “Please.”

“Fuck,” he said, his hips speeding up even faster. “Fuck yeah. Gonna cum in you so fucking deep.”

“Please,” you begged again, your eyes closing as the pleasure overtook you again. “Oh, fuck, I’m so close again.”

“Come on baby, cum for me again,” he encouraged you, reaching down to rub circles on your clit. You gasped, pussy clenching around his cock as you came again. He slapped his hand over your mouth at the last second, keeping you quiet.

“Shh, baby, not too loud tonight,” he whispered into your ear. He buried his face in your neck again as his moans got breathier, more uncontrolled. He thrusted into your tight heat a few more times before he stilled, cumming inside of you as he gripped onto your thigh and buried his sounds in your body.

He pulled out, rolling onto the bed next to you. You cuddled up into his side and he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you even closer. “I love you,” he said again.

“I love you too,” you told him. “Stay with me?”

“Of course,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

—

You were more excited than anyone on Christmas morning. You woke Rafe up, shaking him from his sleep.

“Rafe, wake up! It’s Christmas!”

He woke with a groan. “What time is it?”

You checked your phone. “It’s 8am.”

“What the fuck.”

You laughed. “Rafe, it’s Christmas. Santa came.”

He uncovered his eyes, giving you a look. “You know we’re Santa, right?”

You rolled your eyes, throwing the blankets off of you and standing up. “Come on, have some fun.”

You both dressed back in your Christmas PJs (after not bothering to put anything back on last night). In the kitchen, you and Rafe ate some of the cookies to make it look like Santa had been by. You set the Santa presents under the tree, then went to get Iris.

“Good morning, baby girl,” you said as Iris sat up in her crib, rubbing her eyes. She smiled when she saw both you and Rafe.

Rafe lifted her from her crib and you walked into the living room together. JJ was still asleep, but you’d do his presents later. Iris gasped as you walked in, seeing all the presents under the tree. There were about a million, mostly thanks to Rafe. “Present!”

“That’s right,” Rafe said, sitting her down. “They’re all for you.”

Her eyes lit up and she scrambled over to the tree. You and Rafe joined her on the floor as she opened gift after gift. Dolls, coloring books, art supplies, clothes, stuffed animals, toys, anything she could have dreamed of. She was equally excited about everything, squealing as she opened each present.

After presents were opened, Rafe helped her open the toys and set them up while you prepared breakfast. JJ got up by the time it was ready, and all four of you sat down to eat together.

JJ took Iris back into the living room to play while Rafe helped you clean up. After the dishes were done, you leaned against the counter, breathing a deep sigh. “Feels like all this craziness and then it’s over so fast.”

Rafe chuckled. “Yeah, I get what you mean.”

“At least we’ve gotten through the presents.”

“Actually,” Rafe said. “I have one for you.”

You looked at him, eyebrows raised. “You got me something?”

“Of course. Wait here.” He went back into the living room, then came back with a small wrapped box. You tentatively took it from his hand, looking at him suspiciously.

“It’s not an engagement ring,” he said, laughing.

You breathed out a sigh - you weren’t ready for that yet. You weren’t even together. You unwrapped the gift to find a blue Tiffany & Co box. You looked at him with wide eyes, and he smiled, nodding for you to open it.

You opened the box to find a Tiffany solitaire diamond necklace. You gasped - it was beautiful, the diamond brilliant and clear, and it was too much.

“Rafe, you shouldn’t-“

“Stop,” he said. “I wanted to. And you deserve it. You’re an amazing mom, an amazing co-parent…” he pushed your hair over one of your shoulders. “A beautiful woman.”

He took the necklace from the box and stepped behind you. He clasped it around your neck, placing a kiss on your neck when he was done. Your hand went to touch the beautiful diamond resting on your chest now. You were starting to tear up again as he moved around to face you.

“Thank you,” you said, tears welling in your eyes. “This is amazing. I’ll cherish it forever.”

“Good.” Rafe smiled. He fixed your hair, ran his thumb over your cheek to wipe a stray tear away. “There’s just one thing I wanted to ask you.”

“What is it?”

“I…” He took a deep breath. “Look. I love you. I know I’ve said it a lot lately, but I hope you know I really mean it, with my whole heart. I love you. And I want you to be my girlfriend again. I want us to be official.”

“Rafe…”

“I know, our relationship before was shitty, I know.” Rafe grasped both your hands in his larger ones, looking you in your eyes. “But I’m different now. I swear to you. I want the best for you and Iris and all of us. I want to be with you again. We can take it slow, I don’t care. I just can’t stand you not being mine anymore.”

The tears were fully flowing now. He wiped them away, which only made them come faster. “Yes. I’ll be your girlfriend again.”

Rafe smiled, his whole face lighting up at your words. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you laughed through your tears. “Really.”

He pulled you in for a kiss, his lips pressing to yours with so much love you could feel it through your whole body.

You rejoined JJ and Iris in the living room. JJ eyed your hands joined together, but didn’t question it. You cuddled up on the couch with Rafe while your twin brother and your daughter played on the floor. Your little family was together and happy again.

It was something like a Christmas miracle.

311 notes · View notes

alsofoundinpeas · 3 days ago

Text

A Gift of Belonging

Summary: Y/N often avoids family holidays due to her strained relationship with her family, who favors her brother. When Spencer Reid invites her to spend Christmas in New York with him and his mother, she discovers a new sense of warmth and belonging, making it the best holiday she’s ever had.

Requested fic!! 🥳: I was wondering if I could ask for a Spence and Y/N in which Christmas is approaching and Y/N usually spends it alone because she has a complicated relationship with her family that always favors her brother.

Maybe he has plans to go spend it with his mom and because they are in early times in their relationship he didn’t think to invite her, but once he finds out she’s alone, he takes her to meet his mom and they all have a really good time!

I was thinking something angsty, fluffy, and maybe smutty in the end? I don’t know, you’re the mastermind behind these beautiful creations, so whatever makes you feel inspired haha

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Very brief mention of alcohol. Strained relationship with family (repetitive I know). Oral (m!receiving), unprotected PinV sex (birth control is discussed beforehand but said conversation isn't actually in it), creampie (I wince every single time I type that). Fluffy holiday smut!!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

A/N: Reupload because I'm a bingus head and accidentally deleted when editing FORGIVE ME PLS!! I loved writing this request!! Huge thank you to @dalamjisung for the request. I hope you like it :') The song mentioned in the fic is December by Ariana Grande btw, but it's only mentioned because reader listens to it, it isn't mandatory for the fic. I have a few more requests lined up after this one, so as for right now my requests are closed until all of them get posted. As always, please tell me what you think! :) If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends! <3 Thank you and I love you all!!! :) <3

Y/N sighed as she stared down at the text from her mom, re-reading it a few times before tossing her phone to the end of her bed with a frustrated groan.

Mom: Hey sweetie! Are you planning to come home for Christmas this weekend? If not, I completely understand. Honestly, I’m just happy your brother will at least be here. I think he’s bringing his new girlfriend, too, so that’s exciting! He’s always so good about making time for family. But again, no pressure if you’re too busy. I know you have a lot going on!

Her excuses were starting to wear thin, seeing as she had played the flu card for last year’s Christmas party and faked a work emergency to skip Thanksgiving. But the thought of attending her family’s Christmas only to spend the night listening to her brother's achievements, followed by the inevitable barrage of condescending questions about her life, was unbearable. Call her a Grinch or a Scrooge, but the holidays had become her least favorite time of year for this very reason.

Unfortunately, it didn’t even matter if it was a holiday or not. It never changed. Her family had always favored her brother, even when they were kids. She had a never-ending list of chores and rules, while he breezed through life with no curfew and no accountability. Any mistake he made seemed to fall on her, and heaven forbid she stayed out five minutes later than she was supposed to with her friends.

Despite their constant claims that there were 'no favorites,' it was painfully obvious who the real favorite was.

Y/N lay staring at the ceiling, weighing the pros and cons of skipping Christmas this year. On one hand, it would be nice to see her grandmother—the one person who had actually kept her promise of no favorites. But she could always visit her grandmother separately and avoid the hassle of sneaking away just to have a real conversation. On the other hand, her family was already used to being disappointed in her. What was one more excuse? She could always make it up next year.

After what felt like an agonizing eternity of indecision (though it was really only five minutes), she finally decided to skip Christmas again this year and stay home. Her family mostly gave money as gifts now that they were all adults, so she wouldn't be missing much—just a meal (takeout had never let her down) and some forced small talk with extended family (who never really seemed interested in her life anyway).

Y/N: Hey, mom! I’m really sorry, but I’m going to have to miss this year too. There’s a bug going around at work and I’m worried I caught it :(

Her mom’s answer was immediate, and the guilt lifted from her shoulders as she rolled her eyes at the response.

Mom: Poor thing! You just have the worst luck when it comes to holidays huh? Your brother must have taken all the good immune system genes or something LOL!! That’s okay, dad and I will mail your gift and I’ll send you lots of pics. Hope you feel better soon!

After firing off a quick 'Thanks, love you!' Y/N rose from the bed, let out a sigh, and wandered to the kitchen for a bottle of wine.

She’d tried to convince herself that her parents' indifference no longer hurt, but what had dulled into a constant ache over the years flared into a sharp sting during the holidays. No one wanted to be alone at Christmas, but she knew she had to prioritize her peace of mind—and that meant avoiding an entire day spent deflecting passive-aggressive jabs while her brother soaked up all the attention.

The one person who could make her feel better was across the country, tied up with a case. She wasn’t upset with him—far from it. Y/N admired the work he did and the way he dedicated himself to saving people without ever getting the recognition he deserved. Still, it had been over a week since she’d last seen Spencer, and all she wanted was to curl up in his arms and hear him tell her that everything would be okay.

As if the universe had picked up on her tension, a knock at the door startled her, causing her to jump with a racing heart. She froze, eyes darting to the door, considering whether she should quietly move toward the knife block in case a dangerous stranger stood outside. It was barely 8:30, and she hadn’t been expecting anyone.

After a second round of knocks, relief washed over her as a familiar voice called "Y/N? Sweetheart?" She rushed to the door, unlocking it as quickly as she could and flinging it open to find an exhausted-looking Spencer standing on the other side.

“Spence!” Y/N cooed excitedly, wrapping her arms around him tightly before pulling him inside. “When did you get back? I thought you guys wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night?”

Not that she was complaining at all. She loved any time she could spend with Spencer. They’d only been dating for a little over two months, but she’d already fallen hopelessly in love with the sweet genius that she met when he accidentally stumbled into her while in line at their favorite coffee shop (she later found out it was no accident and that Morgan intentionally shoved him into her because Spencer was too afraid to make the first move).

“Technically we weren’t supposed to be, but we ended up getting a confession so it took way less time than we anticipated to finish the case. And with Christmas coming up this weekend, Gideon figured the sooner we got home the better,” Spencer explained with a small, tired grin as he slipped off his shoes and sat his satchel down. “I hope you don’t mind that I showed up, I just really missed you. I tried to call beforehand, but I thought maybe your phone was dead or something...” His eyes caught sight of the wine bottle on the island and paused, arching a brow before glancing back down at her. “Rough night?”

Y/N blew out an exasperated huff of air, nodding as they made their way over to her couch. She cuddled into his side immediately, relishing in the feeling of finally being able to do so. Spencer had been hesitant when they first started dating with physical touch, but once he pushed past the initial discomfort, he couldn’t get enough of her affection.

“Yeahhh. I had to tell my mom that I’m not making it home for Christmas again this year and it just… stressed me out a bit.”

Spencer’s face scrunched in confusion, looking down at her worriedly. “Oh, I’m sorry sweetheart. Are you not feeling good? Or what’s stopping you from going?”

Right. They hadn’t had the whole “I love my family from a distance because they act like brother is Saint Michael himself” talk yet. Y/N nibbled at her lower lip, fidgeting with her hands before sighing.

“I… um, it’s complicated. I just prefer not to see my family around the holidays because they’ve always had this weird favoritism for my brother and as I got older I just decided it wasn’t worth sacrificing my peace for.”

Spencer frowned, nodding in understanding before his face lit up with realization.

“Well, if you’d like, you could join me and my mom for Christmas? If you don’t want to be alone, that is. Not that I’m trying to pressure you into meeting her! I just planned to check her out of the sanitarium this weekend and bring her to New York City since she’s been doing better on her medication. I’m sure she’d love to meet you, and I, of course, love any time I get to spend with you—“ Spencer began, his words tumbling out nervously as his face flushed and his voice pitched higher.

Y/N’s heart skipped at the invitation, her face lighting up into a wide grin as she gently cupped his face, halting his nervous rambling. He met her gaze, and she smiled softly. "Spencer, I’d love to join you and your mom for Christmas—only if you’re really sure you’re okay with it."

Spencer had first mentioned his mother's illness on their third date, explaining himself after abruptly excusing himself to take a call from her nurse. It was also the night of their first kiss—he had started panicking, flustered and trying to explain his sudden exit, and Y/N thought he might cry. So, she kissed him to calm his nerves. Once he’d settled down, she reassured him that it was completely fine, that she understood how important his mother was to him, and that she’d love to learn more when he was ready to share.

That night, Spencer realized, without a doubt, that he was falling in love with her.

"It’s settled then," Spencer said with a grin, leaning forward to kiss her quickly. "I’m so excited to spend Christmas with my two favorite people. I was actually thinking we could get tickets to see The Nutcracker at Lincoln Center—"

Y/N listened intently, her heart swelling as she gazed at him with stars in her eyes, enchanted by his excitement as he shared the plans he’d made for the weekend. Although a little nervous, she couldn’t wait to share Christmas with him and his mom. They continued to plan the weekend, finalizing details between sleepy kisses and small yawns until they finally caved to their exhaustion and went to sleep.

The weekend arrived faster than she expected, and nervous excitement washed over Y/N as she waited for Spencer to pick her up from her apartment. She was packed and ready, excited to meet his mom and see New York City sparkling with Christmas decorations. For the first time in years, she felt something other than dread for the holiday, and she couldn’t be more grateful for her sweet boyfriend because of it.

Spencer had picked up his mom the day before, carefully explaining the plan to her during the drive home and making sure she felt well enough to go ahead with it. Diana was overjoyed at the idea of Y/N joining them for Christmas, assuring him she was feeling fine and could hardly wait to meet her.

For the first time in ages, Spencer felt like he had his mom back, her treatment progressing far better than he'd hoped. All it did was make him even more excited for the weekend ahead, his anxiety easing with each hour spent in the car on the way back to his apartment. It was comforting to open up to her about Y/N and to share what had been happening in his life beyond the letters he wasn’t sure she even remembered receiving.

The weekend turned out even better than Spencer had hoped. Diana and Y/N hit it off so well that Spencer found himself mostly on the sidelines of their conversations, but he didn’t mind in the slightest. It filled him with happiness to see his mom and the woman he was now certain was the love of his life getting along so effortlessly.

They had packed in every Christmas activity they could think of: admiring the lights, sipping hot cocoa, watching The Nutcracker... anything that felt festive was crossed off the list. By the end of the weekend, Diana was almost pleading with Spencer to make Y/N her daughter-in-law on the drive back to the sanitarium. Spencer could only laugh nervously, promising to do his best to make it happen.

Once Y/N got home, she knew she had to find a way to thank Spencer—not only for giving her the best Christmas of her life but also for being the most amazing boyfriend she could ever have hoped for. He was going to come back to her place tomorrow so they could exchange their gifts for each other, so whatever she did, she had to do it then before he inevitably got called in for another case. The real question was: how could she possibly show him just how grateful she was?

With a sigh, Y/N turned on her playlist and settled onto the couch, trying to brainstorm ideas. It felt like the harder she thought, the less her brain worked. After agonizing over ideas for nearly fifteen minutes, Y/N was at her wit's end, ready to settle for a card and a lengthy essay to express her gratitude, when the lyrics of the song playing suddenly grabbed her attention.

Merry Christmas, here I am, boy

I'm the present and you know it, here I am, boy

She sat up suddenly, a victorious grin spreading across her face as the perfect idea popped into her head. She and Spencer had yet to make it past second base, not for lack of desire, but because the opportunity never seemed to align—each time they got close, his phone would ring or something would interrupt, stopping them in their tracks. Tomorrow would be the perfect opportunity to finally take that next step and for her to show her appreciation for the sweet genius.

There was a perfect dark red satin lingerie set at a nearby boutique that would bring her vision to life, but it closed in just thirty minutes. Y/N threw on some clothes, making sure she looked presentable, then grabbed her keys and purse and rushed out of the apartment.

The cashier shot her a glare as she approached the counter, and Y/N internally groaned. She already felt like an asshole for being there so late, but she did still have fourteen minutes to spare before they actually closed. The guilt vanished when she met the cashier’s icy stare, and she grabbed her purchase with a mumbled thanks before she hurried out of the store. Sue her for wanting to look sexy for her boyfriend on Christmas.

The next day seemed to drag on, with Y/N anticipating the surprise she had planned for Spencer.

She cleaned the apartment until it was spotless, setting the perfect mood with scattered scented candles and dimming the lights. The room was softly illuminated by her Christmas tree—one she had convinced Spencer to help decorate at the start of the month—and a few strands of lights she had strung up. All of the presents were ready and waiting to be unwrapped.

Now all she was waiting on was Spencer himself.

Three firm knocks echoed at the door, marking his arrival—right on the dot at 5:00. As punctual as ever. Y/N opened the door with a thrilled smile, eagerly tugging him inside.

"Woah, hey! Hello to you too, sweetheart," Spencer chuckles loudly, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all day, so excuse my enthusiasm,” Y/N said with a soft laugh. “Dinner’s ready if you’re hungry. We can do presents first and then eat, or eat and then unwrap them—whatever you prefer. I honestly could do either, it doesn't matter to me and of course, you're the guest so—”

Spencer grinned as she nervously rambled, her hands gesturing wildly as she listed off options. It was oddly comforting to him that she got just as nervous around him as he did around her. Even though she had quickly become the person he felt most at ease with, a part of him still felt those nerves—after all, she was the most incredible woman he’d ever met, and the thought of messing things up and losing her terrified him.

“How about we eat first and then open presents? Is that okay with you?” Spencer suggested, offering a small smile.

The tension in Y/N's body eased as she returned the smile, nodding in agreement. "That sounds perfect."

Dinner passed with casual conversation, both Y/N and Spencer chatting between bites about everything from the new book she was reading to the latest research paper Spencer had discovered and found fascinating. They ate more quickly than usual, both eager to exchange the gifts they had carefully picked out for each other. It wasn’t long before they were done, clearing the table and loading the dishes into the sink before heading into the living room.

The two of them sat together in front of the tree, feeling as giddy as a couple of kids as they finally began to exchange presents.

Spencer slowly unwrapped his first gift, his eyes softening as he revealed the delicate, intricately designed watch she'd chosen for him—a gift that held both practical value and deep sentimental meaning. He glanced up at her, a shy but sincere smile spreading across his face, and she felt the warmth in his gaze. “This is… perfect, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you. I’ll wear it every day, I promise."

“Always, Spence. I’m so glad you love it,” Y/N murmured, her eyes filled with affection as she watched him. She recalled how devastated he’d been when his previous watch had broken a few weeks ago. Though hers wasn’t as extravagant as his old one, it meant far more to him—because it came from her.

Y/N cherished every gift he gave her: a whimsical coffee mug to add to her collection, a journal with a playful inscription from him that made her laugh—promising she'd have a place to rant about her family when he wasn’t around to listen, a couple of books from her wishlist, and, lastly, her absolute favorite: a delicate locket on a thin chain, holding the first picture they’d ever taken together.

Once all the gifts were unwrapped, Y/N smiled and stood up, holding her hand out to Spencer. He looked at her in confusion but took her hand without hesitation, allowing her to lead him to the couch.

“Keep your eyes closed and stay right here. Your final gift is in my room,” Y/N instructed, a mischievous smile curling at her lips. As soon as his eyes were shut, she darted down the hallway to her room, stifling a soft giggle at the surprise she was about to unveil.

When she came back, she positioned herself between his legs, leaning in close to whisper in his ear, “Alright, Spence… you can open your eyes now.”

Spencer opened his eyes, nearly choking as he took in the sight in front of him. Y/N was standing there in a beautiful lingerie set, the bra designed so that it was a bow that he could untie to reveal her... Just like a present.

“Holly shit,” Spencer breathed, and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the rare curse slipping from his lips. Spencer hardly ever swore, so hearing it from him spoke volumes about how much he liked what he saw.

"So I take it you like it?" Y/N arched a brow, resting her arms on his shoulders.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Spencer stammered, looking up with wide eyes as Y/N climbed into his lap.

Y/N settled into his lap with a coy grin, reveling in the feeling of his hands coming up to grip her waist. She leaned in, brushing her nose lightly against his before softly grazing her lips across his.

"I wanted to show you my appreciation..." Y/N whispered, placing a brief but tender kiss on his lips before trailing kisses along his jawline. "...for giving me the best Christmas ever."

Spencer blinked hazily, her words taking a second to process in his mind as the sensation of her lips now sucking a mark into his skin became the center of his focus. His grip on her waist tightened imperceptibly as his fingers flexed against her warm skin. He swallowed hard before finally mustering up an answer.

"Y-you don't have to thank me, baby. All I ever want to do is make you the happiest you've ever been—"

Spencer's words came out as a squeak as she rocked her hips once against the erection now straining in his slacks. His head fell back onto the couch with a soft thump, a quiet whimper slipping from his lips at the friction. The scent of her perfume enveloped him, a fragrant haze that clouded his thoughts and left him feeling lightheaded, as if he were drowning in its sweetness.

The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down her spine, the sight of his dilated pupils stirring more in her than she was willing to admit. Y/N smirked, repeating the motion to hear the soft noise fall from his lips once more. She lifted a finger to his lips, shushing him before she moved to kneel between his legs.

"I want to, Spence. Please?"

Spencer nodded so vigorously it almost looked painful, his wide eyes locked on hers in stunned disbelief. He couldn't believe this was real... that he not only had her to begin with but that she was on her knees begging to make him feel good. The breath rushed from his body as her fingers trailed up his thighs to the button of his slacks, popping it open while she kept her hungry gaze on his.

His body trembled in anticipation as Y/N dragged the fabric down his legs, tugging them off once they reached his feet and casting them off to the side. He whined as she leaned forward to mouth over his aching cock through the thin fabric of his boxers, his fingers twitching from where they rested beside himself. His breath hitched in his throat as she dragged her nails down the inside of his thighs, a smug grin on her face as she watched him dig his nails into his palms.

Y/N decided she'd teased him enough, placing a kiss on his hipbone before swiftly removing his boxers. Spencer's hips lifted from the couch, jerking toward her mouth instinctively as she wasted no time in leaning forward to lick a thick stripe up the side of him before taking his swollen head between her lips.

"Oh—" Spencer gasped, his eyes struggling to stay open as he watched her begin to swallow his length. "Oh my God, Y/N—"

Y/N smirked around her mouthful, taking him as far into her throat as she could before wrapping a hand around what couldn't fit. She began to bob her head slowly, easing him into the sensation. The feeling of him—hot and hard and filling her mouth so perfectly—had her squeezing her thighs together as she began to move more vigorously.

Spencer writhed beneath her as her mouth and hand began to work in tandem, his eyes fluttering shut despite his efforts to watch her every move so he could burn the sight into his memory for later use. His hips bucked up when she took him into the back of her throat, a guttural groan falling from his open mouth at the gag that emitted from her from the motion. His eyes shot open as he began spewing out apologies, but his words died in his throat as she pulled off of him to shake her head vehemently.

"Do it again," Y/N croaked, taking him back into her mouth and reaching up to guide his hands to her head.

Spencer whimpered pitifully, exhaling sharply before tentatively repeating the motion. His heart nearly fell out of his ass when Y/N moaned around him, encouraging him to keep going. His hips thrust rapidly into her mouth, his eyes squeezed shut now as moan after moan spilled from his lips.

"I-I'm close— sweetheart, please," Spencer groaned, lights flashing behind his eyes as she all but sucked the soul from his body. "Can I— Can I fuck you? Please? Wanna make you feel good, too."

Y/N moaned loudly around him at that, pulling off of him with a slick 'pop' before nodding vigorously. She was drenched, the sounds Spencer made having turned her on more than most men had in the past with their entire bodies. She hurriedly climbed into his lap, not even bothering to take her panties off and instead pulling the fabric to the side as she lined him up at her entrance.

They'd previously agreed that since they were both clean and she was on birth control they'd skip using a condom. They just never had the chance to actually get on with it... until now, anyway.

The sight of her swollen lips and watery eyes had Spencer captivated as his hands automatically found their home on her thighs, rubbing gently as she eased herself down onto him. If someone had told him six months ago that he'd ever be lucky enough to experience this—having the most beautiful woman he'd ever met as his, riding his cock like she was made for it—he would have laughed in their face. But now, all he could do was sit back and watch her in awe as she took every last inch of him into her core, speechless as he marveled at the sight. His brows pinched together as her walls enveloped him, his mouth gaping open as she bottomed out with a loud moan.

Y/N's head tipped back as a moan wrenched its way from her throat, her hips moving in small circles as she adjusted to the stretch of him inside of her pussy. She had never felt so desperate for someone before, but she wasn't surprised. It was Spencer—the man she admired more than anyone. The man who treated her like she was everything, simply for being herself. The man who reminded her every day that she was worth more than she’d ever believed.

Neither one of them was going to last long, a realization they both came to as she lifted her hips and dropped them down into his lap as she began to ride his cock. But that was okay. They had all night to make each other feel good.

“How does that feel, sweet boy? Hm?” Y/N panted, falling forward to rest her face in the crook of his neck as she rocked against him with frantic, needy movements.

All Spencer could do was whine loudly as he clung to her, planting his feet on the ground and moving his hands to cradle her back as he began to rut up into her. He was borderline delirious with pleasure, the feeling of her walls clenching around him driving him mad with the need to make her fall apart in his arms. The movement served to drive him repeatedly into her G-spot, the both of them crying out and latching to each other as Y/N trembled above him.

"So good," Spencer finally grunted, moving his hands up to hastily unwrap the bow restricting his access to her breasts. His lips latched onto her right nipple, sucking and nibbling as his hand came up to pinch her neglected bud. "You're so fucking perfect, sweetheart." He mumbled against her skin, laving over the pert bud and groaning.

Y/N cried out, her hands tangling into his hair as she rode him harder. It was almost feral the way they moved together, needing each other in a way words couldn't describe. The couch creaked beneath their movements, but she couldn't care less. She only cared about making the man underneath her feel the best he ever had.

Her walls began to clench around him as she whimpered into his shoulder, signaling her impending climax. Spencer slid a hand down from her breast to instead rub at her clit, lifting his head to capture her lips in a passionate kiss. It only took a few circles of his skilled fingers before Y/N was chanting his name into his mouth like a prayer, her eyes squeezed shut as she came hard around him. Spencer's orgasm was almost simultaneous with hers, the sensation of her walls squeezing his cock triggering his climax almost violently as he pumped into her with soft sobs.

Their chests heaved as they slumped against each other, caressing each other with gentle touches as they caught their breath. Once Y/N could sit up, she lifted off of his softening cock with trembling legs, a giggle spilling from her lips as he whined in discontent. She placed a lingering kiss on his lips, effectively shushing him before she stood from the couch to go get a rag.

When she came back, Spencer reached for her with needy hands, wanting to feel her against him once more. They tended to each other with soft murmurs of praise and gentle kisses, their love unspoken but evident in every touch and gesture. Once they were cleaned (and Spencer had all but shoved her toward the bathroom so she could pee to avoid getting a UTI), they stumbled into her bedroom and into her bed.

It was in Spencer's arms, as he drifted off to sleep, that Y/N finally understood just how special the holidays could be—made all the more meaningful by the sweet genius she was fortunate enough to call hers.

REMINDER: I do NOT give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, Tiktok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

#Spencer Reid smut #Spencer Reid fanfiction #Spencer Reid fluff #Spencer Reid x reader #Spencer Reid x y/n #Spencer reid x fem!reader #Spencer Reid x self insert #Spencer Reid x you #criminal minds smut

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nmakii · 20 hours ago

Text

must be love

— you find sae’s phone opened, and you decide to snoop.

or; sae gets exposed for being a fake idgafer. this is too sappy. 2.7k words, this is my longest fic in my whole life… what life feels like as a girl who loves too much core

tags: @narcjsistx

— for rhi. love ya, partner.

‘she seems really eager to please,

but she has quite the backbone.’

you huff out in frustration. “ah!! ugh…” you scowl. sae raises his eyebrow. “my groupmate never started on her share of the work… ugh, now i have to cram it..!” you explain your sudden outburst. sae scoffs. “then tell your teacher or something. it’s not like i can do anything about it, im not your teacher.” he, quite obviously, points out. “wh… ugh, i’m gonna… i just— needed to let out my anger.” you groan, face planting and screaming into your textbook. and he hums in response. although he didn’t show it on his face, your outburst was quite out of character for the person he had grown to know. it was… weird, to say the least. and it had caused him to make a mental note not to anger you.

‘her generosity knows no bounds.’

“sae, this is for you. merry christmas!” you hand him a wrapped box. “hm..? i don’t take christmas gifts.” he bluntly states. “i haven’t gotten any gifts since i was 10 years old.” you scoff to yourself. “maybe that’s why you’ve always got that stick in your ass.” you tease. “excuse me?” he glares daggers at you. “aaaanyway! open it!” you shove the box into his hands. he looks at the box, and then at you, and he decides to open it. “new cleats.” he acknowledges. yes, mhm. these were indeed cleats..! “i didn’t need these, i was going to buy them myself.” he states.

“i know, you could probably buy them yourself. but, i thought i’d save you the hassle, y’know?” how thoughtful of you. he eyes the cleats up and down; it’s an expensive brand, but it’s worth the price for the quality. “…thanks.” he says, at last. he didn’t expect a gift from you, he doesn’t have one prepared for you. he’ll make sure to buy you something you’ll love later. “oh! hold on, i wanted to give you some other things ♪~” you fish a keychain and envelope out of your bag and hand it to him.

“…cinnamoroll..?” he questions. “it’s cute right? i thought you’d like it.” what an odd way of thinking… never once has he mentioned anything about cinnamoroll. but then again, it is pretty cute. “…well, i won’t say i hate it. thank you.” he thanks you as he eyes the envelope. “ah, don’t read it in front of me..! i got a bit sappy, it’s pretty. embarrassing…” you awkwardly laugh. “ah, got it.”

later that day, he opened the envelope. there was a letter; it had cute doodles all over. and, he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t feel your affection radiating off the letter. it was… really sweet.

‘what a beautiful human being she is.’

itoshi sae is what you like to call a shy lover, if you were to put it kindly.

you know for a fact that he loves you, he just isn’t good at verbally expressing it. words of affection are too sappy for him. he prefers to show it through the thoughtfulness of his gifts, and the longing touches of his hands, which seem to never leave your’s.

you know he loves you. but, you can’t help but wish for him to say it more often.

it wasn’t many nights lately that the two of you would have a date night. with sae’s rigorous training schedule and endless interviews, the only thing he wants to do at night is to fall asleep beside you.

however, today was the end of the season. meaning, sae would have much more free-time for you.

with sae’s last game for the year completed in 0-4, the first thing he had to do was call you. even though you weren’t far away at all, sitting in the VIP lounge with the relatives and girlfriends of sae’s teammates.

“s/o?” he calls your attention. “mhm? congratulations on your win, babe! i knew you’d win.” you congratulate him. “they could barely keep the ball when they had it. is it really an achievement for me to have won this match?” he says, almost sassily. “pssh— alright. i get it, mr. ‘tepid.’.” you tease.

“don’t call me that.” he huffs. “stay where you are. i’ll go to you.” he commands. you hum in acknowledgment, and he hangs up.

he doesn’t keep you waiting too long before showing up. “there you are…” he sighs in relief, kissing you as his hands automatically find themselves on your body— one tangled in your hair, and the other resting on the curve of your spine.

once he finds the will in himself to finally pull away, he’s breathless.

he looks like he wants to say something, but he holds himself back, his fingers flowing through your hair. “…get ready for our date later tonight, yeah? formal wear.”

you nod, and his lips curl upward. “i’ll see you later.”

you decided to go all out, pull all the brakes. and when sae picks you up in his car, he can’t help thinking that you look like a dream. ‘are you sure you aren’t a model?’ he muses to himself. his heart twists, and the fat of his cheeks redden with affection. your hair flows like silk, and that glimmer in your eyes was once a star, handpicked from the skies, he’s sure of it.

everything about you encourages him to keep staring, but he manages to get ahold of himself. “…you…look beautiful.” is the only thing he can get himself to say. but, beautiful doesn’t seem to encapsulate it, not at all. it’s not even close. beautiful is only a fraction of what he thinks. “heh, you think so?” you ask. “yeah; beautiful.” he assures. “let’s go.” he says, barely turning his attention away from you as he turns to the road.

the drive to the restaurant is quiet, but sae’s mind is screaming at him. his eyes can’t stop moving back to take sneaky glances of you. he drinks up your beauty like a serpent, and he still hasn’t had his fill.

“…we’re here.” he pulls the shift into its’ brake. he gets out, and hands his keys to the valet boy— his words are inaudible through the car door, but he quickly finishes his conversation and moves to open your car door.

you take your first step out, and his hand immediately moves to help you out. god, you might be even prettier under the gleam of moonlight, shining like the pearl of the planet.

his arm moves and snakes around your waist, guiding you into the restaurant under the flash of paparazzi cameras. he grimaces at the loud, pitchy voices of news interviewers, begging for a comment; anything for a headline quote.

the gentle touch of his fingers tighten, as he silently encourages you to walk faster, and lose the crowd. the two of you hurry up, and dash into the restaurant, where you’re greeted with a dim candlelight, mahogany walls, and the rhythmic trumpet of jazz.

“welcome, mr. itoshi.” the receptionist greets. “your table for two is right this way.” she quickly guides the two of you into a secluded part of the restaurant, just like he’s always done as to make sure neither of you are spotted and harassed in public.

lamps hang on the walls, creating a romantic atmosphere. and the curved dark-brown leather booth couch perfectly complements the dark oak roundtable.

the date isn’t too different from the others. the two of you chat about anything that comes to mind. but, it’s actually more like it’s just you chattering on, and sae listening as he admires that excited grin on your face.

on the outside looking in, it’s obvious how he has heart eyes when he stares at you. he’s in a trance as he listens to the rich honeying sweetness of your voice; his finger traces the lines on the roundtable, wishing that it’d be the crinkles of your smile he’s tracing when he blinks and opens his eyes again.

his trance is broken though, when his phone rings. damn it, he forgot to put his phone on do not disturb… “something wrong?” you ask sae, and he takes his phone out of his pocket. “not sure. there shouldn’t be a problem, i cancelled everything for tonight. ugh… just a second, amor…” he remorsefully takes your hand in his as a silent gesture of apology. he took too long to pick up the phone, it already went out…

he opened his call app, and saw that it was from his publicist, dabadie. he groaned before picking up.

“sae! you didn’t mention that you’d be going out on a date today, your paparazzi shot is already all over social medias..!” he worriedly stammers. “i didn’t? well, whatever… it’s just a date photo anyway.” sae shrugs, speaking quietly to ensure that you don’t hear. “right— but… you know the internet… they might criticize you, and say that she’s distracting you from soccer…”

sae is about to correct him— he’s about to say that you aren’t distracting him from his career, but he holds back once he remembers that you’re right beside him, eagerly waiting for his attention to be back on you.

“i… have to speak to you for a second, im already outside the restaurant… the paparazzi didn’t censor out the location well enough either… so, the agency’s security car will follow you two home…” he adds on. sae sighs. “i have to speak to you too. i’ll meet you outside.” he hangs up. he huffs in exasperation and shallowly drops his phone, making it clatter on the table; the screen is left open on his call record. “im sorry, amor… i have to quickly take care of something, i’ll be back soon, i promise.” he kisses your hand.

“hmph, don’t worry. it’s dabadie, right? he’s always worried about something…” you laugh. of course you’d be understanding about it. you always understood. “heh, that he is.” he sasses before leaving the table.

…and you can’t help but notice that his phone is still open.

his phone is practically yelling at you, “check out what’s on me, s/o! check it out right now!”, and you simply can’t resist the temptation to!

first, you simply scroll around at his call record; nothing too interesting, it’s filled with calls from dabadie, and you. as well as occasional calls from his mom. how tepid, as sae would put it. you exit the app, and find his home screen wallpaper to be a picture he took of you; you’re looking out into the distance, the large castle of sleeping beauty in the background.

you smile to yourself at that cute photo, and move to his photos; it’s filled with photos of you, and almost none of him— not unless you were beside him. you scroll down to check out his older photos; they’re childhood pictures, only a few of them are with rin included.

…

…anyways, ‘what is in sae itoshi’s notes app?’, you ponder. you open his notes app.

‘things i want to eat: 1. omelette, 2. paella, 3. pesto pasta’

‘onitsuka tiger mexico - kill bill/grey, new balance 2002r - grey, asics gel NYC - oyster grey’

‘laundry’

‘i love you’

you laugh at the randomness of his notes, quickly scrolling through them. it’s true when they say that a boy’s notes is truly random.

but that last note catches your eye. it’s a pretty odd note that just says ‘i love you’ with no additional text. and, it makes you wonder.

sae’s an organized person, more or less. so, his notes must be filed too. and, you’re correct. there are three files; ‘lists’, ‘important documents’, and a file with your initial as its’ name.

the other two don’t seem as interesting, nor seem as mysterious. so, you click on the mysterious file.

and, the file is filled with everything about you; he’s written down your birthday (including the time…), your family members’ names, foods you like to eat when you aren’t feeling well, shows that you like to watch… everything.

and, there’s a note that catches your eye. it’s a cut-off sentence, since it was too long. you decide to feed your curiosity and click on the note.

‘she talks to everyone, even the people she doesn’t like.

it takes a lot to piss her off.

she’s always kind to me, after all.

she seems really eager to please, but she has quite the backbone.

she works really hard, but i don’t think many see it.

her generosity knows no bounds, and she always knows what kind of joke to make.

i didn’t think it was possible for a soul to be so beautiful.

nor, that someone like i would meet a soul like her’s.

but, im grateful to the stars above that i met her.

someone as kind as her deserves to receive all the love she gives.

i don’t think she knows how loved she really is though.

what a beautiful human being she is.

there simply isn’t enough words to describe the way her dimples crinkle when she’s happy.

the day she was conceived, the gods must’ve tenderly sculpted her heart out of ivory and gold.

the way she enamors everyone in the room simply by walking inside, and the way her personality shines in her rushed, yet sweet handwriting.

one day, i hope she’ll finally be perpetually happy.

so, that she can always shine that enchanting smile of her’s.

she deserves all of it.’

was this a poem..? it didn’t seem like it, it didn’t rhyme, and the stanzas didn’t have equal amounts of lines… but, the way he worded it out almost made it seem like he was a poet.

you don’t… even know what to think at such a romantic confession. it’s certainly much more than sae has ever verbally said to you. but, the fact that he had written this with you in mind makes your heart pound like crazy.

you’ve always known that sae loves you, but seeing his private thoughts all written out for you to read was… overwhelming.

“going through my texts, amor? i’m not texting any other woman besides you.” sae nonchalantly jokes. shit— time went quicker than you’d thought. “ah, nn… just got a bit curious, babe…” you hum. “what were you looking at..?” he asks, and his eyes widen the moment he sees what you were reading. out of all the things on his phone, that was the last thing he wanted you reading.

he embarrassedly closes his phone. “so… what was all that writing about..? were you trying to be a poet?” you jokingly ask; you knew that sae wasn’t mad, per say… he was probably just embarrassed. “n..no… it was, ah…” he clears his throat. “it was just… something i typed out when i realized i had many observations about you that i needed to write down. i just got sidetracked while i was typing.” he explains.

you smile, your entire body feeling like you’re on fire. the love you feel for sae itoshi feels like too much to contain in your heart. “it was really sweet, sae…” you assure him. for some reason, you have the odd incentive to just… cry right now. you love him so much.

“i know. but, it’s also too sappy.” he huffs. “aw, don’t be so shy… i know you’re just a huge softie under that tough surface…” you tease, moving closer to cuddle up to his side. “im not soft. i just love you, okay?” he groans. “don’t make me say embarrassing things.”

your smile widens, making him look at you with that lovesick look in his eyes. “aww… well, i guess i know how much you love me now anyway, so that’s good enough..!” you mentally fist pump at this small victory.

the atmosphere suddenly feels light again as you start to chatter again, teasing him slightly before going back to what you were speaking about before he had left. and still, sae’s looking at you like you’re the world cup trophy, like you’re all he’s dreamed of.

and sae thinks…

‘…you’ll know how sappy i can get when it’s our wedding day.’

but he should save that for another 5 years, or so.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk fluff #blue lock sae #bllk x you #bllk x reader #bllk sae #sae itoshi x y/n #sae itoshi x you #sae itoshi #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae #blue lock sae itoshi #sae itoshi imagines #itoshi sae imagines

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ihavemanyhusbands · 2 days ago

Text

Imperator

Also on AO3

Pairing: Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader

WC: 6.7k words

Summary: Once, you only had the memory of the curious barbarian poet, entertaining guests at a party with both violence and verse. But it's not until you see him again, now as emperor, that you get to know the man underneath the titles.

Warnings: Minors DNI this fic is 18+, power imbalance (emperor/servant to freedwoman), mutual pining, slow-ish burn, sort of forbidden love?, lots and lots of fluff good lord, some jealousy, some angst, lovey dovey smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), maybe some historical inaccuracies lol (I care a lot okay), and iii think that's it but lmk if anything else!

--------------

"Love will enter cloaked in friendship's name."

– Ovid.

-------------

“The gates of hell are open night and day. Smooth the descent, and easy is the way. But to return, and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labor lies.”

That was the first time you had ever heard him speak, the deep timbre of his voice riddled with contempt. Moments before, he had killed another gladiator, his blood spattered on him like a gruesome adornment. But there was no savagery in his fierce eyes, no mere bloodthirst in the sneer directed at Emperor Geta, your Dominus. His glare was even, like a cold, blue flame that promised not just violence, but retribution as well.

You’d recognized the poem immediately, just as taken aback as everyone else. Nobody moved, the room’s collective breath held in anticipation of the inevitable repercussions of such an offense. Emperor Geta made the slightest move to raise his sword and you gripped the decanter of wine tighter, but your face remained impassive.

“Virgil,” supplied Macrinus, trying to placate him with a broad smile. “He was taught poetry just to amuse you, Imperators.”

There was another momentary pause in which neither twin was sure if they should believe him. But then, Caracalla snorted, standing up to clap the taller man’s shoulder.

“A poet,” He said, laughing. “That’s genius, Macrinus.”

“Yes, certainly very amusing,” Geta said begrudgingly, his jaw clenched.

He and the gladiator had not stopped staring at each other for one moment, like two vipers poised to strike.

“Good, I thought you’d like that,” Macrinus said, approaching his fighter to grasp his shoulder, perhaps in warning. “We live to serve you both.”

“Well, I look forward to seeing your poet at the upcoming games in the Colosseum,” he spits out, throwing the sword aside with a loud clatter. “Let’s see how his verses work for him then.”

Macrinus nodded at his steward to take the gladiator away. He was smiling, seemingly amused, as the steward approached him. As he was being shoved back to the atrium, his eyes took one last baleful look around the room. For the briefest second, you thought his eyes met yours, striking you like a piercing arrow, but then he was gone.

You had no time to dwell on it though, as Emperor Geta returned to his seat and raised his glass to be refilled. But that didn’t mean you would forget so easily, even if your paths might never cross again. All you could do was offer a prayer to the Gods for him.

—--------------------------

The next time you saw him, he was no longer a barbarian gladiator hailed from a distant land, but the new – and rightful – Emperor of Rome. His name was not Hanno, but Lucius Verus Aurelius, and he was the son of the recently passed Queen Lucilla, whom Rome still mourned.

He was not cruel like the twins had been, rarely raising his voice, much less his hand. His demeanor was usually calm, but sometimes he stalked the halls restlessly, as if unsure what he should be doing. He still rose with the sun and trained for a couple of hours in the morning, already used to the routine he’d had as a gladiator, but after that, it was all politics. Endless scrolls of parchment to pore over, meetings to hold with the senate, and lending a patient ear to the populace’s needs. The weight of an empire was on his shoulders, and yet he didn’t bow under it.

During the day, you served his wine and silently hovered around for anything else he might need. At night, you drew his baths, kept his torches lit, and prepared his bed. You would have helped him disrobe too, already used to it from your days of serving Geta, but he chose to do so himself. He was not quite used to his every need being attended to, self-sufficiency deeply ingrained in his being. Mostly, he waved away other servants, leaving you instead to care for him personally.

There were times when you caught him looking at you as if you seemed vaguely familiar, a furrow in his brow when he couldn’t place you. You couldn’t fault him for not remembering you from Senator Thraex’s party, but there was a certain thrill at having piqued his curiosity regardless. Still, you kept your head down and offered no hints, as was your place.

Until one night, while he watched you add aromatic oils and test the bath’s temperature, he finally asked the question that had been on his mind for days.

“What is your name?”

You were startled at first, not having expected him to address you at all. You told him your given Roman name, Domicia, and bowed your head respectfully. He pushed himself off the doorway and stepped into the bathroom, humming thoughtfully.

“Of the home,” he said, referring to the name’s meaning. “Are you Roman? Is that your real name?”

You shook your head in answer to both questions. “I have been in Rome for many years now, though.”

“I have not,” he said, a note of melancholy in his voice. “Yet I grew up here, in these very halls…”

He trailed off, looking around absently, lost in his memories. You could not begin to imagine what he had been through, what he had seen. You had heard of his being sent away as a child, with absolutely no choice in the matter, and could empathize with him.

All you had ever known was a humble life in your native country, until you were stripped of your freedom and brought to the capital of Rome. Neither place felt like home, just the past and the present, and perhaps he was viewing things the same way. You could imagine, even understand, the bittersweetness of returning to a place one thought they might never see again.

“We are honored and grateful to have you back, Dominus,” you said. “I hope things have been to your satisfaction.”

“I have no complaints,” he said, yet he sighed. “Though becoming accustomed to being here, in my current position, is going to take some more time.”

“If there is anything I can do to make it easier for you, please let me know.”

He inclined his head gratefully, your eyes meeting for a moment. “Thank you, Domicia.”

He had the barest of smiles on his handsome face, but you could tell it was genuine. You felt one corner of your lips tugging upwards, but you looked away out of propriety. Even if you were in the same room, you were leagues apart, and it would do you no good to try to imagine otherwise.

You stood up, grabbing the decanter from a nearby table to have it refilled. “Your bath is ready now. Would you like refreshments other than wine?”

He nodded and you bowed, making your way out. By the time you returned with more wine and a platter of olives, bread, and cheese, he was already in the bathtub, leaning back with his eyes closed. Your feet padded softly on the mosaic floor to avoid disturbing him, and you left his refreshments on the table near the tub.

You settled at one side of the room just in case he might need anything, staring off into the middle distance and letting your mind drift. He glanced at you sidelong, his curiosity having only grown after your brief conversation. He still had that nagging feeling that he had seen you somewhere before, but he didn’t want to ask outright.

You felt his gaze on you but pretended not to, keeping your eyes averted. You thought again of the poem he’d recited, how different his demeanor had been then. You wondered what other verses he’d been taught, and if you might ever hear him recite anything again. He had a voice for poetry, somehow turning the words into a sort of enchantment, keeping one entranced.

“Doesn’t it feel… strange sometimes?” he said suddenly, staring up at the ceiling. “When things settle and you realize how far you have come? How much you’ve had to sacrifice for it?”

You hummed in agreement, waiting for him to say more.

“Sometimes, I even wonder if it was all worth it.”

Still lost in a haze of verses, you spoke before you could even think it through.

“Fortunate is he whose mind has the power to probe the causes of things and trample underfoot all terrors and inexorable fate.”

He sat up, surprised. “You know Virgil.” Recognition finally dawned on him. “You were at that party, weren’t you?”

You nodded. “Your words then were just as sharp as your blade.”

He huffed, leaning against the edge of the tub as he remembered his barely contained hatred. “Were you taught poetry to amuse, as well?”

“No, I used to read it with my mother when I was younger.”

“Who else have you read?”

“Ovid, Sappho, Horace…” You became a little flustered as he raised his eyebrows. “My mother was a bit of a romantic.”

“And you?”

It was your turn to huff with amusement, looking down at your hands. “I don’t believe I inherited that trait, no.”

The truth was that in a place such as Rome, love was quite hard to come by. You didn’t actively search for it, its ephemeral nature making you less inclined to, but you were no complete stranger to it. You’d never let it take root, though, for it was not something you could afford to have.

“What about you, Dominus?”

“Me?” he said. “I suppose… I’m not entirely sure anymore. I used to be, at one point.”

His haunted expression told you not to press him for details, so you just nodded sympathetically. The two of you lapsed into silence, the weight of tragedy hanging between you. You’d had a lot more time to become numb to your circumstances, but it was clear the pain he was experiencing was still fresh.

“I will be forced to remarry eventually.” He sighed heavily. “Produce heirs to carry out the lineage, show Rome a unified front.”

“Well, whoever you marry shall be the most fortunate woman in the empire.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, looking over at you. “You really believe so? You’re not just flattering me?”

“Of course,” you said, giving him a cryptic smile that made him laugh again. “I’m perfectly serious.”

“Oh, I am sure you are.”

After some time, he rose with a small splash, prompting you to immediately approach with an outstretched towel. His nudity barely registered in your mind, having already glimpsed him a few times. You wouldn’t dare to look at him directly, even if you were more than a little curious. You tensed as his fingers barely brushed yours in the exchange, but you quickly stepped back to give him more room.

He wrapped the towel around his waist, water dripping down his sculpted arms and chest. You went to start tidying up, studiously keeping your eyes on your task. He watched as you picked up the refreshments to take to the main chamber, a part of him wishing you would look at him instead.

“One more thing,” he said and you immediately turned around. “Please, I want you to call me Lucius.”

Your face heated up at the mere thought of it. “I could never be so bold…”

“I insist,” he said, holding up a hand as you began to stammer again. “Perhaps only when it is just the two of us, if you’d prefer.”

“I will certainly try my best,” you said with an awkward grin, trying to keep your composure.

He chuckled. “Good enough for me.”

—-----------------

Weeks passed, and while Lucius still hadn’t managed to get you to call him by name, he had certainly gotten you to open up more. In the evenings, the two of you swapped more poetry, often sharing your own interpretations of the verses. At some point, he even had scrolls fetched from the library for you to read to him. He enjoyed the mellifluous sound of your voice, so at odds with your serious expression when you were concentrating. To have him as your sole audience was already titillating, but the fact that he paid close attention was even more of a rush.

During the day, you anxiously looked forward to those handful of hours in which everything else disappeared. No speak of Rome, politics, or bitter memories, content with being each other’s brief escape. You still held yourself at a certain distance, though, always aware of the chasm between you. Yet he never made you feel inferior, often encouraging you to share your thoughts and opinions with him despite your reticence. You would even dare to say he cared, or at least that’s what you wanted to believe.

You wouldn’t necessarily say you were getting attached, for that would be too unrealistic of a fantasy, but you could not deny the butterflies in your stomach that often appeared while around him. His easy, handsome smile, the kindness in his eyes, his patient indulgence when listening to you, and the effort he put into making you laugh…

But the spell was abruptly broken the day he received a visit from his friend Ravi, who had brought someone for him to meet – a respectable Roman lady. A widow, as it happened, just like Lucius. Her hair was perfectly styled, falling in ringlets that framed her lovely face. She wore a lavender-colored dress with a matching veil, much fancier than anything you’d ever owned, and was adorned with golden jewelry. More importantly, she was freeborn, and thus a perfectly good candidate for marriage.

You swallowed hard, otherwise keeping your expression neutral. You hadn’t thought he would start meeting potential brides so soon, and you certainly hadn’t expected how it would make you feel. At least, Lucius also seemed surprised, not expecting his friend to try to set him up without consulting him first. Still, he assumed the role of gracious host and welcomed them warmly, leading them out to the gardens. He glanced over his shoulder at you as you silently trailed behind them, but you didn’t meet his gaze.

The three of them reclined on the couches of the outdoor dining area, shaded by a wooden pergola. It was a beautiful sunny day, the birds singing accompanied by the gurgle of the large fountain at the center of the garden. A gentle breeze stirred the foliage, carrying the faint, sweet smell of a dozen different flowers.

You served them wine and hovered close by as another servant brought them food to snack on. Lucius had deliberately sat across from where you stood just so he could keep an eye on you. You’d withdrawn into yourself, trying your hardest to remain indifferent instead of worrying about whether the meeting went well or not. If it did, then you had to be happy for him, but if it didn’t… Well, at least that would buy you a little more time, if nothing else.

“Such a lovely garden,” the lady, Ilaria, said as she looked around. “One could never tire of such a view.”

Lucius nodded absently but said nothing, as if he hadn’t heard her.

“I could see you fitting in perfectly with all the other flowers here,” Ravi cut in, smiling with as much charm as he could muster to make up for it.

Ilaria inclined her head, modestly waving off the compliment. “Oh, you flatter me, Ravi.”

He gave Lucius a subtle, pointed look to encourage him to follow his lead. Lucius sat up and cleared his throat, only just focusing on the conversation. He had been trying to get your attention as subtly as possible, but he hadn’t been successful.

“Er, yes, it’s always a treat to spend time out here. Certainly helps to clear the mind.”

Ravi shook his head a little and tried not to snort with amusement, thinking he was a lost case. Ilaria smiled, unbothered, taking a handful of grapes from a platter and popping one into her mouth.

“I’d wager there is much on your plate, Imperator,” she said. “And having to manage the household staff on top of everything else… Must be a little overwhelming for you, no?”

“Well, I am a very busy man, yes, but it hasn’t been all that bad,” Lucius said. “I’ve certainly had a great deal of support to see me through.”

His words managed to reach you, softening you up infinitesimally. This time, when he glanced at you, you finally looked back. The ghost of a smile was on your face, but you quickly looked away before it could actually manifest.

“I see. Well, I’m very glad to hear that,” Ilaria said, sharing a curious glance with Ravi, who looked slightly apologetic. “Though perhaps you have considered that having someone run the house for you would take a big burden off your shoulders. I would be more than happy to lend a hand if you’d consider it.”

His eyebrows raised slightly at her boldness, not missing the eagerness in her gaze, poorly concealed behind her innocently helpful demeanor. He certainly did not want to get her hopes up, but he smiled graciously to soften the blow.

“Ah, perhaps in the future, when I have more time to worry about such things,” he said, politely noncommittal. “But I appreciate the offer.”

Her smile wavered and then froze, not wanting to seem too disappointed. “Of course, Imperator.”

For the remainder of their visit, Lucius let them do most of the talking, any remarks he made were studiously polite and yet still a little aloof. Finally, after a few hours, he excused himself, needing to return to his duties. Ravi seemed hesitant, like he wanted to stay behind and speak to him privately, but he would have to wait for another day. He escorted them both out, thanking them for visiting, but he did not exactly invite Ilaria to return to the palace. Her disappointment was more palpable then, but she hid it with as much grace as she could muster.

When they were gone, he turned to you with a shake of his head and a sigh, grinning with bewilderment.

“I do not enjoy being ambushed,” he said as if he felt the need to explain himself. “Decent enough as she seemed.”

You bowed your head in agreement, more relieved than you would like to admit. You had no real reason to have been upset earlier, given that there was nothing between you except for a certain kinship. Even so, it was clear he had not wanted you to be hurt, and you were very thankful for that. You offered him a small smile and some tension seemed to leave his shoulders.

He inclined his head towards the eastern hallway leading to his study. “Come, I would like you to read some documents to me. I can get work done faster that way.”

The tablinum was spacious but cozy, with a door to one side that led to a smaller patio. Before, the twin emperors had never used the room, but now it seemed well lived in. There was a mess of scrolls and wax tablets all over his desk that he still hadn’t let you organize. On the wall behind, there was a recently completed fresco of a gladiator riding a chariot pulled by two horses. For another wall, he had commissioned a portrait of Vesta, goddess of the home and the hearth, but it was still a work in progress. He was particularly proud of that one, an unspoken gift for you, his muse.

You lit the oil lamps in their alcoves, bathing the room in warm light. Lucius sat at his desk with a heavy exhale and scanned his notes to remember where he had left off the previous day. You sat on a stool beside him, unfurling the scroll he handed you and resting it on your knees. The texts you read didn’t always make sense to you, but you understood their importance. The fact that he was entrusting you with such work was an honor you did not take for granted.

“Start in that middle section. There is some stuff I would like to revisit,” he said, taking up his stylus.

You nodded, finding what he was referring to and starting right away. You read to him for the next couple of hours, only stopping if he needed you to repeat something or in case he needed more time to make his notes. A few times during the latter, you glanced up to take in the focused furrow of his brow, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he pondered. You wondered what he might be thinking about, wishing he would impart some more knowledge on you.

Outside, the sun was beginning to set, shadows deepening in the corners of the room. Another servant brought him dinner, but he didn’t seem too hungry yet. He handed you his cup of water when he heard you clear your throat a few times, insisting when you were reluctant to take it.

When he was done for the day, he stretched his arms over his head with a groan and slumped in his seat. You neatly rolled the parchment back up and stood so you could stretch your legs.

“I hope I haven’t tired you too much,” he said, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back. “You can take the rest of the evening off from reading if you’d like, but I would still appreciate some company.”

“Well, I still need to draw your bath and…”

“Somebody else can take care of it,” he cut in with a shrug, not preoccupied.

You hesitated. “What would you have me do instead, then?”

“Just sit back down, relax for a moment,” he said, getting up. “Here, you can have my chair. Much more comfortable.”

You were about to protest, but he gave you a look that said it was not up for discussion. You pursed your lips, uncomfortable at the idea of being idle, especially while taking up his seat. Still, you obeyed and sat down, hands folded on your lap. Feeling a little bold, you looked at him as if to say ‘satisfied?’ and he huffed in amusement.

“Wait, stay still,” he murmured suddenly, leaning down.

You froze as his face hovered mere inches away from yours, his breath fanning over your cupid’s bow. Delicately, he removed a stray eyelash that had been resting on your cheekbone, and he pulled back a little so you could see it on the pad of his finger.

“Make a wish,” he said.

All you could do was stare at him for another breathless moment that seemed to stretch on infinitely. You licked your lips nervously, drawing his eyes there before they returned to hold your gaze. Your heart was like a nervous bird fluttering wildly in your ribcage. Your mind was mostly blank, but the one thought that popped up was ‘I wish he would close the distance right now.’

You gently blew the eyelash away, your wish scattering into the air alongside it. The Gods must have decided to grant it immediately, for he did not pull away, instead slowly leaning in. His lips brushed yours tentatively and you closed your eyes, rejoicing for the barest second before you forced your face to turn away.

“We shouldn’t…” you murmured, the words hard to utter when a desperate want clung to your throat like honey.

“Why not?” He whispered.

“It’s not– I’m not…” You vaguely gestured towards yourself, unsure of what the right words were.

He pulled back to look at you better. “Was I too presumptuous?”

You shook your head. “Not at all.”

“Then what is it?” He pressed.

“Dominus, please.”

“Lucius,” he pleaded, loathing the title. “Say it, please.”

“Lucius,” you said finally, though your eyes still spelled defiance when you glanced at him. “Is it not obvious? We both know it’s impossible.” Your lower lip trembled slightly. “I have a heart, too, you know? I don’t want it to be broken.”

“I know that, of course I know that!” He said, placing his hands on your shoulders and crouching in front of you. “I have no intention of breaking your heart.”

“Surely you understand where I am coming from, though.” You sniffed, keeping tears at bay. “I am not wife material, like the lady Ilaria. I have nothing to offer, no dowry, no family name, or even an inkling of Patrician blood. ”

“I do not care for such things. I would never demand them of you. Even if we cannot marry, I will not marry anyone else that isn’t you,” he said with a firm, determined shake of his head. “But I can still give you my name, along with your freedom. That’s all that matters to me.”

You gasped, the shock of his words akin to a bucket of ice water being dumped over you. Now you let the tears spill over, like a dam had finally burst. He kissed them away, his hands cupping your face gently.

“I have been thinking of nothing else since I met you. I’ve already made the arrangements… I suppose I just didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“You honor me,” you said, smiling despite the tears. “You always have.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” He asked. “You have given me more than you think. You brought me the peace I have been so desperately seeking for a long time.”

“I-I don’t even know how to thank you.” You placed a hand over his. “If you desire to give me your name, then I shall give you mine in return.”

You told him your name, the real one, which you had been hiding ever since your Roman name was given to you. He had never asked you for it, knowing that one’s name was the only thing one could truly own in this world. And now for you to give it freely… He repeated it, testing its shape on his tongue, and smiled radiantly.

“Pairs rather well with Lucia Veria, if I do say so myself,” he said with a proud chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “If you’ll have it, that is.”

You knew by the disarming earnestness in his eyes he wasn’t just offering the name, but himself, as well. His whole heart in the palm of your hand, should you choose to care for it. You felt as if you had already made that choice a while ago, when you first recited Virgil back to him.

“I will,” you said with an elated chuckle. “Of course I will.”

He took your hands in his, kissing both of them. “Then first thing tomorrow, we will make it official.”

More tears flowed as a result of an overwhelming rush of both gratitude and love. You had tried to ignore your feelings, not uprooting them but instead silently letting them grow unacknowledged. For once, it had seemed worth the risk of heartbreak. After all, the love hadn’t stemmed from something as fleeting as lust, but a mutual understanding and respect. It was more than you could ever ask for, and yet everything you desired.

You leaned your forehead against his, your noses brushing as he tilted his head back. This time, it was you who brought your lips to his with a tentative sort of tenderness, propriety still at the back of your mind. He responded in kind, letting you set the pace so as not to scare you off. If you weren’t shaking so much, you might have noticed he was shaking, too.

In that kiss, there was the promise of mutual devotion, sweet and sincere. You were still holding each other’s hands, as if afraid you might drift apart if you let go. You understood then why odes were written about this feeling, as all-consuming as the churning waves of the sea. All those verses had never resonated with you more.

Perhaps you had inherited the romanticism, after all.

—------------------

The air smelled of night-blooming jasmine, the fresh sweetness of it bringing you a sense of tranquility. You leaned against the windowsill, looking up at the stars and trying to piece together constellations. The world seemed drastically different now that you had your freedom, so vivid, so open, so alive. You even noticed it in your posture and the lightness with which you walked, as if you were floating. Lucius had said you were radiant with it.

He’d insisted on taking care of you the same way you’d cared for him, eager to show you his gratitude. You had been hesitant at first, but at his unwavering conviction, you relented, curious how it might feel to be spoiled. All that day, he had served you reverently, taking time off from his duties to focus solely on you.

You couldn’t help getting flustered at all the attention, his ardent gaze like a caress every time it met yours. His touch had so far been entirely chaste, but even the smallest, most innocuous contact was heightened with anticipation. The brush of his fingers over yours when he handed you something, a guiding hand on your lower back, even a touch on your shoulder to make you aware of his presence.

There were a few sneaked kisses in both the garden and the tablinum, each one of them leaving an undercurrent of warmth under your skin that promised more. It was like a slow, drawn-out game of chase, neither of you in a rush to reach its conclusion. If anything, it only made you want each other more.

After the sun had set, when the two of you drifted along as if in a drunken stupor, Lucius went to prepare a bath for you in his chambers. You were nervous and exhilarated, every moment spent waiting for him to be done an exquisite agony. Until finally, he poked his head around the bathroom door.

“It’s ready now,” he said, beckoning you with a smile.

You followed him into the bathroom, hands wringing anxiously. Flower petals were scattered on the mosaic floor, leading towards the steaming tub. Flickering candles bathed the room in a warm glow, making your shadows dance on the wall. You looked at each other, both knowing what the next step was but hesitant to initiate it. He averted his gaze first, gesturing towards the door.

“Would you like me to give you some privacy?”

You shook your head, desire making you a little more brave. “I… I would love some help undressing, though.”

His spine straightened, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “With pleasure.”

He crouched to slowly pull the hem of your long tunic upwards, rising with it. You lifted your arms so he could get it over your head, the fabric falling to the floor unceremoniously. Your eyes were fixed on his face, drinking in his expression as he took a step back to get a better look at you. The bare expanse of your skin robbed him of breath, his eyes roaming over every curve and plane of your figure. He wanted to sink to his knees again and lay his forehead at your feet in worship, but he stood still, his fingers twitching at his sides.

“The evening star is the most beautiful of all stars,” he said in a low voice, quoting Sappho.

Warmth spread from your chest to your face, and you smiled coyly as another verse came to mind. “Come to me once more, and abate my torment…”

You offered him your hand, which he took, and he led you to the tub. You daintily stepped in, sighing contentedly as you sank into the water’s enveloping warmth. He knelt next to the tub, leaning against it with one arm propped on the edge.

“Have I told you enough times that you are beautiful?” He said. “I don’t think it has been enough.”

You huffed with amusement, looking down as you fought a geeky grin. “Well, about a hundred times with just your eyes. A few times out loud, though.”

He chuckled. “I suppose I’ll have to show you in other ways, too… If I may.”

You nodded, silently granting him permission. He leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on your lips before standing up. He took it upon himself to bathe you, starting out by scrubbing your scalp. You leaned into his touch, eyes closing in bliss. He smiled at your soft, pleasured hum, and vowed to elicit as many more as he could.

Things took on an almost ritualistic quality, with him focused entirely on his task. You were loose limbed, letting him move you about as he used a cloth to scrub your skin. He didn’t try anything that might be deemed unsavory, though you let his tender, reverential touch reach places no one had touched in a very, very long time. But he didn’t linger, to your slight frustration, not wanting to jump into things too quickly. The flames of your desire were stoked slowly, warmth running through you like sweet wine.

When he was done, he helped you step out of the tub and immediately got to drying you off with a towel. You caught his eye for a moment, his pupils blown wide with equally fervent desire. You stopped yourself from clutching his arm, wanting to anchor yourself to him, but he could still tell you were growing restless. He kissed your shoulder, tapping the tip of your nose playfully with his finger.

“Not done quite yet,” he murmured, not missing the way you involuntarily pressed your thighs together. “You’ve always been very patient.”

“For the first time, I fear it might be running thin…” you said, to which he smiled.

He grabbed a small glass bottle of rose oil and lathered some in his hands. He anointed your body with it, the heady scent of one of Venus’s favorite flowers permeating the air. As he reached your chest, you took hold of his wrist and brought his palm to rest over your heart. He felt it beating rapidly, your chest rising and falling with each panting breath.

His eyes fell to your lips, slightly parted with want. He grasped your chin with his free hand, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

“I have been thinking about this for a long time,” he said, leaning in to brush his nose against yours. “But I hadn’t wanted to touch you until now, when you actually felt like you had a choice in the matter.”

You clutched his wrist tighter, his thoughtfulness only making you want him more. All those hours he must have spent yearning, unaware that you were stuck thinking of him too. As emperor, he had the right to take whatever he wanted, but having previously been a gladiator, he understood the monumental importance of bodily autonomy. Very few people in Rome had such a privilege and he couldn’t bear the thought of being the one to rob you of it.

You kissed him in response, much fiercer, hungrier, than all the other kisses you had shared so far. A desperate sound escaped his throat and he clasped you against him tightly. Swiftly, he scooped you up into his strong arms and carried you out to the bedchamber as he would a bride.

Gently, he set you down on the bed and pulled away to remove his tunic. This time, you were not meek about his nakedness. You brazenly stared at him, eyes mapping out the lines of his muscles, the pink, raised skin of his scars, and the soft trail of hair on his abdomen that seemed to suggestively point downwards.

His shoulders were squared with pride at your ogling, a sly smile on his face. He’d had an inkling before of your attraction, but to see it on full display was narcotic, and he felt himself pulse with an aching need.

“Come closer,” you said softly.

He did, climbing over you, his warmth immediately enveloping you. You hid your face on the junction between his neck and shoulder, embarrassed at all the thoughts rushing through your mind.

“What is it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow with amusement.

“Nothing,” you said, voice muffled against his skin. “I just… I do not think you realize how badly I wanted this, too. I-I don’t want to ever stop.”

He chuckled indulgently, nudging your head so you’d look at him. “Neither do I.”

He kissed you again, and again, and again. You were so close to him that the lines of your bodies became indivisible, but it still didn’t seem like enough. Your knees hiked up to his hips in a silent plea, but he did not give in quite yet, wanting to prolong things for as long as he could.

Still, unable to resist a little bit of mutual torment, he slid upwards until his hips were aligned with yours. You gasped as you felt the velvety underside of his erection against your slick folds, each small movement making you tremble. Your brows furrowed and your lips parted in a wanton expression, your eyes shiny and half lidded as you looked at him.

“Lucius,” you whimpered.

“I know,” he murmured soothingly, kissing your neck. “I know.”

Neither of you were willing to break apart from your embrace, so there wasn’t actually much of a preamble. Feverish, he sank into you slowly, your nails digging into his biceps as he stretched you open. That first round was frantic, almost animalistic, all the pent up longing finally being released. His body rolled over yours with the power of the sea’s waves, leaving you awash in ecstasy.

Neither of you lasted very long, but it didn’t matter, as you were nowhere near spent. Lucius, still in the afterglow of his orgasm, lazily began to kiss you all over, wanting to discover every mole and freckle, every tender spot that made you squirm, and every other little detail that made you you.

He settled between your thighs, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive bundle of nerves. You tried to prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him, but he wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you closer.

“What are you– Oh,” you gasped at the first flick of his tongue, the entirely new sensation disarming you.

He tasted his essence mixed with yours, a groan rumbling in his chest. You tightly grasped the sheets under you, arching against his face. You bit your lip to stop yourself from making the most undignified sounds, but it was hard to focus, especially as his fingers were added into the mix. Your body burned brighter than any brazier, his arms pinning you down as he conquered you with his mouth. You shattered once more, crying out as he helped you ride it all the way through.

After, you lied side by side, facing each other. You’d still not had your fill of him, but you needed to gather your strength for the long night ahead. You shared a breathy chuckle, as if still in disbelief it had finally happened, and he kissed your sweat-slick forehead.

“Now that was poetry,” you said jokingly, making him laugh again.

“You put every verse to shame, my love,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You kissed his palm, adoring, and tangled your legs with his. A swell of emotion unlike anything you had ever felt rose within you. It was as if he had awakened a new part of you that you hadn’t known was dormant, bringing you back from an existence that consisted solely of drifting through days that blended into one another.

He was just as grateful to have found you, his peace, his solace, the woman who would always guard his heart. He murmured your name reverently, a reminder that you were his, and he was yours. You drew closer to him, like a moth to flame, and pushed him onto his back, straddling him. His hands came to rest on your hips and your eyes were full of mirth as you held his gaze.

“As it happens, I find myself compelled to compose some more with you.” You grinned playfully, hands sliding up his chest.

He mirrored your grin, not minding the idea one bit. “Relentless, just like the great muse Calliope.”

“Well, when inspiration strikes… It can’t be helped, can it?”

“No,” he said. “Not when it comes to you.”

------

#lucius verus x reader #lucius verus x fem!reader #lucius verus smut #lucius verus fanfiction #gladiator fanfiction #lucius verus #x reader #minors dni

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thef1diary · 3 days ago

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Boss! Daniel being the sweetest goofy man during office hours, but a fucking menace when the day is over. You made a mistake on the clock? No biggie, you're learning, happy accidents, and all. But as soon as you're off, you're paying for it. Daniel's absolutely filling you, calling you a dumb *slightly derogatory petname of your choice*, asking you if all you're good for is being his cocksleeve.

— dead. deceased 🪦 I desperately need him as my boss, like asap. 18+ content below

During office hours, Daniel was a golden retriever in a suit—goofy, patient, endlessly kind. Even when you’d screwed up earlier that day, misplacing an important document, all he’d done was laugh, ruffle your hair, and said, “don’t stress it, sweetheart. We all make mistakes.” That smile had made your stomach flip, the easy warmth of it dissolving any guilt you felt.

But once the office was empty and the door to his private space clicked shut, his demeanor shifted like night and day. Gone was the laid-back boss who made everything feel like a team effort. In his place was someone cruel, commanding, and utterly unrelenting.

“Bend over,” Daniel commanded, his voice low and dangerous. He stood behind you, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as you hesitated. The sharp crack of his hand coming down on your ass jolted you forward, forcing a whimper from your lips. “What part of bend over didn’t you understand, dumb little thing?”

You obeyed, pressing your chest to the cold surface of his desk, your skirt bunched up at your hips. Another slap came, harder this time, the sting radiating through your skin as his other hand gripped your neck, holding you down.

“You mess up during the day, and I’m supposed to just let it slide?” he sneered, fingers toying with your soaked underwear before yanking them down. “No, no, I let you off too easy earlier. But off the clock? You pay for it.”

His cock was already hard when he lined himself up, and the stretch as he pushed into you had you clawing at the desk. He didn’t give you a moment to adjust, setting a punishing pace that forced broken cries from your lips with every thrust.

“You really are pathetic,” Daniel growled, one hand coming down hard on your ass again, the sound echoing through the room. “Can’t even handle basic tasks without screwing up. Maybe I should stop wasting my time teaching you anything and just keep you bent over like this.”

“Please, sir,” you whimpered, though you weren’t sure what you were begging for—mercy or more.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair to yank your head back. His other hand slid between your legs, rubbing harshly at your clit until your legs started to shake. “Is this all you’re good for? Being my personal cocksleeve? Huh? Answer me.”

“Yes, sir,” you gasped, tears spilling down your cheeks as the brutal rhythm of his hips never faltered.

“You’d love to be my cocksleeve, hmm, you’re perfect for that. Just need to bend you over and you’re already whining like a pathetic little slut.”

The desk creaked beneath you as he drove into you harder, his grip tightening. Soon, with a low, guttural groan, he stilled, spilling himself deep inside you. He didn’t pull out immediately, keeping you pinned there as you trembled beneath him.

“You’re gonna keep that in,” he said darkly, dragging his cock out slowly. His fingers pressed against your swollen hole, making sure none of his cum spilled out. “And maybe next time, you’ll think twice before being such a dumb mess in my office.”

Your body was trembling, wrecked and overwhelmed, as he pulled you up by your hair, forcing you to look at him. The smirk on his face was cruel, but the glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t done yet—no, this was just the beginning.

“Get dressed,” Daniel ordered, giving your ass one last slap. “And clean yourself up—you’ll need to focus tomorrow. Can’t have my assistant—oh sorry—my little cocksleeve too ruined to do her job properly… yet.”

want more boss!daniel? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

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luvyeni · 3 days ago

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🥀 … ( reaction ) it’s not over ! ୨୧ 一 스트레이키즈 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ trying to breakup with them but they don’t let you ヾ

yandere!스트레이키즈・ fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・yandere ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・THIS IS A DARK GENERE manipulation , mentions of murder, language wc ・ 1.5k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. can i request yandere stray kids' reaction to you breaking up with them, at least trying to? if i can request something else as well, a general headcanon to the type of yanderes they each would be.

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 you asked for two things so i tried to combine them to , i hope you don’t mind !

﹙ 𐙚 : bangchan ﹚ .ᐟ

chan is a manipulative yandere; he knows how to flip a situation and make you seem like you’re in the wrong. “you want to leave?” he asks with disappointment leaking in his voice. “did i do something wrong?” he sounds hurt. “i just don’t think we’re gonna work out anymore , you’re too controlling.” he tries not to get mad, “controlling? is me wanting to protect you too controlling?” you cant answer him. “my friends don’t even want to hang out with me because you’re always there.” he complain. “i can’t even go out with out you.” chan is smart though, he knows how to gaslight you. “what happens when you go out? when you went clubbing and that guy tried to take advantage of you , your friends are just jealous , do they have boyfriend who want better for them? no.” he said. “I do this because I love you.” he said , you start to feel bad. “if you want to leave then i can’t stop you but just know everything i did for you.” by then you already feel like shit , how could you do this to him? you couldn’t leave him when he cared so much for you. “i-im sorry.” you held your head down in shame. “it’s my fault for listening to my friends.” you don’t even notice his menacing smile, cause he knew he had you once again.

“it okay , but you know i can’t just let this be.”

﹙ 𐙚 : lee know ﹚ .ᐟ

lee know is a unpredictable yandere; one minute he’s calm, the next minute he’s lashing out , throwing things and breaking them. “leave? sure you can go out for a few hours , be home by 9:30 — no leave for good.” he stops petting the cat , looking up at you. his gaze alone is enough to scare you into submission , but you stand your ground. “i want to leave for good.” he doesn’t say anything just stands up. “no.” he walks away. “no? you can’t stop me from leaving , let’s just end this before things get worse.” he’s calm and level headed , until you piss him off which is what this conversation was doing. “did you not hear what the fuck i said!” he shouted , slamming the plate down into the sink , shattering it. “minho I can’t do this!” you shouted back , but he grabs your shirt , pushing you against the wall. “you don’t get it do you? you aren’t leaving.” he says threateningly. “i will kill you before letting you go.” and you know he’s serious. “i-im sorry.”

“that’s better , now go feed the cats while i clean the mess you made up.”

﹙ 𐙚 : changbin ﹚ .ᐟ

you can’t leave him; you want to but he made it so you can’t. changbin will make it so you’re so dependent on him before you decide to end the relationship that you it’s too late when you want to call it quits. “where will you go?” he asks. “you don’t have a job, when’s the last time you paid a bill?” he’s so relaxed about the situation. “i can get one and i can pay my own bills.” you respond. “you’d forget to feed yourself if i didn’t cook for you, or buy you food don’t be stupid.” if that doesn’t work he’ll just scare you into staying; he won’t ever hit you… that being said he might not hit you but he will use physical strength to scare you ( think about that one video of him holding seungmin by his arms and wrist ). “please let me- listen here.” he squeezed the back of your neck. “ch-changbin please, do-don’t hurt me.”

“i wont hurt you , but you need to drop this shit and drop it now.”

﹙ 𐙚 : hyunjin ﹚ .ᐟ

hyune is confusing ; he doesn’t really see what he does is wrong; so what he doesn’t let you out? what’s the reason for you to go out there when he’s inside here. “i can’t do this anymore.” he’s just sitting there painting as usual , not really listening because you’re being ridiculous. “are you listening.” he turns to you. “are you done?” and you’re just in shock. “good , go sit down.” doesn’t truly believe you��d leave. “hyunjin i said im leaving, i can’t stand being in here anymore.” that’s when he drops his paintbrush. “i said go sit down.” when you walk towards the door is when he fully gets up. he’s not violent — unless he needs to be, so he will rough you up , grabbing you by your shirt , throwing you on the bed. “why can’t you just fucking listen?” he curses. “there’s nothing out there for you , you can’t get any better then here.” he says , throwing your bag of clothes in the closet. “if you get up again , throwing you to bed will be the least of your problems.”

“now sit there and be good, like i said the first time , i won’t tell you again.”

﹙ 𐙚 : jisung ﹚ .ᐟ

jisung is a unhinged manipulative yandere; and his entire life is revolves around you. you’re the reason he breathes every morning. so if you aren’t there, what’s the point? “jisung we have to end this, this isn’t safe for either of us.” you held a bag in your hand full of your stuff. “look at your arms and legs they’re all cut up.” he stared at you with tears in his eyes. “i did it to show you how much i love you, why don’t you understand i love you so much im willingly to kill myself for you.” you stopped him. “that’s the problem ji , you’re not well. he’ll cry — very loudly , cries likes he’s been stabbed because in his head he might as well have been. “no! you said you love me! if you leave me i’ll kill myself , i really will.” he goes immediately to the knife he’s hidden because you threw the rest out. “jisung where did you get that?” he doesn’t answer , just puts it to his throat.

“the moment you step out the door i’ll do it.”

﹙ 𐙚 : felix ﹚ .ᐟ

his obsession with you is too strong for him to let you go; even if his heart is telling him to, his brain is louder , he’s basically fighting himself and his brain is winning. “felix please let me go!” your legs were now tied to the bed , one arm connected to the bedpost as he tried to feed you. “im not hungry i want to leave!” you shouted , which made him flinch. “i-i can’t.” he says. “i know it’s wrong , you should be out there living life , but i just can’t.” he can’t let you leave him , he needs you. “I need you with me okay , i can’t breathe without you dove.” puts drugs in your food to keep you docile , he doesn’t want to hurt you , he’s probably the less dangerous one towards you at least. “im sorry please just drink some water.” you give in not thinking its drugged — until you involuntarily start to drift off. “fe-felix.” you can hear the sadness in his voice , he genuinely feel’s guilty. “im sorry, im so sorry.”

“i just love you so much i can’t let you go.”

﹙ 𐙚 : seungmin ﹚ .ᐟ

i have said this before; seungmin knows you’ll leave regardless if he forces you to stay or doesn’t ; not matter if he threatens you, hits you, whatever. so he lets you go, that’s fine go — but not without a cost , guess you finally decided you no longer wanted your friend alive… otherwise you wouldn't have made the stupid decision of leaving him. “what did you do?” you dropped your phone upon entering his house. he has lured you there calling you from your friends phone… the friend who was currently bleeding on the ground; beaten mercilessly. “why the fuck did you have a male friend anyway if not to be a whore , should’ve killed him months ago. literally doesn’t care if you’re crying. “don’t cry now , this is your fault.” he said. “told you , I won’t ever hurt you.” he said the knife bloody , pointed at you.

“but everyone else is free game , these are just flesh bags to me, they mean more to you than me.”

﹙ 𐙚 : jeongin ﹚ .ᐟ

jeongin is a yandere who likes to play games; you want to break up? go ahead and leave. when you do , he’ll actually leave you alone for a while , let you live your life, even let you get a new boyfriend. but that’s just cause he wants you to think he’s gone; give you that high; before the low. everything is so good — then suddenly you lose your job, so you have no income; then your boyfriend suddenly breaks up with you no warning. it’s like everything went to shit , and who is there to pick up all your broken pieces? well jeongin is there with open arms, ready for you to step right into them, but not without consequences. see that job you lost? jeongin called in a favor and got you fired. that boyfriend? well let’s just say jeongin sent a few photos of the both of you together and it was the end of that. “you see how i did all that.” he tells you after you sobbed in his arms after he told you what he did.

“i can make this much worse , don’t ever think of leaving me again.”

©️LUVYENI

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slvttyplum · 2 days ago

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"an apprenticeship? really? he should be studying under you, why are you letting him do it." the tone in your voice changing causing naruto to turn around, his eyes furrowed as he walks over to you, leaning on the counter with his arms crossed, staring at you wash your hands in the sink.

"what's that supposed to mean?" your voices going quiet.

the silence was damning, you knew what you said and how you said it was wrong, but you were the only one who could talk to naruto in a way where you weren't coddling words, that's why he loved you.

"you gonna answer me or just say what you want without expecting a response?" naruto also said shit like you did, causing lots of arguing.

"excuse me?" quickly turning off the sink, and he could read your face like a book, his body stiffening and his blood running cold. he just couldn't let you have the last word, and he got into deep shit for it.

"you wanna do this now?" turning off the water and quickly wiping your hands off with the towel that hung beside you, wasting no time to mimic his position while looking at him, eyebrows furrowed and all.

"you know what? let's do it." his conscience telling him to back down now and not to cause any more drama, to just apologize and say that the both of you would talk about it in the morning, but his pride was just too damn big.

"alright, let's do it. one. you're never home, the only time you're home is when it's a life or death situation or for sex." naruto's mouth opening for a rebuttal but quickly closing back when you hold up your hand holding up two fingers.

"two. i have to do everything around this damn house including parenting, yet you don't want my advice on what your children should or shouldn't be doing." naruto once again opening his mouth trying to defend a case he hasn't even built yet, but you're a little too fast, adding a third finger to the mix.

"three. i'll go easy on you and let this be the last one." every time i critic sasuke, you're the first to defend him. this man made your life a living hell, the least you can do is not defend him every fucking time."

a few seconds of silence pass and naruto's face unclenches, his whole body does. a smile forming on his face as he turns towards you, leaning on the counter again.

"you know, i missed this." your face scrunching in confusing as you tuck your arms in again, you could always count on naruto to look like he just one a million dollars when getting degraded.

"are you fucking delusional? did you hear anything i just said?" naruto still smiling, walking towards you, his hand around your waist and his eyes tracing your face.

"i did, loud and clear, my love. i missed you putting me in my place, telling me how it is, because you're right." your mouth open with shock, narutos hands rubbing over your ass and a grin on his face, this was the first time in fifteen years he's said that you were right… fifteen years.

"i'll be better, i'll do better, starting with us. i won't let him do the apprenticeship, he'll study under me. hm?" his eyes now locked in on yours, the sincerity written all over his face, showing you that he was serious.

scoffing as your arms wrap around him, snuggling into his chest.

"finally got your fill of scolding?" naruto would be lying if he said he didn't get scolded every time he walked through the door, because he most definitely did.

before this, he didn't know when he would start being home consistently, being with you, helping around the house, helping his son.

he finally got the realization that there could be no more waiting, his family needed him now, he couldn't rely on his best friend to train his son, you put that into perspective for him, and he couldn't begin to thank you enough.

"i love you, im always listening when you think im not. let me be there for you." his hands rubbing back up to your waist, his arms squeezing around you, kissing the top of your head.

#naruto #naruto uzumaki #naruto shippuden #boruto #boruto uzumaki #naruto x reader #naruto x you #naruto uzamaki #naruto uzamaki x reader

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mcrdvcks · 22 hours ago

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what are hands for?

chapter summary: After an offhand comment from your father shakes your confidence, you find yourself spiraling into self-doubt.

word count: 2.4k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: i'm not even gonna lie, this is extremely self-indulgent. i've barely been home for a week and my dad's already called me fat once and it definitely won't be the last time

anyways, i basically wrote this for myself but i thought i'd share it because i know for some people, being home for the holidays is rough! and the only thing i need is for logan to tell me he loves me and everything would be perfect

warnings/tags: insecure!reader, reader has a brother, skipping meals, implied that reader has received rude comments from family before, reader describes herself as 5'7" and over 200 lbs one time (like i said, self-indulgent), curvy!reader, angst, fluff

You have always had mixed feelings about going to your parents’ house for the holidays, or even during your breaks during college. You loved home, it was where you grew up so naturally you were supposed to love it.

But you also hated it. Hated the comments, the looks, the yelling—all of it.

And somehow here you were, standing in your parent’s quaint house, your younger brother and his girlfriend already in the dining room helping your mom with dinner while your dad greeted you and Logan.

"Hey, kiddo," your dad said, pulling you into a quick, half-hearted hug before turning to Logan with a small smile. "Logan. Good to see you again."

Logan gave a polite nod. "Good to see you too, sir."

Your dad’s gaze flicked between the two of you for a moment before gesturing toward the dining room. "Everyone’s in there. Why don’t you join them? Dinner’s almost ready."

Logan looked at you briefly, a silent check-in, before heading off. "I’ll go see if they need help," he murmured, squeezing your hand lightly as he passed.

The air shifted the second Logan stepped out of earshot. Your dad turned back to you, giving you a once-over that was a little too long for comfort.

"You’ve put on a little weight, haven’t you?" he asked, his tone casual, as if he hadn’t just landed a verbal punch to your gut. "Must be all that mansion food."

Your chest tightened, heat creeping up your neck. You opened your mouth to respond—what, you weren’t sure—but he didn’t wait for an answer. He just patted your shoulder like it was nothing, muttered something about checking on the turkey, and walked off, leaving you standing there alone.

In the back of your mind, you knew you should’ve put on a different shirt, this one was just a tad bit too tight. But it was one of Logan’s favorite’s, so you didn’t pay too much attention to it.

You pulled on your blouse a few times, trying to get it to not stick to your stomach before walking into the dining room like you always did when you were younger, with a fake smile.

---

You huffed, yanking the seventh shirt over your head and tossing it onto the growing pile on the bed. Nothing looked right—nothing felt right. Every shirt clung too much, hung awkwardly, or just didn’t sit right. And with each outfit failure, the voice in your head grew louder, echoing your dad’s casual remark.

You tugged at the hem of your tank top, staring at your reflection in the mirror with narrowed eyes. “Stupid,” you muttered, turning to the side to inspect your profile. “It’s just a shirt. It’s fine.” But it didn’t feel fine.

After another long minute, you grabbed a loose hoodie from the closet and pulled it on, letting it drown you. It wasn’t what you’d planned to wear, but at least it hid everything you didn’t want to see.

You made your way downstairs to the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast before your class. On the counter were a box of donuts, and without thinking you grabbed the two you normally did in a napkin and made your way out.

But not before pausing at the doorway, a bite already taken out of one donut as you looked down at the food in your hand. You took another bite and threw both away, making your way to your classroom before the kids got there.

You got to the classroom a good twenty minutes early, dropping your bag onto the desk with a sigh. The hoodie you’d thrown on still felt too heavy, too obvious, but you didn’t have the energy to deal with it right now. The two bites of the donut you’d managed to eat sat like a stone in your stomach.

You busied yourself setting up for the day, pulling worksheets out of your bag and lining them up on the desk. It wasn’t much, but focusing on something, anything, kept your mind from wandering too far down the spiral. The kids would be filing in soon, their chatter filling the space, and that would make it easier. It always did.

But for now, the silence was suffocating.

There was a soft knock on the doorframe, and you looked up, expecting one of the students. Instead, it was Ororo. She leaned casually against the frame, a warm, curious smile on her face.

“Morning, Y/N,” she greeted, stepping into the room. “You’re here early. Everything okay?”

You forced a smile, nodding as you shuffled a few papers around unnecessarily. “Yeah, just… wanted to get a head start. You know how Mondays are.”

Ororo tilted her head, clearly unconvinced but kind enough not to push. “If you say so,” she said, her tone light but probing. Her gaze swept over you, lingering for just a second on the oversized hoodie before she caught herself. “Well, let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do. Thanks, ‘Ro.” You gave her another tight-lipped smile, hoping it looked more convincing than it felt.

She hesitated for a beat before nodding and stepping back into the hallway. As soon as she was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

The classroom slowly came to life as the students trickled in, their energy filling the room and pushing your thoughts to the background. By the time the lesson was underway, you were almost able to pretend nothing was wrong. Almost.

It wasn’t until later that day, during lunch, that it all came rushing back. The teachers’ lounge was unusually crowded, laughter and conversations bouncing off the walls. You slipped in quietly, grabbing a bottle of water and a granola bar from the counter before finding a corner to sit in.

From across the room, Logan caught your eye. He was leaning back in one of the chairs, arms crossed, but the second he saw you, his expression softened. He gave you a small nod—his way of checking in. You nodded back, offering a faint smile.

You didn’t miss the way his brow furrowed slightly, though, or the way his gaze lingered for just a moment too long before he turned back to his conversation with Scott. It wasn’t like Logan to hover or push, but you knew he noticed things. And he never let them go.

---

After classes you went into the kitchen to put your mug in the sink from hours ago. Out of habit, you grabbed a few cookies Ororo had made yesterday before stopping yourself.

You stared at the cookies in your hand, your frown deepening as your dad’s words replayed in your mind like a broken record. Your stomach churned, and for a moment, you felt like throwing the cookies straight into the trash.

“What’d those cookies ever do to you, darlin’?” Logan’s voice startled you from your thoughts. You turned to see him leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze wasn’t accusing, just… observant.

You hesitated, gripping the cookies tighter. “Nothing,” you muttered, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just… wasn’t really hungry.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, pushing off the doorframe to step into the kitchen. “Didn’t seem like you were thinkin’ about that a second ago,” he said, his tone teasing but gentle. “Something on your mind?”

You shook your head quickly, putting the cookies back on the plate. “Nope. Just tired. Long day.”

He didn’t look convinced. Logan had a way of reading you like an open book, and you hated it sometimes. Hated how hard it was to hide from him, even when you wanted to.

“Darlin’…” His voice was softer now, his hand reaching out to brush yours. “What’s goin’ on?”

You sighed, leaning against the counter and crossing your arms. “It’s nothing, Logan. Seriously.”

He stepped closer, tilting his head to meet your eyes. “Y/N, you know I don’t buy that. You’ve been off since we got back from your folks’ place.” His voice was low, steady. “Talk to me.”

You hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek. The last thing you wanted was to unload all this on him. But the look in his eyes—genuine, steady, patient—made it impossible to deflect.

“It’s just… something my dad said,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s jaw tightened, his expression hardening. “What’d he say?”

“It’s not a big deal—”

“Y/N.” His tone was firm, but not unkind. “What’d he say?”

You exhaled sharply, avoiding his gaze. “He… made a comment about my weight,” you mumbled, feeling your face heat up. “Said I’ve been eating too much mansion food.”

Logan’s expression darkened, his brows knitting together. “He said that?” His voice was low, dangerous. You nodded, still not looking at him. “That’s bullshit,” he muttered, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“It’s not—he didn’t mean it like that,” you tried to defend weakly, though you weren’t sure why. “It’s just how he is. And, it’s not like he’s wrong either, I could lose some weight. I’m 5’7” and over 200 pounds, and sometimes my old pants don’t even go over my thighs or hips. And—”

Logan held up a hand, cutting you off gently but firmly. “Alright, stop. Just stop.” His voice was low, steady, but there was a protective edge to it. “First off, I don’t give a damn what your old pants fit like. And second, your dad? He’s got no right to talk to you like that. None.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Logan stepped closer, tilting his head to meet your gaze. “Nope. Not hearin’ it, Y/N. You’re sittin’ here pickin’ yourself apart ‘cause of some stupid thing he said, and that’s not fair. Not to you.”

“But he’s not wrong,” you muttered, looking away. “I mean, look at me. I’m—”

“Perfect,” Logan interrupted, his voice firm. “You’re perfect. And I don’t wanna hear you say otherwise.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re just saying that.”

“Do I look like the kind of guy who just says things?” Logan shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Princess, I’m the last person to sugarcoat anything.”

You hesitated, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. Logan sighed, stepping closer and resting his hands lightly on your hips. “Y/N, you’re strong. You’re smart. And yeah, you’ve got curves—and I happen to like ‘em. A lot.”

Your face heated at his words, but Logan wasn’t done. He gave your hips a gentle squeeze, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You think I’d be standin’ here, chasin’ after you, if I didn’t think you were incredible? Come on now.”

“I’m not fishing for compliments, Logan,” you said quietly, still not quite meeting his eyes.

“I know you’re not,” he replied. “But I’m givin’ ‘em anyway, ‘cause you need to hear it. And because it’s the damn truth.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, despite yourself. Logan grinned, clearly pleased to have gotten a reaction out of you. “There’s that smile,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Missed that.”

The knot in your chest loosened just a bit, and you let out a shaky sigh. “Thanks, Logan,” you murmured. “I just… I don’t feel like myself sometimes, you know?”

“I get it,” Logan said, his voice softer now. “We all got our crap to deal with. But you don’t gotta deal with it alone. Not when I’m here.”

You gave him a small nod, the corners of your mouth twitching upward. Logan’s smirk returned, and his hands slid from your hips to the curve of your thighs, his fingers grazing lightly. “Besides,” he said, his tone turning teasing, “you know what these thighs are for, right?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He grinned, his hands squeezing gently before lifting you up. “For my hands. Nothin’ else they need to do, far as I’m concerned.”

You yelped in surprise, grabbing onto his shoulders. “Logan! Put me down!”

“Nope,” he said, a smug grin plastered on his face. “Not until you stop talkin’ nonsense about yourself.”

You glared at him, though the heat rushing to your cheeks betrayed your indignation. “I’m serious, Logan. I’m not exactly lightweight—”

“Good thing I’m not exactly weak,” he interrupted smoothly, his grin widening. “You think a couple extra pounds are gonna make me break a sweat? Sweetheart, I’ve fought Sentinels and lived to tell the tale. Trust me, I got this.”

You groaned, your hands tightening on his shoulders as he adjusted his grip, holding you securely. “This is ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is you thinkin’ you’re anything less than perfect,” Logan countered, his tone softening just a bit. “Now, you gonna stop beatin’ yourself up, or am I gonna have to carry you around all day until you do?”

“Logan, we’re in the kitchen,” you hissed, glancing toward the doorway. “What if someone walks in?”

“Let ‘em,” he said with a shrug. “Not like they don’t already know you’re my girl.” He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against yours. “Besides, anyone’s got a problem with me lovin’ on you? They can take it up with me.”

You huffed, but your lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you like me anyway,” he teased, setting you down gently but keeping his hands on your hips. “Now, what do you say we grab those cookies and actually enjoy ‘em? ‘Ro made ‘em for us, after all.”

Your gaze flicked to the plate of cookies, and for a moment, doubt crept back in. But Logan’s steady hands on your hips and the unwavering warmth in his eyes grounded you. “Okay,” you said softly. “Let’s eat the cookies.”

“That’s my girl,” Logan said, pressing a kiss to your forehead before reaching for the plate. He handed you one, grabbing one for himself, and took a big bite, chewing with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Damn, these are good. Think she’d notice if we finished the whole plate?”

You laughed, the sound lighter than it had felt all day. “Pretty sure she’d kill us.”

“Worth it,” he said with a smirk, taking another bite.

You rolled your eyes but bit into your cookie, letting the sweetness melt on your tongue. For the first time in what felt like days, the weight on your chest eased just a little.

And when Logan leaned in to steal a crumb from the corner of your mouth, you couldn’t even find it in yourself to protest.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic

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