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luxaofhesperides · 4 months ago

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the beginning - danny

The Lazarus Pit brings Danny back.

The child who went into them, however, is gone forever.

Danyal al Ghul is the soul who should reside in this body. Danyal has a life still to live and Danny died ages ago, old and surrounded by loved ones, ready to spend the rest of his forever in the Infinite Realms.

Something's gone terrible wrong, he thinks rather wryly, squinting through the cold green water that surrounds him. An ache echoes through his body and he brings a hand—small, a child's hand that shouldn't belong to him— to his stomach, where he can feel a large wound slowly pull itself together.

Did I get stabbed?

He means to continue the thought, but a sharp pain hits his head, making him curl up. He gasps and air bursts from his lungs, water rushing to fill in the empty space. Danny chokes, panicking, as memories slide into place, the lives of Danyal al Ghul and Danny Fenton fighting for dominance in his head. His lungs burn, throat working futilely to push water out, but there's nothing to be done.

Danny is a child again, and just like last time, he dies young.

1. So.

Assassins.

Danny honestly can't tell if this is a step up or a step down from mad scientist parents. On the one hand: he knows they loved him, as clumsy as it was, even though they loved their work more. On the other hand: assassin cult sounds like something out of a fairy tale, and while cool, is definitely not safe for kids.

And Danny, somehow, is a child again.

This really wasn't what he expected when he woke up on the sandy bottom of the pit. He's in ghost form, which is an unpleasant shock, but at least its familiar.

He is also, if his memory as Danyal serves him correctly, nine years old.

Kinda sucks that he died so young this time round. Didn't even make it to the double digits before he was taken out of the running.

He can't remember what it was like being so small in his last life. He can't imagine how anyone would look at a child and run them through with a sword. It's a cruel world he's woken up in. It's made worse by the fact that he's alone.

At least being down here without needing to breathe is giving him valuable time to think.

Danny has lived a full life already. He didn't really need or want another one, content to be a full ghost in the Infinite Realms. But going back isn't really an option, now that he's in a new body. The kid he could have been deserves to live fully, and the least Danny can do is live that life for them.

It'll be hard, but Danny's sure he can manage a decent life for himself.

Being presumed dead will make his escape from the assassins easier, though he'll miss getting the chance to meet his new mother; assassin as she is, Danyal knows her not by her blades but by her soft lullabies and jasmine-scented hair. The loss of her child must be hurting her deeply, but it's necessary. If Danny wants any semblance of a normal life, he has to leave her behind.

Besides, he's seen enough death. He doesn't want to ever be the cause of it.

So, he needs a plan for this new life.

Step one: get out of dodge.

The rest he'll figure out on the way.

Turns out assassins weren't the most shocking thing in this new life.

No, that honor goes to superheroes.

Genuine, honest to God superheroes! With powers and everything!

To think that Danny once called himself a superhero. Ha! As if! He's nothing compared to the likes of Superman or the Flash or even Green Lantern. They're in another league. Literally. They're part of the Justice League, which has a whole slew of other heroes, and Danny is possibly their biggest fan.

Not like that's weird; most people in this world are huge fans of superheroes. Makes sense, since they're the ones who rely on their protection the most.

It does suck to know that his background belongs to that of a villain. Assassins aren't known for saving people, after all.

Part of him contemplates becoming a hero again, taking up the role of Phantom and joining the ranks of Superman. But he's had many years to come to terms with the loss of his teenage years and the bitterness that came with it. That experience, that life once lived, helps him decide each time that being a civilian is the gift this life owes him.

At thirteen, Danny lives in a foster home with six other kids. He's the oldest and has his hands full taking care of everyone else while their foster parents work three jobs between them to keep them all afloat.

When his younger siblings play superheroes, he gladly takes the role of the villain, swooping in with a blanket to kidnap away an innocent bystander that has to be rescued. He falls over dramatically at the end of each fight and praises his siblings' strength and teamwork, making them puff up with pride.

It's all fun and games so long as it only stays fun and games.

Superpowers are cool and all, but his came at the cost of his life, his health, his future. He knows, better than anyone, the price of being a hero. He knows that even Superman carries heavy losses on his shoulders, struggles under burdens no one can see.

He's lucky that the small town he ended up in—Luray, Virginia—has no heroes or villains. Too small a place to be on anyone's radar, apparently.

His classmates often complain about how they wish they could live in a big city where there's more to do, more to see, superheroes flying through the streets to protect them.

Danny is happy where he is. It's quiet, and small, and nothing like what he's used to, but it's safe.

That's all he really wants.

Here's something that stays the same no matter what world he's in: Danny is a magnet for trouble.

If the trouble stopped at bullies, everything would have been fine. Danny could handle Dash, and he could handle Justin just as easily.

But the universe loves to escalate with Danny, specifically, which is why Danny had to reveal his powers when some villain-wannabe school shooter attacked his high school.

And to think he felt bad for Jackson when he didn't make it onto the track team.

Luray does not have a meta population. They're too small to have much of a population at all, and much of it is white which made him, half-Iranian, stand out even before he threw out a barrier of ice to protect his classmates a second before the gunfire began.

"Danny?!" his seatmate, Clarrissa, cries out in alarm.

"Everyone get out the window and run for it!" he orders, "I hold him back as much as I can!"

"You can't stay here!"

"Don't worry," Danny says, offering her a tight smile. "He couldn't kill me even if he tried. Now go!"

His classmates hadn't wasted any more time, sending him shocked looks as they escaped the classroom. A glimpse of his reflection in the window revealed glowing green eyes and blue mist wafting out of his mouth.

Looks like his time in Luray is up. He hopes his foster siblings won't be too mad at him for running away.

The gunfire stops, and Danny takes his chance to leap through his ice, intangible, and tackle Jackson, easily knocking the gun away from him.

"Monster!" Jackson spits at him, and Danny laughs.

"Bold of you to say that. I'm not to one trying to kill people."

He doesn't want to hear anything else that comes out of Jackson's mouth, so he knocks the guy out with a solid hit to a pressure point on his neck. Hopefully that'll keep him down long enough for the cops to get him.

Danny stands and means to leave, but something hits the back of his head hard and he's out before he realizes what's happened.

When he wakes up, he's strapped down to a table in what is undeniably a lab, and sighs.

At least he made it to sixteen before he went into another lab. Maybe in his next life he might even get all the way up to twenty before he's pulled back down here.

4. Though he has all his powers and a ghost form, that doesn't mean he is a ghost in this life.

No, he's fully a meta, which means meta-suppressing cuffs work on him.

It's not exactly a discovery he was hoping to have while locked up in a lab, but it's what he's got, so he has to roll with it. The cuffs are heavy on his wrists and around his throat, keeping him from escaping as a group of people in masks and lab coats bustle around, ignoring him.

His head is still foggy, though likely more from the drugs than the hit he took to his head.

He doesn't bothering talking to any of them; they don't see him as human, and Danny's dealt with enough of that in his past life.

Mad scientists love to talk though, so he still hears the gist of their plans: recreating the meta gene for normal people, making a profit from selling powers, getting rich and famous from their accomplishments. They had been using Jackson to get corpses for human testing, but they got Danny instead — someone they can harvest bio material for, a much better find than a couple dead kids.

If he had the energy to rage, Danny would have killed everyone in the room already. They planned to kill his classmates just for test subjects.

He doesn't want to be an assassin, but he'd gladly lean into those old lessons to make sure they never hurt anyone again.

But the cuffs and drugs do a good job of keeping him docile, barely able to think, as they transport him around to different locations and cut him open.

He's not sure how long it's been when they ease up on the drugs a bit. It still takes time for his body to work through everything, and he comes too with a throat that's dry and a stomach that hasn't had anything in it for quite some time.

The first thing Danny does when they start asking him questions is throw up on them.

If they wanted cooperation, they should have treated him better. This is fully on them.

It makes for a convincing argument for food and water and a bathroom break, at least, so he gets what he demands and takes care of his human body under the cold gazes of three scientists.

"You guys suck," he says conversationally. "Keeping test subjects alive is like basic knowledge. No wonder y'all suck at your jobs."

"Your comments aren't needed," one of the scientists says primly. "Get up. We need to study how using your powers affects your body."

They hook a bunch of different things onto him, then lock him in a glass cage and use the cuff around his throat to send jolts of electricity through him when he doesn't do anything. He throws a chunk of ice at them, watching as it breaks apart into small pieces when it hits the glass. The scientists scribble in their notepads, and when they look at him again, he flips them off.

He gets shocked again, but it's worth it.

The process repeats for another few hours, then he's pulled out of the cage, gets an IV stuck in his arm, and drops off into drugged oblivion before he has time to start throwing hands.

It must have been months. Danny's not sure; it's hard to keep track of time when locked in isolation.

He knows he's fed at least once a day. He's been getting a tray of bland food at random times, but he's counted over 50 trays sliding through the little slot on the bottom of his cell door.

Turns out insulting scientists and their procedures is a bad idea, especially when he has the language to really bruise their egos.

So.

Isolation sucks.

But at least they don't drug him anymore!

The cuffs do their job of keeping him in place, and if he didn't have memories of another life to keep him company, he definitely would have lost his mind long ago.

There's other people in here, other metas. He's heard them screaming and begging for mercy. He's heard them go chillingly quiet. He wonders why there are so many superheroes in this world when not a single one has come to save them.

Surely at least one would notice metas disappearing and would investigate?

But no.

No one ever comes to save them.

So Danny needs to figure out a way past the cuffs, and then he can be Phantom again long enough to free the other metas and make every scientist involve pay for their crimes.

He just needs to wait.

He just needs—

When Danny wakes up, the alarms are ringing. It makes his head pound, throbbing with each piercing sound.

He stumbles up, using the wall to keep his balance, and freezes when he sees that the door to his cell is open.

…Huh.

The hallway is bathed in red light when he steps out. No one's around. He wanders around the facility, searching for answers and only finds more questions.

There are other cells, also empty. Certain rooms have blood splattered across the walls and the floor, but no bodies. Labs are destroyed, broken glass on the floor. But every room is empty.

He wanders until he finds what must be a security room. There's a strange device dangling off a keychain on a rack, and Danny eyes it curiously. He runs his fingers around the cuff on his throat, feels the little depression where the collar comes together, and takes the rounded device. If it doesn't work, then it doesn't work.

But if it does work…

The cuff pops open easily, as if it hasn't been his greatest foe these past few months.

All at once, his strength returns to him. He has forgotten what it was like to breathe easily, to feel his powers come to his call so easily, to be reassured that he can take care of himself.

It's almost like coming back to life.

He transforms, settling back into his ghost form with relief, and flies through the facility in search of any other metas that may need help. He finds no one, but he does catch a glimpse of the outside.

The sky is so blue it almost hurts to look at. Part of the facility has been blown apart; rubble surrounds the place and the surrounding forest has been flattened. It looks as though a fight has moved through the area.

Maybe a superhero did come to save them? Rude of them to leave only Danny, though.

He continues his search, poking his head into different rooms and hallways. He finds a staircase going down and follows it into the basement. More labs greet him, and the glow of computers and strange vials of liquid leave him unsettled.

There's a green glow coming around the corner than reminds him of the Lazarus Pit he flew out of, once upon a time many years ago, and that's what draws him forward.

Tucked away in that familiar glow is a small body, floating in a tube of liquid. There's an oxygen mask attached to her face, but that doesn't stop Danny from recognizing her.

"Ellie?"

Just like in one life, Danny is cloned. The difference is that this time, there's no reason for it, no insane godfather trying to recreate a version of him that will choose him.

No, this time it's from a group of scientists who should have known better, who decided to mess around with his genes, and brought his once little sister now daughter into such a cruel, dangerous world.

Danny barely remembers breaking the glass to get her out of there. He doesn't know where he found the coat to bundle her up in, flying out of the facility as fast as he could. He feels sick, knowing it's his fault that she's here now, forced into a painful, terrifying existence because he wasn't strong enough to save himself.

He's a runaway meta victim of mad science. He can't take care of her.

"I'm sorry, Ellie," he whispers to her, pressing a kiss against her head. "I'm so sorry."

She small in his arms. She barely weighs anything.

Danny blinks back tears and tries to find some place he can stop and rest, somewhere safe he can gather his thoughts and figure out his next steps.

This isn't like when he first woke up in this world, with both sets of memories.

This is Ellie.

She deserves more than just a wish and a half-baked plan for a better life.

She deserves a family that wants her, that can care for her, that can protect her. She deserves to grow up normally and not worry about destabalizing or being a replacement for him or being hunted down.

She deserves one life to be a kid and grow up safe and be whoever she wants to be.

Danny will never be able to give her that.

But maybe he can give her to someone who can.

Danyal grew up with an assassin mother and a cruel grandfather who expected far too much from a child. He was taught to kill and be more weapon than child. He was taught the world was something for him to take, to protect, to water with blood.

Danyal was meant to be the next Demon Head, and the next Bat.

Danny knows he can't go to his mother. If they're both lucky, he will never have to see her again. Knowing his luck, he's already planning explanations for why he never went back to her.

Danny's father, on the other hand��

It didn't take much to put the pieces together. The notorious Bat is Batman, Gotham's vigilante and one of the founders of the Justice League. While a child would have been left confused by the many comments his mother made about his father, it was simple enough for Danny to line them up with what he learned about the heroes of this world and realize, oh, that's my dad.

It takes a few weeks of research, using public libraries with Ellie tucked securely in a wrap to his chest, but he's able to learn more about Batman.

The most important thing being that he has kids.

Of course, none of this is officially acknowledged, but everyone knows that the Robins are his kids. Current Robin, especially, likes to remind people that he's 'the son of Batman'.

Okay. Cool.

Danny has siblings.

Awesome.

He's… not looking forward to those conversations.

At least it means more people to look after Ellie. Assuming they take her in, which Danny's really hoping for.

But it's the best he can do, so Danny sets course for Gotham and hopes that just this once, everything will work out.

Meeting the Bats of Gotham is a lot harder than he expected.

A week in the city and he's barely caught more than a glimpse of them. He can't dedicate a lot of time to tracking them down either, needing to break into grocery stores to get food for him and Ellie.

She's so quiet as a baby, and it terrifies him. She's only cried twice the entire time he's had her, and Danny spends every day begging her to hold on.

Time during the day is spent catching naps and researching common vigilante spotting areas in Gotham. He's got a map of Gotham taken from a library and has been steadily marking it up, putting stars in the best places to find a Bat. There are places all over the city, and Danny has no idea how to know which ones are the best.

The only thing he can do is wait at a different rooftop each night, clinging to Ellie, wondering if this is the last night he has with her.

On the ninth night, someone finally arrives.

"Step away from the edge," a voice demands.

Danny turns to see Robin approaching, hands held out as if to catch him. He's bigger than Danny was expecting. Which makes sense; most of the stories Danny got online are from when Robin was a kid, and it's been a few years since then. He must be a teenager now. Older, but still young.

"Robin," he manages to say, his throat tightening. It feels almost like there's a noose around it. It feels like that meta-suppressing cuff has clicked back into place, leaving him helpless.

"Step away from the edge," Robin repeats. "There is no need for this to be your last resort."

"But it is," Danny whispers.

Robin darts forward and wraps a hand around Danny's wrist, yanking him towards the center of the roof. "Why on Earth would you come up here? Surely you must have known that someone would stop you."

"Batman," he gets out. "I need to speak to Batman."

"What for?"

"I'm… I was told, once, that I'm his son."

10. Robin stares at him for a long moment.

Then he takes off his mask.

Danny knows those eyes: he sees them every time he looks in a mirror.

"Danyal," Robin breathes. "You died before I was born."

"I did. Are you…?"

"Mother told me about you."

So he has a little brother. If only he hadn't left first chance he got, he could have known his little brother, gotten away from that place before it hurt him too. Danny has made many mistakes since he arrived in this world. Missing a little brother is perhaps the worst of them.

"Mother…" Danny repeats. "She put me in the Lazarus Pit. I remember that. She didn't want me to die."

"I was born to replace you."

Just like Ellie.

So many mistakes repeating. He's never felt like more of a failure.

"Batman. Our father. He treats you well? You are safe with him?"

Robins brows furrow, but he nods, which is enough for Danny. "Yes. Of course. Isn't that why you're here now?"

"I'm not asking for me." Danny carefully, gently, unwraps Ellie. "I'm asking for her. Please, take care of her. She deserves more than I can give her. Ellie… she'd be your niece."

Robin's eyes are wide. He's frozen until Danny pushes Ellie against his chest, forcing him to lift his arms to hold her.

"Wait, what about—?"

When Robin looks up, Danny's already gone.

It's for the best.

(masterpost for all parts)

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #demon brothers #dcxdp fic #the harmless series #gonna make that a full series. all posts will be part of that. heres the beginning of it all!!#reincarnation + demon brothers + baby ellie #tw human experimentation #dw there will be more #i'll have a full masterpost to add to the end of each post once i write and post the next part #which will be damian's pov and the aftermath of danny revealing himself and leaving ellie #my writing

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strwbwrrybunny · 4 months ago

Note

( same person that sent the last request about ony btw!)

can u write bout how he’ll handle us if we have an attitude and start talking crazy to him

😭I feel like a slut rn imagining it but love ur writing though 💕💕!!

mdni,18

you stand in the doorway, arms crossed,staring at your dread-head fiancé.the tension in the room is palpable.you can feel your heart thundering in your chest, each beat sounding like your own undoing.ony sits on the couch, playing his playstation, unaware of the storm brewing inside of you. the continuous click of his fingers across the controller further ignites your anger.

“are you even fucking listening to me?” you snap, your voice is sharp and cutting.

ony sighs, pulling his eyes to look at his girlfriend. he doesn’t even know why you’re mad. recently, it seems like you’re always mad. last week it was because he forgot vinaigrette with your chipotle and now it’s this. ony was never the argument type, which was a bad combo because you always said what was on your mind. ony hated your attitude, and hated the way your mouth got when you had an attitude.

mhm, is all he musters out.

his nonchalance only fuels your anger. how can he be so indifferent? each time he doesn’t say anything, it’s like a slap to the face. you’re mad because he’d driven your car and didn’t put gas in it. yes, he’d given you the money after you confronted him, but it still irritated you that you had to do it.

"it’s a big deal to me," you retort, your voice trembling with emotion. "if i put my foot through this tv, maybe then you’ll pay attention.yeah?”

ony sighs, finally putting his controller down and giving you his full attention. "look,i just don't think it's worth getting this upset over," he says, trying to keep his tone calm and reasonable. "we can talk about it, but there's no need to blow it out of proportion."

but to you, it feels like he's minimizing your feelings, brushing them off as if they don't matter.the hurt and frustration bubble up inside you, threatening to spill over. you want him to understand, to see things from your perspective, but it feels like you're speaking different languages.

before you know it your feet are padding across the tan carpet,fingers snatching the plug from the wall.ony groans as his game powers off,there goes all his game progress.

“yo, y/n you’re tripping.”

“tripping? oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.have fun picking up your clothes, cause i’m about to throw all your shit off the balcony.”

you spin on your heels, ony hot on your tail as you enter the bedroom.you feel his hand grasp around your wrist and spin you around to face him, just when you open your mouth to spew the vilest things he presses his lips against yours.

you try to hold onto the anger, to remind yourself of why you’re mad, but his touch is rough and urgent, sending sparks through your body. your head starts spinning, the world around you fading away. his kiss is relentless, each movement making it harder to stay mad. you can feel your resolve weakening, your body betraying you as you melt into him, the anger slipping away with each passing second.

“finna fuck t’is attitude outta you.” he mutters against your lips, your mouth is dry as you try to think of a comeback.

“talk that shit now, girl,” ony demands, holding your hands tightly behind your back as he fucks you. you’re at a loss for words, the way his dick is prodding into your cervix has you quivering underneath him. he scoffs, “oh, now you’re quiet?” he switches over to restraining you with one hand. a breathy whine fumbles from your mouth, feeling his hand smack your ass repeatedly, each hit stinging more than the last. your face is a teary, drooling mess, cheek pressed into the pillow.

“o-ony please s-slow down!”

“nah, you gon’ take all of this.you so big and bad so take this dick.”

a shiver runs down your back as you feel his cool gold chain on your skin,followed by his soft lips.you’re a complete mess underneath him,the way he’s burying himself into your tight pussy has your legs shaking.each thrust is relentless and rough, the squelching of your wet cunt spurring him on.you wince as you feel his fingers wrap around your coils, forcing your head up and your back to arch even further.

“apologize. apologize for having an attitude.” ony grunts.

“i-i’m s-sorry-ughmfuck—“ your words catch in your throat as ony delivers a thrust that has you seeing stars.he hums, accepting your apology.ony retracts his hand from your hair and snakes it around your throat.the way your juicy ass is bouncing on him makes his stomach churn, “creamy ass pussy,” he moans softly,left hand still securing your hands behind you.

your stomach clenches each time he pushes back into you; you’re so fucking close. the pink vibrator ony’s attached to your clit has you in shambles, the vibration against your swollen bud making you shiver.you’re so damn wet, your fluids are leaking into the bedsheets. the sensation is overwhelming, and you can feel yourself pulling away from ony.he quickly puts a stop to that.

“uhnt uhnt, bring that ass back.”

fuck, why were you mad again?

#black writers #aot oneshots #aot x black reader #aot smut #aot onyankopon #ony x y/n #ony x black reader #attack on titan smut #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x black reader smut #onyankopon x you #onyankopon x reader #onyankopon smut #anime x black!reader #anime smut #anime x reader

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vivwritesfics · 3 months ago

Text

Cowgirl

He was just there to see Kate, to make sure she was all right after what happened. He didn't expect to run into the pretty cowgirl and her horse.

There was an unfamiliar white truck in the driveway. There was always unfamiliar trucks in the driveway, always some rich asshole trying to purchase the land out from under their feet.

She patted her horse's neck as she looked at the truck. Storm Par. Tye name didn't tell her as much as she wanted it to. "Come on, Gambler." She tensed her leg against the horse's side and walked him towards the barn.

It was late, so late that she knew her mother would be furious with her. Her sister was always the good one, the one with high expectations placed on her shoulders. Expectations that she'd exceeded.

Jumping from Gamblers saddle, she walked him into the barn and did everything she needed to do. Untacked him, fed him, made sure the little makeshift stable was clean and he had enough food and water for the night.

They got a small corner of the barn. The rest of it was full of Kate's stuff. She couldn't be mad about that, not when Kate's stuff was so cool. But it also served as a grim reminded that she wasn't there, and hadn't been for years.

Shutting the barn for the night, she made her way back to the house. Storm Par, she'd seen that truck somewhere before, she just couldn't put her finger on it. She tried to look in the truck, but it was too dark to see anything.

She made her way inside of the house, toed off her dirty boots and dropped her keys in the bowl. Shrugging off her jacket, she hung it over the banister and made her way to the kitchen.

Her stomach made a desperate noise as she looked in the fridge for the leftovers. "I know, I know," she mumbled to herself, setting about heating it up.

Footsteps, on the stairs. "Mom?" She called over her shoulder. "Sorry I'm late, we lost track of time."

The person didn't respond as she stirred the leftovers in the pan to heat it up. When she turned around, her breath caught in her throat.

There stood her sister. Kate, the good one, the smart one, the one that had disappeared to New York. "Holy shit," she breathed as she looked at her. "Holy fuckin' shit."

"Hi," Kate said and swallowed.

She'd imagined this moment several times, what it would be like to be reunited with Kate. Had imagined running into her arms and holding her so tight that she couldn't leave again.

But, now that they were here, she was at a loss. It didn't feel right to embrace Kate in such a dramatic fashion, didn't feel right to do anything but just look at her.

She turned and stirred the leftovers in the pan. "What're you doing back?" She asked as she began to plate it up.

Kate shrugged her shoulders. "I was nearby," she said and sat at the kitchen table, sat in the seat opposite her. "Were you out with Gambler?"

She nodded as she ate.

No, it isn't bad writing, the conversation was stale. The sisters didn't quite know what so say to each other. Where had they left off when Kate disappeared? Why had she left them behind?

She didn't mean to resent her sister for getting out, for leaving her behind. Their mother had been so distraught when Kate left for New York, but she understood why. She still had her other daughter there. Her other daughter who wanted to leave, who wanted to travel across the country and make a life for herself.

Clearing her throat, she stood up. "I'll see you tomorrow," she mumbled and took her food up to her room. Kate wasn't blonde the last time she saw her. But that seemed to be the only difference.

She looked out of her window, looked at the Storm Par truck in the drive. It must have been Kate's truck, she decided and sat at her computer.

It was so easy to find information on Storm Par. To find out who they were, to find out what they did. The what wasn't important, and the who was only kind of important. It was the why that she cared about. And, when she found that out, why the hell would Kate work for a company like this?

A sour feeling settled in her stomach as she went to bed that night.

***

"Someone's feeling fresh," she mumbled as she walked Gambler forward. But Gambler didn't want to walk; he wanted to go.

She turned him in a sharp circle, since holding him back wasn't doing anything to stop him from taking off. "You wanna run, Gamble?" She challenged, walking him to the end of the drive. He was practically galloping on the spot.

When they get to the wide open field in front of them, she let him go. Gambler went. He galloped, snorting as he went. She held the mane and let him run until he got to the other end of the field. At the other end of the field, she got Gambler back under control and began walking him back to the house. Halfway across the field, she pushed him into a nice, controlled canter.

An unfamiliar red truck was parked in the driveway, parked beside the Storm Par truck. She squeezed on the reins, slowed Gambler down as she watched the guy climb out of the red truck. The cowboy hat on his head looked performative as he placed it back in his truck.

"Can I help you?" She asked as she walked Gambler over to him.

He was gorgeous. His charm was written in smile as he looked around at her home. Upon seeing her, his charming smile dropped from his face. "Uh, yeah," he said and turned again. "Is Kate here?" He asked.

She blew out a breath and gestured for him to follow her. He did, walking a good distance behind Gambler. "Are you with Storm Par as well?" She asked as she rode, the reins in one hand and her other hand resting on her thigh.

To Tyler, she looked all the bit the cowgirl. He knew cowgirls, he was an ex rodeo man, after all. This was the kind of girl he would have chased after before he went to study meteorology. "No," he said, that charming smile slowly reappearing on his face. "I do chase, though."

"Ah," she said as she jumped from the saddle and grabbed a hold of the reins. "You're one of those freaks." It was said completely in jest, the tone of her voice suggested. She pushed open the barn doors and led Tyler inside. "Kate," she called across the barn. "Someone here for you."

Tyler watched as she took her horse to the little stable in the back of the barn. And then he turned his attention to Kate.

All the time she was in the barn, Tyler couldn't help but look at her. She had a Stetson hanging off the stable door as she gave her horse a bath. It shouldn't have been distracting but, to Tyler, it was. She was just cleaning her horse, massaging the purple shampoo into his grey coat.

Every time Kate caught him staring, Tyler had the decency to quickly look away. But Kate just grinned at him and told him her name. "She's my sister," she said quietly.

He didn't expected to get invited to dinner. "You should," said Kate as she looked further into the barn. "She's cooking." Tyler looked back at her as she grabbed a black bucket and filled it with horse food.

Her cooking was incredible. She wore her Stetson as she brought the food to the table outside. Kate set the table as she placed an array of food on the middle of the table.

"Thank you, cowgirl," said Tyler as she placed the salad down in front of him.

Her cheeks were so hot as she sat in the seat opposite him. "Don't mention it," she muttered and began plating everything up.

It was easy not to look at her when her mother was asking him so many questions, questions he was happy to answer. But she hadn't stopped looking at him. Feeling like a creep, she tried to stay focused on her dinner. But his voice. Fuck, it was something else.

"What about you?"

She hadn't even realised he was talking to her. With her mouth full, she looked up at him. "What?" She asked around the food in her mouth.

"Do you like storms?"

It probably wouldn't have been such an odd question if she had been paying attention to the conversation. She shook her head. "Don't get me wrong, they're pretty. But you wouldn't catch me dead outside in one."

Tyler's entire focus was on her, as if he'd forgotten her mother and Kate were there. "I bet I could change your mind," he said, voice full of confidence.

She took the challenge, copied his pose as she leaned towards him. "Oh yeah? And how are you gonna do that?" She tried to copy the expression on his face, the charming grin he had so easily mastered.

He sat back in his seat and looked towards his truck. "You'll see, Cowgirl."

#tyler owens #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens fluff #tyler owens x you #twisters #twisters movie #twisters 2024 #twisters fanfic

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reiding-writing · 11 months ago

Note

since you are a person of angst, i was thinking about spencer x reader where in the heat of an argument, spencer says he will only forgive her when she dies.

so in one of the cases the reader is shot by spencer and sighs "now you can finally forgive me"

happy or sad ending, whatever you want

muah 💘

forgiven — s.reid

Summary:

You lied to him with good intentions, but when he finds out the truth he says something detrimental in the heat of the moment. After weeks of radio silence any chance of reconciliation is almost lost after you get critically injured in the field.

WARNINGS: SPOILERS FOR IAN DOYLE ARC, harsh arguments, death wishes, gun mentions, major character injury, details of gun related injury, happy ending

spencer reid x gn!reader || ANGST || 3.7k || masterlist!!

a/n: left the ending up to majority vote and majority vote said happy ending, you guys are so boring /j

happy ending or not this is still nice and jam packed with angst for all my angst enjoyers <3

Emily Prentiss had been buried for seven months.

So how on earth was she stood five feet away from Spencer with a half guilty expression on her face like she’d put salt in his coffee rather than the fact that she’d been in Paris, fully alive and well whilst he mourned her ‘death’ for months.

But he couldn’t be mad at her. Of course he couldn’t.

Instead his gaze turned towards the way Hotch, JJ, and you were stood at the head of the table, completely unfazed whilst the rest of the team stood in shock at the fact that the friend that they’d buried was still alive.

He couldn’t help that small feeling of loathing mixing with the shock when Emily pulled him into a hug, his arms loosely rested around her back as his eyes narrowed slightly in your direction.

He’d let you see him at his absolute worst, an emotional, crying, pathetic mess of a person who was desperately mourning over the loss of one of his closest friends.

And you’d let him. Whilst knowing that Emily was still alive.

His emotional state had gotten so bad over the last few months that you’d even temporarily moved him in with you to make sure he wasn’t endangering himself.

He’d spiralled into a state where he couldn’t be trusted to live on his own. And you’d let him.

He didn’t speak to you during your drive home that night, and you knew why.

You knew he was going to be angry at you, and you couldn’t blame him for it.

What you didn’t expect, was for him to immediately start unrooting himself from your apartment; Clearing out drawers and stuffing his clothes in the suitcase hidden in one of the cupboards.

“Spencer what are you doing-” You barely manage to step out of the way before Spencer walked right into you with an armful of books in his hands as he pulled them from the bookshelf in your living room.

He stacks them neatly in the corner of the open case laid on top of his bed as you stand in the doorway of your guest room turned Spencer’s bedroom, clear concern written all over your face.

“I’m going home.” Spencer’s reply is blunt, flat, with the tiniest amount of hurt lacing his tone if you were to listen closely enough.

“Spence-” You block his exit from the room with your body as he attempts to make a second trip to clear your shelves of his books. “Can we just take a second to talk about this?”

“About what? The fact that you lied to me for seven months?” He takes a step back from you as you block the doorway, looking you directly in the eyes to make sure that you could read every semblance of hurt, loathing, and betrayal that swam in his irises.

“The fact that I trusted you to the point where I let you see me at my lowest and you knew everything I was grieving over was a lie?” Spencer had given up trying to leave the room, clearing out anything left in the bedroom instead and zipping the suitcase shut.

“The fact that you let me spiral to the point where I was considering relapsing and couldn’t be trusted to live on my own?”

“Spencer-”

“I confided in you. I told you everything. All those nights I spent sobbing in your arms talking about how I just wanted the pain to stop and you left me in the dark.” He was borderline shouting at you by now, his eyes glassed over with tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks and a lump in his throat that rended his composure shattered.

“I wish I could’ve told you Spencer but I couldn’t-”

“You couldn’t?” Spencer cuts you off before you have the time to try and explain yourself. “Or you wouldn’t?”

“I couldn’t- Spence I wanted to tell you I really did but Emily’s life was in danger-” You try to explain yourself whilst he’s giving you the time to do so, words falling out of your mouth as fast as your brain will let them form. “I couldn’t say anything without risking breaking her cover and sending her right back into Doyle’s grasp..”

“What about my life?” Spencer’s voice cracked slightly as he looked at you, a light flush covering his face from his frustration. “I spent ten weeks under 24/7 supervision because my mental state was so bad-”

“You know me. You know I wouldn’t have said anything. And you let me ruin my own mental state anyway.” The end of his negation of your explanation is marked by the suitcases wheels hitting the wooden flooring.

“Look i’m sorry okay? I didn’t-”

“What? didn’t mean to let it go so far? Didn’t mean to let me consider relapsing and washing any progress i’d made over the last four years down the drain?” He pushes past you with considerable force to make his way towards the front door of your apartment with his suitcase in hand. “Well it’s too late for that isn’t it?”

“Spencer wait-” You grasp at his wrist in a moment of desperation, silently begging for him not to leave. “I’m sorry,”

“I’m so, so sorry and you have every right to be angry at me and I know that keeping it from you was wrong-” Your desperation shows through your voice, through the stray tear that rolls down your left cheek and pools under your chin. “Just- let’s talk about this, please,”

“We just did.” Spencer’s voice is much harsher than you’re used to, although he removes your hand from his wrist with a whisper of his usual gentle nature that you wish would take over the rest of his personality as he pulls your door open to leave.

“I was just trying to protect her-” Your voice hitches at the end of your sentence, stray tears turning into a steady flow that dapples your white shirt in damp circles. “..please forgive me…”

Your voice is hardly a whisper by the time you’re finished, although Spencer’s expression does not match the softness in your tone.

Nor does his response.

“I’ll forgive you when you’re six feet under like she was.”

“Spencer-”

You barely have time to be shocked by his words before the front door of your apartment is closed harshly in your face, Spencer’s presence replaced by the ghost of his cologne and a sharp coldness that runs its way up your spine.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

It’d been three weeks.

And aside from asking Morgan to keep an eye on him you hadn’t so much as mentioned Spencer once.

It was a little difficult considering his desk was directly opposite yours, but a mix of wanting to respect his personal space and still being hurt by his comment allows you to keep to yourself no matter how close he was.

You’re thankful that the team hasn’t said anything, but you’re sure they’ll only respect your privacy until it interferes with the case you’re working on.

Emily had tried to talk Spencer down from his underlying anger to no avail during the plane ride, and despite the countless times that Hotch had taken full responsibility for keeping Emily’s living status a secret, it didn’t stop Spencer from sending you half-glares across the station or refuting any suggestion you gave with an overcomplicated explanation of why you were wrong.

By the fourth day you were on the verge of snapping at him, the Texas heat melding with his snark and making you want to tear all of your skin from your face.

You definitely weren’t in the right mental state to enter an active shooter situation, but as you followed Morgan into the building with your 9mm planted firmly between your hands, all you could think about is the conversation you were going to force Spencer into having with you once all of this was over.

You were so tired of being in this stalemate with him, you just wanted your Spencer back.

The one who would trap you on your couch so he could explain the Doctor Who lore in explicit detail with that bright starry look in his eyes the longer you let him ramble.

It was just radio silence. And you couldn’t bare it anymore.

Your mind was clouded by your own thoughts as you swept the building, and you suppose you only have yourself to blame for not hearing the unfamiliar footsteps behind you until it’s too late.

You turn on your heels towards the noise, expecting it to be Morgan or even Spencer, finished with sweeping the floor and ready to move on.

Instead you’re met by a sharp bang that rings through your ears and a pain in your throat that makes your breath catch and your legs fail underneath you.

Your left hand comes straight to your throat, immediately coated in the dark red liquid escaping from the new hole created in your body, and you manage to fire a shot in the direction of your assailant as he runs, although whether you actually hit him or not you’re not sure.

It takes less than ten seconds for your team members to arrive at your side, and you desperately point in the direction that the UnSub had ran off in as you try and refrain from coughing up blood and in turn flooding your lungs.

Morgan and Emily share a look before running off in your pointed direction. Spencer however, ignores your arm completely and rushes to kneel at your side, dropping his gun on the floor in the process and frantically holding the radio button on his watch to yell out his need for medical services.

“You’re going to be fine- Everything’s going to be fine-” You can practically feel the panic emanating from his body, his hands trembling as he tugged his bullet proof vest from his chest to tear at the hem of his shirt and use it to block the bullet hole in your throat as your hand compression weakened with your blood loss.

You can tell he was trying to reassure you, but it didn’t sound all that convincing, even to himself.

His right hand added a copious amount of pressure to the front of your throat as he aided you into the recovery position, checking the nape of your neck for an exit wound. Nothing.

A soft “two minutes” echoes back through the radio speaker in his watch and though he tries to mutter it under his breath to not freak you out any further, you can hear his uncertain “that’s too long,” even through the tinnitus plaguing your ears.

You cough up the clotted chunks of oxidised blood stuck in your oesophagus onto the floor beneath you, and Spencer makes an effort to protect your head from the floor by elevating it on his thigh.

“You’re going to be fine-” Spencer sounds more panicked than you as his eyes blink with tears, unable to be wiped as they fall down his cheeks from the red staining against his fingers and the ever present pressure he’s adding to your injury.

“Does this mean you’re going to forgive me now?” You choke out the words alongside what could barely be considered a laugh as it leaves you hacking up more blood through your mouth, your attempt at lightening the mood falling on deaf ears as it sends Spencer into a fit of tears.

“I’m so sorry-” Spencer’s tears run hot against his cheeks, pooling at his chin and falling onto the ripped fabric of his shirt he was using to try and stop your throat from bleeding. “I’m so sorry for yelling at you and barging out and just being awful to you I’m sorry-”

The distinct sounds of sirens sound over Spencer’s profuse apology and you can see the relief flood his face as he hears them. “You hear that? You’re gonna be okay, they’re gonna get you to a hospital and you’re gonna be fine,”

He nodded determinedly at you, more like he’s trying to convince himself than convince you.

He neglected to tell you about the fact that gunshot wounds to the neck held a 78% mortality rate, or how when they obstruct major airways that number jumps to 92%.

It was fine. You would be fine.

He can hear the pounding footsteps of the medical team as they breach the building, yelling out in their direction with as much composure as he can muster.

He helped the medical team carefully position you on a stretcher so they could rush you into the ambulance, and he runs alongside you, giving the EMTs as much information as he can.

“They were shot by a 7.5mm two minutes and forty seconds ago, it breached their trachea but there’s no exit wound so it’s likely lodged in the back of their oesophagus-” Spencer speaks through heaved breaths as his body fights to take in oxygen over his will to help the EMTs treat you as quickly as possible, following them into the back of the ambulance.

“They’ve been conscious the whole time this far but I think they’re going through pulmonary edema and-”

“Spence-” Your voice is barely audible through your struggle to breathe, joined by the pressure on your throat as well as under your diaphragm as one of the EMTs checks for signs of your lungs being flooded. “Don’t backseat doctor-”

The fact that you’re still conscious enough to lightly chastise him makes Spencer feel a little less panicked, although removing a pebble from a mountain doesn’t affect its height.

By the time you reach the hospital, you’re unconscious but not yet critical, and he almost follows you right into the OR until he’s blocked from the door by one of the nurses and escorted into the waiting area.

“Well let you know the second anything changes Dr Reid,”

He nods hastily as he sits down, fiddling with his fingers and tapping his feet against the linoleum floors.

You weren’t critical yet, but that didn’t mean that you’d pull through. You had flooded lungs and a bullet lodged somewhere in the back of your throat that they were going to surgically remove.

If something went wrong, that was it.

Spencer spends the first thirty minutes mentally beating himself up.

Why did he lash out at you? You were only doing what you thought was best to protect Emily.

Why did he say he’d only forgive you if you died? You didn’t mean to cause him any harm.

Why was he constantly managing to ruin anything positive that was happening between the two of you?

Maybe he was cursed.

Cursed to live a life of eternal suffering as the perpetual cost for the gift of his intelligence.

He would give up every IQ point he had if it meant that you would recover with no complications.

He would sacrifice his eidetic memory in an instant if it meant he got to make new ones with you.

He’d give up everything that he was prided on as long as you were okay. You needed to be okay.

The next forty-five minutes was spent in an anxious silence. The team had rushed to the hospital as soon as they’d secured the UnSub’s incarceration, only amplifying the tension in the waiting area.

As the nurse calls out your name to the room, the team immediately stands to rush over, everyone silently praying that you’re okay.

“We’re glad to say that the surgery was a success,”

Those words are enough for the anxiety to dwindle in the group, a wave of relief overtaking it.

“They’ve had to have a temporary tracheotomy, and due to the placement of the bullet lodged between their vertebrae, a spinal excision, but both procedures progressed with no issues, meaning they should recover perfectly fine,”

Morgan and Emily share a audible sigh of relief, overshadowed by Spencer’s voice, less anxious but still filled with adrenaline. “Can I see them?”

“They’re currently under supervised care to make sure they don’t destabilise, but if you leave your mobile number we will contact you when they wake,” The nurse passes Spencer a small post it note and a biro pen from her clip board and he doesn’t hesitate to scribble his name and number down before handing them back.

“They’re strong, most patients don’t remain conscious for more than a minute or two after an injury like that,” The nurse takes the pen and post it from Spencer with a small smile. “I have full faith that they’ll recover perfectly fine,”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Spencer extends his stay in Texas indefinitely.

The rest of the team had left for Quantico two days ago to file out all of the necessary paperwork for the case, with Spencer opting to remain in Texas until you were fit to fly home with him.

Home. He wonders if you’ll let him come home with you. To stay with you in your apartment again and live side by side with him once more.

Maybe he can convince you through your recovery; That patients recovering with spinal injuries need 24/7 attention just in case something happens.

Yeah. That sounded like a good idea.

Spencer’s plans for taking you home were interrupted by the shrill ring of his cellphone, the screen lighting up with an unknown number.

His heart rate increases as he picks the phone up from his hotel room’s coffee table, his hands trembling by the time he holds it up to his ear. “Hello?”

“McAllen County Hospital, am I speaking to Doctor Spencer Reid?”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Spencer is in his rental car almost before he hangs up the phone, driving the speed limit as he tries to get to the hospital as soon as possible.

He runs what he’s going to say when he sees you over and over again in his head on the way there, but by the time he reaches your hospital room his mind goes completely blank, and he just stands in the door staring at you.

“Hello to you too,” Your voice is very clearly strained and raspy, still recovering from the emergency tracheotomy you’d been given during surgery.

The sound of your voice, as dry and strained as it is, immediately sends Spencer into a fit of tears, and he rushes to take a seat on the plastic chair beside your bed with the most upset, regretful expression you think you’ve ever seen. “I’m so sorry,”

“Spence…” You reach out your hand out from the hospital bed, laying it against his lower thigh and squeezing it lightly.

“I shouldn’t have lashed out at you I know you were doing what’s right and I didn’t mean what I said I don’t want you to die I promise-” He takes in a sharp breath through his nose once he’s finished his ramble, and you wait a few seconds to make sure he’s actually finished before speaking yourself.

“You’re fine Spence…” Your hand trails up to grasp at his own, intertwining your fingers with his and giving them a small squeeze. “You had every right to be angry,”

Spencer shakes his head adamantly at you. “No, i’m sorry. What I said was wrong and you didn’t deserve that,”

Spencer exhales softly through his nose, his voice wavering and his hands trembling against your own. “Can you forgive me..?”

You question whether to make a joke about whether he’s close to dying or not, but opt out of it considering his fragile emotional state.

“How about we both forgive each other and call it even?” You let out a small chuckle at the end of your question, turning into more of a cough as it dries out your throat, and Spencer grabs the glass of water left on your bedside table with his free hand.

He holds it up to let you drink from it rather than unlinking your hands to let you hold the cup yourself, placing the styrofoam back down once you’re finished.

You give him a mildly embarrassed smile that he returns with one of his own, leaning forward to gently rest his forehead against yours.

If you weren’t recovering from a spinal surgery he would’ve had you in a bone crushing hug by now, but holding your hand and leaning his forehead to yours would suffice for now.

“Forgiven?” You allow your eyes to flutter closed at the soft contact, exhaling slowly through your nose.

“Forgiven…”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #mgg #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #spencer reid angst #asks 🫶

2K notes · View notes

yorsgirl · 7 months ago

Note

Yan!Heian!Sukuna and with Y/N?

Lately, whenever Darling got pregnant she ended up having countless miscarriages, the longest lasting at least 3 months, Sukuna began to suspect these countless coincidences.

He doesn't care about these losses since he didn't want to share Y/N with some brat, but he found it very strange that every time she got pregnant resulted in a miscarriage, so he started investigating and finally found out why this was happening.

He discovered that Y/N was causing her own miscarriages, as she knew that the last thing the world needed was Sukuna's descendants, so he finally confronts her but with that damn psychological terror that he loves to do to her.

Oh my, I love love love this idea!!

I kinda went out on this one, but I hope I did justice to what you were aiming at. Hope you like it :) Also I am sorry for being so late

Playing God

Yandere!Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: It was a gamble, he was willing to make. To keep you with him, forever, as he wanted. Needed. You had to realize that no other heaven except his arms would be comforting. Even if that meant, breaking your very soul.

Tropes: Dark Romance, horror, angst

Warnings: Implied nsfw(forced), mentions of pregnancy, miscarriage, abduction, cannibalism and isolation. Trauma, mild stockholm syndrome, yandere themes, minor character death(s), gore, gaslighting, manipulation, misogyny, blood, degradation(non-kinky), patriarchal society, unhealthy relationship, implied child birth.

General warnings: Yandere!True form!Husband!Sukuna, Wife!Reader, Heian Era, both Sukuna and reader are a red flag on their own, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n.

Word Count: 9.7k

You were digging your own grave.

So you shouldn't have been surprised that your wish would be granted. Yet, if you could have one wish then you'd wish for freedom but no- freedom was a forfeited dream, far beyond your reach. Consideration of that one would never be fruitful. You are trapped even in your dreams.

Playing with fire only gets you burnt.

For long, you played this game and this- this was your compensation. For everything you had done until now, all you are returned with was abandonment. Not that supposedly, betrayal, yes. More appropriate.

Flames surrounded you, crawling up your skin, the screams piercing your ears, your chest heaved up and down. Gaze, once settled on your hearth, now all you saw was the burning hut, the crackling of embers reached your ears. Attire and hands stained with blood of the insolent. The warning shouldn't have been taken lightly. Should have known, the extent of his power.

Eyes held terror, fright, regret- whatever you could name. The multitude of names you received seemed no more than a distant dream, nowhere to be found. All were running away - expectable.

You expected calamity, but you were calm.

Everything went down in flames. Save for you, you weren't burning. Not an spark touched your skin. Was it the distance or the control? Who knows. But one confirmation which you held was that tonight you won't die. Not so soon either.

Careful, not all Gods are worshipped.

The words rang in your ears and as if on cue, you found him again.

In this reverie of madness, he held your sight when you attempted to turn - the eyes tinted with crimson.

"I am sorry for your loss, m'lady."

You had seen it all.

You had your fair share of encounters, received news and such. Women losing their mind and sanity after delivered with a news this devastating. Notably, no woman would feel any bliss after knowing that they had lost their child. Lost the chance of motherhood before experiencing it. Violent outbursts was the most probable outcome.

"This is a hard time," The midwife spoke softly. "Yet, you shouldn't neglect your health."

You perceived the softness to be fear. She must have had dealt with situations like these, most of them traumatizing as you assumed. Perhaps, she expected the same from you too.

You tore your gaze off her, leaning back on your bedframe, "I'd like to be left alone."

Your declaration was answered with compliance. Offering a humble bow, she bid you farewell, walking out of your chambers. Once her footsteps seized, you finally let your guard down. Breathing out a sigh of relief, you laid back down on your bed.

"Good riddance," You muttered to yourself. Moments of such vulnerability wasn't rare, considering you were served with loneliness, lately. Save for the times you spent in the presence of Sukuna. His decree, one might say. Your attention shouldn't be wasted on anyone but him. You scoffed recalling his words. Involuntarily, you stroked your belly, the corner of your lip curled up.

Once a house to life, given by your husband; now lay vacant from your doing.

A twisted sense of pride swelled up in your chest, a wide grin stretching on your face. You were successful in your quest, again. Mercilessly, you uprooted the seed of your husband's lineage.

Perhaps, you've truly gone sick.

Yet, this revolt of feelings were miles lesser than the repugnant you encountered when you realized your first pregnancy. You were on the brink of clawing out the creature growing in your womb. You'd have torn it apart with while revelling in the joy of watching its blood drip down on the face of Earth. If not for Sukuna's presence in the room, you might've gone through it.

You lost a fragment of yourself, that day.

Throwing up countless times, dizziness, nausea, even losing your consciousness while walking down. No, they weren't pregnancy side effects. More so, the outcome of the stress accumulating in you.

Sickening. His kin you'd have cradled in your body. To be born and grow up into a revolting, merciless creature like his father. To take up place in your womb, your flesh and blood and combining with his – a living proof of your plight. Disgusting.

Never. You'd never let that happen.

You'd never succumb to such monstrosity.

You had already given up your freedom, your dignity, your alight life to Sukuna in exchange of the lives you held dear. The lives back in your ancestral village, home to your kin.

You were affirmed. An heir of Ryomen Sukuna would never be birthed from you.

Speak of the devil, he appears.

An overwhelming familiar aura surrounded your very being, the doors to your chamber slid open, your captor, your husband strolled inside. Even his mere presence held the malevolence in him. You attempted to rise from your position at his arrival.

"Sit." He commanded.

You silently obeyed his order, keeping your gaze settled on your lap, the energy had your stomach churning with trepidation; at times when you didn't do anything either. And this time, you were guilty. Two moments passed in silence until he spoke.

"I heard from the midwife."

You took in a sharp breath, swallowing a lump in your throat. It was the same ordeal, like the first two times. Yet, you were a tad bit calm since the previous encounters. Probably, due to the fact you were getting used to this role. In this past moons, you had developed into the wife, he was carving you out to be. Giving him just the reactions he wanted, for that saved you a lot of anguish and pain. Even if it came at the price of your self-respect. This was the only way.

With your head hung low, you spoke, "Forgive me, my lord. I am incapable of bearing you an heir. I-It must have been my fau-"

"Not another word."

You instantly stiffened up, his deep voice causing chills to run down your spine. Did you make an error? Was he aware of your tumultuous acts? Was the play not convincing enough?

He held your chin, forcing you to look up at him. All of his four, red eyes bore into you. You bit on your inner cheek, blood coursing in your veins - steadfast.

They say, your fear start to vanish once you've remained in the source of their vicinity too long. That statement is false. For even after staying with your captor for almost two years, you still held your fear.

"The one at fault bore consequences."

That's when you were hit with the faint stench of blood from him. Another one perished. You took the wild guess of it being the midwife. However, instead of amplifying fright, it was lessened. You wouldn't be on the receiving end of his wrath.

"You aren't at fault, wife."

Oh, but you were.

Sukuna held your gaze, cupping your cheek; the rough pad of his thumb trailed a line on your skin. His tone and grip were surprisingly gentle. "There's no need to apologize."

The corners of your eyes crinkled down, you lean into his touch. You assume, it's a good move as you noted the flicker of emotion in his eyes. "It's the third time, my lord. Perhaps, I bear some shortcomings."

"What nonsense," He rolled his eyes. "There's none, not in my eyes. Don't fill your head with such fickle thoughts." He paused for a moment before continuing, "Is that understood?"

He wasn't one for affirmations but maybe- just maybe it was his attempt at comfort, you supposed. The previous losses must had him learning, the threads of condolence. Still, for you, they'd never mean anything less than empty words. The last thing you wanted was to be comforted by your tormentor. You'd rather step into hell willingly.

But you were living under his wing. You have to play according to his whims. You nodded. "Yes, my lord."

His hand left your face, dropping to his thigh. He looked at you, as if sizing you up. You had to keep yourself from making any unnecessary movements. Sukuna wanted you composed, whatever the situation. (Except the times when he bedded you, you were allowed to scream, cry and thrash around then. Cause you were trapped under his immense strength, struggles were futile).

After a while, he asked, "Any wishes?"

You chewed on your bottom lip, eyes flickering down then back to him. You let out a breath, before continuing. "May I visit the shrine... this evening?"

Silence.

You were contemplating whether you had offended him, somehow. Previously, he did allow for your little trips, you wondered if his patience was running thin cause of your repeated incapability of bearing him an heir. Maybe, you ran out of luck.

You were about to mutter an apology but then a smug grin spread across his lips, "Why so?" He asked.

"To-" You swallowed a lump, preparing to answer the practiced dialogue. "To offer prayers for–"

"Why grieve for someone who didn't even take form?" He cut you up, raising an eyebrow. For a tad moment, he sounded curious. It broke into a cruel chuckle, "You humans would make a funeral out of anything, yes?"

If you held an ounce of sympathy then you wouldn't question.

You wanted to say but you knew better. Besides, you still have to keep up the act of being his loyal wife. Heaving a out a deep breath, you replied, "I suppose." You paused, running the tip of your tongue over your lip.

"I'd pray that I can bear you an heir the next time, my lord."

Nay, more so: I'd pray that you receive your end soon, my lord.

Sukuna watched you. No, not look. He watched, like a predator. Then, his lips cracked into a sinister grin. "You've a way with your words, wife."

It caught you off guard. You raised an eyebrow, attempting to voice out your confusion. "What do-"

"I will accompany you."

"Sukuna sama, the herbalist you asked for, has arrived."

Sukuna spared a glance at Uraume, who knelt by his feet.

"Bring him."

As on cue, they rose up from their stance, pivoting around towards the door. It parted, two curses had a man in their grasp as he struggled to break free. His eyes widening with terror when it fell on the King, sitting atop his throne.

The man was pushed down to his knees, face meeting the floor in a loud slam. His scuffles were in vain against such power, he knew that. Still, in a situation of life and death, rationality takes it's leave.

Sukuna clicked his tongue in annoyance. All he wanted was some herbalist to answer the flurry of questions in his which had him restless for the past few days. Did this scum think he'd be killed? Maybe he would be, if he deems it necessary or he proves to be useless.

What had him restless was your miscarriages. Counting the most recent would make it a fourth. Where did he go wrong? You were kept in utmost luxury, no toils whatsoever. Still, what was wrong?

—》《—

"Perhaps, there's some faults in her highness."

"Keep your voice down, Mira. Someone may hear you."

"I am a lot quite... but tell me, don't you find it strange? How come she has lost all of her children?"

"I- I suppose. Perhaps, motherhood is not written in her fate."

"Or so, she's simply incapable."

—》《—

Safe to say, those were the last words they uttered before they were turned into a mash of flesh and blood.

Sliced into pieces that even trying to make a proper corpse out of the remnants weren't possible.

At times, Sukuna wished he held the power to bring back someone to life. Then maybe, he'd have given those servants a death, more worthy. Maybe, ripping out their limbs, piece by piece. First the bones would break, ripped from the ligaments, then it'd be the muscles; that was easy to just tear out. And after that happened, he could have just sewn up the blobs of flesh again and repeat the process until they learn their lesson or the life leaves them again.

He deduced the latter would be more probable. Still, it would be fine. They deserved that.

Speaking ill of you in his palace, in his vicinity, in his world was prohibited. A sin, in the words of humans. And a sin never goes unpunished.

You - his consort, his queen, you were heavenly. There isn't a fault in you, it's some external factor, must be. But he can't let go of his growing suspicion either.

Sukuna detested children, it was a known fact. Always ending their lives first, whenever he set foot in a village. They were of no use to him, unless they were served to him on his platter. He couldn't deny, their flesh was flavourful.

Even though, he held great disdain for them, he couldn't help but desire a kinship with you. With the price of letting go of your undivided attention? Hmm, doesn't sound too great. He assumed, he can hire a wet nurse just in case. Still, he desired to see you round with his child, feet swollen as you struggled to walk around. You do not have to worry, he, your husband would joyfully oblige in carrying you in his arms. You were more than perfect, he couldn't even imagine just how beautiful you'll look, during and after carrying your child.

It was destined. You'd extend his lineage or no one else.

You were flawless then why were you causing such errors? Contradicting. It was his question until he started to take a note in your behaviour, and he found–

Sukuna stood up from his throne, walking down the steps of bones, presumably of the ones he killed. They act as a pretty show piece, according to him.

The court resonated with his footsteps, each one carrying a promise of death. The man's struggles seized once he was harshly pulled up by his hair, his eyes met with Sukuna's.

"Yo-your high–ness," The man fumbled with his words, a spine chilling sensation going down his frame.

"Time's wasting," Sukuna said, his glare pointed. The fury evident, though his exterior was calm. "Comply if you don't wish death."

The man nodded frequently, his fingertips trembled with anticipation and horror. "Ye-yes, your highness. It's an honour to s-serve you." The man fell to his feet as he was dropped. Sukuna dismissed the extra company with a wave of his hand.

"Rise," He declared.

The man still on his knees, raises his head. "What can I- I do for you, your highness?"

—》《—

"May I make a request, my lord?"

Sukuna's eyes flickered to you, yours not meeting his. Knelt before him, you gracefully poured the sake in his ochoko.

"Speak."

He marked the squinting in your irises, fingertips trembled when you put the vessel down. Your shoulders rose and fell before you gazed at him, reluctantly. He couldn't help but find your antics inhumanely amusing.

"Would you be kind enough... to bring me this-" You paused for a fleeting moment. "This herb called... aloe vera?"

—》《—

"Aloe vera," Sukuna tilted his head aside, the upper pair of arms crossed over his chest. "What use does it have?"

"We-well, my lord it's used for heal-healing purposes, burns, cuts, rashes... it heals injuries, yes." He answered, taking a gulp. There was other uses too yet his head was alike a blank canvas, before such a formidable strength. He wasn't even aware if it was satisfactory or why the King of Curses needed to know about such a measly plant. But if it meant he could see the sun for another day then he'll just give whatever he could offer. "I-It can also be used to– to make me-medicated food. N-not a delicacy... I might add."

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, "That's it?"

"N-no, my lord. There- it can cure diges-"

"In pregnancy."

The man stiffened, his mouth parting a tad bit. A whisper leaving his lips, "Yo-your highness...?"

Pregnancy, menstruation, considered taboo. A matter regarding women, spoken in the inner chambers, the men should remain ignorant. A topic whispered in ears not spoken aloud in any hall, let alone the royal court. Certainly, Sukuna was aware of this societal construct, yet he didn't care. The society and its idiotic rules could go to hell. He just needed answers.

"Speak," Sukuna's voice was louder, deeper when the man before him fidgeted in his spot due to discomfort - on speaking such a topic.

"It-Its a... your highness, I d-don't think you-"

"Insolent bastard," His fumbling was interrupted by Sukuna. The warning evident in his profanity. His face grew darker, the four irises glowing with impending danger akin Satan himself. "If you so much as want to live, fucking speak."

The man's blood ran cold as on cue, face turning a shade paler as if winter had started to pool in. Tears prickled the corners of his eyes, "Forgive me, your highness! I will speak, I will- yes- aloe vera its-" He heaved out a deep breath, an attempt to slow down his beating heart. "Any fo-form of it is ill-suited during pregnancy... it can cause... cause pe-pelvic haemorrhage leading to... to misc-"

"Miscarriage?"

"Yes, miscarriage... can lead to miscarriage, your highness."

A profound silence prevailed. Not a soul spoke neither was a footstep heard. Not a leaf rustled or the howling winds tapped on the window pane - assumed, mother nature had halted its elements from making any noise.

The stakes were high yet an flicker of courage alighted in the man as he raised his head up to glance at Sukuna, "My lor-"

The man's head tumbled down before he could even complete.

He couldn't scream, he couldn't beg, he couldn't apologize, he couldn't even blink. All he could do was watch. Watch as his beheaded body fell limp before his eyes. Watch as the blood poured out like waterfalls staining the carpet with its hues. The red marred bones protruded out amidst the flesh, globs of blood was gushing out of his severed voice box. His body jerked, the remnants of conscious nerves trying to survive.

It was a neat cut. A heavenly sight.

The world started to blur in. And before he knew it, the light was gone from his eyes.

Sukuna didn't even spare a glance as he marched out of his court.

Uraume approached the body, a few maids accompanying them. They casted a disapproving glare at the corpse.

"Not edible, dispose of it."

You didn't see or hear from Sukuna for a week.

He didn't visit your chambers at night neither was he present when you sat down for your meals. Even his energy was alike a hushed whisper which would remind you of his presence in the residence, but not reveal himself to you. For some reason, it had you in an unease.

No, you certainly did not miss his presence. But his absence just made the surroundings almost suffocating. There was the looming threat that something had happened or something were to happen. One worse than the other.

Silence was never uneventful.

Insinuating the courage, you had once inquired Uraume about his absence. Presenting a polite bow, they answered, "Sukuna sama doesn't want to be disturbed."

Disturbed... as if he wasn't the cause of all disturbances. A natural disaster in himself. You resisted the urge to scoff and uttered a meek line of gratitude before going about your day. (That extended with you strolling down the halls or garden or just be in your chambers and read the few books Sukuna had bought you).

On the very same day the dark commenced. While you were mesmerized by the fall of twilight over the garden, you heard his voice.

"Don't you love playing with poison, wife?"

The sudden question made you halt your steps, you weren't even aware that he was present–shielded his aura, presumably. You turned around, raising an eyebrow with bewilderment.

"Pardon, my lord?"

Sukuna snorted, walking up to you, a smirk played on his lips. You had to make the effort of tilting your head to gaze up at him. His towering figure loomed over you, his lower left hand snaking around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"You love poisons, don't you? Or in your words herbs."

Your shoulders grew rigid, eyes widening with realization, a sharp breath hitting your throat. Your fingertips trembled with anticipation. You were sure to be discreet in your affairs, using the isolation he subjected you to at its best. Yet he knew. It was bad. Very much so. And what were to happen now? What would he do to you?

Another night of horror where your screams would be unheard, your resistance proved to be futile, where you'd be left to suffer alone, where another shard of your remaining soul would be plunged by him. Another night where you'd again play into his whims... Or something more vile, leaving you physically disabled? Perhaps, even death...

The foremost was the most heinous one. You silently prayed that he wouldn't resort to that. If you were to be subjected to his torment then you wished he'd just kill you, liberating you for once and for all. Even so, survival is what the mind wants. Piecing through any tactic just to live another day. The play for now should be denial.

Sukuna's affections for you worked as a double edged sword. You aimed to take advantage of it, in every way possible. You instilled a bit of courage, standing your ground, you spoke "I don't understand what you're trying to instigate, my lord."

He looked down on you, a coy smile uplifting his lips. He threaded his fingers through the knot of your kimono, leaning down next to your ear, he inhaled your scent. His lips brushing over your neck.

"I do not believe so, wife." He murmured, his warm breath hitting your skin, a range of goosebumps rising over your arm. "In fact, I think you clearly know, what I speak about."

Before you could let a word out, he straightened up, turning around, he pushed you to walk with him. His large hand still covering your back.

"Come, let me entertain you."

You were walking to the gallows.

Not literally, but you were sure your end was near.

The wooden floors creaked with footfalls. Each step heavier than the previous. You hesitantly glimpsed at Sukuna, his gaze was far ahead. Not a word left his mouth in this while. Only his hold remained firm. He pushed you forward every moment your step faltered.

Your breath hitched when you turned a corner - the right wing. A rule, you could say. Sukuna made it clear since the day he held you captive brought you home – never step a foot in the right wing. Despair drowned your curiosity that time, you didn't question, least bothered to. Even later, you didn't dare to defy him; courtesy to the pain you were subjected to once.

Still, you could make the wild guess of what happened in there. The muffled screams kept you awake at midnight, it was easy to put the puzzle pieces together. There he revelled with the sick pleasure of tormenting your kind.

He stopped before a pair of oak doors. That's when he glanced at you, for the first time in a long while. For a moment, he stared at you with an emotion you couldn't decipher. The next moment, he pulled out the Kanzashi from your hair, letting your strands tousle down.

You flinched, pushing away the curls which clouded your vision. Sukuna held the pin in his hand, holding your gaze. He was unmoving.

What happened to him?

"My lord," You called. "What are you-"

"Stay quiet," He handed you the kanzashi back, adjusting your hand to hold it as if it were a dagger. Turning to the door, he spared you a glance. "Don't speak a word." With that, the doors opened.

Dark.

It was dark save for the light of the lantern which illuminated the room. He shoved you forward, the door locking behind as he stood aside you.

"One bite."

Huh? Bite? What did he mean? You slightly turned your head towards him but you were stopped in your tracks. It wasn't only you and Sukuna in this room, seems you had a guest. More appropriate word? A Captive.

Your eyes were wide open. On the corner of the room, sat a young boy, not more than a adolescent - blindfolded. Restrained by chains, his wrists and ankles were cuffed with metal. A small whimper left his lips as he registered the presence of both of you.

You were about to speak but then his words rang in your mind.

Don't speak a word.

Sukuna gripped your wrist, leading you to the boy, "One bite, in the arm."

He wasn't talking to you. To the boy, he kept his eyes. You marked how the boy flinched. The metals clanking on contact.

He turned to you then, motioning to the pin in your hand then the boy's arm. Realization hit you. You tried to shake your head, refuse; but one glare of his and you were compelled. Reluctantly, you turned around, trudging to the boy.

Something was wrong.

You could feel it. Why... why would he want you to stab this poor boy? A picture of misery, he was. You noted he didn't have any sign of bruises in his body - peculiar. Yet, his fragile state was enough to give you a hint that he had been here for days. Perhaps, starved too. The tension was high and all you wanted was to leave this room, in an instant.

Fine, if Sukuna wanted you to just stab the boy. You'd do it. Missing the vital points which could end his life. One, he said. You'll miss the point and done. Its not upon you that you'd pierce the wrong place. His instructions weren't specific—that'd be your excuse.

He won't die. Not from your hands.

You gently held the boy's arm, angling the pointers on the muscles. You drove it in.

Miscalculation.

The boy's body instantly stiffened, a gut wrenching scream erupted from his mouth. He thrashed around, swinging his legs and arms, his body twitching violently.

You recoiled back soon, yanking out the pin, stepping away on instinct. You watched with terror.

Foam rose up the boy's mouth, his shrieks pierced your eardrums. The fluid dripped down his jaw, marring his clothes. He clutched the area where you stabbed him. Scratching at it with all his might. The sound of flesh ripping filled your ears as the boy ruthlessly, tore the muscles.

You were stunted. You couldn't speak or move. You weren't chained but you felt as if a thousand shackles bore you down.

The next seconds were a blur. The screams started to die down, his body losing it's color. Sooner than you could grasp, did the room turn silent again.

The boy was dead.

"Enjoyed the show, wife?"

You slapped your hand over your mouth, stumbling a few steps back. You couldn't tear your eyes off the young boy, bile rose up your throat as the room started to spin.

"Wh-what did you-"

No- you couldn't throw up, whatever second thought it was, it refrained you from crumbling to your knees and make a mess. Shivers went down your spine, you struggled to stand straight. The stench of the corpse and the expunging liquids started to fill your nostrils. You were almost on the verge to lose consciousness.

"What... did you do?"

Your eyes flickered to Sukuna. He stood tall, not a sign of emotion on his mien. You regret ever considering mirth to the worst feature on him, cause none was more terrifying.

And he was watching you.

It reminded you of the time, you first saw him - covered with blood of the lives he had taken, down the river bank. Victim of naivety and ignorance, you didn't know any better than to not let him see you. Wandering towards the peculiar beast, even when a gut wrenching terror asked you to run; you were stubborn. You had asked - are you alright?

"What did you do?" You repeated again.

Tilting his head, he kept his unwavering gaze fixed on you. "As a matter of fact, I didn't do anything, wife." He paused, letting the horror shadow your features, "It was all you."

You needed to run.

The kanzashi– which was till then clasped in your hand firmly– fell down. A clank, you heard.

One step.

One step towards the door. He is standing afore you, the fingers of his upper right arm ran through your open hair, tangling in the roots, he yanked your head back.

"I don't remember, giving you the permission to leave."

Tears prickled your eyes as you tried to break free. Sukuna was having none of it. He dragged you by your hair towards the corpse of the boy. Your nails jabbed into his wrist while whimpers of anguish left your mouth.

Sukuna shoved you down to your knees, tugging your hair back - you were sure, they will be ripped off if he yanked with any more pressure - he made you glance at its face. He crouched beside you. With a flick of his finger, he ripped the blindfold out of the boy.

"Dare to shut your eyes."

Compliance had become second nature.

The body was rigid, skin turning blue. The veins on his arms were bulged out, his mouth wide open, filled with foam, trickling down his cheek, drying on it.

The sight caused you to gag.

Horrifying. His bloodshot eyes were wide open, protruding out of the sockets. Irises dilated in shape, which you considered humanly impossible. But what had your heart hammering in your chest wasn't the vivid details you saw on the corpse. It was the fact, that you recognized the boy. Son of that distant elder cousin, you'd seen once or twice in a year.

"Look at that, love." Sukuna cooed in your ear, forcing you to face the corpse.

You shook your head violently, nails dug into his wrist - desperate to escape. Your heart thumped inside your ribcage, you could hear it in your ears, your guts twisted in numerous ways as sweatbeads trailed down your forehead.

"You did that."

No. No, you didn't. You didn't do it. It wasn't you.

"You killed him."

No, you didn't... he didn't die because of you.

"Take a good look. See what you've done."

You vigorously shook your head. Denying all of his claims cause... cause they were... false, yes, false. They were false.

"No," You stated once you found your voice. "N-no, no... I- no."

Sukuna hummed, twisting a knot in your hair, "Yes, you. You did it."

No. You were innocent. You weren't to be blamed. It wasn't you.

It was... him.

"No, no, I didn't," You refused again, standing your ground. Moving your eyes towards him, you gritted your teeth. "No, I didn't do it. I didn't do anything. It was you."

"Really? How so?"

Fire burnt in your eyes. It was enough. He couldn't make you believe which you didn't commit - you didn't kill him.

"Poison," You said with conviction lacing your tone. "He was poisoned, a stab wouldn't procure such a reaction."

"Observant as ever," He mused, quirking up an eyebrow. A faint smile curled up on his lips. "Still, it doesn't gratify the fact that you were the one to end his life."

Blood boiled inside you, surging through your veins like lava. He had no right to accuse you of something. You didn't kill him, he couldn't make you believe it, whatsoever may happen.

"I may have stabbed him with the kanzashi, but that didn't have any trace of poison in it. I am-"

"Sure of it?"

You could only glare at him. He was toying with you. Tugging the strings of your conscience but you won't have any of it. "I am," You confirmed, staring at him without any falters. "I held it... you held it. If it was really drenched with toxicant as lethal as that, we- we both would be dead."

His grip loosened from your hair, hand falling down. The corners of his eyes crinkled, the smile turning into a smirk.

"It was you," You continued. "You did something to him at first and-"

Sukuna broke into a chortle of laughter. Far from jovial, more so sinister, filled with sheer malevolence. He gripped your jaw, pulling you closer to himself. His sharp canines glinted in the dim light.

"You just keep on fascinating me, wife."

Each second with him was revolting. Just his touch alone had your skin crawling. Yet, you couldn't let him know he has the upper hand.

"We had a pact," You stated firmly. His game was disgusting. What was he trying to do? What was his goal? "If I stay with you, you wouldn't lay a finger on my family, then- h-how could-"

"I would still stand on the ground, that I didn't do anything." He replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. "It was all you, wife. I can assure you that I didn't go back in my words." His canines glinted while he smiled. "Not a flick of pain. Save for..." He paused, his eyes widening, the carmine irises glowed in the dark. "Save for telling him, he'd be killed by a snake bite."

"There was no venom on my pin."

"Know so," He confirmed, a playful smirk on his visage. You wished you could read minds, if possible only of him, that'd been enough. Then where did poison come from? You wanted to question but he beat you to it.

"His fear turned into poison."

You blinked. Once. Twice. You knew he had an urge to play mind games but this was ridiculous. You questioned, shell-shocked, "What?"

"He let his fear get the better of him, assuming your pin to be a snake. He believed it." He explained while you listened without so much as a word. "His conscience caused his body to give out the exact reactions, he imagined. A shock, you might say. That caused his death."

His game was disgusting. If he thought, he could just give you any excuse as this and let you believe his accusations then he was mad wrong. You gritted your teeth, yanking your face away from his grip. For a second, you saw all of his eyes opening wide with surprise. But that didn't extinguish the fire burning in you.

He reached out, dragging you towards him via the arm. A glare resting on his face. "What did I tell about refusi-"

"I don't believe you," You cut him off, hands clenched into fists. It was the first time in a long time, you lost your composure in front of him. No, you wouldn't play as his doll anymore. He broke his promise, its only fair that you do so. "I don't believe a single word you say. You- you did something, you must have. Fear, belief, whatever the fuck, something as trivial as that-"

"So you think fear is trivial, wife?" He sighed, his clutch in your arm remained firm. The rough callouses of his palm, rubbed over your skin. "And here I thought, you might be different than the rest. But you managed to drop below my expectations."

"Maybe that's what I love about you, darling." He continued.

Disgust arose in you yet again. Love. As if he had any of that. He wasn't capable of love. Not in this lifetime. Never.

He spoke again, "Times you are the smartest I have seen, then you speak such blasphemy which would even embarrass the Gods you worship. Your silence was awarded by him leaning near your ear. He twisted a curl of your hair between his fingers. "Fear, wife..." He whispered to you. "Fear is a mind killer. It makes you believe anything. The small drop of poison which contaminates all the water."

"In the end, belief and fear are sides of the same coin," His top two eyes, flickered to the corpse of the boy. "I made him consume the poison of fear and you-" He turned to you again. "You made him believe it... so, in a way, yes. Yes, I did do something. Save for the part of ending his life. Though I didn't break my part of our pact." A smirk tugged on his lips. "You were the one who killed him. Isn't that great?"

Your breath hitched, throat gone dry. You gazed at him, eyes wide open. Your mind was a blank canvas.

Fear, poison, belief, killing...

He made you kill someone. An innocent boy who didn't even do anything.

Why won't he much rather just end your life?

Sukuna pulled away from you, standing up, he walked over to the lantern placed in the room. The stench of the rotting corpse had long ago started to pool in.

"You made me kill him." You whispered, still knelt, staring at the floor. When greeted with silence, you questioned again, a tone higher, "You made me kill him."

"And?"

His nonchalance had always been infuriating to you.

You could feel him standing a few steps behind you. "If you really wanted to kill my kin, you should've just told me. Getting your herbs was a tiring chore." You didn't miss the emphasis he put on, herbs. The roll of his eyes while speaking floated before your eyes even though you couldn't see him; the expression must had turned to a smirk later. "However, the taste of taking a life– isn't it delicious, wife?"

Guilt gnawed at you, tearing you internally. Your shoulders trembled as you let out ragged breaths, eyes fixed on the bloodied arm of the boy. The same arm where the kanzashi pierced, the muscles torn apart, blood drying on it due to the boy's onslaught. Nausea overrode your senses, bile rose up your throat and the next moment you were throwing up. The wastes ran down your mouth, your nails dug into the wooded boards – bruising your fingertips and chipping the nails. You didn't realize Sukuna stepping up to your side, pulling your hair back while you were caught into the ordeal.

A disapproving grunt left his mouth after you were finished, yanking you up with your wrist. He pulled you towards the door. "Com-"

"No." Your heels remained firm on the ground. You refused him before you could even think. He turned towards you slightly, a scowl resting on his features before he pivoted around. He cast a glare upon you but before he could speak, your mouth opened again.

"You're even lower than scum." Your jaw ticked, hands clenching into fists. "You made me kill an innocent boy. Someone who might have done nothing to you, You– You disgust me, Sukuna."

Done you were with the respect, he demanded. If that angered him, made him want to rip out your heart and watch the life drain from your eyes. He was most welcome.

But it looks like, he wasn't resorting to any of that.

"You made me a murderer." You urged, staying strong in your stance. "You turned me into you."

His eyebrow twitched, a wave of mirth washed over him. "You were always like me, wife."

"I am nothing-"

"You are. You are like me. You are no saint, as you think so of yourself. " He said, leaving no room for argument. His lips pressed tight into a thin line.

Yet, you refused to believe that. You were nothing like him. Couldn't even dream so. You were not him.

"You kill children in your womb, I kill them after they're born. How is it so different?"

"It is different." You yelled, your jaw clenched, teeth baring out. "This world needs no more of your lineage, it needs no more of you." You jabbed your pointer finger on his chest, tears pooling into your eyes. You refused to shed them. "You kill for your own sake, I do not."

"Then who do you kill for?"

"For everyone." The faint snort of his reached your ears. You couldn't decipher what he found so delightful in this.

"Playing God, are we?" He mocked causing your vexation to rise.

"Maybe I am. For the least, I am not killing innocent people like you."

From where such defiance arose, you weren't sure of. Perhaps, all the frustration, fright, terror which accumulated till now had reached its limit. Moreover, Sukuna's provocation must be the fuel to the fire.

You might be left bleeding– No, you would be left bleeding. You welcomed it with open arms.

"Careful," Sukuna pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. "All Gods aren't worshipped."

He was enjoying himself. In all honesty, your obedience was getting too monotonous. This was better. Your defiance was amusing. Arousing, if there's to add. If he knew, letting you end a few lives would have this effect then he would have resorted to this long ago.

"Better than you." You shoved his hand away, "You are nothing more than a wretched, two-faced curse destroying all of our lives."

He noted your scowl, the way your lips were shut tight, your eyebrows crinkled together. Reasons evident, all he desired was to pull you into his arms smash his lips against yours. Taste the very essence of your being. Consume you wholly, just the way you are. So that in the end, your name, your taste, your scent would be engraved in his very soul. Without your mention, he wouldn't be complete.

But he refrained from giving in now. His desire extended to a far more sinister route. "I wonder..."

What would it be like to break your conviction? What would it be like to break you?

Oh, he knew.

Would it be right moment to let you know? Maybe he should wait for another, more appropriate time.

Hmm, perhaps he should. But no.

He let you play these games for too long. Tired of this game plan, he was. Maybe, you would just come to your senses if he let you know. So he let the words, flow out:

"I wonder, why this curse keeps protecting your pathetic life from people who would cross rivers to lay siege to your life?"

Worth everything.

Sukuna watched as your face lost its color. The previous boldness you presented him with was replaced by a mask of confusion and. Such a pretty sight, it was. To see you, falter from your stand. Second guess, yourself, be in denial then rage consumes you. And you look at him, like he was the forbearer of your misery. (He is).

Oh, how good he has you memorized.

Even the littlest of reactions you contort on your mien, on your mannerisms; everything has him intrigued. You have him intoxicated.

"You know the ones, the people... your people, for whom you play this God."

Sukuna wished he could capture this moment. He'd have the chance to take a glimpse of it again, whenever he wished to. The horrified look on your face as the weight of his words started to sink in.

Would you still look like this if he tells you the terror he bestowed on them who tried to steal you away from him? What would you say if he vividly describes each imagery of how he slowly, agonizingly burnt them, severed them and tormented them? Leaving them nothing but fragments beyond recognition.

You were his. All of you belonged to him. Without his sanction, no one could even see you, let alone touch you. Ah- just how many sorcerers perished from his hands, the number of villages, bathed in blood; save for yours. (Courtesy to that stupid pact, he forged with you)

Something had told him, that there'd be a better time to put an end to the pitiful lives of your kin.

"Can't speak? What caused so, darling?" His tone was laced with smugness, a twisted joy elicited in him. "Fearful that your play amounted to nothing?"

Your jaw ticked with anger. You were furious. "I don't believe you. You are lying."

Your trust on humans was commendable, he'd give you that. However, there's stark contrast between faith and blind belief. You were inclining towards the latter.

So, what do they do when words fail to convey message? Oh right, you give them a prime example.

"Let me just show it to you then, wife."

It was a gamble, he was willing to make. To keep you with him, forever, as he wanted - he needed you to know that no place other than his arms would be as comforting. Even if that meant breaking your very soul, so be it.

You were home.

One moment, Sukuna held your gaze. The next, you are standing before your hearth.

Toes dipping into the familiar black soil, the land where you ran and played during your childhood. Your familial home stood steps away from you. Still looked the same except the visible cracks on the wall, a layer of dust on top of the door and the woods looked worn out. However, what caught your eyes weren't the flaws of your home but the familiar older woman walking into your home.

"Mother…"

She stilled all of a sudden, rotating on her heels, her eyes landed on you. Shell shocked, that's what she was with the widened eyes and parted lips. A small smile curved up on your lips, she still looked the same except the few grey hairs and wrinkles aside her eyes.

"Mother," You called again, taking a step towards her. "I am back."

Sooner than you expected, her eyebrows scrunched up, mouth curving down when she finally registered your presence. You weren't some illusion or her mind playing tricks. "What are you here for?"

The disdainful tone caused you to flinch. You didn't expect this. Returning home, you dreamt of it to be filled with tears of joy and warm embraces. Not this… whatever, she was presenting you with. But- But its fine, you have returned after a two whole years. She must have been worried. The reason of her apprehension. God, you had a lot making up to do.

"Well, you know," You chuckled lightly, scratching the back of your neck. "Back… just back. I have returned."

"Found your way after two years?" She crossed her arms over her chest, staring at you with a look you didn't want to recognize.

You nodded, "Yes. How could I forget my way? Our address, its-"

You were interrupted when your name was spit out from her mouth. Her glare on you was palpable, "I know what it is. What are you here for?"

Her fury even made your skin crawl with fear. You were often on the receiving end of her glare when you were a child, given by your tendencies to run around and cause trouble for others. Yet, those glares, were none like this. This- this- you didn't want to name what it was.

"You are angry," You don't know if its directed towards your mother or yourself as you hold onto the last bit of fragments that not all is lost. "I get it, I really do." You stood on your toes, attempting to look behind her, into your house. "Where's father? Tell him, I am-"

"No more."

As if the air was knocked out of your lungs.

"What?" Your neck craned towards her so fast, it might have left a sprain. Yet, that was the least of your concern. "What do you mean by no more?"

"No more means no more." Your mother's sigh fell heavy on the air, words carried the weight of the world. Laid with pain underneath.

"How- when? Wha-what happened?" You couldn't wrap your mind around the new discovery. No one told you such. Who could've guessed? Such an ordeal to occur in your absence. And what might she be going through, without you. You didn't even get the chance to talk to him, one last time.

"A year ago," She confessed, her voice conveyed her lament and sorrow. Her words felt like a hammered blow on the fragile façade of hope, you had intricately crafted for yourself. However, she wasn't done. Her eyes held scorn, lips curled up to a sneer. "Aren't you satisfied? You finally made your mark. Must tell you," Her voice, once filled with love held nothing save for contempt, directed at you. "Good game, you played, dear." She spit the endearment as if, it were poison.

"No, I- I never wanted any of this. What are you even talking about?" A trembling footfall towards her, you whispered, "M-mother-"

"Don't you dare call me that."

The weight of her judgement felt heavy on you, pressing down, suffocating you alike chains.

"You are no daughter of mine."

You weren't aware since when the tears had sprang up your eyes, breaking the barricades, they shed down. Your throat burnt as you struggled to even breathe, clutching your chest - a searing pain shooting in your heart. Your heart was shattering from the ultimate rejection from your own flesh and blood.

"While you're at it, know this." Your mother continued.

The next words were like a blow to the gut, each syllable lined with the weight of revelations. Ones that hung in the air like a funeral shroud.

"In his last moments, his only regret was bringing a daughter like you in this world."

This night just doesn't seem to end, does it?

You were left as a hollow shell. Tethering the steps away from the home you were no more welcomed. Exhaustion reigned heavy on you. Physically and mentally.

Where were you going? You didn't know. Just where your feet would take you, there would you go. Perhaps, you can return to Sukuna. Would he take you back? Most probably not. Considering, your earlier outburst, adding to the fact that you refused to give him what you want; he might just discard you as you proved to be useless.

Funny. It was so damn funny. Once, you wished to escape from his hands whatsoever the price yet now… now you considered returning to him.

You could hear him calling you pathetic. Disgusting. More disgusting, that you agreed with him.

You were truly pathetic.

But before you could spiral down the void of self-hatred, a voice- nah, multiple voices startled you.

"There she is, parading around some meek, innocent girl." A scoff is added. "You are far from it."

"The nerve of you to just walk back into our lives after you betrayed us."

Your neck cranes to your left, an old man - the village elder with a few other men and women following behind; they approached you. "Excuse me?"

"Who do you think you are?" A woman's cry reached your ears. "Returning after you turned your back on us."

You flinched at the accusation thrown. What could be possibly be instigating? To all your knowledge, you were walking in this- in your village after two long years. Anger, disdain and accusatory glares clouded their features. If your mother's insults weren't enough to pierce through your heart then it certainly did now, with all the people, you once called your own to look at you like you were the monster.

You summoned the least bit of courage you had, squared your shoulders and started, "I'd have you know-"

"Traitors don't get to speak." At the center of the crowd was the village elder. He was the pillars of your hamlet, revered for his wisdom and guidance, but now he looked akin a judge ready to deliver his sentence upon you. A sentence which would push you more into this conundrum. "You've been cavorting to that monster. Disgusting."

"I am no traitor." You retorted soon. "You can't accuse me of such when you don't ev-"

"Save it for someone who would care, whore."

The curse had your mouth parted in disbelief, horror etched upon your mien. Sooner than you could compose yourself, did whispers of agreement rippled through the crowd which branded you as a traitor.

"You are just as twisted as him."

"Get out of here if you so much as hold your life dear."

"Don't play as the innocent bitch, now."

The accusation hung in the air like a dark cloud, poisoning the atmosphere with its venomous hatred. Your breath was caught in your throat as you searched desperately for words to defend yourself; the crowd's hostility rendered you speechless. But amidst the cacophony of condemnation, one voice stood out above the rest.

I wonder, why this curse keeps protecting your pathetic life from people who would cross rivers to lay down yours?

Really? Were you really recalling his words now? Now of all times… You truly were pathetic.

For one moment, You just stayed silent - letting their accusations bore you down. Somewhere you wished all of it were just a nightmare. You'll soon wake up on your bed beside Sukun- fuck! Since when did you start to expect to wake up with him? He- He was toying with your mind. This was the only result. But the fact that this was your thought process had you recoil back.

The next moment, everything made sense.

These accusations were stemmed from the fact that you- you were proclaimed to be the wife of the King of curses. Your unwillingness to return, given for the pact you forged with Sukuna, was taken as your cue that you betrayed your family, your home, your people.

Your family despised you. Your people despised you. The very same people you chose to protect were turning their back on you.

Did they truly try to lay down your life?

Amidst your plight, you didn't register when the village elder marched up to you. "Didn't you hea-" His trial at speech was cut off. Nay, his lifeline was cut off. (Humorous, isn't it?)

Numerous red lines appeared on his body before it burst off into a globs of flesh and blood. Blood which splashed onto you, marring your visage and attire with its hues.

He was here. You knew it. You could feel it.

For some reason, it filled you with a sense of relief.

However, your people were on the other end of the rope. The eyes which afore held hatred and disgust, they were now filled with horror and fright. In this reverie as the villagers started to flee, a torch tumbled on the ground - lighting the grass on fire. The winds showed no mercy, as the howls increased, so did the flames.

Provoking him was never the right move.

You were digging your own grave.

Playing with fire only gets you burnt.

Flames surrounded you, crawling up your skin, the screams piercing your ears, your chest heaved up and down. Gaze, once settled on your hearth, now all you saw were the burning huts, the crackling of embers reached your ears. Attire and hands stained with blood of the insolent.

No one touches what's mine.

The warning shouldn't have been taken lightly. Should have known, the extent of his power.

Eyes held terror, fright, regret- whatever you could name. The multitude of names you received seemed no more than a distant dream, nowhere to be found. All were running away - expectable.

You expected calamity, but you were calm.

The sparks danced over your irises as everything went down in the crimson hues. Save for you, you weren't burning. Not an spark touched your skin. Was it the distance or the control? Who knows. But one confirmation which you held was that - tonight you won't die. Not so soon either.

Careful, not all Gods are worshipped.

The words rang in your ears and as if on cue, you found him again. In this trance of insanity, only one thing held your sight when you attempted to turn - The eyes tinted with crimson.

All of a sudden, something burnt inside you too.

Unbridled rage consumed you. Your chest heaved up and down as ragged breath left your mouth. Their words came back to you, ringing in your ears as if you were pushed into a void.

Who do you think you are? Returning after you turned your back on us.

Would this bitch even be alive if you prioritized yourself?

Don't play as the innocent bitch, now.

Is that the thanks you get for trying to protect them?

Traitors don't get to talk.

Traitor… fine, you'd be the traitor.

With caution you took one step towards him. No reaction. Your chance - you took another. Then another and another. You stood before him, with nothing save for a void etching your features. Amusement flickered over him, the corner of his lip curled up.

"Saw it for yourself wife?"

Seemed like silence was your go-to response lately. From your peripheral, you saw the burning houses, the distant screams reached you. For some reason, the screams were almost soothing. You revelled in this. Their gut wrenching shrieks were like a balm to your essence.

Their predicament was your solace.

Sounded like someone you knew. Someone who had warned you about them but you chose to remain ignorant. Sickening… were you becoming like him?

You were always like me, wife.

You could laugh. Maybe you were like him.

"Let's forge another pact?" You offered, keeping your eyes pinned on him.

"A pact?"

"A pact."

A smirk curved up his lips, the upper pair of arms crossed over his chest, "Humour me, love."

The smirk wasn't directly for you. But he did. So you returned it back. One with an equal malicious intent. Cause in that moment, no second thoughts, no doubts clouded your mind. And so, you uttered the blasphemy:

"You kill them all, each and everyone. In return, I will stay with you, give you an heir. Whatever you want from me."

A year later

Screams died down after a gruelling ten hours.

"Good news, Sukuna sama. It's a boy."

A/N: Honestly, I was almost done with this fic, long ago but while writing the climax, I kept chickening out with all the self-doubts but then I just wrote what I wanted. I do understand if the ending is not up to your liking and I sincerely apologize for it.

However, thanks for reading up till the end. I enjoyed writing this a lot. Some feedback is appreciated <3

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storiesfromafan · 2 months ago

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Catching Feelings - Mattheo x Reader

A/N: not sure how I feel about this one, but I decided to post it anyways haha.

Prompt: “What part of I want you, and only you, do you not understand?” “And what part of why would you? Don’t you not understand?”

It had started out a casual hook up. Snog in a deserted hallway. Some over the clothing petting in the dungeons. Sneaking around in the Astronomy Tower for some no pants fun. It was great for you and Mattheo. The thrills and fun without the attachments a relationship entailed.

Well it had been great. Until Mattheo started to act weird, both with his words and wanting more time with you. Even when no pants time seemed to take a while to get too. He would make small talk, while you were the one to undo his tie and unbutton his shirt. And when he grasped your hands, halting what you were wanting to get too. That was it.

“Forget it" you sighed in frustration, grabbing your discarded cardigan before taking off back to the Slytherin common room.

He called out to stop you, tried to persuade you to stay. But it was no use, you were gone. And Mattheo sat there frustrated in more ways than one. For he physically wanted you, the evidence in his pants making it obvious. But he was also emotionally attached to you. Wanting to be around you, talk to you, hold you, kiss you. The guy was enthralled with you, bewitched mind and body. He wasn't quiet at soul, but part of him thought you were kindred spirits.

The following few days you avoided him. Keeping to yourself and always with a friend. And that was pissing Mattheo off. No to mention having this time to think clearly, Mattheo realised that what had been fun, looks to have turned into him liking you. And he now wasn't just mad with you, but also himself. For Mattheo Riddle doesn't catch feelings. He isn't meant to be a one girl kind of guy. Yet, he was willing to try it with you.

Getting a chance, though a sliver of one, you had just walked out of the female's lavatory. Grabbing your arm, Mattheo dragged you into a deserted hall, away from anyone or any noise. Once it sunk in to who had grabbed you, you yanked your arm from their hold.

“What the Hell Mattheo!?” You whispered yelled, glaring daggers at the male before you.

The male in questioned, did his best to look unfazed. Yet wondered if you had felt the sweat on his hands, or hear how his heart was racing. Could you see through his act? For he felt there were chips in the mask on his face.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” He asked with as flat a voice he could.

You looked at him for a moment, before sighing and crossing your arms over your chest. “Really? This is why you kidnapped me".

“I didn't kidnap you. I dragged you. You're free to leave anytime" he retorted with a soft glare.

“Fine" was all you said, moving to walk back the way you had come.

With two steps Mattheo moved to block you. Sputtering out a bunch of words that even he didn’t understand. But after he took a second to un-jumble his thoughts. Mattheo explained that he had only wanted to talk, and give him five minutes. You mulled it out before saying, alright I'll give you five minutes.

“Why have you been avoiding me (Y/N/N)? I waited in the Astronomy Tower the other night, but you didn't show up...” the last part came out a little whiny, which made Mattheo cringe.

Again you sighed. “I don't know...maybe I thought you'd want to talk" you replied dropping your bag on a bench, looking over the bust of some old witch.

“What's so wrong with talking...?” Mattheo asked quietly.

You shot him a are you serious look. “I thought this" – you gestured between you both – “was casual. In other words, no talking or attachment".

Mattheo straightened up, “well...ah, yeah?”

“Really?” You stared him down, not buying his words.

Mattheo sighed. He couldn't deny it further, could he?

“Look Mattheo, it's best we end it here. Cut our losses, yeah?” You finally said, voice void of emotion.

You grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. You walked past him and patted him on the back. Sharing some last parting words with the Slytherin male. When you were done, and no response from Mattheo, you began to head back to the populated halls.

As if being struck by lightening, Mattheo shot around, eyes wide watching your retreating form. “I like you!” He blurted out.

You paused, about to round the corner. You stood there for a minute, which had Mattheo thinking you may not have heard him. Finally you slowly turned around, eyes drawn together in confusion. Slowly you moved back to him, yet kept some distance between you both.

“Come again?” You finally croaked out.

Mattheo fidgeted from foot too foot, gaze looking anywhere but at you. He felt like a child that was in trouble. “I said...I like you...”

Slowly you nodded. “That's what I thought you said", you paused for a moment to think over your next lot of words carefully. “Look, Mattheo...I'm not the girl for you. I am uncaring, mouthy and too smart for the good of anyone”.

“That's fine with me" he replied quickly, staring you in the eyes.

You sighed. “Why would you? You can do better then me".

And with that you turned and began to walk off once more. Again Mattheo called out to you, sputtering out for you to stop or wait, and other things. But this time you didn't let up. Which lead to Mattheo being hot on your heels. Thankfully no students were around, but you could hear them in the distance.

“What part of I want you, and only you, do you not understand?” Mattheo called, anger rising when his attempts to get you to talk to him failed.

Finally you stopped, turning around to glare at the male. “And what part of why would you? Don’t you not understand?” was your retort.

The sound that came out of Mattheo's mouth was a cross between a cry of frustration and anguish of pain. Gripping his hair, he noted how you were so frustrating. Why wouldn’t you want him? Was there someone else you wanted to be with? If so, who, so he could take care of them. Was he ugly? Both physically and personality wise? His mind was swimming with questions.

“Mattheo...” you said softly, grabbing his attention. “This, you and me wouldn't work. And you know that. We're too different. Let's just...let it be".

When you got no response from Mattheo, you took that as your cue to leave. And off you went. While Mattheo stood there. Crushed, but determined. Determined to win you over. He believe part of you had to feel the same, or partially at least. Maybe you were scared, he liked to tell himself. Yes, that's what he was going with. And he would get you. No matter what or the cost.

#mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x fem!reader

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lovemikage · 1 month ago

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𝘽𝙀𝘿 𝘾𝙃𝙀𝙈 : 𝙢𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙧𝙪 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙖 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ( 𝙛𝙩. 𝙞𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙞 )

summary: you confess to your boyfriend bachira you think his best friend isagi is cute. he decides to do some meddling of his own. wc: 1.4k warnings: fem!reader, dub-conish (reader isn't aware isagi is there oops), humiliation, praise, gratuitous dialogue a/n: hello hello beautiful people ! this is my submission for @ficsforgaza 's kinktober event, with the prompt bachira & humiliation ! please check out the other writers + fics if they tickle your fancy. i have not written smut like this in ... a year, i think, so please be gentle with me. hope you love it, please comment & rb if you do ! credit to @/cafekitsune for the beautiful mdni divider !

" he feels the same, you know. i don’t know why you were so secretive. "

your eyes, previously squeezed shut, fly open, and every muscle that had been turned into jelly from your recent orgasm tenses up immediately. you shift with the intention to move away from your boyfriend, but it’s in vain – bachira’s large palm and long fingers splay against your pelvis, pushing you down into the bed. it doesn’t hurt, nothing with bachira ever does, but it’s insistent in the same way his fingers circling your clit are.

" what do you – ah! – m-meguru, what do you m-mean? " you know what he means, you’re unsure why you’re asking. bachira doesn’t mind, though, he always loves to tell a story.

“ well – " his tone is sing-song, sickly sweet, and it’s clear he’s having way more fun than he should be ( than you think he should be, anyway ). a lithe finger pushes its way through your folds to slip inside of you, and your hips buck at the same time you whine – too much, not yet, still sensitive. he won’t listen, “ remember that one time you told me ‘sagi was cute? then played it off like you were joking? you were right, by the way, so don’t think i’m mad, promise i’m not. but it got me thinking – "

one finger turns to two and the burn makes you squeeze your eyes shut again. it’s nothing compared to the stretch of his cock, but enough to make you just that little bit uncomfortable. it doesn’t help that you’re so on edge, “ bachira – "

“ shhhhh. anyway, it got me thinking, you know? he’d never admit it ‘cause he’s my best friend, but i know he thinks you’re cute. " the look you give him has his head shaking, “ don’t talk! i’m not done – i remembered, when we first met you he called dibs. you liked me more – obviously – so that didn’t matter, just a funny joke after the fact. regardless, i had the idea to … well, i was eavesdropping on you the other day – "

an indignant sound leaves you and you squirm more; bachira sighs, lets his golden eyes flick down to your ankle, pretty pink panties dangling from them. quickly he pauses, uses the hand on your hips to pick it up. you whimper, both from the loss of movement inside of you and because you know what he’s about to do, you’ve had enough sex throughout the course of your relationship ( more than normal, according to your friends ). you’re proved right when he taps the side of your cheek, prompting you to open up – you do, ever-obedient, despite the red-hot humiliation burning in your cheeks. cotton presses between your lips and fills your mouth, your whine becomes muffled. bachira beams, “ there we go. always so good for me, hm? “ another pat to your cheek. your eyes start to water – you feel like a prized showdog or something.

“ much better. " you fight the urge to roll your eyes; it doesn’t last long because bachira’s back to hovering next to you, his shadow imposing. you feel vulnerable, exposed and open for whatever he wants to do. right now, it seems like all he wants to do is make you cum in the most embarrassing way possible. he scissors his fingers and grins when you cry out, big and goofy and too lighthearted for what he’s talking about, “ back to what i was saying – i was eavesdropping on you and your friends the other night. sue me, i’m curious. heard you talking about him – agreeing when one of them said he’s hot, you know, stuff like that. kept it in the back of my mind for later. but then – yesterday, when i came home, i got here earlier than you thought i did. found you. ”

your mind races in an attempt to figure out where your boyfriend is going with all of this. yesterday, yesterday – oh. oh my god.

“ you’re so cute when you moan, you know? i know i always tell you, but i can’t help it. so pretty, just like – " bachira curls his fingers, lets them brush against that sweet, spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars, eliciting a low, muffled moan, “ – that. you were doing that, saying my name, like always. i was just about ready to go in when i heard his, too. s’when i realized it was time. "

the tears previously welling up fall, now. big, fat droplets running down your face, taking your mascara with them and smearing the pretty makeup you’d done for your date tonight. you feel pathetic, like you’d been caught. it makes sense, now; you thought you had heard him come in before he announced himself, but it didn’t make sense, so you brushed it off. now you realize he had just gone back out and made a point of announcing his entrance the second time. you want to look away in embarrassment but bachira won’t let you, his fingers picking up their pace at the same time he grips your chin in his hand. combined with the panties stuffing your mouth, you can’t say what you want to – i’m sorry, i’m sorry, it doesn’t mean anything, i’m sorry.

what’s worse is it all feels so good, bachira’s fingers pumping inside of you at an almost dizzying pace, thumb carefully circling your clit with just enough pressure to make all thoughts leave your head. you can feel your orgasm fast approaching, a knot in your tummy threatening to unravel. it always amazes you, how bachira knows just how to make you fall apart within seconds. he knows you inside and out, could take you apart and put you back together again. sometimes you think he’d probably like to.

in your panicked state, though, you hadn’t realized what he said – it’s time. time for what?

wide, wet eyes, embarrassed and earnest all at once, meet bachira’s own – tender, loving, with that bit of mischief behind them. the eyes you love so much.

as always, he seems to read your mind, and his soft, fond smile turns to another shit-eating grin. his fingers don’t stop their pace when he speaks again, “ thought i’d ask him to join us. you’d like that, wouldn’t you baby? oh – " his words break off into a moan, his collected exterior cracking if only for a moment. the way you clench around him tells him everything he needs to know.

not like he’d just take that as an answer, though.

“ she likes that, huh? pretty pussy needs two cocks to be satisfied. i know, i know, s’okay – we just need to make sure that you want it. i need to make sure you want it. don’t needa use your words, you know that. be good for me, baby, like you always are. ”

you break, then – you gush around the fingers digging deep inside of you, your eyes blown wide, glazed over from his sweet talk. all embarrassment melts away, your brain mush. while your legs shake and your hips buck you nod, almost wildly, whining and crying around the intrusion in your mouth while bachira fucks you through it all. you do want isagi here, you want them both, you want – everything, really. your hand grips his arm so hard you’re sure you’re leaving nail marks, pulling him close in what you can only describe as an attempt to make him a part of you. your bachira.

“ fuck this. you’re an asshole, bachira. can’t believe you made me fucking watch. i’ll be there in ten. ”

you freeze, snapped out of subspace in an instant. you register a lot of things, then – how hard bachira is against your leg, cock thick and heavy and leaking; how that voice definitely belonged to isagi, irritated and gruff; and how bachira’s no longer grinning at you but at the laptop set up on his desk. the one you’d thought was off.

“ don’t be mad. ” again, bachira knows you, which is why he says it the second the call drops. you’re too embarrassed to speak, just looking at him dumbfounded and still fucked out from your previous orgasms, “ and don’t try to clean up. he’ll be sad if it’s not messy. ”

you shut your eyes to try and push away the humiliation. there’s a pause from your boyfriend, and while you can’t see him, you can feel him slinking down the bed, making himself comfortable between your thighs. you crack an eye open to see him looking up at you, almost pleading, “ think you can give me one more? pleaseeeee. he’s gonna hog you when he gets here! ”

you can’t do much else but nod, accepting your fate. it was what you wanted, after all.

#ffg kinktober #bllk x reader #bachira x reader #bachira smut #blue lock smut #blue lock x reader #bllk smut #meguru bachira x reader

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velvet4510 · 8 months ago

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Here’s the thing.

Many Bagginshield shippers, especially in fics, focus on how Bilbo never got over Thorin, to the point where some describe Bilbo’s entire life as sad and empty and unfulfilled because of that loss.

Don’t get me wrong: I do agree that he suffered terrible loss and undeserved torment by the Ring. And the fact that he never married probably did have some connection to the memory of Thorin.

But, y’all, don’t forget or ignore the fact that, in Tolkien’s text, Bilbo does move on from grief and live the rest of his life well.

He does not become bitter from his pain. He retains his kind heart.

He is generous with his wealth, helping in every way he can the very community that ostracizes him.

He sees in Frodo a kindred spirit and takes it upon himself to be the parental figure that Frodo so badly needs as an orphan.

He and Frodo develop an uncle-nephew (really more like father-son) relationship built on trust, keeping no secrets from each other, to the level where he tells Frodo the truth about his encounter with Gollum. (And probably the truth about his feelings for Thorin, too.)

He and Frodo have so much fun, going for walks every day, studying the Elvish languages, and throwing big birthday parties to show the community a good time. It’s plain to see that caring for Frodo filled that massive void inside Bilbo, finally giving him someone to love and devote himself to looking after, after his first chance at that (albeit the first being a different kind of love) was taken from him.

He does not see himself as superior to the lower class despite his riches, and always treats the Gamgees with the utmost respect.

He teaches Sam to read and write.

He tells his story to the younger hobbits, inspiring more of them to want to learn more about the outside world and not be so sheltered and ignorant…an effort which ultimately saves Middle-earth because the Travelers learn from him to be curious and interested in the lands outside the Shire, and he inspires them daily, as they constantly say to themselves “if Bilbo could go there and back again despite great danger, so can we.”

He even learns to love having a tarnished reputation, ultimately taking advantage of being “mad” to play a fun prank.

When he is no longer at rest in the Shire, he gifts Frodo all his property which will ensure Frodo is set for life, and through all his passive aggressive gifts to his relatives, he gives the Gaffer genuinely useful items that he knows will help him, including ointment for creaky joints.

He gets a peaceful retirement among his Elven friends, which he spends writing his memoir so that future generations will know all about his lost friends.

And ultimately, he embraces the special gift of an exception from the Valar and rare permission to set foot in the Blessed Realm for one last adventure, where he will continue to look after his beloved nephew.

And the fact is, he never would’ve gotten any of these things if he’d stayed in Erebor. He would never have developed that special bond with Frodo - he may never have even met him - and consequently, Frodo may never have met Sam.

Yes, a lot of his life was lonely and somber. But much more of it, even after experiencing such a tragedy, was full of love and joy and fun and excitement. He became an invaluable caretaker and mentor to the next generation of hobbits, got a taste of fatherhood, passed on his expertise and his story, and spent his last years surrounded by friends and family.

Bilbo Baggins may have lost the love of his life, but he did not give up on life itself, and he lived a full one. Don’t forget that.

#lotr #jrr tolkien #lotr books #lord of the rings #the hobbit #bilbo baggins #frodo baggins #bilbo and frodo #hobbits #samwise gamgee #elvish language #red book #the valar #valinor #tolkien elves #bagginshield #thorin x bilbo #samfro #frodo x sam

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tteokdoroki · 9 months ago

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⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — SATORU GOJO. the damage is done.

about. when satoru decides that he wants you (his ex) back, his foolproof plan starts off by making your new partner extremely insecure..

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, smut, non canon, toxic relationships, love bombing, exes to lovers, gaslighting, infidelity, cheating, breeding, fingering, multiple orgasms, couch sex, oral sex ( f! receiving ), unprotected sex, ex boyfriend!gojo, fem!reader.

ex!gojo who slides into the dms of your current partner to slowly make them insecure.

he acts like a nice guy, offers advice on what to do when you’re mad, what you like to eat, how to keep you all sedated and happy. your current partner starts to gush about how cool of a dude satoru gojo is. how could you pass up on such an amazing guy? he’s rich, funny, caring — they can see how you fell for him.

but what they don’t understand is the greedy side of satoru — the one who one who wanted you all to himself. the guy who never let you go out, who made you cry but made you cum with the promise of never hurting your feelings again.

sometimes the advice gets a little too specific. how does satoru know where you keep your sex toys for kinky nights of fun. why does he know the spot that makes you arch your back off of the sweaty sheets just like that? or how many fingers you like to take? or how long it takes before you start gagging on cock.

it makes your new partner insecure, gives them performance anxiety and ruins the vibes of your bedroom. they can’t communicate with you, at least not properly — it leads to fights that are all too familiar. conversations you’ve had with satoru before. your little insecurities and biggest fears are thrown into your face, things they know will hurt you deep down you. these are some of the first times you cry because of your new partner.

it’s all too familiar, these are things you’ve gone through before with your ex — the recognisable twinge in your chest and feeling of guilt after being gaslight is something you know all too well.

“he was right, you really are just a cry baby.” they say. “since he knows so much about you, maybe you should go back to fucking him.” which feels like a bullet to your heart because you’ve spent so much time proving to your partner that you’re over your ex and all the bullshit that satoru put you through. all the drama and all the trauma he left you with.

your partner leaves for the night, leaving you alone with your tears and the tiny voice in the back of your mind that tells you it’s all satoru’s fault. it goads you into calling him, his number which you blocked but kept written down in your notes app in case of emergency. it’s been forever since you last spoke to your ex and told him you wanted nothing to do with him — so you’re surprised when he picks up on the second ring, seemingly happy to hear your voice.

“what did you do, satoru?” his name on your tongue is foreign yet also familiar. you’ve said it a million times before, in many different ways (lust, love and loss) but this time you’re angry. like the last time you spoke.

“what do you mean?”

he plays coy and you feel your temper bubble. “we got into a fight, i know it’s your fault. what did you say to them?”

“shouldn’t you be making up with them?” gojo answers your question with a question, his all-knowing smirk transcending down the static on the line. “why was your first thought to call me?”

that makes you falter, stops your typhoon of rage in its place.

the truth is, you know why you called. deep down you know that gojo could fix this, when you fought as a couple you would always call him first and in tears — letting him calm you down. gaslighting you in the process. he always knew what to say to scab over the wounds of your arguments, patching over deep cuts with little white lies even if he would reopen them and leave mental scars in place.

when you fight with your partner now, you seek the same sort of unhealthy comfort in the only person who you know will give it you and that’s exactly what satoru wants.

“let me come over,” he states, suave. “let me help you fix this.” he takes advantage of your emotional torment, butters you up with the promise of comforting you and against your better judgement — you let him. your partner abandoned you, satoru wants to help you. you’ve always known that he still loved you, at least he wouldn’t leave, at least he’s not like your partner.

regret will come in the morning, you think, when you let satoru into your apartment and back into your life. he knows that everything on the walls are different, the picture frames are now brown instead of white and hold photos of your current life in place of what you had with your ex. the furniture has moved and the diffuser at the entryway smells different. but as much as you’ve tried, you can’t get rid of your ex, satoru gojo. he will always make his way back to you.

he makes sure that you’re aware of this when he kisses you on the couch that you kept from your previous relationship. satoru tells you that you’ll always need him when he pins your hips to its leather with a strong arm and buries his white head of hair between your warm, thick thighs. he proves it to you with the way that his tongue licks broad strokes against the entire length of your sex and flicks at your clit because he knows that how you like you it, he knows you’ll cum in seconds if he eats you out like that.

there’s going to be a stain in the couch from just how much more you gush on satoru’s skilled fingers and tongue, as he moans against your sopping mound and tells you how he’s the only one who could ever make you see stars this way. his face gleams with your arousal and his eyes sparkle knowingly because it’s true. you’ve never felt as good as you have with satoru in comparison to anyone else. it puts doubt in your mind, makes you question why you even left him in the first place.

though, you don’t have much time to dwell on the thought…because in hurried yet precise movements — gojo is making you cum on his fingers again. the rough pad of his thumb possessively writes the letters of his name against your pulsating clit — hardened by blood that rushes to it, carrying lustful hormones from your frenzied mind. he loves how you taste when you cum, how you cling to him, how he knows that you’ll never forget this phenomenalfeeling after tonight.

it’s a little too intimate for two exes when satoru makes you ride him. his legs spread wide while you straddle his lap, creating the perfect angle for his cock to nudge against that one special pleasure spot inside of you. you’ve missed his cock, it’s perfect length and thickness — it’s pretty pink tip that oozes so much precum that’s all for you. it’s only ever been for you.

the way satoru’s large palms cup the globes of your ass and guide you back and forth over his lap unlocks a nostalgic and loving feeling in your rapidly rising and falling chest. he kisses you with so much passion that you’re reminded of the good nights you spent with him — making love until sunrise while his tongue rolls over yours and licks at your teeth. you’re naked and chest to chest, noses becoming neighbours while the course of your breathing syncs up. it’s overwhelming, how adored you feel in the moment, all while fucking your ex on the couch.

you grope at each other like it’ll be the final time you ever have sex like this. your hands settle at the base of satoru’s neck and his on your waist while you languidly move together in a salacious dance routine you’ve done so many times before. you’re perfect partners, it’s evident in the way you reward his throbbing cock with dribbles of your creamy arousal — droplets of soft white running down and catching on veins on his shaft.

“i’m always going to love you, baby,” satoru’s soft laments echo through the home you’ve made with your over lover — barely audible over his balls slapping against your peachy ass and your cunt selfishly squeezing down on him, squelching with every thrust. “i’m always gonna want you like this, even when we fuck up. e-even when we’re not together,” he growls and rambles, blissful blue eyes darting all over your face twisted with ecstasy and right down to where you paint him with arousal and suck him in so well. “fuuuck, i wanna cum…s-say you want it, say you want me.”

it’s overwhelming, how much love you have for satoru. for your ex. it washes over your feelings of guilt in regard to your infidelity, any bad emotion or thought of your partner cannot compare to the burning and bright lust that flickers in your tummy. when you fuck yourself down on gojo’s throbbing girth he pulls back out of your snug, salacious sex — creating a delicious cycle of friction that you never want to forget. that you miss so bad.

“i want…i want you!” you stutter, tears brewing in your starry eyes. “i miss you, i love you,” the words rush out of you before your hazy mind can even catch up and register them. you barely manage to register that you’re fucking your ex just mere hours after arguing with your special one. it doesn’t matter, not right now and not in this moment. not when satoru teases your clit until you’re able to cum all over him, painting his thighs with your slick as you slump against him.

even though he shouldn’t, even though he’s ruined your relationship, gojo cums inside your quivering cunt. fills you to the brim with his viscous, scorching seed and there’s so much of it that it seeps from your entrance — pooling okto the couch below.

“i love you.”

“i know.”

“come back to me, baby.”

“i…i don’t know if i can…”

you want to so badly, especially the damage is done, sealed by stolen kisses that’ll mean nothing in the morning.

satoru’s gotten what he wanted, to make you question your relationship and remind you of why you should come back to him. you fell asleep an intertwined mess on the couch and he leaves in the early hours of the next day.

all so that your current partner will never know the events that occurred on the night of your fight — you don’t have to heart to tell them when they come back the next morning with your favourite flowers and an apology. they shouldn’t have left you. they shouldn’t have gone to satoru behind your back. they love you.

but it’s already too late, a seed of doubt has been planted in your mind by your ex. you release that you still want him, that you might even miss him and the foundation of your new relationship becomes shaky and unstable.

you’ve grown insecure and you will always be comparing your current partner to your last partner. to gojo.

and your lover? now they’re insecure too, because you’re always so distant and you always smell a little different when you come home these days.

because you’ve started going behind their back to be with your ex, satoru, too.

#tteokdoroki #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #gojo x you #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo x you #jjk x you #gojo satoru x you #jjk thirsts #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing

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justwonder113 · 2 months ago

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Sharing a bed with Lee Know

Chan; Lee Know ; Changbin; Hyunjin; Han; Felix; Seungmin; IN;

My Masterlist

Summary: Feeling beyond frustrated with your boyfriend you leave your phone home and head out to drink your sorrows away, meanwhile he's stuck there losing his mind trying to find you. Warning: CURSING It's me who's surprised there. Angst to fluff. Barely mentioning the sharing bed part but yeah... Reader is gender neutral. Mention of alcohol intake. reader is tipsy but fully conscious. I don't know if I missed anything so please let me know if I did. NOT PROOFREAD

A/N- Glad to announce that I'm alive and well and back with a new laptop so I won't have to break my fingers trying to type on my phone anymore!!! I'll try to update more and more now^^ As for my work, this is the first time I have written something like this and I really hope you'll like it. I tried my best to make it seem as real as possible and I'm really eager to know what you think, so if you have any feedback please tell me what you think. Again thank you for all the love and support you give me, it means the world to me!! Reblogs and comments are highly appeciated^^ Word count- 2.8k

Not knowing how to deal with your rampaging emotions you kept pacing back and forth in your apartment like a lunatic. You were at loss for words, never in your life you felt this humiliated and to think that Minho, the person who was supposed to be your safe space and your comfort person was the source of that!

Honestly, you felt torn, you were beyond mad at frustrated at Minho and wanted to rip him a new one, but at the same time you felt so heartbroken and miserable all you wanted to was to crawl in your bed and not get up for at least a week. It also didn’t help at all that your week was an absolute shit, with this said day being the cake on the top. All you wanted to do was to have a lunch with your boyfriend and just forget all the bullshit you had to go through. You knew he had a hectic schedule due to an upcoming comeback. Heck, you barely had seen him for the last maybe three weeks. He was already at practice when you woke up and immediately went to sleep when he came back in the middle of the night so he had barely any time to talk or text to you, you weren’t even talking about seeing you in person. It was what pissed you off the most. You were too considerate, how many people would be able to handle having a relationship like that, when a simple text sent your way made you want to throw fireworks? You knew he was busy, you only wanted to see him for what a half hour, just to eat together? Maybe get a hug? And an encouraging word that you could get through the day? No, what you get for bringing your very busy boyfriend and his bandmates his favorite takeout is to get yelled at in front of the said bandmates to being overly clingy and overbearing.

One part of you wanted to break down sobbing, the other part wanted to bring hell to him and make a biggest scene ever, in reality? You just left, not an ounce of emotion on your face. Maybe it would be better if you did either or those, at least you wouldn’t feel this torn now. So full of emotions feeling like you could burst any scond. No, you knew you were angry and rightfully so, this is why the tears that wouldn’t stop streaming down your face aggravated you even more. He didn’t deserve your tears not after the bullshit he pulled.

Another pang of notification brought you back to reality, God how many massages was he going to send? Who was clingy and overbearing now? If he thought that you would forgive just like that just because he was sorry then he was a damn fool. You knew he didn’t mean it; you knew him long enough to know that whenever he was too stressed he had outbursts like he did earlier and he said stuff he didn’t necessarily mean. It was an objective fact that you didn’t deserve to be called clingy. But it didn’t matter, he humiliated you in front of all these people and that wasn’t something you could easily forgive. Hell, how could you forget such thing? He could have said that he needed space that he was busy, no matter how vulnerable you felt, no matter how much you needed him in that moment you would have understood.

Maybe it was a sign. Your relationship was still considered new, it wouldn’t hurt as much ending things now. Maybe you could even return to being friends again. Another pang of your phone followed by another in less than five seconds, then another.

God, you couldn’t bear it anymore, you needed some air.

Not even considering to take your phone with you you left your apartment. You didn’t exactly know where you were going but it would be better than feeling suffocated in your own house.

***

Probably not the wisest choice because now you were worst kind of drunk in this bar meaning your mind was completely sober but your body seemed disconnected from your mind, everything was spinning and your whole body moved as if in slow motion. God what a beautiful day you couldn’t even drink to forget your own sorrows. Better go home then, or at least head to that direction.

You only managed to pay for the drinks and get outside before you felt so queasy you had to stop and lean on the lamppost. God, you hated that your body wasn’t listening to you.

Also, you were starting to regret not bringing your phone with you. You would have called your friend to pick you up and maybe take you with them or at least order a cab. Also, not really wise to spend most of the money you had in your wallet on drinks. God, you felt like shit.

Oh wow it was already night, and based on how there was barely anyone around it must’ve been quite late too.

You started walking but barely made 10 steps before you had to stop again, it was as if your body had a mind on its own and was refusing to cooperate.

“Baby!” You heard a loud yell and before you even had the time to react you were engulfed biggest hug ever. You almost wrapped your arms around your boyfriend before you remembered you were mad at him. Fortunately for you he almost immediately let go, carefully examining everything, his eyes so full of worry you felt bad for him for a second.

“What are you doing here?” You didn’t even try to hide your displeasure. Minho flinched as if he was physically hit by your words.

“I was searching for you! I was out here wandering in these streets trying to find you for hours! I was about to call the police when I saw you here!” You felt guilty, looking at him. He looked dishelved, hair messy as if he had run his hand through it countless times, he was out of breath as if he had been running, his eyes red and swollen as if he had cried…Was he really running around searching for you?

“Who’s being clingy now? Couldn’t last five minutes without seeing me? Had to search for me all over town? So clingy and overbearing!” You watched as your words hit him like a slap, his face morphed into a pained one. You felt horrible talking to him this way, but part of you was satisfied, wanting him to know just how much words could hurt.

“I’m sorry…” His voice was quite almost inaudible, you knew he meant it but you would be dammed if you forgave him just like that.

“You should be, you were beyond cruel.” Even you were surprised how emotionless you sounded. You would also be fooled if you didn’t know the turmoil that was inside you right at this moment.

He lowered his gaze unable to look you in the eyes. “I know.” Oh great he knows, what a balm to your wound.

“You really hurt me Minho!” There was it, the anger, the hurt, you didn’t have the energy to contain it anymore.

“I know.”

“Oh that fixes everything then! You know! Do you know anything but that sentence? Is that all you have to say?” Silence, you couldn’t help but huff out a laugh bitterly, feeling defeated. “What even are you doing here Minho?”

“You weren’t picking up the phone, your house was empty, neither your friends or your family knew where you were. I had to find you to know that you were safe!” His voice was strained, he looked like he was seconds away from busting in tears.

“I’m safe you can go home now!” You turned around to head home, all these emotions making you feel a bit more sober. You barely made two steps before a hand grabbed your wrist gently halting your movement. His voice desperately calling your name. “Please…”

You couldn’t take this anymore. You turned back to him eyes full of rage burning with unshed tears begging to be let out. “Please what Minho? What do you want me to do? You can’t even tell me normally why you were searching for me. You agree with me that you hurt me yet you’re not even saying you’re sorry, and no I won’t take that halfassed apology or whatever that was. What do you want me to do? It’s like you don’t even know what you want yourself so what do you really expect me to do?”

You watched a tear run down his reddened cheek. It infuriated you how breathtaking he looked right now. Not even the most skilled painter would be able to capture his beauty, not a single camera would be able to capture the full beauty. God, you hated how your heart only sang for him even in this much pain he caused. Here he was watching you in sorrow, in pain, angered by his betrayal while he did nothing just stand there idly looking ethereal, still managing to have you in his chokehold.

“Do you even love me?” No matter how hard you tried to fight it the dam broke. A tear slid down your face, quickly followed by another, then yet another, till it felt like a little stream down your face. You forced yourself to look him in the eyes, the pain and anger burning in them. His eyes also full of pain but you couldn’t read anything more. There were times you thought you could read his emotions… What a fool you were.

Your body started to shake trying to hold violent sobs wanting to break through. No matter how much you were fighting it you were starting to break down as if already knowing the answer. Subtly wrapping your arms around yourself you tried to hold yourself, to prevent breaking down even more. You hated feeling this weak. Hated that you couldn’t control yourself. Hated that you had to break down in front of him like this! To show him your weakness…

It was as if Minho awoke from the trance he was in, in the tenth of the second his arms were gently cradling your face and his lips were connected to yours, giving you probably the most passionate kiss you had ever received.

Your whole body felt like it was on fire. The tears really felt like tiny rivers on your face, no matter how many times Minho tried to gently rub them from your face with his thumbs they just wouldn’t stop coming. The kiss was gentle yet firm, it tasted salty from both your tears (probably mostly yours) but still familiarly sweet. His lips moved against yours in determination, as if to show you his feelings the only way he knew how.

You felt like your body and mind were on overdrive feeling too many emotions at once, not fully knowing how to react. You tried to resist the urge to reciprocate the kiss but you almost immediately folded, almost quite literally because now if not Minho’s hands migrating from your face to your waist you weren’t sure you would be able to be stand. Yor body felt like it was completely shutting down and you felt like you were at his mercy and based on how tightly he held you against his body and how fiercely he was kissing you he wasn’t planning on letting you go any time soon. And he didn’t, he only leaned his head back a little to give you time to catch your breath.

“I’m cruel as you said, and mean and cold and I most definitely don’t deserve such an amazing person as you by my side, I’m not even worthy of your forgiveness! You didn’t deserve to be told you’re clingy or overbearing or some shit like that when you’ve been so supportive, so kind, so patient and loving towards me when we both know I didn’t do shit to earn it.” His broken voice pulled on your heartstrings, no matter how angry you felt it was whole another pain to feel him talk so about himself. Minho lifted your hands and carefully kissed both of them, his hands slightly trembling. He looked you in the eyes, and for a second you were taken aback with the sea, no ocean of emotions in them. “I’m really sorry I hurt your feelings. There’s nothing I can say to justify my actions, but I promise you I never meant any of my words. I’m sorry I’ve been a terrible boyfriend to you but please trust me when I say, I love you with my whole heart, with everything I have and everything I am, please never doubt that.”

You stood like that for a second or two, maybe even a minute, unable to find words to say. You didn’t even now what you were feeling. Everything inside was a mess. Sighing in defeat you held your hand forward, Minho’s confused eyes snapping at them then at you in a second.

“Take me home.”

Minho took your hand without even thinking twice.

***

You knew you said that you felt a bit more sober earlier but that turned out to be a lie because you still felt so queasy getting in your bed felt like climbing the mount Everest and that with Minho’s help, who didn’t once let go of your hand and helped you with every step of your night routine. None of you had said a word since you held in your hand to him. You knew he was nervous based on the slight trembling you felt from time to time as you held his hand but honestly you didn’t know what you were going to say to him.

“I texted everyone that you’re home safe and that you’re going to sleep.” Minho broke the silence, his voice a bit coarse. You looked at him which made him look even more nervous. If not the circumstances you would find his unsureness and even shyness absolutely endearing. “There’s water and painkillers on your bedside table.” A nod from you, you were tired, you felt like you could sleep for a whole day.

You quickly came back to your senses when he let go of your hand. “You should go to sleep now, I will leave you to rest.”

Thankfully you managed to grab his wrist before he could leave. “Where are you going?“ Minho looked taken aback, clearly not expecting you to reach out for him.

“I thought you would want some space.” He sounded defeated.

You groaned as you fell on your bed. “God we really need to work on our communication skills. I promise I will tell you if I ever need space from you, now get in bed. There’s no way I’m letting you out of house on 3 am or whatever time it is, it’s late!”

After a second of silence you opened your eye to check on Minho, to see if he was here and you weren’t talking to yourself like a lunatic. The sight made your breath hitch. He had the softest smile adorning his face as he watched you, his eyes full of love, you had never seen him smiling at you like that.

“Careful or I might think you care for me.” There he was being a little shit you knew and loved, had to ruin a moment. you made sure to groan as loudly and as dramatically as possible.

“Minho I swear to God! Get in bed or I am going to make you sleep on the floor!” You tried to threaten but the smile that broke through your face wasn’t fooling anyone.

Minho didn’t waste a second and almost immediately you were pulled into a hug, your head smushed against his chest which beat wildly as if in joy.

“I could have given you a second to change you know, I think I might have something you can change into…” Minho didn’t let you finish your sentence -“Let me just hold you for a second, please.”

Not wanting to deny him you wrapped your arms around him and held him just as tight. Both of you feeling content being in each other’s arms, finally feeling calm and most importantly safe.

“I love you.” You heard Minho mutter against your skin, he was so still you thought he had fallen asleep. You looked up at him, there was that gaze again, so full of love and tenderness. Not even trying to hide your smile you leaned in and captured his lips in a soft kiss. “I know. I love you too.”

Reblogs and comments are highly appeciated^^

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