#more hurt/comfort territory

[wandixx]

Ghost of fries and Hero of cookies part 3

All work words count: 14 643

Words in this part: 3 056

Summary of whole work: Duke wasn't expecting to wake up from his quick rooftop nap to some meta kid with fries. He also wasn't expecting kid to stay

Or

Danny asked Dani to stay safe while she was in Gotham. Where would she be safer than under the wing of local hero? And he looked like he needed bad day combo anyway

This part summary: Joker goons are in for an orange surprise and Duke does not like it in the slightest

Beta read by @audhumla-sailor though English is second language for both of us, so proceed with this in mind. I also know all of the charaters through fics alone, so probably ooc. Stay catious if it's something you don't like

First part, Previous part

trigger warnings: gun violence, panic attacks, dissociation, mentions of Joker gas and what it doeas to people (tell me if i missed something, I'll add it)

Duke was having quite a good day. His schoolwork finally got lighter and up until now nothing notable happen on his patrol. Obviously, couldn’t have Gotham without at least one mugging and bank and corner shop robbery. About the last thing, if it was chain store he would conveniently arrive too late to stop it and just follow up to make sure cashier didn’t get fired. He used to be intimately close with hardships of getting necessary supplies like food or gas masks while corporate assholes were trying to suck people dry. But it was family business so he actually had to step in. He did mention secure way of getting resources to would be robbers though. All in all, not so bad, pretty good day. As for now, he was swinging on grapple to meet with Dani, armed with healthy snack Alfred demanded he took for her when he got texted on his Signal-work-phoneTM. It meant important business 90% of the time, so he stopped to check it out. Other 10% were memes from Dani that usually were worth it anyway.

Got it in one, Hoopoe texted. He opened chat expecting funny video or something instead to be greeted by:

Dani: Hey Signal

Dani: Peple aint spossedf t get out f Arkham

Dani: Amirite?

His stomach dropped. He wished it was hypothetical question but he knew better than to believe such fantasies. Things didn’t go so well in Gotham, especially not with Hoopoe.

You: Yeah, your right. What’s up?

You: You’re*

Dani: Nerd

Dani: Whatre you’re thots on clowns

Dani: ?

His stomach officially landed at his feet and decided it wasn’t enough dropping and ended up on a street below. Even if Joker was still locked up, his goons being active were bad news.

You: Where are you?

You: Hoopoe, where are you?

Dani: Clm dow I ned to chek

Dani: I have ni ieda

Dani: The box building rod

Dani: roof*

Dani: Warehouse?

Dani: That the wors

Dani: I think

You: There are over 1000 warehouses in Gotham

Dani: Idk wht yu want me totll yu

Dani: Therere other warehous arond?

You: Okay

You: Check corners for symbol and number

Back in the day everyone other than Bruce decided to take part in a challenge to count all of the warehouses in Gotham manually. They each got their sector and graffiti spray to mark counted buildings. Later it kinda turned into a way of identifying them. 

Dani: Red blb with too wite dots

Dani: #83

Okay, he wasn’t too far. He risked roof hopping and checking texts to make sure she didn’t try anything stu-

Dani: Im goin in

You: No!

You: Stay where you are!

You: Hoopoe!

You: Hoopoe!

Dani: Calm down worrywart

Dani: Jus wante ti get ab look

Dani: Invisible

Dani: M not dump

I doubt it

You entered building with Joker’s goons with no back-up or plan. It’s extremely dangerous

Dani: Yeah, yeah don care

Dani: 5 goons in clown masks

Dani: Maks idk wat of

Dani: Not northern hemisphere of sky for sure

Dani: Weird containter s

Dani: Ari smells funny

Dani: Giggly i guess

Dani: U prbl know better

You: Get out of there

You: NOW!

You: Try not breathing it in

Dani: K

Dani: Ill stop brething then

You: GET OUT!

Dani: K

Dani: Why so agressive

Because Duke knew what Joker gas could do to person. He knew how it took wonderful people (like his parents) and left shells wand shadows of who they used to be. Because every gas release left him with panic attack. Because he knew it was more dangerous than even some vigilantes thought it was.

You: Wait until I get there

Dani: K

He almost tripped with how much he tried to speed up.

Dani was actually vibrating when he arrived but stayed quiet. Good. If she breathed in some Joker gas it wasn’t working dose yet. Duke had deep feeling not even Alfred’s cookies would be enough to deter her from entering. Offering her a granola bar he sat at the edge of the roof with bone deep sigh. Girl took snack eagerly, bouncing around like puppy high on caffeine.

“How about we take a note of this happening and get going? Other Bats are better equipped to deal with this,” They weren’t but he didn’t want Dani anywhere near this mess. He himself didn’t want to be anywhere near it either.

Kid got deadly still, staring at him as if she could read his deepest secrets if she looked hard enough.

“They’re scaring you�� she whispered with strong feeling but Duke had trouble reading what feeling was it. He put his face in his hands for a moment. How was he even supposed to answer that?

“Joker is one of the most dangerous people in Gotham and these guys are working for him. They have guns. Of course I’m a little scared”

Judging by the face Dani made, she wanted to call him out on his bullshit but thought better of it. She floated to sit next to him, swallowing granola in few bites.

“My friend Johnny mentioned him,” she started between chewing ”he said ‘bastard murdered my baby bro Jay and Jay knew his way in fight, stay away from him Dani’. Normally Johnny isn’t so careful”

“All more reasons to leave it for others!” Duke almost shouted, hope growing in his chest. Maybe he could steer her away from it!

“He also told me to hit him if I happen to meet him. He would owe me ‘big one’ then. Do you think I could get ‘small one’ for couple of goons?!”

“Hoopoe no!”

Girl looked thoughtful and after over two weeks of working together he learned to fear this expression.

“Whatever you’re thinking, no. I’ll buy you biggest fries, just leave this–” he waved vaguely at the warehouse hoping it would get message across “–whole mess alone” There was lump in his throat.

Dani haven’t abandon whatever thought got her like that and nodded to herself few time. She drifted around a bit, shifted under her way too long cloak and finally settled with a soft smile.

“You’re scared… Terrified. You’re terrified of them,” she started calmly, like she would talk to a victim if she actually knew how to do it ”It’s okay. It’s great. Fear is what keeps humans alive,” she nodded as if she recounted something from textbook properly in front of the class “But I’m not scared and I fought people much stronger than them and I’m even better now thanks to you. If you’re so terrified, it means they need to be dealt with and it needs to be done fast. It’s okay,” her grin from soft turned devilish “I was itching for some fun fight anyway”

“Dani-”

“It’ll be quick, I promise,” she said, serious again “Don’t worry,” she stood up, saluted and fell through the roof, all too fast to react or not miss it with a blink. Frankly, it caught Duke so off guard he couldn’t even move for a few seconds after the whole ordeal anyway. He threw himself down to the nearest window as soon as he regained control over his body. His heart was stuck in his throat.

Dani tackled first goon with delighted giggle right when he crashed inside. He checked if his mask was secure on reflexes he plummeted towards the ground, moving his body to land safely on top of the shelf. Warehouses were weird place to fight. Easy to get vantage point like Duke just did but was also hard in a way. Little space made it hard to use wider streaks, easy get backed into corner. Annoying more than anything.

Dani’s wrestling match was so attention grabbing that nobody even looked at Duke, despite his far from subtle arrival. He threw himself forward when he caught telltale shine of the gun in one of goons hands. It was dumb move when Dani was so close to his ally, but who he was to criticize Joker goon’s live choices. It didn’t take Signal long to understand he wouldn’t make it on time. He had to but there was no-

Two gunshots rang in rapid succession split second before Duke got to the goon and, with swiftness granted only by adrenaline and fury people got when someone their got hurt, knocked man out cold. Before body could hit the ground he spun around to see the damage because Dani still refused to wear any armor and from this close goon would have to be Storm Trooper to miss her. Because she was most likely bleeding heavily. What if they hit something instantly lethal?

He faced a fight right in time to see Dani jumping at another goon also openly wielding a gun. He wanted to yell at her but bullets were fired before he got a chance. He looked for blood dripping from her torso while dodging another man  barely taking his eyes off Dani.

“That wasn’t nice,” she sounded like she pouted! At being shot! “If I was anyone else I would be seriously hurt right now, you know?” her voice was somewhat off. Like it wasn’t quite made by her vocal cords but some awkward voice generator.

Before the appalled man could react, he got technically not too good right hook to the jaw. It was strong enough to make him unconscious and get quite loud creak out of his neck. Duke hoped Dani didn’t mess up the guy's spine. He was criminal but he didn’t deserve this type of treatment.

Duke focused back on his own fight when he made sure that girl wasn’t in immediate danger of dying. He dodged running goon again, who literally ran himself into the shelf because of that. Signal used his short confusion to hit him in the side of his neck, rendering the opponent unconscious. Okay, they made it, this was the last-

Another gunshot made his sped-up heart skip a beat. Lump in his throat suffocated him.

No, no, no, no, no-

“I shot you in the face!”

 He looked her way ready to see unmoving body and red decorating concrete floor.

“There was a good quip for- oh right” she started cheerfully, entirely unharmed, before her face twisted into something actually demonic.

“Y̶o̸u̵r̵ ̶p̵e̶s̴k̶y̵ ̴l̷i̷t̶t̸l̶e̸ ̵b̷u̸l̴l̴e̶t̷s̵ ̴w̸o̴n̵'̸t̵ ̵h̶u̵r̶t̸ ̸m̷e̶, ₥ØⱤ₮₳Ⱡ₴”

She laughed in distinctly Dani way, all bright and joyful while also so not like herself, distorted and echoey it mage hairs at the back of his neck stand.

Duke froze when goon fired again and there was no way she dodged it. There was not enough space. She had to get shot. She got shot and he did nothing to stop it. A child got hurt because of him-

He looked at but hadn’t quite seen how Dani knocked out last goon and flew up to him. He heard her voice but words were impossible to understand over rush of blood in his ears. He could tell she was laughing. They should get out. Dani mentioned giggly smell in the air. It had to mean Joker gas. They needed to be out yesterday.

He stumbled a bit, forcing his leg to cooperate, half caring, half dragging girl to the nearest exit point. Fact that he could touch her and didn’t feel any blood was grounding a bit.

“-gnal, Signal are you okay? Your heart is beating weird,” Dani asked, sounding a bit scared for the first time today. Duke’s brain felt too fuzzy to care “Signal, you’re freaking out, calm down, please”

Light assaulted their eyes the moment they were out. Before he got fully used to it, he set girl in front of him and detached her cape. She may have squawked at this action but he didn’t care. She was shot, he needed to check her for injuries.

She got shot, she got shot, she got shot-

“Signal what-” he was clearly freaking her out “Oh. You think I’m hurt. I told you I could handle it. I’m fine. Signal I’m really fine. I have intangibility, bullets can’t hurt me. I’m fine Signal”

Duke wanted to make sure. Adrenaline or simple wish to not worry him could make her ignore something. He couldn’t let her. He made her turn maybe a little to roughly.

He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if she bled out.

She was actually fine.

Relief hit him so strong he crumbled against the wall, his mind finally succumbing to the haze. It was fine. It was all actually fine.

He may have heard some yelling.

Next thing he registered was something tad too warm, almost burning his palms. His gloves did their job of protection well though. There was a herbal smell. Melissa, he registered after a moment. It took him some more time to realize that the source of the smell was in his hands. He had scathingly hot cup of melissa in his hands. He stared at a little bit squashed paper again trying to get used to the light. He didn’t even realize he closed his eyes. Sound of the paper bag made him look up where Dani, still without her cape, crouched few feet away from him.

“You back?” she asked cautiously. Duke wasn’t sure how to answer. He was and he wasn’t. His mouth didn’t work anyway. He shrugged, mindful of the cup in his hands. Blanket, he didn’t even know he was wrapped in, fell from one of his shoulders.

“I don’t know what happened but Jazz likes this tea when she needs to calm down. Though she usually needs to drink it to make it work,” Dani rambled, gesturing widely “You’re still breathing kinda funny, can you slow down? It’s not good for humans to breathe so fast. It doesn’t let good stuff from air get in your blood and travel around your body and it’s not healthy. I know, Jazz told me and she is really smart. She wants to be this doctor who stabs brain back into working. She had this smart word for it… Neurosurgeon, I think it’s this one. She said breathing like that is not good for brain so slow down? In for four, out for four? I don’t know, Signal, just calm down?”

Right, he still was hyperventilating. Duke focused on his lungs, forcing them to expand, trying to match up Dani’s slightly gasping breaths.

He really was freaking her out, wasn’t he?

Melissa was almost lukewarm by the time he was back in his body enough to drink it. It was sweet, a bit too much for his taste.

“You good now?” Dani asked and Duke nodded. He was as good as he could at the moment “Great, I didn’t want to leave you for too long so I don’t have BatBurger. I got cookies though. And I can go get it now”

“Don’t,” he caught her arm and squeezed, not sure why he did it himself.

“Huh?”

“Don’t go anywhere”

“Sure. Wanna cookie? I have chocolate chips and healthy, wheat ones”

“Chocolate”

“Okay” she nodded and fixed blanket on his arms. It was comfy. If Duke was firing on all cylinders, he would wonder where she got it.

“Don’t ever do it again”

“What is it though?”

“Jumping into danger like that”

“Oh, really? It wasn’t that dangerous, they were normal humans”

“They had Joker gas and guns”

“Intangibility means I can ignore bullets Signal, don’t be such worrywart. It’s bad for your health. What’s Joker gas?”

Question and the whole statement felt so surreal that Duke couldn’t help but laugh, choked and hysterical as it was. She didn’t know what Joker gas was. Worrying about her getting shot was bad for his health. He just had a panic attack and was comforted by a ten years old girl with cookies and melissa. What the fuck?

“Hey!” Dani pouted “Don’t laugh like that! Jazz always says that you shouldn’t laugh when someone doesn’t know something, just explain it to them! Signal!” she whined but the damn broke he couldn’t rear his hysteria back in “Alright, I’m Googling it”

She did as Duke’s laughter winded down. He was almost calm when she deemed her research enough.

“Alright, this is some nasty shit”

This sentence startled him into full silence. Dani was ten, swearing wasn’t something she did, like, ever. He must’ve scared her a lot.

“I’m fine though. I didn’t breathe it in. Did you? This laughter sounded a bit worrying to be honest”

“I’m okay, I had gas mask. People sometime laugh to release tension”

“Oh”

“Yeah. But you were in the building with it and didn’t have gas mask”

“I wasn’t breathing”

“You were talking”

“Our fucked up biology, as Danny likes to put it, means that one doesn’t mean another. I just don’t use it often because humans find it uncanny and my throat gets itchy after some time”

Something in Duke wanted to argue more but it was squashed but utter exhaustion that crashed him.

“Alright”

They sat for a long moment.

“Are you ready to patrol now?”

Duke would laugh again if he had any energy left.

“I think we should end for today. I would be useless like that”

“Okay, valid. You go home I’ll fly around a bit”

“No. You’re going home too. I don’t have enough emotional energy to worry about you getting into some mess like this again”

They stared at each other for a long moment before Dani looked away with angry huff.

“Okay. You’re worse than Danny, you know?”

“I don’t care. Go home and stay safe”

“You sure you will be alright if I go now? I can walk or fly you somewhere, not home if you don't want me to but maybe somewhere closer?”

“I’ll be fine. I can call my brother. Just go please”

“Sure. See you tomorrow, Signal. You were really brave today”

“Thank you, Hoopoe” If she answered, he didn’t hear her. He fumbled with his comm to turn it on with still shaky hands. Finally he managed and called a pick up in the form of Jason. It was great to have older brother who always had time like that. Even if it meant a lot of unnecessary questions about what happened Duke wasn’t up to answering it yet and threats of serious violence on his enemies.

Duke couldn't force himself to let go of the orange blanket. It was grounding.

Though Alfred made him hot chocolate with marshmallows. He wouldn’t repeat today for that, but it certainly was nice accent.

*********

"Humouristic" summary of this part

Dani: Yo, there are goons here. Gonna investigate.

Duke: *quietly freaks out*

Random Joker's goons: *do normal goon things*

Dani: *attacks them* HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Duke: Is this what minor heart attack feels like?

Goons: *start shooting*

Duke: Is this what major heart attack feels like?

Dani: Dude, you good? Here, get some tea, cookies and blanket

*

Dani, few hours later, texting: Hey Signal, remeber to bring back my cape tmrw

Duke, internally: Wait, this is her cape?

Duke, also texting: Wanna better one? Like Spoiler has?

Dani, somehow conveing Ghost Speak via text: Don't you dare

Thank you for reading this <3

Next part

[lilacxquartz]

love you, love you, love you;

mr. crawling x reader

plot: some things are best expressed without the need of words — themes: spooning/cuddling, smut, maybe yan vibes — w.c: 1.1k

a/n: my first homicipher related fic. i want to try one for mr. silvair & mr. gap next, bc they were also my favs. this game has been taking over my life so much lately. like it’s been in my dreams, haaah.

masterlist • ao3

Mr. Crawling was always loud when he was excited within your company; his laughter filled out the vast empty spaces that were otherwise unadorned with familiarity. Whatever you once sought from those winding corridors was ever-fleeting, temporary, leaving you stuck within the confines of his company.

Yet, when he felt what you could only interpret as affection—that’s when Mr. Crawling then became different—quiet, soothing, kind but also… curious.

And when you would usually sleep, he would stand watch, knelt over the floor as per his usual stance but sometimes crouched near you, sometimes leaning back against the wall with his legs pressed up against his chest. He would watch you as his life depended on it, unwavering in focus and with eerie intensity. He would watch as your chest rose and fell, leaning close on occasion to catch the sweep of your breath and sometimes, he would trace the pad of his milky fingertips in long, languid strokes against your face. Always so delicate, so tender, but for the most part, quiet and even shy.

Having once caught a glimpse of Mr. Gap in your blanket space, however, set something territorial off for Mr. Crawling and he was never able to recover from such an invasion. The very idea that someone else was able to infiltrate what he deemed to be your space—especially someone who he disapproved of—wasn’t something he could stand for. Especially with the sort of trickster Mr. Gap was, he couldn’t bear to see you get hurt. It would kill him on the inside (and on the outside, too).

So, just as you were getting into bed to rest up once more, he too, slipped in under the covers with you. At first, you were startled as usual, turning to face him with confusion evident in your eyes, murmuring out some words in a language that he still could not understand. He repeated something back, the meaning lost and indecipherable upon your ears, though soon surrendering to emphasis using gestures instead. A hug to bring you closer, a reassuring pat on your head and a small, longing kiss over your nose.

You listened to his words again, repeating over and over like a broken record.

Perhaps he meant no harm, after all.

You turned your back to him and settled into his chest, finding that he was surprisingly warm for what he was. His taller frame encased your body, wrapping his ashen arms around your waist—accidentally brushing the fabric that sat over your breast—nicking the cloth ever so slightly. Your breath hitched in surprise and as though in sheepish realisation, he withdrew right away, terrified that you were upset with him.

You drew out a long breath, reminding yourself again, that after everything that has happened thus far…

That, Mr. Crawling does not want to hurt you.

That Mr. Crawling has only ever helped you.

So perhaps, right now, Mr. Crawling only wanted to be closer to you.

You relaxed your breathing, settling into his comforting shadow once more and allowed for his presence to envelop you. He repeated the soothing motions of his grappling arm, although he held onto you softer that time. His hands explored your body with a delicate touch, as though afraid of breaking you—of upsetting you again—his motions growing confident the longer that you didn’t protest. It wasn’t long before he, otherwise not disturbed by your lacking, conscious awareness, decided to explore further with you. Mr. Crawling’s fingers didn’t ask for permission that time, creeping beneath the clinging fabric, feeling your skin against his palms, inviting a pleased, almost delighted smile to curl on his lips.

The silence remained unbroken as Mr. Crawling continued his explorative focus on you; the quickly-building evidence of his need growing harder the longer he pushed himself behind your body, the repeated touches arousing something warmer within him. To both his surprise as well as your own—you were not repulsed, allowing him to creep even lower, below the skirt of the dress and up, brushing his hand up to your exposed skin and, reading into it—you communicated your consent from the moment you parted your legs, allowing him to get even closer.

Confidence surged in Mr. Crawling as he pushed himself into your hilt, allowing his hardened length to slip inside. Betraying the stagnant silence, he shuddered out a ragged gasp before giving into his own rising need; grinding himself into your sopping sex with steadily increasing fervour. His fingers clamped around the curve of your hips as he held you in place, slamming every last inch of himself deep into your core.

Ever touch-starved yet wanting nothing more than to surrender to the sensation of you, Mr. Crawling continued to drive his cock into your needy cunt, soon wrapping his winding arms around your body and holding on tight. He bucked intensely as you soon succumbed to breathless whimpers, incoherently begging for his name. Equally desperate whines rolled off the slip of his tongue as he found his lips pressed into the crook of your neck, dampening your skin with sloppy wet kisses—as many as he could give.

It felt overwhelming for you in a way to be worshipped like this but you did your best to keep up with such intensity, especially as the warm, tingling pleasure built up inside of you, too. You held on just as tight as he did, your hand seeking out his own—fingers weaving into his bony digits—interlocking and squeezing tight the closer you got, your grip and otherwise clenching need tightening simultaneously. To feel him losing himself inside of you was dare you admit, addicting, feeling him completely fill and stretch you out leaving you almost dizzied from the impaling force.

Mr. Crawling, like you, soon surrendered to the rolling bliss from the flick of his hips, feeling a surging warmth mount and rise, encouraging him to lose himself to the searing heat of the moment and you. Encircling your body in a possessive hug, he suddenly began to mutter out a new word in a strained mantra, again and again.

Given how desperate he seemed to be, you understood the meaning as ‘close’, especially as his actions grew more strained and less controlled.

“Close, close, close,” he repeated.

It didn’t take his chased release to catch up as his hips grew to a stutter, rutting out one final pump before melting into you. Mr. Crawling cried into your neck, spilling out the entirety of his overflowing love, feeling the pent-up devotion trickle down your thighs—yet not letting you move away—still retaining his claim on you.

Instead, he kept you even closer than before, not allowing you to part from him ever again (despite understanding your yearning for rest).

Words were never the problem, it seemed.

Mr. Crawling would have always found a way to… connect with you.

[villainbait]

Exclusive Favors

Pairing: Sylus x MC / fem!reader Rating: PG-13 Tags: who did this to you, hurt, comfort, hurt/comfort, injury, implied violence, brief violence mentions, angst, canon sylus behavior, blood mentions, kissing if you squint Summary: You barely survived a night on your own in the N109 Zone without the watchful gaze of certain Onychinus leader, but at what cost? Word Count: 1.5k

The dull sound of your door closing was like the snap of a final curtain call falling into place and you slumped against it, relieved to be safely in your own apartment. You had survived a night in the N109 Zone on your own, but it had been a near miss. One you wouldn’t be repeating, especially since the intel you wanted had been a bust, anyway. 

You touched your side, your breathing uneven, and you wince. You definitely have a cracked rib. You try to take a deep breath and pain radiates from your chest into your stomach, making you a little nauseous. Okay, maybe two.

You were trying to psych yourself up to move and trudge into your apartment to give yourself much needed medical attention when the reverberating shock of someone's forceful knock bounced you against your door-frame. You consider not answering the insistent caller on the other side, but a muffled, familiar baritone floats through the door.

"Open the door, sweetie."

A sigh left your lips at the demand and you tried to stifle the pathetic, painful whimper that your exasperation cost you. Of all the people on the other side of that door, Sylus was the most unexpected. Or maybe not, considering he boasted that he knew everything that went on in his territory. Maybe that’s why he was here and if it was, he wouldn’t leave until his curiosity was satisfied.

The door cracks open and you stare up at him through the hole you made, reluctant to allow him entrance and to partially block his view of the damage those thugs had caused when they mugged you in the alleyway earlier tonight. However, Sylus’s easy smile is nowhere to be found and the frown lines on his forehead are the deepest you've ever seen them. His large hand wraps around the door-frame so you can’t close it again and he pushes gently against it, but you don’t budge. 

"Who did this to you?" His tone is dangerously low.

You ignore his question, instead poking your head out to look down the deserted hallway of your apartment building. "Why are you here? It's dangerous." It was risky for Sylus to wander around Linkon City normally, even if he claimed many people didn't know what he actually looked like. However, the Hunter’s Association did and your building was crawling with employees at all hours of the day and night.

"You didn't answer your phone, so I got worried."

Oh right, you had forgotten they had taken that too. You sighed again, the pain of having to replace everything beginning to give you a headache. That key charm Zayne had given you for your birthday was perhaps the worst thing to have lost, maybe more than the phone itself.

"Let me in, kitten." Sylus’s voice is gently cajoling and you concede because you're too tired to argue with him tonight. So you open the door and  try to act normal, but your voice is far too lighthearted for how heavy your legs feel as you trudge into the apartment. 

“You know, if you keep frowning like that you’ll get wrinkles and people really will think you’re an old man.” 

He follows you in with a small chuckle, his eyes bouncing around the room as if the perpetrators could be hiding in the shadows. When you grabbed the first aid kit and sat down to tend to your injuries, Sylus was suddenly there, kneeling in front of you. His hands push yours out of the way and he silently takes over the job of nurse, and you think about fighting him as you watch him roll up his shirtsleeves but realize you were just too exhausted to care. 

“What happened?” He asks eventually and you realize you will have to tell him something. Lying won’t work, he’ll find out if he didn’t already know. 

“What often happens when you end up in the wrong place at the wrong time in the N109 Zone, Sylus.” You offer with a single shrug, doing your best to sit still while he cleans the wound on your arm. “You know that better than me.” 

“Were you wearing–” he was referring to the brooch that signified your status as protected. 

“They took that too.” His hands stilled on the bandage he was applying on your forearm. “Did they, now?” he murmured silkily and you saw a muscle in his jaw tick, though his expression was partially obscured by his unruly hair. “After all that trouble I went through, too.” You tried to make a joke to ease the tension which earned you a soft amused twitch of Sylus’s lips. He was too angry to truly smile and you could feel it radiating off of him in waves. Despite that, his hands were painstakingly gentle as he touched what was clearly a blossoming bruise around your wrist. Sylus’s tender touch lingers on your injuries and he checks each one with a thoroughness that feels as if he’s memorizing exactly where you were hurt. 

He orders some of your favorite food, helps you get cleaned up, and tucks you into your bed. He points to the notepad you kept by your bedside table that you sometimes scribble notes on when you took calls. “Make me a list of what they looked like, and then go to bed. I’ll take care of the rest.” Before you could protest, he left the room abruptly. You picked up the notepad and stared at the print of the cute little animals dancing around the top. You’d bought it on a whim after seeing how cute it looked in a stationary shop window near one of your mission sites. It seemed too obscene to write what would virtually be a hit list on such charming paper. 

Instead, you scribble all of the reasons you’re grateful for today. Right at the top was that you had survived all on your own in the N109 Zone and you were able to see the infamous Onychinus leader kneeling at your feet. The list grew as you included the tasty food you ate earlier, and the glimpse of a suspiciously familiar crow you saw on your way into work this morning. The page was halfway filled when the pain medication Sylus had convinced you to take started to kick in and you felt your eyelids drooping. 

Drowsily, you snuggle down underneath your covers and clutch the plushie Sylus and you had won at the arcade last weekend. When you hear the distant muffled click of your door opening, you try to rouse yourself but you felt so warm and your body felt so heavy that you couldn’t manage it. That doesn’t stop you from trying until a large hand gently smoothed back your mussed hair, and the sensation of soft knuckles trace the curve of your cheek. “It’s just me,” the familiar voice murmured and you tried to speak but he shushed you. “Sleep, kitten.” 

You swear you felt the ghost of his lips on yours before he was gone, but maybe it was just part of the hazy dream you had of crows, violence, and enchanting sanguine eyes. 

Sylus returns to the N109 Zone and finds himself staring at the “list,” a bemused smile on his face. He shakes his head and tucks the cutesy page into his pocket. You were far too adorable and it made what he was about to do that much more satisfying, sauntering into the abandoned warehouse where your phone had last pinged; deceptively calm. The screams and stench of death shuddered throughout the N109 Zone tonight, serving as a violent and bloody reminder to all that no one should dare to touch what was his lest they face the consequences. 

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, your fingers fumble for your buzzing phone and land on the familiar outline of the brooch, both in their normal places as if yesterday was just a bad dream. Through your sleepy daze, you realize your other hand is occupied–as is your bed. Turning, you’re surprised to find Sylus is fast asleep next to you, his hand intertwined tightly with yours. There’s deep circles under his eyes, but his normally furrowed brow is smoothed out in sleep. With a sleepy smile, you curl back up to let him rest a little while longer, tucking your joined hands against your chest, cuddling his arm.

You both doze off together, and you’ve never felt so safe.

[yuujispinkhair]

Sukuna’s the type of baby daddy that even if you break you never really broke up 😭 and if you got pregnant again there no chance in hell it could be anyone else’s kid besides his

The love you and Sukuna have is world-changing. Even after you break up, you are both still stuck on the other and unable to move on.

Pairing: Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: Hurt + comfort, fluff, mentions of smut Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: 18+, mentions of smut but nothing explicit. Reader and Sukuna break up, but they get back together at the end of the story. There is a happy end. They already have a daughter together, and another pregnancy is mentioned at the end. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact. Divider @/benkeibear

It's not that you aren't trying to get over Sukuna. You really do. After a week of crying your eyes out, you decide to go out. It's not even that hard to get chatted up by some guy at a bar. But when his hand lands on your knee, you practically bolt. It feels so wrong, so dirty somehow. As if your body is still Sukuna's territory and no one else is worthy of touching you.

You try again a week later and the week after, too. But none of the men you meet spark your interest. Maybe this shouldn't come as a surprise. After all, only a few weeks ago, you had Sukuna. You had the best. There simply is no one who can compare to him. No one will ever make you feel the way Sukuna did.

You regret the breakup. It was stupid. Just small things that accumulated over several weeks, combined with a bad day at work and Sukuna being grumpy when you got home. You could have handled it differently.

But now, your bed always feels cold, and your heart doesn't seem to be in your chest anymore. Instead, there is a stone in your chest, heavy and painful, while your heart is in another part of this city, in the hands of the man who will always be the one for you, even if you will never get back together with him again.

+++

Sukuna asks to see his child, but you feel unable to face him, so you cowardly text him back, telling him to just pick your daughter up from kindergarten and spend the afternoon with her. When Sukuna brings her home in the evening, you are relieved that he seems to have gotten the hint. He doesn't come inside but waits at the front door as your daughter runs up the stairs to your apartment.

But you aren't strong enough not to hurry to the large window that faces the street, gazing outside to see Sukuna's familiar tall, broad figure slowly stroll down the street toward his car. His pink hair looks just like the cherry blossoms that fall down onto the road like pretty, pink snowflakes.

You know you will never be able to look at cherry trees again without feeling sadness wash over you.

Maybe you will try going on another date with some new guy, but deep down, you know that it will be in vain. It will always feel wrong. It will always feel like something is missing. Because none of those men are Sukuna. No one can be like him. There is only one Sukuna. Everyone else will always just be second best.

Sukuna isn't even trying to get over you. Not anymore.

On the first night after your breakup, he was a mess and stormed off to some bar, desperate for a distraction. Anything that would keep him from getting overwhelmed by his feelings.

He had some drinks and flirted with a random girl. Even took her home, thinking that sex would help him feel better. But the moment she tried to unbutton his shirt, Sukuna grabbed her wrists and stopped her.

It felt wrong. He felt wrong. As if he was cheating on you. He told the girl to leave and watched with his arms crossed as she angrily slammed his door shut before Sukuna sank down on his couch and buried his face in his hands.

He knew right then and there that it was no use to go out and try to have hookups. It wouldn't work, and it sure as hell would only make him feel worse.

In the following weeks, Sukuna worked longer and spent more time at the gym, always trying to stay busy because as soon as he got home to his deadly silent apartment, he was drowning in thoughts about you. Drowning in all those happy memories the two of you had made over the years.

You were Sukuna's love, his heart, his everything. He hadn't known or understood love until he met you. So how is he supposed to ever get over you and move on? It's impossible. You are still his everything, and you will always be.

And so it's clear as day to Sukuna that he won't even try to move on. He knows he will always be yours, whether you are together or not. He was only able to give his heart away once. And even if you don't want it anymore, it still belongs to you.

+++

Sukuna spends two days every week with his daughter, happy to see his little girl but sad because he misses the time when all three of you did things together. And when she looks at him with your eyes and asks him, "Daddy, why don't you just come home again?" Sukuna feels his heart shatter into a million pieces.

Sukuna doesn't know what to tell her. He, too, can't understand why the two of you decided to break up. It was stupid. Nothing big caused it. Just small things that added up, and looking back they seem insignificant.

"I don't know, princess. Maybe Daddy should really go home and talk to Mommy."

He decides at that moment that he will get roses and come up to your door this evening.

+++

Sukuna's chest feels painfully tight when you open the door, and he sees your face again after all those weeks, hitting him with just how much he missed you.

He hands you the roses, a beautiful huge bouquet that cost a little fortune, his eyes gazing deeply into yours,

"Please take those flowers. They come without any obligation to take me back or even talk to me. But I want to give them to you because you are still the mother of my child. And... and you will always be my woman, just like I will always be your man, even if we aren't together."

He fears he sounds like a creep, that he overstepped a boundary, and that he made you uncomfortable. But he has had lots of time to think during the last few weeks, and he promised himself that he would be more open about his feelings if he ever gets a chance to talk to you again.

You stare at Sukuna for a moment that feels like hours to him. But then he sees the tears gathering in your eyes and sees the way your hand that's holding the flowers is trembling. You breathe a soft "Kuna..." and Sukuna knows. He knows that you are still his, just like he is still yours.

He pulls you into his arms a split second later, crushing the beautiful roses between your bodies as he hugs you tightly. And you melt so perfectly against him as if you are made for him. Your face is pressed against his broad chest, and you snuggle against him, every centimeter of you touching him. You cling to him so tightly that it's almost painful, but it's the first time since your breakup that Sukuna feels like he can breathe again.

"I am sorry. I am so sorry for everything."

You both speak the words at the same time, eyes locked, small relieved smiles playing around your mouths.

You tell Sukuna to stay for dinner, and he agrees. He takes over the kitchen again, his kitchen, and prepares a dinner that he knows his two girls always loved. He sits at your table again, jokes around with his little daughter, and basks in the way you look at him with your eyes full of happiness.

Sukuna doesn't just stay for dinner but stays the whole night.

He kisses you after the two of you bring your daughter to bed. Pushes you gently against the wall and claims your lips again, though deep down, he knows that those lips always belonged to him, even when you were apart.

He grins when you laugh when he picks you up and carries you princess-style to the bedroom. Your lips are on his again, kissing him as if you can't get enough of him, making it hard to walk, but Sukuna would find his way to your bedroom even blind.

He locks the door behind you, turning around only to find your hands on his chest, unbuttoning his shirt while your lips find his again in another passionate but tender kiss that makes Sukuna moan softly into your mouth.

He makes slow love to you in the bed you bought together all those years ago, showing you what it feels like to be loved and desired and cherished endlessly. And you wrap your arms and legs around him and meet each of his slow thrusts while you moan his name softly, and tears run down your cheeks, showing Sukuna the same love he is showing you.

Sukuna doesn't leave again after that night.

The two of you talk things out, and only a week later, Sukuna finally puts a ring on your finger and tells your little daughter that she needs to pick a pretty dress because she will be a flower girl at the wedding.

And only a month later, you place a positive pregnancy test on Sukuna's pillow, making both of you burst out laughing when you realize that you and Sukuna must have made another baby that first night when he came back and brought you the roses.

Thank you so much for the ask! It made me feel so many things, so I had to get these feelings out and write this little story 😭 I hope you enjoyed it and that it made you emotional, too. How could there ever be anyone else after Sukuna? It's really not possible 😭

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

[hiraethwrote]

I'LL MAKE YOU MISS ME

♬ ₊˚. insp: i'll make you miss me - artemas

✧ pairing: ryomen sukuna x f!reader ✧ summary: if asked, both of you would probably just describe your relatioship as purely physical, seeing as he sleeps with anything that moves. but after one of your drunken nights together, things get heated and there might be something more hidden under the surface of your relation ✧ cw: [MDNI] non-curse au, college au, modern!sukuna, angst, arguing, situationship?, fwb kinda deal, cursing, suggestive content, talk and descriptions of sex, partying and drinking, toxic behavior, name calling, gaslighing, heavy denial, mention of weed, satoru cameo, slut shaming, reader is smaller than sukuna, one tiny 'go die' joke, no use of y/n ✧ word count: 11.4k (hehe)

It was always just supposed to be a fling. A string of meaningless hookups at best. He was after all, known around campus as the guy who went from one girl to the next only to get his dick wet.

All the teasing you’d endured, endless STD jokes from your friends and taunting about how you were just another one of his conquests. You’d only laughed it all off and told them “but that dick is worth it though,” with a playful glint in your eyes.

It was only meant to be fun. So why were you now standing in front of him with tear stained cheeks, chest rising and sinking as you tried to calm your breathing at nearly four a.m. in the morning?

Feeling so exposed wearing nothing but one of your oversized t-shirts and panties that you’d rushed to put on once the atmosphere had turned hostile, arms hugging tightly around yourself while he stared at you with an angry scowl, not mirroring an ounce of the hurt you were feeling.

You regretted ever opening your mouth to ask such an innocent question that had weighed down on your mind for the past two months; “so what’s the deal?”

Whatever it was that was going on between the two of you, it had all slowly shifted into a strange and alien territory. Like so many nights before, you and Sukuna had left yet another house party to head back to your dorm where he fucked you silly — like he always did. But that time he didn’t get dressed and leave the second it was over. No, he fell asleep… beside you… in your bed… one hand draped over your stomach. After that, he stayed the night after almost every sinful night spent together, though he was always gone by the time you woke up.

Though you thought it somewhat strange, that in itself wasn’t enough for you to wonder where it was you stood with him. It wasn’t until he stood outside your door on a random Wednesday, a bag of popcorn in one hand and a bottle of soda in the other, that it hit you just how absurd this whole thing had turned. He was so pissed off when he showed up for the surprise visit, something clearly bothering him, but god forbid he told you — you suspected something so mundane as a bad grade on his last exam or something.

Without much explanation, he just made his way into your dorm and got comfortable on your bed, where you eventually ended up just watching a movie with the bowl of snacks between you. And once the end credits started rolling, there was a noticeable lightness in him. He indulged in some small (and unusual) chatter before he said his goodbyes and left. He didn’t even stay for a quick fuck.

After that you started to notice that some of his stuff was scattered about your private space. One of his hoodies, a textbook he had barely cracked open, his phone charger permanently plugged in by your bed.

But it was the casual conversations that took place after sex that really had your gears churning about what the hell was actually going on. Secret words shared at the dead of night, introducing you to a side of Sukuna you had no idea even existed, though neither of you ever brought up said conversations the next time you saw each other.

This wasn’t what you expected from someone who was notorious for not maintaining any relationship with a girl besides getting in their pants — leading you to eventually be unable to hold your tongue.

And his entire body instantly froze up beside you when the question quietly slipped past your lips. Jumping out of the bed, he fell back to the tough exterior as he hurriedly put his clothes back on, all while he bombarded you with cruel comments, causing the tears to well up in your eyes momentarily.

“Save the tears, okay? It’s fucking pathetic,” he groaned as he pulled the jacket over his shoulders.

Just as the next sob was about to escape, you stopped yourself, feeling so humiliated. “I just wanted to know what’s going on-“

“Nothing,” he interrupted with a raised voice, causing you to flinch. “It’s just sex. God, you girls always get so clingy.”

“So you don’t think it’s weird for you to leave your stuff here?” You said carefully.

“God forbid a guy leaves a fucking charger without it meaning anything,” he took an intimidating step closer, and though you didn’t shrink in his presence, you became aware of the natural size difference between the two of you, especially when he presented himself so dominant. “It’s here cause it’s convenient, seeing as how willing you are to spread your legs at the tiniest drop of attention.”

So much for stifling your tears, when he brought them back so quickly with meaner words than he had ever thrown your way before.

His head fell backwards with a loud groan. “More god damn tears,�� you barely heard him whisper.

And to think you’d covered for him. He had never asked you to, but every time your friends had come over to study in your dorm, you had instinctively hid any signs that he’d ever been there at all, because you just had a feeling he wanted whatever was happening between you to be a secret.

What was worse, was how it was never you who initiated any of your evenings together. It was always Sukuna who approached you at parties when he’d had enough drinking for one night, throwing a possessive arm over your shoulders. It was always him who sent you oh-so-chivalrous texts in the middle of the night, asking if you were up.

Every previous encounter soared through your mind, added on top of his merciless words, and something in you snapped.

“Fine!” You spat, followed by a loud sob. The sudden shift in your entire body didn’t go unnoticed by him, as you spotted the slight quirk in his eyebrow once you raised your voice. “Then get the fuck out.”

“What?” He asked in confusion, more of a hypothetical question in sheer shock.

“You heard me,” you said as you grabbed his hoodie from the floor, taking him by surprise when you threw it in his direction. “And take your clothes. And your charger, and your fucking books,” it escalated, hurling his textbook for his head. He barely flinched as you missed his face by an inch, crashing into the door with a bang. You grabbed one of the many packets of cigarettes he’d left throughout his time here. “And these.” The packet opened once it collided with his chest, scattering the cigarettes all over the floor. “Smoke them all up and I might not have to see your face again!”

A shallow scoff left him as he flashed you a taunting smirk which stung more than it should have. “You’re absolutely insane.” Just mere minutes ago he’d traced secret streaks along your bare skin, so gentle one could never have believed it was him the touch belonged to. He’d would definitely not admit to that now.

You stomped over to him, placing two firm hands on his chest and started to shove him towards the door. “Get out, Sukuna!” Your shove did little to make his feet move, but luckily he had willingly started to step back. “Get out!” You shouted again. “Get out. Get the fuck out!”

His hand twisted open the door knob, and he opened his mouth one last time. “Crazy slut,” he managed to say under his breath before he just slipped out the door.

You took one step out after him, still more on your heart. “And that moment when you find yourself missing me, bet your ass I’m not answering,” you shouted after him down the hall, only for him to flip you the finger over his shoulder before he turned the corner. All the feelings still consuming you, you slammed the door shut with all the force left in your body, not caring about the noise complaints you knew you would be receiving tomorrow.

Suddenly, your dorm felt a lot bigger, abandoned almost. The silence that filled the air was nothing but uncomfortable. And you knew it wasn’t over.

You could avoid Sukuna as much as you wanted, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop all the shit talk he would spread around campus. Soon enough you’d probably be known as the loosest bitch in a ten miles radius.

And still, what bothered you the most was just how hurt you were. Not a single atom in your body wanted to admit it, but a small part of you wanted him to just come back into the dorm and fill the void he had created by his gut wrenching departure.

“You can ask him, seeing as he’s your boyfriend,” your friend snickered, bringing you back to the conversation you had zoned out of long ago.

“Huh?”

“Sukuna,” your other friend said as they shared a slightly worrying look.

The grunt of disgust that expelled out of you had them raise their eyebrows in surprise. “What about him?”

“He is our most reliable source for weed. Thought you could get him to bring a stash to the party this weekend.” The frown pinching your eyebrows had been chronic the entire conversation.

“Not fucking happening.”

Uncomfortable silence fell over the three of you. It didn’t take a genius to see something had gone down between you and Sukuna, because you had never showed any signs of pure hatred towards the guy whenever he was playfully mentioned around you — but now you were acting as if he was just as insignificant as the dirt on your shoe. Neither of them had the guts to ask either, especially as the tension in your body grew tighter when all of you spotted him walk into the library with one of his friends.

As quickly as you’d spotted him, you shifted your head back to your computer, doing your very best to ignore him.

You hated the effect he had on you, having humiliated and insulted you beyond belief, and yet you were the one fighting to keep your eyes off of him. He probably wasn’t even aware that you were sitting anywhere near him at all.

Why did he have this power over you? What was it about him that had you pulled in so badly? There had been nothing of value in your relation that was worth clinging onto, had there?

No, there couldn’t be. You could go out tonight and find someone just as hot and just as cruel as him to rock your world for one night if you wanted to. So why were you still hung up on a certain pink haired idiot who had a different type of hate in is eyes? A guy who didn’t even care that you were secretly miserable after the fallout.

Or so you thought.

Sukuna didn’t understand it, but he had himself instantly searching for your familiar figure whenever he entered a room. Of course he was aware that you were sitting in the library as well, eyes shifting between your laptop screen, your textbook and your notes. He tried, to the best of his ability, to not glance in your direction, not wanting to give his friend anything to hassle him about.

What also surprised him, was how much he wished he’d catch you staring in his direction. But he was only left disappointed, an unfamiliar sting filling his body when you never spared him a single sliver of attention.

“So you’re going this weekend, right?”

“Hmm?” Sukuna asked, managing to snap his eyes to his friend before he noticed him staring in your direction. “Yeah, of course. You know me,” his cocky tone quickly finding its way back to his voice, accompanied by a smirk to match.

He kept his smirk plastered on display, even when his friend squinted slightly at him. “You alright there?” The faintest, reactive twitch occurred under Sukuna’s left eye at the friendly concern, but he thought he’d been lucky enough that his friend didn’t notice.

God, he hated you, he thought.

Never had his friends ever asked him if he was doing alright, simply because he never gave them a reason to. Sukuna wasn’t the type to confront his feelings, let alone talk to anyone about anything. So if something was bothering him, he always put on a carefree face, like nothing in the world could ever faze him.

And then you came along, with your sharp tongue and crude lips that served him exactly the things he deserved to hear, never holding back.

You had been like a breath of fresh air, catching him completely by surprise. Yeah, at first he had approached you solely for sex, having caught his eye across the room at some drunken house party some time back, looking so incredibly sexy he just knew he was going to end the night between your legs one way or another. With time, when you turned out to be a lot tougher then you looked, he found himself lured in until eventually he felt an unfamiliar sense of comfort — he never admitted that though, not to himself or anyone else.

It wasn’t just the fact that you retaliated with snappy comebacks when they were called for, but it was more importantly the empathy you had in your eyes whenever you looked at him. He wasn’t used to being looked at like that. He couldn’t really remember doing anything worthy of such a compassionate gesture, but it just seemed like it came naturally to you.

That had grown to become what he appreciated the most by your company, which was why he tended to seek it so often.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” He shrugged casually, turning his eyes back to his laptop, pretending to work.

“I don’t know, just seem off, somehow.”

“Might have something to do with university riding my ass,” he groaned as his head fell back, sneaking a quick glimpse towards you, disappointed when he yet again wasn’t met with your eyes.

But it was all probably just a temporary quarrel. It wasn’t like you hadn’t fought before (though it had never ended as badly as it did that night), and every time he ended up back in your bed.

Saturday, two weeks since you had physically rushed him out of your dorm, he reached out.

You had gone with your friends to a house party the following weekend, and had an awful time. It seemed like no matter how much you drank, you never even started to feel tipsy. Then you had overheard a rumour in passing, of a girl who was looking for her friend who had supposedly disappeared with a certain brooding guy with pink hair, which had her a little concerned. After that there was no saving your mood.

You didn’t want to give him the power to cause this reaction in you, so this weekend you’d decided to just stay inside, telling your friends you weren’t feeling too good. You had wrapped yourself in a blanket, binging a silly sitcom while you devoured some chips.

And just as the clock passed two a.m., about the time Sukuna usually decided he’s had enough of whatever party he was at, your phone dinged with a text message from him.

Sukuna (IGNORE): hey, you down?

Your eyes instantly rolled aggressively far back into your head at the shameless attempt of reaching out. This was exactly what you expected if you ever were to hear from him again; a cheeky little text in the middle of the night to see if you would give yourself up so willingly to him.

Who could blame him? It wasn’t like you hadn’t opened the door for him every time he came rushing over. But this time was going to be different, locking your phone without answering and tossing it beside you again.

After ten minutes, another ding chimed.

Sukuna (IGNORE): cmon pretty, you and me

Again you ignored it, your slowly growing agitation having you chew the inside of your cheek.

Ding!

Sukuna (IGNORE): really gonna ignore me?

Sukuna (IGNORE): this is ridiculous

Sukuna (IGNORE): you’re a real piece of work, yk that right?

Then he went radio silent, and you started to picture him, wondering if he was secretly losing his mind by the lack of response he was receiving — you hoped he was.

You could only begin to imagine the amount of alcohol he had needed to consume in order to get down from his high horse just to send the first text. But then when he continued to send them, bordering on a pathetic behaviour, you wondered what the hell had gotten into him. If his friends knew how he was acting so desperately in the private messages of a girl he was supposedly “only screwing”, they would lose their shit — was Sukuna finally pussy whipped?

But it was probably delusional of you to think that was the case, when it was a lot more likely he simply couldn’t find any girls at the party that he hadn’t fucked already or didn’t interest him, and he was just so certain you were ready to welcome him with open legs arms. You were after all, according to him, a crazy slut.

After 45 minutes, an involuntary sigh escaped you when your phone dinged another time, his name lighting up the screen.

Sukuna (IGNORE): come open up

“Unbelievable,” you muttered to yourself, the last text making you get up from your comfortable seat on your bed, but not to open up the door to the building. No, you headed for your window which had a perfect view of the entrance to the building. And sure enough, three floors down, standing right outside the locked door, stood the familiar figure of Sukuna, gaze already angled towards your window.

“Open the fucking door,” you could make out his muffled shout through the window. Slightly stumbling in place, he cupped his hands around his mouth to shout again. “It’s freezing like hell out here!”

There was a small urge burning inside you to do as he asked, to give into the desire and let him in. Not for sex though, but for his presence. It was embarrassing to admit, but you’d grown somewhat used to falling asleep next to him, his body warming you under the shared covers, your fingers following the lines of his tattoos while he left a trail of tingles on your skin with a modest touch.

And the secret conversations you both let disappear into oblivion, where you had been introduced to the rare sound of his low chuckle, which wasn’t so hard to pull from him as one might think.

His muffled, intoxicated yelling continued when he held your stare, only for you to block it by abruptly pulling your blinds down to shield him out.

The next weekend rolled around, and Sukuna was attending yet another party in a desperate attempt to rid you from his mind, especially after the show that took place just one week ago.

Never had there ever been an individual to have such an impact on him. It seemed like forever since he had made the mistake of pursuing you for a few moments of pleasure, which you had certainly provided. What he couldn’t have possibly predicted, was how you had managed to creep under his skin and create a deeper connection that had him coming back time and time again — still refusing to believe that connection was a reality.

And now you had him acting like a pathetic fool, showing up outside your window in his drunken state after littering your inbox with texts that had him absolutely mortified the next morning when he woke up and saw what he had done.

At least you’d done him the decency of not running your mouth about his little drunken tantrum. It wasn’t like he deserved it, and deep down he knew that too. But he was more hung up on the fact that this whole ordeal needed to end, because he’d never hear the end of it if his friends learned that he, of all people, was acting up because of a girl.

But not tonight either, would he catch a break from you tormenting his mind, as he was unable to keep his alluring glances from flicking in your direction whenever he spotted you through the thick crowd of drunken people.

You seemed to be so wrapped up in your own evening, downing drink after drink while laughing with your friends, looking blissfully unaware that he was even in the same house as you.

He knew he needed a form of distraction, anything to help take his mind off of you, because it was starting to get to a point where even he couldn’t deny how extremely pathetic he was behaving.

That’s when his eyes managed to shift to the individual laughing at your side, someone he recognised you had sat with in the library on several occasions. Her smile mirrored yours as she playfully leaned her head on your shoulder while her tipsy laugh overcame her — she looked good, absolutely striking, though not as gorgeous as you.

With a glint in her eyes, Sukuna could tell she definitely had a wild side to her that would be down for anything that could take his mind away from you. So the second she split from your side to get another drink, he slowly made his way over to her.

When she became aware of his looming presence behind her, he was met with furrowed eyebrows as his name fell from her lips in confusion. But it didn’t take much effort from him to soften her expression into a somewhat adventurous one. He just did what he did best and girls seemed to fall at his feet, it didn’t matter what reputation he had. And when he sensually brought his hand up to cup her jaw, he could feel how she shuddered against his touch ever so slightly.

Contrary to popular belief, Sukuna hadn’t been with anyone since you. He had definitely tried, but something unspeakable inside him stopped him every time. And he firmly believed that was part of the reason he hadn’t been able to move on. So tonight was the night he broke his voluntary dry period — and it seemed he was going to be successful.

But as much as he was trying to keep his attention on the girl he couldn’t remember the name of, his subconscious still drifted towards the idea of you, if you were aware of his advances on your friend.

Lucky for you, the alcohol running through your bloodstream had all your attention focused on your immediate surroundings — until your friend came tapping on your shoulder twenty minutes later, pulling you close to her so you would hear her clearly.

“Would you mind if I slept with Sukuna?”

“What?”

Barely any sound made its way past your tongue, definitely swallowed into the vacuum of loud music and talk of the party. Pure shock was written all over your face at her out of pocket question.

“Well, I know the two of you had this arrangement. But that’s over, right?” She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth to stifle the excited grin that was threatening to overtake her entire face.

Maybe it was partly because of the intoxicating liquid in your system, but you had trouble wrapping your head around what was actually happening right now. Was she actually asking for your permission to sleep with Sukuna? Some friend she had was… then again, you knew what kind of influence he had on girls — of course he was having her surrender to him.

While swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, your eyes searched for him, breath hitching when you found his eyes already locked on you. This was the first time in a long time the two of you had made direct eye contact, and it nearly felt fragile.

A glimpse of the Sukuna you’d come to get to know in between the privacy of your bedsheets was who you were met with, and a weird sense of longing filled you — had you missed him?

From what you observed, you could easily think he felt the same, his Adam’s apple bopping nervously as he swallowed, holding your gaze tenderly. For a moment, it was just the two of you in the room. There was nearly a physical pull between where he stood and yourself, as the look you shared started to convey hundreds of unmentioned things.

But Sukuna caught himself before falling too deep, the melancholy you felt evaporating immediately when his cocky grin returned to his face before putting his cup to his lips again, and the familiar fury filled your body instead.

“Definitely over,” you muttered, eyes returning to your friend who lit up at your statement.

“So you won’t hate me?” Her hands gripped your forearm, shaking weakly in excitement.

“No.” The small lie danced in the atmosphere, and she did not catch it at all, spewing a string of cute ‘thank you’s before hurrying back over to Sukuna, who still had his eyes on you as she glued herself to him once again.

There were a lot of foul things you wanted to scream at him, letting all your frustration out on him again — even after these lonely weeks, were you had cursed yourself for even thinking of missing him, he was still the same asshole with no consideration for your feelings whatsoever. Everything was just a game to him to get high of his power trip, and you had just fallen into his trap like so many girls before you.

You averted your gaze first, trying your best to have your presence return to the party — you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of spoiling yet another one of your nights. You buried yourself further into the crowd, eventually ending up in the kitchen.

With a deep breath, you poured yourself another drink, only for your annoyance to return once someone so carelessly bumped into you, your beer spilling over your hand. “Watch where you’re-“

“Oh sorry- well hello,” the tone of the stranger changed once his eyes landed on you, feeling your brows soften as quickly as they had creased once you got a look at his magnificent, blue eyes.

“Hi,” you breathed, your tone matching his delight to some degree.

Whoever this guy was, he was painfully gorgeous with striking features which were incomparable to anything you’d ever seen before. And right now, he was eying you with lustful intent, something you did not mind at all. Maybe this was exactly what you needed tonight.

“Lucky I am to crash into a pretty thing like you,” he nearly purred into your ear, hand finding your waist in a possessive grip to pull you closer to hear him better, his white wisps of hair slightly tickling your cheek.

Your own, delicate hand slid up his chest before snaking around his neck to pull him even closer. “Can’t stay too upset about it.” His hot breath brushed your face when he pulled away again, the intoxicating smell of his cologne filling your senses.

“What’s your name?”

The scoff that met you when you told him your name caught you by surprise. What he said next, however, was worse.

“You’re Sukuna’s plaything, aren’t you?”

Pushing yourself off him again to see if there was any signs that this guy was just making a stupid joke, but there was nothing.

A million questions tumbled through your mind — was that what you were known as around campus? Was it Sukuna himself who’d honoured you with the title? What exactly did ‘plaything’ entail? Would this ruin your chance for any potential matches because that was all you would ever be perceived as?

“Is that what he’s telling people?”

The small chuckle from the guy only deepened your frown. “No, no, he doesn’t really talk about you at all.”

“Then how do you know about Sukuna and I?”

“Just because he doesn’t mention you, your escapades aren’t exactly secret.” You wanted to punch something — you wanted to punch him, send a right hook right into Sukuna’s jaw, the image of him floating around in your head. “People just know to stay away from you.” A huff of genuine and true disbelief slipped out of you, pinching your eyes shut as the alcohol did wonders to escalate your frustration with the speed of light. “And he has this look.”

“A look?” You sighed, narrowing your eyebrows as you met his gaze again, suddenly aware that his hand was still on your waist, showing no indication that he had any plans of letting go despite the evident tension in your frame.

He licked his lips, amusement painting his face as his eyes flicked towards your lips. “He clearly doesn’t like it when someone else shows an interest.”

To think you’d given Sukuna the time of day, daring to lure you in with faint insights to a vulnerable side that you had been charmed by, only for it to disappear into nothingness, never to be mentioned again. Then, he had the audacity to throw the most vulgar insults right to your face, as if you weren’t standing right in front of him, bawling your eyes out — and now you were being told that he still acted as if he had a form of ownership over you.

“Asshole,” you mumbled mostly to yourself. “Well,” turning your full attention to him again. “So, are you like his friend or something?” He laughed instantly.

“Nah, not even close.” He began to lean closer, feeling his satisfied grin on his lips as they gently brushed against yours.

With the sensation of feeling someone else’s lips against yours after all those weeks, you let out a breath of relief, the tension slowly seeping out of your body when the stranger still held onto you with a gentle longing.

His lips were soft, moving in a smooth rhythm with your own, causing a small whimper to escape you. He broke away, the chuckle chiming in your ears again.

“Over a little kiss?” He teased, hand still on your cheek while his thumb traveled across your cheekbone.

“Shut up,” you giggled, stretching up on your toes to kiss him again, this time with more hunger, fingers carefully tugging at his shirt. He happily indulged in the action, as his tongue swifly ran along your bottom lip before parting them — only to be abruptly jerked away just as things were about to get good, as you were finally reunited with a tingling you’d so dearly missed.

Both of you stared towards the source of the disruption, a strong and veiny hand placed on his shoulder. You shouldn’t be too surprised to see it was Sukuna who had interrupted your heated session, but that didn’t stop you from staring daggers at him, with the right corner of his mouth forced into a smile.

“Gojo! Figured this is the situation I’d find you,” Sukuna said, purposely keeping his eyes away from you.

The stranger, now suddenly titled with the name Gojo, stuck his tongue against the inside of his cheek, just as unamused as you were. “Always such a pleasure.”

“Didn’t know you two were friends,” the way the last word left him was drenched in disgust, his hand moving from Gojo’s shoulder to stuff them both in the pockets of his pants.

“Just leave, Sukuna,” you interjected, but he ignored you completely.

“We just met.” Gojo was so lighthearted in his speech, suddenly presenting himself entirely unbothered by Sukuna’s appearance.

“Looked rather friendly from where I stood.”

“Careful Sukuna, one might start to think you’re jealous.” One could hear the smirk in his voice, while Sukuna’s jaw clenched at his small but effective jab.

That’s when he finally turned his head to look at you, meeting your hard scowl. His expression matched yours, every muscle in his face that could be tightened was.

Heart raising, breath quickening, Gojo’s hand still tight on your waist, eyes staring into Sukuna’s — so many factors fuelling the fire in your body, slowly having you shifting your weight from one foot to another in a nervous haze.

“Could I get two words with you?” His demeanour was still showing no signs of compassion, which made it hard to believe the hint of softness you thought you heard in his voice was real.

“Not interested.”

“Don’t be like that,” Sukuna groaned cruelly, any evidence of softness gone.

“Like what, exactly?” You challenged, daring him to call you the words that you knew were resting on his mind.

His anger grew stronger, pinching the bridge of his nose as he breathed your name — a shiver shot through your body, the way his rough speech carried your name still had you weak.

“Listen, you heard her. Just leave,” Gojo said calmly, though the taunt was still heard. You didn’t know if he did it because he had some personal vendetta against Sukuna, or if this was how he was and he just couldn’t help it. Either way, it caused Sukuna to snap at him.

“Why don’t you stay the fuck out of it?”

The white haired guy at your side seemed to fight back a laugh as he stared down Sukuna, not at all intimidated. Nonetheless, his hand disappeared from its spot at your curve, turning your head towards him at the loss of his tender and surprisingly comfortable grip.

Was Sukuna really going to take this away from you as well? Ruin yet another evening you had desperately clung onto in hopes it would provide a good time, something you had wished for ever since you stood in a puddle of your own tears three weeks ago?

“You know, Sukuna,” Gojo trailed off confidently, “with a tongue as sharp as yours, one day one of these pretty girls will slap you across the face and I’ll be in the front row, enjoying the show.” Before Sukuna had time to fire any kind of snarky comeback, Gojo had already turned to face you. “I don’t think tonight’s the night, sweetheart. But I’m sure I’ll see you around.” His charming smile lingered as a bitter goodbye before he turned on his heel to rejoin the party as if nothing had happened at all, utterly unfazed by his little confrontation with Sukuna.

You let your disappointed gaze follow Gojo as he disappeared into the crowd, any request to get him to stay dying before they reached past your lips.

Facing Sukuna again, his shoulders were high but seemed more at peace now that the two of you were left alone, though surrounded by drunk students in every corner — but they didn’t concern you at all.

You were focusing all your willpower not to fulfil Gojo’s prophecy already, knowing it would lose all its power if you folded to the aggression already.

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” you nearly spat in his face, desperate to get as far away from him as possible. There was not an ounce of worry to spare any of his feelings anymore, as you let your shoulder crash into him when you attempted to escape from his vicinity.

It was probably naive to believe he’d let you go that easily, head falling back in frustration before he grabbed your wrist. The action of his clutch circling your wrist probably looked a lot worse than it was, as his grip was surprisingly more tender than you expected it to be.

But you instantly pulled your hand to yourself before you had much time to reflect over the fact. “Don’t touch me! I told you to stay away from me.”

You continued to bully your way through the crowd, Sukuna following the narrow path you created while trying to get your attention. It wasn’t until you stepped into the less crowded front lawn that you stopped dead in your tracks, spinning around to meet him with fire in your eyes.

“Isn’t my friend waiting for you inside? Shame to let her wait for so long.” Every word was venomous, earning you a mean scoff.

“Like I care.”

“Certainly seemed like you cared very much about her not half an hour ago,” you said, crossing your arms angrily over your chest.

He couldn’t help the self satisfied grin that was planted on his face by your poorly hidden jealousy. “So much for being ‘definitely over’, as you put it so nicely.”

“Spare me!” You growled, taking a step closer as he had you filled to the rim with agitation. “At least I didn’t let my jealousy get the best of me and interrupt your little make out session!”

Of course he’d ignore your call out of his jealousy, latching onto how you basically confessed you had in fact felt a sting at the scene he’d displayed so graciously a few feet from you earlier that night.

“Knew it got a rise out of you-“

“The audacity you have to tease me about this, after you so rudely interrupted Gojo and I!” Your voice had gotten significantly louder, having the people closest to you peak a curious ear — this was, after all, Sukuna engaging in a shouting match with a girl for everyone to witness.

“Were you going to sleep with him?” The innocent question he asked nearly had you feel sympathy. His hands were removed from his pockets, tense at his side.

“Maybe I was, and so what?” He seemed a little taken aback by how in-your-face you stayed when he had let his true feelings shine through in his words. “I don’t believe that’s any of your business!”

“But Gojo? Come on,” he scoffed.

“Sukuna,” calling his name interrupted how his antsy gaze traveled your surroundings, drawing them directly towards you. “You are truly embarrassing yourself by acting this way!”

“Excuse me?” Towering over you, he took offence to your statement despite knowing damn well it was true.

“You want me to recall the events? Because I most certainly will! Maybe call over your friends and they can hear all about how you showed up outside my window, drunk out of your mind, begging me to let you in!”

Being a half decent human being, you felt a small twinge of guilt, especially when you saw how his eyes frantically roamed your face while his limps grew tense.

“But I’m the jealous one, for not wanting to see you and my so-called friend macking on each other!” He’d never heard your tone so full of pure sarcasm, and it had him nearly speechless. He wanted to defend himself, which he’d never had any problem with before. “Go back to her! Another name to add to your list! I can only imagine how much it’s grown since we last talked!”

He liked his lips in frustration before opening his mouth. “I haven’t slept with anyone since that night!”

“Please,” you scoffed with an aggressive roll of the eyes. “Like I’m supposed to believe that!”

“I’m not fucking lying,” his voice raised, matching yours.

A deep sigh left your lungs. “Fine, you’re not lying! How noble of you! I’m proud, I must say. Finally managed to keep it in your pants for three whole weeks.”

“I think you’re being a tad bit unreasonable here!” He said with a low voice, carefully leaning closer in an attempt to save what privacy the conversation might have left.

“Want a gold star for not catching chlamydia yet? A pat on the back?” You taunted, taking another step closer, ignoring his unfair sentence as you restrained your arms across your chest not to pound weak fists against his chest.

God, yet again he had the tears prickling in the corner of your eyes. After everything, you should have been able to distance yourself from him. When he had you this fragile, you gave him power you wished he didn’t have over you — you were scared he fed off of it.

But there was a storm raging inside him as well, struggling to contain all the intense feelings that were burning inside him, actively fighting the urge to physically reach out for you.

Previously, he’d had no issue strangling that tiny voice in the back of his mind that told him to surrender to his gentle side, despite it always being audible when he was around you.

But the time spent separated from you had intensified that voice, now yelling at him to let his fingers dry your tears, to kiss your puffy, red cheeks, pull your smaller frame into his embrace to comfort you — all actions that were highly unnatural to him, yet he so badly wanted to feel your trembling cries calm against his body.

“What is it that you want from me?” You pleaded, stifling the sniffles.

“I want-“ your glossy eyes interrogated him, threatening him to spill the confession he was too scared to put into actual words. “Let’s just head back to your place.” The wide eyed stare you gave him made him realise just how badly he had phrased it. He simply wanted to go back to your dorm, which had such a comfortable atmosphere, and you could continue the conversation under four eyes.

You huffed in disbelief. “When I thought you couldn’t sink any fucking lower. You think so little of me that you’d think I’d actually want to sleep with you?”

“Shit,” he groaned quietly while you were still talking, panic starting to take over him. “That’s not what I meant.” Every word came out rushed, like he was trying to save his own skin more than anything.

“You’re disgust me! Do you have no tact?!”

Your arms tightened even more around yourself in a failed effort to contain your low sobs. He still managed to disappoint you, despite the fact that you had learned it was best to have zero expectations of him.

“Give me some slack, I’m trying here!” He said desperately, the frustration he tried to suppress seeping through the huge cracks he had created in his own image. It earned him another taunting laugh.

“Slack? Really? After you called me a slut, a whore, crazy, and clingy, I’m supposed to give you some slack?!” You exclaimed, the tears wetting your cheeks.

He dared let some of his urges steer his body closer to you, but his hand stopped an inch before it made contact with your bare arm, feeling your warmth radiating against his hovering palm.

You didn’t flinch, didn’t back away. You just held his gaze, challenging him to cross the line and actually let his hand touch you, as if it would help him plead his case — but you never even felt a single graze of his skin against you.

Letting your eyes flitter over his shoulder, you spotted a generous audience of his friends in the window having turned their attention towards your confrontation as it had quickly increased in volume.

“Damn,” you breathed in faux disappointment. “Your friends are watching. But don’t worry, you haven’t blown your perfect reputation of being a coldhearted piece of shit.”

Waiting for another second, you gave him one last chance to just give in, pretending that if he actually touched your arm, he would be able to prove something to you.

But you knew you needed more. You wanted him to confess the things his eyes exposed, in spite of how closed off his entire demeanour was. You knew your suspicions couldn't be completely made up from the depths of your mind, that he must have done something to, at the very least, plant the seed for the thoughts that had rummaged your mind.

Staring into his eyes, you remembered all those nights shared in secret, and how pathetic you felt for missing them — yearning for them.

“I didn’t want this,” he burst out, eyebrows narrowing to enhance his anger, though he did not manage to let go of the softness in his eyes. “You’re a real pain in my neck. Fuck, if I could erase you from my memory, you bet your sweet ass I would!”

You could not form any coherent thoughts about where he could possibly go with this speech, only sensing he was going to spill yet another string of dumb and meaningless words that showed no reflection over the situation whatsoever.

“You’re a plague. A god damn sickness, and I cannot get rid of you!”

“Nice one, Sukuna. I’ll add that to the list of all the horrible things you’ve called me.”

“Don’t try to twist my words, you know what I’m trying to say!”

Placing a pointy finger at the centre of his chest, he felt the pressure of your dig but kept his eyes locked on your sad face. “They say it!”

“What?”

“Stop beating around the bush, and say what’s on your mind. Go on,” you challenged, his chest heaving violently as he tried to remain calm to some degree. “You know exactly what I’m getting at. There’s a reason you reacted the way you did that night, and there’s a reason you could not stand to see me with Gojo. So say it — loud and clear!”

He leaned in even further, feeling his hot and angry breath brush against your nose. His mouth opened, every confession resting at the tip of his tongue. He wanted to say it, to tell you what you wanted to hear, but his mouth closed as quickly as it had opened.

Déjà Vu overcame you when you placed the palms of your hands against his chest and used all your strength to increase the distance between you.

“You’re a fucking coward!” A loud sob fell from your lips when he once again spoke your name, nearly causing your jelly knees to collapse under you. “Go back in there! Enjoy your evening! Get your dick sucked, I don’t care as long as I don’t have to look at your face!” You gestured towards the house behind him.

Without another word, your cries continued as you turned your back to him and started to walk away, blocking out how he called your name.

For what felt like hours, Sukuna stood in that exact same spot and watched as your figure slowly disappeared down the dark street. There was not a single calm cell in his body, so wrapped up in his pointless train of thought he didn’t even notice he’d been approached by one of his friends until he placed his hand on his shoulder.

“Sukuna-“

“Get your fucking hand off me,” Sukuna growled, instantly shrugging off the gesture that had been one of genuine consideration.

His feet started to carry him down the street in the opposite direction you had, blatantly ignoring his friend’s attempt in catching his attention — a lot like you had with him.

His spiralling mind made no sense, all the thoughts blending into one deafening noise where he couldn’t make out a single thing — except the one clear image of you that stuck out. And his only worry was that he had no clue when or if he’d ever see you again.

It’s been a long time coming, but Sukuna’s attitude has finally come to bite him in the ass.

This time around, he hadn’t been as fortune to have the option to let his dramatics disappear into the back of his mind, as there had been a row of nosy audience who’d witnessed the entire thing play out right outside that crowded party.

Rumours spread like wildfire, and of course everyone and their mother had an opinion on the matter. If Sukuna didn’t know any better, he would think he was back in high school by the way people were talking about him. When he entered a room filled with peers from his faculty, both his and your name followed him like a shadow.

Just a few days after the party, he’d picked up on someone indulging in cheap gossip when he passed their table. “That’s that Sukuna guy, from the party right off campus!” The guy said in a poorly concealed whisper.

“That’s the guy? She really went for him?” The other guy me responded.

Their not-so-secret conversation was abruptly cut short when Sukuna slapped a strong hand on the back of the first guy who talked. “Ever heard about keeping your nose out of other people’s shit?” It sounded close to a threat, straining out through gritted teeth.

That was not the first nor the last time Sukuna overheard someone talk about the incident, most people vouching in your favour — obviously.

Even his friends seemed to lean in your direction. They never said it straight out, but they made it clear enough every time they even dared to give their two cents about the situation.

One evening, despite feeling more in the mood to just walk around town and mope, they convinced him to join the gang for a beers and pizza. It took only an hour before they cracked and brought you up. “Why didn’t you tell us you were dating?”

Sukuna had instantly shot him a death glare, his leg slowly starting to bounce. “The fuck are you talking about?” A small snicker traveled the group.

“Come on, man. You and whatever her name is. I thought the two of you were only fucking.”

“We were only fucking,” he confirmed, instantly bringing the glass bottle to his lips for a big swig.

“Your little lover’s quarrel last Saturday says otherwise.” Sukuna’s agitation only escalated by their annoying teasing, which had him completely ignore their underlying concern for him, visible to anyone but him in the looks they all shared — the teasing was just the only way they saw it possible to approach this topic.

“Funny,” he deadpanned.

“If you wanna talk about it-“ their attempt of companionship was quickly shut down when he quickly got on his feet.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he groaned, and stormed out of the apartment without another word. He wasn’t going to sit there and endure their lame comments, concealing how they just wanted him to confront his issues regrading you.

Walking down the dark street, he lit himself a cigarette and pulled out his phone, shame not being able to stop the bad habit he had developed of relentlessly stalking your socials.

It was absolutely pointless, because you hadn’t posted anything new since before you threw him out. If anything, he just felt even more pathetic as he found himself just looking at your old posts.

He realised how many of your small details he had picked up, like how your eyes creased when you smiled or how you tended to hide your face when you were genuinely laughing — all traits he found himself missing, and cursing himself for not fully letting himself enjoy when he experienced it first hand.

But it wasn’t just online you had gone awol. Sukuna had started to think you might have dropped out because you were nowhere to be seen. You didn’t even tag along with your crowd, your usual seat always left empty.

The reason for that chair staying unoccupied for the most part, was because you had taken extensive steps in order remain a stranger. You thought that not having to see his face, even if it was for just a split second in passing, the whole thing would eventually just blow over until it didn’t cause you any pain.

Easier said than done.

Much like Sukuna, you were more than aware that everyone knew. As much as you tried to reach within yourself for some zen in order to turn the other cheek, you couldn’t stop how people paid you a pitying gaze whenever they talked to you.

It didn’t help the process of trying to heal from the pain that had set root in you so deeply. Had you known how badly being entangled with him would end, you would probably have thought twice about accepting his advances.

And somehow, despite it all, every word, every touch and every confrontation, you missed him.

It wasn’t until you experienced the absence of his presence, you realised how much value you had put into the part he had come to play in your life. Somewhere along the journey, you had both nurtured your relation without even knowing it, to the point where it had started to mean something — and that was why it wouldn’t stop agonising you.

However, this was Ryomen Sukuna we were talking about. It was a waste of time to hope he could ever reach that level of reflection. He had already caved once. Chances he’d do it again were slim to none, enjoying his view from his high horse too much to sacrifice it for some girl he’d replace eventually.

No, staying out of his way until you managed to demote him to nothing but a cautionary tale was the way to go.

“How the hell did you get into the building?” The question came out a lot sharper than intended, but the shock of having Sukuna standing in your doorway, sporting his famous frown, shaped your tone.

“Your neighbour’s is kind of a pussy,” was the only explanation he gave you, which could mean anything.

Your breathing became uneasy, not having seen his face in person for nearly three weeks. Same tufts of messy hair, his tattoos peaking up out of his shirt and up his neck, hands stuffed in his pockets like always.

“Not interested,” you mumbled, rushing to close the door in his face. But a loud thud interrupted the action, Sukuna having smoothly placed his foot between the crack.

“Let’s just have a civil conversation,” he insisted.

With a frustrated sigh, you creaked the door open again, resting your hand on your hip. “Five minutes.”

“Seriously,” he huffed. “You’re really going to be difficult right now?” You simply raised your eyebrows at his familiar, cold tone.

“You’re the one showing up unannounced.”

He cleared his throat, the sound of your voice reminding him why he had actually come to see you. “Sorry,” he forced out, and you could actually hear how he put a hint of honesty into it. “But I think five minutes isn’t going to be enough for all we have to talk about.”

“You’re just assuming I’m willing to talk,” you pointed out.

There was a small spark inside, screaming for you to just surrender to him. Let him take the stage and explain whatever he had on his chest so you wouldn’t have to have another lonely night. All the fantasies of him reaching out had kept you company, and maybe you had manifested him into standing in front of you right now.

That didn’t change the fact that it would be nothing but unfair to yourself to give in to the first sprinkle of reunion.

You watched him physically restrain the reactive groan in his throat. “I would like to apologise for my behaviour,” he spoke slowly, almost as if he was reading it up from a script. You couldn’t stop how it caused you to sigh again, impatiently knitting your arms in front of you to see if he was going anywhere with this. “Can I please come in?”

Slowly your muscles started to grow fidgety while his eyes bore into you, his voice carrying in an uncharacteristic, delicate tune. After a moment of silence, weighing your options, you slowly nodded your head yes and stepped aside to let him inside.

“You rearranged,” was the first thing he said when he entered, eyes roaming your room, none of your furniture sat in the place they used to be. But what actually caught his eye was how he couldn’t spot any of his tokens hidden away in the corners anymore.

He turned around to face you when he heard another sigh from you. “If you’re gonna talk, then talk.”

“I should never have called you those things, and I apologise.” The way the words came out of his mouth told you he must to have practiced exactly what to say, reciting word for word.

“Thank you,” you said coldly.

“And I’m sorry for how I treated you at the party.”

He hated how quiet you were, simply having your eyes travel his face as he was waltzing way out of his own comfort zone. He knew you could tell, evident in every joint of his body that he was about to beg you to put him out of his misery.

“Fuck, stop looking at me like that,” he grumbled, having to turn his head to break your intense and investigative stare. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

You scoffed, not entirely surprised he would somehow end up loading some responsibility on your shoulders even though he was the one who had put you both in this situation. “Sukuna, you called me a sickness!”

“Yes, I did, because you are!” He snapped, flaming eyes back on you in a heartbeat, catching you off guard. “You have grown stuck in my head, and I can’t get you off my damn mind no matter how fucking hard I try!”

“But that’s not my fault!” You responded sternly, wanting to keep from screaming.

“I know, but it’s not like I planned for this to happen. I just wanted to have fun with you for one fucking night, and then I thought a second night wouldn’t hurt. Clearly it did, because I-“ he let out a frustrated sigh as he ran his hand through his hair. “Fucking hell,” he breathed quietly.

He began to reminisce about the evening he had decided to go home with you a second time. That wasn’t his MO, usually. Once he’d had his way with a girl, he went on to pretend they didn’t exist.

You hadn’t done anything in particular the first time around to make him pursue you again. He was simply bored and no one else caught his eyes — he also knew you could provide one hell of a night.

It didn’t take a lot of convincing on his part, quickly heading back to your dorm again after he had approached you.

He had you moaning his name and clawing at his back, practically begging for more. And once he was done, he didn’t wait to get up and get dressed.

And in the pitch, black darkness of your room, he had stumbled over what he thought was your backpack, face planting straight for the floor. There was a moment of utter silence as he scrambled back on his feet before he heard the most melodic sound of your laughter.

“Did you just fall?”

He was so thankful it was dark so you weren’t able to see the embarrassment lightly flush his cheeks.

“Shut up,” he mumbled as he twisted the doorknob.

He still heard your small giggle seep through the crack as he exited — and that was exactly what had lured him in. His subconscious didn’t need anything more than that sweet sound to be hypnotised. He didn’t even have any control over it, as it brought him right back to you for many more nights.

“Because you what?” You challenged, bringing him back to the moment by capturing his eyes, forcing him to keep them on you.

“I don’t know,” a low grumble, feeling how he wanted so badly to peer his eyes off you, looking anywhere but your face.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” you huffed. “After calling me a crazy slut, you lost that privilege. So whatever it was you came here to tell me, say it with your god damn chest.”

He licked his teeth in frustration, so conflicted in how to feel about that sharp tongue of yours. Normally Sukuna would not accept the type of attitude you served him from anyone. But whenever it was you who matched his energy, he always felt himself drawn further in — despite also finding it extremely insufferable.

“The reason I hit on your friend wasn’t necessarily to make you jealous-“

“How big of you,” you cut him off, and it was his turn to scoff.

“Let me finish,” slightly raising his voice. While your frown remained, you sealed your lips shut to keep any further snarky outbursts from interrupting him. “It was yet another desperate attempt to get you out of my head. She just looked like she would be down for it. And then I saw you with Gojo. Fuck, it made me sick!”

The disgust was clear as day, soaking every word as they came out. Whatever his relation to Gojo was prior to that night, it became clear that seeing him with you triggered him to lose any restraints of decency he might have possessed that evening.

“It pissed me off, and I couldn’t just watch.”

“You could have gone home-”

“Like hell I could!” Before you even had the chance to finish your sentence, he protested. With slow steps, he started to approach you, filling your body with anticipation.

Still missing his touch as much as you had the entire time apart, it took immense self control not to give into the desire to feel the firmness of his body again.

His glare bore deep into you, causing realisation to finally set in — feelings you had smothered and never put into words, finally gaining a solid presence in your mind.

“You’re mine. You always have been.”

Instinctively your lungs caught a sharp breath, taking in every detail of his face as his loaded confession slowly sunk in.

Confused — so far past comprehension of what you were feeling. Was this what you’d wanted?

As much as you’d complained about how he acted as he was entitled to you whenever he snaked his dominant arms around your body, his possessiveness had never been something to turn you away. These were the actions that had planted the seed to your every growing relation, sucked in by how he always made you feel desired — but also safe.

His grip on you had never been hard or unpleasant, despite how it might have appeared to every other person outside the two of you. And when his body was pressed up against you as you fell asleep, you knew that night would be a lot more peaceful, just his energy grounding you in a sense of security.

Yet, that feeling shattered that night.

“I’m yours?” Your voice came out weak, tears you were beyond tired of drying, once more welling up along your waterline. “But you can’t be mine, is that it?”

“What?” His tone was a mixture of utter bewilderment and frustration.

“Do you know what your problem is, Sukuna?” A quiet sniffle before you spoke again. “You’re selfish. Too proud to acknowledge anything real.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it? Do I need to remind you that I didn’t demand anything other than some slight clarification? I had every right to question what the hell was going on, because there were… unspoken things developed and you just-“ you stopped talking when you had to let out a shaky breath, letting the tears roll calmly down your cheeks.

Something he had learned since getting to know you, was just how much he disliked seeing you cry. What was worse, was how he was the one who so easily brought them to the surface.

Would it be wrong to reach out, let his rough hands dry them away?

Against his better judgement, he lifted his hand to graze your soft cheeks — only for you to instantly swat his hand away.

“No, you don’t get to do that!” You snapped, your sorrow painting every word. “You think you can march in here and just acknowledge some responsibility and think that’s good enough? You want to go back to spending your nights here while stringing me along?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” he couldn’t help but let his voice raise to match yours, his message grasping on desperation.

“Then what is it you’re saying?” You pleaded, hands gesturing in front of you with built up despair. “What do you want? A relationship?” Once the word was out there, a taunting chuckle followed. “That’s not you.”

“Maybe it can be!”

Your hands curled into fists, all your emotions spilling into your fingers digging into your palms, hoping the action would wake you up, because there was no way Sukuna was actually standing in front of you saying he was considering a relationship.

“You piece of shit,” your voice cracked. “That’s not fucking funny.”

“Give me some credit, I’m not saying it to be funny!”

“Right-“ you were once again cut off by a violent sob. He knew he couldn’t blame you for being reluctant. He hadn’t done anything to deserve your understanding nature, but he still felt his anger being nurtured when it seemed he was getting nowhere, despite blotting himself unlike he’d never done before.

“Look, I-“ why was this so hard? He knew what he wanted to say, but all the words knotted themself before he had the chance to put them out into the world. “It has felt wrong. These past few weeks, not sleeping here, not being able to let people know who you really belonged to, in general not having you around has not felt right.”

Choking back your sadness, you were in awe at how vulnerable he was being, never in a million years had you ever thought you’d see the sight.

“I never regret anything, because like you said, I’m selfish. I usually don’t give a shit, except about you.” He finished his speech, a long breath of relief sunk his shoulders, some serenity starting to fill his body even though he wasn’t sure he had secured himself any future involvement with you — at least he had taken the opportunity to unload his shoulders.

For what felt like an eternity, you both let the silence settle, just looking at each other. The atmosphere was filled with every confession of the evening, while your eye contact seemed to convey the things that were yet to be revealed.

But the longer it took for you to respond, the more uneasy Sukuna became. He might have made a mistake by exposing himself, willingly giving you all the power-

“You’re really fucking stupid, you know that right?” He tilted his head, surprised to hear your tone had calmed down, the tiniest peak at the corner of your swollen lips.

“That thought has crossed my mind a few times lately,” he dared dip his toe in the changed energy, playing along with the bounce in your voice he had wished to hear again for so long.

You wiped your nose with the back of your hand, shaking your head like it would help sorting all your thoughts. The silence returned, and though it was more comfortable than before, the atmosphere had turned a little awkward. Overly aware of your own body, how puffy your face was from once again bawling out in front of him, slowly shifting your weight from one foot to another.

“Do I dare ask what the deal is now?”

He snorted instantly at your little question. “Funny,” he smirked. You only quirked an eyebrow as your nose crinkled with another quiet sniffle. “You’re really going to make me say it?”

“Think you kind of owe me,” you shrugged.

He picked up on the courages hint of playfulness, satisfaction returning to him as he was reunited with the silly banter he wouldn’t take for granted again. “You’re kind of a brat, you know that right?”

A tiny giggle played on your lips. “I’ve been called worse.”

“I did miss you.”

“Me too,” you whispered to his soft confession, a lot of the pent up stress from all those weeks beginning to finally drain out of you. “Sukuna?”

“Mhmm?”

“Will you stay here tonight?”

The familiar smug grin came to show. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

tags @sad-darksoul

a/n it's finally here. it's done. it's over... and i'm actually a little proud. like i kinda like it ngl... i just hope it doesn't flop bc it took me sooo long to write holy shit. but it's not hovering over me anymore so enjoy — so excited to see how it’s recived, bc i’m going to bed bc i got work in less than seven hours

likes, comments and reblogs is much appreciated

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[mrsbarnesblog]

my girl

masterlist

requests are open

summary: even if you knew that you and Rafe were just hooking up, hearing his friend's comments about you, while you were preparing a venue for the event, hurt more than you expected it to

word count: 2k.

warnings: fwb (or smth like that) to lovers, mentions of sex but nothing explicit, Rafe's friends lol, swearing

a/n: soft Rafe is my weakness, I'm sorry. he's on my mind 24/7 and I literally don't know what to write

You were running around the outdoor venue with boxes full of pastry, where in a few hours there was going to be an annual celebration with lots of rich people. For some reason, Ward Cameron, who was paying for everything here, decided that your father’s small bakery was good enough to feed all of the kooks, so from the afternoon on, you were organizing tables to make everything look perfect. 

The place itself looked truly magical—decorated with a lot of flower arrangements, lights and expensive furniture. It was located at Figure 8, so you obviously never had the opportunity to visit it before. It was Kook’s territory, and even with your family’s bakery, which was pretty popular on the island, you were not welcome here.

Just a few minutes ago, Ward himself came to the venue with Rafe and his son’s best friends in order to check how everything was going. 

As soon as your eyes met Rafe’s, you both stopped for a few seconds, too shocked to see each other in a public place. What happened between you and Kook's prince was something that you had never expected to get into, yet here you were. 

You didn’t know what got into you that one night, but out of nowhere, Rafe was talking to you, smiling, looking all sexy and without his usual cockiness, so you couldn’t resist him. 

It wasn’t that you even regretted your decision; it just became more weird every single time you met because he wasn’t bad. Rafe Cameron wasn’t an asshole, which everyone made him seem to be. He was affectionate and surprisingly soft, always checking on you while you two were together and never pressuring you to leave. You wholeheartedly had to admit that it became more than just sex after a few weeks, no matter how hard you tried to deny it. 

You were definitely not dating, mostly because he had never asked you to, but you two were always texting about random stuff, he would even pick you up to hang out at his secret spot on the beach, or just to simply sit in his truck with lots of food and talk. Part of you hated it, but Rafe made you feel so comfortable and safe around him so you were scared to push it and ask him what was happening between you. 

Rafe’s eyes stayed fixated on you as his father, Kelce and Topper stood near him, looking around the venue and chatting. But he could not care less about it because his entire attention was drawn to you and how adorable you looked in your pink tennis skirt and simple white polo with the bakery's logo on it. 

He may or may not be responsible for Ward’s choice of bakery to work with, because Rafe made sure to accidentally mention it a few times, knowing that it would be a good profit for your family. Yet, seeing you here slightly took him off guard, as the first thought that appeared in his head was to go up to you, flirt and make you blush, or just simply kiss you. But he couldn’t, right? At least not until he properly talked to you. 

“Damn, she’s hot, even for a pogue. No wonder you hit it a few times, bro. I'd do it too.” The moment words left Topper’s mouth, Rafe’s heart dropped into his stomach. Kelce snickered, fistbumping Topper, and Rafe cursed himself for running his mouth. He really considered drowning his friends in the nearest lake. 

“Shut your fucking mouth.” Rafe seethed through gritted teeth, elbowing his friend. 

“I would appreciate you both watching your language.” Ward sighed, wincing and rubbing a hand on his beard. He looked at Rafe, who completely ignored his questioning gaze while trying to figure out how to fix it. 

Even with you standing with your back facing them, Rafe saw that you heard it too. Your hand froze in the air, still holding a cupcake, and your shoulders sagged in disappointment and hurt.

Only a few seconds later, you came back to your senses. Your back straightened, you finished decorating the table and you put empty boxes in the trash can. You turned around, showing the fakest smile Rafe had ever seen on your face. Your nails digged in your palm to control yourself, and you stepped closer to the four of them. 

“Mr. Cameron, thank you for working with our bakery. It really means a lot for my family. I did everything and now the event manager should carry on. I, um, should go. I have a lot of stuff to do. Have a great night.” Your eyes were glossy, with tears clearly visible on your waterline. As you awkwardly and in a rush thanked Ward, you didn’t even look at Rafe or either of his friends, knowing damn well that it would break you. 

You didn’t even wait for Ward’s response before storming off, trying to get as far away from these people as possible. Your chest felt too heavy, and the lump in your throat was so hard that you could barely speak. But you didn’t even walk a few feet away before a familiar hand wrapped around your wrist and made you turn around. 

“What do you want from me?” You snapped at Rafe, trying to yank your hand out of his grip. “Don’t touch me, Rafe.”

“This is not what you think it is.” He said, searching for your eyes. His brows were knit together, and his eyes were big and round, almost in fear. 

“Oh no? Isn’t it what I am to you? Just a hit. Just another one on your long list. Why are you bothering to explain anything to me anyway?” You laughed, barely able to hold back your tears. As if it were not enough that you cried in front of Rafe, neither his friends nor his father seemed to mind their own business, obviously listening to your conversation. 

“No. You know that it was more for me, Y/N. I’m serious about you, okay? Topper just cannot filter his fucking mouth.” 

“Stop doing it, Rafe!” You broke, not bothering to hide anymore. “Stop playing with my feelings when you know damn well that you won’t have anything serious with me. I’m not rich, I’m not a kook and I’m not like the prefect girls you usually hang out with. I get it, okay?” You yanked your hand out of his hold, not missing the way Rafe tried to catch it back. Wiping away hot and angry tears with the back of your hand, you look him right in the eyes. “I just wish you didn't give me hope in the first place, because I feel so fucking stupid.” 

“You’re not stupid, Y/N. I don’t care about your money or your status, for that matter. I want you and I mean it. Just let me explain—”

"This is why you would not even speak to me in front of anyone, right? This is why we were always sneaking around. Because you want me, not because you’re too good to be around me.“ You confronted him, not even caring who could hear or see you. From the position where you were standing, you saw a bunch of young waitresses standing not so far away, pretending to work on the table but eyeing you and Rafe every second.

“I’m an asshole. I know it. I know that I didn’t put the label on us and that I fucked up, not doing the right thing.” He stepped closer to you, not breaking eye contact to show that he was sincere. "When Topper and Kelce saw me with you, I panicked and said the only thing that made sense: we were just hooking up. I didn’t want it to be that way, fuck…” Rafe screched the back of his neck in agitation.

“You should go back and stop embarrassing yourself talking with a pogue. I bet your friends found it entertaining. How much did you tell them, hm? Did you share every single detail of what we were doing?” Your voice broke at the end.

“I didn’t tell them anything!”

“Well, I don’t believe you, Rafe!” You sniffed, looking away to distract yourself from the look in Rafe’s eyes. His blue eyes were round, full of concern and it seemed like he was almost panicking. "I understand how guys like you talk about women, but I guess I was stupid enough to believe you would not do that to me. So yeah, you got what you wanted from me and now you can go back to—”

You were rumbling one moment, and the next, two hands pressed on your cheeks, tilting your head up, and Rafe's lips were on yours. You gasped, hands freezing in the air in shock, before slowly moving to Rafe’s shirt to tug on it. 

He didn’t rush; he just firmly yet gently held you against him while his tongue slipped into your mouth, savoiring every second. It’s been just two days since you last seen each other, but God, you missed kissing him. Even if you wanted to move away, you couldn’t. Rafe's palms were on your face, guiding you, while his kiss made your head feel empty and light. He smelled and tasted so good and you hated how quickly you got used to the feeling of his touch on your skin. 

“Everyone can see us.” You mumbled into his mouth. 

“I don’t fucking care, Y/N.” He furrowed, still feeling the wetness on your cheeks from crying. With his thumbs gently rubbing your soft skin, he gave you a few quick kisses before continuing. "I swear, all I said to them was that we just hooked up, because it is what it was at that moment. I wouldn’t have shared anything intimate about you, baby. Please believe me when I say this.” Rafe sighed, resting his forehead on yours. His nose bumped against your—something that he started doing when you were alone in the bed, laying face to face and just looking at each other. "I am sorry I made you feel like you were just sex for me, because you weren't. Spending time with you was the best fucking time of my day, and whatever that was between us, I don’t want it to end.”

“Me neither…” You whispered, feeling warmth rushing through your body when Rafe wrapped his hands around your waist and pulled you even closer into him. He placed a kiss on the top of your head and then you felt him turning around, seemingly studying people around you.

“Since everyone saw us today, do you think I can take you away with me right now?” 

“Take me away? But you have an event in a few hours, and I have to work.”

“No, now we have an event and we have to find you a dress. I’ll handle your work and find someone who can deliver your orders.” Your head snapped up, only to see a proud grin on Rafe's face.

“You’re joking, right?” You pulled away, laughing. “I don’t have such clothes nor do I have money to buy them, and I definitely wasn’t invited.” 

“That’s why I’m taking you to the store now. And since you are my girl now, you’ll be my plus one.” He just shrugged, probably unaware that he had just filled your stomach with freaking butterflies. 

“I’m your girl?” 

Rafe silently looked you in the eyes for a few seconds, and it seemed like he was trying to reassure himself about something. His eyes then shifted to your lips, as he dragged you back to his body, lowering himself to mumble against your mouth. “Yeah, you are my girl.”

[luveline]

I would dieeee for some more of Spencer and bombshell after her getting injured😭 him taking such good care of her, the BEST doctors, researching every single option😭 reassuring her rhats shes just as pretty😭

—Spencer looks after you while you recover from a brutal injury. fem!reader, 1.1k

Spencer thinks it’s one of the team's more gruesome injuries. Hotch has been stabbed to mince meat and Emily half-killed, Elle got shot, and he’s had his fair share of violence, too, but he can’t imagine the horror of being hit in the face with a hammer. The pain so close to your eyes, your teeth, your brain, the fear and the sudden crack. He feels sick whenever he remembers the sound, and he was sick the first time he dreamt about the way you cried as it happened. Your strange yelp, the immediate drop to the floor. 

Spencer never hit somebody as hard as he did that UnSub. His gun whipped out possessed across the UnSub’s face, and then drove forward into their nose with a stomach turning crunch. 

They’re in custody, and you’re in bed recovering with some of the best doctors in the world. Spencer thinks you both won this round, even if it doesn’t feel like a win right now. 

“Shh,” he whispers, “shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, don’t cry.” 

You cling to his chest as though worried he’s going to move out of reach, sobbing. You’re careful not to touch your face or his chest, the soreness too much, but the rest of you is clinging to him. You don’t have to worry, he’s not going anywhere. 

“Please, it’s okay,” he says, the tip of his nose to your forehead. “You can have another dose in twenty minutes. Just twenty minutes.” 

He supposes the pain reminds you of the full extent of the injury, your jaw fractured in two places, your gum traumatised, your face more bruise than anything else. You hate your appearance being out of your control, it’s making you panic —he can feel you shaking.

He’d sat down with your drink to find you already crying, he couldn’t have been gone for ten minutes, but it was long enough for you to fall deep into the throes of hysteria. You’d grappled for him as he sat down to hug you, your face hidden ever since, and now the shakes have started. He’s hopeless. 

But Spencer’s willing to do anything to make it better. “Can you tell me what’s upsetting you? Please?” he asks.

“It’s–” Harder sobbing, your tears dripping down from your chin to wet the thigh of his pants.

He has to calm you down.

Since you met Spencer, you’ve been the comforter. He can’t count how many times something has hurt him and you’ve rushed to save him. You’ve hugged and held and kissed him into smiling, you’ve never let him down, you’ve forgiven him after a hundred stupid mistakes, so Spencer doesn’t care that you’ve been inconsolable for days. He really doesn’t mind that he’s had to look after you this attentively. It’s his pleasure, and he’s getting better at it. 

He presses a few soft shushes somewhere in your hairline, his hand rubbing a circuit into your back with a firm pressure that never tips into roughness. He does it until his palm is numb. He could paint the slant of your back from muscle memory, fingers tripping down the creased fabric of your pyjamas, pulling back up to your neck. He’s never felt such tender sympathy. He hates that you’re in pain, but he doesn’t hate getting to rub your back. This is surely boyfriend territory. 

“You want something to drink now?” he asks quietly. 

You open your mouth to answer, sighing in pain momentarily. “Uh, yeah.” 

“Did you want the straw?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.” He can’t force himself away. “You okay for me to move you?” 

“Yeah.” 

You can’t be blamed for short answers. 

There are surgeries to hold your jaw together when it breaks, and while you were unconscious (shock, rather than head injury), Hotch consented as your next of kin for the doctors to make sure things wouldn’t get worse, but it was Spencer who had to advocate for you afterwards. They’d wanted a metal connector to prevent dislocation. Spencer knew this could mean another scar, so he said no, because you might’ve said no had you been awake, and they should’ve asked you anyways. 

When you did wake up, you were vehemently against it. Which is fine, you can heal without it, but it’s scarier to do it unaided. Your jaw could dislocate if you do something wrong, which is not only horrifically painful, but a painfully horrific injury to have. You talk quietly. You take small mouthfuls of soft foods. 

Spencer looks at you now, tearstained, back arched like a kicked dog, and doesn’t know what to do. He wishes he were the one who got injured instead. 

He takes the hospital bed controls into his hand and presses the button to make the top of your mattress elevate. Tomorrow, they’ll send you home, and Spencer will have to construct a nest of pillows for you to sit in while you recover, but it’ll be worth it. Things won’t feel as intimidating when you’re in your own bed. 

“Lean back, beautiful,” he says. 

Your smile is a straight line with eyes lit up. “What for?” you ask. 

“Comfier. Less stress on your head.” You lean back. “Oh,” he adds, “and so I can get a better view of you.” 

Your eyes get impossibly brighter. “What do you think?” you murmur. Your voice sounds scratched to death from crying, tight from holding your mouth a certain way, but pleased anyways. It’s just as pretty as it always is to him. 

“You’re the prettiest girl in the world,” he says, reaching out to cradle your waist, his hand moving up and down the side of you tenderly. 

You have a bruise from under your left eye and bleeding down your neck, and you haven’t slept right for a few days, but you’re undeniably beautiful in Spencer’s eyes. 

You’ve been the most beautiful girl in the world literally from the day you met onward, with as much to do with your heart as your lovely face. He should tell you that, but he doesn’t. 

“Can I have water now?” you ask, covering his hand with yours. 

His confidence wobbles. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Sorry.” He grabs your drink, water spilling down the side to wet his hand. 

“Please don’t make me laugh.” 

“I’m not trying to,” he says pathetically. 

He holds the cup of water to your face and you guide the straw between your lips. Spencer’s sure he’s been in love with you forever, and it’s all but cemented now. 

[obsessivevoidkitten]

The Ogre Prince of Breakbend Isle

Male Ogre Yandere x Feminized Male Reader

CW: Noncon, drugging, aphrodisiacs, aphrodisiac cum, kidnapping, voyeurism, masturbation, big musky ogre cock, cockwarming, somnophilia, multiple orgasms, feminized reader, belly bulge from absurdly huge dick, belly bulge from absurdly large amounts of ogre cum, sweet yandere, general yandere behavior

Word Count: 1.4k

(Started writing this last night before the cat thing, then worked more on it until 5am, then finished it up this evening. REALLY hope you all like it, pretty please comment <3)

Breakbend Isle. Not a place any human should ever be. It was a medium-sized island filled with ogre villages. Yet you were there. A storm had taken your tiny fishing ship and washed you up there. The boat had broken hopelessly too. 

You were stranded in dangerous territory. The ogres had a reputation for being brutal and violent towards trespassers, as none who had set foot there had ever returned. 

And you were no exception. Despite your best efforts, your cooking fire was sniffed out miles away by Rahtrig the Wrathful. Prince to the leading ogres of Breakbend Isle, son of a the fiercest ogre warlord in human history. He took after his father, over 7ft tall and all muscle.

He had been hunting for deer but found something far more appetizing for a completely different type of hunger. 

Instead of just walking up and snatching you, he was captivated and wanted to just… watch. You were so pretty. Most ogres found humans to be exceedingly beautiful. No matter the human's gender they made cute little wives. 

Their delicate hands and tongues could greatly pleasure an ogre's prick or massage his big nuts. Rahtrig rubbed his aching crotch in anticipation.

The ogre prince watched you as you ate some fish you had caught. Your tiny little meal that you ate with your delicate little mouth. Then he stared as you disrobed and got into the nearby stream to bathe.

Rahtrig stared in rapt attention at your form. Your perfect small human cock was just so cute. He'd definitely let you grind your cock on his big tongue and let you spill your seed on it. 

He started stroking himself as he watched and fantasized about all the amazing things the two of you could do together. He came quickly, spilling thick cum all over the ground. 

The ogre had to stifle a moan. He wasn't yet ready to steal you away. Instead, he continued to spy on you until you went to sleep on a pile of leaves with only a jacket to cover you.

Rahtrig crept closer and gazed upon the serenity of your sleeping face bathed in the soft moonlight. Then he imagined more domestic and romantic things for the two of you. 

Having you sleep with your head nestled on his huge pecs, lightly drooling on him because of how safe and comfortable you feel. Coming home to you after a long day of hunting or patrol. Maybe even adopting an orphan ogre child and raising it as your own together.

You awoke to find yourself carried over the shoulder of a massive ogre. He stroked your back to comfort you while you cried, kicked, and struggled. 

"Shhh, my small flower, would never hurt you. I'm your husband, Rahtrig!"

Did you hear that correctly?

"What? No! You're not m-"

He chuckled loudly, cutting you off. As if the notion that he wasn't your partner was genuinely hilarious.

"Will feel lots better once we get you on my dick. Will be all you want for days~"

His promise to fuck you until you were a babbling cock addicted mess did nothing to calm you down. His deep, rumbling voice didn't exactly help soothe you either. 

You continued kicking and screaming the entire way until you were just too exhausted to continue.

When he got into the walls of his village, every ogre that happened to see what he was carrying congratulated the both of you on your upcoming marriage. You saw that there were more than a few humans that averted their gaze as Rahtrig passed by with you. Some of them were accompanied by half-ogre offspring.

The ogre holding you saw you staring at the humans and their children.

"You can't get pregnant; it's fine. We'll adopt!"

Your mind swirled with the image of an ogre child much larger and stronger than you running to you and hugging you half to death. And how would you deal with a rebellious teenager that could kill you with one smack? You barely even noticed when he opened the door to a large ogre hut and stepped inside.

Rahtrig sat you down on the bed. You shook in fear as he started a fire. After that, he lit a few candles around the room.  With the hut illuminated, you could see your surroundings clearly.

It was all one room; on this side was a bed and some furniture, and on the other there was a kitchen and eating area. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling, as well as strings of small bones. The heads of various frightening beasts were mounted upon the walls.

You wondered if any of those bones were human and had never wanted to bolt more. But you were in a close walled ogre village, there was really nowhere to run.

With his task of lighting the place done, he turned his attention to you. Much to your dismay.

He took off his large fur loincloth and belt. They were all he was wearing, given the warm climate and the fact that he had only been on a hunt. 

His massive cock sprung free; it was far thicker than your arm and least three feet long, uncut and dripping with precum. It was a slightly darker shade of steel grey than the rest of his body. The musk hit you from several feet away, a heady and manly scent, not exactly unpleasant.

He grabbed a vial of liquid before walking closer.

His balls swung heavily beneath him as he got onto the bed with you, ready to empty their contents deeply into your soft ass.

You cowered and shrank against the wall that the bed was situated beside. Rahtrig could smell your fear. It was unpleasant. You were so obviously stricken with terror. 

That wouldn't do at all. That's the scent you want on prey. Or an enemy you were about to strike down in combat. Not on your pretty bride.

"Calm down, princess; this'll help. Would never hurt you."

Undeterred by your kicks and protests, the ogre prince pulled you over to him carefully and flipped you over on your belly.

Rahtrig opened the vial and slowly poured all the contents directly on your hole, making sure to massage it in as well as possible. You gradually calmed down as it took effect, though you were still quite scared that his cock would simply split you in two.

When he lined up with your hole and sunk into you, though, all remaining anxiety and fear melted away before the pure bliss you felt. 

"Wh-what was in that?"

"Magic potion. Makes humans relax. Also makes em stretchy to take ogre cock."

You only responded by moaning lewdly and pushing your ass back and forth on his dick. Impaling yourself down to the base and creating a perfect stretched outline of his prick in your tummy. 

Rahtrig licked and nipped at your sensitive neck as he thrust slowly. He continued at that leisurely pace until you whimpered for him to go faster. He smirked. He knew once you had been lubed up and then filled with ogre precum that you'd be addicted. Both were potent aphrodisiacs, as was his actual cum.

He pulled out of you and moved you over while he got situated in the bed, lying on his back.

The ogre situated you on his dick and let you ride him at your own pace.

After over an hour of riding him, you had cum several times but were still gripped with arousal. He had cum a few times too; your belly distended with cum that slowly leaked out of you and dripped down his shaft and nuts.

You started crying because you needed more but were just too tired.

Rahtrig wiped away your tears and let you lay on top of him and go gently to sleep as he kept his cock in you to fuck you to sleep.

Eventually his cum and the lube from the vial would wear off, though that could take days. You'd always crave his dick, though, no matter what after the first dose. Though you may still try to resist, it could take a while for you to bond with him. 

He was sure you'd be the perfect wife eventually, though. Even if it took a while for you to be willing. All the humans who landed on the island settled in at some point.

[pathologicalreid]

for the fear of falling apart | part two

returning to Everett Lynch's case, you try to redefine normalcy with Spencer and JJ, but Grace Lynch has other plans for you

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue

series masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: angst, hurt/comfort content warnings: gun violence, spoilers/references to: 9x6 "in the blood", 9x14 "200", 9x23 "angels", 9x24 "demons", 13x22 "believer", 14x1 "300", 14x15 "truth or dare". rewrite of 15x1 "under the skin", 15x2 "awakenings". a lot of dialogue is pulled directly from the show. hospitals/medical information. diana's alzheimers. marriage talk. roslyn's suicide. the parentification of jennifer jareau. mommy AND daddy issues. fear of drowning. word count: 7.48k a/n: it's two days late, but it's three times longer than part one. welcome to the abyss of my brain. it's scary in here.

Your name was being called. First, it felt far away, slowly coming closer and closer, lifting you to the surface as if you were being pulled. The sound was muffled until you broke through the barrier, a female voice clearly called your name, prompting your eyes to fly open, and there you were, sitting up on Penelope’s velvet couch, cocooned in a crocheted blanket with what was sure to be a remarkable bedhead.

Lifting your hand and placing it over your racing heart, you looked up at Penelope, the blue streak that you had redone for her last night prominent against her blonde hair. “Hey,” you said, widening your eyes and letting the blanket fall from your shoulders.

She crooked a brow at you suspiciously. For someone who wasn’t a profiler, she did have a knack for reading people, but you supposed it came with the territory. “My darling girl, you are always more than welcome to sleep on my couch, it’s a wonderful couch, I have spent my fair share of nights sleeping on it,” she rambled, sitting down next to you and taking your hands in hers. “You’re hiding,” she told you softly, “What are you hiding from?”

Penelope reached out to you, sweeping a messy strand of hair behind your ear as her big, brown eyes looked at you sympathetically. The gesture and the way she was speaking to you nearly approached being sisterly. At the idea of developing a supplemental sororal relationship with the technical analyst, you pulled away from her. You shook your head, “I’m not hiding,” you told her simply, leaving her with a half-truth as you stood up and began folding the blanket that had kept you warm overnight.

Nodding incredulously, she looked up at you, “If your Luddite boyfriend is blowing up my phone, then something has to be going on.” Her tone was urgent, but she stayed seated, giving you an advantage.

“Nothing’s wrong, Pen,” you reassured her, shaking your head and shrugging simultaneously.

Her face filled with doubt, glancing over at your cellphone as it buzzed on the coffee table, Spencer’s contact flashing on the touchscreen as you ignored the call. “Why didn’t you tell him you were staying with me last night?”

Pressing your lips in a thin white line, you briefly considered coming clean. You envisioned the truth coming out of you in puddles, everything you had been holding close to your chest for the last month pouring out like alphabet soup, but Penelope didn’t deserve that burden. “I just forgot,” you told her, watching the screen go dark.

Spencer was a worrier by the influence of his environment. Adamantly against getting a new phone, he couldn’t see your location at any given moment. His first course of action was usually calling your sister before resorting to Penelope, who not only has your location on her phone but also has access to your location in the bureau database. It wasn’t a fault of his, members of the BAU did have a tendency to disappear in the dead of the night.

She urged you to call him back as her phone started going off, her shoulders slumping forward, a tell-tale sign that the BAU was being pulled in on a case. If you were lucky, you would be able to slip through the cracks, claiming to put all of your focus into the case so that you didn’t need to have an in-depth conversation with your boyfriend. Or your sister, for that matter.

“Where are we headed?” You asked, rolling up your sleeves and crossing your arms in front of your stomach.

Penelope frowned at the tiny screen in front of her, “Baltimore,” she said hesitantly, “Uh, we gotta go. I’ll drive? You can call Spencer on the way,” she suggested before bolting into the bathroom.

You ended up avoiding the call to Spencer yet again, claiming you’d see him at the office anyway, and instead opening yourself up to a barrage of questions.

Was there cheating? Are you pregnant? Were you pregnant? Did he propose? Did you say no? Did you say yes?

The two of you parted as she went to prepare files and you waltzed into the bullpen, clocking the vase of flowers on your desk immediately. They, of course, weren’t just flowers, but a carefully calculated decision made to try and get into your good graces. This was the fifth vase that had been delivered in the last month.

First, there were honeysuckles, a symbol of devoted affection. Red carnations told you that his heart ached for you. A bouquet of daisies because he truly loved you. Last week, white lilies were left on your desk, a symbol of pure love.

Now, a bunch of apple blossoms sat on your desk, telling you that he preferred you before anyone else. How poignant.

Your eyes burned as you looked around the bullpen, hoping he was around so you could return the flowers to him, but the only people you saw were Emily and Rossi, sequestered in her office in the middle of what seemed to be a tense discussion. Choosing to ignore the flowers, you walked over to your desk, tucking your go-bag underneath and starting to power up your computer.

“Hey, Y/N?” Emily called from her office, “Can you head to the file room and pull everything from the Lynch case?” She didn’t even wait for an answer before closing the door again.

Concerned, you turned around and started making your way to the file room. If Everett Lynch was back, that would explain the worried look on Penelope’s face when the case came in. Even more, that would explain why Emily and Rossi were hidden in her office. Every member of the team wanted to see Lynch locked up for what he’s done, but for Dave it was personal.

Opening the file room, you pulled open the drawer of active cases from the past three months, starting to strip the drawer of anything even remotely related to Everett Lynch. The revelation that Grace was his daughter took everyone by surprise, but Spencer still felt responsible for Luke getting knifed. You should talk to him about it, you thought to yourself, if he didn’t talk about it, he’d just continue to internalize it.

“I need to talk to you,” a voice said suddenly from behind you, jolting you away from your train of thought. Spinning on your heel, you looked at Spencer.

Alarmed, you huffed, “You scared me,” you informed him, clutching the files close to your chest as you studied his stature. He looked fine, his hair was a bit of a mess, but he was wearing the red cardigan that you had gotten him for Christmas last year. You didn’t even want to begin to consider the implications of his outfit choice.

He furrowed his brows at you, “I scared you? You disappeared last night without a word, and I scared you?” There wasn’t even a hint of anger in his voice, instead, his words dripped in sweet melancholy, and you couldn’t look away from him.

You thought about your sister, snatched from the nation’s capital in the middle of the night as vengeance for her work with the CIA. Spencer and Penelope, both taken from what should have been a secure FBI building by a cult that bore a decade-long grudge against the BAU. You had frightened him, probably tripping his overactive mind into believing you were destined to meet a similar fate – dying in a warehouse somewhere. Blinking absently, you shook your head at him, “I’m sorry,” you told him, and you meant it.

“You’re punishing me,” he accused, crossing his arms in front of his chest before quickly dropping them, being hypervigilant about his body language.

Skimming your tongue over the backs of your teeth nervously, you hesitantly met his gaze. He seemed to be convinced that you were punishing him for the events that had taken place last month, but you were inclined to believe that you were punishing yourself, he was caught in your crossfire. “It’s not a punishment, Spence,” you whispered, watching how his brown eyes shone under the fluorescent lights.

His shoulders dropped, disappointment plain on his face, “I missed you at the baby shower,” he confessed.

“Sprinkle,” you corrected.

“Semantics,” he retorted, and it almost brought a smile to your face.

You looked down at the files in your arms, not even realizing that you had been white-knuckling the classified information, “I was there,” you disputed. “I saw you. I brought the gift and put both of our names on it. What more could I have done?”

Rolling his eyes, he gave you a tilted look, “Standing together in the group photo would’ve been nice.”

In response, you straightened up your back, “Ah, you were too busy standing with my sister,” you quipped, bringing the conversation back to the root of the conflict.

“Will you come home tonight? Stay with me?” Your heart clenched at his question.

Hesitantly, you nodded, “I’ll be there,” you assured him, securing the last of the files before sneaking around him, skillfully avoiding the remainder of your team as you made your way to the roundtable room.

“I’m worried about Dave,” you whispered, looking at the other end of the couch at your boyfriend, the two of you dressed in pajamas, your old Georgetown sweatshirt frayed at the cuffs, but it remained your favorite.

The orange print of his Caltech t-shirt was peeling up on the edges, sometimes, at night, you’d pick at the emblem – it drove Spencer crazy, especially when he woke up in a pile of picked vinyl. His mug was carefully resting in his hands as the two of you had a nighttime cup of tea, something you used to do when you had just started dating, and that you decided to try to bring back – chamomile for you, lavender for him. “I talked to him tonight,” he told you, turning to face you, “He’s.. he’ll be fine. He has Krystall.”

And I have you, you thought to yourself, lifting your mug to your lips and taking a sip. Sometimes you felt special for getting this side of Spencer, the ratty college t-shirt and flannel pajama pants that he wore while lounging on the worn leather couch.

“Do you want to go to sleep?” He asked when you didn’t respond, leaning forward and setting his mug on the coffee table.

Shaking your head, you followed suit, setting your mug on a coaster next to his before crawling closer to him on the couch, taking him by surprise. “Not yet,” you whispered, sitting down next to him, relieved when he responded by putting an arm around you. “I’m not mad at you,” you told him, “I just needed time.”

His arm was warm and familiar over your shoulders, having the same effect as a weighted blanket, calming you down with a simple touch. “To think,” he said, “you keep saying that. Are you… do you need more time?”

You closed your eyes, leaning into him, “I don’t think so, but I’m,” you faltered, frowning, “I’m having a hard time talking to my sister.” It wasn’t a secret that there had been some sort of falling out between the Jareau sisters, but the reasoning behind the rift remained a mystery to most people.

“I am too,” he admitted, skimming his fingertips up and down your arm. “I keep recalling everything that happened, and I don’t fully understand how everything got so messed up.

Raising your eyebrows, you remained in the crook of his arm, “People say a lot of things with a gun to their head.”

What you hadn’t considered was that following her admission, your sister would avoid Spencer. When you decided to avoid both of them, you had no idea what you were taking from him. “What would your truth have been?”

“I’m afraid that everything surrounding me is destined to fall apart,” you admitted. “I was brought into my family in an attempt to rescue my parents’ marriage, but it didn’t work.” Your sister slit her wrists open when you were only four years old, but somehow your father had put her death on your shoulders. JJ left home as soon as she could, leaving you at twelve years old with your grief-stricken mother, who had spent the last several decades waiting for the day her daughters would all be reunited.

Spencer was quiet for a while before responding to you, “We should go to bed.”

He was probably right, the team was expected to be in early tomorrow morning. After leaving well past dark, the last thing you wanted to think about was going back in before the sun had a chance to rise. “Wait,” you said, “What’s your truth?”

Briefly, his eyes flickered, looking down the length of your body, “My truth is that I’m tired, we should go to sleep,” he told you, herding you toward your shared bedroom.

“Same time tomorrow?” You asked, walking through the bedroom and into the ensuite, grabbing your toothbrush off the counter.

Nodding, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your temple, “I’ll be there.”

Maybe you should’ve taken it as a sign that you were unphased by the revelation of a crazy doctor with a fetish for skinning people. The world had strange ways of telling you that you needed to take a step back, for every sign you had been given, you took a step forward. That was how you ended up in the backseat of an SUV with your sister at the wheel and Spencer in the passenger seat.

Everett Lynch had invaded the BAU’s territory, coming in like an infestation in the district, and he was trying to break his daughter Grace out of jail. You heard through the phone that they were scrambling tactics, using the walkie-talkies in the U.S. Attorney building to prevent their own capture.

The car came to a screeching halt, and the three of you piled out, “There’s no time,” your sister said, looking around, “We’ll cover this one,” she informed Spencer, looking back at you as you adjusted the strap of your Kevlar.

“I’ll take the garage on Piedmont and 10th,” Spencer responded dutifully, nodding at the both of you before turning around and running to the parking garage two blocks over.

You and your sister started to make your way into the larger of the two parking garages, both of you pulling your firearms and pointing them down, keeping yourselves aware of your surroundings. There was movement in front of you, two bodies moving toward a white van with federal plates – the Lynch’s. “Everett Lynch,” you called out, “Drop your weapon and put your hands up, now!”

The man in front of you – the so-called Chameleon – scoffed in disbelief, “Take it easy. There’s no reason to gun down a daddy in front of his little girl, right?” You kept your Glock aimed at him, watching intently as he carefully set his gun on the ground. Sirens started going off in your head, a premonition of things to come.

“Alright,” JJ shouted, “Kick it over. Grace, you too. Drop your backpack and let me see your hands. Come on, now!”

Putting her hands up, Grace let her backpack fall to the ground in a heap of fabric, you kept your gun trained on them as JJ lunged to the side, reaching over to pick up Everett’s gun from the ground. “Grace!” You shouted, watching the girl bring her hands down as she reached for something, “Put your hands back up!”

It was a split-second decision, but you watched as Grace lifted that gun in her hands, and you jumped. You knocked your sister over as three shots rang through the air, the first one grazed her arm. The next two lodged themselves in your side as the two of you fell to the ground, your body rolling along the ground as the father-daughter duo loaded themselves in the van before driving off.

JJ grabbed her weapon and shot after them, hoping to blow out one of their tires or at the very least slow them down, but with only one good arm, her aim was off. She scrambled to her feet, “Come on, Y/N,” she huffed, not checking behind her before running out of the parking garage.

You wanted nothing more than to follow her. Being angry wasn’t worth it anymore, you couldn’t freeze out your older sister anymore. You tried to breathe, you tried to call after her, but when you opened your mouth, the only thing that came out was blood.

For your entire life, you had followed her. When asked what you wanted to be when you grew up, you’d tell them you wanted to be like your big sister. You wanted to follow her, but you couldn’t move.

You followed her from East Allegheny to Washington D.C. You had followed her into this very parking garage. Now, all you could think about was following Roslyn, bleeding out on the cold hard floor, alone.

“Y/N, what’s your location?” Spencer’s voice rang through your radio.

You had never been shot before. You had always thought it would be cold to be shot, but instead, your whole body felt like it had been set on fire.

“Y/N, do you copy?”

The wetness of the blood should have made it cold.

“Y/N?”

Your fire was slowly fading, the blaze that had gone up so quickly began to ebb as you stopped feeling anything at all. The tapping of shoes echoed through the parking garage as you lay on the cement.

“No,” that all too familiar voice said, “Y/N is down, she’s been hit. We need an ambulance now,” Spencer called into the radio, he was out of breath as he looked down at you.

He studied your appearance, clocking the entry wounds on your side and moving his fingers in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. An odd, choked noise escaped your throat as the pressure on your side stoked the fire.

Spencer’s fingers trembled even as he maintained pressure on your side, “I know, I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” He took a deep breath, “here, turn- turn your head,” he instructed gently, using his free hand to coax your face to the side. You choked and came to the horrifying realization that he was trying to stop you from aspirating on your own blood. “Get it all out, baby,” he cajoled as blood spurted from your mouth, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

That would have to be enough. It wasn’t enough for you to hope anymore. You had spent so long with the Anger and Resentment from your Pandora’s Box that you completely failed to notice how Hope had slipped through the cracks, lost in a sea of emotions.

“Do you hear that? That’s the ambulance,” he told you, an unspoken plea in his voice.

But you couldn’t hear the sirens, pretty soon, you couldn’t hear anything at all.

The EMTs had all kinds of things to say, none of them were even remotely comforting. The bullets had entered through the thin opening of your Kevlar, a sort of Achilles heel where you couldn’t be protected. He should have double-checked, he should have paused to adjust the straps before running to the other parking garage.

He watched the doctors shock you in the emergency room, looking on in horror as your heart stopped beating. “Are you her husband?” One of the nurses had asked.

Spencer’s mouth had gone completely dry, “I’m- almost,” he answered, earning a sympathetic look from the nurse as she proceeded to ask him questions about next of kin and extraordinary measures. One of the bullets had pierced your lungs, causing catastrophic bleeding.

The nurse guided him to a surgical waiting room, but no one came out to him with updates, leaving him to sit. Someone brought his go-bag by, letting him change into clothes that weren’t blood-soaked.

He sat in a pile of limbs on the hospital’s couch, picking at the crusted blood that he hadn’t quite managed to wash off, and he wondered if he could ask one of the nurses for a surgical scrub brush, wondering if that would get the last flecks of blood from the ridges of his fingernails.

“Spencer,” JJ called out, rushing through the hallway, Will trailing close behind her.

Her arm was wrapped with gauze, probably stitched up before someone told her what had happened to her little sister. “Hey,” Spencer said, standing up as they approached, wiping his clammy hands on his slacks.

JJ held her hands out, “What have you heard? Anything?”

“It’s gonna be a while,” he said, repeating the only words that he had been told. They had taken you to the OR an hour ago, and all they had to do was wait it out.

The clinical white walls of the hospital were enough to make Spencer stir crazy, when Will offered to get him a cup of coffee, he was almost aggressive in his rejection. The sunlight reflected off the drywall as your surgery continued to test his patience.

Eventually, your mother called JJ back, and your sister walked away in order to explain the situation under the guise of privacy, leaving Spencer alone. “Dr. Reid?” Someone said, maintaining the reverent tones of the hospital that were beginning to make him want to pull his hair out.

“Yes,” he said, standing up in front of the nurse.

The nurse gave him a gentle smile, and he braced himself for the worst. “Ms. Jareau is out of surgery,” she informed him.

You had been in there for nearly six hours. “She…” he faltered, “Can I see her?” He asked, looking past the nurse as if he could see all the way into your recovery room from where he stood.

Nodding, the nurse continued to smile at him, “I can take you to her now if you’d like. She’s still under sedation,” she advised, gesturing for Spencer to follow her through the winding hallways of the hospital.

“Is she going to be okay?” He asked, checking to make sure he had his phone in his pocket so he could text JJ if he needed to.

The nurse’s smile tightened, “We won’t be able to know if she’s sustained any neurological damage until she wakes up.”

He frowned slightly, bracing himself for an answer that he wouldn’t like, “Could she hear me if I talk to her?” He asked, stopping in his tracks as the nurse stopped outside of a room – your room.

“It’s unlikely,” the nurse answered.

That made sense to him, there weren’t any studies that could prove that people could hear external stimuli while comatose. At least, there wasn’t enough for the medical community to reach a consensus. “Thank you,” Spencer said, nodding at the nurse as she turned away, letting him know that the doctor would be by to talk to him soon.

Your skin was pallid, a sickly sheen covering your skin as tubes and wires worked together to monitor you and keep your body going. Spencer set your patient bag in the corner of the room before dragging a chair over to your bedside, cringing at the sound the chair made against the linoleum before taking a seat next to you.

The steady beeping of your heart monitor quickly became the only thing preventing him from falling apart entirely. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, keeping his voice down so that no one else would hear him. “I keep going over it in my head and I don’t know how I didn’t realize you were missing sooner,” he spoke to your silent body, chest rising and falling with even breaths. “I’m so sorry,” he echoed, “You should’ve… you should’ve been my priority. Before Grace. Before Lynch. Before any of it.”

He inhaled shakily, glancing over at your vital monitor, taking comfort in the consistency of the numbers, “I should’ve put you first and now I- I can’t take it back,” he said, eyes burning with emotion. “I know things between the two of us have been kind of weird lately… ever since the pawn shop, I mean. I just,” he paused for a moment, giving himself grace, “I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know if she meant it and if she did, what does that mean? When you didn’t bring it up after the wedding I didn’t either because I just didn’t know how to talk to you about it.”

Somewhere along the way, the two of you had gotten lost. In the midst of not talking about the pawn shop, you had stopped talking altogether. “Now, all of a sudden, none of it even matters. All that matters is that I need you to wake up because I need to have more time with you,” he sniffled, the first hot tears rolling down his cheeks. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it,” he whispered.

“Please don’t leave me,” he begged, thinking of all of those nights the two of you had stayed up talking about the future. Your dream wedding. Your children’s names. He needed it. More of it. More of you.

Mindful of you, he laid his arms on the armrest of your hospital bed, lowering his head and watching the consistent rise and fall of your chest, listening to the whistling of your nostrils as he waited for the doctor to come.

The doctor seemed confident that you would wake up, it was just a question of when. He sent JJ, who had gone home to change into fresh clothing, an update once the doctor left.

Every once in a while, your nose would twitch or your finger would tap on the hospital bedding, and he would allow himself to get his hopes up. It never lasted long, once the fluke ended, he went back to thinking about the situation realistically. You were still having blood transfused, there was a tube in your chest depositing fluids into a bag at your bedside, and even if you did wake up, there was a long road to recovery with an injury like this.

He was terrified that you’d wake up alone and in excruciating pain, so he refused to move, having any paperwork brought directly to him in your room. Nearly every fifteen minutes, he smoothed out the blanket that rested on top of you, careful when putting his hands near your body, even though you couldn’t tell whether or not your blanket was wrinkled. Spencer thought of it as tucking you in, keeping you safe, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it was too little too late.

You didn’t make it to the beach as often as you’d like. Spencer hated the beach, and you weren’t interested in swimming in the ocean so much as you wanted to go and people-watch. Families on vacation. Marriage proposals.

The first time you had ever gone to the ocean, you were three years old. JJ and Roslyn hadn’t been in years, but it was all new to you. JJ wanted to bring you to the water, and Roslyn hadn’t even wanted to go on the trip. The water hadn’t scared you then, the endless abyss of blue had seemed more inviting than anything you had ever seen before.

Now, you lay on the sand, all of it cold beneath your skin, the rest of the beach seemingly abandoned. Try as you might, you couldn’t move anything. You wanted to lift your arm to brush hair out of your face. You wanted to sit up. You wanted to go home.

You couldn’t even see the water from where you lay, you opened your mouth, hoping to call for help, but were surprised when the only thing that came out of your mouth was a dark, black sludge. It spurted from your mouth as it ran down your cheeks, staining the white sand of the beach beneath you. You were drowning on dry land, and there was nothing you could do.

Nothing but open your eyes.

The ominous white sky of the beach turned into white walls, as you fluttered your eyes open, the ocean made way for you, parting so that you could return to yourself. Laid in a hospital bed, trying to remember how to breathe, and meeting Spencer’s stare.

“Hi love,” he whispered, gently placing one hand on top of yours, drawing circles on the back of your hand with the pad of his thumb, careful not to knock your pulse oximeter off.

Your brows pinched together as you looked over at him, he looked tired, waiting for you to say something. Your chest felt tight as you looked at him, hundreds of thoughts bubbling to the surface, but only one bubble popped, “I had a nightmare.”

Spencer nodded slowly, messy curls falling over his forehead, “It’s okay, angel. You’re awake now. It can’t hurt you.”

It can’t hurt you. It can’t hurt you. It can’t hurt you.

You watched as Spencer reached over and pushed the call button on your bed. Each moment you spent awake became increasingly painful, signified by the slow rise of your heart rate, the pain only exacerbated when your breathing quickened. Alarm grew, “Shh, hey,” Spencer consoled you, reaching his hand out and smoothing your hair back, looking to the door and hoping someone would come in and help you.

They did, pushing pain medications through your IV and watching your heart rate stabilize before giving you something to help you calm down. Spencer probably knew what they all were, making mental notes to keep track of everything as he kept his hand in yours. Your pain level dwindled from a nine to a six, leveling out in the middle ground.

You settled back into the pillows, cringing as a nurse moved your bed so that you were sitting up slightly, nodding softly at the things that she told you about rest. She checked your vitals, before leaving the two of you alone, silence swirling around the two of you as you constructed a bubble to keep yourselves warm.

“I should’ve found you sooner,” he whispered, looking over at you, a distressed look in his eyes.

Moving at a turtle’s pace, you shook your head, “You saved my life.”

It’s okay. I’ve got you, he had told you in the parking garage, and he did. He still had you, even now. If they had let him, Spencer might’ve waited for you outside the operating room, just to be in the vicinity of you.

“Don’t go anywhere,” you murmured, eyes opening and closing slowly. Your eyelids felt sticky like there was still tape residue on them from your operation, but you didn’t dare move. You didn’t dare agitate any wound on your body. “Is JJ okay?” You asked, your voice tight. Checking in on your sister took all of your strength.

Spencer kept his hand in yours, moving his free hand to wipe at tears that had spilled over your lower lashline. “She’s fine, just a graze,” he reassured you, “I’ll call her when you go back to sleep.”

You swallowed thickly, wondering if you were allowed to have any water, “I missed you,” you breathed, fighting to keep your eyes open. “I wanna talk to you,” you sniffled.

“You should sleep, my sweet girl,” he answered, not wanting you to get into a hefty conversation in your condition. “We have all the time in the world to talk when you wake up.”

Except you didn’t. You had thought there was time for you to be angry, but then you had been shot. As much as you hated the idea of being someone who had a near-death experience and suddenly let bygones be bygones, alienating those close to you seemed exhausting. You took a deep breath, thankful for the nasal cannula on your face, “I’ve been so distant,” you admitted.

Spencer hesitated, not sure if you needed to get into this while so vulnerable, “I don’t know if she meant it,” he breathed.

“I don’t need to know,” you told him, surprising yourself as much as him with your admission. “JJ is… She’s one of the most important people in my life, but so are you. Maybe even more so.”

He frowned, “You can’t possibly mean that.”

You closed your eyes for a few seconds before opening them again, “JJ’s my sister, we share the same family, but I chose you, Spence. I will continue to do so,” you told him, deciding against adding until the day that I die. Watching him as he looked at you with tear-filled eyes, “Oh,” you sighed, “please don’t cry. I never meant to hurt you.”

Waving off your concern, he wiped at his eyes before taking one of your hands in both of his, “I love you so much, but I don’t want you to forget your anger.”

“Huh?” You hummed groggily.

“You’ve been mad for months,” he whispered, the strokes of his thumb on the back of your hand putting you to sleep. “It doesn’t need to fade away in the blink of an eye.”

You let your eyes slip shut once again, “I’ll still give you a hard time.”

He laughed slightly at that, “Good.”

“Spence?” You breathed.

“Yeah, baby?”

Humming, you settled back into the bed, “I don’t think I’ll be able to make our tea date tonight.”

When you woke up again, a familiar blonde was sitting at the foot of your bed, hunched in a plastic hospital chair while Spencer remained at your bedside, hands still intertwined, but sweaty now. “Jennifer,” he said, getting the attention of your sister.

She jumped up from the chair and sat on the edge of your bed, in your periphery, you saw Spencer retreat, ambling into the hallway to talk to Emily. Letting him go, you turned your attention to your sister, “Hey, Jayg,” you greeted, words coming easier now than they did before, the swelling of your throat had gone down.

Her finely chiseled eyebrows pinched together on her face, “I thought you were right behind me,” she admitted miserably, looking at your torso.

“It’s alright now, though,” you tried to reassure her. You had lost half of your blood volume, much of it on the parking garage floor, but you were here now, that had to mean something.

She shook her head in abject self-disappointment, “I should have protected you,” she insisted, scrunching up her nose as she fought back tears.

You were too tired to fight emotions, water falling from your tear ducts as the two of you tried to mend what had previously been torn apart. “You don’t need to protect me,” you insisted. The decision to take the hit had been entirely your own, driven by a need to protect her.

“I always have though,” she reminded you, “When Roz died, dad left, and mom checked out, I took care of you.”

When you were a child, you thought that having your pre-teen sister do everything for you was the way things worked. It didn’t last long, things unraveled from there, but you always had JJ. “I’m all grown up now,” you reminded her. You didn’t need her protection in your early thirties in the same way you needed them as a child.

JJ took a shaky breath, cupping your cheek with her hand affectionately, the way a mother would to their child, “You’re always going to be my little sister.”

You looked at her, seven years your senior, and you sighed, “Do you know why I did it?” You asked her, studying the sad look in her eyes.

She smoothed your hair back, grabbed a cup of water from your bedside, and brought the straw to your lips, “Why, Ducky?”

The childhood nickname chimed in your ears, one of the only things that you retained from your eldest sister. You smiled at her, “Your boys.” The answer came easily to you, “You have Will and your tiny people, and I just thought… I couldn’t let you leave them.”

“But I almost lost you,” she countered, it wasn’t aggressive, it was almost like she was trying to make you see the value in your own life. The people in your life didn’t make you valuable, you had value as an individual.

Shrugging, you looked at her sympathetically, “Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’, “You’re stuck with me.”

She gave you a sisterly, knowing look, “Your heart stopped. Twice.”

You concurred, “Yeah, because you’re just that stuck with me.” You insisted, watching as Spencer answered a phone call in the hallway. “Did you call them?” You asked her, giving her a quick glance as you craned your neck to keep an eye on your boyfriend.

“Mom’s on a flight in tomorrow morning, but dad hasn’t responded to my voicemail,” she informed you, she didn’t look surprised, and you didn’t feel it.

Where your father was concerned, some things were better left unsaid, but you wouldn’t necessarily mind if he never responded to your sister’s calls. There was no reason to drag him and his new wife from their cushy life in Florida. Spencer reentered the room as JJ’s phone started ringing – Will – and the two of them traded off, amicably splitting time with you.

Greeting him with a content smile on your face, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your hairline, “I have to go,” he told you reluctantly.

You tried not to let any disappointment show on your face, “Why? What’s wrong?” You asked, studying his face for any sign of what his phone call had been about.

“That was Brookfield on the phone,” Spencer said, checking all of the monitors that surrounded you.

The grim look on his face made sense to you. Moving his mother into Brookfield had been the right choice for everyone, but her condition was never going to get better. Last time he had gone to visit, Diana hadn’t even recognized him, and you spent the rest of the day holding him, letting him know it was alright. “You have to go,” you echoed his earlier sentiment, nodding reassuringly.

He hesitated to leave you, sitting on the edge of your bed that had been previously occupied by your sister, “But you- you’re…”

You shook your head in dismissal, “Sometimes everything happens all at once, but you have to go.” If Brookfield was telling him to get down there, then he needed to go.

The next several hours passed slowly, Emily gave you an update on the case – the reader’s digest version, avoiding any gnarly details in an attempt to protect you. Will brought you and JJ dinner, eating the meal with them and your nephews, you were grateful to not have to eat the hospital cafeteria food. Slowly, the day came to an end, you sent JJ home when visiting hours ended, letting her know that you didn’t need to be protected while you were in a hospital.

You fell asleep not long after one of your nurses lowered the volume on your vital monitor, the dark peace of the hospital lulling you into a sense of safety. There hadn’t been word from Spencer, and you worried about him and his mother.

A tapping sound dragged you from what was thankfully a dreamless sleep, you recognized the sound of the footsteps, those shoes made a similar sound on the hardwood floor of your apartment, “You’re noisy when you wear your fancy shoes,” you mumbled drowsily, opening your tired eyes and tilting your head in the direction of the sound.

“Hey,” Spencer whispered, “Go back to sleep,” he told you gently, slowly making his way around your hospital bed and to the fold-out chair next to your bed.

You hummed, following him with your eyes as they adjusted in the dark, “No, you woke me up. Now you have to talk to me,” you told him, reaching over to switch on a lamp, cringing at the way the light burned your eyes.

Unprompted, he inspected your vital monitor before reaching out to adjust your nasal cannula, “Where’s JJ?” He asked, cupping your cheek affectionately before taking his seat.

Reaching out for your cup of water, you smiled to yourself when Spencer moved it closer to you, “I made her go home. Our mom will be here in the morning, and she’ll need all the rest she can get.” There was also the fact that Michael had been freaked out by seeing you in a hospital, so he needed some extra love from his parents tonight. “Wait,” you said, “How did you get in here? Visiting hours are over.”

“I might have told a small lie about you needing security,” he admitted sheepishly, but beneath it, he was smug. You didn’t fault him on it, you probably wanted him here just as much as he wanted to be here, if not more.

Smiling in the dim lamplight, you inclined your head toward him, “Did you misrepresent the bureau?”

He rolled his eyes, “I’d do it again if it meant I get to spend the night with you.” Helping you put your water cup back on your tray, Spencer took your hand in his, “How are you doing?”

You were exhausted, not in the sense that you wanted to sleep, although that probably couldn’t hurt, but in the sense that your entire body ached. There was a pinch in your side that wouldn’t ease up, and you didn’t feel comfortable with asking for more pain medication. Part of you was afraid that in the process of being shot, you developed a fear of drowning. You almost died today. Huge strides had been made in an attempt to repair your relationship with Spencer and with your sister. None of these thoughts escaped your lips, you just looked at him sympathetically, “How’s your mom?”

All he gave you was a tight smile, squeezing your hand tightly, “She’s ah… she’s alright,” he told you, your chest tightening at the emotion in his voice. “They’re calling it an awakening,” he continued, sounding unsure of himself.

“Terminal lucidity,” you breathed, a term you had only read about briefly when Diana was first diagnosed. The two of you had made many cross-country calls, trading information while Spencer stayed with her in Las Vegas.

He nodded, “Yeah… they don’t know how long it…”

How long she had left. How long she would remain lucid. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he answered quickly, too quickly for your liking.

You wiggled your fingers in his hand, getting his attention, “I want you to go back tomorrow,” you ordered him. It wasn’t something you were willing to budge on, insisting that he go back to Brookfield tomorrow to spend more time with his mother.

“She asked about you,” he admitted, leaning back in the chair, keeping your hands intertwined, “She wondered why we never got married. I told her it was never the right time. Do you know what she said to that?”

Watching intently as he shared the story with you, you shook your head, “What did she say?”

He chuckled lightly, “She said that might’ve been the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard me say.”

You smiled as he recounted the story for you, mimicking the hand gestures that you were sure his mother had used. “Obviously she’s never seen your Dirty Harry impression,” you reminded him, trying not to giggle at the memory.

“The right time will never come if we keep waiting around for it,” he told you, reciting the words of wisdom that his mother had imparted upon him.

Your breathing hitched in the dark of the night, “Spence?”

He nodded, “Yeah, baby?”

“Are you going to ask me to marry you?” You asked him hesitantly, wondering if that was what he was getting at.

Spencer shook his head, “Not tonight, angel.” He looked around the hospital room, cards and balloons and flowers had made their way in through the afternoon and evening. Penelope had even brought your apple blossoms from your desk. His flower language seemed so inconsequential now. “Go to sleep,” he whispered, “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Will you tell me a story?” You whispered, settling yourself back into the flat hospital pillows, resigning yourself to the end of the marriage conversation.

He hummed, dimming the lamplight, “Which one?” There were a few stories that he had memorized specifically for you. When work or life or nightmares got to be too much, he would recall them for you.

“Can we do Portrait of a Lady again?” You raised your eyebrows, smiling impishly.

He rolled his eyes sardonically, “Your love for Henry James should be studied in a lab.”

You waved him off, “Okay, and? It’s story time.”

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[anantaru]

what about friends w benefits w aventurine but he's actually in love or something idkk im just love with ur writing♡⁠(⁠>⁠ ⁠ਊ⁠ ⁠<⁠)⁠♡

・✶ ｡ synopsis — aventurine and you have sworn that your special relationship would never cross the most important line <3

warnings — fwb, spooning position, big dick aventurine is in love, fem! reader <3

aventurine lays behind you as his nose silently forges a road up your neck and behind your ear for his lips to swiftly follow— for once, he controls himself and leisurely drapes one arm around your waist, pressing your back against his cold chest.

you cannot see it, yet his eyes glint with that familiar mix of curiosity and, well, something else— something deeper that he never voiced nor actually planned to voice at all.

since your arrangement had been clear from the start;

friends with benefits, point blank, in fact, it helped the both of you let go of much needed steam every now and then— it's perfect, truly, if feelings aren't involved that is.

yet here it began, because every time you were together there was an unspoken tension on his part, a feeling he couldn't quite place.

he strokes over your waist now, his touch lingering way longer than necessary as he slowly lined himself up with your heat, "you feel a little tense," he whispers, voice soft, heart beating.

as he inserts his tip, his fingers trail down your bare back, sending a multitude of shivers across your skin as you immediately lean back into his touch, craving the comfort and the thrill— the somewhat exciting thought of being intimate with a man like aventurine himself yet keeping it hidden from outsiders, even from your own emotions.

as his hands roamed over your body, exploring familiar territory, you felt the practiced ease of your routine and just how well he knew you by now— not only that, but your body.

ugh, when he preaches his cock through you for the very first time this time you moan out instantly, it makes him groan too, you know, even louder when you gets breathless from the pressure building in your stomach.

far away from your sight, there was always an underlying tenderness in his actions, a carefulness that contradicted the casual nature of your relationship, "e-enjoying yourself?" he drawls, his voice low.

if he could only tell you just how beautiful you are without making it sound weird.

you grind back as he squeezed your ass, hard, against his palm— that's more like it, that's how you like it and how your special friendship should be like, aventurine knows, he needs to know.

you grind against his pelvis, circling your hips, fucking back into him without pattern and turning into an embarrassing mess of moans and whimpers.

you whine, trying to escape the hot curl and fluttering in your chest, "always with you, you know t-that."

and yeah, that's something he loves to hear— next to pressing and thrusting into your cunt until he feels your slick slither down his shaft and oh? having his fingers on your clit too? making you feel so good.

aventurine cannot stop himself anymore, with hunger he rolls and rubs his fingers harder against your clit, faster, ignoring the twinge in his wrist as you began to mercilessly shake against his chest, circling your hips and squeezing him with your hole.

it's so filthy, having his spit coat and mark you up while his thick cock snapped you open in each and every thrust of his— and you always knew it'll hurt a little whenever he twitches within your walls, he must hurt with a size like that, in fact, just looking at him and you'd immediately know he's packed down there.

in spite of fact something behind your sight happens— because you see, his gaze softens for a moment, and there it was, a flicker of something he always tries to hide— a deep, unspoken affection that fuck, damn it, he was in love, aventurine fucking loved you.

he began to kiss your neck more furiously, kiss, suck and bite it— then go slower again, messily lap and add enough saliva on your skin so it'd glow even through the shadowed bedroom as to savor this very moment.

sheer unawareness covers the deepest truths— while love, lust and passion, all formed to dust in order to keep your friendship going for as long as he was able to would not resort in any problems.

no trouble, correct? if only you knew how it has been killing him inside.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[zepskies]

Rest

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean is your rock, but you’ve become his place of rest.

AN: Surprise! Just something short and sweet for Dean. 💜

Word Count: 600

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship; fluff, hurt/comfort, tinge of angst

On nights like these, the urge hits you the most.

You’re already in bed, wearing one of his old shirts and little else. You’re waiting for Dean, watching him finish brushing his teeth. He wraps it up by splashing some water on his face.

He stops for a moment, with his hands on the edges of the sink. He looks at his reflection and rubs a hand over the thick stubble on his face.

It’s halfway to beard territory. He needs a trim, he’s probably thinking.

(You don’t mind a little extra scruff.)

He hesitates, looking deeper at his own reflection. You notice the lines around his tired eyes, the weight of the last hunt still heavy on his shoulders. It's weighing on yours too, having carved out another small notch in your heart.

But you also know how many more layers this man carries, including the ones he adds himself.

“Dean,” you prompt quietly.

His head turns in your direction, and you give him a smile, beckoning him over.

Again, he hesitates. But he goes to you. After dipping his side of the bed with his weight, he smoothes a hand over your hair in affection. He takes off his father’s watch; the last piece of the hunter’s armor before he lays down on his back beside you. The old metal and leather watch clunks on the nightstand.

He then opens an arm to welcome you over, where you routinely find a place against his side.

“Come ‘ere,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravel. Your lips curve, but you gently push his arm back down to his side.

“Turn over,” you say, making a rolling gesture with your finger. Dean’s brows knit together in confusion, but he’s just curious enough to heed the encouragement of your hands on his arm and his back. He turns onto his side, facing away from you.

You settle yourself higher on your pillows, and you guide him backwards, until he’s resting against your soft upper body. You wrap your arms over his broad shoulders, and your hand moves, soothing across his chest. Even now, you feel the tension in his frame.

“Relax,” you say in a near whisper. You press a lingering kiss to his cheek. “I’ve always wanted to be the big spoon.”

A smile raises the corners of Dean’s lips. He even chuckles, shaking both of you.

“Yeah? Feels kinda weird,” he admits. He doesn’t think he’s been held like this since he was a kid.

“Well, give it a minute,” you say, with a bit of cheekiness.

Then you sigh and settle into this yourself. When your arms cross over his chest, Dean grabs your wrist, holding you there. He lets out another deep breath of his own.

Okay, he agrees, if only in his mind. Not bad.

He does relax against you, inhaling the floral scent of your body wash, feeling the tickle of your hair on his shoulder, and the gentle rise and fall of your breath. It's all familiar, and reminds him that he's home.

Dean leans over to turn off the light on his nightstand, but he returns to your embrace. He reaches back, just to stroke your cheek in a silent thanks. Smiling in the dark, you lay another kiss on the side of his head, and you close your eyes.

Dean does the same. He lets your warmth seep into his body, releasing the tension of a shitty hunt. He tries to let go of the faces he couldn’t save.

And he actually rests. 

AN: Just one of my little daydreams that I finally got a chance to write down. 💜

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Dean Winchester One-Shots

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[gremlingottoosilly]

Mafia!König X Prostitute/Sex Worker!Reader

He is a dangerous client. You knew this from the start - from the way your madam was looking at you with a mix of strictness and horror, with the way all the other girls refused to look you in the eye. This brothel was a pretty fine establishment by illegal standards - you weren't drugging yourself or your clients, and you even had security for the time's clients wanted to hurt you more than they were willing to pay for...and yet, you knew just how dangerous working here will be. You're sitting on the lap of danger now - and he is kissing your neck while drunkenly mumbling something about paying double to choke you and triple - to hug you afterward. You're not well-versed in the climate of local gangs, despite working at the brothel that was under the protection of one of them - you didn n't care about territories, bosses, Austrian mafia, Bosnian gangs, illegal German guns, and Czech cocaine. You think that you should have known more, should have known better - with the way this man hugs you, too tough to be considered comfortable, it's obvious that he is the top dog here. And top dogs are rarely gentle with their meat. He is not threatening you, which is surprising. If anything, he is a gentleman - pours you some good wine, as much as you hate drinking on the job, and even waits a few minutes of mindless chatter before taking off your panties. He is paying for the whole night, so he takes his time. Smiles in your shoulder blades as he covers you in kisses and marks. You do a good job at pretending to like it - but something in your lower tummy suggests that the fluttering feeling in your gut might not be just from pretending. "You like working here, Schatzi?" He asks as he tears your panties away and flicks his tongue over your pussy. That's a new one - men like him, the ones who have power and money, who have their homes filled with desperate souls, are rarely degrading themselves to being nice to sex workers. But he whispers little praises to you - or your cunt - and questions as he eats you out. You saw his dick, so you aren't complaining - you'd need all the help you can get. "It's better than other options" Being homeless and dead, you mean - but don't say. Men like him are paying for this sort of poverty to happen, to make desperate things like you to either hook yourself on drugs or on sex work. You don't even look in his eyes as he flicks his tongue over your clit again, in a sort of disapproving motion. "Hm. Consider yourself working for me from now on" You don't even ask what he means before your vision goes black. Perhaps, you should have never take him as a client in the first place. Konig is a dangerous man, after all.

[tsukii0002]

My demons' periods cycles. By Mc

Note: these are purely my headcanons at the moment, they are based on animal ethology and behaviours that I think would suit each character depending on their personality and Lore. I would love to read your headcanon in case you have them.

Warning: Long text. Possible grammatical errors. It's written as if Mc was writing for themself.

Hey, it me Mc, the best human. Here is a compilation of the behaviours of my demons during their periods, cycles, for practical day to day use. It wasn't easy but I sat them down and got to talk to them, with a little effort I now know what they need. So now I am ready to assist them during these complicated times and be prepared in case I find a dead goat on the porch as a tribute.

Lucifer, Mammon & Levi || Satan, Asmo, & Beel || Belphie, Barbatos & Diavolo || Simeon & Raphael

Satan

Light damages his eyes, and during his period he does not sleep at all.

During his cycle, the plaques that extend from his tail to his entire body become more pronounced and acquire a bioluminescent coating. As do its horns. Beware, they prick.

Some parts of his body grow feathers (I think this is a "side" effect of his birth). He aggressively plucks them out, help him not to hurt himself.

His teeth grow continuously, he has to be sanding them (biting things or his own tail). Other than that he doesn't groom much.

Satan doesn't have a fixed place to spend his heat, and although he likes to "nest" he doesn't know how to do it well, which frustrates him a lot. Help him, you already have experience (I think that's why he has chosen my room as his favourite place)

Depending on the weather he may make something more like a nest or a burrow.

Satan is terribly territorial, even with his siblings. He has had a run in with Cerberus from time to time. Please don't let that happen, the house won't hold.

Satan does not have a pre-heat period as such, but you can tell it is coming because he becomes more taciturn and solitary.

Raw meat is his main food, which is what he goes out to hunt very often because he needs a lot of it, but make sure he doesn't eat more than his capacity or it will make him sick. One way to do this is to feed him yourself (I think he thinks you have hunted for him if you do this).

Satan is the only one who haunts other demons and even souls of the condemned.

It is the only one that has fought other demons. Any living thing within 100 metres of him is encroaching on his territory, which is a problem because he moves so much for hunt.

Satan becomes non-verbal. But he does not use noises to communicate, only physical contact.

Growls and roars are reserved for threats and warnings (in other words, to communicate with everyone but you).

He likes physical contact, but is afraid to get close in case he hurts you (his tags and tail), you won't deny him comfort so be careful and that's it.

Satan produces pheromones, but does not usually mark.

His way of courting is to offer you resources, especially prey (he wants to prove he can feed you), it's not the first time he's brought you a live demon. Once he brought you a Little D, the poor thing kept shaking.

Satan's senses are heightened to the extreme. Many stimuli upset him and he has fits of rage. talk to him, so that he focuses his attention on your voice, that will calm him down. Lucifer's voice calms him down a lot too (but it's a secret)

All these changes (hormonal, behavioural…) are not good for his anger, the poor thing gets very angry without knowing why.

Satan's temperature is a reflection of his activity, when he is on the move it increases and when he stops it decreases.

During periods of low activity he curls up next to you, holding your hand (for fear of hurting you) with his pupils fully dilated, don't be fooled, he is fully alert and ready to attack.

Satan purrs? YES! It's the purr that most resembles a cat (that will make him happy, but don't tell him, the avatar of wrath has his pride).

Mc: *in their bedroom helping Satan* Here is ok?

Satan: *looking at them and nodding*

Mc: Making a nest is complicated… are you sure this is okay?

Satan: *standing next to them and rubbing his cheek with their cheek *

Mc: *smiling* Okay, let's go to the next part.

Satan: *grunting at a demon that's approached the house*

Mc: Satan!!! Satan stop!!!

Demon: *paralyzed with fear*

Mc: *hugging* Satan now, let him go, he's going, he's goi- agh!

Satan: !!!

Mc: *cut themself with his tail* It's okay, it's nothing.

Satan: *guilty look*

Mc: *taking him by the hand* Don't worry, this heals fast.

Satan: *nodding still guilty, squeezing their hand*

Demon: …. I thought I was dying!!!!

Satan: *purring as he presses his chin on Mc*

Mc: *talking to him to calm him down* And remember you don't have to go out every day, there's plenty of food here….

Satan: *purring more loudly*

Mc: But if you see my great uncle's soul, the one from the village, it's all yours.

Satan: *nodding with a smile*

Mc: *laughing* How trustworthy, you're awesome Satan.

Asmo

Although he spends most of his time awake, he needs to sleep.

He can be just as active during the day as he is at night (like arachnids).

For him to sleep, you have to be right next to him or he won't sleep.

Asmo needs to nest completely under cover, underground, but prefers the safety of his home to going outside. So he improvises a burrow in his room.

During his period the scales of his exoskeleton become shiny and velvety coated, as do his wings and horns.

Them take on a more striking fuchsia colour than usual. It will be one of the few times you will be able to see Asmo's tail with its sting.

He preens himself a lot, moistening its wings, polishing its scales... At first he is a little reluctant to be helped, but later he will be constantly asking for your help.

More than territorial, Asmo is possessive. He doesn't want you to leave his side, sometimes with his siblings too. If he smells a scent of someone else in his tribe, good luck to that individual.

Asmo doesn't have pre-heat, you'll just wake up one day with all your clothes gone and you'll know it's started.

Asmo's diet during its cycle is varied, although its consumption increases, ranging from fresh meat, fluids of all kinds, to poisonous substances such as flowers, mushrooms or other live animals. Be sure to allow some time to pass before he kisses or bites you.

If you get him a rare poisonous plant, he will be happy and content.

He can talk normally, but he will also make clicking sounds to indicate his mood.

Lots of pheromones, Asmo produces lots and lots of pheromones during his period, pheromones that he will use to mark his territory. Often his siblings can't be near him. You don't have that problem

Asmo is very needy to contact, hug him, give him kisses, caress his wings, his hair. He will be happy to let you.

And he will return the gesture, he will bite you too (always have your first aid kit handy). He will always try to be on top of you or for you to be on top of him.

Asmo's courtship consists of exsivating while performing a dance (like scorpions), this dance is complex and elaborate, and during it he releases a large amount of pheromones.

He gets very confused when you don't react to it, Asmo I'm sorry but I can't smell your pheromones, sometimes he even gets sad.

His senses are very developed, especially his sense of smell, which is more developed than any of his siblings. Make sure the flowers in his room are enchanted so that they don't emit odour and with perfumes and other fragranced products the same or he can get hurt.

Asmo's temperature will generally drop, but he will go through periods of very high fever (due to his sin) which will leave him tired.

During fever peaks he will become very active, and will devote most of his time to courting. To balance this out you will have to COURT him yourself, you'd better improve that dance.

Because of his temperature, he will spend most of his time hiding in the burrow, demanding your cuddles.

He purrs? , yes, in an adorable and soft way. It is easy to make him purr, with a simple praise.

Asmo: Kiss? *with Mc sitting on his lap*

Mc: Not yet Asmo.

Asmo: *with teary eyes* Don't you love me anymore?

Mc: *sighing* Asmo, my life, my heart, you just ate three nightshade roots.

Asmo: *almost crying* And?

Mc: I love you very much but I also want to live.

Asmo: My nose itches.

Mc: Wait a bit longer, I'm finishing enchanting the flowers.

Asmo: *sad * It would be less trouble to remove them…

Mc: But you like them, don't you?

Asmo: Mc..

Mc: *hugging him* I'm here to help you and to make you comfortable, if you like the flowers, the flowers stay.

Asmo: Love you so much!

Asmo: *dancing with a very high fever*

Mc: Asmo, you are so beautiful… you can rest now.

Asmo: *staring at them non-stop*

Mc: *blushing while standing up * You leave me no choice *starts dancing and grabs Asmo by the waist*

Asmo: ?! Are you courting me?! * excited*

Mc: *Grabbing him in their arms to take him to rest* Yup, it worked?.

Asmo: I'm all yours, Mc, from the beginning…

Beel

Light is not a problem for him, although he prefers darkness.

During his period, the exoskeleton hardens and plates of it appear all over his body, and his horns become iridescent.

In addition, its wings become ribbed in a pattern, which at first glance is very beautiful. The more complex the pattern, the more attractive it is. You always see his wings as beautiful, but you agree with him, Beel deserves it.

He does a lot of grooming, which is lovely to see, because Beel is a bit clumsy and needs constant help, he has been injured a few times and you don't want that to happen again.

There are some flies and other insects that lay their nests underground. In Beel's case he has a small gallery dug in the garden, which he uses for storage too.

Beel at the beginning of the cycle may be in the house, but as he progresses he will be in his gallery.

More than territorial, he becomes protective of you and his siblings (he once kidnapped Luke), so when he is in his gallery he feels bad, because his desire to protect them is crushed by his need to be hidden.

Beel has a very marked pre-heat, in which he accumulates large quantities of food in his small cave and his appetite doubles. All the inhabitants of the house join in at this time to cook.

In contrast, during his period of heat his activity is reduced and his appetite decreases, this does not mean that he does not eat, he eats more often but in much smaller quantities and from storage (food that does not spoil).

He will insist on feeding you constantly, prepare indigestion medicine, you will need it.

Beel becomes totally non-verbal, be prepared to become an interpreter, he communicates with grunts, clicks and buzzes his wings.

Lots of buzzing, it's not the first time you've been hit by his wings, with the different buzzes he makes all sorts of claims and they have a high communicative range, you'll just need some time to figure it out.

His pheromones are strong, and he will mark, although he does it unconsciously.

As I said, he likes to have his family around him, but when he can't, anxiety takes over, vibration and physical contact calms him down. The easiest thing to do is to lay him on your chest and talk to him while stroking his hair or wings.

Beel's courtship is complex, first he feels the need to prove he can be a good provider, so he will constantly enlarge and improve his gallery.

And then there is the display of his wings, patterning and rhythmic, synchronised movements and buzzes to impress you.

He sleeps more than usual, will want you to sleep in his arms, and usually does so perched on one of his walls, hopefully you won't develop vertigo….

His senses are not as sharp as those of his siblings, but he becomes much more agile and has much better reflexes.

Beel's temperature increases, due to the continuous movement of his wings (insects produce a lot of heat when flying), but when he is at rest he tends to cool down.

Beel's purr is a mixture of a buzz and a vibration, he will purr when he is calm and content.

Beel was a little worried about how you might react because many humans detest insects. Be sure to praise his wings and other attributes, because this demon is adorable.

Mc: So this is your lair?

Beel: Yes… I decided to keep it from period to period to not destroy the garden…

Mc: I think it's very practical!!! It must be very cool in summer.

Beel: Do you really think so?

Mc: Yes, and cosy too, you're an artist Beel.

Beel: *smiling as he blushes*

Beel: *grunts*

Mc: Beel I can't take anymore…

Beel: *holding out a piece of fruit to them* *buzz*

Mc: Really Beel, I'm going to explode…

Beel: !! *hugging them*

Mc: It's a figure of speech… but can you eat my share… please.

Mc: *sleeping hugging Beel in one of the corners of his gallery*

Beel: *caressing them with his cheek*

Mc: It's all right Beel?

Beel: *crackling with worry*

Mc: Don't worry... Lucifer is with them… and the others will take care of Lucifer for you.

Beel: …*cradling them adoringly*

Mc: And I'll take care of you, so rest…

.

.

.

If you have made it this far thanks you 🩷

[moonstruckme]

I’m not quite sure if this is too explicit so if it is please feel free to decline, but I was wondering if you could do a poly!marauders x reader who has a past with sexual assault so is kind of iffy and stand offish about sexual inter course? Again, all good if you can’t because it is a touchy subject ! I hope you’re having a lovely day/night !! (p.s. I love your writing so much :3)

Thank you gorgeous, love you <3

cw: trauma response, mention of past sexual assault

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Sometimes you can feel left out. Of the easy way the boys touch each other, the knowingness they have of the other’s bodies, the in-jokes about intimate aspects of their relationship that aren’t secret from you but you’re not a part of. And you know in your bones, in that thrumming, impossible-to-ignore beat inside your ribcage, that you’re not ready to be a part of them, but it still hurts to have something about your boys that’s separate from you. Some part of them you can’t access, and it’s only because you won’t allow them access to you in return. 

And sometimes, like now, things go astonishingly well. Sometimes you can let them touch you while feeling nothing but the pleasant warmth of love and lust brewing like a potion in your core. Sometimes you can let yourself tug Sirius closer as he kisses you, can swallow the soft sounds he makes into your mouth without your mind taking you anywhere other than this bed, this boy. 

Sometimes you can get so lost in them it feels like the fear can’t find you. 

“Okay?” Sirius breathes, setting a tentative hand on the small of your back. He tastes like coca cola, and his lips are a manifestation of every soft and earnest part of him he never shows. “This okay, sweetness?” 

You nod fervently, trying very hard not to think as you tunnel your fingers into the featherdown silkiness of the hair behind his ear. 

“Yeah?” You’re growing quite sick of all his talking, persistent in your kisses even when Sirius breaks them. His mouth curves against yours, sensing this, and his hand settles more comfortably into the curve of your spine. “Alright, you’re in charge. Just let me know if anything’s too much.” 

You make a muffled sound of acknowledgement. Truly, logically, you feel safe with Sirius, the same as you would with Remus or James. It was his idea that you be on top, after Remus figured out that you feel most comfortable when you don’t feel trapped, after James was the one to initiate the conversation on how they can make you feel good while respecting your (admittedly, nebulous and often fickle) boundaries. You haven’t worked up the courage to do anything beyond kissing, and none of them have pushed you. Really, you’ve been the one doing the pushing, wanting more and more from the kissing until it’s turned into this, you and Sirius hiding from dishwashing duty with you on top of him and sucking his face like a dementor.

You grind your hips down into his, and Sirius’ chuckle rumbles through the both of you as he grabs a greedy handful of your ass. 

Your breath stills in your lungs. 

You still completely, actually, every inch of you rigid, from your bum under Sirius’ hand to your eyes, stuck closed tight. The only part of you that seems to get that you’re still alive is your heart, thrashing wildly inside the bars of your ribcage like it wants to escape when you can’t. 

“Shit.” Sirius’ hand flees upward, skimming up your back to safer territory below your shoulder blades. “Shit, sorry, baby. You okay?” 

You want to tell him yes, in every physical, objective, important way you’re just fine. But your breath is frozen solid somewhere between your throat and your lungs and it won’t let you speak. 

“Sweetheart.” Sirius is starting to sound desperate, though he’s clearly trying to stay calm for your sake. He sets gentle hands at your waist, sitting you up while he eases out from under you. You expect you’ll move like a statue, but your arms move of their own mind once freed, wrapping tight around your middle. “You’re okay, baby, you’re safe. I’m so sorry, I was—I should have asked. I moved too fast, I didn’t mean to scare you. Can you talk to me, please?” 

“Sorry,” you manage. Something comes loose inside you. The air comes back to your lungs, you pull your legs up onto the bed, and laughter unspools from inside you like wire long coiled tight. 

Sirius doesn’t smile. “Don’t be sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you like that. Are you okay?”

It’s now that James and Remus decide to come and see what you’re up to. At the sound of Sirius’ panic-tight voice, their footsteps hasten down the hallway. James taps on the doorframe and you turn to him so fast your neck clicks. His face is melded by a soft worry. 

“Everything alright?” he asks. 

You nod, but Sirius must signal something different from your other side, because James and Remus advance towards the bed the way one might approach a feral kitten. 

“Are you okay?” Sirius asks again, voice cracking now that the other two are here. 

“Hey, it’s alright, love,” Remus says gently. “Maybe stop touching her for a bit.” You hadn’t even noticed Sirius’ hand gripping your leg, but its removal feels like you’ve lost a thousand pounds. You fight back a shiver. “She’s okay. Aren’t you, darling?” 

To hear worry in even Remus’ voice is significant. You try to make yours even to counter it. “Yeah,” you agree. “Yeah, sorry, I’m fine.” 

“You don’t need to be sorry,” James promises, crouching in front of you and Sirius. You’ve nowhere to hide from his melty-soft gaze. “What happened?” 

“I went too far.” Sirius’ voice sounds like it hurts, scraping its way out of him. Your heart throbs in response. 

You shake your head, insistent and perhaps a touch too fast. “No, it wasn’t your fault. I was—I—I escalated things, and then it just—”

“Take a deep breath,” Remus instructs. 

“I’m fine,” you say again. 

“Please, sweetheart. Just try.” 

You do, for his sake, pushing air in and out of your lungs like you’re trying to inflate a balloon. They won’t get as full as you want them too, but it’s not until you try that your body seems to catch up to what’s been happening. You start trembling all over. 

“Shit.” Your voice thickens, tears threatening. “Sorry, this is so stupid.” 

“It’s not,” James says. “Can I...can I hold your hand, or are you not ready for that yet?” 

“Please,” you squeak out. 

He grasps your hand, and you squeeze tightly, breathing until the tears don’t press at your eyes so insistently. You hate that the ugly thing of your past is touching something this good. That it’s hurting people who aren’t you, like it’s a virus you caught and now you’re spreading it.

“It’s really not your fault,” you tell Sirius, turning to him. “I thought I could handle it.” 

“I shouldn’t have moved without checking,” he replies in a similar tone. “I’m so sorry, sweetness. I never want to scare you like that.” 

You shake your head. “You don’t.” 

A dense silence lapses, not uncomfortable but full of things unsaid. James’ hand is warm in yours. 

“Hug?” you ask Sirius. 

He looks surprised. “Are you sure?” 

You nod, extricating your hand from James’ to wrap your arms around his middle. Sirius is tentative at first, palms placed lightly on the high and low points of your back, but when you hold him tighter he reciprocates. You hear Remus whisper something to James. Sirius’ fingers press into your back, the tip of his nose cold where it squishes into your neck. 

Sometimes, they make you feel completely safe. 

[eldritch-spouse]

You are running naked in the Jungle, searching frantically.

You look and you see another human, the first one you've seen in months and you run towards them.

“Thank God! Listen, we need to get out of here immediately, it's dangerous! Do you know the way out? Back to civilization?”

You feel a tentacle around your ankles

[Months? Couldn't be me, I'd just die. Let's downsize that to a week. Fem reader.]

TW: Reader has a self-loathing inner monologue; Reader is in a bad place mentally; Dubcon to full consent.

It was a stupid idea.

You knew that when you started it. So did everyone that tried to convince you otherwise. But common sense isn't something that could have stopped someone like you, someone who was ill enough to think taking a break from life in the middle of buttfuck nowhere would work out.

You didn't even have any sort of experience in this type of thing. Neither did you seek any kind of useful tips.

You just wanted to escape.

And you did, literally, into a forested nightmare that you got lost in not even hours after your arrival.

You just wish you could find your car, you just wish you could find somewhere warm and comforting to sleep in.

It's been days. Probably a week by now. Your stuff all disappeared, somehow. You swear you're not tripping, it all just vanished! Your phone, your bag, your keys...

Your back hurts, the nights are cold and humid and you're sure you're getting sick by now. Clean water would be a godsend, you've been drinking and cleaning yourself with some questionable-looking sources for a while. Not to mention you can't feed yourself properly, and you certainly don't know how to hunt.

Not that there's much to hunt. Every time you think you hear a peep, there's a brush of foliage and silence dominates seconds later.

You're going to die.

A horrifying reminder that has your chest pounding painfully and sweat glistening on your forehead.

You don't want to die.

But the modern human wasn't born for the wilderness, and you can only stand being clothed for a little longer before the sensation of being dirty has you clawing the skin off your body.

It was a fucking miracle that you managed to get a small fire going.

Finally.

You can heat up that fish you caught earlier.

If it's still good. Is... This is safe to eat, right?

You lean to sniff at the leaf-wrapped catch.

Eh. You can stomach it...

God, you're starving.

One thing that's been bugging you for a while is how... Deserted this whole place feels.

You're no wildlife expert, but isn't this kind of location supposed to be brimming with animals? Why is it that, everywhere you go, it's mostly just you and insects bumbling around?

Shouldn't there be some mammals here? Some birds? Maybe a squirrel or a snake... Aren't there predators you'd have to worry about in this kind of scenario?

Ironically, being alone makes you feel even more stressed out than if you were constantly surrounded by wild animals.

You huddle closer to the small fire.

Alone.

But always so on edge.

Always getting that tingling feeling crawling up your spine.

The one that screams- Look, look behind you! You're in danger!

The phantom feeling of something hovering behind your neck, goosebumps that hardly fade every time you do turn around to check and find nothing.

Is this a normal amount of paranoia for your situation? Is this your brain trying to cope with the fact that you haven't seen much wildlife so far?

Or is there something watching you from beyond the trees?

Something stalking.

A persistence predator, coming and going, to check on its latest prey.

Oh, and what a catch you are. Big and juicy compared to the things that probably roam this place -Roamed, more like...

Have you wandered into the territory of something that'll inevitably snap its jaws around your neck?

...

Just eat the fucking fish already.

Food.

Focus on the present.

The smell starts to hit your nose. Salt, oh what you wouldn't do for some simple salt. How do people get salt?

You're glad you got some berries along the way too, because this fish is probably going to taste like ass. You're sure they aren't poisonous or anything of the sort. If they are, then you've been eating them for the past few days so honestly you could keel over at any moment.

You'll see.

Once the fish has roasted enough where it's likely safe to consume, you peel it open messily and start munching indiscriminately, ravenous.

It's... Well, it's sustenance.

It's about the most nutritious thing you've eaten since you got here.

This survival thing is harder than the fake actors on TV make it seem.

A sudden crack of a branch has you pausing mid-chew.

You truly feel like a deer when your head snaps up and you stand very still to listen for a follow-up.

Nothing.

Tired eyes strain, trying to make sense of a darkened blob in the distance.

Huh.

What the fuck is that thing?

Tall.

Two legs...

Arms?!

Shit- Could it be?!

That can't be possible, someone else roaming around this maddening forest. Is that a sign that you're somehow getting closer to civilization? That you're making it out by sheer luck? What cosmic force could be on your side this time? Maybe they just live here, like some kind of off-grid retired agent- Okay, you've been watching too many movies.

Without stopping to think twice about frankly important concerns regarding this sudden development, you place the cooked fish down on the leaf it was previously wrapped in and start scooting forward towards the silhouette you saw.

That build can only belong to a man. Well, you assume as much anyway. It's hard to spot more from here, with the foliage covering their form.

" H- Hey... "

You haven't used your voice in a hot minute. Some part of you almost doesn't recognize it. A healthy dose of paranoia stops you from brushing aside the obstacles and facing this person.

But you need to at least try, right?

The worst that can happen is that you really are hallucinating for some reason or another.

With a surge of bravery, but mostly desperation, you push all the branches and greenery away to run towards this person, opening your mouth to greet them, to beg for help, ask for new clothes or just something cooked!

" Hey! Please, I need your... Help? "

Nothing.

There's no one.

But that doesn't make sense, you clearly saw a silhouette, someone was there! You didn't even have to run that far, how could it be that you already lost sight of them? That they could get away so silently?

No. Everything's wrong.

Before you know it, your vision is blurring and your face heats as tears stain your cheeks.

Why... Why would your mind fuck with you like this? Going from a shining shred of hope to complete despair in seconds has you screaming inside.

Why is this happening to you?

Are you really about to die in a stupid fucking patch of nothing just because you can't deal with the stress in your life like a normal person? Just because you made one bad decision when everything was weighing heavy on your conscience? Are you really so incompetent and so pointless as a human that this is how your story ends?

Anger and regret blind you to everything, fingers course through your knotted hair as you sob and tug, having no way to calm yourself and nothing to unleash your tension onto.

The moment you try to stomp your foot in a petulant act, you find it rooted to the ground. It takes a couple more insistent tugs upward for you to realize that something is coiled around it, keeping it firmly planted.

The train wreck of emotions and bile of self-hating thoughts takes a backseat, goosebumps pricking your skin from tip of the head to your very toes. The first thing you think of is some kind of snake, eyes bulging behind digits.

You look down frantically, shaking, but in spite of the sky being clear, all you see is this reddish mass, with neither end nor beginning. What... What the fuck is it?!

The thing tightens around your ankle, starting to slide up the length of your right leg, up to your knee. And immediately, you panic, kicking and shrieking, achieving absolutely nothing and getting promptly tugged to the ground.

Yeah.

Maybe freaking out isn't the best bet for your survival here.

Twigs and dirt get on your face, it takes some coughing and swiping to finally clear your field of view. But honestly...

You almost wish you hadn't.

Curved over your prone figure, staring down, is a creature you have never seen before.

Bipedal and quite large, like the silhouette you had glimpsed before, but so very far from human. The reddish coloration spanning the length of that bizarre body makes him -Because, again, you can only assume that is a male- Look as if he's made of flesh quickly molded together to imitate the figure of a human. What initially made you think he was skinless soon turns into the realization that there was never room for skin anyway.

Because his body is quite literally comprised of what you can only call tentacles. Tendrils and coiling tissue that clings and organizes itself in the vague lie of an organism like yours.

From elbows to fingers and knees to feet, the tendrils become a lot more discernable, coiling and uncoiling while he watches curiously. The thing around your leg is one of said tendrils, coming from the mass forming his own. Along the length of its torso, sharp-toothed mouths form and shift, almost seeming to have a mind of their own as they scent the air and snap at nothing.

That head has got to be the most striking feature. It's an amalgamation of tentacles all wrapped around each other, leaving room for an incredibly sharp golden eye to fix you in place. This thing looks like it crawled out of a sleeping ocean, like the roots and vines of an ancient jungle came together to form a totally new an extension of themselves. He looks like he's been sculped from the guts of others yet also composed in a way your mind could never hope to grasp.

Somewhere between trying to determine if you're dealing with an animal or a person, you reach the conclusion that an animal wouldn't stare you down for this long.

An animal would take a couple of seconds to determine if you're prey or predator and act accordingly. He would have snapped your neck or suffocated you like a boa constrictor with those tentacles by now.

And yet, he just stares.

Like you're the strangest creature to ever grace the woods this thing probably calls a home. You're as freaky to him as he is to you, enough so that he seems out of depth on how to proceed.

You stare back.

This has got to be the monster that you saw back there. Watching you. Now that you think about it, maybe this was the reason you'd always have a tingling sensation reminding you that you're not alone. Because he was there all that time, stalking.

Plenty were the moments he could have dug your grave until now. It's strange that he hasn't. Because surely, he's seen how you're failing to adapt to this location. Every step you take, you're stumbling and getting pricked, hungry, thirsty, afraid, disoriented- You're a fish out of water and he could have ended that misery a long time ago.

Odd.

Neither of you move. It blinks, vertically. You blink too.

And then, it makes this chitter.

Wet, like a gargle, followed by some kind of rumbling as more of those tendrils that form his limbs unwind, explore.

They reach down towards your frame when he squats, and you stifle the urge to scream at the sight of them getting nearer. Because who knows what he's going to do...

They poke and prod, grabbing lightly at parts of you, wet yet not quite. Two coil around your arms, then elbows, then wrists.

Other strays squirm around your sides, unintentionally triggering a squirming reflex as you muffle helpless laughter.

The monster seems intrigued by the noise anyway, making his own vocalizations as if attempting to communicate with you.

Abruptly, there's a blur of movement and you're yanked into the air by the arms, shrieking in fear and pain.

Not for long, because more of his freaky, flowing appendages wind around your middlesection, hips and knees, pulling in different directions.

In seconds, mere moments, this being has you suspended in the air.

Immediately, your panicked mind is going places where it absolutely shouldn't.

He seems more relaxed now that you're restrained, that gaze becomes softer, clouded with curiosity. To be monitoring you this long, you don't doubt he has his own questions and intrigue regarding how you work.

When that hulking red mass walks towards you, anxiety prevents your mouth from staying shut.

" H- Hi? "

A sound not too different from the peep of a skittish bird.

One that causes him to cock his head in a brief pause, processing the noise, and returning it with his own light gurgle. One of the mouths on his figure gets the pitch right down to a T.

Soon, he's lacing a hand through your hair, grabbing it, manipulating the protrusion and stroking your head inquisitively. He squeezes and almost scritches at your scalp, reminding you of the way someone acts when spotting a particularly cute cat. Yes, hair is likely a mystery to this creature, you can kind of understand why it'd linger here.

But that doesn't change the fact that you're being patted like a pet by a strange, unknowable creature- And that's morbidly hilarious.

When your cheeks start to puff with laughter, his attention finally deviates. You can feel the tendrils that form every digit when he splays them across your face, tracing your eyebrows, playing with the tip of your nose and even trying to poke into your ears- Something he halts when you jerk away rapidly each time.

When he starts trying to put a digit in your mouth, he's a lot more careful, aware that you have teeth and can bite, even if yours are quite small and blunt compared to the ones he sports. He succeeds, because your strength is nothing compared to that of a monster of his size and nature. The digit he dips into your mouth rests there placidly for a couple of moments.

You aren't sure what to do. Biting is not a bright idea when you know this creature can probably easily dismember you in this position. He himself looks slightly lost, as if he put his finger in your mouth out of impulse mostly. A false sense of security begets your own curiosity.

Perhaps you're just insane already -That probably says a lot about your overall mental fortitude- But seeing another living being that behaves and looks vaguely like what you might call a person makes you feel calmer than you have since the beginning of all this. You know it's an irrational feeling, that you're not any safer than before, but it's a thread of comfort you desperately cling to.

And it's what allows you to look this thing in the eye while you experimentally lick his bizarre tendril-clump of a finger.

It was only a little flick.

But naturally, he felt it.

The monster rumbles something incomprehensible at you, leaning closer still to cast a shadow upon your front. In this position, he looms between your clothed legs, though seems mostly unaware of the lurid position he's got you in, fixated on your mouth.

The sensation of his digit unfolding into two separate thin tentacles is bizarre. You picture a human finger splitting in two and curse your brain. Said tentacles poke and wriggle, capturing your tongue between themselves.

Yes, that's probably the part of your body that most closely resembles the mass of prehensile tissue composing his own.

The touch has you drooling, saliva trying to break down something probably few to no humans have ever come in contact with. He tastes slimy yet slightly rugged in some areas, not something you'd write home about.

Reflex has your poor muscle squirming to be freed, but that only causes him to tighten the grasp upon it. And, surprisingly, to let out this humid noise that sounds far too much like a groan of delight for you to interpret it as anything else.

There's a pause from your part as you wonder, incredulously, if this thing just got turned on.

There's not much time to ponder, because that digit very quickly slips out, and as he examines the sheen of drool on it, something else steadily approaches your mouth.

Ah, you've graduated from finger to proper tentacle mouthfucking. Commendable.

Making light of the situation is about the least recommended course of action, but after what you've endured so far, you think you deserve to be a little, tiny bit, insane.

Apparently convinced that you won't try to harm him, the crimson monster wiggles that darkened appendage and taps it against your lips, seeming very interested in how this is unfolding.

You should not have opened your mouth.

But you did.

And he visibly brightened up.

The tendril wedges itself in without much hesitation, resting upon your tongue. Much thicker than his digit, your jaw has no choice but to stretch, and your lips wrap around it in a rather phallic, dirty image. You barely realize you're making an effort not to scrape your teeth on the appendage. Perhaps because the sensation of it is a tad spongy and remarkably similar to that of any standard manhood.

And, as if to give reason to your lewd comparison, he shudders at the warmth of your wet mouth, the thing pulsing within you.

While he mostly simply lets the extremity sit there motionlessly, you do explore, trying to lick around it out of morbid curiosity. He watches you avidly, but apparently, what really gets to this bizarre entity is feeling you suck down the saliva that pools in your cheeks, swallowing.

Suction. Because of course he'd enjoy that. What man doesn't?

That begs the question, is the thing in your mouth part of his genitals?

Again, thinking is a privilege you can't afford when that tentacle starts sliding down your throat experimentally. It doesn't take him long to trigger your gag reflex, a violent kick and curve forward from your part causing him to pull back quickly. But he continues to test the waters afterwards, probably seeking the sensation of your stressed throat muscles tightening around him.

Instinct takes over.

Because even if he seems truly out of his depth maneuvering a human body, he's curious and, if you had to guess, attracted to you. Enough to put sensitive things in your mouth, to fetishize that part of you. Hormones make things work, which means he soon realizes he can make repetitive back and forth motions to get friction.

And so, just like that, you're getting fucked in the mouth, inside the woods, by an eldritch abomination of a monster you might find in a cheaply made H. P Lovecraft rip-off.

It should not arouse you.

It should horrify you.

... But it doesn't.

Those reactions are missing, leaving you befuddled at your own enjoyment of the situation. Are you just happy to have someone around? Has it truly been so long since you received this type of attention that you don't mind if it comes from an entity of unknown origin who is clearly not civilized? Are you just a freak actively discovering new sides of your sexuality?

Who knows anymore.

All you know is that there's a wet noise ringing every time he thrusts that slimy thing into your mouth, that he's resorted to gripping your hips hard while making intense eye contact, that he growls and gurgles whenever you have enough control to suck at him. If you had to guess, it's his unwavering, lewd and fascinated observation of your face and lips that has you likely forming a wet spot on your poor pants.

You think your wanton squirming is subtle, but reality proves otherwise when the monster starts getting distracted, one of those pupils shifting to the rhythmic movement of your legs as you shamelessly seek friction. At first, he seems irritated, as if questioning why you'd want to leave when you'd been so docile so far.

Then it appears to click.

You can almost see it in his face, in spite of how inhuman it is, that eureka moment.

And the tendril in your mouth slows down to a crawl.

He starts pawing and pulling at your pants, but not aimlessly. Not at all. He's studied you, he knows what he's looking for, the button and the zipper. You pale a few shades, the only way this thing could know how to take pants off is if it saw you doing it, if it saw you relieving yourself or trying to bathe to avoid infections.

Just how many embarrassing moments did he catch?

Too many, probably.

Still, you're pleasantly surprised to see him so easily remove the garment, fluidly shifting the positions of his tendrils to avoid tangling the fabric in them. Your pants come off without a single blemish, aside from those they sustained previously. Is he removing them so carefully because he thinks you need them to survive or is he just being considerate?

Your underwear is treated the same way, he spares no extra thought to it, and only appears to pause once your pussy is exposed.

Usually, you'd feel self-conscious in this position. There's not a lot you can do to properly groom yourself without the simple privilege of soap and whatnot... But what does it matter here? As far as you know, for this monster, pussy is pussy regardless of it being shaved or bush-heavy, "perfumed" or au naturel.

And a soaked, needy hole is hard for a lonesome monster to ignore.

He looms closer to your womanhood, watching closely, gargling a string of vocalizations you still can't interpret, until another tentacle slithers into scene and slaps against your cunt.

No, literally.

The thing whips from mound to the bottom of your entrance, swiping up and down in a pace that has you seeing stars every time it flicks your clitoris and catches on a clenching entrance. To say your legs kick out occasionally from the intensity of the stimulus is no exaggeration, but he's quick to adapt his hold so you have no way of wiggling aside.

You don't know why it's doing that, but frankly, you don't care much, it just feels good. A racing heart and a heaving chest have you tipping your head back to moan against the thing stuffed in your mouth. You realize, a little belatedly, that he was probably mostly just trying to lube that appendage with your own arousal.

Your plump pussy still tingles when the assault stops on all sides, you strain to watch what he's doing, observing the monster evaluate the sheen now coating that wriggling extremity.

He's less careful than before now, a product of excitement no doubt, parking the somewhat thicker length at your entrance and pushing in tentatively for only a couple of moments before ramming a decent chunk of that tendril into your cunt.

Eyes bulging, you spit out a beastial sound that startles the monster, panting as you try to get used to the sudden stretch. He's reached a depth within you no one else has found before, and the pressure is such so that you've been robbed of the ability to speak.

He shouldn't be that far in you.

You may come from extremely distinct backgrounds, but some things are vastly universal, like the facial expression of pain. Which, credit where credit is due, he picks up on relatively fast. The moment the entity removes a good chunk of its length, you sigh and sag in momentous relief. That's a lot better. You still feel as if you're being stuffed to the brim, but there's no longer that stabbing pain.

He understands what he did wrong after a couple of still moments and some bizarre palping sensation from your insides.

Much like the previous tendril in your mouth, this one too starts to thrust back and forth, with more care now, experimenting with differing speeds and curling in various ways as he gets closer and closer to watch how you react.

You're no researcher, but maybe if the mounting pleasure wasn't swimming to your head and making it very very hard to think coherently right now, you'd be fascinated with the way this monster is being so thorough in his examination of you, wanting to learn what makes you tick in every way, what has you choking out noises and rolling your eyes.

So intense is the heat rushing through your body from his repeated, filthy motions that you hardly notice anything happening until his all-seeing eye is almost glued to your face. The tips of the tentacles that make up his rather disturbing head unfurl and appear to drip downwards, clinging to the sides of your face so he can fix it in place, observe every detail as soon as you part your mouth to moan and gasp and babble nonsense. Each noise you make is eagerly eaten up, he tries to mimic the same motions that make you squeal as if begging for more of them.

There's no time to warn or even shriek about it, your orgasm barrels its way down your body with the intensity of a bullet, curving you in its tentacles, a breathless "oh" being all you can offer as your abdominal muscles contract and you squeeze the life out of the tendril inside you, making a mess that drips to the ground between you two.

It may not have been easy to spot in that pleasured trance, but the monster halted to watch it all unfold, mesmerized. Retracting to test the nature of the new slick now grossly painting you.

By the time you're done riding the high of your climax, you've been shifted again, this time a little lower, and you find the entity staring down to the spot where your core meets something that wasn't there before.

You'll admit you didn't have the time to properly process the full extent of his appearance when he first appeared before your stunned self. Now you're unsure if this monster had some kind of pelvic pouch, or if he merely unfolded two more tendrils out of his mass where one would expect a dick to be.

The two appendages wriggle and roll impatiently, seeking each other before parting in search of heat, of wetness, slapping against your belly and thighs. They may not look like it, but you can only guess those are his cocks. And he's considering something quietly.

It's hard to tell what he's thinking right now, the communication barrier doesn't help. Maybe he worries that the length of them will hurt you. Perhaps he wonders if he can impregnate you this way. It could just be that he thinks perhaps mating with a strange human is not a good idea, but the way those things are spreading a coat of thick precum on your skin says otherwise.

Instead of letting his stall further, a small hand reaches down to feather over the tip of one of those members, immediately getting captured and pulled at in the process. His figure rattles, hips offering a useless piston before his head snaps back up to watch you.

" ... Try putting one in. "

You murmur, knowing damn well it can't understand a single word.

He looks back down, peels back to spread your cuntlips invitingly, then seems to make up his mind, allowing the very tips of both squirming cocks to connect with your entrance. They've found warmth and they're desperate to worm in, stretching and flirting with your walls.

You grin incredulously, already trying to guess what it'll feel like, gasping as soon as he leans forward and allows more exploration. The first hint of a burn arrives as he rumbles in delight-

But a branch snaps in the distance.

And the moment is ruined because he halts immediately, your cry of frustration ignored entirely.

His body twists in an unnatural way so he can glance behind, inhuman eye seeing through greenery and undoubtedly spotting something off.

In the tense quiet that has now settled, even you pick up on the faraway mumbles of what must be people.

Eyes widening, snapping out of this episode, you begin to squirm earnestly now, wanting to see them, to find a way back, to go home!

Finally, people came looking for you!

The monster snaps back around, making you realize how truly fucked you are in these circumstances. Something flashes in that gaze, a hint of contempt, of hurt maybe.

Something too human to fall upon such a nightmarish face.

You can only scream as more tendrils dart in lightening speeds to cocoon you inside them. That single noise being all that escapes before you're forcibly gagged and physically thrown over the monster's shoulder.

His molding body swings from tree to tree in a blur of movement, taking you God knows where...

And leaving your saviors in the dust.

[suguru-getos]

࿐ husband neuvillette nsfw hcs (f!reader) ࿐

you didn’t know when you got married to the chief justice that he was that good in bed. like? how? where do you get the time? :// honestly — it’s insane. the way he knows your sweet spot as if it’s what he’s been searching for all this time. when the first time you two did it, it got you dizzy and you cried at the overwhelming love & affection he showered you with.

peppering sweet kisses everywhere, your forehead, your cheek, your chin, right below your ears until he reaches your collarbone !! neuvillette loves to nibble onto your supple skin. gently suckling at the sweet spot on your neck until you get used to it, then switching to a harsher suckle, maybe a little teeth. it’s the territorial instinct inside him which gets him hard and turned on the moment he sees you all vulnerable and marked up.

he loves toying with your titties, he’d literally spend a lot of time on them. massaging them, kneading them with his large, powerful hands and marking them his. the way his tongue twirls into your aching bud and makes you gasp for more. yes, he has made you cum with just your titties alone. you didn’t know it was possible until neuvillette decided it is.

neuvillette is a dom inside out. a pleasure dom who gets off to seeing you writhe under him. you’d always be told to moan out. “come now darling, don’t try to hide your moans. i want to know how it makes you feel.” he’d slowly yank your palm off your mouth. “sing for me.” he cooes as he thrusts inside you, watching your eyes roll back in sheer pleasure.

breeding kink 101. i think he uses a lot of words and phrases like, “going to look so cute with your belly carrying our child”, “going to breed my little angel full of me, she can take it right? of course she can. tell me — tell me you want to be bred full of my seed.”

size kink -> it’s always hard for you to fit him inside, he’s especially huge and girthy, veins decorating his thick cock while he lubes your cunt with his pre. he loves when you get a little intimidated by his size until he has to assure you that he’d always take care of you & never hurt you.

despite him not being too harsh most of the time, he still insists on there being safewords. “don’t want this possibility to ever come true, but still, no harm in being prepared darling.” he’s fine if you make up your own safe word or he is happy to follow the traffic light system for ya.

sometimes though? you want him to snap. best method is to make your territorial dragon jealous. there are often events like banquets held in fontaine & as the chief justice; he mostly attends those. it’s more than easy for you to rile him up by being a tad too nice with others 🤷🏻‍♀️ he’d pin you against the wall, the same stern glare that he carries in court now attacking you. “seems like you’re purposely getting on my nerves darling.” he hums, leaning in and inhaling your scent. “going to make sure to take proper measures so this isn’t repeated. you’re going to like that too much won’t you?” oh yes you will —

he doesn’t do punishments, just funishments. you’d have to ask him to partake in those because let’s be real, you can’t possibly expect the man who’s simping for you so hard to think of the possibility of hurting you. you’d have to tell him you like the pain. 😏 impact play, edging, he’d be partaking in all those for his little darling.

he likes to particularly cockwarm you though. it’s the whole power play high of it and the desperation in your eyes which makes it exhilarating for him. “stay still for me yes? i don’t want you to not cum now. just because you’re greedy.” oh you love it when he gets all in control like that.

whenever he decides to spank you, it’s always going to be over the knee. he wants to feel you close, it comforts both you & him. the impact precise and calculated, watching the color of your ass change with a soft smirk. “you love this too much don’t you? ah~ i can see it.” fingers languidly touching your needy, wet pussy as the spanks push you over the edge.

aftercare king and he’s almost apologetic after every harsh scene. “you okay? sure? i want you to know i love you & you did so well for me. i’m so proud of my wife.” words of affirmation king 👑 along with a clingy cuddle bug. 🤭