#just forced i will say it ever and ever again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yandere-daydreams · 24 hours

Text

Title: Till The Water Boils Over Or The Frog Drowns.

Pairing: Yan!Gojo x Reader x Yan!Geto (JJK).

Word Count: 5.8k.

TW: No Curses AU, Dub/Con -> Non/Con (Revoked Consent), Fem!Reader, Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex, Kidnapping, Financial Abuse, Psychological Abuse, Infantilization, Spanking, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, and Forced Codependency. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

It started the day Satoru first introduced the concept of ‘time out’ to your relationship.

He was immature and you were stubborn. You loved him, but without Suguru’s even temper and calming presence, sparks tended to fly in a way that left you at each other’s throats. With your arms crossed over your chest and your eyes narrowed, you’d watched him sigh, roll his eyes, and storm out of your shared bedroom, slamming the door behind him. You gave yourself a second, then another – sucking in a shallow breath and shutting your eyes, talking yourself through all your usual cool-down methods. You were supposed to go out, tonight, to a restaurant you and Satoru had both been talking about for weeks. You still had about an hour before Suguru was supposed to get home, before you were all supposed to leave together. It wasn’t a good day to fight, even if you knew Suguru would smooth everything over as soon as he got home.

When you were done, you moved to the bedroom door. One hour was plenty of time to talk things out. One hour was plenty of time to kiss and make up, even if you would hold a grudge for a—

You pushed gently on the door. It didn’t budge.

You tried the knob. It turned, but the door still didn’t open.

You pressed your shoulder into the wood, shoving with more force than you ever should’ve had to use. Something shifted – a chair slotted underneath the handle, Satoru’s back leaning against the other side of the thin wood – but didn’t give.

The frustration you’d only just managed to suppress resurfaced immediately. Still pressed against your side of the door, you called out, attempting to keep your tone soft, light. “Satoru? Baby?”

The sweetness in his voice was equally artificial. “I’m right here, angel.”

“I—I think the door might be jammed.” You tried the knob again, rattling the metal for emphasis. Satoru only hummed in response, and you grimaced. “Are you gonna let me out, ‘toru? I really don’t have time to be—”

“Ninety minutes.”

“…ninety minutes?”

“Ninety minutes,” he repeated. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “After that, we can check and see if you’re still feelin’ so bratty.”

You were almost thankful there was a door between you. If it hadn’t been there, you might not have been able to stop yourself from throttling him. “Satoru, I really don’t have time to—”

There was an obnoxiously loud hum, the sound of footsteps moving down the hall. You groaned, resting your forehead against the cool wood. Whatever. He was being petty, again. You could do ninety minutes. And, even if you couldn’t, he’d probably be back in ten, tail between his legs and pouting for your attention.

You quickly resigned yourself to passing the time as quickly as possible. You laid face-down on your bed, bemoaning your taste in men and picturing all the ways you could break up with Satoru, once he let you out. You scrolled through your phone, spamming Suguru with half-coherent messages and memes from the very depths of your camera roll. You re-organized your closet, sorting your clothes by color and alphabetizing your shoes. You managed to read a full page of one of the bulky historical fiction novels Suguru kept on the bedside table before deciding you’d be better off breaking up with both your current boyfriends.

You checked the time when you were done, and discovered that you’d managed to kill a whopping fifteen minutes.

God, you were so fucked.

Only half-consciously, you gravitated back to the door, slumping against it. You opened your mouth, ready to call out to Satoru and say whatever you had to say to get out, but another voice cut in before you got the chance. “Baby?”

Suguru. He must’ve gotten back early. You let out a shallow sigh, letting your head fall forward in relief. “Right here,” you said, making no effort to hide your exasperation. “Can you open the door? I think ‘toru blocked me in.”

His deep chuckle was muffled, but still clearly audible. “I’m afraid I can’t. He’s still pretty mad, couldn’t stop talking about how you copped an attitude with him.” There was a pause, a shoulder being rested against the other side of the door. “I think he mentioned something about a dress?”

You were glad he couldn’t see you – he would’ve hated the way you grimaced at the reminder. “It’s a nice restaurant. I wanted to dress up a little, but he’s just so immature, and when he saw the dress I wanted to wear—”

Suguru cut in. “The red one, right?”

“Yeah, with the window on the chest.” You sighed. “Please, Suguru? I really don’t want to spend the next hour of my life locked in my own bedroom.”

Another laugh, this one more stifled than the first. “He just knows how pretty you’d look, babe. Probably doesn’t want anyone else to find out how beautiful our partner is.” When you didn’t respond, he added, “Didn’t he just buy you somethin’ brand new? He can’t complain if he’s the one who picked it out, right?”

You pursed your lips. He had – a pure ivory dress, a little shorter than mid-thigh and sleeveless, not exactly conservative, but not meant to show as much skin as you usually preferred to. It’d come with matching gold jewelry, and you’d politely accepted the gift, kissed him on the cheek, and stashed it under your bed to rot. It wasn’t ugly, nothing so expensive could be, but it suited Satoru’s tastes, not yours.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, trying to soften the harsher edges of your distaste. “You know how Satoru is. Everything he picks out is just so—so him.”

“I’m starting to think you both might be causing problems.” You kicked the base of the door, but Suguru didn’t indulge your outburst with acknowledgement. “Just try it on, alright? If it’s that bad, we can always go without him.”

It took another minute or so of condoling, but soon enough, you were slipping into Satoru’s gifted dress, cursing as you struggled with the tiny, finicky zipper and smoothed wrinkles out of abused silk. You pulled your fingers through your hair once before returning to the bedroom door and knocking defeatedly. As if to add insult to injury, the door swung open in an instant, a smiling Suguru waiting on the threshold.

“See? Absolutely gorgeous, as always.” He leaned forward, cupping your cheek. You let his lips brush over your forehead before pulling away. Thankfully, he wasn’t cruel enough to draw it out any longer – his hand falling to yours and taking it up, tugging you gently towards the living room. “Satoru’s going to forget he was ever mad at all as soon as he sees you.”

You didn’t bother responding, only slumping against his side and letting him guide you forward. Distantly, you heard Suguru calling out to Satoru, but you were already busy – too occupied promising yourself that this would never, ever happen again to care what either of them was saying.

You would, of course, be wrong.

Barricaded doors quickly became a weekly inconvenience. You and Satoru fought often (never intensely and never for very long, but often), and he owned the apartment – meaning, despite all your whining, you couldn’t exactly tell him that his doors couldn’t all lock from the outside. Your ‘cool-down sessions’ (Suguru’s words, not yours) lasted anywhere from twenty minutes to a couple of hours, and Suguru was always the one to let you out. When you couldn’t be locked up and left to stew, Satoru would take it upon himself to leave the apartment – if only for as long as he thought it would take for you to forget you’d argued at all. You got used to it quickly. It wasn’t fair, you didn’t enjoy it, but you got used to it. You’d always had more patience than you really should’ve, when it came to Satoru’s antics.

And then, Suguru started showering with you.

Finding time to spend together was an ever-present obstacle in your relationship. Satoru alternated sporadically between planning lectures and grading papers late into the night to rolling his eyes at the concept of due dates and dulling out extra credit on a whim, and trying to guess if Suguru would be free was a pursuit in futility – his sermons were scheduled, but he was almost always being called out on some mysterious errand on behalf of one of his countless, faceless apostles. You didn’t work at all, but you went to school, and you kept yourself busy. You’d never be as busy as Satoru and Suguru, but you did your best to keep up with them.

Currently, you were basking in the afterglow with Suguru, your head resting on his chest and his arms wrapped loosely around his waist. Satoru was already gone, rushed off to some early-morning lecture, but Suguru didn’t have anything to do, and you—well, you could miss a lecture or two if it meant spending time with him. And, even if you couldn’t, it was hard to imagine tearing yourself away from the feeling of his calloused fingers tracing aimless patterns into the small of your back, of his lips pushing warm, open-mouthed kisses into your shoulders, your collarbone, your throat. His hands drifted to your hips, grip tightening ever-so-slightly, and you felt a raspy groan reverberate against the side of your neck, Suguru pulling you close as he—

“Save it,” you said, drawing back. He pouted and you grinned, pecking the corner of his jaw and sitting up, letting his sheets pool around your waist. “Just for a few minutes – I feel gross.” A full groan, this time. You laughed, combing his disheveled hair back and pressing another kiss into his forehead, this one lingering just a beat longer than the first. “You’ll survive a shower, Suguru.”

You felt him shift underneath you. Before you had a chance to pull away, he was sitting up, his arms still around your waist – keeping you messily laid across his lap. “I’ll come with you.”

“You’ll wait your turn.” And then, when he only hummed in response, “I’m being serious. Somebody in this relationship has to wash their hair every now and then.”

His face was already buried in the crook of your neck, and he was moving toward the edge of the mattress with your body still tucked against his chest. He was planning on carrying you, presumably. Sometimes, it felt like if it were up to Suguru, you’d never walk anywhere on your own again. “I know.” His voice was still raspy with sleep, his usual articulation weighed down by the fatigue that came with a morning spent in bed. “I’ll help.”

“That’s really sweet, but—” You strung your arms around his neck as he stood up, taking you with him. “—I think I’ll be alright on my own, Suguru.”

For the first time all morning, his eyes flickered open, wandering idly in your direction. He held your gaze for a beat, then another.

Finally, the edge of his lips quirked upward – the sly, knowing grin you’d fallen in love with soon painted across his lips. When he spoke, it was in a tone to match, all confidence and cloying, calculated sweetness. “No.”

You faltered, at that. “…no?”

“Don’t wanna be away from you for that long,” he mumbled, by way of explanation. “Whatever you need to do, I’ll take care of. Don’t want you to have to worry your pretty little head over anything.”

You tried your best to laugh, but it was a weak effort, better left unacknowledged. “I don’t know how I feel about my boyfriend offering to, I don’t know, shave my legs or something.”

He only soldiered on, as if you hadn’t said anything at all.

You felt Satoru’s hands on your waist first, then his chest against your back. His mouth found the curve of your throat as if by instinct, teeth grazing against a bruise Suguru had left in the same spot the day before. You felt him lean against you and dropped the knife you were holding onto a nearby cutting board, bracing yourself on the edge of the counter to compensate.

You glanced over your shoulder as his head bowed, face soon buried in the dip of your shoulder. He must’ve just gotten home – he was still wearing his sunglasses, only the first three buttons on his shirt undone. You grinned, twisting around just far enough to kiss the top of his head before turning back to your ingredients. “Rough lecture?”

“Grad students,” he muttered, the dread in his voice plainly audible. “One more fucking extension request, and I swear, I’ll fail the entire class.”

You hummed, letting him sink further into you. You might’ve let him stay there, too, if one of his hands hadn’t fallen to your ass while the other slipped underneath your loose shirt. Before he could creep upward, you jabbed an elbow into his chest. “Keep it in your pants. You still smell like a college campus.”

Of course, he didn’t budge. “But I missed you,” he whined, as shameless as he was clingy. “I had to leave so early, and I was stuck in my office for so long, and I’m gonna die if I have to wait any longer. Is that what you want? For me to die?”

“You could always go to Suguru, if you’re that insatiable.”

“But I want you.” You felt a thumb slip below the waistband of your sweatpants (or, Suguru’s sweatpants, technically – he’d been unbearable unless you were wearing his clothes, recently) and batted his hand away. Your efforts were, predictably, unsuccessful. “Please, baby?” And then, after a beat. “You don’t care about dinner more than you care about me, do you?”

You felt something delicate inside of you falter, crack, then fall apart entirely. It was strange – how long you could nurse a wound without acknowledging it existed at all. “It’s not that, I just—” You stuttered, then stopped entirely. You deflated underneath Satoru’s weight, and as if in response, he held you that much tighter, keeping you as close as you could be, lest he carve open his chest and force you into the open cavity. “I… I guess I feel like I haven’t really been doing a lot for you two, lately. You pay all the bills, and Suguru goes out of his way to take care of me, and there just… It makes me feel kind of useless.” You tried to punctuate the confession with a smile, a laugh, but both were hollow beyond the point of recognizability. It would’ve been better if you hadn’t tried at all. “You get it, right? I just—I don’t want to be the only one not doing anything.”

There was a beat of silence. You felt Satoru settle against you, his chest pressing into your back before he pulled away, detaching from you entirely. You sighed, letting yourself relax.

And then, just as suddenly, you were off of your feet and in Satoru’s arm, one tucked under the bend of your knees while the other supported your back. You managed a stammered, half-coherent protest, but if Satoru was listening, he wasn’t bothered.

He carried you out of the kitchen and into the living room, your half-finished recipe forgotten in favor of dropping you onto the nearest couch and kneeling over you, already pulling on the collar of his shirt. “Sounds like our baby’s been thinkin’ too much.” He was grinning, his glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose. “Let me put a stop to that.”

You opened your mouth, but you didn’t have time to respond. His mouth was already crashing into yours; swallowing down anything you might’ve said and replacing it with a breathy moan, a haze over your conscious thoughts.

You didn’t bother trying to talk your way out from underneath Satoru, again.

You couldn’t breathe.

It took you a moment to realize what was wrong, another to put together why. You felt the blunt tip of Suguru’s cock hit the back of your throat as Satoru’s chest pressed into yours, the latter pressing the air out of your lungs while the former forced you to choke what little was left up. Satoru had set a relentless pace; his thrusts brutal, his tempo erratic, his hips crashing into yours with enough force to bruise. Two of Suguru’s thick, calloused fingers were lodged between your body and Satoru’s drawing quick, precise patterns into your clit, while both of Satoru’s hands were wrapped around the underside of your thighs, keeping your knees pinned to your chest, your body folded in half and pressed into the mattress. They’d always been taller than you, with Suguru kneeling by your head and Satoru looming over you, they both seemed so much bigger. They both seemed so, so much stronger than they ever had before.

You couldn’t breathe. The lack of oxygen was already rushing to your head, already replacing your sense of logic with a shrill, panicked buzz. Your body hurt everywhere they touched it, the warmth pooling in your core and arousal left behind by previous climaxes not enough to dull the sharp sting of Satoru’s nails against your skin, not enough to soften the harsh edge of the grin you could only barely see spread across Suguru’s lips out of the corner of your eye. It was a struggle just to move your jaw, and even then, any sounds you were able to make were borderline incoherent – your little chants of ‘red, red, red’ so stifled and so garbled by Suguru’s cock that you couldn’t have blamed him for not hearing you at all. It was only when you tried to pull your head back that his eyes fell away from where Satoru’s cock was fucking into your dripping cunt and to your face, tears of distress already beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes. You let out one more panicked cry, hoping beyond hope that he’d be able to see the fear in your expression and know something was wrong, but that grin you had loved so much only widened, sharpened. “Like that, princess?” You felt his free hand on the top of your head, fingers carding through your hair while the patterns being pushed into your sensitive clit sped up, intensified. “Faster,” he cooed to Satoru, his voice laced with something vicious and mocking. “If she can still cry, she can still fuck.”

He didn’t mean it. He couldn’t mean it. Suguru just liked to be mean in bed, and Satoru liked to indulge him. That was the only reason they were doing this to you, that was the only reason Satoru listened; leaning that much more of his weight onto as his cock beat against the walls of your cunt. “Fuck,” Satoru muttered, as Suguru’s cock twitched against the roof of your mouth. “Got tighter when you said that. Is that what you want? For me and him to fuck you unconscious?”

This time, you didn’t try to pull back, you jerked – lurching out of Suguru’s hold, drawing back until you could gasp and pant and fill your aching lungs. “Red,” you half-choked, half-cried. “Red, red, stop, too much, I can’t—”

Satoru cut you off with a throat groan. You felt his form tense against yours, heard a shameless moan spill past his lips, and suddenly, it was like you’d forgotten how to breathe entirely. “Too close for that,” he muttered, his lips close enough to ghost over the shell of your ear. “You can take it for me, angel.”

You couldn’t, but you didn’t have time to tell him that. You opened your mouth, but all you could seem to spit out was a keening, pitiful whine as you felt something deep in your core pull taut and snap, as your cunt clenched around him and you came undone on Satoru’s cock for the nth time. At the same time, he went stiffed above you, forcing his hips flush with yours and filling your abused pussy with something thick and searing. The feeling was alien, strange. You could’ve sworn he said he would wear a condom, tonight.

It felt like you laid there for a small eternity – trapped under Satoru’s limp body, Suguru still petting idly through your hair. You stared unblinkingly at the ceiling until, days later, Satoru pulled himself upright with a raspy grunt, turning to Suguru. You were vaguely aware of his head being lowered into Suguru’s lap, moving to finish the job you hadn’t wanted to, but that seemed distant, unimportant. The room was too small, too closed-off. You weren’t getting enough air. You were too warm. You were too small. You—

You needed to leave.

Your body was on the edge of the mattress before your mind could make the conscious decision to move. You were shaking, despite the damp humidity clinging to your skin, but you tried to ignore that and focus on getting your feet underneath you, on fishing Satoru’s shirt off the floor and pulling it over your head. You’d need pants, too, and your wallet – maybe you’d still have a little cash stowed away, something from before Satoru insisted you start carrying one of his platinum cards. You’d spend the night in a hotel, or better yet, rent a car – get out of Tokyo altogether. You had a friend who lived outside of the city – or, you used to, at least. You couldn’t remember the last time you talked to someone other than Satoru and Suguru.

You made it to the doorway before Suguru called out. “Going somewhere, princess?”

You froze, but didn’t look over your shoulder. You could barely stand. You needed to go. “I just—I think I need a little air.”

“Give us a minute. Me or ‘toru should go with you.” There was a lull to his voice, an airiness just barely audible over the slick, sloppy sound of Satoru’s mouth moving over his shaft. You could remember admiring that about him, once, constantly thinking about how lucky you were to have such a cool, confident boyfriend. Right now, though, it was hard to think of his unfaltering composure as anything but inhuman. “It just wouldn’t be safe to let you—”

“I need air,” you repeated, because it was true, because you did. Little, black spots were already starting to dot your vision, and it felt like someone was trying to wrap their hands around your throat and squeeze. “I… I think I might be gone for a while, too.”

For all his tenderness, Suguru didn’t sound very concerned. “How long?”

“A couple hours,” you tried, and then, much more quietly, when he let out a disbelieving hum. “…a few days?”

This time, Suguru didn’t have to say anything at all. Leaning against the doorway, Satoru’s cum still dripping down the inside of your thigh, it took less than a minute for you to crack on your own. “I think we… I think I might need a little space.”

There was another beat of silence, occupied only by a soft groan from Suguru, the sound of noisy swallowing from Satoru. Finally, he sighed. You didn’t dare to look, but you could picture him shaking his head, smiling as he rolled his eyes. Acting as if you’d just said the stupidest thing in the world. “What do you think, Satoru? Have we waited long enough.”

“—too long.” Satoru’s voice was hoarse, breathy. In your peripheral, you could see him dragging the back of his hand across his lips as he raised his head. “We’ve had everything ready for months, now.”

That was all Suguru needed to hear. He turned back to you, letting his head lull to the side. “Come back to bed, won’t you, princess?”

You didn’t respond. What little air you still had hitched in your collapsing throat as you attempted to move forward, only for a hand to catch your shoulder and hold you in-place. It was Satoru – now standing less than a full step behind you. He didn’t bother with a warning before wrapping his free arm around your waist and dragging you into his chest and off of your feet. You made a weak effort to thrash, to squirm, to dig your nails into the forearm laid over your midriff, but Satoru didn’t make a sound, didn’t let you go, only hauling you back to where Suguru sat on the edge of the mattress. You shouldn’t have felt as betrayed as you did. They’d both always been able to pick you up and throw you around like a kitten, being carried from place to place by its scruff. It was always only going to be a matter of time before they stopped listening to your half-hearted protests entirely.

“Over the knee,” Suguru said with a sort of flippant, beckoning gesture. “I want to make sure we get off on the right foot.”

Wordlessly, unceremoniously, you were dropped face-down into Suguru’s lap – his thighs pressing into your exposed stomach. Satoru lowered himself to the floor in front of you, sitting cross-legged and reaching out, cupping your face delicately. More out of reflex than anything intelligent, you tried to push yourself up, but a hand on the small of your back was enough to keep you paralyzed. Sometime between the doorway and the bed, the shaking had gotten worse. You doubted you’d be able to keep your legs underneath you, anymore. “Twenty-five,” he announced – an executioner reading out his victim’s sentence. “Fifteen for trying to leave us, and ten more for not listening to me. Does that sound fair, Satoru.”

“So mean, Sugu’,” Satoru whined, but you could already see a crooked smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “The poor thing doesn’t even know what’s going on.”

“Which is why we have to make a strong impression. I want her to know there’ll be consequences for misbehavior.” You felt his hand drifting up the length of your spine, lingering on the sensitive junction between your shoulder blades. “Twenty-five, okay, princess? I’m going to need you to count for me – if you lose track, we’ll have to start over.”

“Suguru, ‘toru, I don’t—I don’t understand what—” You were cut off by a sudden, bruising blow to the plush of your ass – all force, no friction. It took you a second to realize that it was Suguru’s hand, another to consciously acknowledge that he’d spanked you. Like you were some bratty toddler. Like he wanted to hurt you.

It took another lash to know you out of your spell-bound state and send a keening, pitchy cry spilling past your lips. The tears you’d managed to hold back minutes ago were back in full-force, dripping down your cheeks and pooling on your chin, accompanied by the occasional sniffle or ragged sob. Suguru hummed, but any sympathy he might’ve had remained unexpressed, hidden behind a thick veil of strict impassivity. “I need you to count. I know it’s hard, but it’ll only get more difficult if you don’t cooperate.” He paused, clicked his tongue. “We’re still on one. Are you going to be good, or do I have to get the belt?”

“Hurts, Suguru, you’re hurting—”

Another blow, this one to the back of your thighs and twice as harsh as the first two. Meekly, you mumbled a weak “…one.”

You couldn’t see past your own tears by the fifth strike, and by the tenth, you were sobbing openly. Each blow leaves your skin burning and your ass pulsing, but despite everything, he was far from brutal. His pace was measured, precise, and he was strategic – careful to never abuse the same spot to the point of numbness. After the fifteenth, you sniffled and forced yourself to raise your head, meeting Satoru’s eyes and silently pleading for his pity, for his help. Rather than empathy, you found a glassy stare and his hand in his lap, pumping idly over his cock. A few hours ago, you could picture yourself teasing him for not being able to go a full minute without someone touching him, even himself. Right now, the sight alone was enough to make bile rise into the back of your throat.

His thumb ran over your cheek, his palm settling under your chin and tilting your head back. “Don’t give me that look. This is twice as gentle as he’s ever been with me.”

By the time it was over, you were near-inconsolable, every number followed immediately by a string of distorted gibberish, a disjointed plea for him to stop, or be gentle, or let you go. You laid limp across Suguru’s lap as he drew slow, tender patterns into your abused flesh, every little touch sparking a new kind of pain, dragging another ragged sob up from somewhere deep and visceral in your chest. He was talking to you, cooing sweet nothings, but you couldn’t hear him. You didn’t want to hear him. You wanted to leave.

But, you couldn’t, and even if you’d had the strength to try, you wouldn’t have gotten very far. You hadn’t seen him move, but at some point, Satoru must’ve left the room. When your crying began to wane and you could bare the thought of opening your eyes, you found him standing in front of you, holding a glass of water in one hand and three white pills in the other. “Open up,” he said, drawing out each syllable for a beat longer than he really had to. “It’ll help with the pain, promise.”

You pursed your lips, grit your teeth, but Suguru’s thumb pressed into a fresh bruise and fear immediately overwhelmed your sense of caution. Suguru took precious seconds to reposition you – drawing you up by your shoulders to straddle his thigh – and Satoru’s hand found its way back to your cheek, his thumb tapping your bottom lip and slipping onto your tongue as you, reluctantly, opened your mouth. The pills were first, allowed to sit on your tongue until their bitterness reached the back of your throat, then the water, poured sloppily enough for the excess to spill out of the corners of your mouth. The reaction was instantaneous – a wave of nausea, then fatigue, your eyes immediately too heavy to keep open, your body too distant to justify attempting to control. You went slack, falling against Suguru, and he chuckled, bowing his head.

The last thing you felt was his mouth against your throat before everything went numb.

You woke up hours later, tucked into a bed that wasn’t yours and in more pain than you’d ever felt before.

Shock and terror startled you into consciousness before you could so much as attempt to fade back into blissful oblivion. You tried to curl up, to make yourself as small and as safe as possible, but your leg caught on something – a leather cuff, discovered after throwing the sheets that’d been laid over you to the side. A shackle, lined in velvet and sitting loosely at the base of your ankle, a silver chain connecting it to an unseen point underneath the bed. You gave it another tug, just to check, and unsurprisingly, it refused to budge. You choose to look away before the pit quickly opening up inside of your chest could deepen any further.

Instead, you turned your attention outward – to the rest of the bedroom. It wasn’t the one you shared with Satoru and Suguru, or the undecorated guestroom Satoru had semi-converted into a home office. The walls were a pale pink, the shelves already stocked with stuffed animals, fairy lights, jewelry boxes that (knowing Satoru) were no doubt filled to the brim. You weren’t wearing Suguru’s shirt anymore, either. Your blood ran cold as you glanced down and found yourself in a pastel blue nightgown – all lace and silk and frills no one could ever hope to actually sleep in. You didn’t know whether to be disgusted that they’d re-dressed you while you were unconscious, without your permission, or thankful they hadn’t waited until you were awake enough to try and stop them.

Seconds seemed to move in thick, dripping clumps. You couldn’t be sure how long passed until your disoriented stillness was interrupted, but by the time the plain, white door (a neat row of undone deadbolts visible above to the knob) swung open, Satoru stepping through with Suguru following shortly behind him. Automatically, you started to move towards them, but caught yourself, pressing you back into the headboard and crossing your arms over your chest, as if that gave you any kind of authority. As if there was any authority you could have, chained to the floor in the bedroom of a pre-schooler.

“You were beginning to worry us,” Suguru started, sitting on the foot of the bed. “But, then again, our little princess was always a delicate one, wasn’t she?”

You stiffened, bristled. You opened your mouth, but closed it as Satoru draped an arm over your shoulders, collapsing next to you. “Here,” he said, holding something out. “Suguru wanted to make you ask, but I’m not that stingy.”

You attempted to shift away from him, but Satoru had never made things that easy. He clung to you that much tighter as your eyes fell to his hand, finding—

A cup.

A sippy cup, pink and plastic and decorated with little, glittering clouds.

The nausea was immediate, nearly overwhelming. You wanted to vomit. You wanted to throw it across the room. You wanted to do anything but accept it, but your throat was bone-dry, a steady throbbing already begging to root in the back of your skull. Wordlessly, you snatched it out of his hand and (with more than a little strain) pulled off the lid, drinking as quickly as you could. Satoru’s nails scraped against your bicep, but neither of them commented.

Suguru waited until you were finished to go on. “You’ll get used to it, after a few weeks. It’s really not that different from our prior relationship, just a few aesthetic changes ‘toru and I thought a—” He paused, grinned. “—softer environment might suit you.”

“We can be more honest now, too.” Satoru sounded too giddy, too happy. “Those last couple of days practically killed me – having to watch you leave the apartment, acting all independent n’ shit. This way, there won’t be anything stopping us from keeping you all to ourselves.”

A beat passed in silence. It took you a moment to realize you were supposed to say something, and another to actually open your mouth, to find your voice when all you wanted to do was shrivel up and shut your eyes. “I don’t really understand what’s going on,” you muttered, like that would make it true. Like enough stuttering, simpering obliviousness would be what made them change their minds. “When are you going to let me go?”

Beside you, you heard Satoru try and fail to suppress a breath of a laugh, and Suguru’s grin only seemed to widen.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #gojo satoru x reader #yandere gojo satoru #yandere geto suguru #geto suguru x reader

851 notes · View notes

gojoluvs · 3 days

Text

Forever yours

⤿ Satoru Gojo x reader

Summary, The only reason why you even agreed to marry him was for your father. Now you wish you could go back in time and reject the offer.

Warning/ tags; angst, profanity, smoking, cursing, smut, cheating, mean gojo, emotional trauma, manipulation, gaslighting.

Genre; angst, cheating, infidelity, jik, Gojou x reader. Arranged marriage au! very ooc Gojo, Mean Gojo! CEO Gojo!

Notes: the tag-list is closed!! Ive reached the limit to tag anyone else :c. also sorry for the spelling errors / didn't catch :(

12k words

previous chapter �� next chapter

Satoru sat across from his father, nervously fidgeting in his seat.

His father's stern gaze made him feel like a child again, and he was afraid of what was to come.

You, sitting next to him, could feel his tension radiating off of him. Your own emotions were mixed - anger, betrayal, and hurt all bubbling inside of you. But you did your best to remain calm and composed, even though the sight of your husband made your blood boil.

Placing a hand on your thigh, your husband's touch made you flinch. You quickly smacked his hand away, avoiding any contact with him. You made eye contact with him, your eyes displaying disgust and anger. How could he still try to touch you after what he did?

Smiling at his father, you tried to put on a facade of normalcy. You couldn't let his family know the truth about his infidelity. You grabbed a fork, trying to keep your hands busy and avoid any more unwanted physical contact.

But his father didn't seem to notice the tension between you and your husband. "So Y/N, how's my son treating you?" he asked with a smile. For a split second, your eyes traveled to your husband, who looked like he was going through it.

His eyebags were noticeably darker than before and his hair was a mess. It was clear that he was not doing well since you found out about his affair.

You hadn't been talking to him, sleeping in the guest bedroom ever since you caught him in the office with his lover. Memories of how heartbroken you were resurfaced, your stomach churning at the thought. You couldn't even look at him without feeling a mix of anger, hurt, and betrayal.

It was difficult being in the same room as your husband, knowing what he had done. You couldn't stand the sight of him, yet you had to put on a brave face for his family. It was exhausting, but you were determined to keep up appearances and not let anyone know the truth.

You smiled at his father, "Mm, he's been treating me okay," you said, stabbing the meat on your plate with your fork. You glanced over at Satoru, trying to gauge his reaction. His jawline was visibly tense, and his eyes refused to meet yours.

"Just okay? I expected him to treat you like royalty," his father chuckled, a knowing glint in his eye. You felt a nervous flutter in your stomach, unsure of how to respond.

But before you could say anything, Satoru's pleading look caught your attention. It was a look you had never seen before, and for a brief moment, you felt a twinge of pity.

But you quickly pushed it aside, determined not to let Satoru's pleading sway you. "He's doing just fine," you said, your tone firm. You reached for your glass of wine, taking a sip and letting the exquisite taste wash over your tongue. The wine was smooth and rich, a perfect complement to the delicious meal.

"I'm surprised you haven't produced an heir yet, any reason why?" His father said, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Satoru. The wrinkles on his forehead seemed to pop out more in his disapproval.

You, dressed in a stunning black mermaid evening dress with a white bottom hem, glanced at your husband who was wearing a simple black suit.

His hair was slightly messy from the argument you both had before coming to the event.

“There should be one soon," you replied with a forced smile, trying to change the subject.

You knew your husband was struggling, both emotionally and physically, but you couldn't bring yourself to comfort him. The tension between the two of you was palpable, and the constant arguing was taking its toll on both of you.

You glanced over at Satoru, his face pale and gaunt, his eyes filled with exhaustion and sadness. He looked like an absolute mess, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for him. But at the same time, you couldn't forgive him for what he did. You had been fighting for days about his affair with his lover, Jiyuu. The betrayal and hurt were still fresh in your mind.

As you took a bite of your food, you couldn't help but feel a sense of numbness. You had been going through daily treatments with Shoko, trying to conceive a child for the past few weeks. But you couldn't bring yourself to be intimate with Satoru anymore. The trust between you had been shattered, and you couldn't forget the pain he had caused you.

Despite his constant pleas and apologies, you had both agreed on getting a divorce after having his child. It was fulfilling his father's last wish and finally being able to be free from this broken marriage.

As you sat there in silence, you knew that this was the end of your relationship. The only thing holding you together now was the promise of a child, but even that couldn't repair the damage that had been done.

You had been trying to have a serious conversation with him for days now, but he seemed to always be lost in his own thoughts. He had been distant lately, always staying up late at night and drinking alone in the kitchen.

You couldn't help but wonder if he was having nightmares again. You knew he had been struggling with them for a while now, but he never wanted to talk about it. You wanted to help him, but it was hard to do so when you felt like he didn't even care about you anymore.

Your mind drifted back to the day you found out about his affair with his secretary. You were at the doctor's office, heart broken at the news when you saw them together. Your heart shattered into a million pieces as you realized that he didn't care about your feelings or your marriage.

You knew he was going through a lot, but at the same time, you couldn't shake off the resentment and betrayal you felt towards him. You were going to speak up, to finally confront him about everything, but then you stopped yourself. Why should you even care? He certainly didn't care about your feelings when he was cheating on you.

However, Satoru's stepmother chimed in, clearing her throat to get everyone's attention.

"Well, my son Yuta will be graduating high school soon, would you both perhaps like to attend the ceremony?" Satoru's stepmother beamed at you, her hand gently caressing her son's cheek as he sat next to her.

The boy was young, with slight eyebags, but definitely took after his mother. You could see the resemblance in their features and the way they both smiled. Before you could even respond, Satoru cut you off, his voice dripping with anger.

"We're not going to fucking attend a random's graduation," he spat, slamming his fork down on the table. You turned to look at him, taken aback by his sudden outburst.

"Why not?" his stepmother asked, her smile fading.

"Because it's pointless," Satoru retorted, his tone harsh. "I don't care about some kid I barely know graduating. And neither should you, Y/N.”

Satoru's words hung in the air, filled with resentment and anger towards his father and his new family. You could sense the tension in the room and felt uncomfortable being caught in the middle of it.

This was not the first time Satoru had expressed his dislike for his stepmother and her son, and it was clear he resented his father for moving on and starting a new family while neglecting his own son.

"Watch your language Satoru," his father scolded, his tone sharp and his eyes narrowed in disapproval. The tension in the air was thick and uncomfortable, making Satoru squirm in his seat. He could feel his father's disappointment like a weight on his shoulders, and it only fueled his anger.

"No, I don't understand why you want us to come to your stepson's graduation when you never even attended mine," Satoru's jaw clenched and his eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

"You never cared about me or mom and now you want to become a loving father for a kid who's not even yours?" He scoffed, the bitterness evident in his voice. "It's all for show, isn't it? Trying to make yourself look like a good father when you never gave a damn about me."

His father's expression hardened, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Don't you dare talk to me like that, boy."

"Why not? It's the truth," Satoru shot back, his voice rising in anger. "You never cared about me, and now you want me to pretend like we're a happy family? I'm tired of this charade."

"You will attend the graduation and show your brother the respect he deserves," his father's tone was cold and authoritative. "Or else."

Satoru let out a bitter laugh. "Or else what? You'll disown me like you did before? I don't give a damn about you or your new family. I won't be a part of your lies anymore." He stood up, his hands trembling with anger.

"You ungrateful brat," his father spat, his face turning red with rage. "I should have never taken you in. You're just like your mother, always causing trouble."

Satoru's fists clenched at his sides, his whole body shaking with rage. "I'm nothing like her. And I never want to see you or your sorry excuse for a family again." With that, he stormed out of the room, leaving his father speechless and seething with anger.

His father stood up, throwing his napkin on the table he followed Satoru. You sat there in disbelief in what just happened. His stepmother, also having the same face as you.

Sitting in silence you could hear your husband argue with his father, swallowing heavily you got up. “Im sorry,” You grabbed your purse and Satoru’s phone, pushing the seat back in the step mom followed you out to the hallway. You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to find your husband who was nowhere to be seen.

Your heart ached for him after what he said to his father. He looked like he was about to break down and this wasn’t making it any better. You jolted in surprise as satoru’s stepmother stood in front of you, a look if pity in her face.

"Let them talk, please," she said calmly, her eyes softening as she pulled your arm towards a nearby room. You followed her, feeling a mix of confusion and curiosity.

She slammed the door behind you, shutting out the sound of the ongoing argument in the other room. You could still hear muffled voices, but they sounded distant now. The woman quickly made her way to a cabinet, her hands moving frantically as she searched for something.

You stood there, unsure of what to do or say. Suddenly, the arguing stopped and everything went silent. The woman turned to face you, holding a small and soft box in her hands. It was shaped like a rectangle and looked delicate.

She walked towards you, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. "I want you to have this," she said, her voice gentle yet determined.

You stood in the doorway, unsure of what to do or say. You stared back at Satoru's stepmom, her eyes filled with a mix of sadness and hope. She extended the box towards you, her hand trembling slightly.

You could feel the weight of the box in your hand as she placed it gently in your palm. The soft material of the box felt cool against your skin. You couldn't help but feel confused as to why she was giving you a random box. But her words echoed in your mind, "Please, open it."

As you slowly opened the box, your eyes widened in amazement. Inside was the most beautiful pearl necklace you had ever seen. The lustrous pearls reflected the light of the room, creating a mesmerizing effect. For a brief moment, you forgot about everything else as you stared at the necklace in awe.

You looked back up at Satoru's stepmom, wanting to ask her why she was giving them to you. But before you could say anything, she spoke. "I want you to have them," she said, her voice filled with emotion.

You looked back up at Satoru's stepmother, who was now looking at you with tears in her eyes. "These were Satoru's birth mother's pearls," she explained, her voice shaking with emotion. "I want you to have them." You were taken aback by her words and felt a lump form in your throat.

Without another thought, you extended your arms towards her, offering to return the necklace. But she shook her head, her tears now falling freely. "I couldn't possibly," you said, your voice cracking. You looked at her, unsure of what to do.

She sighed, her eyes filled with guilt as she spoke. "I used to be one of her best friends," she said, her voice strained with emotion. "And every time I see you," she paused, taking a step closer and placing a hand on your cheek, "you just remind me of her so much." Her eyes brimmed with tears, her voice breaking with each word.

You were utterly confused. He married his ex-wife's best friend? Slowly, you began walking towards the door, trying to process everything that was being said. Her comment still lingered in your mind - just like Satoru's mother? What did that mean?

As you reached for the doorknob, you couldn't help but feel a wave of confusion wash over you. What the hell was this lady talking about? Who was Satoru's mother and what did she have to do with you? You couldn't wrap your head around it, but one thing was for sure - something was definitely off about this situation.

You opened the door, shoving the pearl necklace into your purse, not caring if the stepmother followed you. The tension between the two of you had reached its breaking point, and you just wanted to escape. As you walked through the house, you noticed how quiet it was.

Your heart started to race as you called out for your husband, Satoru. But there was no response.

Your mind started to race with worry as you frantically searched every corner of the house, your anxiety growing with each passing moment. Where could he be? Panic started to rise in your chest as you thought about all the possibilities. You wanted to go home, to your own safe haven where everything was familiar.

As you placed a hand on your head, you felt a wave of exhaustion wash over you. The stress and fear were taking a toll on your body, and you wanted nothing more than to curl up in your own bed. But as you furrowed your brow in pain, you realized that you might not make it home.

You wanted to throw up badly, the overwhelming emotions and physical symptoms becoming too much to handle. You were desperate for answers, for your husband to appear and make everything okay.

But for now, all you could do was try to hold it together and wait for him to return.

As you walked towards the end of the hall, you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread wash over you. You turned around to see Satoru, your husband, pinned to the wall by his father. His father had a tight grip on the collar of his shirt, and Satoru's face was covered in blood. His hair was a mess and his clothes were torn.

Your heart raced as you saw the rage on his father's face. This was something you had never seen before. You could hear Satoru's strained breathing as his father continued to yell at him. Without a second thought, you sprinted towards them, pushing his father off of Satoru.

Your eyes narrowed at his father, your own anger rising. You turned to Satoru, who was slumped against the wall, unable to even hold his head up.

His eyes were unfocused and his breathing was shallow. Your hands trembled as you reached for his face, lifting it gently to make eye contact with his blue eyes that were void of any emotion.

You could see the pain and exhaustion in his face, and your heart broke for him. You wiped away some of the blood from his mouth with your thumb, the sight making tears prick at your eyes. "Are you okay?" you asked, your voice trembling with worry. You wanted nothing more than to take away his pain and make everything right again.

He didn't respond at first, his eyes still distant and void of emotion. But then, he slowly nodded his head, his voice barely above a whisper, "I'm fine."

As you held Satoru's face in your hands, you could see the pain and fear in his eyes. His father had always been strict, but you had never seen him act with such violence towards his own son. "What did you do to him?" you demanded, turning to face the man who had raised your husband.

"He disrespected me and our family name," his father growled, his eyes still filled with anger. "He needs to learn his place."

"He disrespected you?" you scoffed. "You're the one who's been disrespecting him for years. Treating him like he's nothing."

His father's face twisted into a sneer. "You don't understand. He's a disgrace to our family name. He's weak and worthless. He deserves to be taught a lesson."

You bristled at his words, feeling your own anger rise. "How can you say that about your own son? He's your flesh and blood, and you treat him like he's nothing. It's no wonder he's become distant and withdrawn."

His father's eyes flashed with fury. "He's a failure, just like his mother. I won't have him dragging our family name through the mud.

"You're the one who's dragging it through the mud," you retorted, stepping between him and Satoru's form. "You're the one who's so consumed with pride and tradition that you can't see the pain you're causing your own son."

"You will not speak to me that way," his father growled, his hand raised threateningly.

"I will speak to you however I see fit," you replied, your voice shaking with anger. You grabbed your husband making your way out of the house.

You grabbed the small cotton ball from the first aid kit and carefully dabbed it with alcohol, making sure to disinfect it before bringing it up to your husband's cut lip.

He winced and hissed in pain as you gently dabbed the wound, his breathing becoming more labored. His shirt was nowhere to be seen, most likely discarded in a fit of frustration or ripped in the heat of the moment.

You rolled your eyes at his overreaction and continued to clean the cut. Your husband stared at you, his intense blue eyes practically piercing your soul. The bathroom light shone on his face, making his features stand out even more as he sat on the counter, towering over you.

Despite the tension and discomfort, you couldn't help but appreciate his handsome features and the way his eyes softened as he looked at you.

His eyes scanned your face, taking in every detail with a mix of pain and regret. His chest rose and fell with each labored breath, and his voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke.

"I'm sorry," he said, his eyes still locked on yours. You couldn't help but scoff at his words, feeling a surge of anger and frustration rise within you.

"Why are you apologizing?" you asked, your voice laced with bitterness. Despite your feelings, you couldn't help but reach for the wet towel and dab at the blood stains on his pale skin. He looked like a mess, his hair disheveled and his face bruised.

"Y/N," he said, his voice trailing off as he reached for your hand. Your heart skipped a beat at his touch, his warm fingers wrapping around your arm.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, his grip on your waist tightening. "You know I hate you and yet you still try to make this marriage work."

You narrowed your eyes at him, feeling a mix of anger and confusion. "I don't know," you admitted, your voice softening as you met his gaze. "Can you please stop moving before I give you another bruise?"

He nodded, a small smile curling onto his lips as he allowed you to tend to his wounds. His eyes never left yours, and for a moment, you both were lost in each other's gaze.

As you pushed his white hair back and rubbed the blood off his face, you couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity and longing. Despite everything, there was still a part of you that cared for him, that wanted things to work out between you.

"Thank you," he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "For taking care of me, even though I don't deserve it."

You swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in your throat. "I'm doing it because it's my job," you replied, trying to sound cold and distant. But deep down, you knew it was more than that.

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "No, you're doing it because you still care," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You pulled away, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. "I don't care," you said, your voice betraying you.

He chuckled softly, his hand still resting on your waist. "You can keep telling yourself that, but we both know the truth."

You didn't know how to respond to his question, so you just focused on cleaning his wounds.

The room was quiet except for the sound of the running water and your gentle movements as you tended to his injuries. You tried to ignore the way his touch was making you feel, but it was difficult as his eyes were soft and his lips pursed into a thin line, flinching with every dab of alcohol you put on his cuts.

As you worked, you couldn't help but notice that his body was slightly bruised up, but there were no cuts except on his face. His lips had a gash and the top of his eyebrow was also cut. You furrowed your eyebrows in concern, wondering what could have caused such injuries.

You continued to clean his wounds, your fingers gently tracing over his skin as you wiped away the blood. His breathing became harder and you could feel his fingers clenching your waist. You couldn't help but feel a sense of protectiveness towards him, wanting to ease his pain and make him feel better.

As you stood there in the dimly lit room, you could feel the weight of his body leaning onto you. His warm breath tickled your neck as he let out a heavy sigh, his forehead resting against your shoulder.

You couldn't help but notice the familiar scent of your perfume filling his nostrils, a scent he had always loved. You were taken aback by his sudden vulnerability, but you kept your composure and gently placed the wet towel onto your thighs before wrapping your arms around him.

Caressing his back you could feel the tension in his body slowly dissipating. His breathing became more steady and you could hear his staggered breaths. "I don't hate you Satou," you whispered softly, trying to reassure him.

"And I hate that I can't bring myself to hate you." You could feel his grip on you tighten as he leaned into your embrace.

Placing your arms on his head, you brought his face to yours. You could see the exhaustion and pain in his eyes, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him.

"Even though you might be killing me," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper, "I still find myself waiting for you." You gently placed your palms on his cheeks, squishing his soft and pale skin between your fingers.

His eyes wandered all over your face, taking in every feature as if he wanted to remember every detail. You could see the guilt and remorse in his eyes, and it made your heart ache.

He swallowed heavily, his adams apple jolting with the movement. "I'm so fucking sorry, Y/N," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. Tears glistened in his eyes and his nose turned bright red, a sign that he was truly upset.

But you couldn't accept his apology, not after everything he had put you through. You lowered your gaze, grabbing a towel and gently dabbing it onto his bruised and cut face. He winced slightly at your touch, but you continued to tend to his injuries. It was a familiar routine, one that had become all too common in your arranged marriage.

But today was different. Today, he had finally shown some remorse for his actions. And yet, it was too little too late.

You had already made up your mind to ask for a divorce, tired of living in a loveless and abusive marriage. "I'm not going to accept your apology, Satoru," you said firmly, your voice tinged with sadness. You said softly, your eyes meeting his. "I can't keep living like this. I deserve better."

He watched you with his mouth closed, not saying a single word to you but rather admiring you under the bathroom light.

As you finished cleaning his face, you couldn't help but comment on his appearance. "Have you been sleeping? You look like shit," you said, worry evident in your tone.

You grabbed the towel, rinsing it and squeezing the blood off before using it to wipe his face one last time.

He sighed and backed away from you, taking the towel from your grip. He brought it up to his face and rubbed it, his face now cleaner than before. You couldn't help but notice the tension in his jaw as he watched you, and you wondered what was going through his mind.

“Yes,” He said sighing he backed up from you, taking the towel away from your grip. He brought it up to his face and rubbed it, his face cleaner than before.

His usually bright eyes were now dull and his usually perfect hair was disheveled. You couldn't let this continue, so you decided to confront him about it.

"Bullshit Satoru, I can see your eyebags getting worse everyday," you said firmly, propping yourself off the sink and approaching him. He followed you silently into your bedroom, looking slightly guilty.

You walked over to his closet and slowly opened the door, revealing a small room filled with his clothes and belongings. You reached in and pulled out one of his sleeping t-shirts, knowing it would be more comfortable for him. Turning off the lights and closing the door, you handed him the shirt.

But as you expected, he hesitated. "I can't put it on, my arms are kinda messed up right now," he said, giving you an awkward smile. You rolled your eyes and instructed him to put his hands up. With gentle and steady movements, you helped him put on the shirt, making sure not to cause him any pain.

Walking towards the door of the guest bedroom, your husband Satoru's voice stopped you in your tracks. You turned to look at him, his body already tucked under the covers and his face still bruised from the fight earlier.

Despite his injuries, he still managed to look cute, and you couldn't help but feel conflicted. "Goodnight Satoru," you said, trying to hide the hurt in your voice as you grabbed your nightgown from the other side of the bed.

But something in your husband's brain was telling him not to let you go just yet. "Y/N, wait," he called out softly, his hand reaching out towards you.

You hesitated, your hand on the doorknob, as you looked at him with a mix of emotions. "Please, sleep with me tonight," he pleaded, his voice filled with longing.

You scoffed, feeling a mix of anger and sadness at his request, but before you could open the door and leave, he spoke again. "I can only sleep when I know you're with me, so please," he begged, his voice slightly louder this time.

You let out a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of exhaustion and stress from the day. As you removed your dress, your hand instinctively went to your forehead, trying to massage away the tension. You changed into your comfortable nightgown and made your way to the bed, grateful for the warm and inviting covers waiting for you. Your husband, who had been sitting on the bed, gazed at you with concern in his eyes. You climbed into bed, facing him and oddly finding comfort in his presence.

You traced your finger gently over the cut on his cheek, a reminder of the fight he had with his father, and felt a rush of emotions flood through you. Despite the arranged marriage and the supposed hate between the two of you, there was an undeniable chemistry and attraction that simmered between your bodies.

Satoru's hand rested on your waist, his thumb gently caressing your skin, as he leaned in closer to you. You could feel his warm breath on your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

Without hesitation, you placed your hand on his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble against your palm. As your fingers traced his lips, he let out a low hiss, his eyes filled with hurt.

You could feel his warm breath on your neck as he nuzzled closer, his arms wrapping tightly around you. The scent of his cologne filled your senses, as you ran your fingers through his soft, white hair.

You could feel his heart beating against your chest, matching the rhythm of your own. “Goodnight toru,” You hugged him back just as tightly, cherishing this intimate moment between the two of you.

“Goodnight Y/N,” He mumbled his voice muffled against the skin of your neck.

The moon light shined against your face, his body deep into yours. You wanted to get up and leave once he fell asleep but for some reason you found yourself comforting him as he slept. Caressing his hair and tracing circles onto his back.

That familiar warmth of his filling your body. Waiting for a few minutes for him to fall asleep, you could hear that familiar sound of his breathing. The small snores coming from your husband, his breath calm.

The moonlight cast a peaceful glow on your husband's face as you lay in bed together. His body was intertwined with yours, and for a moment, you felt content.

But as his breathing slowed and he drifted off to sleep, you knew that this was just a temporary moment of comfort. You wanted to get up and leave, as you had done countless times before, but something held you back.

You gently stroked his hair and traced circles on his back, you couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness. You knew that once he woke up, he would go back to treating you with coldness and indifference. But for now, in this moment, you could pretend that everything was okay.

As you tried to get up from the bed, his grip tightened around you. "Don't go," he mumbled in his sleep. You froze, not knowing how to respond. He hated you, or at least that's what he had made you believe. But in this moment, as he held you close, it seemed like maybe there was a small part of him that cared.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, things could change between the two of you. But for now, you would stay by his side, basking in the warmth of his body and the sound of his breathing, hoping that this moment would never end.

"Why do you do this to me?" you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. He stirred, his eyes opening slightly as he looked at you with a mix of confusion and hurt.

"I don't understand why you treat me this way," you continued, tears welling up in your eyes. "I want to hate you, but I can't. And it's killing me."

He didn't say anything, but his grip on you tightened even more, pulling you closer to him. You could feel his heart beating against your chest, and in that moment, you knew that he felt something for you, even if he couldn't admit it.

"I'm sorry," he finally whispered, his voice barely audible. "I don't know how to be any different."

You couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness and longing as you looked at him, knowing that he hated you but also knowing that there was a part of him that was starting to love you. It was a complicated and painful situation, but you couldn't deny the feelings that were growing inside of you.

"I wish things were different," you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion. "I wish you could love me the way Im starting to love you."

He didn't respond, but you could see the pain in his eyes as he looked at you. You both knew that the situation was complicated and that there were no easy solutions. But in that moment, you felt a sense of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for the two of you to find a way to make it work.

Jiyuu couldn't help but giggle as she leaned in closer to the worker, placing her hand on his arm.

She couldn't help but notice how defined his muscles were, even though he was wearing a long sleeve shirt. She could practically see every contour and ripple of his muscles.

"Can you please ring that up for me?" She pouted her lips, giving him a flirtatious smile. The worker looked flustered but nodded quickly, taking the gorgeous chanel dress to the front of the store.

As she waited, Jiyuu sipped on the complimentary champagne, enjoying the luxurious atmosphere of the high-end boutique. Her heels clicked on the shiny marble floor as she browsed through racks of designer clothing, feeling like a celebrity.

She walked towards the cashier of the store, feeling a pang of jealousy and annoyance. Her friend, who was browsing through the coats, noticed her expression and raised an eyebrow.

"You know, I still can't comprehend how my Satoru is still with that bitch Y/N," she muttered, tilting her head to get a better look at her friend.

Her friend let out a giggle and said, "Maybe he's falling for her." She then proceeded to try on a coat and check herself out in the mirror. "And all your hard work to seduce him would have been for nothing."

Jiyuu rolled her eyes and grabbed a pair of shoes, calling for the worker to ring them up as well. "That's not funny," she bit her lip in frustration.

Ever since you caught Satoru and her together in the office, he had been acting distant and cold towards her. It was as if he was slipping away from her grasp.

"She can't even give him a child, meanwhile I'm here waiting for him to leave her," Jiyuu sighed, her frustration growing. Her friend could barely hold back her laughter at the situation.

As she paid for her items, Jiyuu couldn't help but feel anxious and worried about her relationship with Satoru. She knew she had to do something soon before it was too late.

The two women made their way through the busy streets of the city, the warm sun shining down on their faces. As they walked, they chatted about the latest gossip and news in their social circles. Suddenly, Jiyuu's friend turned to her with a sly smile.

"You know, if he does leave you. Why don't you just go for Y/N's ex?" she suggested. "I heard he's a well-known CEO...and quite the catch."

Jiyuu's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Is that so?" she replied, her tone dripping with interest. Her friend nodded, her own excitement evident.

"There's going to be an event here tonight and I heard all the big names from Tokyo will be there. Including him."

"Do you know where?" she asked eagerly, her pace quickening. Her friend pulled out her phone and checked the event details.

Jiyuu's friend nodded, her eyes scanning the street for any familiar faces. "Yeah, it's at the Mori Art Museum in Roppongi. You should come with me, we can scope out the competition and maybe even catch a glimpse of the elusive ex-boyfriend."

Jiyuu's heart raced with excitement at the thought of seeing her ex again, and potentially getting revenge by getting close to his rival

Jiyuu's heels clicked on the luxurious floor, a cup of wine in her hand. Her long brown hair was perfectly curled, cascading down her back. She wore a beautiful silk green dress and had recently splurged on a pair of Chanel heels, which adorned her feet with elegance.

As she walked through the art gallery, Jiyuu couldn't help but feel like all eyes were on her. She was the center of attention, the star of the show. She smiled and greeted everyone she passed, her eyes frantically searching for any sign of Toji or Satoru.

Taking a sip of her expensive wine, Jiyuu savored the taste and relished in the fact that only the wealthy could afford such a luxury at an art gallery. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and made her way towards her friend, who was wearing a stunning dark blue gown.

"Jiyuu!" her friend exclaimed, pulling her into a tight hug. "You look absolutely gorgeous tonight." She stepped back, admiring Jiyuu's outfit. "I mean, you always look gorgeous, but tonight you're on a whole other level."

Jiyuu laughed and thanked her friend, feeling a sense of pride and satisfaction at her appearance. But just as quickly, her friend's expression turned serious.

She turned around, as she pulled a man by her side, meeting he sight of a tall and broad-shouldered man. Her heart started to race as she fully took in his appearance - the dark, intense eyes that seemed to be staring right at her.

“Toji, meet Jiyuu, a friend of mine," her friend said with a smile before leaving the two of them alone to chat.

Jiyuu couldn't help but notice the scar on his lips, the way his black hair fell slightly in his face, and the overall intense aura he exuded. She couldn't deny it - he was undeniably hot. He smirked at her and grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

"Nice to meet you, Jiyuu," his deep, husky voice sent shivers down her spine as his adam's apple bobbed up and down with each word.

He was dressed in a sharp black tuxedo that showed off his well-built body. He practically towered over Jiyuu, making her feel small in comparison. "Nice to meet you too," she managed to say with a smile, unable to tear her gaze away from him.

As she finished her wine and placed the glass on a passing server's tray, she couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement at the thought of getting to know this intriguing man.

She cleared her throat and followed him around the gallery, her eyes scanning the various pieces of art. She couldn't help but feel a bit confused by some of them. "What do you think?" she asked, turning to look at his puzzled expression.

He looked absolutely baffled, as if he didn't know what was going on. "To be quite honest, it's a bit...shit," he said, turning to look at her with a slight smile on his face.

She couldn't help but giggle at his honesty. "It's okay if you don't know art that well," she reassured him, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards another painting. It was practically identical to the one they had just seen.

"This one's good, no?" she asked, batting her eyelashes at him. He stood there with his hands in his pockets, looking unimpressed. "No," he replied bluntly.

She couldn't contain her laughter as she led him to the next painting, already anticipating his reaction. It was a similar style to the first two, but she couldn't help but admire it. "What do you think of this one?" she asked, hoping he would appreciate it more than the others.

He looked at it for a few moments before finally nodding his head in approval. "I actually like this one," he admitted, surprising her.

As they continued to make their way through the gallery, she couldn't help but enjoy his honest and sometimes humorous commentary on the art. Despite their differing opinions, she was glad to have someone to share the experience with.

They sat down at the bar, ordering drinks and continuing their conversation. Jiyuu mentioned how she worked as a secretary and Toji talked about his job in finance. They both shared their dreams and aspirations, and Jiyuu couldn't help but feel drawn to Toji's passion and drive.

“You’re quite the comedian aren’t you?” She smiled sipping on her drink.

"I'm glad I can make you laugh," Toji replied, taking a sip of his drink. "It's just my way of making this stuffy art gallery a little more bearable."

Jiyuu laughed again, leaning against the bar. "Well, I appreciate it. I don't think I could have made it through this exhibit without you."

She stared at Toji her eyes scanning all over the mans fave and body. She felt goosebumps just by the way he was looking at her, like if she was his prey. “So what do you want in life Toji?”

Toji chuckled, looking down at his drink. " I think someone to share it with. Someone who's kind, loving, and understanding."

Jiyuu's heart skipped a beat as she saw an opportunity to make her move. "Well, I can definitely relate to that. I just want a loving husband who I can share my life with."

Toji's eyes met hers, a spark of interest in them. "Is that so? Well, I think we may have more in common than I thought."

Jiyuu smiled, feeling a sense of triumph. She knew she had Toji's attention now.

"Well, I do have a way with words," Toji replied, his mischievous smile never fading. "But I have to say, you're not so bad yourself."

She placed her hand on his arm, giving him a flirtatious smile. "Well, I can be that wife for you," she purred, hoping to spark some interest in him.

Toji chuckled, gently removing her hand from his arm. "As flattering as that is, Jiyuu, I think I'm just fine being single for now. But I appreciate the offer."

Jiyuu's smile faltered, but she quickly recovered and continued to flirt with him. As the night went on, she couldn't help but feel a bit guilty for using Toji in her plan to seduce him. But she pushed those thoughts aside, reminding herself that this was all for her own happiness.

And if Toji ended up being a part of that happiness, then it would all be worth it.

Just in the other side of the art gallery you had walked out of your car, your hand resting on Satoru’s arm. You were dressed in an exclusive Chanel 94' blue flowy dress, your hair styled up in a beautiful updo that perfectly complemented your outfit.

Satoru, your husband, walked beside you, his hand resting on your arm. Despite the obvious cut on his lip from the fight two days ago, he still looked dashing in his classic yet stylish suit. As you approached the front of the gallery, you could feel the stares and whispers of the people around you, admiring your elegant appearance.

Climbing up the stairs, you gripped onto Satoru's arm for support, not wanting to trip in your heels. The cameras were already flashing as you reached the top, the photographers eager to capture a picture of the power couple.

"Miss Gojo, please look over here," one of the photographers called out, and you turned towards the cameras, posing with your husband as they snapped away. It was the opening of a brand new art collection, designed by one of Satoru's friends.

As the cameras continued to flash, you couldn't help but lean your head on your husband's shoulder, feeling grateful for his presence by your side. You ignored the questions about his cut lip, not wanting to spoil such a special night.

Finally, you reached the entrance of the art gallery, and you immediately let go of Satoru's arm, earning a look of guilt in his eyes. But you simply smiled and walked inside, eager to see the beautiful art pieces that awaited you.

The art gallery was bustling with people, the air filled with the excited chatter of guests admiring the beautiful artwork on display. As you walked in, you couldn't help but pause and take in the stunning view of colorful paintings and sculptures adorning the walls and floors.

Your husband, Satoru, walked beside you, his arm securely around your waist as he guided you through the crowd.

The room was filled with soft lighting, casting a warm glow on the walls adorned with beautiful paintings. Each artwork was unique, showcasing different techniques and styles.

A familiar face popped up in the bustling crowd, causing a smile to immediately spread across your face. "Sukuna?" you asked, making your way over to him.

He turned to look at you, his red eyes scanning your face before returning the smile. "Y/N, it's nice to see you again," he said, his pink hair standing out even more in the dimly lit gallery.

"How have you been?" he asked, guiding you around the room as you caught up on each other's lives.

Meanwhile, your husband stood off to the side, watching you with a mix of curiosity and jealousy. Satoru narrowed his eyes, feeling a twinge of envy as he watched you smile and laugh with another man.

He couldn't quite explain why, but he couldn't shake off the feeling. Trying to distract himself, he grabbed a glass of wine and downed it in one gulp, feeling the liquid burn down his throat.

"Listen, I know you graduated from Columbia University," he said, his voice sincere. "And if you ever need a job in finance, I own a private equity and I would be delighted to have you work for me."

Your eyes sparkled with excitement at the thought of being able to go back to work. It had been a while since you had a steady job, and this opportunity was too good to pass up.

"Really?" you asked, your smile growing wider.

"Absolutely," he replied, his red eyes scanning your face. "I would be honored to have you as one of my associates."

A glimmer of hope shined in your eyes as you thought about the possibilities this job could bring. You thanked him profusely, feeling grateful for the offer.

"Well, I would be delighted," you said, a sense of relief washing over you. Suddenly, you felt someone's gaze on you and turned to see your significant other looking at you with pride and admiration. You smiled, grateful for their support and excited for this new opportunity in your career.

Satoru couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy as he watched you from the other side of the art gallery. His eyes never left you as you laughed and giggled, your chest rising and falling with each breath. Seeing you with Sukuna, his rival, made the pit of his stomach churn. He wanted to go over and steal you away, but he knew better than to interfere.

As you walked around the gallery, admiring the artwork, Satoru couldn't help but notice how your smile seemed to light up the room. It was a smile he had never seen directed at him before.

His icy blue eyes met yours, and for a moment, it felt like the two of you were the only ones in the room. But then you leaned in and whispered something to Sukuna, a genuine smile on your face. Satoru's jaw clenched as he watched the two of you, feeling a surge of possessiveness wash over him.

When you finally left Sukuna's side and walked into a separate room, Satoru couldn't resist following you. He wanted to know what had made you smile like that, what had made you whisper to Sukuna.

As you walked towards the room, your heels clicked on the polished wooden floor, adding a sense of elegance to the atmosphere. Your dress flowed gracefully behind you, catching the light as you moved.

Suddenly, you were approached by a waiter holding a tray of champagne glasses. "A drink Miss? Complimentary from the artist," he offered with a smile.

You declined politely, wanting to fully immerse yourself in the art. As you entered the room, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and wonder. The paintings seemed to come to life, drawing you in with their intricate details and vibrant colors.

You walked closer to each one, admiring the brushstrokes and composition. Your husband joined you, both of you silently taking in the beauty of the paintings. It was a truly magical experience, being surrounded by such incredible artwork.

As you stood in front of the painting, you couldn't help but feel drawn to it. The image of two people hugging, their faces obscured but their body language conveying a sense of tension and distance, captivated you. The soft, muted colors and smudged lines only added to the painting's allure, making it both mysterious and alluring.

You could feel his gaze on you, but you were too caught up in the painting to turn and meet his eyes. It was as if the painting had cast a spell on you, and you couldn't look away.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Satoru finally spoke, breaking the silence. You tore your gaze away from the painting to look at him, noticing the way his eyes sparkled as he watched you.

"It's beautiful," you replied, your hands dropping to your sides, just inches away from his.

You could feel the heat radiating off of his hand, as if he wanted to take yours and interlock your fingers with his. Your heart skipped a beat at the thought, but you pushed it away, knowing that you were both just admiring the painting together.

But as you looked at him, his chest rising and falling with each breath, you couldn't help but admire his own beauty.

"It seems so familiar to me," you said, tilting your head slightly as you studied the painting.

"Like if I was the one who painted this." Your hand brushed against Satoru's, and he immediately looked down at your hand, his eyes lingering there for a moment before meeting yours again.

His gaze was intense, and you could feel your heart rate quickening.

You were struck by how he didn't need to say a word to express his admiration for you. He simply took in your appearance, mesmerized by the way your eyes sparkled as they scanned the paintings in the room. As your hand interlocked with his, you were surprised to find that you didn't flinch at his touch.

Instead, your body seemed to naturally gravitate towards his, fitting together like puzzle pieces.

As you turned to face him, you couldn't help but notice the way he looked at you - like you were the only thing that mattered in the room. His hand tightened around yours, pulling you closer to him. You could feel his cold palm against your warm skin, sending shivers down your spine.

Lost in the intensity of his gaze, you barely registered as his free hand reached up to gently touch your face. His touch was electric, sending a jolt of excitement through your body. Without a word, you both stood there, taking each other in.

Finally, unable to resist any longer, you leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you closed your eyes and savored the moment, not wanting it to end. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the two of you, lost in each other's presence.

You were hesitant to let go as well, but you knew you needed to give him some space. As you stepped back, you couldn't help but smile at him, feeling the warmth of his embrace still lingering.

“Can you get me some water?" you asked, your voice soft and a little hoarse from talking all night. "I feel a bit parched." He nodded, understanding your request, and slipped away from your grasp.

As he left the room, you could hear the faint murmur of voices coming from the main gallery where everyone was gathered. You took a moment to catch your breath and calm your racing heart before joining them.

Turning a corner, he spotted his friend Kento, surrounded by a group of people who were admiring his artwork. Satoru greeted Kento with a smile, happy to see his friend doing well in the art world.

Approaching Kento, he couldn't help but smile at his friend's surprised expression. "Nanami!" he exclaimed, and they exchanged a warm hug.

"How are you, Satoru?" Kento asked, tucking his hands into his pants. "I'm doing good," Satoru replied, his excitement growing.

"Listen, I was wondering how much you're selling the 'J'adore' painting for." He licked his lips in anticipation, knowing that he needed to have this painting.

Kento chuckled and placed a hand on Satoru's shoulder, "Someone's already offered to buy it, but maybe there's another painting you'd like?" he suggested, scanning the room for another option.

But Satoru was determined to have the 'J'adore' painting. "Listen, whoever the person is paying for it, I'll triple their offer and pay it myself," he stated firmly, a determined look on his face.

But before Kento could respond, Satoru's gaze fell upon a familiar face at the bar. His smile faded as he watched his ex-girlfriend laughing and chatting with another man. He quickly excused himself from Kento's presence, his mind now occupied with thoughts of the past.

Satoru's face twisted in anger as he saw Jiyuu talking to Toji, another man. He couldn't believe she would betray him like this. "What the fuck are you doing here?" he spat, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

Jiyuu rolled her eyes, her attention still focused on Toji. "What, I can't come to these events anymore?" she retorted, ignoring Satoru's presence.

Fueled by disgust and rage, Satoru grabbed Jiyuu's arm and forcefully pulled her away from Toji. She snarled and tried to resist, but he was stronger.

He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her outside, away from the prying eyes of the people inside the gallery. His grip was tight and his face was twisted in disgust.

"What the fuck were you doing talking to him?" he spat, his voice full of anger. Jiyuu rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, a defensive stance she took whenever Satoru got like this. She looked at him with no emotion on her face, making Satoru even more mad.

"He's just a friend," she said, her brown hair slightly messy from their argument. She tried to explain, but Satoru was already past the point of listening.

"I don't care, we're done Jiyuu," he said, his eyes narrowing at her. Jiyuu felt like the world came crashing down on her, her eyes widening as her arms fell to her sides.

"What? Satoru-" she started, but he cut her off with a scoff.

"I said we're done Jiyuu. I'm done with you and I want you to never contact me again," he said, his tone final and cold. Jiyuu couldn't believe what she was hearing. After all they had been through, he was just throwing her away like she meant nothing to him.

"Staying with you after marrying Y/N was a mistake," he added, the words hitting Jiyuu like a punch to the gut.

Jiyuu's heart was pounding in her chest as she listened to Satoru's words. The man she loved, the one she had just married, was telling her that staying with her was a mistake. It felt like a punch to the gut, the words hitting her with a force she couldn't ignore.

Tears welled up in Jiyuu's eyes as she shook her head, desperately grasping at Satoru's arm to stop him from leaving. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. “Satoru, you don't know what you're talking about!" she cried out, her voice shaking with emotion. "She's manipulating you, can't you see that?"

But Satoru pulled his arm away from her, his expression hard and determined. "No, she actually listens to my problems and doesn't disregard my feelings. It's over, Jiyuu," he repeated, his words like a knife through her heart.

Tears streamed down Jiyuu's cheeks as she struggled to stay composed, her mind processing each word with agonizing slowness.

She shook her head again, unable to accept what was happening. "No, Satoru, I'm not letting you walk away from this, from me," she pleaded, her voice breaking with emotion.

Her hands came up to cover her mouth as she tried to stifle her sobs, but they escaped uncontrollably. It felt like her entire world was collapsing around her, and she couldn't do anything to stop it.

Her attention was immediately caught when she saw you walking outside, your face etched with confusion as you spotted her and Satoru standing face to face. Your eyes widened in disbelief as you realized it was your husband in front of you. “Satoru?”

He turned to look at you, his eyes softening as they met yours. But before he could say anything, Jiyuu appeared out of nowhere and sprung at him, her lips crashing onto your husband's. You stood there, completely baffled and shocked at what you were witnessing - your husband kissing another woman.

You felt sick to your stomach, wanting to throw up right then and there. The sight of your husband being unfaithful to you was enough to make your blood boil. You couldn't believe what was happening before your very eyes.

As Jiyuu pulled away from Satoru, you couldn't control your emotions any longer. With a clenched jaw and tears in your eyes, you stomped over to him and pushed him away from Jiyuu.

"Y/N, wait-" he started to say, but before he could finish, your hand connected with his cheek in a loud slap. His face turned to one of shock and surprise.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back your tears as you turned to Jiyuu and stared daggers at her. "I'll send you the divorce papers tomorrow," you said through gritted teeth.

"Have fun being with her, Satoru." And with that, you stormed off, leaving them both behind.

As you walked away, tears welled up in your eyes from the pain of being rejected and humiliated. Satoru, who had just been slapped by you, placed a hand on his red cheek and turned to look at her with disgust in his eyes.

"Don't you ever try talking to me or my wife again," he seethed, "or I will fucking make your life a living hell." His nose scrunched up angrily as he ran after you, leaving Jiyuu absolutely baffled and sobbing in the wake of his outburst.

Satoru ran after you calling your name out, the cold hair touching his face making him shiver, in the cold. “Y/N wait,” He said as he caught up to you standing in front of you.

You scoffed, shoving him out of your way as you stormed out of the elegant ballroom. Your heels clicked angrily on the smooth marble floor, the sound echoing through the grand space.

Tears threatened to fall from your beautiful eyes as you struggled to keep your composure. Satoru chased after you, begging for forgiveness and trying to explain himself, but you were too hurt and angry to listen. The elegant chandeliers above you seemed to mock you as you made your dramatic exit, the soft light reflecting off the tears that finally escaped and trailed down your cheeks.

The cold air hit you as you burst out of the building, the tears freezing on your cheeks. You could hear him calling out your name, but you didn't stop. You kept running, not wanting to face the reality of his lies.

With a sudden sense of urgency, he swiftly placed his hand on his tie and began undoing it, his eyes never leaving yours. "Y/N," he said, his voice laced with a mixture of determination and desperation. He grabbed your hand and turned you to face him, his eyes searching yours for a sign of understanding.

As you met his gaze, you could see one side of his cheek turning a bright shade of red, evidence of the slap you had just delivered moments ago. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, his heart seemingly ready to leap out of his chest. The tension between you was palpable, the air thick with the unspoken words and emotions that hung between you.

"Don't do this to me, don't you dare say anything," you pleaded, your voice shaking with emotion. Your heart was racing, your mind racing even faster as you tried to anticipate what he was going to say. He stood there, his gaze locked on you, watching your every move.

Your bottom lip quivered as you bit down on it, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. Your hands trembled at your sides, your whole body tense with anticipation.

Despite your best efforts, a few tears escaped and rolled down your cheeks, smudging the makeup you had carefully applied earlier. But even with your makeup ruined, you still looked breathtakingly beautiful. He couldn't take his eyes off you, captivated by your vulnerability and your strength all at once.

"Y/N please, it's not what it looks like." Satoru pleaded, reaching out to grab your hand. But you pulled away, tears streaming down your face.

"It's never what it looks like, is it?" You sobbed, trying to compose yourself. "I told her to back off," Satoru insisted, pulling you closer and wiping away your tears with his thumb. His touch was soft and warm, but it did little to ease the pain in your heart.

"That's what you always say," you said, looking into his eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes that used to make your heart skip a beat. But now, they only filled you with anger and disappointment.

"I'm done pretending like every time I see you with him, it doesn't hurt me." Satoru's voice cracked as he grabbed your puffy face. "No, Satoru," you pushed him off, feeling a surge of anger. "I'm done pretending and trying to make this marriage work. It's always been her, hasn't it?"

Satoru's eyes fell to the ground, his guilt evident. "I should have known that what you said was a lie. It's always been her," you said, your voice shaking with emotion.

You picked up your dress and began walking towards the stairs, your heels clicking loudly on the concrete. Tears continued to fall down your face as you ran down the stairs, desperate to escape the pain and betrayal.

But just as you thought you were free, Satoru appeared in front of you, his eyes intense and his breaths heavy. "Do you know what you do to me, Y/N?" he asked, his voice laced with frustration and longing. "Do you think it's easy for me to see you with that man?"

He grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest, his heart beating wildly. You felt the heat radiating off his body, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your own chest. "Can't you feel it, Y/N?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

"Every time I see you, it's like a fire ignites inside me," he continued, his voice becoming even more strained. "A longing that only you can quench." You could see the raw emotion in his eyes, and your heart ached for him. "And when I'm away from you, it's like a part of me is missing." His words hit you like a ton of bricks, and you felt yourself getting lost in his gaze.

You bit your lip, unsure of how to respond. You could feel your heart beating so fast, and you could tell that Satoru was feeling the same way. In that moment, it was like the rest of the world faded away, leaving just the two of you standing there, caught up in your emotions.

A tense silence filled the air as you stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at your estranged husband. The memories of his betrayal still fresh in your mind, but a small part of you couldn't help but feel a spark of hope as he stood there, pleading for another chance.

You let out a bitter laugh, "And what? You expect me to believe you? You embarrassed me in front of everyone, and I still want a divorce." Your voice was laced with anger and hurt as you spoke, your eyes never leaving his face.

He took a step closer to you, his expression pleading. "I know I messed up, Y/N. But I want you. I can't let you go."

You shook your head, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside you. "You can't just say that and expect everything to be okay," you retorted, turning away from him and starting to walk down the stairs. Your heart was heavy with conflicting feelings, but you knew you couldn't just forgive him and go back to how things were.

As you reached the bottom of the stairs, you spotted your ride home waiting for you. Relief washed over you, and you quickened your pace to get to the car. Opening the car door you let out a sigh.

But before you could even close the door, Satoru stopped it and pulled you out of the car. Your heart raced as he stood in front of you, his gaze intense and determined. "What the fuck are you doing, Satoru?" you yelled, pushing against his chest. "I said leave me alone!"

He didn't budge, his grip on your arms tightening. "I can't, Y/N. I won't let you go. I'll do anything to make things right between us." His words were filled with desperation and sincerity, and you could see the regret in his eyes.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "It's not that simple, Satoru. You broke my trust and our marriage.”

"I know this marriage was arranged, but damn it, Y/N, I'm starting to fall for you." You were taken aback by his confession, but before you could respond, his lips crashed onto yours in a heated kiss.

taglist; @allofffmypeaches @shycreatorsandwich @ryumurin @cloudsinthecosmos @4-everm-0-re @kurookinnie @bluebreadenthusiast @haurno @fouyumixuri @numblytemporary @spin-garden @oyaoya-bungeegum @we-loveebony @katteddie86 @mine-lu @rosso-seta @sunehry @lavender-hvze @ioveartfilm @kneesheee @chilichopsticks @muchlov3ashley @mystarlightswiftt @actualdeemon @hojoslutoru @polarbvnny @getoicious @bennysbunnies @h0neysiba @cyzvx @ropickle @tqd4455 @lineelilii @hypernovaxx @mo0nforme @liannele9 @erencvlt @mistyheart @mandysfanfics @fire-child-kira @c4rm1son @wntrei @chxrv @valleydoli @nuehoe @ichikanu @ssetsuka @crybabytoru @c4tzons4turn @97cityy

end notes; this chap after the leaks is gonna break my heart goodbye

777 notes · View notes

un-lawliet · 2 days

Text

“Overheard.”

— in which you practice your confession to him, and he hears.

“Satoru... I like you.”

Falling in love is hard.

You throw your head back in exasperation, a sigh pushing past your lips and into the emptiness of your room.

“Satoru,” You begin again, glaring at your reflection, “I think if the Earth exploded tommorow I would- No that’s pathetic!”

But falling in love with an enigma such as Satoru Gojo is harder.

Especially when he was your Co-Worker and friend, and not one for blind vulnerability in any capacity.

Something you were devastated by perfectly ok with!

You place your thumb in your mouth and chew on the nail, frustrated at your lack of articulation.

Your lingering stares, and pathetic attempts to subtly flirt with him, appeared to backfire in a mirage of deflection from the sorcerer.

Leading you to the bitter conclusion that your feelings were entirely unrequited.

And that’s fine.

Everything is fine.

You would be fine.

…

You turn back to the mirror, lifting your head up and throwing on a smile.

“Gojo- No- Satoru, me and you? What about it? You in?”

God. You sound insane.

Even worse you sound desperate.

You thought your feelings for Gojo would dissipate with time, that you would realise that they stemmed purely from admiration and would vanish as fast as they first appeared.

But as you grew closer to Gojo, your feelings grew too.

Culminating into him, holding your hand to reassure you after a mission went askew.

Holding it.

With no barriers. No infinity.

His hand was warm, the palm soft with years of fighting without touch.

“Don’t worry ‘bout ‘kay?” He had said, cooing at you as you furiously wiped frustrated tears from your eyes.

“Just focus on getting stronger, yea? You’ll be fine.”

And now you were fantasising your confession to the man, like you were 16 years old again, pouting about an unreturned crush.

One touch and you’re helpless to your own feelings, your own heart.

How childish…

You shake your head.

What did it matter anyway? You were never going to say it to him, you can let yourself have your own, embarrassing fun.

You grin, and resume your position before the mirror.

“Satoru, I really, really like you.”

You tilt your head.

“No that sounds wrong..uh…Gojo I like you..like a lot- But you don’t need to say anything I just wanted you to know.”

Placing your hands on your hips, you assess out loud; “I wonder which one would sound better..”

“I liked the first one best.”

You nod, lost in thought, “Me too, sounds more person-”

Oh God.

Oh please God no.

Slowly, you move your eyes from your face in the reflection to the door, where Gojo stands, leaning against the frame, a smug look on his face.

Your face flushes and you almost trip over your heel as you spin to face him, eyes wide and mouth parted.

“G-Gojo!” You force out, your heart racing in your chest, your hands trembling against your sides.

He gestures, his sunglasses sliding down his nose ever so slightly with his movements.

“You not gonna continue?” He asks, like he didn’t almost just cause you heart palpitations, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

Your words fail you, and you’re left gaping at him, wishing the building would collapse and crush you beneath it, away from his stupidly pretty eyes.

He laughs, his face lighting up as he watches you flounder for a response, a reason, anything to justify your absurdism.

When you resort to turning back around, unable to face him, hoping he would just vanish from the room, he shakes his head and walks towards you.

“Hey.” Gojo says gently, pinching the skin of your shoulder lightly, trying to coax you into turning around.

“Y/N c’mon, Iook at me.”

You want to die.

You actually think you might just drop dead.

This was never the plan- You were never supposed to-

Gojo isn’t patient.

You remember this when you’re spun around to face him, nearly jumping at how close he is to you.

You find your voice amongst your apologies, and they fall out of you like water collecting rain.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to say any of that, I was being stupid- Oh my God I’m so sorry.”

You hang your head in childish shame, refusing to meet his eyes.

Gojo finds himself frowning.

And your chin is raised back to his gaze by his fingers, an usually serious look in his eyes as he observes you.

“What are you apologising for hm?” He sticks out his tongue, “For falling for me?”

You push his chest, your face burning.

“Don’t say it like that.”

“What? It’s not true?”

“It’s not.”

Gojo blinks at you from over the top of his sunglasses, before taking his hand and patting your head.

“So if I ask you to join me for lunch…You’d say no?”

“What? No of course not!”

Your response is too fast, too desperate, and you freeze as he laughs, humiliated.

“I thought as much.” Gojo replies, leaning down to look you in your eyes.

And he’s so pretty up close, so earnestly perfect that you can barely stand it.

“Say it again yea?” He all but whispers, his voice devoid of cockiness, you’re almost certain he sounds as desperate as you.

You refuse to think too much.

“What?” You reply, dumbly.

“Your practice, I want to hear it again.”

“Gojo I-”

“Satoru.” He corrects, his eyes crinkling with his grin, you can feel his breath on your face and you hold yourself back from leaning towards him.

You’re silent for a moment, before he tilts his head, nodding at you to continue.

It’s ok.

“Satoru,” You start, breaking eye contact with him as you look down at your fidgeting hands, “I like you.”

And you feel so unbelievably childish, at your nerves.

You feel weak to his never failing gaze.

Until he pokes your nose softly with his finger, and leans down to reply, too close, he’s far too close.

“Yea?” He echoes, “You like me?”

You nod, helpless, “So much Satoru.”

And then you feel it.

His lips on yours.

Oh.

And it’s wonderful, it’s all consuming and it’s him.

And you kiss back, feeling his hands on your face, and encasing you, holding you.

Gojo tilts your head up, and you can’t help but gasp, letting him devour you.

He tastes of cherries and sugar, his mouth as warm as his grasp, as he brings you closer.

“God baby.” He mumbles into your mouth, “You have no idea.”

He sounds frantic you think.

You pull away to look at him, and giggle when he follows you, trying to recapture your lips with his, pouting, tracing the sides of your temples with a finger.

You’re both breathless.

And you take the opportunity to be bold.

You press a kiss to his jaw, ignoring the racing of your poor heart.

Gojo smirks, a dumb elated expression on his face as he pulls you into his chest, resting his chin on the top of yours. Blocking your view of his face as he whispers.

“Think it goes without saying.” You hear him say, slowly, “But I like you too Y/N.” He mocks, his voice soft.

And you cling to his shirt, and press your fingers into his back as a response, trying to mark him as yours instantaneously.

He laughs again, before pulling away to hold you at an arms length, looking down at you, his face beautiful, and yours.

“Lunch then? So we can talk about this properly?”

“I’d like that.” You say, your eyes in hearts.

He winks at you, and pulls you to walk with him, leading you out of the room.

You lean against him allowing yourself a moment of vindicated clarity.

He’s warm.

So, so warm.

Feel free to leave a request <3

Masterlist <3

A/N- i hate my life. i’m trying not to spoil anything for anyone, but chapter 261 has ruined my life! i wrote this just to make myself better and because a lovely anon asked me to write something comforting and fluffy <3 thank u for reading i love u i love u i love u and i hope everyone is ok <3

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jjk leaks #gojo satoru x reader #jjk #gojo comfort #hurt/comfort #i miss you gojo #gojo fluff #gojo smut

591 notes · View notes

woso-dreamzzz · 1 day

Text

Difficult V

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: A trip to Mami's hometown

It's not often that you don't go back to Norway with Mumma for the international break. You go with her most of the time to see her parents but this time you're staying in Spain with Mami.

It's a shorter break than usual so uprooting your life and forcing you through jetlag is probably worse than just leaving you in Spain with Mami.

Which is why you're in the car driving to Zaragoza, where Mami is from, for the week to see your Abeuala and Abuelo. Mami says she's got a fun week planned for you both but you don't know if you believe her.

She said that she had a fun day planned a few days ago but all you did was feed the ducks at the park and then spent nearly an hour in the art shop as Mami debated different types of pencils.

"There she is!" Abuelo says as you jump out of the car. He grabs you, throwing you in the air and catching you again.

"Abeulo!"

"Look at you, bebita! Looking more and more like your Mumma everyday!"

You grin. "That's what Mami says!"

"Your Mami has good eyes." He puts you back down on the ground. "Now, I'm pretty sure your Abuela has made a cake just for you inside. Do you want to go in and check?"

You're off like a shot before he even finishes his sentence and Mapi is left to bring your bags in by herself.

"What, no welcome for your daughter?"

"Hello, María," Her father says," Thank you for bringing the little one with you. Your mother has been getting ready for her all month. You'll be lucky if you get the bebita back."

"She'll have to take it up with Ingrid," Mapi replies, dragging the bags inside.

You're already sitting on the kitchen counters, being fed bites of cake as Mapi's mother multitasks between feeding you and whipping up another dessert from scratch.

"Hola, Mama."

"Hola, María," Her mother says," You are late. We expected you earlier."

"It is a long drive, Mama. We had to take a break for lunch."

Mapi's Mama raises a brow. "Why did you stop? Are my lunches not filling enough? You had to stop somewhere else to eat? I made lunch specifically for you."

"Mama! Stop putting words in my mouth. We-"

"Can we have second lunch, Abeula? I'm still hungry."

"Of course you can, bebita! I can always trust you to eat my cooking."

"I love your cooking!"

Abuela swings you up into her arms as she flits around the kitchen getting out the lunch she'd put in the fridge.

"Now, you go and watch some tv with your Abuelo. If you eat all your lunch then there is dessert waiting for you."

Your time in Zaragoza is spent very much like your first day. Abuela cooks more food than you've ever seen in your life and you eat it all like you've been starving for years.

Today is different though.

Today Mami has taken you to a storage locker. She hasn't said much about it and she stops in front of the door.

"Bebita," She says," It's very important that you keep this a secret."

You frown. "From who, Mami? From Abuela and Abuelo?"

"No," She laughs," From your Mumma."

"Why?"

"Bebita, I'm serious. Promise this is our secret."

"Okay."

Mami opens the door to the locker and you gasp.

"It's a motorcycle! There's a little one too!"

You're right.

There's a big one that looks like Mami could sit on comfortably. She doesn't touch that one. She grabs the little one. It's exactly like the big one but smaller.

She wheels the little one out of the locker and pops it into the back of the car. It doesn't take long at all for Mami to drive to a dirt track.

"This is your helmet," She says, attaching it to your head and knocking on it to prove it works," And these are your kneepads and elbowpads. What is the important rule?"

"Don't tell Mumma."

"No, the other one. The one I told you in the car."

You think for a moment. "Oh! Squeeze the breaks if I'm scared!"

"And?"

You pout. "But, Mami-"

"No, what's the other rule?"

You sigh. "Don't let the arrow go over the five."

"That's right. I'm going to be holding you the entire time. It's just like your normal bike at home. Now, if- Bebita!"

Mapi scrambles after you, grabbing onto the back of your little motorcycle to keep you upright.

You have no fear though. In fact, you're thoroughly enjoying yourself as you go up and down the bumps in the track, shrieking your joy for the whole world to hear.

"Mami! Mami!" You say," Can I go faster?"

"I don't know, bebita. I think-"

"Is it because you're scared? You don't have to hold on if you're scared. I'm a big girl now!"

Mapi sputters. "I absolutely do need to hold on!" She tells you," And I'm not scared."

"I think you are."

"I'm not!"

"Are!"

"Not!"

"Are!"

It takes a lot of convincing to get you to accept that your dirtbike is staying in the secret storage locker in Zaragoza with her own bike. It's all you talk about as Mapi drives you home at the end of the week.

Your whole short life has now been taken over by the dirt track and your bike. It's all you want to talk about, even as Mapi tries to turn on the radio to drown out your words.

Ingrid is waiting for you both in the house but you completely bypass her, ducking under her arm and immediately running to the tv.

"She hasn't seen me for a week," Ingrid says," And it's like I don't exist."

You fiddle with the remote, flicking through channels until you find the motocross race that's currently going on, falling to the floor so you can watch, pressed up against the tv as close as you can get without being told off.

Ingrid's eyes narrow.

"Mapi," She says," What have you done?"

"Why do you always think I've done something?"

"Because I know your parents didn't introduce her to that. What did you do?"

"Nothing!"

"Bebita, what did Mami show you while I was away?"

"Nothing, Mumma!"

#woso x reader #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

552 notes · View notes

gamblersdoll · 2 days

Text

“you ignorin’ me now, baby?” he questioned, looking over to you. what he did exactly? borderline flirt with a cashier so you can get a good deal. granted, you saved one hundred twenty bucks, but still. he embarrassed you to a degree.

you never responded to him, focusing more on whatever was in your phone and kept your composure from socking him. toji licked over his scar, chuckling to himself.

“you must be real mad, huh baby?” he tried to pry, but you havent looked up to him at all. he nods, getting closer to you.

he lowers himself to his knees, keeping his eyes on you. his larger hands rub your knees, sliding up your thighs and playing with the hem of your shorts. “baby.”

you ignore again, not paying him any attention.

he smiles, hooking his arms around and pulling your shorts off. no panties, huh? dirty girl. he knew you sometimes did this, but was it a major turn on for him? yes.

the inside of his mouth watered, the scent of your pussy fanning his nose.. it drove him crazy.

you, on the other hand, were aware of what had happened. you were still pissed at him, yet you ignored. he pressed his face into you cunny, eyes still looking up to you. as much as he could play the silent treatment, he wanted–no, needed you to pay attention to him.

he licks a long stripe, suckling so ever soft on your clit. he forced himself to not roll his eyes back, but he notices the stream of arousal leaking from your holes.

“ ‘m sorry , baby.” he says, mouthful of your pussy. “forgive me?”

you, at this time, had long forgotten your phone and swallowed thickly. you rest your legs on his shoulders. you nod, looking to him. “you must really love eating my pussy huh..” you breathe out, rolling your eyes back when he flicks the tip of his tongue on that sensitive part of your clit.

“i do.” he says, spreading your folds and licking around. “ill eat the motherfucker all day.” he praises, “every. fuckin’. day.” he says in between suckles and slurps.

you grip his hair, playing with a sensitive nipple on your own. you nod in approval, feeling yourself on the brink of ecstasy.

“my body is ‘yers..” he moans into your pussy, sucking on your clit as if his life depended on it. “fuuuck. i love eating this shit.” he praises, looking up at you through his eyelashes.

“oh—god youre gunna make me cum!” you cry, raising your hips up and tugging on his hair. you barely hear him say to cum in his mouth, him greedily slurping it up in a sloppy effort.

toji pulls his face away, pulling yours down to meet in the middle and crash his lips onto yours. you taste as expected, like a pussy and a hint of your mango juice.

“sorry for flirtin’, just wanted to help you outs.” he mumbles in the kiss, trailing down to kissing your neck.

“dont pull that shit again.”

#jjk x reader #jjk #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk leaks #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic #jujutsu toji #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #toji x black reader #toji fluff #toji smut #jjk toji #fushiguro toji x reader #sorcerer killer

479 notes · View notes

luveline · 10 hours

Note

hi jade! ☺️☺️ ur one of my favorite writers gosh you feed my heart everyday

im currently going through my usual body-wrecking periods 🥲 ur fics are helping

could you write something for bombshell! x spencer where maybe deeper into their relationship she is open with him about her period and he comes over to take care of her when her body is aching or she feels nauseous. im thinking some hair playing or some tummy rubbing.

i hope your weekend is lovely 🫶

thank you ❤️❤️❤️ fem, 1k

Can I come over? Are you home

You summon your first smile of the day, reading Spencer’s text.

Don’t know, you text back, can you handle me?

Usually not, but that hasn’t stopped me so far. I’ll bring dinner?

What kind of dinner my love

Maybe Indian? What do you want? I want tandoori chicken

Indian food is awesome if that’s what you want, I’m just messing with you

You can hear his voice in his next text, I know that. So I can come?

You can always come over but I have to warn you, I’m irritable

What’s wrong???

Spencer texts again before you can answer, I’ll come now and we can order delivery, I’ll be right there

You decide to call him before he can make the wrong conclusions. He answers so quickly you laugh down the line. “Spencer, hi, there’s nothing that wrong.”

“What does that mean?”

“You don’t have to rush over.”

“Well, what’s wrong? Did I do something?”

“Why do you always think that, babe? No, you didn’t do anything. You’re actively making me feel better just talking to me.”

Spencer pauses briefly. “Really?”

“Really. I’m on my period, it’s kicking my ass,” you mumble, dropping your face into the soft top of your couch. “It would make me feel so much better if you were here. I want a hug.”

“I’m coming. I haven’t brushed up on my hug skills for a while–”

“You hugged me yesterday before I went home?”

“How would you rate that? On a scale of one to ten?”

“Ten, definitely.” You sigh and stretch out your legs. “No, just, my stomach is hurting and I feel sort of sick from the cramps. I’m a bit… depressed, maybe, so you don’t have to come over if you don’t want to. I might not be good company.”

“You’re always good company, you loon.”

“You what?”

“Sorry, I’m trying to be playful.”

“I know that, you loon,” you say, grinning. “Okay, you better be putting your shoes on. My patience is running out.”

“I’m by the door!” he says, giggles woven through each word. You can picture his smile, his unbuttoned coat. “You feel sick, should I still get dinner?”

“Yes, please. Tandoori chicken for me too, and–”

“I know what you want.”

“Okay, I’m gonna go shower before you get here and see me all disgusting–”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Spencer!” you laugh.

“I’ll run you a bath when I get there. Can you sit down until then?”

“I can’t believe how you’re speaking to me. You used to blush when I said hi.”

“Because you never just say hi. And it’s not like anyone else saying hi, it’s you.”

Spencer lets that kindness sit with you and says goodbye, promising he’ll be there soon with dinner. You hold your sore stomach and wait, flicking through tv channels, craving something warm to eat and a warmer chest to lay your head. Spencer’s hugs are without doubt a ten out of ten experience, he’s weirdly good at them for someone who maybe hasn’t had as many as he deserves. His hands are active as the rest of him stills, rubbing over your shoulders or your chest with care, his hair soft and ticklish on your cheek or his lips right next to your ear.

You’re dozing when he lets himself in. The rustle of a plastic bag awakens your dormant appetite, and you force yourself to meet him in the hallway.

He drops the bag like it isn’t forty dollars worth of food and beams at you. “Hi,” he says, fawning at your sloppy pyjamas. “These are cute, they’re way too big for you.”

You manage to hug him first, your arms around him and face screwed up in his chest. “Hi. My stomach hurts so bad, I missed you.”

“How bad?” he says, dropping his volume. “Have you ever considered you might have endometriosis?”

“Spencer, I love you, can you hug me for now and tell me about it later?”

“Sorry,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “Where does it hurt, everywhere?”

“It’s in my back.”

Spencer drops his hand lower. “Oh, here?” He rubs your back, and he leans away enough to see you eye to eye. “Let’s have dinner, then at least you’ll have a full stomach.”

“I don’t know if I can manage it, but I’m starving.”

“You don’t have to eat everything.” He visibly looks you over, one feature at a time. His eyes get stuck on yours, your lashes, and his lovely mouth tips down. “Were you sleeping?”

“Got bored waiting for you. I’m not tired,” you promise.

“It’s okay.” He grasps your back and rubs at it with good pressure, the shard of a cramp held back by his touch. “You okay?”

You lift your chin, turn your head just a touch to one side, asking and not asking. He smiles in that not so secret pleasure as he gives you a quick peck. It’s quick and chaste and everything you need, better when he encourages your face into his neck to give you a last good rub on the back. “Do you wanna sit down? I’ll make you a plate and we can eat on the couch.” He dots a kiss against the highest point of your cheek. “I got you motrin. And tylenol, too.”

“I don’t need any painkillers, you’re gonna rub my back.”

Spencer smiles into your cheek. “Mm, I’ll relax your uterus. Rhythmic touches.”

“That’s one way to say it, sweetheart.”

“How would you say it?” he asks, cupping the back of your neck tenderly.

You deflect, not wanting to make fun of him. “I love you.”

He pulls away, grinning, failing to talk. He's smiling so hard. When he goes in for a third round of hugs, you aren’t surprised.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

410 notes · View notes

loserbigsis · 2 days

Text

Help a trans woman continue her life in spite of medical transphobia.

Hey, I've been putting off making a post like this for a while now, but I really need help paying for DIY HRT after having been entirely cut off from official transitional healthcare in my country (Denmark) and new laws on prescription refills making me unable to share meds with my girlfriend anymore.

I've almost died from blood clots twice in the last 3 years due to a V-Leiden blood mutation, in 2021 I was admitted to the ER with over 15 small clots in my lungs, pulmonary infarction (lung tissue necrosis) and pneumonia, because I'm trans the doctor they sent to look at me was a "hormone disease specialist" who took one look at my chart and instantly decided my half decade long medical transition was entirely to blame for the clotting, without consulting a thrombosis specialist, or doing any bloodwork or testing whatsoever (technically medical discriminations). After getting prematurely discharged by said "specialist", who basically just told me to stop transitioning and fuck off, I had to fight for over 3 months with doctors to get a blood screen done with an actual thrombosis specialist, here they found the actual underlying cause, which is that I'm a V-Leiden carrier with an 8 to 12 times higher clotting chance than a non-carrier, but made the decision to not keep me on blood thinning treatment after the initial 6 month period post discharge, causing another pulmonary episode + DVT on my girlfriend's birthday in 2023 where I again almost died due to 25+ more clots having formed in my lungs (the largest pressing on my heart) and both legs. Following this episode I was put on blood thinners (Eliquis) for life.

After this, I went to consult with the gender clinic (we only have 3 which are all part of the same institution, and private practices are banned from providing any form of transitional healthcare in Denmark, even just blood tests for hormone levels) where they gave me an arbitrary weight loss goal to get my hormones back, causing me to backslide intensely into anorexia and lose 50kg in 1 year. Then after I had finally reached my goal late last year they took it up on conference and decided even after losing all that weight, being put on blood thinners permanently, quitting smoking and restructuring my entire diet and life around minimizing my condition that they still couldn't justify putting me back on my estrogen spray or an anti-androgen "due to the risk factors", completely disregarding both my bodily autonomy and the fact that HRT is 100% necessary for minimum quality of life for me, and because Denmark has no forms of medical informed-consent combined with the inability for me to get a second opinion within our medical system, this effectively permanently ended my access to transitional healthcare, forcing me to medically detransition.

The consequences of all of this has been disastrous for my mental and physical health to say the least. I don't leave my apartment more than once or twice every 2 months. I've had to cover all the mirrors in my home because the constant reminder of all this has made me more suicidal than ever. It's made it nearly impossible to find the will and motivation to keep up my life style changes like not smoking, I'm afraid to exercise at the risk of potentially masculinizing myself further. I can't maintain a job or education or any sort of social life anymore. My transition has cost me every single meaningful connection I had pre-coming out, and now it feels like the rug has been pulled out from under me, and all of those sacrifices where for nothing. Every day i have to force myself to take my blood thinners because a part of me wants to just stop in the hope that the next clotting episode will kill me.

I need HRT, I can't continue like this and I can't accept life without transitioning. I know the risks, but those are my risks to take, it's my body and my life, and I would rather live 10 years being happy and me than another 50 as a ghost like this.

My Paypal: @LoserBigSis My GF's Paypal: @QueenSizedDonger (in case something happens to mine)

#lamentations of chava #my post #pls reblog this peeps #i really really can't keep going like this

455 notes · View notes

werecreature-addicted · 11 hours

Note

u once brought up coyotes and i’ve been hooked ever since 😭😭

so how about a cute sexy coyote who’s been seducing the big bad alpha wolf for so long it got so frustrating that he lets it out on her for days (poor baby can’t walk anymore, can she) idk he eventually wifes her up 😂 a cute lovely ending

love uuu and thanks in advance !

Coyotes really aren't all that different from wolves, they move in packs, they hunt similar prey, and the mating seasons are at the same time of year. So really was it that big of a deal that you were hunting on werewolf territory? No right? you were basically cousins. well, that's what you thought at least, and you were wrong.

The alpha of the pack had caught you sniffing around. you had been warned many many times that wolves didn't tolerate completion on their hunting grounds and killed silly coyotes who got too close hunting for rabbits. now here you were darting through the forest as fast as you could with snapping jaws right on your tail. He's already chased you out of the werewolf territory it's not fair why is he still chasing you? no fair no fair no fair.

he catches you, knocking you to the ground and rolling with you through the grass, he lands on top of you his chest to your back. his big hands pinning your wrists. his knees pinning down your legs so you can't kick him. you struggle, but he's so much stronger than you that the act is basically pointless. You buck your hips back trying to knock him off, he lets out a muffled grunt, then a snarl as your ass pushes back against his crotch.

For some reason, this stirred something inside of you, this isn't so different from the play wrestling male Coyotes did as courting. a warmth spreads in your belly. you were still scared, especially with his sharp teeth hovering over your neck ready to rip your throat out. but there was something else string in you. you had been pinned, face down ass up by a strong powerful male with his groin pressing against you, and your heat was starting to hit because of it. you hated how good this felt.

"I'll let you off with a warning if you don't come back," he growled, his voice as deep and low, you wanted to tell him yes you'd be good, please spare your life, but what came out instead was a low moan as you pushed back against him not trying to escape this time. his nostril flared.

"did you go into heat?" he no longer sounds angry but more, surprised.

"I'll never come back if you just fuck me, let me cum," you pant. he growls again, but you can feel him grind against you, matching the roll of your hips.

"Brat. did you come here just so some wolf might pin you down and ruin your cute cunt? what are those coyote boys aren't big enough for you?" he snarls, you can feel his hardening cock against your behind he was bigger than any coyote you'd fucked before. you'd never been so horny before in your life, it's not even going to fit inside of you this big werewolf cock is going to split you right in half and you couldn't be happier.

"say it, say that this is what you wanted all along," he demands, teasing your pussy with the thick dip of his cock. you try to buck back and take his dick inside of you, he grabs the back of your head and shoves your face down in the grass forcing you to say in place. "Say it," he repeats.

"I just want your cock in me, it's all i want please please pl-" Your begging is cut off as his tick cock pushes inside of you. he's so big you feel like you can't breathe. the pain is delicious. you definitely won't be walking after this, you hope he and the rest of his pack take advantage of it.

#monster imagine #monster fucker #monster #monster boyfriend #teratophillia #werewolf #werewolf x reader #werewolves #werewolf boyfriend

240 notes · View notes

peachysunrize · 1 day

Text

The Ballad of a Dragon ⥃ Modern!Aemond Targaryen

Summary: after an argument with your husband, you find him playing his frustration away and eventually apologizes to you on top of his piano.

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, angst, fluff, p in v, oral(F!receiving) fingering, Aemond eats pussy like a champ, both parties are so petty, post argument/make up sex, hand kink, body worship, Aemond knows how to work with those fingers, he plays piano👀 tell me if I’ve missed something. English isn’t my first language<3 no beta...

Word count: 3.15k+

A/n: so this pure filth is based on this post, and @barbieaemond motivated me to write it! So thank you, my love, and thanks to Aemond’s long fingers for being a great inspiration to write a hand kink fic. I’m also taking a little break from writing for a month or so<3

“You just came home, Aemond! We had a reservation for tonight that you missed, you arrived at midnight from work and now you are taking a call to go and fix Rhaenyra’s stupid mistakes again?” You groan, pacing around your bedroom with Aemond burying his face in his hands, sitting on the bed in front of you.

“I can’t just turn a blind eye to them when they need help!” He explains, raising his voice a little. He is frustrated beyond words; work has been hectic lately and the company’s responsibility has fallen on his shoulders, forcing him to carry the weight alone.

“You’re already half blind, it wouldn’t hurt to close your other eye and ignore them for once!” You know you shouldn’t have said that, but you’re fed up with all the negligence, nights staying up just for him to either sleep in his office or crawl into bed at four in the morning.

It isn’t his fault mostly, it’s the pressure his father, siblings, and Otto put on him, but you wish he would say something and stand up for himself.

“That was a very low blow, wife,” he says through gritted teeth, glaring at you as he puts his elbows on his knees, “I can’t let her mess up everything we have worked so hard for! This company will be ruined if I don’t fix Rhaenyra’s fuck ups!”

“It’s not your responsibility, Aemond! It’s hers! It’s her mistake, it’s her fucking fault! I shouldn’t be begging my husband to make time for me, his wife, and spend some time home! You reserved the table, you told me to get ready because you wanted to take me out on a date! I’m just glad I didn’t go to the restaurant myself or tomorrow’s headlines would have been worse for your reputation than Rhaenyra’s mistake can ever be.”

“My work is my priority! This is my family’s business, do you know what that is? Family? Because by the way you’re acting, I’m not quite sure you have the slightest idea.” He stands up as well, running his fingers through his hair as each word falls from his lips and you feel the sting of each one in your chest.

“I can’t believe you, Aemond. How can your work be any more important than your wife?! How? I get it, you’re this tough guy, knight in shining armor always trying to get on your father’s good side and want his praises. I get it, you’re desperate for his affection. But what about me? I spent hours getting ready for my husband, just for you to treat me like trash! I left my family because of you, Aemond, and I would do it a thousand times more because I love you. Although I can’t say the same about you.” You know it was a pathetic move to get a rise out of him, but after what he said, it’s only fair to treat him just as he is treating you.

Tears sting your eyes as you look at how red he has gotten, knowing that you’ve woken up the hot-tempered dragon inside him. Good, he needs to feel ashamed and angry for how small he made you feel with each mean word that he said.

“You think I don’t love you anymore?” He asks, his voice barely above whispering, but you hear him perfectly and see how rapidly his chest is moving with the deep breaths he is trying to take.

“No, but I can’t deny that I’m doubting it. You put work over the family we created together, over your wife, and you want me to accept it without complaining, without telling you how much I miss you and how it hurts to be apart from you while you constantly choose your work over me!” You sob, putting your hands on your hips as you turn away from him. Even the sight of him makes your heart clench.

“I’m working my ass off for you to be content with your life, to have enough money to waste on petty and unnecessary stuff—“

“Don’t you dare guilt trap me, Aemond Targaryen! Don’t you fucking dare make me feel bad for wanting to spend time with my husband!” You nearly scream at him, tears now falling freely from your eyes as you turn around to look at him.

Even at this moment, he looks so beautiful — silver hair shining under the dim light of the room, his white shirt unbuttoned a little and his sleeves rolled up, showing off his toned forearms. If you weren’t so mad at him, you would have jumped on him the second he walked through that door.

“I can not control my siblings! They are idiots, sure but do you have any idea how bad their actions can destroy everything we have worked so hard for? I need to go because my father called.” he tries to reach for you, but you pull your hand away from him, taking a step back because you can’t bear him trying to sweet talk his way out of this like he always does. You shouldn’t let him minimize your feelings.

“Your father or Otto? Did he say if you save Rhaenyra’s ass, you would become Viserys Targaryen’s favorite child? It looks as if his affection is worth more than our marriage.”

“Stop with this nonsense, you know it’s not!” he glares at you, his pupil blown with rage. How could you ever think like that? Did he truly drive himself away from you to the point that you doubted his love for you?

“Do I, Aemond? Do I? Because instead of apologizing to me you are telling me how your work was more important than not showing up for a date you organized! I felt so beautiful, Aemond, so happy that after such a long time my husband was going to come to pick me up and spend the night with me! Now I just… I just feel so fucking stupid for getting my hopes high.”

You watch him take a deep breath, shaking his head as he marches out of the room swiftly, not bothering to spare a glance at you. He is frustrated, you get it, but to leave in the middle of an important argument like a child being denied a candy is pretty immature of him.

You sigh and wipe your tears, walking towards your wardrobe to pull out one of your sheer nightgowns, changing into it to sleep in something comfortable while your husband's side of the bed gets colder by the second.

The sound of music fills the house gradually, taking you by surprise. The last thing you expect is to hear your husband’s favorite classical piano piece echoing within the walls, and you halt in your steps, guilt creeping inside your chest as you listen to the distant sound of the piano before you grab your robe and walk toward the playroom.

You find the door open already — the orange hue of the lights illuminates his silver hair and sharp jawline, his eye is closed while his fingers move in rhythm, each finger pressing the right note on the tempo, and you can see the frustration and tension leaving his shoulders the longer he plays.

Nocturne in C-sharp minor fills the air around you, and you remember how he played this the first time the two of you met; it was filled with so much laughter and excitement as he gushed about his love for classical pieces, how hard he tried to regain his posture and strength while he lost half of his eyesight. You guess you fell in love with him at that very second he sat behind the piano in the instrumental shop.

Your gaze falls on his hand, long denty fingers moving with grace, pressing the keys one by one, and you lean on the doorframe, fidgeting with the hem of your robe while you rub your thighs together, the images of how those same fingers have given you the most blissful orgasms ever flooding your mind.

You watch him pushing the pedals down, his eye following the path of the notes he has memorized on the keys, and you keep admiring his ethereal form. Sometimes it feels unbelievable to be the wife of such a beautiful and otherworldly man, to be this lucky to call yourself Mrs. Targaryen, yet, there are moments you recall how everyone told you that the same name comes with a curse, that Targaryen men are ambitious and cunning. They are right on both matters.

The slickness between your thighs gets worse the more you stare at him and his skillful fingers move as if this is the easiest piece known to mankind with how smoothly he is playing it.

He plays the last note, sighing softly as he retrieves his fingers from the keys, turning around to look at you with an easy smile on his thin lips.

“Thought you had left before I heard you playing,” you say, matching his smile, growing a bit nervous with how his eye drinks the sight of your exposed thighs.

“I had half a mind to do so,” he replies, extending his hand to show he wants you close, “C’mere,”

You push away from the doorframe, walking to where he is sitting before trailing your hand over his extended arm, his large palms coming to rest on your waist. He looks up at you, fingers gently massaging your back.

“I’m sorry, I…”

He shushes you, pressing a kiss to your stomach before placing his chin on the soft flesh, “I should apologize. I didn’t realize how terrible I was treating you. You are my priority, I should have treated you much better.”

“I…I was in the wrong too. It was very pathetic of me to act so desperately, I know how much your work means to you—“

“No, no,” he stands up, caging you between his body and the piano, forcing you to sit a bit on the keys, a not-so-great sound coming out of the instrument, “You aren’t desperate, and even if you are, you do have a great excuse for it. I neglected you for a job that can be done by anyone.”

“It was a petty argument anyway, I’m sorry for being mean. I miss you so much, that’s all,” you say, gasping when he picks you up so effortlessly by the back of your thighs, putting you on top of his royal piano before he takes home between your legs.

“I miss you too, sweetheart,” he whispers, leaning down to peck the corner of your lips, “I could see how truly desperate you were when you rubbed your pretty thighs together.”

“Y-you saw that?” You exhale, craning your neck to give him more space to attack the skin of your neck, littering his little bruises and bites all over you.

“I know my wife, I know her weaknesses. I could smell you from here, and I’m sure if I were to touch you down there…” he locks his eye with yours, one of his hands traveling down towards your panties, chuckling darkly, “my my, so wet and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

He brings his fingers to his mouth, licking your essence off them while he holds eye contact, watching how your lips part in desire as you keep your gaze fixed on his lips and tongue.

“Lay down, I need to apologize to my wife properly,” he pulls the strings of your robe, dropping the fabric on the floor, revealing the sheer fabric to his hungry eye, “I’m an idiot for taking you for granted. Fuck, baby, you look so delicious.”

You pant as his words go straight to your core, heat filling your belly and your wetness oozing out of you slowly. He puts his palm on your chest, gently pushing you back on the cold surface of the piano before he spreads your legs properly, humming as his good eye finds your glistening cunt.

He kisses your knee before pulling his chair closer and sit on it, his tall body giving him the advantage of coming to the same height as your body. Aemond preps your inner thighs with kisses, marking his territory with each nibble and bite which are rewarded by gasps and whimpers from you ever here and there.

He kisses your navel sweetly, nuzzling his head into your hand when you reach down to smooth a few wandering strands of his hair out of his face. You keep him close when he finally, after who knows how long, gives into his urges and attaches his lips to your buzzing clit, moaning as your sweet nectar finally roots its taste onto his tongue.

He is starved, and you realize soon with how he keeps his face buried into your cunt, tongue flickering over the bundle of nerves, teeth sinking into your flesh a little. He doesn’t seem to care about how messy he is eating you out, he has set his goal of making you at least come on his tongue twice tonight.

“Aemond!” your moans fill the room, back arching off the piano as he keeps you down by his hands on your hips, the tip of his tongue collecting your wetness happily while you writhe beneath him, feeling the knot in your belly tightening by the second.

He knows you like the back of his hand, so he speeds up a little, focusing on sucking and licking your clit while you buck your hips to his face. He loves how desperate you are for him, all laid out and pretty and ready to come just for him.

“Fuck, love, I’m—” You throw your head back, tangling your fingers through his hair before you explode on his tongue, whines of pleasure making him dizzy. He keeps flickering his tongue until you stop twitching and push his face away from your swollen pussy.

He grins at your breathless form, caressing your thighs as he stands up and kisses a path from your lower belly up to your lips over your nightgown before he pulls you in a searing kiss, letting you taste yourself on his pink bruised lips.

“I could feast on you all day, sweetheart. I should write a ballad in honor of your pretty cunt,” “You are unbelievable!” You giggle, leaning on your elbows to kiss him again, moving until you are at the edge with your husband between your legs, “You said twice, why are you still up here?” You whisper against his lips.

“I saw how you looked at my hands earlier. I think it would be only fair to make sure you forgive me if I fuck you with my fingers, hmm? You love them, I’m sure they can be convincing enough.”

You nod, words failing to come out of your mouth when he pushes the strands of your nightgown down your shoulders, the chilly air of the room hitting your bare breasts. He leans down to kiss the top of your chest, writing the ballad he promised with his lips over your skin.

His hand moves down where he was a few minutes ago, long digits rubbing between your soaked folds slowly. He makes sure you aren’t as sensitive as you were before he pushes one finger in, keeping you close to him with a hand on your back while the other works his finger in and out of you, drowning your moans with passionate kisses.

He adds another one, curving his fingers inside you slightly as he pushes them deeper, reaching your sweet spots effortlessly with how skilled and long his fingers are — courtesy of practicing piano from a young age.

“Aemond, fuck—please!” your desperate whine adds fuel to the fire starting inside him, and he compiles, fucking you faster with his hand while the rock of his palm rubs your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

You fall apart again easily, gasping as your thighs start shaking with how good he makes you come, lips forming into an O-shape while he keeps his pace up, making sure that you ride your high gracefully before he pulls you in for another rough kiss, his tongue invading your mouth quickly.

“I need you so much, sweetheart,” he says, unbuckling his belt before he pushes his pants and boxers down enough to pull out his weeping cock, “let me have you, baby, please.” “Yes, yes I need you too. It’s been so so long, Aem,” you reach to stroke him gently, scooting closer to him so he can pull you down a little, keeping you tucked between his firm body and piano while somehow holding you up by his large palms under your ass.

You guide him toward your entrance, gasping in union as soon as the fat tip of his cock breaches past your ring of muscles before he pushes himself deep inside you until there is none to take.

You cling to his shoulders as soon as he settles inside your cunt, his hot breath fanning on your face as he gets adjusted to your warmth. It’s been too long for both of you, but he makes a promise to not make the same mistake again, ever.

“Fuck, love, I missed you so much,” he groans in your ear as he starts thrusting up into you, the angle making him reach the deepest part of your pussy easily.

“Me too, baby…” you gasp, hips snapping into his as he goes faster, less patient and ready to devour you thoroughly. You take what he gives you, deep hard strokes that rock your world and leave you breathless and a moaning mess. He relishes every sound that falls from your lips, thinking to himself how no classical piece can ever come close to how beautiful you sound when he pleasures you, and he silently beats himself for neglecting you so much.

He is close, embarrassingly fast and he can feel you tightening around his girth with each thrust. Aemond hides his face in your neck, quickening his pace as he fucks you roughly, pulling screams of ecstasy out of you with ease.

“Come inside me,” you bite his earlobe, your breasts rubbing against his covered chest as you lean upward a little, “I need you, please, husband.”

“Then come with me, come now so I can give my girl what she wants,” he replies, snapping his hips faster into yours until you crumble in his arms, gushing around his cock a few seconds before he follows you, keeping his hips still as he pumps you full of his warm cum, your name falling from his lips like a prayer.

“Don’t you dare put us through that again, Aem, do you hear me?” you ask him, kissing the side of his face lovingly.

“I’d rather die than upset you again, beloved.”

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen angst #aemond fanfiction #modern aemond #aemond targaryen smut #modern aemond targaryen #rue:smut #rue:angst

281 notes · View notes