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writinginatree · 6 months ago

Text

Too Sweet

Relationship(s): Xaden Riorson/female!reader

Summary: Xaden never understood how opposites could attract — not until he meets you and realizes that he doesn't have to understand your sweetness to cherish it.

Anonymous requested: I was thinking in a xaden fic based in "too sweet" from Hozier, where he's all like wanting the reader but also thinking like she deserved more, but with a happy ending ( maybe smutty too ✋🏻

Part 2

Xaden never understood that opposites were supposed to attract. On a physical level, sure. But when it comes to personality and ideology? How could anyone be with someone so wildly different from themselves that they can't possibly understand the other? Someone whose whole attitude to life is completely unlike their own? To him, it just seemed like a recipe for heartbreak. Then again, the saying only claims that opposites attract, not necessarily that they're compatible.

Since meeting you, this is something he's been thinking about a lot.

You're everything he is not; happy, bubbly, energetic, adored by just about everyone and making friends left and right. You're... sweet. There's no other way to put it. What someone like you is doing in the Riders Quadrant, Xaden doesn't know.

He tries to keep his distance at first — liking people is dangerous, and you're much too likable. Needless to say, it doesn't work. Being in the same squad, he constantly finds himself in your presence, and while he keeps to himself as much as he can, he finds it hard to outright avoid you. Almost against his will, he slowly gets to know you. He can't exactly help it, seeing as you sit next to him in almost every class, seek him out at mealtimes, asking him to come sit with the rest of your squad, offer smiles every time you pass him in the halls. You're everywhere, a persistent ray of sunshine piercing into the darkness of his life.

He doesn't understand you. Doesn't have a clue why you're so nice, or how you always manage to be so sociable, no matter what time it is or what lethal bullshit you're about to face, let alone why you seem to genuinely like him. Unlike most others, you have no prejudices against the marked ones, but even so, Xaden is not an easy person to like these days. He can't afford kindness, weakness. Not with all the lives that quite literally rest upon his back.

But no matter how curt he is, no matter how often he only gives one-word answers to your steady stream of chatter or declines your offers to study together, your friendliness never wavers. Every morning your beaming smile greets him in the gathering hall at breakfast, and as days turn into weeks, he often finds his gaze automatically scanning the room for you upon entering, hoping to catch a glimpse of that precious smile. Your presence becomes a comforting part of his routine, always there and yet never intruding. For all your persistence in trying to include him, you're never overbearing. You don't push him when he doesn't join your squad's study session, give him opportunity to join a conversation should he want to, but accept when he doesn't.

He shouldn't get too used to your presence — two of your year-mates have died already, and there's no guarantee you won't be next. Life is dangerous in the Riders Quadrant, and Xaden keeps wondering why someone so sweet would choose this life. You seem more like the type who would be a healer — or maybe even a baker or gardener, far away from the cruelty of war. And yet you thrive even in this environment. He supposes he could just ask you about it, but he doesn't want to get to know you, gods damn it.

Thinking back later, Xaden will realize that the superficial attraction he felt for you from the first starts to grow toward something more the first time your squad leader pairs him with you for a sparring session.

He has already seen you fight at Assessment, but facing you on the mat himself, he gets a much more intimate feeling of your fighting style. You're fast, full of the same energy that is in everything you do, smiling even as you struggle to dodge his punches and get past his defense. You're good. Not as good as him, but your enthusiasm makes up for that. Xaden has to admit — at least to himself — that sparring with you is actually fun. The training session seems to be over in the blink of an eye, and as you step off the mat, both of you sweaty and breathing hard, Xaden is already looking forward to the next, hoping he'll get you as his sparring partner again.

For once he allows himself to be drawn into conversation, answering your questions on how to improve your technique as you walk out of the gym side by side.

The better he gets to know you, the more he has to keep reminding himself to stay away from you, that you're too sweet for him. But, oh, it's hard; he enjoys your company so much. Garrick has caught on, too, teasing him about what he calls his crush on the sunshine girl every time he sees him talking to you. And though Xaden vehemently denies having such a silly thing as a crush, he can't even convince himself of that, let alone his best friend. Having known him as long as he does, Garrick always sees right through him.

The relief Xaden feels at Threshing when he lands and spots you already standing on the flight field in front of a Red is immense. He quickly shoves the feeling down, preferring not to think about what it implies. He does not have a crush, and the last thing he needs is for his dragon to think him a lovesick fool and change its mind about bonding him while it still can. He feels the unfamiliar presence of her in the back of his mind, her golden eyes piercing into him after he dismounts.

He feels all the other people's gazes on him, too, the disapproving stares from where leadership is seated on the dais, their disdain for him permeating the very air. He keeps his head high as he walks to the rollkeeper, refusing to so much as look at the people who'd doubtlessly been hoping he would meet his end in the woods today.

Blood keeps trickling into his eye from the cut Sgaeyl gave him. It stings, but the annoyance of it is worse than the pain. Pain is fine. But constantly having to blink away the blood blurring his vision, feeling it run down his cheek like tears — it makes his skin crawl with discomfort. He's not going to seek out the professors giving first-aid, though. Bothersome as it might be, it's just a little cut, and he can't afford to look weak.

As he walks back to Sgaeyl, his eyes automatically find you in the crowd of mingling first-years, just as they always do. You're watching him, too, but unlike everyone else whose gazes darken, you smile at the sight of him. When you notice him looking, you wave and start toward him. As you get closer, Xaden notes a split in your lip and a blood-soaked bandage around your thigh, but since you're hardly even limping, Xaden assumes that the injury can't be very bad. No, if anything, there's even more of a spring to your walk than usual, your hair bouncing with every step.

Instead of stopping in front of him when you reach him, you throw your arms around him, squeezing him tight, and suddenly, Xaden doesn't remember how to breathe. No one just hugs him out of nowhere like that. No one would even dream of hugging him at all. And yet here you are, doing just that and apparently thinking nothing of it, judging by the easy smile on your face when you let go after a couple of seconds.

"I'm glad you made it," you say. "I mean, I never doubted it, but still."

"I'm glad you made it, too," he admits, quiet enough that none of the people nearby will hear. He allows himself to return your smile, just for a moment, absentmindedly lifting his hand to wipe blood from his eye again. Your gaze immediately snags on the cut, a small crease appearing between your own brows.

"Your dragon?" you ask.

Xaden nods.

"You'd think the relics they'll give us should be enough to mark us as theirs, but apparently not. Mine stabbed me in the thigh."

"Daggertail?"

"Swordtail. Went right through and back out on the other side, but luckily she didn't cut through anything important." You shrug, the grin reappearing on your face as you tilt your head to the side, studying him. "That'll be one hell of a badass scar you're gonna have there."

Xaden bites back another smile, watching with slight confusion as you remove the kerchief you're wearing around your neck today. For a moment, Xaden catches a flash of glitter dotting the black cloth, then it's too close to see clearly as you bring the balled up fabric to his brow and dab up the blood. Your touch is much gentler than his own, and, with the cloth soaking up the blood, much more effective, too.

After a few seconds you pull back, pressing your now bloody neckerchief into his hand. "Keep it."

"Thanks," he mutters past the lump he suddenly seems to have in his throat.

He'll never get used to how kind you are. It's such a little thing, to notice how much the blood in his eye was bothering him and do something about it, and yet it means more to him than you could ever know. It'll probably take a while until the wound completely stops bleeding, but with your kerchief to wipe at it, at least it won't bleed all over his face anymore.

He pretends to listen as you start rambling about your dragon and the thrill of the short flight here, and though Xaden agrees that there's nothing that can compare to the feeling of flying, he can't focus enough to keep up with the sheer endless rush of words. It should be annoying, he thinks. The constant happy babbling, the needless touching — even now you're standing much closer than necessary, shaking his arm as you bounce on your feet while telling him about a particularly exciting part of approaching Milis. If anyone else did that, he'd shove them away to get some space, tell them to stop being so childish. But for some reason it doesn't bother him when you're the one doing it.

Spotting Garrick in the crowd, Xaden hurriedly uses the excuse to walk away toward his best friend. Turning his mind to more practical matters, he forces his thoughts away from you with great difficulty, still reeling from your unreasonable kindness.

After Threshing, something changes, and Xaden finds himself spending more and more time in your company. Maybe it's just that you and him are slowly crystalizing out to be the most powerful in your squad. Or maybe he's going down a slippery slope, no idea where it might lead but unable to stop the descent.

Too sweet, that's what you are. But then, Xaden has always liked sweet things. He remembers when he was a child, being told that all those sugary things he liked so much would hurt his teeth. With you, he feels similar to how he did then; afraid of the hurt he might be causing himself in the long run and wishing to preserve himself from it, but unable to resist the immediate temptation of sweetness. He craves it, that contrast you bring to the usual bitterness that is his life.

And it's refreshing to be around someone who isn't scared of him, even if he still doesn't understand why you aren't intimidated of him like everyone else. Despite your easygoing attitude and bubbly personality, you're far from a fool, unrelenting and self-preservative when need be.

It's an uncomfortable thought, the idea that maybe you're seeing past the stoic facade he keeps, know that he wouldn't hurt you unless you hurt him first. He's not used to people seeing him for who he is anymore, only for who he has to be. The Great Betrayer's son, the heir apparent, the revolution's leader. Traitor or hero, depending on who you ask. But with you, he can simply be Xaden. It scares him, that vulnerability you bring out in him, but he'd be lying if he claimed not to like how simple everything seems when he's with you.

The only difficulty is the secrets he is forced to keep. Luckily, you're very understanding when he says he doesn't want to talk about anything to do with his father's rebellion, and if you suspect that he's up to anything illegal, you don't show it. Some of it — like the meetings with all the marked ones in the quadrant to make sure everyone is helping each other get by — he could probably trust you with. By now, he knows you well enough to know you wouldn't immediately jump to the worst conclusions, would probably even help him sneak out. But in a way, the worst possible conclusions are uncomfortably close to the truth, and he can't risk revealing even such a comparatively harmless secret. No, the less you know, the better — for both of you.

Enjoy your company as he might, sometimes it does grate on his nerves, that seemingly endless happy energy you radiate. Like today, sitting at breakfast and tired out of his mind as he sips on his second mug of coffee when you come bouncing into the gathering hall, fresh from the gym. If he didn't know you get up before sunrise every morning to lift weights with another girl from your squad before breakfast, he'd think you came straight from your bed after a full night's sleep. Of course, even with getting up almost two hours earlier than necessary, you're most certainly still getting more sleep than he is.

Sliding into your usual seat beside him, you greet everyone with more enthusiasm than anyone should have at this time of morning. Xaden returns only the barest of nods, which is more than he's spared anyone else so far. He can already tell this is not going to be his day, and he doesn't feel like wasting energy on being sociable.

You know better than to take it personally, humming a happy little melody under your breath as you start to eat.

As much as Xaden normally enjoys the sound of your voice, the noise in the hall is already bad enough, and he doesn't need you adding to it. "Would you stop that?" he snaps, more harshly than he had intended.

You fall quiet with an apologetic smile, and Xaden immediately feels bad about losing his patience on you.

He downs the rest of his coffee, contemplating whether or not getting another mug of it would help his mood. Probably not, but it's worth a try to keep from snapping at you again. You're trying to be considerate, doubtlessly having noticed that the dark circles under his eyes are even more pronounced than usual, but it simply isn't in your nature to be quiet for long. He likes that — most of the time, at least. The silence he takes refuge in can feel suffocating at times; having you around to break it makes life decidedly more bearable.

"Maybe you'd be less tired if you tried going to bed a little earlier," you tease.

The glare he levels on you is the kind that would have a lesser person shrinking in their seat, as evident by the wary looks from your squadmates, but you're not intimidated in the least. If anything, your smile only widens.

Unbelievable.

"How do you want to know what time I go to bed?"

You shrug. "You know I have the room next to yours. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, and when I look out of the window then there's always light coming from your window."

"Stalker," he mutters, rolling his eyes when you giggle. The sound effortlessly melts away the worst of his irritation, leaving him still tired and moody, but decidedly less likely to kill anyone for testing his patience.

"I wasn't stalking you on purpose," you defend yourself, the laughter lingering in your voice, "I just like looking at the snow in the moonlight. It's always so pretty, don't you think?"

Xaden shrugs. It's been a long time since he's spared any thought to the beauty of nature. The next time he can't sleep — which is almost all the time — he'll try to enjoy the nightly view from his window too, he decides, if only so he can understand what you like about it.

"The snow would be all nice and well if we didn't have to fly in it," your squadmate inserts themself into the conversation. "Have you seen how much is coming down right now?"

You nod. "Maybe it'll let up until our turn on the flight field. Milis says if this keeps up, she and the other dragons might just refuse to show up." Quieter, only for Xaden, you add, "Let's hope they don't, then you can use the time for a nap instead."

"I don't need a nap," he grumbles back, just as quietly. Truth be told, he probably could use one, but if he were able to sleep, he wouldn't be this tired.

"You sure? I'll even sing you a lullaby if you'd like."

You wink at him, grinning in that way only you can, and Xaden knows that despite your playful manner, you're serious about helping him fall asleep if you can.

He shakes his head, smiling against his will. "You're a dork."

"And you're an insomniac."

"I'm fine."

"Whatever you say."

People's intimidation of him turns to outright fear once his signet manifests, shadows stirring wherever he goes. As usual, you're the exception. Your eyes shine with awe and something like pride as you watch him demonstrate his newfound powers to you with rapt fascination, not a trace of fear to be found.

"That's amazing!" You bring a hand to the shadow closest to you, gingerly brushing your fingers along it. Xaden feels goosebumps rise on his skin, as if it had been him you touched. "They're actually solid! How is that even possible?"

"No idea," Xaden admits. "I'm only just starting to figure out how it works."

As his signet grows stronger, your shadow is the one he's most aware of. Even when you're not in the same room — or even the same building — as him, he always knows exactly where you are and what you're doing. It's not what he should be using this power for, but the shadows seem to have a mind of their own. They're very attached to you. Or maybe he's just making that up to excuse his embarrassing lack of control. It's not like he wants to be some kind of obsessive stalker; he simply can't help the fact that you're constantly on his mind.

If you have noticed that the shadows near you always seem more alive than is natural as of late, you haven't mentioned it. Not very surprising, considering you're occupied with trying to control your own water wielding signet. Xaden has taken more than one involuntary bath since it manifested a couple weeks ago, and has learned to keep his distance from you while drinking water. When you lose control, it's always him getting drenched, as though your water is drawn to him the same way his shadows are to you. It wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't the middle of fucking winter. You always try to remove the moisture from his clothes afterwards, but while you have already gotten a little better at it, even your best efforts don't get them any less than damp, so Xaden — or whoever else falls victim to your flood — is left either freezing his ass off in wet clothes, or making himself late to the next class by returning to his room to get changed.

Worst of all, Xaden can't even bring himself to be mad at you about it. He's no better; the only difference is that, so far, his shadows haven't tried to drown anyone.

He probably shouldn't be thinking about that incident as often as he does, and he definitely shouldn't be so giddy about it. It was hotter than it had any right to be, watching you almost murder someone on his account. It also made his heart flutter with a whole array of feelings he can't even begin to name. While Xaden obviously doesn't need your protection, the fact that you're willing to publicly stand up for him means a lot. The knowledge that you got so angry in defense of him, that you wielded enough water to flood a whole stairway without even meaning to because someone had been talking shit about him... Just thinking about it makes him more emotional than he'd like.

But while your signet can be wild and destructive, the water is usually gentle. It's an accurate reflection of you, he thinks, untamed and unpredictable, inherently soft but just as capable of terrible harm when provoked. When you're calm and in control, the water flows steadily along like the ever present stream of your chatter, lively and somehow soothing at the same time. Xaden enjoys watching it, how it can flow through even the smallest crack, how it glitters in the light. He enjoys watching you wield it even more, the look of concentration on your face, the beaming smile when you get it to do what you want. It's hypnotizing. A dangerous distraction he really can't afford. He loses track of everything else all too easily when he's with you. You're an undertow, irresistibly pulling him in, and Xaden would happily drown in your sweet waters.

When his lips finally meet yours for the first time, you taste as sweet as Xaden's favorite chocolate cake, and he's instantly addicted.

Afterward, he's not even sure how it happened. You'd been sitting in commons after doing homework together, enjoying a few more minutes of quiet in each other's presence before turning in for the night. You'd rested your head on his shoulder, smiling up at him as he teased you about already being tired so early in the evening, the only other sound the dripping of the melting snow outside the window. Then, before he even knew what he was doing, Xaden had leaned down and kissed you.

Lying in bed that night, he still can't believe it. Even harder to believe is the fact that you'd kissed back, smiling from ear to ear and gracing him with another peck of your lips when he'd wished you a good night and fled to his room. He still feels the ghost of your lips against his, imagines he can still taste you as he licks them.

Trying to form a coherent thought feels like swimming through an ocean of thick, cloying sweet honey. When he closes his eyes, there's only you. Your bright smile and soft eyes, the sound of your laugh, the feeling of your lips, over and over again. The tiny part of him still capable of logic is telling him he made a mistake, that he should stay the fuck away from you. Indulging the feelings for you, which he is no longer able to deny, can't lead anywhere good. He should turn back while he still can, for your sake as much as his own.

You deserve someone nicer, someone you won't be in danger for associating with, who doesn't have so much to hide. Someone who can openly worship the ground you walk on, prioritize you over everything else. Xaden wishes he could be that person, but the burden he took on after his father's death won't allow it.

He plans on telling you as much, but when he sees you in the hall the next morning, he can't bring himself to get the words out. Your face lights up at the sight of him, the awareness of the joy his presence brings you making his heart ache. Then you come skipping over and peck his cheek, first making sure nobody is watching, which has Xaden melting all over again. No, as much as he knows he should end this before it can really start, he simply can't.

You walk to breakfast in companionable silence, which Xaden is very grateful for. He's not ready to talk about whatever this is that's developing between you. You'll have to, eventually, he knows. He'll have to decide if he wants to accept that he's smitten and just see where this will go, vulnerability and problems that would come with it and all, or if he wants to try and shut you out. It's barely a choice, considering how he loathes every moment he's apart from you. He should have never allowed himself to get this close in the first place, but now it's too late.

"You shouldn't be seen with me so much," he tells you a few days later. The both of you are late for math because you'd been too busy making out in an empty corridor to hear the bells, and he can't help but worry what everyone will think when they see you walk in together, kiss-swollen lips and all. "People will say you associate with traitors."

The roll of your eyes is a stark contrast to the gentle tone of your voice when you reply. "People see us together all the time, Xaden. It's not any different just because we're more than friends now. And I don't care what they think, anyway. You're not a traitor, and anyone who thinks you are is an idiot and doesn't matter."

Xaden has to bite his lip to keep silent. If only you knew what he's been up to. Dragging you into the revolution is the last thing he wants, and yet, he can't help but imagine how much nicer it all would be with you by his side. With a sense of justice as strong as yours, you would certainly want to help if you knew the truth of what's out there. No matter. He's not going to put you into that danger, not with how uncertain everything still is.

Twice him and Garrick have managed to smuggle weapons out now, chancing upon a friendly drift by mere luck the first time. Twice is not enough to determine whether they'll get away with it in the long run. For all he knows, someone could already be suspecting them — which is exactly why you should not be seen with him. Even unaware as you are, it's not safe.

And what if you catch on? Xaden knows you know he has secrets, and adores you even more for not pushing the matter, but eventually, your curiosity is bound to get the best of you. If you find out about the weapons runs, he'll either have to tell you what leadership has been hiding — which will sound like madness when he has no way to prove it — or let you believe him to be a traitor without reason. He can't imagine either.

Unfortunately, you choose just then to say, "You know, I missed you at dinner yesterday."

Xaden acknowledges your comment with a nod but doesn't reply, unwilling to lie but unable to tell you that he'd snuck out with Garrick to deliver the weapons they'd stolen for the fliers.

"I'm not saying that because I want to stalk you or anything," you continue. It's become sort of a running joke between the two of you to call the other a stalker for such observations. "It's just that you had me worried. Maybe next time you could let me know when you're going to be busy?"

"Yeah. I can do that," Xaden says, praying you won't ask where he's been.

"Thank you." You smile, briefly halting your steps to give him another kiss, and Xaden is too lost in the sweetness of it to notice you've already reached the classroom until you open the door.

Despite his resolution to not let your relationship — or whatever it is — progress any further, he does. It's like any time he's near you, he loses all common sense.

Sgaeyl is getting annoyed with him, telling him to make up his mind. It is clear he's already made his decision, she says, so he might as well commit to it. She's right, of course, even if Xaden hates to admit it.

He doesn't want to be the selfish asshole he feels he's being by letting himself bask in your presence every chance he gets, by allowing himself to dream of a future with you by his side. It's unattainable, no matter how much he wants it, and yet there's a tiny part of him that dares to hope and refuses to settle for less. You may not have actually talked about your feelings so far, but Xaden knows you want a real, deeper relationship with him as much as he does. It could all be so perfect, if there weren't all those responsibilities Xaden has to think of, the lives depending on him. He can't drag you into that mess in good conscience; just imagining that inherent joy leaving your eyes as the truth destroys your faith in humanity makes him feel sick.

Maybe he could be with you without letting you find out? You always respect his privacy, never probe about the secrets you know he has.

But no, he can't keep you in the dark forever. He'll tell you, sooner or later. You deserve to know the truth, terrible as it is. You deserve to fight by his side, if you so choose. Whatever horrors the future holds, Xaden wants to face them together with you.

"I don't know if this is such a good idea," he admits one night, lying in your bed. One last, half-hearted attempt to make you see he's bad for you. And if you brush it off like you always do, he'll accept that you want him too, consequences be damned.

"What isn't?"

"Us."

"Why not?" you ask, voice as soft as the drizzle of rain falling outside the window.

There's more than a dozen reasons he could list, but most of them have to do with matters he can't — won't — tell you about. Someday he will, if the world keeps turning long enough, but for the time being, it's better you don't know.

"I'm not sweet like you," he mumbles instead.

You just smile, the way you always do when he's being difficult. "No, I guess not. But you're not the bad guy you want people to think you are, either."

"You can't possibly know that."

He thinks of everything you don't know, the secrets he's hiding. Would you still think the same of him if you knew the truth about him, everything he really is?

"I do, though. You're not a bad guy," you repeat with a gentleness he doesn't deserve. "You're just you. A survivor. Maybe a bit broody. But that's okay, 'cause I love you just the way you are."

Your fingers brush a few stray hairs from his forehead, and the last of Xaden's resolve crumbles. Neither of you had dared use the word love so far; hearing it now, Xaden wants you to say it over and over again.

"Good. Because you're not getting rid of me anymore."

"No?"

"No. Even if you probably should."

"Good." You smile, ignoring the second half of what he said, and brush your lips against his. "Now stop worrying so much and go to sleep."

#xaden riorson x reader #xaden riorson #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing imagine #xaden riorson imagine #female!reader #requested

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writingouthere · 1 year ago

Text

exboyfriend!Sukuna x f!reader.

cw: smut, outdoor sex, angst, controlling behavior.

Your date was a disappointment.

The guy wasn't an asshole or anything, but at some point he'd talked about cryptocurrency for ten minutes straight without you saying a word and there was no coming back from that.

"I had a great time," he tells you as you stand on the subway platform after finally escaping the restaurant. You nod noncommittally and wonder if this is the part where he asks for your number. You're calculating the risk/reward of giving him a fake number and having him potentially call it while you're still right in front of him when you hear a familiar laugh from behind you.

"I doubt it," the voice says and you close your eyes. Maybe if you wish hard enough you can develop teleportation and not have to deal with this.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" your date asks, his voice only wavering a little as he looks at your ex-boyfriend. Honestly, you admire him. The sight of the tall, heavily tattooed (alleged) criminal was usually enough to make people cross the street to avoid him but not this accountant? Investment baker? Dentist? Fuck, he'd talked about his job for thirty minutes and you had not been listening. You would have guilty if you weren't actively judging him for not even noticing your lack of engagement.

Whatever, he probably wasn't brave, he was probably just an idiot.

Sukuna seemed to agree as he laughed again and put his hand on your shoulder.

"I'm her boyfriend."

Your date looked at him, looked at you, and seemed to be weighing if this was worth one mediocre date. He seemed frozen for a second until Sukuna took a step forward and the guy's previously dormant survival instincts seemed to awaken and he booked it down the train platform.

Once he was out of sight, you took Sukuna's hand and dropped it off your shoulder like a fallen leaf that had got stuck on your jacket.

"Are you following me, now?" You wouldn't have put it past him. You turn to face your ex who looks not only unrepentant for his little routine but vindicated. Or maybe he just looks vindictive, you can never tell.

"Are you going on dates with any loser that asks?" He tosses back and you roll your eyes.

"You didn't even meet him."

"So, he wasn't a loser? And you weren't deciding if it was worth giving him a fake number and having him call you right then?"

You hated that he knew you so well.

"He seemed the type to call," you concede and Sukuna scoffs.

"Absolutely, that fucker is. Women have been giving that dumb fuck fake numbers since he was begging for them with his little Nokia flip phone."

"Is Nokia still a thing?" you ask and Sukuna glares at you.

"Do I look like Google to you? Hey, don't try to district me, princess. We were talking about how you seem to have gotten it into your mind that you can cheat on me with any guy with a pulse."

"I'm not cheating on, we're not together," you tell him as your train pulls up. You don't bother protesting as he follows you on it, even though you know the old apartment you used to share is in the other direction from your new place.

"The fuck we're not," he seethes. The other riders look at you and you see one or two guys deciding if it's worth trying to get involved but you're more concerned about the teenage girl who looks ready to fight this asshole for you. God, you loved women.

"You're making a scene," you tell him and he looks ready to make the scene Oscar worthy before you give him the look that used to make him not call your friends' babies ugly when you went to birthday parties.

"Where can we talk then?"

"I'm not taking you to my place," you say and he sucks his teeth.

"Then let's go home."

"You mean to your home."

Sukuna looks furious but you're not in the mood. You had just spent the past two hours on a terrible date, which made you think about how dating was just going to be like this until you found a new boyfriend or gave up, which then made you think about your break up and how up until a few months ago, you thought you would never go on a first date with anyone ever again.

You hated that Sukuna had put you here and you hated that you still loved him.

"I'm not leaving until we talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about."

You're so tired, Sukuna is so close and it's been so long since you got to smell him or feel his warmth. Your apartment was still barely furnished but everything in it was new and it still didn't feel like home. The one sweatshirt of his you'd let yourself take had stopped carrying his scent weeks ago, and just being close to him now, it made something in you relax. Like you were finally home.

"There fucking is," he hisses and now he's so close you can make out the scar on his jaw and the fullness of his lips. You used to tease him that you'd never met a man whose lips were as soft as his. He may have looked like tough shit, but you would never catch him out of the house without lotion and chapstick.

You wondered if he was still using the cherry chapstick you had bought him at the grocery store the week before you'd broken up.

"Are you going to marry me? Are you going to give me a baby?"

"Princess-"

"Then there's nothing to talk about," you say and you thank whoever's watching that the train is pulling up to your stop. You get off and Sukuna is right on your heels.

"You don't even want those things right now, why the fuck does it even matter?"

"I want them eventually and if you're not willing to give them to me, then I just don't think I need to keep wasting my time."

You're roughly dragged into a nearby alley and tossed against a brick wall. Sukuna's hand cups the back of your head, taking the force of the slam and you hate that he watches out for you even when he's being a controlling jackass.

"Being with me is wasting your time? Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"Not your girlfriend," you snap back. "Let go, I want to go home."

"Fuck you," he tells you and you're about ready to fight him, grown scary man or not when he leans down and his lips are on yours.

They taste like cherry chapstick.

His hand on the back of your head tightens, his thumb pressing against your neck and making you shiver. His other hand is pressed tight to your jaw and when you gasp against his mouth, he presses down as if he can hold you open and consume you so you can't leave him again.

His muscled thigh is in between yours and you can feel the rough texture of his jeans, the same pair he wore to work, the same pair you'd put through the washing machine a thousand times, rub against where your legs are only covered in tights. The shorter than usual skirt meant to entice your date, and instead it was being taken advantage of by your ex-boyfriend.

Sukuna let go of your face so he could put his hand underneath the fabric of your skirt.

"New outfit?" He teases as his hand slides to the top of your tights.

"Got it for my date," you snap and he growls at you before he rips the seams of your tights. Before you can complain, he's dragging them down your thighs and diving into your panties so he can get to your cunt. The underwear is new too and a pained noise leaves you at the sensation of them snapping against your inner thigh, both at the pain and the thought of how much they cost.

"I still have those blue ones you like at home, the ones you wore for my birthday last year," he tells you as he slides his finger down the seam of your cunt. You're wet and it annoys you because orgasming has been a bitch to achieve since you had to start giving them to yourself again.

"You can keep them," you tell him and he bites your lower lip between his teeth, they'd always felt too sharp for a man and you know you're a twitch or a less than playful nibble away from a busted lip.

"They're not really up for wearing anymore anyway."

You want to ask him what he means by that as he kisses down your neck and thrusts one finger into you, the slide almost unholy.

"So fucking wet, your cunt was always better at talking than you were."

The sensation of being filled even though it's not enough it's not enough begins to itch at your need to be satisfied as your mind fills in the gaps of his previous words.

You can imagine Sukuna in the bed you used to share, the dark blue sheets and the comforter covered in a black pattern that had reminded you of the marks that covered his body. One hand holding your favorite pair of panties and the other his big cock, that sometimes you missed even more than him.

Did he use the panties to jerk off with, the fabric just an expensive tissue for his cum? Did he hold them to his nose and pretend he could still smell your pussy on them in the bed that used to smell like both of you? You had tried watching porn and reading smut, the stuff you had relied on before you were together, and nothing compared to what it felt like to come from his fingers, his tongue, his cock.

The only times you had touched yourself when you were together were when Sukuna had wanted to watch, his commentary pushing you to the edge. He had always known what to say.

Good girl, now try two fingers for me. Not enough? Do you need my cock? Fucking slutty princess, eh?

No matter how demeaning his words were, you had never felt true shame because his desire for you was always apparent. Sukuna never held back praise where he felt it was deserved, and he had always been quick to let you know that what you were doing was pleasing him.

"Pay attention to me, princess. I'd hate to think I was boring you." The words are laced with cruelty and the added pressure of a second figure is harsh, too soon, and still not enough.

The hand in your hair tightens, but the grip still careful not to mess it up beyond repair. Something you'd been adamant about in the beginning days of your relationship. The gentleness of it, of him, makes you cry out.

Since Sukuna was the only one who still seemed cognizant of how you were in an alley, only a right turn from being on a public sidewalk, he was quick to catch your moan in his mouth. Nearly purring in reply, a ridiculous thing for a ridiculous man to do.

"Fuck, that's it. No one else can make you feel like this, this cunt is fucking mine."

"Yes," you hiss out in agreement. Pleased with your concession, Sukuna's thumb swipes over your clit as he continues his punishing rhythm with his fingers. You can hear how wet you are as it echoes off the brick around you. Even though it's cold outside, you feel almost too hot between the warmth of his body shielding yours from the world around you and the heat that's continuing to build up in your core.

"So close, I know you are. Beg me, princess and I might let you come," he whispers in your ear and you would feel embarrassed of the whine you let out if you weren't so close.

"Please, Sukuna. Please, let me come!"

"I don't know. Not sure if I should reward you since you've apparently being going around giving this pussy to fucking anyone."

You shake your head. "No, I haven't slept with anyone since we broke up."

Sukuna kisses you so hard, you're grateful for the hand behind your head because you know his knuckles must be bruised from the force he kisses you with. Sukuna pulls back, a string of saliva connecting his lips to yours and you hate that you find that hot. That this whole thing is hot.

For a second, the softness in his eyes takes your breath away and you almost forget about where you are and what you're doing and why it's the worst idea you've ever had. He's just Sukuna, the love of your life and you miss him so much.

You think he might say something crazy like he loves you or even propose but then the softness is gone and he just grins at you.

"Alright, come then, you've earned it."

With permission granted, Sukuna focuses his attention on your clit in just that way you like in the way that only someone who's done this hundreds of times could do. He's definitely leaving hickies around your collarbone and neck, but for now they feel good and when you come, you bite your lip knowing it will be bruised. A reminder of how you're an idiot when you look at it in the mirror tomorrow.

Still soft with your orgasm, you reach down to return the favor but Sukuna grabs your hand.

"I'm not walking around with cum in my jeans," he tells you, kissing your palm. Typical of him, to end something crass with something sweet. You sigh as he puts you back down on the ground. You pull up what remains of your tights, the fabric uncomfortable on your quickly drying thighs. Your ripped panties lie on the ground and Sukuna looks at them forlornly before shaking his head, dirty alleyway panties apparently being too much even for him.

Sukuna grabs the bag you'd dropped when he'd kissed you and gestures for you to exit the alley. A few passersby give you strange looks but you figure if you were going to be arrested for public indecency, it would have happened already.

"I guess we're going to mine," you say. "I live like another two blocks this way."

"I know," Sukuna says already heading that way.

You blow a piece of hair out of your eye. "Of course you do."

When Sukuna actually types in the passcode to your building you almost lose it, but you're tired and honestly you had kind of expected to just come home to him already in your apartment at some point. Sukuna had never been great at respecting boundaries. Or the law.

You unlock the door to your apartment, it takes everything in you not to ask if he already has a key. You don't want to know. He follows you in and the two of you sit at the dingy two person table you have set up by one of the only windows.

"Cozy."

"Fuck you." He smirks in that way that has always made you want to punch him and you're reminded that you're currently wearing shredded tights.

"Sukuna, you wanted to talk. So talk."

The smirk leaves his face and he looks at his nails, pressing his thumb against the one on his pointer finger and then looking through the 'o' formed there. "You left."

"I did."

He looks at you. "Why?"

"You know why," you say, tired again.

"Sure, you want to get married at some point. You want a baby at some point. I don't see what that has to do with us, right now."

"Because right now leads to that some point. It doesn't just happen. There are things I want, that are important to me. If they're not important to you, then I need to find someone who has the same priorities as me."

"Because I'm not your priority," he says and this is the rehash of an argument you'd had a thousand times. Sukuna was selfish and possessiveness and while that had always granted you a certain security, it had also been a chain you'd constantly worn around your ankle. You weren't going to defend your time at work or with friends to your boyfriend. That belonged to a different time, to different women and it had been a nonnegotiable early in your relationship that he figure that shit out with himself.

"Sukuna, I love you but I'm not going to give up what I want for my future because you don't want it. You don't have to want it, in fact I appreciate that you've been honest about it-"

"So appreciative, you left me," the words are almost snarled and you sigh.

"That's not fair. You can't be mad I want something else, the same way I'm not mad that you want something else. It's not a character flaw to not want to get married, or to not what kids. It just means you have a person out there for you who shares that view. Because it's not me."

"Why can't it be enough to just have a life with the two of us?"

"It's not about whether or it's enough, it's about me wanting something else."

There's a pause. Sukuna claws at the dents already in your battered table and deepens the grooves as you try not to flinch at the sound of his nails bearing down on wood.

Finally, he responds. "You know, I spent my childhood, my teens and a lot of adulthood raising Yuuji because our piece of shit parents couldn't be bothered and let me tell you. It's fucking hard. It is constant and they need so much for you. I didn't do anything but work and watch him for almost two decades and I don't want to do that again. I want my own life."

"I understand," you tell him. "That was a lot, even if you did a great thing by taking him in."

"It wasn't because I was nice. You seem to be forgetting that I'm a murderer. And you want me to fucking watch Bluey with some brat."

"You may not be nice but you do right by the people you care about. I also don't think you've murdered a baby, it would probably be okay."

"That's more incidental than a conscience choice," he says and you know he has to hear how ridiculous he sounds.

"Alright. I respect your decision but for what it's worth, we're not kids anymore and you wouldn't be doing this alone. I think Yuuji turned out pretty great because he had you, and I think any kid of our would be lucky to have you as a dad."

"You would really do all that with me," he says and his voice is as close to wonderous as you've ever heard it. "You really are a lost cause."

You try not to react, remind yourself that this is always how Sukuna responds to affection. He'd laughed at you the first time you'd told him you loved him. You'd punched him and broken your hand on his chin. He'd told you he loved you in the ER as the attendant resetting your hand looked on in horror.

"I think that's enough for today. Thanks for stopping by and for the orgasm, appreciate it," you say, rising from the chair. You walk the short trip to your door and open it. "Hope you have a safe trip home."

Sukuna stays seated. "That's it?"

"Yeah, Sukuna, that's it."

"And if I said I could do this, I could give you those things."

You think about it and look him over. How his hands twitch as if only his ego is preventing them from clenching. The clear trauma that was informing his previous stance.

"I'd say take some time and maybe talk to someone. I don't want to do this with someone who can just bring themselves to bear it. I want them to be as excited as me."

"That's asking for a lot from a guy."

"But someone will do it." Sukuna looks angry again and when he steps in your space, you push him gently away with your hand. He goes to hold it and even the familiar scrape of his calluses against your skin can't make you waver.

"Bye, Sukuna."

Sukuna looks at you, waiting for you to give in you know but you won't.

He leaves without another word.

When the door to the stairwell slams shut, you finally let yourself cry.

----------

It's been a month since you've seen Sukuna and you're on another date.

The guy is unoffensive. He gave you a hug when you met up and he'd made a joke about the plethora of other couples at the restaurant. You two started playing a game where you tried to guess how many dates each couple had been on?

"Three, she's finally figured out she can't put up with how he chews no matter how nicely coiffed his hair is," your date says as you take another sip of your drink.

"That's a second date, his chewing is a commit or quit type of deal and she looks ready to go. Bet they didn't eat together on their first date."

"Is he telling the plot to Dune, he has not stopped talking since we sat down," he says and you giggle despite yourself.

You've just started on the couple both looking determinedly at their phones by the window when your phone rings.

"Sorry, I need to take this," you say and he smiles.

"No worries, I'll let you know how many times she misses her mouth while looking at her phone."

You wave as you go to stand outside. You take a deep breath and then answer.

"Hey."

"Hey, princess. Bad time?"

"No, just, what do you want?"

"Well, I'm planning this first date with this girl and I'm having trouble figuring out how to explain something."

You want to throw up, what kind of test is this?

"What do you want to say?"

"Well, I've heard that it's important to be straightforward with your intentions, so you don't waste anyone's time."

"And what are your intentions?" You manage to spit out and he laughs, his smugness almost seeping out the phone.

"Well not anytime soon, but eventually I think I'd like a little brat. You know, prove to Yuuji that he wasn't a fluke."

You heart is pounding and you hate him. You love him.

"Uh huh."

"And I guess it would probably be easier to do that if we just got married. You know, taxes, healthcare, I still don't have healthcare but my wife will and I've heard you can add people to that."

"This proposal is the fucking worst one I've ever heard," you say, trying to ignore the fact you are now crying in front of a restaurant. People walk by giving you pitying looks, probably think you got stood up.

"It's not a proposal, it's a framing of intent."

"Why do you talk like such an old man, we are almost the same age?"

"Why do you talk like such a brat?"

"You know-"

"Probably," he says and you laugh despite yourself.

"So when is this date?"

"Tonight," he says. "You can wear that dress you're wearing, it looks perfect on you."

"Are you fucking here, you creep?"

"That's no way to talk to your future husband and no. That place is a shithole, I'm at our usual."

"Good, I've missed it. No one makes my drink the way I like it," you tell him and he hums.

"Well, it will be waiting for you when you get here. So get here soon."

"Alright, I'll see you soon."

Sukuna hangs up and you stand there. There's a perfectly nice guy inside. One who makes you laugh and who maybe one day you could grow to love.

But there's another guy across town who is sitting at your favorite restaurant, ordering your favorite drink. His lips taste like the organic chapstick, he claims to be too tacky to be worth wearing but keeps it in his pocket anyway. He built all your furniture and let you paint your bathroom green even though you live in a rental. He's held your hair back when you were sick and cleaned it up even as he bitched at you for the mess and done a rather cruel impression of you retching.

There's another guy that you love.

So you go back into the restaurant to tell your perfectly nice date that something has come up.

Maybe you're a fool, but what else could you do?

Maybe this will be a series, idk. Being an adult is weird. This is def ooc but you know, let me work through things and call them fiction. That's what this account is for.

#jjk sukuna #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk #sukuna

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