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azriels-human · 4 months

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In Your Dreams: I ☁️🌙☁️

Azriel x Reader

A/n: Okay this is my first time writing in years but Az is Bringing me out of retirement. Opinions and ideas are always appreciated. Enjoyy😌

Summary: Az isn’t very fond of the newest member of the Night Court so much so that you even plague his dreams.

Warnings: This is a smut series. MDNI

part II

Song inspo:

“Az, you’re back!” Cassian’s booming voice probably alerts everyone in The House of Wind of his arrival just as Azriel touches down on the balcony.

Az can’t help the small smile directed at his brother. After being away on a mission for days, he appreciated Cassian’s loudness, it means home, comfort, relaxation-

Or so he thought until his eyes land on you, lounging on a sofa, book in hand but your empty eyes set on his own.

His smile instantly vanishes, replaced by a displeased glance before turning away.

Azriel cannot stand you. The newest member, a pick pocket from the Hewn City turned spy pupil for The Night Court. A dark presence that made him physically ill.

It’s no surprise you’re sat in the far corner of the room. Azriel hasn’t seen you speak to anyone beside Rhysand since your arrival. Even then, it was only about the minuscule missions he’d been sending you on the last 3 months.

Azriel simply nods at Cassian and Nesta. Words failing him as that illness returns deep in the pit of his stomach.

He can feel your uncanny gaze still focused on him, despite his obvious distaste for you. He knows that is precisely why you do it too.

Gods, you are the bane of his existence.

With a slight twitch of the brow, Az makes his way toward Rhysand’s study ready to give him yet another ear full about you.

How Rhys had even given you a position is beyond Azriel considering you were a straight up criminal.

Azriel had been on a mission in the slums of the Hewn City, the worst part, in fact. A part so small and forgotten that crimes are a first nature.

He just found the information he’d been looking for and his mood was nothing less than happy knowing he’d be back home soon.

That was until a cloaked figure had bumped him and continued on their way.

Naturally being in a more poor part of the city, Azriel pats his left hip making sure none of his weapons or money had been swiped. But they hadn’t.

It isn’t until he brings his left hand to move his own cloak and double check that he realizes his siphon is gone.

“How the fuck…” Azriel hasn’t been caught off guard like this in a long while. How could they swipe a stone embedded in his leathers without him feeling a thing?

Azriel wasted no time looking over the crowd to find the grey tattered cloak gracefully zipping through the crowd.

He follows just a swiftly. His eyes glued to the figure as he maneuvers past on goers.

The thief, as if sensing him, looks back for half a second before darting through the crowd, ducking and jumping over items and people. Still managing to move past them without bumping into anyone.

Az mutters a breathy, “Asshole” when he takes note of that.

At this point Azriel begins to push past the crowd. He can’t let them leave with it. Something that valuable, not just on market but to himself personally, will not fall into some slick criminals hands.

Just as they are about to round the corner Azriel sends his shadows in a silent command to detain the culprit. The shadows weave through the crowd even more speedy and graceful, wrapping around the hooded figure and yanking them back.

Their back hits the ground with an ‘oomf’ before they quickly try freeing themselves from the shadows constraints.

Azriel grabs their collar in one hand, lifting them up and bringing them to his eye level. The other hand snatching back the hood of the cloak.

He nearly gasps upon laying eyes on you. The bewitching darkness in your eyes bore into his, reaching for his soul as if you’d take it right from him.

Taking advantage of his perplexed state you kicked him in the stomach causing him to let go and his shadows to withdraw.

Azriel groans holding his middle and coughing once, twice.

You don’t hesitate to run down the empty alley but Azriel is quick to snap back.

You don’t make it half way through when he winnows in front of you. You slam into his chest and fall again, mud splattering the two of you. Azriel’s shadows bind your wrists above your head as he straddles your thighs.

You thrash beneath him, growling and clawing. His hands scanning over your arms, sides and hips until he felt the bulge of it settled on your hip…beneath the waistband of your pants.

He looks up at you, amusement dancing behind your wicked eyes as if he were being tested, ‘a will he, won’t he?’

His eyes flicker from yours to your somewhat now exposed navel. He can’t just…reach in there.

But he can’t just let you have it. He wouldn’t be wrong to take back what is his.

He scoffs, reaching under your waistband and pulling up a belt with a pocket attached causing you shriek almost inaudibly.

Azriel pulls the dull blue siphon from the pocket and looks back at you. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t half amused himself.

A strange girl from the slums of the Hewn City stealing his siphon and testing his honor as a male.

Though he is not crazy enough to indulge the amusement. You are a thief. Not just a common thief but a a thief able to pick a very valuable possession off of a very cautious male.

“What is your name?” Azriel asks still hovering over you.

You only glare back.

“I asked what your name is.” Azriel grows impatient above you but you do not respond.

It could have been over. He could have let you go and steal from some other fool who wouldn’t notice but…he didn’t want to. Perhaps your crime against him was too personal and punishment seemed fit.

“Get up.” Azriel roughly pulls you to your feet, shadows still binding your wrists. Your struggles are deemed futile when he whisks you away to his High Lord.

Azriel all but stomps into Rhys study, shutting the door behind him. “Your newest addition has a staring problem.”

Rhysand looks up from his notes to see his irritated brother throw himself into the seat across from him. “What happened to ‘hello’ ‘how are you’?”

Azriel sighs. “Rhys.”

Rhys leans back in his seat, a smirk on his lips. “What harm is a bit of staring? Maybe she likes what she sees.”

“Please.” Azriel rolls his eyes. “She likes nothing and no one.”

Rhys shrugs. “She’s not so bad, Az. You’re just pissed she was able to pick something off of you.”

“I’m pissed that you gave her a job instead of consequences.”

“How couldn’t I? I’d rather have someone that can out sneak my spy master on my side.” Rhysand teases.

“She did not ‘out sneak’ me. Her methods were textbook. Not sneaky at all.” Azriel grumbles his blatant lies. He knows not just any theif, not even an exceptional one, could do what you did.

Rhysand chuckles. “Whatever you say, brother.” He clears his throat. “I assume you found the shop?”

Azriel shakes his head. “I did not but I heard rumors of where it will turn up next.”

Rhys had assigned him a rather odd case, a book of lethal potions stolen from a temple in the Hewn City by a traveling shop now supplying those lethal drugs. Reports saying it makes users hyper aware, a party drug when used correctly but as expected there are those who abuse it, turning them aggressive and eventually killing them when too much is consumed. Azriel has spent the last week trying to track the shop down with nothing to show for it until today.

“Where?”

Azriel’s jaw tightens. “Coincidentally, in two days it will be in the same part of town…she…is from.”

Rhys chuckles at his brother’s pettiness once again. “She must really get under your skin with her staring.”

Azriel shakes his head, “Rhys, I’m telling you there is something off about her.”

“She’s been here for 3 months without incident. What do you suppose she will do?” Rhy asks entertaining the idea purely for the amusement of seeing a riled up Azriel.

“Steal. Spy. Hells for all we know she could be plotting everyone’s death.”

“Well, then I guess I should fear for your life when she accompanies you on your assignment?” Rhysand lifts a brow in mock questioning.

“Absolutely not. She will not be accompanying me anywhere…ever.” Azriel laughs at the notion.

“She knows her way around, she is successful in her missions and you need to get over your bruised ego and get along with her. She is supposed to be your pupil.”

Azriel shakes his head but before he can deny his High Lord, Rhysand continues.

“You will be taking her with you to retrieve the book and shut it down. That’s final.” Rhysand crosses his arms.

Azriel hesitantes but ultimately nods, dreading the thought of having to spend any amount of time near you.

.☁️🌙☁️.

Azriel is sat in the lounge, a book in one hand and a glass of scotch in the other. His eyes read over the page for the millionth time before he slams it shut and rubs his temple.

Sleep had evaded him, unable to stop thinking of this damned mission he has to take you on. At the fact that he must push away the alarms going off in his entire being when you are around.

Azriel knows something is wrong with you. It’s your expressionless gaze, the eerie aura that follows you and the stillness of your existence, even just standing around you’re still as a statue. You’re like a ghost. His own personal poltergeist.

As if on cue, he shadows curl up his neck whispering of your presence.

His stomach drops. He’d be damned if he had to endure you anymore than he has to.

Just as he retreats into the shadows in the corner of the den, you glide straight past the room entirely. Not even peaking into the only lit room of the house.

He knows it’s ridiculous but it irked him that you didn’t even look. Had you no curiosity either? And if you aren’t coming to the den, where are you going?

Regardless, he definitely isn’t going to find out. He has no intention of being anywhere near you. He wouldn’t subject himself to that.

…

But he wants to know. What if you had some secret hobby or routine? Something that made you…a person.

Why should that matter to him!? He doesn’t give two shits about what you do. His own curiosity only further proves how offbeat you are. He certainly will not follow you and he definitely won’t care what you are doing.

…

But what if you were up to no good? What if you were stealing from the High Lord every night after he goes to sleep?

Now that he can’t allow.

Azriel emerges from the shadows, peaking out from the door frame to find you at the end of the hallway. You enter the library and shut the door closed behind you.

He slips through the hallway and into the library, careful not to make a sound.

The empty library felt cold in your wake though there was no sign of you. You weren’t sitting on the sofas or searching for a book. There is only silence in his company.

Azriel strides through each row of bookcases lined throughout the room to no avail.

And now you’ve even disappeared like a ghost.

A beam of light enters at the back of the room earning his attention. The balcony.

Azriel stealthily crosses the room, concealing himself behind the bookcase closest to the balcony.

There you were. Sitting on the marble bench, staring up at the sky. Not causing any trouble.

Well, he has his answer, he can leave. He can go about his sleepless night.

But once again he did not want to, despite those alarms going off and the growing pit deep down. He couldn’t bring himself to move.

So he didn’t for a very long time.

He only watches your ominously still figure watching the sky. You do not look away or blink or breathe it seems. Not even a twitch of the fingers.

You just cannot be of this world.

“Azriel.” You call softly.

His heart drops into the swirling void in his stomach as chills sweep across his skin and the hairs of his arm stand.

You’d sensed him there. For how long? Though he doesn’t care what you think of him, he did not need you telling anyone he’s some stalker creep.

“You can come out.”

Azriel contemplates. He can leave as he should have done an hour ago but you already know he is here. Then again, maybe if he leaves you’ll think you were mistaken.

All of those options fly out of the door when you look back, directly at him.

He winces at his lack of options and being caught. How did you even know? He’s the fucking spy master and now he can’t even hide from you?

Azriel lets out a deep exhale, not even realizing he’d been holding his breath before coming out into your full view.

You look right into his eyes as he approaches you. Each step feels like a crushing weight as he struggles to maintain his composure.

“What are you doing out here?” Azriel asks firmly, not a shred of friendliness behind the words.

You only look back to the sky.

Were you ignoring him now? After telling him to come out?

Irritation begins to fill the void in him. The audacity. HE is the one ignoring YOU.

“What are you doing out here.” A command rather than question this time.

You subtly shrug.

Azriel rolls his eyes.

For a while the two of you are silent. What is he even supposed to say to you? You are the one that called him out here.

He isn’t surprised that you hardly speak but that doesn’t change the fact that it is annoying.

“You don’t speak much.” Azriel states plainly wanting to escape the awkward, silent tension.

“That’s your perception.” You match his blunt tone provoking his wonder. How could it be his perception when you don’t speak to anyone?

“I haven’t seen within 10 feet of anyone here.”

“That’s because you disappear anytime I’m in the same room as you.”

Azriel didn’t know what to make of your straight forwardness. Though he tends to speak directly himself, he’s not fond of such attitude. But coming from you, it seems fitting. “Perhaps I simply don’t enjoy your company.”

“Curious.” You look at him, standing up and making your way back into the library. “No male has ever complained about my company.”

Azriel follows close behind, watching your every poised step.

“As a matter of fact I’ve been told I’m quite the pleasure to be around.” You glance over your shoulder. That familiar sinister delight returning to your eyes, the same look you gave him when he realized where it is you held his siphon.

Azriel nearly trips on over his own two feet. The void beginning to whirl again. He cursed himself for needed to clear his throat. “Is that so?”

You stop abruptly and pivot on your feet, coming face to chest and tilting your head back to look up at him. His stomach leaps at the sudden proximity and your intense stare. He steps back.

“With my bright and bubbling personality, how could they not?” You raise a brow.

Azriel didn’t know if it was relief from the cut tension or the actual joke or both but he lets out a breathy chuckle.

“Not to mention my breasts and ass.”

Azriel’s shock couldn’t have been anymore evident. His lips part unable to form a single word, not that his brain could form a single thought.

Azriel hadn’t thought of you in any way other than suspicion but now, standing before him, he can’t help but notice your deadly beauty. The enthralling darkness dancing behind your eyes and those plump pink lips. The thin strapped shirt clinging to your ample breasts. The outline of your peaked nipples. The perfect angle he has of your soft cleavage.

“That was also a joke.” You clarify and turn on your heel continuing towards the door. “Kind of.”

It most certainly was not a joke.

The loose shorts gripping your waist do nothing to hide the outline of your backside. Each step you take further away from him only giving him a better view of the swish of your hips and the bounce of your ass.

“Goodnight, Spy Master.” You bid farewell without so much as a glance back.

.☁️🌙☁️.

Azriel couldn’t stop thinking of you, yet now it’s in whole different light. He would have never thought you to be so vulgar, in a cruel way maybe but not in a humorous way.

You’re so quiet and reserved and unsettling. He didn’t think you capable of making a joke, let alone a sexual one.

He couldn’t deny that it is a rather riveting piece of information. He should have known when you all but challenged him to reach into your pants a few month ago.

The memory of your tits sitting nice and pretty, your waist and full hips, your ass, all flood his mind.

Lying in his bed, Azriel turns onto his back, shaking the thoughts from his head.

He needs sleep. And he needs it now.

.☁️🌙☁️.

Exhaustion cannot begin to describe what Azriel felt. He needed not just to rest but recharge, and there is nothing better than laying down after a hard days work.

After what felt like forever he finally reaches his bedroom, twisting the nob and shutting the door behind him. He sighs, shutting his eyes and resting his head against the door.

“Azriel.” You call just as softly as you had earlier in the night.

Azriel whips around to find you sat on the center on his bed, feet under you and hands politely placed on your knees, as if you’d been waiting for him.

Azriel scans the room. Possibly a prank brought on by Rhysand but it’s only you in here.

“What are you doing in here?” Azriel hisses, sending a vicious sneer in your direction. And he thought ignoring him was the hight of your audacity but to enter his private quarters at such late hours?

“I haven’t been on my best behavior, have I.” You tilt your head to the side, feigning innocence.

Azriel’s brow pinches. “What?”

“I’ve displeased you in some way.” You slowly stand from his bed. “I can’t have that.”

Azriel swallows hard as you inch closer with every word. “After all, I am a pleasure to be around.”

Azriel can only watch. Your shorts doing little to hide your exposed legs and soft thighs. That fucking shirt hiding your tight nipples.

You come to halt with only centimeters between you, looking up at him with that deceptively virtuous gaze.

He could smell you. An intoxicating scent of amber and jasmine. Like a garden in the fall.

Azriel’s heart thunders in his chest. Not fast but hard. He was sure not only you but everyone in the house could feel it. His whole being pulses with each thump as you reach for his chest.

“Let me be a pleasure.” Your delicate fingers just barely touches his chest, drawing a line down his chest. Then lower. And lower. And lower-

Azriels eyes widen as he snatches your hand in his. His chest heaving, trying to gulp down the air that slips away from him. You, however, seem un phased, eager, if anything. “W-what do you think you’re doing?”

The scent of his own arousal permeates the air he desperately tries to breathe.

With half lidded eyes and a slight pout of your lips, you take your wrist from his loose grip and place your palm over the back of his hand, brining it up to your cheek and leaning into it.

Azriel’s blood turns cold at how tender your touch is, gentle as the embrace of death. Your skin warms his palm as you drag his hand down the side of your neck painfully slow, his thumb tracing the column of your throat.

Gods, he wanted to bite it. To latch himself onto that spot. If it was possible to envy one’s own hand, he’d turn green.

“I see how you look at me.” Your voice low and sultry. “You despise me.”

You move his hand down your collar bone, to your chest, settling between your breast. Something deep inside Azriel twists and knots, his cold blood turns hot as it rushes into his pants.

“Let me fix it.” You groan, trailing his hand further down to your stomach. “Let me show you…”

Azriel bites the inside of his cheek to keep his own sounds at bay. His brows pinch together at the sight of you. The rise and fall of your swollen, flushed breasts. Your bottom lip trapped between your teeth and the look of pure carnal desire.

“…just how much of a pleasure I can be.” You whisper breathlessly when you lead his scared hand beneath the waistband of your shorts.

Azriel chokes back a guttural groan when his fingers reach the slick folds of your cunt. Looking into his eyes with a feral hunger, you guide his fingers in sensual circles around your most sensitive spot. Hushed whines hum from your chest, purring at his governed touch.

His middle finger twitches against your clit, testing for himself. You respond with a low moan.

Azriel’s eyes flutter shut trying to reason with himself.

This was wrong. So fucking wrong. Azriel can’t even stand the sight of you yet here he is with his hands down your pants for the second time, and he felt just as he had the first time, he wanted to ruin you.

Another flick of his fingers causes you to throw your head back.

Azriel growls. A fire ignites in his chest, coursing through every nerve of his body as he gives in to you.

His fingers take a course of their own, rubbing your center with fervor. A noise somewhere between a yelp and moan escape your parted lips. You grabbing onto his arms to steady yourself as pleasure over takes you.

“Fuck, you’re dripping.” Azriel leans forward to whisper in your ear. His warm breath tickling your skin as he asks, “Who made you this wet?”

You only moan, digging your hands into his bicep.

Still massaging your clit, he brings his free hand to strike the fat of your ass earning a very loud moan.

“Tell me.”

“You!” The stinging sensation mixes with your pleasure, encouraging you further. “You made me this fucking wet.”

Azriel hums, gripping your hair and tilting your head back. “Mhm. Keep being a good girl and I’ll forgive you.”

His attacks your neck, teeth clamping down hard in what he knows will scar but he didn’t care. He wanted you marked. Proof that he could take control, even over someone with such a silent attitude as yours.

You hold back a scream. As much as it hurt, he knows you like it. “Dont hold back. I want to hear the pretty noises you make.”

Azriel’s tongue laps at the column of your throat, finally nipping at the spot he craved minutes ago. Your moans vibrate against his lips.

He pulls away to look at you. Eyes shut and jaw hung in ecstasy. His cock twitches in pants at how good he can make you feel.

The sight was anything but dark. Dare he say heavenly.

Suddenly, your eyes open, fixating on his. Lust and desperation laced in your stare as you plead, “I want your fingers in me. Please, Az.”

Azriel smirks down at you arrogantly. “Yeah?” You nod frantically, your moans and pants driving him absolutely wild.

“Whatever you want.” Azriel pulls away from you, sitting at the edge on his bed, knees spread as he pats his lap. “Come here, pretty girl.”

You stand between his legs but before you could straddle him, he grabs your wrist, roughly turning your back to him.

His textured hands glide down your back, feeling every curve until he reaches your shorts, yanking them down in one swift motion and leaving your rear exposed for his viewing enjoyment.

He gathers as much of your ass in his hands as he can, squeezing, caressing and parting for an even better view. Your slit and inner thighs glistening from your wetness.

He does dare to say heavenly.

“So fucking pretty.” He leans forward, placing a soft kiss on your ass cheek and quickly slapping it right on top.

You jerk forward with an amused hum.

Azriel grabs your hip and brings you down to him. Your full weight falls onto his solid cock, strained in his leathers. He moans at the impact.

Azriel’s hands trail up from your hips, over your stomach and under your shirt and to your breasts. You whimper as his fingers lightly trace over your firm nipples and kneed at your breasts.

He should stop. Should have never even started when he hates so much but Azriel revels in it. The way you feel, the way he makes you feel. His lips latch to your neck sucking as he rolls your buds between his fingers.

“Azriel, please.” You breathe, writhing against him.

He groans, flicking your nipple harshly and immediately finding your center. The tip of his middle finger sliding up and down, toying with your hole.

“Please! Please put it in.” You whine, reaching up to tug at his dark locks. The sensation pushing him over the edge.

Promptly, his middle finger plunges into your cunt, pumping at a hungry pace.

“Oh, fuck! Azriel, yes!” You grip his hair stronger, receiving another painful bite and a slap on your tits in return.

Azriel adds another finger and you clench around them. “So fucking tight, angel. I bet you’ve never been fucked so full with two fingers, have you?”

You shake your head and throw it back over his shoulder when his fingers disappear in you to the knuckle.

“One more for me.” Azriel hums, a warning rather than a request as he teases a third finger against you.

“I…I don’t know.” You hesitate.

Azriel guides you to look at him, your face inches from his. His brows pinch and with a slightly patronizing pout he nods. “You can take it. Don’t you like how full I make you feel?”

You bite your lip and nod. “I can take it.”

“Good girl.” He breathes with a smug expression. Azriel can’t get enough of you like this. Pleading. Submissive to his every whim. The satisfaction of seeing that stoic demeanor dissolve because of him.

Azriel slides a third finger in slowly. Hells, you’re so fucking tight around his fingers, he can only imagine how you’d feel on his cock.

You release a long, aching moan and arch your back against him.

Azriel gasps at the sudden movement against his pants. It wouldn’t take more than a minute to make him explode. “F-fuck, y/n. Keep doing that.”

You grind in his lap, feeling his length throb beneath you. “Like this, Az?”

“Gods.” Azriel’s fingers sink into your cunt, over and over. Your screams of pleasure blend with the sopping sounds of your wet pussy.

Azriel was absolutely sure this was heaven.

“I’m so close! Mm, you gonna make a fucking mess out of me?” You rut against his cock.

“Fuck yes.” Azriel’s free arm wraps around you pressing you further into him and he fucks you with his fingers. “C’mon. Make a mess for me, Angel.”

“Azriel!” That’s all it took for you to crumble in his lap. Your entire body trembles and euphoria seizes control of your body. Your screams informing all of Veleris of who made you cum so fucking good.

As you ride out your orgasm, Azriel lifts his own stuttering hips to grind against yours. The full weight of you quivering and fidgeting against him builds a blissful tension deep within him. And with the string of his name still being sung from your lips, the coiling pressure couldn’t hold anymore.

“I’m gonna-”

.☁️🌙☁️.

Azriel shoots straight up out of his bed and on to his feet, panting and looking around his room, illuminated with the first light of day.

But there was no one. No you.

Azriel blinks and wipes his eyes. It was a dream?

He looks around once more.

It couldn’t have been a dream. He’s dreamt of many females but never anything so…real.

He could still feel the weight of your body flushed against him. He could still feel the blissful aftermath of an orgasm.

Azriel looks down at his stained tented pants. His half hard cock still dripping on his thigh.

What the fuck was that? Why the fuck would he dream of that? Of you.

Mor? Sure. Elain? Once or twice, but you? Someone he couldn’t even stand to be in the same room with?

Azriel huffs and makes his way to his bathroom to clean up, angry with himself and his deplorable dream. A nightmare, he decides, considering it involved you.

#a court of thorns and roses #azriel #azriel smut #azriel fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x reader smut #acotar smut #acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel angst #Spotify

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luveline · 1 year

Note

whenever youre free!! can you please write a spencer x reader where we meet spencer during an early season where he’s still cute and awkward maybe we date too but something happens and we don’t see him for a long time only to meet him again when he’s older and hotter (post prison) and there’s still crazy tension after all those years. in love with your writing btw!!! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

tysm for requesting! hope this is ok :D ♡ 1.2k

cw vaguely suggestive theme

Looking at Spencer, you could almost think you were fresh out of college again, unsure of yourself and in need of a friend.

He'd been much more than a friend. It's why you're here.

The cake might have been a bad idea. You hold it between two hands, the subtle smell of chocolate rising from the box's ill-fitting lid. Your breath catches, words coming out wonky, "Hey. Spencer?"

He looks up from his book, startled at being found, you think. "Y/N?"

He looks the same.

Obviously, he's older. He has facial hair and his curls are styled rather than having been left to their own devices, but you feel as hopelessly enamoured with him as you had years ago, because he still smiles like a puppy dog.

You're twice as surprised as he is when he stands from his coffee table to hug you. The cake box wobbles in your hands as he squeezes you, swaying you from side to side, his laugh warm in your ear.

"What are you doing back here?" he asks, diving backward to see your face. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

"I still had JJ's number, you know, from when I wanted that address, and she texted me to say you'd been released, and I," —your voice curls tighter, are you talking too much?— "know you might not want to hear from me, but I was worried about you. You were my best friend."

His smile flickers. You press the cake into his hands.

"That's for you," you say.

Spencer's wavering smile turns to the box. He sets it down on the table beside his coffee cup and tented book, removing the lid carefully. You remember suddenly how nice his hands are, and the tracing of his fingertips down your bare shoulders. Goosebumps erupt along the ghost of his touch.

"Well done on not being a criminal," he reads, snorting. "Funny. Little too soon."

You feel like your stomach's fallen out, but he drops the act with another laugh.

"Oh, you're still a jerk," you say. "I'm glad something hasn't changed."

"You think I've changed?" he asks.

"You didn't get any taller, if that's what you're asking."

Spencer's smile turns fond. It's the sweet, sticky smile he'd always give you before he'd tell you he loved you, or that you were the best best friend ever. Or that last night, when you followed him hand in hand down the long hallway to his bedroom.

"I wasn't that much of a jerk, was I?" he asks.

"No, you weren't." You hold your hands behind your back. "Could I join you? Just for a bit?"

"You brought me a cake. I can't say no, can I? Of course you can sit down. I'll get you a coffee, okay?"

He touches his hand to your arm as he passes. You sit down in the seat across from him, sick with what-if and should-have. What if I could've stayed? Maybe I should have done more. But when Spencer ignored the letters you sent him while he was incarcerated, you figured you'd done more than he wanted. The cake was a last ditch effort, spurred on by JJ's text that read, I think he'd be really happy to see you.

Spencer puts a china cup down in front of you. You take a sip, muscle memory, and grin at him shyly as he slides into the seat across from you. "You remembered."

"I remember everything."

"Right. Your photographic memory."

"Eidetic, and sure, but I wouldn't forget about you." He reads your shyness for what it is, worry you've overstepped. He's too perceptive to trick. "I think I tried, but… I have so many bad memories, I wanted the good ones to keep."

You can't imagine the things he experienced in prison. JJ couldn't tell you much. You knew from how you had to address his letters alone that he was sent to a general correctional facility in Mexico, rather than the protective custody he'd needed. He doesn't look terrible considering, but you've barely seen him since you had to leave. He's aged well. The only worry is his dark under eyes.

"We had a good time," you say gently. "I knew you'd need that. That's why I sent you all those letters, you know? I wasn't trying to come back into your life, I know I don't deserve it after I left, but I couldn't stop thinking about you by yourself."

You stare at his book.

"How many letters did you send?" he asks.

"I don't really remember."

"I didn't get one." He grimaces. "I didn't get any from my mom, either. Think it was a coincidence?"

Spencer's time in was kind of sick. He stabbed himself, made friends with criminals, played a lot of chess, and learned how to make tacos in a doritos bag. It was also arguably the loneliest and most degrading time of his life.

One coffee becomes two, two becomes a third to go. You feel a hundred emotions but there's one that stands out the most as you drift around Pentagon City with him —wanting. You want him to be your best friend again, to rub your back and hold you when you're tired, to take you grocery shopping in his beat up P130. You want him to kiss you like he had, like he was searching for something, but he's changed so much that you don't know if your Spencer is still in there, under everything, or if he'd even want to.

"You live in the same apartment?" you ask.

"Can you imagine how much it would cost me to move that many books? Paying the rent turns out cheaper," he says, the two of you walking in the grey street. "What about you? You didn't come all the way here to see me."

"I actually did." You rub up the length of your upper arm, sheepish. "I did, Spencer."

For a while, all you can hear is the plastic rustling of the bag held in his hand.

"Thank you for writing to me. I didn't get to read them, but it makes a difference."

You lift your head to meet his eyes. He holds your gaze, a charge behind his dark brown eyes. You used to think his irises and his pupils were one and the same, but you can see now that there are flecks of light in his irises. His hedging of thick lashes kiss in the corners as he slowly, slowly smiles.

You glare at him. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"You know what. You're doing that thing. Pretending you're not trying to make me nervous."

"I'm not doing that. Flustered, but not nervous." Is he smirking?

"Flustered," you repeat, your smile stupidly big now, cheeks aching. "Yeah, right, Reid."

His pinky brushes yours. You don't have any proof that he's doing it purposefully, but he is.

"Do you want to get something to eat? You can tell me what you were writing in your letters. I'd really, really like to know." His voice is threaded with a familiar timidity for the first time since you reunited.

There you are, you think happily. "Sure. You buy me a sticky bun from our old place and I'll tell you all my written secrets."

"Deal."

#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 #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #sorry I missed the mark a bit with the crazy tension this is not super tense <\3

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81folklore · 7 months

Text

heaven - OP81 - part 4

pairings: oscar piastri x private!fem!reader (fc: gracie abrams)

summary: oscars winter break as seen through social media

type: social media au (smau)

authors note: THEYRE BACK BABYYY!! ive missed these two so much so here 🤲 i spent a while trying to decide what i wanted to happen with these two (already have some plans) but i needed to post and my current wip is so frustrating 😕

authors note 2: its official theyre my favorites, i had sooooo much fun writing this, just two babies in love!!!! requests are always open and feel free to come chat!! (also i wrote this at 6am so sorry if there are any typos🫶)

heaven masterlist masterlist

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 9,289 others

always dressing up 🖤

📸 oscarpiastri

view comments

yourfriend3 actually insane

yourfriend7 you are so lovely

oscarpiastri how are you even real

yourusername babyyyy☹️

oscarpiastri 😍😍

yourusername 🤩🤩

user5 ur outfits are always unreal

landonorris is thought u were staying in tonight??

yourusername we are..i dressed up for fun😁

user7 THE WOMAN THAT YOU ARE

user18 SKWKZIWJJS

user93 my jaw DROPPED

yourfriend2 my favorite outfit of yours!!

user54 biggest question is if we’ll get winter break content😕

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, yourfriend1 and 13,279 others

my favorite time of year💫

view comments

oscarpiastri weenie waits for no one

yourusername heyy he likes sleeping in the warm☹️☹️

oscarpiastri still steals my seat😕

user54 oh my god

user3 DID OSCAR TAKE THOSE?!

yourusername yesss🫠

yourfriend6 see you soon!!

user68 the outfits NEVER disappoint

user2 im so ok

user26 THE FOURTH PHOTO??

user63 THE LAST PHOTO??

user5 you are so so pretty

yourusername thank uuuu🫶

oscarpiastri

liked by aussiegrit, yourusername and 436,742 others

life without racecars☀️

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user54 OH MY GOD

user77 i may never recover

yourusername weenie and back photos oh i won *liked by creator*

landonorris ?!?!!?!

user2 LMAOOOO

user4 i feel ill i cant cope

user32 i need someone to love me the way they love each other

yourusername ☀️☀️

user9 the third photo..the THIRD PHOTO

user44 don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry

twitter

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 14,281 others

oscar oscar oscar

i hold so much love for you i often feel like its about to spill out of me, unable to be contained, and when im with you i let it. i let it fill the room and cover you until you really feel how much i love you

every day i wake up thinking about how lucky i am that i get to love you, that i get to live with you. its a blessing and im the luckiest girl in the world

ill never be able to fully explain just what you mean to me, just how much youve impacted and improved my life. everyday i find myself thinking of you and finding bits of you in places i least expect and then i get filled with this happiness that i only experience with you

you are the light of my life oscar piastri and i will love you in every universe, i promise

tagged oscarpiastri

comments on this post have been limited

oscarpiastri i love you more than words can describe, you have made me the happiest man alive

oscarpiastri i am in awe of you every single day and i cannot believe i get to spend them with you

yourusername 🩷🩷

op81priv

liked by yourusername, ln4priv and 37 others

the love i feel for you is infinite and is strong enough to keep me alive forever

you keep my heart filled with a love that ive never felt before and i will only ever feel for you

you’re my forever person, my bestfriend and i will love you until i cant love any more

comments on this post have been limited

yourusername oh oscar i love you so much

yourusername forever sounds perfect to me

twitter

yourusername added to their story

#f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 smau #f1 social media au #social media au #formula 1 insta au #formula 1 social media au #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 insta au #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x you #★ private oscar

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quietlywatchingwritingreading · 1 year

Text

Since Dracula Daily is going to start up again soon, I wanted to make a friendly Public Service Announcement:

1) Dracula contains a lot of triggering material. A lot more then I would have thought, whenever I thought of Pop Culture Dracula. There are in fact parts of this horror novel that are outright terrifying! The most common unexpected trigger last year seamed to involve Medical Treatments and Psychiatric Care. More expected triggers are ones related to blood, Illness, and manipulation.

Sadly I can't think of all the possible triggers on the top of my head, but those were some of the pretty large ones. Maybe someone else has a spoiler-free trigger list?

2) When Dracula daily starts, there may be some people reading for the first time. So everyone from last year: We should act as if we have never read the book before, and only react to what the day’s posts are. Putting spoilers under readmores and the like when you see foreshadowing for something you missed the first time would be a kind gesture.

#Dracula Daily

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beautyyandthebeatt · 2 months

Note

pls its so rare to see good loona wlw smut😭😭can i pretty please request anything w mean dom gp heejin?? i bet she'd be huge🫣

Forgive me for my absence and awful response time, I had to drop most things as I was experiencing the beginning - and later diagnosis of an incurable illness lmao 😭 Hope you like this, though ! (if you see this)

dom!heejin, dubcon, brief degradation, overstim (not in the fun way 😕)

Heejin and you had become housemates at the beginning of the year. Though it had felt like a millennium to you, she had - and continues to annoy you to no end. She was always loud, so incredibly loud; by the way she blared her music whenever she decided that her room had fallen too quiet; the way she shouted over her mic to her equally as loud friends while she played video games until late at night; the way she’ll bring any girl she was able to wrangle into bed that night back to your very un-soundproof apartment- wrecking the poor soul right against her paper-thin walls, forcing you out to stay with a friend. She was insufferable, you thought, no redeeming qualities besides that pretty face. Though, you’d never admit that part out loud.

Despite your very apparent sourness towards her, she had always had a sort of affinity towards you. Bent over the couch, her hands placed by your shoulders, craning her neck down to see what you were reading(despite having no real interest in books); offering her sweater to you if she had noticed you become cold; always wanting to sit with you and making attempts at conversation around the house. It was almost puppy-like, which you found odd in contrast to the sleaziness of her other behaviours. —

It was morning and you had awoken to soft drops of rain lapping at your window. The pittering followed you into the kitchen after you heard the girl Heejin had last night exit her room and leave out of the front door. You heard Heejin enter behind you. “That’s your latest girl gone, then?” you mutter your attention fixed on the coffee you were beginning to prepare. She presses herself up against your back “Yeah, she just left.. why? You jealous?” you could hear her smile. “Oh, please” you scoff, you see your eyes narrowing in the reflection of the glass kettle, as does she. Her arms snake around your waist. “I’m glad it finally dawned on you.” that smile comes to nest near your neck, you can see her clouded in the seething water of the kettle. You go to turn yourself and storm away from her only to find her unmoving, caging you between hip and arms. “You’ve got to lose that attitude, y/n.” her free hand grips your jaw, short nails searing marks into your cheeks. “Heejin-” her grip tightens, eliciting a whine from you. Shame burns across your cheeks, your face hot under her grasp. “Quiet.”

You wanted to push her away - you could’ve - but you didn’t. Despite your better judgement you stilled - wilfully laid limp for her. Her grip shifts to your hips, turning you back around and bending you over the counter, forcing your head down onto its surface, the coolness of the laminate blooming across your burning cheek. Being in such a position makes you unable to turn around to see her hitch your skirt, lazily throwing the garment over your waist before taking to your panties. Her index and middle fingers slip underneath the fabric and her thigh keeps your legs pried open. She pushes her fingers inside musing cruelly at the slick that coats her fingers, mocking you for how ‘pliable’ you’re being for her.

Your voice catches in your throat as you feel the blunt head of her cock force itself into the place her fingers had just left. Your fists clench, crescent moons burn into the palms of your hands, trying desperately in some way to ease the pain from being split open by her. Feeling the tip of her cock finally fit inside she wastes no time ramming the rest of her length into you, paying no mind to the pained whines and moans that quickly follow. Cruel remarks soon devolve into pleasured sighs that slip from fully parted lips. It’s not as though you could understand another word of what she spat at you, you can't make sense of words anymore, too lost in the ragged drag of her cock. Heejin’s thrusts become more desperate, her grip tightens and roams to get a better hold of you. Her fingers pass through your lips - ring and middle forced down your throat, craning your head back to an almost 90 degree angle, making the tendons of your neck burn. More tears stain your already drool slick face. You sputter around her, drooling pathetically between choked moans as you feel her teeth graze your nape, “hm ? You like that ?” Heat twists in your core. “Fucking whore.” Her hips stutter, rutting her growingly sensitive cock up against your cervix. You feel her tense inside of you, panting and groaning as she unloads every drop of frustration she held towards you deep into your cunt, pleased at finally, in her mind, winning you over. You quickly follow suit, dragged to climax, almost too numb to even tell.

You couldn't recall much of what happened after besides hearing her fixing her jeans back up around her waist before leaving you there, clinging to the counter-top, knees buckled, her cum spilling from your ruined cunt.

#heejin x reader #heejin x fem reader #loona smut #loona x reader #girl group smut #girl group x reader

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mononijikayu · 3 months

Text

no more sad songs for my broken heart — gojo satoru.

Swallowing back the bitter taste rising in your throat, you steadied yourself and turned your gaze to Satoru, watching him sleep peacefully. The room was hushed, filled only with the soft rustling of fabric and the steady rhythm of his breathing.

"You're the most important to me, Satoru." you whispered, your voice a fragile whisper in the quiet night. The words hung in the air, carrying the weight of a love that defied death itself. "And you always will be."

Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Warning/s: Romance, Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, An Pining, Emotional Hurt, Depression, Ghost, Trauma, PTSD, Depiction of Funeral, Depiction of Trauma, Mentions of Alcohol, Depiction of Alcoholism, Depiction of Depression, Depiction of Ghost, Depiction of PTSD illusions, Gojo Satoru deserves a Hug™

masterlist

song: no more sad song for my broken heart by k.will

note: the fact that we waited years and years for a sequel to please dont mv and k.will decided to give us a heartbreak on PRIDE MONTH??? but i shouldnt be speaking because i saw that mv and thought holy shit, satoru definitely went through it and held my breath for a whole week until i could write it on my free time. anyway, ill be disappearing again cause exams !!! but i will be back soon ~ i love you all <3

HE NEVER EXPECTED THIS TO END THIS WAY. Gojo Satoru stood silently in front of the floral arrangement, the vibrant colors contrasting starkly with the somberness of the ihai before him. He lowered himself gracefully, bowing deeply in a gesture of respect and remembrance. Carefully, he lit three incense sticks, their thin spirals of smoke curling upwards, filling the air with a calming fragrance.

The silence, the lonesomeness of the room — he’d never expected it before. If he was being honest, Satoru never liked the quiet. It was hard to be alone in the realm of thoughts that burden him. But there’s nothing he could do about it. No one was here other than the funerary staff. And even then, they were all scattered around this dingy property.

As he stood up, his gaze fell momentarily on his watch, the cracked glass dial. He doesn’t think he’d ever have it fixed. He wanted to let it be, let it rest at that moment. It was better, a reminder for him about a time that had long been frozen in time. The hands were stuck at 19:42 pm, a constant reminder of a past event he couldn't change. His cerulean blues was intense against the broken clock from the darkness of those round rim frames.

Everyone else had already come, he supposed. But it was perhaps most poignant that he was going to be the last person here. He was away on missions, as he always has. Yaga–sensei was going to go as early as he could, Shoko would get it done and over with. Nanami was here, judging from the fact that the bread rolls from that corner store all those years ago were here. He sighed, trying to think if Suguru had come here at all. If he had the audacity to bring condolences and grief in hand. But Satoru thinks that all the incense had erased the scent of all his cursed energy. And perhaps that was for the best.

He looked at the black armband on his arm. Ever since he arrived yesterday, he couldn’t find it in himself to leave. Not even to sleep or to eat. The moment he arrived, he was told that he was the chief mourner. He never expected that to be someone’s final request, not ever. But he supposed that it was just how fate is, with someone like him. A conundrum of irony, one that could not ever be prevented. One that could never truly stop.

Satoru left the room quietly, his footsteps echoing softly in the empty hallways. You watched him from your hiding spot, leaning against the wall, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn't want to face him, not now, not here. But as fate would have it, Gojo Satoru could not help but notice you as he grabbed his energy drink from the vending machine. You recognized the drink from all those years ago. It was the one you hated — because it was too overly sweet. But you drank it anyway, when Satoru got it for you.

"Hey!" he called out, his voice filled with a blend of surprise and familiarity. He rushed to your side, his tall frame towering over you, but his presence was somehow comforting.

You tried to compose yourself, managing a weak smile. "Satoru..."

He grinned at you, his usual playful demeanor tinged with genuine warmth. "I haven't seen you in a while. How about we grab a bite to eat?"

You shook your head, your voice barely a whisper. "I'm not hungry."

His grin widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Come on, indulge me. It's not every day I get to catch up with an old friend."

You hesitated, torn between the desire to flee and the comfort of his company. But something in his eyes, a blend of understanding and insistence, made you relent.

"Okay," you sighed, a faint smile tugging at your lips. "But just this once."

Gojo's grin softened into a genuine smile, and he gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "Let's go then."

In no time, you and Satoru sat across from each other in the small cafeteria, the ambient chatter echoes between the two of you in the silence of the empty cafeteria. He was intently looking at you as he started making conversation and you listened, nodding along with what he was saying as you ate. He was like this too when you were younger in Jujutsu High and nearly ten years later, he somehow hasn’t changed. You could only smile at that.

Satoru starts stuffing his face with the already cold tonkatsu. You could only sigh fondly at him, watching him put the rice bowl down and take the miso soup’s bowl in hand and drink the cold broth. You picked up your chopsticks and, absentmindedly, stuck them upright into your rice meal. Satoru's cerulean eyes widened slightly, and he leaned forward, his tone playful yet chiding.

"Hey, you know you're not supposed to do that, right? It's bad luck. Reminds me of funeral rites."

You snorted, rolling your eyes at his scolding. "Oh, please, Satoru. Don’t tell me what to do."

“It’s still bad luck, use them properly!”

You smirked, pulling the chopsticks out and resuming your meal properly. "Besides, it's not like the spirits are going to come after me just for this."

Satoru laughed, shaking his head. "You always were stubborn. Some things never change."

You smiled, a hint of nostalgia in your eyes. "You know, Sugu-chan and Nana-chan were always sticklers for the rules. But you? I can’t believe you’re lecturing me about rules.”

He pouts at you. “I can follow rules too! You’re so mean to me, y’know?”

“It’s very rare to see you follow rules, Sato-chan.”

“But you admit that I follow rules?” The glint in his bright eyes was shining at you like a star in the cloudless sky. So clearly. “You do, don’t you?”

You grinned at him mischievously. “Well, at least the ones that suited you."

“Oh don’t patronize me!”

“Well, you asked!”

The two of you continued eating, the conversation flowing easily. You talked about the current state of affairs, your work, and shared memories from your past. The atmosphere was light, filled with genuine warmth. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him. Not since you left Jujutsu behind and had gotten married abroad. But from what Satoru heard, you returned recently.

And he wasn’t sure what happened in all that time. But it was good for him, to see you smiling at him again. It was as if time hadn’t moved at all between the two of you. It was as if it was still like yesterday. He could feel his heart tender as you put your matcha mochi on his plate. You smiled at him, even wider than before as you told him to take it and eat it for you. He looked at you, but you just kept nodding. You watched him eat the mochi and make a satisfied groan as he ate it. You laughed, seeing that he hasn’t changed much.

Satoru leaned back in his chair, a contented look on his face. "You know, it's really good to see you. I missed this. Just talking and being ourselves."

You nodded, feeling a similar sense of contentment. "Yeah, me too. It's nice to just... be, without any of the usual chaos."

Satoru's eyes softened as he looked at you, a rare moment of vulnerability. "You've been through a lot, I imagine. It’s been….a while.”

You shrugged, trying to downplay the weight of his words. "We all have our battles, Satoru. Some just leave more scars than others."

He reached across the table, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. "Well, if you ever need someone in your corner, you know where to find me."

You smiled, squeezing his hand back. "Thanks, Satoru. That means a lot."

The conversation tapered off, and a comfortable silence settled between you and Satoru. Both of you watched the birds outside the window, one bird leaving the other behind, fluttering away into the open sky. The scene was tranquil, a stark contrast to the turbulent lives you both led.

Breaking the silence, you reached for your phone. The chair squeaked softly as you shifted, pulling out an outdated flip phone from your pocket. You handed it to Satoru, causing his eyebrows to rise in curiosity.

"Can you put your number in?" you asked.

Satoru took the flip phone, chuckling softly. "You still have this old thing? Why not upgrade to something more modern?"

You shrugged, a faint smile on your lips. "The new ones overstimulate me. I prefer something simple."

Nodding in understanding, Satoru quickly input his number into your flip phone and handed it back to you. Then, he pulled out his sleek, modern smartphone, offering it to you.

"Alright, fair is fair. Put your number in mine too," he said with a grin.

You took his phone, marveling for a moment at the advanced technology before carefully entering your number. As you handed it back, your fingers brushed lightly against his, a brief but comforting connection.

"Thanks," Satoru said, pocketing his phone. "Now I have no excuse not to stay in touch."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. "Exactly. No excuses."

Another comfortable silence fell between you as you both returned to watching the birds outside, feeling a sense of calm and connection. Despite everything, moments like these reminded you that some bonds were unbreakable, no matter the distance or time that passed. Satoru took a sip of his drink once more and looked at your contentment. He hadn’t expected to have met you today, not at a funeral. He wished it was a better time. But he knew, it was better than not having met you again at all.

“Are you good on Thursday?” Satoru asks, breaking the comfortable silence and causing you to turn your gaze back to him.

“For what?” you reply, raising a curious eyebrow.

“To hang out...like the old days?” he says, a hopeful grin spreading across his face.

You ponder for a moment, the idea of reconnecting with him sounding appealing. "What did you have in mind?"

Satoru leans back in his chair, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "I was thinking we could visit that ramen place we used to love. You know, the one with the best miso ramen in town. And maybe after that, we could catch a movie or just walk around the old neighborhood."

A nostalgic smile creeps onto your face as you remember the countless times you’d both gone to that ramen place, laughing and talking for hours. "That sounds nice. I could use a break from everything."

"Great!" he exclaims, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "It's a date, then."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "It's not a date, Satoru."

"Sure, sure," he says, waving his hand dismissively but with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Just two old friends hanging out."

"Exactly," you agree, a warmth spreading through you at the thought of spending time with him.

“Exactly.” He repeated, with that grin on his face.

You shake your head. “You always have to have the last word, huh?”

He laughs. “Of course!”

For a moment, Gojo Satoru didn’t feel sad anymore.

In this moment, hearing you laugh, he escapes it all.

He escapes the misery of the world in your warmth.

WHEN YOU LEFT, SATORU WAS SHATTERED. He still remembered the details of that moment, when you told him you were leaving. The unruly pile of clothes lying around the room, the ripped pieces of paper scattered across the floor, and the bedsheet that hadn’t been replaced in days—all of it seemed like a chaotic reflection of his inner turmoil. You stood by the door, suitcase in hand, your expression a mix of sadness and determination.

"I can't stay here anymore, Satoru." you had said, your voice trembling yet resolute. "I need to find my own path, away from all of this….I’m tired.”

Satoru's heart had shattered in that instant. The room had felt colder, emptier, as if the very air was being sucked out of it. The dorm already lost its life. Everything about it was just silent. Nanami’s moved out even before graduation, Shoko’s gone off and taken to medical school. It was only him that’s left. Him and you. He clung to you, for all this time. He would push you to join him on his food trips during missions, even if you weren’t here.

You and him stayed up watching movies together when he had those rare days off. The emptiness Suguru left behind would never go away, but you filled some tenderness in his life. A tenderness that he had enjoyed. A tenderness he could not live without. And now you planned to leave him too. Now that he couldn't comprehend a world where you weren't a part of his daily life. The thought of you walking out that door and never coming back was too painful to bear. And he hated how it hurt, it hated how it made him return to that time, when Suguru turned his back to him forever.

Thinking of it now that you both were older, Satoru realizes that all of it must have been hard on you too. You were a year below them, in a team with Haibara and Nanami. You were close to Suguru and Shoko too. And now you lost them too, you were all alone too, left with echoes that Satoru did not know. You were left with ghosts and grief and lonesomeness.

And he didn’t see that, he didn’t want to. You were close to breaking and he didn’t see it. And choosing your peace, it hurt him. It hurt him beyond words could express. It was a horrible thought for certain. But Satoru thought at the time, that if two miserable people were together, maybe the happiness that could come would be enough to overcome that misery. But he was wrong. He was all too wrong. Misery will never keep people together.

"Please," he had pleaded, his voice breaking. "Don't go. We can figure this out together."

But you had only shaken your head, tears streaming down your face. "I'm sorry, Sato-chan…I know it's going to hurt you. But….I can’t stay here. I need to do this for myself."

The memory of you closing the door behind you haunted him for days, weeks, even months. He couldn’t stop crying for days after Suguru left. He had tried to fill the void with anything he could—training, missions, even attempting to drown his sorrows in alcohol—but nothing worked. The pain of losing both of you was too much to bear. The apartment became a constant reminder of the life he once had, now reduced to a hollow shell.

Every time he looked at the bed, he remembered the late-night conversations, the laughter, and the warmth of your presence. The ripped pieces of paper were drafts of letters he had tried to write to you, words that never seemed adequate to express the depth of his feelings. The clothes strewn about were remnants of happier times, now just silent witnesses to his grief. Even now, years later, the memory was as vivid as ever, a wound that never truly healed.

As Satoru sat across from you, his mind drifted back to the years following your departure. At first, he didn't want to hear anything about you. The pain was too raw, too immediate. Every mention of your name felt like a knife twisting in his chest. It hurt to know that, just like everyone else, you moved on with your life without him.

He remembered the first time he heard you'd left the country. It was Shoko who told him, her voice gentle as she broke the news. You had found a new passion, something that took you far away from the world you both had known. It was supposed to be a casual conversation, but it left him reeling. The idea of you building a new life, so distant from the memories you had shared, was almost unbearable.

Then came the news that you had married. He remembered the hollow feeling in his chest when he heard. It was as if a part of him had died all over again. Shoko had shown him a picture of you and your spouse, smiling and happy. In a fit of rage and heartbreak, he ripped the picture apart, unable to bear the sight of you with someone else.

Each memory hurt him badly. Nights were the worst, filled with imagined scenarios where you were still with him, where he could reach out and feel your warmth next to him. He would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering what could have been if you had stayed.

Despite his attempts to move on, the memories lingered. Every accomplishment, every smile, every moment of happiness he found was tinged with the bittersweet reminder of what he had lost. The thought of you, happy and loved by someone else, was a constant ache.

Yet, as he looked at you now, he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope. The pain was still there, but so was the undeniable bond you shared. It was as if no time had passed, and in this small café, surrounded by the remnants of your shared past, he found a small measure of peace. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to rebuild what had been lost.

You and Satoru began meeting up more often than ever. Each encounter breathed new life into the corners of his world that had long been shadowed by loneliness and regret. For the first time in a long while, besides the joy he found in teaching his students, Satoru felt a genuine happiness blooming within him, one that he had almost forgotten could exist.

Your meet-ups started simply, with visits to quaint cafés where you’d talk over coffee and pastries, reminiscing about old times and sharing stories about your current lives. At times, he brought you along with him when he would see Megumi and Tsumiki. They seemed fond enough of you, and it was a privilege for Satoru to see how tender you are with them.

You became his daily routine, everything he said revolved around your daily vernacular. Your home cooked meals became his sustenance. He realized too that he smiled more. That he was always in a good mood when you texted him something about your day. He didn’t want this to stop and he knew that you also didn’t want to leave him. Satoru realized that you found solace in each other's presence. The more you met, the more the walls of time and distance crumbled away, leaving only the essence of your bond, untouched and untainted.

At times, Gojo Satoru would come over to your place, bringing groceries or a bottle of sake. These evenings were filled with laughter, shared meals, and a sense of comfort that was rare in his life. It was one of those days to be together again. As you both sat on the porch, the sky painted in hues of twilight, you revealed something you had been holding back. Satoru already knew you were married, but you didn’t know that. But he just listened, when you talked all about it. He just let you lift the weight of your chest. He just let you give yourself to him little by little.

“I’m divorced.” you said quietly, your eyes fixed on the horizon. “It happened a while ago.”

Satoru’s heart skipped a beat. He turned to you, his expression a mix of surprise and concern. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

You shrugged, a bittersweet smile playing on your lips. “I didn’t know how. It’s not something I talk about easily. But I thought you should know.”

He reached out, gently taking your hand in his. “I’m sorry you went through that. But thank you for telling me.”

As the weeks turned into months, Satoru realized something profound. He loved you. It was a love that had never truly faded, only hidden beneath layers of time and circumstance. Each moment spent with you reaffirmed this truth. And each moment, he was even more terrified. Terrified of telling you the truth. Terrified of letting you see the pits of him that he doesn’t like.

The monster that lingers in the strongest, he does not want you to see that. The danger that comes with the world that he dwells in, the world you’d long abandoned. You laughed together, drank together, and enjoyed each other's company in a way that felt both new and comfortingly familiar. The nights, like tonight, continued to be joyous evenings filled with stories and laughter.

You looked at him, your eyes reflecting the soft glow of the lamp. “I’m glad we’re doing this,” you said softly.

“Me too, y’know?” he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. “I’ve missed you. More than I can say.”

Your fingers brushed against his, “I always thought about you, all those years.”

His cerulean blue tenderly met your own orbs. “I always thought about you too."

“Do you mean it?” You responded in a whisper.

“Why would I lie to you, after all this time?”

After a delightful meal shared on your porch, you found yourselves enjoying dessert. You had bought some sweets to bring over. You didn’t like sweets all that much, but you always thought about enjoying them with Satoru. Because it made him happy. And when he was happy, you were too. You could feel the night air breezing in consistent cool kisses, and the distant sound of cicadas filled the silence between your laughter and conversation. You picked up a piece of the dessert, holding it out to Satoru with a playful grin. You supposed you had drunk much already.

“Here, try this. It’s delicious, Sato-chan.” you said, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

He leaned forward, his eyes locked on yours as he took the bite. “Mmm, you’re right. It’s amazing.”

Before you could pull your hand away, he took a piece and held it out to you. “Your turn.”

You hesitated, feeling a sudden rush of warmth to your cheeks. “Satoru, I can feed myself, you know?” you laughed nervously.

“Come on, indulge me, sweets!” he teased, his tone light but his eyes serious.

You opened your mouth, letting him feed you. The intimacy of the gesture made your heart race, and you quickly looked away, trying to hide your flustered expression. Satoru chuckled, clearly pleased with himself.

As the evening wore on, Satoru, a notorious lightweight when it came to drinking, began to feel the effects of the sake you’d shared. He leaned back, his eyelids drooping. “I think I’m going to pass out, sweets.” he mumbled, a sleepy smile on his face.

“Then go and sleep.”

“Hm….night.”

‘.....G’d night.”

You watched as his eyes closed, his breathing evening out. For a long moment, you stared at him, your heart aching with unspoken feelings. You had always been in love with him, but you knew deep down that you could never compete with Suguru. That bond, that history, was something you could never touch.

Unbeknownst to you, Satoru was not entirely asleep. He was keenly aware of his feelings for you, feelings that had grown stronger with each passing day. But rather than confront them, he chose to feign sleep, his mind whirling with thoughts he wasn’t ready to address. Not just yet. Not when it was too hard to face the truth.

You reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you gently brushed a stray lock of hair from Satoru's forehead. Your touch was tender, filled with a longing that transcended the boundaries between this world and the next.

"I... I... I lov..." you began, your voice faltering as if caught between the weight of your emotions and the limits of your spectral form. Frustration and exhaustion etched across your ethereal features, and you brought your hands to your face, overcome by the inability to express what lay heavy on your heart.

"You're the most important to me, Satoru," you whispered, your voice a fragile whisper in the quiet night. The words hung in the air, carrying the weight of a love that defied death itself. "And you always will be."

He heard your words, each one piercing through his heart, but he remained still, his breathing steady. He wasn’t ready to face the complexities of your relationship, the unresolved emotions that lay between you.

As you sat there, watching over him, you wondered if there would ever be a time when you could be honest with each other. For now, you were content to cherish these moments, fleeting as they might be, and hope that someday, the barriers between you would fall away, leaving only the love that had always been there.

A few moments later, you realized Satoru groggily opened his eyes, blinking away the remnants of sleep. He watched you with a mix of concern and amusement as you clumsily attempted to put your shoes on, fumbling with the laces and nearly losing your balance. The room was dim, and the aftereffects of the night’s drinks were evident in your unsteady movements.

“What are you doing?” Satoru asked, his voice laced with confusion and sleepiness.

“I need to go home,” you whispered to him, your voice soft but tinged with a hint of desperation. You hiccuped, the sound breaking the silence of the room. “My dog needs me.”

Satoru sat up, rubbing his eyes and trying to make sense of your words. He reached out to steady you, his touch gentle yet firm. “You’re not going anywhere in this state, sweets.” he said, concern etched across his face. “Let’s get you some water and figure this out.”

But you shook your head, your thoughts already miles away. “No, I have to go. She’s waiting for me. Please, I need to get home.” The urgency in your voice was palpable, and despite his better judgment, Satoru knew there was no stopping you.

“Alright….Let me take you home.”

“You don’t need to.” You tell him, shaking your head. “You…don’t you have a mission tomorrow?”

“It’s fine.” Satoru insisted to you. “Don’t worry.”

Walking through the train tunnel, the air was thick with the musty scent of concrete and dampness, punctuated by the distant echo of footsteps reverberating off the tunnel walls. The dim, flickering lights cast long, eerie shadows that danced around you and Satoru as you stumbled forward, your movements unsteady and guided more by instinct than clarity.

You were particularly drunk, your senses dulled and your thoughts muddled. Every step felt like a small victory as you navigated the uneven ground and avoided stumbling over the occasional debris littering the tunnel floor. Beside you, Satoru walked with a surprising steadiness, his normally calm demeanor now tinged with a quiet concern. His eyes darted around, scanning the surroundings with a vigilance that contrasted sharply with your intoxicated haze.

The tunnel seemed to stretch on endlessly, the occasional flickering light offering brief glimpses of the graffiti-covered walls and rusted tracks that lay beyond. The sound of your footsteps echoed loudly in the confined space, creating an unsettling symphony with the distant sounds of passing trains and the occasional drip of water from above.

“Be careful now.” he cautioned, glancing at you as you stumbled slightly. His tone was light, but the concern in his eyes was evident.

You turned to him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Satoru,” you began, your voice wavering. “There’s something I’ve never been able to tell you.”

He stopped walking, turning to face you fully. “What is it?” he asked, his expression curious and a little concerned.

You looked at him, your eyes almost broken, the weight of unspoken emotions heavy on your shoulders. “Can I… can I hug you? Just once?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Can you turn off Infinity around me? Just for a moment?”

Satoru’s eyes softened, and he took a step closer. “My Infinity is always down with you,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a gentle sincerity.

Without another word, you stepped forward and embraced him, wrapping your arms around his waist. The warmth of his body against yours was both comforting and overwhelming. Satoru stood still, his arms at his sides, too shocked to respond immediately.

For a moment, you held him tightly, your face buried in his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I’ve always loved you, Satoru.” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “I wished….I wished I told you, before I left. Maybe……maybe it would have saved me a decade of pain. Of heartbreak.”

His body tensed slightly, and you could feel his breath hitch. Slowly, as if coming out of a trance, his arms began to lift. Tentatively, he placed them around you, his embrace becoming firmer as the reality of your confession sank in.

You stood there in the train tunnel, holding onto each other as if the world around you had ceased to exist. The distant echoes and the cold air were forgotten, replaced by the warmth of the moment and the raw, unfiltered emotions that had finally been laid bare.

Satoru pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at you. His eyes were filled with a mix of shock, confusion, and something else—something deeper. “Why now?” he asked, his voice barely audible, as if he was afraid that speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile moment.

You looked up at him, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Because I couldn’t hold it in any longer,” you replied, your voice trembling. “Because I need you to know, even if it changes nothing.”

For a long moment, he said nothing, his gaze searching your face. Then, slowly, he leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Thank you.” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “For telling me.”

“I know we can’t be together.” You ramble to him, tears falling all over your face. “I wish we could have had more time. I wish….”

“We will have more time.” He tells you in a mumble. “We have all the time in the world.”

“We don’t.” You whispered to him, looking into his eyes with your own tear stained face. “We don’t.”

In that moment, he could see it in your eyes.

You were telling him the truth, the whole of it.

As the sound of the train echoed through the tunnel,

You burst into tears as those words echoed in his head.

“I’m sorry, Satoru.” You whispered. “I’m going to hurt you.”

YOU CHOSE THE PICTURE YOURSELF. You looked at him, a sad smile playing on your lips, a bittersweet expression that conveyed both regret and acceptance. Your gaze was gentle yet haunting, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from the photograph he held in his trembling hands — a portrait of you, captured in a moment of serene beauty that seemed to transcend the confines of the photograph itself.

As he stared at your image, framed by the soft glow of candlelight, he felt a pang of disbelief and sorrow grip his heart. How could someone so vibrant, so full of life, now be reduced to this still, silent image before him? The photograph seemed to capture not just your physical likeness, but also the essence of your spirit — a spirit that had once danced with such vitality and now lingered only in memories.

He remembered that day in the tunnel, your words echoing in his mind like a haunting refrain. You had warned him, confessed your impending departure with a sorrow that mirrored his own. In that moment, he had felt a deep ache, a foreboding sense of loss that now seemed inevitable and crushing.

Now, holding your funeral photo, he felt as if he were suspended in that tunnel once more, caught between the reality of your absence and the vividness of your memory. You had prepared for this moment, for your departure from his life, long before fate had delivered its cruel blow. The photo captured a version of you that he knew was only a fraction of the person he had loved — a mere reflection of the complexities and contradictions that made you who you were.

He shook his head, trying to dispel the illusion of your ghostly presence that seemed to linger in the room. This spectral image, so painfully beautiful, could never truly encapsulate the vibrant soul he had cherished. Everything that defined you now rested in the small urn before him, the echoes of the fleeting nature of life itself. He had promised to protect you, to hold you close, but now all he could do was hold onto your memory, etched into his heart with a sorrow that would never fade.

Gojo Satoru sat in silence, the photo trembling in his hands. He couldn't bring himself to look away from your serene face, captured forever in that moment of calm. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows around the room, creating an atmosphere that felt both intimate and surreal.

"You told me……" Satoru finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, "that you were going to hurt me. But I never thought it would end like this."

Your ghostly presence seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light, a wistful echo of the person he had loved so deeply. Your eyes, even in the photo, held a depth of sadness that mirrored his own

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice carrying a weight of regret that pierced through the silence. "I never wanted this for us."

He looked up at you, tears welling in his eyes. "I should have done everything." he said, his voice breaking with emotion. "I should have done something."

You shook your head gently, a gesture that seemed to encompass both forgiveness and understanding. "It wasn't your fault," you reassured him softly. "We couldn't change what was meant to be."

"But I miss you, my love." Satoru confessed, his voice choking with grief. "Every day feels like a struggle without you."

Your ghostly form seemed to draw closer, as if reaching out to comfort him. "I know, I know…." you murmured, your presence a fleeting warmth in the cold emptiness of the room. "I miss you too."

He reached out a trembling hand towards where your image lay, desperate for some tangible connection to the love that had defined his world. "Why did you have to leave me?" he asked, his voice filled with anguish. “Why now when we had everything?”

You looked at him with infinite sadness, your ethereal presence flickering faintly. "I didn't want to," you replied, your voice barely audible. "But my time was up. Some things... we can't control it."

He closed his cerulean eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks. The ache in his chest felt unbearable, a gaping void that no amount of time could ever heal. "I wish I could have saved you, my love." he whispered, his words a desperate plea to the universe. “I wished I….”

In the silence that followed, your ghostly form seemed to fade gradually, leaving behind only the faint echo of your presence. "You gave me everything I ever wanted." you whispered softly, your voice drifting like a gentle breeze. "And I will always be with you, in every memory, in every heartbeat."

He closed his cerulean eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks like silent rivers of grief. The ache in his chest felt unbearable, a gaping void that no amount of time could ever hope to heal. "I don't want anything else, my love," he whispered brokenly, his words a desperate plea to the universe. "I just want you. I need you."

His voice faltered, choked by sorrow too deep for words. In the deafening silence that followed, your ghostly form seemed to fade gradually, leaving behind only the faint echo of your presence. The room feels emptier without you, devoid of the warmth and light that had once filled his life.

"I know." You choked as you tried not to falter. Not when he needed your smile more than your tears. "I know."

"I wished we had more time.....so I could have....." You shook your head at him.

"You gave me everything I ever wanted," your voice echoed softly, ethereal and distant like a whisper carried in the wind. "And I have no regrets. Neither should you, Satoru. Hm?"

He clutched the photograph to his chest, feeling the weight of your absence press against him like a physical force. The candle flickered, casting fleeting shadows on the walls as if dancing to the rhythm of his heartache. Memories flooded his mind — moments shared, laughter exchanged, dreams woven together — now a tapestry of what-ifs and regrets.

"I don't know how to go on without you, my love." he admitted quietly, his voice trembling with raw emotion. "Everything reminds me of you. What is life without who makes life have sense?"

"You are stronger than you know, you always were." your voice whispered gently, a soothing melody in the midst of his storm. He could feel you touch his cheek. He leans against the ghostly weight, wishing he could feel your warmth in his. "You'll always get by, Satoru. You always will. You're the best I know, after all."

"Because I'm the strongest?"

You smiled, softly shaking your head again. "Because you love too well."

He opened his pale blue eyes, searching for a glimpse of you in the shadows, in the flickering candlelight. Though your physical presence had slipped away, he could still feel your love wrapping around him like a fragile cocoon. It was a love that had weathered storms, endured trials, and now lingered as fragile hope in his shattered heart.

"I love you, my love." he whispered into the stillness, his words a solemn vow to carry your memory forward. "Always."

As he sat there, cradling the photograph that held your smile frozen in time, he knew that while he had lost you in body, your spirit would forever remain intertwined with his own. And in the quiet moments of solitude, he would find solace in the memories of a love that had transcended mortality itself.

He knew that time would be the bridge between now and when he would see you again. Even in his deepest despair, the thought of reuniting with you brought a bittersweet comfort. Yet, he also knew that to join you prematurely would betray the promise he had made to you in those final moments — to live a life worthy of your love, to carry on and make a difference.

The scent of incense filled the room, a solemn reminder of the rituals and prayers offered for your departed soul. Satoru let out a long exhale, his lips pursed into a determined line. He would fulfill his promises, no matter how difficult or daunting the path ahead seemed.

"I'll change the Jujutsu society," he vowed quietly to himself, the words carrying a weight of determination. "I'll guide the next generation, help them grow strong and wise."

As a sad melody filled the air, a song that once brought joy and laughter to both of you, he closed his eyes and allowed the memories to wash over him. You had loved to dance to this song, your laughter echoing in his ears as you twirled around the room together. It was a memory etched in his heart, a fragment of a life he cherished and longed to live again.

"I'll do everything you believed I could," he whispered softly, his voice tinged with both sadness and resolve. "And then, I'll find you again."

In the solitude of that moment, amidst the flickering candlelight and the haunting melody, he made a silent promise to himself and to you. He would continue to carry your love in his heart, through every trial and triumph, knowing that one day, their souls would reunite in a dance again.

And so Gojo Satoru waits as he lay on that cold operating table.

Those sad sing along songs repeated in his head over and over.

But as he lay there, all that he could think to do was smile at pain.

He was going to meet you soon, he thinks to himself in such peace.

Then, there would be no more sad songs for his broken heart to hear.

some facts about the fic

in the first part, satoru is struggling through his grief for you to the point that he is suffering traumatic illusions that you were there, eating with him. in that whole scene, satoru was actually alone and he's repressing that for the vision of being together, eating.

when you were eating, the chopsticks were stuck upright. this should not be the case especially rice. chopsticks are only stuck upright into rice in the bowl on the altar at a funeral or when paying respects to the deceased. this is called hotokebashi.

in the funerary flower arrangement, there's something called an ihai. an ihai is a placard that people used to designate the seat of a deity or past ancestor as well as to enclose it. the name of the deity or the past ancestor is usually inscribed onto the tablet.

an ihai is usually used in the funerary rights and then afterwards, put in a butsudan which is often an ornate platform or simply a wooden cabinet sometimes crafted with doors that enclose it. families often put their ihai into their butsudan at home.

since i thought that in this story, you don't have parents - i like to think that satoru put your ihai in the butsudan in his house, so that you could be there with him always.

your ashes in the story are with satoru. but i like to believe he already had a spot reserved for him as clan leader in the future - so he buried you beside his future spot so he just made sure both of you are together in the afterlife too.

the watch belonged to haibara and his parents gave you and nanami something of his to keep. you kept the watch he wore during the mission and kept using it all your life. it stopped working when you died.

the time in the story was 19:42. in japanese superstition,

since i thought that in this story, you don't have parents - i like to think that satoru put your ihai in the butsudan in his house, so that you could be there with him always.

the time in the story was 19:42. in japanese superstition, you have to switch it to have meaning. 42-19, together sounds like shini iku (死に行く – to go and die).

your story ex-spouse and you divorced because they found out that you were a jujutsu sorcerer - after you saved them from a cursed spirit that was about to kill them.

you found out that you were very ill a month after you met satoru again and were given a year or two to live, with medication. its a rare disease, so there was only maintenance medication.

originally, i thought to write that you die from a mission after returning to jujutsu to be with satoru. but i realized that it's just not gonna hit as hard. so i changed my mind and got to this ending.

i also thought that you dying in this story because of cursed spirits was going to rile satoru up against the higher ups. but i felt like the fact that you left him because you were traumatized too, and needed a room enough to breathe was enough for him to be angry. if you hadn't left, you and satoru would have had a life together and you wouldn't have been ripped away from him by fate so quickly.

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deceitfuldevout · 10 months

Text

Blessed Be The Fruit

Soft!Dark!Sergeant!Tommy Shelby x Maiden!Reader

Word Count: +1,620

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Hints of misogyny, Loss of virginity, Mild gore (blood), Cunnilingus, Mentions of past kidnapping.

Author's Notes: This is a one shot. It's a fanfiction that has a few ideas from the handmaiden’s tale that are altered cause it's my fic lol.

As the population decreases, the government has no choice but to intervene. Every citizen is now required to marry past a certain age. Those who were part of the military or government, were given a registry of approved wives to choose from. Often the families of the women were forced to participate. Yours was one of them. It was a week after you turned twenty when an officer knocked on your parents' door. He will inform you of the news. A husband has finally chosen you.

You read the profile of your soon-to-be husband, Sergeant Tommy Shelby. He'd served in the British army for a few years, returning home as a decorated solider. His first wife had been murdered, the second divorced. Your eyes rake down the list. A widower who'd been married twice. He'd lost his youngest daughter to an illness, his first son in a local gang's crossfire. Charlie is his last remaining heir. He can't risk losing him, what Tommy needs now is a spare.

You remember your earlier days of scouting. Should any family find themselves under bankruptcy, their daughters will be forced into the draft. A law passed by the government to decrease the poverty line. You along with the other women were kidnapped and forced to attend months of dreadful etiquette classes.

Training you on how to walk, talk, behave, and care for the home. In simpler terms, you had to learn how to sell yourself as someone interesting enough to marry. You were a brand, put on display for any eligible bachelors. Only at the graduation ceremony did you feel relieved. Finally allowed to return home.

Every family that had been in the registry was part of the working class. They'd been forcibly placed in the registry because of debt or bankruptcy. It was the government's solution to decrease the amount of poverty. Their daughters would be used as sacrificial lambs. Otherwise, they'd be rounded up and forced into imprisonment, or worse. How could you say no with such a severe punishment?

He has given you a week. A week to come with him willingly or face the consequences. It rained on the day of the wedding, the ceremony itself was cut short by how dangerous the weather became. Your now husband wastes no time dragging you away and into a car. He wastes time returning home. Tommy led the way to the bedroom. There were certain things to expect on your wedding night. A contract that now legally binds you to him.

There is a list of conditions that the each of you were to follow. One being him taking care of you and your family, as long as you promise to give him an heir. However, many it would be. There was one last thing to seal the contract, marriage consummation. Mandatory by law, punishable by imprisonment. You remember the advice given by the elderly women who worked for the registry program. As soon as you spot the bed, covered in white sheets, your breathing hitches.

Tommy faces away from you, stripping himself of his coat. You remove each strap and let the dress slip off. You approach the bed, now splayed in only a white lace set, relaxing on your side. You tilt your head. Now gazing at your new husband with a playful smirk. If only he knew what was going on inside that little head of yours. How badly you wanted to break free.

A happy husband means an easy life.

That's what the elders had taught you. He turns around, taken aback by your sudden eagerness. His cold eyes rake your figure. He starts to approach the bed. Your seductive expression starts to crack. You find yourself now trapped under his cold, hard gaze. Still, there was too much at stake.

Appeasing your husband is what keeps the house in order.

This wasn't just a marriage consummation, it's a test to see if your husband wants to keep you. Everyone you love and care for will pay for one mistake, and that terrifies you.

A good wife must tend to all his needs.

That's when he gave the orders, "Present," to which you immediately began removing the rest of your garments. A procedure all the wives had practiced for. You feel a calloused hand holding your hip in place. Both hands digging into the soft blankets below. It takes everything in you not to burst into tears. Because good wives hide their pain well. He spits into the palm of his hand, spreading the slick on his length. He starts to pump himself, tugging on his cock a few times. But only enough to get it hard.

Tommy doesn't want to waste any more time. He presses his tip against your entrance, dragging it up and down your slit. He spits at your entrance before pushing in. Tears form in the corners of your eyes. You held back a scream, digging your nails into the bed. He places an arm to each side, shifting his bodyweight against yours. A grunt of discomfort broke from your lips. It felt like he was breaking you in.

There's only one thing that Tommy needs from you. Tonight, he's going to make sure it happens. If not, then he'll breed you every day until you take. He doesn't want to stop from there, no. You'll give him another one, then another after that. As many as he can make from that tight cunt of yours. Just the thought of it has him moaning, "Fuck...so good for me...my wife..." he juts his hips, finding a rhythm, "You will obey me," he fastens his pace, with both hands now grabbing your hips in a firm grip, "Your only job is to give me an heir," Tommy starts to lose himself in the pleasure.

It had been a while since he's had a good fuck. His brows furrow from how hard you were squeezing him, "Fuck...such a tight cunt..." he groans, he hovers over your naked form. His body heat spreading to your back. A thick wall of muscle traps you against the bed. He growls in your ear, "It's going to be like this every day...every day until this womb gives me an heir," a promise he's going to make sure comes true.

Tommy's grunts became louder as he was close. Sweat trickles from his body to yours, the intensity of it reduced you to a whining mess. He splays his body flush against yours. A stray of curse words escapes his lips, "Fuck...fuck so good...so good for me..." he dips his head in the crook of your neck, muffling one last moan before bottoming out. He doesn't remove himself, no. Tommy kept you plugged with his spunk. He pushes his length in as far as it could go before pulling out.

He flips over right next to you to catch his breath. When he hears sniffling, he turns his head. What made his little wife upset? He turns you over. Your eyes are red, there are tear tracks that trailed down each cheek. Spit had dribbled down your chin and onto the bed. Tommy had a gift for reading people. It was obvious you were trying to keep a plain expression. He hovers over you now with a stern look on his face. Tommy is determined to find the source of your worries.

That's when he felt it, the small wet patch on the bedding. Blots of crimson were in stark contrast to the white sheets below. You cower under his gaze. Frozen by fear yet still, you try to please him. But Tommy could see it clearly, and he wouldn't have it. He reaches below your knees, pulling you closer towards him. He lifts your lower half, until your bare slit is close enough to his mouth.

Suddenly, an unfamiliar sensation has you gasping. Tommy flattens his tongue against your core, dragging it up and down your slit. He takes his time, suckling and kissing at your sex. Practically smothering himself in it as he thrusts his tongue inside your spent cunt. You press a palm flat against your mouth, muffling any whimpers that would escape. Now this wasn't something you were prepared for.

Tommy wraps his lips around that bundle of nerves you whine. Your hole twitches with need, he'll fix that. Tommy slowly stretches the now slick opening, collecting any slickness he would need. He latches his mouth around your bud while thrusting his fingers in and out. Faster and faster, until a wave of pleasure has you arching your back. A gush of arousal splashes his chin, but he doesn't stop. Not even after you're pumping at his fingers in a vice grip. He keeps thrusting them at a rapid pace, until you've come undone again. He retreats from your drenched sex with a triumphant 'huff'.

You were exhausted, trying your best to catch breath. All you could do was stare at Tommy though hooded eyelids. He's sporting a cocky smirk, "I'm sorry dear wife," he interwinds his fingers with yours, holding them in place, "Do you forgive me?" licking up the slick on his lips. A flush of pink is spread across his face and ears. His icy blues are now overpowered by the large iris'. You could only give a faint nod, too tired to react as he pulls you in.

There the two of you lay, sprawled naked across the bed sheets. Your head against his chest as he brushes his hands though the locks. Tommy lets you rest for now. He sighs, "understanding now that you weren't a willing participant. All for the sake of 'societal standards'. He won't give you a harder life than it already had been. "Blessed be the fruit," he announces, marking the end of the night.

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