#[ am i becoming attached to this already? :3

[theliliesofthevalleies]

Bruce is Tim’s Godfather AU (with a little bit of Tim never becomes Robin thrown in for drama.)

Ages and time in this AU don’t line up with like anything that is canon. You know why? Because ages in canon don’t matter and time is an illusion. May whatever gods you follow bless you when you read this absolutely convoluted mess of an AU that I thought of at like 3 am.

For reference Dick is 7ish years older than Tim and Jason will end up being 3ish years older than Tim in this AU eventually when I get to him. If I don’t lose interest and abandon it like I do with so many of my AU’s.

Also. Bruce’s age is irrelevant because.. well.. fuck that I’m not touching it with a ten foot pole.

I’m also not really going to include the girls in any of this not because I don’t love them but because it’s going to center around mostly the three older boys and adding the girls just gives me too many people to keep track of.

Anyway. On to the AU

Being the only child of the richest family in Gotham Bruce grew up meeting and making connections with the other children of wealthy and influential families. He at the very least knew of every child of every millionaire and billionaire on the east coast. Naturally that meant that he grew up with Jack Drake. They were fairly close being that their estates were Nextdoor to each other, not as close as some other children of the rich and powerful but close enough that when Jack married Janet and they started their family they named Bruce as their son’s godfather.

Bruce was elated by being named someone’s godfather, despite his absolute lack of knowledge about babies or children in general. He was just happy that someone thought of him. Of course since Jack and Janet named him godfather he made time to get to know the kid and he grew attached and protective over the child. Obviously he was already Batman so Tim became the first light in Batman’s life. He vowed to keep his moral compass to be a good example for Tim.

When Tim was five him and his parents went to the circus. Tim’s parents argued about whether or not Tim was old enough to not be scared of the circus despite the fact that he had begged to go on multiple occasions and had even convinced his Godfather to take him multiple times and not tell his parents. He was invested in watching Dick Grayson, his idol, on the trapeze while they were arguing and amidst their bickering Tim was the one out of the three of them that witnessed two out of the three Flying Grayson’s deaths.

In all the chaos of everyone getting the hell out of there Tim saw the bodies, a crying Dick Grayson, and Batman kneeling to comfort him. When they got home Tim looked at a picture he had gotten with Dick and his parents that night. Being a sweet five year old he asked his nanny to print off another copy and he went to Bruce to ask if he’d help him find a way to get the copy of the picture to Dick.

A few weeks later Tim was visiting Wayne manor while his parents worked and his many had the day off when Alfred returned home from an urgent errand. He ran to greet him and when he got to the door there was Dick Grayson. He almost screamed, well actually he was five, the kid squealed in delight. Bruce explained that Dick was going to be staying with him for a while. Then he took Tim to calmly give the copy of the photo to Dick.

Dick looked at the picture and broke down into tears. He collapsed on the floor of the foyer and bawled his eyes out. As he cried he felt a tiny hand on his cheek and heard a tiny voice. “I’m sowwy. I didn’t mean to make you cwy..”

From that moment forward Dick was Tim’s big brother and no one would ever convince either of them that it was false.

By the time Tim was six Bruce’s relationship with Jack and Janet had started to deteriorate due to them leaving Tim home alone with his nanny for prolonged periods of time. He viewed it as neglectful, it was only solidified by the few interactions with their child Bruce had witnessed when they were home. All they ever wanted to know was how school and tutoring was going and then left Tim to do his own thing and basically ignored that he existed, sending him to his nanny whenever he needed anything.

Bruce made sure that Tim’s nanny knew she could bring Tim to Wayne manor whenever she needed a break. She knew that Tim loved it there so she did take Bruce up on his offer. She didn’t want the poor child growing up with no one else around other than when he was in school so they basically lived at Wayne manor whenever Jack and Janet were gone for months at a time. Tim would get to see his godfather all the time and his big brother whenever he wanted. She noted that he acted completely different at Wayne manor than he did at Drake manor.

Tim was there when Dick was officially adopted and celebrated with them happily. He felt like part of a real family. The only time his illusions were shattered was when his parents would come home. Bruce noticed the shift in Tim, he was outgoing and excited while he was at Wayne manor but when he found out they had to go back to Drake manor he would withdraw and isolate himself from everyone but his nanny. He would stop talking to the point that at one point Bruce feared his once bright and happy godson had gone mute.

Eventually Alfred, Bruce, Dick, Tim’s Nanny and Tim started learning sign language for the times Tim would learn he had to go home. Bruce never felt he could confront Jack and Janet about their neglect because he was worried they would take Tim away from him and their treatment of Tim would worsen until there was irreversible damage done to the small boy. Bruce just did his best to remind Tim as often as possible that no matter what happened Tim had people who loved and cared about him.

Bruce was the one that realized Tim liked taking pictures. He was always asking if he could take pictures of everything, everywhere, all the time no matter where they were or what they were doing. So for Tim’s seventh birthday Bruce gifted him a very nice camera that Tim promptly started taking everywhere with him. They would print off his pictures and hang them up everywhere even if they weren’t good. Dick said it was to be able to have originals when Tim inevitably became a famous photographer/artist.

Tim would attend galas with Bruce and Dick despite his parents not being around and would stick near Dick. Dick would introduce Tim to people as his baby brother and even though pretty much all the adults knew that, one Tim was in fact not a Wayne and not Bruce’s child, and two Dick was definitely not his older brother, no one wanted to be the adult that pointed out that Tim was actually a Drake and that at some point he would have to go back to permanently living in Drake manor.

Even though Dick was older Tim would always defend Dick to the other high society children who were all just parroting with their parents were saying about Dick since he was adopted and being raised by a single father. It got so bad once when Tim was seven and Dick was fourteen that Tim punched an older kid in the face shouting at him to be nice to his big brother before being promptly scooped up by Dick and taken to Bruce. They went back home after Bruce apologized to the kids parents with the subtle undertone of a threat that if he found out their kid was repeating anything an adult may have said around him about his son again there would be hell to pay, all with his signature Brucie Wayne smile that left little room for argument.

Of course Tim being as attached to Dick as he was, and idolizing Dick for his gymnastics skills it meant that Dick had to do a lot to avoid being found out when he became Robin. It obviously didn’t work because one day just before Tim’s eighth birthday, he was watching a video of Batman and Robin and noticed something familiar. He went to Dick and asked him about a specific gymnastics trick that required a high level of precision that most gymnasts trained their whole lives to achieve. The Flying Grayson’s quad somersault that Tim knew for a fact that before Dick’s parents deaths only three people knew.

Tim didn’t let Dick know why he was asking as he watched Dick perform the trick in the gym inside Wayne manor. He asked how many other gymnasts in the world did Dick think could do that trick. Dick answered honestly that it was a highly difficult trick that if they hadn’t been trained to do it from an early age they would probably never achieve it.

Tim just left it at that, smiling at Dick with a knowing smile. Dick didn’t even notice.

No one noticed when Tim stopped going to bed after dinner. He would instead let his nanny put him to bed and after an hour he would sneak out. He would grab his camera and run around the streets of Gotham unsupervised at night and snap photos of Batman and Robin, who at that point he knew were Bruce and fifteen, year old Dick Grayson, his idol, his only friend, his big brother.

Tim was around and watched as Bruce and Dick’s relationship began to strain. They would try to hide it from Tim, whose parents seemed to be around less and less as he got older but put more and more pressure on him to be the best and achieve only perfection.

Tim saw it anyway. He saw it in the way Batman would scold Robin and the next day Dick wouldn’t talk to Bruce all day, or in the way Dick would ignore Bruce benching him and go off on patrol anyway on his own. Tim continued to go out and follow them around and by that point he had gotten even better at photography and had many SD cards packed full of photos of Batman and Robin.

Fast forward two years. Tim’s parents were missing. A plane crash. They couldn’t be located, and while technically legally Tim should’ve been placed with Bruce as he was his designated guardian if something happened to his parents Gotham CPS was never known for doing things the way they were supposed to. For six months while they were searching for Tim’s parents he was bounced around from foster home to foster home while Bruce fought to bring him back home with him and Dick in the wake of his parent’s accident.

Eventually they found all the proper paperwork proving Bruce should’ve had Tim in the first place in the event that something happened to his parents and he was allowed to bring ten year old Tim back to Wayne manor.

Seeing as how Tim had already been looking at Bruce as if he were his parental figure it came as no surprise that upon learning about his parents death ten months after they had gone missing he turned to Bruce for fatherly love. And since it was the only fatherly love he could clearly remember the familiarity made him feel safe.

Fast forward about another year and two months to Dick leaving behind the Robin mantle, becoming Nightwing, and moving to Blüdhaven. Tim was devastated. His idol, his best friend, his big brother was leaving him behind. Tim was still too young to really understand the strain on Bruce and Dick’s relationship stemming from Bruce’s strictness with Dick when it came to him being Robin.

Completely unaware of Tim’s knowledge of their identities Dick sat with Bruce to have, what he hoped would be a civil conversation, about the future of Robin. He explained that he knew Tim was the first light in Batman’s life and that would never change. He told him he would have preferred to be Robin longer to give Tim time to train since he knew Bruce would eventually want Tim to be Robin.

“I would have liked to stay longer and give you time to tell him and let him train and become Robin.. i would prefer it if he were Robin and not someone else or you not having a Robin at all.. but I cant do it anymore B. If we keep going at this rate I’ll end up hating you and you’ll end up resenting me.. plus he’s too young now.. you can’t ask him to be Robin yet.”

Eleven year old Tim, who had known the two were meeting that night, crashed the meeting by throwing himself into a window and rolling into the room they were in of the run down apartment building they decided to have their meeting in.

“I know you’re my dad and brother!”

Tim brushed the glass and dust off of himself as the two older men turned and stared at him. He had looked back up at them and sighed.

“And I don’t want to be Robin.. especially not if it means you leave..”

The nineteen year old Dick kneeled on the floor and hugged Tim close to himself and told him he would always come back when his baby brother needed him no matter what but that he couldn’t keep going the way he was going.

Tim had known Dick would say that so instead of arguing he opened the SD card slot on his camera removed the extra SD card that was full of just pictures of Bruce and Dick out on patrol together that went back for three years starting the night he figured it all out. After a heartfelt goodbye Bruce took Tim home questioning him the whole way there.

Once they had gotten home Tim pulled out photo albums, a box of SD cards that were all full, and opened his laptop he had for school and showed Bruce everything he had on them and their identities. But most importantly all the photos he had taken of the two of them on patrol, taking breaks on rooftops.

“You’re not allowed to let this ruin your relationship with Dick.. I’m not choosing between you two. But I won’t let either of you say anything bad about the other either..”

Bruce looked at everything and agreed.

A few months later Bruce went back to the Batmobile to find a kid not much older than Tim stealing the wheels off of it. He was promptly hit in the stomach with a tire iron and the kid ran off.

And that’s where I’m going to leave off for this post. Hopefully I don’t for get this exists because I honestly do have most of the info for the AU already in my head it’s just a matter of writing it all down. ❤️💙🖤

As for the Tim never becomes Robin thrown in for spice don’t worry my loves Tim becomes a Vigilante. Just not Robin in fact the only other person in this AU that will ever become Robin after we get through Jay’s year and a half of Robin is Dami and only because his Akhi tells him cool stories about being Robin.

P.S. the fact that y’all like my stuff despite the fact that I am being mean and writing really sad stuff is making me feel great because I’m trying to get past my fanfic author curse of I have tried to die three times since I started writing fanfic in the last four months so.. thank you. Because I haven’t posted anything up until now because I said “fuck it if I’m going to wind up in the hospital anyway might as well actually post what I write” so thank you. ❤️❤️❤️

[southernvampire]

just got to act 3 and I'm not ok. that conversation in the pistis sofia... after going through everything, losing a lot of people, your time running short and getting sicker by the moment, the option for V to trust Johnny almost completely is there.

the realization (for my V in particular) is that yeah, he would take a bullet for Johnny. yeah, he does want corps to burn, no matter how impossible that actually is. yeah, he will let Johnny take over to talk to Rogue and trust him with his body, because at this point, what else does he have to lose? Johnny needs his body to survive just as much as V does. and when Johnny tells him that he'll help V and be ok with being wiped out, V believes him. no matter if Johnny is actually trying to trick him or what everyone has told V about Johnny, he chooses to trust him.

in the moment, he doesn't worry about the reasoning behind it, if his mind is slowly turning into Johnny's or if he's just being stockholmed by Johnny, because he's seen the look on his face when a relic malfunction happens, heard the hitch of concern in his voice each time. and yeah, that concern is for himself, but also for V. he can almost feel Johnny's emotions in those times.

after that conversation, he realizes that he loves Johnny in a way that he can't quite put his finger on. like not being able to help but love a part of yourself simply because it's you, except Johnny isn't V. not yet, if Hellman was right about how this was all going to go down. but it's more than that. he also loves Johnny like a childhood friend you've always had feelings for, but know nothing will ever happen of it so you choose to be by their side through the years to be close to them and care for them in a way they will accept. except they've barely had time to properly know each other, yet they know each other more than anyone else has ever had.

whatever feeling it is, it is intimate and selfless and bordering on being completely, unapologetically unconditional. and though he doesn't have proof, V thinks that Johnny might be feeling the same, or similar, feeling toward V, whether or not it's solely based on his own need for survival.

he realizes that he doesn't exactly want Johnny to go away, not completely, and he's not sure if he could deal with the loneliness in his mind afterward, or the guilt if anything happened to Johnny's construct. he needs Johnny, cares about him, partly because they're slowly melding together into one, but also because he doesn't have anyone else he's ever been this vulnerable with, and he senses the same might be true for Johnny. he doesn't want to let go of Johnny, but deep down he's also not ready to die, his self-loathing be damned.

the pistis sofia is a great place to die, but not today, so he'll keep trying to find a solution. but the odds aren't looking good, and if it comes down to it, he doesn't know if he'll be able to choose himself over Johnny.

[cappyjara]

seeing the mario movie in like an hour letsa gooooooo

[the-cookie-jar-system]

I love u algae

thanks u! ily too random anon! - algae

[dollfacefantasy]

dig your claws right into me ♡

logan howlett x fem!reader

logan hurts you when he has a nightmare. now you both have to deal with the fallout.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, descriptions of nightmare, injury, and blood

a/n: reader is a mutant but i didn't specify her powers so you can imagine what you want. just some sickly sweet intimacy cause that's what i was feeling tonight <3

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

The words come out whispered as Logan's lips press against the three tiny bumps of developing scar tissue on your abdomen.

"I already told you that you don't have to be sorry," you say. Your voice drifts into the space between the two of you as soft as the movements of your fingers running through his hair.

"Well I am, bub. You should want me to be."

Each one of his hands rests upon either side of your waist. His fingers squish against your flesh while his eyes stare at the scars on your belly. He gazes at them like the small marks, all equidistant from one another, could be willed away by his harsh look. He hated the fact that they were there at all. Even worse, that he was the one who gave them to you.

"But it was an accident," you respond, giving one of the tufts of his hair a gentle tug.

His dark pupils flit up to look at your face. "Doesn't matter. It being an accident doesn't change the fact that you're gonna have these marks forever. I wouldn't care that it was accidental if I'd killed you."

He remembers the night it happened that seemed like a real possibility.

His light sleep had been interrupted by a nightmare. Over the time that had passed between then and now, it'd become indistinct from all the others he experiences regularly. The only difference between that one and the ones he'd had since he'd started sleeping next to you each night was the intensity. That night had been rough. Normally when he slept in your room, he seemed to be able to tone it down. Almost as if his brain knew to not act up while your relationship was still starting to blossom.

But two weeks ago, his mind didn't care. It flash-banged him with the usual images of himself in that tank. The searing, splitting pain of the adamantium attaching itself to his bones.

Usually, if he had a nightmare beside you, he'd grunt and twitch, maybe shift around a little. That night though, you got to see the whole performance. The tossing and turning, sweating and moaning, tense limbs and scrunched up face.

Poor, sweet, innocent you thought that you could just wake him up. Your hands nudged at his bicep and shoulder as you gently cooed "Logan. It's just a dream."

In the end, your tenderness didn't matter. When he actually came to, your anguished cry was all that registered. And then he felt the sharp heat between his knuckles that meant the claws were out. His heart dropped and his vision nearly blacked out. He couldn't have.

He retracted them as quickly as they'd appeared and pulled back to look at you. Crimson flooded the gray t-shirt you'd worn to bed. The three little spots spread into large blooms of scarlet. Your hands flew to the spot to clutch at it, but they did nothing to stop the warm liquid from spilling out.

"No, no, no, fuck," he'd whispered frantically as his mind raced for a solution.

Your cries morphed into whimpers. Soft and vulnerable. Like a prey animal that'd been fatally wounded but not put out of its misery. Blood seeped out onto your bedding, and it was then that he rocketed off the mattress and scooped you up into his arms.

Fortunately, Scott, Jean, and Storm were already outside the door in the hall, having heard the scream. A gathering of students lingered behind them as well. Shame coursed through his veins, albeit dulled by the panic. He remembered thinking it was stupid, but after the adrenaline left his system, it was the dominant emotion he was left with. Ashamed was the only word that could describe holding the knowledge that everyone here now saw he was capable of hurting the woman he loves. Maybe he was no better than an animal.

In truth, shame was all he felt now. So much relief settled over him since you'd made it out alive. Thanks to the enhanced physical capabilities from your mutation and Jean's adequate medical skills, these scars would be the only lasting effect of the wounds.

He'd rushed you down to the infirmary faster than he'd ever moved in a non-combat situation. His feet thundered down the stairs, a part of him withering to ash with each little whimper you let out as the motion jostled your body around.

"I'm sorry, bub. Almost there. We're almost there. You're gonna be ok," he'd mumbled out thoughtlessly, saying anything he could that would bring you even a shred of comfort.

He kept your hand in his the entire time you were down there on the cold examination table. His grip stayed firm. He wouldn't let the anxiety over your well being consume him. This was his fault, and now you needed him. He didn't get to be worried or upset or anything that wasn't in support of you.

When you howled in pain, he winced as if he was the one being treated. You cried for him, choking out "Logan" through tears over and over. It tore him apart inside. All he could do to soothe you was stroke your cheek and murmur reassurances in your ear.

"Shh, shh, shh. You're doing so good, baby. My strong girl. Being so brave."

He usually reserved affection for private moments, but in those painful seconds, it felt like you two were the only ones in the room.

These thoughts running through his head display across his face. The way his cheek squishes against your tummy and his eyes vacantly stare at the wall opposite his bed. You told him the next day that everything transformed into a blur in your mind. You remembered the feeling of being stabbed and the sight of him panicking, but beyond that nothing specific stayed. You knew he held you and talked to you even though you couldn't recall an individual thing he said or did.

That was fine with him. He listened to you tell the story from your perspective. You spoke with your normal cadence, the usual happy glow in your eyes, and the same animated gestures coming from your hands. His eyes lingered on your torso though. The bandages peeking out from underneath your clean camisole he'd changed you into.

Every last detail of the incident was etched into the deepest part of his psyche. Most likely stored away as material for future nightmares. As much as he hated it, he figured that's the way it should be. He didn't deserve the peace that comes with forgetting.

For the first week after it'd happened, he wouldn't sleep with you. He'd stay with you, cuddled against your body, until you drifted off. Then he'd get up and skulk back to his own room, leaving you cold and alone on your bed.

Eventually after a few more days, you got him to try it out again, but he'd only do it in his own room. It was hard for him to be in yours. New sheets covered your foamy mattress now since the blood wouldn't wash out of the old set. Each brush of the novel material against his skin was just a rose-printed reminder of what he'd done to you.

He's snapped out of his recollection when your voice returns to the original conversation.

"None of that stuff happened though. You didn't kill me, and you're not going to. I'll be more careful next time," you break the silence with a gentle reassurance.

Next time. That's what hurts the worst. You knew this would happen again. You'd promised that when it did you wouldn't try to wake him. Wouldn't touch him or do anything that could set him off. Just give him his space and let him work through it.

"I don't even want you worrying about being careful when you're trying to sleep," he grumbles.

Your nails scrape over his scalp, making his eyes flutter. A deep sigh leaves him. As much as he hated himself for all of this, he could never help easing up under your touch.

"You're worth it."

Three words you said so often. He never believed them, but that didn't stop you from repeating them like a slogan. Instead of arguing with you over the validity of the statement, he stays silent. Replaces any verbal response with a physical one by nuzzling into the warmth of your stomach and laying kisses around your navel.

You watch the affectionate gesture and trail your fingers down to the nape of his neck, massaging the tender skin there.

"You are," you whisper, "One mistake doesn't define you. Doesn't change how I see you."

"It's not just a simple mistake-" he starts.

"Yes it is," you interject, trying to nip his self doubt in the bud.

"It's not. It's not like I forgot your birthday or left my wallet behind when taking you out."

"It's still an accident. The severity doesn't change the intention. Would you hate me if my powers acted up and hurt you?"

God, you could be just as stubborn as him. It grated on his already frayed nerves. He shifts to look up at you fully. And some of that building tension dissolves upon seeing the earnest look on your face.

"It's not the same. Anything you did to me, I would heal," he says.

"I'm healing too. I'm just not as fast as you," you respond. You actually smile as if this is some lighthearted matter. Of course you knew it wasn't the same. You presented no danger to him whereas if he'd nicked you an inch to the left, he might be talking to your headstone right now instead of you. That wasn't the point though.

He shakes his head. "It's different, bub. But I'm not even saying you should hate me..." 

In truth, he didn't know what he was saying. If he wanted you to hate him or stay away from him, he could be the one to break things off. But he was still right here, arms wrapped around you and head hovering inches away from your body.

"I just think you should be more cautious than you're being," he finishes, "I don't want you to think you have to put up with this."

You frown and pet his hair. "I don't think that."

"I'm not trying to lecture you, baby," he sighs, "I just don't want to hurt you again."

He could certainly flaunt a pair of puppy eyes when he wanted to. The way he was looking up at you now made him seem so sad and wounded. Like a dog who can't control when he bites but gets kicked aside for it all the same.

"You're not going to. We'll be careful. It was an accident," you say, tone almost pleading, "You're still my Logan."

To go along with your words, you pull on one of his arms, beckoning him closer. He complies with your request and scales your body so that the two of you are aligned. You stare up into his eyes and the whirlpools of emotion within them. Your hand lands on his cheek, your thumb stroking back and forth in small swipes.

"I'm not gonna let you pull away cause of this," you whisper, "It wasn't your fault. You don't choose to have those dreams."

You can tell he wants to argue, but he struggles to find the words. Indirectly cutting him off, you guide his head closer to yours. His face slots against the crook of your neck, and yours does the same in his. You nuzzle him there, breathing in the rich, musky scent of him.

"You're not wrong for wanting to be happy. You don't deserve to be alone," you say and kiss below his ear.

The words make him ache from within. His metal bones vibrate with the weight of possibility of that being true while his heartbeat feels as though it stutters between his ribs. He wants to huff and say that he knows, that he doesn't need you psychoanalyzing him, thank you very much. But none of that will come out. So instead he chuckles. He tries to make it sound smooth; although, the awkwardness is apparent in each bit.

He pulls back a little and smirks down at you. "So you think I'm cut out for being gentle? Is that it?"

You know what he's doing. As closed off as he tries to be, you don't need telepathy to sense what he's feeling. You let him play it off with a joke though. If he's joking, he's not drowning in self-pity, which is all you want.

"Mhm, I know you are," you say and nose at his cheek, kissing the spot on it without facial hair, "You may have claws, but you purr like a kitten when I have my hands on you."

His eyes roll when you say that. He leans down and begins to return some of your loving gestures.

"Don't go telling people that. It's only for you," he murmurs.

"Of course, of course," you say with the same subtle playfulness.

Words die out in favor of using your mouths for better things. The kisses are lazy, built more off of love and adoration rather than lust and passion. One of your arms loops over his shoulders to keep him close while your other rubs at his side. The tip of his nose brushes your earlobe as he lowers to kiss down your throat.

His lips meet your pulse point and the divots in your neck that make you shudder when touched. He's familiar with all your secret spots by now. He plays you better than any instrument. His breath fans over your skin as his teeth scrape against the same flesh. His hands work below, squeezing your waist, fingertips leaving little bumps in their wake.

The hand of yours that had been on his side drifts further down and wiggles its way between your two bodies. Your digits stroke his pelvis above the area his cock would soon begin to harden.

A groan reverberates through his chest as his shaft rises to attention. From this angle, the pads of your fingers can reach the tip. You rub on it with light pressure, up and down. That gets him to repeat the groan, only this time the undertone of need is more prominent.

His lips latch onto your neck to work a little mark onto your skin while he pushes the waistband of his sweatpants down his thighs. You were only wearing a cropped t-shirt and panties, already easily accessible.

He nudges your thighs apart further and grinds his bulge over your mound. The heat from both your aching centers grows hotter with the friction. Arching your back off the bed, you whimper softly for further satisfaction. He presses you back down using his larger stature.

"Patience, sweetheart. Being gentle, remember?"

He only teases you with a few more grinds of his hips before his boxers vanish too and his heavy cock rests against the soft fabric of your panties. You feel the familiar thickness at first. Then his fingers swoop down and pull your panties to the side so he can slot the drippy tip against your folds. Precum smears against your slick, velvety skin.

Seconds later he splits you open. He bites his lip while you whine, his fat cock pushing further into your wanting hole. You squeeze around him. Your walls clamp and contract on his length. It doesn't push him out, merely sucks him further in. He chokes out a low moan from how tight you get.

So tight and so wet. Arousal oozes from you in no short supply. It didn't take much to get you going for Logan. A few touches alone had you leaking like a broken faucet. You whimper as he bottoms out, hips jerking as the head taps your cervix. He always gets so deep it's nearly unbearable. Even when he's going slow like he is now, he's all you can think of. He fills you up down there and occupies all the space in your head.

"Feel good, baby?" he asks.

You nod, unable to respond verbally as you adjust to the intrusion. 

He doesn't give you a prolonged period of time to adapt right now. Normally he would, but most other times, he'd be going much faster than he plans to at this moment. Typically, he'd let you get comfy with the stretch before drawing his hips back and then pumping them forward again. He'd slam in and out of you. It'd be loud with the sound of skin clapping combined with your moans and his growls. It'd be rough and quick. The bed would shake and bobble around with the force of him.

But tonight, none of that happens. He barely even pulls out to thrust. He stays nice and deep, grinding his hips rather than fucking himself in and out of you. You whine in sweet stretches of sound. He sighs and grunts against your neck. Neither of you sound like feral animals going into heat.

You loved when you fucked like that, but right now, both of you needed this. Each roll of his hips felt like a stroke of heaven brushing your insides. Your limbs curl around him tighter to keep him close. Your arms guard his neck while your legs dig into his hips. He's so lost in the feeling of you, he can't even tell where he ends and you begin.

"Tell me how it feels. Need to hear you. Wanna know I'm doing it how you need," he mumbles.

"Feels perfect," you whimper in return, "So fuckin' deep."

"Good. I only ever wanna make you feel good."

You nod, knowing it's the truth. "Anyone can hurt me, but only you know how to make me feel like this."

His eyes scrunch up at your words. He just feels lucky he has his face buried against your skin so you can't see. It had been just what he needed to hear. Boosting himself onto his knees a bit more to gain some leverage, he grips your hips and ruts against you with the slightest bit more force.

You whine at the soothing rhythm in which your bodies rock. The sense of satisfaction brought on from this took root in the deepest pit of your belly. You weren't gonna explode like you often did. Probably wouldn't scream or scratch up his back. But you could tell you were gonna cum hard.

Without saying it, he communicates he feels the same. His lack of usual dirty talk tells you everything you need to know. His cock stays nestled deep inside your pussy as he works you both to the edge. His face remains flush against your neck.

You cum first, and he follows right behind. You tighten up, toes curling and a high mewl echoing out of your throat. Your body shivers. He spills his release inside of you, his energy leaving with the sticky ropes of cum that fire.

He goes boneless on top of you, still cherishing the feeling of your skin on his. His breaths feel cool against your sweating skin.

"My baby," he sighs. His eyes flutter shut. He knows he has to pull out before he knocks out for a while, but he can do that in a second. He just needs a few more minutes of this.

You press a few kisses to the side of his head and rub his back. His hand slides between both your abdomen to touch the scars, reminding himself what he's capable of despite his current tenderness.

After a few moments, he pulls out and slumps to the side of you. You peck his lips and take the acquisition of space as a way to cool off. His eyes are drooping already. It feels good seeing him so relaxed. You kiss the space between his brows, then the bridge of his knows, and end on his lips.

"Sweet dreams," you whisper, wishing that would be enough to keep the nightmares at bay. At least for tonight.

[motorsportbarbie13]

A Package Deal - Part 3

In which things are made official.

Warnings: smut in the middle. lando being jealous. Pairing: Lando x SingleMom!Reader Word Count: 4.6k words

(a note: happy new year loves!!! hope you enjoy part three!!)

- A Package Deal - A Package Deal - Part 2 - Master List

yourusername (private) posted

yourusername testing testing... BFFSarah so jealous! >>>yourusername miss you! ❤️ landonorris stalker >>>yourusername 😘 >>>BFFSarah 👀

"I'm funnier than Greg, right?" Lando grumbles, not even bothering to take his eyes off of you.

"Mate, what?" Oscar replies, eyes narrowed, totally mystified as to what the hell his teammate is talking about. "Like, Greg, the guy on the strategy team Greg?"

"Yeah, him." Lando raises his chin towards where you stand opposite of said strategy Greg, laughing (even louder this time) at something he's said. Lando knuckles go white on the counter he's standing when Greg leans in just a bit too close for his comfort.

It was the first day of testing in Bahrain and Lando had just come in from his first test stint of the 2025 season. When he'd walked into the garage a few minutes earlier, he'd instantly clocked where you stood near the back of the garage staring up at a few computer monitors beside his newest nemesis, Greg. At first he hadn't thought anything of it but then he heard you laugh, a sound that was quickly becoming one of his favorite things, and he had stopped what he was doing to stare.

"I don't think I know Greg's sense of humor well enough to be the judge of that." Oscar responds, still confused as to why Lando was asking him such a random question. When Oscar follows Lando's line of sight though, everything clicks into place and starts to make a lot more sense.

"Oh..." He mutters, unable to quell the smirk that surfaces.

"'Oh' what?" Lando snaps, still attempting to assassinate Greg with a glare.

"You're jealous." Oscar practically giggles. He might be the quieter one of the driver duo, but that quiet demeanor meant that he noticed a lot more than other people gave him credit for and Oscar had caught onto Lando's crush after the first time he had stumbled into your office and disappeared on him for hours.

Lando finally tears his eyes away from where you're standing, still staring up in rapt attention to Greg. "I most certainly am not." He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest in a move that is very reminiscent of a Stella temper tantrum.

"You two aren't even together, are you?" Oscar reasons, doing next to nothing to reassure Lando that he has nothing to be worried about.

Lando narrows his eyes at the Australian as he fights a pout. "I mean, no. Not technically, I guess."

And that was the problem, wasn't it? You two had been on a few dates and he'd been coming over to your house to hang with you and Stella more and more but a serious discussion of what was happening? He'd been too scared to have that kind of talk with you so quick. You made him nervous but being rejected by you sounded even worse.

"Maybe you should like, talk to her about it then? If that's what you want? I mean, I've never seen the sight of a girl talking to someone else send you into orbit like this before. You really like her, don't you?"

Oscar had worked hard to keep his opinion of you and Lando together to himself. He hated when people commented on his relationship with Lily, which was a big reason why they were so quiet together, so he had made it a point not to press when it came to you. He'd spent most of the morning with you though, while Lando was in the car and he could see why Lando was so attached to you already. You were wicked smart and the program that you had been writing for the team was impressive. He knew there were other people in Lando's life that didn't think the driver could handle being with someone like you but the more Oscar got to know you, the more he could see why you two got on so well.

Lando's gaze slides back to you then. "I do, yeah." He murmurs, a sudden sense of determination settling over him. Before he has the chance to chicken out once again, he pats Oscar on the back and starts off towards where you and Greg are still huddled together in front of a computer screen.

"Greg, can I steal her away from you real quick?" Lando says by way of greeting, his tone needlessly possessive. "Will and I wanted to go through last sessions data with you before lunch." He lies.

You hadn't noticed the way Lando had been staring daggers at you and Greg up until that very moment but the feral look he's giving you takes you by surprise. Greg had approached you as Lando's session had wound down and your new program was stretching its legs on your laptop. He wanted to talk about the inputs you were adding in for this year and give you some feedback on the initial data capture of this morning's session. It was totally innocent and when Lando had slid up next to you practically breathing fire, you had been a bit caught off guard.

"I'll see you at the cocktail party later tonight, Greg." You give him a smile before turning back to Lando. "Where do you want to go, the debrief room?"

"Sure." Lando huffs, giving Greg a fake smile before grabbing your elbow and leading you towards an empty conference room. Like hell you were going to see Gregory at any point for the rest of the day.

You're totally confused at the way he's practically dragging you down the hallway and even more perplexed when Lando nearly slams the door closed behind him and you find the debrief room completely empty. "Where's Will?"

"What?" Lando frowns.

"You said you and Will wanted to go over some data after your session." Annoyance moves through you. What in the world was going on?

"Oh, yeah no. I lied." Lando glares at you like you're the insane one, frown deepening.

"Lando!" You sputter, resisting the urge to chuck the nearest laptop at his head. "I was in the middle of a conversation with Greg."

When he rolls his eyes, you swear you see red. "Yeah, I know. We all saw how endlessly entertaining the conversation was."

The pout that finds it's way onto his face is what unlocks everything for you though. Sudden understanding washes over you as it all finally clicks.

"You're jealous!" You gasp, desperately trying not to burst into a fit of giggles.

Lando at least as the decency to look a bit ashamed of his behavior but attempts to deny it. "I am not."

You arch an eyebrow at the man standing across from you as if he's not the easiest book in the world to read. "Lando Norris, you were jealous of a man who was telling me all about how his boyfriend took him on a trip to the Bahamas over the holidays and got bitten by a wild swimming pig."

The way Lando's cheeks go scarlet as he crosses his arms over his chest nearly has you doubled over with laughter.

"Oh."

"Oh is right, you muppet." You chuckle, using the term of endearment he's become famous for. In a few strides, your within arms length of him, tugging at the waist of his half unzipped race suit. Lando takes a step forward as you pull him closer.

"Jealously looks good on you, Norris." You smirk before giving him a quick peck on the cheek, mindful of the fact that you're still at work.

Lando settles his hands on your hips, drawing you even closer to him, seemingly forgetting that he's still at work. He grins down at you, a flirty glint sparking in his eyes.

"Yeah, well. What can I say? The sight of some idiot flirting with my girlfriend kind of set me off."

Your hands slip around Lando's waist. Heart hammering so fast you're amazed Lando can't hear it, you beam up at him. You'd never experienced the kind of contentment and safety you felt whenever you were with Lando before. He frequently caught you off balance like this and had you feeling like you were a teenager again, still believing in fairy tales and happy endings.

"Girlfriend, huh?"

"That's right." He whispers. The rasp in his voice has you pressing your hips into his, seeking friction from his body.

"Well, since I'm your girlfriend then I guess you’ll be needing this for later tonight." Reaching into the back pocket of your jeans, your fingers find the thin plastic card you'd stashed there to slip into Lando's hand sometime this afternoon.

Anticipation sparks between your bodies as Lando figures out what you've just pressed into his palm. All this time he'd been building up this big conversation that he thought had to be had and nervously putting so much pressure on himself to do this all the right way. It had only taken a matter of seconds though and you had reminded him that it like most everything that happened between you and him, this was easy too. There's a silent understanding that passes between you two then that maybe this was how it was supposed to be from the beginning and that sometimes wires get crossed and we meet people later than the universe intended.

"I have to get back to work and you should really find Will and actually debrief but I think I'd like to skip tonights cocktail hour if that's okay with you."

Lando reluctantly lets go and nods, swallowing around the thick lump of emotion stuck in his throat.

"Yeah." He croaks before reaching back out to bring your face to his, kissing you so intensely your knees buckle. "I'll see you tonight."

Not even five minutes after Lando responds to your text, you hear the beeping of the lock to your hotel room door and it swings open moments later. Anxiety flows through you despite the flirty text you'd just sent. This kind of thing was totally out of your wheel house, with most of your adult life spent focusing on your daughter and not dating. It had been Sarah's suggestion to send that risky text but after your conversation with Lando earlier, you were briefly confident that it would be well received. And judging by his response, you were right. That didn't do much to calm your nerves though so the knock on your door sends the butterflies in your belly flying around in what feels like a category five tornado.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Lando groans when he sees you kneeling on the bed waiting for him. Every thought tumbles straight out of his head at the sight of you waiting for him in nothing but black bits of lace. If he had known this was what had been waiting for him all night, he certainly wouldn't have gone to dinner with some of the team.

"You like it then?" You ask, barely resisting the urge to dive under the covers you feel so exposed under his gaze. Lando can't stop staring and it's starting to make you nervous, the way he's dragging his eyes up and down your body without making an attempt to move from where he stands just inside your hotel room.

"Like it? Baby, are you fucking kidding me? I don't think I've ever seen a prettier sight in my entire life." The rasp in his voice drags down your skin like sandpaper.

"Then stop staring and get over here."

Lando obeys immediately, toeing off his shoes before joining you on the bed. His hands find your hips and before you can make a sound, he's pulling you into his lap and attaching his lips to your neck.

"I think everyone got the impression I was about to be sick or something, I got up from that table so fucking fast." He mumbles against you. "Also, give me some warning next time you're going to send me that kind of thing, Osc nearly got an eye full of something that is for my eyes only."

Lando had been attempting to show Oscar something on his phone when your text had come through and the moment he'd swapped over to his iMessage app he was glad that Andrea had picked that exact second to call Oscar's name. He had shut down the message app so fast, all of his blood rushing straight from his head to below his belt.

"Oops." You giggle. "Sorry."

"You're not one bit sorry, don't lie."

All you do is shrug as you preen under his attention. He eyes drag lazy lines up and down your body, stalling when they fall on the black lace barely hiding your most intimate parts. The heat of his gaze has fire stoking deep in your belly and for the first time in years, you feel desired and wanted. It's an unfamiliar feeling that you're still getting used to but with Lando, it feels safe. You feel cared for and it's unlike anything you've ever experienced with anyone you've slept with before. Which, to be totally honest, wasn't a lot. You haven't been in a serious relationship since Stella's dad, the only dates you've gone on in the last six years usually ending in casual flings that don't end up meaning much outside of the bedroom.

This though? This feels different and you know Lando feels the same.

Lando's hands grip at your hips as he moves you off his lap briefly and stands up. Your eyes nearly roll back into your head when he unbuckles his belt with one hand, tugging it off in one smooth motion, the leather slapping against itself and echoing throughout the otherwise silent room. 

“Jesus.” You breathe and desperately try to catch your breath as he reaches for the hem of his shirt. You've known that Lando has a sinfully good body for a while, his entire career is centered around his body afterall so naturally, he is in amazing shape. There’s a reason that women will do next to anything to get any of the drivers in their bed. Nothing prepared you for the hard planes of his chest and the insane cut of his abs though. The way his waist nips in to show off a deep V cut of his torso makes your mouth water. With both his jeans and shirt now discarded, he stands in front of you in just a pair of gray boxers that do absolutely nothing to hide how rock hard he is.

Fuck. 

Before you can stop yourself, you rise up on your knees and move towards him, needing to get your hands on his body. On your knees before him while he’s standing, you only come up to his collar bones but that’s enough. You drop kisses on his heated flesh and relish the way his breath hitches in his throat when your lips make contact. He allows you to continue kissing him for several moments, his hands roaming all over your body. You don’t know how long it is but after his hands have taken full a full tour of your skin, he pulls back and looks at you with a primal glint in his eyes. “Lay down." He orders "I need my tongue on you. Now.” 

You obey and crawl back, watching him prowl after you. Your head rests on the pile of pillows as he covers you with his body and suddenly, the insecurity and anxiety from earlier flashes through your mind. You've never been with anyone who seemed to want to do anything but fuck you and then be done with it. This reverence for your body is completely foreign and the reality of what is about to happen crashes through the haze of lust that clouds your mind.

You must stiffen a bit because a frown appears on Lando's face as his arms cage you in and he hovers over you. “Baby?” 

You shake your head, refusing to let your insecurity ruin the night. Your eyes close and you take a deep breath to steady yourself.

“I’m fine.” You whisper but Lando doesn’t believe you. He drops back onto his knees and straddles you, drawing back so he can see your entire face. 

“What’s wrong? We don’t have to do this tonight if you’re not ready.” 

Your face heats, but from embarrassment this time. Fuck. You do not want to ruin this.

“No. It’s okay. I just…I’m just not used to this kind of attention.” You don’t tell him how your're used to being used for your body, for whatever pleasure your partner can get out of me and nothing more. You don’t tell him how insecure it makes you to think that he could do the same thing to you too, despite how safe and good he makes you feel no matter what. Sometimes, habits are hard to break. Especially habits that are born out of trauma. You can't tell him any of that though because you think it might break his heart. 

Lando tilts his head and seemingly understands what you're saying. “I don’t know what the fuck the guys in your life were thinking, having you in their bed and not treating you properly, but baby, I am not them. This is not about me, this is about you.” His fingers trace long, lazy lines from your shoulder down over your bra and continue down your body as you shudder with pleasure.

“That’s it." He coos. "I know you’re scared but I swear to you, you are safe with me.” His voice is barely a whisper but you can hear the sincerity in it. Your heart thunders in your chest as you hover between wanting to stop and throwing every bit of caution away and allowing him to do whatever he wants to you. 

“I know I am. I always have been.” You hum.

“Do you want to stop? You just have to say the word and we will. This is yours to control.” 

Your eyes search his for any trace of anger and when you find nothing but honesty in his face, you shake your head. “Please don’t stop.”

You desperately do not want him to stop. 

Once he’s sure you're okay, he crashes his mouth on yours once again and you melt into him. His body is so heavy on top of you but it feels oh so good. You never want it to end. You never want tonight to end. Lando presses kisses into your skin all down your body, starting at your jaw, moving slowly downwards. Kisses on that dip between your neck and shoulders, lower to your sternum, even lower to just above where your bra still sits. He stops then and snakes a hand behind you, lifting you up momentarily, and unclasps the back with surprising ease.

“Okay, that was way too easy for you.” You accuse, laughter bubbling up as he tosses the bra across the room. 

His eyes find yours and he shrugs casually, “What?” He feigns innocence, “Lucky first try?” 

“Oh, whatever. Get back to work.” You order, laughter teasing at the edge of your voice. 

Lando shakes his head again, dropping his head back where he had left off and turns his attention to one of your nipples, taking it fully in his mouth. You inhale a sharp breath at the sensation coursing through you. It feels like your skin is on fire, all leading down to a single throb between your legs. He hums in satisfaction when your back arches off the bed. A moan escapes your lips when he scrapes his teeth against the sensitive skin, the pain sends a jolt of electricity straight to your core. After what feels like an eternity, he turns his attention to the other nipple, already pebbled and hard, aching for the same attention. Your mind goes blank as you focus on the jolts of electricity coursing through your body. Your hands tangle in his curls, gripping at the tangles of brown hair, needing something to latch onto. 

“Lan.” His name is a whispered prayer on your lips. 

“Fuck. Baby.” He comes up for air briefly to look at you again and you almost can’t stand to look at him, he looks so good. His lips are swollen from kissing you for so long and he's got this heavy lidded, lustful hazy gaze in his eyes that you've never seen from him before.

“You taste so good.” He rasps before shifting back up to land kisses on your lips. You're so focused on what his lips are doing that you completely miss his fingers digging into your hips. You let out a startled cry when the sound of ripping fabric cuts through the breathy sighs that have filled the room. 

“Lando!” You whine, “I liked those!” You look at the torn bits of black lace that he’s dropped next to him on the bed and sigh dramatically.

“They were in my way. I’ll buy you fifty more tomorrow.” Without waiting for a response, his hand dips down towards your pussy and anticipation climbs in you. You gasp when he sinks not one, but two fingers into the heat between your legs.  Your entire body aches off the bed towards his hand. “Christ. Baby. You are fucking soaked for me, aren’t you?” 

It’s all you can do to just nod an affirmation as he swirls his fingers in achingly slow circles. His thick fingers inch closer to your clit but manage to avoid it and you know he’s doing it on purpose. You wiggle your hips in search of that friction you crave so badly but every time you get close, he moves his fingers out of the way. By the fourth time this happens, you're a whimpering mess underneath him and Lando is clearly enjoying it. “Lando.” You whimper. “Touch me.” 

“I am touching you.” He drops another hot kiss on your jaw and traces his tongue down your neck. You swear you're going to explode from the sensations coursing through your body. 

“You know exactly what I fucking mean.” You snap and move your hips again, only to find his fingers just short of the destination you want them in yet again. 

An evil chuckle tickles your skin. “I like you like this. A pretty little mess underneath me. My girl is so wet for me, isn’t she?” 

His girl. The emotions crash through you at his words and every other thought beyond those two words leaves your brain. 

His girl. 

His girl. 

Your brain chants the all consuming phrase. 

Just when you think you can’t take it any more and you feel that familiar tug at the base of your spine and Lando finally gives you what you've been aching for. The pad of his thumb brushes against your clit and your hips fly off the bed towards his fingers. A cry escapes your lips as you claw at his back. He keeps up the same pace and you can feel yourself barreling towards a delicious release.

“Please. Don’t. Stop.” You pant, breath coming in short gasps as you rock your hips against his hand. Thankfully, he keeps his hand exactly where it is and allows you to grind against it, knowing that this is exactly what you need from him. His lips come down on yours again and when he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, you fly over the cliff.

Sweet release shatters your entire body and you stiffen against him. Your nails dig into his back, leaving little half moons embedded in his flesh. He’ll have red welts there for days and he couldn’t be happier about it. You don’t know how many times you cry out his name but he keeps completely still, allowing you to get the relief that you desperately need against him. 

When your orgasm subsides, you practically melt into the bed, mind too muddled with pleasure to talk. You open your eyes and grin lazily at Lando, who has shifted so he’s lying next to you on the bed. He’s grinning right back and tracing shiver-inducing lines up and down your naked skin.

“Fuck. Lando. That…” You are completely lost for words so it takes you a moment to form a complete sentence, “That was the first time anyones been able to make me come with just their fingers.” 

“Well, I’m glad I could be your first.” He smirks, dropping a kiss on your temple as he pulls you closer to him.

You turn to face him and you're struck at how handsome he is. His curly hair is messy from when you pulled at it while he was getting you off, his eyes glassy with satisfaction even though he hasn’t even come himself yet. He seems to get off just watching you and that is a completely foreign concept.

You reach out and feel the light stubble that covers his jaw, enjoying the rough feel against your fingers. You idly wonder what that stubble would feel like against your thighs and decide that you're just going to have to find out exactly what it feels like soon. That one single thought sends heat flooding through your veins once again and you're surprised. You've never considered myself to be one of those girls that could go several rounds. Usually you were finished after one orgasm, most of the time it was faked anyway. But with Lando laying next to you, you feel like you could do this for the rest of the night. A mischievous grin slips across your face as you reach over and push him back into the pillows.

Before you allow yourself to think about what you're doing, you straddle him and relish in the feeling of his dick that is now nudging against your ass. “I think I need you inside me now.” You tell him and squeal when his pupils blow and he flips you onto your back without warning. 

Hours later, you fall into such a deep sleep you don't notice Lando slip out of bed to get a drink of water from the bathroom. You'd spent the better part of the evening underneath him as he gradually worked you over so good you had lost count of how many times he had made you come.

The mattress dips when he joins you back in bed and Lando is surprised to find that he doesn't want to leave you. Up until meeting you, Lando had been more of a one night stand, never sleep over, kind of person when it came to sex. Getting back into bed with you and pulling you close so he could fall asleep with you tucked next to him was something he never thought he'd want but now that he had it, he knew he'd never be able to live without it again.

When Lando pulls you towards him, you stir a bit, enjoying the way the heat of his body warms your naked skin. You're so fucked out from everything Lando did to your body, your brain is a little sluggish but you turn into him, burying your head deep into his chest.

"You left me." You whine sleepily.

Lando slots his leg between yours, hitching your top leg up over his waist. "I'm sorry, baby." He whispers against your hair. "I needed a drink but I'm not going anywhere."

"I thought you left." In your sleepy haze, the words you probably would've tamped down slip out. "Please don't leave me."

Lando knows you're more than half asleep and probably don't realize what you're saying but something in your words has him feeling you don't just mean for the night. "I'm not going anywhere, sweet girl. Not ever." He whispers, listening to the soft cooing sound you make in response before you drift right back off to sleep.

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[n1daehodefender]

Hi i loved your

Their reactions of you telling them you want to start trying for a baby!

so much, could you mind writing one with….their reaction if the baby calls them daddah/appa for the first time or calls reader mama? So first place of words and second kind of? ;-)

keep up the good writing

Their reactions of their baby calling them appa for the first time!

A/N: this made me so happy tyyy ilyyy💞 i also loved this requests so much my heart litereally Melted🥹 I’m writing all of the requests I have so stay tuned if you have requested something I won’t ignore it!!!!! Also requests are open:)

Pairing: Kang dae-ho, Nam-gyu, Thanos (Su Bong)

Warnings: Emotional vulnerability, soft parenting moments, detailed depictions of love and affection, and mentions of struggles with fatherhood and self-worth.

Kang Dae-Ho

Kang Dae-ho spent months preparing for fatherhood. Late-night diaper runs, endless bedtime stories (even when the baby didn’t understand), and early morning singalongs were his new normal.

He loved carrying your baby everywhere — perched on his hip, showing them off to his friends and family. He’d constantly whisper things like, “You’re gonna be so strong and brave like your mom, huh?” or, “Can you say ‘appa’? Come on, say it for me, little one!”

Every time he tried to get the baby to say “appa,” they’d just giggle or babble something unintelligible. He’d laugh it off but secretly felt a tiny pang of disappointment.

It’s late one evening. He’s sitting on the living room floor with your baby balanced on his lap, playing with a colorful toy. You’re nearby, watching the two of them with a fond smile.

Your baby reaches for the toy in Dae-ho’s hands, making their usual happy sounds, but this time, they look straight at him and babble, “Appa!”

He freezes. Completely. His mouth drops open, and he looks at you like, “Did you hear that?”

“Say that again,” he whispers softly, his voice almost trembling. “Can you say ‘appa’ one more time?”

Your baby giggles again and repeats it, more clearly this time: “Appa!”

Dae-ho’s eyes fill with tears instantly. He pulls the baby close to his chest, kissing their tiny head over and over. “You said it… You really said it,” he murmurs.

For the rest of the evening, he’s a blubbering mess, pacing the room and talking about how he’ll never forget this moment.

He tells everyone about it. His sisters get spammed with texts: “They called me appa today. Can you believe it? ME!”

He becomes even more attached to your baby after this. If that’s even possible, since he was already a doting father.

Every time the baby says “appa” now, his face lights up like the sun. He always responds with a big smile, “Yes, I’m your appa!”

Nam Gyu

He’s cautious and quiet in the early stages of fatherhood, unsure how to navigate the chaos of diapers, crying, and sleepless nights. But over time, he starts finding his rhythm.

He’s not the type to baby-talk or coo, but he’s always there — rocking the baby to sleep, cooking meals so you can rest, and pacing the room at 3 AM when the baby won’t stop crying.

He never actively pushes for the baby to call him “appa,” though. It’s something he assumes will happen eventually, but he doesn’t dwell on it.

It’s a quiet afternoon, and you’re all sitting on the floor together. The baby’s crawling toward Nam Gyu, giggling as he holds out his arms to them.

When they reach him, they look up at his face and blurt out, “Appa!”

He freezes, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he breaks into a soft, almost shy smile. “Did you just…?”

The baby says it again, and Nam Gyu lets out a soft laugh, pulling them into his arms. “Appa,” he repeats quietly, like he’s testing the word out for himself.

He doesn’t make a big show of it, but you catch him smiling to himself for the rest of the day.

That night, when he thinks you’re asleep, you hear him whisper to the baby, “I’ll do my best to be a good appa for you. I promise.”

He’s a little more confident in his role as a father after this moment, more willing to let himself be vulnerable and affectionate around the baby.

Thanos (Su-bong)

Thanos is awkward but deeply devoted as a dad. He doesn’t always know what he’s doing, but he throws himself into it wholeheartedly.

He spends hours talking to the baby, telling them stories about his life and making ridiculous faces to get them to laugh.

He jokingly refers to himself as “the best appa in the world” but secretly wonders if he’s doing enough.

One evening, he’s holding the baby while pacing the room, trying to calm them down after a fussy day.

He’s muttering under his breath, “Come on, little one. You’ve got to give your old man a break here.”

Suddenly, the baby looks up at him with wide eyes and says, “Appa.”

He stops dead in his tracks, staring at the baby like they’ve just revealed the secrets of the universe. “What did you just say?”

The baby says it again, and Thanos lets out a deep, joyful laugh, tears brimming in his eyes. “That’s right,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m your appa.”

He spends the next hour walking around the house, holding the baby close and repeating, “You said it! You called me appa!”

He’s insufferably proud after this, bragging to anyone who will listen. “My kid’s a genius,” he tells his friends. “First word? Appa. That’s my kid, alright.”

But in private, he’s deeply moved. You catch him staring at the baby sometimes, his expression soft and vulnerable.

He becomes even more protective and loving, constantly reminding you both how much you mean to him.

[fairyminnie444]

“BIG” manifestations

The key to making something “big” natural is to remove the emotional weight and sense of “bigness” that you attach to the desire. What makes something seem difficult or easy is just your perception, and that perception can be changed. Here’s how:

1. Change your view of the desire

• Stop seeing the desire as “big” or “impossible.” Remember: in the eyes of the law, everything is equal. Manifesting a cup of coffee and manifesting millions are the same process. It’s your mind that places a hierarchy.

• Ask yourself: Why am I treating this as something bigger than it really is?

2. Create familiarity

• Imagine it often. Visualize your life with the desire fulfilled until it feels normal. The more you expose yourself to the idea, the more natural it becomes.

• For example, if you want to make millions, imagine your bank account with that amount, making transfers or deciding where to invest. Make the extraordinary routine.

3. Practice “feeling worthy”

• Grandiosity is often linked to the belief that you are undeserving. Use affirmations such as: “I deserve the best and I receive it easily.”

• Work on your self-image. See yourself as someone for whom amazing things happen all the time.

4. Reduce pressure

• Stop thinking that “this has to happen or nothing will work out.” Relax. Detachment is powerful because it reinforces your belief that the desire is already yours.

5. Practice with small things

• Practice manifesting simple things (like seeing a red car or receiving a compliment). Once you realize that it works, your mind will begin to accept that the same applies to the “big.”

6. Affirmations and stories

• Create a mental story where the desire is already part of your life. For example: “I have always been lucky with money, earning millions came naturally to me.”

Treat it as something ordinary: Stop putting your desire on a pedestal. Think of it as something natural and routine, just like brushing your teeth or picking up your phone.

Give thanks in advance: Gratitude helps reinforce that you already have it. Say, “I’m so grateful that this is mine.”

Remember that you are the one who defines what is big or small. When you internalize that everything is possible and easy, the “big” becomes as simple as the “small”.

[mononijikayu]

i wanna be yours — ryomen sukuna.

He paused, the words catching in his throat as if they were foreign to him. “I cannot let you go.” You felt your resolve waver under the weight of his admission, the intensity of his gaze consuming you. “Then what do you want from me, my lord?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. His lips curled into a dangerous smirk, though his eyes betrayed a deeper emotion. “Everything, little one.” he said simply. “Your body, your thoughts, your heart. I will have it all, and I will never share it with another. I want it to be mine.” Your lips trembled as your eyes bore his own. “You already know that I am yours, my lord.”

GENRE: alternate universe - heian era;

WARNING/S: nsfw, smut, r-18, angst, one sided romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/no comfort, unhappy marriage, parenthood, forced parenthood, hurt, physical touch, character death, sexual acts, mourning, loneliness, pain, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, grief, toxic relationship, forced memory loss, coercion, explicit miscarriage, depiction of one-sided relationship, depiction of sexual acts, depiction of forced memory loss, depiction of coercion, depiction of explicit miscarriage, depiction of character death, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of parenthood, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, mention of sexual acts, heian! sukuna, long suffering concubine! reader;

WORD COUNT: 19k words

NOTE: i thought about how concubine reader and sukuna have this really interesting relationship. a really interesting and painful relationship. and a lot of imbalances exist, with how sukuna has the most power. and he uses it to corrupt her. sukuna, no matter how much he loves concubine reader or make her happy, he will continue to hurt her and cause her grief. and next chapter, we will explore her response to it all, and how she rebels. and how sukuna concedes. in any case, thank you for reading!!! i love you all <3

TAGLIST: @after-laughter-come-tears, @kunasthiast, @midnight-138, @sukioyakio;

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MANY YEARS OF MARRIAGE AND HE STILL HAS NOT FIGURED IT OUT. Ryomen Sukuna didn’t know how to put into words what churned within him when it came to you, his concubine.

You were his endless enigma wrapped in the finest of silks he could procure for you. You were a constant contradiction that pricked at the edges of his ego and lingered in the dark corners of his thoughts. 

He despised puzzles left unsolved, he hated things left undone. Yet you had become the one conundrum he could never crack. And for a long while, he had thought he would be content with that. But as the years went on, he felt maddened by it all. He didn’t know you well, not in the way he hoped. And that bothers him.

Do not get him wrong, he knew you. He knew you well enough that he had kept you around, that you were the only one that he’d ever let close, one that was never a servant. He knew every subtle glance, the cadence of your voice, the way your hands moved with grace even in the most mundane tasks.

He had memorized you like the pages of an ancient, weathered tome, and yet, for all the knowledge he’d gathered, there was something about you that evaded him. Something beyond the surface, just out of reach. It gnawed at him.

Was it fascination? Resentment? Or something far more dangerous—something he refused to name? He had thought, surely, the years would erode whatever this was. Time, after all, was the great equalizer, the eventual destroyer of all attachments. But you had not faded from his mind, nor had the mystery of you unraveled with the passage of time.

The more he let his thoughts drift to you, the more he realized it wasn’t just you he was trying to solve. It was what you made him feel, what it all meant. Was it a weakness? Power? The echo of something human he thought he had long buried? It infuriated him, how you lingered in his chest, a riddle left unanswered.

Even in the quiet hours, when no one else was watching, when his guard was down, he could never bring himself to face the truth. To admit that perhaps you were the one thing in his existence he couldn’t conquer, couldn’t master. And worse still, he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to.

Ryomen Sukuna sat upon his throne, the flickering light of the torches casting long shadows across the stone walls. His scarlet eyes, sharp and unyielding, rested on you as you poured his drink with practiced grace.

The delicate clink of the vessel against the rim of his cup seems louder than it should have, reverberating in the silence. You didn’t look at him directly—never did—but he could sense the weight of your presence, a quiet power wrapped in submission.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight, little one.” he said, his voice a low rumble, laced with something unreadable. “A rarity.”

Your hands paused for a fraction of a second before continuing. “Am I to speak freely, my lord?” you asked softly, eyes fixed on the task before you.

A smirk tugged at his lips. “You always choose your words carefully, don’t you? Go on, then. Speak.”

You straightened, meeting his gaze for the first time in what felt like an eternity. The torchlight painted you in warm hues, highlighting the determined tilt of your chin. “I only remain quiet because I sense you prefer it that way. Am I mistaken?”

Sukuna leaned back, swirling the liquid in his cup. “You assume much, little one.”

“And yet, I am still here.” Your tone was calm, almost resigned, but it carried an edge he couldn’t ignore.

His smirk faded. There it was again. That inexplicable thing about you that unraveled his carefully constructed walls. You, with your unassuming words and quiet defiance, managed to disrupt him in ways he couldn’t name.

“Do you think you’ve won some favor with me with such a thing?” he asked, tilting his head as he studied you. “That your loyalty earns you a place above the others?”

“No.” Your answer was immediate, your gaze steady. “I know better than to believe I have power over you, my lord. But I do wonder—why keep me? If I am just another servant, just another fleeting presence in your endless existence, why let me linger?”

His jaw tightened. The audacity of your words would have earned anyone else a swift and brutal end, yet he let you speak. Why? Even he didn’t know.

“You have too many curiosities, little one.” He says, eyeing you. His red meeting your own orbs. “Ones that would be hard to satisfy a mortal like you.”

You smiled, laying your hand on your lap. “I have stayed, my lord. Do you not think I would have left long ago, had there been no satisfaction? Even with my curiosities.”

“You presume too much about that, little one.” he growled, though his tone lacked the usual venom. “You are here because I allow it. That is all you need to understand.”

“And yet……” you took a small step closer, a dangerous glint in your eyes. “You never send me away. Or let me go. When there are so many opportunities, don’t you think?”

Silence fell between you, thick with unspoken truths. Sukuna’s gaze narrowed, his sharp features betraying nothing of the chaos within. He wanted to scoff, to crush this insolence with a flick of his fingers, but the words stuck in his throat. 

You were right. He had kept you close, far closer than anyone else. And it wasn’t out of need or convenience—it was something deeper, something he didn’t dare acknowledge. It was something that he’d rather not touch upon. Not if he wants to dig a hole of possibilities he had no answers for.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, little one.” he warned, his voice a low growl.

“I only play the game you started, my lord.”

His scarlet eyes bored into yours, searching for something he couldn’t name. You stood your ground, unflinching, and for a moment, he thought he hated you for it. Hated how you made him feel… exposed. Mortal.

But instead of lashing out, he laughed. That same cold, bitter sound that echoed through the chamber. You were too familiar with it by now. “You’re a fool if you think this ends in your favor.”

“And you, my lord, are a fool if you think you’ll ever solve me. In the way you wish.” you replied, voice steady and soft, like a whisper cutting through the storm. “Fate does not work in that way.”

A sly grin appears on his lips. “Perhaps that is the case, little one. But I am no fool.”

You raised a brow, intrigued. “Oh, then what are you, my lord?”

“A husband who is intrigued about his wife.” He whispers back to you.

For a moment, your eyes blinked at his words.

Soon enough, laughter permeates through your lips.

He was fond of the sound, truthfully enough.

“You lie as easily as you breathe.” You whisper back to him, a soft ghostly smile on your lips. “My lord, I thought you only said the truth.”

He would not say anything else more, he thinks.

Ryomen Sukuna watched as you downed a cup of sake.

It was better to not dig through the mess, not at all.

══════════════════

YOU OPTED OUT OF THE SESSION IN THE AUDIENCE HALL TODAY. Sukuna had sent quite a word about it , but you knew he truly did not mind. You knew him too well, that words were more or less just what it would be.

He knew you needed a break, to breathe after such a hectic schedule with him. Not to mention that you took care of Chiharu and Chizuru at the same time all on your own, and managed Vermillion Hall by yourself. It was not easy. You needed the rest. And you were glad your husband knew that. 

The sun had already begun to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm glow across the Vermillion Hall. The soft hum of activity filled the air as the children were off in their lessons, their laughter and chatter drifting faintly through the hall’s open windows. The usually peaceful atmosphere was, for once, undisturbed, and yet, it felt different today. 

There was a presence in the hall that hadn't been there before—the presence of Ryomen Sukuna. But you hadn’t noticed yet. Not that he expected you to. He doesn’t visit often enough as of late to find him here. He was too dedicated to other pursuits. 

You were seated by the large window, a small wooden sewing table in front of you. The soft rustle of fabric and the rhythmic motion of your hands as you carefully worked on the intricate stitching of Sukuna's new haori made the room feel calm, despite the tension that always seemed to linger between you two. 

It wasn’t the first time you had sewn clothes for him and it wouldn’t be the last. You were the only one now left making his clothing for him. You knew what he had liked, so there was no one else who did that for him.

Everyone else’s hands were not to touch his clothing, unless to wash it. And now that his previous haori had been torn and tattered from battles, you found the need to make a new one for him.  

You were halfway through adding delicate embroidery when you heard the heavy footsteps. This is only when you heard that sound that you felt something was amiss. You didn’t look up immediately, your fingers still moving across the fabric, your mind focused on the delicate task in front of you.

You could feel his presence, though heavy and undeniable. Finally, after a moment of silence, you heard his voice, low and unhurried, as though he had no reason to be anything but calm.

"Still sewing clothes for me, are you, little one?" His voice carried a hint of amusement, though there was an undercurrent of something else in it, something almost like... curiosity?

You glanced up, meeting his gaze with a faint but questioning look. "It’s not like you’ll bother to do it yourself, my lord. You had taken the liberty of demoting all your sewing servants, other than me." you replied dryly, your eyes moving back to the thread as you continued to stitch. 

Sukuna snickers. “It is no fault of mine that they are inept at the task you do so well at. Though, I should think you would be resting more today, little one.”

"I had done all my tasks rather easily, my lord.” You tell him honestly, poking the needle through again. “And with such time, I figured it would be better for you to have something... new. I cannot keep mending that one you like so much forever."

Sukuna chuckled softly, his deep voice vibrating through the room. “You’re trying to make me more presentable, are you?” He stepped closer, his gaze following your hands as you worked. "It’s a little late for that, don’t you think? Today’s audiences have been dealt with, little one."

The tone in his voice wasn’t mocking, though—it wasn’t quite the usual arrogance you’d expect from him. Instead, it was something more playful, more curious. Something that hinted at an understanding that wasn’t quite there before. Your husband, you find, has been playful when he wants to be. But that often is a rarity done in good faith.

"Maybe so, my lord." you said softly, your fingers never pausing in their work. "But I thought it might be nice for a change. For the next audience Tis better dealt with now then left for next."

His gaze softened slightly at that, though he remained silent for a long moment, watching you as you worked, the fabric between your fingers so delicate, your focus so intense. For the first time in a long while, it seemed like Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t entirely sure how to respond.

“You’ve been quiet, little one.” he remarked after a moment, his voice not quite as sharp as it usually was. "Too quiet. What’s on your mind?"

You paused briefly, meeting his gaze for a moment before looking back at the haori in your lap. The question was unexpected, but not unwelcome. It felt like the first time in ages that he actually wanted to know. 

"Just thinking, my lord." you said, your voice low. "About everything, really. The way things have... changed."

His expression darkened a fraction, but the concern he tried to hide didn’t escape your notice. “Changed?” His gaze narrowed slightly as he stepped closer. “In what way?”

You took a breath, the words coming slower than you intended. "I think... I think I’ve spent so much time trying to keep everything together, trying to make sense of it. But sometimes, I don’t even know where I am anymore." 

You didn’t look up, but your voice carried a strange, vulnerable edge now—something raw that you hadn't meant to reveal. “I never asked for this. For you. For any of this. I think about that as I get older. And of course, I am content but I….”

Sukuna remained silent, and for once, you didn’t hear the usual sneer in his voice or the biting comment ready to spill from his lips. He was quiet, studying you with a strange intensity, as though searching for something he couldn’t quite understand.

"I know, little one." he said finally, his voice softer than usual, but still carrying that familiar weight. "It’s never been easy for you. I get that."

You finally looked up, meeting his gaze directly. There was no arrogance in his eyes now, no unreadable distance. Just something... real. "Do you?" you asked quietly, searching his expression. “Do you really? Because sometimes I feel like I’m just some… some afterthought to you. A thing you can’t quite get rid of, but can’t quite leave alone either.”

Sukuna blinked at your words, and though his face remained unreadable, there was a flicker of something—guilt, regret, maybe even something deeper passing through his scarlet eyes. He stepped closer, his usual intimidating presence now softened, as though in the presence of your vulnerability, he couldn’t bring himself to hold onto the same unyielding stance.

“I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, little one. Even gods are such creatures.” he said quietly, his voice lower now. “I don’t know how to make it right. But I’m not leaving. Nor shall I abandon or forsake you. You ought to know that by now, little one.”

You sighed, poking another hole onto the fabric. “You sent one of the concubines to the Cold Hall, my lord. To be abandoned till she dies.”

“For a fault of her own, harming another woman in the harem.” He shakes his head at you. “You have not done such a thing. I swear that it won't happen to you. Not in your whole life.”

“How is my lord so certain to promise—” You pricked your finger, causing you to groan. You quickly move the fabric away, to avoid the blood pouring onto the fabric. 

Sukuna sighs and crouches over to you, taking your hand onto his own big one. He takes the bleeding finger close to his lips and lets the taste of your metallic blood echo onto his tongue. Your blood has always been so sweet to Sukuna, so smooth and tender. It was honest blood. Blood which has never done any wrong against anyone or anything. 

Not even him, who has made you ever so miserable. You frowned at his act. But sooner or later, the blood isn’t pouring anymore. You take your hand off his own, muttering a small thank you as you continue to work on the haori, much more careful this time.

“You raised my child, you bore me a son. And you are close by my side at all times, doing as you are told. You won’t suffer such fate and this is proof.”

“But what if I…..”

He sighed, letting his hand rest upon your head. “You will not. For all your life, you will live well. Do not over think, little one. It shall cost more of your beauty.”

You could feel your cheeks flustered with warm scarlet. You cannot look at him, or he’ll see the extent of your reddened face.  “M–my lord, if I am pricked once more—”

His gaze softened as he stood next to you, watching the way your hands moved over the fabric with quiet concentration. “Shall I make a binding vow to you, little one? I swear to you, you would not suffer in such a way.”

You couldn’t tell if he was being honest or if this was just another of his strange ways of trying to explain himself. Sukuna was never one for soft words, never one to lay himself bare.

But there was something in the way he stood there, looking at you, something that told you he wasn’t just trying to placate you. He meant it—at least, in his own way.

You sighed, putting the needle down for a moment. “I don’t know what you want from me, my lord.” you muttered, your voice almost lost in the quiet of the room. “I don’t know what I want either.”

Sukuna didn’t answer immediately, instead watching you with a quiet intensity. His gaze softened, and after a long moment, he placed a hand on the edge of the table, his fingers just brushing the fabric of the haori.

“I can’t give you the answers you want, not in a way that would make you happy. Not in ways that would make it easier.” he said finally, his voice almost regretful. “But we will not part. I shall stand by you as you stand with me, little one. If that means anything to you.”

The words hung in the air between you two, and for a long time, neither of you spoke. The tension that had always existed between you both seemed to lessen, if only for a moment. Perhaps there was no grand gesture of reconciliation, no magic words that could undo the past. But for now, this quiet understanding was enough.

Sukuna finally took a step back, his usual air of control slowly creeping back. But the softness in his gaze remained. “Finish the haori, little one.” he said, his voice commanding, though not unkind. "I’ll wear it soon enough."

You nodded silently, and as he turned to leave, you couldn’t help but wonder, just for a fleeting moment, whether things between the two of you might one day be different.

Whether Sukuna would ever truly change. Whether he could be more than who you know he already is. You purse your lips into a flat line, trying to focus on your stitches once more.

You would think about him for the whole night, you think to yourself.

You could not get him out of your mind for one second, even in bed.

But one thing’s for certain to you — your husband lies as much as he breathes.

Even if you love him, he will not love you in the way you want him to.

══════════════════

HE HAD SUMMONED YOU TO JOIN HIM FOR A DRINK. But it was quite obvious to you when you arrived that your husband was already far too deep into his drink already. You sighed, noticing a blue liquor.

Ah, the one Uraume prepares for him. This was the only alcohol that could get your husband drunk. He was immune to anything else. But this lets him feel human in his godly state. It makes him feel relieved. To be drunk on something even once in a while.

Sukuna's gaze lingered on you for a moment as you bowed. Everything about his expression was unreadable, yet there was something in his dark scarlet eyes. Something dangerous and raw. He raises his hand, letting you be at ease. You start to approach him with swift grace.

He hated how his thoughts betrayed him, wandering to places he had sworn to bury. Foolish. That’s what it was. Foolish and beneath him to feel this… guilt, this yearning that clawed at him like a curse more potent than any he could wield.

He had been alive far too long, seen far too much. He should have been immune to such petty human feelings by now. Desires, cravings…they were remnants of a man he had left behind when he ascended to godhood. 

And yet, when he thought of you, when his mind wandered to the softness of your body pressed against his, the warmth of that night you lay tangled together, he could feel something crack beneath his skin.

He thought he’d outgrown it, thought he’d buried whatever mortal part of him still dared to want. But it hadn’t stopped. It had only shifted, mutating into something darker, deeper.

His body betrayed him, aching with a hunger he despised. The memory of your touch, the way your smaller frame molded against his, haunted him in ways nothing else ever had.

You were a puzzle, you perhaps always will be to him. And that he could admit, was his  fleeting moment of weakness. He wanted more of you, a complete picture and now he couldn’t seem to erase that desire. He cannot quell his desires and he hates it. He despises himself over it. 

He remembered every detail of that night. The way your breaths hitched when his hands roamed over you, the softness of your skin beneath his calloused fingers. How you’d fit against him, fragile yet unyielding.

Somehow, you can tell that it was a stark contrast to his overwhelming presence. You were something too special, something he wants to taint and ruin, someone he wants to consume whole.

It was intoxicating, the memory of it. He remembers them without fail, even in a state like this. The way you surrendered without fear, how you looked at him as though he wasn’t a god or a monster, but just… a man. He hated that. Hated the vulnerability it pulled from him, the reminder that he was once human too.

Sukuna clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms as if the pain could anchor him. He shouldn’t think of you this way, shouldn’t allow himself to feel this way.

But no matter how much he tried to suppress it, the truth clawed its way to the surface. He wanted you. Not just in the fleeting, carnal way he could dismiss. No, this was deeper.

And it infuriated him.

"Little one." he said suddenly, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. You turned to him, startled by the abruptness of his tone, but there was no mistaking the heat in his gaze.

“Yes, my lord?” you asked, your voice careful, cautious.

He rose from his throne, the sheer power of his presence making the air around you feel heavier. He took a step closer, towering over you, his dark eyes darkened by something primal. His hand reached out, rough fingers brushing against your cheek before he seemed to catch himself. He let it fall back to his side, jaw tightening.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, like the rumble of distant thunder.

You blinked, stunned by the admission. “My lord, I—”

"Silence, little one." he growled, his eyes narrowing. "Don’t speak unless I tell you to."

The command was sharp, but his hand trembled slightly before he curled it into a fist. He hated himself in that moment, hated how much power you had over him without even trying.

You were like a little doe, the way you looked at him. Almost so demure and helpless. And yet, you had the most power over him, now that Hiromi was dead. And he didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t want to admit that truth.

“I thought it had ended, little one.” he continued, more to himself than to you. “This… weakness. This need for something so fleeting. Yet here I am, craving you like a man, not a god. How pathetic.”

Your lips parted, but you said nothing, sensing that this moment was not yours to interrupt. Sukuna’s gaze dropped to the floor for a fraction of a second before returning to yours, molten gold locking with your wide eyes.

“Tell me, little one.” he commanded, his voice softer now, though no less intense. “Do you feel it too? Or am I the only one foolish enough to burn for something I can never truly have?”

The question hung heavy in the air, a challenge and a confession all at once. Your breath hitched as his words settled in, the weight of them pressing against you like his looming presence. Sukuna had never been one to lay himself bare, yet here he stood, his gaze cutting through you with the intensity of a man teetering on the edge of restraint.

You swallowed hard, unsure if it was bravery or recklessness that made you speak. “My lord, I…..” you began carefully, voice trembling but steady. You swallow the bile down your throat. “It would be a lie to say I haven’t thought of that night. To say I haven’t felt… something for you.”

His eyes darkened, the faintest flicker of something. Was it satisfaction, perhaps? Was it a desire which was crossing his face? He stepped closer, the space between you almost nonexistent. You could feel the heat radiating from him, his presence overwhelming.

“You have, then?” he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl. “You’ve thought of me… of us?”

“Yes, my lord….” you admitted, your heart pounding in your chest. “But I—”

“But what?” he interrupted, his tone sharp, his hand reaching up to grip your chin gently, forcing you to look at him. “You think I don’t see it in your eyes? The way you tremble when I’m near, yet you never pull away. You deny me nothing, yet you still hesitate to admit what you want.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, steadying yourself against the storm that was Sukuna. “I hesitate, my lord.” you said softly, your lips quivering. “Because I don’t know if what you want from me is real, or if I’m just another fleeting indulgence for you. A distraction.”

His grip tightened ever so slightly, his jaw clenching as if your words had struck a nerve. “Do you think I am a god who indulges in meaningless distractions?” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet. “Do you think I would allow myself to feel this, to want—if it were something I could so easily discard, little one? Do you think of me that way?”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze once more. There was something raw in his expression, something vulnerable that he tried to mask with his usual arrogance. It was startling, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

“I don’t know what you feel, my lord.” you whispered, your voice trembling now. “You are a god, my god. A force beyond comprehension. How could I ever understand what I mean to you, knowing how far away you are?”

Sukuna let out a low, bitter laugh, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You think too much, little one.” he said, his tone softer now, though his scarlet eyes remained intense. “I’ve spent centuries trying to rid myself of weakness, yet here you are, the one thing I cannot escape. You plague me, little one, and I despise it as much as I crave it.”

The confession sent a jolt through you, and before you could stop yourself, your hand reached up, lightly resting on his wrist. The contact seemed to startle him, his eyes narrowing as if to assess your boldness. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“You are mine, little one.” he murmured, his voice low and possessive. “Whether you believe it or not, whether you understand it or not….you belong to me. And I—” He paused, the words catching in his throat as if they were foreign to him. “I cannot let you go.”

You felt your resolve waver under the weight of his admission, the intensity of his gaze consuming you. “Then what do you want from me, my lord?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

His lips curled into a dangerous smirk, though his eyes betrayed a deeper emotion. “Everything, little one.” he said simply. “Your body, your thoughts, your heart. I will have it all, and I will never share it with another. I want it to be mine.”

Your lips trembled as your eyes bore his own. “You already know that I am yours, my lord.”

The declaration was both a promise and a warning, and as his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, you realized there was no escaping him. Not now. Not ever. He had killed and he had harmed. You do not take his threat lightly. You do not take his confession lightly.

Sukuna’s hand slid to the back of your neck, his grip firm and unyielding as he pulled you closer. His touch burned like fire, his fingers tangling in your hair as he forced you to look up at him. There was no hesitation in his movements, no softness in his gaze. The air between you was charged, thick with the weight of emotions neither of you dared to name.

“You drive me to madness, little one.” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Do you even understand what you’ve done to me?”

Before you could answer, his lips crashed against yours, rough and demanding, stealing the breath from your lungs. It wasn’t gentle. Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t gentle. It was raw, primal, and overwhelming.

It was as if he was trying to claim you with every ounce of his being. His free arm snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against his powerful frame, your smaller body dwarfed by his overwhelming presence.

You gasped against his mouth, the sheer intensity of him leaving you breathless. His kiss was fierce, filled with pent-up desire and frustration, a battle for dominance you knew you couldn’t win. His sharp teeth grazed your bottom lip, a warning and a tease all at once.

Your hands instinctively gripped his robes, desperate for something to anchor you as the world seemed to tilt. You felt his chest rumble against yours, a deep growl escaping him as if your touch only fueled his hunger.

When he finally pulled back, his lips hovered just above yours, his breath hot and ragged. His scarlet eyes bore into yours, wild and unrestrained. “You are mine, little one.” he rasped, his voice rough with emotion. “Do you understand? No one else. Ever.”

You swallowed hard, your own breathing uneven as you tried to process the intensity of what had just happened. “I…”

Words failed you, your thoughts scrambled, but the look in his eyes demanded an answer. He wants what he wants, your husband. He was never coy with it. And that intimidated you. That burned you. And that made your heart beat, over and over.

“Yes, my lord.” you whispered finally, your voice trembling but resolute. “I’m yours. Always.”

A dangerous smile curved his lips, and his hold on you tightened. “Good.” he murmured, his voice dark and possessive. “Because I won’t let you go. Not now. Not ever.”

His lips descended on yours again, and this time, you didn’t resist. Instead, you gave yourself to him, surrendering to the storm that was Sukuna, knowing that there was no turning back

Sukuna didn’t stop. He couldn’t—no, he wouldn’t. The intensity of his desire had festered too long, clawing at him in the quiet moments, haunting him in the shadows. Now, with you in his grasp, his need consumed him entirely, and he refused to let anything hold him back.

His lips moved against yours with bruising force, his kiss deep and possessive, leaving no room for hesitation. His hands roamed your body, one gripping your waist as if to anchor you to him.

The other sliding up to cradle the back of your head. He tilted your face to deepen the kiss, his sharp teeth grazing your lips again, a feral growl rumbling in his chest.

You felt overwhelmed, every inch of your skin alight with his touch. His energy was raw and almost suffocating. Everything about it surged through you, leaving no part of you unaffected.

Despite his roughness, there was something deliberate in his actions, as if he were memorizing every curve, every shiver, every gasp you gave him. He broke the kiss just enough to look at you, his scarlet eyes darkened with unbridled hunger. His chest heaved as he fought to rein in the storm raging within him.

“You’re trembling, little one.” he muttered, his voice rough yet tinged with something almost tender. “Are you afraid?”

You hesitated, your lips swollen and breath shaky. “No, my lord.” you answered softly, your voice wavering. “Not afraid.”

His eyes narrowed, as if testing the truth of your words. “Then why do you shake?” he demanded, his thumb brushing along your jawline, a rare gentleness in the gesture that only made his intensity more suffocating. “Is it because of me? Because of what I make you feel?”

You nodded, unable to deny him even if you wanted to. “Yes, my lord.” you whispered, the confession slipping from your lips before you could think twice.

His smirk returned, sharp and dangerous, but there was a flicker of something softer beneath it. It was pride, satisfaction, maybe even relief. His cheeks were red, flushed in the echoes of the drink.

“Good, little one.” he said, his voice a low rumble. “You should feel it. All of it. Because I intend to show you just how deeply I’ve burned for you.”

Before you could respond, Sukuna scooped you up effortlessly, cradling you against his chest as though you weighed nothing. His hold on you was possessive, tightly locking you.

Every bit of his movements deliberate as he carried you toward the large bed at the far side of the chamber. The world seemed to blur around you, the air crackling with his power and your own anticipation.

He placed you down gently. It was an unexpected contrast to his earlier roughness but the way his hands lingered on your body betrayed the restraint he was barely holding onto. He loomed over you, his shadow swallowing you whole, his predatory gaze drinking in the sight of you beneath him.

“You don’t understand what you do to me, little one.” he said, his voice low and almost vulnerable, a confession meant only for you. “But tonight, you will. Tonight, you’ll feel it—the depth of my hunger, my desire. All of it.”

You shivered at his words, your heart racing as his hands found you again, pulling you closer to the god who had claimed you as his own. You wrapped your arms around him and let him do what he willed with you.

This is how you worshiped him, your god. You let him ruin you, you let him take it all away from you. No matter what, you’ll worship him. Even if it hurts you in the end.

══════════════════

IT WAS BITTER TO FEEL THIS IN THE MORNING. Ryomen Sukuna’s shoulders slumped as he sat on the edge of the bed, his hand cradling his forehead as though it could ease the storm brewing within him.

The room was dimly lit, the morning sun barely filtering through the heavy curtains, casting long shadows that seemed to mirror his turmoil. He glanced back at you, your form barely stirring under the silk sheets, a picture of innocence amidst the chaos he had wrought.

The guilt clawed at him like a relentless beast, tearing into the very essence of him. He had told himself countless times before that he was beyond redemption, that the sins of his godhood were unerasable.

Yet, every time he saw you lying beside him, your face softened by the vulnerability of sleep, the weight of his choices bore down on him tenfold. How innocent you looked. Almost like the most ethereal creature born to man.

And he's hurting you. He's hurt you. And he knew, it would break you. He'd done it before. He knew that. Sukuna's hands traced against his tightening jaw. How could he have done this to you?

He thought of Hiromi again, the one constant ghost that haunted him. Her face was as vivid in his mind as it had been centuries ago. The way she had looked at him with a love that had defied his monstrous nature was a memory he could never shake.

He had betrayed her over and over again, and yet her phantom presence lingered, a painful reminder of what he had lost and what he continued to desecrate.

She deserved better. And now, so do you.

His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. No matter how much he wanted to justify his actions, he couldn’t escape the truth: he was selfish. He was a god who took what he wanted, who carved his desires into the world without regard for the aftermath.

But with you, it felt different. He wasn’t just stealing your body; he was robbing you of your peace, your freedom. You were becoming a reflection of the torment that plagued him, and he hated himself for it.

Uraume’s earlier hesitation gnawed at him, too. They had served him faithfully for centuries, never questioning his orders. But the way their eyes lingered on you this morning, filled with something bordering on pity, unsettled him. Even they, loyal to a fault, could see the weight of his selfishness pressing down on you.

As the door closed softly behind Uraume, Sukuna let out a low, frustrated groan. His hand reached out once more, hovering just above your sleeping form, but he couldn’t bring himself to touch you. The memory of your soft breaths against his skin, the warmth of your body entwined with his, lingered, mocking him. He craved it, and yet he despised himself for it.

This is for the best, he repeated to himself, though the mantra felt like ash in his mouth. You’ll be free. You’ll forget me, forget this moment and this pain will fade.

But as he stared at you, your peaceful expression threatening to break the last vestiges of his resolve, doubt crept in. Could he truly let you go, even if it meant erasing everything you shared? Was it really for you—or was it just another way to escape his guilt, to absolve himself of the burden of your misery?

Sukuna clenched his teeth, the internal battle raging louder than ever. His fingers twitched as he fought the urge to wake you, to hear your voice, to feel your touch just one more time.

He knew it was selfish, but the thought of you looking at him with those same accusing eyes, those eyes that didn’t understand why he had to do this—that was unbearable.

The door creaked open, and Uraume entered silently, a small vial in their hands. They approached cautiously, bowing low as they held it out to him. Sukuna took it without a word, his fingers tightening around the glass. The liquid inside glimmered faintly, deceptively harmless, yet it carried the power to wipe away everything.

Uraume glanced at you again, their expression unreadable, before speaking softly. “Are you certain, my lord?”

Sukuna’s scarlet eyes flicked to them, sharp and unyielding, though his voice betrayed a hint of hesitation. “Do not question me, Uraume.”

They bowed deeply once more, retreating without another word. The door clicked shut, leaving Sukuna alone with you again. He turned the vial over in his hands, the faint clink of the liquid inside echoing in the silent chamber. His gaze drifted back to you, his expression torn, raw in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in centuries.

“I am a fool.” he muttered under his breath, his voice bitter. “A selfish, wretched fool.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, the vial dangling loosely between his fingers. The weight of the decision crushed him, every fiber of his being warring against itself. To let you forget would be to set you free, but it would also mean losing the only thing that had made him feel alive in eons. 

To let you remember would be to keep you bound to him, drowning alongside him in his endless torment. Ryomen Sukuna closed his eyes, exhaling shakily. He didn’t know what he hated more—the thought of losing you or the thought of keeping you. 

He was willing to take the risk of it all, if he was being honest.

He would rather let a lie continue, memories fade away forever;

He would rather do all the nasty things in this world, than lose you.

Everything else was better than finding you drowning with him like this.

══════════════════

THE MOMENT YOU WOKE UP, YOU REMEMBERED NOTHING. The memory of that night was elusive, like a fleeting shadow slipping between the cracks of your mind. You tried to recall it all from last night. Why did you end up taking your slumber in Heaven’s Hall instead of Vermillion Hall? Why had you fallen so sore and exhausted? What happened last night? 

You had pushed yourself to remember each and every time. But with all those attempts to do so left you with nothing but vague impressions. Perhaps you had been too tired to think clearly. Perhaps it wasn’t worth remembering. You had probably gotten so drunk and blacked out. Oh no, had you caused a scene? You were horrified about it all. 

You had hoped that it was going to come back to you once you have rested, once you had groomed yourself out of the mess of alcohol’s scent. Still, something about it lingered, a faint unease that you couldn’t quite place. You couldn’t piece it together and that makes you mad at yourself. How could you let this happen? How could you not remember anything?

Still, life moves forward. Your days carried on with a semblance of normalcy. The servants bustled about, tending to their endless duties, their chatter filling the quiet corners of the palace. You found comfort in routine, spending your hours with Chiharu and Chizuru, who had become your closest companions. 

Chiharu’s bright laughter and Chizuru’s sharp sense of humor made the days easier, their presence grounding you in a way Sukuna never had. In some ways, your joy comes from being their mother more than being Sukuna’s wife. Perhaps you had noticed that more and more now that your husband was too busy ignoring you again.

Yet, despite your efforts to immerse yourself in the calm, Ryomen Sukuna’s absence hung over you like a shadow. He had always been a looming presence in your life—commanding, unpredictable, impossible to ignore. But now, it was as if he had disappeared entirely. He no longer sought you out, no longer invaded your space with his suffocating intensity.

At first, you were relieved. His distance gave you a peace you hadn’t known in years. You could breathe without the weight of his gaze, could think without the distraction of his proximity. You liked the quiet. You needed it.

But as the days turned into weeks, you began to notice the emptiness his absence left behind. It wasn’t longing, not in the way you might have expected. It was something else; a nagging curiosity, an itch in the back of your mind that refused to be ignored.

Why had he stopped?

You replayed your last interactions with him over and over, searching for clues. Had you said something to offend him? Have you done something wrong? Or was this simply another one of his whims, a fleeting disinterest that would fade as quickly as it had come?

One afternoon, as you sat in the garden with Chiharu and Chizuru, the questions weighed heavier than usual. The soft rustling of leaves and the distant hum of insects filled the air, a perfect backdrop for the idle conversation that flowed between your companions.

“The plum blossoms are so beautiful this year, mother.” Chiharu said, her voice bright with excitement. She leaned forward, her fingers brushing the delicate petals of a nearby branch. “Don’t you think so?”

“They’re the same every year, nee–sama.” Chizuru replied, rolling his eyes with a teasing smile. “You act as if it’s your first time seeing them.”

Chiharu pouted at her younger brother. “Well, maybe you’re just too jaded to appreciate them anymore, little brother!”

“Nee-sama, take that back!

“No, I won’t!”

Their banter usually brought a smile to your face, but today, their words barely registered. Your gaze drifted to the distant silhouette of Heaven’s Hall, its grandeur standing in stark contrast to the serenity of the garden. You couldn’t shake the feeling that it held answers to the questions swirling in your mind.

“Are you all right, mother?” Chiharu’s voice broke through your thoughts, drawing your attention back to her concerned expression. “You seem… distracted.”

You forced a smile. “I’m fine. Just tired, I suppose.”

Chizuru narrowed his eyes, his sharp gaze cutting through your facade. He looked almost like his father at that moment.  “Tired, or thinking about something you don’t want to say, mother?”

You shook your head, brushing off her words with a light laugh. “Nothing worth mentioning, my little love. Really.”

But as the conversation resumed, your thoughts wandered once more. Later, as you walked back to your quarters alone, your steps slowed as you neared Heaven’s Hall. The towering structure loomed ahead, its marble pillars catching the fading light of the setting sun.

You stopped, your gaze lingering on the grand doors. Something about it unsettled you, yet it also pulled at you, as if it held the answers you sought. You could almost hear the faint echo of footsteps, the ghost of something forgotten stirring in the corners of your mind.

Your hand twitched at your side, a part of you tempted to step inside, to confront whatever it was that refused to let you go. But you hesitated, the weight of uncertainty holding you back.

With a shake of your head, you turned away, forcing your feet to carry you toward Vermillion Hall. It was better not to know, you told yourself. Sukuna’s silence was a gift, a reprieve from his consuming presence. You weren’t foolish enough to disrupt it.

And yet, as the days stretched on, the questions only grew louder, pressing against your thoughts with an intensity you couldn’t ignore. What had happened that night? Why had everything changed so suddenly?

Most of all, why did it feel like Sukuna’s absence was not just a relief, but a mystery begging to be unraveled?

The day had passed uneventfully, filled with the usual duties at the main temple. You had grown accustomed to these quiet, almost meditative tasks: managing the offerings, overseeing the attendants, ensuring everything ran smoothly.

It was a peaceful life, one that was slowly allowing you to forget the intensity of the emotions that once surrounded Sukuna.

But today, the quiet seemed more oppressive than comforting, the silence pressing in around you like a weight. The questions still clung to the back of your mind, refusing to be silenced.

After completing your tasks, you found yourself seeking out Uraume. They were a quiet figure, always observing, always present but rarely speaking. Perhaps they could provide some insight into the strange distance Sukuna had placed between you.

They had been in his service long enough to know when something was amiss, and their loyalty to him was unwavering. Surely, if anyone knew what had happened, it would be Uraume.

You found them in a quiet hallway, their eyes momentarily lifting from the scroll they were reading as they noticed you approaching. Their expression remained neutral, but there was an unreadable glint in their eyes.

“Uraume.” you started, keeping your voice even. “I wanted to ask you about something. Something… personal.”

Uraume tilted their head slightly, studying you. They were always cautious around you, as though they knew that even the slightest change in your tone could signal a question they didn’t want to answer.

"What is it you wish to know, my lady?" they asked carefully, their voice soft but calculated.

You hesitated, unsure how to approach the subject without making it too obvious. But there was no time for half-measures now. You needed to know.

“That night… in Heaven’s Hall. I don’t remember much. But I know something happened. Between me and my lord. I need to understand. I need help to remember. So, if you would….please help me regain—”

Uraume's gaze shifted, their eyes briefly flicking away. For a moment, you wondered if they would say anything at all. But then they met your gaze again, a small frown tugging at the corners of their mouth. 

"My lord’s affairs are not for me to discuss with others, my lady." they replied, their tone so measured it almost felt rehearsed. "I do not know what you speak of."

The response stung, more than you expected. It wasn’t just the refusal to answer; it was the certainty in their voice, the unyielding loyalty that seemed to close off any hope of learning the truth. You swallowed the frustration rising in your chest, trying to push it back, but it simmered nonetheless.

"Uraume, I—" you began, but they had already turned their gaze away, as though the conversation was over. 

They bowed slightly, the gesture polite but distant. "If that is all, my lady, I have matters to attend to."

Your chest tightened as they made to leave, and for a moment, you considered pressing further. But something told you it would be futile. Uraume was loyal to Sukuna above all else, and their silence wasn’t accidental—it was a guard, a wall you couldn’t break. You cannot expect someone like them to choose you over their master.

Feeling the weight of your unanswered questions settle heavier on you, you turned and walked away, your thoughts swirling with a mix of irritation and confusion. The frustration you’d been pushing down surged to the surface, bubbling up in a sharp, bitter wave.

As you rounded a corner, you caught a glimpse of something that made your heart skip a beat.

From a distance, near the large pillars that lined the edge of the courtyard, you saw him. 

Ryomen Sukuna, with his dark eyes boring into your figure.

Your lord husband was watching you, with such focus.

His gaze was steady, his scarlet eyes locked onto you with an intensity that was unmistakable. There was no mistaking the weight of it, even from a distance. The way his eyes pinned you in place, as if he could see through every thought, every feeling you were trying to hide.

You stopped in your tracks. For a split second, it felt as if time slowed, the space between you and him stretching. Your breath caught in your throat as you instinctively felt the pull of his gaze, the silent command it carried. It was as if he were drawing you in, pulling you closer without saying a word.

But you couldn’t stay. You couldn’t approach him—not when everything felt so… unfinished, so raw. The frustration from your encounter with Uraume flared inside you, and the last thing you wanted was to face Sukuna with that vulnerability hanging over you. Not when he seemed to be watching you with that same detached, unreadable expression.

You didn’t wait a second longer. You turned quickly, your steps brisk as you made your way down the hall, away from his gaze, away from whatever strange pull he had over you. Your heart raced, but you couldn’t stop yourself. You had to leave before you did something foolish.

But even as you hurried down the hall, you couldn’t escape the feeling that Sukuna’s eyes never left your back.

══════════════════

RYOMEN SUKUNA CAN’T HELP IT. The smell of you that remained on this silk handkerchief was powerful. He can’t stop. Not right now. Not at this moment. The silken fabric glides over Sukuna’s fingertips, its delicate touch igniting a shiver that travels through him, a contrast to the hard lines of his frame. 

The room feels smaller, darker, as he leans into the sensation, pressing the silk to his face and inhaling slowly. The scent is intoxicating, carrying the essence of you. Something warm, elusive, and utterly tormenting. His dark scarlet eyes flutter shut as a sigh parts his lips, betraying the barrier he usually holds so tightly.

Every breath feels heavier, resonating with the silent thrum beneath his skin, a rhythm that’s more than just desire. Everything about it was a pull that shakes his control. He drags the fabric down the line of his jaw, its whisper against his skin making his pulse quicken. 

He could feel the closeness and yet distance of you driving him deeper into the edge of yearning. His own touch is rougher now, less restrained as he presses the silk to the hollow of his throat, feeling the heat rise within him, warmth spreading like a slow burn.

A groan escapes, low and gravelly, as if torn from the depths of him, echoing in the silence. The sensation of his hands moving, the silk brushing over his chest and further, turns into a private ritual of surrender.

Each sweep of the fabric sparks against nerves like embers. The ghostly presence of you envelops him, the way you would breathe against his skin, the way your fingertips would linger with a feather-light tease.

The complexity of it all is the very reason he won’t dare cross the distance between you, why this is the only way he allows himself to know the softness you carry. It’s both bliss and torment, this delicate line he walks, trembling under the weight of the scent and the way it melds into the heat of his own breath. 

His movements become slower, more deliberate, savoring every moment until there’s nothing left but the ragged edge of satisfaction mixed with the stark silence of solitude. His mind swirls with the thought of you, laid out beneath him, your skin flushed and breath coming in soft, shuddering gasps. 

"My lord….my Sukuna." you would whisper, voice low and dripping with need, eyes wide and filled with trust and anticipation. The sound of your voice in his imagination alone makes him clench his jaw, his breath catching as heat unfurls within him.

“Say it again, little one.” he imagines himself growling, his tone both a command and a plea. His hand moves, firm and deliberate, stroking along his length as he pictures the way you’d obey, the way you’d bite your lip before moaning his name once more, the sound of it desperate and broken.

“Please, my lord.” your voice echoes in his head, needy and soft. 

The thought drives him to the brink, his body responding to the phantom sound as if you were really there. The groan that slips from his lips is deep, guttural, filling the dark room. His hips bucked against his own touch, chasing the sensation, needing it, needing you.

"Look at me. Keep your eyes on me. Only me." he imagines saying, the rasp in his voice trembling at the edge of restraint. 

He pictures your eyes locking onto his, the way they’d cloud over as he takes you apart piece by piece. His pace quickens, hand swirling tighter as he lets himself fall further into the fantasy, into the imagined warmth of your skin against his, the velvet feel of your touch.

“My lord—oh, Sukuna!” you’d moan, this time louder, the way he likes. His muscles tense as he shudders, everything building to that blinding point of no return. 

The room falls silent but for the sound of his own gasps, as the pleasure crashes over him, leaving only the thrum of his heartbeat and the haunting ache of wanting more than this moment, more than just shadows and longing.

Sukuna’s breath comes in short, ragged bursts as his hips move faster, instinct guiding his hand as he chases the release that teeters just out of reach. The image of you beneath him, eyes glassy and lips swollen, clings to his mind with fierce clarity. 

He can almost feel the way your body would shudder, the way you'd gasp and cling to him, the sensation of being deep within you as you take him, body trembling and surrendering completely. The tension in him coils tighter, the thought of you so full of him that he can see it in the way your body arches, pressing against him, drawing him deeper. 

“Take it all, little one. Take all of me. Please. Please—oh…..” he imagines growling, the dark intensity of the command vibrating through the silence.

His hand moves with desperation, the slick glide mimicking the fantasy in his mind, where every breath from you is a soft plea and every moan is edged with that delicious note of submission that drives him wild.

The imagined feel of your warmth, of your walls tightening around him, pushes him over the edge. His body tenses, muscles rigid as the wave crashes through him, a guttural groan spilling from his lips, raw and deep.

Pleasure surges, blinding and consuming, leaving him breathless and sprawled in the silence that follows, the echoes of his need fading into the stillness of the room.

When the tremors subside, he opens his eyes, staring up at the ceiling, chest heaving. The room feels emptier now, haunted by the echoes of your phantom touch and the aching reminder that you’re not here.

The need has been sated for now, but the longing, that ever-present hunger for you, remains unsatisfied, gnawing at him with a dark, insatiable hunger.

He looks down at the silk fabric, occupied by his fluids.

Sukuna felt his lips tighten at the sight of it, so full of him.

He ruined you, he keeps ruining you — and he would not stop.

Ryomen Sukuna stood up, and looks at the potion.

He could not take it, he could not take that guilt.

His hands takes it brashly towards his lips and drank.

Ryomen Sukuna wants to forget how he hurt you.

══════════════════

YOU MAKE HASTE TO GET READY. Sukuna’s summons arrives as a simple, imperious command, and yet it sends a thrill down your spine. You looked at Uraume and merely nodded. Your husband was that sort of man. He only wishes for you when he ends up at the end of his wits. But you cannot say much about it. You ought not to.

It’s been quite a few weeks gone and past since the two of you sat together without the press of others’ watchful eyes or the weight of duties. And because of that, things would be different between the two of you, well at least until that awkward distance disappears with some comfort with some time spent together.

When you enter the grand dining hall, he’s already seated, the firelight casting a warm glow over his sharp features, softening the edge of his usual scowl. His crimson eyes lift to meet yours, something unreadable flickering behind them before he gives a subtle nod.

“Sit, little one.” he says, and though the tone is clipped, there’s a trace of something gentler woven beneath. 

You take your place across from him, and a faint smile tugs at your lips as the first drink of sake is poured for you.  Another bountiful pour of special drink for him.

It had taken some time for tongues to become loose. The silence between you is not strained but filled with anticipation, as if the weeks apart have made every unspoken word hum with importance.

The conversation unfolds slowly, naturally. The tension in his shoulders loosens as he sips from his cup, scarlet eyes softening when you speak of your children. Everything about your children brought the two of you closer. That's how it was.

You both talked abotu everything. Their laughter, their small victories at Jujutsu, the way they remind you of him in ways both stubborn and tender. Chizuru had finally learned how to control his cursed energy. Chiharu had discovered a new technique of her own, defeating her mentor. 

Your husband listens, occasionally offering a rare chuckle or a subtle smirk, and you realize just how much you missed this: the shared warmth, the unguarded moments when he’s more than the king, more than the conqueror. He perhaps did not love you. But you wanted his comfort, his warmth. In some ways, you wanted to be his. 

Not in ownership, no. But to….to have been cared for in some way by him. Of course, it would not be close to his feelings for Ryomen Hiromi. You had long accepted that. Still, you wanted warmth from him.

You wanted to carve your way through his heart, and let yourself have a home in it. At least what was left. Yet, you would never say that out loud. It was not your place. It never has been.

“Do you remember when Chiharu first tried to use her powers?” you ask, laughter bubbling in your voice. Sukuna’s lips quirk up at the memory, a shadow of pride crossing his face.

“The girl was quite fearless, I admit.” he replies, a hint of admiration in his voice. “But she still needs some work.”

You smiled. “My lord, I am certain you can find that Chiharu is one to be proud of. The work has paid off.”

“Hm. I suppose it has.” He says to you, his eyes tender. “But I cannot take the credit.”

“Nor can I, my lord.” You whisper back to him, a small smile on your lips. “I am not her only parent.”

He shakes his head. “No, no. To her, little one? You are the only one that matters.”

Everything from then seems to shrink around the two of you, the space intimate and alive with a marriage lived in many years and many dimensions — such of which the world will never know or be privy to. No. This belongs only to the two of you. No one else.

As the evening deepens, the wine flows more freely, and the conversation shifts, softening at the edges. Sukuna leans forward, his eyes catching the flicker of firelight. Your husband was studying you with a gaze that pierces through the veil of time and distance.

You’re suddenly aware of how close you are, of how his fingers drum lightly on the table, mere inches from yours. He couldn't stop, looking at you. Yearning for warmth that only you could provide.

Without thinking, you close the gap. Your hand brushes his, and before you can second-guess, you lean forward and press your lips to his. The kiss is soft at first, hesitant, as if testing the waters of familiarity, but he responds almost immediately. 

His hand moves to cup the back of your neck, deepening the kiss with a hunger that’s been banked too long. The room falls away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in the heat and urgency of reconnection, mouths moving with the desperation of lovers long apart.

When you pull back, both breathless, his eyes search yours, softer now, vulnerable in a way that’s rare and precious.

“It’s been too long, little one.” he murmurs, voice rough but honest, and you nod, a smile curving your lips as you press your forehead to his, savoring the moment and the promise of more to come.

The silence stretches between you, but it’s charged, buzzing with an unspoken need. The kiss lingers in the air, the taste of him still warm on your lips. There is no more talking now, only the thrum of anticipation as Sukuna’s eyes, deep and darkened with desire, lock onto yours. 

His hand tightens at the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his mouth crashes against yours again, fiercer this time. The room is awash in the scarlet glow of the fire, shadows dancing as if to the rhythm of your heartbeats.

Your hands find their way to his chest, fingers splaying over the hard muscle beneath his robes as you feel his heart pound beneath your touch. He shifts, rising from his chair with a graceful power that makes your breath catch.

In one swift movement, he pulls you up, the table pushed aside as if it were an afterthought, and suddenly, you're against him, your body pressed against the solid heat of his form.

Sukuna’s lips trail down your jaw to the pulse at your neck, teeth grazing as his breath comes hot against your skin. You gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair, tugging him closer, wordlessly urging him on.

His hands roam, one sliding down your back, pressing your hips into his, while the other explores the curve of your waist, anchoring you as if afraid to let go.

Your senses blur; the feeling of his tongue tracing along the line of your collarbone sends shivers down your spine, and you arch into him, needing more. The sound of your breathless moans, mingled with the quiet growl he makes against your skin, fills the room. 

Sukuna lifts you easily, his strength effortless as he sets you on the edge of the table, stepping between your legs and pressing into you until there’s nothing but heat and the throb of shared longing.

Your eyes meet, and for a moment, the intensity softens. His thumb brushes your cheek, a surprising gentleness in the midst of the fervor, and then his lips are on yours again.

Over and over, he pushed forward with wanton desire. His lips wanted more. Tasting, claiming, as his hands slide lower, pulling you closer, drawing a shiver of pleasure that melts the last traces of restraint.

The world around you fades to nothing but the sensation of him, the rush of your bodies entwined in a dance that is both savage and intimate. Everything is raw, animalistic, as if the very air crackles with the weight of longing that has built up over the weeks apart. 

Ryomen Sukuna’s grip on you is commanding, pulling you closer, pressing you against him with a desperate need that makes you gasp, your body trembling in response.

The slick warmth of his skin against yours is intoxicating, a heady mixture of heat and urgency that makes it feel like there’s no time to waste. His lips are on you again, claiming you with a hunger that mirrors the way his body moves against yours.

Each thrust, each slow drag of his hips, drives deeper, the pressure building between you until it's unbearable. You can feel the pulse in his veins, the steady throb of him that echoes in your own body, matching the rhythm of your heart as it races wildly.

Tears slip from the corners of your eyes, but they’re not from pain, no. They’re from something deeper, something more overwhelming. The vulnerability of the moment, the overwhelming sensation of him taking you, claiming you fully, fills you with an emotion that crashes over you like a wave. 

Your breath hitches as you bite down on your lip, trying to hold back the rush of feelings threatening to break free. But Sukuna’s groan, low and almost animalistic, makes your resolve shatter, and you let go, surrendering completely to the pleasure, to the connection that binds you to him.

His body throbs with each movement, the pulse of his veins like a living thing inside you, the rhythm of it so steady and consuming that it feels as if you’re both part of the same beating heart. 

The force of it, the heat and pressure, makes you feel like you’re coming apart at the seams, but in the best way, as if every inch of you is being remade, redefined by his presence, by the way he fills you completely. There’s nothing but him now, no walls, no distance, just the two of you locked together in a way that feels timeless, primal.

You feel whole with him, in a way you’ve never felt before. The empty spaces that have haunted you, the ones you couldn’t even name; all of it seems to vanish in the intensity of the moment. How could it not, when he rules you in everything, body, heart and soul?

His body is a fierce warmth that wraps around you, grounding you, making you feel like you’ve always belonged to him, and he to you. It’s a feeling that is so deep, so consuming, that it transcends the physical, filling you with a sense of completeness that makes the rest of the world irrelevant.

The sound of his breath, deep and erratic, mingles with the rhythm of your own, and you’re both lost in the storm you’ve created. There are no words anymore, just the quiet, rhythmic echo of your bodies moving together, caught in the tide of sensation that threatens to drown you both.

And in the heart of it all, as you feel him throb inside you, a whisper of truth cuts through the haze: You are his, and he is yours, bound together in this moment of raw, unyielding connection. Nothing else can compare. And for a moment, Ryomen Sukuna had thought about it too. 

══════════════════

THE POTION DIDN'T WORK FOR LONG. He remembered everything. All of it. And he thinks he felt sick. Sick to the core. He hated it. He hated himself. He knew he was a cruel man, a foolish man. How could he do that? How could he do that to you?

Everything was wrong about him. And you deserved more than him. It was a continual rinse and repeat. The cycle was suffocating, each time growing more suffused with an unspoken tension that neither of you could escape. 

Ryomen Sukuna, ever the stoic, had felt that sharp pang of guilt again. It always caught him when he least expected it, the ghost of an emotion he tried so hard to suppress. The way you looked at him was always with eyes full of tenderness, full of trust. And everything about it had haunted him in those quiet moments. 

But guilt was a weakness, a human frailty that did not belong to him. He had learned to bury it, to lock it away with all the other feelings he refused to confront. And so, once again, the weight of that emotion was swallowed by the darkness he carried within himself, and he moved on.

You, on the other hand, were trapped in a cycle of confusion. The potion was seamless, subtle in its potency. One moment, you were wrapped in a night of passion, tangled with him in a world that felt more real than anything else. 

But the next, everything was gone. No memory of his touch, of the way he had made you feel; no trace of the connection you had shared. Just a deep sense of something missing, a gnawing hole that you couldn’t understand. 

The fog in your mind only deepened when you tried to recall the details. It was as though you had forgotten how to ask the right questions, and even when you tried, the answers weren’t there. Sukuna felt bitter and sick about his own actions. 

The potion worked too well.

And so, you found yourself caught in the same pattern, over and over. Confusion, followed by fleeting glimpses of something that should be familiar but never quite is. Each time you reached out for him, whether for comfort or answers—there was a distance, an impenetrable coldness that he wrapped around himself. 

The more you tried to close that gap, the further he seemed to pull away. You would ask, softly at first, tentatively: "Why do you look at me like that?" or "What happened?" But Sukuna never answered. 

His gaze would flicker, distant, uninterested, as if the question itself were a nuisance. He would look at you for a moment, but never fully engage, never fully reach for you. The warmth you once had between you felt as though it had turned to ice.

And it stung.

You would find yourself alone in the aftermath, wondering what had changed. Wondering what you had done wrong, what you had missed. It wasn’t like him to ignore you. Not in the way he did now. His absence wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, like he had shut a door between you that you couldn’t get through. 

His indifference was sharper than any anger he could have thrown your way. Each time you tried to get closer, to break through the cold silence that had enveloped him, the distance seemed to grow. It was as if the very act of reaching out to him had become a punishment, one you didn’t understand.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed, that this time, the disconnection wasn’t just a hunch for you. No, it was not just a guess. You couldn’t even remember how many times this had happened now, but each time it was harder to ignore, harder to pretend that you weren’t losing something you could never get back. 

The confusion was maddening, the way you had to fight against your own mind to remember pieces of a night that had been so vivid, so full of promise. You could almost feel him there, his presence heavy and undeniable, but the memories always slipped away, as if they belonged to someone else.

And then, there was Sukuna. Unreachable, aloof, silent. He would turn away when you looked at him for too long, pretending not to notice the ache in your gaze, the way you waited for him to explain. He never did. 

And when you pressed, he became colder, more detached, his disinterest palpable. He ignored you, avoided your touch, and the more you tried to understand, the more he made it clear that you were not meant to.

He had been there—yes, he had been. But now, when you needed him most, when you tried to break through to him, he wasn’t. Not really.

It left you questioning everything. What have you lost? What was real? What had he erased? And why, no matter how hard you tried, did it feel as if you were always walking in circles, never getting closer to the truth? It was as though you were always on the outside of something, always knocking on the door but never able to step inside.

It wasn’t just the potion anymore. Something deeper had shifted, something that even Ryomen Sukuna couldn’t hide beneath his cold, indifferent exterior. The question now was whether you would ever get the chance to find out what.

You sit in silence, your fingers drumming on the edge of the table, eyes trained on Sukuna as he remains seated across from you. His gaze is cold, unreadable, but there's a flicker in his eyes, a subtle shift in the way he watches you, as though he's aware of the question you haven't lived yet.

The air between you feels heavier than usual, suffused with the unspoken tension that’s been building for weeks. You can’t ignore it anymore—the gnawing sense that something is slipping through your fingers, something important. And the more you try to hold onto it, the more it fades.

You finally break the silence, your voice quiet but determined.

“I… I feel like I’m forgetting things. Important things, my lord.” you admit, not meeting his gaze. The words feel heavy on your tongue, almost like admitting something you don’t want to be true.

Sukuna remains still, his crimson eyes narrowing just slightly, watching you with that same detached intensity. His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t speak. You can feel the air grow thick with the weight of his silence, and it only makes the ache inside you grow sharper.

“Like what?” His voice is low, measured, but there's a faint edge to it that you can’t quite place. He knows what you’re talking about. Of course he does.

“I don’t know, my lord.” you mutter, frustration leaking into your voice. “It’s like I wake up and there’s a hole in my memory. Pieces are missing. And I—I can’t even remember what happened the night before. It’s like I’m walking through fog, like everything is just out of reach.” 

You raise your eyes to meet him, searching for something—anything—in his gaze. “I can’t explain it, but it feels like I’m losing myself.”

Sukuna leans back in his chair, his posture casual, but there's something unreadable about his expression. His fingers drum lightly on the armrest, a rhythm that matches the quickening beat of your heart.

You wait for him to say something, anything, but he remains silent for a long time, his gaze fixed on you, as though weighing something important in his mind.

“You know what’s happening, my lord.” you say, your voice suddenly a little sharper, more desperate. “You must know. I feel like you’re hiding something from me. Why—why won’t you just tell me? What am I forgetting? Why does it feel like you’re slipping away from me, every time I try to reach you?”

A dark, fleeting look crosses his face—something almost guilty, but it’s gone too quickly for you to catch it fully. Instead, his lips curl into that familiar, mocking smirk, but it’s lacking the usual bite.

“I’m not hiding anything, little one.” he replies, his voice low, but there’s an undercurrent of something dark in it. “It’s your mind, not mine. You’ve always had a tendency to forget what’s inconvenient. It's your own fault.”

Your chest tightens at his words. It’s not the answer you wanted—not even close. You lean forward, trying to control the emotions threatening to spill over. You were exhausted with this. You cannot take anymore of this.

“You can’t seriously expect me to believe that, my lord.” You shake your head, feeling a bitter frustration rise in you. “I feel like I’m going insane. One moment, everything feels so real, and the next... it’s gone. And I—I know it’s not just me. Something is happening, and you’re the only one who doesn’t seem bothered by it.”

Sukuna’s smirk fades, and for the briefest moment, something flickers across his face. It’s not guilt, but it’s close, something between acknowledgment and dismissal. He doesn’t answer right away, letting the silence stretch until it’s almost unbearable.

Finally, he speaks, his tone heavier now, more controlled. “Maybe you’re remembering things you shouldn’t, little one. You don’t need to know everything. Some things are better left forgotten.”

The weight of his words sinks into you like a stone, and you feel the truth of it in your chest, the way it sits there, cold and heavy. You swallow hard, trying to push past the confusion and hurt that swirl in your mind.

“Is that it, then, my lord?” you ask, voice breaking a little, though you try to steady yourself. “You think I should forget all of it? Forget the parts of me that belong to you? Forget about everything that could be important? My lord, that is cruel.”

Sukuna’s scarlet eyes darken, the cold distance in them sharpening again, but his expression doesn’t change. He leans forward slightly, his presence looming, like a predator assessing its prey. He doesn’t want to play his part. But it must. He had made it this far. He ought to own it.

“Stop asking questions you know I won’t answer. You know how this works.” His tone turns almost icy, cutting through the air. “What you remember doesn’t matter. Only what I allow you to remember does.”

You stare at him, the truth of it settling in like a weight in your gut. His words are like a bitter truth you can't swallow, but it doesn’t make them any less real. The distance between you widens again, suffocating, and you’re left staring at him, unsure whether to be angry or broken.

"Then why even keep me here, my lord?" you whisper, more to yourself than to him. The question feels pointless as soon as it leaves your lips, but it lingers, a sharp sting in the air. “You ought to send me to the Cold Hall. Or leave me be.”

For a moment, Ryomen Sukuna remains silent, his gaze flickering toward you with an unreadable expression. Then, he leans back, his features hardening into that impenetrable mask. 

“Because, little one…” he says, his voice low and deliberate. “I can. And I will.”

And just like that, the space between you becomes an abyss again, and you’re left wondering if you’ll ever get the answers you crave—or if, in time, you’ll forget you even asked. You turned away from him. You could feel his gaze bore a hole on the back of your head. But he noticed everything. He was no fool. 

Tears poured from your eyes.

You tried to quickly wipe them away.

But as you wiped them, more came by.

Even your body knows you were miserable.

Even your body knows something’s missing.

Something is wrong.

══════════════════

YOU ONCE MORE LOCKED YOURSELF AWAY IN VERMILLION HALL. You refused to see your husband and perhaps that was for the best. You had cried yourself to sleep for days now, the frustration eating away at you like an insidious thing. The weight of unanswered questions, the endless confusion, it had all built up and bled into your dreams.

The emotions had overwhelmed you to the point where sleep seemed like the only escape, the only refuge from the torment of not knowing. But sleep, as you soon discovered, offered no solace. It was restless and fleeting, filled with fragments of images, of faces, of a life you could never fully remember.

But when you woke, it wasn’t to the comfort of the blankets you had once found so familiar. No, you woke to an entirely different feeling—a sharp, searing pain that stabbed into your core, as if something inside you had broken open. 

It wasn’t a pain you had ever felt before, and it was so intense that it left you gasping for air, clutching at the sheets in a desperate attempt to understand what was happening to you. You felt like you were drowning, it felt like you were being stabbed.

Your mind was foggy, clouded with the remnants of your dreams and the confusion of the past days, but you didn’t need clarity to know that something was wrong. The pain was unbearable.

It was harshly crawling beneath your skin, wrapping around your insides with a terrible urgency. You frantically pulled at the blankets, your hands trembling as you tried to understand what was happening.

When you looked down, your breath hitched in your throat. Blood. It stained your sheets, pooling beneath you in stark, alarming contrast to the softness of the fabric. You groaned over and over in grievous pain.

Panic surged through you, a wave of shock and terror, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the fear choking you. You couldn’t comprehend it, couldn’t wrap your mind around the sight before you.

You cried out, the sound raw and full of terror, your voice hoarse from the tears you had already shed. “Help me.” you whispered, your throat thick with panic, “Please…”

Within moments, your servants appeared soon; they were quick, frantic, their faces filled with concern and confusion. They rushed to your side, trying to assess the situation, to comfort you, but nothing they did could quell the overwhelming pain or the terror that gripped your chest.

“What happened? What’s wrong, my lady?” one of them asked, her voice trembling with concern as she hurried to help you sit up, her hands gently lifting the blood-soaked sheets away from your body.

You could barely answer, the pain making it impossible to form coherent words. All you could do was sob, clinging to them as if they could somehow stop the agony, stop the deep, hollow ache that was consuming you.

One of your servants hurried out, calling for help, while the others tried to tend to you as best as they could, offering comfort, but the fear in their eyes mirrored your own. Something was terribly wrong.

And no matter how many times you tried to explain it, tried to understand it yourself, you were left with more questions than answers. Why were you bleeding like this? What had happened to you? What were you forgetting?

The answers felt just out of reach, like a secret too dangerous to uncover. And the more you tried to grasp them, the more you sank into the unknown. You were crying endlessly, crying out in pain with or without the voice to do so.

Your servants worked swiftly, their hands trembling as they tried to stabilize you, but their movements felt like a blur, the world spinning around you. Their frantic whispers only heightened the feeling of helplessness clawing at your chest. 

One of them, a younger woman with dark eyes, pressed a cloth against your body, trying to stop the bleeding, but it felt like a losing battle. The blood stained your skin, soaking into the fabric of your nightgown and the sheets beneath you.

You could feel yourself becoming dizzy, your vision blurring as the pain intensified. Each pulse of pain seemed to radiate outward, as though it was coming from deep within, tearing at the fabric of your body, but you couldn't grasp why. Your thoughts were scattered, lost in a haze of fear and confusion.

"Stay with us, my lady. Please." one of the servants pleaded, her voice strained with panic. "We'll get help, please, just stay awake."

You barely heard her. The pain was too much, drowning out everything else. And then, a voice from the door, a voice you hadn’t heard in a long while had cut through the chaos. You couldn’t see his face. But his voice, it was the clearest it has ever been.

"Enough." Sukuna's voice rang out, cold and commanding. He appeared in the doorway, his gaze falling on the scene before him, and for a moment, everything stopped.

Your breath caught in your throat, the pain momentarily forgotten as you locked eyes with him. He looked unchanged, as imposing as ever, but there was something in his expression, something almost unreadable as he stepped closer.

“What’s going on?” His voice was low, but it was laced with an unfamiliar tension, something far removed from the indifference you’d come to expect from him.

You tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come, your body trembling too violently, too weak to form any coherent thoughts. Your breath hitched as another wave of pain shot through you, sharper than before.

It felt like something inside you was breaking open, tearing apart. The physical pain was unbearable, but it was the emotional toll that made you feel as if you were unraveling at the seams.

"S–she's losing too much blood, my lord." one of the servants said, trying to explain, but her voice faltered under Sukuna’s unwavering gaze. “My lady is bleeding and…we do not know why.

Ryomen Sukuna’s scarlet eyes narrowed slightly, his focus shifting to you. For the first time in a long while, something like concern flickered in his gaze, though it was masked by the familiar coldness that surrounded him.

He approached, kneeling at your side with a fluid, deliberate motion. Your cries were bellowing over and over against his ears. He could see it from where you embraced your body, the blood. 

His hand hovered over you, but he hesitated, as if unsure what to do. There was a knowing look in his eyes, as if he had known this story before. But you didn’t want to question him. You couldn’t. You were in too much pain to do so.

“What happened?” he repeated, his voice softer now, but there was an edge of command in it.

“I—I don’t know, my lord.” you gasped, each breath shallow, the words barely escaping your lips. “It hurts so much... I’m—I'm bleeding. I don’t know why.”

His eyes flickered briefly to your servants, who seemed to retreat slightly, their discomfort obvious, unsure of how to proceed. But Sukuna's attention remained solely on you, the deep crimson of his gaze scanning over your trembling form. 

The tension in his jaw tightened. He didn't speak right away, but there was something in his regal posture, there was something predatory in the way his eyes locked onto you that made it clear he was piecing something together.

After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice almost too calm. "What were you doing before this happened?" he asked, his words cold but controlled, as if you should have already known the answer.

You struggled to keep your focus, the pain blurring your thoughts, but the question cut through the haze. You had been trying to remember, hadn't you? You had been trying to understand what had happened between the two of you, what had led to this moment.

“I—I don’t know…I was resting and I just….” you whispered, tears slipping from your eyes as you looked at him, feeling helpless. “I was trying to understand… but I can’t. Everything’s… everything’s slipping away. It’s like I’m losing pieces of myself.”

Sukuna’s expression darkened, a flicker of something. Was it regret?—crossing his face before he masked it again. He looked at the servants and nodded once, a quick, sharp motion. You did not know. You did not wish to know.  

"Leave us. All of you." he commanded. "I’ll handle this."

They hesitated for a moment, but his tone left no room for argument. One by one, they filed out of the room, leaving you alone with him. The silence was oppressive, thick with unspoken words and tension.

Ryomen Sukuna’s gaze returned to you, and for a moment, the world felt impossibly small, the pain in your body sharp and real, but the uncertainty in your heart was just as consuming. 

“I should’ve known better, little one.” he muttered, more to himself than to you, as if grappling with something he hadn’t fully admitted.

“Please…” you breathed, the words almost a plea. “I need to understand. What’s happening to me? Why am I—”

“Stop asking questions, little one.” he interrupted, his voice commanding, but softer now. He leaned closer to you, his hand hovering over the pool of blood as if sensing something, feeling the pulse of whatever was inside you. 

There was a flicker of something darker in his eyes—something that almost felt like guilt, but Ryomen Sukuna never allowed that weakness to surface.

He turns away for a moment, to look at the clear water in the silver basin. He could see his reflection, he could see the monster. He pauses. He purses his lips in a flat line.

“You were never meant to suffer this, little one.” he said, his voice low and grave, the truth of it settling in your chest. “And now… now it’s coming back to haunt us both.”

The words felt like a punch to the gut. You couldn’t understand it. You couldn’t make sense of it. But the look in his eyes, the way his hands trembled as he reached for you, told you that the answers you sought were far more dangerous than you could have imagined.

What could be the meaning of the truth? 

Was it all truly worth it, finding out everything?

Tears pooled over your eyes, melting in with your sweat.

“I am sorry, little one.” He says, his voice low as he brushes your hair away from your eyes. He smiles with such sorrow. The most you’ve ever seen in your long life with him. “I had made you suffer again, have I?”

A guttering sob echoes from your lips, tears flowing ever more abundantly. The fear echoes in your eyes as much as the pain did. Ryomen Sukuna let his hands become submerged into the water. He takes the wet cloth and starts to squeeze away at the heavy dues of water.

“This will hurt.” He whispers to you, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “Forgive me.”

══════════════════

HE HADN’T FOUND THE COURAGE TO LEAVE YOU. Not like this. Ryomen Sukuna stood in the quiet of the room, watching you as you lay pale and still beneath the blankets. Finally, you had found yourself resting.

Your chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, the sleeping potion he'd given you working its way through your system to calm the pain and induce sleep. But sleep had come too late—too far after the damage had already been done. You were still, but the scars of what had happened remained.

He had felt it, the weight of his actions, sinking into the pit of his stomach like a stone. The guilt gnawed at him like an insistent whisper, and the more he tried to drown it out with silence, the louder it became. But no matter how much he tried to ignore it, the truth clawed its way to the surface.

You had almost died once more. All because of him. All because he was a foolish man, a cruel man. An even crueler master, an even more foolish god. Everything about it was his fault and his alone. 

And because of it, there has to be a price. Fate did not care for the innocent nor the saints. It cared for retribution, for the price of the act be paid in full. And so, the life that had once flourished inside of you was gone now—taken away in a manner as cruel and sharp as the sins that had followed him throughout his existence.

Ryomen Sukuna could not even begin to process the violence of it all. The miscarriage—the life he had unknowingly torn away. The nights together, the heat of his desire, and the overwhelming need for you had been his undoing.

And now, the consequence was here, the result of his insatiable hunger for you. He had taken what was not his to take, and the cost of that was now clear.

It wasn’t just your body that had suffered. No, it was something deeper, something that would linger in him long after your recovery. The guilt, the realization that he was not invincible that his desires could bring destruction in their wake made his chest feel tight, suffocating.

He had wanted you. The way your presence made him feel alive, the way you fought him, the way you surrendered, had become a constant itch he couldn’t scratch.

But now, the price of his inability to stop, to control himself, to pull back, was laid bare in front of him. And now you suffer the consequences for him. His little one.

Sukuna reached out with a trembling hand, his fingers brushing against your forehead, lightly touching the dampness of your skin. You had no idea what had just happened.

You were unaware of the deep, catastrophic consequences of your union. And in this moment, he wished more than anything that you would wake, that he could make it right somehow.

But deep down, he knew there was no going back. This was his crime, and no amount of self-loathing could undo it.

His dark scarlet eyes, usually cold and ruthless, softened for a brief moment as they lingered on your sleeping face. He had always been a being of darkness, of overwhelming power and control. But in your presence, his control had slipped. And now, the consequences of that were too real to ignore.

Sukuna stood, the weight of his guilt threatening to collapse him under its force. He turned away, not trusting himself to stay there any longer, knowing that if he did, he might break under the pressure of what he had done. But as he left, as he retreated into the shadows, one thing was painfully clear: there was no redemption for him, not for this.

His craving for you, his sin, would always linger, a constant reminder of how even the most powerful could be undone by their own desires. Sukuna’s footsteps echoed through the quiet halls as he paced through the temple halls.

With each step weighted with a thousand thoughts that he could not escape. The dark emptiness of the space mirrored the turmoil in his mind, and the oppressive silence seemed to press in on him, suffocating him with its suffocating weight.

He had once been a king of curses, a being of unimaginable power. He had commanded nations, destroyed cities, and crushed anyone who dared oppose him. And yet, here he was. He found himself unable to leave.

He was there, standing at the edge of the abyss, unsure of what to do with the mess he had created. The guilt gnawed at him from the inside, a constant, unbearable reminder of his failure—not as a king, not as a god, but as something far more human than he had ever wished to admit.

He had wanted you. He had craved you with a hunger that was both consuming and insatiable. But now, that desire has cost you more than he could bear. Your life—your very being—had been reduced to an almost fatal casualty in the wake of his passion.

And the life that could have been, the child that had been growing inside you, was gone. All because of his weakness.

He stopped in front of a mirror, staring at his own reflection. His crimson eyes met his own, but he barely recognized the man staring back. He was no longer the powerful curse that had once ruled with an iron fist, no longer the being that felt above all others. He was just a hollow shell, a broken creature cursed by his own desires.

“You were never supposed to matter.” he muttered to himself, his voice raw with the edge of something close to self-loathing. “None of this was supposed to happen.”

His gaze fell, his hand coming up to grip the mirror's edge. His fingers curled into a fist, as if trying to destroy the reflection in front of him, to erase the reminder of his weakness.

But the image remained. The truth remained. He had been foolish, had allowed himself to feel, to need—and now, the consequences were irreversible.

He turned away from the mirror, his mind churning with the weight of everything that had happened. You had been so innocent in all of this, so unaware of what was going on behind the scenes. Of what his selfishness, his guilt, his cruelty — could do.

He could still see the confusion in your eyes when you had asked about your forgotten memories, the pleading look on your face as you tried to make sense of the fractured pieces of your past.

He had told you to forget, to accept what was happening without question. But deep down, he knew you were right. You deserve the truth. And yet, he could never give it to you.

Sukuna’s fists clenched once more, his chest tightening with the painful realization. What he had done to you, what he had done to your body, it could never be undone. The life inside you had been snuffed out before it could even have a chance to grow. And all because of him.

He could hear your soft, labored breaths echoing in his mind, the sound of your pain, your suffering. The thought of it almost brought him to his knees. But he couldn't stop. He couldn’t undo what had already been done.

He had wanted you too much, had wanted you in ways that consumed him. The guilt, the agony, it was all wrapped up in that same burning desire.

But no matter how much he hated himself for it, no matter how much he wanted to walk away and never look back, he knew he couldn’t leave you. Not when you had become so intricately tied to everything he had ever wanted, everything he had ever craved.

With a deep, tortured sigh, Sukuna turned back to the door and made his way toward your room. He had no answers to give you, no redemption to offer. But he would be there. He couldn’t leave you, not now, not when he had already destroyed everything. 

The best he could do now was stay. To watch, to wait. To let the pain he had caused burn into him, until it became a part of him, a part of the inevitable price he would always pay for what he had done.

As he approached your door, he paused for a moment, his hand resting on the handle, the weight of everything pressing down on him. He wasn't sure what he expected from this encounter.

Was there still a part of him that hoped you could forgive him? Or was he simply there because, like the curse he was, he was tethered to you in ways that defied understanding?

He stepped into the room, his eyes immediately falling on you, lying so still in your slumber. The sight of you, fragile and broken, made his insides twist in a way he had never known. There was no redemption for him. Not now. Not after all of this.

But he was still here. And he would never leave.

He would never stop finding himself drawn to you.

And maybe that was the cruelest punishment of all.

══════════════════

THE HEALER HAD SAID TO REST AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE. And you had done just that. The air around Vermillion Hall was thick with the sound of everyday life. Everything about it has made you feel healed more than anything. You could hear the children's laughter, servants going about their duties, and the occasional clink of crockery from the kitchen. 

The days had grown quieter since the incident, and though your body was slowly recovering, your heart still aches with the absence of what could have been. And yet, somehow, you weren’t alone. Not even when you wanted to. But perhaps, it was for the best.

Ryomen Sukuna’s presence had become an uninvited constant. At first, his decision to move to the nearby Repentance Hall had seemed insignificant. But now, with each passing day, you realized just how much of an impact it had on your life.

You were seated at a table in the sunlit dining room, carefully eating a small portion of food when Sukuna walked in, his figure tall and commanding even from across the room. His scarlet orbs flicked to you, but he said nothing as he made his way over to sit across from you. 

His posture was casual, but there was an unsettling weight in the air, as if his very presence was always carrying something unspoken. Perhaps that was just how intimidating your husband’s presence was. Everything about him was magnanimous. And it was hard to fight. It was hard to win against.

He watched you for a moment, studying the way you slowly ate. A sigh passed his lips, not one of impatience, but of something more complex. Something that was not as easy to read as before. Perhaps a silent acknowledgment of the burden neither of you had asked for. One that you would not want to talk about, not right now.

“You’re eating less, little one.” he commented, his voice low, but there was a certain sharpness to his tone.

You paused, the fork hovering in the air, before setting it down. "I’m fine, my lord." you said softly, your eyes meeting his own with a mix of weariness and frustration. “I’m just… still not hungry. I’m not used to being like this. The healer had said it was fine.”

Sukuna leaned back slightly in his chair, his dark gaze never leaving you. “It’s not about being used to it, little one.” he said, his voice colder now, as if he were speaking to a child rather than an equal. “It’s about getting better.”

“You hover upon me too much, my lord.”

“You are my concubine, my wife.” He tells you ever so bluntly. “And you are unwell. Should I just abandon you thus?”

There was a long silence between you two. His words were heavy, yet devoid of tenderness. He cared, in his own way, but never in a manner that you could decipher. His scarlet orbs tenderly flickered to the children playing outside, their sounds of joy drifting in through the window, before returning to you.

“Why did you move here, my lord?” you asked suddenly, breaking the silence, your voice gentle but questioning. “The trip to the audience hall is longer than before with such a move. Heaven’s Hall is more convenient than this.”

You hadn’t asked him before; the question had never felt right, never appropriate in the swirl of chaos that had come in the aftermath of everything. Ryomen Sukuna’s lips quivered slightly at the question, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. 

"You really have to ask, little one?" He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his gaze intense now, as if daring you to probe deeper. “I told you it was better this way.”

“Better?” you echoed, shaking your head in disbelief. “For whom, exactly? You barely speak to me. You don’t even explain why you’re here or why you’re…”

You trailed off, a bitter taste in your mouth as the words you had been holding back for so long finally spilled out. “Why are you staying here? My lord, this is…. What is this? What are you doing?”

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of everything that had been left unsaid. Sukuna did not flinch at your outburst, nor did he retreat. Instead, he remained as still as a stone, his crimson eyes locking onto yours with an almost unreadable expression.

"I cannot leave. Not like this. I do not want to be near you, after all that I have done." His voice was low, but there was something in the harshness of it that made you falter. "Do you think I want to be near you after what I’ve done? But I cannot leave you….I cannot. You are……."

He stops himself, his lips turning into a flat line. You tried to open your mouth to respond, but the words failed you. He wasn’t shouting, but there was a palpable tension in his words that sent a chill through you.

The truth of what had happened. The weight of the consequences was there between you, even if neither of you could fully confront it.

"I know….." he continued, his voice softer now, but still heavy with guilt.

"You’ve suffered because of me. More than I care to admit. But it’s not like I can undo what’s been done." He paused, his eyes flickering with something close to regret. "You don’t want me here. But it’s... easier this way. For you. For me. For the children.”

You stared at him, processing his words slowly. It was an admission of sorts, though he cloaked it in his usual arrogance. He wasn’t just here for the sake of proximity; he was here because, despite everything, he couldn’t bear to be entirely distant from you. 

There was something in your husband, something primal, something deeply conflicted that kept him bound to you, even if he didn’t know how to act on it. Sickening as it all is, painful as it all is — it keeps you both together. And almost like a game, both of you do not want to lose it and leave.

"But why the children?" you asked, your voice quieter now. "Why do you walk them in the morning, share meals with them when you barely speak to me? What do you want from me, my lord?"

He looked away then, his jaw tightening as if he were fighting against something inside. "I don’t know." he muttered, almost under his breath. His voice was rougher, as if the words themselves were a struggle to form. "I don’t know what I’m doing."

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the tension between you as thick as the silence that wrapped around the room. You could feel his eyes on you, and you sensed something different in his gaze.

There was an unfamiliar vulnerability there; something far less like the commanding, untouchable king you had come to know, and more like something human, something raw. Finally, after a long pause, Sukuna’s eyes softened. Even for just for a second.

"I may not have been the one you thought you needed. I cannot say what you want me to say, to do what you want me to do, little one." he said slowly, his voice surprisingly calm. "But I’ll be here. In whatever way I can. I promised you that, haven’t I?"

You blinked, unsure whether to be relieved or frustrated by his admission. His presence, while undeniably constant, was still a riddle you couldn’t solve.

But something in the tone of his voice, in the way he had dropped his usual bravado, made you feel a flicker of something—a strange, uncertain hope.

"I’m trying, little one." he added softly, looking away from you again, as though not quite able to meet your gaze. "Trying to be… better. For you. For everything."

The words hung between you two, and though the weight of everything still lingered, a small part of you wondered—perhaps hoped—that there was more to his actions than you could see.

The silence that followed hung in the air, thick and laden with the weight of unspoken truths. You watched him as he shifted slightly in his seat, his eyes now focused on something beyond you, anything, it seemed, but you. 

His admission, raw and unrefined, left you uncertain about how to respond. He had never been one to reveal vulnerability, and now, with his words lingering in the space between you, you were unsure if you should reach out or retreat.

Sukuna cleared his throat, his usual arrogance beginning to seep back into his voice, though the softness that had briefly touched his words lingered beneath.

“I don’t expect you to understand, little one.” he said, his tone rough. “But I’m here because I can’t seem to stay away. Whether I want to or not.”

Your heart twisted at that, the feeling of both connection and distance pulling at you like a string being tugged in two directions. You wanted to scream at him, to demand answers, to ask him how he could do that to you and then sit here, speaking in circles as if it were nothing. 

But a part of you, a small part, understood. Understood that in his own way, he was trying to show you something. Trying to make up for what had been lost, even if he didn’t have the words for it.

He leaned back, stretching his arms out behind him, his eyes momentarily closing as if contemplating the words he had just said. His gaze returned to you after a long moment, unreadable, but something was different. The guilt that had once clawed at him was still there, buried beneath layers of pride and anger, but it was no longer the overwhelming force it had been before.

"You don’t want me near, little one." he said quietly, but this time, there was an almost wistful quality to his voice, as though he were trying to make sense of the situation himself. "But I can’t leave. Not after everything."

There it was again—the implication that he was here because of his own twisted sense of responsibility, or perhaps, something else. It was hard to say. Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t exactly known for his clarity, and his motives were as layered and complex as his personality. But, for once, he didn’t seem entirely sure of himself either.

You couldn’t help but feel conflicted. Part of you wanted to lash out—demand that he leave, that he stop playing this twisted game, stop pretending to care when he had caused so much damage.

And yet, another part of you, the part that still held on to some semblance of trust, felt the ghost of something softer, something that had once existed between you two.

"Why stay, then, my lord?" you asked, your voice soft, almost pleading for some sort of clarity. "If you can’t undo what’s been done... if you can’t fix it... why bother?"

He stared at you for a long moment, his crimson eyes sharp yet distant, like a predator weighing the cost of its next move. “Because, little one…..” he began, his voice barely above a murmur. “I can’t just walk away from you. No matter how much I want to. Not even when I need to.”

His words were quieter now, as if speaking them aloud made them more real, and in that moment, you could see it. The battle inside of him. Ryomen Sukuna was always in control, always calculating, but right now, there was something else beneath his hardened exterior. Something that made him seem almost... human.

"Why?" you whispered, the question feeling like an accusation and a plea all at once. "Why me?"

Sukuna didn’t immediately respond. His gaze drifted to the window, to where the children were playing outside, their innocent laughter a stark contrast to the weight of the conversation between the two of you. After a long moment, he spoke again, his voice rough, like he was wrestling with the truth itself.

"Because... I don’t know." He chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it. "I never thought I’d let anyone get this close, little one. But you... You’ve been a challenge, haven’t you?" 

His gaze met yours again, but this time there was something different in it—something more complex than the cruel amusement he so often wore. "I never wanted to admit it, but here we are. Years of suffering and pain and grief and distance, we are still here. For each other.”

His words lingered, and for a brief moment, you found yourself unsure of how to respond. There was an undeniable weight to his admission, a rawness that you rarely saw from the man who once drowned in his own untouchable power.

Ryomen Sukuna’s pride, his arrogance, had always defined him—but now it seemed as though those very traits were at odds with the reality of what had happened between you. The man who could have taken everything and given nothing was now here, trying to make sense of his own tangled emotions.

“You think this is easy for me?” he continued, his voice growing softer, more introspective. “You think I haven’t hated myself for this? For everything?”

His eyes darkened briefly, a flicker of his own inner torment flashing behind them. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. But it did. And now... now I can’t just walk away. Not when there’s nothing left to fix.”

You could see the weight of his words, could feel the sincerity behind them, even if he had never shown it before. It was strange, this new side of him. Strange and unsettling. But it was real, as real as anything else in this complicated, messed-up world that the two of you seemed trapped in.

The silence stretched between you, a fragile moment of understanding that neither of you fully knew how to navigate. You wanted to speak, to offer some words of comfort or clarity, but nothing seemed adequate enough. Instead, you found yourself simply looking at him, the man who had caused so much pain and yet now seemed just as lost as you.

Finally, Sukuna spoke again, his voice quiet but firm.

"Just don’t ask me to leave, little one." he said. "I can’t do that. Not yet."

And so, there was no resolution. No sudden clarity. But there was something between you now, something neither of you could ignore, even if neither of you understood it fully. It was a strange, fragile truce, one born from guilt, from unspoken desires, from the wreckage of what had once been. 

Ryomen Sukuna was staying, whether you liked it or not. That was what he had to do, that’s what his heart was telling him to do. And for reasons neither of you could explain, that was enough—for now.

“Eat with me, my lord.” You whispered to him, pointing at your dish. “I cannot finish it all.”

He smiled at you, almost so fondly. “Very well, little one.”

[hannieween]

city lights series | joshua hong (M) [finished]

Joshua Hong could be many things. For one, he is your next door neighbour. He is a rockstar, a relentless tease, a menace. But, ironically, he is always willing to lend a hand whenever you need it, regardless of the nature of your desires.

✮ pairings: joshua hong x female reader ✮ genre: smut [18+] ✮ aus: rock singer joshua, neighbours with benefits ✮ word count: 177k

▸ playlist ♡

navigation post part i | insomnia The last bit of sanity in your mind vanished the moment before you asked your hot neighbour to be your fuck buddy. Whatever prompted you to muster the courage to get the words out was something you didn't know you had inside you. But he wasn't saying no.

part ii | reverie Joshua Hong was many things aside from your hot neighbour—he was a menace, a relentless tease. But most importantly, he was the first guy to ever make you feel wanted. And you were yet to know how dangerous that was.

part iii | pillow talk Deep down, you knew you were growing an attachment to... whatever this was. Joshua was not intoxicating, you were wrong about that, he was addictive.

part iv | lunacy You could no longer hide your infatuation over Joshua Hong. It was becoming painfully obvious, though you weren't sure to what extent he was aware of this. Or if he even cared, for that matter.

part v | stargazing Joshua should've known the minute he saw you standing outside his door for the first time. Then, maybe he would've gotten the opportunity to make things right with you. But no, he let his hedonistic ways get in the way first. Now, will he get the opportunity to make things right with you?

part vi | blue hour If there was a guideline to how to be a fuckbuddy, you were sure you had already broke every rule in the book. It was ridiculous at this point, and you were so sure that Joshua might be catching all of your signs already, because you couldn't be more obvious. But oh, Joshua is only but a man.

part vii | lullaby For months, you've been hiding how you really felt about your fuckbuddy and the remorse for deceiving him can be sickening. For both of you.

part viii | after dark It all started with a deal with your next door neighbor, Joshua Hong. A little harmless deal that surprisingly led you to finding love; and a part of yourself that you were still discovering.

part viii | after dark pt. ii

side chapter | 3:14 AM

part ix | badsleeper › finale For as long as you've been with Joshua, you've always had this... fantasy. And your boyfriend isn't one to not let you indulge.

last update: 20.04.2024 (❁´◡`❁)

[marikosfragrance]

BLUE LOCK

<*><*><*><*><*><*><*><*><*><*>

Characters : Seishiro Nagi, Mikage Reo, Shidou Ryusei, Bachira Meguru

Contents : My thoughts on whether or not they'll actually fall in love? Depending on the character, how long will it take? And what conditions must be met for it to happen? And, depending on the character, will they not fall in love at all?

Note : Please keep in mind that this is my own interpretation of how characters will take on this situation and act on them, I don’t however assume and force this into a canonical aspect, I am not the creator of Blue Lock so take this post however you'd like if it is canon enough for you, or if it isnt, everyone has their own interpretations on each characters, but I am merely showcasing how I interpreted them, taking heed of the information in the manga and anime at hand, as I am trying to understand their character. There might be some information that lacks, maybe in the case of shidou, but it is only because we havent caught a glimpse of his past yet, and thus I am unable to fully grasp his entire characters, but once again, this is just my own interpretation. Thank you, and enjoy reading.

Nagi Seishiro

Can they fall in love? : Too lazy for it. I am sure Nagi can feel things, and develop feelings, but he wouldn't outright desire for the feeling of love. Nagi is described as laid back, unbothered, and deems hard work as an irrelevance. In the Nagi movie, this is further proved when he mentions how working hard, for academics, clubs, and love is a hassle and too much work for him. He sees himself in a future where he isn't working, is living good and satisfied and he sees it as enough for him.

But then again—

Nagi is no doubt still a human. So despite him not seeing it in his future, there is no room for guarante that he won't fall in love especially with the right person for him. Nagi fits into one of those tropes where the character can fall in love and develop feelings for someone, but they never envision it for themselves, yet they find it coming to them at the most unexpected times, then suddenly their whole view on it changes and they see themselves being with that person. Nagi wouldn't directly try and find love, he isn't desperate nor does he feel like it. However, in his case, if he were to fall in love, it would be in a situation where love comes to him.

How long would it take? : 5-6 months? Nagi might start falling in love in that duration, but he won't recognize the feeling until someone brings it up which would take more than 5-6 months for sure.

What conditions should be met? :

1. That other person initiates. I cannot see him being the first to do the "forming of connection".

2. That person respects his boundaries and doesn't try forcing him to do things outside of his comfort zone, unless he has already started to have feelings, if that person tries to force him to do something, only at the beginning of their growing connection, Nagi would view them as a hassle and it might cause some strains in their relationship.

3. However, by the end of it, Nagi is someone that probably won't have any room for complaints if someone truly wishes to be with him. For him, deep inside— no one would put up with him as much as that person that is trying their best to make a connection with him.

Reo being one of the few people that he views as someone he has become attached to, is a great example.

But if someone wants a deep, romantic connection, it wouldn't be so problematic compared to others. That person just has to initiate.

Mikage Reo

Can they fall in love? : Yes, he can. I don't see Reo being unable to fall inlove.

Reo is someone that is sociable and just from this alone says a lot about his character. He is able to form connections, socialize, make meaningful relationships with people. It wouldn't be surprising if he does indeed fall inlove.

How long will it take? : For Reo, it depends. The person has to be constantly involved in his life if ever that person wants to speed up the process. However, I believe Reo will try to also keep his mind to his success, such as soccer and winning the world Cup. He has grown up being dissatisfied with gaining things as easily with a snap of his fingers. For him, soccer is a way for him to redeem and prove himself, to both his parents and his own sense of self. Unless that person really catches his attention, I think he would fall in love, acts on it but only develop it further once he achieved his dream.

He would fall in love, that's for sure but he is responsible and if he sets his eyes on a goal, i feel he wouldnt be the type to back down on it. He also manages his time responsibly in which might aid him into giving time for the person that he fancy, but he would only further develop the relationship once he has his goals cleared up or achieved.

How long would it take? : I think if he has a type, he would stick with it, but maybe he would reconsider if the person intrigues him greatly.

If the person is his type, attraction would take a week and falling inlove in a month or more. But if the person isn't his type, it would take him around 4 months at the least, or more if ever.

What conditions must be met for him to fall inlove?:

1. He finds time.

2. The person intrigues him

I can place more, but it might feel forced so let's stick with this for now. Reo is responsible than most characters in blue lock, he has a broad view of how social circles work, and has a deep understanding with making connections. He can fall inlove and exert time to it if he sees the person as worthy of it.

I cannot see him wasting time on fleeting relationships, if he falls in love— he is serious.

Shidou Ryusei

Can they fall in love? : Absolutely. Shidou is a free person— someone that even chains have nothing against to. He feels whatever he likes. Does whatever he wants, and proceeds to life how he sees it. His character is quite complex for me to understand with the lack of information, on his character and his past. But with the information I currently have on him, in the anime, manga and the trivia. I can tell that shidou is someone that embodies the concept of freedom. For him, he also has his own philosophy on life and stays true to it. I feel like if someone just matches his vibe, doesn't restrain him, and will accept him for who he is, he would feel accepted and eventually fall for that person.

That person doesn't necessarily have to match his vibe, that person can also be someone that keeps him grounded and knows when to step up. But someone that matches how he does things can also make him "explode".

How long would it take : With the right action, it wouldn't take so long. Maybe even a few weeks, if done right. However, if the person is someone that doesnt show their emotions often, it might take a bit longer, but still not as long as the others, Shidou is upfront about his feelings, so if he feels the slightest thing for a person, he isn't afraid to own up to it which is why it wouldn't take so long for him.

What conditions must be met :

1. That person isn't someone that restricts his freedom.

2. The person can accept him for who he is.

3. That person can make him "explode" or so he says, which I think means— make him excited or makes him feel like his freedom is understood

In short, absolutely. He can fall inlove. But the person also has to be someone accepting. I think personality wouldn't matter much, nor the face or physical features, what matters to him is someone that can either keep him grounded and understands his freedom but still refrain him from overdoing things, or someone that understands his concept as a whole and embodies it themselves and also does things that matches his.

Bachira Meguru

Can they fall in love? : Yes, Bachira can fall in love. Bachira is someone that has their fear of being alone, the fear of loneliness. For me, it wouldn't be too unusual if he even craves something like love. Currently, friends that can play soccer with him is already enough to satiate his loneliness however, if someone is willing to love him, I dont see him being the one to complain— he might even just accept then there and then if he sees himself with that person.

But it doesn't mean he just accepts whoever shows interest in him. Bachira has endured loneliness in the past but that doesn't make him desperate to the point of letting anyone that has interest in him, date him on the spot. He can be aware of things, and understand situations. Bachira might fall for anyone with the right intentions. Or those he deems interesting and have formed an emotional connection over.

But if he feels they are it— Bachira would start to cling to this said person, his loneliness dependant on them.

How long would it take : A month atleast. But if they are someone that Bachira can tell is kind, or someone that has no ulterior motive, or just simply interests him, he wouldn't be afraid to fall for that person, even if the fear of being left alone is there deep inside. A month, or less.

What conditions must be met :

1. That person must be someone he has formed an emotional connection with.

2. He wouldn't be picky, he might even feel like no one would want him deep down inside.

3. If someone shows interest in him, they must have their attention all on him, no secondary interest, no any room left for other people, otherwise Bachira's fear of being left alone and abandonment would trigger and he might start to doubt.

In short, yes he can. But I see Bachira as someone that doesnt want to endure the hurt of being left alone, so he must really be sure this person won't do it. If he starts dating someone, he would no doubt treasure them deep down inside, thinking no one else other than this person would want to be with him.

-------------------------------------

[sozila]

convalescence. (sukuna x reader)

synopsis: convalescence noun. time spent recovering from an illness or medical treatment; recuperation. ryomen s. itadori was a disease that infected every part of your life, and you didn’t notice until it was too late.

pairing: best friend's older brother!ryomen s. itadori x pre-med uni student!fem reader.

warnings: explicit content eventually, mdni.

wc: 9.3k

masterlist | previous | next

you are on: prodromal. (part four)

a/n:

hiii lovelies <3 i wanna start out with an apology because this was much, much later than i wanted to post :( i am so sorry! i really appreciate all the love and can't wait to reply all the comments on ao3 and tumblr :,) you guys are amazing and keep my passion for writing going. anyways, word count is 9.3k !!! record highs breaking every chapter haha <3 i hope you all find this enjoyable after a long dry spell :) and as always, credit to my beta reader @beeh-ive ily bih

ao3 link here.

prodromal. (part four)

sukuna had discovered three key truths when he drove back home after yuuji kicked him out of his apartment. 

yuuji was right about sukuna. it was annoying to admit that his baby brother was right about anything, let alone something so fundamental to his character. it was easier to bark out orders and shelter him from the world. to not hear him be a mature person with complicated thoughts and his own perceptions— especially the ones about sukuna. deep down he knew he couldn’t keep yuuji unaware forever. he couldn’t deny that the events of their childhood scattered his soul, which he has since collected and duct taped together over the years. he knew he was a shitty person. better than anyone else. in the late hours of night he was kept up by the memories of their childhood, ones he couldn't burden yuuji or guilt their grandfather with. it was his to keep and bury within that duct taped soul. he had made peace with it, he thought.

he could respect yuuji’s wishes (withholding some information). messing with you was just an excuse to spend more time in your presence. if that wasn’t possible, he’d find ways around it. a small voice deep down was adamant to say attached to you, everyone be damned. 

he had seen you that day walk into the coffee shop in that gorgeous outfit, skirt swishing with every move of your hips, completely captivating him. moreover, he witnessed how you spoke with suguru and it made something tick inside. he’s never gotten jealous of his best friends, not until this very moment. who was he, that you smiled so big for him? hold on, why the fuck was suguru touching your hair? 

he pulled out a cigarette from his back pocket and lit it aggressively, smoke engulfing the sight before him. suguru was a friendly guy, he was often surrounded with women due to this fact. sukuna was well aware of it; and honestly didn’t care until he was witnessing before his eyes you becoming a part of that equation. 

friend or not, he wanted to barge in there and yank you away from his selfish, dirty and unwelcome hands. motherfucker. 

while his angry thoughts were steaming, sukuna didn’t realize suguru had left and was already making his way towards him at the bricks. sukuna’s eyes focused back and found the man towering over him, a question mark painted on his face. “thinking about something?”

sukuna flicked the ash gathering on his cigarette off of it and inhaled another puff. an exhale. “i’m gonna get a drink really quick.” he couldn’t look at suguru’s face without the urge to pound him into the ground, the scene of his fingers touching your hair on loop again and again in his mind. so, he pushes off the wall, crushing his cigarette with his boot, and makes his own way into the tacky coffee shop. he hated the sugary nature of the place, it was so suffocating. satoru loved coming around to buy sweets, but sukuna never let the man sit and stay at a table if he was dragged into accompanying the white-haired idiot. the girl at the register looked mildly nervous when he stalked inside, which was a common reaction he got given his tattoos and looming figure. sukuna’s eyes drifted to the display of pastries and bread, scanning. he recalled you eating chocolates during your study hangouts with yuuji, the goddamn wrappers always littered on the table. he decided the little chocolate pillow-looking thing (he refused to pronounce whatever the fuck a pain au chocolat is) would suffice, his eyes flitting to the sight of you getting verbally abused by your loud friend. “um.. what can i get you, sir?” the small voice of the attendant brought him back to the front. he nodded, pulling out his wallet. “that chocolate square shit.” she hummed in acknowledgement, and began getting the tong to pack it away. sukuna stopped her. “er.. actually, i’m buying this for someone. you see that girl over there? with the green ribbons?” she looked at him with wide eyes, then found you. she nodded slowly. “that’s my girl. give it to her for me?” “o-oh! how sweet.. will do, sir! anything else for you, then?” he shakes his head. sukuna leaves, paying for your little treat. and now, he waits. suguru looked at sukuna and noticed his empty hands, even more confused than before.

“didn’t you say you were getting a drink?” 

“changed my fuckin’ mind.” 

he pulled another cigarette out to light and his friend sucked his teeth in response. “you really need to find another vice. nicotine is total shit, man. ‘s why i started weed instead, y’know–” 

“suguru, please shut the fuck up.” 

suguru’s mouth pops in mild shock, but he obliges. he knew well it wasn’t worth picking a fight with sukuna when his mood was sour, he learned that by watching satoru try sukuna’s patience on the daily. his eyes trail your figure making your way to the register and the scene unfolds exactly like he asked. he chuckled as you started looking around exasperatedly, finally meeting his eyes. he gave you a little wave. you ignore him, the treatment he’s been getting for a while now. in due time, sukuna thought. in due time he would chip at your resolve, little by little, until your walls completely broke down. discreetly and respectfully, of course.

because above all, yuuji didn’t have to know about his attempts. sukuna didn’t intend to lie, per say.. he just decided he could have his cake and eat it too. said cake being you.

and so this brings us to the final and most universal truth:

3. he needed you in the rawest form possible. the realization was natural. when you had asked him that night upstairs, he was caught up in words because he didn’t want to end up saying the wrong thing– it was delicate. but he needed you. sukuna didn’t know how to describe why in words either.. he was studying engineering, you think he was killing it in english literature?  he just knew the feeling you gave him, the one that ignited a fire in his chest and a desire to orbit your sun. he had decided he wasn’t going to let you put him on the sidelines anymore; developing the fake half-way point to pursuing you in silence.

your internship was much more simple than you expected. while your interest in professor kaito’s research was high and got your foot in the door, the actual work was rather lackluster. you spent maybe three hours at your desk organizing files and sending simple emails, but other than that? you were just passing time. 

you had met her other student assistants a couple days into it, also in your graduation year. a mild mannered blonde man named kento and his super-positive friend, haibara. you thought kento outright hated you in the beginning, but quickly understood he was just another overworked college student. poor guy.

it really helped having something to take your mind off of sukuna’s futile attempts at catching your attention that had begun a month ago.

oh, how he was irking you. 

the bakery freebie was the first of many unnecessary gestures sukuna had done. he had made it a habit to buy you food and have it reach you in the weirdest ways. just last week, he had hit a new low by having a doordash guy somehow get you energy drinks and candies in the middle of a lecture. a note was attached that read, ‘don’t fall asleep, pretty. -s’. you were embarrassed, but thankfully the professor didn’t notice. you also took it up to apologize profusely to the doordash guy for having to fulfill such a weird request— you had handed him a crumpled up five dollar bill from your backpack because you felt so bad. your lunch got paid for randomly, your backpack had tiny presents waiting for you when you opened it, the list was endless. you were not only irritated but also mildly spooked that sukuna was able to evade your presence and manage these stunts simultaneously. he was like a romantic batman. ew, what? no. that doesn’t even make sense.

you were walking up to your apartment door late one night to see a deep red bag with black tulle stuffed into it sitting in front of it. you knew there was nobody else that would leave a gift like this in front of your door, and so you begrudgingly took it inside. it was rather heavy, which made you curious as to what exactly sukuna got you this time. 

as you put it on your tiny kitchen table, pulling tulle away from the bag, you spot the gold-embossed box. it was a really expensive brand you had heard of but never dared to think about buying from. you could hear your parents’ voices echoing in your head about being fiscally responsible, eliciting a shiver. carefully breaking the seal, you lift the lid to see the most gorgeous pair of maroon high-heeled mary janes. and once more, a note stuck to the tissue wrappings:

 ‘for my red ruby girl. -s’

your first emotion couldn’t be anger when the gift was so thoughtful like this. you giddily squeal and try them on— a perfect fit. but how? sukuna never asked for your size.. and you doubt yuuji would tell him without ruining the surprise for you. he’s so weird for that, you thought. 

you walk to your floor length mirror in your bedroom and stare at the shoes, thinking. 

he pays attention to what you like.

this was a stupid realization; he’d been getting you snacks and miscellaneous tidbits that were undoubtedly your favorites for a while. but it hits you nonetheless, your cheeks’ blush growing. you slowly sit on the ground, knees to your chest. what the fuck. you dig your fingers into the shaggy carpet, pressing down hard. you were hoping the hurty-happy ache in your fingers would go away, the one you get when you feel deeply emotional. the attempts he had made were like little vines growing over your heart, ones you had ignored for far too long and now they squeeze you tightly as if to say, “i’m literally never fucking leaving bitch!” 

you jolt when your doorbell rings. a melodic knock follows. “open up, buttercup! i’m hereeeee,” nobara voice was muffled by the door but recognizable enough. you leap to your feet, nearly tripping on your way to throwing the door open. 

nobara takes one suspicious look at your shabbily-hidden nervousness and calls your bluff. “were you watching R-rated shit? because if so i can totally leave, no problem.” your voice squeaks in an ungodly high pitch, spluttering gibberish before you manage an “oh my god no, what the fuck!” she cackles at your reaction and slaps a hand on your shoulder, moving to enter the flat. “you’re so easy to mess with babe, i worry for you at times! really. i do.” 

her eyes catch the shiny box that lay open on the table. “is that xtique? they’re mad expensive, girl! you actually bought something from there?” “no!” you quickly burst, making nobara jump at the sudden denial. “i mean, no, it was a gift from my… father! for the internship.” you point to your feet and she gives an impressed hum. “they’re super sexy-looking. your dad has good taste.. weirdly enough.” you didn’t really know what to say to that without it seeming weird or ruining your last-minute lie, so you just chuckle and nod. 

you like chocolate, especially when it’s melty or gooey in something. you hate tomatoes. which is odd, because you’re okay with ketchup and marinara sauce, but anything with a tomato that the eye can see you don’t touch. you drink a lot of coffee after lectures. you love little cute trinkets, but don’t have that many. 

sukuna was learning about you; and applying the information as soon as he did. granted, you looked positively enraged every time you saw his notes. he also saw your face turn red, so he has to be doing something right. the way your lips quirk for a moment before the eventual frown and looking around for him was pretty adorable. whatever it was, sukuna’s plan was in motion and working as he wanted. the lengths he went for you were unheard of for the usual suitor, but sukuna was a crafty guy (when he wants to be). he tipped off the doordash guy that snuck into your lecture hall an extra twenty dollars in cash to be quiet and unnoticed by the professor. he somehow made friends with the girl at the coffee shop— said her name was christy? kristen? fuck if he knew, to be honest. he really just kept familiar with her so he could have her deliver pastries and coffee from him.  

“this bast– RYOMEN! the fuckin’ oil!” sukuna snaps out of his train of thought to see he was still at work, not in his daydreams. he never got into his thoughts like this, what…? whatever. it was about you, so he didn’t feel as bad. he cursed when he saw the oil pan was slightly away from under the plug, letting the oil spill all over the deck. “i swear to god ryo, you better clean that shit up before you clock out,” choso chided. his cousin-slash-coworker genuinely never caught a break with sukuna and his antics. one of the downsides of working at the shop the family owned, he assumed. but truly, choso was getting gray hairs from the amount of stress that man gave him. sukuna simply waved him off, discarding his rag that was now soaked in old oil. checking his watch, he realized he is close to his clock out time. in five minutes, he messily cleaned up the deck and made his exit, clicking his helmet on and driving out. at a stoplight, sukuna hears some giggling from the car next to him. he pans to see four girls with their windows down, now squealing because sukuna noticed them. one had her phone up, recording him? while another gestures as if asking for his phone number. sukuna scoffs out of irritation. really? he throws up his left hand which was gloved and gestures to his ring finger. they go silent and roll up their windows, embarrassed. a little lie to get them off his case was harmless, he didn’t care either way. technically, it was true he was “promised” to someone, that being you. eventually, he declares in his head. eventually. his head swivels to look at the buildings beside him instead of the cars while he waits for the light to flip. his eyes catch on shiny, ruby shoes in a display of a boutique-looking store. they looked awfully like the ones he saw at your apartment, and at the door the times you stayed over at yuuji’s. sukuna decides to detour and turns into the parking lot for the fancy shop. 

when he walks in he notes it’s rather small, his large frame mildly cramping the area. it was silent and empty, save for the soft jazz playing overhead. a small but peppy old woman bustles out of the back, heels clacking. she was wearing a fancy two piece suit in some kind of purple(it’s periwinkle, but would sukuna really know that?) 

she was about to greet him out of habit when a small “good heavens!” leaves her mouth, in sight of her new customer. she apologizes profusely for the sudden reaction while chuckling nervously. “you’re not our usual patron, you’ll have to forgive me for my outburst dearie!” she runs a manicured hand through her blowout hair, giving a warm smile to him. 

sukuna becomes a bit hyper-aware he was in an oil-stained wife pleaser and slacks, and his usual leather jacket. right. he just grunts and nods, looking around the store. pastel pink and gold adornments littered the walls, the smell of roses infiltrating his nose. all it was missing was you sitting in the middle of it all, honestly. this place was unironically your persona. 

he turns to the display, thumb pointed to the shoes he saw. “you got those in stock?” the lady perks up and immediately gets to work, buzzing around the store to grab boxes. “why of course! is this for a mother, sister? girlfriend, maybe?” sukuna simply nods. “girlfriend.” she giggles melodically, opening and closing boxes. “how sweet of you! she must be one special girl,” sukuna imagines you opening the box and wearing the shoes, your giddy excitement in private. he smiles faintly at the thought. “very.”

she finally finds the set of ruby shoes, and asks him for your size. he replies nearly instantly. he had seen your shoes so many times, the size was always written on the sole. so maybe he had it memorized, no big deal. numbers came easy to him anyways, he dealt with many of them in his studies and job. and maybe he had a section in his notes app for you. 

the old lady quickly wrapped up the shoes and stuffed black paper in the bag to hide the box. sukuna quickly pays, giving her a deep grumble of a thank you. she just smiles and waves him off. “i hope your girlfriend loves them!” as he leaves the shop she sighs with a bittersweet expression on her lips. she misses young love. 

as sukuna leaves the shiny boutique, he looks at the bag in his hand. was he doing too much? he hopes you would like it, and as far as he knows, you don’t own a pair of these in the red he picked. maybe it was selfish thinking that you would enjoy that same red hue you saw in his eyes, especially after that comment that lived in his subconscious. 

your eyes are sanguine red.

he grins to himself, walking a little faster to his bike.

nobara had stayed around for a couple of hours before she called it a night, saying something about how stupid she has to study for her exams when she’s a liberal arts student. you just chuckle and turn her loose. “you’re always welcome to ask me for help," you chide her. she scoffs and pushes you playfully. “no way. you’re like up to your ears in stuff, i couldn’t burden you. and anyways, you’re already helping yuuji and his two brain cells.” she waves you goodbye, and you head back up to your apartment once you see her get into her uber. 

you’re about to flop on your tiny couch when your phone rings. you groan internally when you see the caller id. 

“hello, father.” 

“you need to come home this weekend.” 

you frown. “i’m sorry?” 

“did you not hear me? you need to come home this weekend and help your brother with his entrance exams.” 

you’re in mild shock for a moment, making you go silent. surely he doesn’t think you have time to spend an entire weekend at home. you had so many things to juggle as it was, and your weekend was kind of your safe time. if something bled over from the week, you’d do it then, or hell, sometimes you just wanted to sit and watch a show or two. 

“..father, i’m not exactly free—“ 

“you’re lying. i know how many credit hours you’re doing and that internship of yours is the only extra activity in your time. seriously, when will you grow up? you have so many more duties to fulfill and you’re trying to get out of the simplest one.” 

you had such a difficult time reasoning with your father and it’s been this way since your childhood. he never saw what you wanted or what you accomplished. it was always “how can she benefit the family?” you let out a deep sigh. there was no getting out of this, you accept. 

“i’m sorry, father. i’ll be home on the weekend.” 

“good. your mother keeps asking about your health so don’t eat any rubbish.” 

you make a noise of agreement, but mentally you’re rearranging your tasks for the upcoming week to allocate time for the impromptu trip. he hangs up the phone without a goodbye, as usual. the dread you felt for the first eighteen years of your life settles back into your chest like an unwelcome old friend. you sink to the couch, rubbing your chest to ease the pain. you’re looking at the setting sun seeping in from the window, the light disappearing feeling awfully similar to your emotions right now.

it’ll be just another thing you’ll brave through, you suppose.

kento is washing beakers in the back of the lab room, but you know you felt his eyes on the back of your head. “yes, kento?” you say without turning around. he clears his throat to cover up the cough he let out of surprise. he did not think you would’ve noticed. “you just seem a little downtrodden today, is all.” you let out a sad laugh and walk over to help him dry the beakers. “well, you aren’t wrong, i guess,” you say absentmindedly. you woke up today with the same dread you felt earlier this week, which you had felt every day since the call until today— friday. the gloomy, rainy day didn’t help your mood either. 

“anything i can do to help, maybe?” you smile at your monotonous friend. you learned he was quite caring, but had a hard time mirroring it in his tone of voice. “actually, yeah. do you think you could cover the last hour for me? i’m going home for the weekend.” he nods, putting the last clean beaker in the crate. “no worries. i hope you enjoy your time at home.” you draw a heavy sigh. “i’ll try,” you manage with a deflected grin. 

you wave kento goodbye when you’re walking out the door of the lab, heaving your bags along with you. the rain hadn’t stopped by the time you were walking to your car, so you had to run to avoid drenching everything you had and yourself. 

the drive home was mostly silent, save for your playlist playing softly in the background of the car. the rain slows to a stop when you turn into your neighborhood, which makes you slightly annoyed. couldn’t it have stopped for you when you were getting a cold shower on the way to the car? once you pull up to your apartment complex, you notice something that immediately draws a groan from your lips. 

before you is a sleek black bike, and leaning on it was none other than the object of your irritation. his helmet sat on his seat and his pink hair was moussed by the rain, making it a more deep pink shade. his stupid grin churned your insides. turning the key off in the ignition, you step out of your car, walking towards him. 

you notice his fingers drumming on his seat. he seemed happy to see you? “forgot your umbrella?” he gestures to your head, and your face goes red. your hair was a little out of the ordinary after running through the rain. “shut the fuck up.” you quip dismissively, comb your fingers through your hair to try and fix it– but the moisture had already had its way with you. you give up with a huff. 

your eyes narrow at him. “are you stalking me?” you roll your eyes and cross your arms, clearly not in the mood to deal with sukuna’s games today. he protests with his hands up. “i’m no fuckin’ stalker, sweetheart. just came to drop off your jacket. yuuji said you left it at his place the other day.” you don’t remember leaving anything at yuuji’s, but lo and behold, sukuna takes a jacket out of his seat compartment that looks awfully like one of yours. you stiffly accept it and look away. 

“you free tonight?” your head snaps to meet his eyes and that stupid smirk shone back at you. you turn away to walk back to your car. “nope. sorry! i’m leaving right now,” you swiftly call back to him over your shoulder. because of your height difference, he catches up to you in three strides. 

he grabs your wrist, halting you before you reach the driver’s door handle. “hey, what’s the rush? you literally got back home,” he was right. you did have things to get from your apartment, but you were more annoyed with his ambush that you simply wanted to drive home to get away. 

“can’t you see i’m busy?” sukuna gives you a furrowed expression. “with what?” his gruff tonality replaces the playful one he had before.

you were literally at your breaking point, couldn’t he bother you another day? you yank your hand away from his grip. you give him an icy glare, unwilling to answer him. he takes your pause to maneuver around you and stand in front of the door, blocking you from entering the car. his sharp eyes zeroed in on the tension you’re trying so hard to hide. 

“what’s your problem?” he asks sternly, his voice pressing against you. you clench your jaw, refusing to speak up. you hope he’ll just let it go. 

but he doesn’t. 

he’s still watching you, studying the ticks of your expression, searching. 

“come on,” he pushes, his voice quieter but unrelenting. “what’s really going on with you?” 

why the fuck was sukuna always around you when you were doing horrible? it was so damn irritating. you take a breath, more shaky than you wanted to show him. 

he didn’t miss it. 

you’re fighting back the anxiety and frustration that’s about to spill tears. 

“i’m.. it’s nothing, i just need to go home,” your stomach is turning knots. you hate the face he’s giving you. it’s digging at you, and sukuna isn’t one to back away from confrontation. 

his gaze sharpens, his eyes flickering with something you can’t read. “you mean your family home? like with your dad?” 

he only heard one phone call with your father, for fuck’s sake. you almost felt angry he thought he knew exactly what was going on. your heartbeat was in your ears at this point. “what’s so urgent that you’re fuckin’ running away all stressed?” 

your fists tighten at your sides, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you. you felt like the muddy asphalt was swallowing you. you didn’t realize you were crying until a tear slid down your cheek. the words followed behind like a tsunami. 

“you think i want to go home?! i get told something and he just expects me to do it with no questions! i don’t even.. i don’t even have time to do this, but he—”

your voice gets caught in a muffle. sukuna had wrapped you in his leather-clad arms, your face smushed in his chest. he smelled like smoke and gasoline, which was weirdly comforting. 

“just.. cry it out.” he mutters. 

his hand is stroking your hair softly, like you were a small child to be consoled. you didn’t care to protest his sudden actions. your fists grip his tank top as you sobbed into him. you don’t know how long you both stood like this, but you could’ve sworn at one point that he was shushing you like a baby, which was again— weirdly comforting. 

when you tilt your head up, eyes red and puffy, sukuna slips a chuckle. you slap his chest, offended. 

“your first reaction is to laugh at my misery, asshole?” 

“your eyes are swollen, sweetheart.” 

you curse and press the cold backside of your hands under your eyes, hoping to reduce the inflammation. you’re both in silence for a couple of moments, him just watching you while you pretended to not notice the holes he was burning into your head. 

he finally spoke up with a hand tapping your cheek. “c’mon, let’s go somewhere.” 

you give him a gaping shocked face. ‘i’m sorry, did you not just see me have a breakdown about needing to go home?” 

he rolls his eyes as if you were acting immature. god, now you know how yuuji must’ve felt growing up. sukuna was definitely as sassy as he was now. “that’s exactly why i’m saying that, idiot. you can go home first thing tomorrow morning.” 

you open your mouth to argue again, but the looming dread you had of facing your father tonight still makes your stomach sink. a night to take your mind off of the stress you’ve been bottling for days.. yeah, that sounds like exactly what you need. you hesitate, glancing up at sukuna’s face, searching for any hint of pity, but all you see is that stubborn determination he had. 

“fine,” you murmur, wiping your hands on your jeans. “but if this is some dumb excuse to make me do whatever you want…” he gives you a sly smirk, visibly amused again. “when have i ever needed an excuse for that?” you smack him again while he walks you over to his bike. 

he grabs the helmet from his bike and hands it to you, nudging you with his shoulder. “just one night, sweetheart. then you can go back and deal with… everything else.” 

you take the helmet and sigh, feeling the dread slowly lift from your chest as you click it on your head. after he climbs on the bike, he stretches a hand out to help you on which you take gratefully. he glances back at you with a soft smile you hadn’t seen since that night you bandaged his hands. 

he feels like a lifeline right now, albeit you didn’t want to admit that. you just needed an escape. 

you nearly scream when sukuna pulls into the “small spot” he said he knew. 

it was a traditional kaiseki house, one that screamed rich and elite. you were wearing casual clothes and your makeup had pretty much melted away after your cry session (you noticed that your mascara had also bled onto sukuna’s white tank top, so you scolded him until he zipped up his leather jacket with a grumble.) 

“you should’ve fucking told me we were going to a nice place, i could’ve gotten ready or something!” sukuna looked practically oblivious. “why?” he deadpans. you fight the urge to facepalm yourself and settle for an eye twitch. “sukuna, look at me.” you gesture to your face and clothes. he’s seriously aloof, giving you a monotone stare. “yeah, i’m looking. you look pretty, why?” oh. there’s nothing you can find to say to that because you genuinely didn’t see an ounce of deceit in his expression. he genuinely believed in what he said, it seems. you process the fact he called you pretty once you’re off the bike, which makes you a little bashful.

regardless, you tried to prim yourself before you stepped inside; praying no one paid attention to you and your unlikely date. that was obviously wishful thinking considering how big of a powerhouse sukuna looked inside the small joint, which made you curse him out mentally. does he eat entire horses? however, the server looked at sukuna with respect you didn’t expect, and sukuna talked to him with ease. you couldn’t believe the sight before your eyes; he was acting like a socialite with insanely proper manners. 

the server led you both to a private dining room, bowing as he closed the door behind you. you unbuckle the ruby shoes you were wearing, ironically the shoes sukuna had gifted you the week before. you hope he didn’t notice. 

sukuna takes the seat opposite you, sitting rather poised and formal. you giggle at him, breaking the royal silence you were in. he frowns at you, miffed.

“what?” 

“you’re like, trust fund boy sukuna right now. you look so serious i thought it was funny,” you explain. 

he grumbles and crosses his arms. “my grandfather… is big on etiquette.” he manages. 

you expect him to iterate further. “…aaaand?” you had sat down, resting your head on your hands, batting your lashes mockingly. 

his frown deepens at your antics. “grandpa owns a lot of businesses, so when me and yuu were young... he made us come to formal dinners. parties and shit. if we acted like fuckin’ animals, we’d get our asses beat.” you giggle at the thought of little sukuna causing a ruckus. 

“i bet you were a handful.” you tease. 

“more like yuu was. unmedicated adhd in a boy is hell.” you agree with a nod. you felt kind of warm inside knowing something new about sukuna. yuuji had told you in the past that they were well-endowed, but these details were cute and… endearing to you. 

“you like them?” you snap out of your thoughts to see sukuna gesturing to your gifted shoes, sitting by the door next to his boots. a small blush dusts your cheeks. “it’s just a fluke… i was rushing this morning and they were the first pair i saw,” your excuse was perpetually lame. 

he nods slowly, amused. “…right, of course.” he lays sarcastically. 

you were about to say something else awkward when the door slid open, bringing the first course along with a round of sake. you both say your respects to the food before digging in politely. the food definitely tasted as expensive as it looked. 

you realize you’ve actually never had a meal with sukuna before. you take note of how proper he eats, which was kind of a surprise for you (again). you guess you could believe him now when he said yuu was worse off than him— that boy definitely ate like a man starved. 

when you finish your last piece, you take a sip of the sake the server had poured out for you. it was much smoother and sweeter than the ones you’ve had. honestly, a little worrying considering how much of a lightweight you were. you decide that’s a dangerous game and settle with nursing the small glass you had. 

“how’s college been, then?” this fucking… you didn’t expect sukuna to do small talk, but here you were. “um, it’s good. a little tedious lately, but i guess i can’t complain,” you chuckle softly. “that kid kento’s in your internship, yeah?” the way he just knew random things adjacent to you was a little scary. “yeah, how do you know that?” “he’s a family friend.” thank god. you were beginning to think sukuna had a private investigator on you or something. “o-oh, how interesting. so you’ve known him for a while?” “his father has been partners with my grandpa since we were young, so yeah.” you simply nod in acknowledgment, unsure of how to continue. this was awkward territory to speak so casually and non-hostile with the man before you.  

“you look like you’re being tortured to speak to me right now.”

you snap to sit more straight and less avoidant, feeling embarrassed he clocked your temperament. “sorry, i’ve not exactly had any real conversations with you,” he looks unphased. “you’re too busy trying to fight me for that.” you give him a frown. “well you’re not exactly a ray of sunshine yourself, asshole.” he simply chuckles and takes another sip of sake. he manages to look elegant despite the fact he’s dressed like a thug. “you’re easy to rile up, sweetheart.” 

you look at him incredulously. “you’ve got to be a sadist or something,” you exclaim with a small scoff. he hums. “not the word i’d use, but if it’s easier for you… sure, i’m a sadist for you.” “for me?” “i don’t mess with anyone else, if you’ve noticed.” you’re mildly confused, given that you know his track record, but you digress. you give him an unimpressed look. 

“…right.” 

he gives you a look back. “fuck you mean by that?” 

“oh c’mon, just because i met you recently doesn’t mean i didn’t know of you before that.” 

his weird look deepens. “oh? and what did you know of me, sweetheart?” he’s absolutely egging you on, but not in a way that’s teasing. he truly wants to understand what preconceived notions you have of him, almost like it was making him upset. 

“i mean… you’re a frat boy, sukuna. you get girls. you party. that earns a reputation, at minimum.” 

he looked a little hurt by your words, but he doesn’t let it stay long enough for you to notice. “tell me this, sweetheart. are you an introvert that only studies all day?” you stiffen. “…no, i’m not an introvert. and i like doing other things too,” “you liked it when i passed judgment on you being nothing but a booksmart nerd the first day i met you?” you shake your head slowly. “then you’re beating your fuckin’ stereotype. just like how i’m not the fuckin’ stereotype others say about me. understood?” 

you start to feel bad that you threw the same callous mindset he’s probably faced before, which was super out of character for you. you were an open minded and intuitive person. “i’m sorry, sukuna. i guess i’m just… having trouble understanding some things.” 

he raises an eyebrow. “like what?” 

“…well,” you take a sip of your sake to give yourself time to recollect. “i guess i want to know why you’ve been gifting me so much these last few weeks.” 

he visibly lightens up, slipping back into his playful demeanor. he purposefully takes a comically long sip of sake, causing you to laugh and smack him across the table, chiding him. “oh my god, stop! you suck, really,” 

he glances at you from the side of his eyes. “i just wanted to.” 

you look into his eyes, searching his gaze. a small smirk plays on your lips. a jolt of confidence hits you as you lean over the table on your elbows. “you got a crush on me, itadori?” 

he matches your energy tenfold, leaning towards you in tandem. you’re almost nose to nose. “inconclusive, sweetheart.”  

you sit back down with a small blush. “you’re not getting compensated for them, by the way.” 

he snorts, a deep chuckle following. “i never expected you to. they’re gifts, sweetheart. and i sure as hell know that little internship of yours pays in pennies.” 

you give him a withering look of irritation. “i get paid in experience, sukuna.” “that’s straight bullshit they tell you, you know that? you realize i graduate this year? already seen the way internships pan out,” true. “potayto potahto, dude.” 

his brows upturn out of amusement. you opt to change the subject from you. 

“you’re a mechanical engineering major, right?” you ask, tilting your head curiously. he just nods, his face giving nothing away. “how’s that, then? fun?”

he fixes you with a dry, almost exasperated stare. his eyes narrow slightly, eyebrows upturned just enough to convey that he’s calling your bluff. “is that a real question,” he drawls, “or are you seriously asking me about my major?”

you clench your jaw, resisting the urge to sock him in the shoulder. instead, you force yourself to keep smiling. “you nearly made me want to explode with your small talk, so just answer the damn question.”

a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, and he snorts. “if i told you i find this fun, there’s probably somethin’ wrong with me.”

you roll your eyes and mutter under your breath, “there’s definitely a lot wrong with you, but whatever.”

he raises a brow, leaning in just a bit too close for comfort. “hm? say that louder for me, sweetheart?”

you feel heat rise to your cheeks as your lips slip into an involuntary pout. you hate how you can’t control your expressions around him—it’s like your face has a mind of its own. you avert your gaze and take a long sip of your drink, feigning nonchalance. “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, the sake warming you from the inside out as you mimicked his usual unbothered attitude.

without warning, he stretches out his hand and flicks you on the forehead, a light but annoyingly precise tap. “idiot.” he mutters, sounding amused.

you groan, rubbing the spot where he flicked you. “when will you stop calling me that?” you whine, exasperated.

his laugh is low and unapologetic and his eyes twinkling with something irritatingly fond. “when you stop doin’ stupid shit. cute, stupid shit.”

somehow that pulls a genuine laugh out of you. you catch yourself mid-giggle, feeling suddenly self-conscious as sukuna’s gaze softens, just barely, his lips twitching into a smile. he’s watching you with this odd.. elated expression, like he’s seeing something new in you. you quickly clear your throat and try to regain composure, but the grin on your face lingers.

“what?” you ask, embarrassed, still smiling despite yourself.

he shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, but the faint trace of a smile remains. “nothing. just didn’t think i’d ever hear you laugh like that.”

a warm blush creeps up your neck, and you look down, fidgeting with the chopsticks. “i do laugh, you know,” you murmur, trying to act casual.

for a moment, he just looks at you, his gaze unguarded in a way that makes your heart skip. the silence stretches between you, not tense but charged, like something’s shifting that neither of you can quite name. he tilts his head slightly, studying your face as though he’s trying to memorize every detail. 

the rest of your meal with him was filled with this unspoken, almost serene connection that neither of you quite acknowledged, but both felt. the conversation felt more natural and genuine, you couldn’t stop talking it seemed. you found yourself stealing glances at him more often than you meant to, feeling a strange warmth in your chest each time your eyes met. there was an ease to the way you sat together, as if the world outside had faded away, leaving only the two of you in this strange little bubble.

not before long, you both had finished your food with much satisfaction. This is definitely one of the best meals you’ve ever had. when the bill comes, you half expect sukuna to pull out a credit card but instead, he glances at the check just a moment before he pays with a bundle of crisp bills from his wallet. god, that was unnecessarily hot.

"let’s go," he says, standing up. he waits for you to put on your shoes before offering his hand as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

you take it, the touch warm and solid. he’s particular about the way he holds your hand– not too tight, not too soft. that makes your heart skip a beat. not to mention your hand is small in comparison to his, but a weirdly perfect match. like a peg sliding into a notch. 

as you walk out of the restaurant, you feel the cool night air hit you, a refreshing contrast to the warmth inside. sukuna’s hand still holds yours, his thumb lightly grazing your knuckles as you both make your way to the street.

that’s when you spot it—an unassuming little ice cream stand on the corner, the twinkling of the fairy lights on its canopy making you grin up at him.

you tug on his hand, pulling him toward the stand before he can even say anything. "ice cream." you say with a mischievous smile, not even giving him a chance to protest. "you are legally not allowed to say no."

sukuna gives you a feigned look of annoyance at you but doesn’t pull away. “you’re insatiable,” he tells you, but there’s no real irritation in his tone—just the faintest hint of beguilement. you don’t miss the way his grip on your hand tightens, just a little, when you pull him toward the stand.

the vendor behind the counter greets you both with a toothy smile, and you instantly scan the flavors, your eyes lighting up as you point to one that catches your attention. "i’ll have the matcha," you say, already thinking about how good it’s going to taste.

sukuna gives you a side glance before ordering the most basic thing he could’ve chosen—vanilla. you can’t help but notice the contrast between his choice and yours, and it makes you giggle.

“you and giggling today, i swear,” he teases. you take the cone from the vendor’s hand with a small thank-you, sticking your tongue out at sukuna before giving your cone a lick. sukuna takes his cone shortly after, paying the man. 

walking together, hand in hand, the quiet sounds of the city hum around you. it’s almost too perfect, the way he towers beside you, both of you savoring your cones. despite the fall night being cool, soon your ice cream starts to drip and melt faster than you can eat it. you try to keep up but it’s a losing battle as your hands get sticky and little droplets threaten to trail down your fingers.

out of the corner of your eye, you catch sukuna stifling a snort, his shoulders shaking slightly as he reaches into his back pocket to pull out a crumpled handful of napkins. he must have grabbed them at the stand, almost as if he anticipated this exact moment.

“somehow i knew you’d end up eating like a messy kid,” he teases, his voice tinged more tender than you’re used to. before you can reply, he steps closer, raising the napkin to your face with a gentle hand, his fingers brushing your cheek as he dabs at the melting ice cream on your lips and chin. his touch is careful and surprisingly soft, as if he’s handling something delicate.

“thank you,” you murmur, the words almost a whisper as you meet his eyes. they’re closer than you expected, and you catch your breath as he holds your gaze, just a fraction too long. you look away, the heat of his hand lingering on your cheek, and take another bite of your cone, trying to steady the flutter in your chest.

when you finish, you make your way back toward his motorcycle parked beneath a flickering streetlight. its chrome metal was gleaming in the muted glow. you lean against the seat as he stands in front of you, hand on the seat space beside where you were situated. this definitely feels like a date now, you thought. 

his presence was grounding you in a way that felt both comforting and thrilling. he eats the last bite of his cone before wiping his own hands clean, then tossing the dirty napkins in the bin behind him. “can i ask one more question?” you look at him with a small smile. “sure, sukuna.” 

his hand that was now free of the ice cream cone instinctively goes to your other hip, not out of flirtation, but simply closer proximity. you were in the space between his legs, but it wasn’t awkward. it was just intimate.

“why’d your dad ask you to come home?” you let out a small sigh, brushing your hair out of your face to no avail as the wind pushes in your face again. you look a little solemn as you speak. “he wants me to help my brother with entrance exams for secondary school. i’m really just doing the work of a tutor, which i can’t imagine my father couldn’t afford, especially in terms of my brother.. but, i have duties that are unspoken, i guess. that i’m just expected to follow through. my tuition for university is paid by him, so i can’t exactly ghost my family. and my mom is still great with me, so.. i don’t want to lose her too,” you admit. 

when you finish you realize sukuna’s been rubbing circles on your side, deep in listening to you. “i know family’s tough,” he replies. “but you need to realize when it’s starting to screw you up. i’m sure if i didn’t come to your place, you’d still be burying yourself under all that fuckin’ expectation and you’d be burnt out by the morning.” you nod, the weight of his words settling in, and for a moment, you’re grateful for the honesty he’s bringing out of you. it’s strange, this feeling of openness with him, like he’s peeling back the layers you keep hidden from most people.

“maybe,” you mutter, looking down at your hands, which are still a bit sticky from the ice cream. “but it’s hard, you know? i feel guilty when i consider putting myself first, like it’s selfish or something.”

you hear sukuna inhale deeply, still focused on you. “selfish? putting yourself first is sometimes the best damn thing you can do. you’ve got one life, sweetheart.” he pauses, the weight of his gaze meeting yours. “if you don’t set those boundaries, no fucker’s gonna do it for you.”

his hand brushes a stray hair off your cheek that had been in your face for a while now, and your heart skips as his thumb lingers there. he leans in just a little, enough that his face is close, his gaze holding yours in a way that makes the rest of the world blur.

you swallow, feeling a warmth rising in your chest, a feeling that’s unfamiliar to you. “thanks. i guess i needed to hear that,” you whisper, genuinely touched.

he tilts his head slightly, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, though there’s something softer behind his eyes. “anytime, sweetheart.” 

without thinking, you shift your hand up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

he raises a brow, an amused but warm expression lighting up his face. “tryin’ to feel me up now?” he chuckles, but his voice is softer than usual.

you laugh, rolling your eyes, but you don’t move your hand. “shut up,” you murmur, your fingers tracing idle circles on his shirt as you both stay there, close and comfortably silent. the connection between you was enough. sukuna’s hand shifts to gently cup the side of your face, tilting you to see him. you really see him. his thumb grazing your cheek, his gaze flickering to your lips and then back to your eyes. you feel like the world has stopped around you two. you feel the subtle pull of his fingers on your skin. your heart beat is pounding out of your chest, and you feel his racing through his jacket too. in that instant, everything feels inevitable.

the harsh honk of a car horn cuts through the air, dragging you out of the moment with a jolt. you blink as the abrupt return to reality makes your breath catch in your throat. you pull away instinctively, breaking the bubble you were in. the realization of what was about to happen makes you nervous and almost scared. suddenly, you felt suffocated again. you shift, fumbling your fingers with your head down. 

sukuna stands still, silent. his hand that was almost ready to pull you in rested at his side now. his expression was rather blank, but different about the way he’s watching you. it’s quieter, more reserved, like he's waiting for you to say something—anything—to bridge the gap that’s formed between you. his jaw tightens slightly, just a hint of frustration, but he says nothing. he doesn’t rush to fill the silence. his silence is weighty, deliberate, and you feel the intensity of it even more because of it.

you glance at him quickly, and for a split second, you wonder what’s going through his mind. he doesn’t look at you with expectation but with that unreadable intensity that seems to pierce straight through you. you swallow, breaking the silence first. “sorry,” you manage, the words coming out squeakier than you intended, the awkwardness making you want to jump off a bridge. god, strike me down now or so help me.

“don’t apologize,” he rasps, his voice low, rougher than before. it’s not a demand, more like a quiet statement of fact. “you didn’t do nothin’ wrong.”

his words hang in the air, steady and unyielding. it’s not comforting in the traditional sense, but it’s there—uncompromising, like he’s just being real with you. there’s no pushing or attempting to rush things. he’s waiting for you to say what you need to say, or to fall silent again. like whatever you do, he’s not going anywhere.

you instead opt to pivot like you usually do, and turn to get on the bike. you check your phone and give a fake little chuckle. “it’s getting so late, wow! we should head out. yeah?” sukuna realized you were definitely feeling weird about the moment you just had, so he wasn’t going to make it ruin the night you both had enjoyed so far. he only nods. “lemme take you to your place.” 

the ride was weirdly quiet, even though you never spoke on the bike anyways. it was too loud over the roar of vehicles on the road. when sukuna turns into your street, you feel a wave of nervous energy pulse through you again. 

the bike slows as he pulls up to the curb in front of your building, the streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement. sukuna parks, but doesn’t make a move to dismount right away. he keeps his hands on the handles, his body still. it’s as if he’s waiting for you to move first. 

you shift off the motorcycle and walk to his side. you don’t give yourself the chance to second-guess it. sukuna looks like he’s about to say something when you press a soft kiss to his cheek, fleeting and sudden, just enough to catch him off guard. for the first time ever, you saw sukuna blush. before he can say anything, you step back already turning on your heel to run briskly towards the entrance of your building, heart hammering against your ribs.

“goodnight!” you call over your shoulder, your voice filled with the adrenaline rush you were feeling. you don’t wait for him to respond as you push open the door and slip inside quickly. the cool air of the building is a sharp contrast to the warmth that still lingers on your lips. You press your fingers on your lips, feeling your heartbeat even in your fingertips. you seriously don’t know what you were thinking… tonight’s feelings are swirling around you as you make your way up the stairs to your apartment.

sukuna was sitting for five minutes on his bike in front of your apartment, brain flatlining. he was going to kiss you. he was so close to your lips. he thought that chance encounter was the most he was going to get tonight when you decided to do that and have the gall to run away. 

he didn’t wash his face that night.

a figure with shoddy blonde hair puts out his cigarette stub on the wall, exhaling the last drag he had. the rooftop was empty, save for his friend. mahito sucks his teeth and throws the bottle of beer he was drinking on the ground, the shatter echoing in the dark night. 

“fuck, man! what are we going to do about that motherfucker?” he seethes, face red from his drunken rage. 

naoya chuckles at his lack of control. he didn’t seem as pissed about the whole ordeal, especially not as much as mahito. the fraternity wasn’t everything to him. and he knew good things come to those who are patient. 

“don’t think about him. we need to focus on the bitch that curved you,” naoya tells him coolly. 

mahito nods slowly, raring up with hype. “yeah… yeah! that ugly whore that got me jumped!” naoya just stares out at the buildings below, unbothered. 

“she’ll pay, mahito. just wait.”

sooooo :) how was it guys :) as always i live and breathe for comments (and all reactions hehe) so please don't hesitate <3 i try my best to reply to everyone in a timely manner, but please have mercy on me if i don't </3 love you all!

peace luv bathtub!

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© sozila 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other mediums or sites. cross-posted on ao3 and tumblr under same alias.

[blackenedsnow]

thin as air

WARNING: Mentions of anorexia and body dysmorphia, violence, injury, unhealthy relationships, dark themes, rough handling, unhealthy attachment.

PAIRING: Art the Clown x Anorexic! Reader

NOTE: Hey, just sharing this because i know a lot of us are going through it too. It’s very scary. I’m in a rough spot myself so i wanted to write something that might feel like a weird kind of comfort, even if it’s dark and messy. Remember, it’s fiction; take care of yourself. Love you all, take what you need <3 (Also this is in first person.)

SUMMARY: Art’s affection is all-consuming, and you don’t quite understand why you’re the object of his twisted love. There is NOTHING sexual even if it may sound like it!!

Sometimes, I wonder if Art even knows what I am – this mess of bones, thin skin, hollow eyes. I see the way he looks at me, with that dead, unwavering gaze of his. The way his black-rimmed eyes flicker over my body, taking in every protruding rib, every visible vein. It’s like he’s fascinated by me, by this shell of a person I’ve become.

And honestly? I’m just as fascinated by him.

I don’t know how it happened. I don’t know why it happened. I don’t even know if Art knows why he’s here with me, this painted monster, this creature who has taken me as his own. He’s rough, always has been – he’s broken one of my bones before. My wrist, I think it was, his grip too tight in one of his fits of… whatever it is he feels. Love, rage, lust? I don’t know. I don’t think Art knows either. But he’s always there, his hands wandering over me like he can’t get enough, even as he’s hurting me.

It’s like he’s drawn to my fragility.

I guess that’s the irony. I’m so close to death already, bones so thin you could snap them with a careless touch, a body starved down to the barest scraps. Sometimes I think that’s what he’s here for – to watch me die slowly, to revel in the sight of me wasting away. I wonder if that’s the appeal, the reason he never leaves.

But then he’ll reach out, his hand cupping my cheek with a gentleness I didn’t know he was capable of. And I realize – no. That’s not it at all. He’s here because he loves me. Art loves me.

It doesn’t make sense. But it doesn’t have to. Not to him, not to me.

I think he likes the sharp edges of my bones, the way my body feels fragile beneath his hands. There’s something about the way he touches me, careful sometimes, rough others, like he’s afraid I’ll break if he’s not careful – but sometimes he forgets. Sometimes he’ll grip me too tight, his fingers pressing into my skin with enough force to leave bruises, marks that will linger for days.

Once, when he’d been particularly careless, I felt something crack beneath his fingers. The pain had been sharp, sudden, and I’d cried out, my voice weak, but he’d just stared, his head tilting to the side as if he were studying a work of art. And maybe, to him, I am. A fragile, breakable thing, something he can hold in his hands and twist, bend to his will.

But he’d stopped then, his hands falling away, his eyes wide with something like surprise. He hadn’t meant to hurt me.

The thing is, I love him too. Maybe that’s the sickest part of it all, the fact that I look at him, at this monster who kills without remorse, who breaks me without meaning to, and I feel something like warmth in my chest. I don’t know why. I don’t know why I feel this way, why I keep letting him touch me, hold me, break me.

Maybe it’s because he sees me. In his own strange way, Art sees me. He sees the parts of me that I try to hide, the emptiness that gnaws at me from the inside, the hunger that never seems to go away. He sees the hollowness in my eyes, the way I wither away piece by piece, and he doesn’t turn away. He doesn’t tell me to stop, doesn’t tell me I need to eat, to get better.

He just… stays.

I don’t think I’ll ever understand it. But in a way, it’s comforting. Because in his silence, in his wordless presence, I find a strange sense of belonging. I find a twisted kind of love, the kind that doesn’t judge, that doesn’t demand anything of me except to exist. To be here, with him, in whatever form I am.

And maybe that’s enough.

Sometimes, when he’s lying beside me, his hand resting on my hip, his touch feather-light as if he’s afraid to press down too hard, I’ll close my eyes and pretend that he’s human. That he’s just a man, lying beside me, his warmth seeping into my skin. But then I’ll feel his fingers tighten, his grip growing possessive, and I’m reminded of what he is – a killer, a creature who takes lives without a second thought.

But he doesn’t take mine.

No matter how close I get, no matter how many times I think this is it, that I’ll finally slip away, he’s always there. Sometimes I wonder if he’d let me die if I truly wanted to, if he’d just sit back and watch as I faded into nothing. But I think he’d fight for me. I think he’d drag me back, kicking and screaming, because he loves me.

I feel his hands on me again, his touch rough and insistent, and I can feel the bruises blooming beneath his fingers, but I don’t mind. I welcome the pain, the reminder that I’m still here, still alive. And in that moment, with his body pressed against mine, I don’t feel empty. I feel full, filled with something dark and consuming, something that threatens to swallow me whole.

And maybe that’s the real reason he’s here – not to watch me die, but to keep me alive.

The days blend together when he’s gone. Time’s got this funny way of stretching and folding over on itself in his absence, like the hours are conspiring to keep me waiting. I lose track of them – they bleed together in a mess of dark corners and quiet. Every so often, I glance over at the door, waiting for him to appear in that grimy frame, caked in blood and staring with that quiet, maddening intensity. But every time, there’s just silence. And the longer he’s gone, the more I start to wonder if maybe this is it.

If maybe, he’s not coming back.

I tell myself that’s probably a good thing. That maybe he’s off killing for good this time, slipping into someone else’s nightmare. And yet, there’s this ache that gnaws at me, dull and hollow, a feeling like missing something I never thought I’d have. Because even as he breaks me, even as he holds me with a grip that threatens to splinter bone, Art feels like the only real thing in my life. The only solid, terrifying constant.

So when the door finally creaks open, it feels like time itself stops – or maybe, like it finally begins to move again.

He steps inside, dragging a heavy, metallic scent of blood with him, his face painted in his usual grin but with something else lurking beneath. Something dark, simmering – anger. But it’s not at me; I know that look. And on his head, absurdly, he’s wearing a Santa hat, the red fluff soaked a deep maroon where it caught a spatter of blood.

I almost laugh. He looks unhinged and festive all at once, as if he’s ripped the hat off some poor soul in the middle of one of his routines. Art stands there, his eyes narrowing as they settle on me, like he’s deciding something. But even angry, even with whatever it is simmering beneath the surface, I know he wouldn’t hurt me. Not on purpose.

He prowls toward me, closing the distance in a way that has my heart stumbling over itself, and I’m caught between fear and comfort. I sit up, my mouth dry as I watch him approach, swallowing hard against the question that’s been burning in me since he left.

“I didn’t… I didn’t think you’d come back.” My voice cracks, barely more than a whisper.

He stops, staring down at me, his mouth stretching wider into that unsettling smile. Art doesn’t talk, but his eyes – there’s something fierce and sharp in them, a promise I can feel. He tilts his head, raising one finger, wagging it back and forth like he’s scolding me for even thinking it. Like the very idea of him leaving for good is ridiculous.

And maybe it is. Maybe Art’s always going to come back, no matter how many people he kills or how far he roams.

I’m still staring at that absurd hat, unable to help myself. “…Did you kill Santa?”

He gives a low, soundless laugh, his shoulders shaking as he reaches up and tips the hat toward me, his face stretching wider in a mockery of something playful. It’s disturbing and almost sweet all at once, like a monster trying to be human. He’s close now, and I can feel the roughness of his gloved hand as he brushes it over my cheek, trailing down to the sharp line of my jaw. His touch is careful, just enough pressure to remind me he’s here – and that I’m his.

“What?” I say, my voice shaky but edged with a faint smile. “You bring me a Christmas hat instead of a present?”

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he lifts his hand, holding it up as if to say ‘wait.’ Then he reaches behind him, pulling something from the garbage bag he always carries around. It’s a small, battered box, dented and stained but unmistakably a gift.

I look at him, surprised, and he just grins wider, holding it out. My hands shake as I take it, heart pounding as I pry the lid open. Inside is… a ring. Old and tarnished, probably pried off a victim. But it’s beautiful.

He watches as I slide it on, something warm flickering in his eyes – if anything warm could ever live in those black pits. There’s no need for words. His gaze says it all, a silent declaration that I’m his and he’s mine, even if it makes no sense, even if it’s a nightmare stitched together by blood and broken bones.

The absurdity of it hits me, and I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in ages. “Guess this makes it official, huh?”

Art raises one hand in a mock toast, his grin impossibly wide, and for a second, the air between us feels almost… normal. Like we’re two people who understand each other in a way no one else could.

[cherryflavoured7777]

you sitting on hazel's lap doing her makeup and she's letting you because she's so down bad

i <3 your writing :))

TYSM!! ily. I'm sorry this took so long. I am obsessed with this idea <3

“Babe, you’ve got to stay still if this is going to look amazing. My makeup skills won’t shine if you’re moving all over the place,” you insist.

Hazel smiled up at you, pure adoration in her eyes as you straddle her lap on the couch. Your movie was quickly abandoned when you asked her if you could do her makeup. She groaned at first, hesitating, but the excitement in your eyes convinces her to give in.

“How can you expect me to stay still when I have the prettiest girl in the world on top of me?” Hazel said as she leaned forward to kiss your neck again, her strong hands making sure you don’t fall backwards. “I’m not a robot,” she mumbles against your skin.

“Okay, I know you’re trying to get out of this but cheesy compliments aren’t gonna work on me.” You try to sound stern but you laugh as you reposition yourself, holding a black eyeliner pen in your hand.

“This part is crucial, and if you make me mess it up I will beat you up,” you warn.

“I think I’d be very into that.” Hazel remarks.

“Hazel!” you playfully scold her.

“Okay okay, I’m sorry. I’ll be good.” she chuckles and shifts slightly beneath you. Her warm hands on your waist keep you steady.

You gently brush her hair out of her eyes and lean closer, she can feel your breath fan over her face as you slowly glide the black ink over her lash line.

In reality, Hazel could stay like this for hours, studying every curve of your features as you carefully apply the products to her face. She loved watching the way your brows knitted together in determination for such a simple task.

You drag your thumb under the wing of the eyeliner, cleaning up the edge to make it sharper. “Perfect,” you say to yourself, smiling proudly.

You reach back into your makeup bag for your liquid blush, you dab it lightly across her cheeks and blend it in.

“You have really soft skin, you know.” you say, your thumb slowly swiping across her cheek.

“Yeah?” she asks, her pupils huge as she looks up at you.

“Yeah.” You tuck her hair behind her ear. “It’s perfect.”

Hazel’s eyes shift to your neck.

“Wait a sec, can you pass me that?” She says, pointing to your concealer.

“Why? I already did that step.” You say.

She reaches beside you and grabs it, putting the bottle between her teeth as she opens it. “You have a little something,” she laughs softly as she pulls down the neckline of your T-shirt, revealing a small hickey she gave you the night before.

“You know, you have to be more careful where you let people put their mouths, honey.” She says, dotting the concealer on the bluish purple mark.

You can feel your face turning pink. You hated how easily you melted under her touch.

She loved it.

“I don’t get the point of you covering this up when you’re probably just going to mess it up later.” You say.

Hazel fake gasps.

"Who, me? I would never do such a thing.” She screws the bottle shut, and her lips attach themselves to your jaw, a heated trail of kisses igniting a tingling sensation down the side of your neck. Your fingers instinctively find her hair, pulling her head back slightly, forcing her to meet your gaze. There's a brief, charged silence before she speaks.

“Does it look good?” her question is sincere, earnest. Hazel never wore makeup. Her hands slowly traveled up your back as she gazed up at you, you can sense a tinge of insecurity in her eyes. You couldn’t have that.

You wipe at her bottom lip with your thumb where you had applied a layer of lipgloss.

“You look so pretty, baby.” You whisper as you lean forward to kiss her cheek, your heart swelling with emotion. “My beautiful girl.”

She grabs your face before capturing you in a kiss. It slowly becomes more heated, and you know she was trying to distract you and ditch her makeover. You let out a soft sound against her mouth as her hands start to tug at the hem of your shirt.

“Not yet, we still have to put on your lashes.”

“Alright,” She effortlessly lifts you, her arms sliding under your thighs, before gently placing you on your back. “That’s where I draw the line, absolutely not,” she declares, her words laced with playful resistance. Before you can protest, she leans back in to kiss you. You let out a contented sigh as you feel her smile against your mouth.

“Okay, you win.” you laugh, finally surrendering to the warmth of the moment.

[titania-sleeps]

Kinktober Day 3: Pet Play

do you guys like cat boys, dog boys, or bunny boys more

warning: dom reader, reader kinda thirsty, sub yandere, pet play, butt plug, minors DNI pls

Your phone dings for the hundredth time today. It's 8:59 p.m. Only a minute more...

9:00 p.m. hits, and you are rushing out the door of your office, pulling your coat on. You only manage a half-wave to your coworker before your foot hits the stairs and down you go, flying down the flight of stairs. You propel yourself into your car, your phone in the pocket of your coat sounding with dings.

You glance at your phone.

puppy: master, come home quick,,, i need you rn Image sent.

You unhide the image, revealing your yandere's pretty dick, tied up with a pink bow. He dons lacy panties and a doggy tail attached to him. His dog-ear headband flops over his soft hair. He's covering his face with his phone, but you can see the bright pink dusting his face.

puppy: hurryyyyyyyyyy puppy: i wat you so bad puppy: *want puppy: aaaaaaa

Your nails dig into the steering wheel as you floor the accelerator. You speed past a police car on the way, but what's the law to your cute puppy?

When you make it to your apartment, your brakes stutter from the sheer speed you stomp on them, and you exit your car. A moment later, you slam the door open, and your yandere is leaning against the wall, breath heaving, eyes glazed over, and a shaky smile on his face. "Welcome home, ma—"

Before he can even attempt to finish his sentence, you push him against the wall, your hand trapping him in.

"Pretty boy, you know you shouldn't be bothering me at work," you coo, your free hand circling his slutty waist. Your fingers climb up his abs, thumb brushing over the crevices. You can feel him suck in his breath, his face furiously red from your words.

"...I missed you," he mumbles, pouting and tugging at the collar of your coat. You laugh lightly, your fingers trailing down to the bands of his lacy panties. You easily pull them down with a swift movement of your hand, his cock hard and throbbing for you. You reach behind him for his tail, and he moans quietly as you brush over it briefly.

"Master, I've been a very good puppy..." He bats his eyelashes as he leans in, his nipples perky and hard in the cold air. His dick twitches.

"Good puppies don't speak, they bark," you say, chuckling.

He flushes and barks softly, but it ends up sounding like a dog's whimper.

"Mmm, good puppies get rewards then," you whisper, bringing him in for a kiss. He complies immediately, becoming putty in your arms.

You can hold off on his punishment for a different time.

as you've already guessed, i should be doing work! instead here i am. writing about pet play. >:3

-> masterlist

-> kinktober masterlist

[sepherinaspoppies]

Only If For A Night (Masterlist)

⟢warnings: HEAVY NON CON, maybe DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, dub con ish, 18+, tea drugging, blood magic, oral f receiving, p in v sex, kidnapping, profanity, bondage, rough sex, dacryphilia, loss of virginity, gore, forced marriage, breeding kink, overstimulation, use of knife, assault, violence, typical Westeros misogyny, Aemond being a creeper and obsessive, more as I go lol

⟢pairing: Dark! Book Aemond Targaryen x Modern reader

⟢summary: In Dia De Los Muertos (Day of the Dead), she gets forcefully transported to Westeros and meets her favorite book character, Aemond 'One Eye'. She asks and begs for his help to send her back home after realizing this was a world she did not want to live in. Unknowingly to her, her favorite fictional man had already grown too attached to fully let her go.

notes: In Dia De Los Muertos, its usually the dead that visit the living but I added my twist into this.

Chapter 1 - Where Fiction Becomes A Reality

Chapter 2- Bring Me To Life

Chapter 3- Me And The Devil

Chapter 4- Fallen Through Worlds

Chapter 5- Have I Fallen For A Lie?

Chapter 6- I Am His, He Is Mine

Chapter 7- One Way Or Another

AEMOND'S POV (soon)

The One That Got Away - drabble

Tell It To My Heart- drabble

A Light In The Darkness- drabble

Baila Mi Corazon - drabble release date 2/25-2/26

Untitled work-mini series (prequel to this story) (a westerosi prince goes to the modern world x latina oc)

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